#I will share silly dialogue on the matter later probably

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Gerudo Town (Dad Squad)

All leads had indicated that the Yiga hideout was in the desert, as it had been in the past. Abel shouldn't have been surprised, honestly.

The issue was that he didn't know exactly where the base was. But a group of warriors did.

Trust was nonexistent these days, in the years after the Calamity. Gerudo Town had managed to escape much of the damage, but it also was cut off from the rest of Hyrule as a result. The oasis was abandoned, only utilized by weary and lost travelers, but no Gerudo roamed the sands around it.

"So let's visit this town, then," Rusl commented after taking another swig out of his newly refilled water flask.

"We can't," Abel sighed, leaning against a rock and basking in the coolness of the shade. "The Gerudo is a matriarchal society. They don't let men inside their walls."

Rusl blinked. Blinked again. Bemused, he remarked, "Matriarchal doesn't mean sexist. Surely they'll let us in."

Abel bit the inside of his cheek. He'd made this explanation plenty of times to his men in the years past. "I don't think the Gerudo are necessarily sexist. They don't distrust or hate men. It's just their tradition - whatever the reason, only girls are born to Gerudo mothers. So they just... don't interact with men in their hometown. It's tradition at this point."

"Strange," Rusl muttered. "The Gerudo are... rare where I'm from, but their distrust was shared equally to all, no matter their sex. They just didn't like anyone who wasn't Gerudo."

Rusl's words reminded Abel that they had yet to address a rather glaring matter. Ever since they had raided the abandoned Yiga camp, Abel had been pondering the fact that the Hero of Hyrule who the Fierce Deity had been protecting was a different Hero from his son. The Hero of Time was a children's story, a tale of folklore so old that barely anything was known of it except that the Soul of the Hero had traveled across time to save multiple lands.

So little was known of the goddess' destined Hero that Abel had often questioned the validity of any of the stories. He'd had no reason to disbelieve them, but... there was little reason to believe them either.

At least until his boy had come to him holding that sword.

So if the Hero of Time was one of Links being pursued by the Yiga... that just led to so many questions. Firstly, how the hell had they managed to do this??

Secondly... what was Rusl's boy? A potential Hero who could turn into a wolf? Abel had never heard of Ordon, so perhaps this Link was different - not of the Soul of the Hero but a savior to his own land nonetheless?

And now, this talk of different Gerudo cultures. Not only were these Heroes real, they and their guardians were plucked from Hyrule's history and thrown here.

I wonder their opinions on the state of things, Abel thought bitterly. How utterly we failed to maintain what they'd fought for.

It was a good thing his son was in a coma. He knew Link wouldn't be able to stand the judgment from the other heroes, whether it was good or bad.

"Either way," Rusl said, rising and interrupting Abel's musings. "I'll scout ahead to see if we can figure anything out without talking to them."

"The desert is treacherous," Abel warned. "It's foolish to go alone."

"I've gone to plenty a dangerous place alone," Rusl reassured him with a smile. "I won't engage in anything foolish, don't worry. I'll be back before sunset. This is just reconnaissance."

Abel supposed another issue to ponder was how little Rusl spoke of his past when he was clearly more than a blacksmith who knew some sword skills, but now didn't seem the time to argue it. He'd seen the man hold his own in battle well enough. Sighing, he waved a dismissive hand, watching the Ordonian walk away.

Glancing back at the oasis, he saw Rusl converse with the Fierce Deity briefly before continuing. The deity stared at the water curiously.

Abel wandered over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"This heat is mildly draining," Fierce remarked, dipping a finger into the water.

"You're more than welcome to swim in it if that's what you're wondering," Abel said. "But people do use it as a water source as well, so I advise cleaning yourself first."

"It does seem ill advised to drink from water that people can swim in," Fierce noted, raising an eyebrow. "My greater concern is hydration."

Abel blinked. If he was worried about hydrating, then why didn't he just drink?

"How much water does one need?" Fierce asked. "I have noticed you're both drinking much more since our arrival. Is it a matter of body heat regulation?"

"Have you never been to the desert...?" Abel questioned in disbelief.

"I don't recall," Fierce answered mildly, voice growing quiet. "I believe once, in battle, I was utilized, but not long enough for it to be a great concern."

Ah. Right. The things this deity did and didn't seem to know... it made Abel have so many questions. First and foremost, how the hell he was still alive.

But secondly... utilized?

"Drink more," Abel advised. "The body loses more water through sweating, and we all sweat more in the heat. Even you are."

"I noticed that much," Fierce replied with a chuckle, as if he were entertained at being taught something so simple. He dipped the flask given to him by Rusl into the oasis and began to drink.

Abel sighed, squinting against the sunlight. Link would certainly need more water if he was being held here. Or, well, had been held here. It seemed silly to go to the desert when their lead had been near Akkala, but... all Abel knew was that the Yiga stronghold was here, and they had all woken at the other side of Hyrule. They'd not had any luck finding any hints of their boys the entire journey here, so they had nothing else to go off.

After several hours of silence (Abel wasn't a particularly talkative man, and despite the deity's curiosity, he usually wouldn't speak unless prompted), Abel recognized Rusl's wavy silhouette in the distance.

The brightly colored handkerchief he was using to wipe his face was new.

"Did you have any success?" Fierce asked.

"Not really," Rusl answered. "However, I did figure out a way that we could get in to learn more."

"Is there a secret passage into the town?" Abel asked, curious. He had always wondered. He had always respected things that were forbidden, but that hadn't meant he wouldn't imagine ways of getting around it.

"Not from what I can tell," Rusl said. "But, with my plan, you could walk through the front door."

Abel found himself both curious and skeptical. He crossed his arms. "Really?"

Rusl held out the colorful handkerchief to him. Slowly taking it, Abel recognized that it was not, in fact, a handkerchief.

"The way the Gerudo dress lends itself to disguise," Rusl explained with a mischievous smile.

Abel held the veil at arm's length as if it would attack him. "You want. To do. What."

"Well if they only let women in, we have to obtain information somehow." Rusl shrugged. "You're smaller in build than me, and your hair's all grown out."

If looks could kill, Abel would have cut Rusl into pieces. "Absolutely not."

"What is it?" Fierce asked.

"He's suggesting I dress like a Gerudo woman to get into the town," Abel hissed. "The answer is no."

Rusl furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated. "Put your pride aside, Abel. This is important."

"Do you really think something like that would actually work?!" Abel motioned angrily towards the deity. "We might as well let him stroll into town in such attire for all the good it would do us!"

The Fierce Deity plucked the veil out of Abel's grip. "Will this allow one to look like a Gerudo woman?"

"Not necessarily," Rusl answered. "The point is that it will hide that he's a man."

"The veil will, but the rest is fairly apparent," Abel snapped. "I'm missing a few key components, Rusl."

"Nothing we can't tweak a little," Rusl replied easily.

This was insane.

"What other attire did you bring?"

Abel turned to argue with the deity about the stupidity of this entire half-witted plan when he saw the mythical man trying to figure out how to put the veil on.

He can't be serious.

"Well," Rusl said slowly as he pulled out more clothes. "I did grab varying sizes. The Gerudo are far taller and broader than I expected, so their clothes might actually fit you better."

"Very well," Fierce said casually, finally settling the veil in the right place. He started stripping his armor without a care, and Abel thought he was going insane. Was this actually happening right now?! A war god was going to cross dress in whatever insane attire the Gerudo chose to wear and--

And--

You know what, to hell with it. Better him than me.

When the Fierce Deity had finished switching clothes, the other two stared at him. Rusl crossed his arms, examining the disguise carefully while Abel just felt his sanity continue to slip away. He wasn't sure he cared at this point. Perhaps he could at least find some entertainment from this?

No, no he couldn't. It was too stupid.

Count your blessings, he reminded himself. At least they actually believe you about the threat the Yiga present now. They believe you enough to even try this fool's errand.

The Fierce Deity, usually a foreboding sight in his pale blue tunic and silver armor, striking attention with the royal blue scarf tied around his waist, was instead adorned in fiery red, which emphasized the paleness of his exposed, muscular abdomen and shoulders. He wore loose, baggy pants and flat footed shoes, silver hair and eyes glittering against a red and gold veil.

"This is not going to work," Abel immediately commented. "He's too big."

Too big, too broad, too muscular. The women of Gerudo were strong enough to probably lift an entire guardian off its feet, but their muscles were still distinctly patterned differently. Women's shoulders were not so broad, nor chest and waist so box-like. Whether the Gerudo assumed he was one of theirs or Hylian, he would still look too masculine to play this part.

"They'll find out immediately," he continued, feeling his stomach churn at the thought that came next. Maybe I should do it... it would be more reasonable, but... no. This entire thing is idiotic. It'll never work.

Rusl, who had been foraging for something else in his bag, suddenly pulled out two hydromelons. "Here, put these in your top."

Fierce took the fruit without argument, and Abel stared, eyes widening. Well, Rusl was certainly committed.

"Giving him breasts isn't going to fix the obvious issue that he is a man," he argued.

"Of course it'll help," Rusl replied. "He just has to... well..."

Rusl paused, staring at the deity as he fumbled to stuff the fruit in his top without them falling out and splattering on the ground.

"Play the part," Abel finished for him flatly.

XXX

Well... it wasn't an immediate disaster.

Abel and Rusl hid behind a dune as they watched Fierce approach the guards, who exchanged... baffled looks from what Abel could tell.

"Hello, fellow women," the deity greeted.

Rusl choked back a cough.

"This is not going to work," Abel hissed, his own voice strained in a competition between secondhand embarrassment, horror, and losing it.

"Hey, it would've been better if you did it!" Rusl whisper back.

Over my dead body.

Surprisingly, the guards shuffled aside to allow him passage after a few confused glances.

Abel stared.

"Ha!" Rusl huffed in triumph. "I told you it would work."

"You didn't know it was going to work!" Abel accused, turning to glare at him.

Rusl ignored him. "Let's see if we can get closer. We can peek over the far wall a little bit."

Abel sighed heavily, dragging his feet through the sand as the pair practically crawled around the edge of the town before climbing the wall opposite of the entrance. Abel half wondered why they couldn't just enter that way, but he supposed in such a small area they were bound to be noticed.

The pair peered over.

It was immediately apparent which one was Fierce. He was simultaneously blending in and sticking out like a sore thumb. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and his towering, imposing figure managed to outshine the Gerudo. Every woman who passed paused and gave him a strange side eye, but no one outright said anything. For his part, Fierce was standing still, surveying the area.

Abel groaned, pounding his forehead against the wall. "He doesn't even know what to do."

Rusl bit his lip, slowly climbing the wall and kneeling in the water that bordered the edge of the town. Abel hesitantly followed. Fierce immediately noticed of them with his superior eyesight. Rusl made little gestures, wiggling his fingers and mouthing words even Abel couldn't understand.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "He'll never know what you're trying to tell him!"

Fierce nodded, walking slowly around the town.

"He's doing quite well for his first espionage mission," Rusl commented with a chuckle.

Abel groaned. "You're insane."

"Oh, Abel, you should lighten up. There are many ways to achieve a goal, it's not all about the sword."

"I'm aware of that."

The deity finally started to talk to women, disappearing in and out of the men's sight. Abel sighed, rubbing his face as he felt it steadily burning. Between the bright rays and the reflection from the water, he'd rival a Hylian tomato by the end of the day.

"Hopefully he can get some legitimate leads," Rusl muttered. "The sooner we can find the boys, the better."

Abel wanted to face plant into the water with the heat as bad as it was. Instead, he splashed a little on his face. "Yes, well, you're forgetting something very important."

"What?"

"Our esteemed deity is a war god with no idea how mortals function. He's probably going to ask them how they braid their hair."

"Come now, don't disrespect him like that. He's not an idiot."

"I didn't say he was an idiot. On the contrary, he's very curious. That's the problem."

"He'll focus."

Abel hummed, immediately thinking of his wife, Tilieth. Rusl clearly wasn't used to the mischief an inquisitive mind could stir up. Not to mention the deity wasn't exactly subtle. He was certain the deity's concern for his own Link would drive him forward, but he was likely to get distracted as well.

Assuming he could even keep the act up.

"A voe has been spotted! Up there!!"

Abel and Rusl both jolted, eyes wide as they looked down to see guards running their way with spears in hand.

"Time to go!" Rusl said quickly as the pair leapt over the wall back into the sand and scurried away.

Hours later as the sun cast long shadows and brought a chill to the air around the oasis, Abel paced anxiously until he and Rusl both caught sight of their companion's return.

"What did you learn?" Rusl immediately asked.

Fierce pulled the veil and shirt off, clearly having grown uncomfortable in it, and headed for his armor. "Mating customs are strange."

Abel immediately burst into laughter, vindicated. He honestly hadn't expected anything else. The day was wasted, but he supposed he could get what entertainment was available from it. Even he hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of the deity's mouth.

Rusl frowned. "What...?"

"Did Uli, your wife, assert her dominance to you, or is that a Gerudo custom?"

Abel's amusement multiplied tenfold, and he wheezed as he doubled over. Rusl stared at the deity in horror.

"I seem to recall you both spoke of varying mating customs in that village, after all."

Rusl immediately face palmed. "This... those are not the details you were supposed to be investigating."

"Fear not," Fierce continued, slipping on his trousers and under tunic. "I also learned the location of the Yiga hideout. One of the women reported having seen two boys and a wolf as well."

Abel and Rusl snapped to attention, earlier amusement forgotten.

"The Gerudo claim that the hideout was set on fire," Fierce explained. "They investigated it and discovered our heroes. My little hero apparently did not let them near him or his companions, but they were all alive as of one week ago."

One week. A million things could happen in that span of time. Link could have died in that time.

"Does anyone know where they went?" he asked breathlessly.

"The guards tracked them for a few days until they left the desert."

"They left the desert a week ago?" Rusl repeated. "That... so we must have--"

The Ordonian let out a strangled, frustrated groan, turning away as he shook his head. Abel felt similarly. They'd just missed them.

He wondered if the encampment near Akkala had been a more recent lead, after all. Then again, it had taken them a week to get here.

"We need to leave," he said. "The coolness of the night will be good to travel through in the desert."

The other two didn't argue. Rusl was growing frustrated and concerned at how long it had been. Abel was panicking at his son's condition. The three set out within minutes, determination set on stony faces.

Hylia... I... haven't prayed lately, I know, but... please...

Protect him. Protect... protect them all.

[techtalksfics]

Headcanons: First Kiss

Authors Note: this is for the anon who sent in this very sweet prompt. I've tried to keep it fluffy but, you know, Crosshair is always gonna linger closer to smut than fluff. All of these will be small headcanon ideas, with small snippets of prose & dialogue. Hope you enjoy!

Tech

How long does it take for it to happen?

Well, this is Tech we are talking about. It takes him a ridiculously long time to even realise you are interested in him. It takes him even longer to realise that you like him like that. When he realises it, he would consult his brothers about it at the first opportune moment.

You'd always tried to show Tech that you truly cared for him. You'd be overly attentive when he visited the medical wing, even if it was just for something as simple as a check-up. The first time you'd treated him, you'd been careful with his injuries, taking your time, talking with him, giggling at his silly comments. His brother's had noticed your gentle touches and twittery giggles at his comments long before Tech did. They just left it alone. Tech would figure it out eventually, right?

Well eventually was a long time coming. It was easily over thirty rotations of your attentive behaviour, of you trying to get to know him, to show him you shared interests. Of you trying to get him interested in you. What you didn't realise is that he had always been interested in you on some level. He just didn't realise what level that was. One evening, the clones were all in there shared quarters, relaxing after another successful mission. Tech had arrived later than the others as he came to say hello to you first.

When he arrived at their quarters, he simply sat for a moment, pondering over his desire to speak to you first. Suddenly he queried why you acted differently with him than you did with the others. Hunter sighed, stopping his expert ministrations with his knife in hand, looked his brother in the eye and tells him, "because she likes you." When Tech frowned deeper, somehow more confused. Surely she liked all you? "She has a crush on you, Tech." Tech stopped fiddling with his comm device to look up at Hunter for a moment. "Perhaps I should discuss this with her," he decided as he stood, speedily exiting the room.

Crosshair, had been lying on his bed, listening to the whole thing. He lolled his head towards Hunter, twirling the toothpick in his mouth from the right to the left side and and muttered, "that poor girl is going to need the Force on her side now."

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Tech. This is definitely going to be Tech. Most girls would probably fear starting something with him unless they were 100% sure he felt the same. As he isn't particularly great with affection, that may prove difficult. But our sweet boy also doesn't have a great filter for his words and sometimes his actions. So I have no doubt that he would be the first to make a move, clumsy thought it may be.

Tech had sought you out after Hunter's revelation or confirmation. He found at your station and the lab was eerily quiet. The perfect opportunity, he had realised. So he simply squeezed your arm gently. to get his attention. You smiled and turned the moment you realised it was him and he smashed his lips to yours with reckless abandon. It was sloppy and fast and not what you thought it would be. But your heart soared regardless.

When he moved away, he explained, "Hunter said that you may have a crush on me. He is rarely wrong on such matters. Perhaps this time he was?" As he searched your face for signs of disgust. There were none. He seemed a little perplexed by the flush on your cheeks. He decided it best that perhaps he leave that moment.

Gentle or Hot Heavy first kiss?

Our sweet boy is always going to be gentle, cautious. Savouring it, even. He had perhaps been a little overzealous to reach out and kiss you like that, it was felt oddly forced. Even for him. But when you finally decide to reciprocate, the main is definitely going to want to savour the experience slowly.

As he went to leave, you quickly grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back. “I didn’t think you even noticed me. I’m sorry, it took my mind a minute. You sort of appeared out of nowhere,” as he opened his mouth to protest, you placed your fingers over his lips, moving closer to him, ��how about we try that one again?” You leaned in, holding your hands in the folds of his armour so that he couldn’t retreat. When he felt softness of your lips, the warmth of cheeks and body against his, Tech finally closes his eyes and simply enjoys the sensation. All too quickly for his liking, you pull away. He adjusts his goggles and asks, “would you be partial to doing that again?” That earns a little giggle from you. Of course you wanted to do that again. And again. And again.

Crosshair

How long does it take for it to happen?

On sheer stubbornness of two people trying not to admit to their feelings (or as @littlebluebatbratt and I like to call it, playing a game of emotional chicken™), it's going to take some time. I feel like Crosshair would pair well with someone who could withstand the game as well as he could. So this could go on for a long time. I like to think the right girl would make him drop his pride and give in to her and his feelings.

“You should just cave,” he whispered, as he came up behind you. His breath was hot on your neck. You jumped out of your skin at the sudden contact. His approach had been so silent. You couldn’t help but lean back, flush into his body. He was simply so warm. Your mouth hung open at the contact, a huff of wind escaping you as you rest your head back against his shoulder. Then in a sudden realisation of what you were doing, you lurched away from him. As you began to walk away, you turned to face him, walking backwards and say, “if you want it, you know exactly how to come and get it” A smirk plastered on your lips as you sauntered away from him.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Honestly, this would depend on the woman. As I mentioned above, I think, for Crosshair to truly fall for someone, she would also have to be a stubborn, pain in the ass with just a tad too much physical confidence. They would try desperately to get him to cave first, as much as they wanted to themselves. Eventually, the man would not be able to stop himself. One day, the endless flirting would turn into something more.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” He would say with a groan, he muffled behind his hand, as you softly rubbed your leg up and down his as you sat opposite each other in the mess hall.

“I know,” you said, popping a small bite of food into your mouth, with a smug grin. Suddenly, you would remove your leg and he immediately misses the contact. You move to leave the hall, knowing exactly what you were doing, but you could feel his shadow following you out. Perhaps it was finally time?

Pulling you into the nearest alcove, by your elbow with just enough force, he would simply stare into your eyes, desperate for you. You could see it. You could feel it. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he knew in that moment, as you stared at him with those big innocent eyes, that he had lost. He had fully lost himself in you.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

It’s Crosshair. It’s hot and heavy. Of course. Particularly if they’ve been playing this game for a long time. All of this pent-up frustration would be unleashed into one extremely searing, deep, long kiss.

You would wrap your hands around his neck, the moment you realised he’d caved. You’d pull him in as close as you could, onlookers be damned. He’d have your body pinned against the wall, one knee between your thighs holding you in place as he leans in to kiss you. You place two fingers over his lips, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m gonna need you to say it first,” you said with a smirk. He sighs looking away from you. Deciding it was time, he looked deep into your eyes, his own were hooded with a deep lust.

“Fine,” he grumbled, not breaking eye contact, “you win. I want you. I want you more than I want to win this.” That was all you needed. So, you yanked his head towards you and your lips met in a sudden and heated dance. It was everything you had been waiting for. His tongue quickly delves into your mouth exploring everything he had been imagining for months. His hands would wind their way into your hair, lifting your lips closer to his. His knee pushing further up into you, until you’re almost rutting on him.

Wrecker

How long does it take for it to happen?

Wrecker is extremely vocal and does not necessarily think a lot of things through. That being said, he’s also our super soft gentle giant. He would probably spend more time trying to kiss than actually successfully doing it. I think he’d be one of the fastest to go in for a first kiss with someone, particularly if they paid him lots of attention. Which obviously, all of us would.

“I just wanna kiss ‘em,” Wrecker moaned to his brothers, his head in his hands at the bar, “but every time I get close, I back out.” He all but slammed his head on the bar. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Wrecker,” Hunter said dumbly, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “you’re just worried that she won’t return it. But she will.”

Wrecker lifted his head toward Hunter, “how could you possibly know tha’?” It was almost a whine as Wrecker spoke.

“Because she’s not blind,” Hunter said, holding back a chuckle, “she’s spoken to me about it. She wants to know what’s holding you back.” Wrecker sat upright all of sudden.

“You mean, she knows?” Wrecker felt positively sick with the nerves. “Well, no what am I supposed to do.” This time, Tech was the one to respond as he looked up from the schematics in his hand, “well, you could just try actually kissing her.” Tech’s head immediately dropped back down to continue reading. He made it sound so simple.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Wrecker wants to. Boy, does he want to. He wants to whisk you into his arms and kiss you so soundly that you never want to leave his side. But he’s just a bundle of nerves and insecurities under all that muscle. Knowing that you know he’s been trying, only made it worse. In the end, it would all be on you.

“Hi Wrecker,” you said, hopping off the counter of the store you worked at, “how are you?” Wrecker scratched at his neck, almost immediately, mumbling out something about being fine.

“Wrecker,” you said as a plea, when you realised that he couldn’t look at you, “you don’t need to be afraid, Wrecker. Whatever it is you want, you can just tell me.” You placed your hand softly on his cheek, encouraging him to look at you. You knew what it was that was bothering him. It bothered you that he thought you'd even consider rejecting him. His eyes finally pierced into yours, fear covering all of his features. “I – uh – I been trying to kiss you for a while now,” Wrecker stumbled over his words as he rushed to get them out, “but – uh – didn’t know if you’d want tha’.”

“Of course, I want that, you silly man.” His eyebrows shot up high as you smiled at him softly. And yet, he still couldn’t do it.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

It’s going to be gentle, as gentle as he can make it. You wouldn’t want to push him too far, too fast. Hot and heavy could wait. You just needed to get him over the first hurdle that seemed to be plaguing him so fully. You’d gone from friendly banter, maybe some gentle flirtation and some outright cheesy phrases on his part and regressed back to the awkwardness of when you first met.

You hopped back onto the counter, making yourself more level with him. The store was empty, now was your chance. You reached your hand out for him to take and he did so very willingly, you pulled him in between your legs. Cupping his chin, you forced him to look at your smile. “Wrecker,” you whispered so softly, “I want you to do it.” He seemed to debate things in his mind, as best he could. He bit at his lip, wanting to reach in but he still hesitated.

With a small, barely audible sigh, you placed a hand on his gentle and brought his face into yours. The moment he felt your lips on his, his heart soared, and his arms cradled you naturally. You were much smaller than him, so you became enveloped in him. You kiss became firmer, occasionally pulling your lips away to tilt your head a different way. You found his lips followed you whenever you moved. If you leaned back, he leaned forward. If you tilted one way, he tilted the other and held you tighter. Truthfully, it was perfect.

Echo

How long does it take for it to happen?

I think that post-Skako Minor, Echo’s mind will forever have self-doubt and his duty at the forefront. We see both when he is described as more machine than man, percentage wise. So, I think the build-up to the kiss would simply take a long time because he does let himself believe you’d want to.

“You know you’re wrong about her, right?” Rex said to his brother as they sat together post-mission. Everything had been successful. “She likes you.”

“She doesn’t like me,” Echo retorted, taking a sip of the steaming drink in his hands. He couldn’t help but let his eyes fall across the room towards where you were chatting with Gregor animatedly. Both laughing. He couldn’t help but smile at the idea of you liking him at all. God, he loved the way you laughed. The way you made his brothers feel happy whenever you were around.

“Oh, she definitely does,” Rex spoke with a smirk as he watched his brother falling in love from a distance, "and I think you like her too." Echo's head whipped back around to look at Rex, a crimson blush on his cheeks. He took another sip of his drink.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

I fear that it would have to be you. You are the only one that can convince him that you want him in a romantic way. Sure, Rex could try and convince him. As could any of his clone brothers, but they would never convince him enough for him to dare making a move. There were many, many others you could choose. So why would you choose him? Well, you'd have to convince him that your heart had chosen him long ago.

Rex had casually mentioned to you that Echo was leaving to find the Bad Batch, knowing full well what you would do. Honestly, he was a little fed up with the mutual pining.

“Echo,” you called out as you watched him walk away from Riyo Chuchi, it looks like you were catching him just in time. You knew there was nothing you could do or say to make sure he'd keep out of harms way. You now needed their help to save others. So this was your last chance to pluck up the courage you'd cowered away from for so long,“you weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye, were you?”

“I – uh – no, well, yes…perhaps?” Each of the words stumbled from his mouth as if chasing one another, pain masking over his features. You placed your hands on hips at that.

“Well how am I supposed to wish you luck if you keep running away before I have a chance?” You questioned him, allowing a flirtatious grin to creep onto your features. He blushed at that, you had such an effect on him, all from two very simple words. Good luck?

“L-luck?” He repeated back. As you stepped closer to him, he tried to steady himself, tried to remain steadfast and strong in your presence. You reached your hands up to his broad shoulders, running them across the coolness of the armour covering his broad shoulder.

“Yes, and luck that is truly good should be sealed with a kiss,” you said as you watched him through your lashes.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

This would definitely be dependent on the circumstances, I’d say it would be a little bit of both. Particularly if it plays out as it does above. Or if it's any sort of goodbye or a hello after a long time. It'll definitely end up hot and heavy if he isn’t certain of his return. If he isn’t certain of your safety. He is going kiss you as if it is both the first and last time, he will ever kiss you.

With your hands on his shoulders, you’d reached up on toes and placed your lips to his softly. Your lips had ghosted over his so gently that he was convinced it had been a dream. And yet, it lasted just long enough for his eyes to flutter closed.

When they reopened, you stood there looking at him doe-eyed, expectantly and with a big grin on your face. With a soft, playful growl, he reached around your waist with one arm and span you around, you giggle all the while. Once he placed you back down, he reconnects his lips with yours with a sense of urgency and fire that shocked you. But you loved it. You loved the way he instantly delves deeper into your mouth. The way he moans into you. The way he kisses you like it was the last chance he would ever have to do so.

Hunter

How long does it take for it to happen?

I feel like the affection would develop quickly. Particularly if it were on Pabu. He feels safe and knows Omega is safe. It’s a community. Everyone is simply getting on with their lives. So, kissing you became one of the forefront thoughts in his mind. When Echo had arrived for support, everything goes a bit awry and his internal timeline for kissing you is made far more urgent.

“She’s something special, Echo,” Hunter said, staring at you with a smile. You were playing around with Wrecker and Omega in the distance. He could hear the melody of your laughter as he leaned into the wall watching you. “If we don’t come back from this, it’s going to hurt her.”

“We don’t have a choice, Hunter,” Echo reminded him, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder, “she’ll understand.”

“Will she?” Hunter grumbled, entirely unconvinced. But he knew if he were to die on this mission, then he wanted to know what it was like to kiss you before he went. He had settled on that.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Hunter. He'd already come close to kissing you more than once but he didn't want to rush it and it’s not that you don’t want but you knew he was withdrawn, stoic and more often than not, very serious. You were patient. You could do this on his timeline. So, when he was ready, he’d kiss you. You were certain of that. He often searched your eyes with a hand on your cheek and each time you prepared yourself for the kiss. But the kiss never came. At least, not until Echo had shown up and they were dragged back into the war they’d fled from.

“Hey,” he whispered as he approached you from behind. You were looking out over the balcony into the night sky, simply lost in thought. You knew he was leaving again.

“Hey yourself,” you murmured quietly, without facing him. You felt his presence at your side, though you could not feel his warmth. There was a safe distance between you. His hip dug into the wall as he simply watched you and waited. Waited until you could bear to look at him. He would wait. After a moment, you simply stated, “you are going again.”

“Yes.”

“I may never see you again.” You affirmed, knuckles whitening from your tight grasp on the wall in front of you. You still couldn’t look him at him.

“Yes.”

“But, if you can come back,” this time you turned to look at him, searching the depths of his eyes, “will you?” He reached his close fist to brush against your cheek softly, letting his hand settled at the hair tucked behind your ear. With a smile, he reached in close and whispered, “yes.” Your lips parted with a prickly shudder down your spine as his free hand traced the curve of your spine.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

I think the first time would be gentle but sensuous. He would anticipate your needs and would want the depth of his feelings to be felt as he melded his lips with yours. He wanted to convince you of your future. That there could be a future, even though he could never be certain of that.

As he pulled back from his whisper, he did as he often did and placed his hand firmly on your cheek. You knew he wouldn’t pull away this time. This was the last chance either of you would have until they returned. If they returned.

“Don’t kiss me,” you murmured, “if the only reason is that you aren’t sure you’re going to return to me.” Tears began to prick at your eyes as you looked at him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, raising his other hand, to your other cheek, “because I have to know what kissing you feels like, in case I never return.” He leaned in and brought his lips to yours in a searing kiss, full of longing and passion. You couldn’t help but moan as his strong hands pulled you in as close as he could have you. Your hands wove into his hair, pulling softly at the silky strands. He pulls back, but only to tilt his head from one side to the other before delving in to kiss you again. It seemed to last both an eternity and no more than a fleeting moment.

“If I don’t come back,” he whispered as he pulls away, “just know that you have made me a happy man.” He dropped his forehead to yours, allowing his eyes to close with the affection that coursed between you.

[gourmetjello]

könig x reader : microwave

hey loves, hopefully könig isn’t getting too boring !! i’m quite obviously a könig blog for now but i would love to write about others too maybe a bit later, i was thinking about keegan, ghost, krueger or maybe even horangi? any opinions on these guys? (｡- .•)

you know the drill already -> 2nd person pov (it’s working pretty well!) and english isn’t my first language so bear with me. this will be a more lighthearted and shorter fic! i’ve been promising a fluff for a few days now but gosh, i feel like i would mess it up and könig would be to ooc. that’s just my personal fear though bahaha

also in this oneshot könig is wearing his mask / sniper hood for the first time ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) hope you’ll enjoy! (bunch of dialogue in this one ahaha)

—

the kortac base was always eerily quiet and dark around nighttime and it even creeped some people out. you weren’t really one of them, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of being surrounded by so many guns and other kinds of weapons didn’t exactly make you feel safe and sound at night. not like you spent so much time in the main building after midnight, but still.

one night though, you happened to be in one of the rooms because the microwave in the dormitory stopped working. it’s a stupid little thing, but it did indeed cause a mass panic among the people in the crew! everyone was rushing to grab their already prepared meals from the fridges, trying to get to the microwave first. they got to warm up their food and was all that mattered — however, you totally forgot about this silly tech chaos.

you stood in front of the already yellowed microwave in the shared dormitory kitchen, pressing every button you could possibly lay your finger on. it made a little beeping noise after your aggressive presses, but after displaying ‘error’ instead of the time, you gave up. it just wouldn’t start spinning and it wouldn’t light up either. what a stupid piece of technology!

loud sighs could be heard in the empty room ws your finger gently knocked against the already cracked and slightly dirty plastic shell of the microwave. you didn’t even dare to open the door of it and look in there with maybe a light or something — you were totally scared that you would find some kind of nasty black mold growing in there. which was probably the case. and it made you feel so uneasy! but oh well, soliders are so cheap — you thought and carried on.

you were fine with eating cold food, as long as it had some nutritional value, but when a bunch of people in camouflage outfits passed you with steaming warm meals on their trays, you just had to stop in your tracks.

“hey, where did you heat that-“

but everyone was too busy with eating their soggy yet warm food. they were all eating like they have been starving for at least three weeks! and the way they knocked you out of the way to get to the fridge made you freeze up for a second — gosh, these men (and women too, surprisingly) can drink a can of no name beer like it’s the finest liquid to ever flow on planet earth!

you quickly had to realize that you were on your own in this situation. or well, maybe not a hundred percent on your own because there was that small plate of clumped together mashed potatoes and a can of ice cold soup on your plastic tray. your fingers slightly trembled as you were about to pick it all up and sit down next to someone, pretending that they were piping hot like theirs — but you accidentally caught someone blabbering about how it was such a smart touch to put a microwave in the main building too.

that small little sentence you happened to hear was almost like a god-sent miracle, it made you immediately grab everything that was in front of you and you practically rushed to the lobby of the kortac base. it was pretty dark in there and you weren’t too familiar with where the light switches were there, but it didn’t bother you that much because all you could possibly care about in that moment was getting your food all nice and wamed up.

and guess what — the microwave was working. what a blessing!

you watched as the device light up with an orange-ish tint and you could see your canned soap going round and round on the little glass plate inside. the microwave lit up the entire room with a pretty yellow color, making you forget how quiet and dark it actually was in there.

the sweet little chime that played as it finished spun in your head on repeat like it was the best sound ever, signaling that you could finally eat after a long and tiring day. as soon as you took out the soup, you immediately paced the mashed potatoes in there as well, wanting to heat them up as quick as possible. it was satisfying to see the timer go down, and when you thought about getting something to drink, maybe a glass of water, you turned around-

only to see the barrel of a gun pointing at you.

you could barely make out the shape in front of your eyes in the dimly lit room, but once you realized what shape it was your heart immediately started beating in your throat. as a trained solider, you knew better than to make a sound in a situation like this, but come on. was someone pulling a horrible prank on you?

“who’s.. who’s this?” you asked with a weak voice, what a mistake. you knew you were never ever supposed to form a question when something dangerous was going on, but you had to know.

“i’ll tell you while i pour that boiling can of soup on you, how does that fucking sound?” the voice was familiar, but you couldn’t exactly put your finger on who it could belong to.

“e-excuse me?”

as the microwave finished heating your mashed potatoes up, it made three short beeps and the light stayed on, blinking every once in a while. the sounds it made broke the silence between you and this mysterious person that really wanted to commit some kind of crime on base, for whatever reason.

or maybe you were taking this too lightly? what if it was actually someone that broke into the base and is actually not kidding while saying all of these things? you knew quite a few people that could kill people without even thinking twice, the military was simply a place like that, but gosh, why would anyone say this to their own co-worker? it had to be someone who’s actually a threat. right?

as the yellow light blinked every few seconds, you just had to look up in case you knew who this person could be. and as soon as you saw how low the mysterious man had to hold compared to his own body and weight, you could immediately make a guess.

“könig?”

“huh?”

“what the fuck are you doing? put the gun down!”

it looked like something clicked in his brain too as he heard your voice again and he lowered the gun to his side, or at least that was what you were able to see. he then lightly leaned down but what you saw next absolutely creeped you out — he had some kind of cloth on his face! did this man totally go insane?

“i demand an.. explanation?”

“hm?”

“..like, i need you to tell me what this whole thing was about!”

“i mistook ya’ for an intruder.” he shrugged.

you stayed silent for a few seconds.

“you really thought that someone would break in all sneakily and.. warm up some food? are you being serious right now?”

“you can never know.”

“and what’s this rag on your head?

“rag?”

“yeah.”

“it’s um. equipment. sniper.”

“you’re not even a sniper.”

“shut up. i can be a sniper.”

“is that a t-shirt?”

“no.”

you could barely see what was on his head but judging from the way it just hung down, you were almost 99% sure in it being just an old t-shirt. the idea felt so silly, yet you had to admit that someone in a mask like that standing in this dark room would really make someone shit their pants.

“it is. you could have gotten a.. um, like, fake leaves. like others do. or that net on your head or something. you know, anything that looks a little more.. professional?”

“yeah, ya’ don’t like it?”

“i did not say that, just..”

“want a bullet in yer’ fucking stupid brain?”

“no.”

“i thought.”

“you thought?”

“i thought.”

“you thought so?”

“ja. thought so.”

“your english still sucks.”

“don’t need it.”

you took a deep sigh and you took a moment to think about how pathetic this scene could look to someone viewing this whole thing from the doorway or outside or anything like that. it was almost like you were watining for a cameraman to walk out from behind one of the chairs in the room and tell you how this will be a great scene for their next draining comedy series.

“you do need it.”

“nein.”

“what a great sense of humor you got there.”

“another joke.. and i, eh, really shoot you. understood?”

“oh gosh. okay.”

—

really short !! so sorry, this was all i could do today. thank you for the kind words, the many likes and the 20 followers. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

good night!

[mostlymaudlin]

Hi! I really love the way you write! What advice could you give on writing fics and improving skills? How do you write such vivid/natural dialogue, and what books have influenced your writing the most?

Hi, you are very kind!!! 🥹

This is going to be very extra — but I’m actually a teacher and I once did a fic writing workshop for a discord server! I have the slides all here if you’re interested, they are designed to work for self-directed learning.

Those workshops mostly cover kind of baseline stuff like establishing conflict etc. For dialogue, I feel like the hardest part is getting the characters to say things that actually move your plot along. And the truth is that they don’t always have the communication skills or the knowledge or the personality to do that, and I tend to change my strategy for getting to my end goal rather than force a conversation to work. Sometimes that means completely restructuring the scene or the chapter or the story… which sucks ! And I think there’s people out there who have a knack for just getting an important dialogue scene right the first time, but for me it often requires slasher-movie style editing lmfao.

As for dialogue in less loaded scenes… I think at this point, I’m thinking more about the characters than I am about the words their saying, if that makes sense. Like, if I understand the motivations and personalities of everyone in the scene, i can kinda let them yap without thinking about it too much. If I’m thinking about a way to do this intentionally, I’d say 1. You gotta read it aloud. If anything makes you stumble or wince, then it probably needs a tweak! And 2. Dialogue is just an extrapolation of a characters internal monologue, so if you are stuck, you could pull up a scrap document and do some stream-of-consciousness writing of the scene from other characters’ perspectives. What’s their stake in the conversation? How are they feeling? What’s their typical style of conversation?

Reading with a critical lens/paying attention to things you’re trying to learn DEFINITELY helps. My biggest inspo style-wise is Rainbow Rowell. She writes some out-of-pocket bits of dialogue that work so so well because she has such a brilliant grasp on her characters. Tbh I only read like 2-3 original fiction books a year, & I was trained to write as a journalist! Here’s a mixed bag of longform nonfiction work that stick with me:

The Deadly Choices at Memorial by Sherri Fink

The Black American Amputation Epidemic by Lizzie Presser

Greens by Kiese Laymon (an excerpt from his memoir)

Gladiator from the Boston Globe Spotlight team

& this one is so silly but it’s stuck in my head for 10 years so that says something: My 14-Hour Search for the End of TGI Friday's Endless Appetizers by Caity Weaver

This got so long lol but idk I am just always really excited to help ppl write <3 I was lucky enough to study writing in college (even if I only took one fiction class) and I think all we can do as writers is share knowledge and prop each other up. You’re already curious about craft, and that’s half the battle of improving your own skills. And at the end of the day, craft doesn’t actually matter that much in fanfiction as long as you are having FUN !!!!

EDIT: WAIT I just remembered an amazing book from the 1 fiction class I took — Steering the Craft by Ursula K LeGuin. It’s a half philosophy of writing and half workbook, and the exercises are really fun/helpful! I still own it nearly a decade later

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

🦄✨🎃💥 for the writer goal asks!

Yay, thank you for the ask! ❤️😁Questions from here

🦄 Is there a new POV you'd like to try writing?

I definitely would like to write some more stuff only from Astarion's POV (at the moment I pretty much tend to do a rather omniscient 3rd person so it'd be interesting to stick to one person's POV)

✨What's one area of your writing that you think needs the least amount of improvement?

Hmm, at this point, probably dialogue - it's what I find myself making the least editing and rephrasing to and I'm usually pretty happy with how I have characters interacting with one another (and it's what I feel improved the quickest for me). And when it comes to Astarion and Syanna's dialogue with each other, it's always so much fun to write for them (especially when they're being little gremlins or being silly together 😁)

🎃Do you plan on writing any seasonal fics?

I don't really have anything in particular in mind at the moment, but if inspiration strikes, why not?

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Several, actually 😆And all of them take place much later in Elven Storm (late or end of act 3 basically), and it's because that's when Astarion and Syanna can finally have their actual happiness and take a break from everything - but there's also a lot of stuff that happens before that and they are going through it 💀

Anyway, here's a rough idea of how what I currently think is the final chapter would start:

There's also the classic - the graveyard scene. I'm definitely excited to add my own spin to that and write Astarion as being full of hope and with that being one of the first moments of him and Syanna settling in their relationship properly (in between the leaving the Shadow cursed lands and killing Cazador, they do begin to butt heads and argue about the ritual, then there's all the durge revelations...like I said, they're going through it at this point).

THEN, to move into the angst territory, there's the part with meeting Gortash that I already have a good chunk written down for (and that's because I was initially planning - a long time ago - to have a multi-chapter short story - something like 3 chapters at most - covering things like the arguments about dealing with Cazador and his ritual, meeting Gortash and everything that is found out at that point, actually dealing with Cazador and the aftermath of that, but obviously that is now being used in Elven Storm). In any case, writing the scene where Syanna meets Gortash for the first time in act 3 (and to have her give him a piece of her mind) was surprisingly fun:

And for even more angst, there's the confrontation with Orin and rejecting Bhaal, which I'm planning on writing from Astarion's POV (this also used to be a standalone WIP initially, which will now be reused and rewritten and all that):

And basically, my intention with the angsty stuff is to have it move into fluff and comfort and then finally being happy and hopeful and there for each other no matter what🥹

Excuse the long answer, I just got excited and started babbling 😅

[mentalblabbermouth]

I tell myself I am free to be silly and that includes feeling good about posting another ramble from my google docs

So anyway aside from Mario, I am also really into BATIM and when BATDR came out I lost my mind. Like 2017 me came crawling back from the depths of my mind and binge-watched Superhorrorbro Mike's gameplay when it came out. Distinctly remember having to pause at the biggest plot twist and just pace around my senior studio, rambling like a madman. (Little did I know someone was right outside the door, so whoever heard all that um no you didn't)

(From 9 Dec 2022) (Disclaimer: this is pure brainrot I guess but if you manage to read all this thanks so much! I get insecure about it, but I also really want to share my ramblings in the hopes of someone getting it so yeah)

Shut up I’m still thinking about Audrey, I have thoughts and questions like did she start out as a baby? How long did she even get to grow up with Joey before he died? If her story starts in 1973, and the first game was in 1963, and she has to be in like her early twenties, and Joey died in 1971, then what? That’s two years! Had she always known and just forgot when she entered the machine? Did he put her in an orphanage when she was little? And how did she even end up at Archgate? 

   Maybe she did get to grow up with her father and forgot when she entered the machine and she rediscovers the book with his notes, not understanding its true meaning. Nathan had promised to look after her, which is why she’s an animator at Archgate. She probably told him what happened to his son and after the damage the machine did, it hit the news and Gent got word and secretly took it away.

   Come to think of it, Allison works at Archgate, so maybe Audrey later realizes Allison Connor and Allison Pendle are the same.

   ALSO! Audrey didn’t recognize Henry, but she has the drawing he gave to Joey, so what? Does she put two and two together later on? Did she never get to meet the real him? Did Joey never talk about him? 

   THEORY TIME: There’s also the whole “uncle” thing. I feel like, bear with me here I promise, Audrey’s somehow connected to Henry. Think about it! She’s a talented animator and hard worker, literally employee of the month at Archgate. He originally created the toons and you know Joey basically took the credit. And the whole soul thing. You can’t separate the creation from the creator no matter what, and I think it’s parallel between Audrey with Joey and Bendy with Henry. Look at this weird family. Audrey’s soul was made, maybe from a piece of Joey’s soul, and a part of that was given to Bendy when they made it to the real world. 

   In “Dreams Come to Life”, Joey mentions how he shared his soul with Henry, so obviously the two were close, and whether they like it or not they influenced each other. What I’m getting at is that some of that artistic talent and creativity may have seeped into Audrey. If the Ink Machine is like a pen or canvas, and ink stains, then who's to say that in creating Audrey, parts of her are composed of the important people in Joey’s life: Allison and Henry? Writing it down kind of makes sense. Now, of course similar dialogue lines are probably just references to the first game, but what if?

As a treat for making it this far and while I have the confidence rn, here's some old-ish art technically from last year? I just like the potential between strained character relationships, the drama of it all ✨🤌.

Now, of course neither of the games are perfect and the storyline itself is kind of mixed up/confusing in some places, and this all may be a bunch of hogwash, but that's the beauty of fan work I guess, filling in the pieces and connecting dots like that one Charlie Day meme.

Once again I cast my lot into the digital sea of content like a note in a bottle, hoping to be uncorked and read by a stranger in the midst of multitudes, received not with scorn, but acceptance and understanding.

Anyway that's all for today, as always, thanks for reading!

[antiloreolympus]

5 Anti LO Asks

1. I’m probably beating a dead horse, but RS writing makes it hard sometimes for me to understand what’s serious and what’s not

Example, Hecate slapping hades when she found out about the article, it’s suppose to be silly I think, but when Minthe slaps him I was mostly confused. Yes Minthe hit Hades, but the whole scene I felt like was out of character and maybe not. I didn’t take it as seriously because characters have slapped each other before. Minthe’s knows internally she’s messing up, and the night before feels bad but also gets a hint that hades was sketchy letting persphone work there with them. Why doesn’t she mention that? Why is she saying she’s too good for him when her internal dialogue is “I’m messed up and Hera sees me as nymph trash and she’s not wrong”. Nothing in the scene made sense really. Why is she bringing up Kronos when she has actual valid reasons to be mad at hades (I know he’s smoothed things over with she’s my friends kid, but again Thetis tells Minthe the program hasn’t started yet) (Yes Minthe is bad for slapping hades, no you can’t explain abuse it just seemed like the whole scene wasn’t well planned out)

But also there’s the episode where Persephone tells hades what happened with the act of wrath and we’re suppose to feel bad because her friends died. Maybe it was suppose to be a big reveal about their names BUT moments later persphone is laughing about being naked in front of hades and asking him a favor. Like it seemed it didn’t matter what caused her to kill that sea of souls because it brought her to hades

Or the Thetis nudes Hera plot line. I felt like that was going to be very interesting. Minthe telling Thetis not to do that (maybe even ratting out Thetis to Hera as a “you’re terrible but you don’t deserve to be treated like this even if it’s my friend) but no it ends with Ares/Aphrodite/Hera to kick Zeus out of the house I think. Idk I thought they plot line was gonna flesh out the character more but makes Zeus even more shallow for going right to Semele, Aphrodite and Ares didn’t even share words when they reunited, and Hera got hurt. Nothing.

The only thing I wanna say that’s been consistent was the Apollo SA plot line with the same taking it seriously, BUT when Persephone meets with Leto and I’m expecting her to be scared or something (Leto was kinda chalked up to be this big bad villain) Persephone pulls on her veil I think RS trying to make it comedic.

Smaller example when Thanatos loses Daphne and in court the next day RS uses “this could have been an email” meme didn’t really work for me. Are we suppose to laugh? Are we feeling bad? Idk, I felt bad about the Daphne stuff, but then RS tried to make Thanatos “special privilege” child servant.

Idk I just have a hard time what’s suppose to be a joke and what’s not and what the scene is trying to be. 

2. OK I JUST REALIZED THIS but Rachel made a point the way to tell the gods apart from humans is the gods are unnaturally colored while the humans are normal colored, but here’s the thing: HOW IS PSYCHE SURPRISED THEN WHEN SHE FINDS OUT EROS IS A GOD? HE DOESNT GIVE HER A FAKE NAME, IS INVISIBLE LIKE IN THE OG MYTH, AND HES BRIGHT PINK! HOW COULD SHE NOT TELL RIGHT AWAY? Add it to the list! i found another set of proof Rachel didn’t plan out anything in this comic and is making it up as she goes!

3. Anyone want to mention how Off it is that Psyche is supposed to be a woman of color yet only had BIPOC features when she's made to look like a nymph, who in LO are seen as lower class and are a discriminated against race? More so, anyone want to mention the "Good" nymphs just happen to be carbon copies of Persephone, who is framed as the "perfect" white woman in this story? What is that telling us? RS, a privileged white woman, really created disgusting racial politics in this comic for funsies.

4. the hymn to demeter is like the only myth with one canon interpretation though lmao. the LO defenders love to go the "there are many different versions!!" yet when anyone asks them for actual proof of these pro hxp myths they go silent. if theres such an abundance of them then why cant they point back to ONE version to back them up? cmon now. it's fine to admit LO is a bad faith myth "retelling", insisting it (or any pro hxp story) anything but is just setting yourself up to look like a liar.

5. LO fans hate anyone even remotely critiquing their comic but they love nothing more than to shit on other greek myth stories (PJO and Hadestown especially egt their ire, wonder why) and even other webtoons that aren't even myth based, tey just threaten LO's spot as the coddled child of the company. They literally have everything they could want and then some and STILL act like such miserable children who throw temper tantrums over made up slights. They just choose to get upset at this point.

[dodo-begone]

Fear for my Lover

Pairing: DSMP!Quackity x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Blood, stitches, bruises, injuries, cursing, frontier first aid (sorry if i missed something)

Summary: Life had been busy lately. Very busy. The night was peaceful and you were more than happy to take advantage of the quiet. Even with Quackity there with you. Fate had other plans though and absolutely ruined what would've been an amazing night.

A/n: i,,, this was meant to be SHORT but also- haha i got 2-3 more parts planned brrrrrr. Also used a dialogue prompt thingy for this- you'll see them in there. They're highlighted.

You thought nothing of it when Quackity said that he was going out. Beforehand he told you that he might have to stay late to do some work. You weren’t sure if he had finished or not, but his departure only confirmed the thought that no, he had not finished business.

With a sigh, you walk over to the couch and flop onto it. The exhaustion from the many months of constant work was catching up. You missed how life was before. Even when you were stuck under Schlatt’s rule on Manberg. Yes, it was quite tedious and annoying, but you weren’t completely rebuilding a nation from the ground up along with its citizens.

The physical work of building was tiresome, but something relaxation and a few nights of rest could easily reverse the effects. Though the mental strain was a completely different story. All of the paperwork was tedious and could keep you up at night just because you need to get one more paper done before dawn. Or just knowing that you aren’t able to help everyone in the new L’manberg. So many had given up hope, were tired of the vicious cycle that they had been caught in. It may not have been going on long, but it still had its effect on everyone all the same.

So much work and so little recreational time. There was little time to care for oneself with so much work on their plate. Let alone spend time with your loved ones. Even if they lived in the same house as you. It felt alienating when you weren’t able to even have a small conversation with your significant other.

Your thoughts were deafeningly loud. Sometimes even covering each other when they brought up memories of anxieties of the past and future. That’s why it was rather surprising when the entire L’manberg cabinet ran through your front door in a frenzy. Jumping off of the couch, you try to survey the situation. What in Pime’s name could be going on?

Their hysterical cacophony of voices were all that reached your ears. You didn’t even need to hear their words when you saw Quackity’s limp body in Fundy’s arms.

Without a second thought, you push your way over to Fundy and Quackity, quickly searching him for injuries. Well, the injuries part was pretty obvious with all of the blood. But the extent of the injuries were another story. What could be going on? How bad was it? Oh Prime, why was there so much blood?

In the frenzy you must’ve said something because something happened. One moment you are near the entrance with your beloved in the arms of his co-worker and the next you’re tending to his wounds in your shared bed. Nobody else was in the room. It was just you and Quackity. Your Quackity. And a bowl of water and a small stack of wash clothes and towels.

Your hands quacked from both worry and the sobs you were desperately holding back. Something was stabbing the interior of your throat as it closed from the overwhelming emotions that filled your body.

What terrified you was that Quackity wasn’t completely unconscious. He definitely wasn’t completely there but he was still awake and babbling. More muttering because of how frail and faint his voice was, but it was still a bunch of nonsense. How you wished to know what he was saying, what he was thinking. Now wasn’t the time, but you feared that if you didn’t know now that he’d never tell you. Shit hit the fan and he came back like this. Either his pride or his desire to “protect” you would keep him from spilling the tea. This was your only chance.

All you were able to do was open your mouth before Quackity was making this harder. He was extremely weak from the blood loss and you were in a race against time to stop the river of blood that just seemed to flow freely from his wounds. You had been holding his bigger wounds tightly, trying to put as much pressure as you could to slow the blood loss or stop it completely. Each attempt to settle Quackity only leads to him resisting more, weakly fighting you to get up. Soon his behavior had gone on for too long, in your humble opinion, and he was still as stubborn as he was in the beginning.

With what little common sense you had left in your nearly hysterical state, you tried to reason with him. “Quackity,” you pleaded, still trying to gently push him back onto the bed so he was laying. “Please lay down, Duckie. It’s for your own good. Just let me bandage you up and I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

From an outsider’s perspective, the attempt was silly. It really wouldn’t have gotten much of a reaction from your confused lover. And yet you still tried anyway, hoping that anything would help at this point. You were desperate.

His silence spoke volumes. In some stroke of luck, Quackity heard your words. That or he became too tired to fight and “speak”. Either way, you were taking what you could get. It was a victory and your goal was reached. Without much, if any fight at all, you managed to get Quackity back into bed and went back to patching up his wounds.

They were much worse than you hoped. Your wish that it was a smaller wound with a ton of blood oozing out was swiftly dashed when you started to clean up the blood from its source. Well, more accurately from anywhere and cleaning until you found the source. Although a bad idea, you had patched up his smaller, easy to access wounds. Though you couldn’t dodge the challenge that stood before you, glaring at you from Quackity’s face.

Petechiae, scratches, and bruises also decorated his face in a hideous manner. The centerpiece of it all was a large scar that traveled from his lip to his eye, all on the left side, was the most obvious wound. The others could heal on their own, but that cut, could you even call it a cut, was in dire need of assistance. It was probably already infected and trying to heal itself. But it was too big, too wide to heal naturally. Intervention was needed and it was needed stat!

Blankly you stare at his face, mind running a mile a minute trying to think of remedies and solutions. Sadly there weren’t many options available. Ponk was too far away to call for his medical expertise, not even considering how late it was. Would he even still be awake? Let alone awake enough to do stitches? You could wait till morning but who knows what condition Quackity would be in at dawn. Something had to be done and it had to be done now. Only one plausible solution remained and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

Swiftly you leave Quackity, moving out of the room as quickly as you could. Quackity tried to reach out to you but just missed your sleeve. Though you didn’t notice or know. You had things to get done and to get them done you needed equipment. Desperately you search around the house, pulling out anything you’d need. More clean towels, a bowl of clean water since the one you had been using was more than dirtied and the towels absolutely soiled. Placing them half-hazardly on a flat surface, you scurried around to find the other necessary equipment. After having to catch your sewing tin and lighter from falling a few times, you grab everything you previously gathered and make your treacherous journey back to Quackity.

When you return, he’s once again sitting up in bed. Weakly, mind you, as he fell back onto the mattress at the sight of you. You wished to scold him for going against what you asked of him, but it didn’t matter now. With no time to waste, you dump your supplies onto the nightstand and fumble around, trying to get everything prepared.

As nimbly as your shaky hands could spare, you set up your thread and needle as if you were going to start sewing a gorgeous design into a quilt. You stared at the bowl of water you had, debating whether or not to use your sad little lighter to heat up that big ole bowl… it’s better if you didn’t. Other than being faster, how much better would it be for sanitizing the needle? It’d take ages to get the water boiling and even then it might not be enough. A flame straight out of a lighter? Seemed better. It got the job done quicker and would be warmer than the boiling water so it was going to kill more bacteria and germ than the boiling water. That’s what you hoped, at least. This is why you aren’t a medic.

Shakily, you ignite the lighter and hold the needle to the flame, slowly rotating it to equally distribute the heat. As tedious and anxiety inducing as it was, it would be worth it in the end. The stitch is only temporary until you can get Ponk to come over, hopefully by early tomorrow. Or later today? What time even was it- Snap out of it! This isn’t the time to be doing this!

You didn’t know how hot the needle had to be to be considered “sanitized” but you had waited long enough. At least that’s what it felt like. Plus the part of the needle you’re holding is getting pretty hot.

When you go in for the first suture, the hiss of pain before you even punctured the skin was a good indicator to you. Not that he was awake enough to still be actively feeling things, but to be able to vocally express his pain and that the needle was hot enough to probably kill most bacteria and germs if it hurt to touch. Hesitation is making you its bitch, holding you still and making you contemplate if what you’re doing is right. Of course what you’re doing is right. It has to be. It’s one of the best and only options you have.

Before you did anything else, you grabbed one of the towels and rolled it up. Gently you pried his mouth open and placed it in like a gag. He wasn’t going to be able to grip much and he’d be grinding his teeth together from pain. Previous experience with stitches and similar frontier medical procedures has taught you one thing; having a gag to bite on helps every part. The patient gets a way to release their pain and the “doctor” is less likely to be hurt by the patient since the patient will have something else to focus on hurting. It doesn’t work entirely but it’s better than hearing the unmuffled screams of agony and feels better to have something to grip onto as hard as you can.

After getting him situated, you position yourself again. With a deep breath, you start off the first suture. Quackity’s muffled scream was heartbreaking yet shocking. Even with you expecting it, it still spooked you a bit. But everything was okay. This was for the best. And then you continued on. Slowly you added stitch after stitch after stitch until you thought you did enough. Really it was a combination of “this is adequate” and “i’m too anxious to keep going because what if i mess up”. Without anesthetics, it was just horrific for both parties to go through with this endeavor. He was moving around so much, trying to twist and turn away from the pain being done to him. His movements were so often and large enough to make you nervous about going near his eyes. What if you poked it out? Or made him blind?

Looking back at the stitches and what they held together, it was obvious that his eyesight was going to be impaired from now on. His eyes were looking completely different from each other now. The regular on the right and the horrific product of whatever he did on his left. A white film covered his eyes like a snow blanket. He was now blind in that eye or going blind.

Realistically, he was going blind but you still held out for the unrealistic hope that he’d be almost entirely okay afterwards. You knew it was unrealistic, but you still hoped.

You Quackity didn’t deserve this.

Once you have cleaned up the mess you made, you start to pack everything up. Needle in the bowl to be cleaned, remaining threat back into the tin, bowls moved away from where they’d get bumped and dumped. Slowly and methodically you finish your tasks. The adrenaline of the night is slowly leaving your body and exhaustion is once again taking hold of you. Oh how you hated that. Absolutely despised the feeling.

After everything was to your liking, you go to check on Quackity again before you leave to give and get some silent rest for the two of you. It’s the least you could do for him after all of this.

He seemed comfortable after everything, peaceful in fact. It was such a calming sight and it eased your guilt of hurting him. Everything you did was for the greater good, you mentally remind yourself. It was to help prevent further infection and it was only temporary. Until you could get proper help for him.

Without much thought, you sit by the bed and lay your head upon it. So much blood got onto the blankets and the sheets. You’d need to clean that quickly. After Quackity gets help and is moved or can be moved, that is. Which would hopefully be tomorrow. Slowly you start to doze off. Or was it zoning out? Either or you were slowly calming down further. To the point where you almost fell asleep.

Jolting awake, you begrudgingly haul yourself off the floor and start your long and tiring journey to the living room. The couch was comfier than the floor, after all. No matter how much you wanted to sleep by Quackity.

Your dawdling is stopped by something on your sleeve. At first you think your sleeve got caught on something so you tug in hopes of being untangled from said object. Nothing happens so you just tug harder. But still nothing happens. Eventually your little tug of war becomes too annoying and has been prolonged enough. You whirl around to see what in Prime’s name you could be caught on.

Low and behold it was the man of the hour, surprisingly. Quackity had grabbed onto your sleeve and just held you there. Confused, you walk back to the bed and sit, holding his face and inspecting for any new signs of pain. Anything that would show that he was feeling something different, something worse. You hoped that he wasn’t feeling like that, but it was a naive hope. Wounds were not an unfamiliar concept to you and yet you’d always hope for such fantastical things to the point where it was odd.

In return for you holding his face, he went to gently hold yours. A soft smile makes an appearance upon your face after the action.

“How’re you feeling, Ducking,” you whisper. Silence once again makes its presence known and it’s very loud and obnoxious about it. “Sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. That was stupid of me to ask.”

Quackity chuckles at your slip up and you’re more than happy to join him. Slowly your chuckling drowned out by the silence that had obnoxiously told you how wrong you were to ask your beloved if he was in pain when it was more than obvious that he was, indeed, in pain. You take a deep breath and release a sigh.

“You need to sleep. It’ll help with the healing and hopefully with the pain until tomorrow. I plan on calling Ponk to do some actual doctor shit on you because Prime knows how amazing my skills are.” Once again you attempt to leave Quackity to sleep, but stopped by his grip on your sleeve.

“Please,” he rasped. God his voice was so hoarse after everything. You felt terrible as you were part of the cause and yet you couldn’t do anything nor bring yourself to feel too bad. It was all for the greater good, after all. For his health.

“Please what?”

“Please stay with me,” he begged, looking straight into your eyes with his only working one. The sight was pitiful. Such a prideful man who could do so much left in such a weakened state. You hated seeing him like this. Nobody liked seeing their loved ones in a position like that. And how could you deny him that request, especially with what he went through tonight. You still didn’t know what it was but the aftermath was horrific enough to give a small clue as to what happened.

“Of course,” you reply, smiling warmly and climbing into bed with him. The moment you’re under the blankets and sheets, he gently pulls you into a hug. For his or your sake, you’re unsure. You hope that it’s his though. “Anything for my Duckie.”

[theredconversegirl]

Sneaking Out | Ficlet 🍅🌸

Hey there,

Hope everyone is doing well! 💕

I’m sharing a little something that came into mind when I saw this au name on twitter last night. 😁 I hope some ss fluff helps warm your day/night! 💜

~Happy Reading!

Title: Sneaking Out Rated T   Summary: all the characters live in the same building au / blank period / mostly dialogue / fluff & slice of life.

Links: Fanfiction | ao3  ——————————————————————————

When the "temporary" settlements are taken down, sixteen months post-war, and most of her friends end up moving to the same apartment complex, Sakura realizes it will be a lot more difficult to sneak out for the usual late night make-out sessions. 

"We need a plan," Sasuke says after she confides her concerns to him that night.

He hasn’t noticed the changes – because a) he doesn’t care about people, b) he was away for quite some time, and c) he doesn’t really care – but she had.  Every day there’s someone moving in and every day more familiar faces greet her when she’s leaving or arriving at her apartment.

"It shouldn't be as complicated as you think it will be." He tells her as though her worry is unwarranted. “We just need to use our skills; we are shinobi.”

"And so are all tenants from the 3rd to the 10th floor."

Sasuke sits down on her secondhand couch and sighs. “I can walk up the outer wall and get to your window."

"As romantic as it sounds Sasuke-kun, you could be easily spotted." The disbelieving look in his mismatched eyes prompted her to continue. "Masked chakra or not, someone could look out of the window or get on the balcony and see you.” 

“Henge?”

Sakura snorts. “And that wouldn’t look suspicious at all.” 

He glares at her and she glares right back. She gives up first, groaning as she starts to pace the room.

“Imagine the repercussions… we’d have to explain to Tsunade-shisou what you were doing climbing up a residential building wall late at night. You, Uchiha Sasuke, ex missing nin who spent the last four years plotting revenge—” 

“Tch, I get it.” Sasuke averts his eyes, but doesn’t look fazed by the touchy subject.  “You could take the stairs up to my place.”

“And risk bumping into someone?”

“Who takes the stairs when there’s that brand new metal box that takes everyone up and down here? It’s the first elevator in a non-governmental building and everyone wants to ride it.” He rolls his eyes and Sakura mirrors the action, because yeah, it’s ridiculous. They can do magic ninja stuff and people are excited by a mechanical thing that moves vertically. 

“Well... Kakashi takes his sweet time climbing the stairs to his apartment. Lee says the additional exercise is a challenge. Tenten has to follow suit when he’s around. I saw Kiba taking the stairs with Akamaru once… I guess some people just don’t like the wait.” Sakura shrugs, not dismissing the idea entirely, just  being realistic about the risks. “Besides, you wouldn’t want me bumping into Lee late at night.” 

Sasuke frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because…” Sakura trails off, the very valid reason she had vanishes at the sight of a jealous Sasuke. 

He just… he looks so, so good when he’s confused and angry at the same time. His jaw ticks, his voice turns gruff, and that little pout that goes with the sullen glower completes the hottest bad boy look one can have. Why are they wasting time talking when they could be kissing? His conceited smirk snaps her out of her daze and she berates herself for falling for his trick – he knows how to distract her very well. 

“Because he'd hog me until I allow him to walk me safely back to my door.”

Sasuke groans and lets his head fall on the pillow behind him. “I'll go down to you then, problem solved.” 

“That could work, but we’d still risk Ino or someone from the hospital walking in on us.” He doesn’t say anything to that, but Sakura sees the question on his face from where she’s standing. “You haven’t been back long, so to put it simply, I’m needed in that hospital and they have the gift to need me when I’m off.”

Sakura watches with a satisfied grin as Sasuke’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He looks at her with respect and curiosity... And damn, forget about the bad boy thing because this makes her tremble with anticipation. That look is everything she’s ever wanted.

“You're my teammate.” 

“Your female teammate, the one who has had a, uh, crush on you since forever. Stop smirking! The entire village knows.”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you loved me.” 

Did he just… goad her on? The bastard has the nerve to puff up his chest and look smug while saying that.

“That’s too personal!” Sakura hides her pink cheeks when she twirls around and resumes her pacing. When she completes a full circle, their eyes meet and she sighs. “Yeah, yeah, they know.”

Three circles later, Sakura has an a-ha moment and asks, “Are you good at teleporting yet?” 

After Sasuke’s recovery and his brief trial that led to the end of the council, the Hokage authorized the Rinnegan research. Kakashi and Sasuke have been training together every other day since. Sasuke’s stamina is building up to a point he’s not completely exhausted after using his new ocular powers.

Sasuke’s mood changes immediately. The scowl on his face is telling and Sakura almost winces – he’s too proud to admit that he’s probably not quite there yet. Teleporting back and forth after training hours could drain him.

“What if,” Sakura says quickly, changing the subject. “What if we just don’t sneak out.”

“Then we won’t be spending time together?”

“But we do.”

“How so?”

“I mean what if we just don’t care if someone sees us going to each other’s apartments? We are two consenting adults and it’s none of their business anyway.” Sakura explains, chewing her bottom lip as she mulls over the various outcomes of not keeping their relationship a secret anymore.

It was not a premeditated decision to hide it in the first place. But when they have two loud-mouthed best friends, the news would blow up within hours and they just want some privacy.

It’s not like they’d be advertising their relationship or anything. And who cares if nosy people gossip about it? The only thing that matters is that they are together (and ridiculously in love). 

“You know what, this won’t keep me away from you.”

“Oh yeah? You're going to forgo any social etiquette just to have your way with me, huh?”

“As if you'd complain!” Sakura scoffs and crosses her arms. “If I don’t do that, you will. And you know why? Because you’d miss me.”

Sasuke snorts but she pays no heed to it; she knows he would never admit to that if asked. And, she can see the blush creeping up the side of his neck and the tip of his ears. Adorable.

“You’d miss me and these sugar lips.” She swipes her tongue across her mouth and notices how his eyes darken, following the movement. “Tell me I’m lying.” 

When he stands up, rather abruptly for a human but not for a shinobi, she’s forced to take a step back and crank her neck up to look at him. Sakura’s still not used to this Sasuke, tall and broad, who towers over her. 

“Come here, sugar lips.” 

He speaks with a rough, low voice, and what’s supposed to be seductive and hot-hot-hot, makes her giggle instead. Even though Sasuke’s just repeating her own words to annoy her, that’s something she’s never expected to hear.

“I can’t believe you said that. Uchiha Sasuke—”

“Shut up.” 

—called me-mmph!”

He kisses her silly that night – and all the other nights that follow – putting to rest all her doubts and worries, because he does miss her and no neighborhood gossip will keep them apart.

[vegalocity]

Happier version of Tripsun, time travel nonsense where LMK Sun Wukong meets post-journey Sanzang with General 6?

Dialogue starters

6. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

ah hell yeah

--

Every time he’d be allowed to share moments like this with his former Master, Sun Wukong would say to himself that he could never forget how at ease he could feel. How warm his chest was and the faint sweet shivers that would crawl up his spine and make his fur fluff out could never fade.

And yet every time it was allotted to him again it felt like new.

Perhaps because of how long it had been since their journey, but those random times his Monkeys would inform him someone was nearing the mountain, and when he’d poke his head out in bird form and see that golden light, made his gut jolt and heat to flood his face and neck as though he were some adolescent with a crush.

Of course he’d roll out the welcome wagon (just modest enough that Tang Sanzang wouldn’t chide him for being a showoff even after everything, but could easily be passed off as his Monkeys being as excited as he was to welcome the monk back to the island) and lay out as much food as he could get away with without again, his master scolding him for extravagance and sparing him only a few small knowing smiles over the feast of mountain fruits.

And they’d catch up of course, over food, over tea, and then just sitting somewhere pretty, His master would extoll him the stories of his new students, comparing and contrasting them to his first merry band of disciples (usually a coy smile hidden beneath a sleeve as he said someone or another was just as hard to handle at first as he had been) but a strikingly proud gleam in his smile as he praised students he wouldn’t dare speak aloud to their faces to avoid the building of ego) And Wukong would extoll the current drama of his monkeys and how this or that dispute was brought to him over plums or some other such simple yet silly thing. Truly the stories he had left to tell weren’t near as extravagant as the battles he once went on five hundred years ago, but his master always responded to the comings and goings of Flower Fruit Mountain with as much interest and immersion as he would the mightiest of battles.

And then came the moments when the stories finally ran dry and the two were allowed to simply be in eachothers presence, usually spent meditating on his master’s part while Wukong simply lounged about or read or just sat quietly with his master, enjoying the company in a way the outside world had grown far too bright and fast and loud for.

But this visit was different.

He’d woken up on the mountain, which was strange granted they were li upon li away (Kilometers, they use kilometers now) and his Monkeys were rushing up to him shrieking in fear and panic, hooting and hollering and demanding his attention to an assumed intruder.

He’d been suspicious of course, he’d anticipated anything, the calabash, an illusion, something that would REALLY need his truth seeing eyes (using them had started giving him wicked headaches; his power was so close to gone) but the golden light had already faded when he came outside, ready to fight-

And his eyes fell upon a familiar figure on the sandy shore.

And then he could only hope this was an illusion, as the idea of somehow being transported back home right in time for Master to put himself so close to the danger of the Lady Bone Demon again made his hackles rise. So despite the pounding headache that started the second he summoned the power he gazed around them with golden eyes, gliding over his master’s buzzing cicada wings, his monkeys peering at him curiously, and focusing his gaze to the city-

-where there was neither the silhouette of the skull nor the grid-like patterns of an illusion’s edge. Nor even the city itself.

There was a town, sure, but not a city. A town that had been in the… sixteen hundreds or so? About a century after he’d sealed the Demon Bull King away and dropped in on master to tell him he was considering retiring, that he’d be on his mountain if he needed him, and he was always welcome if he wanted to visit.

And about a century after that, Tang Sanzang had taken him up on the offer. And there he was.

This was the first visit. The throbbing pain in his head proclaimed this as not a dream, the golden vision proclaimed this not an illusion or a trick. This simply… had happened. He had replaced his (slightly) younger self for a time, and this was where he was. The first time.

Maybe this wasn’t for him so much as it was for the others, being given a past version of himself with his powers still in tact, Maybe his past self could protect them all in a way he no longer could.

His monkeys were giving the monk a wide berth and he watched him look around, normally serene expression slightly crumpled as he looked for a path up the mountain. At this point he could easily appear there with a flick of the wrist, but his master never believed in the easy way (except when it came to riding Longma for the entire journey, but he bullied him enough about that as is)

He called a couple of his monkey generals to him and gestured to the beach. “We’ve got a treasured guest here boys, bring out some of our best fruits! The monk drinks no wine so our most potent teas as well!” The two chittered between each other and saluted him. Ah… he missed when his monkeys could much easier take orders.

“Why if my eyes don’t deceive me! Is this the virtuous Tang Monk I spy? The carrier of the Tripitaka himself? Why if any demon consumed his flesh it is said they’d become immortal!” He crowed, and watched as his master quickly covered his mouth with a hand, suppressing a laugh before schooling his expression back into the unimpressed line.

“It seems as though I've wandered to another mountain full of dangerous demons.” he stated, monotone and dry, but playful grin quickly betraying the tone. “If only I had some gallant disciple to protect me from the oncoming dangers”

Sun Wukong tumbled from the trees and gave a mock bow. “Say no more virtuous monk! No demon worth their salt can stand a fight against I, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” there was a pause.

And then his master’s laugh was all he heard. It took him a second to join in, taking a hairdsbreath too long to enjoy the sound, but soon enough he was escorting the monk up to his home.

He had barely been able to wait to tell his Master about Xiaotian, and yet here he was having to avoid the boy’s name entirely while he searched to remember stories and drama from the monkeys four hundred years ago. He mentioned briefly that he was considering taking on a successor but hadn’t decided on it yet. His master told his own stories and He found himself possibly enjoying it a bit too much, Master had only recently passed by his thousand year mark of being immortal and he had still not quite gotten the hang of it yet. All the same he was doing his best and it was nostalgic to watch him try so hard to maintain what came easily to him in the future.

Then the stories ran dry and he gestured for his master to follow him, and reached his favorite spot on the mountainside, it overlooked the town that would soon become a city and they’d have the best fireworks. He didn’t share that information with master, but it didn’t matter, just his presence was enough.

But before he could vanish into the ‘somehow always like new’ feeling, Tang Sanzang turned to him with a worried eye.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” It was a question he didn’t remember being asked on that first visit, one that took him aback.

“What do you mean, Master? I’m fine.”

“Bad Monkey, don’t bother lying to me, you keep wincing as though you’re in pain and you can take beatings that would make mountains crumble into ravines! You keep rubbing at your fur as though there are wounds that are still healing beneath when it takes so much just to pierce your flesh! Was your fight with the Bull King really so intense that your wounds act up even a century later or are you concealing other things from me?” damn those perceptive eyes. He didn’t USED to be perceptive, he used to fall for basically every demon trick!

Then again, he probably wasn’t doing too great at covering up the lingering wounds on his body either.

“I’m fine master, I’m sure everything will be back to normal when i’ve rested some.”

Well that was the exact wrong thing to say as he watched the Monk’s face pale. “Have I been keeping you from rest? Oh, you fool of an ape you should have told me!” Tang Sanzang turned to face him properly and for a moment Sun Wukong’s brain short circuited entirely as he placed soft hands on either of his cheeks to cup his face. “I can return at any time! If you’re injured you shouldn’t feel pressured to remain in my company!”

“I want to be in your company.” It came out in a way he wouldn’t have been able to mask the adoring warmth to, no matter how hard he tried. “Master, I enjoy nothing quite as much as I do our quiet moments together.” He had to go visit him himself upon returning to his time, he’d forgotten just how much he could miss the monk once again.

Tang Sanzang huffed and it seemed like that had at least turned his upset into more garden variety aggravation. “Bad monkey…” He shook his head, and in the dim light of sunset it almost seemed as though his master’s cheeks turned a pink shade of their own before he brought his hands down to take Sun Wukongs in his own, and stood. “Well if you feel so strongly about that then clearly I’m going to have to see to your recovery myself.” The monk looked off to the side and a small smile came with a featherlight chuckle. “How strange, a near reverse of how things once were between us.”

He chuckled as well at the irony and watched his master’s grin widen. “Indeed. Well, if you insist, I shall submit myself to your fucking fretting, baldy.”

Now THAT got a real laugh. and a soft 'Language!' between chuckles.

He’d get summoned back to his own time when Past Him was done doing whatever heavy lifting he’d gotten too weak to be able to handle no doubt. But for now he didn’t see the harm in enjoying the peacetime as it lasted.

--

Send me stuff

[futurequeenofravka]

Good Enough - Sirius x Reader

Summary:

After a spat with a Slytherin girl in your year, you’ve start to doubt your relationship with Sirius Black. While you are wildly in love with him, you start to question why he chose you, a “mudblood.”

Warnings: None, I don’t think? Just a little angsty!

A/N: this is my first piece! it’s a lil test of a fic I’d like to write eventually, and it was prompted by mmfd so I decided to tweak the dialogue from the show a little to make it wizarding world esque hahah. But I hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading, this is the first time I’ve ever shared my creative writing online so please let me know what you think (also please send requests)! Also sorry if the formatting looks a lil weird, posting this from my phone made it kinda wonky.

Word count: 2.2k-ish words.

—

Pst. Psssst.

Sirius’s whisper grew louder until I looked over my shoulder to where he and James were sitting a few desks back from Lily and I. He tried to silently mouth a question as Professor Binns droned on about last night’s reading. James and Lily quietly laughed as they watched Sirius try to repeat himself a number of times before ultimately giving up. I shot him an apologetic look for my lip reading skills, or I guess lack thereof, as I watched him rip up a piece of parchment and scribble down a message. He waited for a spare moment in which Binns had his back turned to the class to write something on the chalkboard and then tossed the crumpled up piece of paper at me.

“What’s it say?” Lily asked as I unfolded the piece of parchment that Sirius had thrown my way.

“Blimey is he fucking annoying.” I said letting out a small laugh as I read the note.

“Well?” She leaned in closer trying to read the note from over my shoulder.

I slid the parchment across our shared desk so that she could read the message as well. Hi. I just wanted to say you look beautiful today. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at 7? Lily sarcastically groaned as she slid the note back over to me and we pretended to go back to our class work. I turned back around to see Sirius intently waiting for my answer, I rolled my eyes at the silly gesture but smiled as I gave him a small nod to confirm our meeting later.

“You two are so sickly sweet sometimes, honestly I think I might have a toothache.” She said loud enough to provoke a laugh from James who eyed her from a few desks over.

“Beats the headache I get from watching you and Potter dodge your feelings for each other.” I retorted, quietly laughing as I tried to refocus my attention back to my textbook.

After class had ended I said bye to Lily as I made my way to the library to study for my potions exam. Sirius had already promised James that he’d come watch the Gryffindors practice for the upcoming Quidditch match so I’d have to study alone today, which I didn’t particularly mind because usually with Sirius around I hardly got any studying done. He pressed a kiss on my temple before we parted ways. When I got to the library I took a seat in the corner as usual and began to sprawl my textbooks across the table.

In the midst of studying I heard giggles from a herd of girls a few tables over. Looking over I met eyes with Ianthe, a Slytherin also in sixth year, who was sitting alongside Sirius’s cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa. Though I had never spoken more than a few words to either of them, I knew I was not favored in the Black household. If anything, they probably hated me; although Sirius would never burden me with that confirmation, I knew how his family felt about me and “my kind.”

Being muggle born was still a rarity at Hogwarts, and one that pureblood families often had strong feelings against. Lily and I became fast friends because of this. Being two of the only Muggle born students at Hogwarts made fitting in quite hard sometimes. There were often things that we didn’t understand or we lost on. We relied on Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas a lot for explanations and now as of recently on the “Marauders,” as they called themselves, as well. But it was comforting to have Lily around, to have someone who understood experiences unique to us. Someone who understood what it felt like to miss basic muggle things while away at school, like televisions or even just pens.

I rolled my eyes at the giggling girls and went back to reading the next chapter in my textbook. Several minutes passed before my studying was interrupted again, this time I looked up to see the three slender girls approaching my table, a wicked grin plastered across each of their faces as they surrounded my table.

“Can I help you?” I breathed looking up from my book.

“Yes actually. Would you mind backing off of Sirius?” Ianthe mused as she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” I asked, Bellatrix laughed at my response, a cackle echoing across the room.

“I thought dating you would just be his latest phase but it’s been almost 6 months. I expected that he’d come crawling back to me by now but you seem to be standing in my way.” Ianthe ran her fingers over my notes and shuffled my things around as she spoke.

“In your way of what? Stealing my boyfriend?”

“Precisely.” Narcissa chimed in from behind the blonde haired girl.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s kind of pathetic how you constantly follow Sirius around like a puppy dog. One day I’m sure he’ll bore of having a little pet mudblood and finally come back to his senses.” Bellatrix said, her tone was cold and cruel as she knocked over a few of my things and proceeded with a sarcastic oops.

“I mean our families have been practically planning our wedding since before we were even born.” Ianthe said trying to refocus my attention back on her.

“Shove off, the lot of you.” I said trying to ignore anymore of their remarks.

“Feisty today aren’t we, Y/N. I would’ve never expected such boldness from a filthy little mud blood.” Bellatrix said cackling again.

“Just leave me alone please.” My voice strained this time.

“You really do ruin all the fun, don’t you, Y/L/N? But before we go, I just have to ask, dear. Does our darling Padfoot still like to have his neck kissed? You know, just above that mole.” Ianthe tapped her finger to the side of her neck.

“You’re all sick.”

“Maybe but at least we don’t have dirty blood.”

My heart beat fast as I picked up my belongings from off the ground, desperately trying to get out of the library as quickly as possible. I ran through the corridors back toward Gryffindor tower, tears welling up in my eyes and slowly beginning to fall despite my best efforts to hold them back. I ran past the other students and back to my dormitory praying that it would actually be empty for once. It was not. Lily was sat on her bed reading a book when she looked up to see me tears running down my face while I tried to keep a cool demeanor. Her face cloaked in worry as she asked if I was okay, her words triggered a visceral reaction as I finally let myself break down in tears. She came over to me and brought me back to her bed and hugged me for a moment, stroking my back waiting until I was ready to speak.

After my sobs and sniffles had mostly come to a stop I recounted the entirety of what had happened in the library. Sharing the words exchanged between me and the three Slytherin girls and the doubt that now seeped into my mind. Lily fumed, her anger rising as she listened to me talk about what had happened.

“Y/N, you don’t actually believe that do you?” She asked, her face still cloaked with worry.

“I mean why shouldn’t I? She’s right, I’ve seen the way people look at us.”

“What does it matter what they think?”

“It’s not what they think, it’s the fact that they’re right. You know exactly how Sirius’ family is, I’m probably just another conquest to him. Girls like Ianthe were bred to marry boys like him, to protect their bloodlines. They’ve basically been betrothed since birth, Lily!”

“Sirius is his own person. He is not his family. You should know better than anyone that that boy lives to break rules. And I seriously doubt it but if he doesn’t appreciate how absolutely brilliant you are just because you were muggle born then he’s not worth your time.”

I knew Lily was right, it was rare that she wasn’t. But my mind still wandered to a dark place that echoed with Ianthe’s comments. She stayed with me for another hour or so before she got ready to go over to the Great Hall for dinner. I didn’t realize how long we had been sitting in the dorm. I looked over at the clock surprised to see it was almost 7. I promised Sirius I’d meet him in the astronomy tower soon. Surely I couldn’t face him after what had just happened but my heart hurt thinking about standing him up.

“You going to be alright?” Lily asked before heading out the door.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll see you later.” I reassured her.

“Alright, if you need anything just give a shout.”

I sighed as she closed the door and headed off. I looked down at my mascara stained sleeves and quickly changed into a clean shirt and wiped away the smeared makeup from beneath my eyes. Regardless of how I felt, I had to face Sirius.

I walked through the empty halls over to the Astronomy tower. Springtime at Hogwarts had an underrated charm to it. The weather was ideal, chill but not too cold. Tonight was no different, the air tonight was crisp, the wind blew gently through my hair as I made my way up the winding staircase. When I made it to the very top I saw Sirius gazing across the school grounds. His face looking intently over the beautifully crafted buildings and through the lush forests around us. I stayed silent for a minute just to admire him. The handsome playboy that I always thought I loathed but whom had somehow not only stolen my heart but had also become my best friend.

When he finally sensed my presence he turned around, my heart fluttered just looking at the kind, dopey smile wiped across his face as he held out his hand for me. When I grabbed it, he pulled me in close. My face buried into his chest as he held me for a minute. I looked behind him to see a blanket laid across the ground a small picnic set up for us.

“Remus helped me bribe the house elves into sneaking me some food so we could have dinner up here.” He excitedly motioned over to the set up.

“It looks lovely, Sirius.” I spoke softly as if my words could be broken with just a tap.

“What’s wrong? Oh Merlin, you hate it, don’t you?” He asked worriedly.

“No it’s not that, it really is lovely. I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you’re doing this for me. You’re a pureblood and I’m...I’m a mudblood.” I took a step away from him, letting go on my grasp on his hand.

“What does that have to do with anything? You know I’ve never cared about any of that.”

“You should be going out with someone like Ianthe, not someone like me. Most people when they see us must be thinking, ‘oh he must be mad going out with that.’”

“That what” he said before raising his voice to echo the question, “that what?”

“You know exactly what, Sirius. Everyone does.”

“What the fuck are you on about? What does everyone have to do with how I feel about you? You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t fancy. That’s mine and mine alone. Now are you going to stop being a git or what?”

“Stop calling me a git, you’re the git.” I said trying to shove him away but his hands grasped my wrists before I could make my move.

Before I could say another word he crashed his lips into mine. His hands now releasing his grip on my wrists and instead caressing my face. Sirius had kissed me many times before but never with such urgency, like his life depended on it. Like if he didn’t kiss me in this exact moment that he’d never get to again. My hands now pressed up against his chest pulling him in closer to me as I savored the taste of him until we were breathless.

“You’re the git.” I whispered as we pressed our foreheads together, he let out a small laugh at my comment before he spoke again.

“Those twats, they aren’t my family. You are.” His thumb caressing my cheek softly.

“Sirius, I just—“

“You are my family.” He said firmly cutting me off before I could finish my sentence.

“Okay, you say that now but I just hate the idea that you’re choosing me over them. I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret your choice and start to resent me forever. I mean they’re your family, Sirius.” I rambled as doubt still riddled my brain.

“Y/N, listen to me, I will always choose you. I choose you today, tomorrow, and I’ll choose you forever for the rest of our lives. You are the only thing in this entire world I care about.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Yes, just maybe not to James, Remus, and Peter. I think they might burst into tears.” He let out loud laugh as he responded to my question.

“I won’t lie, I’d like to see that.”

“I bet you would. Now can we please eat dinner, I paid off the house elves 10 galleons each just so that they would make your favorite!”



[reluctant-mandalore]

hello i just wanna say I loveeee your blog and your fanfics!! <3 can you write a thing where the reader is telling some things to Din that's from their homeworld Earth?? like explaining social media, pop culture things, and some animals?? i'd love a struggling Din trying to comprehend what a DM is (>艸<) o(>V<)o

Warnings: Fluff, Earth things, light flirting, not beta read, din is confused af

Word Count: 1342

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

a/n: I won’t lie. I had a bit of trouble with this one, and I don’t think its any of my best work. But I hope its enjoyable either way! Its a little dialogue heavy, I was exploring dialogue with this piece for sure, but I also felt like it did better with more than less in terms of them speaking. I didn’t have much inspiration in mind for this one, but honestly I still think its still a little cheeky fic with a healthy amount of fluff between Din and the reader. Soooo enjoy! 

Edit: og fic had a “whats a dm?” convo but it didnt really flow right so I removed it and did the spilling the tea thing instead. Hope that was fine anon! I mean... I still have that convo in my scrap doc now, so if you still wanted to see it I could publish it as a blurb. But its really up to y’all if you want to see Din confused over a dm. 

The Mandalorian had immersed himself in looking through that datapad he currently held in his hands. Double checking the list of supplies you both had picked up the day earlier and making sure it had all been placed in the correct storage areas. A task which he found dull, but had busied himself with anyway. If there was one thing he hated—it was a disorganized ship.

This is where you had found him when going down to the hull. Spotting him among the many crates within its vancity and practically skipping over to join him. A bright smile on your cheeks and excitement bubbling inside of you for the day that you two had planned together.

“Hey Din! Ready to head out?”

The Mandalorian had glanced up from what he was doing, allowing his gaze to connect with yours. Soon feeling himself smile at the sight of your own grin. He had nodded in assurance, before going back to fiddling with the datapad in his hands, “I well be, just got to finish up with this here. Are you?”

“Yup! Ready whenever you are tin man!” You had said with a wink, sitting on one of the closed crates and watching as he went about his work. He had rolled his eyes under the helmet at your nickname, choosing to ignore it for the time being though and going back to focusing on the task at hand. Finding himself wanting to get it finished soon so that the two of you could leave.

“Oh, before I forget.” He had suddenly spoken, lifting his head from the screen to look towards you again, “We got a message from Fett earlier when you were busy.”

“Oh we did?” You replied nonchalantly, standing again and patting away the dust now on your clothes. Before pulling up closer to him and taking a peek at the device he was still holding, “What’s the tea? Spill it for me.”

Din had paused in his movements slowly looking up to connect his gaze with yours once more. The confusion he felt evident even with the helmet shielding his features from your view. The realization of your slip up causing a wave of embarrassment to rush through you. Although, your shyness had soon left at hearing the next question he had asked.

“What is this... spilling of the Tea?”

“It’s just a saying.” You said, resisting the laugh that had pulled at your throat from his choice of wording, keeping it down as you smiled at the confused man, “Sorry Din, I sometimes forget that you don’t always know all the same lingo that I do.”

“Ah I see... So it was one of your Earth sayings then?”

You had rolled your eyes at his words, a teasing grin playing on your lips now, “Of course it was, what did you think it would be?”

Din had shrugged, looking away again as he felt himself blush in shyness, even though he knew you wouldn’t be seeing his heated cheeks anyway, “I dunno, maybe it's one of those weird animals you were talking about the other day.”

“Hippos aren’t weird!” You had gasped in mock shock, putting on a show of seeming offended from his accusation, “They’re cute!”

“Yeah sure,” He had said, the teasing smile he wore evident in just his voice alone, “Whatever you say, Cyar’ika.”

“You’d think they were too if you actually saw one.”

After your words, you had moved away from him again, going over to look through the crates of supplies he had scattered around him. You had poked through them with interest, making a face of disgust at seeing some of the protein bars you didn’t like littered within. The expression had earned you a huff of laughter from the armor covered man. The sound of it making you let out a small giggle yourself, a flush of warmth heating your skin, as you both soon found yourselves falling into a comfortable silence.

“What does it mean?” He had asked suddenly, after some time had passed, breaking the cloud of silence within the room, “The spilling of the tea I mean. Why would you spill tea over a message?”

Hearing him speak you had looked towards him, letting out a small laugh at his questioning. His naiveness over the ordeal making your heart flutter and roll with affection for the man. An odd need to pinch his metal cheeks pulling at your mind, though you stopped yourself from doing so, knowing he probably wouldn’t be too fond of such an action.

“Well it doesn’t literally mean spilling tea.” You had said with a shrug, “It basically just means sharing some good gossip.”

Din had hummed in understanding, “I see. Though I can’t imagine Fett sharing any gossip like that.”

“Are you kidding?” You replied, giving him a look of doubt, “I bet him and Fennec sit up on that throne of theirs gossiping all day.”

A loud laugh had left the Mandalorian at your theory—a rare treat that you found yourself overjoyed with—watching him shake his head at the silliness of it all. He never knew how you came up with these ideas of yours, but they always seemed to bring a smile to his face either way.  

“You know I’m right!”

“It’s not that,” He had said, another chuckle leaving him, as he set down the datapad and put everything else away, “You have such strange things from Earth. They seem unreal at times.”

“Oh I see…”

“I mean. I like learning Earth things from you, no matter how strange they may be.” He had said, looking away almost bashfully as he tried to work out his choice of words, “I… I like getting to know more about you.”

A heat had flushed through you at his confession, your heart thundering loudly within your chest, “Well in that case... I can teach you more Earth things.”

You had moved closer to him after your words, a flirty tone finding itself laced within your voice. One of your hands trailing up his chestplate and resting upon it as you leaned into him. Now toying with his cape fondly as you continued speaking, “I wouldn’t mind and it would be something nice to do together.”

“Sure.” He had managed to reply, his mind feeling fuzzy with your sudden closeness, “As long as it's not one of those strange tik tok trends you were doing the other night.”

“Tiktok isn’t strange! It’s fun!” He had looked at you with his brows raised, the helmet hiding them, but his skeptical gaze still obvious,  “Ok maybe it's a little strange, but I promise you’ll enjoy it. You should learn one of the dances with me later. I can teach you one!”

“I don’t dance.” He had replied quickly and sternly. Turning away in an attempt to leave the conversation, though you wouldn’t let him get away with it that easily.

“Oh come on Din…” You pouted, moving around to his front again and giving him your best puppy dog eyes. The sight of them managing to melt his heart in an instant no matter the situation, “It’ll be fun! Plus, you wanted to learn more about Earth stuff right?”

Din had sighed, realizing how his words were now coming back to bite him. Giving you one final look over before admitting defeat, knowing he wouldn’t win this stand off with you anytime soon, “Fine. But you don’t tell anyone.”

“Pinky promise!” You had said with a cheeky smile. Soon holding out your pinky towards him in offering, wanting him to swear the promise with you in that manner, the same way that two foundlings might.

The Mandalorian had rolled his eyes underneath the helmet again, but still possessing the bright smile spread across his cheeks. Soon he had held his own pinky out, interlocking it with yours and giving a firm nod of approval. Another flush of warmth flooding through you at the gesture and causing for your heart to flutter happily once more.

“It’s a deal.”

[kyberphilosopher]

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

You looked beautiful in the sun- all two of them. 

Word Count: 2006

Requested: Obi Wan heated fluff on Tatooine. Delivered. (I hope)

apricity. PRONUNCIATION: (a-PRIS-i-tee)/ the warmth of sun in the Winter.

Obi-Wan did not know what had happened to you, after. 

He could recall your last meeting, however. He could recall it so vividly. It was the day before he was sent to Utapau, and the day you had been sent to the other side of Kashyyyk to assist Master Yoda. Your Clones, who you were immensely proud of, had painted their armor differing shades of camouflage green with little white markings and a bright green streak down their right arms. Even your closest confidant, Commander Syphers, had modified his appearance to match both the jungle of a system, and your lightsaber. 

He had approached you while you and Commander Syphers were nudging at each other while giggling at something. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember what. When you had seen him, a big grin came over your face. You told him your clones had planned something special for your birthday (which was the next day) and that they were all very excited to participate in battle. This was followed with applause from the soldiers on the gunship, and you beginning to walk away from Obi-Wan. 

“You’re not even going to wish me a happy birthday?” you said with a smirk, walking backwards. Obi-Wan didn’t remember what he had said. He could only remember you rolling your eyes, and your final interaction towards him being a playful salute as your gunship lifted up into the air. 

Obi-Wan had not realized that Order Sixty-Six had been executed on your birthday- and possibly you along with it- until much later. You probably hadn’t even gotten to see or experience what your men had done for your birthday. They had already turned on you. 

He had been so focused and finding Anakin after, that he had completely forgotten about you. It wasn’t until his first night on Tatooine that you began to suddenly bombard his thoughts, and he was forced to assume that you had died. 

So this did not explain why you were standing in front of him.

Obi-Wan understood that this was no trick of the suns, nor the heat. The clouds were fluffy in the baby blue sky, the sand mustard and deep, and the plains infinite and distant. You were there, clear as day, in the middle. You didn’t look real, but you were. If anything at all, Obi-Wan Kenobi would’ve described you as surreal. 

You were dressed in a grey cloak and poncho, with the hood up and your makeshift face mask pulled down so he could see and confirm your whole face. Your hair color, which was peaking out from the bun by your neck, had not changed. Your eye color, eyebrows, lips, nose- hadn’t changed. Despite a few sunspots, the shadow of a scar on your collar bone, and the hollow look in your eyes, you were you. And you were real. And you were alive. 

“I thought you were dead,” Obi-Wan said. It was the first words he spoke to you since you had come into his little hovel, and it sounded like a confession of some kind. He knew he shouldn’t have felt silly for it, but he did. He felt ashamed for not having faith in you, even though he knew you wouldn’t have cared much about that. You would’ve understood- you did understand. 

“Me too,” you said. Your thumb rubbed against the clay cup of a warm liquid Obi-Wan had made for you. It was comforting to know that even after tragedy, the man’s manners were unbreakable. “How long have you been here?”

“About nine months,” Obi-Wan guessed. His hands rung together in thought and nervousness. You noticed his voice was so much more soft now, like whatever authority he once had had been shaken. You knew, with a deep sadness, that this was because he didn’t feel he was worthy of authority anymore. It was a shame, because you would’ve followed him anywhere. That’s why you were here now. “How did you find me?” he asked sincerely, his eyes crinkling as he thought about all the options. 

“Master Yoda wasn’t the only one who could see things,” you told him. This too sounded like a confession. Holding his eyes a second longer, you averted them to the table and your cup. “Is he...?”

Obi-Wan took in a silent, shaky breath. “No,” he promised. “He’s alive. On Dagobah, I believe.”

You nodded your head in understanding, looking anywhere but Obi-Wan’s eyes. He was disturbed that you were not the same person as you were, but he didn’t blame you for that. He wasn’t the same person either. 

But you were, at one time, a rather charismatic person. Intelligent and cunning, you were known for your sarcasm and quips. Obi-Wan liked that about you. You were refreshing to be around. Although you two were not the closest, it was a treat working together, and Obi-Wan was sure there was a mutual respect. Now it wasn’t the same. You were more serious, more sad and lonely. You were like a shadow of what you once were. 

“May I ask...” You looked up at Obi-Wan’s words. He knew he shouldn’t have asked, but he was not a man to just leave his words hanging. “What happened? On your birthday?”

Your eyes fluttered shut sharply. “I apologize,” Obi-Wan said quickly.

“No,” you ushered, talking over him slightly. “No, I...just...” you inhaled. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m back in that moment, when I can’t breathe. And I just feel like I’m dying.” Obi-Wan gave you a moment to compose yourself, deciding against placing his hand over your own comfortingly. After another breath, you spoke again. “It was during one of the attacks,” you began. “Wookies everywhere, Seppie scum all around- we were winning. I was looking over it when I heard him say something and then...” your eyebrows scrunched together, almost in confusion, as you recounted the memory. “He raised his gun at me.”

Obi-Wan found himself leaning forward as he listened to your tale. He understood what you meant about the feeling. He could imagine the rocks falling all around him and the breath leaving his lungs as he was shot down. But Cody didn’t look Obi-Wan in the eyes, no. 

“Who did?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. He felt like it was such a forbidden thing to ask, and maybe it was. But this also felt like an interrogation, and it didn’t feel right to let it hang. 

“Syphers.” Maker, he could hear your voice breaking. 

“And, what about your birthday?”

You shook your head softly, and in the most lost and confused voice, you told him: “I don’t know.” 

                                  ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

You were always there when Obi-Wan would wake up. When he stretched his muscles, and wandered outside to watch the twin suns rise into the sky, you were there. Whether sitting or standing, you would watch him when he watched you. Sometimes, he could’ve sworn you had tears in your eyes, almost as if you were saying that you couldn’t believe you had finally gotten to see the sun again.

In the beginning, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought you were simply exquisite in this way. 

Your light colored outfit was simple and contrasted the orange and red light of the world. It seemed distant and far away to think that you were someone the Jedi once knew, almost as if you were from a past life. Although, he supposed that you were. But you were a woman, a companion, someone he trusted with everything inside of his chest. Obi-Wan knew, at least, that there was one person in the world who understood. 

Soon enough, the Jedi would realize you were more than just exquisite- you were beautiful. 

You always had been an attractive woman, though Kenobi supposed he had not given it much thought in the past. There had never been a reason, nor opportunity to until this point. You were a colleague. Now you weren’t. You had bonded through the pain of Anakin’s betrayal, which had become Anakin’s last favor for his old Master. 

Obi-Wan was beautiful too, in the mornings. When you looked over to him, the suns always cast an orange glow across his features, which looked sorrowful. Although he had begun developing tired wrinkles from focusing everything into the force, he had remained the same Kenobi you had always known. Thoughtful, methodical, and handsome. 

                                  ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

The love that grew between the two of you was unsaid for a while. It was all just a poem, a hazy dream that only seemed to become hazier. The mornings that you shared with him wordlessly seemed to melt into nights, and when you had finally begun accepting food from him, dinners. 

You would tell Obi-Wan about your life before the Jedi, and the Master you wondered about so much. In turn, he revealed how he had cradled Qui-Gon in his arms while he died, and Satine’s death sometime later. You were not jealous at the latter, instead admitting you had fallen in love one of your men- a Clone named Ace who had died on the battlefield. That was the first time you had held hands. 

In the low light of the candles and the dry wind that came from the window, Obi-Wan put his hand over your own tentatively, sharing the pain. It did not seem as heavy as it had been before, and it didn’t take long to melt into his touch. 

                                  ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

In the nights, Obi-Wan and you began to sleep on the same blanket. You did not sleep for a long time, instead looking into his eyes and wondering, wondering if you were supposed to die that day. You became hyper aware that you were glad you hadn’t, because then you wouldn’t have been with Obi-Wan now, who was becoming the only thing in the world that brought you peace. 

The mornings became shorter. The way he watched you in the tangerine light never seemed to last long enough. Obi-Wan agreed. 

Following the mornings, the days without his touch and his dialogue seemed to become unsatisfactory. On those days, all food tasted like ash. The blanket you shared seemed scratchy. All the stories you would think of telling him didn’t seem worthy anymore. All you wanted was him in his entirety, even his pain. More than that, you wanted his peace, and he wanted yours.

                                  ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

You could not recall how it happened, because everything up to that point didn’t seem to matter. Obi-Wan didn’t mind. All he focused on was you and your skin, and how the horizon contrasted your back and the suns made the tips of your hair buzz in different shades. 

The both of you were completely naked, you on his lap with your chests pressed together. Your face, which Obi-Wan had accepted as a work of art, was buried in the crook of his neck. Your eyes watched the view behind him, quite literally watching his back while your fingers dug into it so he didn’t turn to dust. 

Similarly, Obi Wan held you as close as he could while he watched the suns rise. Your skin and aura had seemed to fall together, creating a golden glow that he deemed worthy of defining you. Your core- your heart along with your sex- seemed to be a part of him in the best way. You were not Satine or anyone from his past life, you were the trusted companion who understood. And quite frankly, neither of you could fully recall if he was inside of you or not. 

Whether he was or wasn’t didn’t matter. Obi-Wan was a part of you now. You didn’t want that to stop, and Obi-Wan had become too lost and guided by you to stop it. 

But that moment in the sand as the suns rose into the heavens above, and the two lovers entangled as they watched the air all seemed very much like a painting, in which the artist had decided to paint over something very sad, with something very sunny. 

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @chokemeanakin​ @haztory @laorme34

[watchinglikeafangirl]

Lovely Writer Epsiode 8 - analysis

I have to say, this week's episode is the best one so far because so many things got explained and the puzzlepieces suddenly find their places. It's incredible how much hidden forshadowing the other episodes contain. Every week, I sit here and find clues they placed in episode 3 or something. It's really nice and that's what good writing is about. I find the script really great because this show focuses on so many different aspects, it's literally overwhelming.

On the one hand, we have Nubsib and Gene's lovestory which mostly happens apart from all the other stuff going on. Lovely Writer makes fun of all these cheesy romances with cringey dialogue underlined with a soundtrack that doesn't fit the atmosphere in the scenes at all. Gene and Nubsib have scenes which mix all the cliches at the same time. But at the same time, their lovestory is slow and their affection for each other is not all about physical attraction because love is not about that. Of course, enjoying kissing and having sex is a normal part of a relationship but I often feel like BLs want to tell me all the other stuff happens "off screen" because the talks late at night and taking care of each other are actually way harder to write. But Lovely Writer shows us very much about all those other aspects of a relationship, for example when Gene and Nubsib talk on the phone for hours. These are relationship goals which are rarely addressed but take place way more often than making out.

On the other hand, Lovely Writer is not about a lovestory at all. They make the Thai BL industry look bad by showing the harmony on camera and during interviwes is a fassade because all this pressure and fame gets to one personally and you turn out to be the worst version of yourself. This industry basically wants the actors to sacrifice their life, their identity for entertainment. This is a very sharp critic and Lovely Writer portrays this very well. They manage to switch between lovestory and toxic film business quite well.

Lovestory in a fairytale

Last episode nubsib went to the house where Gene hid and this story continues in this episode. We all know, what happened last week, there were many gifs about it and the cuteness continues here on an even higher level.

But all this takes place somewhere far from their work with no other people around. They are in this house together and spend two day there of explorig their feelings and I guess, talking about stuff most of the time. The rooms are always flooded with daylight and it looks very cozy and warm. Their relationship went next level and they both are very happy about it, so the first half of this episode contains a lot of positive feelings and the outside is not interfering. It looks more like a lovestory in a fairytale because they are drunk on happiness and excitement. It's something new, the start of a relationship and that's a big step. In the beginning they don't face challenges and can basically live happily in this house. But of course, the fairytale has to end and they go back. The mood switches at an instant and the lighting is different because now they aren't as free any more. Before, they were in a lonely house and were free to do anything.

This sort of bright lighting returns on the balcony because there, they can't be disturbed either and are just two young people in love again. Being in love in a silly and cheesy way is also part of a relationship and it's something normal, so Gene and Nubsib have those moments too even after they are back because now we (and Gene) know it's real. It's not something that happened in a different world. It is the reality and takes place even in the normal life.

Relationship goals

Like I said, their relationship looks very natural and is not faked or forced. In fact, their romance is too good to take. They share a few kisses but it's not the kisses which make my heart melt. It's Nubsib ask for consent in those moments. It's their talks. It's the little actions for me because little actions of care and love are way cuter than just a bunch of kiss and NC scenes. That's not what I want. I only watch BLs because they are about a love despite what society might tell you is right. I'm not here for kiss scenes. In some shows, all the private scenes of the main couple contain either kissing or sex and I don't understand why. In a relationship, you like this part as well but like the person you do that with more.

So, I like Gene and Nubsib's relationship being more lovingly and honest very much because trust, loyalty and honesty are more important.

Also, we can see they are both very serious about the relationship and go all in for it. There is no angrily storming off again. There is no being mad for a whole epsiode any more. There is no annoying shyness and blushing. Both characters don't really match the cliche dynamic and I love that because stereotypes just make me sick.

Here, Gene and Nubsib have an argument and even though they get disturbed, Nubsib makes sure they will talk about it later. They will have a mature and conversation about this when they both have calmed down. And this is real. This is normal and nothing to be very scared of. It's just a little argument that will probably be solve in a few sentences.

Lovely Writer has a whole concept. We got a moment when one of them was storming off and was mad for a whole episode but they just did that to reverse it and portray it as unrealistic and unfair for the other person because this way Gene wasn't giving Nubsib any chance to apologize nor explain himself.

Oversexualization

If I'm gonna talk about the fact the love story doesn't contain a lot of kiss or NC scenes, then I need to talk about this problem here. Actually, the oversexualization of BLs is harshly criticized in this scene and I belive Gene is totally right but the thing is, it's not just the Thai BL industry and it's not just BLs. It's far more than that and I believe westernization is a part of it (that's a huge topic, I know. I will only address one tiny aspect here). I don't know very much about the eastern countries of Asia. I only know what I've seen in documentaries or on the internet, so I can't say I'm an expert at all. But from what I know and what I've seen, Eastasian societies are more closeted about relationships and sex. I'm not saying every country (please, don't be offended and feel free to correct me) and I don't know how open Thailand is about this topic but I feel like the "western" countries are more open about it. I live in Germany and here it's a topic like everything else and people tend to overshare. I feel like the countries which are that open, oversexualize very quickly because it's no difficult topic among the people. So, oversexualization happens in all film businesses of such countries and since Thai BLs have fans all over the world, they oversexualize too in order to make the people like it. The whole internet seems horny all the time, so it works and sells itself pretty good. So, Gene doesn't just call out the Thai BL industry. He basically calls out half of the world's film businesses because they all do it.

But like Hin said, that doesn't mean NC scenes should be banned or are bad. Just an overuse of such passages is the problem here because then it's not about romance any more. Then, you can call it an erotic novel. When there's one or two NC scenes and they make sense in the story, it's totally fine. The writers and authors just need to find the right balance. And since the preview looked like things will be happening, then it's just happening because the mood was right. See sex as part of bonding because relationships are basically just good friendships with some next level stuff.

Consent

People love Nubsib asking Gene for consent whenever he wants to kiss him and that's really considerate but I saw this post here and discovered Nubsib is not the king of consent at all. He's only asking for consent whenever they are alone. But not when they are with other people because he knows Gene is shy. He outs him to three people during this episode even though he said he'll wait and Gene obviously doesn't want him to do that. Afterwards, he even comforts Gene to lift the pressure but he can't deny he put this pressure on Gene in the first place. As I said, Gene is shy towards other people, Nubsib knows that and plays this card. With others, Gene won't say anything because he's too polite and also, you don't have an argument in front of others. So, Nubsib doesn't stay true to his words and is still manipulative.

Finding your soulmate

Believe it or not, but I totally see Lovely Writer fulfilling the "soulmate" trope because this episode both indicated this - more or less through words.

Nubsib tells Gene, he felt lonely all these years in America and this loneliness vanished when he saw Gene again. He had a relationship before but still felt lonely (also, I love his previous relationship doesn't matter at all. There's no jealousy or anything). This sounds like he wants to say Gene is his long awaited soulmate.

Gene was lonely as well over all these years and got used to it but as soon as he and Nubsib grow closer he's reminded of the loneliness. He doesn't accept it any more and I believe he's nearly dying inside right before he calls Nubsib. They spend two days alone and many things happen emotionallywise, so when he gets home, he feels very lonely. Nubsib reminded him what it's like to not be lonely. He became aware of the loneliness again and hates it even more now he has someone freeing him from that feeling. Even though Gene doesn't say it, I feel like they want to tell me Nubsib is his soulmate too.

Product placement

This show's product placement cracks me up everytime. The picture with this woman... what was that lmao

Why would she hold up a face mask for a picture?

Also, the spray is so misplaced... Gene was upset but Nubsib was like "at least smell good"

Nubsib: the king of comforting

[jencsi]

Let’s Talk- Finn and Russell;

From the very beginning, we get the hint, notion, presence of a deeper connection between Julie Finlay and DB Russell. In Seeing Red, when she hears him, not even having to look and know he’s there during the crime scene reconstruction, just his voice alone makes her roll her eyes, gets her fired up with some sort of passion, anger, emotional reaction. As evidenced from their conversation about the blood spatter case, her resistance to proceed further with him again shows she is not quite over what has happened to them in the past and it makes viewers want to know, what the heck happened? What could this seemingly unbothered hippie like guy have ever done to cross this already sullen yet spirited woman? Despite her futile attempts to deflect him, she cannot help but be drawn to the case, he sought her out after all, he must be desperate. When she retrieves the file he leaves behind and it piques her interest, she gives in, with probably a lot of hemming and hawing off screen, before venturing to CSI for the first time.

That single solitary scene cemented in my brain their dynamic from that day forward. There was no going back for me. Whatever they had in the past, whether that be something romantic, friendly or just work related, my soul ached to know more and even better, my heart yearned to watch them more, to listen, to observe the bantar, the sarcasm, the snark, the sheer and utter pure honesty that comes from their conversations. DB Russell is not trying to trick Finn, he’s not trying to make her figure out some silly puzzle or game, he just wants her expertise and guidance. Once she accepts his offer, her personality begins to shine via her work (Should I wrap it up and take it back to the lab? Took the words right out of my mouth smart ass” “You know me so well” “And you know blood, better than anyone I know”) her bonding with her colleagues, and even better, the little hints at what was between her and Russell back in Seattle.

When we finally do get to see that past revealed, ripped open like a fresh wound, via CSI on Fire, we see the headstrong and overheated Finn on a mission, prove that Tom Cooley is a killer and bring justice to the families of his victims. Of course that journey is not without complications and wild accusations, of course Finn would never kill anyone, that I firmly believe, unless of course it’s to save a friend or colleague (saving Greg from that supposed innocent victim of the Gig Harbor Killer in The Twin Paradox) but Cooley rattles her, gets under her skin in a way different from Russell. In fact it’s Russell warning her to be careful, to go with caution, but her typical rebellious nature of “I’m not listening” pushes her further to the truth and to danger at every turn.

Her tone when speaking to Russell about the discovery of Cooley’s body in his hotel shifts our thinking that maybe she isn’t the same person she was two years ago. If what we are observing right now is the casual cool collected Finn, just how reckless was she in Seattle? She feels the disappointment from Russell in his tone, the way he looks at her, and she hates that, she doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially him. His presence in her life since the Seattle days has created this combination of not wanting to let him down or disappoint him mixed with her fierce loyalty to the truth, to the victims and their families, clashing with her exuberant personality.

With CSI on Fire resolved, Finn melts back into a rhythm with her ex-husband, also a component of her former life in Seattle, all seems right between Russell and her, a trademark of their friendship, forgiveness and acceptance.

Looking at their dynamic from the perspective of the actors who portray them, Ted Danson has referred to them as the bickersons, like oil and water, but at the same time, Finn/Elisabeth and her characters intrusiveness helps him do his job better and see things clearly when it comes to cases as well as other aspects of his characters life. Elisabeth meanwhile seemed to enjoy the back and forth dialogue and the testiness of their relationship, she seemed invested in their past in Seattle and wondered where the writers would take that.

In Homecoming, the season 12 finale, we see corruption and problems arise amongst the police force and Russell apologies for seeming to drag Finn into this mess and bringing her there to work but she states that she makes her own decisions and doesn’t seem bothered by the issues until she is thrown into the chaos of it all when she trails Crenshaw and stumbles into the violence they have created around them with the assistance of McKeen and Kimball.

The Finn and Russell dynamic gets tested here when Katie, Russell’s grand daughter is kidnapped and Finn attempts to save her. In the chaos, she sends Katie out into the unknown alone while she does battle with Crenshaw (a violent but epic struggle, major kudos to the stunt work they did here, it felt so real and made me love Finn even more, seeing how far Elisabeth was willing to take this character) Russell is devastated to learn Finn let Katie escape alone but is also distraught knowing both were hurt and in danger. His anger at Finn boils over when she insists she’s fine, how he refers to her as “Finn” on the phone instead of the sweeter Jules we are used to hearing, and when she discusses the case with him in the bedroom where Katie was taken from and he punched the wall, leading to a missed clue. Despite the resentment towards her, they figure out Katie’s whereabouts and stop McKeen from carrying out his plans. We can see and feel Finn’s guilt deep down for her mistakes, even if everything works out, the way she stands holding the phone, the way she looks at Moreno who tries to assure her it will be okay.

At the end of Karma To Burn, Finn and Russell reconcile again, not so much with words but in the way she snaps him out of his fantasy of ever having to use his gun in a real life situation, of how far he was almost pushed to the brink when it comes to saving his work family, not just Katie. His use of the nickname Jules on several occasions, something she claims to hate but also doesn’t, comes back when Barbara inquires if she will stay for dinner. All is well again.

The final blow and perhaps the deepest cut of their relationship occurs with the reopening of the Gig Harbor Killer case. From the get go, we start off with a bang, literally and figuratively. It is Russell who is at the mercy of Winthrop who demands he admit they did not capture the correct killer in order to relinquish Finn from the confines of her bomb invested car. With much reluctance, he admits their mistake and Finn is spared. The hug they share in the parking lot after she is freed breaks me every time and just further adds to the complicated but always present nature of their relationship. The next go around, Maya, Russell’s daughter is targeted, but this time, she is used as bait to try and lure the copycat out to play and be captured. When that fails, Finn unwillingly becomes the next target and once again Russell is thrown for a loop. This time however, there is no mercy, no chance at redemption, Finn is ripped from him violently and with no regard. Worse still, we get to see a tiny bit of his life afterwards, via CSI Cyber, when he observes another coma patient in Hack ER. Avery Ryan takes notice of his demeanor and quietly brings up Finn. Russell’s memories play out in quick flashbacks and we see where his heart belonged the entire time. He speaks of reading to her, hoping she’d wake up, then darkness, never to see her eyes pierce him again, no more bantar, no more snark, no more intrusiveness. The fact that almost a whole year later we get a resolution for Finn and get to see Russell pine for her one last time gives us closure and really showcases how strong this bond was for three and a half years.

I will always wish for a better outcome for Finn, as originally scripted, but somewhere in the chaos of writing and producing, we lost her. I will always be sad we didn’t get to see more of Russell at her bedside waiting for her to wake up. That emotion would have been so raw and real coming from Ted. These characters deserved a proper ending and reunification because it just wasn’t justified to wreck their metaphorical ship that was so strong and sailing along fine before colliding with the iceberg of violence. Nevertheless, this dynamic holds strong in my heart to this day. There are plenty more examples to pull from the show, every time they chatted about cases and made progress just by talking it out, every time they fought about their thought processes and reckless behavior, every soft sweet utterance of “Jules” will forever gut me, weaken me, bring me to my knees, but somehow give me strength. That’s how powerful their relationship was and appeared to me on screen, they were a paradox, love, hate, push, pull, oil and water as Ted stated before, give and take, and boy did they give me so much more than any naysayer could ever attempt to take from me. No matter where anyone stands on the fandom line, so much heart and soul went into Russell and Finn, and when you really sit down and watch and listen with perspective and acceptance, you can see it and feel it. I think that type of power transcends just your typical acting alone, it truly feels real. Give me that dynamic everyday, sign me up. I don’t think I’ll ever be as lucky as I was to witness such greatness on the screen between these two. Good things don’t happen twice, as I have unfortunately learned the hard way over the years, once it’s gone, it’s gone.

But in the heart and soul of Russell and Finn is an incredible ability to keep a stronghold on viewers like me, or maybe not, maybe I’m just crazy, but here were are, years after things have ended and the screen has faded to black.

[dakt37]

Anyone in the mood for Steve/Tony secret identity shenanigans with a dash of mutual pining?

Behind the scenes I've been wildly obsessed with this ship since about April, and the other day I wrote something that I'm fond of enough to share. It's not a fic really, more of just a treatment with some dialogue scattered about. 2.4k-ish words, present tense because that's the way my brain works. Inspired by a slew of fics I've been devouring this week, but hopefully not close enough to be ripping anyone off.

//

Okay so, it's one of those versions of the Avengers where nobody* knows that Tony Stark is Iron Man. They know he built the suit and is the Avengers' sugar daddy and resident inventor, but they think Iron Man himself is a separate guy, hired by Mr. Stark to be a bodyguard and pilot for the armor. His identity is Top Secret. Heck, at first everyone thought he was a robot. That cat got out of the bag, but it was true enough to tell everyone that he was just pretending to be a robot to protect his secret and not let enemies know of a potential weakness; i.e., that he's squishy under the armor. Plus, if people knew Iron Man was really a man, they'd try to figure out who he is. And Mr. Stark is very serious about wanting to protect his employees. (*Pepper and Rhodey know, and probably Happy? But no one else.)

Well Steve ends up falling for Iron Man anyway. Even not knowing his real name, his face, or even his true voice because it's always modulated (in an obvious way; it's tinny and robotic, part of the Iron Man branding). He gets him in private one day and confesses, in a very adorable and awkward way. Tony panics because honestly he's fallen for Steve too, but he can't let him know that, at least not now as Iron Man. He doesn't quite reject him the way he should-- that is, he doesn't directly say he's not interested. He knows Steve would be able to see straight through the lie, so instead he just keeps insisting that he "can't" return his feelings.

They go back and forth a bit about possible roadblocks. 

"Is it because I'm a man?" 

"What? No, that doesn't make a difference to me." 

"Is it a trust issue?" 

"Of course not, I trust you with my life." 

"Is it because of your boss?" 

Iron Man hesitates because… well yeah! Technically it IS because of Tony Stark. 

Steve sees the opening and presses on, "Would he… let you go if you revealed your identity to me?" 

Iron Man chuckles, to Steve's consternation, "No, he couldn't do that. It's just… he… it's complicated." 

Steve opens his mouth to continue his inquiries, but Iron Man cuts him off. "I'm sorry, Cap. I really, really am." And he flies away, feeling like a jackass and a coward.

Steve meanwhile just feels determined and suspicious. Iron Man isn't afraid of being fired, but there's clearly something to do with Mr. Stark that's holding him back. Steve decides to pay a visit to the Avengers' benefactor to get some clues.

//

Later, Tony is down in an Avengers lab, brooding about the latest fine mess he's found himself in. This secret identity thing is getting to be a real pain in the ass. And if Cap has been paying attention to Iron Man enough to think he's fallen for the Tin Man, then surely he's been paying attention enough to notice how rarely Iron Man and Tony Stark are in the same room together. The armor has an autopilot mode, but it's not so convincing now that people know that Iron Man is a real guy in a suit and not just a robot. 

So Tony has set himself at the task of improving the autopilot. The AI part isn't actually so hard; he's made some pretty personable AIs before. But JARVIS is just a voice; Iron Man also needs to move. Getting the subtleties of natural movement into the armor is tricky business. He runs analyses on video footage of himself to nail down things like how he shifts his weight while standing around, how he gesticulates while speaking, and how he interacts physically with his teammates on the battlefield (a friendly shoulder pat, a hand up, flying with a passenger, etc.)

The movements of the autopilot are getting smoother, but there's still a little lag to non-battle actions, causing the beginnings of a gesture or sentence to seem a bit stilted. Tony uploads his latest iteration of the code into the suit and starts putting it through its paces.

//

It's certainly not the first time Steve has walked in on Mr. Stark working on the Iron Man suit. Between fixing battle damage and adding upgrades, there's usually some pieces and parts scattered around the lab. But today it's the whole suit, assembled and standing apparently of its own accord in the middle of the room. A few wires are connecting it to the ceiling and nearby computers, but they're slack. Data cables and fall-arrest lines maybe, but nothing actively keeping the suit upright. Steve freezes, half hidden behind one of the partitions used to divvy up the lab space. He hasn't announced himself yet, and Mr. Stark is clearly wrapped up in his work. 

Steve stares at the suit, wondering. It's standing unnervingly still, but that doesn't negate the possibility that the pilot is inside, being careful and patient as Mr. Stark circles him and taps various joints. Tony moves to stand in front of the suit, hands on his hips, looking up into the glowing white eyes. Steve's gaze rolls over the pair, noting in an absentminded way that Iron Man's height advantage is at least partly due to the large rocket boosters in his boots. Steve has always known Iron Man to be the same height as himself, if not slightly taller, and he suddenly wonders where the pilot stands without those boots.

Tony lifts a hand and knocks lightly against the chestplate. "Relax, buddy."

The suit shifts, and Steve inhales sharply despite himself. It's like watching his fellow servicemen go from parade rest to at ease; not a huge move, but an assortment of loosening muscles that breathes life into a simple standing pose. Iron Man shifts his weight slightly onto one foot, cocking a hip. His shoulders relax, and his helmeted face tilts down to better meet Mr. Stark's gaze. 

Tony grins. "Hey there." He sounds pretty pleased. "Let's do a voice check. Give me a catch phrase."

"If we can't protect the world, you can be damn well sure we'll Avenge it." Iron Man's voice seems extra robotic, syllables not quite falling where they should. It hitches as well, the last word dissolving into static. Steve frowns along with Tony.

"Oh, gross. That was awful. Downgrade from the last test for sure." Tony cups Iron Man's jaw with one hand, encouraging him to tip his head back. "Bad coil too, sounds like." He taps Iron Man on the neck with one finger, where his Adams apple would be under the armor. Steve swallows reflexively as he watches. "I'll have to get that from the inside," Tony mutters, more to himself than to Iron Man, Steve feels, but then Tony has a habit of doing that to just about everybody.

Tony reaches up to hold Iron Man's jaw in both hands now. His fingers slide along the metal almost like a caress as he tilts the helmet down to face him again. Something twists in Steve's stomach. It's an awfully familiar way to touch another person's face, even though a helmet. Tony's index fingers sweep up and catch in the seam where the golden faceplate meets the red jaw. There's a soft click, one Steve is sure he couldn't have heard if he didn't have enhanced hearing. His breath stops. 

Tony is going to lift the faceplate. He's going to reveal the man underneath. Of course he can, of course he knows who the mysterious pilot is. But they don't know that Steve is there. He's not supposed to know. He promised he'd never pry. Should he announce himself? Run? Just close his eyes?

The faceplate has only come away from the helmet the barest inch when Tony stops. For one wild second, Steve thinks he's been made. Surely one of Mr. Stark's computers picked up his presence. 

"This isn't priority," Tony declares, pressing his thumbs to the corners of Iron Man's mouth slit and closing the helmet with another audible click. "A broken voice box is excusable. Need to make sure you can move right first."

Steve leans on the room divider he's still mostly obscured by, feeling almost dizzy. His stomach twists again, and he's not sure if it's from relief or acute disappointment. He'd never want to break Iron Man's trust, or Mr. Stark's for that matter. But… he'd been so close… he could have finally known… He shakes his head, refocusing on the pair across the room.

Tony has retreated to a nearby workbench, picking up a rubix cube. He tosses it at Iron Man. "Reflex check." The armored man catches it easily. "Let's see your dexterity," Tony prompts next. Iron Man starts twisting the cube, but quickly gets jammed as the blocks don't quite get flush with each other before he tries to twist in a cross direction. Tony chuckles. "It's not a race, buddy. JARVIS, increase finger sensitivity by ten percent." Iron Man pauses, then reassesses the cube, feeling around the sides and smoothing the blocks into place before choosing his next twist. Steve finds it slightly odd that he's not looking down at the cube as he manipulates it, but he supposes that the point is the hand motion and not to actually solve the puzzle. It's important to have spatial awareness even without your eyes, after all. 

Tony grins wide again. "Much better." He takes the cube back and tosses it uncaringly over his shoulder. "Let's work on your people skills. Oh!" He throws his hands up in mock despair, pitching his voice in silly melodrama, "There's danger afoot! Save me, Iron Man!" 

Iron Man tilts his head to face his employer, and Steve would swear he could read fond exasperation in the slight pause before he responds. Or maybe Steve's just projecting his own feelings about Tony's antics. 

"Fear not, citizen," Iron Man deadpans. "Iron Man is here to rescue you." 

Tony bursts out laughing, but is interrupted as Iron Man wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in. Steve can't help but smirk at the honest to god squeak that Tony emits as Iron Man tucks him tightly into his side. Tony squirms, smacking Iron Man's chest with an open palm as he gasps, "Too tight!! Ease up fifteen percent!" The metal arm around his waist loosens slightly, and Tony slackens with it. He huffs, laying his cheek on Iron Man's shoulder, forehead against his neck. "Careful with your psi there, Romeo. I don't need any civil suits on my hands over cracked ribs."

Iron Man pauses again before replying, "Okay." He shifts his head, looking down at Tony. "Are you injured." His voice still has a bit of a flat quality. Steve hopes Mr. Stark fixes that "coil" in his voicebox before their next team-up. It's hard enough to pick up some of his more subtle inflections through the modulators on a good day; Steve doesn't want to lose any more of his true voice.

"Nah," replies Tony, shifting against the metal arm that's still wrapped firmly around his waist. "Fit as a fiddle. Fit to fly, in fact. Passenger test. Low hover."

Iron Man adjusts his stance, free hand flattening palm-down to activate the flight stabilizer. He lifts Tony with his other arm, helping the smaller man step up onto his metal boots. Tony slides his arms up, wrapping them securely around Iron Man's neck. Steve's stomach does yet another odd twist as his brain supplies him with the word, "embrace."

"Hold on tight, citizen," orders Iron Man, activating his rocket boots and sending them straight up, about two feet off the floor.

Tony is laughing again. It's a light, mirthful sound; not the derisive scoff Steve is used to hearing from him. "That's too cheesy, oh my god. You sound like Cap in an old news reel." Steve startles at the mention of himself.

"I'll ease up on the cheese by fifteen percent," replies Iron Man, echoing Tony's previous comment. 

Tony's eyes sparkle. "Much better. Love to hear that good humor."

"Easy to have good humor with such good company."

"Oh ho! Careful with the flirting out in the field. Can get a guy in trouble."

Flirting. 

The word bounces off Steve's brain, rebounds against the inside of his skull, and then sinks in like a throwing ax lodging into a tree with a 'thunk.'

Flirting. 

Iron Man was flirting with Tony Stark. Tony, the only one on the team who knew his true face. Tony, who so carefully tended to the armor that kept the man inside safe. Tony, who caressed Iron Man's helmeted face, laid his head on his shoulder, twined his arms around his neck. Tony Stark, the most eligible bachelor in the world, who was never known to have the same date twice, let alone to ever be in a real relationship.

The revelation crashed into Steve as if Iron Man himself had tackled him. Iron Man couldn't not date Steve because of his secret identity. He couldn't date him because of his secret relationship. Iron Man and Tony Stark were involved, and hiding it from the world. Iron Man by hiding his face, and Tony by acting the flighty playboy. 

Steve was so shocked, so utterly distracted by the parade of emotions stampeding through him, that he didn't register that the hovering pair was slowly revolving on the spot. At least, not until he heard Tony's alarmed yelp of, "Steve?!" and looked up to find him staring directly at him, wide-eyed, over Iron Man's shoulder.

Tony Stark was not a man who embarrassed easily. In fact he was self-described as shameless. On the surface there was nothing suspect about the sort of tests he was running with Iron Man. Steve would bet bottom dollar that in any other circumstance, Tony would cheekily play up the potentially questionable nature of their current pose, reveling in the salacious humor. But instead he was panicked, caught out. And that clinched it for Steve. He'd stumbled onto a secret affair.

Steve realized his mouth was hanging open, waiting to say words that his brain wouldn't provide. For a second, Tony seemed equally dumbstruck. Then color rushed to his face, and he barked, "Get out!!" 

Steve didn't need telling twice.