#I could have complained about things for about another 1000 words
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A LOT OF WORDS REGARDING VANA’DIEL
How to talk about Final Fantasy XI.
How to start. I could go over my history with the Final Fantasy series (long, boring).
I could say why I didn’t play this game and its expansions at the time of their release (I was in high school and college and a) there was no way I was going to be able to talk my parents into letting me play a game that had a subscription fee and b) I know myself well enough to know that there was a real risk of me getting addicted to an MMO and flunking out of college).
I could say why I’m playing it now (after getting through the Extremely Daunting Task of every Final Fantasy XIV expansion, it’s the only main series Final Fantasy I haven’t beaten).
A key to understanding and enjoying any Final Fantasy game is to not expect it to play like any other Final Fantasy game. To take it on its own terms. I think some gamers and fans have trouble doing this with the weirder games in the series, which definitely includes XI. Yet. I don’t think I CAN play Final Fantasy XI on its own terms, because to truly play it on its own terms would mean to play it as it existed in the early 2000s.
The theme I hear over and over from people who played this game in its heyday is that because the game itself was so hostile to players, because it was so easy to die in the field, because directions for quests were so vague, the community within it was very strong. It was more or less impossible to play without help and guidance. Even making it beyond the first levels, or to the edge of the very first areas surrounding the starting towns, meant joining up with other adventurers.
Playing in 2022 and 2023, several quality of life improvements have been made. Or, well, attempted improvements. I don’t know exactly when any of these things came into being or WHEN any of them were added, and I’m probably unaware of or discounting the impact of some changes. The leveling curve is much less steep. There are “trusts,” summonable NPCs that you can use to assist you through nearly all content, so that you can solo all (or almost all—I’ve not hit a brick wall yet) of the main scenario solo. You can fast travel. Since I didn’t play in its heyday, I’m not clear if originally there was NO teleportation, or if there were only the crystal “home point” warps in towns and before major boss battles. In any case, an additional network of teleportation was added in Adventurers’ Guides – floating books in towns, some dungeons and some field areas. If you play a little ways into Rhapsodies of Vana’diel, warping between home points is made SIGNIFICANTLY cheaper, reduced from an original 5000 gil to a mere 200, and RoV also gives you several multipliers to EXP gained.
In summary FFXI used to have a VERY STEEP LEVEL GRIND and traveling in the game used to be a REAL PAIN IN THE ASS. TO THIS DAY the leveling curve still starts feeling kinda steep about level 60 or so even WITH all the boosts. And Travel is STILL a pain in the ass.
And. Oh gosh. Your inventory is TINY. You start off with 30 slots. Your equipment could be taking up as much as 16 of those slots. You get a little room in a little house with a personal moogle servant who stores your stuff pretty early on, and you can expand your inventory through a quest line that involves item collection and goblins. But that early limitation is brutal. Especially since, as I’ve found out, several randomly dropped items I’ve sold or discarded in order to keep them from jamming up my inventory have turned out to be necessary or useful for later questlines.
(FINAL FANTASY I. Had a 32 slot inventory. On the NES. Which didn’t include your equippable weapons and armor, which were in a different menu)
This game, by the way, is not interested in explaining anything to you. Make a character. Great! You’re a catgirl! Get adventuring.
Uh??
This was bad enough when the game was released. Over 20 years after its release, with several new design features with competing philosophies stacked on top of it, it’s incredibly overwhelming. There are multiple systems of points and currencies. The method for targeting, for speaking to an NPC or attacking an enemy (tab through every possible target in front of you) is not intuitive. In order to give an NPC an item, you have to initiate a trade with them. That’s in your menu, which there are two pages of, with important things on both pages. It’s not immediately obvious how to OPEN that menu.
In short, the first couple of hours of playing this game are going to be the worst time you have with it. In fact, the first time I played this game, I made a character, walked around town a little bit, couldn’t figure out how to so much as talk to an NPC, shut down the game and did not come back.
And this is without even MENTIONING the PlayOnline launcher, which is another (unnecessary) layer of complexity on top of all this nonsense.
I’ve been playing on Asura, which is in the year of our lord 2023 is Final Fantasy XI’s most populated majority English language server.
POPULATED BY BOTS I MEAN.
Even in 2023 Vana’diel is by no means a ghost town. I don’t have a good idea of what most long-term players are doing here, but there are characters running around and standing around cities. There are people selling things at the auction house. Nearly everything I’ve looked for at the auction house I’ve managed to find, though not always for a price I wanted to pay for it. Further afield, it’s sparse, but one does encounter other players occasionally, especially in areas where one can spawn and fight NMs—"notorious monsters.”
But also, the /shout and /say channels in any city are so jammed by offers for real money transactions that I eventually just turned them off so they didn’t display. Catch me in Vana’diel and you’re going to have to whisper in my ear.
I’ve played almost 100% by myself. I joined up with another player just once while we were both doing the same quest (in which we had to dip an orb into various pools so that we could use it to pass through a magical barrier) and I’m not sure that we helped each other more than we hindered each other.
Which means I’m playing a very different game than the one those who played in its heyday did, to the extent that I wonder if I’m meaningfully playing it at all.
Occasionally someone says a Final Fantasy game “plays itself” or that it’s “press X to win.” That’s a common criticism of XII—where it’s somewhat true, but only after you’ve finely honed your characters’ programming with a complex string of if->then statements in the menus. It’s surface level true of XIII, where yes, the most efficient way to play is to let the game auto-select a set of actions, based on a set of roles, which, to play effectively, you’ll need to switch around multiple times in more challenging battles, finding useful combinations and adapting as the situation changes. There is certainly an element of strategy in both of these games.
If you’re playing FFXI with trusts we are veering very very close to “press X to win” for real, or at least “press tab and enter and wait a while to win.” As I understand it, much of the strategy of XI when playing with real people was in coordinating with each other and lining up skill chains. I won’t explain exactly how that works, but suffice it to say your trust NPCs do it automatically.
I’ve been playing XI as a tarutaru thief. I wanted something different—conceptually, mechanically, aesthetically--than my FFXIV elezen White Mage. While not a huge damage dealer, thief has been useful for the steal ability and abilities that enhance the rate of various item drops. Combat my trusts mostly handle for me. I’ve had a couple of hairy moments, like the segments of the original release’s final boss where it’s immune to either physical or magical damage. My trusts eventually took it out, but I’m certain real humans could have done it much faster. I’ve not yet met a challenge that wasn’t solved by leveling up a bit more.
Trusts are rather like XII’s characters except their programming is hardwired. In fact, XII is probably the non-online Final Fantasy installment that XI has the most kinship with. Like XII, it also has large, labyrinthine dungeons. Dungeons that sometimes connect to other large, labyrinthine dungeons that you will probably not be able to explore much of the first time the plot takes you there, because there will be monsters that will one shot KO you.
In most games, encountering aggressive monsters that can one-shot KO you would be a message to leave here and come back later. Not in FFXI, though! Avoiding monsters altogether is a big part of navigation in this game. If you’re around the same level as the monsters, you can fight them for EXP, but even in that felicitous case, you rarely want to fight your way through a whole (like I said, labyrinthine) dungeon. If you’re sufficiently well-leveled, monsters will ignore you. But in most cases you’re going to be casting spells or using items that make you invisible and silent.
But in order to go through a door or use a teleporter, you’re going to have to take those status effects off. So you better have a lot of those prism powders and silent oils on hand. In your tiny inventory.
At this point, every dungeon becomes a glorified maze. A maze with interesting wallpaper. A maze populated with monsters that don’t react to you. A series of rooms you have to track through in order to get to the next series of rooms.
Looking over my shoulder, my partner asked “Is this game just walking?”
Yeah! Pretty much!
As I’ve been playing FFXI, I’ve been meditating on what a game even IS. Especially on what an RPG is, in this case including things like tabletop RPGs and board games and collectable card games. Gacha games, even. What importance does the theming have? What importance do the numbers have? Is winning simply a matter of putting more time and/or money into the game? Wipe away Vana’diel. Wipe away the elvaan and the tarutaru and the beastmen. Wipe away Altana and Promathia. What is there left? Whence the game? What challenges am I facing? Who or what am I playing against?
I eventually reached the conclusion that I’m playing against the game itself. That I’m enduring past various infuriating time-wasting and awkward mechanics and the surfeit of currencies and key items and terms. I’m seeking help, like the players of the 2000s did, but instead of finding it in the other adventurers on the linkshell I’m finding it in the players that came before me and wrote the wiki articles. The game is seeking and finding the information I need in order to continue.
I occasionally wonder if I possess the context with which to judge this game. I’ve only played one other MMORPG and that’s FFXIV, its direct descendent. I don’t know how FFXI felt in the context of its time. I know GAMES of that era. I know Final Fantasy games of that era. I don’t know other MMORPGs. I don’t know if I’m being unfair. I know I’m playing something very different than what people played at this game’s peak, but from everything I’ve heard and understood, Final Fantasy XI at its peak is a game I would have liked even less than I like Final Fantasy XI in 2022 and 2023. It’s probably not a game I would have stuck with after the free trial.
So, listen. I don’t like this game. I think that’s clear. But I don’t want you to come away with the idea that I HATE this game. I feel a weird responsibility toward it. I am treading in places few fans of the series actually tread. I am treading in places I can’t in good conscience RECOMMEND anyone tread. I am treading in places it is cost prohibitive, in terms of both money and time, to tread.
Will you believe me if I tell you that Vana’diel is beautiful? The plot is just okay, but it’s enough to establish a plausible Fantasy Political Situation for the four nations and Beyond. Good backdrop to write your own adventure on.
But what is really here is Art Direction.
Ironically, with my disposition that overall Final Fantasy XI is A Giant Waste Of My Time, the times when it feels the best to me have been when I’m level grinding. Wandering just that little bit further afield. Seeing what’s on the next screen. Seeing whether I can take the monsters in the next area. Pushing the boundaries. Exploring.
The world was lovingly built and the structures within it show that. There’s a dungeon full of bird-type beastmen that looks like it’s made of terracotta. I feel like I know what the walls feel like. I feel like I know what it SMELLS like. Greatest of all is the Crystal Line, a giant set of conduits that span the world. An ancient civilization used it to harness the power of the world’s elemental crystals. The crystal line is not explained to the player until pretty deep in the plot (or if it was, I wasn’t paying attention), but the player sees it, out in the field. It stretches everywhere. The game says it’s made of cermet—a ceramic-metal composite, but I initially thought it was made of bone. The “crags” that form its endpoints look like alien teeth. It looks like the remains of the spine of some impossibly large creature. A dragon, perhaps. Ghost and “weapon” type enemies stalk near it in all of the maps where it appears, adding to the idea that it is somehow cursed. When you find that some of the beastmen have blasted their way through it to supercharge “magicite” within these conduits, even without actually knowing what the Crystal Line is, breaking into it by force feels like inviting the worst sort of bad juju. It all adds up to incredibly effective environmental storytelling.
In Rise of Zilart, Chains of Promathia, and beyond, the game becomes truly gorgeous. With the reminder that this game ran on the PS2, the expansions of FFXI are some of the best looking stuff on that console. The environments become more lush. The cutscenes become more cinematic. The outfits get more detailed. The monsters get more animated. The characters start looking like Luzaf, my beloved.
Something like a third of the way into Wings of the Goddess I am liking but not loving the plot, and ironically, the more the game Tries in terms of gameplay (go here! Go here! Find these items! Plant this tree in the past to harvest it in the future! Do this minigame!) the more irritating it becomes.
When will I consider myself Done with Final Fantasy XI? I once counted myself Done with Final Fantasy XIV when the credits rolled on A Realm Reborn (the first time). I was wrong.
I had the goal of finishing this game before this summer so that I will have Beaten Every Final Fantasy Game for at least a few minutes before FFXVI comes out this June. More importantly, I would like to stop paying the subscription fee.
Do I do Seekers of Adoulin? Abyssea? The mini scenarios? The main plot is arguably just ONE of the things there is to do in Final Fantasy XI. Not more or less important than several other pursuits.
I think I have to get to the credits of Rhapsodies of Vana’diel. The main guide I’m using is titled “Quickstart 1-119 Guide.” Perhaps when I get there I will have only just begun.
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Life without you
Pairing: Abby Anderson x reader
Genre: fluff
Words: 1000
Note: This is a cute little comfort fluffy fic.
With a heavy sigh you close the door of your small apartment in the Firefly base, shrugging your jacket off and placing your shoes by the door. The living room is quiet and dark, not even the kitchenette light left on. No wonder the place is vacant, it must be long past midnight at this point. Not having the energy to even eat you quickly brush your teeth changing into the pajamas you left in the bathroom this morning. You’re trying to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the night peace of the place. Carefully you open the bedroom door, your girlfriends form steadily breathing on her side of bed.
You whine in pain as you sit on your side of the bed trying to relieve your tensed up muscles, the mattress dipping under your weight. With the many people who kept arriving at your camp, a lot of them needed your help as a doctor. Count in your regular patients and those who got hurt during patrols and hunting and you were overwhelmed with work. Sleep was a foreign concept to you at this point, your body running solely on caffeine and cold showers. The rare nights when you could take the time to actually go home and sleep you returned deep into the night and left before sunrise, hardy even having the time for a conversation with your girlfriend.
“Hi.” Comes from behind you and you feel the duvets shifting.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.” You apologize in a tender voice.
“You didn’t.” But it’s clearly not true. “A lot of work?”
“A crazy lot of work.” You admit crawling into bed, Abby offering her strong embrace to you. “I wouldn’t even wish upon anyone to see it.”
“That bad?” She chuckles amused.
“Nah, even worse.” Is all you say because the last thing you want to talk about when finally coming home is your never-ending work again.
Your mind goes back to a year ago when Abby joined the fireflies, needing your medical help herself. She was a much different person back then, hurt and skinny, but also guarded and insecure. She came out of her shell a lot over the time, being an amazing companion, endlessly supportive and caring. She always understood when you had too much work or needed her to reassure you in your skills. Her hair had grown out to a shot bob now and she built her muscles into a strong frame.
“When was the last time you slept?” She asks watching the dark bags under your beautiful eyes.
“Um, Monday? What day is it?” You answer unsure, your mind and eyes already too heavy to hold a meaningful conversation.
“Thursday.” From her vice it’s clear Abby doesn’t approve of this, but all she does is tighten her hold on you.
She carefully caresses your back and you play with her short hair. You told her how beautiful she’d look with it longer, but she’s adamant on not letting it grow longer than her collar bones. It’s practical, won’t get in her way in a fight, she always says, but you can see she has deeper reasons not to want long hair she’s not yet ready to share with you. As you’re falling into slumber, a harsh knock on the front door startles you awake.
“Really?” You complain under your breath getting up to open the door before your girlfriend can stop you.
You open the door to find the west group’s captain on the other side, tapping his foot impatiently. You can already guess where this is going, waving your sleep a goodbye in your head for another night. Sometimes it felt like the planet would stop turning and freeze over if you took just thirty minutes to have a break. You contemplate shutting the door in his face but you’re just not that kind of person, besides there could be an actual emergency needing your attention.
“What can I do for you?” You offer instead.
“I need you to come look at one of our guys, he got an arrow to his knee and…” He keeps rumbling.
“Do you know what time it is!?” shutting him up your girlfriend inserts herself into the door frame, her arms already folded over her broad chest in anger. “You have like ten other doctors to look after him, let this one have a night of sleep, Jesus Christ.”
“But he’s…” He tries to argue with her, not knowing it’s equivalent to signing your own death certificate.
“He’s not going to die till morning. For fucks sake.” Not letting him continue she shuts the door with a harsh swing. “You really need to learn how to say no sometimes.” She admonishes you being in a rage.
“Thank you, my knight in a shining armor.” It’s only half joke because you know deep down she’s right and people need to stop using you so much. “What would I do without you.”
“Die of sleep deprivation.” The look on her face is serious but you see it in her eyes she’s not actually mad at you.
Hugging her neck you give her a loving kiss, content you might actually get some sleep in tonight now. She picks you up forcing you to hang your lets around her waist and carries you back to bed, wrapping herself around you like a snake to stop you from getting up again and also because she loves your affection and scent. It wasn’t hard to get sleepy again in her warm embrace full of love and care.
“Now sleep.” She commands you and you have no intention to disobey her.
Sometimes you really didn’t know what you’d do without her, but she felt equally lost in the world without you. She couldn’t let you get yourself hurt one way or another, partly because she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you weren’t by her side. At this point she couldn’t imagine her life without you.
#abby anderson comfort#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x you#abby anderson#abby the last of us#abby tlou#the last of us#the last of us part 2#tlou#tlou2#tlou abby#abby anderson tlou2
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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.
Twenty-Eight Across
Prompt Day 28: Proposal | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Heavy Petting, Fade to Black Sex, Afterglow | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Long-Term Love, Fluff, Softness, Proposal, Eddie POV
The sun is just barely starting to creep over the horizon, and Eddie snuggles closer to Steve in the warmth of their bed. He wishes he could sleep in, but his internal clock gets him up with the sun, no matter if it's his day off, or not.
But he won't complain about being awake for lazy, cozy mornings in bed with Steve. Even if Steve's still asleep, his hair a mess, fluffed out on the pillow under his head.
These quiet, sun-kissed moments are some of Eddie's favorite minutes all week. The slow climb of the sun, illuminating Steve a little more with each passing second. And Eddie gets to watch it happen in slow motion, up close and personal.
He never dreamed he'd get to grow up and be this happy. This settled.
That he'd have all this chosen family, surrounding him with love and affection that he hopes he returns tenfold.
Twenty years. He's been with Steve for twenty years.
From when they were just scared kids, having barely survived the fucking apocalypse, to grown men, with jobs and lives.
And yet, he still wants more. He feels selfish that he even thinks this life he loves isn't enough, just as it is.
Eddie gets up and showers, and when he gets out, the mirror is steamed up, so he writes Steve a message.
Marry Me?
He looks at it, then scrubs it away with the hand towel. That's not good enough. Nothing he's ever thought up has been good enough. Steve deserves something perfect. Something romantic, and that's not exactly Eddie's strong suit.
He goes to sit at the table, and starts doing the crossword in the morning paper, drinking his coffee.
He works on one across: pop the question. Three letters. Eddie scribbles in ask.
Then there's four across: that guy! Three letters again, and Eddie writes in him, taking another drink of his coffee.
Seven across: Vedder, of Pearl Jam, and Eddie laughs, writing in his own first name: Eddie.
Ask him, Eddie is the crossword gods really fucking with him, at this point. He's definitely lodging a complaint with Nancy at the paper. It feels like he's being taunted, and he's taking it personally.
He does a few more, then twenty-eight across is crazy long, and when he reads the clue, generic proposal, he counts out the letters, and sure enough: will you marry me?
Now, the universe is definitely taunting him.
He folds the paper over, not in the mood to finish.
Then, Steve clears his throat from the doorway to their bedroom. Eddie turns to look at him, and smiles, just seeing him. He's sleep rumpled, in just his boxer-briefs. Looking beautiful, and happy.
His belly has gotten a little softer with middle age, but he's never been more beautiful in Eddie's eyes. Eddie feels so lucky.
They have this whole life they've built together. They don't need to be married to be a family. They've been that since they decided they were in this thing together, forever.
"Finish your crossword?" Steve asks, leaning against the doorframe.
"Most of it," Eddie answers, standing up and crossing the room, gathering Steve up in his arms. He's still warm from bed, and Eddie leans into him to steal a little of that body heat for himself.
"And?" Steve prompts.
"And what?" Eddie asks.
Steve chuckles, laying his head against Eddie's, leaning close to his ear, "Will you marry me or not?"
Eddie pulls back, looking in his eyes, and they are playful.
"You did that?" Eddie asks, slightly disbelieving.
"I did that," Steve confirms. "With Nance's help. But I did it, since you kept chickening out."
Eddie laughs, squeezing Steve tighter, "You weren't supposed to know that."
"I know everything about you," Steve whispers, and a shiver runs down Eddie's spine. Because it's true. Steve does.
"That so, Harrington?" Eddie asks, "What do I want, right now, then?"
"To go back to bed," Steve whispers, reaching down to cup Eddie's dick through his pajama bottoms. Palming him, rubbing his fingers back and forth.
Thumbing him, catching the head of his dick, even through his pants, well-practiced at the art of taking Eddie apart and driving him slowly mad.
Jesus H. Christ.
Yeah, that's exactly what Eddie wants. So, he nudges Steve's backwards, and Steve goes, willing, still working his hard dick through his clothes, still touching him, still kissing him.
Wanting to marry him.
Eddie presses Steve back against the sheets, ready to warm them back up again. He lines their dicks up, and grinds down. Pressing against him, making Steve squirm beneath him.
They know this dance well, and they fall into all the right moves. Getting each step perfect.
"So, you never answered my question?" Steve says, curling against Eddie. Pressing their warm, sweat-slick, naked bodies together.
"Yes," Eddie answers, meeting Steve's eyes, "of course, yes."
Steve smiles, "Good. I got tired of watching you be so nervous."
Eddie laughs, "That obvious?"
"Just for the last year or two," Steve teases, hooking his chin over Eddie's shoulder. "I knew you wanted to do it, so I wanted to let you, but it was getting painful."
Eddie laughs, full and loud. He loves his man.
"And I just want to be your husband. So, I asked. I hope you're not disappointed."
"No," Eddie says quickly, "never. I could never be disappointed by getting to marry you. It was perfect. Better than anything I've thought up."
"That's not true," Steve says, "I really liked the jumbotron plan from last fall."
"Goddammit, those fuckfaces," Eddie swears, banging his head against his pillow, "all our shitty friends talked me out of that."
"I know, and all our shitty friends hate sports, honey. You were thinking of what I like, and you were right. I mean, in general, you shouldn't use the jumbotron unless you're sure of the answer."
"I was sure of the answer," Eddie whispers, and feels foolish.
"Good. You should be sure, always."
Notes: I googled to see if I could find the clue that would produce will you marry me as an answer, and came up with this article of someone that did it in real life. And that clue was "generic proposal" - which, perfect. I also found another instance that someone used "words with a certain ring to them" to get to it, but I liked using the proposal one since that was the prompt word!
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 💍📰✏️
If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!
#steddieholidaydrabbles#proposal#future fic#boys in love#steddie#steddie ficlet#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#stranger things#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles
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˖˚˳⊹Blue Lock University: an Uni AU˖˚˳⊹
included: aiku, chigiri, gagamaru, kaiser, isagi, nagi, reo, rin, sae, shindou
note: already thinking about uni even though i still have two months LMFAOOO i am catching up on bllk and i finally made it to the different team battles. idk y'all manshine city kinda slaps
all of these HC's are not official!
check out part 2!
aiku
oh god, this guy gives off business major energy
most definitely in a frat, you can't prove me wrong
the kind of student that slacks off and parties all night but manages to do decent on exams and in class
not stellar but decent
insanely popular, gets all the girls but doesn't know how to keep them
the class clown
professors hate him so much but he does well enough where they can't lecture him
chigiri
Sports medicine major: wants to help people the way doctors helped him when he tore his acl
also oversees track and xc meets because of his speed
can be spotted at the cafe studying most of the time
likes to spend time to himself but doesn't mind seeing friends once in a while
but when he has a deadline he will focus on that 1000%
Everyone likes him, he gets good grades and is always very good with finishing things on time
His sister and mom visit him often, a family boy!
loves when people compliment his hair
gagamaru
Agricultural science or archeology major: mans is in the mountains constantly
probably does research there
a little bit of an oddball, mostly on the quiet end in class
that being said, he's an underdog in his class rank and always performs suspiciously well
people are scared of him because of his stoic aura but is a genuinely good person to get advice from and study with
if you get past his quirks, he's a great friend and an ever better person to depend on when you need it
kaiser
please hear me out
at first i thought "another business major but THEN"
i realized he could also be a really self-centered, full of himself STEM major
so i am going to say he is in computer science and thinks he is the true pioneer
honestly, the person that people complain about after class
tryhard and complains about getting a B on something
that being said, if you get on his good side, he is slightly more kind to you
isagi
kind of the same as kaiser but a psychology major, more popular, and much nicer lol
likes to study athletes and wonder if their personalities line up with how they play
a hard worker and studier, his weekends are rarely for rest
likes to go out though, he takes comfort in small things like visiting friends and grocery shopping
believe a healthy body is consistent with a healthy mind so is constantly health-conscious and drinks a ton of water
his parents send him care packages occasionally :))
nagi
this guy is undecided for now major-wise but will probably do something in video game development or digital communication
possibly cybersecurity if he actually wants to put in the work
lazy as hell but we knew this
constantly skips or sleeps in class but manages to do well
reo has to wake him up or call him if he has an early class he cannot miss or an exam or else nagi would legit miss it
isn't seen out much but when he is, he's with reo
fond of arcades, hoodies, and sweatpants
president of the gaming club and is surprisingly popular because of his gaming abilities
i believe him and reo share an apartment that the mikages help with financially because at this point nagi is like a second son to them <3
reo
another business major, this time marketing
president of the uni's business frat for sure
the definition of star student
everyone loves him but he only hold a few close to him because he knows a lot of people gravitate to him for his money
despite his family line, he is the most humble person you'll ever meet
super polite and respectful
he and nagi live in a shared apartment and only a select few friends get to come over
but when they do, reo shows them the best hospitality and above all, they actually study since he is a man of his word
rin
Definitely doing something in sports administration
the tryhard that is usually quiet, but piss him off and he WILL let you know
part of the school's podcast and newspaper club, where he works on reporting sports and talking to athletes
hates to be compared to his brother who is in the same major as him
gets jealous easily and finds it hard to keep a relationship because of this
communication is key for him in all aspects
sae
also sports adminstration
quieter than his brother but also has more attitude
enjoys being alone no matter where on campus he is in
but also popular
an ace student
is a part of a soccer travel team so is away a lot
drinks venti cold brews
shindou
biology... i don't need to explain LMFAOOOO
is VERY interested in all that stuff
actually a good student but is a class clown
doesn't take work seriously but does well enough
befriends everyone although he is a little unhinged
no filter at all
loves sugary coffee and staying up until the sun rises
would be part of the improv team bc he has a quick mouth and is quick thinking
thanks for reading!
#headcanon#blue lock#hc#blue lock headcanons#bllk#oliver aiku#gagamaru gin#gagamaru#nagi seishiro#seishiro nagi#reo mikage#mikage reo#isagi yoichi#michael kaiser#chigiri hyoma#itoshi rin#itoshi sae
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game night | jjk
it's your turn to host game night, and an exciting, undressing game awaits jungkook at home....
author's note, please read: THIS IS A REPOST OF MY ORIGINAL FIC! i made a post saying i'm done writing smut and wanted to go back and edit/delete my older smutty fics. this is the first one i'm dealing with (i still don't know what I'll do about the others, they might just get deleted entirely without a repost like this one, so read them while you can!). the "smut smut" has been edited out. i hope you guys understand.
description/tw/tags: ~3k words / one-shot / established relationship / established relationship / suggestive / i hope you guys like it! feedback is appreciated & welcome :)
Dating Jungkook was a lot of fun. So fun that well into your time together, you both doubted a “honeymoon phase” ever existed in relationships and pitied anyone who said it did - every minute of your relationship had been a prolonged “honeymoon phase" with nothing changing since you first got together. You never had to find ways to keep your time together interesting, sexy, or fun…. they just were. It’s how you both were, even before meeting each other, and, sure enough, it’s how you both fell in love. Your wacky ideas either complimented or impressed the other, and your traditions - even the most routine ones - were always treats you looked forward to. Especially…game night.
A routine tradition that never seemed so, for most game nights were different. There were the classic video game or board game nights, switching up the games, the settings, and the characters you played to keep it interesting. There were the innocent games that surprisingly not always turned not-so-innocent since you and Jungkook just loved playing them regardless… (though his genius suggestion of “hide and seek in the dark” that one time did result in one of the steamiest nights of your life). Similarly, there were bedroom nights when you and Jungkook spent more time naked in the bed than you thought was humanly possible, teasing and toying for hours… And there was also, “serious business” - when you and Jungkook sat down with a super serious mindset - whether it was a 1000-piece puzzle, the hardest Lego sets you could find, or Mario Kart.
Tonight, it was your turn to plan game night. That’s all Jungkook knew when he walked in from work that evening. After coming up with such a genius idea - the perfect blend of every game category you’d established, you had to keep it a secret til the last minute…. and make the little brat wait a little.
“Baby!” Jungkook calls the moment he steps through the front door of the apartment, the enthusiasm is his voice clear as day. “I’m starving. You said you made me something, didn’t you? What’s tonight’s game? What’s tonight’s game night dessert? I’m ready to eat, I’m ready to game, and I’m ready for you. Tell me.” He slams his hands excitedly on the kitchen table, wiggling his eyebrows. “Tell me - what do you have planned?”
“Patience, baby. Take a bit of this donut first,” you tell your boyfriend, feeding him one of the sugared donuts you’d baked for the night.
“Mmm,” he moans, his brows furrowing as he licks his lips and tilts his head forward, asking for another bite. “If the game is ‘how many donuts can we eat in one sitting’, you are going down, baby.”
He smiles, taking the entire donut in his hands and eating at it until he finds the tray full of them on the coffee table, grabbing another one. “This is almost as good as the pancakes we made last week… And the syrup I ended up licking off of your tummy was the sweetest thing...”
“Eat up, Kook,” you laugh, seeing your adorable boyfriend stuff his face with desserts, as he always did, with an angry yet complimentary expression on his face. “You’ll need the energy.”
“What will I need energy for? Not complaining, let me figure it out....” He looked around the living room, which looked exactly as it always did, save for the extra pillows you set up on top of the mattress Jungkook placed in front of the TV. “The PS5 is turned off, the Switch is turned off, no pens or paper, no board games in sight, I need energy…..” Jungkook recounts, trying to piece together the puzzle. “Is it hide and seek or 'the floor is lava' again? A new remix? In the dark?”
“Not exactly,” you say, bending to pick out the box of UNO playing cards you’d wedged between the pillows. “Let’s play.”
“UNO?” The look of disappointment on Jungkook’s face is undeniable - no matter how hard he tries to hide it, the little pout sticks out. After a full day of teasing and keeping it a mystery…. UNO, he wonders. “I- okay, baby, if that’s what you want. I have to admit I thought you’d be a little more creative. And hey, why would I need energy for UNO? Is it because I have to keep up with you and your little tantrums when you lose?”
You roll your eyes. “You wer right about something, stupid. There is a remix. UNO with a twist,” you tease your boyfriend, quickly kissing his neck before tugging on his t-shirt, your hand swiftly slipping beneath the fabric and grazing his solid abs. Nestled into his neck, you reveal the game you had planned. “Strip UNO.”
The shift in his demeanor is immediate.
“Strip UNO? Yeah?” he asks with wide eyes and a menacing smirk, rubbing his nose against yours. “Yeah, damn. This is new. This is you. You’re all sexy suggesting stuff like this. I just know.... it'll end with angry - sorry, passionate - sex. Oh, you always bite me extra hard when you're angry. I can't wait.”
“Don’t get too confident, baby. I think I can beat your ass.”
He scoffs. “Hah, we’ll see about that.” Looking down, he sees himself disappointed at how few layers you both have on… it’s usually the other way around, with him being disappointed that you had too many layers on. Still, the gaze is the same. Tempting. Excited. Calculating.
“Let’s layer up and take this slow. I don’t want to get you naked too quickly in this cold.” You follow him into the bedroom, grabbing as many items as you can fetch before hiding away in the bathroom to layer up. Knowing how this’ll end, you’re sure to switch out your bra for the black low-cut, lacy push-up bra that Jungkook loved so much. He’d get you to that stage regardless…. might as well fluster him, you think, smiling as you put on the matching underwear,
After layering up, you walk out of the bathroom to see Jungkook bundled up in just as many layers…. even pulling out a puffer jacket and a beanie he looked adorable in. How was this supposed to be a sexy game when Jungkook looked like one giant boba ball walking around your apartment?!
“Gkaja,” he grins, a wide, proud smile on his face thinking he has an advantage over what seems to him as your fewer layers.
Plopping down on the living room mattress in more layers than you could count with the plate of donuts by your side - it was game time.
“Let’s go.”
-
“Uno!” You scream, holding up your final card in your hands while laughing at the eight in Jungkook’s. Seconds later, when he plays a card, and you put down your final card, the round is finally over.
“Hah,” you smirk. “Finally. Take your t-shirt off, Jeon.”
Rolling his eyes, Jungkook takes off his tee and discards it onto the pile of clothes on your side, leaving him in the long-sleeved t-shirt he wore underneath, his favorite grey sweatpants, and his socks.
“My puffer jacket, my beanie, my hoodie, my sweater….” he sighs, shuffling and distributing cards. “You must’ve rigged this. I thought I’d get you fully naked by now but it’s alright. I already won enough rounds to make you get rid of your sweater, your jacket, your cardigan, your socks, your extra skirt, and your crop top - genius addition by the way, ….. Now you’ve just got your pants, a t-shirt, and I’m assuming underwear underneath. Piece of cake.”
Sure enough, he wins the next round.
“Finally, let’s see that bra, baby,” he giggles, but not as loud as you do when you take off your t-shirt to reveal the tank top you wore underneath.
“Fucking…”, Jungkook resigns, scratching his forehead. “Another hidden layer… It’s not fair. It’s not fair. I tried - guys just can’t layer as much as girls do. They don't make as many layers in as thin fabrics for us.”
“You could’ve worn your muscle tee underneath."
He looks up at you to shoot you a glare, but his expression turns into a suspecting one, catching how low the neckline of the tank top went, the lace of his favorite bra creeping out, and, more importantly, your cleavage - almost on full display. Before he could say anything, you jump up from your spot, making sure your chest bounced a little more than they usually would.
“I’ll just grab us some water,” you say slowly, walking over to the kitchen to get two glasses of water before returning to find Jungkook frozen in his spot, the cards from the previous round still unshuffled in front of him.
“Kook? The cards?”
“Hmm?” he coos, looking up at you, then at the cards, taking them in his hands. “Oh.”
You bend down to place Jungkook’s glass by his side, making sure he got a clear view down your bra the second your chest meets his eyeline before you sit back down with your glass. It takes another moment for Jungkook to return to the cards, quietly shuffling and distributing them.
“You go first,” he says before he pinches the skin at his wrist, just as he did when he tried to sit through a movie you wanted to watch that he found boring. You could practically read his thoughts at that moment - Stay focused. Stay focused. Stay focused. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know it - his sugary fingertips digging into his skin did all the talking.
The game goes on until you yell “Uno!” to which Jungkook sighs.
“Fuck, I just realized I have a yellow card I could’ve played,” he groans, putting down a green one with a pout, finally allowing you to end the game as the winner.
“Distracted, baby?”, you tease, leaning all the way down and bringing your arms together, emphasizing your chest and cleavage even further. “It’s okay if you wanna give up now.”
You drink in the sight of Jungkook standing up to take off his white t-shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs underneath.
“Let’s see who gets distracted now,” he mutters, eating an entire donut in two bites before shaking his head in concentration, the furrowed expression on his face one of frustration at the game and delight in the carby dessert’s immediate sugar rush. Licking his lips, Jungkook quietly reshuffles the cards and distributes them once again, starting - and winning the round with a laser focus, as though UNO was never a game of luck but skill, one that he had been honing his entire life.
“Hah,” he says, a wide smile finally returning to his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and leans back on his elbows. “Strip. Strip for me, slut.” Jungkook never commanded you with words like that except in the roughest of times…. but the giddy expression on his face is too cute. It was his frustration and horniness talking - and that excitement only thrilled you further…. Was it that much of a torture for him to wait to get you undressed? That sexy smirk on his face after he licked his lips seemed to prove it...
You laugh, taking in his entire form as he was, from his anticipating expression all the way down to his legs and wiggling toes, each one individually covered by his toe socks. Taking off your tank top, he sees your chest in all of its glory, held by his favorite bra.
Don’t wear it often. Surprise me with it every now and then, he had once said. You were just following his orders, every single time… And Jungkook reacted as he always did. Almost a reflex, his head tilted forward, eyes growing wider as his tongue peeked out from between his lips....
But, unlike all those times, he remembers himself when the tank top lands on his lap instead of the pile of discarded clothes.
“Fuck you,” he says with a slight laugh, scratching his head, his eyes never leaving your chest. “I knew it. I thought I recognized the lace.”
“As I said - do you want to end the game here, baby?” you ask, leaning back and away from him while tracing the trim of the lace with your fingertips. “It’s alright, you know. I can win.”
He looks up at your face. “Oh, I’ll do whatever I want as soon as I win…. “ Jungkook surveys the room, obviously trying to come up with a scheme to trick and distract you and level with you…. and when he turns to face you again, there’s something dark in his eyes. “Plus, I have my ways too, baby.”
And so the messiest, sloppiest game of UNO commences. It's hard to pinpoint what Jungkook didn't do next. It was all too desperate - desperate for you - and so, all too sexy. From pouring his glass of water over his head and torso and flexing his toned, muscled, and tattooed arms - your known weakness - to eating a donut while recreating an expression he only ever had when he'd been between your legs and at one point, rubbing at the area over his sweatpants - a submission seemingly at the tip of his tongue... The tongue you'd missed so badly...
Before you knew it, Jungkook won, and you had 18 cards in your hands… and you couldn’t tell if his groans were fake anymore.
A grunt rebelliously escaped his body when you admitted defeat and take off your leggings. With his hands by his side, he gives you a clear view of his glistening body and visible bulge as he leans back, prepared to watch you undress... Keeping your eyes on Jungkook, you slowly find the waistline of your leggings, pulling them down to reveal the underwear that came with the bra he loved so much….
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts as you plop back down on the mattress in a criss-cross position, giving him a clear view of everything he wanted to see. “I forgot the bra was part of a set.”
With your focus drowned out by the thought of one another and the growing tension in the air, you and Jungkook didn't take notice if you were playing correctly or even pulling the right amount of cards from the deck. All you knew was that, somehow, Jungkook won the round. And by that point, you both had enough.
The second your hand finds your bra hooks at your back, Jungkook leaps across and over you, grabbing your hands before they’re able to unhook it in defeat. Pushing your body towards his face, Jungkook hungrily kisses and bites at your chest. “Fuck,. Keep it on,” he moans, biting the bow that sat right between. Everything he did after had been either heavenly or adorable, but the best part was the feeling of him smiling against your skin at the sounds of your gasps and both of your slight giggles. No matter what, Jungkook always found new ways to play with you, and he was surely having fun, his sugary lips stuck to his saliva on your skin and sprinkling over your bra.
“The donuts didn’t fill your appetite, huh, babe?” you whisper, kissing the top of his head where your fingers have been toying with his long hair. He licks the skin with a whine that nearly sends you into overdrive.
At your dual realization of the fabrics between you, Jungkook eagerly stands up and takes off his sweatpants, boxers, and socks all at once, chucking them to the other side of the room before grabbing your underwear at your hips and pulling them off of you - all in a matter of seconds.
You chuckle at Jungkook’s haste before your naked bodies meet. He starts placing soft, quick kisses on your chest, almost having had his fill of the area for the night, before he kisses down your torso, his hands roaming your soft body all the way down...
....
“So… before we go for round 2….” Jungkook begins through heavy breaths, hovering above you once more “….who won game night?”
“I did, obviously,” you laugh.
“What, you won because I fucked you so well?” Jungkook immediately snaps back with a proud grin, looking up at you. “That's a win, but I'm sorry baby, I won the last round of UNO, remember?”
You wrap your arms around his neck. “Baby, you jumped on me. You stopped the game and gave in. You got turned on first. You made a move first. You are naked. I am not. I won.”
“Technically, by wearing that slutty, beautiful little bra - you made the first move, babe. ”
“Well, that first move ensured me the win, Koo. That's the whole point, baby - who can get naked first. Didn't you realize I was giggling so much? It was a laugh of a champion.”
“I thought I was just being adorable. I thought you were having fun."
“You always are, baby…. And it was fun as fuck. But I won,” you tease, booping his nose with a kiss.
“So what, I’m a loser for not being able to resist you? For having the most perfect girlfriend in the world? Nah, that’s not losing.” Jungkook’s lips meet yours in a kiss. “I win.”
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction#bts scenarios#jungkook scenario#jungkook scenarios#bts fic#bts one shot#jungkook one shot#jungkook oneshot#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#bts reaction#bts fanfic#jungkook imagine#bts fluff#bts oneshot#jungkook fic#bts scenario#jungkook fluff
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Once In A While
TW: Smut. Language.
SUMMARY: Overhearing you complain about not being taken care of enough, Rafe sets out to rectify the situation.
WORD COUNT: 1000
REQUESTED
Anonymous Asked
holy shit i think your writing is the best thing I've ever read. no lies.
you do such an amazing job at writing rafe. literally INCREDIBLE.
I have an idea for a rafe fanfic from reading another one of your fics.
rafe evesdrops on a phone call or something and hears you say something along the lines of "i give rafe head a lot and he only does the same for me if its my birthday or something" and then he fixes that??? does that make sense????? lol.
THANK YOU YOU SLAY SO SO SO HARD
*THANK YOU SO MUCH! WOW! WHAT A WONDERFUL WAY TO START MY DAY TO SEE A MESSAGE LIKE THIS. THANK YOU! I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING A GREAT DAY AND I HOPE THIS FIC IS EVERYTHING YOU WANT AND MORE!*
Once in a While
"Once in a while?! I thought Rafe would be the kind to always give good head..." She spoke on the other side of the phone as you let out a deep breath.
"He only makes me come with his tongue if it's my birthday or he fucked up or something..." The response from your friend was silenced as you caught sight of Rafe in your peripheral vision. You were foolish enough to hold such a private conversation in the living room, where not only Rafe, but anyone, could hear you. And now you would be forced to endure the consequences.
"Bedroom. Now."
He demanded as your jaw clenched. Your ass was already prematurely sore as you were prepared for the dominant order he would direct you to remember. You could already imagine how he would make you apologize for describing such intimate details to someone who wasn't him. At least five slaps for this.
"Lay down. Everything off but your underwear." He didn't even look at you as you watched him close the door before obeying. But he would only look at your legs as you had them pressed tightly together from nervousness, suddenly feeling anxious. Virginal.
"Only once in a while?" He asked as you went to speak as the sudden force of his knees taking your knees apart would silence you into a gasp.
"I only savored you because I didn't think you would be able to handle it every time...but now you know..." Your legs were pulled abruptly towards him until your thighs came to a rest at his hips.
"I have a lot to make up for...." He teased, humor illuminating eyes that belonged to the part of an otherwise deadpanned expression.
"And I don't care if you are shaking...screaming...threatening...I'm not stopping until I've more than made up for it."
"Rafe-"
His hand came to your cheek.
"No, no, baby...I've heard more than enough from you tonight. The only thing you need to tell me now is how good it is...because I'll know when you come...I always do…" Although he could have maintained the integrity of your panties by disposing them off of your hips, he would tear them instead. All to gain your reaction.
"Wider." He guided as he moved to his knees, eyes focused on you as he made those first stripes of his tongue.
Rafe Cameron was a generally verbal lover. Always needing to feed his own ego with an interrogation that prompted you to praise him. But in this instance, he would only speak in that predatory narrow of his usually wondrous eyes, his tongue otherwise invested between your lower lips as your eyes rolled in approval. But just as he was devoted to prove his point, he was just as motivated to remind you that he was dominant. So with any shift made to become more comfortable or guide him to the most sensitive patches of nerves making up your clit, he would station you flat with that long forearm effortlessly domineering in its weight.
And this was where he would keep you for hours. Pinned beneath his arm, edging you without so much as a single stroke to his cock. And this was all because as much as he throbbed for you, he was a proactive man. He couldn't let his girlfriend be left unsatisfied. Not even if she begged. Which you had begun to, to which he would only slow his strides.
"Please!" You belted in finality, edged to your limit as you groaned and thrashed beneath him.
"Please make me come, Rafe"
"I have so many nights to make up for...afternoons...business meetings and lunches...not to mention all the times I could have woken you up-" He was now hovering over you, your slick dripping shamelessly off of his jaw as he spoke against you.
"All you had to do was ask, baby, but now I'm gonna have every asshole your blabbermouth bitch of a friend will tell them I'm not doing right by you...making them think they can do better." He scoffed, forcing you to rise to your knees and palms, but only to continue this pleasure from a new angle.
"And from here on out, it will only be once in a while that you ARE able to walk. And you keep fucking questioning me and I'll make it hard for you to talk, too. Make it real clear for everyone that you misspoke, yeah?" You nodded.
"So for now, scream before I take away the chance for you to do that-" You allowed your body to bask in every single sensation he had allowed. Pain and pleasure unified by overstimulation edging, and his trained touch, while you groaned and arched over him. You were vulnerable and desperate, his name as curses building you to that crest of madness, as he finally pulled you over as you trembled. The release was too much as he now threatened you with his fingers.
"Rafe, I already came!"
"Think you have to tell me? I know those moans. I know that clench...these trembling thighs..." He scoffed. "But that was only once. You're in for a long night-"
"Please, Rafe..."
"Good girl. Get used to saying that. But just understand I'm still not stopping..."
Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire@belcalis9503
#rafecameron x reader#rafecameronfanfiction#rafecameron#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks#obx#outer banks smut#obxsmut#outer banks#obx fanfiction
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episode 05: rumours that wind like rivers
CONTENTS: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. m.list!
TW/CW: implied violence, minor injuries and wounds
A/N: 'i'll write a short thoma fic,' I told myself when I started this. 'it'll prolly just be around 1-2k words max.' spoiler alert: it was not, in fact, 1-2k words max. this chapter is 6k words alone. why am I like this
this chapter is dedicated to the loveliest sun @x-zho !!!!! hope this helps you get 1000% better ten <;33
Rumours had begun to wind their way through the campus.
You were no stranger to the epic highs and lows of school drama, but for some reason the rumours seemed to be more than mere gossip. The sound of whispering followed you wherever you went, a low but incessant buzzing in your ears that screamed of malicious intent; heads would turn when you walked in the hallway, unfamiliar stares that were less than friendly.
‘Is that the one who…’
‘I think so, from what I heard.’
‘How cruel. He deserves better than that…’
Naturally, you stared back. Life was too short to deal with the pettiness of other people.
You weren’t sure why these strangers had decided to single you out this time, but you had an inkling of an idea; given the circumstances, there was a high probability that it was about you and Thoma. Most likely it had to do with some admirer of his, seething with jealousy after being rejected by Thoma— wait, just where exactly was your mind going with this? Why was your first instinct to think of something that was straight out of a poorly-written telenovela?
Either way, you tried your best to ignore the rumours. It wasn’t hard to do, especially with Thoma hanging around you all the time. If it bothered you, you tried your best not to show him— sometimes it was just easier to let things slide.
But today Thoma had been called away to assist with some club, or committee meeting, or something like that; you weren’t sure of the details, but the student who had practically hauled Thoma by the elbow looked fed up with the shenanigans of his fellow club members. From the looks of it, it seemed like Thoma would have to baby-sit the other students after school... again.
Well, that’s no problem, you reassured yourself. You’d simply wait for him to finish.
You sighed and closed your notebook with a snap, your pencils rattling on the desk from the sheer force.
Mechanically, you performed your after-school routine, the mindless tasks of gathering your pencils to place in your pencil-case, then putting said pencil-case in your backpack. Stacking your notebooks and textbooks according to height and size and storing them in your bag, sweeping up the leftover eraser rubbings with a piece of scrap paper and then disposing of the whole thing into the waste-bin. Lastly, you wiped your desk clean with a wet wipe, a habit that you seemed to have picked up from Thoma; apparently, his obsession with cleanliness was contagious.
Something was amiss, though.
You looked up to see an unfamiliar face— a girl, presumably from another class. Her hair was swept back in a neat ponytail, and there was an ominous set to her mouth that made your instincts scream run.
“Um… how may I help you?”
“I heard you’re the one who gives relationship advice. Am I right?” She said bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Who was this girl? Your mind went into overdrive trying to recall if you had seen her, but that wasn’t possible; you had stopped assisting people a long time ago, and it wouldn’t make sense for her to complain only now.
Hesitantly, you answered, “Not anymore.”
The girl frowned, looking even more displeased than before. “Oh, so not anymore, huh?” A bitter hue of mockery coloured her tone. “Is it because you’re trying to take Thoma for yourself?”
“…What.”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” She hissed— if looks could kill, your funeral rites would’ve been long finished by now. “I’ve heard all about you and what you’ve done. My friend asked you to help her confess to Thoma a while back, but you refused.”
“That’s because I don’t do it anymore. And I didn’t really help with confessions in the first place…”
Unfortunately you could no longer remember which wannabe ‘Thoma’s Sweetheart’ she might’ve been talking about, due to the fact that there were too many people who fit the criteria; you really should have put more effort in memorising their names and faces.
“No more excuses!” The girl’s nostrils flared, giving her the almost comedic appearance of an angry bull. “When she saw how you’ve been hanging around Thoma day and night, she cried for days. Her eyes have been swollen for almost a week now!”
You tried very hard to look like you were at least concerned— ah, who were you kidding. How was any of this your problem?
The bull-headed girl seemed to be a well-meaning friend, but the fact that she didn’t listen to any of your reasoning made her an immense pain in the neck. Mentally, you made a note to punch Thoma in the arm later for the crime of being too handsome and dragging you into the plot of a (horribly cliche) telenovela.
“Look, Thoma is my seatmate. We are in the same class.” You tried to reason, forcefully willing your eye not to twitch. “Of course we’d be together most of the time.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you were dishonest. You turned her away so that you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else stealing Thoma, didn’t you?”
“Thoma is not anyone’s property.” The words spewed out from between your gritted teeth, the last shreds of your patience wearing thin. “He’s capable of making his own choices and deciding who he wants to hang out with.”
The bull-headed girl fell silent— for a moment, you felt relief. It was stupid enough to argue about a boy like two spoiled brats fighting over a doll, but to be fighting over someone who you didn’t even feel like you deserved to be close to?
Downright depressing.
All the whispers, the discontented glares that followed you wherever you went— was that what all those frosty stares had been about? A sinking sensation lodged itself in your stomach as you wondered just how many more people were like this girl, wishing for your downfall so that they could claim the place by Thoma’s side.
While you were contemplating your situation, your opponent slowly raised her head, a look of malicious intent in her eyes that signified she was about to say something incredibly stupid. “Y’know, you’re pretty naive.”
Internally you sighed, steeling yourself for the tirade of insults that were sure to follow. Well, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t hear anything new under the sun— your profession had brought about a few nasty customers, after all.
“I don’t believe Thoma’s stupid enough to actually want to hang around someone like you. He always looked empty-headed to me, but this would just be downright pathetic.” Bull-headed girl sneered vindictively, a triumphant look in her eyes as she (wrongly) assumed her victory. “It’s obvious that he’s only hanging out with you to be nice— some guy he must be. But you’re even worse, with the way you’re clinging onto him like a leech.”
Your mind went completely blank.
Thoma, stupid. Empty-headed. Pathetic.
Sweet, gentle Thoma, who always went above and beyond for everyone, even if they weren’t someone from his class. The student who worked hard so he could meet the expectations of those who admired him and to offer a helping hand to those who struggled with their schoolwork. The kind-hearted boy who listened to his parents’ advice and dreamed of becoming someone who could protect the ones dearest to him.
The boy who thawed your heart and made a safe nest for it to call home, even if you couldn’t summon the courage to tell him.
Something behind your eyes flashed white-hot, almost blinding you with how it seared in the back of your head. You could have stomached anything else if she had just been wise enough to leave Thoma out of it, but enough was enough.
If someone else had been in your shoes, maybe they would have cried. Perhaps they would have stared at this wretched girl with shock and hurt in their eyes, and then the hero of the story would swoop in and defend both their honour and his own. It was certainly a beautiful scenario to imagine, the sort of cliche moment that you could only dream of.
But instead it was you standing here today, and Thoma was nowhere to be found. Perhaps there was a more gracious, more main-character worthy way of solving this situation— but today, you were just a little too tired of being complacent and letting things happen.
Softly, you said, “Take that back.”
“Hah?” The girl scoffed derisively, practically spitting her disdain of you all over your face. Ew, saliva.
“I said,” Your voice was deathly quiet as you stood up from your desk, knuckles cracking ominously as your hands balled themselves into fists. “Take back what you said about him.”
It was already almost dark when you were finally released from detention, the sky painted the rich blue that always followed after the most magnificent of sunsets. Normally you would have stopped to admire it, but the sizeable wad of tissue stuffed up one of your nostrils somewhat ruined the romantic atmosphere.
The nurse had done her best to treat and bandage the scratches on your face and arms, but the nosebleed hadn’t stopped till halfway through your detention period. You were probably lucky that your opponent wasn’t actually trained in fighting, or else you could have ended up with even worse than a nosebleed.
Well, you technically weren’t supposed to be happy about it, but she had paid dearly for scoring that hit; two black eyes that made her look like a panda, and a hefty chunk of hair that you'd yanked out by accident. (You'd only grabbed her ponytail when she started using her fingernails to scratch you, but the hair actually coming out had been a surprise to both of you.)
The utter nerve of some people, really. This was why you had always kept to yourself.
It would've been quite flattering that she thought you had the time and energy to manipulate the situation this way, but really, just who did she think you were? And the fact that she talked about stealing Thoma like he was some sort of trophy to be won made your blood boil.
The ground swayed slightly as you dragged yourself to the school gates; somehow, in your weary state, you thought of Thoma. He had probably gone home when you didn’t show up.
Too bad we couldn’t walk home together, your subconscious lamented. You were too tired to argue with it.
But perhaps it was for the best after all; you weren’t sure if Thoma would be happy to hang out with someone who picked fights. There had been relationships you counselled that ended poorly because of situations like that, where one person discovered that their partner wasn’t who they had thought to be. And if your intuition was correct… there was a high likelihood that Thoma would react the same way if he found out.
You shuddered as you imagined his eyes filled with disappointment, a look of disgust as he turned his back on you. If Thoma were the sun, then you were Icarus, blinded by foolish greed— no, no, you shouldn’t borrow tomorrow’s troubles for today. It would just leave a cold, heavy feeling in your stomach and anxiety shivering down your spine.
As you staggered over the gate’s threshold, a figure stirred from its resting position.
“You’re late—“ Thoma began to scold, but froze in shock at the sight of your bruised and puffy face. “What happened to you?!”
Just like that, the cares and worries of the day disappeared (most of them, anyway), and a small, giddy smile worked up your face in spite of your exhaustion— he had waited for you, after all.
Suddenly, your senses were overwhelmed with what felt like a golden tornado; it was none other than a very worried puppy-boy, his metaphorical ears drooping as he panicked over what were probably minor injuries. It felt nice to have him worry about you, you had to admit.
“Your arms- oh, gosh.” His hands brush lightly over the bandages over your arms, finding their way up to cradle your face gingerly. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
Perhaps it was your head injury, or maybe it was the rush of excitement upon seeing him, but your head suddenly felt quite light upon your shoulders. I’m happy you waited for me, a small, selfish part of you wanted to say.
But you wouldn’t- couldn’t muster the courage to say it.
“Hi, Thoma.” Against your better judgement, your head only leaned further into the warmth of his palm. “-‘s been a long day for me.”
“I never would have guessed.” His face was all creased with worry, but still Thoma tried to put on a smile— for your sake or his own, you would never know. “Are- are you okay? How do you feel right now?”
Perfect, you almost said aloud. Thoma had waited for you and was now worried about you, though you much preferred it when he smiled; you were happy that he cared enough about you to do all of these things, even if it was only out of the kindness of his heart. How could you explain to him that you felt so happy that it was going to your head, swirling in a trance of rapturous delight that left you dizzy and your feet unsteady as you slowly inched closer to him— ah, did the world always seem to be so slanted?
The last thing you remembered was being surrounded in soft, delicious warmth, and the sound of Thoma’s panicked voice fading into darkness.
You came to your senses with your pounding head resting on something warm and sturdy, the faint smell of laundry soap in the one working nostril that you had left.
“Are you awake?”
In the faint light, Thoma’s green eyes peered at you with concern, his bangs sweeping forward till they barely touched the crown of your head. For a split-second, you wished you could pass out again.
Bolting upright, you glanced around to find yourself outside the bakery where you usually met up with Thoma. Seated on a bench next to said puppy-boy who had presumably waited for you to wake up… while resting your head on his shoulder, no less. And for some reason Thoma had changed out of his uniform, wearing a slim black t-shirt instead of the usual white polo that was required by your school.
You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be delighted or to despair at your situation.
“Wha- where?!” One hand jerked up to check the bandages wrapped around your head; some of them had fallen loose, tumbling around your neck like some sort of tacky necklace, while an unfamiliar white shirt was draped over you like a makeshift blanket. You probably looked like a cross between a toilet-papered house and a fashionable mummy, but that wasn’t the issue at hand here.
The two answers that you needed to know right now were number one: how you got to the bakery when you last remembered being at school, and number two: how and why you ended up snuggled into Thoma’s shoulder like- like— your face burned like an oven just thinking about it.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Oblivious to your internal conflict, the reason for your confusion fumbled with his backpack zipper. “I have a first-aid kit here, hold on… nope, not it." He dug even further, a tiny frown on his face as he searched for the elusive item.
The sky was already dark and the stars were out, which meant Thoma had to have been here for quite a while— no, no, no, you were probably hallucinating. There was no way you could have passed out for that long in front of the person you liked… right?
Your eyes roved wildly as you took in your surroundings, searching for a sign that you were dreaming. The light from the store-front window looked a little too surreal, the trees just a bit too unrealistic; you desperately wanted to believe that you did not just embarass yourself to the point of considering moving to a new country and faking a new identity.
(But then again, you weren’t sure that you were capable of dreaming up the expression that the bakery owner wore as she waved hello from behind the counter— the face of a die-hard shipper watching their favourite couple interact was something you could only find in reality. And the shirt that now lay in your lap felt a little too real to be something you dreamt.)
"That’s not it either… oh!” Thoma pulled out a tiny white box with a triumphant grin, the sight nearly sending you back into the realm of unconsciousness. Seriously, just how many gigawatts did his smile have…?
“Did- did you find it?” You managed to choke out, your tongue lying thick and heavy in your mouth.
“Sure did! Which means it’s time to get down to the real business at hand." His smile suddenly became more sinister, the sort of expression that nurses wore after saying the vaccination wouldn't hurt that much (and it always, always hurt like a torture device from the Middle Ages); the very sight sent chills running down your spine. “Turn your face here so I can see it in the light.”
What did you ever do to deserve this?
There were currently two things that you did not want to do, one of which was to make eye-contact with Thoma, and the other was to endure another session of poking and prodding at your injuries. Unfortunately, the puppy-traitor had decided to do both of those. Hooray.
“What are you, a nurse?”
“An unlicensed one, but I can rise to the occasion if need be. Now let me see your wounds.”
“Don’ wanna,” You lisped, wincing as a particularly annoying cut on your lip stung in protest— it seemed that some of your wounds had reopened on the journey here.
“Now, please.” There was his serious, no-nonsense tone of voice that was reserved only for the most stubborn of people.
Begrudgingly you moved your head two centimetres, causing the puppy-nurse to sigh loudly. Gently, a pair of warm hands cupped your face, turning your head till you were staring him eye-to-eye— oh, great heavens.
“It’s not as bad as I thought, but I think some of the bandages need to be changed.” He leaned in and tugged the wad of bloody tissue out of your nose; fervently, you prayed that the rush of blood to your head wouldn't end in another nosebleed spewing all over Thoma. Did he seriously have no concept of personal space?
In response to your unspoken question, the puppy-boy turned nurse only shuffled closer and half-knelt on the bench to get a better angle of your injuries, tilting your head upwards to look at him as he poured ointment on a cotton ball. Apparently he had never heard of the alien custom of personal space, much to your downfall.
"…You know, the nurse already treated me." You mumbled, if only to at least attempt to maintain a shred of your dignity.
"No offense to her, but she didn't do a very good job of it." Thoma replied with a disappointed shake of his head, leaning even closer to inspect the cuts on your face (oh, of course he had to do that when you were already light-headed as it was). "...Do you mind me asking how you got these?"
There it was.
The cold, heavy weight of anxiety from earlier settled into your stomach; Thoma, with his eyes filled with shame and disappointment. His warm voice now cold and distant to you, saying, ‘I don’t want to hang around people like you.’
What if Panda-Eyes was right? What if he really thought that you were beneath him and he was just being nice to you because it was convenient? Somehow, somewhere down the line, Thoma had become someone important enough to you for you to worry about such things.
For a moment you remained frozen stiff, debating on whether not to tell him the truth— and that’s when a sunset-hued memory came to mind.
“You’re nervous that they won’t like you, you’re afraid of showing the uglier parts of yourself to them, but you want to stay with them more than anything else— even if they end up seeing what you’re trying to hide.”
Oh, why did you have to remember that sentence now?
You sighed and bit back a string of grouchy complaints, all of which were directed towards Thoma and how he had corrupted you to actually be honest with your feelings instead of bottling them up and never talking about them again. Take responsibility, you insolently adorable puppy-boy.
Well, you supposed that he would just have to take responsibility by shouldering the burden of hearing you out.
"Do you want the bad news or not-so-bad news first?"
"Um…” He hesitated, fumbling for the disinfectant bottle in his kit. “Bad news first?"
“…I may or may not have gotten into a fight.” You mumbled quickly, hanging your head in shame; your head bumped against Thoma’s torso, but you didn’t care anymore. Anything would do, just as long as you didn’t meet his gaze.
Thoma remains silent for a moment or two, his hands lowering to his side. "…Is that what happened?"
Cicadas hummed in the distance, their voices filling the silence where people dared not speak. The evening breeze tugged at your crumpled uniform and blew gentle chills down your spine, as if to remind you of the cold pit that weighed itself down in your stomach.
This is where he'll leave, you told yourself. This is the part where he'll throw a fit and get angry and yell at me. It's what happened to all those other people— he'll hate me forever and never speak to me again.
If it could happen to those other people who were worthy of love and romance, then how much more you?
“Hey, eyes on me.” A sturdy hand tilts your face upwards, and once again you find yourself helpless before Thoma’s emerald-green gaze. There was no malice, no disappointment— nothing but concern showing in those eyes that you could get lost in to never be found. “I can’t disinfect your wounds if you look down.”
That was all he said. No more, no less.
You remained silent as Thoma wiped dried blood away with cotton soaked in alcohol and dressed your wounds. He didn’t blow up at you, nor did he walk away in disgust; he just waited till you were ready to speak, just as he always did.
“…You’re not mad about it?”
“Hey, if someone as non-confrontational as you got into a fight, then there has to be a reason why.” His mouth quirked upward in a small smile as he daubed ointment on a scratch near your eye. “You avoided me the first few times I tried talking to you, and that was just normal conversation. How much more physical confrontation?”
Internally you cringed; so he had noticed you were avoiding him.
(But at the same time, it made you happy that he had noticed. It sort of made you feel like he considered you important enough to notice the lack of your presence.)
“So,” Thoma continued, smoothing a tiny adhesive bandage over the scratch. “If that’s the bad news, what’s the not-so-bad news?”
“Well, uh… it’s not really news.” You searched for the right words, praying that your voice wouldn’t fail you now. “It- I thought I at least owed you an explanation. To tell you how it happened… and all.”
So you explained everything to Thoma, from beginning to end; how you resigned yourself to your fate early on and instead chose to give counseling to people who asked, the sheer volume of admirers that he had which made you give it up. The way you had planned to wait for him today, only to get confronted by an angry bull-headed girl. You told him of the things she said and how it made you so angry, though you didn’t exactly understand why, and how you got scared that he would distance himself from you once he found out. You even told him about her panda eyes and the chunk of hair that you’d accidentally yanked out.
You had never talked this much in your life before, but somehow the words kept spilling out. Oddly enough, it was just easier to use your voice when Thoma was around.
All the while, Thoma listened patiently— even as you occasionally winced from the sting of antiseptic, even when he had to blow gently on a cut for you to calm down. Only when you had finally worn out and slumped back against the bench did Thoma act, taking your hand and tracing circles in your palm with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply, a sad look in his eyes.
“Don’t be sorry.” You replied, your head swimming from all the talking you did. “As you said, I’m not the type to be confrontational. But for you...” Pausing, you eyed your bruised and scuffed knuckles, now clad in soft white bandages thanks to Thoma's nursing.
"...I’d do it again.”
“You really don’t have to pay any mind to what they say about me…”
“Shh, be quiet and enjoy the moment while it lasts. I'm not saying that again.”
“Yes, boss.”
Somehow, your exhaustion had removed any filter that you had whatsoever, leaving you with a strange sense of recklessness (in hindsight, it was probably the effect of taking a glancing blow to the head.) All the things that you’d bottled up were bubbling up like champagne, threatening to overflow with honesty at any minute.
(No, you were not going to confess. You still had some common sense in you to clamp your feelings down before it slipped loose.)
“I really meant what I said earlier, by the way. About the whole confrontational, I’d-do-it-again thing…” Suddenly you realised how embarassing it sounded once you said it aloud.
Thoma chuckled faintly, continuing to trace circles in the palm of your hand. “I know.”
“Thanks for looking after me when I passed out. And thanks for treating my wounds.” You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your shirt with your free hand. “…Thank you for listening to me, too.”
Thoma smiled gently and leaned in to whisper something in your ear; suddenly, you were very aware of the pounding of your heart that resonated in your eardrums. What on earth was he going to say that required him to lean so close? You unconsciously held your breath, waiting for him to speak…
Only for him to dramatically stage-whisper, “For you, I’d do it again.”
“…You shut your mouth before I take that back and fight you instead.”
He took one look at your displeased face and immediately burst into laughter, like the audacious little puppy he was— well, you supposed it was better to have a laughing Thoma than a droopy-eared, pouty one. Though both were equally cute.
“What’s so funny about it, huh?” You fired back, though there was no malice to your tone. “You’re facing a veteran fighter here— you might want to rethink doing that, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” The twinkle of laughter still lingered in his eyes and hovered on his smiling lips, chasing away any traces of doom and gloom that Thoma might have once carried. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“Hoy, I know you’re not taking me seriously right now. Did you forget that I took a couple of punches to the face?”
Thoma laughed and shook his head, giving your hair an affectionate ruffle. “You’re right. Sorry, boss.”
The sudden contact sent an electrical shock down your spine, and internally you seethed. Once again, this puppy-boy is making me act out of character.
In the past, you would never have expected to be reduced to such a state; heart doing jumping-jacks in your throat, your knees weak and palms sweaty all from a trivial gesture like a smile. Just one ridiculously blinding, dentist-approved smile, but it made you want to make sure he stayed happy and joyful for the rest of his life, no matter the cost. Even if you had to deal with a thousand pony-tailed-panda-eyed girls everyday to make it happen.
The stars overhead twinkled knowingly, as if delighting in this turn of events— perhaps the constellations were laughing amongst themselves, knowing that they were witnessing another love-story unfolding. A gust of wind breezed past with a mischievous whistle, sticking its chilly fingers underneath the collar of your uniform and brushing Thoma's bangs back to expose his forehead to the cold.
Perhaps time would be kind enough to freeze in this moment, like a moth trapped in amber, said that small, obnoxious part of yourself.
It seemed as if all of creation had banded together to delight in the beauty before you— the shining starlight that danced in Thoma’s emerald-green eyes, the wind that toyed with his hair of gold. Even in the night the sun was present, flickering in that ever-blinding smile of his; for certain, you knew that the Creator of the young man before you had nodded and smiled in satisfaction upon finishing, saying, ‘It is good.’
“I’m really lucky to have you, you know that?” Thoma’s voice broke the spell he put you under, bringing you back to reality in the blink of an eye.
Your heart reacted faster than your head did, speeding up to run at least a mile a millisecond— him? Lucky to have you?
This was bad— no, this was really, really bad, for both your heart and emotional stability. All of your years of counseling would never have been enough to prepare you for this.
“Thoma…” You grimaced (hey, it was your only defense mechanism for when you were confronted with emotions like these). “I thought I was the one with a head injury, not you.”
“What? I’m just being honest here.”
His honesty was probably going to be the death of you at some point.
“Tch.” You glanced behind you to ensure the bakery owner wasn’t listening; the last thing you wanted was for her to pester you with questions the next time you came to visit. “Why’d you bring that up all of a sudden, anyway?”
“Oh, uh…“ The tips of his ears turned a faint pink in the dim light. “I think it’s always good to tell things like these to the people you care about. Of course, words should always be accompanied with actions, because it wouldn’t do to have empty words without meaning. But what I mean is—”
“Thoma.”
“Right. Back on topic. Anyway, what I meant to say is…” Thoma’s eyes fixed on yours, filled with a sincerity that was unique to only him. “I’m really grateful to have you watching out for me. I can’t thank you enough.”
Thump went your traitorous heart, and it took all of your willpower to prevent yourself from gushing out a confession on the spot. Don’t do that, Thoma, don’t give me hope.
If anything, you should have been the one saying that to Thoma; he was the one to bring you out of your shell like this. It was Thoma who steadfastly waited till you were ready to open up your heart to accept his company, and it was he who had brought so many new, beautiful things into your life. And you… what did you even do for him?
“It’s not everyday that you find someone who’s willing to go against all of their basic principles just to defend you, y’know.” He smiled so easily at you, that soft gentleness that made your rationality go flying off the top of the highest building to splatter into a puddle onto the concrete; once again, your feelings crept to the threshold of your heart and timidly knocked, asking to be let out.
“Well, I…” You started, but alas— the words seemed to falter before they could leave your mouth. “I…”
“Wait.” He cut you off, and in one graceful motion Thoma sweeps his shirt about your shoulders, adjusting it to ensure that it didn’t fall. “It’s cold tonight.”
Internally you heaved a sigh and accepted your fate— it looked like your poor heart wouldn’t get any rest till you were safe inside your house. “How am I supposed to return this to you?”
“Just wash it and bring it to school, I suppose.”
“Only if you promise not to scold me if my way of washing clothes is not up to your standards.”
“Deal.” He agreed, tugging at the collar of the shirt with his usual air of perfectionism. “One more thing, by the way.”
“…What is it?”
Thoma smiled apologetically, that familiar softness in his eyes. “If you hear someone saying nasty things about me, just ignore them.”
Ignore… them?
You didn’t understand why he would ask you to ignore something like that— it didn’t make sense, especially considering how Thoma had just told you that he appreciated you looking out for him. In your eyes it would have been more logical for him to ask you to keep watching out for him, so why would he make such a strange request.
“Why?”
“Their opinions really don’t bother me at all. As long as you know what I’m really like, then whatever they say doesn’t matter.” He released your shirt-collar and brushed off his pants, extending a hand to you with a smile. “Now, shall we go?”
You blinked owlishly at his outstretched hand.
“I’ll walk you home tonight.”
“But-”
“No buts. What if you pass out on the way home?”
Logically speaking, he did have a point— it wouldn’t do to have someone in your physical state walking home alone at this hour. But still you hesitated, torn between not wanting to take up anymore of his time than you already had and the idea of snatching just a few more moments with him.
“We’re not strangers, you know. And for you…” Thoma pauses dramatically, that almost-sly look on his face once again. “…I’d do it—“
“Shut up! I can’t hear you, lalalalalalala—” You clapped your hands over your ears and jumped up from your seat; before you knew it, your legs had carried you up the road, away from the faint sound of his laughter floating up into the heavens like a wish ungranted. “You’re ridiculous!”
“I’ll be taking that as a compliment, if it’s fine with you!”
“Whatever!” Your breath rattled in your lungs as you ran away from Thoma and all the dangerous heart-fluttering that he brought to you, the jittering nerves that only became more agitated upon hearing his laughter.
“Hey, wait for me,” he called out, hauling both of your backpacks onto his shoulders and breaking into a lazy sprint. “It’s not good for you to run like that! Slow down!”
But that night, if you had only turned around, if you had dared to look at your puppy-boy in the face… perhaps you would have discovered a different side to him. For Thoma's face fell when you turned away, a displeased frown clouding his normally sunny expression.
“You’ll never catch me alive!” You yelled in the distance, the bandages wrapped around your arms shining bright in the light of the street-lamps and the distant starlight— Thoma’s jawline only tightened at the sight of those pale bandages, his throat constricting with something dangerously akin to anger. If he had only known sooner…
I’ll definitely make things right, he declared, a silent promise to both you and himself.
Then Thoma shook off his anger and stepped forward with a smile, for he would not allow tomorrow’s troubles to taint today’s time with you— no longer fettered by his burdens, the young man broke into a proper sprint, racing to catch up with you and to follow what his heart knew was righteous.
#tellerluna.tales: to find a home in your heart#tellerluna.rkive: genshin#genshin#genshin impact#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact angst#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact x gn reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x y/n#genshin impact x you#genshin x gn reader#genshin x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#thoma#thoma genshin impact#genshin impact thoma#thoma scenarios#thoma imagines#thoma headcanons#thoma fluff#thoma angst#thoma x reader#thoma x you#thoma x y/n#thoma x gn reader#thoma x gender neutral reader
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The other blog just wrote this about Jess:
She drones on and on and on about the same thing a lot (Somehow manages to produce 1000 words but say nothing important).
All I could think about while reading it was that they were actually quite accurately describing their own blog. 😂
Another of her anons complained of Jess:
I’m so sick of her 😣😔
I have an easy solution for them:
If you don't want to hear about Jess, don't watch her interviews, and don't read about her every move microanalyzed in excruciating and superfluous detail on the very blog with which you currently interact.
Problem solved.
You got a point lol. Like play a different song already, guys! We get it, you think she scammed her career! And yeah, I am intrigued by these people who say they hate her so much, yet devote at least a portion of their day to finding things to be annoyed by and angry over regarding Jess. But hey, they can do what they want with their time I guess.
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I know something you don’t know, and I got something to tell ya 🎶🎶😭
Like, again lol, I’d never presume to speak for everybody, but I’ve been thinking about it since my post the other day, why SamBucky has fallen out of the top 100, why writers aren’t writing. I mean, last year I posted a fic every month except January, sometimes multiple fics a month.
And I know my break isn’t due to their “divorce era,” because a couple I’m shipping being out of each other’s orbit has never made a difference to me, just ask any couple I’ve ever shipped in my life lol. And it’s not because I’m done with the MCU, because my buddy and I were just discussing the hate that Phase 4 gets the other day, and I literally pulled up the Phase 4 Wikipedia page and took a look, and there was only one project in there that I just didn’t care for. The MCU has always had some projects I loved, some I liked just fine, and some I thought were basically average, and that’s how I feel about Phase 4 (I could write 1000 words about the unrealistic and silly hate newer MCU projects get, and how it makes no sense logically, because the MCU was never 100% bangers, but I’ll spare you lol), so it’s not like I’m suffering from “superhero fatigue” 🤢 (I loath that phrase)
Nope, I think it’s the feedback. Not even really the lack of feedback at this point, because engagement on here and ao3 started drying up in the middle of last year or so, and I was still churning stories out. Nah, it’s the type of feedback. People have really lost their minds in comment sections this past year. Not even just in mine, even though mine have been off the hook lol.
Sometimes I’ll be reading a fic, not even always a fic I like, I’ve seen it in fics I loved and fics I’m literally about to close because they’re not my cup of tea — but I’ll be reading a fic and go to scroll the comment section because I’m nosy lol, and I’ll see the most out of pocket, obnoxious, outrageously rude comment I’ve ever seen in my life.
We all dislike fics. Hell, I’ve seen some doozies myself, but you’re not supposed to tell the author about it in the comment section. I mean, a negative comment on a fic on here or ao3 is for like a truly exceptional circumstance, (even then I’d just close the fic…), not because you just didn’t like it… or because it wasn’t what you thought it was going to be… or because the author didn’t write a particular character the way you headcanon them. That’s nuts.
And if the fic truly pisses you off, I get that, boy do I get that lol. Even then though, you’re just supposed to vague post about it and be shady on here… not comment on the author’s actual work. Like if you hate my fic, then by all means, vaguely complain about it on here like a normal person, or DM your friend about it, but don’t give me a 2 star review in my comment section because I used a trope you don’t like.
Oh… and why are people airing their grievances about other things in the comments of a fic? Be on ao3, commenting, talking about everything BUT the story.
And… why are y’all acting like the grammar police in the comments of folks’ fics? Again, I’ve seen some grammar that made me genuinely sad, but I didn’t tell the author about it, because I’m not a dick.
Lol this is another long and rambling post from me, and it really could’ve been summed up with this: It’s hard to be motivated to write, even for your OTP, when you know there’s a good chance you’re going to get some bullshit comment because readers suddenly forgot how to act.
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Dormouse Antique Emporium
Day 9 of @2soulscollide's August writing challenge
words: >1000
Dormouse Antique Emporium sat on the corner of Hudson and Mill, where it idly watched passersby like a little old lady on her porch (and gossiped with the smoke shop next door about the fifth cafe to occupy the building across the street). The corner of Hudson and Mill was a remnant of the old town, where the road was still bricked and architecture stagnated, and where the modern city had grown up around it like weeds, threatening to out-compete the Old Guard. But Dormouse was as resilient as any grass, and stubborn too, despite it all.
The owner of Dormouse, or “caretaker” as she referred to herself, was one Ethel Thomas, ninety years old and not showing any signs of throwing in the towel yet. She knew exactly the value of everything in the store, and kept a careful watch over it all. Well, perhaps “watch” wasn’t quite accurate. Her vision had been gone for about fifteen years, but that had only increased the sharpness of her hearing. And she wasn’t alone, either. Her deputy, James, was a crumpled brown tabby that looked to be about as old as Ethel was, and twice as cunning. He patrolled the store diligently, and would report to Ethel immediately if anything was amiss.
James brushed my leg and let forth a meow that sounded like a radio catching dead air. I knew better than to try to scratch him; he’d only return the favor with toothy malice. Instead I greeted him with my voice and closed the door behind me.
“Is that Trey I hear?” said Ethel from her nest of a checkout desk hidden behind about three shelves of china and silver.
“That it is,” I said, folding my sunglasses into my pocket. James escorted me to Ethel’s counter. “Evening, ma’am.”
“I told you to stop calling me that, son,” Ethel complained as I pulled up a creaky wooden chair and sat down.
“Sorry,” I said, “I just can’t resist showing my elders respect.”
“Bah. You’re terrorizing me.” She broke into a wry smile. “So what’s the news?”
“Crisis averted, thankfully. As soon as Gina heard what the landlord had been asking for she went up there personally and gave him a good talking to. I heard there was a rather threatening umbrella involved.”
“So good old Frank’s will stay open another year,” Ethel chuckled. “That Gina is a storm, she is.”
“You can say that again.”
Ethel laughed and asked me about my family. Then she asked me to fix her radio, which I had taken a look at last week, but the damn thing had the durability of a glass panel being moved during a car chase. When I finished with the last screw, I noticed Ethel was giving me a funny look.
“What?” I said. “Is there grease on my face?”
Ethel hummed knowingly. “A whole streak of it.” She laughed like an aching tree when I pulled out my pocket mirror only to find that old hag had lied. Then she arched an eyebrow in my general direction, and I could feel the mystical waves of old lady energy filling the room before she even opened her mouth. She said, “Did you know you used to be a sea captain in a past life?”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
I had never heard Ethel speak so seriously before. Even the sarcastic comment seemed to hold a genuine weight underneath it. It felt like she was about to tell me something very important. Wow, I thought. She must have been really upset about the radio.
Hand close to her chest, Ethel pointed vaguely past me. I looked over my shoulder. There was a tall mirror, leaned against a beam, that had been there since I first discovered this place. It was ornate but not gaudy, full length with a golden frame. “There’s a reason I keep that particular mirror across from me,” said Ethel. “It’s the only thing I can see clearly these days. What do you see?”
I squinted at the mirror. It looked normal to me, completely at home among the fur coats and vintage furniture. Maybe Ethel was finally losing what little remained of her marbles.
“I see myself, I guess,” I said cautiously.
“No, no, look closer. But don’t stare at it. You have better eyes, you might have to unfocus them a little.”
I did as she said, and suddenly my image changed. Where once had sat a fashionable and handsome young man now appeared a man with a picturesque white beard and a somber face wearing a navy coat and ship captain’s hat. I could hardly believe my eyes. As I lifted my arm, so did the man. I waved and he moved exactly the same way.
I looked back at Ethel, speechless.
“Do you see it?”
“Um. Yes,” I managed. And then, “What?”
“I told you, Trey, past lives. Keep up.”
I looked back at my grizzled reflection. It was hard to tell under his captain’s hat, and because of the way I blurred my vision, but I could swear that he winked at me.
“That’s probably why you’re so good with the radio,” Ethel hummed, settling into her chair.
“You’re keeping a magic mirror?”
“Yes, yes, now don’t go telling anyone,” the old lady said. “Or I’ll ban you. Now do you have any other questions?”
I rubbed my forehead. “What do you see?”
“Amelia Earhart. And James was President Lincoln.”
“He’s what?!”
“See for yourself, son.”
Luckily, James was nowhere to be found. I’m not sure if I could handle Abraham Lincoln on all fours, slinking around an antique shop. I had so many questions, and turned to Ethel with my mouth hanging open.
But Ethel had decided she was overdue for her midday nap.
~~~
general writing taglist: @oakbagel @othercaliforniasaga @tonninseteli @creacherkeeper (lemme know if you want to be added or removed!)
#writblr#august writing challenge#short fiction#short stories#writing community#skyewriting#dormouse antique emporium
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The Number Lads Get A Night Out
Let them have nice things :) The lads deserve some relaxation time and some delicious noodles courtesy of the Noodle Grannies themselves. Please enjoy the shenanigans! Also I'm like. So close to 1000 followers??? Thank you??? 💖✨️
Words: ~6K
Warnings: None! Just happiness
Link to Number Lads Master List.
This list includes the link to the story on Ao3, but I will say that version is about... one chapter behind, but it's catching up.
The Chaos Batch's screen names are as follows:
mayhem_man = Nero
Grim Reaper = Sixes
RedBastard = Thire
beefcara = Bacara
mayhem_man: hello sixes
Grim Reaper: Nero
mayhem_man: I have been informed by one of my ARCs that you are… how did he say it
mayhem_man: “gaslight girlboss gatekeeping” the location of the noodle bar
RedBastard: LSKJDFLKAJDSFLKJSDLKFS WHAT
beefcara: What does that mean??
Grim Reaper: Tell Zero snitches get stitches.
RedBastard: ummmm okay but why are you gaslight girlboss gatekeeping??
beefcara: I would like to repeat my question from earlier. What the kriff does that mean??
mayhem_man: it means sixes has been keeping the noodle bar’s location a secret from all but two of his little number pals, including my ARC Zero.
RedBastard: why?
Grim Reaper: Because I could.
beefcara: girlboss??????????
mayhem_man: which of course is not a good enough reason to deny someone noodles
mayhem_man: I will give you until our next leave to rectify this or I’m bringing Firebolt with me next time we go for noodles
RedBastard: oh gods please not them
Grim Reaper: Why are you so dramatic about this, Nero?
mayhem_man: because i can
Grim Reaper: Understandable, have a horrible day
beefcara: I’m still confused
RedBastard: I’ll explain it when I see you next
-scene break-
The commander had always been cryptic, from the moment Nines had known the man. But this was a new level of enigma. He stared at his comm, reading and re-reading the message in the Numbers group comm from Commander Sixes that had arrived minutes ago when the 212th flagship had come out of hyperspace.
What did it mean?
No one had replied to it yet, probably because Sevenset was busy and no one else knew what to make of it. The entire message read as follows:
DEATH: I know some of you lot are due for leave soon. Go have fun.
DEATH: And Zero: snitch to your commander again, and I’m having words with you.
These messages were followed by an unmistakable series of numbers and punctuation comprising coordinates to somewhere… presumably on Coruscant? Why else would he have mentioned leave, after all.
As it happened, the 212th was on a short leave soon, mostly for resupplying and refitting after their previous missions. Nines would admit, he was curious. He hadn’t looked up the coordinates yet because he’d been busy making sure Ghost Co. was set for arrival out of hyperspace, and he would be busy for some time afterwards as they prepared for transport down to the surface. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to, considering the Numbers were some of the nosiest troopers he’d ever met, and he lived with Waxer.
So, he reasoned he could just wait long enough and he would find out exactly what the commander had just sent them.
He didn’t have to wait long.
As his and another squad loaded into a transport ship, his comm pinged, so he switched hands holding the handle above him and opened it.
Double Trouble: wait what is that
Double Trouble: holy shit
high fives: where is that?
#1 Boy: oh I know where that is!
Loopy: fascinating
Double Trouble: IT’S THE NOODLES IT’S THAT NOODLE PLACE ELEVNS WAS THERE
d0nut man: FINALLY
DEATH: Zero.
d0nut man: i mean thank you sir
high fives: oh awesome!! Echo wanna go get noodles??
That caught Nines’ attention. Did the 501st have a break too? Maker help the Guard. He shook his head, putting his comm away for the remainder of the flight. At least Do-si-do would finally get his noodle fix and stop complaining about it in the group comm. And, now he considered it, he might join him in that endeavor. Rations were boring, and if he found the place was actually clone-friendly and reasonably priced, he might have to visit.
Turns out, he didn’t have to make that decision, because within a few hours of Commander Sixes gracing the group with the location of this restaurant, the Numbers had figured out who was going to be dirtside, who had a free evening, and Do-si-do had told everyone in those categories to “be there or be square.”
Well. Nines had been wanting to try these noodles. So he made his way over to Little Sriluur on the chosen night, bringing along Wooley, because it was a rare thing for a trooper to wander through nattie neighborhoods by himself. They arrived at the coordinates an hour or so past sunset, and the street was still brightly lit from neon signs and glowing shopfronts.
Nines was still reading his HUD, watching their coordinates as they approached those specified, when Wooley tapped his arm.
“What?”
“Dude, use your eyes, not your scanner,” he said, pointing up.
A lit sign hanging vertically down the side of a building near the end of the walkway read Noodle Bar with a martini glass at the bottom.
“Oh.”
As they got closer, the entrance appeared, an arched doorway with an awning, and a smaller sign above it that read Sun’s Noodle Bar with a picture of a bowl of noodles underneath the words. A steady number of weequay, togruta, and other races filtered in and out of the door.
“Moment of truth?” Nines asked, eyeing the crowds.
“Sure is.”
When they got to the doors, they got a few odd looks from passersby, but nothing short of brief surprise or curiosity. That was understandable. The nearest barracks were whole kliks away. But when they entered, both of them hesitating briefly before finally removing their helmets (it usually made natties feel better), the server at the welcome kiosk just smiled like they were any other customers.
“Are you here with the other troopers?” he asked, perfectly civil.
“Uh… I think so?” Nines answered.
“They’re all upstairs.” He pointed to their left where a staircase began against the wall, disappearing up into a second floor.
Nines and Wooley exchanged glances. “Thank you,” Nines said, trying his best to mask his uncertainty.
As they walked towards the stairs, he glanced around the restaurant’s first floor. The floor plan was basically square, with a round bar at the center with what must be some kind of lift down to the kitchens and up to the second floor. He saw a shadow rise through the column as they walked, supporting the theory. The atmosphere was nice, the walls painted a warm yellow-orange, with dark wooden tables and chairs, deep maroon booth cushions, and intricate geometric designs inlaid into the wooden furnishings. Strings of small lights hung from the ceiling around the walls, over windows, reaching into the center like spokes on a wheel, and rows of them hung over the stairs, illuminating their journey upward.
The second floor was almost like the first, but smaller by about a third. What was a central bar and service station downstairs now stood against one wall to their far right, and a sliding metal door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” stood beside it. Interesting that it would be on the second floor. The walls here were a shade of lavender, if he had to call it anything, but it was warm and welcoming. The furnishings were largely the same as downstairs, as were the strings of lights, but the wall tapestries were different.
Before he had much of a chance to study them, he heard his name called. Looking around, he found Do-si-do waving at him from one of a pair of tables that stood next to each other at one end of the room. He recognized a few others there, as well as a few clones outside of their little group.
“Okay then,” Nines said to Wooley. “Clone-friendly indeed.”
When they got to the table, Do-si-do got up to greet them, which made Nines realize he’d never actually met him in person before.
“Hey, I’m so glad you could make it,” he beamed, offering a hand, then grasping Nines’ forearm enthusiastically when it was given. “Who’d you bring?”
“This is Wooley,” Nines said, turning slightly. “Wooley–”
“I’m Do-si-do,” the pilot cut him off, greeting Wooley in much the same manner Nines had received. “C’mon, have a seat. This place is wizard!”
They took the empty seats at Do-si-do’s table, mainly because he knew the most people there. Fives and Echo smiled and waved at him and Wooley as they sat down across from each other, and Captain Rex nodded from beside Echo. Fours was seated at the other end of the table across from Do-si-do, surprising Nines with his presence at all. This didn’t seem like Fours’ preferred kind of night out. But, it was probably better than a normal bar.
The other table next to theirs was mostly green. He recognized Zero and Commander Nero from the holocall with the other commanders, which had honestly made Cody smile more than he had in weeks at that point, so Nines could excuse the constructed chaos. The other two 118th troopers took a minute. After wracking his brain, he finally realized one of them had a black handprint tattooed over his mouth. Echo’s “Handprint Buddies” then. What were their names? He’d need a reminder. Commander Sixes and Commander Bacara were there as well. Commander Thire must not have been able to take the evening off with his batchmates.
He brought his attention back to his own table when Captain Rex tapped the table with the side of a menu in front of him. “First drink is on the house,” he said.
“Really?” Nines took the menu, glancing around at the others. Echo had something like a Cosmopolitan, the captain had a clear drink steaming in a red ceramic mug, and Fives had a Sunset with some variation on the typical fruit blend.
“Wow.” Wooley’s eyebrows had gone up as he read the menu. “That’s… a lot of margaritas.”
“They are one of our specialties.” A new voice from somewhere behind Nines’ side of the table caught everyone a little off-guard, and Captain Rex had to work not to choke on his own drink. “Those and the sake, which the captain should drink and not inhale.”
Nines twisted around to follow a weequay woman as she rounded their table to stand at its end, dressed in a soft pink layered dress with blue and red accents. She was old, her brown skin wrinkled beyond that of younger weequays, but her grey eyes were warm and bright, and her long braids were decorated with colored ribbons and metal charms.
“Hello, my dears,” she said, putting down a stack of larger menus in the center of the table. “My name is Mira. I am one of the lucky owners of this fine establishment.”
“Hi,” Nines said. “Are you who we have to thank for keeping Elevensies and Ahsoka Tano alive a while back?” He glanced at Fives, who rolled his eyes. He was still a little annoyed about how that whole episode had played out.
“Not me directly, no,” Mira answered. “My wife Saleha took care of that. She’s more… experienced with those things.” Leaving them to wonder what that meant, she looked to him and Wooley. “Can I get you boys some drinks? First one is on the house. Guests of our commanders are always well taken care of. May I know your names?”
Nines glanced up at the other table briefly. Our commanders, was it? Alright then.
Wooley answered first. “I’m Wooley. A jogan margarita sounds amazing,” he said, setting the drink menu down near the edge of the table. “Salt rim, please,” he added before she could ask.
Mira nodded, then turned to Nines. He glanced back over the menu briefly, but he he didn’t really feel like branching out tonight. “Nines. Corellian iced tea for me, thanks.”
She collected their menus. “Those will be right out to you,” she said, and gave a tiny bow before moving on, drifting to the next table over to stand between Commander Nero and Commander Sixes and hand out menus over there.
Do-si-do pounced on the menus, eagerly opening one and starting to scan the pages.
“Someone’s excited,” Wooley remarked, waiting for Fives to pass him one instead.
Echo snorted. “Yeah, well, someone’s been begging Commander Sixes for the name of this place for weeks,” he said, bumping Do-si-do with an elbow.
“And?” the pilot said, his bleached curls bouncing as he looked up sharply. “Have you seen some of these noodle bowls? The dumplings?”
Nines shook his head, his eye once again falling on the empty seat between Fives and Wooley. Fives’ helmet sat on it, and he’d put a protective hand on it when they’d arrived, like he was saving it. “Are we still expecting someone else?” he asked, taking his own menu as it was handed down.
Captain Rex answered. “Ahsoka said she might be able to join us. So… we’ll see.”
He nodded. “That’s nice. I hope she makes it.” No one had heard anything from or about the former Padawan, and he could imagine her brothers were eager to know she was safe.
He opened his menu.
Holy shit.
He kept flipping, and the menu kept going and going. The appetizers seemed endless, and when he'd finally gotten to the end of those, the soup dishes started and went on for a page and a half. Then there was a section for… raw seafood? He'd heard it was a delicacy in many places, but he'd never seen it himself. After that came a section of stir fry and rice dishes, and he honestly had no idea there was so much you could do with rice and vegetables. He glanced up at Wooley as he turned the next page, seeing his own confusion mirrored in his friend's face. After the stir fry came the famous noodle dishes, and he had to admit, they looked magnificent. But he was after dumplings, where were the dumplings?
“Am I allowed to marry food?” Do-si-do asked. “Because I think I want to.”
“Dude, we’re clones, we can’t even marry a person,” Fives replied with a frown.
“No, he has a point,” Echo said, pointing to the menu. “I’d marry this spiced nuna ramen.”
“You haven’t even tried it yet,” his brother said.
Their captain smirked behind his own menu. “And you don’t know if you’re its type, Echo.”
Echo gasped. “Rex, I am a delight. It is a known fact that I will get a boyfriend before Fives does.”
“A known fact?” Fives demanded, setting his menu down on the table. “Since when?”
Nines shook his head, glancing briefly down at Fours and Do-si-do. The Marine was practically hiding behind his menu, and probably would be until it was taken away. Do-si-do, amazingly, had forgone examining the noodle offerings to lean over for all the gossip he could get from the conversation happening next to him. Typical Do-si-do. When he looked over to Wooley, he saw his friend’s eyebrows were lopsided as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. At least he’d had some experience with the 501st before. Throwing someone off the deep end with those guys was just mean.
Captain Rex cooly sipped his sake. “Since Echo asked everyone in your squad which of you would get a partner first, and everyone said Echo. You were asleep.”
“What?” Fives said, his utter indignation making everyone except Fours smile at least. “When–why did you–what? And since when are you a delight, Echo? You’re a kriffing menace!”
While the conversation descended into batcher banter, Nines leaned forward and told Wooley, “This is why Commander Sixes and his batch call the five-oh-first ‘Rex’s Freaks,’ by the way.”
His friend nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that.”
Finally, when the conversation had truly started going downhill, Captain Rex set down his menu and put a hand on Echo’s head. “Domino. Domino, we’re in a public setting.”
“Echo started it.”
“You took the bait.”
“Domino. Please.”
Echo smirked and went back to his menu, and his captain finally removed his hand from his head. Nines had a lot of respect for Captain Rex, and most of it went towards his abilities to wrangle his troopers and General Skywalker at the same time. Cody had his respect for much the same reason, only it applied to Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, as well as the rest of the 7th Sky Corps. Also Cody was awesome.
While the two ARCs had been having their discussion, Nines hadn’t noticed Commander Nero moving from his seat at the other table until he was already standing near the end of their table. His presence made them all sit up a little taller. Okay, well everyone except Fours, who sat bolt upright immediately. Some things didn’t change.
Captain Rex looked up. “Commander.”
“I’m always amazed at how effective ARC training is on the field,” Commander Nero said.
“Oh, I am too, sir,” the captain said, looking to Domino.
Echo sniffed. “Why Rex, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Fives stuck his tongue out at him.
Commander Nero smiled briefly. “Anyway,” he said, “I wanted to let you all know it means a lot to Mira and her wife that you guys are here. They love having clones around, so if you’re ever on Trip Zip and need somewhere to eat, they’d be thrilled.”
“I’m just glad Commander Sixes finally gave us the location,” Do-si-do said, eyeing the commander at the other table. He must have noticed, because he brought his right hand to his face and very pointedly scratched his nose with his middle finger.
“Yeah, well, he’s a stubborn bastard,” Commander Nero smiled. “We all are, truthfully, just he and Bacara are a bit more petty about it.”
“Banthashit!” Commander Bacara called over. “You’re worse.”
Captain Rex raised an eyebrow at him. But further conversation was interrupted by a cheerful voice from the bar on the far side of the tables.
“A jogan margarita and a Corellian iced tea?”
Nines couldn’t help the smile from forming on his face, and he watched Fives, Echo and Captain Rex all cycle through expressions of shock and disbelief before breaking into huge smiles.
Ahoska came to stand next to Commander Nero, and he moved a little to the side to let her set down the drinks by Nines and Wooley. She still wore her akul headgear, although her Padawan beads were gone, but she seemed happy enough regardless. Her robes and armor had been replaced by a dark red shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants and shoes, and a tan apron tied around her waist where her lightsabers used to hang.
“I had the iced tea,” Nines said, and she set down the glasses in front of each trooper.
Then she darted around Commander Nero to Captain Rex and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. “Hey, guys!”
“Soka!” Fives grinned.
“So this is where you ended up, eh?” Echo asked, reaching up to pat her shoulder when she hugged him.
Commander Nero shrugged. “Well, Saleha took a liking to her, and they’ve always had a spare bedroom in their apartment upstairs, so.”
Ah, that explained it. These women were serial adopters apparently, given the earlier comment about “our commanders.” Good. They seemed like good people. Ahsoka came around the other side of the table as the 118th’s commander retreated to his own, taking the seat Fives’ helmet had been saving for her. She hugged him like she had his brother and captain before she sat down.
“Hey, Commander,” Echo called over, and of course all three of them looked up. They seemed to figure out who it was for, and then only Commander Sixes was paying attention. “Did you know by depriving us of this location you were also depriving us of our little sister–”
“Shut up, Echo.”
Captain Rex snorted. “I’m glad you’ve found a place, Ahsoka.”
She smiled. “Yeah. I guess I kind of have the uh… Numbers here to thank for it,” she said, looking around the table. “If you guys hadn’t found Elevensies and introduced him to Commander Sixes, that whole thing would have been a lot uglier.”
Do-si-do beamed. “Well, you’re welcome for dragging everyone into it.”
Soon after Ahsoka appeared, Mira returned, and Nines finally tried his drink. He had to admit, it was damn good. He nodded at Wooley, who looked just as pleased with his.
The old weequay stood at the end of their table. “Is everyone ready, or should I give you more time?”
Everyone looked around the table, waiting for objections. Nines shrugged. “Looks like we’re ready,” he said. “Do-si-do?”
The pilot nodded seriously. “I was decanted ready.”
Mira smiled. “Aiya, let’s not keep you waiting.” She produced a small datapad and a stylus for it, then looked up expectantly.
One by one, they gave their orders. Ahsoka gave hers without even glancing at a menu, but she had been living here for a couple months now. Lucky girl, from what Nines had seen coming out of the kitchens around them. Perfect spot for a growing carnivore. He himself ordered a dumpling sampler with a side of Shili kybuck soup, and he was very much looking forward to trying everything.
When Mira had collected their menus and gone to the other table, Echo leaned forward to talk to Ahsoka. “So? How is it on the outside?”
She paused, looking down at her folded arms on the tabletop. “It’s… so different,” she said finally. “I mean, of course, I miss you guys, and I miss Anakin and Obi-Wan all the time. I don’t miss getting shot at, though.”
They laughed. Captain Rex raised his cup. “I will drink to that. You’re a lot safer here than with us, kid.”
“Yeah. I still think… I still think leaving was the best thing for me at the time,” she went on, her gaze once again falling. “I was just so confused and… and angry. And I knew the Jedi could have taken care of me–I could have taken some time off the field and did what Barriss did, take some time to recenter but…” She shook her head. “I dunno. After all that scrutiny from the Senate, and what happened to Barriss with those conspiracy theory goons?”
They nodded. They all knew the mixed emotions that had followed the tribunal and general hubbub around the Temple bombing. Ahsoka had faced the brunt of it.
“You’ve earned some time to yourself,” Captain Rex said. “I’m glad you’re getting some.”
She nodded. “How is everything, though? I can’t get the same information I used to.”
Nines shrugged. “War rages on.”
Fives added, “Rex finally managed to get a promotion to stick to Hardcase.”
His captain rolled his eyes and shook his head as Ahsoka’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Really? How?”
This wouldn’t have anything to do with this new rumor Nines had heard, would it…?
The captain spread his hands a little, leaning back in his chair. “The five-oh-first finally has its own demo team. And I appointed Hardcase as their leader.”
“That sounds like a nightmare,” Wooley said.
“It’s insane,” Echo agreed.
“But it’s working!” Fives grinned. “He reports to Jesse, and Jesse works though most of the stupidity by the time Echo gets it, and it’s working!”
“Go figure,” Ahsoka said, smiling along. “Are they any good?”
The captain nodded. “They’re effective, yeah.”
“Happily effective,” Echo added.
“Huh,” Nines said, his gaze drifting over to the 118th troopers. Didn’t they have an entire company dedicated to blowing things up? Firestorm? Something like that. He’d have to pick Zero’s brain about it. Hell, maybe Captain Rex should meet up with their commanding officer to get some advice.
Turns out, he wasn’t the only one on that train of thought. Fives leaned back and tapped one of the Handprint troopers–the other ARC. “Hey, Pixel.”
Pixel twisted around. “What?”
“What’s that name of that group you’ve got that blows up everything?”
Pixel’s brows rose. “Firebolt Company, why?”
Fives gestured to Captain Rex. “Firebolt Company! See, I told you, they have an even bigger version.”
The uninformed newcomer to the conversation shot a confused look at Echo, who explained. “Torrent Company just made our first dedicated demo team, we might need some pointers.”
“Ooh, cool!” The other Handprint trooper had turned around too, his smile distorting the black handprint tattooed over his mouth. Ouch… “How big is it?”
By that point, the other members at the far table had started listening along.
“Why are we talking about Firebolt?” Commander Nero asked, shooting a cautious glance at Commander Sixes and receiving a very eloquent raised eyebrow in response.
“Why are we shouting across a table when we could just move them together?” Commander Bacara said, and he did make a good point.
“Okay, okay, no one likes a know-it-all,” Commander Nero replied, getting slightly confused looks from the other commanders. Then he stood up and gestured to the tables. “Well? Were you just saying things to hear your own voice? Let’s go.”
Luckily for everyone around (and there weren’t many patrons nearby), they were military men, and they accomplished the simple task with nothing short of battlefield precision. Commander Nero gave the orders and directed Zero, Pixel, and the other trooper to help Fives and Echo move the chairs from between the tables, and there would undoubtedly be a little rearranging of seats to be done once the other chairs wouldn’t quite fit on either end. But, the other table had had two empty seats, so the end result wasn’t too squished.
Wooley ended up next to him instead of across from him, and once everyone was seated again, Commander Nero prompted Captain Rex to explain himself, which he did. Largely, the conversation was meaningless to Nines. He had no desire to be much of an officer, or be anywhere near a demo team in the field. But, the captain seemed to enjoy picking the other commander’s mind, and he would no doubt need the advice, from what Nines recalled of the stories about Hardcase.
Beside him, he saw Ahsoka lean over to Echo from where she sat between the two ARCs. “Where are you guys headed next?” she asked, a bit quieter than the conversations around her.
Echo took a drink from his conical glass, glancing around at the other patrons he could see. He finished his scan of the area and set down his glass to trace out words on the table top.
Ringo Vinda.
Ahsoka narrowed her eyes. “Mid-rim, right? Space station or planet?”
“Station.”
She nodded again, her expression sharpening minutely. Battles in space were more dangerous by far than those fought dirtside. One wrong explosion, and a whole platoon could be sucked out into the cold crush of space. She knew that. She was what? Seventeen? Eighteen? And she knew that.
He shook his head, taking a drink himself to shake the concerns that brought. There was no use in them. War was war, and the Jedi had joined.
“Just you guys, or is there another battalion going?” Ahsoka asked, yet another astute inquiry.
Echo once again traced on the table. 962.
“That’s… Masters Tiplee and Tiplar, right? The twin sisters.”
Twins? Nines had no recollection of learning about any twin generals on Kamino, but his time on Kamino had been a lifetime of battles ago. He knew what he needed to know, and if he needed to know more, he’d take the time to learn.
Echo nodded. “Commander Doom is their CC.”
“Looking like an easy one, or… no?”
The ARC shrugged. “Can’t tell from here. Shouldn’t be terrible, though.” It was impossible to tell if he said that genuinely, or as a way to assuage her regret at being unable to go help them win. Both was just as likely as one or the other.
He paused his eavesdropping when Wooley nudged his elbow. “Why don’t more clones know about this place?” he wondered, looking around. “I mean no one’s even given us weird looks, and there’s almost a dozen of us. Including Domino.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Fine, they’re being civilized, I know, whatever. You get my point.”
Nines nodded his understanding. “I do, I do. I guess the commanders come here often enough for it to be… normal?”
They both looked over to the three commanders.
Commander Nero was still engrossed in regaling some story to Captain Rex, his eyes shining with utter delight as he used his hands to gesture at what could only be a truly thunderous explosion in the narrative. Commander Sixes sat on his other side, deep in conversation with Commander Bacara next to him. They weren’t even looking at each other, the Marines commander looking down at the table top, his finger tracing and retracing the inlaid pattern in the wood as he talked. But he was clearly just as engaged in the conversation as his brother, who was talking fixedly at a point by the stairs. The conversation seemed to concern some level of violence, because he saw the commanders both gesticulate at least once each like they were ripping something apart with their hands.
Regular, sure. Commonplace, perhaps.
“Normal might be a stretch,” he said aloud.
Wooley snorted. “Well, we’re genetically engineered soldiers. What’s normal got to do with it?”
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
They didn’t have much longer to wait until the doors of the large lift opened behind the bar and a whole half of the bar swung open to accommodate the large serving carts that arrived. There was a pair of them, the first of which Mira pushed, the cart hovering a few inches off the ground like a landspeeder might. But Nines’ attention rested on the old weequay only momentarily, because behind her, now backlit from the lift as the doors closed, was, by comparison, a towering togruta pushing a similar cart.
Judging by her age and the familiarity with which this togruta manoeuvered around Mira and the tables, this had to be the other owner. He hadn’t learned her name yet, but they made quite the pair together. Mira’s wife was about two feet taller than her, with warm red-orange skin, rich fuschia stripes on her montrals and lekku, and glittering metal and jewels adorning her nose, brow, arms, hands, and lekku. Dark red fabric draped over her shoulder and wrapped around her waist over a long black dress, all embroidered with flowers and small birds.
She came to their side of the table while Mira went to the other side. “Hello, gentlemen,” she said. “My name is Saleha. I believe you’re all ready to eat, yes?”
Do-si-do was literally gazing at the steaming plates and bowls. “Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed a little, and set about naming the dishes to get them handed out as soon as possible. When she had finished setting out the bowls and other dishes, including little bottles and bowls for various sauces, she asked, “Does anyone want cutlery instead of chopsticks?”
Nines blinked, looking down around his bowl and plate and realizing there were no forks or knives, just… two sticks and a spoon. He saw Wooley doing the same beside him. Looking up and around, he saw the three commanders with their gloves and vambraces off, skillfully manipulating their noodles around with the chopsticks like they’d been doing it for years.
Lucky bastards probably had been.
“I’d like some,” he said, giving a somewhat sheepish smile.
“Yeah, me as well, ma’am,” Wooley added, and Captain Rex and Echo followed suit.
Saleha put down forks and knives wrapped in red napkins for them, then moved away, pushing the cart back to the lift with her wife. Nines saw Echo’s face pinch into a little frown as he unwrapped his fork.
Ahsoka asked what he was wondering. “I thought you knew how to use chopsticks, Echo.”
“Yeah, I do,” he said, “but ever since getting all those burns up my arm, it’s not very comfortable.”
“Well, you’re still better at it than me,” Nines offered. “I never even learned.”
Echo smiled, twisting a bundle of noodles onto a fork and blowing on them to cool them down. “Fives kept dragging me to these takeout places where they handed ‘em out. We got curious and looked up how to use them on the ‘net.”
He nodded back, sipping tentatively at a spoonful of soup.
Oh wow, that was good.
Everyone must have thought similarly, because the table was almost entirely void of conversation as everyone started eating. He was a little glad the soup had some spice in it, so he couldn’t inhale it in two seconds the way his brain and stomach were wanting him to do.
Wooley, who had also ordered some dumplings, reached to take one of the bottles of sauce Saleha had delivered with their food. “What is this?” he said, turning it to read the label. He looked up across the combined tables. “Commanders?”
The three looked up at the same time, which was kind of amusing.
Wooley held up the sauce. “What are these?”
Commander Nero answered. “Oh, that one’s the homemade hot sauce,” he said, pointing with his chopsticks to the bottle of orange sauce. “That’s better for the soups or noodles if you want extra kick. That one,” he said, pointing to the bottle of brown liquid on the table, “is called soy sauce, and it is amazing, and should go on and inside of your dumplings.”
Nines couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the immediate and comprehensive reply. Wooley smiled at it, and said, “Sir yes sir,” so just Nines and Pixel either side of him could hear. They both smiled at it.
While Wooley filled one of the tiny bowls with the dark brown sauce, Nines couldn’t help his curiosity. “Commander Nero, may I ask how exactly you found this place?”
All of the 118th troopers’s heads pivoted to their CO, eager anticipation visible on almost all of their faces. Pixel seemed a more subdued soldier than Zero or the other one.
Commander Nero glanced at them, then looked at Nines. “No, you may not.”
The 118th troopers deflated slightly. Well then.
“He was drunk and committing crimes,” Commander Bacara said.
“I can kill you in your sleep,” his brother replied breezily.
“My room’s booby trapped beyond recognition, you’d never make it two steps inside.”
“I can still firebomb–”
Commander Sixes cut them off. “Maker’s sake, will you two just eat your damn noodles?”
The two commanders eyed each other and went back to eating their damn noodles.
There was a brief pause before he heard Captain Rex say, “I don’t want to hear it, Fives.”
Presumably, Fives was about to point out that the commanders were allowed to have their disagreements, but he and his batchmate had been silenced too soon. After another pause, slightly longer than the last, the trooper whose name still escaped Nines spoke up.
“Commander Bacara, what did you mean when you said you room is booby trapped beyond recognition?”
Before Commander Nero had a chance to cut in, the Marines commander answered, “It means you’d be dead in about three seconds if they’re armed and you walk in like an idiot.”
Nox blinked. He looked at Fours, who nodded seriously. “You’re allowed to do that, sir?”
“Of course he’s not, Nox,” Commander Nero said. “But what doesn’t get reported doesn’t exist.”
Zero nudged Nox. “Yeah, like your secret stash no one’s supposed to know about?”
Nox’s eyes went comically wide. “No! You didn’t!”
“I didn’t!” Zero assured him. “It’s fine. I may have simply helped myself to a finder’s fee–”
“No! Commander!”
“What do you want me to do about it, Nox?” their commander said. “He found it fair and square. Get better at hiding your stuff, you’re in Whisper Co.”
Nox sighed, glaring at Zero as he returned to his bowl of noodles. “Yeah, they’re also in Whisper,” he muttered. “That’s the problem.”
The whole evening followed a quiet repetition of little discussions working up into small disagreements until it was shut down by someone else–and honestly, in Nines’ experience, that was how a lot of interactions with clones tended to go. They were soldiers, they spent their time trying to make dying feel like a worthwhile proposition, so their methods of letting off steam were usually a little coarser than the average civvy. But it was nice.
It was weird as hell, but it was nice.
The food was absolutely as good as Do-si-do had hoped, if his silence and constant smile were anything to go by. Before he’d started eating, he’d managed to find the self-control to take a picture of his bowl of ramen to send it to the Numbers chat so Sevenset could see it. He had the feeling those two missed being able to see each other in person more than the rest of the bunch, so he was glad Sevenset got to be included somehow. Rancor must be on a mission or asleep, though, because they didn’t get a reply that evening.
Mira and Saleha were coming and going fairly frequently. He figured as the owners, they had plenty of other people managing the place for them, so they flitted around, making sure everything was going smoothly, but that still left them with plenty of time to come talk to the commanders or Ahsoka. They just seemed so nice, it honestly amazed him. The commanders–even Sixes and Bacara, the rougher, gruffer of the three–let them pat their shoulders or put a hand on their heads like they were cadets.
Their kindness and open compassion even worked a little magic on Fours. The quiet Marine actually blushed a little under Mira’s compliments to his hair, and Nines caught him holding a brief conversation with Fives a little later on, although it was far too quiet to hear across the table. Seeing that, Nines knew those women could be trusted.
He just knew.
Warm happy feelings, yes? Yes. @mercurydancer @23-bears @theultimatesandwich @rndmpeep @soclonely as usual, let me know if you want to be added to the tags!
#i write things sometimes#tcw fanfic#number lads#numbers gang#clone trooper ocs#star wars ocs#captain rex#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#commander bacara#ahsoka tano#togruta oc#weequay#chaos batch#btw bacara is muchly austisic#the whole chaos batch is so ND#good for them#but also#sirs your coping mechanisms...
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a reminder to all looking for jobs -
the fact of the matter is, and i didn't realize this because of my autism but you need to try not to act TOO smart on job interviews.
the hiring manager is looking for someone competent and qualified, but they are also looking for someone innocent, easily led and basically naive about things like labor rights or individual freedoms. do not let on that you know ANYTHING about these things. never say the word union. do not talk about anything close to organizing or labor rights in an interview, ever.
beyond that, dry humor and sarcasm are usually not appreciated by most interviewers. they want to see that you are dull, not someone who would ever question the system or become a problem to them legally?
so if you want the job, act smart, but not TOO smart. this always tripped me up since I thought by acting very smart and aware and discussing issues up-front, it would help get me the job, but that is not the case.
another thing - and it's sick that i have to give this as advice - gender nonconforming ppl also sometimes need to mask to get jobs! it's a real thing. i've noticed it as a woman, that in getting my current job, i seemed to get better results when i wore my hair down and used a lot of vocal fry and kept a kind, light tone with shorter and simpler words. i emphasized the level of service and kindness i would bring to the role. of course, that facade wasn't "me" at all, and masking in that case was absolutely exhausting. but you only need to do it for a few interviews really and can relax after.
i seriously never realized these things until getting into the working world, but this is what hiring managers really want - simple, dumb, but competent and reliable human robots who don't have feelings, don't get sick and NEVER complain. who always do more than the bare minimum. also we want you to be qualified and skilled in these 1000 technologies. but good luck out there though! i always thought - by being myself and showing myself as smart as I could be and by being honest about my weaknesses/shortcomings, the interviewer would see that i am serious and qualified. but there is so much more to it than that, and it is so hard to realize this as an autistic person who tends to act as their genuine self in their day-to-day life. interview masking is probably the most difficult masking i've ever done in my entire life because it not only requires straight-up LYING, it requires becoming someone you are not. it is acting, it is acting as a neurotypical, but my brain just doesn't work that same way, and it's unfair. it's unfair if a decent income is gated behind a random neurotypical interviewer "liking you". what if they don't like you? what if a person is just simply unlikable or coarse or has a real sick sense of humor? should they just starve in this country? it's so beyond, i don't get it.
#things i didnt realize until almost 28#i wish someone had told me from the get go#although i always did mask hard in college. i felt like thats what i had to do#i hate trying to get people to like me lol
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Due to my severe depressive state of being since my mom passed, I found very little motivation to live, let alone go to work. I feel I’m on the 3/4 side of that now but the sting of my harsh reality remains: not finding any value in life, I stopped working. whenever I did work, I took chances. You can’t take chances with other peoples lives. I’ve been let go from Lyft. The only job I’ve loved in all of my life. If ever a hard month I had, it is now. If ever there was a reason to feel sorry for myself, it is now. If ever I needed a reason to quit life, it is now. But I won’t. Calling my mom a tough cookie is like calling the Sears Tower in Chicago, a shack. My mom and I spoke about her death, this past year. It dawned on me that her impending death had ruled my subconscious mind for the past 10 years. Most of you know me to be a strong leader, one who’s solution oriented & one who isn’t still tied down by anxieties or the like. But I am. Incrementally, I have been holding back, holding breath for fear of my mom passing. It was ”That which we may not speak of.” She was fine talking about it. I was, am not fine. I have 3 mothers: Socorro, my biological parent, Olga, creative partner who’s headstrong in her convictions & my oldest sister, & Dora, who’s perspective is invaluable to any great change I make in ny life. Along with Gabriel, my father, hard working, never complains, just faithfully loved my mom, I was served well.
Too well.
There’s a line of distinction that separates healthy love from unhealthy. My parents, immigrants from another country, did the best they could to raise a healthy (on all fronts) boy. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to make it happen. How could she not; she helped her parents raise her siblings and contributed to the financial supporting of them. She’d been a mom 1000 times before I was assigned to her. He: raised on a farm, was very much a cowboy (speak when spoke to and use only the words to convey truth). NEITHER of them knew anything about mental healthcare nor did they address patterns in behavior that they couldn’t identify. They were not taught to look out for societal changes that would dramatically effect how their offsprings would react to this world. They just loved me.
Mexican love is different than other ethnicities. We have developed a miracle cure for everything be it a broken bone, a bee sting, or a broken heart. We call this amazing cure: food. When a mexican loves you, they will identify your biggest insecurity and call you by a nickname derived from that insecurity to help you cope with it. When you lose the love of a mexican, it’s not just a love gone, it’s a whole era gone because through love, we envelop you into our culture, our family, into our history.
My parents did the best they could but the love they shown me cannot be measured because it was off the charts. “No healthy. Too mush. Throw up!” Everything has always been taken care of for me by the small army I call my nuclear family. I don’t know how to adult, still at 47. I don’t know how to do a lot of things. I knew it when my mom was alive & I know it now. And so I feared with great anxiety the day I would be expected to walk on my own, without the presence of my savior. I don’t know how to be “Eric who’s lost his mom” or “Eric without safeguard” I hid from the reality that I am my one person and no one is responsible for my happiness except me. Well….. I walk on this earth known as “Eric, no mom”. But it is only one title. The one I choose to focus on today is “Eric motivated by his mother”. So I’ll use her example and her strength to pull her son out from his dark abyss and I’ll borrow from her accomplishments the confidence it takes to improve the quality of my life. Later, once I’ve reached at least the first plateau, I hope to use her joy, to dance again, her creativity to laugh again, and her foresight to lay down the appropriate foundation for her son to grow old, securely.
I can’t do office jobs and jobs that expect me somewhere at a set time, I will fail. IF YOU HAVE ANY JOB LEADS, please reach out through messenger.
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Hej, I'm really bad at finding fanfics that I actually enjoy. So I was wondering if you knew any 5sos fanfics where it's just cute stuff. Like just two people obsessed with each other. Some kissing and fluff maybe :))
Sorry if this is too random, but it was worth a try
hi hi hi anon! 💗
Sorry for the freaking late response, life has been busy 🥲
This might be stuff that you’ve already read, so I apologise in advance but onto the fluff (in no particular order)!
(I assumed since you requested some kissing and fluff that we were aiming for a general and/or teen rating - lemme know if that’s wrong 💛)
(also didn’t know what length you were looking for - so some have a bit of plot and some are shorter one-shots 💗)
I really just went through some of my favourite fic writers and picked some personal favourite fics with your requests in mind :D (also they’re very luke centric because… yeah)(but every writer has fluff related to another pairing I’m pretty sure so check them out!)
the essentials - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise
Pairing: Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Words: 1677
Summary: They’ve only been on tour for a couple weeks, but there’s already stray glitter littering the bottom of Luke’s black toiletry bag.
I immediately thought of this fic, because it’s one of the softest things I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It’s friendship, but that doesn’t deter from the fluff! and it never will! it’s very sweet to explore luke’s relationship with makeup, michael’s relationship with luke, and Michaels relationship with luke’s relationship with makeup!
Putting on makeup is such a personal thing. It’s a fun little ritual that makes you feel good and sharing that with another person is such a lovely thing !! like here is something I love !! and I am sharing that with you !! it’s an extension of me !! and michael actively taking part even if he’s complaining about it (I mean banter is their love language so) is just AH.
I think about this fic a lot.
crowning glory - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds
Pairing: Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood
Rating: General Audiences
Words: 1000
Summary: It’s not unusual for Luke to find somewhere to nap pre-soundcheck if they have time, curling his too-long limbs up into an impressively small croissant of Luke Hemmings, his curly head just poking out the side
Napping with someone, or in this case, one person is napping while the other is just in their presence, is just so much casual intimacy, which is my kryptonite, that it makes my head explode.
This is a routine that they’ve established !! meaning it’s repetitive and something that comforts them both !! they feel safe enough to let their guards down and just exist in each other’s space. Calum doesn’t want to talk to anyone so he just sits with sleeping luke and pets him. That is the softest shit and it makes me want to sob.
This is short and sweet and the gratuitous descriptions of luke, specifically his curls, will send me to an early grave.
stolen shirts/heart - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds
Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood
Rating: Teen and Up Audience
Words: 6132
Summary: There's a sort of inevitability that comes with being in this band. A set of concrete circumstances that never seems to change. They annoy each other to hell, they know every last thing about each other, Calum is in love with Luke, and Luke always steals Calum's clothes.
That's the way it is. That's the way they all know it is, except maybe Luke, who might be ignorant to the third thing on the list.
Fluff, clothes sharing, and calum being obsessed with Luke, what more could you ask for?
I like the passage of time being marked by what items of clothing Luke has stolen from Calum. That’s how the calendar should be 😌 All events can be related to this !! and I will die on this hill.
sweet and salty - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise
Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood
Rating: Teen and Up Audience
Words: 9290
Summary: “We could get a bunch of stuff to try? See what’s good before we commit to buying anything in bulk?”
“That’s actually not bad,” Luke admits. “Go to the store, grab some things that catch our eye, try them out…” A fantastic idea is formulating in his head. An excuse to spend even more time with Calum.
“We could make a night of it? Like have a full-on sleepover? Really surround ourselves in the sorority girl vibe.” He chuckles to ensure Calum is aware this is very much a joke. But also a very serious suggestion. But also definitely a joke.
Frat boys cake buying an assortment of bath bombs, face masks, nail polish, ONESIES, etc, and doing stereotypical sleepover things in the name of science (well in the name of making a gift basket for a sorority)? Iconic.
I love you humour. I love you Luke jk unless-ing the whole time. I love you idiots in love trope. I love you frat boy!cake. I love you snapbacks (something I never thought I would ever say). I love you casual flirting that constantly confuses them because what are they!
Cake is ridiculous in this and I love it !!
I leave you with this snippet, “Has Luke’s friendship with Calum just been one long series of dates, and somewhere in there they just forgot they could be kissing?”
you wanna be closer - kaleidoscopeminds /@kaleidoscopeminds
Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Words: 5063
Summary: In hindsight, Calum probably should have seen it coming. In hindsight, he supposes he was incredibly obtuse about it. And in hindsight, he wishes he had pulled his head out of his ass earlier (thanks Michael), so he could have been doing this earlier. He’s not dwelling on hindsight though when his brain is occupied with other things, specifically the way that Luke’s mouth feels against his own lips.
Five times Luke and Calum touch platonically, and once when Calum realises maybe it was never platonic at all.
Essentially a love letter to physical affection, my beloved !! Physical affection, whether platonic or romantic, is my shit !! Hugs!! forehead kisses!! hand holding!! legs touching just to remind the person that you’re next to them!! sharing space!! just existing together !!
As a 5+1 fic the scenes are little pockets of lovely moments with physical affection!! Fluffy touches!!
The reminiscing in this fic about the progression of their relationship makes me very soft but also incredibly feral.
Off-screen - allsassnoclass / @allsassnoclass
Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Rating: General Audiences
Words: 3038
Summary: Now that classes are being taught from home due to the pandemic, students are getting a glimpse into Professor Irwin's home life, especially when his mysterious husband keeps interrupting class.
An outsider POV about secret husbands lashton? I LOVE IT. I love an outsider POV because you get to see a pairings dynamic in a way they themselves probably don’t see. You see little subconscious things they don’t notice until pointed out! love that stuff :D Can’t get enough of people watching honestly !!
and what if you’d never smiled at me - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds
Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum hood
Rating: Teen and Up Audience
Words: 14910
Summary: He opens up the loaf from the cut, exposing the pale inside that was previously encased by the dark crust. He wonders if you were to split people open whether they would match their appearance; he worries that his own exterior might be a little too much like the hard crust of his sourdough. Not Luke though. He’s pretty sure people like Luke are as soft and golden on the inside as they are on the outside.
x
Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.
I had to include a bakery au so I just added it!! I think it fills the obsessed prompt pretty well. Pining idiots my beloved.
These are just some that I love! I didn’t want to go overboard because I feel like I’ve already done that agahsjsjsjsz
I would check out all the writers I’ve listed on AO3 because I’m sure there’s way more fluff, various ratings, pairings, etc. I’m just too focused on Luke 🧍♂️🥲
I hope this is kind of what you had in mind ! 💛
#Oh I also really love meg’s bakery au#Why did I only think of it now#This one and what if you'd never smiled at me !!!#By kaleidoscopeminds#It is so lovely#meg features a lot in this#Welp#I typed this on my ipad because I don’t have a laptop#So if anything doesn’t work I blame that#Anything in my life gone wrong? It’s because of the ipad#I hope this helps anon <3#alice answers#fic recs#edit: I added the bakery au because I love it and it’s necessary#further edit: this clearly has a theme ahem#luke and cake#It is what it is
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ok so post episode reflection time. i wanted to like the episode but it just wasn't as memorable as other finales, which is weird for me because it was meant to be the 'last' before the move to ABC happened. this episode felt bungled, let me go into why.
1.) okay so this sounds weird to complain about but that bridge collapse sucked. nobody was in true peril, there never felt like there was stakes honestly other than brief scenes with hen and chim. i wanted there to be a serious injury, i cannot lie. i'm tired of the 118 being fine after these things and just bouncing back like nothing happened. it's too episodic, if that's the word. things aren't lasting
2.) speaking of no stakes, bobby was heavily implied to be hurt. he was not. all we hear is that he hurt his shoulder and needs scans. chim was completely harmlessly impaled pretty much, just walk it off. that whole thing was traumatic in many ways and bobby and chim should not have been so scot-free in an episode that required high stakes
3.) chimney had gloves on and wasn't wearing The Ring of Power. -1000 points from Gryffindor for that one babes sorry
4.) i'm not super against buck/natalia as a couple but it felt weirdly rushed because she came in literally last minute for the birth then started dating buck. maybe it's just because i wanted her to show up at lucy's doorstep because i'm a garbage eating goblin with no self control
5.) the eddie/marisol thing. i really really really wanted to hold out hope that she would defy the trope of 'firefighter gets the girl after saving the day'. i genuinely thought she'd be involved in this 'mass casualty accident' that was over in like ten minutes. seriously wtf was this bridge collapse??? where is the drama, i can't see it???
6.) what in the world was that meditation scene? why did we time skip so far ahead that the flashbacks seem like flash forwards??? what is going on with this pacing it's like being dragged behind a truck with a drunk driver at the wheel
7.) the fucking speed they tore through every plot line this episode was unreal. the bridge collapse served us a nothing sandwich in ten minutes flat, the 118 checked in and checked out of the hospital before i could blink. the relationships were slammed in in such short fast scenes they felt forced and sudden. they did the time warp and blew through weeks of development and the birth of a baby that honestly happened so fast idk how much time went by between that and the cute little bwidge cowapse. seriously the pacing sucked, really girl give us nothing
8.) the episode was pretty much only saved by the cast. i cannot describe how disappointed i felt about this finale. despite amazing work from the actors, things flew by too fast, the tone was all wrong from a directorial and production standpoint, relationships felt mishandled. like i'm sorry, henren are going to have another baby in the house and we get... a hug? a time skip and a h u g??? buck has this super moving scene getting to see the life he gave to his friends to nurture and is able to let go and does the time warp into a new relationship, eddie is pressured by chris to call marisol, who didn't even appear until the last 2 minutes (??????????) now they're going on. a date??? bobby is totally fine after being pinned in a metal bin by an suv and an ambulance and a bunch of concrete because apparently bobby has fucking adamantium bones and has +100 resistance to crush damage. like literally i'm not even a little nervous when bobby gets pancaked because he's literally that cartoon character that pops up from being flattened like 'i'm ok!' *insert clown silly noises* where is the writing, sis? where?????
9.) where was the wedding? we get a rooftop meditation flashback/flash forward thing with weird thoughts from all the characters but not the fucking madney wedding???? i wanted to see chim barely survive that bridge collapse and have the viewers thinking he was going to perish before seeing him at the parish in a boyle style butt cast or something marrying maddie because literally being strapped to a flaming gurney wouldn't stop him. instead chim is magically fine and there isn't a wedding. i'm going to eat glass
10.) lucy: i have a sprained ankle *gets in a helicopter and flies out of the series* WOULD YOU LET THE FEMALE FIREFIGHTERS STICK AROUND AND DO THEIR JOBS PLEASE??
god it was just so unsatisfying. imagine if the tsunami episodes plot was over in 10 minutes with no stakes at all. like really?? idk what it is but the stakes in this season have literally never been lower. the earlier seasons had me INVOLVED in the emergencies. things have gotten so goofy lately. most emergencies are comedic and unserious, the writing isn't taking the characters as seriously as their actors, it feels like one of those happy AU fanfics that I just struggle through reading because you know it's going to be saccharine and there's nothing that's going to happen that's gripping which you would expect in a drama series.
#911 spoilers#911 on fox#911onfox#911 season 6#god i'm just so disappointed???#it literally feels like they looked in their wallet to find the budget and a little fly came out#i hate drama shows with no DRAMA#i want to think bitches are gonna die i want to be afraid of what's gonna happen next gripping my seat#instead i'm sitting there like 😶 because there's nothing happening babes#whole bridge collapses but there's one casualty we see and despite the entire '118' going down nobody is hurt#cameo? never heard of her let's have bobby forget this character after he happens to save bobby then run off#the fuck is he miles morales#running off to put on his suit????#he's not some secret superhero he deserved a better damn cameo than that#god man this is just bad as hell#911 season finale#911 liveblog
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Ivan, Arthur, and ludwig have gay panic, Alfred sleeps.
1762 words, part of this fic
With a chuckle so awkward it physically pained Ludwig to hear, Arthur "Raised half the world and fucked more of it" Kirkland was awkward around him, of all people.
Something about the world's greatest hoe (Copyright France) being so awkward because he was sleeping with another man was incredibly funny to Ludwig, though he shouldn't be laughing, nor complaining, he could have gotten stuck with somebody much worse, for example, France.
While Ludwig contemplated by the door, hanging there awkwardly, Arthur rushed forward and placed his stuff down on what was apparently his side of the room.
Ah, so he picked the left side, the one by the window which left Ludwig with the right side of the room, closer to the bathroom. Some treacherous part of him thought, privately, that maybe they wouldn't have to be on separate sides of the bed...
Pls stop being like this brain
No
Why
BecauseI'm your brain dumbass I am you.
Right.
"Are you going to stand there like a lemon, or get a move on?"
Snapping Ludwig out of his mental argument against himself, he realised that he was still standing in the doorway, most likely looking very stupid while doing so.
"Sorry England."
Better to remain formal, ways better to remain formal in times like this where just a small slip up would most likely cause such large amounts of misunderstandings that it would be almost impossible to untangle.
Not like that would happen, surely not.
"It better not, I would not wish for some bastard like France to get the wrong idea."
Vaguely concerned but more intrigued "How could he manage to get the wrong idea from me standing in the doorway."
A laugh, not venomous or bitter, but fond came from inside the room "It's Francis, he can pull anything out of that well-sculpted ass."
Unfortunately, his mind had made up its mind that it would be as purposefully annoying and homosexual as possible and his mind very quickly got filled with images of Francis and his indeed well-sculpted ass.
"I would rather not think about that, but if I may ask, how are you and France on first name terms?"
He really did sound childish, but from what he had seen and by what everyone else had told him, England and France fought worse than cats and dogs, and it was a little hard to imagine them on first name terms.
Arthur smiled softly, recalling a memory from long ago, most likely much longer than Ludwig had been alive.
"It would be hard not to be on first name terms with a fucker who raised you for two hundred odd years, would it now?"
Germany did not know about this little nugget of information whatsoever, "Excuse me what?"
After gesturing for Germanny to sit down and "Close the bloody door," he started to talk, figuring that it being near a millennium ago now, it wouldn't be detrimental to tell someone of it.
Ludwig was painfully young, nations from the new world were often double or triple his age, and for Europe he was no more than a babe in arms, some or the older nations being easily well over 10 times his age, and it showed, Germany listening with rapt fascination to the rather dreary tales of France and his abysmal first attempt at raising a child.
Apparently according to most, he really didn't improve much with time and when it came to raising Canada apparently England was a better mentor, and with all the horror stories from many of the waifs that passed through the household, it raised questions on just how bad France was at this.
According to England they used to spar, being the early 1000s it made sense, and apparently England was better at it than France, so the fucker locked him in a room with minimal food and water, yet England still beat him, and poisoned him while they were at it.
Germany took this with a grain of salt the size of Russia because over time things become, let's just say rather embellished, and this was almost a millenia ago, so it was probably quite a bit fictitious.
After that story was over, and Germany counted at least 5 deaths in it, he suddenly asked "Was Gilbert a good parent?"
"I-I think he was, he looked after me whenever he could, teaching me almost everything I know, and the rest of the time I was usually with Switzerland or Austria-Hungary."
"You turned out pretty well in my opinion, so they seem to have done a good enough job."
For some unfathomable reason (really it was pretty easy to fathom just not to someone as utterly dense as he) Germany blushed at this sentence.
"Plus you've always been well behaved, I wonder what that's got you?"
This would have been a pretty normal sentence if it wasn't for the fact that England has a very suggestive look on his face, a mischievous smile coupled with the raising of one of those impressive brows, which amongst other things, made his knees feel like jelly as he stood by the doorframe.
Germany immediately blushed furiously, indeed both the Italies did like the obedience, a lot. And Japan dressed him up in some rather interesting clothes, not like he minded and tied him up. That was a spiritual experience for both of them for sure, plus that fucking smile oh my g o d help.
An odd sound that sounded quite similar to a croak escaped that throat while he was beet red just thinking about those rather interesting experiences, his face at this point could be used as a stop sign with just how red it was, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"I'm just messing with you, come, sit down." Patting the bed because Germany was still standing in the doorway looking embarrased, and so he did, setting down his stuff and changing his stuffy work clothes into more casual clothes that were loose fitting but holy shit Arthur's brain went at it.
Wydhhshh GAY
STOP IT.
LOOK AT THE FUCKING HAIR ALL MESSED UP JUST LOOK AT IT
I AM AND YOURE MAKING IT WEIRD
I AM YOU
SHUT UP
NO.
After that nothing really happened, they sat down on their sides of the bed and took out their work, completing the stuff they needed to do together at breakneck speed until the sun started to set and Germany had to physically drag England to eat something because apparently three square meals are a must and eating half a sausage roll at 2 in the morning does not count as a square meal.
Both muting their phones due to a very excited Francis yelling at them over text to come to the bar after the meeting, as everyone would be there, neither really wanted to.
All in all it was pretty calm, both of then were having gay thoughts that could be palpably felt, sure, but they didn't manifest into anything much, dinner being a quiet affair in a small cafe down the road, where lots of tea and coffee were drunk and very good sandwiches eaten, there was aa small discussion on the proper baking of a black forest cake and the prior meeting, but otherwise it was a quiet evening for them both, getting back to their room and sleeping late into the night, both busy tapping away at laptops and sincerely hoping that they both do and do not end up spooning in the night
Meanwhile.
"Alfredka, that stupid piggy and I have to sleep with him!" Rather irritated Russian grumbling could be heard but vaguely deciphered, mainly because no one wanted to cross the cloud of doom and vague gayness that surrounded Ivan Braginsky, personification of Russia.
Jamming the lift button perhaps a little too hard to be necessary, he waited, for quite a while in fact, but the lift decided that today it had to service each and every floor above him, which left him to take the stairs.
He did not like stairs very much, especially as his room, their room, was on the seventh motherfucking floor, so huffing and puffing, he eventually made it up, flushed red in his usually porcelain like skin, and ready for murder slightly more than usual.
Opening their shared room, with a throatful of abuse just ready to hurl, but stopped immediately seeing the dumbass naked, and sprawled on the bed, sleeping like a baby, snoring loudly.
Holy fuck hes hot.
HE IS SLEEPING NAKED HOW IS THAT HOT AND HE HAS MAN BOOBIES
BITCH DONT QUESTION ME.
FINE.
Other than having gay panic, Ivan was also wondering how the fuck he had slept so fast, didn't he go up to his room not 10 minutes before him, the fuck? And how in all things unholy did he manage to get buckass naked in the same time frame, and on top of that why the fuck had he chose to sleep buckass naked when he was sleeping with another dude?
But he was tired, and very warm, either from seeing Alfred buckass naked or from the blasted stairs, so taking off his clothes (not all of them he had an under shirt and boxers on, he had fucking standards) and slept, until of course France called because he was a bastard and didn't like people sleeping.
Turns out that they had started to hug even though they'd been asleep for about half an hour.
Not mentioning the fact that he was buckass naked and hugging a dude, he picked up the phone, and oh joy it was a video call.
Frances eyebrows were in his hair seeing Alfred and Ivan both on call, one naked the other one not.
"That was quick non?"
Alarmed, as a teen would be, Alfred denied fucking in the way that makes you think that they definitely fucked, Ivan being a bit more reasonable said that they had both just fallen asleep.
After getting that altercation out of the way, Francis invited then to the bar, where a bunch of nations would be at, as his treat.
"Ok we will go, just dont start spreading any rumours, or your face will be unrecognisable."
Alfred gave a nervous chuckle, not exactly sure whether that was an exaggeration because knowing his family and the people he tended to be around, when that was said it occasionally was meant to be true.
"Jesus, Ok Ivan, I won't, I'll be waiting!"
#Gereng#Engger#Technically#Amerus#Thisnis stupid because sleep is a no#Emgland and france have a complicated relationship and Germany is bebe
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