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welcometowhore-rrorville · 1 year

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𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒

Featuring: Jason Voorhees

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: horror and thriller elements, anxiety inducing themes, honestly pretty tame to be honest, ooc Jason, not proof-read and written at midnight

You’d heard the rumors surrounding this place—of the murders, the drowning, the legend—yet that didn’t stop you. You couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t in you to ignore such a perfect opportunity. You knew this could be your chance to get out of this small town and make a name for yourself. Well, that was your hope, anyway. As long as you could finish your thesis on the flora and fauna of the area, you were set. You were only missing your in-person examinations, and with special permission from the local police, you had a chance to surround yourself in the beautiful wilderness of Camp Crystal Lake, which brought you to your current situation. You let out a few exhausted huffs, swinging yourself off your bike as you finally passed the dilapidated sign signaling the former campgrounds. With your backpack firmally on your shoulders, you gripped the straps, leaving your bike at the entrance as you pressed onwards.

“The cabins should be just up ahead,” you mused to yourself, leaves crunching under your feet despite your careful steps. You would hate to scare away the very wildlife you came all the way out here to study. You glanced around yourself, the main road disappearing behind the trees. Birds chirped faraway, and you could make out the shaking of leaves in the high canopies. Nature was stirring at your presence. The air, cooled by the lake, brushed your exposed arms and legs, leaving goosebumps. Despite it being spring, you felt chilly in your shorts and tank-top. Picking up the pace, you searched past the brush and undergrowth for any sign of the cabins. They must have been weathered by the wilderness, but you hoped you could make do for the week you planned to camp. Any shelter was better than nothing. You finally spotted the distressed wooden houses, most missing their windows and door. It smelled like mildew, and spiderwebs nestled themselves in every nook and cranny you could see. Still, you breathed in the air. You could smell the lake, and jogged forward until you broke past the brush, basking in the daylight reflecting off the softly rippling water. Though abandoned, and a little stinky, it was beautiful. You closed your eyes, enjoying the moment, before turning to re-examine the cabins. Maybe somewhere there would be one mostly intact—it was a far-fetched wish, but even one with a door would do. Something so the fauna couldn’t stumble upon you before you were ready to study it. Careful not to trip over the trash littering the area, you peered into each of the empty homes. Despite the outside, the insides of them looked almost untouched. Pots still sat stagnant on stovetops, paintings of the forest hung unbothered on crooked nails. Knowing you’d better set up inside somewhere before it got dark, you finally decided on a cabin a little ways away from the main camp. It was small, but it still had a door, though one hinge flapped uselessly. The windows were broken, but glass still remained in the frame—well, enough to shelter you from rain, you hoped. Gently, you grabbed the handle, swinging the door open. It creaked loudly, sunlight shining in to reveal a single room. A dusty bed sat in the corner, perfectly made. Counters lined the opposite wall, with a stove, oven, and something that used to be a fridge. The fridge door had fallen off, and inside looked to be food long gone rotten. You stepped inside, leaving the door open to illuminate the dingy space. You swung your pack off your shoulder, setting it on the bed. You dug out a few cleaning supplies, prepared for spring cleaning in the vacant camp. “Home, sweet, home,” you mumbled, slipping gloves on as you began your cleaning. You hoped to have the place liveable by sun-down. A few hours passed with you scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, mopping, and scrapping every corner of the place, and though the sun was now burning bright red, you finally managed to unveil a quaint living quarters. You threw your used supplies in the rusted trash can, now complete with a trash bag. Your stomach grumbled, signaling your hunger. You rummaged through your bag, grabbing a small fishing rod. You weren’t an expert in wilderness survival, but you figured a week would be no big deal. You just had to reteach yourself how to fish, you thought, staring at the rod. A sudden crunch of leaves drew your attention, and you swung around, facing the still open door. You clutched the rod in your hand tightly, easing yourself towards the door slowly. You stopped right before the doorway, ears on high alert. No more noise was heard. “Already scaring myself,” you said, rolling your eyes. You stepped out, shutting the door behind you as you trotted down to the lake. “At this rate I’ll be mental by the week’s end.” It took another half hour, and shivering in the setting sun as it crept ever lower, but you snagged a small bass, and quickly rushed inside, the fish still flopping in your grasp. You set the struggling animal on the counter before setting your sights on the knife kit you’d unpacked earlier. You grit your teeth, grabbing a suitable blade, before hovering over the bass. You’d never had to skin a fish before, and something in you hated killing the creature, but you had to eat somehow, and your granola bars would only last you so long. Wincing, you brought the blade harshly down, hearing the squelch of flesh and the thunk of the blade on the wooden counters. The fish stilled. “Sorry, bud,” you whispered, beginning to peel away the scaly exterior. It was slimy under your touch, and you struggled to grip the carcass, but after more struggle, you wound up with a decent-sized piece of meat. You clicked on the gas stove without thinking, and surprisingly, it lit. Pleasantly surprised you wouldn’t have to start a campfire, you grabbed a freshly scrubbed cast-iron, tossing the pink chunk inside. It was pitch-dark when you finally ate, washed up in a bucket of lake water, and readied yourself for bed. You slid underneath the musty covers, breathing in the dusty smell of the pillow. It was comforting in an odd way—you were reminded of being a little girl and coming here long ago when the place was still open—you didn’t remember much, only the feel of the water on your legs as you splashed, and the smell of dust as the councilors tucked you in for the night. Was it this bed you slept in all those years ago, you mused. Deciding not to dwell on it, you shut your eyes, listening to the sound of soft waves lapping the shore and crickets chirping in the night. Your eyes shot open at the sound of the door creaking open, and you tumbled forwards in bed, staring at the wooden door just across the small room. A slit of moonlight highlighted your apprehensive form. “Hello?” you said, unsure of who you were trying to talk to. It was just you out here. You and whoever opened the door. . . whatever opened the door, you corrected yourself. It must’ve been a racoon or something sniffing around for the half-eaten fish still sitting on the counter. You cursed yourself for not burying that somewhere. You slid out of bed, standing up and stepping towards the door, bare feet cold on the rough flooring. Wind blew against your bare legs, creeping underneath your nightgown. You paused in front of the door, listening to it clank against the frame, open. You grabbed the handle, clicking it back closed. Your hand still rested against the handle as you listened, half-broken windows allowing clear audio of the outside. If you really tried, you could’ve sworn you heard retreating footsteps. You shook your head. This was stupid. It was a forest. There were animals. That was your whole point in being here, dumbass. You blew out a huff of air, turning and heading back to bed. When the next day arrived, and sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the wooden cabin, you awoke with a groan. Your back ached from the old bed, and you flitted in and out of sleep the entire night, scaring yourself with noises that echoed from the woods. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered, interrupting yourself with a yawn. You threw the old sheets off you, standing up and trotting to the window over the kitchen stove. You had a nice view of the lake, the sky, the forest, and the dark figure staring at you from across the water. You blinked. You could just barely make out a humanoid shape on the other side of the lake. The shape’s clothes were tattered and darkened, hanging off the hulking form, and you could barely make out some sort of white mask attached to the stranger’s face. You stared, eyes focusing and unfocusing as you tried to gather more information. Who was this person and what were they doing all the way out here? It was strange. Eerie even. Nobody else should’ve been out here. Police orders. Still, you supposed there existed curious explorers wanting to discover the secrets of this place. You doubted a police order would stop someone if they were willing enough. You stood still, unsure of what to do. Should you try and get their attention? Some part of you knew you already had it. You forced yourself to remain locked on the man across the lake. No woman could stand so large and hulking, you decided, and so it was. There was a man. A giant of a man. Across the lake. Staring at you. The chirping of a bird next to the window startled you, and you shifted your gaze to the robin flying away, only to return your gaze to an empty clearing. He was gone. You bit your cheek. Should you leave? You shook your head. No. You had a job to do. Besides, he was all the way across the lake. Maybe he lived over there. It wasn’t your problem. Deciding your best solution was to ignore the strange encounter, you turned back around, preparing yourself for the day. Your hiking shoes left imprints in the moist sand as you scoured the beach. You decided to start with coastal wildlife, figuring it would be the easiest to spot—things like clams and frogs that lived in the marshy pockets of Crystal Lake. You barely lifted your head from the coast, journal in hand as you sketched out anything and everything that caught your eye. You didn’t want to miss anything. Still, after half an hour of slowly pacing the shore, you neck ached, and you relented in your journaling to lift your head all the way up to the mid-day sun. You let out a breathy sigh of satisfaction, rolling your neck to rid yourself of the soreness. You stopped in your stretch suddenly, hand resting on your neck frozen as you stared ahead of you. It was the same man as earlier. He still stood, motionless, though this time he was almost on your side of the lake. You figured he was half a mile away, if that. You moved to grip your journal with both hands. Your knees felt weak. Who was he? What did he want? You let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself to calm down. It’s not like he was running at you with a machete. He was just standing there, probably taking a walk around the lake. It was beautiful out, afterall. It wasn’t a crime to enjoy nature. You shook off your nerves, deciding it would be best to turn back towards your cabin. You shot one last glance at the masked man, forcing a small wave, before treading back the way you came. Tonight, you were going to find a way to lock the cabin door. The rest of the day was rather uneventful, as you couldn’t bring yourself to venture more than a few yards away from the cabin before retreating again. The farthest you went was to the shore, once again casting your line and catching another fish for dinner. You had buried the last one after realizing the mistake you’d made in leaving it out. By the time you laid your head down, you could only stare at the door, looking at the wooden table you’d shoved against it. It wouldn’t do much, but it was better than nothing, you told yourself. You gripped the blanket, unwilling to relax. You knew you had to get some sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the door. Every creak of the cabin had you whimpering, and you almost peed yourself when an animal howled off in the distance. Deciding to stay up just a little longer, just to keep an eye out, you slid out of bed, digging out some matches before lighting the small lantern sitting on the counter. You dragged over a wooden chair, sitting next to the flickering light in silence. You constantly turned, eyes scanning the windows and the door for any sign of life. Despite how silly you felt, you couldn’t help it. Your fingers danced over your knife kit, and you slowly unsheathed a large kitchen knife, clutching it in your shaking grasp. You turned to the door, knife resting on your lap. You couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched, even as tiredness clawed at your eyes. Your eyelids began to slide close, but immediately shot open when you heard a bang outside the door. You recoiled, pressing yourself against the counter as you held the knife out in front of you. “Hello,” you called shakily, still unsure of just who or what you wanted to respond. “Are you the man from across the lake?” you continued. For some reason, talking eased your terror, and you sat, eyes locked on the door, as you spoke. “Do you live around here? I’m, umm, I’m here for my thesis. I’m documenting the wildlife of the area, ya know? It’s, uhh, it’s really pretty out here.” You heard a creak, like shifting feet, outside the door. Something was definitely outside your door. “It’s pretty late. Do you, umm, need something? I don’t really have much, but I’ve got some spare granola bars if you’re hungry.” No response, save for more creaks. You bit your cheek hard, quickly shifting your gaze to your backpack hung on your bedpost. You stood shakily, one hand still clutching your blade as the other slowly unzipped the pack. Carefully, you dug inside until you fished out a bar. “Is that why you’re here?” you continued, knees wobbly as you crept towards the door. “Food? Did you smell me cooking earlier? The fish is gone, but, umm, I’ll slide out a granola bar, okay? Under the door for ya.” You had no idea why you had the idea stuck in your head that this was some poor person looking for food, but you were too scared to imagine any other reason someone would be lurking so late at night. Taking a breath, you kneeled underneath the table you used as a make-shift barricade, delicately pushing the packaged snack underneath the large gap in withered door. From your position, you could see the shadow of a giant figure, looming right outside. All you could see besides shadow was two large and dirtied shoes. You held your breath when the figure shifted, and then watched in soundless horror as a hand bigger than any you’d ever seen reached down to snatch the bar off the porch. “It’s, umm, it’s chocolate chip,” you stuttered, shuffling back away from the door, knife pointed in front of you. “They’re my favorite. Heh. Not the healthiest choice, but, ya know. . .” you trailed off. You had no idea what you were doing, and quickly decided to shut your mouth, simply listening as you heard a package being ripped. Whoever it was and whatever they wanted, they seemed to appreciate your snack, at least. You could see crumbs falling on the porch floor and between the wooden slats. It continued for a few seconds, before the wrapper then fell to the floor. “Good, yeah?” you half-whispered. You heard a low grunt. Your hair stood on end. It was the first time you heard the figure make a noise. “Do—do you want another?” you asked hesitantly. The sound of a fist being slammed against the door answered your question. Hurriedly, you grabbed the rest of the bars from your bag—5 in total. You moved to crouch under the table when the whole thing began to move. The door slowly creaked open despite your best efforts. You stumbled backwards, collapsing onto your back on the floor, knife falling out of your hand. You were left holding nothing but granola bars as you stared, lips quivering as a massive figure shoved the door open. The table you’d pushed against it scraped against the floor uselessly, until finally, the door slammed all the way open, table flying against the wall. The light of your lantern flickered, illuminating the man you’d seen across the lake. His size was clear now, as well as the hockey mask he wore covering his face. Despite his haggard appearance, there was no doubt he was more than capable of tearing you in half. He stood, both arms at his sides. In one hand he made a fist, and the other clutched a large machete. You couldn’t stop the whimper that left your lips. You threw your vacant hand over your mouth, inching backwards on the hard flooring until your back met the bottom of the kitchen counter. The knife-wielding stranger stepped inside, and with each step you blinked away tears that clouded your vision. The hand which still held the bars was now on your lap, cradled against your chest. He came closer and closer, knife shining menacingly in the lantern light. Finally, he came to a halt. He was barely an arm’s length away. He stood, staring from behind his mask, before, with a sudden jolt, he sat down in front of you. His legs spread themselves outward, tangling with yours. He dropped his knife with a clatter. You would’ve laughed at the goofy way he sat, looking like he’d never had to take a seat before in his life, if not for your fear of dying at the hands of the stranger. He grunted like he was trying to tell you something. You cocked your head to the side. “I. . . I don’t understand,” you whimpered. Slowly, he brought one of his hands close enough to brush against your legs, he kept leaning forward, reaching until he grasped your wrist in a firm hold. It was the hand that held the bars. You didn’t fight him as he brought your arm towards him, before finally releasing your wrist. You were leaned uncomfortably forward, with your hand now hovering above his lap. You let the bars fall from your grasp. He nodded swiftly, and grunted again. He gathered the bars in one of his massive hands, before taking one and dropping it unceremoniously in your lap. You leaned backwards at the sudden movement. He messily unwrapped another bar, bringing it towards his masked face before stopping. You felt he was staring at you. Waiting. You fumbled, grabbing the bar in your lap before unwrapping it, bringing it to your own mouth. He grunted again, and he shoved the rest of the bars in unknown pockets. He brought his hand up and tilted his mask up just enough to take a bite. All you could see were pale features before he quickly lowered it back down. Crumbs fell from the holes in his mask as he chewed loudly. You took a bite of your bar, chewing as quietly as possible as not to anger this strange wild man with a knife who took a liking to your granola bars. When he finished, much quicker than you, he simply stared. You hurried to finish your own, wiping your lips with your hand to rid yourself of the crumbs. You were unsure of what to do now. He didn’t move, massive legs still flopped around and over your own. “What’s your name?” you finally spoke. “I’m (Y/N).” You didn’t expect an answer, and so jumped in shock when you heard a deep and gravelly voice talk from the other side of the mask. It sounded like he hadn’t spoken in some time, but through gargled swallows he uttered, “Jason.” “It’s. . . nice to meet you, Jason. That’s a nice name. Suits you.” He didn’t respond, but did reach out a hand, and you froze as he reached out to set his hand on top of your head. You stifled a wince. He started to move his giant hand, and you could only sit there in shock as he began to—pet your head? It was something you’d do to a small child to comfort them, so why was this man—Jason—doing this? You looked past his mask, trying desperately to see eyes. Read him. Tell what he was thinking. But all you saw was darkness. You reached up, fingers shaking, as you finally placed your hand atop his. He stopped his actions. “Why are you doing that?” you asked, adrenaline starting to wear off. Confusion took its place. Confusion at this whole entire situation. What the hell was going on? If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you were face-to-face with a child. His mannerisms. His uncertain actions. His liking of chocolate chip granola bars. He let out a ragged breath, but didn’t utter a response. You removed your hand off of his, and he pulled his own back to his lap. He looked down at his hands, as if as puzzled at his actions as you were. After all the murder. The gruesome slaying of camp counselors. The massacre of his mother. After all the rage. A rage so deep and so bloody he didn’t know any other way. Something else was there. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Jason. . .” you whispered, half-hoping he wouldn’t hear. “It’s. . . late. Do. . . Can. . . can I go to sleep? As if shaken from a trance, he stood up hurriedly, whisking his large blade up, turning aggressively, and stomping out the door. You could only stare as his large figure disappeared into the woods. “What. . . what was that?”

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opalchoi · 22 hours

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"It's not like we haven't slept together before."

Gonna pretend this isn't from a list of prompts & you're just trying to get me in trouble with my phone notifs... lmao "But, last time we were in pajamas..." Opal thought They'd both had far too much to drink in the cafe, trying to communicate with spirits of a different kind using a third-hand Ouija board. The renovations had taken too long and both friends were equally bad influences on each other. It's a lot easier to procrastinate in pairs

The novelty of having a half-finished cafe to themselves was far too appealing to go amiss. Chiyori had done her best impersonations of how Opal would greet the customers... multiple soft objects & curses were thrown Both were covered in paint, partially from hard work, and mostly from fooling around. Behind the counter on the wall were the two friends' hand prints playfully positioned side by side as if done by a couple of children in kindergarten. Something Opal would cherish for a long time. Upstairs from the cafe was Opal's apartment/office/storeroom The space hardly suited any of those, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to take to chase her dream. She hadn't intended anyone to stay over, especially as it was so cluttered and messy. As they found themselves upstairs in need of sobering up & some rest. The room had a single bed with floral pink printed bedding, and a small writing table with drawers on either side by the windowsill. The smallest wardrobe imaginable was tucked behind the door.

The available floor space was occupied by a small rug & 2 cushions where they sat on the floor, resting their backs on the bed frame & slightly leaning on each other. Their outer clothes were left outside the room to avoid bringing paint fumes into the small box. Besides the bedding there was a small blanket they were both sharing Opal felt more exposed & flustered the more she sobered up To combat the paint fumes the window was open and the cool breeze made both friends sit closer together for warmth.

Opal yawned as she stood up to close the window She turned to face Chiyori & lifted the quilt from the bed invitingly "Go on, you hop in first" she said almost begrudgingly As Chi-chan groaned in acceptance & crawled into bed Opal took off her undershirt & delicately slid underneath the covers

"Night night Chi-Chan" Opal said softly as she tried to refrain from cuddling, physically there was not enough room for this to be avoided.

#opalchoi #opalchi #chikoyama #oc #ask #flip hop café #opal gangnam style #Opal normally sleeps fully nude #hopefully Chi keeps her hands to herself #hmph #this felt similar to the previous ask so I tried to go to a different point in time #I'm not the best with dialogue as I don't feel confident speaking on behalf of your oc #hope you like it

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plisuu · 8 months

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Happy Whumptober! I'm a little late with the sharing, but I decided I'd try to tackle a promptober this year. Days 1-5 are up on Ao3 - mind the tags.

Rating: M

Relationship(s): Cullen x Male Trevelyan, Post-breakup Solas x Male Trevelyan (Queerplatonic)

General Warnings: Whump, Angst, PTSD, Flashbacks, Lyrium Addiction/Abuse, Torture, Captivity, Drugging, Restraints, Body Horror, Graphic Description of Blood and Injuries

Individual chapters contain additional warnings.

Connor Trevelyan is brought back to Skyhold after being rescued from the Red Templars in Emprise Du Lion. His recovery goes less than smoothly, riddled with flashbacks and nightmares as his companions find themselves in a race against red lyrium.

Day 1 below the cut:

Day 1: Safety Net wc: 1057 "But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps."

Connor stirred, his body heavy with exhaustion and… mostly exhaustion. It was a struggle to open his eyes at all. Everything was too bright, too sharp, too painful and heavy and Maker he was so tired. Had he slept? When was the last time he really slept anyway? Time had been a blur, day and night blended into an eternity in the dark, only able to tell the passing of hours by the schedule of the red templars that traded shifts outside the cell door.

Now? The world was blinding, sun scattered over snow and filtered through glass. What did he remember? Shouting, swords hitting shields, cutting flesh, the clamber of armor, the soft glow of magelight, and then pain. Excruciating pain. There was nothing else after that. Before all of that even? Only more pain. He tried to block it out, the hum of red lyrium, blood on stone, on fiber, on steel—his mouth flooded with the taste of it, and he lurched to the side, heaving.

A warm, heavy hand pressed against his shoulder, another smoothed his hair back, and he choked, a sob wracked with pain and sick and fear. Every movement was met with burning strain. He was too heavy, he felt like lead, every movement sluggish, every attempt to get away from those hands was too weak and he couldn’t think, and the room was too damn bright and—

“Fuck. Hey, it’s alright. You’re going to hurt yourself, just breathe, okay?”

The low rumble of Bull’s voice washed over him, so close, and yet…. He couldn’t trust it, shouldn’t trust it. Another dream—or nightmare, what was the difference at this point? But he stilled anyway, afraid of what might happen otherwise. He heard a quiet sigh from the other side of him, a whisper of breath.

“Pain if I don’t obey. Pain if I do, but then it will stop. I can breathe, I can’t break, I must breathe and wait and they will come for me. This isn’t them, they will come. They have to.”

“Hey kid, I don’t think that’s—”

The voice was closer, Conner felt a cool hand on his cheek, the brush of fabric, the shade of a wide brim blocking the sunlight that streamed in from the windows.

“We came. We found you. You’re home. Safe. Skyhold. The Iron Bull is here, and me, and I am not a demon. Solas is coming to help stop the singing.”

The room was silent then, aside from Connor’s labored breath. He considered the words, his surroundings, and opened his eyes, slowly. A pale face peered down at him, a look of focused concern on his features, stringy blonde hair clinging to the frame of his gaunt face, a figure no demon had been able to parse from his memories.

“… Cole,” Connor managed, his voice a hoarse croak. He grimaced at the sound, and then flinched at the pain that the expression caused him, the world beginning to spin as he grew lightheaded from the effort. He sucked in a sharp breath that crackled in his lungs, and agonizing pain radiated through his chest. It was an endless cycle of breathing and pain feeding into each other until he forced his mind to empty, focusing on his fluttering pulse and some silently repeated words of the Chant, inaudible and hardly formed. Eventually, the burning ebbed into a dull ache and Cole pulled his hand away.

“Yes,” The boy finally replied. “I found you, in the Fade, but Dorian found you first, and then Cassandra, and then The Iron Bull. Cullen wanted to be there, but the red made it hard. He will be happy you’re awake, I should—”

“Cole, don’t. Not yet. It will only cause the Commander more pain, to know but not be able to see him.”

The door shut softly, accompanied by the quiet footfalls of bare heels and worn leather on carpet alongside the clinking of bottles filled with liquid.

"Please inform Cassandra that the Inquisitor is awake, though," Solas continued.

Cole nodded glumly before simply disappearing, and the elf took his place, hovering over where Connor lay as Bull shifted to accommodate his presence.

“I can only save you from certain death so many times, Inquisitor,” Solas chided him, the words stern but not unkind, gentle yet guarded, a light jest to conceal the worry. Connor closed his eyes again, trying to will away the pinpricks of tears that threatened to spill. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t show weakness, not here, not now, not after already having his dignity shattered by requiring rescue. Not after Weston wrung every ounce of vulnerability from him and used it against him. Not after Solas had already quietly left him alone and floundering in Crestwood, unsure of what he had done wrong. He swallowed around the lump in throat and kept his eyes closed.

Solas placed a cool cloth over his forehead and pulled some of the blankets aside, seemingly content to ignore the turmoil that roiled away inside him. All of that was forgotten, however, as Solas began to carefully unwrap bandages from around his torso that were stiff with blood and stuck to the skin in numerous places. Bull helped, murmuring quiet reassurances as he propped Connor up, but most of them were either lost in the pain or possibly in Qunlat, Connor wasn’t sure. All he knew was how much it hurt, and he hissed in pain and tensed, but did not move. He had suffered worse.

“That looks… bad,” Bull grunted.

“There is still red lyrium in the wound,” Solas replied. “It is a miracle we found you when we did, Inquisitor. Any longer and… The infection has progressed quite a bit, but is still manageable. The lyrium’s growth, however, while not as bad as it could be given the circumstances, is not insignificant. It will be difficult to remove.”

Connor didn’t reply. He couldn’t. ‘Looks bad,’ did not begin to cover the gashes and raw scabbing that covered him, angry and weeping, or the faint glow of red that spiderwebbed beneath bruised and mottled skin, spreading from a significant wound in his side that still bled freely. He felt himself going lightheaded as Solas continued to speak, his limbs going slack. He heard Bull swear, and then the world spun and went dark.

#whumptober 2023 #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #red templars #my writing #whump #angst #i apologize for nothing

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spellbook-gayboy · 2 years

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28? :D

28.

The door slid away into its frame, making little noise. Sinclair rubbed at his eyes stepped through into the minimally decorated accommodation. The long white lab coat was shrugged from their shoulders and ended up on the nearest side of the bare grey couch, soon followed by the scientist slumping down alongside it, sluggishly blinking as their head fell back, facing the ceiling.

A chill filled the air, making the breath coming from their mouth visible and standing their hairs on end. The seat next to them did the opposite, heating up as a dark crimson stain began to grow on the cushion next to Sinclair. It grew to roughly the size of the cushion it covered before a clawed hand reached up through the scarlet myre, fingertips bony and sharp as they gently fumbled for the arm of the chair. Finding purchase, the shape widened and deepened in hue, as a figure began to climb through. The other hand came first, followed by the figure’s torso, completed with their legs and the long bony tail that protruded from the base of their spine. The figure pulled themselves into a seated position, crossing their legs as the fearsome skeletal visage that covered their face faded into ash, revealing the mostly human features of one Heloise Contraire.

“Rough day?” Heloise asked, their cool voice as the air around the pair, like they hadn’t just crawled through some ungodly crevice in reality. They yawned and stretched their arms out, adding “Cecil’s had me running around all day, chasing after some stolen tech he said was ‘of the highest importance’, apparently”, making sure to imitate the sullen director’s monotone cadence, as well as his unchanging scowl.

“Let me guess,” Sinclair joked, “not even that important?”

“Tasers” the half-demon answered. “I jumped across three different continents in the space of a week... for tasers.”

Sinclair grimaced at the mention of the distance. He was well aware of the strain that opening too many portals could have on their partner, but even the span of continents seemed extreme. If he wasn’t so concerned right now, he’d be taking notes. “Yeowch! Are you alright?” the scientist asked.

“I’ve had worse running around with Ian!” they chuckled. “Anyway, you never answered my question”

To say Sinclair’s week was rough was definitely an understatement. It had been difficult enough to create a single Reaniman in a sewer, and it only got harder now that he was producing them on a near-industrial scale as Cecil Stedman’s private army. If he still had the energy, he’d be complaining about how the demands he was under meant he couldn’t give each model the love it so deserves. However, out of all the stress of the week, there was one good thing that came to mind.

“You know my supervisor, Stephen?”. The relationship between the two was strained to say the least, especially with the elder scientist’s almost non-stop rants about strange concepts like ‘scientific ethics’ and ‘rights of the deceased’, ironic given his current posting.

“Ahh, the infamous Stephen! Please tell me the universe finally heeded my prayers and struck the old bastard down where he stood!” Heloise had long been opposed him, even more so after his crass remarks about how much of an ‘unsettling specimen’ they were.

“Not that lucky, but it’s a bit funny” Sinclair replied. “Two days ago, he comes into the workshop, grumbling into his coffee like he always does. Only today, he doesn’t notice a claw hand that someone left on the floor...” they began, pausing to gesture at the arm of their shirt. “Coffee all over!”

Heloise didn’t seem impressed. “That it? You said it’d be funny”

“Oh, I’m not done yet!” Sinclair confidently answered. “You see, once the coffee gets on his arm, he stumbles back trying to get it off. Now eventually, he loses his footing, so he goes to grab something, which just so happens to be the water cooler”

Heloise’s face visibly lit up at the end. “Please be going where I think this is going”

“It’s the funniest thing, and I still can’t quite explain it even now, but it seems that someone must’ve loosened the jug on the cooler, so when Stephen grabs it...” he continued with a chuckle, pausing to move their hands in a sort of upward circular motion, probably trying to imitate the water from the cooler, “...splash! soaked like a human sponge!”

No sooner had Sinclair said that than had Heloise burst out laughing, taking a great amount of joy in the story of the man’s misfortune. the scientist soon joined them, and the pair sat on the couch for a good five or so minutes shedding tears of laughter. “Oh my!” the half-demon eventually managed to breathe out through their wheezing breaths. “How... how long did it take you to- haha!- to calculate the angle?”

“Oh, about... three or four days” Sinclair answered, using their tumb to wipe a tear from the corner of their eye. “Honestly, the hardest part was figuring out how many steps it would take him to fall over. Fun fact: it was five and a half!”

“You are something else, dear”

#a couple of regular shadenfreude right here #invincible #invincible show #invincible amazon #invincible oc #😼💢#heloise contraire #da sinclair #my asks #plasmacandle #writing prompt friday

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thebmatt · 2 years

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FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #2: Bolt

It was a clear, cool night in Doma, and many of her citizens milled about the enclave, enjoying another night of freedom. Freedom to express themselves, to rebuild their traditions, or just to be happy and carefree again.

Inside the southern tower of the Kienkan, two men were likewise indulging in their own freedoms; from the demands of their stations. Tonight, they could simply be friends and indulge in a bit of drink.

Dahkar could not remember what Hien had called the libation, but it was strong and delicious, so in the moment, he simply didn’t care. Despite having his fair share of the bottle, his own prodigious constitution meant he simply felt pleasantly floaty, unlikely to awaken the following morn with any severe hangover symptoms.

Hien, by contrast, seemed to be incapable of holding this particular liquor. His words had long been slurred as the duo simply talked about whatever caught their fancy, mostly stories from before the pair had met.

Dahkar had finished his latest tale when Hien suddenly took another stiff pull, straight from the bottle. “Dahk…..Dahkar…..I gotta question for ya. Itsh personal. Can I ask you a pershonal question?”

Dahkar smriked at him. “Sorry, Hien, this is still not a date. You don’t have enough scales, or pointy enough ears, for my liking”.

Hien stared at him for a long second, processing his reply, before laughing uproariously for nearly a minute. Eventually he clamed himself down enough to reply “Ha….no, but itsh about that. You’ve never…had anyone elsh since Haurchefant, right? I always jusht wondered….why not Yugiri? You two always….sheemed to be close.”

Dahkar’s eyebrow cocked. “Hien, I think you might have had enough of that stuff if you’re forgetting her oath to you.”

“What? What’re you….talking about?”

Dahkar sighed. How deep in his cups WAS Hien? “We actually discussed it, a while back, but she said that her oath to you meant she could not have that sort of relationship, and she did not want to abandon said oath.”

Hien appeared confused. He shook his head, as if trying to will the haze he was in away, and did so hard enough that it seemed like it worked, because his voice had lost some of it’s slurred state. “What? I made no such demands of her. The oath I asked her to swear certainly made no mentions of not having a relationship!”

Dahkar shrugged, leaning forward to grasp the frame of the tower’s open windows. “Well….maybe wasn’t as interested as I’d hoped and she was just trying to let me down easy. It doesn’t matter. It’s enough to be her friend, if that’s what she wants. I’ll…..I’ll get over her, some day.”

“Yes…..yes, I suppose so” Hien said, looking down at the roof tiles. Suddenly he bolted to his feet. “I gotta do somethin’…..I’ll be right back!” He bolted down the stairs and out of Dahkar’s sight.

He chuckled. Guess the liquor had finally gotten to be too much. He’d have to ask Hien what it was called when he recovered, then quietly sneak it away from his stores. Clearly it wasn’t agreeing with him

Hien hadn’t gone anywhere near a privy. He was instead rushing through every room in the Kienkan, opening doors, peering inside, and then rushing to the next. After the seventh, he simply stopped, looked to the vaulted ceilings, and yelled “Yugiri??”

“Yes, my lord?” a quiet voice replied behind him. Only years of association with the shinobi helped Hien steel himself from jumping and yelping in shock. He spun and placed hands on her shoulders. “Yugiri. Do you like Dahkar?”

Yugiri reared back, only a little, in surprise. Hien’s words were a bit slurred, but the clarity in his eyes was something she’d not seen since they had dealt with the Blasphemy, and never directed so potently at her. “…..yes? Of course, my lord. We’ve been friends for a very long time by now…”

Hien chuckled and shook his head, “No no no, Yugiri, are you ATTRACTED to him? Are you in LOVE with him?”

Her expression shifted from confusion to hurt. She tried to turn away, but he held her steady. “My lord….this is cruel. You know it does not matter, because I cannot act on-

“I am SO sorry.” he interrupted. She looked back to him. His expression was downcast, his eyes sad. “I never meant for you to believe you could not have a love of your own when I asked for your loyalty. Only that as long as you kept your oath, you always act in the best interests of myself and Doma. I don’t even remember the words right now, but if I ever made you think that meant never having someone….I am sorry.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “My lord…Hien, I….I do love him. I have for some time, but….what if I am forced to choose between him and Doma? How can I do this? Is it not better to never let myself face this choice?”

Hien laughed “Yugiri, considering the reasons Dahkar has made Doma his new home in the wake of the Scions disbanding, do you truly believe such a scenario is likely? Should Dahkar and I find ourselves at odds enough that you feel you must choose between us, then the likely root is that I have committed a severe error in judgement!”

She had to laugh at that one.

“But if it will put your mind at ease and allow you to finally listen to your heart, then at any time in the future that Dahkar and I have come to an irreconcilable difference of ways, then at that time I hereby decree that your oath to me is released. In perpetuity.”

He stopped and cocked his head, looking upward as if trying to consider if he’d misspoken. “Er. The conditions for the release of your oath are effective in perpetuity. As is the release, should it happen. I think that is correct. I’m sorry, I hope this makes sense. I might be a bit dunk. BUT BUT I make this decree with a clear enough head!”

Yugiri laughed. Her lord could be ridiculous sometimes.

Then his words clicked.

“My lord, I believe I need to go speak with Dahkar now. I have a mistake to correct”

He smiled, released her shoulders, and waved her off. “Go! Kami’s blessing to you! He’s in the-“

“-South Tower, I know!” she yelled back, having already bolted in that direction.

Hien watched her go, pressing his hands together as he giggled happily.

Dahkar had been waiting for HIen to return when he suddenly felt the hairs on his neck raise.

He turned and a purple, white, and black bolt collided with him, knocking him backward.

He managed to hold his footing enough to keep from going down, but whatever it was seemed to be …holding him?

He opened his eyes to see the face of Yugiri smiling in a manner he could only describe as loving. Before he could even contemplate what that meant, she pressed her lips to his.

That lasted for a long while and might have been the best sensation he’d ever experienced. He lips were soft and she tasted of sweetness and spice. When they finally broke for air, she had a sheepish look on her face.

“It has come to my attention that I might have misinterpreted the exact nature of my oath to Lord Hien.”

Dahkar chuckled. “He mentioned something about that. I thought you were trying to just let me down without hurting my feelings”

She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. Had I known….I love you, Dahkar. I can’t remember when exactly my heart began to yearn to be yours, but I know it was before you left Doma after liberating it. When you asked me…it took all I had not to say yes. I meant every word I said to you.”

Fear crossed her countenance as she considered her next words. “Do you….do you still feel as you did, that day?”

He smiled and drew her in for another kiss.

#FFXiv Write 2022 #Dahkar Darkspear #yugiri mistwalker #Hien Rijin #my lizard boy deserves happiness again after losing his first true love #Drunk hien playing matchmaker also makes me giggle

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steddieworks · 1 year

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finally safe for me to fall - chapter 4

hello! I almost forgot to post today (oops) so I apologize if this is a little later than normal! I hope you enjoy!

read on ao3

Summary: Eddie has his first shift of nanny duties.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing

Words: 6.4k

The next morning, Eddie wakes up to the sound of his stupid alarm at an ungodly five-thirty a.m., which personally, he thinks is a time humans should never see. He rolls over and stops the alarm before it can wake up the whole house, but a vaguely logical part of his brain tells him that that’s exactly what needs to happen anyway.

Still, he decides that this is just a good opportunity for him to get a quick shower and start on some breakfast before he has to wake the twins up. He’s never particularly been a morning person, but the prospect of getting up early and being useful kicks his ass directly into gear. He finds a sensible shirt in his closet, a black sweater that can’t possibly be judged too harshly, paired with the jeans he wore the day before. He hums to himself as he collects his toiletries, and quietly makes his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake up the kids.

After moving approximately one-thousand bath toys, he finally manages to turn the shower tap on, glancing around the room curiously as he waits for the water to heat up. This is definitely the first room he’ll start with today while the girls are at school. It’s clear that this is primarily a child’s bathroom, but he knows there’s got to be a better way to organize all of the stuff in here.

The water pressure feels fucking fantastic on his skin when he finally ducks under it, and he sighs, wondering how long he could stay under the stream and still manage to get everyone ready for school on time. Probably not very long, he reasons. He washes his hair quickly, leaving conditioner to sit in it while he lathers up his neutralizing-scent soap, humming under his breath.

When he gets out of the shower he feels like a brand new man, spritzing himself with scent blockers and deodorant before getting dressed and brushing his teeth. His hair is a state while it’s wet, but he does the best he can with the towel, drying it enough so that it isn’t just dripping all over the place.

It’s close enough to six when he emerges that he goes to put his things away, then goes straight to the girls’ room to wake them up. He tries to be gentle about it, unlike the many rude awakenings he’d had himself as a child. He’s humming, opening the curtains and going over to their closet to see what sort of clothes they’ve got to choose from.

“Rise and shine, kiddos. Time to get ready for school!” Eddie announces brightly.

He hears some quiet groaning behind him, but ignores it in favor of pulling out a few things to make an outfit.

“Do we have to go?” Ivy whines.

Eddie turns to give her a smile. He’s obsessed with the fact that they’re already this comfortable with him. “Yeah, unfortunately you do. It’ll be great, though, don’t worry. We’ll have a good breakfast before school, and afterwards we can do whatever you guys want, okay?”

Jasmine sits up, stretching her arms up over her head as she yawns. “Are you gonna pick our clothes out? Can we help?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

Eddie pauses. He hadn’t even thought about whether or not they might want to do that themselves. “I was going to, but you guys can pick them out. I can just help make sure it matches, yeah?”

Ivy looks excited by that, jumping off the bed almost instantly. “Are you sure? Daddy always picks out our school clothes for us.”

“Well,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I think it’ll be fine if you guys pick, just this once.”

Jasmine grins, joining them by the closet. “I like you,” she says simply. “You’re cool.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “Thanks,” he says, ruffling her hair, which has mostly been pulled out of her braid in her sleep.

He leans against the door frame while they go through their closet to find something to wear, and he’s smiling, content to just watch the chaos unfold, when he hears a voice behind him.

“Good morning,” Steve says.

Eddie startles a little, glancing behind him. “Oh, hey,” he says with a smile, pretending he isn’t flustered by how deep Steve’s voice is. “Morning.”

Steve steps past him, brushing his hand lightly down Eddie’s side as he does. Eddie has to concentrate hard not to shiver. “What’re we doing?” he asks, sounding a little confused when he sees the twins looking through their clothes.

Eddie shrugs. “I told them they could pick out their own outfits for school. Is that… is that okay?” he asks, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. God, he hadn’t thought about it, but it is probably a bit early to be calling the shots like this. He hopes Steve isn’t mad at the girls since-

“Of course that’s fine,” Steve says, turning and giving him an easy smile. “I’m just surprised, is all. I normally just pick out their clothes because it’s faster,” he admits. He turns to his daughters then, who don’t even seem to be mildly interested in his presence. “Uh, good morning?” he says to them, putting his hands on his hips.

“Morning, Daddy,” Jasmine says politely. She passes by him without so much as a glance, handing her little handful of clothes up for Eddie to check. “Does this match?” She asks sweetly.

Eddie takes the items from her, smiling when he finds a pair of bright yellow, wide-legged pants, and a black sweater with little white and yellow daisies on it. “Yup, looks good. Do you have some black shoes to wear with it?”

Jasmine nods, excited. “Yeah, I do.”

He nods, stepping back to let her pass. “Alright, go get dressed then.” He turns to watch Ivy, who seems to be struggling between two different options. “Ivy, you need help, sweetheart?” Eddie asks from his place against the wall. Steve is standing close to him, his arms crossed as he watches the proceedings, a little smile tugging at his lips.

Ivy sighs. “I wanna wear a dress, but I don’t wanna be cold,” she complains.

Eddie shrugs, stepping closer and flipping through the options in the closet. “Well, what about this?” he asks, tugging out what looks like a sweatshirt dress. “You could wear it with leggings and sneakers, yeah?”

Ivy crinkles her nose. “But would that match?” She asks, petulant.

Steve coughs out a laugh from behind him. Eddie ignores it. “Yeah, honey, I think so. Just some plain black leggings and maybe some white sneakers, I think it would be cute.”

“Okay,” she finally agrees, taking the dress from him and handing the hanger back. “Do I have to wait for Jazz to come out of the bathroom?”

Eddie’s about to answer when Steve interjects. “We’ll step out, Ivy, you can just get dressed in here. Make sure to brush your teeth when she comes out though, okay?”

Ivy nods, and Eddie follows Steve dutifully out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. Steve leads the way to the kitchen, and Eddie feels a little bit like a lost puppy, trailing behind him like this. “That… went okay, right?” Eddie asks, tentative.

Steve turns to smile at him. “I think so,” he agrees. “Jasmine’s usually the easy one with things like that. Ivy… not so much. She’s never met a problem that she can’t exacerbate.”

Eddie has to laugh at that. He can see that, even from what very little he knows about the girl. “Right,” he says. He remembers himself then, sitting up from where he’d been leaning briefly against the kitchen island. “So, eggs, bacon, toast? What do you guys usually do for breakfast?”

Steve shrugs. “It usually depends on how late we’re running, but I’m not gonna complain about eggs and bacon.”

Eddie smiles and nods, going to rifle through the fridge. “Oh, you buy the real nice stuff,” he notes, glancing at all the unfamiliar brand names, the ones he usually never looks twice at while at the grocery store himself.

Something about the comment must rub Steve the wrong way, because he’s looking down at the countertop when Eddie glances back at him. “Yeah,” he says flatly.

“I…” Eddie starts, but he’s got no idea where to even go with that. “How do you guys like your eggs?” He asks instead.

“Scrambled is fine,” Steve says, still looking down at the countertop.

Eddie nods, playing a game of trial and error to see which cabinets hold which supplies. Eventually, he manages to get it together, and before long, the eggs and bacon are sizzling in their pans and he’s getting the toaster up and running as coffee brews in the pot next to him.

“Daddy, have you seen my white sneakers?” Ivy’s voice calls as she comes into the kitchen.

Steve replies with a sigh. “They should be in the closet, love.”

“But they’re not!” She protests. “I’ve looked everywhere for them, and they’re not in there!”

Eddie glances over at the scene, but neither of them pay him any mind. “Okay, why don’t you wear a different pair of shoes today, and we’ll look for your other ones when we get home,” Steve says, leveling with her.

“Fine,” she says, and Eddie can hear the pout. “Can I borrow sissy’s shoes?”

“Uh, absolutely not. Not without asking her first.”

“But Daddy,” Ivy whines. “She’s gonna say no!”

Steve shrugs at her. “Well, I can’t help that. I’m not forcing her to share her stuff with you because you can’t keep up with your own things.”

Ivy huffs. Eddie glances over his shoulder at them, surprised to see Steve and his daughter in some sort of tense stare-off. Ivy looks so much like him that it’s actually sort of scary.

“Honey, why don’t you eat breakfast, and I’ll go try to find your shoes, okay?” Eddie interrupts as he begins plating up the food.

Both of them look like they’ve been startled out of their little staring contest, but Eddie couldn’t care less. He slides a plate in front of Steve first, setting a smaller one in front of the chair beside him, then turns back and grabs the mug of coffee he’d poured, as well as a glass of orange juice, setting those down in front of them as well. “Be back in a second,” he says with an easy smile, ruffling Ivy’s hair as he passes her.

“Thank you,” Steve calls sweetly towards his back as he leaves the room.

Eddie smiles, giddy.

“Jasmine, breakfast is ready in the kitchen, honey,” Eddie says as he passes the open door of the bathroom, where Jasmine is stood at the sink, brushing her teeth.

“Mkay,” she mumbles around a mouthful of foam.

Eddie surveys their bedroom for a moment when he walks in, going to check the closet first, finding the shoe caddy on both doors full, but neither of them containing a pair of white sneakers. Hmm. He turns a circle, glancing around at his other options.

He spots Ivy’s unmade bed, something peeking out from under the bed skirt. Bingo. He retrieves the sneakers, dusting them off a little on his way back to the kitchen. All three Harringtons are lined up at the kitchen island, and Eddie can hear Steve talking quietly to them. He hears a bit that sounds like, “-have to behave-“ before he promptly interrupts.

“Here, Ivy,” he says, setting the sneakers on the floor next to Ivy’s chair.

“You found them!” She cheers, grinning up at him widely. “Thank you!”

Eddie smiles, ruffling her hair as he goes to make himself a plate of breakfast too. He feels Steve’s gaze on him and glances over, offering him a generic smile.

“Where did you find them?” Steve asks, gesturing to the shoes.

Eddie shares a glance with Ivy, wagging his finger at her playfully. “Under her bed.”

Ivy grins sheepishly. “Thank you, Eddie,” she says sweetly.

He winks at her, but catches the hesitant look on Steve’s face, his lips quirking into a frown. Eddie gives him a curious look, and Steve glances between the two of them before speaking. “Next time you need to go find your shoes by yourself, Ivy,” he lectures gently. “Eddie’s not here to go looking for all your lost things, okay? You need to be responsible and keep up with them yourself.”

Eddie knows the lecture is not necessarily targeted at him, but he feels chastised nonetheless, looking down at his food in embarrassment. He really thought he was doing the right thing, he didn’t even consider this side of it.

“Eddie,” Steve says from beside him a moment later, putting his plate in the sink. “Hey,” he says gently, clearly seeing the distraught look on his face. Steve reaches out, gently pushing Eddie’s hair back over his shoulder before dropping his hand there and squeezing. “You’re not in trouble, hon, I just want them to learn to be independent and take responsibility for themselves. You didn’t know that, okay?”

It embarrasses him a little, to see how kindly Steve is handling him being a big baby about this. “Okay,” Eddie says quietly. “Sorry,” he tacks on.

Steve smiles, shaking his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re new at this, remember? You’ll learn things like that on the way, okay?”

Eddie nods, missing the contact immediately when Steve pulls away to go collect the twins’ plates. Eddie starts running water in the sink as he listens to Steve tell the girls to go get their coats and backpacks. It’s clearly a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Do you want to fix their hair this morning?” Steve asks as he adds the other dishes to the sink. “I can wash these up while you do that.”

“Shouldn’t I…” Eddie trails off, uncertain. This isn’t the first time that Steve has offered to split these sort of chores, and Eddie’s starting to wonder what he’s getting at by doing that. “Shouldn’t I be doing both?”

Steve gives him an odd look. “No, not necessarily.” He seems to realize something then, and he shakes his head. “Eddie, I’m not entirely useless. You’re here to help me, of course, but I don’t intend on just sitting back and letting you take over every single little household chore. Having you here is just… to even the load. And to have someone stable for the girls, when I work late and travel.”

Eddie nods slowly. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught about being an omega, but if this is the way Steve wants it… then he’s more than happy to do it his way. “Okay. Then yeah, I’d love to do their hair,” he grins.

Steve smiles back at him. “I’m sure they’ll be relieved that it won’t be me.”

The girls come back in then, as if on cue, and Eddie directs both of them to a barstool as he goes to grab a brush and hair ties. They don’t want their hair to match, he learns, and Ivy prefers hers to be up and out of her face as much as possible, while Jasmine doesn’t mind hers being down. He thinks, briefly, that it’s a little at odds with their personalities, Ivy being the more wild of the two, but maybe she’s figured out the sensibility of having it out of her way.

He ends up doing a french braid for Ivy and a half-up half-down sort of bun look for Jasmine. Both of them seem thrilled with it, and Eddie slyly suggests that they should ask their dad for some bows to make it even cuter. Their eyes light up at the idea, and Steve rolls his eyes fondly, winking at Eddie when they aren’t looking. Eddie’s knees are a little weak.

“Oh, Eddie? One more thing,” Steve says as the girls are getting their coats on and checking that they have everything they need in their backpacks.

“Yeah?” he asks, tying his own hair back into his usual low bun.

Steve glances at the movement, and his mouth flickers. “Your hair was curling so nicely,” he says, almost in a pout. Eddie raises an eyebrow at this, and Steve’s face flushes. “Right, erm… Here. I went ahead and ordered you a card linked to my credit account,” Steve says, holding out a black square of plastic. “If you and the girls ever want to go get a snack, or you notice we need something around the house, or if you just need something yourself, you use this, okay?”

Eddie stares at it. He’s never had a credit card before, or even access to one. His uncle had taught him early on that people like them don’t get mixed up in things like that, in case they find themselves in a situation where they can’t pay for it.

“Oh. Um. Are you sure?” Eddie asks nervously, taking the corner of the card like he’s afraid it’ll burn him.

“Of course,” Steve says, looking confused. “You won’t get your first paycheck for another two weeks, you’ll need something to use in the meantime. And plus, if it’s something for my girls, or for the house, it needs to come from my account anyway. You don’t need to spend your own money on things like that, okay?”

Eddie can’t believe the trust he’s being given right now. “Oh. Okay.”

Steve can clearly sense his anxiety. “Girls, go wait by the door, Eddie will be there in just a second, okay?” He instructs. The twins obey, and Eddie feels a twist of nerves inside, for a completely different reason. Steve studies him carefully, reaching out and gently cradling Eddie’s chin, prompting him to meet his eyes. “Eddie, I don’t know what kind of financial situation you’re used to, and it’s not my place to ask. But here? Here, you will be taken care of, got it? You don’t need to worry about money or anything. Not with me.”

Eddie feels like his face is burning, radiating from the gentle press of Steve’s fingertips to his skin, but he manages a nod. “Okay,” he breathes.

Steve nods, seemingly satisfied with his answer. He steps back, maintaining that air of professionalism once more. “Alright. Let me hug my daughters, and then you guys can be on your way. They know how to get to school, so just follow their lead, okay?”

“Alright,” Eddie nods. He follows Steve down the hall, watches with fondness as Steve crouches down and hugs and kisses both of his daughters, reminding them he loves them and saying he hopes they each have a good day at school. It’s impossibly sweet, and almost hurts to watch, knowing that he’s very much an outsider to it.

They leave after their goodbyes, Steve waving at them from the door, and Eddie takes a deep breath when he’s out of sight, hoping that he can prove himself in this part, at least.

He’s got this.

~~~

“Did you know our Daddy for a long time?” Ivy asks shortly into their walk. They’d been talking about other things at first - the weather, their school, even dinosaurs, but somehow, it had turned to this.

“Oh, uh, not very long,” Eddie answers. The question was worded a bit funny, but he still understood what she was asking. “Not as long as you guys have, of course,” he jokes. Each of them is holding one of his hands, and something about it fills his omega with pride.

“Did you move in with us to be our new mommy?” Jasmine asks, her voice sweet and curious.

Eddie trips on nothing.

“What?” He asks, his head whipping around to look at her.

She shares a confused look with her sister. “Well… You do everything a mommy does. And you let Daddy play with your hair.”

Eddie shakes his head quickly. Nope. He’s definitely gotta stop this one in its tracks. “Oh. No, honey, I didn’t move in with you guys to… do that. I just work for your dad. He needed some help taking care of you guys, you know?”

Ivy nods solemnly. “Yeah. That last lady was super mean!”

Jasmine nods in agreement. “Yeah she was.”

That piques Eddie’s curiosity. He hadn’t even thought about there being previous nannies, but surely there was. “Oh? What was so bad about her?” he asks carefully.

Ivy shrugs. “She was just mean. I don’t think she liked Daddy very much.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine agrees. “She said he was a disgrace.”

Eddie blanches. “She what?” he nearly shouts. He can’t imagine saying that about anyone, especially Steve. And especially not to Steve’s children.

Ivy nods, but looks sad. “Yeah. She told us he’s a disgrace, ‘cause he’s an unmated alpha, raising his kids by himself.”

That makes Eddie hesitate. The way she said it… made it sound like maybe there wasn’t a nanny before that. “Oh,” he says, wondering if he should ask. He lets curiosity win. “So, it was just you guys and your dad before that?”

Jasmine nods, jumping over a puddle on the sidewalk. “Mhm. Daddy used to not do work all the time,” she sounds wistful. “But then he got motored, and now he’s got lots of ‘sponsibiliries.”

Eddie can’t help but smile at the way she said that. “He got promoted and has lots of responsibilities now?” He corrects gently.

Jasmine has a sheepish grin on her face as she looks up at him, knocking her head against his hip playfully. “Yeah,” she says. “But it’s okay. He spends lots of time with us when he can.”

“That’s great,” Eddie says gently. “I know your dad loves you guys a lot, or else he wouldn’t have asked me to come help out.”

Ivy nods. “I’m just glad it’s you, not that mean old lady.” She looks genuine, shaking her head like she can’t even explain the horrors she’s seen.

Eddie squeezes her hand. “Well I’m glad I’m here, too, honey. And I’m not that mean,” he jokes with a wink.

The twins giggle. “You know,” Jasmine starts. “We thought you’d be mean and scary, when we first saw you.”

That surprises Eddie. “Did you?” He asks, glancing at the two of them. When Ivy nods, he fakes a wince, releasing their hands just long enough to place them over his chest, like they’ve stabbed him in the heart. “Oh, it hurts!” he simpers.

They giggle even harder, and he grins as he takes their hands once more. “You’re silly,” Jasmine informs him through her laughter.

Eddie wags her arm lightly. “Well, duh! Do you guys still think I look mean and scary?” He asks, looking at both of them with his best impersonation of a baby deer.

Ivy laughs, but shakes her head. “Not anymore. I think you kinda look like a princess.”

That stalls him, for a second. “Oh?” he says, almost laughing. “How so?”

The girl just shrugs, but gestures to her own hair, then his. “All your big hair,” she explains. “Princess hair!”

Eddie glances at her sister, like he’s looking for backup, and Jasmine nods solemnly. “Princess hair,” she agrees.

And Eddie can’t help but laugh at that, just a little. “Well, alright, if you say so.”

They both emphatically agree that he does in fact have princess hair, and he decides to leave it at that. What an… enlightening morning this has been so far.

They arrive at the school right on time, and Eddie crouches down to make sure their shoes are tied and say goodbye. “Alright, I’ll be right back here later this afternoon to pick you guys up, okay?” He says, glancing between the two of them. They nod, and Ivy rocks back and forth on her shoes, like she’s ready to go. Eddie smiles at them. “Alright. Have a good day, okay? Be good!”

They make it up the steps together, and his heart clenches when they both glance back, as if checking to see that he’s still there. He lifts a hand up to wave, smiling at them. He blows them a kiss, just to see them giggle, and as soon as he sees that they’re in the building, he turns to head back home, smiling to himself the whole way.

~~~

When Eddie makes it back to the apartment, he’s humming to himself, compiling a list in his head of everything he wants to accomplish during the day. First, tackle the twins’ bathroom, get that organized. Then, assess the laundry situation, clean up the kitchen, make a grocery list…

He’s still thinking when he steps into the kitchen, apparently so lost in his own thoughts that he’s blind.

“Oops!” he says as he bumps into something.

Or rather, someone.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, hon,” Steve says, a hand darting out to steady Eddie where he’d stumbled after running straight into the other man.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, his face probably more than a little flushed when he glances up at Steve. “Er, what are you still doing here?” He asks, glancing down at his watch. It’s already half-past seven, and he had assumed that Steve left for work really early.

“Oh, I don’t have any meetings until nine, so I can usually run a little late in the mornings, unless something comes up.” Steve glances at his hair in the reflection of the refrigerator, and Eddie has half a mind to tell him that he looks good.

He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Oh, okay.” It’s a little bit awkward, for a moment, being alone with Steve without the bustle of children to keep them distracted. It’s just them and the empty space, and Eddie can’t help the way his eyes follow the muscles in Steve’s shoulders and back as he reaches into cabinets, clearly assembling some sort of lunch for himself.

“I can do that,” Eddie says, suddenly feeling a little useless just standing there watching.

Steve glances back at him, a small smile quirking at his lips. “Do you remember what I said about letting me do things?” Steve says, a little chastising.

Eddie doesn’t meet his gaze. He does, of course. “Well… okay, fine,” he says, and he knows he sounds like a petulant child.

That seems to amuse Steve, if his grin and laugh is anything to go by. “I get it, you know,” he says, softer than Eddie was expecting. When Eddie gives him a confused look, Steve shrugs, piling things onto his sandwich without any sort of rhyme or reason. “You just want to take care of someone. I get that.”

Eddie would probably bristle if it weren’t true. Instead, he just gives him a sheepish look. “I really can’t help it,” he says. “I’ll try to reign it in, though. I know it’s annoying.”

Steve glances at him like that surprises him, shaking his head. “It’s not annoying at all, actually,” he corrects. “I think it’s sweet. And it reminds me that you’re the perfect person for this job.”

That really does make Eddie blush, and he has to look away to hide it. “Right,” he says quietly, without argument. “Well, um…”

“What are you gonna get up to today?” Steve asks, effectively bridging the gap between the awkward silence.

“Oh. well, I thought I’d reorganize the twins’ bathroom, if that’s okay. Then maybe do some laundry, or go grocery shopping or something.” Eddie says, suddenly desperate for Steve’s approval, or guidance, or something.

Steve just nods, looking pleased. “Sounds good. Remember to use your credit card, okay?”

Eddie nods. He hadn’t forgotten about it, exactly, but he was definitely trying his best not to think about it so much. “Okay,” he says.

After he finishes constructing his monstrosity of a sandwich, Steve goes back to his room to finish getting dressed, and Eddie can’t help the omega instinct to go slide a couple of snacks in his lunchbox too. He plays innocent immediately after, though, looking through the fridge and making notes on the chalkboard when he notices something else they need.

By the time Steve emerges, Eddie’s got a good list going on, and is raiding the pantry to make sure he’s not forgetting anything. “Rice?” he asks, no preamble.

“Uh, should be some in the, uh…” he stumbles over his words, and Eddie glances over in time to see him fiddling helplessly with his tie. “Uh, there,” Steve says, gesturing vaguely to a cabinet.

Eddie does find some rice, marking it off the list now that he knows it’s there, but then he turns around to deal with the new problem. “Need some help?” he offers sweetly, going to sit on a barstool.

Steve looks embarrassed, but nods, stepping closer. “I normally don’t even bother with these,” he explains as he steps in between Eddie’s open legs. His scent swarms him suddenly, that deep, rich bourbon-vanilla smell almost making Eddie weak in the knees. “But my boss is coming by today, and I don’t want to look like a total idiot when he stops in.”

Eddie’s fingers are quick and efficient as they do up the knot in the tie, but he tries to slow down just slightly to prolong this closeness, the warm puff of Steve’s breath across his own face, the sweet, almost tender look in his eyes as he looks down at Eddie. It’s too much, but not nearly enough. “There,” Eddie says, unable to recognize his own voice. “All done,” he says, patting the tie neatly before pulling his hands, and himself, away.

Steve glances down, a bright smile on his face when he takes in the completed work. “Thanks,” he says sweetly, seeming to have no issues at all with how stupidly close they are. “Much better than the mess I would’ve created,” he jokes.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eddie says, trying to force himself to feel normal about this. Nothing out of the ordinary, here. Nothing at all.

He thinks for a second that Steve might say something else about the tie, but instead he glances down at his watch, swearing softly. “Right. I really need to get to work. You’re okay, right? You’ve got your keys, card, everything you need?”

Eddie nods. He feels a little embarrassed, distantly, that Steve is doting on him like this, but mostly he just feels… nice. It’s nice, he realizes, to have someone care about you. Like really, actually care about you. It’s not something he’s never felt, exactly, but it’s definitely not super familiar. He thinks… that maybe he could get used to this.

“Yeah,” he says, instead of voicing any of that nonsense. “I’m good. Er. Have a good day at work, sw-”

Eddie catches himself before he says a stupid pet name. God. He doesn’t have the luxury of calling Steve those names willy-nilly.

He clears his throat. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Steve says, slipping on a suit jacket that hugs his shoulders, tapering around his waist perfectly. Eddie has to force himself to look away. “I should be home around five or six, but I’ll call and let you know if something changes.”

Eddie nods. Steve lingers, like he wants to say something else, but after a few minutes he just gives Eddie a small smile, grabs his lunch, and leaves. Now it’s time to get to work.

~~~

After a morning trip to the store for some essentials and an afternoon of reorganizing and cleaning the bathroom, Eddie makes his way to the school to pick up the twins. He watches as they follow the flood of other children out of the building, their little eyes searching the crowd to find him. He holds a hand up in a wave, knowing he’s on the shorter side, and can’t help the grin when both of the twins’ faces light up when they spot him. They rush over to him, a blur of color and blonde hair until they’re standing before him, grinning and talking fast.

He laughs at their enthusiasm. “Hi, girls,” he says, reaching out and taking Ivy’s right hand and Jasmine’s left, turning them to walk home. “How was school?” He asks, as if they aren’t already halfway through some scrambled story.

“It was great! We learned about why it rains, and got to color raindrops!” Jasmine says excitedly. Eddie nods along with her, making the appropriate “wow,” noises.

Ivy doesn’t seem as impressed with the raindrops. “That was okay. My favorite part was when we got to go outside and play!” She says, skipping over a crack in the sidewalk.

Eddie can’t help but laugh at how different their personalities are. “Ah, yeah, I bet that was fun!” He agrees with her. “Are you guys hungry?”

They both nod excitedly, and Eddie grins, glancing around like he’s about to tell them a secret. “How about we go get a snack before we go home?”

“Yes!” Ivy screeches, Jasmine cheering her agreement.

Eddie grins and they make their way to a small convenience store that Eddie had spotted on the walk over earlier. He lets them peruse the snack aisle at their leisure, standing back and watching, fond. He hears something clatter somewhere behind him and turns, startled.

“Great,” a small woman says. She’s got strawberry blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail, and when she lets out an annoyed puff of air, her bangs flutter. She is also, Eddie notices as his eyes flicker down at the candy bar she’d just dropped, heavily pregnant.

“Oh, here,” Eddie says, immediately bending down to grab it for her. He places it in her outstretched hand before stepping back with a smile. He doesn’t intend to say anything more, turning to corral the twins, but she stops him with her sweet voice.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, sounding a little surprised. “I swear I feel like I can’t do anything by myself anymore,” she complains, resting a gentle hand on her ballooned belly. She smiles down at it, and Eddie has to look away, his heart hurting.

“Right,” he says, trying to force a light laugh. He wants to leave, a weird, sickening feeling creeping up in his chest, one that he has no explanation for.

Unfortunately for him, the twins choose that moment to emerge at his side, and he already knows from the soft gasp of surprise what’s coming.

“Oh!” Ivy says, sounding delighted. She glances up at Eddie, then at the woman. “Hi!” She greets, sweetly.

The woman looks almost as delighted to see them as they are to see her. “Hello,” she replies, smiling at the both of them. She begins rubbing her belly, almost absently, and Eddie longs for something he’s never had, something he will probably never have. “Aren’t you two just adorable! I’m Chrissy. What are your names?”

“I’m Ivy,” she says, not a shy bone in her body.

Jasmine is a little more reserved. She takes hold of Eddie’s hand, hiding half of her face behind his arm. “Jasmine,” she says, softly.

The woman, Chrissy, smiles widely. “Those are beautiful names,” she tells them.

“Thank you,” Jasmine says quietly, while Ivy echoes the sentiment a bit louder. Eddie almost feels inclined to thank her as well, but he doesn’t know what for.

Ivy steps forward, gesturing to Chrissy’s tummy in a way that would probably seem rude if she wasn’t so sweet. “What’s their name gonna be?” She asks.

Chrissy smiles, then shrugs. “I’m not sure yet. My alpha and I want to wait until they are born to decide.”

Ivy nods, still looking curiously at her tummy. “Does it hurt very much?”

“Ivy,” Eddie warns, lightly. He sends Chrissy an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Not much for tact, this one.”

Chrissy laughs at it, waving it off. “She’s fine. And yeah, it hurts a little bit,” she says honestly. She looks at Eddie then, with some sort of knowing smile that he doesn’t think he’s earned. “Probably not as bad as it hurt your mom to carry you two, though. How did you do it? You’re so little!” She enthuses, gesturing at Eddie with something like awe in her voice.

Eddie flushes. Instantly, he recognizes her mistake.

“Oh, um-” he starts, shaking his head. She looks at him curiously, waiting for a response. “I’m not uh…” Jasmine squeezes his hand, looking up at him with what he thinks might be pity. There’s no way she could possibly understand what he’s going through, but he squeezes it back, and it gives him the strength to reply, “I’m not their mom, actually.”

Chrissy looks surprised by this revelation. “Oh!” She said, glancing at the twins and back to him several times, like she’s trying to figure it out. “I just- you’re an omega, right? I just assumed-”

Eddie nods, positive his face is flushed. He’s embarrassed, and wistful, and jealous - some part of him manages to recognize the lost emotion- jealous of this woman who he doesn’t know, simply because she’s expecting pups and he isn’t, doesn’t think he’ll ever have the chance to. And it’s… not fair, of course, but that doesn’t stamp down the feeling any.

“I’m an omega,” he agrees. “But I’m just their nanny.”

“Oh,” Chrissy says, looking a little embarrassed. “I am so sorry for assuming like that, I didn’t-”

Eddie cuts her off, spares them both the extra mortification. “It’s fine. I, um…” he glances down at the girls, smiling as he pets Ivy’s hair, squeezes Jasmine’s hand. “I’d be so lucky to be their mom. But I’ll take being the nanny, though.”

Chrissy smiles, something soft and motherly on her face. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a great job,” she says kindly. She waves at the girls. “I’ve gotta go give my little rugrat the weird stuff they’ve been craving, but it was nice to meet you all.”

Ivy waves at her, calling a goodbye to both her and the baby, and Jasmine silently raises her hand. As soon as the woman has disappeared, Ivy whirls around to him. “Eddie, do you think you’ll ever have pups?” she asks, bold.

Eddie nearly blanches. “Let’s pay for our snacks and go home,” he says, herding them to the register and hoping this closes this conversation once and for all.

#steddie #steve harrington and eddie munson #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #alpha beta omega dynamics #abo dynamics #omegaverse #babysitter eddie munson #single dad steve harrington #original harrington children #finally safe for me to fall #fsfmtf #eddie munson #steve harrington

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kimyoonmiauthor · 2 years

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In something I'm writing, the narrator is explicitly writing a text for religious members about events that they experienced, so it veers between personal reflection, history, autobiography, hagiography, and religious instruction. before anything happens, the (internal and external) audience is warned that sections might be embellished or fabricated for the sake of religious values /1

the narrator might pull back, directly address the audience, and explain how what happened to them is applicable to current times. or perhaps just lecture them about values & strategies. The reader ends up presented with a narrative while also decoding much about the strange society depicted in the framing … which doesn’t always endear the readers to me. I appreciated your section about modulating the PoV and voice. To use your terms, it’s first-person voicy, mainly.

So it has made sense to pull back into that second-person ‘you’ directed to the internal audience, as i’ve found the readers can extract tons of information with very few words, just from the unspoken gaps.

Conversely, pushing forward into a third-person-close masquerading as first-person lets readers experience dialogue, action, and scenery vividly, without the cloying nature of the narrator. In one of your posts, you alluded to even more advanced tricks of PoV than the simple breakdown you presented. Would you mind sharing some?

Other parts are things like what you learn in Lit class:

reliability of narrator

Unique perspective (How filtered is it through this.) This is different from reliability.

Narrator's self-awareness. (People often think that a voicy narrator equals self-aware, but I've found people with solid opinions and no sense whatsoever of themselves.)

Narrator's sense of time

Narrators sense of place

Narrator's sense of detail

Narrator's senses in general--this might modulate on disability, for example. For example, those who are autistic and have PTSD, or C-PTSD might have say, sound sensitivity.

Narrator's sense of people

Narrator psychology

and so on. Because, as I alluded, modernism opened the door on psychology, there are a ton of tools to try to manipulate the reader. (If you need the Modernists, try Gertrude Stein, Steinbeck, etc--who got dumped on by the structuralists).

I should note that a character having a low sense of self while being voicy isn't well-received in USian market. (Not sure which one you operate in), so cutting all self-aware lines isn't that popular. I should also note, though, that the US's demand for a super voicy self-aware narrator is kind of ethnocentric and limits the writer down to pretty much writing individualistic narratives that have to be flowery, or super detailed to compensate, which I, personally, object to. I like the narration to follow the development of the character. And if the whole point is that the character becomes more self-aware, then this limits writers very much.

But mostly, the best way to learn is to read widely *outside* of your own culture AND inside of it. There some really cool third person omniscient narration techniques you can pull from older European Literature (Before late 19th century). And I read some Zimbabwe Lit that manipulates first person in a way I hadn't known that was possible. Capital L Literature (White European and white european diaspora), where it puts writing more about technique, etc v. classic, tends to miss out on some really cool overseas things that beat it hands down.

Of course there are seminal books that do PoV really well in really interesting ways and challenge your baseline.

Lolita, for example, is the well-known unreliable narrator.

Botchan plays with agency, time, place, etc. (Though if you're reading on Japanese Lit outside of anime and manga, you should also read outside of Natsume Soseki.) Botchan is super frustrating as a character. He's highly unlikable, but that's the point, because his narration illustrates a type of person from the time period that Soseki is talking about.

Kokoro from Natsume Soseki also is interesting. (Again, read more than Soseki and manga from Japan, but I'm not giving you a list)

You can also read some Light Novels online from China--often they get translations.

Moon Embracing the Sun, (though I know it doesn't currently have a translation) was a book and I rather liked the narration techniques in it. (The way time is split has a mudang PoV, which doesn't work for TV well) I read part of it myself, in Korean, to practice translation.

BTW, I read Hong Gil Dong in Korea v. the translation (from Penguin) and I prefer the original more. The translation doesn't do the original justice. (Again, practicing reading Korean)

In another words, if you want the more advanced techniques, you need to read, interact with people (safely and with consent), and occasionally break your comfort zone (again, safely and with consent.) I'd also suggest if you are monolingual to try other languages because the difference in thought processes between languages can open your world to other ways of perceiving the world. Even one year of a language can make your perceive the world differently.

So explore more, experiment and see what works for your story in front of you. If it's not working, try again, rewrite the scene or section again, and consume widely until you get the effect you want with your test audience.

Also, learning some literature history won't hurt you either. (from whatever country you're targeting to learn). Often the context will help you understand the contemporary lit better.

Also, learn to question that history once you become more advanced... but I suppose I've been doing a lot of that with the Worldwide Story Structure post/series of posts. Remember, everything in human history has an origin. 'cause humans weren't around for forever, and writing is only 5,000 years old. and a ton changed in 5,000 years of 200,000 years of human history. And humans love retconning.

#point of view #writing advice #read more widely than your own country

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korships · 2 years

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❣️🧑‍🦰💓🤡💤💘💖🥰🎲for Gladio and your xv s/i!

❣️ - What are their love languages?

- gladio is big on quality time and gifts, he shows love by including s/i in his life in various ways, whether it be dragging them around to camp/forage, or trying to get them to train with him or read with him. he loves both giving and receiving gifts, before the fall he wasnt scared to flash that blue blood money and shell out for expensive gifts, after the fall though he’s more prone to giving some random thing he found on his travels. he appreciates any gifts he gets but gets super excited about ones with practical use; camping gear, the next book in a series he needs, clothes to replace his damaged ones.

- s/i is big on quality time and words of affirmation. with everything going on, time spent together is time spent well. gladio & s/is words of affirmation to each other definitely appear weird to others due to the tough love nature, but it works for them.

🧑‍🦰 - Have they ever dyed their hair? Ever cut it themself?

- for gladio, no. his father was strict about gladio keeping up appearances when he was a teen. he thought it would be cool to cut his own hair or dye it, but it never happened.

- s/i has definitely cut their own hair before; “i dont have the money to get it cut”, “too busy surviving so just gonna chop it with a pocket knife”, it looked bad. also dyed their hair before the fall.

💓 - What are some signs they’ve fallen for someone? How do they show their affection?

- gladio gets lost in thought more, it makes him introspective. outwardly, his flirting changes, it becomes more specific and geared to s/i, instead of generalized or casual, starts taking any and every opportunity to show off. shows his affection by adding s/i to list of people he’d take a hit for, tries to talk to them more & gives them practical knowledge to improve their chances of survival. tries to get s/i to spend more time alone with him by putting up/taking down camp or taking walks.

- s/i is less obvious. they start avoiding gladio as much as possible, to the point where everyone becomes suspicious of why. pretty opposite in this respect except for one way s/i shows affection is also adding gladio to the “i would take a hit for you” list. tries to show affection by indirectly helping, or helping from the shadows.

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about?

- gladio has very good spatial awareness BUT he’s also massive and prone to bumping into others or accidentally elbowing them. has definitely bumped his head/face on a door frame or two. fully aware of how bad he stinks after a couple days of endless fighting or no access to a bath, tries and fails to cover it up with cologne.

- s/i is embarrassed about how they communicate with the bros & other characters. often says things without thinking but only is embarrassed when people point out they said something weird.

💤 - What do they absolutely need to have to fall asleep?

- gladio is versatile and can sleep any time any place, he just needs to eat not long before sleeping and he’s generally good to go. he doesnt “need” it but wants a good amount of space so he can stretch out.

- s/i is the complete opposite, falling asleep in the regalia when they didnt get enough sleep the night before. needs some sort of background to sleep at the very least. doesnt mind sharing sleeping space but also wants some space to themselves.

💘 - What do they find attractive about their partner(s)?

- gladio likes when s/i returns his energy. playful quips are a steady occurrence and he likes when s/i returns it. he also likes how stubborn s/i can be, even when it works against him. attracted to the ability to balance seriousness and levity.

- s/i is attracted to a lot of the same qualities, but really attracted to the gladio that appears when you can tell he’s resting or enjoying himself. also likes how gladio is mostly level headed, but when he feels someone he cares for has been wronged he’s ready to dish it out.

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them?

- gladio is a show-off, not always to impress s/i, he prefers trying to impress thru small gestures, remembering small things about s/i, offering to pay for s/i, or thru practicality. he relies on showing off as their relationship progresses, and goes to things that will materially help s/i after. while. doesnt put too much pressure on intentionally impressing s/i, lets it happen naturally and it works. is impressed by either feats in battle or someone’s attitude in certain situations.

- s/i doesnt make purposeful attempts at impressing gladio. if he is impressed by something s/i does, s/i is always like “was that really impressive???” but takes the win anyways. s/i is impressed by a showing of kindness or being outspoken.

🥰 - What pet names do their partner(s) use for them? How flustered do they get by them?

- both are a fan of jokey nicknames for the other. especially if it will embarrass the other in front of the bros lmao. otherwise

- gladio is a fan of the classics, “babe” is his go to but also a fan of sickeningly sweet ones like “sugar” or “buttercup”. introduces s/i as his “boo”. as he gets older and the relationship gets older too, he relies on the more romantic classics like “sweetheart” or “dearest”. every once in a while, he’ll see a nickname in a book he reads and tries it out.

- s/i most just prefers calling him his full name, gladiolus. mostly just adds “my” to any sort of descriptive phrase, “mountain man” to “my mountain man”. calls him flower boy and never lets go of it. “sweetie” and “hon” are the more classic ones s/i sticks to.

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list.

- 🗣️ - How do they handle public speaking?

- gladio is fine with public speaking. he’s pretty extroverted and very good with people. able to get the point across convincingly and clearly. depending on what he’s talking about he might feel pressure or anxiety but you wont catch a trace of it in his speech.

- s/i can do public speaking if necessary. not great at it, but could be worse. does a lot better if it’s a talk from the heart topic than reading some script.

#asks #ffxv si #r: gladio #have fun w this dissertation ass answer #i have a lot of thoughts abt this One Guy #💚: someone to stay

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girldigital · 3 months

Text

Yankee wanker part trois

Building some more evidence that is not going to help me feel more at home here in the slightest. I was thinking about the birthday I had in New York and how my birthday post, were I to make one, would now probably come a year late, but also how that is an experience that I couldn’t have had here. It’s funny. I’ve seen Kode9 in New York and I’ve seen Kode9 in London and both experience were drastically different. Is it fair of me to compare them? Probably not. However, I will.

To talk about the day I saw Kode9 in New York, I need to rewind all the way to the very start of the day, the moment midnight struck. I turned 26 in some random guy’s apartment. His friends had left a few minutes prior, leaving only G and I with him as he plowed through blow with baseball still playing on his TV. There was one of those light up waterfall frames on the floor next to it. We left not too long after and I grabbed myself a bacon egg and cheese to celebrate my old age. The morning after, I was surprised by a birthday breakfast, with a candle propped up in the middle of my pancake. G really is such a perfect friend to have. Anyway, I don’t remember much of the rest of my day up until the evening. G and his friend had bought this antique Samovar and had propped themselves up in front of Bossa at night, offering tea for a dollar to anybody who wished to have one in the wee hours of the night. This was going to be their second iteration, in the middle of Maria Hernandez park. I crossed paths with Umru on our way to share tea with strangers. The evening started pretty quietly, with mostly friends joining us to share a relaxing beverage out of this Russian contraption. As the night went on, more and more people joined us, exchanging giggles and dances. There was a group of older Latino gentlemen next to us, gratuitously taking care of DJing the evening with the help of their giant boombox. Both of our groups ended up merging after a member of our tea party pointed out the shirt one of these men was wearing said, unbeknownst to him: “Don’t bully me, I’ll cum”. We danced so much they went and bought this massive bottle of wine and I finally revealed to the group that today was actually my birthday. So here I was, in the middle of this park in Brooklyn, happily cheering with a bunch of strangers of all ages to my 26th year of life on this silly planet. Hard to say if any birthday is ever going to top this, especially since the night wasn't even over yet. We still had to head to Silo to catch the man of the hour, legend Kode9. He was playing live which is always bittersweet for a serial Shazamer and obsessive archivist. On one hand, it is pretty sad to think this might be the last time I hear some of these melodies. On the other, it is freeing to attend a show and only have to focus on the now, forced to fully lose yourself to the music. I think we had taco truck food after, then I went back home, one year wiser.

Now on to London….

Well, I went to see Kode9 on the Friday of my first week at my new job. I had gone out for drinks with my co-workers, as brits do, and I must say: I got wasted like shit. Spent a nice chunk of the night talking with this person I think didn't match me on Hinge and they were pretty cool. Anyway, I got drunk bitch. Like real drunk. I remember walking to my place on autopilot, mindlessly calling the Chinese joint on my way in order to pick up the noodles I had just started craving out of nowhere. I went inside, devoured, napped for literally 10 minutes and went out to London’s attempt at their very own Berghain (or maybe not but they did also confiscate my Mini DV...). I also kind of forgot that they actually care about poppers here and the hag at the door took my freshly Paris-imported golden bottle of pleasure and threw it in the bin. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the klepto in me (most likely a mix a both), but the moment she turned away, I did just snatch my bottle right back. Once inside, the music was good, but my God was I not well. I sat on the floor for a little and a few people came up to me to check up. When I couldn’t handle it anymore, I stepped out and sat out for a little nap, only to get told by security that I had to leave if I was to sleep. I think I got approached by 4 or 5 people in total during my first hours there, just asking me if I was fine. Anyway, after I sobered up a little, I could finally enjoy the music a little more. The music was good obviously, but you can only enjoy yourself so much when in that state I think, especially when you're by yourself. I went to the smoking section for some air, and potentially make a friend like I tend to do in the city that owns my heart. Instead, I got a man coming up to me asking me if I was dressed as Ash Ketchum. He told me I could join him and his friends and needless to say, I went back on the dancefloor, by myself. I caught what I could of kuffiyeh-wearing DJ Paypal, but my battery (both human and phone) was running dangerously low. I chose to be cheap and commute home. B and I were texting and she mentioned a bacon sandwich from Wendy’s which made me crave the same bacon egg and cheese I got the day I turned 26. However, as you can imagine, that is not possible to get at 4:30am in South East London. Thus, my still slightly inebriated ass decided to walk in the first 24 hour shop I saw to try and get bacon to make myself one at home. I walked in the first store I saw with lights on. There were 3-4 guys standing at the door, smelling of weed who might have said something as soon as I came in. All of a sudden, I felt my common-sense re-entering my body, feeling unsafe for the first time since being here. As I was leaving, bacon-less mind you, one of them tells me his friend wants my number. Headphones on ears, I pretend not to have heard and start power walking the fiercest way imaginable. After all, I was slightly drunk girl, alone, in the middle of the night, about a 15 minute walk away from home, with nobody to come rescue me in case of emergency. These guys easily could’ve done horrible things to me if they wanted and I’m very grateful they didn’t. After what felt like the longest strut ever, I got home, exhausted and still anxious, barely remembering most of my evening. That was the time I saw Kode9 in London.

Are you getting it now?

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silasbug · 1 year

Text

i ask for dreams and my brain provides.

brief dream log about an unfortunate dream involving some of my coursemates and another from a few days ago about an odd parallel puzzle-world.

he asked me not to tell anyone. i just made a face that communicated my discomfort at the whole thing. that apparently made him nervous. he offered me a beer. i reluctantly took it after a lot of insistence. he slipped something inside and i NOTICED and i STILL DRANK IT lmfao. sipped on it like dumb bitch juice. passed out. found myself locked in some dark room (so i wouldnˋt be able to tell, as if i would care to). cue panic. i was close to waking and the moment of passing out and the panic replayed about 4 times. really stupid dream. i am actively confused. 0/10. do better.

1. we got our results back for our bug-identification as we sat in class. i had apparently only barely passed, which i was very confused about. i mentioned to someone that the diptera species they showed us were very bad examples. i signed up for the re-exam that was taking place right then.

afterwards, i was standing on a road next to a field and a coursemate (he looks like a younger version of Rhys Montrose from You) walked by. he asked if i was going to the party later (to celebrate the end of exams). i was very confused, but felt a pang of.. something. unpleasant. of course. i wasnˋt invited. i mean, i wouldnˋt expect anything else, i havenˋt really made any friends in my courses and thatˋs perfectly fine. outright exclusion still doesn't feel nice. honestly, i was a little more confused when he essenially explained that it was just about half the course, not having invited anyone they donˋt, unanimously, like. WHICH IS FINE, but the dream specifically framed it as some sort of exclusive cool-kids-club. that felt really off. weˋre no more than 30 people and while i understand that people donˋt always see eye to eye & not everyone has to like each other, most of us are in our mid twenties and this just seemed more high-school-drama-esque than necessary.

2. i wrote this down on paper. i lost the paper, so i donˋt remember much. some people and i walked into a room made of concrete. the doors locked behind us and we were trapped. there was some sort of portal on the ground, and not knowing what else to do, most of them walked through. only one other person and i stayed behind in the room because we werenˋt sure what to expect. it turns out that the portal lead to some sort of parallel world with a lot of puzzles, but completely devoid of life or anything that could support it. just a bunch of monoliths and ghostly green energy beams.

the other person and i started looking around the concrete room and eventually found some sort of console (lit with the same green). thereˋs a lot of context iˋm missing but we eventually found out that if you solve a puzzle in the other world, it would provide resources in the concrete room. i donˋt remember but i assume we could probably send them through the portal as well (but it may have closed). we were desperately trying to find a way to rescue the people stuck on the other side, or to at least keep them alive. we had no way of communication, but something we did managed to get through. they mustˋve also figured something out by themselves because they solved a puzzle.

A floor compartment in the concrete room opened up, revealing a bunch of crates filled with clothes, bedsheets and bedding. i started pulling them out, mostly confused but grateful that we now had something to provide warmth (the room was very, very cold). i planned to make a nest on the floor with the fabrics to shelter us and preparing the room for when weˋd be able to get the others back to our side (as we would still be trapped in the room, after all). i woke up as i was pulling some emerald green sheets out of a crate.

#dream log

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Note

So at risk of stepping out of line here are some prompts of many genres for you! I dont know if any of these tickle your fancy.

Hange Survives the rumbling

Magic AU (specifically what would they be skilled or not skilled in. I always picture Hange as being good at illusions and Levi being good at combat magic but best at house hold charms for example)

Zombie apocalypse AU (Levi was a little disgruntled at first to have a tag along but warms up to her pretty quickly and mostly against his better judgement. He is forced to concede having someone to watch his back is nice after she saves his life though )

The exact moment other characters realized Levi had feelings for Hange.

Hange and Levi pranking Erwin in increasingly elaborate ways while keeping their identity a secret. As he gets more and more frustrated.

Just straight up angst with a capitol A

Ive honestly thoroughly enjoyed everything you've written and look forward to seeing more. I dont know etiquette for offering prompts and hope I didnt offer too many. I just thought they sounded cool.

I have saved all of these because there are so many good ideas BUT on this occasion I have decided to write the following: The exact moment other characters realized Levi had feelings for Hange. This was also inspired in part by something @glassesandswords said earlier regarding Levihan and ballroom dancing. There is no (real) dancing, but there is a ballroom.....does that count?

They were greeted politely at the doors, and led through a huge, carved entryway, intricate pillars stretching from the shiny marble floor to the high, mural ceiling. It was a beautiful architectural feat, but the effect was wasted on Erwin's small group, who observed the space with contempt, or else in Hange's case, stared only at the floor where their reflections shimmered in the polished surface.

Sweet music played through a closed set of double doors up ahead, carrying with it the hum of many voices interspersed now and then with a raucous laugh, or the clink of cutlery on expensive ceramic dishes. Two men, dressed in matching uniform, bowed politely and pulled the doors open, and the sound from within spilled into the entryway, echoing into the vast space.

The ballroom was beautiful.

The carriage pulled up in a stone-paved courtyard outside one of the most extravagant buildings Erwin had ever seen. Much like everything else in Sina, money had been thrown about without restraint, to create halls and mansions and castles each bigger and more gaudy than the last. They functioned almost exclusively as a show of wealth, save for the occasional ball or banquet where the space was welcome, and the rich were more than happy to showcase their spoils.

Tonight, this particular hall had the honour of hosting the Benefactors Ball. It was an opportunity for the military factions to rub shoulders with nobility, and garner themselves some additional funding—politicking disguised as polite conversation over glasses of champagne, each one likely costing more than the monthly budget allocated for the Survey Corps as a whole.

Erwin stepped down from the carriage and took in the space. The building was tall, all white stone and huge, arched windows, polished until they shone, reflecting the evening sky. A wide staircase led to a set of great oak doors, thrown open and exposing a glimpse of the entrance hall within. The interior was full of buildings like this, large enough to hold hundreds, but vacant for most of the year, while the people within Wall Rose lived like cattle, penned into cramped houses with one room for a whole family.

Behind him, the carriage creaked as Levi climbed down. He stopped beside Erwin and stared up at the lavish building with his lip curled, his distaste evident. He made no efforts to hide his disgust at the gaudy display of luxury, and did not bother lowering his voice when he said, "stinks like pig shit. Filthy rich bastards can't pay someone to wipe their asses properly?"

Erwin cleared his throat, swallowing the urge to laugh. He perfectly understood Levi's disdain, for the sentiment was widely shared, both throughout the Corps and much of the land outside of the interior. People lived in poverty, struggling to make ends meet and fighting for rations while the rich ate decadent banquets full of more food than they could ever hope to consume, growing fat and idle in their comfort.

To his left, Mike had alighted from the carriage and was busy straightening his suit. He showed less restraint than Erwin, snorting and garnering some scathing looks from the passing attendees. Erwin fixed his face into a pleasant, appeasing smile, and spoke through the side of his mouth. "Better not to insult our company if you want to eat over the winter."

"We're already eating scraps like dogs," Levi protested with a sharp click of his tongue.

"And you'll be eating less than that if they cut our funding. Behave, please."

Mike shrugged a shoulder, unbothered by Erwin's scolding. Levi shot him a scowl, but did not argue and instead turned to talk over his shoulder, barking out. "Oi, four-eyes. The hell is taking so long?"

There was some shuffling inside the carriage. Erwin could hear Hange grumbling to themself inside it, and then their voice called out, somewhat petulantly, "I feel ridiculous."

"We're running late," Erwin said. "Come on."

Hange swore quietly, then sighed. More shuffling and Erwin heard the carriage stairs creak as Hange climbed their way carefully down them, manoeuvring awkwardly with all the loose fabric around their legs. They stood stiffly beside Levi, adjusting the thin, silk shawl across their shoulders and pulling it over their chest. The neckline of their dress cut too low for their comfort, which Hange had complained about endlessly on the ride here, and the midnight blue fabric fell to brush the tops of their feet, where they had been forced into a pair of flat, thin-soled shoes that were already rubbing the skin of their heels raw.

The dress was very pretty, and in truth, Hange looked very pretty in it, but their discomfort showed painfully in their high, drawn shoulders and slouched posture, curved over themself to make their long, thin frame appear as small as possible.

"I don't see why I couldn't wear a suit like everybody else," Hange said, huffing to blow their fringe out of their face. Nanaba had fixed their hair in a delicate half-up do, a pretty, intricate bun fastened at the back of their head while the rest of their hair fell in loose curls just past their shoulders. Already, they seemed annoyed with it, constantly pushing it away from their face and neck. Mike turned to examine the view and Levi, who had been watching Hange slyly from the corner of his eye, slid his gaze forward and away. Erwin cleared his throat, but made no comment. The organisers had been clear about their dress code requirements—no military decoration, suits for the men and dresses for the women. Hange's military record had decided their fate for the evening, and no amount of arguing or pleading could change that.

After a pregnant pause, Erwin politely held out an arm for Hange, and gave them a somewhat apologetic smile. "Shall we?"

Hange kept their hands to themself. They shook their head and made a vague gesture for Erwin to walk ahead, following closely behind him and Mike, whose combined height and bulk blocked them from view. Erwin felt a little guilty, for forcing Hange to come, and for refusing their multiple requests to dress in something they felt more relaxed in. But Erwin understood well how the benefactors operated, knew that a pretty face in a nice dress had sway where stoic men in suits did not. Hange's frosty attitude towards him was enough to convince him that they understood, too.

The ballroom was beautiful. Long tables lined the walls, piled high with more food than they had ever seen in their lives, steaming joints of meat, fresh and tender, and fish, vegetables steamed or roasted and coated in unfamiliar herbs and spices. The combined smell was mouthwatering. Beside him, Mike breathed long and deep through his nose. There was a huge, open floor in the centre of the room where the attendees were mingling, the men dressed in sharp, well-fitted suits and the women draped in elegant dresses, fine jewelry studding their fingers and wrapping their wrists, pearls and gems hanging from their necks. A great, ornate chandelier hung overhead, lit with what felt like hundreds of candles, the firelight ducking and weaving, shimmering from the hanging crystals and casting pretty, shifting shadows on the floor below. On one wall, huge windows ran from ceiling to floor and displayed a well-groomed garden flushed pink in the setting sun, dotted carefully with trimmed bushes and pruned flowers, a great stone fountain set in the centre,

The four of them stood in a line in the open doorway. Erwin observed quickly, efficiently. Many faces were already blushing a little red, from the heat and their full stomachs and the champagne, ferried around the room by waiters carrying trays, darting about the space with choreographed ease. He spotted a few of the key benefactors, those with the fattest wallets, and took note of the drinks in their hands—tumblers of amber liquid, whiskey or brandy from the bar, or else goblets of deep red wine that stained their lips and teeth. A glass or two more and enough sweet, sickly compliments, and Erwin felt confident they could come to some financial agreements.

He turned to look at the others. Mike's expression was neutral, eyes masked by his long fringe, but his posture was relaxed, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Levi's eyes had once again roved to one side, where Hange stood, taking in the room with one arm covering their chest, their nails scratching absently at the skin of their neck. Levi clicked his tongue at them and reached up, flicking their knuckles.

"Stop doing that, idiot," Levi said. "You look diseased."

Hange's neck had indeed turned a deep shade of red where their nails had raked at the skin, swelling in thin, raised welts that threatened to split open with much more abuse. Hange pulled the shawl tighter around themself.

"I have a few people I need to speak to," Erwin said. He shot them each a look in turn. "Mingle, but please, stay out of trouble."

Mike nodded. Levi shrugged a shoulder. Hange glared at him, the candlelight catching and glinting off their glasses. Erwin trusted the group, but not completely. Mike had a penchant for dry sarcasm, and Erwin had observed of late that Hange and Levi could make an explosive pair when left to their own devices, equally as volatile whether they were conspiring together or else at each other's throats. Collateral damage within the Corps was easy enough to iron out—traumatised recruits were simple to deal with. Offended benefactors and interior personnel were a whole other matter. Smoothing out Survey Corps relations with their funding parties was a headache Erwin didn't need, if he could help it.

Hange, though, looked ill-equipped for mischief. Erwin couldn't recall a time he had ever heard them seem quiet, or seen them so tense. Of all the soldiers Erwin had ever known, Hange was the most loose, relaxed, with little regard for military hierarchy, no sense of personal space, and a lack of shame so absolute it bordered on admirable. He had never seen Hange so subdued, before. He might have found the reprieve from their usual exuberance peaceful, if not for the itch of guilt that came with it.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it. There were more important matters to attend to, and Erwin took his leave from the group with a stern nod, leaving to greet Pixis and Nile where they were talking politely with some bloated, red-faced nobles.

The evening passed in endless addresses. Erwin flattered his way around the room, speaking humbly with innumerable men, smiling and taking their backhanded compliments with grace while pushing another drink into their greedy hands.

Over the shoulders of one stout man with yellow teeth and breath like tobacco, Erwin caught sight of Mike, dutifully nodding his head as a gaggle of older women flocked around him. He panned his gaze around, searching for his two missing soldiers, until his eyes landed on Hange where they stood near a corner of the room, engaged in awkward looking conversation with a lanky man who seemed to share Hange's usual sentiments about personal space. He was taller than Hange, but had stooped until their faces were close, and in both of his hands he held one of Hange's, stroking over their knuckles as he talked. Hange had a forced smile on their face, but even from this distance Erwin could see the strain in their neck, the tightness in their face, their free hand white-knuckling a fist full of their dress at their side.

Erwin had known Hange long enough to understand the concentrated effort with which they were holding back. He would have to thank them later, for not causing a scene, but he could have hardly blamed them if they had. As he watched, the man brought one hand up to Hange's hair, following a loose curl from the crown of their head, past their cheek, and to their shoulder, where his fingertips danced lightly at their collar. Hange's face was pale in their anger, and Erwin was mentally preparing the kind of speeches he'd have to give to excuse Hange's indiscretion, when a figure appeared at their side offering a glass of champagne. Erwin's brows rose.

Levi had come out of nowhere. He pressed the glass insistently at Hange, who quickly pulled both of their hands free to take it. Their admirer looked sufficiently displeased by the interruption, straightening to his full height and looking down his nose at Levi. Levi stared back impassively, gaze unwavering as Hange spoke, gesturing towards Levi, and Erwin watched with some smug satisfaction as introductions were made, and the sleazy old man realised exactly who had joined their conversation.

He stuck around for only a moment, before taking his leave. Hange watched him go, then visibly sagged in place, taking a long gulp from the delicate flute and bringing their hand up to their throat. Levi said something that made Hange laugh. Their smile was small and the shake of their shoulders was slight, but it was genuine. Levi slapped weakly at Hange's hand—they had been scratching again, the skin of their neck red and irritated. He took the champagne flute from their hand and drank the rest, depositing the empty glass on a nearby table and pulling a face, running his tongue over his teeth. Hange laughed again, a little brighter this time, some delight reflected in their face as they watched Levi's twisted expression, and when Levi said something that looked suspiciously like piss off, they laughed loud enough that Erwin could just hear it. Levi nudged at Hange's ribs with his elbow and Hange grabbed onto his arm, wriggling away. When Levi stopped his prodding, Hange didn't let go of him. And then the crowd shifted, a throng of men heading towards the bar, obscuring Levi and Hange from his view.

Huh.

That was interesting.

Levi had been with them for just over two years now. He had opened up very little in that time, remained almost as stoic and distant as he had been when he had first been recruited. He spoke little, and what conversation he did make was always rude and often perfunctory, coaxed into short, one-word answers or non-committal grunts. He dealt with Erwin because he had to. He tolerated Mike due to proximity alone—where Erwin went, Mike was never far behind.

His forbearance of Hange was more confusing.

There was no real need for them to spend much time together. Outside of meetings and events like these, compulsory gatherings where Erwin preferred to bring his most trusted subordinates, the pair of them were never required to be in each other's company. He'd had no doubt that Hange would be pushy; they were fascinated by Levi and had been since the beginning, keen to observe as much as they could, to understand and employ whatever technique it was that allowed Levi to move so quickly, to fight so efficiently. He had been unsurprised to see Hange hovering around Levi shortly after their first mission together—"like a fly on horse shit," Levi had said—and it had been no shock to him at all that Levi's dismissal had fallen on deaf ears.

But time had passed, and despite Levi's constant grumbles and complaints, seeing the two of them together had become an increasingly familiar sight.

Things weren't always amiable. There was a lot of bickering, loud disagreements where Hange would whinge and push and prod and Levi's anger would build until he was steaming, and there had on one occasion been a physical fight, the kind of feral scuffling in the dirt usually reserved for children. Erwin had broken that up himself after battling to the centre of a watching crowd, and the pair of them had sat down across from him at his desk, their faces resolutely turned in opposite directions, their hair and clothes coated in dusty, dry soil, with swelling bruises on their cheeks and split skin on their knuckles. They pointed fingers, each laying the blame squarely on the other, and neither had admitted the root cause. Erwin eventually dismissed them with a headache, and demanded that whatever their issue was, they resolve it—civilly. He had wholly expected another scrap, but had been pleasantly surprised at finding the pair of them sitting together in the mess hall that evening—they were arguing about Hange's ludicrous notion to capture a titan when he had passed them, Levi jabbing his fork at Hange's hand when they slyly reached for his bread, but there was a familiar light in Hange's eyes, one that told him this argument, at least for now, was not serious.

Erwin had been pleasantly surprised to see a similar expression reflected on Levi's usually flat, stoic face. He had ripped his bread loaf in two, and dropped half of it silently onto Hange's plate as he told them, "for the last damn time, no."

Levi afforded Hange for more leniency than he did to anybody else. He would pull a face when Hange threw an arm around his shoulder, but he never pushed them away anymore. He'd grumble if Hange dropped next to him on Erwin's sofa and wriggled their does under his thighs for warmth, curse them for putting their dirty feet on the furniture, but it had been a long time now since Levi had knocked their feet back to the floor. He would badger them relentlessly about their greasy hair or the dirt under their nails, and in the same breath he would tug on their ponytail, his fingers sinking easily into the knotted, unkempt hair.

And now, this—Levi barely tolerated using communal utensils, opting often to clean his own cutlery before eating. To drink directly from the same glass as anyone, let alone Hange, who Levi notoriously butted heads with over their personal hygiene, was unimaginable. And yet.

Erwin was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his name, and turned back to his companion, falling easily into conversation once more.

The evening dragged on. The sky outside the great windows was full dark, the stone fountain pale in the moonlight. The water shimmered, dark and spotted with the light from the stars. Erwin's throat was dry and sore from talking, but he felt satisfied—he had secured plenty of meetings to negotiate funding, enough that he wasn't all too worried that they would inevitably lose a few offers when the alcohol wore off.

He found Mike near the bar, finally alone. Erwin crossed to him and greeted him with a nod, ordering a drink and leaning against the bar beside Mike to enjoy it.

"Calling it a success?" Mike asked. Erwin hummed.

"I think so. I'll wait until we are safely back at the barracks before I say for certain."

Mike snorted quietly into his glass. He was sipping from a glass of fragrant whiskey, something deep and smoky. Erwin took another mouthful from his water.

"And you?" Erwin asked. "Would you call it a successful evening?"

Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "A very lovely lady left me her address. She insisted I write to her."

Erwin's lip quirked. He hid it behind his glass. "Will you?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. I figure she might leave me a big fat inheritance if I do."

Erwin chuckled, and looked about the room.

The crowd had thinned some, and those who remained spoke in loud, slurred voices that sounded over the lazy music played by the band. They stood around in small clusters, picking at the plentiful food and chugging down their drinks, bellies swollen behind shirts bursting at the seams. Pigs ready for slaughter, if it weren't for the work of people like them, who put their lives on the line for humanity every time they set foot into titan territory.

Mike elbowed him. Erwin hummed, and Mike nodded his head towards a corner of the room. "How's that for a success?"

Many of the candles in the chandelier had gone out, leaving the room with a smoky haze and the lights lower than before, a warm orange glow that barely reached the corners. Hange had sat themself on the corner of one of the tables, their feet dangling a little way off the floor as they drank from another glass of champagne. Their shawl had been replaced with Levi's jacket, buttoned just over their chest to cover them, and they had kicked off their shoes, bare feet swinging back and forth as they drank. Their hair had been thrown up into its customary ponytail, messy and shaggy at the back of their head. They looked much more like Hange, more relaxed, more comfortable.

Levi stood close beside them, his hip cocked against the table edge, Hange's shawl folded neatly and draped over his arm. The pair of them were talking between themselves, observing the room—Hange kept snickering, and Levi kept hiding his own smile with his champagne glass. Both of their cheeks were flushed pink, noticeable even with the distance. Hange twisted their head to look at Levi, still laughing, and reached up idly to fuss with his hair. Levi continued talking to Hange as though they hadn't touched him, his eyes glued to their face as they broke into a loud, tinkling laugh, the kind that carried like windchimes over the rest of the noise. Levi's eyes were a little wide, brows relaxed out of his customary frown, and his lips were a little parted as he stared openly at Hange.

"You think he knows he looks at Hange like they put the sun in the sky?" Mike said. Erwin laughed and shook his head.

Whatever Hange said next must have been teasing. Their lips spread in a sly smile, showing teeth, and their eyes pinched behind their glasses. They leaned a little further into Levi's space, and Erwin noticed Hange's leg drift sideways, their toes brushing against Levi's calf. Whatever Hange said made Levi grimace, but he put no distance between them. One of his hands settled on Hange's knee as he leaned even closer, and the other came up between their faces to pinch at Hange's nose. He shook their face back and forth until Hange brought their hands up and wrapped them around Levi's wrist. Levi relinquished his hold, and Hange lowered their hands down into their lap, playing with Levi's fingers as they fell back into conversation.

Levi put no distance between them. Erwin and Mike watched the pair of them, watched as Levi swayed even further into Hange's space, his fringe brushing against Hange's brow. Hange was watching him curiously, their head tipped a little to one side—Levi initiating any kind of proximity must have been new, even to Hange, but they didn't seem at all bothered by his closeness.

Mike let out a low whistle. "Little street rat has a soft spot."

Erwin gave Mike a warning look, and Mike raised his hand in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Just surprised to see the captain has feelings, is all."

"It's that hard to believe?" Erwin said. "He cared a lot about his friends, too. He has a heart."

"Somewhere."

Erwin rolled his eyes. Levi and Hange were still standing close, and Levi looked very much like he was debating something in his head. His eyes flicked over Hange's face, and his fingers curled slowly around Hange's, gripping one of their hands in his. Erwin found himself holding his breath, watching them, waiting with a childishly eager anticipation. As their superior, Erwin certainly shouldn't encourage interpersonal relationships between his soldiers—but they were his friends, too. If they could afford themselves a moment of happiness in this hellish world, Erwin wouldn't stop them. Not for one night.

And then Hange's eyes flicked their way. They grinned widely, turning their face and lifting a hand to wave enthusiastically across the room. Unthinking of their attire, Hange bent a knee up and braced one of their heels on the table edge, exposing entirely too much skin to the remaining patrons in the room.

Erwin waved calmly back. Mike raised his glass. Levi stepped out of Hange's space, pausing only to pull a face and silently drape Hange's shawl over their lap, to cover them where the dress had ridden up their leg. He slipped his hand out of Hange's and jammed it instead into his pocket, and shook his fringe over his eyes, looking at Erwin and Mike through it. His scowl was back in place, but the colour in his cheeks had intensified.

Hange spoke to Levi, then hopped off the table grabbed his hand again, turning backwards to keep a hold of his hand as he bunched up their shawl and scooped to pick up Hange's shoes, dangling them from his fingers as Hange dragged him barefoot across the ballroom floor. Levi followed behind, caught helplessly in Hange's wake. In the middle of the floor Hange paused, and turned to him so quickly the hem of their dress rose, twirling around their legs. Whatever they said made Levi shake his head, and then shake it again, more firmly, but Hange laughed that bright, tinkling laughter and held the skirt of their dress in their spare hand, dipping into an exaggerated curtsey. Erwin wasn't sure what had done it, whether it was the alcohol or the jacket covering them up, or perhaps it was simply the presence of good company, but Hange was behaving more like themself again, bubbly and alive, and Levi was as ever their hopeless victim, cringing when Hange spun themself down the length of his arm, paused briefly with their body pressed tight against his chest, and then back out again, teetering on their toes to keep their balance.

They tried valiantly to coax Levi into a few off-beat steps, moving to a rhythm Erwin couldn’t identify. They smile was bright, their face pleasantly read, and they were wholly unbothered by Levi’s lack of commitment. Levi looked at them sternly, but the threat of it was lost in the bright red flush of his cheeks.

"You're no fun, Levi!" They whined, close enough now that Erwin could hear them. Levi clicked his tongue.

"You're acting like an idiot."

"I'm having fun," Hange said, tugging on Levi's hand. "You should try it! You might like it."

"Brat."

Hange grinned as though he had complimented them. Levi's lips twitched, but he held back any urge to smile and curled his lip in a snarl instead, hitting Hange's leg lightly with their shoes and urging them to start walking again. Hange saluted him and together they crossed the rest of the distance and stopped before Erwin and Mike. Hange kept a casual hold on Levi's hand and Levi made no move to part from them, but he glared at Mike and Erwin as though daring them to say something. Mike smirked, and Levi flushed deeper, but his grip tightened around Hange's fingers.

"Are we done?" Hange asked. Erwin nodded. "Good. My feet are killing me—who the hell designed shoes like? And I’m tired of creepy old men—which reminds me,” Hange reached into the top of their dress and pulled out a handful of napkins, which they handed over to Erwin. “These perverts seemed pretty eager to spare a pretty penny for a nice young lady like myself.” Hange pulled a face as they said it. “I can't wait to get this dress off."

Erwin noted with interest the way Levi's eyes slid to Hange, roving down the length of their body and up again.

Mike downed the last of his drink. "Finally," he said, stretching and following as Erwin led them towards the door.

"Tired after wagging your tail for all those grandma's?"

Hange snickered, and Levi's mouth pulled into half a smile. Mike, unaffected by the jab, only grinned.

"Exhausted. What about you, though? Eager to head back and pop some pain killers?"

"Hah?"

Mike's grin widened. He leaned closer to Levi, and Erwin had to strain his ears to hear him.

"I heard being whipped hurts."

This time, Levi did let go of Hange's hand. Quickly.

There was a carriage waiting for them outside. Erwin took the stairs quickly, eager to sit and rest for the duration of the journey back to the barracks. He opened the door and turned, waiting to let the others in, but only Mike was behind him. Levi and Hange were still at the top of the stairs, Hange holding Levi's shoulders for balance as they slipped back into their shoes. Their face was curled in a pained grimace as they descended the stairs and Levi was watching them closely, one of his hands hovering at their back. Mike looked delighted as they approached, and took great pleasure in offering Hange his hand to help them into the carriage before Levi could. He climbed in and sat beside Hange, leaving Levi to take the seat opposite them. Once they were seated, Erwin knocked on the box, and the driver urged the horses on.

Hange sighed loudly. They kicked off their shoes again, and dumped their feet into Levi's lap.

"Oi," Levi said, though there was no malice behind it. Hange wiggled their toes until Levi closed his hand around Hange's foot, thumb digging into the arch with practiced ease. Hange sighed happily and slumped in their seat.

Mike made a show of sniffing the air, and pulled a face. "Smells weird in here."

"Like what?" Hange asked sluggishly. They had let their eyes drift closed as Levi worked absently on their foot, the buzz from the champagne mellowing in the darkness of the cab.

Mike sniffed again. "Horny teenagers."

Levi's ministrations paused briefly, thumb and fingers stilling until Hange made an impatient sound and lifted their foot, shaking it in his face.

"Fuck off," he hissed, but continued. Hange poked out their tongue and gave him a satisfied grin, then rolled their head towards Mike.

"I think your nose is broken," Hange said. "'S probably just my feet."

"They do reek," Levi added. Hange sunk right the way down in their seat and pushed both feet at Levi's face this time, dodging his grabbing hands and wrestling with him when he caught ahold of them, until he slammed both of their feet back into his lap, victorious, and pinned them down by the ankles. Hange's face was a little flushed from the exertion and their laughter was breathless. Levi looked a little triumphant, eyes alight with something like humour.

Levi was having fun.

Erwin tipped his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

"I don't know, Hange," he said, smiling. "I think Mike might be onto something."

#levihan #snk #my writing #ask #thank you for these!!#I am especially intrigued by the magic AU since I have had a similar idea in mind for awhile now #maybe I will finally get around to it hjkh #this was fun but writing erwin is HARD #anyway Levi is whipped what else is new #there are probably many hilarious typos since I wrote this on my phone and am too tired to edit OOPS #anyway please enjoy!!#<3 .

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stevenose · 2 years

Note

I had a kinda weird idea and now I’m going to bother you with it…

Steve walks in on reader masturbating. Even though they’ve been dating a little while reader still expects him to be shocked and maybe even grossed out. But instead he gets… pouty. Like he’s mostly joking but also kinda serious when he says something like “Guess you don’t need me to have fun, huh? 🥺” And it turns into reader trying to show him how much they really do need him. With a lot of giggling and dorkyness involved of course.

AWWWW 🥺🥺🥺 i gotta write this

===

Steve doesn’t know what to do or where to look. You didn’t even have a blanket covering you. Just… fully spread out, totally on display, touching yourself. He kind of stiffens, turning to the side and staring at the door frame. The he apologizes and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You’re absolutely mortified. Steve doesn’t know you touch yourself. Well, everyone touches themselves - but you’d never really had that conversation yet. Because Steve was always ready and available and you hardly ever needed to touch yourself. Unless he’s been working overtime and taking shifts for Robin like he is this week. He must have gotten off of work early.

You emerge a few minutes later, robe on, still blushing. Steve didn’t leave, surprisingly - he just sat down on the couch and defaulted to turning the TV on. You clear your throat and he jumps up, awkwardly putting his hands in his back pockets. “I’m really sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” you say. “It’s okay. Did you get off early?”

Get off. Steve wishes. “Uh. Yeah.”

“That’s good,” you answer. Neither of you move.

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve says. “I - you know. I do it too.” He makes a jerking off motion with his hand. “Not all the time. Sometimes, though.” He wants to kick himself.

“Yeah. No. It’s not,” you say. “It’s fine. It’s a good thing!”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Really good thing.”

“It’s awesome.”

You nod at each other, and after a moment, you both sit on the couch. The awkwardness passes after a while, and you sit close to each other; but Steve still has something to say.

“Am I awesome?”

“I think you’re cool,” you answer, head resting on his chest, arms tucked around him.

“In bed.”

“Oh.” You sit up to face him. “Of course you’re good in bed. Why are you asking?”

Steve looks at the TV and gives a half hearted shrug. “Just doesn’t seem like you need me anymore.” He’s biting back a smile, and you roll your eyes.

“Come on.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and he really kind of is. “All you need are those pretty little fingers. Don’t even need my help.”

“Yeah. A vibrator would totally put you out of business.”

Steve actually pouts at that, looking at you with big, round eyes. “Is that true?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Steve.” You grab his hand and line it up with yours, palms touching, showing the size difference of your fingers. You quirk a brow and Steve doesn’t hesitate to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap. You giggle and he does, too, burying his head into your neck.

“So you’re sayin’ nothing can fill you up like I can?” He kisses your collarbone and you shift in his lap, feeling him growing hard.

“Basically,” you answer. You play with a stray strand of his hair. “I’ve never come so hard than when I’m with you.”

Steve loves having his ego stroked. “Do I fill you up perfectly?”

“Perfectly,” you repeat. Steve moves to cup your breasts and you bite your lip. “You fit in me just right. Fill me up so nice. Like my pussy’s made for your cock.”

Steve groans and flicks his thumbs over your nipples. And then he giggles. “But a vibrator probably still has me beat, huh?”

“I’m not so sure,” you moan, grinding on him. “I guess we’ll have to try one.”

Steve flips you onto your back swiftly, knocking the breath of you. You laugh at that, then gasp when Steve presses his thigh between your legs.

“Not a chance in hell,” he breathes, grinning. “I can’t lose my job.”

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #thanks for this!!!!!#steve like baby i have a GREAT idea. why don’t you pay me every time we have sex haha :)#and then he doesn’t get how that’s considered pr0stitution

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calebdumes · 2 years

Note

Kanan's romantic date night does not go to plan. Well, it was going great, until the uninvited guests showed up...

There were several ways this could have gone so I hope you like the path I took!

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: 18+ (mild bc it’s me)

word count: 1.9k

“Kanan.” Hera said with a groan as she carefully stepped forward, Kanan’s hands a reassuring pressure on her elbow and hip. “You know I hate surprises.”

“I know,” he replied. “But you’ll like this one.” Hera rolled her eyes beneath the blindfold that obscured her vision. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking, she knew him well enough that she could hear it in the tone of his voice. She also knew the last time he had ‘surprised’ her, things had not gone according to plan…Well, they had mostly according to plan although Kanan probably wouldn’t see it that way.

“At least tell me we’re almost there, this thing is itching my face.” Hera grumbled.

“We’re almost there.” he said, his voice a low whisper in her ear. “I promise.”

A shiver ran down her spine, her fingers twitching reflexively. She felt Kanan’s breath against her neck, the hand that was resting on her hip, tighten. Hera rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and let Kanan lead her onwards. The familiar sounds of a cantina started to grow louder with every step and Hera could feel her cautious excitement start to fade. Surely Kanan wasn’t planning on using their hard fought free hours to take her…drinking?

It wasn’t often that they got time to themselves. Between the full crew and the constant stream of supply jobs and missions, they were lucky to get five minutes alone before something or someone interrupted them. So when a job fell through unexpectedly without another one lined up, Kanan had apparently decided to use the sudden abundance of time to surprise Hera despite her stance on surprises.

“There are steps here.” Kanan said softly with amusement in his voice, as if he knew what she was thinking. “I promise, you’re gonna like this. Besides, when have I ever led you wrong?”

“This week or month?”

“Very funny.”

The sounds of the cantina grew softer as Kanan helped her up the stairs, which made her frown. Maybe Kanan really did have something planned that went beyond just drinks at Old Jho’s. Hera certainly hoped so.

Kanan came to a stop, presumably at the top of the stairs, and released his hold on her. There was the sound of fingers on a keypad before Kanan’s hands were on her again. He gently nudged her forwards, a door whooshing open as she took a step.

Cool air washed over her face as Kanan led Hera forward. As the door closed behind them, Kanan gently untied the blindfold, letting the fabric slip away from her face. Hera slowly blinked open her eyes and took in her surroundings.

She was standing on a small rooftop terrace, a large blanket framed by low burning candles sat before her. Plush looking pillows sat next to plates topped with rich smelling food that made Hera’s stomach grumble with anticipation. A wooden pergola shaded the area, the flowering vines that clung to the structure fluttered lazily in the early evening breeze, revealing twinkling lights woven into the twisting foliage. Hera’s jaw dropped as she took in the beauty of the space. She had been to Old Jho’s cantina over a dozen times and never once did she think that something like this existed right over her head.

“Well,” Kanan said. “What do think?”

“You did this?” she breathed, peeling her eyes away from the elegant setup to find Kanan’s face. He was leaning against one of the pergola’s support pillars with his arms folded over his chest, a hopeful expression dancing in his eyes. He nodded in response. “Kanan, I don’t know what to say.” she pointed to one of the plates of food in excitement. “Is that what I think it is?”

Hera toed off her boots and stepped onto the blanket, enjoying the soft, silky texture against her skin. Kanan followed her lead, sitting down on one of the large pillows and reaching for the plate of food that had caught her interest. Hera peered at it eagerly as the familiar smells of braised shaak and roasted kajaka root filled her nose, making her mouth water and her heart ache for home.

“You were talking the other day about some of the foods you missed from home.” Kanan explained ripping into a loaf of munch-fungus bread and handing it to her. “Can’t say how authentic all of it is but my guy says it’s the best outside of Ryloth.”

“Your guy?” she questioned, taking the bread from him. “You have a guy?”

“I have several people on several planets that owe me. This one just happens to be a guy who knows traditional Rylothian cooking.”

“Vizago only bailed on us a few hours ago.” Hera said, sounding impressed as she swiped the bread through the thick gravy surrounding the braised meat. She closed her eyes as the rich spices danced on her tongue.

“What can I say, I’m crafty.”

Hera opened her eyes to Kanan’s smiling face, overcome with so much emotion that she could feel her bottom lip begin to wobble. They weren’t the type of couple that showered each other with gifts or elaborate dates. She didn’t need big romantic gestures to know how much Kanan loved her. She knew exactly how he felt by the million other things he did for her day in and day out.

But every once and a while he’d do something like this, take one of her offhand comments and turn it into something amazing, that it caught her off guard. Hera set the bread in her hand down and leaned towards Kanan, cupping his face in her hands. His lips tasted like kajaka and chando peppers, warm and inviting as always.

Kanan's hands found her hips as they kissed, the food all but forgotten. That was until Hera’s stomach let out a particularly loud rumble. She could feel Kanan smiling even before she pulled away.

“We can do that later.” he said with a wink, picking up her abandoned plate and handing it to her. “It would be a shame to let all this food go to waste.”

“I suppose you’re right.” she sighed, her cheeks warm with heat.

“I’m always right.”

“Sometimes.” Hera rolled her eyes, leaning into his side.

“Most of the time.” he shot back.

Hera chuckled lightly. “Agree to disagree, love.”

She felt Kanan shrug as he shoved a chuck of gravy soaked bread into his mouth. They watched the sun set over the plains as they ate, a brilliant display of golden hues and fiery pinks that slowly leached into glimmering indigo. Hera reveled in the quiet peace that had fallen over them. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being around her crew but being here alone with Kanan made her remember a simpler time; a time where they weren’t breaking up fights or planning missions. It was just them and the stars.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed spending time with him. Just him.

“Thank you for doing this.” she said once they had eaten their fill and the stars glittered in the deep black sky. Hera had her head resting on his chest, the steady beat of his heart loud against her ear. She shivered as his thumb stroked up and down her arm aimlessly.

“I had selfish motivations.” he admitted, his lips ghosting over the top of her tchin.

Hera smiled, tilting her head up to see the devilish glint in his eyes. “Oh really? And what were your motivations?” she asked, her hand resting on his upper thigh.

“Getting you alone.” Kanan said against her jaw. Hera tilted her head back further, Kanan’s mouth exploring her exposed neck, sending waves of heat through her body. She moaned as he bit down gently on her collarbone.

“Kanan.” she breathed, letting him maneuver her until she was straddling his lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling at the tie that kept the silky strands contained. He continued to kiss along her neck, sharp teeth nipping at the sensitive skin as she rocked her hips against him, her desire building deep within her. His hands found their way under her tunic, fingers leaving trails of heat as they traveled up her sides.

She was about to help him free her of her shirt when the door leading to the terrace slid open. Hera froze as a slight figure stepped out into the growing moonlight, a different kind of heat coloring her cheeks when she realized who it was.

“Well this is awkward.” Sabine said, plopping down on Hera’s abandoned pillow. She swiped a chunk of braised shaak from one of the leftover plates and tossed it into her mouth.

“Sabine.” Kanan groaned, head thumping against Hera’s chest in dismay. “What are you doing here?”

“I got bored.” she shrugged. “Zeb said you two were here so I thought I’d come and see what you were up to.” Sabine tossed her bangs out of her face. “I should have known you’d be doing something like this.”

“Then why did you come!?” Kanan cried exasperatedly. Sabine just shrugged again and started pilfering through the leftover food.

Hera kissed the top of Kanan’s head and slid off his lap, tucking herself into his side. If she had to guess, she and Kanan had made it through two whole hours before they were interrupted. She was pretty sure that was a new record.

“Well, now you know what we’re doing, you can leave.”

“I could but you have food here and this is way better then what Zeb cooked for dinner.”

“Zeb was supposed to keep you on the Ghost.” Kanan ground out through clenched teeth.

Sabine laughed. “Like that was ever going to happen.”

“She has a point, love.” Hera said with a chuckle. Zeb was an imposing being to most but his intimidation factor had less of an effect on their crew.

“‘Sides, I’m pretty sure they followed me here anyways.”

As soon as the words left Sabine’s mouth, the door to the terrace opened once more and a disgruntled Chopper rolled out, waving his manipulator arms around his orange dome.

“Stop your complaining, you rusted bucket of bolts.” Zeb grumbled, pushing past the droid to sit down next to Sabine. “Sorry chief,” he said apologetically to Kanan. “I tried.”

“Kriff, yes, there’s food.” Ezra said excitedly as he launched himself over them to grab a plate. “I’m starving.”

“How can you be starving? I made you food!”

“I mean, technically you could call it food but like, it wasn’t really food. You know?”

“Why you little…” Zeb growled, reaching for Ezra’s mop of messy hair.

Kanan sighed and leaned backwards until he was laying flat. Hera let herself be pulled down with him, curling against his side and brushing her nose against his cheek.

“It was fun while it lasted.” she whispered to him.

“Wish it could have lasted a little longer.”

“You should take the Phantom next time.” Sabine replied. “and don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

“Thanks Sabine.” Kanan deadpanned.

“I live to serve.” she said, flipping her bangs out of her face again.

“So what were you guys doing up here?” Ezra asked through a mouthful of food.

Hera couldn’t hold back her snort at Kanan’s long and drawn out groan. She tucked her head in Kanan’s shoulder and laughed, her crew bickering in the background.

“Next time we’re taking the Phantom,” Kanan whispered. “And I’m not telling a soul.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Hera said, kissing his cheek and closing her eyes. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t upset that their date had been interrupted but for now she was content in Kanan’s arms and the sounds of her family surrounding her.

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #swr fanfic #swr fan fic #pretchatta #userplum #opalknight #anoray #shleby writes #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars

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