trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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seen from United States
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@captaina31-blog
A grin before he finally actually moved just as Harsh was pulling on the last one.
“It’s called muscle weighs more than fat, ner di’kutla vod.”
Harsh stumbled backward with the force of the pull with no more resistance. Then he stood there holding the pillow for half a beat before hitting Sheres with it playfully.
“Di’kut.”
mattdoylephoto: #BenWhishaw great #actor / shot at the #walterkerrtheatre NYC.
He smirked a little as he purposely made himself as much dead weight as possible as he kept a hold on the pillow.
“Nope you threw it away it’s mine now you should’ve thought about that before you tossed it at me.”
“Why--” A pull. “Are you--” Still pulling. “So heavy?”
“Aren’t you afraid my ‘smelliness’ will rub off on it?”
“That’s a good point.” Harsh finally crossed the room and tried to grab the pillow out from under Sheres. “I need it back now.”
“The shab was that for?!” he asked, probably sounding more frustrated than he actually was. He propped the pillow up beside him regardless so as not to return the feather filled ammo back. “And here I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you, Sheres. That’s why I gave you my pillow.”
“I did, just a second ago. I know I’m not minty fresh or vanilla or anythin’, but it certainly ain’t bad.” Ignoring of course that a little musk never hurt anyone. Mostly he was still a little tired even with the nap on the trip back, so his faculties weren’t all there yet.
Harsh threw a pillow at Sheres. Perhaps as a gesture to tell him to get some sleep. Perhaps, just to throw something at him.
No offense, burc'ya, but you're in desperate need of a shave. And a cut.
Of course you would come to Sheres’s defense, Mereel.
“And some of us are wondering why you deign to care in the first place about my personal mission hygiene routine when you can’t even smell me from there,” he returned. “I ate on the larty back. Sweet talking the pilot and promises of no crumbs goes a long way. But I appreciate the offer.”
“Who said I couldn’t smell you from here?”
Dr. Ravi Chakrabarti → The Whopper
@shereshoy continued from here
“Some of us still use soap on said missions.” Harsh smirked and nodded to the other alpha. Harsh was all-too familiar with the level of cleanliness (or lack thereof) he maintained on long missions. “Are you starving? I can get something for you from the mess hall.”
10 Months and 3 Days after Order 66
“I’m sorry I shot you.”
Kaden didn’t look at him, at first, then he shifted so he was facing Harsh. The former Jedi was standing in the ‘fresher naked from the waist up. His torso was bruised from his collarbone to the top of his stomach. An old scar crossed from his shoulder to his chest.
Something about Kaden changed--the playful look in his eye, the clever quirk of his brow, all but vanished as the man trained two very dark, deep eyes on Harsh.
“I missed you,” Kaden said.
What seemed like eons ago, but was only two standard years, Kaden had stood over the remains of his Jedi friend with tears in his eyes. Harsh had never seen the Jedi so serious, never heard him speak tender words about anyone or anything. The former captain’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out.
Kaden chuckled, but he couldn’t brush off the amount of sincerity he had poured into those three words. He made a move to go around Harsh and leave the ‘fresher, but Harsh stopped him with a gentle push.
“I missed you, too.”
Harsh’s hand remained flat against Kaden’s chest. The commander had cut his hair short, kept a layer of stubble on the lower half of his face. Almost unrecognizable from the Jedi he once was. Harsh reached up and laid his hand on the side of Kaden’s face, felt the roughness of his stubble on his palm. The other man’s eyes slid shut and he leaned into Harsh’s touch--hands that had pulled him out of harm’s way more than once, hands that had healed--and Kaden’s breath caught in his throat.
Harsh lowered his head and placed a kiss on the shorter man’s shoulder, his lips barely grazing the scar. As he lifted his gaze, Kaden met his lips with a kiss of his own.
“I never knew,” Harsh said breathlessly, his lips brushing against Kaden’s cheek.
“I did,” said Kaden. “Since the moment we met.”
“Really. I was just another trooper--”
“No. You were special.” Kaden said softly, as he stepped into Harsh, and he could feel the low vibrations of his voice. “I felt drawn to you, but I didn’t know how until much later. Then you saved my life, and I--don’t know how to thank you.”
Avan Kaden had always been honest, almost brutally so, but this was too much. Harsh wrapped Kaden up in his arms and held him tight.
“Then don’t,” said Harsh. “This is enough.”
Finally scanned the sketch request from @captaina31. Harsh and Hirani drinking tea in his crappy apartment, Post 66. Mostly from our thread.
Hirani: .... Harsh, you can't punch everyone.
Harsh: challenge accepted
Hirani: That wasn't a challenge!
Harsh: Yes it was
Hirani: Fine then. That includes you and me.
Hirani: Because we are a part of 'everyone'.
Harsh: [lightly punches her in the arm]
Harsh: [punches himself in the leg]
Hirani: [Feigns pain, clutching her arm.] Ahhhhh, Harsh. I think it might bruise.
Harsh: No it won't
Harsh: Ok who's next?
“It works, no one looks at me and thinks ‘That dancer must have once been a Jedi knight’. They look at me and think ‘maybe if I pay her enough, I can take her home’. Frankly, I don’t know if I prefer the latter, but….”
She shrugged, less than content with her lot in life, but accepting of it none-the-less. 'Seela’ was a simple girl who enjoyed simple things: a roof over her head, food in her stomachs, the like. Hirani couldn’t get in the way of that. She noted his sour expression, though, grinning when she realized he was trying to imagine….. She gently patted his arm, shaking her head.
“Don’t think about it too hard, I’m certain your head would explode.”
“Both of those conclusions seem equally dangerous to me,” Harsh grumbled.
But they did what they had to do. Some days, Harsh caught himself counting the minutes of every hour at his job. The GAR had its boring moments--and days--but he supposed on the construction site, there was a clear end goal in mind. That helped. So did the time off, most of the time. Harsh was sleeping better, and he was dreaming almost every night. For better, or for worse.
“I won’t,” he said, sighing. He rested up against the counter and a smirk played at his lips. “I’ll never look at dancing the same way again. It looks more physically demanding than most of the training I did.”
The sexual tension between two people when one of them says “make me”
