#gift story thing

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Shinnies?

Gift story to @gullivertravelstowonderland based on their story A Monster of Divinity. I love their story, and a prompt thing I tossed in my discord just... really, REALLY had me hyper fixate on their Flynn/Slayer with it. and got like 10x longer then I thought it would be

Have a smol bean that's a good little nugget seeing the giant Slayer, not know who he is and baffle each other. Oh. And feels. It's me, I like feels and soft things. [This is a doom story so there's under tones of cannon violence, but not completely the focused, as its post Eternal]

.

Big.

That was one of the thoughts that finally rattled free as Iris tilted her head to her right. Then slowly to the left as if that would help her process what she was seeing. She crouched in her hiding spot, trying again to tug off what the bad ones put on her neck and wrists. Her bindings were only half done, it was the reason she got away, and being small.

She was good about being small, and had to learn to stay alive with what was left of her family. Keep away from monsters.

Iris was not so sure if she was seeing a monster as the big thing shifted. It was not boney, like the monsters, or leathery like the really big monsters. Metal, but not any colored metal she was used to seeing. Most plane metals, or the oily rainbow shiny, even coated in white or blue plastic paint.

The girl did not feel that itchy, static feeling in her spine that said monsters were near. At least too near. She was safe to rest and puzzle over what this thing was. Something was familiar about the shape but not quite fitting into place.

Maybe she was more tired than Iris thought. She had been moving and running from one hiding spot to another all night. The girl had not meant to fall asleep in this spot as the reddish gray light of dawn started. After waking up to odd vibrations through the ground, Iris found everything looked different in the light.

The girl could not quite tell if it was because of the difference in nighttime or not. Everything seems scarier at night, normally, but Iris was pretty sure that she saw more bushes and hiding spots in the hazy almost light. She had crawled under an old car…truck. It was a truck, it had a lot of black berries all around it and once she got on the ground and used her backpack to push some brambles, it opened up under. Even had a little spot where she sat now that was light out. She could pick a few berries that were just barely in reach before noticing the odd thing.

Watching the thing, trying to understand what it was, kept Iris from thinking about how hungry she was. The few berries, even the not as ripe blackberries, helped a little with the fact she lost her water bottle in the night. Iris remembered she could not get it free from one of the hiding spots. Needed to leave it behind to go to another hiding place.

She wished she had it, grandpa gave it to her-

The big metal thing moved suddenly.

Iris held her breath in shock, trying not to let out a sound out of a trained habit. Wide eyes watching, trying to sort out if she needed to play dead. Watching the big metal thing, as it was turning to her left, the shape was also changing. 

A foot?

A boot?

Was it a statue? 

Iris took a breath, trying to make sure she did not feel herself make a sound. She felt the ground vibrate as she watched the big metal…foot move again, almost back into the safe spot. As far as Iris knew statues did not move…she hoped they did not.

If this was not a statue, or a monster, what could have a foot that big?

The girl tilted her head, watching how the metal foot moved. It stepped away from the building it was near- Iris blinked. Wondering where that building came from. Had she really been so focused on the metal thing that she didn't notice the better hiding spot?

Buildings were nice, as long as it had no monster traps before you go in. Traps left for monsters could hurt people too, that's what Grandpa said.

Iris tried not to gasp, as she realized there was a second foot now. Watching how they moved. Shapes made a lot more sense with the things being feet.

Was it a robot like those comic books they found?!?

If those were really real, the ones with the red mark were heroes, right? So maybe it could save her grandparents! Checking to see involved getting out of her hiding place. Iris was not sure she was ready for that. 

The (possibly robot) feet were walking around the area. Did the owner hear her?

Iris curled up focusing on trying to not vocalize, to make any sounds. She reflexively looked for her Grandma to double-check. Suddenly struck with the realization once again that her grandparents were missing.

Maybe she was the missing one, because grandpa said to run away.

Iris sniffed as she pulled her legs close to hug them. Trying to hide her face as the girl really wanted to cry, trying desperately to hide it. If she had to play dead with any monsters around, crying would make that harder.

There was an odd sensation then,  feeling a vibration in the air as well as through the ground. It felt different though, like Iris should know what it was. The girl uncurled party to lay down and peer under the shielding blackberry plants. It was not a lot of space but more than some hiding spots, and Iris could see through the thinner parts of the vines. Watching the big feet pulling backwards as the leaves if the blackberries moved in a breeze. 

Iris sneezed unexpectedly at the drifting dust and ash that came off the shielding plants. At the same time a massively… big hand rested on the ground not far. Iris was trying to grasp this new thing as she curled up against the feeling of another sneeze. Unable to stop it she balled up to try and muffle the sound. 

It did not look like a robot hand. 

Iris was not sure if she was disappointed or curious as she sagged. Going limp as she reflexively played dead. She was not sure why playing dead worked with most monsters, just that it did. Better when in a hiding spot. She watched as a second hand was placed on the ground and closed into a massive fist before a knee. Then a big forearm.

…was it a person? The scale, once again, was throwing Iris off so much. A person who was as big as the giant robots? Was that really possible?!

Did that make this giant-robot sized person a stranger?

Her grandparents said to always be careful around strangers. Did this mean whatever this was, was not a hero like the robots with the red mark?

Iris felt so confused, more so when the bigger than big person, maybe stranger was now crouched down, braised on the ground. Just seeing the edge of a head, some dark brown hair.

Definitely not a robot.

Wait, was this big stranger looking for her…?

Iris belatedly realized that as there was a feeling of attention being shifted onto her hiding spot. She squeaked in fright, before putting both hands over her mouth and tried to hold her breath again. Time to play dead, Iris tried really hard as this bigger than big stranger was laying down to peer into her hiding spot. Pressing her face against her hands and struggling to not gasp. To try and breathe really slow and play dead.

She counted to twenty in her head before daring to peek again. Iris squeaked again, finding herself looking at a… face?

Again the size was confusing, it almost seemed like an adult, he was watching under the blackberries and truck. Eerie blue eyes landed on Iris as she lay still on her own side. Watching back with her wide eyes, trying to understand the scale of things. Iris was not so sure she was not dreaming now, or if she woke up. 

There was a low puff of warm air, and a low vibration in the air and ground. The giant stranger-person was slowly shifting, as if laying down and bridging the other hand up a bit more. Closer to Iris’ hiding spot before waving two fingers at her.

Iris hesitantly gave a little wave back, but when the big hand got a little too close, she flinched. The big hand froze just outside of her hiding spot, but the girl was retreating back under the truck to grab and hug her bag. She scraped herself on the blackberries again, but did not seem to really notice as Iris went back to watching.

The girl watched the big hand being rested on the ground. Watched the face that looked at her as if confused. If it was not for the constant, if not lesser, scent of smoke and burning meat and plants in the background, Iris might wonder if she was in a different world. If she had gotten so lost at night and showed up in a different place.

Hugging her backpack tightly, Iris whined softly at that thought. Suddenly all at once missing her grandparents. There was another puff of air from the giant, and Iris sneezed at the stirred up dust. Likely not intended but it helped her focus on the bigger then big stranger… man? 

Iris gave a little wave again, finger spelling out, ‘H-I’

To the girl’s surprise, the giant person shifted to lift his right hand off the ground to finger spell back. ‘H-E-L-L-O’

Iris sat up under the truck, shocked that the bigger than big person could sign that she moved too quickly. Iris clucked her head on the undercarriage and whined again, laying down and rubbed the sore spot. She did not cry though, had to hold that in.

The girl looked back at the bigger than big stranger, debating. ‘Big.’

After a moment and the giant squinting to look into the hiding spot, he grinned. A vibration like thunder seemed to come from his direction, it was fascinating. Iris had felt real thunder a few times, and she stared intently at this stranger as he started to look around at the outside of her hiding spot. Lifting up to peer at the top of the tuck before shifting to try and motion. Paused, clearly trying to sort out how to sign something with both hands while needing one.

He ended up settling back down and slowly finger-spelled at Iris in her spot. ‘S-A-F-E. C-O-M-E O-U-T?’

Iris tilted her head, watching the giant peering back under her spot. For the first time wondering if she had too good of a spot, as it was like he was having trouble seeing Iris. she looked around under the truck, the shadowed space and inched closer to the giant. Then peered at the spot she came from, as well as the entrance to get in her hiding spot.

‘Monster and bad people out. They follow?’ She turned back and tried to sign clearly, closer to the light. Iris hesitated as the girl tried to explain. What if the bad people followed?

The big stranger frowned, his right hand edging closer but paused as Iris noticed and stilled as if about to play dead again. ‘Bad? What bad?’

Iris blinked, surprised, did this stranger not know? Did he get so lost to end up in another world? How could he not know about monsters and the bad people? The girl shifted and hesitantly reached out her left arm, putting her hand and arm in the light. Shaking it to hopefully make the loop of chain rattle on the binding on her wrist, pointing to it before pulling her hands back. Trying to explain as she might have signed too fast. ‘Bad-bad people. They help monsters. Ran away.’

The stranger blinked, his frown deeping before sitting up. Iris missing the scowl forming and darkening his face. She could just watch as he stood back up until only she could see those massive metal feet. Watch them walk around her hiding spot, not turned towards Iris but walking two large circles farther away as he must be looking around. Checking for the bad people?

Iris sneezed again, carefully looking around as the giant was now far away from the truck. She saw a familiar glitter in the grass, the girl starting to sit up. Even if she did not have the special water bottle, or the big straw-like thing… surely it would be safe to get some sips off the top of a puddle?

Not really thinking sense, as it had been so long since she had water, let alone some food. Iris was scooting to a spot that seemed a bit more open, pushing her bag first and wiggled out from under the truck, and out of the thicket of blackberry brambles. The girl squinted at the direct light, feeling odd vibrations again as she looked around, spotted the water again. Iris clung to her bag and fuelled by desperation, she started for the big puddle. It had the ash snow on the surface, but it was water!

The girl was just at the edge of the pool, puddle, her bare feet sank into the wet grass somewhat as the vibration grew stronger. She reached for the water, dropping her bag and hands cupping to scoop up-

It felt like a tree was wrapping around Iris, she yelped as thick bands wrapped all the way around her. Her fingers grazed the surface of the water, before she was being pulled up and back. The girl cried out, needing to drink so much now that she saw it. She whined as the ground seemed to fall away, and a massive hand was coming up from her left, wrapping around her.

Two giant hands were holding her.

Iris whined, not sure what to think of it as she helplessly just watched the ground, and puddle, go farther away and the world rumbled and vibrated from behind. A detached part realized her bag was also left behind on the far away ground. The girl went limp, half training to play dead, to not fight back like with the bigger monsters. Twice a big monster had picked her up, but set her down somewhere as if distracted because she played dead.

She could not help but tug a bit on one of the big digits. Reached for the water, trying to remember how to say it. “Pleeeez?”

There was an odd vibration behind her before warm air washed over her. Different from the heat waves from portals, different from the bigger monsters. Iris felt the… hand holding her losened, the other hovering and then closing in. She did not fight being lifted and moved, turned to look up at the giant stranger.

He really was bigger than big. 

“Pleez?” Iris tried again, pointing roughly at the ground. Seeing the giant shake his head, the girl could not help but whine and tried again to be as clear as she could. “...pleeze?”

This strange… stranger winced, the bigger man looking around and turning. Iris felt the rumbling vibration again, definitely coming from the giant as she was carried with. Taken with? The girl let herself go completely limp, chin and arms resting on the massive finger over her front.

She was really thirsty now that she had seen the water.

The massive hands shifted, Iris not sure what she was supposed to do so she did not resist as she was lifted. Now so high off the ground and level with the giant's face, it was a bit dizzying. He blinked at her, looking worried and that confused Iris as her head was lifted a bit with the knuckle she was resting against. 

It took a second to focus on the face in front of her. “Pleeze?”

The giant winced, and shook his head while glancing at the ground. Wincing again at the soft sound Iris made as she was lowered to his chest level. Only able to be carried by him towards the building. It was odd to feel the grip on… her change, to be held up like a kitten in one hand. One hand holding and supporting Iris as the other dropped away and reached for one of several things on a roof. 

The giant man, with possibly robot feet, was using one hand not to sign again. He was moving several large things Iris’ tired mind could not fully understand. At least until she saw water reflecting light.

Iris squeaked, looking up and for the first time gave a little wiggle. Legs kicking uselessly in the air but she grabbed at the fingers holding her. Her own hands flexing in want as she saw the other large hand setting a container down. Then picking up an odd smaller, maybe bowl between his fingers. 

She could not help but reach out seeing the ‘smaller' container being brought closer to her. The girl was unaware of the excited sound that slipped out. Iris grabbed at the dish as it slowly came into range. Not trying to tug it free, it was a good foot or more wide, and as deep as her hand. Iris held her breath as the container was finally coming into range. The girl got what water she could as it was filled to the brim. 

Gasping for air, Iris lifted her head, clinging tight to the edge of the container. Not wanting it to be taken away as she caught her breath. Then ducked to start drinking again. 

Iris was just starting to feel odd when the water was taken away at her third attempt to drink. She tried to hold onto it but the water was moved away, set on the rooftop. Iris whined at it being taken, kicking at the air in protest. Then the other big hand came back to cup around her. Iris shivered as she was being introduced to heat coming off the bigger than big giant. Still pouting at the water taken away, Iris tucked her head against one of the massive fingers, trying to hide. But it seemed like her only option was to go limp again. 

She was moved, not resisting and after a few confusing moments as she was moved. Iris was pressed against a wall of gray fabric, she grasped it and lifted her head in confusion. It took a second, the clean fabric was… his shirt? Iris was being held against the left side of the giant’s chest. She could feel it really was clean, and she almost started to lean away. The girl knew she had gotten really dirty since her last bathtime a few days ago. Before the bad people came and found her family.

Iris could not let go and instead hid her face against the fabric, feeling the giant person lift his other hand around her. Iris felt so oddly safe at the moment that she tried to hide there while her stomach settled from all that water. 

Maybe it was not so bad to be held by the giant. Iris felt squished for a few moments, the hand holding her shifted to be under the girl. The girl blinked in confusion again, still, but found herself in a cupped hand against the giant’s front. Watching his other hand moved to touch her back with two big fingers.

Iris tucked her head against the living warmth that was just holding her. Not understanding why, or who this was, but he did not seem like a bad stranger now. Not minding at all her back being rubbed, or petted. The girl did not resist as a large thumb shifted to her side, then up and under her left arm. Lifting it as the giant bent his head as if to look at her closely. Warm air passing over, in time with the chest dipping. Iris blinked, belatedly remembering how she showed him the band on her wrists before, but that had been in the hiding spot.

Maybe he had not seen it well?

Hesitantly, Iris slowly let go of her handhold on the fabric of the giant's gray shirt. Gripping his finger tip instead and stretched out her arm. Letting him see the binding in that arm, feeling a different vibration starting in his chest. Different from the rise and fall of him breathing, though almost in time. Different from the heartbeat at the same time.

Iris was shifted, her other arm being nudged by the big fingers. Guessing what was wanted, she slowly let go with that hand too and found herself sitting between the massive hands, more in one palm. Lifted up a bit more, the giant focused not on her face but the bindings the bad people put on her wrists. Iris did not resist but sat calmly, if not passively in the big hand, watching him back.

The eerie blue eyes focused on Iris, realizing she was watching him so intently. He smiled. 

It was not a big smile, and the scars in his face pulled it a little odd. It was still a real smile, and Iris shyly smiled back. Giving this odd giant a little wave, not resisting as one big digit moved slowly to nudge against her chin. Pushing up a bit.

Understanding, Iris grasped the fingertip with both hands and leaned back into his other hand. Lifting her head up to stretch her neck and let him see the binding clasped on her neck. It was a bit uncomfortable, as it was made of metal. Yet, he did not seem to see really well? The giant kept squirting a lot.

He was frowning again, focusing on what was on her neck. Then after what seemed like a long time Iris squeaked as she was moved to be held against his chest again. A little lower but it was warm and smelled clean. Sort of like rain. Iris tried to burrow herself against this safe feeling.

The giant was using a thumb of the covering hand to rub up from her shoulders, over the binding and against the back of Iris’ head. That felt nice, she was happy with the attention. In her position she felt that deeper, almost thunder like vibration again, only this time could feel it with her whole body.

She was distracted from noticing the giant man turning to look around. Missed the flash of teeth of a snarl she could not hear. To her it just felt… nice.

The growling was a deep vibration that felt like what thunder did. It felt like what a moving earth looked like it should. Iris closed her eyes as she focused on the oddly safe feeling she had here, even when the deeper vibration slowed. She felt the massive form moving, but just hid her face and accepted being carried, it was not like Iris was strong enough to make something… someone so big to do anything.

Iris almost dropped into a nap, but lifted her head as the hands holding her were shifting again. She was being lifted again into one hand, and almost did not let go of the fabric in time. Iris squinted herself at the light again, blinking rapidly as she was held wrapped up in a big hand before it lowered and she looked around. Staring at the things set down near her… on a roof?

This was different enough for her to make a confused sound, looking up at the giant man as he set her down beside his things. She was almost disappointed that his hands pulled away, they were warm. Only to light up at being offered the same container as before, grasping and getting a good long drink again until she sat back gasping. Disappointed that it was pulled away and set down some odd feet away. 

Iris was just debating going after but a massive hand moving caught her attention. The girl focused on it, then belatedly realized it was a sign. A little weird seeing it from someone so big. She hesitated and spelled out carefully. ‘What say?’

The giant man slowed a bit and tried again. ‘Who are bad people?’

The girl fidgeted with the bindings on her wrists, hesitating as she tried to think how to explain it to someone that might not know. Then she looked up, pulling her legs to sit with them crossed. ‘They are people that like monsters. They are bad, they hurt others and give good people to monsters. I ran away. Grandma said run so I ran away.’

The big person here looked around, shifting his mass and Iris noticed they were not in the same spot. The big man had stepped over a wall, or fence, there were both that were tall and protected a big… yard? That was what this place was! There were even buttercups!

Movement had Iris paying attention again. Watching the giant sign again. ‘Where are bad people?’

She had to think about it, looking all around from this odd new place. Iris hesitated, her hands flexing in the air to show she was unsure. She swallowed and eyed the water. Then looked up, ‘where was hiding spot? Back of the truck?’

The giant paused and then pointed behind Iris, she looked that way, finding she was looking at the roof. It took a long second, or rather minute for the girl to process first that they were on the other side of the building. She thought about it, starting to sign but stopping. Then slowly started turning back to the bigger than big giant. She started to explain. ‘I found the back of truck? Hid under, but came from that way. Saw a stream, could not get there. Turned from. from…’

Iris frowned, trying to think of the map she saw. Struggling for a moment to explain what was in her mind. ‘I ran… north. Saw a town, didn’t go in. Then I followed a road, saw a stream, and tried to get down. Got lost… found the truck, found you?’

She watched the giant man as he looked over the rooftop. Studying what was there before his attention to her again. ‘What is your name?’

Iris blinked about to sign but paused. Belatedly remembering he was a stranger again, and clearly debating on if it was okay. She took a deep breath and looked up at this big person carefully. Iris made the sign that her family came up for her name, holding her fingers out to sign ‘flower,’ but making the motion for ‘girl.’ Once the giant man copied it, she then finger spelled her name carefully. ‘I-r-i-s. Like the flower! Grandpa said Mommy loved them.’

The giant had an expression Iris did not know how to read. He was watching her intently though. Then spelled out something slowly, watching the girl track his hands. ‘F-l-y-n-n. That's me.’

‘Big mountain.’ Iris could not help it but to point out. Watching the man grin wide at that. Then Iris dared to ask. ‘Why is mountain… why is f-l-y-n so big?’

There was a pause, the giant looked down at himself, then at the girl sitting on the rooftop at his lower chest level. He seemed to be confused before trying to answer. ‘Ate all my veggies.’

Iris stared with wide eyes, she almost just ate veggies! Then sat up and asked, ‘Magic veggies? Or can?’

Did he find a magic can of green beans?

Flynn awkwardly lifted a hand to rub at his neck and shrugged. ‘Something magic. Got big. Try to help.’ 

He was reaching for the water again, holding between two fingers to offer. It was a good distraction as Iris focused on getting another drink. This time she did not try for nearly as much, definitely slowing down. The girl sat up, not gasping for air, resting as the container was not pulled away. She tried another sip but her stomach was full, Iris did not resist the container being pulled away. Looking up at the giant, not resisting or trying to pull away as a massive finger was gently put on her head, sliding down her back.

Iris hesitated but leaned into the touch, any comfort was good at the moment. 

‘F-y.’ Iris paused, and then tried spelling the name again, ‘F-l-y-n, can I have my bag?’

‘Bag?’ the giant paused.

‘I dropped.’ Iris explained, watching the giant… Flynn looked around and back the way he must have walked. Hesitated before resting a hand in front of Iris and leaned to the side. Looking over the rooftop, he spotted the bag. 

Coming back, the bigger than big man started to reach for Iris. Hands starting to cup around her before pausing halfway. The girl just blinked back, not resisting as the tree-strong digits wrapped around her again. The most Iris did was to lift her arms and half drape them over a thumb. Gripping the digit but otherwise just went limp to be picked up. The girl was not resisting as she was held, just blinking at the pause.

She wondered if she was going to be held against the giant again, but he was moving and sitting? Iris was moved, partly turned to see a green covered bench. The large hands opened and with a nudge from the thumb to her back, Iris understood to climb off. She wavered, fully back on her feet again. 

Maybe she drank too much water.

Iris looked up as the big hands pulled away. One tapped the bench before Flynn started to sign. She could not fully understand his expression again. ‘Iris stay here, flower is small, need to know where you are. I'm big. Big feet.’

‘I’m small.’ Iris understood and she climbed up on the bench. Turning to sit and hug her knees to show she would sit, looking hopefully up at the living mountain as he backed up.

Iris watched in awed fascination, able to see Flynn moved as he got up. He was so big and strong looking as he just… stepped over the fence. 

The girl watched for as long as she could, tracking where the giant went until the angle of her and the building… hid him? That was more surprising for her, Iris hesitated before looking up and all around, suddenly remembering that she was in the open now, alone. Watching the sky for a few moments, not able to listen for the flying monsters she had to watch now that she was alone. 

It made Iris nervous, she looked at the building, seeing a door. But she was told to stay here… Iris looked for the giant man, not seeing him still she uncurled and slid off. Not to go to the door but Iris was curled up under the bench and long grass there. She could feel the thudding vibrations again, the steps from the giant? Movement by the fence had her peeking out and watching as Flynn came back.

He froze, stepping in the yard again, looking around before Iris moved under the bench. She waved from her spot and saw the giant man looking for her. He stepped closer, frowning again, Iris worried if she was too good at hiding now. She scooted out as Flynn was kneeling down farther away.

The girl was just wondering why, until the giant man was stretching out. Laying down put his hands and head closer to Iris' level and oddly not as big. One large hand slowly came over, touched her shoulder once Iris was sitting up in the grass in front of the bench. Then opened his hand to show the backpack that looked so tiny.

It was still Iris’ bag, and she squeaked happily, climbing almost up into the wide palm to get it. Scooting back to sit and hugged it, signing ‘thank you’ several times around the bag.

Flynn touched his chin back, moving to prop himself up on elbows. He looked between the bench and the girl, using a fingertip to tap a little bare foot. Once Iris focused back on him, the giant signed carefully. ‘Why hide?’

Iris looked up, then back, ‘Monsters fly. Monsters will grab and eat you if there's no roof. I can't hear them, grandma said I have to stay under things.’

He was mouthing a word, something Iris did not understand. Then Fynn looked back with a frown. ‘Did you see monsters?’

‘Not here,’ Iris shook her head, trying to reassure the living mountain. ‘Monsters with the bad people didn't find hiding spots! But saw monsters before, the flying ones. Not here?’ 

She watched Flynn think, not resisting as a large hand came closer. Letting Iris pat at his fingers while he thought. Letting her be fascinated, realizing she was trusting him to be distracted. After a minute Iris tugged at one finger for attention. 

Once she was sure his attention was back, the girl asked. ‘Do you really help people?’ 

Flynn blinked at Iris, as if puzzled at the question before nodding.

Iris fidgeted with the zipper on her bag and was trying to build up the nerve to ask. ‘Can I ask for help?’ 

Flynn nodded, watching the girl, each movement as she opened the backpack and felt around inside and came up with a small, rectangle cookie tin to her. It was almost miniscule to the giant. Iris opened it and pulled out a picture that had to be folded to fit. Showing Flynn first, or trying to.

After a few seconds Iris set it down, ‘Can you find my grandparents? Bad people still have them. Grandma told me to run, but she was tied up in these.’ 

The girl grasped one of the loose rings on the bindings in her wrists. Then the one on her neck, trying to show that loop. So close, Iris could see the giant man's eyes shifting. The pupils were widening, then his eyes narrowed.

Oh!

Iris almost forgot, flailing her hands and tried again. ‘Can you please help find my grandparents?’ 

How could she forget to ask nicely? 

The girl fretted, as she also remembered what her grandfather said about trading with others. Looking all around and then back to the tin. Brightening up and picked out a few things to hold in her hands and show the giant mountain. Making sure Flynn saw them in her hands before sitting in the lid of the tin.

They were her favorite, prettiest polished rocks, and a silver pendant with the absolutely shiniest stone in the middle. Grandma had given it to her, but if ment getting her grandparents back, Iris offered it. 

‘Grandpa said you have to trade for things.  You can have my treasure. All of them, can you get my grandparents from the bad people?’ Iris tried to explain in a rush, picking up the lid to offer up to the giant.

He stared for a long moment, and Iris worried if her treasure was too small for him. She looked down, set the lid in the grass between them. Then she grabbed her bag to look through it, gasping at finding something she had completely forgotten about inside. Excitedly holding the old can of sweet peaches to the giant to add to the trade. The girl watched, puzzled at the look she was getting. 

Flynn's face was hard to read, the girl waiting until a large finger touched her arms. Iris brightened up and moved to set the can between his fingers. Was that a trade? She looked up, for the first time hopeful since running away.

The giant man turned his hand, caught the can and looked at it. Iris looked down and started to pick up her shinies, about to put them in his hand too, but Flynn moved his hand away. He was starting to get up without the treasures, just the can of peaches closed in his hand. He looked around, stared at the direction of her last hiding spot under the truck before getting up to his feet.

“Ooah…” Iris murmured in awe at seeing Flynn's full height unblocked from the ground level. She watched him carefully step around and to the roof with his things. Watching the giant carefully setting the can beside his things. A bag of his own was reached into and Flynn pulled out the biggest cloth ever. A blanket? It looked fuzzy and blue.

Iris watched the giant pour more water in the container as before. He was moving slowly to come back and kneel by the girl. Setting the container of water by the door and tapped his fingertip on it until the door opened in warnds. His other hand moved to Iris, Flynn shook his head as the shinies were offered again.

‘Too small.’ he signed and then motioned for Iris to get up. She hid the treasures in her bag again, in the tin. Getting up in confusion but followed the large hand guiding the girl to the building. ‘Iris, stay here. Hide inside. No drinking puddles. I'll be back.’ 

Iris looked inside, smelling dust as she clung to her bag. She looked back, worried, maybe a bit scared at the thought of being alone again. 

‘Stay here, so I can look for Grandparents.’ Flynn signed carefully, watching Iris light up again. He smiled again, once she was inside the door offered the blanket like cloth at first. Then a little box between two fingers, a package of granola bars. The annoying kind where the bars were all individually wrapped. Better for little hands, and as Iris was gaping at the food, the giant gently eased the cap of his flask in around the side of the door. 

Food, water, a blanket and a hiding spot he knew only opened into the fenced yard. There was supposedly a working bathroom in this building. The tiny girl would be safe in there-

Thoughts came to a halt as he was starting to pull his hand back. Tiny arms wrapped around two digits, Iris hiding her face against his knuckle and for the first time started to cry. All the scary things, she was now crying at the promise of something good. Not knowing how else to express herself.

The other big hand came around, cupping over Iris, almost fully hiding her from sight. The giant carefully, so carefully rubbed his them over her back. The tiny girl was so delicate… fragile to him. It took a surprising amount of willpower to get her off and back inside. He could not resist gently, so gently touching the top of her head. Just feeling the little fuzz of her roughly cut short hair.

‘Stay here. I will come back. Will look for grandparents.’ he grinned, chuckling as the girl plopped in her spot. Carefully pointed at the door, watched Iris scramble to get back up and close the door. Peeking out before it fully closed. 

The giant Slayer stood back up, reaching to set his things from the roof to the ground. Just in case the girl might need anything inside, Flynn thought it should be easy access. She should be safe there as he stepped over the fence. Making sure he was well out of sight, following the basic direction, now and then seeing signs of someone so small falling in the dark.

The Slayer flexed a hand, pulling one of his one-handed weapons from subspace. No little, innocent eyes able to see him snarl as the giant started to hunt. 

The feeling of someone so tiny sitting in his hands. Either having to trust him, or what it felt like at first that she had just given up fighting? He would find her grandparents, could not bring himself to lie that he could bring them back alive. He would find them though. 

[ruporas]

trigunned the hades or hadesed the trigun (id in alt)

[hitlikehammers]

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne���d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they’re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ☕

✨ part ii >>>

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

[st-hedge]

Many such cases

[rottengurlz]

toxic yuri vampires you will always be famous to me

[witheredgardenparty]

Drowning myself a bit in the concept of a yandere who prides himself on being the boogeyman of underground circles but as soon as he is face-to-face with his darling, dissolves into a bumbling mess of graceless stammering and cumbersome limbs. A tripping-over-air, tongue-tied loser who has lost all sense of cool.

In the witching hours, he is a deadly force with unyielding claws and nimble words. The daylight finds him kneeling at the alter of your every spoken phrase.

What a blessing that darling is gracious to this poor helpless sap. Such a "harmless", if occasionally clumsy fellow. And -- oh! You dropped all of your papers! Here, let me help! No, really, it's no problem. (Did he just sniff my hair? No, I must have imagined that... right?)

To the other monsters that roam the shadows, he is a heartless, shapeless void of terror. To speak the dread name is to summon him and whatever fate the wheel so spins that day.

To you, he is a perfect gentleman. A, perhaps slightly, awkward acquaintance who could never hurt a fly. Literally. You think he might be a little afraid of bugs?

You cannot help but notice things have been changing since your new friend has shown up, though. New movements in the neighborhood. Not bad necessarily, but different.

That asshole next door has definitely been treating you nicer. Suspiciously nicer. And these numbers on your bills... have they gone down? You will have to call the bank to ask about it. You are pretty sure you owe more than this.

As soon as you figure out what happened to your favorite sweater...

[meatball-soup]

aint even lying there buddy, my name checks out

[bobosbillionsknives]

Diner doodles

[whateverisbeautiful]

Hello! Do you have a master post with all of your Richonne rankings linked/listed? I found your page in the middle of the countdown and would love to see them all. Thanks for writing all of these up—it's so fun and beautiful to revisit their special moments.

Hi! I love that idea 👏🏽 Placing the master list right here. Thank you for thinking of that and thanks so much for reading 🥰

Richonne Top 30 - List & Links

#1: For The Future (9.03) 

#2: I’m Still With You (5.16)

#3: Have Your Mints (6.10) 

#4: We’re The Ones Who Live (7.08) 

#5: You’re My Family (9.05)

#6: Cuz I’m Okay Too (4.16) 

#7: How’d I Get So Lucky Finding You? (9.01) 

#8: Must’ve Been Something Else Then (3.16) 

#9: The Two of Us (7.12) 

#10: The Grand Introduction (3.06) 

#11: I See Things (3.12) 

#12: Kiss of Life (7.05)

#13: I Love You (8.14) 

#14: Soon As I Get It, You Will (6.10) 

#15: I’m Gonna See/You Ready? (5.11) 

#16: It’s For You (4.09) 

#17: You Led Me Here (7.12)

#18: We Will (7.16) 

#19: This Is Good (6.15)

#20: I Don’t Have A Problem (3.12)

#21: Rules Keep Changing (5.11) 

#22: He Needs You (4.11)

#23: Glad To See You (4.01) 

#24: Family Fun Days (9.03 & 4.15) 

#25: A Few More Days (7.12)

#26: We Should Go To Washington (5.09) 

#27: To Replace The One You Lost (7.10) 

#28: I’m Not Losing You (7.04) 

#29: Never Seen Your Face Like That (5.12) 

#30: This Is It (7.12)

[exlimix1a]

Quick piece of @luluyamofficial 's character Lucelia + a 30 second speedpaint!

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Warmth: gift 2

<_< >_>

@gullivertravelstowonderland Have a thing, I love your MoD story and just.... GET LOVED ON! Also have a young Vito before the bad happened.

Also a part of the GT july, warmth prompt, just...out of order.

Warmth: Flynn and Vito

It was one of those strange, and rare moments of knowing he was dreaming of a memory. Not too early of one that it was hazy, maybe some odd years old, but he was also realizing it was not fully a ‘bad’ memory. Looking around, Flynn could recognize that he was in one of the better healing chambers of the arena. Not so deep in the pits, he was sitting in a chair with the back removed. It had been to let his back be treated better, and this had been the first day someone used a healer’s wraith gift on him while Flynn was awake. 

He wanted that healer to come back, the cool, almost numbing energy felt nice on his exposed back. More so after the time he had spent in hell.

Not the arena, now that he was awake and aware, the fighting arena was almost fun. The fighting part, not so much the treatment up until this point. He shifted in the dream, looking around from where he had been put in the corner. With two half walls it gave the impression of Flynn having his own space to himself for once.

Even if it was an illusion, and a healer could walk over to check on him at anytime, or offer another cup of water. It was nice to have some semblance of space and not have another prisoner pressed up against him. The healers seemed confused at him though, but not in a hostile. Though not weak as he saw a woman about his height bodily lift and drop a fighter in armor onto a bed and strap him down.

Strong woman!

Flynn was actually smart enough to just… sit. And watch. He could stand and stretch now and then, but the chains on his legs kept him in a set area. The one time he did go to a half wall was to get attention and get some water by offering the empty cup and slowly saying the native word for water he had learned. 

After that he found if he sat quiet during that day, the healers would bring him water, then some of their tea. Then… food.

Snacks?

It was a roll of soft bread, what seemed like a cross of a cookie and cornbread. Then a fruit. He let them fuss with his back, and got a honey flavored brownie. Let the two younger healers, a girl and boy that could not be even as tall as him, that noticed and watch the accelerated healing… he was allowed to walk unchained to the local equivalent of a bathroom. Even with an armored guard escorting, the silver colored guard was different then some of the others. Oddly quiet and just calmly standing guard for the healers more than seemingly to guard him.

That had been much better then what was in his prison cell before!

At least the corner was dimmer so Flynn could dose when it got boring. He was picking up some of the native words of this world, but not so much to fully understand why he was here (there?) and not being pushed to fight.

Then, an almost impossible thing happened around midday. More strangers had come to talk to the healers in the bigger part of the room but a sound had Flynn looking up to see a small frame peering around the half wall at him. Wide black-gray eyes looking up at him from a child’s face.

Bigger than a human child likely of the same age, the boy looked like he would be around ten, but was just taller like the locals all seemed to be. The boy was in one of those awkward stages of growth, starting to lose the baby fat but the boy's face was round and soft still. Flynn felt something in his chest soften, no matter the annoyances and insults from some of these strange people, kids were just… kids. This little black haired boy looked as confused as he was excited by the wall.

The man gave a soft chuff like sound, something he had heard done lowly to the big wolves.

“Hi?” The boy offered the simple greeting, watching Flynn back in that intense way of kids trying to sort something out in their heads.

Flynn hesitated a moment, before daring to speak in a low voice. Not wanting to draw attention, but also the return greeting was likely still very accented, “Hi.”

“I saw you fight with father! From above, he only spars and trains with the Sentinels now.” The boy chirped, hesitated as if not sure what to do but then in that senseless, fearless way of the young came closer. Dressed in a simple style of clothes, but it seemed pretty good quality to hold up against the chaos kids could get into. Not ‘fancy’ but durable, and had pockets to hold all the boy's random things. “Father liked you, he said you fight with… heart? Not mean though.”

What an odd compliment.

“...thank?” Flynn hesitated, not sure what the rest of the phrase was here. Or what a good chunk of that ramble was, yet grasp just enough to understand the boy saw Flynn's last fight…. The day before?

The boy was clutching a few idems as he looked up at the still taller outlander. The expression of innocence wonder, not judgemental greed or calculation of what to throw him into a fight with next. It had the man relaxing a bit, taking in a partly eaten yellow-green fruit and a little book.

“What that?” Flynn asked slowly, trying to make sure he was speaking the new words right while he motioned to the book and saw the little boy brighten up. The man was surprised and pleased as the boy came over to show him.

Holding up the book to show it was a plain cover, small for Flynn's hands but he picked it up and opened it. Almost expecting to see a story book but instead…

Doodles.

A little sketch book for the boy with a type of pencil in the spine of the book. The book was not grabbed back, so Flynn skimmed the pages. Finding shaky lines of the young learning to draw more things. The boy was drawing what was around him, including plants, animals that Flynn was not sure were real or made up. Something that looked like a dragon with a person on the back with a fuzzy cap? Another page had an egg with purple and blue colors added. There were a few pages of someone far more experienced drawing in the book too. Landscapes, a waterfall, and another, detailed egg in a nest. 

Then there were doodles of the child of some of the architecture around the arena building in the later pictures and… some of the fights? It was a rough picture of him, he recognized some parts of an opponent's armor.

“Like?” The boy asked, trying to repress a wiggle and failing at it.

“Nice,” the man smiled, finding the pencil again and pulling it out, pausing to see if it would upset the boy. The kiddo looked far too interested though and bounced in place to see what the strange outlander would draw.

“What is it?” The boy asked, watching as an animal he had never seen formed on the page.

“...rabbit.” Flynn said in English, smiling as the boy tried to copy what he said. It sounded so strange with the kiddo’s own accent. “Close.”

“What are… rab-bi-ets? Are they big like bears?” The boy asked, taking the book back once offered. The looked up at movement and gasped in delight at the small distance Flynn measured between his hands. “Small?”

“Small.” Flynn agreed, “Soft…nice.”

The boy looked back to the new drawing in his little book then froze as a low voice called from the other side of the big room.

“Vito.”

The boy, Vito, had much the same look as a human child. That internal debate if he could get away with not answering, then looked guilty at his own thoughts. It was kinda cute, if not funny to the outlander.

“Yes sir?” Vito turned to look back at a man not much taller then Flynn. Someone with short white hair, one eyes clouded and likely blind, the other almost the same black as Vito's own eyes. Planly dressed like some of the non active Sentinels, though being half blind the older man might be retired despite the fit build.

“Do not bother the fighter,” the father spoke clearly, “Let him heal in peace son.”

Vito turned back, looking worried as he peered up at Flynn… hesitated before he offered his fruit, there was just two small bites taken out from one side. “Sorry! I didn't know you were healing!” 

“It… okay,” Flynn spoke slowly, carefully using the native words still. Then hummed in surprise at the odd fruit put in his hands, watching the boy run out of his area and back to the father.

Flynn took a careful bite, looking down surprised at the cool, if not mold flavor. Something…nice. 

He remembered the taste of the odd fruit, it was one of the first real nice, natural flavors…

Something he wanted more of.

A clatter of sound jarred the altered man out of his sleep. The following sound of someone jumping up from their spot against his shoulder. Reflexes kicked in for Flynn those few seconds before his companion. Reaching up and wrapping his hand around the injured Sentinel in half armor. Fingers curled to hold the smaller man firmly, yet he managed not to press on the wounds. 

Both froze into the stillness to match the winter storm outside. The giant scanned around, waiting to see where the demons were flooding from-

A single, hell mutated gargoyle was plastered against one of the few windows. It's tattered, twitching wings were freezing in position as the snow bank rose around the very… ice solid demon freezie.  Arm half lifted to catch the smaller Sentinel.

Flynn snorted deeply, glancing to his side at the young Sentinel.

Dark, shiny black eyes stared back with an unimpressed expression that mirrored his far more scary mother. Mirrored, not an exact copy of the look, but enough that the giant grinned. “Can you let me go?”

There was a notable pause as Flynn slowly smiled wide enough to flash teeth.

“What are doing!? Ack!” Vito started to ask and then let a started yelp

The much larger demigod lifted his left arm that was holding his only companion at the moment. Stomach flexing as he sat up, eyed the still frozen demon. Making sure there was no glow of energy in it. Looking back down, Flynn grinned one more at the now upsidedown Vito. Shifting into a better position he lifted his other hand to help support the now limp young man. Vito letting the giant turn him carefully to squint at his left side where his broken under suit was mostly on but had a good section cut off for the wound to be treated earlier. 

“Must you?” Vito demanded, tolerating being moved and inspect only because of the trust he had. 

“Mmhm..” Flynn hummed, then carefully helped Vito right side up, watching as the young Sentinel still leaned back on his right hand for support. The jolt of adrenaline must have drained out, Vito’s carefully selected position to get the best heat was now gone. His smaller form was remembering that there was a winter storm still and started to twitch as he fought the shivers. 

Flynn gave a low rumbling sound of worry.

“I'm…. I'm fine.” Vito shivered a bit more. “Gods I was kinda warm th…there.”

He felt the giant shift, not resisting being lifted up into the right hand. Watching as Flynn shifted to reach behind to grab and pull the bear-like pelt. Having been laying on it, it was also a mix of bed and warmth, like Flynn’s shoulder had been. Vito could only watch in curiosity as he was moved as the giant sat up. The young man basically tucked under the heavy fur and used the massive left arm to wedge against the living warmth. Vito made a relieved sound as the body heat and insulating fur was thawing him out. Not resisting his giant commander as Flynn inspected the building they were stuck in. Then found a slightly better spot to sit and learn back into a reclining seat. 

The giantanic man peered down, checking on Vito and smiled a bit at finding him dozing off again. He tucked the fur cloak around his smaller friend. 

Flynn blinked, pulled the rest of the cloak around and checked the inside. For the first time realizing he did not see more than one seam in the middle. What… what animal was big enough to make this? He puzzled over that while settling down and held one of the few completely unafraid persons of his altered self. A low rumble excepted the massive chest, Vito leaning against Flynn like he would settle in a wintherin nest. 

They still had at least the rest of the night to doze off while the storm raged before there was anyone able to look for them. Sentinels or Hell’s beasts. Or one angry wintherin rider commander, Vito's mother. She still scared him more than Valen.

Flynn grunted as he realized he had a sudden craving for the odd yellow-green fruit like in the dream-memory. 

Well, that was not fair.

[thegreatyin]

ive been screwing around with @violant-apologia's item template again, so behold! scoundrel-themed items! specifically a weapon, a home comfort, and yet another weapon. because there's very little else that last one can be, especially considering how much psychic damage it inflicts on everyone in its immediate vicinity.

[hitlikehammers]

💫FINALLY✨ The One Where Wayne Munson Has to Carefully Try Not To Eavesdrop 100% COMMIT TO THE EAVESDROPPING When 💕HIS NEPHEW'S BOYFRIEND💕 Comes By To FACE THE MUSIC Reveal What That Coffee Date ☕ Was REALLY All About

(well: at least Wayne's just a willful fool about all this, rather than a witless one) ——(3/3)

<<< part two

~or~

<<< back to the beginning

Wayne’s the one who lets Steve in the next morning.

It’s his day off, and he only managed to get to bed for a couple hours anyway, so he’s just shaking off sleep when the knock comes.

And of course Steve’s as polite as ever, takes his shoes off like the upper crust kid he’ll always be but not with any of the snootiness Wayne’d expected in the beginning, just an ingrained—and eventually, grew to be downright upsetting—need to not be obtrusive, to step on no possible toes. Wayne’d been wishing for a while he’d go ahead and stomp on whatever toes he’d like to, save that today—

Today’s-Steve looks about ready to blow a gasket, and goddamn but Wayne hurts for him. He hurts more for his own boy, if what he fears despite his own good sense is what’s about to happen. But at the very same time he can’t wholly ignore the equal truth that Steve?

Steve’s grown to be his boy, too.

Wayne offers a cup from the coffee he’s about to brew but Steve turns him down with a tight smile, barely even worth being called such, which is telling for itself and more for rejecting the coffee—Steve only really does that when something’s wrong.

But Steve’s barely got to craning his neck around to look for Eddie when the man himself pops out from his room, all dimples and the kind of joy you can feel fill a room. Wayne aches for how it might be lookin’ to get dimmed, sniffed out at worst, if things are about to go sideways.

But Steve, who’s looked like he was ‘bout to be ill since he came in, takes a full breath and sheds the slightest sliver of the tension in him, just for meeting Eddie’s eyes across the way, and then Eddie’s closing the gap, arms out wide and grabbing Steve in tight and Steve’s grabbing right back, and they look for all intents like they’re trying real hard to pull so close they’ll break bones and mesh into one person, and Wayne tries to find comfort in the way people don’t do that sorta thing if they’re lookin’ to hurt one another.

They might well do that sorta thing as a kind of goodbye, though.

Eddie’s pulling them to the couch as Wayne stews over the thoughts he’s got, all at odds with each other and his own gut feeling too at that, because he’s up against the evidence he has against it turning out alright, versus the way he does believe he knows Steve to be a good man; the coffee’s burbling and draws his attention as a kindness until he hears voices from the living room:

“Eds,” and Steve’s leaning in to Eddie on the sofa and Wayne has to strain to hear and that alone should be enough to stop him. To make the more’n obvious point that he’s in the mess he’s in at all because he didn’t keep his ears to himself.

He don’t know if it makes it better or worse, that he’s not a witless fool, just a wilful one, to hold still where he’s got the dishes in hand to dry in the kitchen, so he can have a clean cup for his coffee. When he should move to the porch, have a smoke, take a walk.

“I gotta talk to you,” and Steve sounds grave with it, and Wayne tenses—he wants so bad to be wrong, because he can’t believe that Steve would do the things all the little clues add up to so easy. Not that sweet boy beat around by circumstance beneath the surface; and not done to his boy, neither.

Because Steve looks at his Eddie not so different from the moony cow-eyes his nephew don’t even try to tame.

But it’s…he sounds like there’s a death in the family he’s come to convey. He sounds like the world’s maybe ending.

Wayne don’t know if he holds his breath just to hear better, or because everything feels fragile. Maybe both things at once.

“What’s up, Stevie?” Eddie speaks so low, so sweet like he cherishes so damn much. “Are you okay, is everything—”

“Everything’s fine,” and Steve, hell: he sounds just the same, like there’s love coming out his ears. “Good, even, great, possibly,” but that sounds stilted, or maybe anxious, and Wayne don’t quite know what to make of it; “if you…”

And even Wayne can hear the labor in the breathe Steve’s taking, so he ain’t surprised when Eddie goes in all gentle and half whispers to his boy:

“Hey, Stevie.”

And Wayne don’t look, he’s pouring his coffee now, can’t take the chance of burnin’ himself and risk missing out hours for it, ‘course that’s why.

He don’t look, but he hears exactly what Ed’s words do to Steve when the reply comes out with the kind of relief you can feel with a weight in it, for what it sloughs off and makes light again:

“Hey.”

He can catch the way Eddie rubs hands up Steve’s arms, back and forth and back, foreheads leaned in together, and they sit there long enough for Wayne to lean in comfortable enough against the counter and test the heat of his drink.

“Whatcha got to talk to me about?” And it’s Eddie who broaches the elephant in the room, the soured thing at the base of Wayne’s throat churning for the past day and change. Wayne expects Steve to hold off, tiptoe a little.

He doesn’t, though; not even a little.

“I got the job.”

And that…that ain’t what Wayne was fearing at all, is it.

“Steve,” and Eddie does sound like it’s a good thing, a great thing, truly he does; “baby, that’s amazing!” And then the springs of the couch are creaking and Steve’s making a punched-out sorta sound that means only one thing: Eddie’s tackled him whole-body to the other side of the sofa.

“Fuck I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, holy shit,” Ed’s sayin’ a little breathy, punctuated by loud wet kissy sounds that Wayne usually takes as his cue to skedaddle but…he needs a minute to reconcile what he’d been thinking without believing it could be true, and the reality that it seems he’d been right deep-down about who Steve Harrington was.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve’s protesting through laughter, but once they both seem to catch back their breaths he likewise leans back to something serious, and Wayne sees into the living room how Eddie’s stretched on top of Steve, with Steve reaching up and holding him by the cheeks:

“I won’t take it if you,” and Steve’s clearin’ his throat, something Wayne’s noticed is like a squaring of shoulders, whether that part’s there at the same time or not; “I won’t take it, not if it means,” and it’s a painful thing the way Steve swallows, the click of it somethin’ Wayne can hear all the way in to kitchen:

“I won’t take it, and not be with you.”

And that…that Wayne don’t quite get, and he feels wrong-footed for more than just listening in, as if that weren’t enough on its own, plus the cause of the problems he’d been wrestling to start, but then: “What?”

Ed seems just as puzzled, which makes Wayne feel a little less bamboozled, but still not…still not settled with whatever’s causin’ any of it, because now that Wayne’s got real context, he thinks back a-ways, to how Steve had mentioned a promotion, but was then looking at something better all around, regional-sort of stuff; now that he’s got context, he thinks back to the morning-last, and tries to pick apart what he’d heard without an invitation, if it weren’t about the lady friend. Steve had still been so worried, with the banging of the head on the table—and how could he think Eddie’d be anything but as thrilled as he clearly is right now for his boy? Wayne’s never seen Eddie as proud of anyone or anything, so much as he is for Steve just breathing in the world at all—and damn it all if the sentiment hasn’t rubbed off a little, and sure Wayne knows Steve’s history’s made him gun-shy to celebrate the bright spots but…

“It’s in Indy,” Steve’s spelling out, and Wayne remembers that being tossed about, and well: regional. That’d make sense.

“And you,” Steve pauses, and the breath he takes in next is a shaky-echoing thing; “for now you’re here, but not for long, because you want to go and try doing music, right, and that means New York or L.A. or somewhere big, not the armpit of fucking Indiana, and—”

“Breathe, Stevie,” Eddie cuts in quick, adoring; coaches with such patience, the care in it—the love in it a tangible thing; “in, and out,” and all of a sudden from nowhere, save from everywhere and every moment leading into this—

Suddenly Wayne blinks, and out the clear blue he’s witnessing the man Eddie’s grown into.

Talk about bein’ proud.

“One more,” Eddie coaxes a gentle, and Steve listens, Wayne hears as he gulps in the air carefully and deep, sees them move in the corner of his eye as Eddie sits up proper now and folds forward into Steve’s chest where he muffles what he says, less for hiding and more maybe to press it firm into Steve’s chest so it can’t be denied, because it’ll be on the inside and settled there sure:

“Fuck, I love you.”

And Wayne has that feelin’ again like he ain’t supposed to be party to the particular degree of intimacy in the moment; maybe he lets the plates on the counter clank a little more’n necessary to remind them casually that they ain’t alone.

But discretion’s not what follows, more like the wet slip of mouths against each other and oh, well then: if the boys don’t seem to view Wayne’s presence in the next room as a deterrent then Wayne’s just gonna keep at feelin’ embarrassed, rather’n guilty to boot.

“Steve,” and Ed’s voice goes warm and low and Wayne tries to not feel bad for hearing, more focuses on bein’ happy, and grateful, for this thing his boy found in maybe the most unlikely of places, through the hardest round out of hell he could have met: he gets a thing here that Wayne wasn’t sure he still believed could even be, not with so much hate in the world as there is.

“Me and the boys, we’re good, but we’re not,” and Eddie huffs, a light thing that feels gentle and almost joyful, like he’s celebratin’ a thing that’s not inside the same words he speaks at all:

“We’re not that good.”

“Bullshit,” Steve’s quick to counter, like it means more than it reads on the label somehow, too, and still it’s said with his whole throat, at that: and at that, Wayne can’t help but grin a little himself.

He knew he wasn’t wrong about the heart of Steve Harrington. About how much this young man loves his boy.

“Steve,” and Wayne watches, don’t even make a secret of it now: watches over the lip of his mug because he’d only dared to hope for this kinda thing idly, and always feeling foolish for it, for his Eddie to find something even a smidgen close to what he’s got here; what they’ve got here as Ed reaches and tips Steve chin just a touch.

“I don’t want to waste years trying to fit a mold even by being a freak, trying to sell my brand of weird and hoping people get it,” Eddie tells him, clear-eyed like Wayne’s not sure he’s ever heard him. “I don’t want to put that much of my life into a maybe,” and then he’s tracing Steve’s jaw with a tenderness he was never taught, so it’s just something natural and pure inside him, brought out just so by this one man in his arms as he whispers so soft-hearted and with more love than feels possible even just to watch:

“Not when I’ve got what my whole heart wants most.”

And Wayne sees Steve’s jaw work under Eddie’s touch as he asks so low, and far too timid for a man Wayne’s seen live up to the monster-slaying he’s heard tell of.

“More than music?”

And it’s asked like he could never believe it; like he couldn’t expect it.

But Eddie’s back to the clear-eyed sureness, then. He has no doubts.

“More than fame,” is what he answers, flipping hands through Steve’s hair as he leans just to whisper:

“You’re the music,” and Wayne watches Steve still, his face scrunch like it does when he thinks he feels too much; “my music,” and Steve would be embarrassed to know Wayne hears the tiny little whimper that he gives when Eddie presses a kiss to the space between his eyebrows, and there’s part of him that’s embarrassed for himself in it, to have heard what’s not his, but if he’s honest he’s still stuck in that gratitude, that relief for this way it’s all shaken out, not to mention how Wayne’s little family that he never intended to start’s now feeling complete where he didn’t think there was anything left to add, to grow.

“And I have music with you as much as anywhere,” Eddie’s explaining with a wobbly little grin; “plus with you, even the music’s sweeter.”

Then he’s cupping Steve cheeks again and pressing forehead into forehead so that Wayne can only hear the barest whisper:

“Lead the way, baby, and I’ll follow with fucking bells on.”

And Steve, he’s quiet, leans back into the cushions a little and Wayne watches unabashed about it now as Steve studies Eddie, takes him in less like he’s weighing anything and more like he’s committing to memory a moment worth knowing everything about in full, and then he’s the one framing Eddie’s face in his hands and asking with a certainty he didn’t have before, and that fits him so much better:

“Move in with me? Leave here, and leave all the shit they say and the way they look at you and how they fucking treat you,” Steve damn near growls and Wayne feels all the more why he trusts Steve Harrington, and should never have even considered doubting, no matter if the mere suggestion was something he knew was pressing up against his better judgement from the start, because this is the man who loves his boy enough to take on the world, and tear it to shreds when the need rears its ugly head.

“Come with me?”

And that’s maybe a little more of the hesitance, and again, it sounds wrong as a rule, but Eddie’s quick as anything:

“It’ll take me less than a hour to pack.”

And he’s on his feet in a second and Wayne has to bite back a snort because that’ll give him away more’n anything else, but Steve’s pulling Eddie back to the sofa again in a heartbeat:

“Not that fast,” he laughs, a breathy little chuckle that’s got so much more to it even to Wayne’s ears, that’s disbelief and a little wondering joy and everything this boy deserves and has done his whole goddamn life, and heaven help his parents if Wayne ever sees them again face to face for all they ever did to make their son feel less; “got a couple months, I’ll drive up for training while the other guy’s wrapping up, then,” and he shrugs, Wayne hears it shuffle against the upholstery, then he sees Steve looking up from guarded lashes, just that little bit of uncertainty left—

“Then,” Eddie prods, meets him in that moment of waffling, of fear in trusting to feel all that they do, so visible you don’t even have to search it out. It just shines through, couldn’t deny it if you tried, and sure as hell not for how giddy, how overfull Eddie sounds then with…promise.

Ain’t no other word for it.

Ain’t no other thing Steve could latch to like he does, wholehearted and unfettered where before he was still fighting old chains.

Not no more.

“There’s a record store that needs a new manager,” Steve starts off; “a tattoo shop that’s taking apprentices, and they also need someone to watch the books,” and it’s a list, he’s listing opportunities, he’s counting out the promise; “a music store, like for instruments and stuff, that needs someone who can work but also maybe teach, because they want to start giving lessons, apparently people keep asking for them, and then there’s—”

Steve’s cut clear off, and Wayne don’t have to be in the room to know it’s for being kissed within an inch of his life.

“I love you,” Eddie’s saying again because it’s more’n a given, but it’s sounding like it’s shaping into something a little different, a little deeper, somehow a something that’s more.

“I love you so much, Steve Harrington,” and Eddie’s voice is rough with it, and Wayne ain’t gonna lie to himself that his eyes sting to hear it, even if no one can see and hold him to bein’ honest about it.

“You looked for jobs for me?” Eddie asks small, the first thing here that’s maybe overwhelmed him good and true, and in the best of all ways.

“Yeah?” Steve says it like it’s obvious, then goes back bashful nearly:

“For if you said yes.”

And then the springs of the couch are doin’ the heavy lifting again as Steve huffs and Eddie pounces.

“I fucking,” and there a pause that sounds a lot like more kissin’, which tracks along right, yeah: “I fuckin’ love you.”

And Steve chuckles, and Wayne just shakes his head, smiles down at his coffee while Eddie’s tone sobers, while he asks a little small:

“You thought there was a chance in hell that I’d say no?”

“I,” and Steve sounds chagrined, in that way that Wayne’s come to recognize means there’s an old hurt he’s covering, but one that might have a shot at makin’ a scab finally to close for good. “Robin thought I was being dumb, but I,” and he blows out a long breath, and Wayne glances to watch Eddie rub up and down Steve’s arms, waiting and being right there and oh, true as anything.

That’s the man his boy’s grown into.

“People don’t really,” Steve says slow, but measured, like he’s planning every letter out to land just so: ”people haven’t…stuck around, y’know?”

And Wayne can’t help but look to see how Eddie’s hands stop at Steve’s wrists, grounding and holding and keeping, sort of, or not sort of: absolutely that without room to misinterpret or think any bit less; same as Wayne won’t try to pretend away the bitterness at the back of his own throat that a boy as good as the one he’s learned Steve Harrington to be could think that of himself not just in passing, but as a preordained thing, an inflexible rule for always.

Makes him sick; makes him angrier than he tries to ever be these days, but good goddamn if this don’t warrant it.

“So asking someone to come with, to not just not leave but to chose to go, with m—”

And Steve’s saying things, and Eddie lets him but only to a point, and Wayne doesn’t see how he stops him, but he knows full well he’d stop still in the middle of a sound himself if the tone that comes out his boy were leveled his way: unshakable. Granite-strong, diamond-hard.

“Listen to me,” and oh, but for all the way it lands intense, the love in it’s a thing to behold and marvel at just to hear; he feels like it could undo a man to be under the gaze that tone comes alone with it, like Steve has to be sitting just now: “listen to me so fucking close right now.”

And maybe Wayne leans in, too, whether it’s meant for him or not:

“I will choose, with my whole goddamn chest, with every piece of me there is in the whole fucking world,” Eddie says, puts emphasis and feeling on each and every word; “to go anywhere, if it’s with you.”

And it’s silent for a minute, but then Wayne only just hears the sound of mouths parting and sharp intakes of breath ringing through the sill and Eddie hisses, a little hoarse, a little broken, entirely with all that he is, just like he said:

“Always.”

Then the couch goes about protestin’ again, but it’s Eddie who Wayne makes out for groaning on impact, and it makes sense that it’s Steve’s voice now breathing harsh through the vow of what comes next:

“Love you,” and there’s the kissing again; “love you so goddamn much.”

And Wayne figures he’s had more’n enough of overhearing what’s not quite his to hear, but here’s the thing.

These boys are gonna be at this for a bit, he reckons, and the coffee’s already half-gone and lukewarm besides. They’ve got money to be a little indulgent with these days, courtesy of Uncle Sam, plus Mary at the plant said the rhododendrons actually like coffee anyway.

So he figures he can justify brewing another pot, if for no other reason than to start the day off better than he’d been expecting by one helluva country mile and then some.

♥️

✨also on ao3

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

divider credit here

[akkivee]

I MADE THE MTR CURRY FOR SENSEIS BDAY!!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAKURAI!!!!!!!!🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

[shazzbaa]

For a moment, you can see the bones in your hand...

my delicious friend phosphor gifted me the fate needed to play the exceptional story The Shallows!! I HAD A GREAT TIME AND SAM DID NOT, and I decided the events of this story (which included Samuel having to do the Boatman's duty for a bit) were a great excuse to make him come out of it a wee bit more skeletal than he went in.

Here is some of my context-free liveblogging under the cut (some story spoilers):

Thren: "hopefully he doesn't mind all those 'you should not have done thats'...."

came for the Far Shore lore, stayed for the NARROWLY ESCAPED BECOMING THE BOATMAN OF DEATH FOR ALL ETERNITY

[veinsfullofstars]

🎀 A totally normal Waddle Dee! 🎀

(ID: Kirby series fanart of @starflungwaddledee’s OC/’sona, Starstruck Dee. She leaps up with arms raised and a foot kicked up, winking gleefully at the viewer, the ribbons of her oversized bow trailing beneath her. A circle of silhouetted, star-tipped spears frames her from behind, though one of them looks a little different. END ID.)

Started and finished 01/19/25, updated 01/21/25.