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morphids · 2 months ago

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Enmies to lovers hange zoe

Pls🤗🤗

the worst neighbour, hange zoë

i love enemies to lovers, it’s probably my fave trope of all time—ty anon <3

nonbinary, they/them hange.

summary: hange moves in next door and ruins your peace, until a storm forces you together.

warnings: not many so idk storms?? very sfw—a bit silly and fluffy really, minus some suggestive themes throughout, and a heavy makeout sesh at the end. poc friendly!! weed smoking- stoner!hange. r has autism but its not an integral part of the story. hange is also a lil mentally unwell.

wc: 5.7k of pure yap, enjoy.

—

When you first moved into your own place, away from the helicopters that are your stringent and unpleasant parents, you were so relieved that you could've levitated. Thinking you'd finally have a safe haven of your own. To decorate, eat, dress and generally live life on your own terms. Bills be damned! It was that - for maybe a few weeks? Until you spotted the 'For Sale' sign on the lawn of the semi-detached connected to your own. When exactly did that get put up?

Internally groaning, you already were catastrophizing— what if it's a family with five kids and two twin newborns? What if they're a crazy dog person and the dogs bark every hour and set each other off? What if it's a group of college kids who party every night?

So imagine your relief when you see a single van pull up, and only one, very tall individual lifting boxes into the building attached to yours. Quite an attractive person, at that. Hair messily pulled back, glasses framing their face, clad in a tank top underneath an oversized blazer and some loose pants. You had been stalking observing the new arrival through the gaps in your blinds. Praying that your silhouette wasn't spotted from the outside. I mean, look.. we all have to be wary of our surroundings, right? Lest there be a creep move in next door and you're none the wiser.

A few hours later, the big van outside had already left its spot on the side. There was a knock at your front door, revealing the very hot neighbour on the other side, holding a plate of some homemade stew.

You made your introductions, Hange was incredibly friendly, you couldn't deny, a wide smile stretched on their lips as they almost pushed the stew into your hands, saying, "I read that this is a good way to greet new neighbours!" It was a short, courteous greeting. You both returned to your homes soon after. You wanted to kiss the stars that you got so lucky with a pleasant hot neighbour. The stew ended up being delicious, by the way, saving you the effort of cooking your own dinner for the night.

That relief very quickly dissipated once you realised just how loud Hange was. It drove you insane. If you were maybe four years younger, you probably wouldn't have minded so much, but as a working adult with a regular 9-5, you found yourself seething at how incredibly absurd it was. You had no idea what Hange did, mind you, and you cursed the architect's firstborn for connecting your bedroom wall to Hange's. It was as if you lived next door to a busy night cafe, the buzzing whir of what you'd assumed was a stupidly designed, industrial-sized coffee machine. Grounding coffee beans together, followed by bangs of metal against the counter as they'd dumped the old ones into the trash. The walls were so unbelievably thin you could almost feel their exact movements. Every night. At three in the damn morning. Who drinks coffee that late?

The whirring seemed to vibrate through the entire structure of the house, reverberating through the walls as you laid your head against your pillow. You had taken to banging against the wall as revenge once, not so nicely letting them know they were keeping you up. Crashing out by yourself in the solitude of your bedroom. If there had been cameras installed you would've looked so unhinged and probably been sectioned to a ward to live out the rest of your days. A part of you was so aggravated that being sectioned felt like it would be a gentle kindness. You tried getting ear plugs—didn't help. The noise-cancelling headphones that you used when you were experiencing sensory overload? Nope, didn't help, it was like it was in between the walls vibrating your floor, even if you couldn't hear most of it, you still felt it.

After a few nights of not so passive-aggressive banging against the wall, Hange seemed to get the hint. Well, that and perhaps also the way you glared at them when you made your way back into your house after your shift. You weren't the greatest at verbal confrontation, you'd probably rather die than actually go and confront them in person. So, the nastiest glare you could muster was enough. Hange had been mowing their lawn, white tank top tight against their well-sculpted torso as their built arms glided the lawnmower over the grass. Lifting their hand up to wave at you as you ignored their advance for a conversation, scoffing as you quickly entered your house. At least they weren't cutting grass at night, too.

Not to mention the smell of weed that travelled through the walls, almost thickening the air with a haze. Look, you didn't care what people did in their spare time, wasn't like you were gonna call the cops over a joint but... Hange had already pissed you off so much, to the point where this was just a rotting cherry on top of your least favourite cake. It clung to your clothes, for god's sake! You wouldn't have even noticed if it wasn't for one of your coworkers cheerily asking you if you were holding any because they hadn't smoked in a while, creating a very awkward, "I.. don't smoke?" on your part and an even more awkward realisation from your shocked co-worker. Embarrassed that they had accidentally outed themselves to someone who could potentially report them to the bosses. You would never, but they didn't know that.

That night, you got home and washed all your laundry, deciding to keep them in a different room where the smoke remnants didn't reach, not wanting to go through a similar situation with someone else another time.

Did I mention that they were apparently a guitar player, too? It's just hit after hit. Strumming strings late into the night and you wondered how someone could have so much nocturnal energy. They weren't unskilled, in all honesty, they were just incredibly annoying.

Fortunately, the coffee machine incidents had ceased. The relief returned as you settled yourself for the first good night's sleep in three weeks, finally feeling well-rested the next morning as you got ready for work. You should've known it wouldn't last long, though. How naive of you to think your neighbour would become reasonable overnight. This time, at around midnight, you heard drilling and the subsequent falling of wood against the floor. Perhaps Hange was doing it out of spite, unpleased with your glares every afternoon. You hadn't exactly been the nicest, but it wasn't like it was unjustified. This had been building up for almost a whole month, you had grown sleep-deprived and irritable, disgustingly moody.

Huffing to yourself, you lifted your body up off the seducing comfort of your bed. Throwing on a jumper that had been left discarded on the chair, and some slides. Mentally amping yourself for what you were about to do, trying to script how you were going to politely yell at them and burst all your inner feelings about their inconsideration.

You rapped a fist at their front door, noticing how the lights were on in each room through the window. There was silence at first, then you spotted the silhouette coming closer to the door. Revealing Hange, with a dark green woollen cardigan hanging off their slender shoulders, grey sweatpants that didn't quite cover their toned midriff. Hange puffed on a joint, leaning their weight against the doorframe.

"Wha-"

“I swear to god, if you make more noise at night, ‘m gonna set your house on fire.”

Well, you hadn't quite scripted that particular sentence. Apparently, arson had been on your mind! Great, now you look insane and actively threatened your neighbour!

Hange's eyes widened, shock falling over their features as their mouth opened and closed.

"But...wouldn't that burn yours, too?" They half joked, half didn't. At your lack of response, and clearly unimpressed face, Hange sighed, continuing.

"Alright, I'm sorry, but you don't need to be such a bitch about it," They brought the joint to their plump lips again, trapped between their ringed thumb and index finger, huffing on it before blowing it out, directly in your face. You would've kept staring at Hange's nice hands as they gracefully held the joint, if you hadn't just been disrespected by the amount of smoke that invaded your nose, and been called a bitch added on top of that. You were stunned into silence for a solid moment before your anger reignited, scoffing at their audacity.

"Are you serious?"

"It's not been that bad..."

"Again—are you serious?!"

Hange didn't answer, looking at you blankly, which doubly pissed you off even more.

"You've kept me awake for the past month! Are you aware that people need sleep or d'you just not care?"

Hange ignored the pangs of guilt, although not really wanting to explain their inner workings to a pretty stranger. Initially, Hange thought there'd be a good friendship built upon that first meeting, it'd been cordial— thinking you were a cute, inviting person, even thought they lucked out with a pretty neighbour right next door. Unfortunately, Hange quickly realised you both definitely weren't on the same page as they felt the wrath of your glares every afternoon. Maybe they were more oblivious than they thought.

Hange didn't truly realise the walls were so thin and you heard everything, honestly they thought your banging on the wall had been… something else entirely. In hindsight, they now felt a bit silly with the realisation that it was a painfully obvious noise complaint—but it's not like they didn't have their reasons.

"Relax, man," Hange sighed, lifting themself off the doorframe and reached their arm out to offer you some joint, "You need some of this,"

Unbelievable, you gaped. Honestly, if you had to sit on a court stand to explain what happened next, you'd say you blacked out. Before you could even stop yourself, you plucked the lit joint from their fingers and let it fall down on the floor, making sure to aim for the small pool of water collected on the pavement from the rainfall earlier that day. Situation was made worse by the small hiss as the water murdered the flame, effectively soaking and ruining the entire zoot. You would've felt bad, realising they must've only sparked it a short while ago, as there was a considerable amount left— but if this was your one crime against a plethora of theirs, then so be it.

"Was there any need—"

"You're a dick, you know that?"

"I'm a dick? That was a peace offering 'n you thre-"

"Fuck your peace offering, keeping it down is the best gift you could ever give me."

Hange’s brows tilted up in mild amusement, blended with a healthy amount of irritation. That was the remainder of their stash, the very last zoot that they had saved until all their tasks were done, and no dealer would be active this time of night.

Hange studied you for a moment, your arms crossed and viscerally annoyed— your lips curved to the side as you blew out a single strand of hair away from your face that kept falling into your eyes. Undoubtedly, adding to your frustration. Still cute, they thought, even though you did just absolutely desecrate their last zoot. Hange paralleled your body language, folding their own arms up to match yours.

Now, Hange definitely knew better than to say something like this, knew this had a 99% chance of making the situation worse. Yet, could they help it? Evidently not. Words slipping from their lips before they could withhold it.

"Yes, mama."

Silence.

At their words, Hange's amusement grew as the hardness in your face fell. You seemed to be going through all the different stages of grief. Trying to mask the evident flustering that overtook your features, caught off guard by the sudden switch up of energy that hung in the vacant space between you. Hange would've regretted it, would've expected you to curse them out even more— deserved it, even, had it not been for the softening of your voice and the confusion glazing over your eyes. They could've sworn there was something else lurking in there, something subtly dangerous.

"I-I, you—"

"Won't do it again, dear," Hange muttered, ceasing, "You have my word,"

Hange seemed to have a proclivity for stressing you out, it seems. A crooked smile etched on the corner of their lips as they watched you, deep, brown eyes boring into yours— almost challenging.

"Right—well, I'm...gonna go home now,"

"Alright, then."

Stepping down from their front porch, you let out the breath trapped in your ribs. You had been geared up for a confrontation, not that. What the hell even was that? Hange's voice broke out from within the silence again, in almost a mockery of friendly neighbourhood conduct.

“Always lovely seeing you,”

—

From that point, the noise had considerably decreased. You were thankful that at least something positive came from that conversation. Though, it didn't exactly simmer the annoyance lingering in your heart for Hange. You thought they were an incredibly inconsiderate asshole. Yes, they may have stopped the noise, but you couldn't simply forgive and forget the way they spoke to you. Arrogant and disrespectful. Not to mention the cocky way they ended the conversation, you hated that you had faltered at their words. Cursing yourself for your lack of a quick response and staring at them dumbly. The grudge had remained, no hatchet buried. Even if they did look like that.

You were currently all wrapped up in your fuzzy blanket, burrito style as you layered up on fabrics. The weather had been harsher than most this winter—we have the rich and wealthy to thank for shitting all over the planet and ruining the climate. Winds had been howling, trees shaking trying to stand firm against its force as you threw on the local news on your television.

You managed to catch the late part of an announcement.

"—severe weather warning, as dangerous winds from the storm expected to strike around the area. It is advised that people stay inside their homes, charge their devices and stock up on canned food. Single-person households are heavily advised to house together during this time, to account for any potential casualties—"

The television cut out with a soft click, as the lights and electricals in your house switched off simultaneously, leaving you in total darkness. If there was ever any way to freak someone out, this would definitely do it. You gaped through your window at the heavily falling rain as it splattered against the glass. Shit.

Sighing, you blindly made your way to the drawers in your kitchen. You were a bit of a candle enthusiast, so at least you had some way of illumination. Lighting the wick with some matches, you filled the darkness with a candle in each corner. It was a bit of a haunting vibe, but you could manage for the night. What was worrying you more, was the way your phone was almost out of charge. You thought of a lot of things for times like these, yet a portable charger always seemed to evade you. It was one of those, i'll buy one next time, except next time never came.

Your thoughts went to Hange, you were both considered single-person households. Perhaps, it would be safer to band together. Maybe they have a portable on hand. Battling yourself, you considered the consequences of making your way over to Hange's, asking if they had any charge to spare. Would that be embarrassing? Technically, it's for safety, humans have an evolutionary tendency to stay together in times of crisis— it's the smart thing to do. Yet, you couldn't bite back the pain of succumbing first, they might use it against you. You made your peace with the fact that if life was a survival of the fittest, you likely wouldn't make it very far.

A decision seemed to be conveniently made for you, though, as a quick repetition of knocks blasted on your door. More eagerly than you'd like to admit, you stood and answered.

Hange was stood shivering, totally drenched in the five seconds that it took to travel from their door to yours, the rain had clearly won the fight. Glasses splashed with raindrops. Their slackened hair was sticking on their forehead and cheeks, no doubt lost the fight against the wind, too.

"You can say no, but can I borrow a blanket? Turns out houses get cold with no central heating,"

You bit back a chuckle, they were just now realising that?

Hange was stood pathetically at your door, the contrast of their drenched figure against your completely dry one, was almost funny. The expression plastered over their face wasn't, though, dark eyes held a seriousness you hadn't seen in them before. Almost fearful.

"I have a few you can take."

"Thank you,"

Hange took the cue to enter your space, feeling a sense of safety with the candles brightening up the room. Grabbing some from a pile on the arm of your couch, you handed them over. Hange gratefully taking them from your grasp as they made excruciatingly slow steps towards the door. They didn't want to go back into a dark house, embarrassingly unprepared for a situation like this, they hadn't anticipated buying some candles— heck, not even one blanket.

Noticing how slowly they were walking, you spoke,

"You could dry yourself off here? Maybe get warm again before you leave?"

A look of hope flashed across Hange's eyes, as you continued, trying to blurt the invitation out into the air as quickly as you could.

"The government says that.. single occupant households should stay together—so it's the smarter choice, anyway, really."

"Well.. if the government says so, right?"

"Right! Who are we to disagree..." You say this like you ever believed the government. No one needs to know the truth, definitely not Hange. It's not that you particularly fearful of storms, but the announcement had spooked you.

There was something intuitively nipping at your gut, that there was more to Hange coming over in such a panic for just a blanket. You didn't press it.

Snuggling into the plush fabric of your couch, right in the comfortable corner, you motioned your head to indicate that Hange could also take a seat. Seeing the awkward, stiff way they were stood against the wall in your living room, even made you feel uncomfortable.

Thunder cracked in the atmosphere, booming outside as the sky lit up briefly. You didn't miss the way Hange's shoulders jerked up before they hurriedly made their way to sit down, placing a fair distance between your bodies. As one would with someone they had an altercation with only a few weeks before.

"You alright?" You couldn't help but ask, feeling like an energy absorbing rock with how obviously uncomfortable Hange was. They grabbed the pillow they had sat on and nuzzled it between their legs, wrapping their arms around the soft fabric, fiddling their fingers around the cotton tag.

"Yup.."

Heavy silence filled the air amidst the thunder and rain, the wind filling the gaps in between.

Droplets of water dripped from Hange's loose strands of hair, splashing on the pillow, leaving wet blobs seeping into the dry.

"I'll get you some dry clothes,"

"You don't have t—"

"No arguing, I'm not letting someone get hypothermia in my house."

Hange nodded, their attention back to the tag in their hands.

You quickly came back from your room with a change of clothes. Hange being slightly taller than you, you weren't sure what was best for them, or what they'd feel comfortable in. Opting for a long pair of loose shorts you usually wore for working out, and an oversized tee with a faded Hello Kitty print in the middle.

"Here, I'll leave you to get changed."

"Wait!" There was that panic again, "Could you, uh, maybe, stay? You can just turn around or something.." Their voice lowering into a whisper as they muttered the last part.

Slightly odd, you thought, but you silently nodded and turned yourself around to give Hange some privacy. Only facing them again once they gave you a 'Okay, I'm done,"

"They alright for you?"

"Yeah—thank you, they're perfect,"

Nodding again, you placed yourself back on the couch, where Hange was already comfortably placed, legs crossed with a blanket thrown over. They looked pretty cute with your Hello Kitty shirt on, cozied in your living room, perhaps it was the warm flickers of candlelight on their skin.

The air was a little awkward, neither of you quite knowing how to interact with each other. Hange was antsy, shaking their leg beside you, causing the couch to slightly rock with their movements. They seemed to catch themself doing it and ceased the movements, glancing up at you to check if they had annoyed you with the rocking. They hadn’t.

"You've been really kind to me," they muttered, "Thanks,"

"Crazy what a good night's sleep does to someone's psyche," You joked, trying to lighten the mood, hoping it came across the way you intended.

Hange cringed at your words, face twisting, "I am sorry about that, I really didn't think the walls were that thin,"

You chuckled, looking down and plucking the balls of fluff that wear and tear does to a blanket, "It's alright, I appreciate that you stopped."

"Just a little confused why you came here, though, when you dislike me so much," Thinking about the way they called you a bitch, at the ease with which it escaped their tongue, perhaps you were acting like one and it was deserved, but you couldn't deny that it struck a nerve. Hange gulped, looking down at the wooden flooring, raising a hand to scratch at the nape of their neck.

"I don't dislike you," They answered,

"You called me a bitch." You stated, straight-forwardly, wanting to clear the air and actually communicate like an adult should, instead of running from confrontation like you usually do.

"I did, and I'm sorry for that, too." Hange didn't meet your eyes, sighing, "You were right about the noise, calling you that was uncalled for."

"Thank you," You let out a breath, a weight lifting from your shoulders, "I'm sorry about your throwing your zoot in the water,"

Hange laughed, rubbing their face at the memory, "I get it, I'd probably have done the same, so, y'know."

"So we good?"

"Yeah," Hange chuckled, "We're good."

Hange reached into the wet pocket of their damp jacket, left in a pile on the floor, feeling around for something.

"It might be too soon—I don't wanna ruin your hospitality and you can say no, but can I light up? I-it helps me calm down,"

You did consider saying no, perhaps in any other circumstance you probably would've. If Hange hadn't been so visibly on edge, their shaking leg and twitching shoulders with each crack of thunder, you would've said no. Yet, with the meekness in their voice and bashful look in their eyes, you couldn't find it in yourself to.

"Yeah, go ahead," You weren't sure what to make of the feeling in your stomach when Hange's eyes glimmered up at you at your response, "I don't have an ashtray, but I'll get you an old cup,"

Hange eagerly thanked you and pulled out a small tin from their pocket. Pulling out paper and some card to roll the contents ground inside of a grinder.

Sitting back down, placing the cup on the coffee table, you watched as they rolled the bud into the paper, folding it neatly into a tight cone with nimble, lean fingers. You couldn't look away as they brought the sticky part to their mouth, tongue poking out to lick at the residue to glue the paper down. You glanced away quickly as Hange caught your gaze, breaking eye contact as a wave of shame hitting you like you'd been caught doing something bad.

Clearing your throat, you took a look at your phone, checking the time, 9:08p.m with only 3% left on the battery. Great, you dropped it back into the couch, looks like you won't get much use out of that tonight. At least you were off work the following day, the weather deemed so bad that forms of transport were stopped, halting most workplaces.

Hange hesitantly brought the lighter up to meet the tip of the joint tucked between their lips, looking up at you as if to check if you had suddenly changed your mind before they sparked it. That's kinda sweet, you thought, that even with your permission, they still double checked.

Feeling satisfied that you didn't change your mind, Hange lit the joint, inhaling a few drags before releasing it out into your room. The thick smoke whirling in the air. They rested their head against the back of the couch. Allowing you to gaze upon their neck and the small exposed part of their collarbone poking out underneath the shirt collar.

Hange seemed to feel your eyes on them, tilting their head slightly to meet your gaze again with a curious expression.

"You wanna try?" Thinking that's why you had been staring.

"Uhm— I've never done it before," You rasped, truthfully you've never been against it, but living with your hard-ass parents, you'd had a pretty straight edge life, doing things most teenagers do whilst they grow their own— drinking with your friends in a park, clubbing when you were of age. The opportunity for a smoke hadn't ever come up, so you just didn't really think about it.

"No pressure, but the offer's there if you want,"

You nodded, mulling over it. Maybe you'd like to try, after all. It probably felt nicer than being drunk and messy.

"Maybe a little?"

"You sure?" Hange hummed, the zoot clearly taking effect, they were more relaxed, less jittery.

"Yeah, just don't laugh at me if I cough,"

"Oh, you definitely will cough," Hange chuckled, "But that happens to everyone, so, 's alright."

Hange passed the joint over to you, carefully placing it between your fingers so it doesn't get dropped on the couch, and ruin your blankets.

You looked at it for a minute, bringing it closer to your mouth, "Do I just breathe it normally?"

"Pretty much, just make sure you hold it in your lungs for a sec,"

So you did, pulling air through the roach as the weight of smoke hit the back of your throat. You tried to follow their instructions, holding it in for a few seconds before you couldn't anymore, letting out the smoke into the room with a few coughs. Hange muttered a gentle, there you go, saying that's how you know you did it right, before passing you some water.

"Ouch," You grumbled, feeling a hot wave in your chest and a slight burn at your throat, "It tastes like ass,"

Hange laughed, wholeheartedly amused at your baby lungs, "It does."

It didn't deter you enough, though, taking another drag and managing to hold it without coughing this time. You saw a proud look on Hange's face, that's it, they said, you blamed the weed for making your stomach twist at their praising words.

After a few hits, you began feeling lighter, joining Hange with your head rested on the couch. Hange looked at you, the white of your eyes bloodshot as they glimmered with the candlelight. You looked pretty, eyelashes curled upwards, casting shadows on the lids as you blinked up at them.

"You never answered my question," You hummed, fiddling with the blanket, rolling it into shapes. Hange took off their glasses, the weight of them becoming uncomfortable so they placed them on the coffee table.

"What question?"

"Why you came here, you were...scared." Your question was tentative, not wanting to ruin the amiable mood.

Hange took a second to answer, choosing to puff on the remaining amount of joint instead of answering straight away, plugging it against the ceramic cup to make sure it was dead.

"I'm—uh," a pause, "imscaredofthedark." They mumbled, timid voice coming out like they were speaking underwater. So barely audible, you couldn't hear a damn thing.

"Huh?"

"I'm... scared of the dark, okay? Storms, too, i-it freaks me out." Hange shyly huffed, crossing their arms over their torso, avoiding eye contact like the plague. Even in the minimal lighting, you could see the embarrassment tainting their cheeks.

"Oh."

There was a taut awkwardness that hung in the air at their admission, and you found yourself feeling slightly bad for them. Unsure of what to say back, not wanting to make them feel worse.

"Look—'s not a big deal, okay? But.. the darkness and the howling winds, thunder—together, doesn't help..." Hange tried to save themselves, try to make it seem like they hadn't been close to quaking in the pitch black rooms of their house. Their electric bill each month was ludicrously high, lights in the hall or the bathroom staying on each hour of the night until the sun finally came out enough to shine through the windows each morning. Their bedroom always illuminated with lamps and decorative Christmas lights all year round. Hange and their parents thought they'd grow out of it as an adult. That didn't end up being the case.

"Okay," You breathed out, "Well, I've got a lot of candles." You pointed at the flickering wicks placed in each corner of the room. "So we're not totally in the dark, thankfully."

Another momentary pause, Hange hadn't responded, so you added, "It's not embarrassing, you know?"

"Yeah—thanks."

"Is that you're always up at night?" That had been bothering you for a while, surely it wasn't healthy for someone to stay up so late each night. You wondered how often they slept.

"A little," The muttered, covering their mouth with a loose part of the blanket, "I've had insomnia since I was a kid, and frequent night terrors, doesn't mix the best, I guess." They chuckled.

"So I try to keep myself busy at night with tasks, drink coffee, anything to stop from falling asleep and have another one. Most people grow out of it—I just…didn't."

You hummed, the admission making you feel bad for having such a one-sided problem with Hange the last couple of months. You wouldn't have been so angry if you had known there was more to it.

Placing your palm over the back of their hand, you squeezed, Hange looked at you, the blanket shield falling down to their chest as they lifted their head, revealing their face to you once again.

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't have been such a bitch if I knew,"

"'s okay, I didn't exactly tell you, so."

You smiled at them, and attempt to be reassuring and maybe even comforting, Hange's lips quipped up, and you looked at each other longer than usual. Hange flickered their gaze to your lips, then back up to your eyes. You felt yourself doing the same. Chest growing heavy as the air fell tender, yet apprehensive. Hesitation outweighing want, as you realised how close you both were. Barely inches in between, lips almost meeting.

You wondered how a friendship with Hange would've developed had it not been for the mess in between. The attraction to them was undeniable, you were intrigued as soon as you set eyes on them the day they moved in.

"I really wanna kiss you," You muttered, a fleeting moment of boldness, glancing down to their lips again, they just looked so kissable.

"What are you waiting for, then?" The corners of their lips breaking into a soft smirk, challenging you to do it first.

"Fuck," You bit the bullet, fingers threading the hair at the back of their head as you brought your heads closer, connecting your lips together. Hange sprung into action, grabbing the back of your neck closer and humming with satisfaction into the kiss.

Lips melded against each other, you sighed as you felt how soft they were. Soft and plump. Tugging at their hair, you gently nipped Hange's bottom lip, jutting it out slightly, swiping your tongue against the reddened skin. Taking the hint, Hange's mouth split open, allowing you access to enter. Hange groaned as warm tongues connected, breathing heavily at the sensation.

Pulling the blankets off—they didn't need the extra heat anymore—their hands then wrapped around the supple skin of your thighs, placing you into a straddle over their lap as they held your sides firmly. Fingers digging into your skin as you placed kisses below their ear to the bottom of their throat, their head tilted back. Hange shivered at the contact, skin raising into goosebumps as your lips touched, soft moans from their lips with their eyes shut.

Hange lifted their head, chasing your lips to meet once more, one hand placed tight at your hips, the other coming up to rub the back of your neck. Kissing Hange was delightful, you discovered, finding that you would do this forever if it was physically possible. Eventually, your lips disconnected, forehead resting against forehead as you both breathed heavily, catching breath.

Hange gazed up at you, eyes almost doe and full of mirth. Holding on to every ounce of restraint they carried in their veins, to stop themself from acting impulsively and taking you right there. You were in a similar way, but you pecked their lips again, before nuzzling your head into the crook of their neck. A silent agreement that you both should stop, perhaps do things the right way instead of acting on instinct. Sighing as Hange wrapped their strong arms around your waist, pressing a kiss into your shoulder.

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other's embrace until you found yourself slipping into a sleep, the weed had suddenly made you feel tired and sleep was the only way out. You mumbled a quiet, "Sorry.." before falling asleep on them. Hange chuckled as they realised they were trapped in place until you moved, but it didn't matter too much as the thought of sleep was growing more enticing.

After a few minutes, Hange fell asleep, too, arms still wrapped around you—the storm was still raging on, thunder still thundering, but it was the first night in years Hange slept without a nightmare.

—-

AHHHH anyway— hope u guys enjoyed <3

#hange zoe x reader #requested #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe fluff #lesbian #hange zoe x reader fluff #attack on titan fics #hange zoe

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florvaine · 2 years ago

Text

silver spikes and pastel ribbons.

headcannons of Hobie with an opposite aesthetic gf. (afab! reader)

genre: mainly fluff, slight angst, nsfw(?)

warnings: little nsfw if you squint, crying, some kid gets a car lobbed at him 😭

i imaginee the two of you actually met at one of his gigs 🫶🏻

He was on the stage, flicking his roughened fingertips on each string on his guitar, a harsh rift sounding through the amp on the edge of platform as he moves his hand further up the fretboard.

Then he looks in the crowd, right by the barrier of sweaty, headbanging and most likely hammered fans, and you’re right there.

Directly in front of him, pressed against the metal-barred barrier that security was struggling to keep people from hopping over.

What caught him off guard wasn’t only the fact you were fuckin’ gorgeous, but the fluttery, light pink dress that was just above the middle of your thighs. White lace trimmed the v-shaped neckline that was held up by thin, spaghetti straps.

Strips of silky ribbon cascade from the wrap around your waist, dangling pearls and a small-chain necklace decorate your collarbones and shimmer like the sheen of sweat that held stray hairs against your temples and your forehead.

And your shoes - a pair of white, glossy, open-toed high heels that added a few extra inches to your height (Hobie secretly wanted to give you a few other inches), but even with them Hobie could still tell from the stage that he was way taller than you.

He misses a single strum of his guitar, so he temporarily redirects his attention back to the gig, his hickory eyes still wandering over to you from under his mask.

100% got the security to practically hunt you down so you could meet him backstage.

He’s a little anxious because they were taking a while, and he’s slightly disappointed at the thought you already left.

But then there’s a knock at the door and one of the security guards speaks muffled through his private backstage room.

“Hobie, got the girl you were askin’ for.”

The rest is history, really. You were officially dating after 7 painfully long months.

You got along well, even if everything else about each other was contrasting, you’re political ideals, music taste and humour are practically a copy and paste.

The two of you get undoubtably get some stares.

A man clad in black leather and silver spikes and a woman dressed like a doll stood out a lot against the Nike trackies of London.

“Everyone’s staring, Hobie.”

“Ignore ‘em, hun. They’re pissed JD is shut.”

Every now and then he takes you to a more quiet, downtown street with a collection of thrift stores and craft shops.

Hobie’s definitely caught in Hobbycraft at least twice a week 😭😭

Literally loves your style - everything from your jewellery to the way you get your nails done.

He’s whipped ‼️

Loves everything about you, but especially your hair.

If you wear wigs he’s helping you install it, if you have naturally curly hair he’s taking note of each step for later on, he reads the labels of every hair product you own.

I feel like he has a thing for curly hair idk why I just get the vibe.🤭

Hobie definatly told Pav and Gwen about you when you first met, like the next day he’s at the Spider Society talking even more than usual.

“She was stunnin’, I’m tellin’ ya’ now. Really nice eyes,” He turns away from them and mutters under his breath, “And tits.”

Gwen smirks, “You’ve told us, I’m pretty sure.” She nudges Pav, and he’s giggling like an excited schoolgirl.

“Never thought I’d see Hobie have a full-blown crush!” Pav comments.

Hobie hums, a small smile on his face as he stares infront of him. Gwen and Pav share a look before they imitate the way he looks - like a lovestruck idiot.

It’s funny with one of you in the other’s room - Hobie, dressed in dark blues and blacks with an overall threatening aura just sat on your pretty pink bedsheets in your floral-scented room.

Sometimes you’ll randomly go on a tangent about a new dress or concert tickets whilst doing something else, and you’re convinced he’s uninterested.

Next time he’s at yours he had that new dress in a silk scarf wrap, or he pulls the tickets out of one of his pockets.

You’re in the kitchen of your apartment, stirring the milk into your tea as Hobie scrapes butter onto two slices of toast you had put in.

When he’s finished, he slides the plate over to you before leaning back on the counter and looking at your over his shoulder.

“Thanks, Bee,” You pick up the plate, moving it closer to you for easier access to the toast.

There’s two rectangular, shimmery-sheened tickets underneath the circular plate.

You’re shocked, looking at the ticket now in your hand, eyes moving from the words and numbers printed onto it and your boyfriend.

“Hobie, you didn’t have to!” You say.

“You said that ya’ wanted to see them, so I got us tickets.” He shrugs, a small proud smirk on his lips.

Movie nights every Friday after dinner 💕

Sometimes he has to leave early or he shows up later on, but he makes up for the time lost by bringing you your favourite food and drink from the local corner shop.

If you’re in college or uni, he will swing in every break and check in on you and everything.

When it comes to cuddling, he’s the big spoon 95% of the time unless he had a really shitty day.

Like really shitty.

It’s not very often Hobie crys, and even when he does it’s not for very long.

The man prides himself in being Spider-Punk, saving civilians whilst preaching his beliefs to his followers that feel more like a family than fans.

He can only hold on so long, and it’s only a matter of time before he can’t save someone.

Sure, the little boy wasn’t dead, he was in hospital after a car had been carelessly tossed into him by the anomaly he was supposed to contain.

After visiting the boy in hospital, chanting apologies and ‘get well soon’s like a broken record, he goes to the first place he can think of.

Yours.

There was something so special, so serene and comforting in the confines of your cluttered shelves and organised wardrobe pressed against the walls of your bedroom.

Hobie knew it wasn’t the room, but it was you.

You, so different and relaxing. Calming and exciting, understanding and motivating. Anywhere was safe if you were there.

He swings through shadowed alleys, reaching your apartment over the bustling roads and honking horns of the cars below.

Hobie perches on your small balcony, and taps on the window.

In his reflection, Spider-Punk looks back at him. Strong, unbeatable, selfless and stubborn. But as he pulls the mask off, the fabric hanging limp like a ragdoll cat in his had, Hobie Brown stares back at him.

Tattered, exhausted, overwhelmed and in desperate need to be in your arms.

The window opens. His mental image of himself splits away as soon as he sees your face.

“Rough night?” You ask, voice slightly raspy and muffled, yet still as soothing as hot tea and honey on a sore throat.

The routine begins when Hobie nods. He clambers in, he takes off his boots and jacket and leaves them by your desk, his mask discarded somewhere beside them.

You pull out one of his white, soft cotton shirts from your dresser, and a pair of dark grey shorts. He gets changed, you make a cup of tea.

Then he cries. Salty droplets of embodied sorrows paired with the pinch of his eyebrows and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Each time a tear drips down his soft cheeks you wipe it away with your equally as soft hands, smearing the liquidated sadness into his now clumpy lashes.

You count sixteen droplets this time before he stops, and you stand up to offer the silk scarf he wrapped your gifted babydoll dress in, and he takes it before wrapping the coarse, black wicks that topped his head.

And then he’s curling his back against your chest, holding the hand of your arm that loosely covers his waist.

Their consciousness fades into two seperate slumbers. A comforting silence drapes over the two lovers, knowing that the other will be there when they awake.

-—-

#*{ ‘. florawrites<3 #hobie x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie headcanons #hobart brown #into the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #x reader #spider punk #spiderman x reader

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juniper-simblr · 8 months ago

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The Harris Sawmill

The Harris Sawmill, a prominent structure at the edge of town, stands as a testament to the community's industrious spirit. It’s one of the primary sources of employment in the small town, providing essential materials and craftsmanship that support both local needs and exports. Through many generations, the Harris family has owned this sawmill, and as of today, Michael Harris continues this tradition.

The heart of the operation is the expansive sawmill floor, filled with the hum of machinery and the rhythmic sound of saws cutting through timber. Here, logs are transformed into beams, planks, and various wood products.

Adjacent to the main floor is a workshop where workers build and assemble various wooden structures. This area is stocked with tools and workbenches, creating a space where creativity and craftsmanship converge. From custom furniture to intricate carvings, the workshop showcases the town’s skilled artisans.

As of year 2, the employees of the sawmill are:

Markus Estrada: Foreman. As the foreman, Markus oversees the day-to-day operations on the floor. He ensures that the work is done safely and efficiently, balancing the demands of Michael with the needs of the workers. His leadership is respected, providing a buffer between the workers and Michael’s stringent expectations.

Bill Kwon: Welder. Bill handles all the metalwork, ensuring that the machinery is well-maintained and that any custom metal fittings or repairs are expertly executed. His precision and skill are vital to the smooth running of the sawmill.

Nasir Bahij. Crane Operator. Nasir skillfully operates the crane, moving large logs and heavy materials with ease. His role is critical in maintaining the flow of raw materials into the sawmill and finished products out to customers.

Max Ford. Cladding Installer. Max specializes in cladding, applying finishes and protective layers to wood products. Her attention to detail ensures that the sawmill’s output meets the highest standards of durability and aesthetics.

Damian Murphy. Drill Press Operator. Damian operates the drill press, creating precise holes and cuts needed for various wood products. His meticulous nature and technical expertise contribute significantly to the quality of the mill’s craftsmanship.

At the front of the sawmill is a small hardware store managed by Michael Harris. The store is well-stocked with tools, building materials, and supplies needed for both professional projects and DIY endeavors.

#sims2 #ts2 #bleakfort

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lovevalley45 · 4 months ago

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#fictober24 - day twenty

"I saw your eyes light up."

fandom: not another d&d podcast (bahumia/ba2mia)

word count: 1254

It was rare that things calmed down on the Astral Plane enough to take a break. But on the occasion they did, a vacation was in order.

“A few days in the Feywild? Aw, we haven’t been there in, uh…” Moonshine trailed off, looking up from her packing. “Shit. It’s really been a minute.”

“Well, yeah. I figured we could take a stop there before going by Shadowfell to see Mom,” Hardwon said.

“Bev? You down for that?” Moonshine asked.

Beverly looked up from his journal. “Oh. Yeah.” The Feywild still held some rocky memories for him - but then again, so did half the Material Plane.

Hardwon grinned. “Callie and Sol have been helping Oberon, you know, un-tame it. We can say hi. You’ve really gotta meet these two. And their friend. They’re good people.”

“More wild in the Feywild? I’m down for that,” Moonshine said. “It’ll be a blast.”

In their actual itinerary, the Feywild was near the latter end of their vacation. Bahumia had changed a lot since he was last there; the Dragon Elves had installed a new High Princess, the Crick had faced an attempted overthrow, the Irondeep dwarves and the fire giants were in a tenuous alliance, and the Ezry bubble had fallen for the first time in over two centuries. Somehow, Frostwind was the least changed since they last visited.

Going through the rift to the Feywild, though, was a much different change.

The plane had always been more magical than the Material Plane, but now it seemed to brim. Instead of the permanent morning that the Spring Court had stayed in, the sun seemed to move in the sky as Hardwon led them to his friend’s place.

“This is where Callie says they’re set up now, at least. Just look for a duck-themed camper,” he told them.

“Duck-themed?” Beverly muttered under his breath.

“That’s what they go by. Duck Team.”

“Right.”

The grass came up so high that he felt like he was wading through it. Maybe that was just an issue at his height, but it made the journey difficult. Finally, though, the setting sun glinted off the metal of a camper.

Hardwon was grinning as he pointed. “There they are.”

“Just in time.” Moonshine sighed. “Oh, Melora, I should have brought something. I mean, I did grab some Crick water before we left.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Bev said.

They followed Hardwon to the door. He barely had a chance to knock before the door swung open.

“Hardwon!” A spring eladrin pulled him into a hug. “I was worried you’d gotten lost out there.”

“Trust me, I know the Feywild like the back of my hand.”

“Eh, it’s gotten more tricky than it used to be. And that’s saying something.” She peeked past him. Flowers floated in her watery hair like lilypads on the surface of a pond. “Hello there! I’m Calliope Petrichor, but you can just call me Callie.”

Moonshine bounded up the steps. “Ah, so you’re the infamous Callie. Hardwon talks about you all the time.”

Callie grinned. “Really?” She chuckled. “Then that must make you Bev.”

“Guilty,” he said, coming up to greet her.

“Well, come on in. Plenty of room.” Callie ducked her head inside. “Calder? Grab some more Molsons.”

Hardwon hadn’t been lying about the duck theme, but there was something cozy in its kitschiness. They’d spent so long in airships that the change of pace was nice. The inside was much larger than it looked on the inside - not as large as Moonshine’s Marvelous Stump, but certainly not cramped.

The sitting area was already occupied. A bullywug in a sweater and a scarf, covered in mushrooms, stopped his game of cards with a dwarven teenager as they came in. So too did the halfling knights talking across from them.

They were Green Knights, still clad in their armor. It was still strange seeing the familiar green plate so far from home, but there was something stranger still. The older one, he looked just like-

“Balnor,” Moonshine muttered under her breath.

Hardwon laughed, somewhat stilted, before he started across the room. “Hey, Sol, buddy. And Kenna, hey. Who are your buddies?”

“Oh, yeah, this is Robert and Balnor,” the bullywug said. “Sorry, I guess Callie didn’t tell you we had other guests.”

The younger halfling stood and bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you…” Balnor trailed off.

“Hardwon.” The word sounded like it got caught in his throat. “Hardwon Surefoot.”

Beverly couldn’t blame him. At least he wasn’t the only one still glued to the spot.

“We’ve got Molsons!” Callie broke the tensions, emerging from the kitchen with a frosty half-giant who had to duck under the door frame. “They’re nice and cold. I’m sure you could use a drink after walking all day.”

Moonshine took a bottle from her hand. “Thanks. Yeah…” She twisted the top off and took a slow sip.

As Beverly let Callie hand him a bottle, his eyes drifted back to Hardwon and Balnor.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Make yourself at home.”

He followed Callie and her friend to the sitting area. Moonshine, it seemed, was taking it slightly better than he was. But that was mostly because she’d started making conversation with Sol instead of addressing Balnor directly.

Two hundred years. That was when Alanis had told them that she’d plucked out Balnor to be their companion. None of them had been keeping track of the years like that, on the off-chance that they’d see him again.

The timeline had changed. This Balnor still had his son, had become a Green Knight. He was still Balnor the Brave, just not… their Balnor the Brave.

Seeing him happy, content, someone’s father was a pleasant sight. Yet it felt like it stabbed him through the chest. He was distracted watching Balnor pick up cards with Kenna that he hardly noticed Robert - Bobby - coming up to him.

“Must be nice to see a fellow Green Knight, huh?” he asked Beverly.

“Huh?”

“I saw your eyes light up when you saw us.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He took in Robert’s armor. The design on the plate had changed over the years - much more ornamental, the sun sigil of Pelor morphed into the Summer Court’s banner. He didn’t even know if he considered himself much of a Green Knight anymore. Not since he’d lost Erlin. Maybe even before then.

“I’ve heard the stories about the first Green Knights. Including your father, Beverly the Fourth. I never imagined I’d meet his son,” Robert said.

What his dad had done to protect him, the deal he’d made, he imagined they didn’t teach that in the accolades of prior Green Knights that served the Seelie Court. But there was something ironic in that. The son of the man who’d been his father when he had lost his, telling him that he looked up to his.

“I’m sure I must be embarrassing myself,” he told Beverly. “I apologize.”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just strange, you know? Not that, but… seeing echoes of the past now, so long after.”

“I imagine it must be.” Robert smiled. “If you ever want some really exciting stories about the Green Knights, you should ask my father. He got into some trouble before I was sworn in, and even then, he won’t retire.”

Beverly laughed. “That sounds like Ba-” He stopped himself. “Yeah. That sounds like my own dad.”

Robert patted his armor. “It is nice to meet you, Beverly.”

“Yeah. You too.”

#alli writes shit #fictober24 #naddpod #bahumia #ba2mia #i haven't written naddpod fic yet this month so i had to go angsty. bc why not

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metalcladdingmelbourne · 9 months ago

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Why Architectural Metal Cladding in Melbourne is Beneficial for Durability & Design?

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Source: https://claddingmelbourne.blogspot.com/2024/06/why-architectural-metal-cladding-in.html

#Architectural metal cladding in Melbourne #metal cladding installers

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solstitios · 4 months ago

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the (after) life of the party feat. @jcne at the monster mash bash

thirty minutes ago, callum was three minutes away from his friday night shift coming to an end.

twenty eight minutes ago, callum was one minute away from clocking out of his friday night shift.

twenty seven minutes ago, callum was dispatched a call from illusion about a single-use bathroom door being locked and needing assistance breaking it down. something about a girl inside who was unresponsive.

she better not be dead, callum thinks to himself as he's forced to gear up anyway, his exterior jacket giving his already tired shoulders no mercy. he'd been on the clock since eight this morning and had already responded to over seven calls (to none of which, his limbo brain still adjusting to ansong failed to notice, actually involved any major fires). of course the universe loves to shove itself right into the sliver between the innate feeling of control over his own life and reality, which was, truly, getting another call a minute before his shift was over.

when he arrives on premises, there's a considerable crowd packing the nightclub. he still hasn't gotten used to the feeling of looking so out of place when he's got his gear on in public, especially in a club where everyone else around him is dressed scantily clad and do all but pretend to ignore him when his partner are forced to squeeze their way through a sea of sweaty, perspiring bodies. a manager spots them immediately to lead them through the stares that follow the gaze of the room down a hallway to the restrooms.

the thud of the bass shakes the walls of the walls that glow neon from the signs that are fixated to the wall with illusion's logo. there's a few women that stand huddled together in front of the door, their faces a solid mix split between some looking concerned and others seeming inconvenienced. the manager shoos them off, turning to explain to callum and his partner, "she's been in there for over forty minutes, apparently. it's got a dead bolt, so we can't get it open from the outside."

stupid, callum thinks as him as his partner dig in their duffel bag for their smaller-sized jaws of life to pry the door open; who installs a single-use bathroom in a club with a dead bolt? he shakes his head to rid himself of the millions of reasons for the poor design as he helps his partner open the door. the bass reverbs on the walls as the dead bolt finally gives way when the lock is crushed between the metal jaws.

the build up feels all too cinematic when the door is finally opened and it's revealed that it's june who had locked herself in the bathroom — fortunately, she doesn't look sick or in any sort of peril, just... asleep. it almost appears staged, just how peaceful she looks with her arms under her head as a makeshift pillow over the downed seat.

"i got it — i know her," he tells the other two men with him who share concerned glances. stepping between them, callum crouches down beside her and unbuckles his helmet.

the music is still quite loud in the bathroom, and the thought of how many germs there must be on this floor and the toilet seat she's got her face practically flush to is something he doesn't want to think much into. he uses one arm to lift her head off the seat and sit her in an upright position, holding one of her arms to keep her steady. "june," he has to shout over the music, shaking her gently in a feeble attempt to wake her up. judging by how her makeup is smudged at the corners, who knows how long she actually was in here before someone even noticed. "june, hey, it's callum. you gotta wake up. we're gonna take you back home."

#feat. june #i'm sorry i'm not the best at starters i hope this is ok DKJFHGJFKD #don't feel at all u need to match the length!! i just needed to give some context

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claddco · 11 months ago

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Metal Cladding System in Melbourne

Claddco stands as a premier provider of metal cladding solutions in Melbourne, offering state-of-the-art systems that elevate the aesthetics and functionality of modern architecture. Specializing in cutting-edge metal cladding systems, Claddco caters to the discerning needs of residential and commercial projects alike.

#metal cladding #metal cladding melbourne #metal cladding for houses #Metal Cladding Installation

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daddywright · 2 years ago

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Here it is. After a year and a half, I've finally finished the latest installment of 'it never rains'. thanks to everyone who has read and supported me throughout pressureverse's wild ride, and thanks especially to @rainphee, who gave me beta-ing and wolf-whistles when i needed it most.

chapter excerpt:

July 7, 2026 The stadium shakes like a hurricane. Fingers blur over an ebony bridge. Rings flash white-hot under spotlights. A purple-bodied guitar glimmers, slung low over hips clad in liquid leather. The voices of thousands roar like a living haze, severed by the quicksilver grit of a voice that turns the air into cataclysm. Television screens dance, zooming close on the singer commanding the stage. Neon light drips off a bared collar, bathing his face in halcyon sweat. Every inch of his body is clapped in metal-studded black and purple, and his chest is bronze and heaving. He throws his head back, blonde hair flying, the cry torn animal from his open throat— “Atroquinine...!” The world cracks open as the audience screams, music drowning beneath the howls. The television lingers, catching eyes that shine like the ocean at dawn, electric with thrill, as powerful and righteous as any God in their domain. “Los Angeles!” His voice ripples across the stadium like a victory cry. His face is on the screen is greater and brighter than any monument. He meets the camera dead in the lens. Dead in their eyes. “I love you,” Klavier Gavin says, breathless. And in a crowd of a million, high up in a box with a shrieking Trucy at his side, Apollo feels his heart sink to the very bottom of his toes. Spirits help me.

#it never rains #fic tag #aa fic #ace attorney #klapollo #apollo justice #klavier gavin #pressureverse #wip tag #75-100k (so far)#law gang #writing tag

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primevein · 2 years ago

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The Prime of His Youth: Book I: Forging His Own Bath: Ch23: Welcome

Jack rode on Arcee up to the garage. As they approached it looked so different. The dingy painted metal had been clad with concrete panels that were becoming common. It made it look quaint, and oddly inviting. Arcee stopped as soon as they turned off, and the two simply stared at it.

"This is almost looking like Cybertron." Arcee stated. "I think I actually like it better."

"It's kind of new." Jack stated. "It's easy to build, easy to install, is great in most weather, and has great insulation."

"We should use it in Cybertron." Arcee stated.

"You know what?" Jack asked, "Probably." He then looked up, and they could see the new south facing windows with sun shades.

"More windows?" Arcee asked.

Jack turned to scowl at her, "You were literally there when we told the contractor."

"Yeah, but the difference is that I wasn't really paying attention." Arcee replied. Jack scowled again. In reply, Arcee knelt down and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss lingered until they slowly pulled away, "What I care about is living with you. We could live in a cardboard box, for all I cared. Well, assuming I could fit in it."

"So, you don't care about our home?" Jack asked.

"Quite the opposite." she said, and he glared at her, "I listened to everything when you decided it."

"And?" Jack asked.

"I agreed with everything." she said, and momentarily paused, "You are so diligent, that you had already solved all of the problems before you brought them up to me."

Jack stared into her eyes for a moment, "I guess I did." The two turned back to the garage. Jack made to take a step towards the garage, and stopped as he found Arcee's hand on his shoulder.

"Your suit should be linked to the garage." she stated.

"Oh, right?" Jack asked, He raised his right arm. He pinched his left-hand on the top of his right wrist, and pulled it apart. It revealed a display. He scrolled the display a couple times until he saw the garage doors, with a regular door to it's right. He clicked on the right one and it audibly clicked and started to open. He turned to look up at it. He found Sirenia and June standing there. June was wearing an aquamarine midi dress with cyan bateau collar and angel sleeves. On her feet she wore sensible heels. "Mom?" he asked, and she excitedly wave at him. He walked up to the garage door and paused at the threshold. "What's the occasion?"

"Sirenia wanted to do something nice for you, and the day you move in seemed like a good idea."

"I... guess..." Jack said, and looked back at his mother, "You do look good. Which is suspicious."

"I can't look good?" June shyly asked.

"Well, obviously you can, but I haven't..."

"I looked through my closet, and realized I haven't worn most of it for decade. So, I terfed all of the old stuff, and refreshed my wardrobe. What do you think?" she asked, and did a twirl.

"You look beautiful." Jack said to her.

"I'll say." Arcee said as she loomed beside him.

"Thank you." June said. "Why don't I show you around your new home?"

"Our new home?" Arcee asked.

"But I asked the contractor to lie about the day it would be finished, so I could set it up." Arcee glared at Sirenia. "I told her not to tell you."

"And why not?" Arcee forcefully asked.

"Because are completely incapable of lying to Jack." June said with a smile. Arcee glared at her for a moment before nodding. "Here we have the bike stable, or whatever you want to call it?" She gestured to where the office had been. It was largely empty, with a cantelevered room above it. The room had a window looking out. She then turned to Arcee, "I'm afraid you can't come with me for this part." she said. "You coming Jack?" she asked him.

"Uh, yeah, sure." he replied.

She waved him over the stairs flush against the wall. He followed her up the stairs. She paused at the top, moving enough to let him join her there. "So, we have the mother-in-law suite."

"I know?" Jack asked.

"But have you seen it?" she asked, and he shook his head. She stepped into the first room, and it as setup like a living room. "Here's my living room." she said, and stepped through. "And here's my bedroom."

"Uh, huh?" Jack asked.

June turned against the back wall, opening the door, "And here's my full bathroom. Which, thank you, by the way." she said with a brilliant smile.

"You deserve it." he said. She quickly moved in to hug him, before quickly moving away. She then stepped into the living room and up the window. She flipped a latch, and the window opened outwards. She stuck her head out and waved at Arcee and Sirenia. Arcee gave a simple wave in reply, Sirenia a bit more enthusiastic. "I absolutely love this part." She stepped back, waved him on, and walked back to the stairs and down. "And now for the whole reason Arcee did this."

"So Jack could spend his life with you." June said with a bright smile. She walked over to the much taller entryway to what was the warehouse. Inside was a kitchen with walls that went all the way to the ceiling. "And here's the kitchen!" she excitedly said, and turned towards the femmes. "So, I can teach you to cook!" Arcee smiled, while Sirenia looked positively giddy. She then turned to a door that went almost to the ceiling. It had technology on the side that looked Cybertronian, like the other doors. June pressed it and it split and opened backwards. Inside was a large space, with couches, and a colossal bed, large enough for two Cybertronians femmes. Across from the bed and couch was a colossal screen that looked Cybertronian as well.

Jack saw another colossal door on the rearward wall, and looked at it curiously. "That garden you wanted." he heard his mother say.

"Water catch you wanted." Sirenia said with glee, and June glared at her. "Sorry for spoiling it."

"You think he would have expected it." Arcee said sarcastically.

Jack looked at his mother. "What about you?"

"I have my own, ordinary Human-sized door under the stairs, which you apparently didn't notice." She walked over to the door, pressed a on it, and it opened out. The walked out back and saw what looked like an acre with a 10ft fence. Looking right you could see a Human-sized door that from near the edge of the building. The whole back of the building as covered by a large awning, and considering it was on the north side, in the summer it would provide shade. He stepped out and looked about. Pretty desolate, but that was to be expected from Nevada. He stepped around back and saw the basins for the raincatch.

"It's grey water." Sirenia stated, "The internet says you have to filter it if you want to drink it."

"It's not like it rained." Arcee stated.

"It basically takes a year to build up." Jack stated.

* * *

June stood in the kitchen with Sirenia. Sirenia had kneeled down as Arcee had been shooed off, as there was only room for one fembot in the kitchen. Arcee tried peeking around the corner for a while, but quickly gave up and went to join Jack outside. He was under the shade, and she moved to join him. She slumped down next to him.

"She promised to let you join her next time." Jack said.

"Tsk." Arcee stated.

"She is a servant." Jack said with a smile.

"What am I, the lady of the house?" Arcee asked.

"Yes?" Jack chided. The two relaxed for a few moments longer, "So, do Cybetronians not eat anything?"

"Hm?" Arcee asked, "Mostly the heavy labourers and warrior caste." Jack gave her a questioning, knowing look. "I mean like Bulkhead. I think Humans work the same way, when you break down your muscles, you need food to rebuild them. We need metals."

"And you don't?" Jack asked.

"Well, I do have my sleek, femme fatale body to be thinking of." Arcee said, running her right arm down her entire body.

"Well, it is just the way I love it." Jack said with a smile. Arcee reached her right arm out and gently pulled him towards her.

* * *

Jack could smell the food almost one and slipped out of Arcee's arm. He stood up and walked around Arcee into the house. He paused as he looked over at the bathroom. He wandered over to it. There was a couple of hand-held shower heads. One at his level, and one, much larger much higher up on the wall.

"You'll have to show me how to use that." Arcee stated. "And you know what, I'm going to miss the swimsuit and bucket of water."

"I guess we can still do that every once in a while." Jack said, "But dinner is almost ready, so you should come inside."

Arcee stood up and slowly stepped inside. She paused, looking at the kitchen. "Can I even get through?" she asked.

Jack stepped around and looked at the kitchen, "I guess not."

* * *

The four sat around the table in the main hall. Sirenia and Arcee leaned off to their sides as June and Jack gleefully ate.

* * *

Jack stood nude in the shower, with Arcee and Sirenia looming over him. "Alright, there's two handles, one for hot water and one for cold."

"Why do you need the hot one?" Sirenia asked.

"Because Human's can't be cold." Arcee simply stated.

"It also helps to remove grease." Jack said, "Which, I guess you don't have on Cybertron?" Jack turned both of the nobs, and paused, feeling the stream. Both of the femmes looked at him closely. He readjusted the nobs until he got the right temperature. They could visibly see steam coming off the shower. Arcee reached forward and pulled his hand away. He looked her in the eyes and smiled. She looked away nervously. He then pulled her hand into the stream. "This is the perfect temperature, at least for me." Sirenia reached her arm into the shower to feel the temperature. Jack then looked at the upper shower, "Just remember, the farther is travels the more it cools off." He then reached for the shower head and pulled it from it's cradle. "You can grab the shower head and wet your body." he said, as he moved it around. He then put it back and just let the water wash over him. He grabbed a bar of soap, wet it in the shower, and rubbed it between his hands to lather up. He then proceeded to lather his face and shoulders before rinsing it off.

"So that's how soap works." Sirenia said with great interest. She looked at Arcee, who momentarily looked away.

"She has a bit of experience with soap." Jack simply stated, and Sirenia looked on curiously.

"It's a product of..." Jack said, and trailed off.

"It's what happens when the man finishes." Arcee said. "It's something you will see first hand."

"Wait, what?" Jack asked.

"I have been firm that she is available to you." Arcee replied.

"Doesn't she get a say in the matter." Jack replied. Arcee moved her head towards Sirenia. Jack looked over to her. The smile on her face harrowed him.

"Did you think there is anything I would not do for you?" Sirenia asked. Jack tried to reply, but could not say anything. "Besides, the undeniable joy Arcee describes it with makes me want to try it."

"No pressure." Arcee said, "Other than the one in your balls. She should probably watch for the first time, however."

* * *

Bulkhead drove Miko down the Hydrax Plateau, "Shouldn't we, I don't know, tell them?" Miko asked, "Stay for the party?"

Bulkhead grumbled in reply, "I've never liked the spotlight. If this makes Jack like us even more, it wouldn't be worth it."

"And the party?" Miko asked.

"When's the last time you saw Jack partying?" Bulkhead asked.

"Well, he was there, for the party." Miko stated.

"And what was he doing?" Bulkhead asked, and Miko flashed back to images of Jack simply standing around in different places.

"So, you're saying Jack's too lame to party?" Miko asked.

"Pretty much." Bulkhead replied. "If I wanted fame I could have joined the Elite Guard."

"True." Miko stated.

"Some guys just want to go home and relax."

#transformers #prime #the prime of his youth #darcee #jack darby #arcee

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open-hearth-rpg · 1 year ago

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#RPGCovers Week Fourteen Hearts of Wulin Minerva Fox (2020)

This is the final week of this series for a little bit; I’ll come back to it to continue on after a short break. (I have a new short series on RPG mechanics in the pipe). But I thought I’d take advantage of the break and 84 Great RPG Covers installments to be a little self-indulgent. And so here we are with Hearts of Wulin.

I love the color on the cover for one thing. Let’s start there. I’ve always appreciated an rpg book that isn’t afraid to go with strong solid colors over a muddied or darkened palette. Here each character has a focus color– the kind of outfit design you might see in a high-budget wuxia drama series. The colors link in to the elements which govern play so I can image our grey clad figure a master or earth or metal; our red and orange warrior driven by fire– supported by their blade coming forward and breaking the edge of the cover.

There’s a feeling of motion here I adore: the falling leaves, the swirl of sleeves, the unfurling scroll, the clouds rushing above. It’s a swirl without a definite landscape– we see the top of a mountain in the upper right, but where exactly are we?

There are a few other details I love here. For one the eye lines: our lantern carrying traveler casts his gaze upon the figure in red, watching them closely. But behind we see our figure in blue– but which one do they look at? What is the nature of the entanglement here? It’s a small detail as well, but I love that the gender-coding here is fluid: any of these four could be male, female, enby, or shifting. I want there to be room in the game for play with gender, queer stories, and more.

I’ll also say I think the title logo by J.L.Householder is dynamite. It is so, so good.

Of course I designed and co-wrote this game, so I’m biased. But I love it. If you’re interested in stories of wuxia romance and melodrama, like those found in The Untamed, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, and Ancient Detective, you should check it out. IPR has the last dozen physical copies available on their site. It’d be great to run those out..

#ttrpg #rpg #rpg covers #great rpg covers #hearts of wulin #age of ravens

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metalcladdingmelbourne · 17 days ago

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Looking for professional metal cladding installers in Melbourne? LA Cladding delivers top-quality installation for homes & businesses. Get a free quote today!

#Metal Cladding Installers Melbourne

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shingansoul · 2 years ago

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What Exactly Do You Do? (King Ohger fic)

This piece is a commission done for @muzzleofnemesis

Summary:

Gira isn't exactly "on the level" with what all the president of N'Kosopa does per say, but he trusts his friend's skills and judgements. Yanma on the other hand, well he has a reputation to uphold and if this red clad "little prince" doesn't even understand why, then what's the point? So he takes it upon himself to take a crack at explaining what his skillset is all about. Even if it doesn't actually sink in.

To read on AO3, follow the link below. To read here, continue past the read more!

In these new peace times between the kingdoms of the alliance, Gira was quick to make himself a common visitor among the other’s territories whenever he had any free time from Shuggodam and admittedly sometimes when he didn’t. He couldn't help himself, his travels even just at the beginning had shown him so much more than the commons and the orphanage of Shuggodam ever could. None alone getting to see not only a whole new expanded world before him, but getting to meet all different kinds of people and kingdoms across its expanse. From sweeping country sides and royal palaces, to the frigid cold and mountains, he loved all of it and was always fascinated by every new thing he got to see or learn with all the new people he had met along the way. However, it was the land that confused him most that ended up drawing his attention more often and his company even more so.

N’Kosopa as a place was something he was sure he’d never fully or truly “get”, as though so much of it’s advancements and technology had originally been in service of Shuggodam more than itself until more recent years, Gira hadn’t grown up in the aristocracy or the palace. He hadn’t been privy to the luxuries and conveniences that his kingdom’s power had claimed for them, so aside the few that wormed their way into the general populace market districts or for communication from the upper classes across the kingdom, so much of it was foreign in every definition of the word. He’d find himself startled by holograms lining the sidewalks and buildings, the constant blaring of sounds layering together from all the screens and announcements were often confusing and overwhelming for anyone not wearing headphones to single out the sounds directed to them specifically. The sprawling cityscape of the place that seemed never ending was always set aglow with lights painting the metal buildings in neons and deep blues, an ever present hum that came with electricity seemed to accent the rest of the soundscape of N’Kosopa.

It was hard to adjust to, and Gira doubted he would ever manage it truly, but he was so charmed by its people and their passion that he would always make the effort to try and to come immerse himself in it regardless. Whether it was to play with the children, exchanging their games on their tablets and mini computers always on hand with the make-believe and performances he brought from Shuggodam, or to be lead around by some of the those that worked more closely with Yanma himself to keep the kingdom’s hundreds if not thousands of programs and systems working. They would, in the same breath of exasperated scolding for not understanding something, go out of their way to either do it for him or explain it in detail. Gira didn't always pick up what they were doing, but he was happy they made the effort all the same. They weren’t his people, but he never felt like he didn't belong around them either. After all, they were the nakama of someone he saw as nakama of his own, so it was all the same at the end of the day right?

Speaking of which, Yanma had been his specific reason for coming this time: the president had wanted to speak of starting to install and bring some of the communication systems from the upper classes of Shuggodam down to the rest of the kingdom. And so, he had been all but summoned to discuss it at his “palace.” They still called it the palace within the kingdom, but for all intensive purposes it was just a huge glorified office building with the “throne room” consisting of a very large area that was brightly lit and held both access to a landing deck of sorts for those coming in via the various hovercrafts and bikes or the other Shugods. God Tonbo had the room if desired to enter the sprawling area, but he seemed content to laze on the building’s outside or to do similar across the kingdom flitting from one place to the next with interest to N’Kosopa’s constant glow. It made Gira wonder if that might be part of the reason it was always like that, a small gesture to its Shugod, and the idea of it made him smile fondly.

Otherwise in the large space, aside some towers for displaying any broadcasts and announcements, it seemed to only comprise of the surprisingly modest desk set-up Yanma took to for his work as President. It was covered in various trinkets and wires spilling over everything across the desk and along the floor, A few bigger hologram monitors set up above the desk and his trademark silver smaller laptop at its center. No matter when or how often Gira visited, there were always littered bottles and food wrappers it seemed strewn about the floor and, once the two had gotten more comfortable, it was also mostly to the floor the two took to when in the “throne room” as well. The chair often left forgotten, they’d often sit or sprawl across the floor around or even outright underneath the desk, whatever odd positions they could find on the floor that seemed to be comfortable enough.

Shiokara always whined and nagged at him when he inevitably found them sprawled on the floor amongst trash, wires, and cd cases that he needed to do better for accommodating guests, especially another King, but Gira would always laugh and smile fondly once more as he watched the president sink into familiar bickering and shouting from his place beside him with his right-hand “tanuki.” To Gira, this was the most comfortable and warm place in all of N’Kosopa because it was Yanma’s personal space and as small as it was, it held so much personality from his dear nakama and it was here they allowed themselves to sink into their own rhythm and comfort with each other. Both full of fluffed up feathers and false pretense, but only shallowly so and they both could easily read the other to see through it anyway. When they were here, it was more out of decorum than trying to convince the other of something. It was silly. It was easy. It was…nice.

This time, Gira found himself kneeling slightly behind Yanma to look over his shoulder, the other’s laptop set atop the seat of the chair like a table despite the actual desk less than feet away. Yanma was half sprawled on the floor, leaning his arm on a raised knee and the rest extended out lazily as if to take as much open space as possible. With his propped hand though, he rapidly pulled up various schematics and programs bringing them from his small screen to be flicked up to the holo-monitors above for better viewing.

“Look here alright? So the guy before me here had basically copied our main system for Shuggodam’s palace and the aristocrat bastard’s part of the kingdom, Yeah? It isn’t much different than the older format of what we have set up here except that your royalty demanded it be more centralized so it could only be used by the king. So there’s only one IP since it’s only connected to one host location for the entire network. Everything else you all have is just portable screens that are wired to transmit the same signals and messages out from there, but they can’t be used to send feedback of any kind the other way.

Because there’s pretty much only one way to send out though, it’ll be stupid easy to just reconfigure it into a proper network across your kingdom if we hook up the towers like we have every…let’s say a couple in every town. We can’t bring it to everyone’s homes at this point, but we can make hubs for each town so-”

Gira leaned forward, his chin all but on Yanma’s shoulder as he tried squinting at the laptop screen as if it would magically click something into place for him. Yanma craned his head to the side so he could side eye the red glad prince, and noticed an obviously confused scrunching of his brow and parting of lips as if Gira wanted to ask a question but didn't understand enough of the situation to actually formulate one. The president clicked his tongue, impatient letting his glance turn into a glare.

“So…you’re not going to hack into it.”

“Haa?? What do you….no, I don't have to do that. Since it only goes one way, it never set up any kind of firewall or even bothered encrypting the code that sends the broadcasts and information out. Not like anyone in your kingdom exactly knows anything about our tech, so he didn't even bother.”

“If you don’t have to hack it though, how are you supposed to set up more of that stuff then?”

“Oi.”

Gira hummed brightly in attention, letting his dark brown meet narrowed deep blue.

“Do you think everything with computers is hacking? Do you even know what hacking really is or did you just decide that’s all I know how to do?”

Gira titled his head to the side, blinking a few times in confusion as he took in the question. “Is it…not?”

Yanma groaned loudly, grabbing his laptop and letting himself flop onto his back next to the red clad man, resettling his laptop on his stomach as he craned his head up a bit to look at the screen. He opened his mouth to speak when he felt something warm and firm fill the space between the back of his head and the floor, and he chanced a glance up to see Gira now much closer and smiling down at him. He had shuffled forward and pressed his calf behind Yanma’s head so he could rest on something instead of holding his own head up it seemed, a gesture that DID NOT make Yanma’s brain stutter for a moment nor his stomach flip in the slightest.

Clicking his tongue again, he tore his gaze back to his laptop and opened a couple half finished programs, adding and altering codes he had picked up and put back down numerous times for something to do with his hands while he spoke more than anything actually necessary. It was scripts for some adjustments to some minor programs that ran some of the smaller machines he used in daily life, nothing too fancy at all but he never seemed to actually dedicate the time to truly being productive with them. With his hands busy though and something to focus on, he let himself fall back to the exasperation at hand with his guest-friend-now pillow.

“Gira, do you have any idea how shit even works-”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, I wasn’t done. Do you have any idea how shit even works here . In N’Kosopa.”

“Ah. Mm…”

“I don’t mean the people, I mean the actual place: the buildings, the vehicles, the computers, the lights, the holograms, all of it. Do you know how that works?”

Gira pouted a bit and shook his head.

“Code. Code that people, usually me, have to write. That code acts as instructions that we then apply to programs that people also have to make, usually me. The code tells the program how to run and what to do and how to interact with things, yeah?” he paused, waiting for a nod before going on. “Okay, so a program can have really simple or complicated instructions, but either way the program actually runs those instructions and usually it is what tells whatever thing it is applied to or in how to do its job to. So an alarm clock yeah? It doesn't know how to work, it's a clock. So we have a program that tells that clock how to work and when to go off. Everything here works off of that logic…basically anyway.”

He heard Gira hum in thought above him and he let out a breath in a bit of relief.

“So then, the network that connects everything together here so we can all talk to each other and makes all our shit works and all that: that’s run by tons and tons of all those programs and things working in tandem all the time. Hacking would be…” He paused for a moment, grumbling a bit to himself as he weighed out the worth of using proper terminology of incorrectly explaining it to get the gist across. The latter won and with a sigh. he picked back up with, “it’s like if someone either broke down and through those programs to change or add stuff of yours or they outright rewrote your programs to do different things than you wanted them to.”

“So…you can just change someone else’s that they made?”

Yanma let himself give a small huff and a smirk as he replied, “If you’re good at it.”

“Oh, so you’re the president because you’re the best at both things?”

“Eh…close enough, yeah. Doesn't matter what it is, I'm always on top so of course I clawed my way up to president. I'm the best at hacking, programming, and anything else I wanna do no problem. Good you finally got that then.” He crossed his arms on his chest, flipping his laptop closed as he moved them and he let himself close his eyes to avoid looking directly into eyes he knew were still staring down at him while still coming off casual.

“Then don’t bother explaining the stuff you’re going to put in Shuggodam, since I'm sure I won't exactly get it but I know it’ll be great if you’re doing it. If you’re on top with everything, then so will what you give us.”

Yanma’s eyes shot open, a light blush dusting his cheeks at the compliment as he now met Gira face to face, Gira’s being a bit too close for his composure at the moment.

“D-don’t just-, are you a dumbass? I could be doing anything in there and you wouldn't even know it! You shouldn't be so-....”

Yanma stopped himself, moving to place his laptop off him and to the side before twisting around and up onto his knees suddenly. Gira seemed to have anticipated the move and at the same time had been quick to slide back and get up on his feet again in a partial crouch. They both stared each other down, Gira with a playful grin of challenge and Yanma with growing hot irritation. In an instant, Gira jumped back to avoid Yanma all but pouncing forward to grab at him, and like that, began a chase around the throne room accompanied by angry shouting and loud excited laughter. Yanma’s much more clumsy almost clawing pace behind Gira’s practiced almost dance of a sprint around the room.

“YOU JUST DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME EXPLAIN THIS SHIT TO YOU!”

He was given a delighted laugh and amidst his shouting and their childish game of tag, Yanma found himself enjoying the moment despite himself. Gira could be an idiot about things sometimes, but the guy seemed to just draw you into his pace whether you wanted to or not. And well, Yanma wasn't quite opposed to it.

#ohsama sentai kingohger #gira hastie #gira husty #yanma gast #yanma gust #fanfic #super sentai #tokusatsu

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