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mercuriians · 3 months

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say what you want

synopsis ☆ you're forced to confront your feelings for aomine when your plans go wrong at a party.

content info — angst to fluff, some hurt/comfort, fem! reader, mutual pining (reader & aomine are both idiots), little bit suggestive at the end. also, as a WARNING, this work contains references to underage drinking so if that makes you uncomfortable then please don't read this.

word count — 3.1k words.

author's note — first full knb fic i've written!! yeahhh i got carried away so oops. wasn't really sure how to end it but i hope it's alright either way. while i was writing this fic i was listening to take a chance with me and lowkey by NIKI, so if you want to feel the vibes of the story then u should listen to those songs, they're amazing i promise. hope u guys enjoy this!!

"you know, ahomine, this entire thing was your fault."

you aim for your words to be sharp, accusatory, and scathing, filled with the type of poison that conveys just how irritated you felt at the moment; they’re intended to withdraw some kind—any kind, actually, since it’s aomine you’re talking to—of guilt or acknowledgement from the boy, or at the very least a sign that yes, he was the one who deserved the blame, and every ounce of it too.

however your objective falls short, and there’s a thought that irritatingly lingers at the back of your unusually sluggish mind: that, really, you weren’t exactly free from fault either. but it isn’t like you want to admit that because even the boy next to you knows the extent of your obstinacy and pride.

it’s a shame, and it’s quite ironic too, that your words are ultimately what betray your integrity. the way they come out breathless, slightly slurred, and definitely nowhere near scathing says more than enough.

earlier, you might have drunk a bit more than you were supposed to.

but to be fair, it was kise's seventeenth birthday. knowing how passionate he became whenever the subject was about parties or having fun or legitimately just having the spotlight on himself, the celebration turned out to be rather wild, to say the least. though when you had all five—technically six—members of the miracle generation gathered in the same area, as well as some of their respective teammates, the pandemonium was likely the only thing you could even anticipate. besides the heavy stench of testosterone of course.

see, your original plan was to spend the night quietly spectating the crowd. you never really liked parties, and you never really liked all the chaos that it brought. what you did like, though, was watching that same chaos unfold before your eyes. you even prepared your childhood friend to be by your side when it all went down, with his fluffy baby blue hair and his innocent, perceptive gaze never straying too far from where number two sat contentedly, playing with a rubber ball.

"how long do you think it'll take before kagami and aomine get into a brawl?" you had mused, hiding your amused grin behind your hand as you watched the two basketball players get into an argument over what the next song would be.

all the while, you hoped that kuroko didn’t see the way your eyes dipped towards the area of skin that aomine’s shirt haphazardly left exposed.

luckily he didn’t seem to notice. either that or—this was more likely—he was kind enough not to comment.

"ten minutes." kuroko had stated bluntly, answering your question. as it turns out, he wasn't far off from the mark.

so, for the first half of the party, your plan worked. you sat by the corner, languidly drinking from your cup of apple juice while you chatted with kuroko about anything that came into your mind. everything was fine, things were going well on your part, and at some point, you even sang along to the cheesy pop music that the speakers blasted.

most of all, you managed to avoid aomine.

but to put it frankly, shit hit the fan the moment the clock hit eleven. a bit surprisingly, the instigator wasn’t aomine, or takao, or even the golden birthday boy himself. no, it was sweet, exuberant momoi.

looking back on it, maybe your surprise was unreasonable. this was the same girl who could make eerily accurate predictions simply based off the statistics she collected from the court, and with you being a basketball player yourself, you knew just how scheming momoi could be when she really wanted to. that, and the fact that she happened to be another one of your childhood friends.

yeah, you probably should have realized that she was plotting something.

yet the realization never dawned on you. not when she offered you three consecutive cups of sake and claimed that “it’s to help you loosen up!”, not when she managed to pull you away from kuroko, not when she proposed the stupidly cliche spin the bottle game, and definitely not when she forced aomine to sit directly across from where you were.

after watching a few hilarious and awkward rounds, it was only inevitable for you to be the one spinning the bottle, and it was only inevitable for the damned thing to land on the one boy you were hoping to skip. and no, not because you hated him, but precisely because you simply couldn’t. it was impossible to not like aomine, even with his laziness, arrogance, perversion, and occasional playboyish tendencies. the truth was that behind every flaw of his, there were just as many positives, whether it was his obstinate loyalty or his unwavering honesty or his genuine respect for those who earned it.

so no one could blame you for the way your breath caught in your throat when aomine held your gaze and when he eventually began to make his way over. “this okay with you?” he asked nonchalantly as if this was a light, casual matter, and as if he didn’t care at all. yet, there was a slight, barely noticeable tightness in his navy gaze. had you not known him for years now, you likely wouldn’t have picked up on that small detail.

but as small as it was, really, it was anything but. and with your heart beating just a bit faster, you knew exactly why.

you nodded your head wordlessly, your lips parting, your eyes meeting his, and your message being spoken and understood through that eye contact alone. aomine leaned in, and you closed your eyes.

his lips were chapped, and his hand felt rough and calloused against your skin, but you felt a trail of fire prickling through your body anyway. quicker than you would have liked to admit, you found yourself falling deeper. you hoped, for a brief, flickering moment, that aomine felt the same. maybe, within his mind, there were thoughts of you.

swirls of past memories, like when you two would play basketball together, sweat dripping down your faces, soaking the fabric of your clothes as you focused on not letting him score; fragments of the future, like what it would be like to attend college together; and wishes for the present moment, like maybe how he wanted you to be his, just as you've wanted him to be yours since the last year of junior high.

you pulled aomine in closer, fingers digging into his collar. the logical part of your mind shrieked, voice raising in volume the longer you pressed your body against his, but you shut the thoughts out.

very, very vaguely, it occurred to you that the alcohol made your heart beat faster, made your spirit burn recklessly in a way that you hadn't known before.

for better or for worse, aomine noticed too.

and the moment you regained all sense of control, you realized that you no longer felt the weight of his body, or the warmth of his lips. bright lights flooded your vision as you opened your eyes. aomine stood a foot or two away, his shirt a bit crumpled from where you had gripped the fabric.

there was a certain kind of look on his face, but the problem was that you were unable to decipher it. this was the first time you couldn't read him.

fear settled into your bones.

had you just ruined everything between the two of you? not just the chances of ever dating him, but your friendship as well? should you have kissed him in the first place? what kind of person did he think you were now?

what had you done wrong, and why did you ever even accept those drinks from satsuki?

suddenly the room was full of too many people, and there were too many sounds and the lights were starting to blind you and damn it you couldn't even hear yourself think. in the heat of panic, you found yourself running, murmuring mindless apologies to whoever you almost crashed into.

you didn't stop until you reached kise's balcony. it was small, barely enough for three people to fit in, but the fact that you were able to taste the crisp june night air was enough.

unfortunately, it turned out that you only had a few minutes to spend alone with your thoughts. before long, the sound of the glass door sliding open disrupted the silence. you closed your eyes, praying to whatever was above that it wasn't the one person you wanted to avoid.

"wow, you really don't want to talk to me, huh?" a gruff, low voice dryly remarked. well, shit.

your eyes flew open. "i—uh, aomine," you cleared your throat hastily, "what did i.. did i say that out loud?"

"sure did," he confirmed. you heard him walking towards you before you saw him slide into the narrow space on your left. cautiously, you snuck a glance; his expression seemed to be unbothered, but knowing what happened ten minutes ago, you wouldn't risk a bet on it.

his eyes met yours. "you've been acting off," he remarked.

you refrained from rolling your eyes, like it wasn't already clear enough. "yeah, well, the sake that satsuki gave me was.. um, expired." you lied, and quite messily too. "made my stomach feel weird."

"she made me check the expiration date before her mom bought it," aomine deadpanned, and for the umpteenth time that night you wished that the floor was kind enough to swallow you whole. "and your stomach seems fine to me."

"well you wouldn't know that," you shot back, somewhat angrily. "and why did—how did satsuki even get her mom to buy alcohol in the first place?"

"her mom was the one who suggested it," aomine shrugged. despite the twinge of surprise that you felt—you weren't exactly sure if an adult was allowed to buy alcohol for seventeen-year-olds—it was quickly washed away and forgotten, overshadowed by the look that the boy suddenly gave you.

"so, are we gonna keep dodging the topic or what?"

your shoulders sagged, your arms crossing over your chest instinctively. "what is there to talk about?" you muttered.

"look, between the two of us, you're definitely the smarter one," aomine stated bluntly. "so quit actin' like you don't know what happened back there, (name)."

a heavy sigh escaped from your lips, frustration welling up within your chest all over again. you found it quite difficult to even breathe at the moment. "i don't want to do this right now," you stated. "so please just leave and we can pretend like—"

"that's the problem right there," aomine interrupts, an unprecedented twinge of emotion filling his voice. it was anger and frustration akin to yours, yes, but there was something else—something that you could reluctantly guess stemmed from a place that he'd kept hidden until now. "you keep avoiding me like i'm the damn plague or something. i didn't even do anything wrong, and if you feel like i did, then i can't do anything about it because you're not telling me shit."

and that right there brings you to the present moment, the buildup to the storm that's about to wreak havoc and tear up the land.

"you know, ahomine, this entire thing was your fault." you hiss, every ounce of your feelings pouring out without abandon. it's messy, it's unorganized, and it's raw; maybe none of it even makes sense, or maybe all of it does. you don't bother trying to wrap your head around it because there's no use in doing so.

for once, you don't think, and you let your words spill out like water from a broken faucet.

"it's your fault because you made me feel this way about you, even though you're one of the laziest, rudest, and most obnoxious people i know, not to mention that you read those perverted magazines. but you're also one of the most loyal and genuine, and i know that you would never lie. not on the court, and not outside of it, either. and that just—a-all of it frustrates and confuses me because we're polar opposites. you say whatever's on your mind, and you don't care about what people think about it. i can't do that."

you take a moment to breathe, to slow down, and to collect your scrambled train of thought. "i think that's why i don't tell you things like this. i'm probably drunk right now, but i think you want someone who's as unafraid as you are, someone who takes charge of the situation instead of being in the background. the only time i can be bold is when i play basketball. because then it's just—"

"just you, the ball, and the person in front of you," aomine finishes. surprisingly, his tone is soft, even understanding, and you look up to meet his gaze. "i know how that feels."

"it's like nothing else matters when you're on the court," you whispers, and the boy next to you nods. "all of it is simple. it's nothing like having to deal with your emotions, and having to understand them."

"you're right about that," aomine agrees. there are a few, shocking beats of silence that ensue, both of you seeming to ponder on your individual thoughts. "but, you know, the way you kissed me back there said a lot."

your face flushes pink. "yeah, i know," you mumble, turning your head away as you rest your arms against the railing. there's an uncomfortable feeling that sinks into you, just being aware that aomine knows how you've felt about him for years. you don't remember ever feeling as exposed as you do now.

"you're a good kisser," he comments somewhat offhandedly. "makes me wonder how it'll feel like to do that again in the future."

you pause.

your mouth drops open. "huh?" you stammer embarrassingly. "you can't joke about this, aomine—"

"look at me," he interrupts, softly but firmly. with hesitation swirling within your mind, you raise your head to meet his sapphire eyes. there's no trace of humor, or scorn, or sarcasm anywhere on his face, however. in fact, the seriousness exuding from his expression feels undeniably out of character.

and yet he's never looked as breathtaking as he does now.

"i hate saying this, but i think satsuki really did succeed this time." seeing the confusion on your face, aomine explains, "i tried pretending like i didn't have feelings for you either, because like you said, it feels weird. i guess ignoring them was more convenient for me, too. but, satsuki being satsuki, i guess she got bored of us being idiots and pulled this entire thing together."

"she's an orchestrator," you mutter, astonished. "wait, so, this means that you like me too—i'm not hallucinating?"

"nope, your ears are working perfectly fine." he states. "i've liked you ever since you broke my ankles and put me on my ass back at teiko."

overcome with surprise and glee—none of this feels real, still—you can't help but snort. "weren't you pissed when i did that? i mean i remember kise drooling over me, and akashi-kun giving me a compliment, but you were definitely upset." fond memories flash within your mind as you remember the sheer embarrassment and anger on a thirteen-year-old aomine's face.

"and i was, believe me," the boy chuckles. "but that was the first time a girl played against me and won. usually, they would just crowd around me and ramble about how hot i was. it was an unexpected change, but it was nice. kind of turned me on, too."

the last part almost causes you to choke on your saliva.

"such a pervert," you accuse him, a tint of pink staining your cheeks. "i don't even wanna know the thoughts that filled your head."

"i was thinking about how great of a girlfriend you'd be," aomine grins, stepping towards you. he reaches out, his hand moving to fix the strands of hair that covered your face. "and how pretty you'd look wearing my jersey."

"we can talk about that later," you swallow, looking up at him through your lashes, the party long forgotten. "right now, all you have to think about is kissing me again."

"that's easy," he retorts, his strong arms circling around your waist protectively. aomine leans down, his eyes slowly sliding shut, and his distinctive scent—cedarwood, smoke, and a hint of sweat—washes over you as his lips slot against yours.

unlike before, the kiss isn't frenzied or desperate; still, it maintains an air of passion, which both of you can clearly feel. his hands are curious, wandering and tracing areas all over your clothed body, almost as if he's trying to imprint them into his memory. they finally rest comfortably on the small of your back, with your own hands perched on his broad shoulders.

sneakily, he bites your lip, prompting a small, sharp whimper. your mouth opens invitingly, and his tongue sneaks in, swirling around your own.

when you pull away a little while later, you find yourself panting. your chest heaves with every breath, and your knees start to feel weak. "and you say i'm the good kisser," you say breathlessly, reaching up to give him one more peck.

"well i wasn't lying, was i?" he raises his brows slightly, making you giggle. "i had to stop myself from going even further."

"nobody said you had to stop," you whisper under your breath, catching him by surprise.

"trust me, i didn't want to," aomine leans down again, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "but we're both a little drunk right now."

his words bring you a renewed sense of clarity, or at least something resembling it. he's telling the truth, really; doing anything reckless under the influence of alcohol is quite far from being a good decision. "and i thought you were supposed to be a delinquent," you tease him harmlessly.

"even delinquents use their brain sometimes, (name)," he rolls his eyes. "besides, i'm starving right now. i wanna eat some of the onigiri that kagami made, even though he gets under my skin."

"he's a really good cook," you sigh in admiration, examining aomine's expression closely, "and he's handsome, too.."

he scowls. "watch it," the boy warns, "don't say anything you're going to regret later."

"sorry, daiki," you apologize with a grin. "it's just fun to tease you."

"whatever," aomine mutters. "tomorrow, i'll get my payback."

#kuroko no basket #knb fanfic #knb aomine #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #knb x reader #knb x you #aomine fluff #kuroko's basketball #i love him #✎— ❝devon writes❞

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otakusheep15 · 2 months

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Ranking Hazbin Hotel Songs (S1)

I’m seeing people do this on TT, but I don’t like posting on there, so I’m posting my list here instead. Obvious warning, but these are my own personal opinions. I think all of the songs are absolute bangers, but there are some that are better than others, so keep that in mind.

16. Welcome to Heaven

Pretty much the general fandom consensus. It’s not a bad song, and I like Darren Criss as a singer, but it’s too short and doesn’t do a whole lot for the plot.

15. Finale

This might be a pretty hot take, but I’m not that big of a fan of the finale. There are some parts that I like individually, but as a whole song, it doesn’t do it for me. It’s still good though.

14. Hell’s Greatest Dad

I think this one is the one that’s gonna upset a lot of people, but I really don’t vibe with this one. No, it has nothing to do with Mimzy. In fact, I actually like her a lot, but that’s besides the point. I’m not a huge fan of talk singing, and that’s what both of Alestor’s songs are, so they aren’t going to be very high. Not even Jeremy Jordan can save this song.

13. Stayed Gone

Again, I’m just not big on talk singing. I like this one just a bit more because I like Christian Borle’s voice as a talk-singer just a bit more than Jeremy Jordan.

12. More Than Anything (Reprise)

This is a really cute song! I wish we had more Chaggie moments in the show, but I’m glad we got this. It would be much higher, but I don’t like how short it is.

11. It Starts With Sorry

Idk why so many people hate this song. It’s so cute! Charlie’s voice is so good, and I like the lesson Sir Pentious learns. It gives off children’s show song, but in a very good way.

10. Out for Love

Carmilla my beloved! I am obsessed with her. I like how she taught Vaggie in this song. Again, my only real problem with it is how short it is. Idk why they made some of their best songs so short, but I need a longer version.

9. Happy Day in Hell

I am a big fan of introduction songs in musicals, and this is a perfect example of why. It’s a nice way to see Hell, especially through the optimism of someone like Charlie. It’s silly and upbeat, and I like that a lot.

8. Poison

I love this song so much! Blake Roman did such a fantastic job with his performance as Angel. I’m not usually a big fan of this particular type of pop, which is why I have it a bit lower, but I think it fits well with what they were going for in writing this song. It’s absolutely perfect.

7. Whatever it Takes

I need these two to have another duet at some point. Their voices fit so well together. Both of their individual parts are also very solid. All around just a good song.

6. You Didn’t Know

I blast this song at least once a day. My fave part is Lute, and I wish we got more of her singing voice this season. Jessica Vosk is so talented, so I hope we get more in season two. Obviously, Charlie and Emily’s part is also amazing, and I like Sera’s parts as well.

5. Hell is Forever

Ah yes, my favorite Christian rock song. Seriously though, this song is so good. It’s most similar to the actual kind of music I listen to, so of course it’d be pretty high on this list. It’s a good intro to Adam and the angels in general, and it slaps.

4. Respectless

Velvette might actually be one of my favorite characters. She, for sure, has my favorite design of any character, and she might have my favorite female voice as well (tied with Lute). Also, she was so real for what she said to Carmilla. Her voice is just very fun to listen to.

3. More than Anything

Jeremy Jordan is the reason I live and breathe. His voice is literal honey. He and Erika Henningsen harmonizing has brought new meaning into my life. I may not have daddy issues, but I think this song healed them anyway. It’s so cute.

2. Ready for This

I’m a sucker for a good rally song, and this is exactly that. Cannibal Town is also my favorite location of any place we’ve seen, both in Hazbin and Hellava Boss, and I adore Rosie. The cannibals were very funny in this number, and I like that Charlie was able to gain some confidence.

1. Loser, Baby

I’m officially changing my brand to the #1 Huskerdust shipper ever. I’m so obsessed with them. This episode is tied for my favorite with Hello, Rosie! Keith David needs another song immediately, and so does Blake Roman. They sound so good together, and I can’t wait to hear more of them!

#Hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #angel dust #alastor #vaggie #sir pentious #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #lucifer morningstar #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette

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blueaetherr · 10 months

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could you pls write a second part to “to love and to be loved”? maybe a continuation where trent confesses or where they’re already together? you choose<3

when fates align

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x gn!reader [they/them]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where trent and y/n unknowingly witness their fates fall into perfect position

author's note: part two to this imagine

now playing: favourite by nicki minaj ft. jeremih

During the early night, Trent and Y/N were up in the hills of LA overlooking the grand sight of the City of Lights. Up there, alone together as an unbothered pair, there was amusement and enjoyment as they smiled and laughed at whatever and drank whatever they wanted, vibing to the music they chose to play aloud for everyone yet nobody to hear.

Considering the end of the season Trent decided to on holiday, and with Y/N. It was not only his chance to drift away from his daily life but to also spend some valued time with his friend. Fortunately, Trent knew his dear Y/N so well, so well that he understood that they were still in their feelings about their ex-lover even if they refused to say it. Either way, Trent wanted Y/N to feel better about themself, to have them neglect their past lover in mind and thought.

The open environment, the calm scenes they had sight of almost every day, being some miles away from their relationship problems, blasting their favourite tunes without fear of judgement, playing both childish and explicit games—it provided Y/N with enough assurance that let them decompress and relax for a minute, letting Y/N enjoy the time spent together with her friend, something Trent deeply cherished for some right and wrong reasons.

"I remember playing Just Look Over Shoulder while I was getting ready for some party and he told me you know it's sampled, right?" Y/N started with their focus on the picturesque views of LA. "And obviously I knew 'cause you can just hear MJ's voice throughout the song, but I didn't know what song was sampled. So he introduced me to the original song and from then on, my appreciation for sampled songs went to another level, especially this one," they exhaled softly before turning to Trent with a hopeful glance. They clasped their fingers together. "So what do you think?"

After listening to the I'll Be There, Trent took the earphones out of his ears. Then he nodded in approval, his facial expression remaining positive and bright. "Yeah, I think it's really nice."

"Oh yeah?" Their eyes gleamed with excitement. Not that Y/N expected their music taste to be turned down, but rather she cared a lot about his opinion— because it was Trent.

"Of course," Trent said with a small laugh, adjusting his position on his car's hood. He cleared his throat, before folding his arms. "I don't think you can go wrong with the Jackson 5."

"I know." Then there was a slight dip in their smile, their eyes falling to their lap. "I hate that I love it though, and every other sampled song."

"Wait, why?" Trent wondered as a frown settled across his lips, his eyes clouded with sympathy. For a minute he thought he had done everything to let Y/N destress and relax. I mean everything had been going so well for some time until some moments ago. It was a mild guess, but he could guess it was caused by the thought of a past lover.

Y/N shook her head. They knew they would find some level of shame in their reasons. "I love them 'cause of him." And I'm correct, Trent thought. With their fingers picking at their shorts, they explained, "Every time I listen to them– some even being my favourite songs– my thoughts go back to him. I think about him and I don't want to, you know?"

Trent's eyes wandered around the scenery before they returned to Y/N, asking, "Do you hate your ex?"

"No. Not really." In truth, Y/N could never hate their ex-partners, both more and less recent ones. Their relationships never ended with arguments, hateful words or with resentment. Instead, the two parties always ended on mutual terms and exchanged their best wishes before parting ways. There was nothing to hate or even dislike about their partners when respect was a given for all of them.

"It's the fact that everything we had—which was something really good—has kinda been left for me to hold for now," Y/N held their hand up as if they were holding something. "From what I've seen, he's kinda moved on."

Trent nodded slowly, carefully thinking out his response. In simple, he wanted to restore his friend's happiness and confidence. "Your liking towards sampled songs shouldn't be burdened by your ex introducing them to you," he assured, moving his shoulders up and down. "I mean unless you can, I can't see you unliking them any time soon."

They bit the inside of their cheek. "Then what do you suggest I should do?"

"Redirect your feelings about sampled songs towards other things and people," Trent advised, "That way you can enjoy them without having your ex in mind."

Y/N hummed, "Other things and people, huh?"

Noticing the humour and suggestiveness in their response Trent's lips stretched upward, his dimples on perfect display. "Anything and anyone you want."

Y/N tilted their head slightly. "Like a new partner?" When his face dulled Y/N let out a chuckle, holding their stomach. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, relax," they reached their hand on the nape of their neck and leaned back a bit. "I know I'm not in the right place to be in a new relationship."

Although Y/N wasn't quite over their ex, their self-worth and confidence still remained. They understood well that they were lovable and all their other relationships were just simply unfortunate and temporary, and not wastes of time. That there would be a time, maybe after a few more relationships, when they would remain in a stable one. That somewhere there was someone who they sooner or later could define as home and experience, fulfilling their desire to be loved. They just had to be patient and willing to be given the right person rather than trying to rush fate.

"Remember a few weeks ago when you told me you had someone in mind?" They asked as their eyes settled on the views in front of them. They couldn't help it—so mesmerising and delicate to the eye from a high rural position.

"Briefly, yeah," Trent coughed out a response, his words opposing his thoughts so well. He hadn't expected the two to return to the conversation. Not only was it a few weeks ago but he thought Y/N would take it as him speaking hypothetically (even though he wasn't). "What about it?"

"Well, I've been thinking about it, you know, 'cause I love and value your opinion so much. So I've been trying to imagine the next person I might be with, trying to guess if you were describing one of our friends or maybe someone I haven't met yet. And it's been hard 'cause everything you said I mean..." Y/N stretched their words as they lifted their hand above their head, "You set the standards high like that."

Monitoring their facial expression Trent was quick to notice their mild sadness. He patted their shoulder before assuring softly, "You've always had high standards." He didn't just say that to reassure his friend—he truly believed Y/N held high standards when it came to dating. This was evident in the fact that he never found himself hating or disliking any of their ex-partners. What they saw as their low standards was the fact their relationships failed to last for significant lengths of time.

"Yeah, but they're always kinda redundant by the time the relationships end. Anyway, I've thought, and thought, and thought and... I don't know. But whoever it is, wherever they may be right now, they do sound wonderful," Y/N nodded, their recent frown forming into a smile. And though it was small, it managed to reach their eyes perfectly. Then they directed their words towards Trent, "Just like you, so really, I have nothing to stress about, right?"

Something quite evident about the pair's friendship was the fact that Y/N highly appreciated Trent, in both platonic and otherwise ways. He provided their bests through their worst, he provided them reassurance when their confidence was low. He always went beyond the expectations of one's typical friend and for that, they would forever remain grateful that he was involved in their life every day.

For some time there was some quiet between the two, soft music from the speaker brought along lounging in the air. The blend of everything, the soft music, the default romantic scenery they found themselves in, the invisible feelings in the air, and Trent's loud thoughts overwhelming his judgement—was enough for Trent to say what had been on his mind for some time, somewhere as early as Y/N's first relationship.

"I didn't want to tell you a few weeks ago 'cause I thought it would be cruel considering you just broke up with your partner, and I also didn't want to pressure you into feeling any type of way and I'm not expecting anything in return. That wouldn't have been nice, would it? And to be honest, I feel like I shouldn't be saying this now either since you still seem to be getting over your ex. But I just wanted to let you know, that's all."

Y/N's face fell at his words, some confusion yet understanding falling over them. They didn't know exactly what Trent was saying, but they were willing to tune in carefully.

"I'm the person I've had in mind for you. I'm this wonderful person I was talking about a few weeks ago. I'm the wonderful person you're talking about now, the one who set your standards high apparently. Again, you don't have to say anything. I-I—" Trent exhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. His lack of sight gave him some clarity, letting him focus. "Clearly, you've taken my words seriously, so I feel like it's only fair to tell you so I don't lead you astray when everything I was talking about was about, well, me."

Opening his eyes Trent was faced with Y/N. Slowly, realisation dawned on their face as their mouth fell open. It was then that Trent felt panic cross over his face. Did he just say all that for everything to not work out in the end?

But then they came through, their facial expression beginning to open up. "I don't know, Trent... I feel like you're forcing fate right now."

"Really? You've been thinking and wondering about that? " Trent scoffed out a small laugh, one full of relief and happiness. Relief and happiness in finally knowing that the feelings he had been holding towards someone for some time weren't all for nothing and one-sided. "I don't know about you but it sounds like everything's falling into place just right."

Y/N shrugged with a smile, one shy yet somehow still mirroring Trent's. "Maybe is it, you know." They declared, "You're one of my favourite people, Trent. Well, you are my favourite person." Unconsciously, their exes were based on their dear friend, Trent. His vibrant personality, his dull humour, his high standards. That's why Y/N's ex-partners were all so perfect in not only their eyes but also Trent's eyes; Y/N liked everything that was Trent while Trent would, obviously, love everything that was him.

Together, the two shared kind smiles, laughter and conversations. There wasn't anything different about them, but the fact that both Trent and Y/N learned something new about one another—something both of them had wanted to be true for so long—just made their interactions now seem like a different and new experience, something where their visible emotions and feelings were involved.

There was so much to say, so much the two wanted to say, so much that needed to be said. For understanding, to ease minds, to learn all the details there was to know.

But Trent and Y/N would wait. In that moment, emotions were overwhelming and one wanted to say this and that that it would be too chaotic. Allowing what the two wanted to happen right now would ruin the events that were supposed to happen, rushing fate. So Trent and Y/N would be patient and willing for when it would be okay to move forward, and for once, together.

In the meantime, Trent and Y/N would enjoy their time together somewhere in the hills of LA. They would cherish their final moments together as just friends, knowing that when they would return to their holiday home, when they would return to England, or when a few weeks or months have passed, the two would get to spend time together as everything they have wanted for each other and for themselves—loving (Y/N) and being loved (by Trent).

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold oneshots #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x gn!reader #gn!reader #trent alexander arnold x black!reader #black!reader #football imagines #trent alexander arnold blurbs #football fanfiction #football fanfic #football oneshots #football fluff #black reader

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writersblog20 · 1 year

Text

Halloween 🎃👻

Henry Cavill x reader

Summary: Tonight was finally Halloween, your favorite day of the year. You had a Halloween party with Henry but it seemed to be more than a party.

Warnings: Dd/lg vibes (definitely in the end), Henry being dominant, anxiety, sexual tension, drinking, being a little drunk, haunted house, scares etc

Words: 4,5K

A/N: I’m back! Sort off, I’m still figuring it out but hey, here’s a new story in honor of Halloween! I feel like I’ve lost the vibe to write so just keep that in mind with the story. I’m sorry if I didn’t tag you, I forgot who to tag in Henry’s stories

Halloween

It was Halloween, your favorite holiday of the year and you were ready for it, getting ready to go to a Halloween party. You were best friends with the one and only Henry Cavill and would go together to the party. Your other friends would be there too but you and Henry agreed to go together. You were doubting between your Chucky costume or Carrie, both laying out on your bed. You were a sucker for 80’s slashers and took this very seriously, it was only once a year that you could really show off and have the perfect outfit. You chose the white slip on dress with blood smudged all over it.

You put it on and looked in the mirror with a smile before doing your make-up and applying some fake blood all over you. Your phone was blasting some old Halloween classics to get you in the spirit even though that wasn’t necessarily since you’ve been waiting a year for this. Your phone went off, telling you that you had a text. You looked and it was Henry with a selfie in his outfit. He went as Dracula and the text said “I’m ready” you smiled as you took in the picture that he sent you and felt butterflies explode in your stomach. You’ve had a serious crush on him since the moment you’ve met him and the crush was quickly moving towards love.

You quickly replied with a selfie back, saying that you were ready too. He texted back immediately saying: “You look gorgeous even with fake blood on your face, princess. I’m on my way.” He had send you his live location with it as well. You felt your cheeks heat up at his reaction and let out a loud sigh. “God, this man is going to be the death of me.” You took another look in the mirror, happy with the result and applied your finishing touch, dark red lipstick and put some perfume on before gathering your stuff.

It didn’t took long before your doorbell went off. You were quickly at the door and took a deep breath before opening it. You saw Henry in his costume with a big smile which you returned. “Hey” he said while pulling you into a hug. You held him tightly as his cologne hit your nose. You softly took a breath in and relaxed underneath his touch. His scent always seemed to calm you down. It might be weird to others but to you, when you smelled Henry, you feel safe and secure. He got out of the hug and looked at you with a big grin. “You look really good sweetheart.” He told you as if he was in a trance. You felt flustered and smiled shyly. Henry cleared his throat and got out of whatever trance he was in and composed himself again.

It wasn’t a lie when Henry told the world that he didn’t know what to do around a girl who he really likes and you were proof of that. He fell in love the moment he saw you and only grew more once he got to know you but just like you, he rather had a friendship with you than nothing at all. He didn’t know that you liked him back but everyone from the outside could see the love radiating towards the two of you.

“You ready to go?” he asked you, snapping you out of thoughts. “Yeah, yeah let me grab my bag.” You shook out of your own little world and got back inside to get your stuff. Henry slowly walked after you, knowing it was okay to step foot in your house and which you expected him to do so. “You look really good too by the way!” you yelled from the other side of the room. Henry smiled lovingly while he looked at his shoes while he waited for you in the hallway. “Thank you.” he said in almost a whisper and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. You couldn’t have said that into his eyes so you thought it was better to say it from another room.

You got your stuff and the uber just arrived. Henry held out his arm for you to take which you gladly did and held him by his elbow. He opened the door for you with his famous smile just for you and helped you into the uber. You’ve always felt a little shy around Henry but tonight was different. More awkward and it was killing you. You knew at that point that your feelings were through the roof for him but little did you know that was exactly what happened with Henry too and boy could he feel it too. It both scared to you death with the anxiety of “What if he/ she knows.” Both being blind as hell.

You tried to speak up at the exact moment that Henry was speaking up as well, talking over each other. “Sorry.” You chuckled awkwardly just like Henry. “You go first” you told Henry when your eyes left the floor again. It was so bad that you couldn’t even look him in the eyes anymore. “No you start. Ladies first.” He told you with a soft smile trying to make eye contact but failing, making him nervous as hell. “So… How’s filming going for the new Enola Homes movie?” you quickly thought. He chuckled a little “Good, we just finished actually. Can’t wait for you to see it…” he told you and you smiled. It looked like it broke the ice for a moment. “Can’t wait to see it. You know how much I loved the first one. And now that you have more screen time…. You know I can’t wait for that.” You told him but once you realized what you had said you felt your cheeks heat up. Henry chuckled again “Yeah, I actually was wondering… I eh there is a premiere right? And I was wondering if you would like to go with me…. you know…. to the premiere and watch it together…” He asked you very carefully.

You felt butterflies going lose in your stomach and it made you almost nauseas how much you liked this man. “Yeah, yeah I would love that.” You told him and for the first time really looked into his eyes. Henry was already looking at you with loving eyes that he couldn’t hide. You quickly looked away with a soft shy smile. “Great. I’ll let you know more info as soon as I know.” he told you, making you nod and you couldn’t stop smiling.

You finally arrived and felt relieved. Something changed between the two of you and you couldn’t tell exactly what. Henry opened the door and reached out his hand for you to take so he could help you out of the car. You placed your hand in his and saw how small your hand was in his big one. The moment your hand touched yours you felt your heartbeat quicken. You got out of the car and looked at the place where the party was. It would be in a bar and upstairs was where they held the party. Someone was waiting for you at the door. They were scarily dressed up and went completely in their role. “I can see you two are here for the party……” the person grinned and you and Henry looked at each other. You both knew that something was going to happen before you could enter. Henry put his arm around you and pulled you as close to his body as he could. He was always very protective of you.

“Well… the party is upstairs but first you need to go in the haunted house if you want to go to the party….. if you’re still alive.” The person grinned and gave you two tickets. You looked a little scared at Henry. You hated haunted houses. You didn’t mind walkthroughs but only if they were outside. In a house you would always panic because in your mind there was no way out. Henry looked at you and gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay princess, I’ll protect you remember?” he told you and you start to feel a little calmer, nodding.

You held onto Henry as tightly as you could and stepped inside. They really did a number on this place because it looked nothing like it did before. They really turned up. You almost walked past a painting until it fell down and behind it was someone dressed up and reached out their arm for you, making you scream and turn towards Henry, who immediately placed his arms around you like a shield. Your head was hiding against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat going crazy. Was he scared as well? You thought but it definitely had other reasons why his heart was almost out of his chest and you were that reason.

You walked further and there were some more “scare actors” and Henry noticed your distress, trying to give you as much comfort as he could while he held on tightly to you. But the further you got, the scarier it got and apparently you also had to go outside. Like I said, they went all in. There was someone with a chainsaw waiting around the corner from you and put it on, scaring you out of your skin. You liked scares but not in that moment perse. You went to the other side of Henry and was glued to his side. The man came close to your leg with the chainsaw and you got in front of Henry, making yourself as small as possible and held tightly on to him. His arms were around you and his hand was resting on the back of your head, hiding your face against his shoulder, his head resting against yours so you would feel as protected as he could at that moment. The guy left with the chainsaw and pointed outside, letting you both know that you had to go out.

Henry held your hand and your other hand was holding his arm. Henry didn’t really like haunted houses but right now he loved it, now he had you clinging to his side and he could protect you. His heart was almost bursting with love for you now but he didn’t liked the fact that you were so scared.

You walked outside and there were sheets hanging all around and Henry got them out of the way as you walked further. Soon there was another man with a chainsaw scaring you to death and was quickly to disappear after that. “Jesus, I’m gonna need a drink after this” you mumbled softly, which Henry replied to with a chuckle. You were so over this but more specifically because you didn’t know when it was going to end and not knowing what was further to come. You started to hear the music blast and felt a wave of relief coming over you and you straightened your back, lowering your defenses, which was a big mistake.

You walked back in and a painting dropped down next to you, behind it a scare actor trying to grab you with his arm. You ducked down to your right and the other painting on that side fell as well, making you scream out loud before the painting in front of you dropped. That was the last straw and you fled out of there, earning a loud laugh from Henry. You knew you would laugh about this later but now you were too busy running away.

You thought you were done but there was one last room and you quickly grabbed Henry who was still laughing. You scared him in the process of grabbing him and pulling him towards the other room. There were at least 10 monsters in this room but you didn’t know who was a manikin and who was real. They looked really scary, their eyes were fully blown open and there was blood and other stuff all over their faces and it scared the crap out of you. You clang to Henry and tried to look everywhere at the same time. You were extremely on high alert right now and Henry noticed, softly rubbing your arms and trying to guide you to the exit.

“Almost there sweetheart, almost. I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you, okay sweetheart?” Henry softly cooed in your ear and if you weren’t so much on high alert right now, you knew your heart would burst with what he just said to you. It did bring you comfort and protection a little bit right now while you were still looking from left to right. All of a sudden the light started to strobe and the people that weren’t manikins got into your face with some fake knives and you let out a loud scream. Even Henry jumped at that scare. You both got out of that room fast and were finally out of the ”house”.

You and Henry looked at each other, trying to catch your breath when you both started giggling which turned out in laughing. “Well….. Y/N, you are definitely the knew scream queen.” He told you, referring to your favorite horror movies. You got a big grin on your face. “Oh and of course, the ultimate final girl.” He told you teasingly with a grin on his face. You smiled, feeling flustered at the his teasing statement. “Well… Thank you prince charming but let’s get some drinks now. I really could use one.” You told him chuckling.

You still held his arm when you stepped into the party. You felt excitement in your stomach. They played the 70, 80, 90 music horror and you couldn’t get happier. From white wedding by Billy Idol to Don’t fear the reaper and even some modern songs like the Weeknd with Die for you. Everyone was dressed up and the room very decorated to say the least. You looked at Henry back and you had the biggest smile upon your face. Henry was already smiling when you looked at him but the moment you looked eyes, you could see them soften in adoration and the butterflies went loose again. “Let’s get some drinks” Henry tried to yell over the music, his eyes glistening, giving you a whole new sensation than before with the look he gave you. He took the lead and walked to the bar, his hand searching for yours and gave it a light squeeze when he found you. The way your small hand was in his made you already weak to your knees. You knew it was going to be a long night if he kept doing this. You loved it and wanted nothing other than to do this forever but it was torture in the moment. You loved him so much, heart aching for him that it almost physically started to hurt.

You really did need that drink. You and Henry stood next to each other and because you made it through the “house” you both got a free bloody shot. Henry ordered your favorite drink and a beer for himself before turning to you with the shot in his fingers. You got the shot as well and you both cheered before drinking it. He never lost eye contact while taking the shot. It gave you an exciting yet entangled with a little bit of nerves, like going down on a rollercoaster. It was a strong shot and coughed from it, chuckling a bit. Yup, this was exactly what you needed to numb the feelings a bit. Keep it cute and the feelings on mute kind of thing.

When you got the drinks, you saw your friends on the dancefloor already happily waving towards you. You looked at Henry and he raised his eyebrow and had a smirk as a sign to go over to them. You smiled and walked towards them with Henry, greeting them with a hug. Everyone’s outfit was on point. One of your male friends went as ghostface and Michael Myers, both drinking their drinks with a straw. Your female friends were all over the place. One went as Cassie from Euphoria, we had a sexy female version of Chucky, a cheerleader with blood all over the place, and a fairy but they all looked amazing.

You all started drinking more and all of a sudden there was a scare actor, scaring you with a shaker. You screamed and immediately backed into Henry’s chest who already had his arms around you. You noticed that all the scare actors would scare the guests as well. You chuckled a little nervous. “Another drink then princess?” he whispered in your ear teasingly because you were so easy to scare. You nodded and before he could walk away from you, you caught his hand. “Wait…. I want to come with you.” you said a little nervous and that was the moment that Henry knew that you saw him and him only as your protector, making his heart swell for you.

You walked with Henry to the bar and ordered some good shots for everyone and got a strong drink. Henry raised his eyebrow in surprise up, looking at you with a smirk. “Don’t judge me.” you told him, trying to sound as unguilty as possible. He chuckled “don’t worry sweetheart.” He told you and you both got back to the group with everyone’s shot. You all took them and cheered, Henry making once again eye contact with you and with that look on his face. You started to get annoyed with yourself at how easy it was for this man to make you feel flustered again.

You all danced a bit but you stayed very nervous and on edge because of the ‘monsters’ and Henry noticed it. He went over and stood behind you so no one could scare you from behind. You felt his chest against your back, one hand softly rubbing over your arm. His warmth radiated over to you and you felt the drop in your stomach again. You started to lean a little back against him. This was the moment that you finally relaxed a bit and had fun. You had more alcohol and it started to hit you a little bit faster than you expected it to be but that didn’t stop you and continued.

Henry started to get a little buzzed as well but not as much as you. He started to flirt more, feeling a bit braver and so did you, flirting back and being fisty, which nine out of the ten times he needed to look away from you when you made a sharp remark, had a dark smirk over his face, shook his hand and took a sip of his beer every time. “Drop the attitude princess.” He told you with a dark grin on his face, giving away that he sort off enjoyed this. “make me.” You felt way too brave after the tequila you had consumed earlier “Don’t ask for things you can’t handle.” Henry stood tall in front of you but you wouldn’t back down “Who says I will?” you puffed out your chest more as well, trying to sound confident even though you felt submissive as hell.

Henry chuckled darkly and look away from you, giving the impression that he wasn’t taking you seriously. You frowned when Henry looked back at you. The moment he saw that frown upon your face, he turned darker, more dominant. “You better take that frown off of your face princess.” It gave you chills and felt into sub mode but still tried to get him to do something. He knew that you were a sub. It was painfully obvious for him sometimes.

“Make me.” you said darkly back, trying so hard not to show your current state. “What if I will. Mhm. Are you satisfied then? Will you be a good girl then?” Okay that was the moment you lost it and looked down, letting him know that he won. His fingers went underneath your chin and made you look at him. Your noses almost touching and you took a shaky breath. “Good girl with dropping the attitude.” He praised you and he could feel the goosebumps underneath his touch on your arm and smiled but backed off. For a moment realization had set in, in what just happened and you felt slightly embarrassed and Henry was scared that he had crossed your line.

You were both a little in your own world, staring at each other in a trance of panic when a monster came into your face and you got scarred so bad that you dropped your drink, taking you both out of the trance. You quickly got outside since you needed some fresh air. You sat around the corner and rubbed your arms against the cold until you felt a jacket being placed over your shoulders. You quickly looked back to see Henry standing there with a soft sympathetic smile on his face.

He stood a little in front of you, nervously standing on his feet in the silence. The thumps from the bass dancing throughout the dark night. You both kept silent but it was killing you. You felt so nervous, sick, anxious and distress until Henry spoke up. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t want that.” You nodded “I’m sorry too.” Was the only thing you could say. It was killing you how much your heart ached for this man and you didn’t know how long and much more you could handle this. You were almost at the point of spilling it out already. “Are…. Ehhh… We good?” he asked you, the tension still clearly there but because of you. You nodded, unable to even look at him, close to crying while you were staring at the ground.

“Sweetheart. Don’t lie to me. I know something is bothering you. I don’t feel like we’re good yet. What is it?” he asked you but you denied, shaking your head. “Nope… Nope eh we’re good.” But the tears were already falling and you quickly sniffled. “Really…..? Is that why you can’t even look at me and you’re crying?” he asked you, clearly not believing you for one bit. “Sweetheart. Please tell me what’s going on…. You’re scaring me.” He crouched down next to you and you could hear the desperation in his voice, breaking your heart.

“I like you.” you told him quickly. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was slowly killing you inside, leaving you empty and sad. “What?” you heard him say in a whisper, surprised.

You still couldn’t look at him. “I like you. I’m in love with you and I’m really sorry if you’re not in love with me, I get it and it’s okay but I couldn’t hold it any longer. I’m in love with you and it’s killing me.” you rushed out, tripping over your own words. Henry was processing all of it when you stopped. “You’re in love with me?” he asked and you got annoyed. “Yes. Yes I’m in love with you but you don’t have to make fun of me for it.” You were so certain that he didn’t like you back that you really thought he was teasing you. Not that he would tease you over such a topic but still..

He started to puzzle it together and smiled until he heard your last sentence. “Sweetheart, calm down, calm down. I’m not teasing you, I promise.” He told you while he stood in front of you with his hands on your arms. You finally looked at him and he had a loving but concerning look on his face. He smiled sweetly at you when you made eye contact. He was calming you down, he could always calm you down and was the only one who was able to do that.

“I’m so in love with you that I didn’t knew what to do. But I’m love with you too princess.” You looked at him and he was so happy, it radiated over him. His hand cupped your cheek and softly went down to your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. Your heart was thumping against your chest. Finally you felt his lips on yours. Something you’ve dreamed and fantasized about in forever. You pulled him closer by his costume and you could feel him smile in the kiss. It became heated when you felt his tongue against your own and the way he was softly biting your lip. You both pulled back and smiled at each other.

“So ehmm. Can I take you on a proper date then?” he asked you, actually still nervous. You chuckled softly “I would like that even though I think this is perfect.” You hinted back at the party and the “house” in particular. He smiled before it turned into a worried and softened look in his eyes. “Did I went to far back in there?” he asked you genuinely. You shook your head, feeling a bit embarrassed. “No…. it’s just…. You can make me feel so small. But small in a good way….” You felt embarrassed saying it out loud.

Henry smiled adoringly at you with a look of understanding. He held your chin again. “Don’t be embarrassed. I know that you’re secretly a very sensitive little girl who needs and deserves a lot of love.” He told you and you felt yourself grow almost emotional. Your body was crushed against his in a much needed tight hug. Henry chuckled while he held you tight. “Don’t worry. I will always take good care of you, my little sweet princess.” You felt yourself grow mushy. You looked up at him and never felt more cared for, already. His hand went over your hair, towards your cheek while he cupped it and pulled you in for a gentle but passionate kiss while his thumb softly stroke your cheek.

When he pulled out of the kiss, he rubbed his nose softly against yours. You smiled but didn’t want to drop into a sub right here. You tried to shrug it off but Henry shushed you. “It’s okay princess. I know you’re not fully there yet but let it be. I’ll take care of you. Let it be princess. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and try it?” He asked you and you nodded with a soft smile, trusting Henry.

You knew that there was a reason that Halloween was your favorite holiday.

taglist: @sarahrogersevans @thereisa8ella

#Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill story #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill xreader #henry cavill x fluff #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill daddy #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill imagine

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concrete-critters · 5 months

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Okay this is more a comment than an ask but Concreteclan gives me the vibes of an episodic cartoon that slowly starts to have overarching stories and themes and arcs like adventure time or..actually adventure time is the only thing I can think of. Concreteclan has adventure time vibes!/pos

OOC: Awww thank you!! To be perfectly candid and honest, while i do love adventure time and that probably did leak into Concreteclan as a result-The real inspirations of this blog are (besides other clangen blogs) tails gets trolled, Mob psycho 100 and Preeny has to repeat 6th grade. I love the mspaint aesthetic so much, i use clip studio paint but purposefully try to keep my shading flat most of the time and my lines crisply pixely. I also know that even though i could probably make the comic look "nicer" i choose to kinda play fast and loose with the lines and colors. I mean, lorn's face is constantly changing length in almost every panel lmao. Ive found its more fun to not worry so much about making sure my art is perfect. As for my inspirations- Tails gets trolled is like. actually a fucking great webcomic, as flawed as it is. (its been a while since ive read it, pretty sure slurs are used in it lol, but i digress) Concreteclan is really an homage to it in only art style and sometimes humor. If you guys want another webcomic thats like more of a direct homage, i would highly recomend Scoob and Shag, which is just as apeshit if not more. Mob psycho 100 is a more subtle inspiration, i just really resonate with the themes of that comic. I also got a confidence boost from it cuz like. Mob100's artstyle is rough and some would say "bad". But it still got made into an anime! and its still acclaimed. You know why? Cuz the art is EXPRESSIVE! It evokes emotion! And thats what im going for! emotion over perfection. Also its got really good writing. Preeny has to repeat 6th grade is. god. probably just straight up a special interest of mine. Its such a kind story. A lot of clangen stories start with tragedy. (esp when theres only two cats to start off) And dont get me wrong, i love it a lot. Starting from nothing like that is a really fun narrative and I live for it. But im a contrarian little guy. So i wanted to start off with an act of kindness that has ripple effects for the rest of the comic. There will be tragedy and sadness in Concreteclan, but I guess i just want it to be in a different way. And while im talking about inspirations, Lorn and Indigo both kinda were inspired by Papyrus and Sans from undertale. In terms of dynamics. Lorn is more inspired by Papyrus than Indigo is inspired by Sans. Indigo is far different from Sans, and would probabaly find him uncouth and a slob. She's a proper lady with manners after all. Lorn and Papyrus would fucking have a blast hanging out though.

All in all, yeah! Thats my rant of the day done, thanks for the ask! I'm Buddy and thats Conk-CRETE!

#ooc

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jessicas-pi · 7 months

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9, 13, and 24 for the teenage rebellion au?

Yay, more asks!! :D

9. Is there a scene you wish you could've included, but couldn't? Why?

Gosh, yeah. Ever since the Ahsoka show came out, I've wanted to write a bit where Inquisitor!Ezra is assigned to babysit the newest and youngest addition to the Inquisitorius, except he also has secret plans to meet Sabine that night which he really doesn't want to miss, so he decides to just bring the kid along. What could go wrong? Well, turns out, the answer is A Lot, as the kid, who happens to be Shin Hati, books it the heck out of there the first chance she gets to cause as much chaos and property damage as possible, and what was supposed to be a nice date night turns into a mad dash across Coruscant in something strongly resembling Yzma and Kronk's hunt for Kuzco, if Kuzco was a slightly feral 12-year-old with a laser sword, and Yzma and Kronk were teenagers who couldn't stop flirting long enough to form a cohesive plan besides "follow the sound of traffic accidents and hope for the best," which I realize doesn't sound much like the Emperor's New Groove at all, but trust me, the comedy vibes are the exact same.

Unfortunately, this isn't gonna work, due to the simple fact that Mara is already dubbed Youngest Sister, and Shin is about four years younger than her, so, like... what would they even call her?

13. Write a lil snippet set in this verse.

ohhhh ok ok how about some pain???

She stumbled through the first door she could find--a cluttered supply closet--and scrabbled to release the clasps on her mask, gasping for breath. The coldness rubbed her mind raw, boring into her like blasting sand in a desert storm. She wanted to claw at her own skin until the horrible Darkness drained out of her like drops of blood. She had hoped. She had believed. She thought she could fix things, save just the child if she could save no one else. But the child was older now, and Falling farther and farther, and Anakin was a monster, and the other Inquisitors--people who were once Jedi, people who she once loved--were past hope. All was lost, and the only thing Ahsoka had managed to do was to destroy herself.

24. Ramble about something you haven't gotten to talk about yet.

OOH OK OK SOOO. At first glance, this AU is either a cracky or angsty fic, depending on which way any given story swings, without too much depth in it, where all the fics are named with lyrics from ABBA songs (don't ask me why. I don't know). But!!! There are two big, serious themes in this AU, as well. One is redemption, and the other one, which I'm gonna ramble about, is family. Good family, bad family, blood family, found family--all of it.

The Inquisitors all go by "Brother" and "Sister", and some of them--especially Ezra and Mara--actually do view each other as siblings. (Others... not so much.) Basically, as a whole, the Inquisitorius functions as a big, messed up family. Vader sees Ezra and Mara as the children he lost, but his love for them is selfish and possessive. Even the kids, to a smaller extent, also have an... I don't want to say "unhealthy relationship" because theirs is by far the most healthy dynamic in the whole Inquisitorius, but their relationship definitely isn't optimal, as Ezra's had to be both a brother and a parent to Mara since he was five.

Meanwhile, Sabine is living as a virtual prisoner with her relatives on Coruscant. She feels abandoned by all of her blood family, except for her brother. While she has friends in Luke and Leia, and a motherly figure in Vere, she's extremely lonely and isolated.

But also, there's the Organas, and the Naberries (who adopted Luke,) and even Luke and Leia--though they don't know they're blood siblings (yet). There'a also the Ghost crew (who will be showing up eventually), and while I would really, really love to elaborate on said Ghost crew, as well as SEVERAL other people/groups of people that tie into the theme of GOOD family, I'm not going to, because in this AU, the good family elements mostly tie into the happy ending, so I'd have to spoil a lot of the plot to do it.

#thank you for the ask!!! :)#the teenage rebellion AU #sabezra #fic snippet

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cephalog0d · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 2 - "My Pride Comes After A Fall"

Rating: Mature (swearing, violence)

Category: Gen

Characters/Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake; mentioned Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Stephanie Brown-centric, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, (roughly early preboot Spoiler to be specific), Tim Drake is Robin, (Steph doesn't know that yet), Whumptober 2023, Explosions, Drowning, Hypothermia, Concussions, Insecurity, Hurt/Comfort, (at least a little comfort)

Summary:

Gotham City would be radically improved, in Stephanie Brown’s opinion, if it was about ten million percent harder for every random citizen to get their hands on explosives.

A night of simple surveillance goes up in flames (literally) and quickly becomes deadly. As a mostly-brand new and mostly-unsanctioned crime fighter, Spoiler is on her own to get out of it.

Day 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

Uh, welcome to Whumptober? A wildly different tone of writing than literally everything else I've shared here! I hope you enjoy it anyway! (There's still some humor in here, though. Because deflecting with humor to handle trauma is a Batkid staple.) This is not particularly tied to canon but it is roughly set in the early days of Steph's preboot Spoiler era. Relevant details are that she does not yet know Robin's secret identity and both Robin and Batman (but mostly Batman) have been extremely persistent in trying to stop her from doing the crime fighting thing. Title is from Anchor by Birdeatsbaby, which is a great song and also just generally gives me preboot Steph vibes.

Gotham City would be radically improved, in Stephanie Brown’s opinion, if it was about ten million percent harder for every random citizen to get their hands on explosives.

Tonight was supposed to be some simple surveillance. Just lurking on the rooftop of one of Gotham’s ten thousand waterfront warehouses and listening in on what was afoot between two of Gotham’s aforementioned overly armed citizens. Or, well, criminals, she was pretty sure, given the guns and general tough guy vibe. Wanna-be criminals, maybe, with all the posturing, even lower on the food chain than her dad, but clearly still a threat to Gotham considering, you know, the weaponry. She hadn’t managed to catch enough conversation to figure out exactly what shady business they were up to before one of them (the one wearing wildly unnecessary sunglasses, not the one with a ridiculous fedora) got trigger happy, set off an explosion, and turned her simple surveillance into a parkour run from hell.

One wall and a chunk of both the floor and the roof were obliterated immediately, throwing debris out into the harbor and ripping away support for the remaining part of the building, which rapidly started to crumble into the water after it.

Steph took off at a run the second she got her feet under her, thanking every deity that might exist that she had been perched far enough away from the epicenter that she hadn’t just gotten taken out instantly. It was entirely possible that had happened to the two crooks, given the size of the blast, but frankly she had bigger worries at the moment. She was too busy running for the nearest solid rooftop as fast as she could while dodging the cracks and holes of the rooftop she was currently on breaking apart under her feet.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She vaulted a split in the concrete just as the two sections ripped apart, landing rough on the other side of what was now a gaping chasm. So much for quiet reconnaissance. She hadn’t even screwed anything up; the dipshits with the guns had done that all on their own. Figured. She was going to break an ankle or get impaled by rebar and she hadn’t even done anything to earn it.

Just get to solid ground, and she could regroup and catch her breath.

The gap to the next rooftop was tantalizingly close when a huge crack opened right under her feet. Steph stumbled and lost her footing, dropping into the steadily widening gap and towards the churning water below. She grabbed desperately at the edge, but it crumbled away in her hand. One larger piece clocked her in the forehead hard enough that she saw stars and she lost a precious second of reaction time as she struggled to shrug it off and pull out her grapple. Her throw was more of a wild fling than anything, hoping desperately to grab something solid enough to stop her fall, but if there was anything up there to latch onto she didn’t hit it before she crashed into the harbor

The icy November water punched whatever air she had managed to hold onto out of her lungs and she only barely managed to suppress the reflex to breathe in again. Her cape immediately tangled around her and she clawed at the latch to unhook it and kick it away. The boots she had chosen for their sturdiness now seemed like the worst possible option, like lead weights dragging her down and slowing her movement, but they were too well fitted for her to just kick them off.

She swam as hard as she could in what she desperately hoped was the direction of the surface, her lungs already burning and her limbs rapidly going numb from the cold. The water was pitch black around her and churning with waves and falling debris. Something struck her hard on the shoulder and sent her spinning, ruining whatever sense of “up” she might have had.

Don’t panic, she told herself. Don’t panic don’t panic-

Her lungs were screaming at her to breathe and her teeth were chattering so hard it felt like she might bite her own tongue off. She locked her jaw hard against both reflexes and tried to focus.

Another piece of something rushed past her, dragging a line of fire down her arm for a second before the cold deadened the feeling. She tried to kick herself around so she was facing the direction it had come from, praying it had fallen straight down from the surface, and forced her frozen arms and legs to move.

It was impossible to tell if she was making any kind of progress with how turbulent the water was. It felt like she was going nowhere, just flailing around in the dark and waiting for her reflexes to win out and take a nice big gulp of seawater, or for a piece of concrete to crush her.

When her hand broke the surface she was almost too numb to notice except that the wind somehow, impossibly, made it even colder. With a last desperate kick her head followed and she inhaled without thinking. Instead of air she got a choking lungful of nothing as her wet mask plastered itself to her face. She fumbled frantically with her gloved, frozen fingers to get a grip and peel it off, her head spinning and her vision going gray, and finally managed to rip it free and inhale a huge breath.

She barely got one gasp of actual air before a wave slammed into her and filled her nose and mouth with gritty, salty water, sending her into a coughing fit. She kicked harder and arched her neck in an attempt to keep breathing as the coughs kept coming. Every one tore at her lungs and created a fresh burst of pain in her head and all she wanted to do was stop flailing around and catch her fucking breath.

Which meant she needed to get out of the water, now.

With enormous effort, she turned herself around to face the shore. She must have drifted with the current, or accidentally swam more out than up, because it seemed way too far away from where she was now.

Something in the warehouse was on fire, painting the dark water with red and orange streaks. It was pretty, sort of, like liquid light spilling over the surface.

Another wave hit her square in the face and refocused her a little.

She needed to get out of the water and get warm. It was getting harder to think, and whether that was the cold or the possible concussion it was a very bad sign.

It took way too long to reach the wall, and her focus kept slipping. She was thrown back and forth by the waves as much as she managed to move forward, and she was just so tired. Her teeth had finally stopped chattering so much and all she wanted to do was stop and rest.

Something about that was vaguely alarming, but she wasn’t sure why. Resting was good. It was important to get enough rest, especially for crime fighters. Batman and Robin probably didn’t. Maybe that was why they were so cranky all the damn time.

She was startled by a loud crack as something in the warehouse collapsed, and when she looked up she realized she was finally close to the edge of the building. Right. Get out of the water. Then she could rest. That made sense.

There was a chunk of the wall that had crumbled close enough to the waterline that she could reach it as a handhold. It still took a couple of tries for her to grab hold and actually hang on instead of being pulled away by the motion of the waves.

Up and out. Out of the water. Focus.

She wasn’t sure how long it took to actually pull herself up. She was drifting a little, her mind wandering, and sometimes she came back and realized she was still moving and sometimes she realized she had paused and was just sitting there.

Not good, whispered a little voice. Not good not good. She might have repeated it out loud, but she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t feel her face anymore. She wished the cold would extend into her skull and numb the pain there, too. It was kind of bullshit that everything else was frozen but her brain still hurt.

She made it as far as the outer wall of the warehouse, part of it that was still standing, before she couldn’t make herself move any further. She collapsed propped up against the soot-covered concrete. The fire was further inside what remained of the building, but she thought she could feel some of the heat from it. Clumsily, she yanked off her glove and reached out a hand.

She wasn’t shivering much anymore, so it must be warmer. That was good. She was too tired to do anything else, and her head felt like it was trying to split apart and float away.

Something dark dripped off her elbow and she followed the path of the droplets to a long tear in her sleeve, and a gash in her skin beneath that. She was going to have to fix her suit again. That sucked. She bet Robin never had to worry about fixing his own suit. She bet it would have been warmer and waterproof, too.

She didn’t get fancy suits. All she got was a radio, and it was all wet now. Or maybe she’d lost it? She’d lost her cape, which was a shame. Capes were expensive, and it would’ve been nice to wrap up in it and get warm now that she was out of the water.

With one hand she absently patted around, in case maybe her cape was somewhere nearby. She didn’t find it, but there was a lump in her belt that she pulled out to discover it was a little handheld radio. That was funny, for some reason, but she wasn’t sure why. Water was dripping out of it, and nothing happened when she hit the button, which was also funny.

It wouldn’t have done anything anyway, she thought in a distant sort of way. She wasn’t Robin. Robin’s radio worked to call Batman. Hers just leaked water, like a really weird squirt gun.

She giggled and dropped the radio onto the concrete. Her head didn’t hurt quite so bad anymore, which was nice. She was so tired, and now she could finally rest. She curled her arms and legs in, rested her head on her knees and drifted off watching the fire.

~*~

The first thing Steph was aware of was that her head was pounding. She groaned and tried to shift away from the pain on reflex, only to find she couldn’t really move.

That was concerning enough for her to drag the scattered bits of her awareness back together and attempt to take stock.

She was cold, for one thing. Aside from her pounding head, there was a deep ache in her left forearm, her shoulder, and she was shivering, although she felt something warm against her back and sides. She tried to shift closer to the heat and was once again foiled by whatever was restraining her. It was surprisingly soft, and did yield a little when she tried to push against it, but only a little.

“Don’t squirm too much, you’ll mess up the blankets,” said a voice directly in her ear. She was too tired to really jump, but it definitely startled her.

“Sorry,” the voice said apologetically. “It’s just me. Uh, Robin.”

Well that was...something. Surprising? A relief, maybe. Also kind of embarrassing considering she couldn’t even move. Way to make a good impression, Stephanie.

She tried to ask what had happened, or why Robin was there, or why she was mummified in blankets, apparently, but all that came out was a vague sort of groan.

“Take it easy,” Robin said. “You were in pretty bad shape.”

Something around Steph shifted, moving her a bit more upright, and she realized the source of the heat she could feel was Robin, who was apparently holding her. So yeah, definitely embarrassing. (Kind of nice, considering she hadn’t quite stopped shivering yet and he was pretty warm even through the blankets, but still.)

Steph tried to speak again, had a brief coughing fit that kicked the pain in her head up from “pounding” to “excruciating”, and then took a slow, careful breath and tried again. (God, she had inhaled so much harbor water. She was probably going to get some kind of super-pneumonia with all the shit that was in there, the kind that rotted your lungs or turned you into a sewer mutant or something.)

“Wha’ happen’d,” she managed to mumble out mostly clearly.

“We were hoping you could tell us. When we got there, there was an exploded warehouse, two dead bodies and you almost frozen solid.”

“Stupid ‘splosives. Wasn’ even my fault.”

“Who’s fault was it?” Robin sounded sort of skeptical that Steph wasn’t somehow responsible, which she thought was pretty rude. She certainly hadn’t blown herself up.

“Corey Hart,” she said.

“What?” Robin’s face was somewhere above and behind her, and she still had her eyes closed, but just from his voice Steph could imagine his look of vaguely annoyed confusion all too well. She’d seen it often enough.

“Dumbass in sunglasses,” she clarified. “He shot ‘em on accident. Like a dumbass.” She felt it was important to emphasize the level of dumbassery involved.

“Well. I guess at least we don’t have to worry too much about what they were planning to do with them. What else do you remember?"

“Building collapsed, fell in the water, got back to shore somehow, I guess. Pretty fuzzy.” She must have gotten back to shore somehow if that’s where they found her, but she couldn’t quite remember any of it. Or how they had known to look for her. Had she called them? That didn’t seem right.

“Hypothermia and a concussion will do that,” Robin said. It sounded almost accusing. What, like she had lost her memory on purpose, just to annoy them? Sorry I didn't take notes while I was drowning, she thought.

“You should have called us,” Robin continued, his voice veering rapidly into full on Lecture Mode where he would tell her exactly how she had messed up and what she should have done differently (like he wasn't younger than her, and like she wasn't figuring out most of this on her own anyway) with a heaping helping of “this is why you shouldn't be doing this and we don't take you seriously” on the side.

Cold and tired and with a persistent and painful headache, Steph was even less inclined to put up with it than usual.

“Why, so you could get in one last 'I told you so'?"” she snapped.

“So we could help you, idiot!” he snapped back. His hold on her tightened, maybe on purpose and maybe just on reflex, and Steph discovered it was extremely awkward to get in a fight with someone while they were basically hugging you.

“Do you have any idea how bad it was by the time we found you? And we were only there because of reports of the explosion! You would have frozen to death because, what, you're just too proud to realize you're in over your head and ask for help?”

Steph had an extremely vague and fleeting impression that she had thought about calling, and thought it wouldn't make a difference if she did. She couldn't quite pull an exact memory, but that was, admittedly, not the first or only time that particular line of thought had occurred to her. That they weren't about to drop everything to come rescue someone they had made it clear they didn't want out there anyway.

No way was she giving him any of that ammunition, though.

Lucky, she was also hit with an abrupt and vivid sense memory of clicking the button on her radio and water pouring out the sides.

“Or because I fell in the water and it killed my radio,” she reminded Robin sharply. There was a pause that was probably much shorter than it felt like before he responded.

“Those really need to be waterproof,” he finally conceded. No shit, Steph thought but maturely did not say. The pause this time was exactly as long as it felt before Robin finally broke it.

“Um,” he said; she could feel his fingers fidgeting a bit with the outermost blanket of her burrito. “Sorry if I was-...”

Steph both heard and felt him huff a quick breath and start again.

“We really did think you might be dead, at first,” he continued in a much softer voice. “You weren't responding at all and there was blood all over your face and on the ground from your arm. That wasn't actually as bad as it looked, you definitely have a concussion, but the hypothermia was…bad.”

Well when he put it like that…

“Thus the medically necessary snuggling?” she asked, deliberately choosing the cutsiest word she could think off of the top of her head. She still couldn't see Robin's face from her angle but she did feel him shift a bit in a shrug and hoped it was because he was also kind of embarrassed about the situation. It wasn't fair for it to be just her.

“We needed to warm you up, like, a lot," he explained rather unnecessarily. "I can always go get Batman if you’d rather cuddle with him.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re the lesser of two grosses,” she declared magnanimously.

“Thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

(Maybe Robin was right about helping her if she needed it. She wasn't fully convinced, and she probably wouldn't be until it was actually tested and proven, but as she finally stopped shivering and drifted off into proper sleep it was a nice thought to hold onto.)

Notes: Later, when Steph's brain is fully online again, she'll get to have the fun of making an entire Cave full of Batfolk deeply uncomfortable by very casually asking who's responsible for getting her out of her wet costume. (Because the best way to handle being embarrassed about something is to get everyone else on the same level. I don't think Steph is actually upset about the situation because, you know, medical emergency, but that doesn't mean she's not going to push their buttons about it a lil bit.) (Me, writing: "Hmm, should I include this 80's music joke? Eh, this is sort of set in the 90's, I'm doing it anyway.")

#whumptober 2023 #no.2 #thermometer #delirium #batman #fic #drowning tw #hypothermia #stephanie brown #spoiler #tim drake #robin #(mostly it's about steph tho)#ceph writes things

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vmures · 6 months

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I'd love to see the directors commentary for A Merry War <3

I'm so glad you asked about this one! It was such a fun fic to write.

This was originally written for the July 2021 Rough Trade Challenge (Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy). If you aren't familiar with that challenge site, it is a rough draft challenge, where you do your best to complete a rough draft of a work in a month. Challenge lengths can vary a good bit, but this one was for a novella length fic. I'd been following the challenge for ages, but this was the first time I decided to try my hand at it myself. And I had a blast once I settled on an idea for the challenge.

One of my all-time favorite Shakespeare plays is Much Ado About Nothing, and I was was pondering paranormal romance ideas I realized that Stiles and Peter could definitely have a solid Beatrice/Benedict vibe.

One of my personal headcanons about Peter is that many canon events fucked him up tremendously and shaped him into the person he became in the series. And I wanted to explore what he might have been like in a different world, and what Stiles might have been like had he not discovered the supernatural when he did. So I had to figure out how to create that world, what might cause those changes?

And I realized that if the Argents had been dealt with long before they ever became an issue for the Hales and even before the attempted peace talks Gerard had with Deucalion and other alphas, a whole slew of things likely would never have happened. Including that ill-fated meeting that resulted in the disaster with Paige, and including Talia fucking with Peter's memories (though we don't know what caused her to do that, we know that at least one memory was taken that involved Hunters chasing him and Derek and them hiding in the Nematon's roots). With their territory safe and stable, Peter would be able to be himself, and that meant I could play around with what he might have chosen to become professionally. In canon, he's a bit of a fashionista, so I decided on fashion designer Peter with a focus on men's wear.

Then I got to thinking about Stiles and I wanted to do something different with his character. So often we see him going into law enforcement or some sort of analyst job. But we know that he has the potential to be fairly physical from the series and Dylan O'Brien has definitely put in a lot of work on the action star front. So I pondered him becoming a fighter of some sort. I'd been watching 9-1-1 a good bit and there is a subplot involving illegal street fights, but one of the actors did do MMA and that got me thinking in that direction. So then I had to address how he got into that, and then how he and Peter would meet up.

All of this led to the idea that Chris could be the pivotal character in a lot of ways. What if he was the one who cleaned up his family's mess and put a stop to it, but that got him ostracized from the hunting community and blacklisted from the arms business as well? What might he do to make ends meet? We know he's a seasoned fighter, and we can assume he has training abilities given his work with Allison in the series. So I landed on the idea of him becoming an MMA fighter and then opening his own gym when he was ready to retire from the ring.

At some point, I may go back and write the full story of how he and the Sheriff end up falling in love. But the short version is that Noah was not used to anyone else loving and supporting his son without hesitation and qualifications (i.e. He's a good kid, but...), and seeing Chris with his son as they trained was quite an eye-opening experience. Plus Chris is dead sexy and Noah is only human.

I eventually got all the backstory sorted in my head, including the gradual dissolution of Stiles and Scott's relationship, which is a common thing that happens as people who were friends because they were both the odd kids out in school grow up and apart as they find less and less in common with one another. And where I could see Scott and Stiles growing apart as they got older, I could see college-age Jackson and Stiles becoming friends. Because I always got the sense that Jackson was jealous of Stiles and his relationship with his dad. With a bit of time for both of them to grow up, they'd have a better understanding of one another and a greater appreciation for the snark and attitude the other has. In high school they're just a bit too similar (prickly and unsure of their actual welcome and covering it with sarcasm, bravado and ego), even if they would never, ever want to admit that.

I realized that if I wrote all of that, it would be a massive story and I'd never finish it in a month. And it wouldn't be the fun, light-hearted story that I wanted to tell in this instance. So I kept that backstory in my head and focused on what happened when Stiles decided he was ready to retire and head back to Beacon Hills. Then it was fun to let go of my inner snark and write all the banter between them. Plus I got to include a nod to a favorite film and another slash pairing I love (Casablanca and Rick/Louie, cause there is definitely a "more than friends" vibes between the two). I always enjoy winding some of my other favorite pop culture bits into a story.

Plus writing healthy, happy, and incredibly snarky Hales is always a blast. The Stilinskis and Hales all have a great deal of mischief and snark at their heart, which makes them great fun to write. While I'm sure some of it came from Claudia in Stiles' case, Noah shows he's pretty similar to his son in a lot of ways and it's always fun exploring that. And when it comes to Chris...I admit to being charmed by J.R. Bourne's own attitude and some of his Instagram videos, all of which made me want a softer version of Chris. We see hints of that in his interactions with Allison, so I just amped it up a bit.

Let me know if I missed something you desperately wanted to know about! <3 <3 <3

#v's musings #asks answered #Steter #teen wolf fic thoughts explored #A Merry War

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hufflepuffsthunderdome · 2 years

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Brit-pop and the HP Boys

Ok so I have recently found my love for brit-pop and the British 90s working-class fashion scene reinvigorated and am in love with the idea of the HP boys being into this subculture too!

They were British boys in the 90s after all so I'm choosing to accept the reality that this music and style translated to the magic world too.

Let's begin with Dean Thomas! I adore the idea of him taking fashion inspiration from Jarvis Cocker! I imagine that thrifted, grandpa esc, slightly mismatched with the occasional pop of extreme colour that Jarvis would wear being perfect for dean. Plus he's kind of tall and lanky too so I think it would be perfect.

Meanwhile, Seamus Finnigan would KILL in Damon Albarn's fit from the Parklife music video (insane jumping through the streets and all). You can't tell me this boy wouldn't rock some bright coloured trackies cause I won't accept it! While I do think he may own the occasional full set here and there, you know, the matching tracksuit style thing, I can't imagine him reaching for it all that often. He likes to mix it up.

The Stoner!Neville that the fandom loves (myself included) would rock a bucket hat, chain necklace combo! I'm just thinking this exact picture of Liam Gallagher:

Meanwhile, the more soft, herbology nerd Neville would for sure wear anything Alex James of Blur wore when he was young - cardigans and all.

I can see both Fred and George leaning towards the Damon Albarn school of fashion, but the far more skinhead inspire vibes of it all. Doc's, jeans, polos, maybe even a piercing.

I see Ron going for the far more young vibes that kids were wearing at the time, leaning simple and athletic rather than the more streetwear casual the others would adopt. He would dress exactly like the kids playing footy in Madness's baggy trousers - long-sleeved collared jerseys, jeans and ratty trainers.

I don't know why but I also see Harry falling into two camps. He goes full dork mode and dresses like Supergrass in any of their music videos, which he totally owns by the way! Or Jarvis cocker in this one live performance of Mis Shapes

Draco (who I don't usually write for, cause lowkey ew, but I have strong opinions) would be all the way on team Suede! They had a far more polished and put together vibe than any of the other bands at the time and I think Draco fits that really well. Part of my brain is also saying he could possibly work the full leather even that Brett Anderson wore on the cover of Select once, though I don't know how I feel about this.

I had a blast writing this, so expect more brit pop inspired stuff soon. For the girls next time?! Maybe some playlists too!!! Stay keen! I would love to hear your input too any fans out there of either fandom lol

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haleslugworth · 1 year

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I had been thinking about getting The Sun and Its Shade because I had been very curious to know if Amaris got worse in the second edition. Well, from both of these reviews, it's safe to assume that she's got any better from the first book.

All I can say is that Nox deserves so much better. Even if Nox comes off hard to like at times, I still think she deserves way better than to be treated the way she was in book one.

Amaris, yet again, is at the lead for being the most specialist of all special girlies. From what Talia has said in their review, Amaris was quite literally born like she is the Jesus Christ of their universe:

Not only born as the Jesus Christ of their universe but she was birthed by a black priestess who was just a vessel character? Makes me wonder why in the world Amaris was born an ivory, white, snowflake, moonlight baby then? (No kidding, she's always described in variations of white, you HAVE to read the first book to believe me.)

Oh, but the fun part: Amaris was born to protect Nox, the princess of two kingdoms. But the entire time in book one, Nox was the one protecting Amaris from everything, lol. Thanks, SAVIOR.

I wish I had more to say about this entire racist bullshit, but I really don't. Every day, it's just something insanely new and wildly bizarre that leaves me so gobsmacked that I have to re-read it a few times to make sure I'm not going mad.

Piper CJ's weird, racist crusade continues and I want it to end.

But what makes me both confused and sad at the same time is this vibe that Piper CJ is trying to retcon the original canon ship between Amaris and Nox by pairing the women up with two different men in the second book.

Don't get me wrong, I would hate it if Amaris did end up dating Nox in the end, but it still hurts because it mostly makes me feel sorry for Nox. Throughout book one, Nox was fixed on finding Amaris, thinking she had turned into a slave or something and she wanted to rescue her. Her whole mindset was on nothing but finding Amaris. Now? The writing has started to push the women apart.

While Nox is being written to have the hots for Malik now, Amaris is out somewhere getting finger-banged by Gadriel. Apparently getting finger-blasted doesn't count as her virginity being taken (even though virginity is a social construct but okay. Got to make the snowflake the most special and pure one.) But yeah, the women have their boy toys now, and Amaris is still unaware of Nox's very existence until the near end of the book where she was "always dreaming of Nox." Lol, okay sure, author.

I guess this is Piper CJ's way of "proving" her book is a bisexual fantasy. But does it really have to be so painstakingly bad to the point where the canonical ship doesn't even hold up anymore? It's clear that Piper CJ loves 'Amaris x Gadriel' more than any other ship in her books, and that would be fine if she just made that the canonical ship in the first place. Don't drag Nox around and then just push her aside for some other hot fae dude.

I'm SO sad for Nox right now, it's not a joke!

"But, Nox is a princess of two kingdoms AND she gets a man, what is the problem? She's hella strong, too!"

But it doesn't feel like Piper CJ even made it as though Nox deserved them. They were just things thrown onto Nox just to make her interesting in the story, only to then shelf it for a while, while the author goes and writes her attempted BDSM smut between Amaris and Gadriel. Nox is the biggest afterthought and she is one of the protagonists who STILL needs to pander to her white savior.

I thought I felt sorry for Gadriel, at first, because Amaris was a massive prick that acted childish for something he said, then spits in his face when she gave him the 'silent treatment' and he got upset about it. No, now I just don't care about him either. Amaris and Gadriel are garbage and they totally deserve each other.

I'm gonna draw Nox just because I am so sad that my favourite girl boss just keeps getting derailed over and over and OVER again while the special snowflake gets everything she wants.

#tsais #book rant #the sun and its shade

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goldentemplariumcrow · 2 years

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What I'd say about your blog: very open, easy to follow when it comes to writing. I know they're assassin creed based off your description, but im getting more DC vibes given all their interactions! Overall I'd say nice to see on the dash and see all the relationships they have

@dandeliicns

I'm still mainly AC based and all my boys' interactions with DC-based muses are placed in one of my two-and-a-half crossover verses. All the bases for all my muses are Assassin's Creed, but I find the gaps where both verses can meet and play along fascinating.

I also RP mostly on those because well... The AC community's last boom in roleplayers happened with AC Syndicate and since then, is kind of comatosed, with sporadic bloomings and quick withdraws like when AC Origins and AC Odyssey came out. The RPC kind of went downwards and the number of roleplayers became smaller and ever more selective, which left me with close to no options of what to do, I could stay in the toxic enviroment where people would treat me bad for playing original characters (there are exceptions and you all know who you are, I love you all for your time and patience with me, specially those who have been with me for so long you even know my old blog), or try to find other ways to keep my muses alive while being true to their origin and background.

I came in contact to the DC fandom by RPing with a friend who's not around anymore, they played a Talon version of Dick Grayson who they named Nightraven and since I like knowing more about my partners muses and worlds, I ended up starting to branch out.

My friend isn't around anymore, Covid got them, but they introduced me to a world where I made some of the most meaningful friendships I could ever ask for. @nerdybirdboy , @rxsurrxcted and @strategiic were the first ones to really give me a chance around the fandom, they were super nice and kind enough to hear my ramblings, correct me when I got something wrong in my understanding of their muses and universe, then came @lostxndbroken who showed me I didn't need to be afraid of approaching others and ask for RP even though I knew nothing of their muse, @celerem followed with talking to me and assuring me that I wasn't an inconvenience or bother for not going full -DC-verse, that it was fine to want to keep my muses' AC connections, I had lots of fun with @lcbotomy with the concept of how Dio kind of is already so done with everything that he just goes with the flow and likes to see the world explode from times to times, and I didn't RP much with @thecursedhellblazer because I'm way too awkward to ask for it when tumblr keeps eating notifications and so I miss the threads, but I appreciated every little interaction John and Dio had; lately, there's been @chaoticxgays too, who so kindly let me RP with them and I have a blast with our plotting and talking headcanon (and naughty-naughty stuff too xD), @flashgotthis , @speedsterredhead , @whxlmedwing and @yetanotherhubblog all who have been around and I can't wait to have threads with all of them, I love to see how creative they are, even if some of them scare my living soul out of my body with the amount of muses they have (I'm scared by big numbers due to past bad relationships, but I'm always willing to try again and again until it works!).

The tldr; is that I just feel welcome in the little corner of this community I accidentally carved for myself, even if I know I'm an outsider and will never not be one, since I remain faithful to my humble beginnings and muses' backgrounds. That's just how the cookie crumbles on my side, the quality time I spend with those who approach me or allow myself to approach them is all that matters to me, and it's what keeps me around.

I love to RP and chances are, if I'm allowed, I'll never stop. It's a passion of mine and I just change my enviroments and carry on the friendships I made on the way as I move from one fandom to another, which is often a long process, because I don't let myself be taken by hypes.

On that note, I hope I managed to explain how it all happened and why I'm here, in the line between DC and AC ♡ Also, feel free to DM me and stuff. I'm still open to RP with your boos~

#》ooc #//sorry everyone who were mentioned #//you're all so important to me that i can't help but gush a little bit about you all ♡

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wickedscribbles · 2 years

Text

Trouble That I Always Find

Masterlist

Anonymous requested Ahsoka falling ill either on one of her missions or shortly after the Clone Wars, and a concerned Rex taking care of her! I got a ton of ideas for this prompt -- hope you enjoy! AND SORRY I TOOK SO LONG 😭 Title is from this song, which has always given me the biggest Ahsoka vibes.

Summary: They both know that Ahsoka’s been pushing herself too hard. Does that mean that Ahsoka will actually take the time she needs to rest? Nope. Does that mean that Rex is going to let her keep working through whatever illness she’s managed to pick up? Of course not. Set not long after the end of the Clone Wars -- Ahsoka is 19. In an AU where Rex and Ahsoka *don’t* immediately split up to go their separate ways across the galaxy. Pairing: Maybe a hint of Rexsoka, if you’re looking. Third Person Ahsoka Perspective.

Rating: Teen

Tags: PTSD mention, post-Clone Wars, light whump, sickfic, Togruta biology, hunting for food, headache/migraine, working through illness, caretaking, self-neglect, light angst, fluff, hint of feelings

Word Count: 5.3K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

If Ahsoka never sees this miserable, soggy forest planet again, it'll be too soon.

Her growing sources across the Outer Rim have informed her of soldiers in white armor gathering at the edge of the mountains, far beyond the local villages. According to the hearsay, they’re stamped with the insignia of the new Empire, and Ahsoka’s intuition tells her that that can’t be anything but bad news.

She can’t do much on her own, but she has to see if there’s a way to help these clones. She’s still haunted by the day the 501st turned on her, on their own brother. If there’s any chance they can reverse it for more of them, they have to try.

The nightmares she wakes to are filled with Rex pointing his blaster to her head, repeating the same hollowed-out phrase. Good soldiers follow orders. He knows by now when she's had one. Ahsoka is sure he can hear her gasp awake, her arms thrown out to deflect a blast that never comes.

It's almost impossible to fall back asleep after that happens, even after he insists that she's safe. Sometimes the two of them sit through the night til morning together, simply taking comfort in the fact that they're still around to remember. Other nights see them begin to talk about the past, in broken bits and pieces -- any longer and the pain of it would be too much.

Rex has insisted on coming for this recon, too, but there’s no way he can go anywhere near this. They both know it’s risky for him to be seen, no matter how good of a disguise they can manage to scrounge up. That had sparked an argument -- him insisting he wouldn’t be seen at all, so it wouldn’t matter, and Ahsoka pushing back that they couldn’t take the risk. Period.

Ahsoka’s status as a former Padawan might mark her as valuable if she’s caught using the Force. But as far as a good portion of the galaxy knows, she’s just any other disgruntled young Togruta woman. Though if Rex is seen at all, it's game over. She won't let that happen. She knows it frustrates him -- staying with the ship or the camp, and only coming out under the cover of night.

She would rather do things the hard way than not have him around to worry about at all.

Wonder what Skyguy would say right now, she thinks, squinting down at her datapad. It’s an instinctual thought, though that doesn’t stop her stomachs from sinking with sadness. Anakin loved the rain. Scruffy little desert dork. He never seemed to mind getting wet. He’d shake his head like a shaggy bantha and laugh when the water landed all over them -- her and Master Obi-Wan.

Kriff, Master Obi-Wan always looked so mad! It would take everything she had to keep from dissolving into laughter at the look on his face, no matter what kind of situation they were stuck in. And then he'd try and insist that he wasn't angry, only irritated or disappointed. Right.

But it’s just her now. And that’s something she can’t think about, no matter how the feeling of it always lingers there, in the back of her mind.

He’d tell me to quit moping and get on with my mission, she relents, rubbing at a sore montral.

The edges of her cloak are soaked through with rain, as hard as she's tried to keep out of the downpour. The plainclothes she wears in exchange for her long-retired Jedi garb do little to dull the chill of the air, though they cover her from neck to ankle in an effort to disguise her as much as possible.

From her perch in this ancient tree, Ahsoka fights not to shiver, to call on the Force to keep her warm and centered. She has to concentrate on the task at hand. She’s here for a reason, she can’t afford to let her thoughts go fuzzy the way they want to. If only her head didn't ache. It’s cutting into her usual clear concentration, annoying more than anything.

She’s not even sure that the Empire is out here. Gangs have sprung up since the death of the Republic, doubling and even tripling in number with no reasonable law to keep the peace. Maybe that’s all it is, stirred to the point of hysteria with rumors and gossip. At the very least, Ahsoka knows that she’s been sitting stock-still in this tree for hours, watching the supposed meeting place for this group. Not even a stray animal has passed by in that direction.

Kriff it.

It’s getting late, and the suns will set if she stays up here another hour. If they’re operating at night, Ahsoka’s going to come back and watch for it tomorrow, when she has some energy. Right now her stomachs feel like they’re beginning to eat themselves. Her body is sore from sitting so long in one place, and she’s eager to inch down, to stretch and move and hunt.

Casting one last listen around the perimeter, Ahsoka makes sure that she’s alone before opening her comm. It’s a good thing that the tech is waterproof.

“Hey,” she says softly. No name greeting, no code word. This channel connects to Rex and only Rex. If anyone but him were to answer, they’d have to destroy the encryption, starting all over to create a new form of secret comm link.

He picks up almost immediately, the crackling feedback of the comm making her flinch. “Hey. Any luck?”

Ahsoka sighs, watching a little flit-wren sail past her. “Not at all. If they’re here, they’re either working by night, or not in the location the villagers said they would be.”

Rex hmms his own disappointment, hesitating before speaking again. “You coming back, then?”

“Give me a minute. I’m starving.”

And not for crumbly kriffing ration bars. Even the ones that are supposed to be meat-flavored aren’t. The artificial taste coats the roof of her mouth for hours after she eats one, waxy and unappealing. Every time she peels the wrapper, she’s taken back to the mess hall of Anakin’s Star Destroyer, faced with an apologetic serving droid. Rations are low, it would beep out. Rations were often low. She doesn’t give a damn if the things are packed with a day’s worth of essential nutrients. Right now, she’s in a forest, and she’s going to get food.

It’d felt so peculiar that first time, to give into the hunting instincts always bubbling so close to the surface. Slinking low into a prowl, cornering an ash-rabbit on Andelm IV, she’d felt like an idiot. Though every breath it took echoed loud in the hollows of her lekku, its every slamming heartbeat multiplied by the thousands with her ultra-sensitive hearing. The longer she concentrated, the calmer she felt -- like she was meant to do this.

She’d locked her eyes onto the quivering black creature, her bare feet moving in the grass, soundless. This was the way of the Togruta -- to be close to the land. To feel the very pulse of it in the soles of your foot. The ash-rabbit was unaware of her until she was practically on top of it, her body tense before the pounce. Its one startled squeak before going limp between the sharp curve of her canines was its only tell.

And she had felt sorry for them in the beginning, despite it all. Despite all the war and death already sitting on her young shoulders, the first fade of life from their eyes -- from the Force -- still punched her in the gut. As she’d carefully skinned the animal, the words of old Master Eeth Koth came back to her. We cannot control the way we are born, he’d told her once. Only how we choose to carry ourselves. Be proud of who you are, Padawan, both Togruta and Jedi.

She feels much better about what she’s doing after that. For every successful hunt Ahsoka makes afterward, for herself and for Rex, she takes a small moment to thank the animal for giving them the nourishment they need to push forward in their journey through the galaxy. Her confidence soon grows, as well.

Now, though, she’s not sure she’ll be able to make the flawless kill she’s used to.

Ahsoka works her way down from her perch in the tree, wincing as every motion jostles her full-feeling head and montrals. She wants to go faster, to avoid the potential of being seen in a vulnerable position, but there’s no way she can move at normal speed without stumbling over with dizziness. Even if she can’t sense anyone around her, her survival instincts tell her not to waste any time. So the compromise is a nauseating but manageable pace, until there’s ground beneath her feet at last.

Even when she’s level, it takes a second for Ahsoka to stop seeing doubles of the trees and bushes. It’s been hours now since she’s moved more than to ease the ache of sitting in one spot, and the adjustment isn’t kind. She has to close her eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring bacta to at least numb the headache. Nothing to do about it now. At least when she’s done with this, she tells herself, she can get back to the camp with Rex and settle down for the day.

Concentrate. Listen.

If she wants to get to camp, then she’d better hurry and find something to sink her fangs into. Straightening her back, Ahsoka slowly tilts her head, letting the sounds of the forest reach her lekku. There are tiny mice scurrying under the leaves, hurrying to reach their burrows to get out of the damp. Overhead, the rustle of wings as birds cut through the rain, going back to nests or doing their own hunting. Not much of a meal, even between just the two of them.

But wait -- there. The tentative step of hooves over damp soil is a giveaway. As Ahsoka zeroes in on the sound, she can see the outline of a squat, dull green body making its way through the trees. As she holds her breath, three more emerge, moving in a pack. They’re several yards away, with their short snouts pressed to the ground as they graze.

Bingo.

Ahsoka drops her supplies at the base of the tree, moving in a low crouch toward the family of creatures. In this instance, she’s glad for the ongoing drizzle; it’ll mute her scent, and the lack of breeze is a bonus, too. She moves from tree to tree, her feet never making a sound. Ahsoka keeps her eyes on the creatures the whole time, excited at the prospect of bringing one back. They’re about as tall as her knee, stocky with short knobbly legs. Her mouth is watering at the idea of living off of real meat for a whole week, maybe even two --

A twig snaps beneath her foot, and the entire group looks up in alarm. Ahsoka freezes, becoming a statue. She can feel her pulse pounding in her head, a dull blow every time, as she tries to keep still. Blend in. Blend in. In her plain garments, she shouldn’t stand out to them. No doubt they have less-than-ideal eyesight, only alerted to motion and scent. Sound. So if she’s stock-still and quiet –

Her nose itches. Ahsoka ignores it, keeping her gaze focused on the herd. One by one, they lower their heads, turning their attention back to the ground. Good. She’ll take the smaller one then, the adolescent still sticking close to its parents. It’ll have a false sense of confidence once she closes in for the kill, something that will quickly fade one her fangs sink into its throat. Ahsoka will be sure to make it painless.

Sinking into a crouch, she eases forward, squinting a little. The hunger tearing at her stomach is impossible to ignore now, she needs to make this kill. But the itch in her nose is growing, too, frustrating beyond belief, making her eyes water. To Ahsoka’s immense annoyance, she’s going to sneeze, forced to stifle the harsh sound into the back of her palm. The gasping buildup is followed by an abrupt squeak, no louder than a mouse. Her cheeks flame with embarrassment, though only the grazing creatures are around to hear.

Her attempt at silence still isn’t quiet enough. They’ve heard her, spooked again, still anxious from her first slip-up and not content to stay in one place any longer.

Beyond angry at herself, Ahsoka decides to lunge in at the herd. Kriff this. She’s desperate, she feels like shit, she wants something to show for all the effort she’s gone through today. They scatter in all directions, lowing out their aggravated calls. Quicker than lightning, even off-balance and miserable, Ahsoka snares the smallest by its back leg. It shrieks in protest, writhing, knocking her to the ground.

The unexpected blow sends pain up her shoulder and side like a flash of light. With a strangled curse, Ahsoka grapples for its thick throat, tearing through flesh until she can feel – and sense – its life Force ebbing away. Breathing heavily, she gets to her feet, aware that she’s made a complete mess of herself. Sloppy, Anakin might’ve chastised. C’mon, Snips. You know better.

“Be quiet,” she mutters to no one, lifting the creature to carry back to camp. Now isn’t the time to be talking to ghosts.

—------

Rex blinks at her when she returns, doing a double take to hide his surprise at the state she’s in. Ahsoka knows she’s dirty, and must look as exhausted as she feels. Half of her outfit is covered in mud. Her lekku are still swollen and aching, hanging full and thick at the sides of her head, aggravating her migraine. It’s all she can do to trudge into their little camp and deposit her conquest at the fire, thankful that at least it’s stopped raining.

“Well,” he says finally. “That was more than a minute.” Then Rex is on his feet, still looking so strange in his ordinary clothes, inspecting what she’s brought back. “Impressive kill. Feed us for quite a while, I expect. How about I start on this while you get changed?”

This is what she values about Rex. He’s about as practical as they come, and not about to tease her when she’s already down. Since her day has already been long and disappointing, there’s nothing she wants more than to struggle out of her wet clothes and into something dry and clean. The fire looks welcoming, stoked with care at Rex’s hand. She knows that by the time she’s done changing it won’t be long before he’ll have enough of the creature ready for them to share.

“Sounds great,” she says through a thick sniffle, trying to pass it off with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

His response is casual enough, but Ahsoka can feel his eyes on her as she ducks into their little passenger ship. Suspicious. After knowing one another for so long, it’s hard to keep secrets. Surely he knows that she feels awful.

Closing the ship’s hatch behind her, Ahsoka sighs in the privacy of the ship, shedding her soaked garments. She redresses into some of Rex’s old blacks, comforted by the familiar material on her skin. There’s enough water left in the reservoir to splash her face clean and to rinse her arms, and she looks at her face in the small fresher mirror with a grimace. There are circles like bruises under her eyes. She looks like she’s taken a punch – and lost about three days of sleep. No wonder Rex is worried.

“Ugh…” she groans, leaning down to the med cabinet.

With any luck, some bacta smeared on her forehead and montrals will help to numb this god-awful headache. But to her disappointment, there’s only one tube left. A small, paranoid part of her doesn’t want to waste bacta on something like a headache when she doesn’t know when they’re picking up supplies again. Images of Rex injured flash in her mind, his blood slipping beneath her fingers – all because she’d wasted the bacta.

Biting her lip, she slides the drawer shut again. She can manage.

As she'd predicted, Rex is spearing portions of the animal over the fire to roast by the time she returns, and the smell is mouth-watering. He hands her the first one finished, and she sinks her teeth into it gratefully, groaning as another sharp hunger pain lances her through. Ahsoka doesn’t even care that she’s burning her mouth; it’s so good she was so hungry oh my goooooood.

Rex is watching her with an expression stuck somewhere between amusement and concern as she finishes in messy bites and gulps, tearing strips of meat from the skewer and licking her fingers clean.

“Was that…good?” he asks, suppressing a smile.

“Mmfyeah,” says Ahsoka, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. A little voice in the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Obi-Wan admonishes her for eating in such an uncivilized way, but she tries to ignore it. "Starving."

"Pushing yourself too hard," Rex comments. He keeps his tone light.

Ahsoka does her best not to pout. Because according to everyone she's ever spent an extended amount of time with, she does pout. It's not as if she has a choice, does she? Neither of them do. All there's left to do is push, and push, struggling through day after day. Even when she was a Padawan, during the war. At least then, she knew there was a whole legion of Jedi out there that would protect her. The clones, too, taking her under their arms. Her ori’vode.

Now all they have is each other. They can't afford to relax.

"You look awful," he continues, digging in with flat honesty. "Don't tell me you don't feel awful, Commander."

At least he'd delivered the truth with her old title, now only a nickname. Ahsoka frowns, still refusing to answer. Stubborn. Caught somewhere between confessing just how right he is – she wants to lie down and cry – and holding her ground, to prove him wrong. Because some part of her always has to be the brave one. The Padawan who endures everything. Anakin's protege, soaring past all the others. To excel you need to have ambition along with talent and luck. And some part of her doesn't know when to give up.

"Fine," she says at last, the word hardly distinguishable through her stuffy nose. It seems to echo through her lekku, her whole head feeling stuffed. She drops her face to her hands, deflating. "I feel awful, okay? Is that what you wanted?"

Rex's face changes at once, his brows furrowing in soft concern.

"What –? No, of course I – 'course I don't want that."

He gets up from his seat on the fire, careful not to overturn the empty storage crate he'd been perched upon. Rex crouches beside her, narrowing his eyes, placing his outstretched hand to her montrals. Ahsoka winces at the touch, shutting her eyes even though he's being very, very gentle. His fingers feel nice on her skin after a moment, cool.

"Hey," Rex prompts quietly. "You feel so bad, why didn't you use some of the bacta?"

She heaves a sigh, chewing at her lip now. "S'the last tube and I didn't want – you know."

He nods. "I get it."

Relief blooms in her chest. That irrational fear refuses to leave, the sight of him hurt with no way for her to help. Ahsoka curses herself for never learning how to Force heal much more than a scraped knee, knowing she'd be no help if his life was in danger anyway. Too panicked. Too afraid. She really would've been a lousy Jedi.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna let you be miserable, though."

"What?" She sniffs.

"Sit tight," Rex says, getting to his feet. "Don't eat all our rations while I'm gone," he adds with a teasing grin. "Gonna find you something to help."

"You can't!"

Ahsoka shoots to her feet in protest, immediately seeing double and then triple of their camp around her. Rex lurches forward to steady her, his hands supporting her shoulder and side, always there when she needs. She curses this weakness, this temporary need for his extra support. Why can't she just go back to being healthy? Why did her body decide to slow her down? She's so frustrated.

"You can't," she repeats, gingerly settling back on her own crate. "If someone recognizes you, Rex, you know we're done."

"Then no one will," he says simply.

As if it’s that easy. Knowing she can’t change his mind, all Ahsoka can do is sit there and watch him go. She couldn’t stop him if she tried, couldn’t win if it turned into a fight. Not in the shape she’s in. Long after Rex disappears from sight, she reaches for him in the Force, clinging to that familiar mind, until that too is out of reach.

For a long while, she sits and watches the fire burning itself out. She, too, feels as if she’s purposefully exhausting herself by sitting upright, waiting for Rex to return. It would be better for her to lock herself inside the ship, safer. Still she can’t seem to peel herself away until the fire is nothing but embers, her headache pounding dully in every part of her skull.

Trembling and exhausted, Ahsoka trudges to her feet. It takes her no time at all to fall asleep once she hits her cot, surrendering to a dreamless and heavy slumber.

—---------

When she comes to, Ahsoka instantly knows that something is wrong. The tiny window above her area in the ship is filled with sunlight, instead of shaded with the colors of early dawn.

Oh my god. Rex never came back.

Ahsoka stumbles to her feet, still weighed down by her sinuses. If Rex had come back, she would’ve heard him open the hatch of the ship, felt his footsteps echoing across the durasteel. Instead she’s spent hours here undisturbed, and that can’t be a good sign. She’s truly alone without him now. Cold dread starts in her chest, filling her heart like drowning waves, until –

Until she senses Rex outside, very much alive and well. Lowering the ship’s hatch with a curse, Ahsoka hurries to join him – and finds an odd sight. From the rucksack he carries with them on occasions where they have to travel afoot, Rex is pulling out handful after handful of long, dark green leaves, setting them in a pot of water over the rekindled fire.

“What the kriff are you doing?” Ahsoka says, testy.

Of course, she doesn’t manage to sound intimidating at all. Her voice doesn’t even sound like her own at this point. Rex straightens, setting his bag on the ground, and gives her what she knows is a pitying smile. Ahsoka loathes pity. Even standing here sicker than she even wants to acknowledge, she detests it.

“No bacta in the village,” Rex says by way of answer, poking the leaves further down into the water with a fork. “Least not that we could afford. Found these instead.”

Defeated, Ahsoka sinks onto a crate to watch him poke at…whatever it is he’s brought back. Her relief that Rex is even here to argue with outweighs her need to give him the third degree. Besides, she doesn’t think she has the energy to. All that matters is that he’d come back, like he’d promised, safe.

“And what are they?” she croaks.

Rex settles to sit across from her. “Natives called it pommwomm,” he says with a shrug. “Apparently the Togruta and Twi’lek travelers that pass through use it for a lot of ailments, and taught them how to use it, too.”

“Oh.”

She feels so tired and achy. It’s hard to concentrate on watching him stir the leaves in their little boiling pot; Ahsoka’s eyes keep slipping closed. She lets them, resting her chin in her palm, instead using the Force to pay attention to their surroundings. Stars, when was the last time she was this sick? She can’t remember. There wasn’t time for this in the midst of a war. Maybe, she thinks, this is her body’s way of catching up. Repaying her for all those years of never resting.

“‘Soka?”

Rex’s inquiry makes her blink back into awareness. It had been strange, at first, for him to call her anything but Commander. Now, though, she enjoys hearing her name in his voice.

“Got ‘em ready for you.”

There’s a faint menthol scent coming from the water between them. Later when Ahsoka tells Rex she can barely smell the stuff, he barks out a laugh – she must really be sick, he muses, because even he knows the smell is strong.

Fishing out a clump of boiled leaves, Rex offers it to her with an apologetic expression. “Here.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What do you want me to do?”

The faintest smile crosses his face. Amusement flickers in his life Force, as if he’s expecting her to have a negative – and entertaining – reaction. “Well, you’ve gotta – you chew ‘em. Then you spread the stuff on your lekku. Helps with colds?”

Oh. My. Stars. That’s disgusting.

“Reeeeex,” she whines. “That’s kriffing nastyyyyy.”

He clamps a hand to his mouth, but she can see his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I know,” he answers after a few moments trying to get a grip on himself. “Yeah s’not – ideal. But the people I talked to said it works great, and you – well. Ahsoka, you don’t look good. You really don’t.”

Ahsoka scowls, staring at the bowl of clumpy leaves as it cools down beside her. She knows she’s being a youngling about all this, but chewing weird plants and smearing the paste all over her head-tails is the last thing she wants to do. But if it’s the only choice she has, then so be it. Fishing one leaf out between two trembling fingers, she opens her mouth and begins to chew.

The consistency is terrible. Soft and soggy, making her hurry to shove down her gag reflex. But…the taste isn’t so bad. Sweet and minty on her tongue, spreading quickly up to her sinuses and into the hollows of her lekku. With only slight reluctance, Ahsoka fishes another leaf out, not looking forward to spitting it into a paste in front of Rex.

Conveniently, though, he seems to find himself distracted by a loose panel on the exterior of their ship. She smiles, watching him crouch down to get to work on it.

The leaf-paste is thick and sticky as she spreads it over her swollen lekku, though the sensation isn’t as unpleasant as she’d imagined. Mostly there’s relief as the cooling effects of the plant get to work on her fragile skin, and Ahsoka finds herself sighing at the welcome change. She can feel her airways clearing, the headache beginning to ebb. She’s so grateful to not be completely alone in the galaxy. To have Rex watching her back in times like this. (Or not watching her at all, in this case, giving her a little privacy for this less-than-normal course of treatment.)

Of course, that means that all the congestion is only going to drain out of her, making her sniffly again. Even by the time she’s chewed and pasted her way through the leaves, feeling ridiculous, her sinuses are unstuffing themselves.

Ahsoka squints down to catch a glimpse of her reflection in her wrist comm – yep. She looks as awful as Rex had implied. The leaf paste has stained the white stripes of her lekku a dark purple, and the shadows under her eyes refuse to budge. With her headdress left inside the ship in her hurry to see where Rex had gone, she feels strangely naked, atop it all. Usually no one sees her without it, and yet she hasn’t even thought about Rex seeing her this way until this moment.

He’s still tinkering away at the panel, leaning it against the side of the ship and inspecting a small bend in the durasteel. The last thing they need is another one flying off during a hyperspace jump. Normally Ahsoka would do it herself, but even with the pommwomm paste soothing her head, she doesn’t trust herself to work without seeing double.

But she has to get up. There’s still surveillance to be done on the suspicious area of this planet. Ahsoka knows neither of them will be content until there’s not a shadow of a doubt that there’s no Empire activity going on. A few more days of watching ought to rule out the possibility. There’s no way she can sit around moping here. Whatever’s wrong with her will pass.

“How’s it goin’ over – heyyy where d’you think you’re going?” Rex stops mid-question, almost dropping his magnaspanner in surprise. Ahsoka only gives him an innocent look, righting the wobble in her step. “Don’t even think about going back to the surveillance point today. Nope. Sorry, you’re staying put.”

Damn. He knows her too well, doesn’t he?

“Rex, you know we can’t just sit here.”

She swipes at her nose, irritated even further with the growing itch. In answer to her stubbornness, Rex stops what he’s doing and crosses his arms, prepared to be a barrier if he has to. Ahsoka narrows her eyes, rooting herself in place. She doesn’t want this to become a physical spat, but –

Her scattered thoughts of ways to disarm him vanish as she sneezes quickly into one elbow. Another embarrassingly squeaky sound, a tight breath of air, leaving her flushed dark with a blush.

“Jate jahaal,” Rex mutters, one eyebrow raised. As if he’s proving a point.

“I’m fine.”

“You won’t be if you keep pushing.” Rex sighs, his life Force filled with concern. “Think of it this way, then. Would you let me do it, if it were me? Would you want me out there?”

Ahsoka bites her lip. “Well…no.”

In fact, she’d be livid at the thought of him risking his health like that, on top of all the other risks they already have to take. She’d be worried and restless waiting for him here alone, and – oh.

Guilt lances at her heart. Has she really strayed so far from the Code? Has she forgotten that in order to care for others, she has to first care for herself? Ashamed, Ahsoka stares at her boots, wishing she’d realized what a mess she was making of things sooner.

“Come and sit back down,” Rex says softly, voice light with persuasion. “Rest. Let me fix you something.”

She hesitates for a long moment. Would it be so bad to spend the day here with him, doing nothing but napping in the planet’s sun? Something in her melts; that sounds divine. That simple joy would be a pleasure she hasn’t allowed herself in so, so long, maybe ever. Just…rest. Here with a friend, enjoying each other’s company. Maybe they could spend time talking about the good old days, when there was time between the fighting. The jokes and the laughter spread between the sorrow and pain.

“Okay,” whispers Ahsoka, and it makes him smile.

Something tugs on her heart to see it, and in that instance, she has another realization. But for now, it’s something that she’ll keep to herself, a little thing to ponder in the quiet of her mind for weeks and even months to come. For now, it’s enough to be together, to have the soft morning light. For Ahsoka to complain about looking so silly with the stupid pommwomm paste, and Rex agreeing with a light chuckle. For him to get the softest blanket out from the confines of their ship, and for her to fall asleep propped up against his shoulder.

They have one another. Through this. Through everything.

---------------

Mandoa translations:

ori'vode -- big brothers, older brothers, special friends

jate -- good jahaal --health (together like a "bless you", but I made that up tbh)

#star wars #clone wars #wickedscribbles #ahsoka tano fic #ct-7567 #captain rex #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction

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