#<<<< gonna change my rambling tag to this brb

[shoccolat]

thinking about,, how sega managed to unintentionally make a character that is so Autistic and Gay

[opikiquu]

im going to be so annoying all week

[orangez3st]

My intention with this story's dynamic has always been about this omnipotent, mythically abstract concept that a deity would possess and a mortal figure who believed his presence in the world wouldn't change it so much, but then said deity would favor him and lift him up and love him and help him see the world from a different perspective so he'd be determined to do more 🤧🤧🥹 and this deity be like 'say that again i dare you'

Also my reactions to your tags below the cut pardon for a bit if rambling I love your tag commentary sm

ALSO THESE TAGS???? (below)

BESTIEEEE if I ever got myself in trouble and I'm advised on my rights to an attorney, you'll be on my speed dial

Those bottom tags are coming in fast, 6 more chapters to goOoOooO RRAAHHH. Glad you're excited and terrified for it!! Can't wait to post the last final chapters and I hope they'll serve 🤌🏻

And for the previous chapter

HAVE I EVER SEEN THINGS AS BEAUTIFUL AS THESE? NO.

I might've fallen in love WITH YOU FIRST you're my first ever tumblr supporter I value your presence so much and I thank you A BUNCH for reacting to my story you make me squealing happily and totally make my day I almost wanted to post all these chapters just so you can read them all at once how romantic is the prospect eh? 🤧❤️

Also Wolffe would definitely draw threepio and press copy on the copy machine 8392739 times just so he could stick it onto the dummies whenever he went to target practice and beat everybody's record and when they asked him how he'd just say "dat kriffing protocol droid that got me on my nerves idc if it belongs to a senator im gonna kill skywalker for making that piece of skrag and idc either if said senator and said general are married brb"

Dream Currents

Captain Rex × OFC Force Goddess

— Chapter 16: Warmth

Tags: teen & up, f/m, gen, hurt/comfort, childhood friends, romantic friendship, fluff, pre-star wars: the clone wars, clone cadets (training in kamino), very rex-centric, rex whump, the worst is probably sw curse words (tell me if I should add more tags!)

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“Do you think it’s ridiculous if people are praying to you?” calls Sho’cye from the shoreline, catching Six-Seven completely off-guard. Pretty sure the utter bafflement is too visible on his face. Sho’cye seems serious, though, pausing her previous feat of combing the beach for molluscan shells.

He shrugs, eventually. “Can’t say I relate.” Very helpful of an answer. But hey, at least it’s the truth.

And he’s right, since Sho’cye is displaying nothing sort of being surprised. From his spot down on the red rug, legs stretched out and hands propping himself, he sighs. A refreshing gust of soft breeze caresses his face. He watches her resuming her feat, continuing down the line of breaking waves and occasionally stopping to bury a hand in a particular spot of sand – her other hand protectively cupping her collection of shells. Seconds later, the busy hand snatches out yet another, just before the wave manages to cement her hand in the sand.

“Your dress,” he points out when she marches back to him, noting that earlier she didn’t get back on her feet in time, the water catches about a quarter part of the skirt when it brushes against the shore.

Sho’cye merely throws a glance at the pointed direction, the skirt is now clinging onto her skin…

Only to shrug in acceptance back at him.

There’s a little surge in his chest cavity as he watches how her sheepish smile makes her countenance glow despite the mild weather.

He sits still then, watching Sho’cye taking the spot next to him and meditatively beginning to sort out her collected shells. Heavy clouds of chilly morning hang above them, soothing his post-training exhaustion. A nice cloudy day. Six-Seven isn’t sure he’s able to handle more hot weather today – he and his squad were given the privilege to run on an immersive terrain simulation today and it had to be the burning hot as kark Tatooine. His gaze returns from the rock outcroppings in the far east to Sho’cye, an unspoken thanks I need this sitting in his heart, and he’s not giving in to let it come out as verbal.

If there’s any indicator that she feels that, there isn’t anything shown. Still busy sorting out shells. Or, she doesn’t want to creep him out. She’s got a full understanding on our reluctance to even bother understanding the concept of the Force. So yeah, the latter option makes sense.

“Why did you ask that?” he asks before he can even stop it. Sho’cye pauses, and meets his gaze warmly. Even he just disrupted her.

“Well.” Her eyes twinkle, sea green bearing almost lazily into his amber. “Some of your brothers have been trying to call for me.”

And he can’t see where the problem is. “Aren’t they always? They adore you. You give good sleep.”

Another appreciative glow and soft, sheepish gaze of hers that makes the corner of his own lips somewhat twitch too. “I do acknowledge every single one of your thanks and attention to the body of water outside your window,” she says, and frowns. “But I don’t know if I should answer prayers.”

Now that.

Stiffness suddenly creeps up his backside, and he shifts into a cross-legged position. “Would you like, uh,” he quickly recovers from the astonishment of the revelation, “my opinion on that, or just ears?” Straight to an offer to a couple of solutions – a notion of practicality he reigns himself with, and is currently trying to develop and grow with, setting a standard of propensity for himself.

Sho’cye sends him a reassuring glance. “Either is good.”

Again with the no-answer answer.

“Which one would you prefer?”

Completely halting her efforts on sorting, she shifts around and meets his gaze somewhat sternly.

And he’s trained too well to not cower under such scrutiny. “Just asking your preferred way so I’m able to generate a response to your liking.”

Her eyes soften. “And I’ve never asked for it,” she shakes her head, “Never do. You know me.”

He does. He knows her, and he knows her long, along the same line where he probably doesn’t know much about her at all.

It doesn’t take long for a storm of conflict already brewing behind her sea green eyes at his lack of response. “Please, let me know, and be honest with me.” She reaches out gently, and gently placing a hand atop his. “Have I done something that upset you?”

It's warm. The touch. He can’t help but notice the slight dampness from her little adventure by the sea side in search of molluscan shells, but her touch is warm and soft all the same. His palm was initially sticking to his knee, but the foreign yet so familiar touch makes his hand levitate and lean upwards against it upon instinct. Even he can feel that the body goes into a freeze response immediately. It’s as if there’s an invisible bubble between his downward palm and his knee that prevents both to meet again and it’s pushing him to her touch that is magnetic, a north pole to his south.

He can’t bring himself to let go even more when she gently takes his hand, and he’s watching how her fingers gently turn his hand over and replace itself onto his mindlessly awaiting palm, and the touch becomes impossibly warmer.

The skin around his fingers are pulling him taut upon foreign tension, as if urging him to wrap his own around hers.

He gives in.

And, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he brings himself to meet her gaze.

And he gives in once again, to the softness that etched on her lids and lashes, to every fractal and sincerity and depth there is inside sea green orbs, and to the concern and fear of disappointment that swirl within. Her previous plead stands alongside them – for him to tell her the truth, if she has ever made him feel conflicted, feeling so foreign and far away with their circumstances and oh, how he knows her. Acting like this is not an occurrence, and it never happened before, because their friendship over the years stands upon a foundation of wary openness, warm companionship, and a colossal amount of built trust. As his amber gaze maps her face, the sheer realization dawns on him – Sho’cye is afraid.

He doesn’t want to find out afraid of what exactly yet. The area is so alien to him that he can feel it strikes fear of finding out within his heart.

Sho’cye rubs her thumb across the heel of his palm in comfort – in patience – knowing well of the same conflicted look on him that mirrors her.

Usually this is where she draws the line and cuts the topic off saying it’s alright you don’t have to tell me, but this time, she hasn’t said anything except her thumb’s circling motion on his palm that speaks voiceless comfort in silence, where at the same time the silence is pushing him to the edge of the parapet till he says something.

This, is the part where he doesn’t really know her that much.

It feels foreign to him, and he decides he doesn’t like it.

So he breaks the silence first.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” comes the muttering, and he can feel his heart free-falling towards the earth when her thumb stops its motion, the warmth and comfort scurrying away from him.

A single, breathy chuckle escapes her, and a twitch of the corner of her lips – both absent from its usual amusement. “Sounds otherwise.”

That’s the moment where he can’t even bring himself to keep looking at her. Setting his gaze downward, he’s met with their conjoined hands, loosely gripping each other’s in a flutter of promised comfort. Funny how the he doesn’t know her part and delicate handholding are both foreign to him, yet he can directly channel his dislike only at one of the two options. Slowly, he shifts their hands and attempts to mimic her previous movement. Running the pad of his thumb across the smooth ridges of her unblemished knuckles – a contrasting reminder of his own calloused skin she endearingly touches that it feels almost far too undeserving to be cared for by her abundant gentleness like that.

“You don’t upset me,” he mutters truthfully, gaze remains fixed on the soft creases of her skin, “You’ve never made me uncomfortable.”

I’m sensing a but, he can almost sense her sheer playfulness taking the best of her, and that’s the part of him that confidently knows her.

“It’s just that…” A rough, conflicted sigh, along with tension growing behind tensed jaws. “We’re clones. We’re engineered to take orders and expected to follow them obediently and see that the job gets done. I am a clone, Sho’cye.” What could you possibly want from me? “I was, was made, to act upon orders. I was born to go out there, driven with purpose. To die on the battlefield, if necessary, or on misfortune, because I am a clone.” He bites back I need orders before it flies out of his mouth. “I can’t just… sit still and pretend nothing’s gonna happen. That’s not… I just can’t. It’s in my programming.”

What could a powerful Force goddess like you possibly want from a lowly, expendable clone like me?

“And I don’t know what you want from me.”

At his faltering tone, Sho’cye moves closer, their knees brushing against each other as she does so. As if firming her grip on him isn’t enough, her other hand now joins in the warmth. His heart surges skywards again. His stomach flutters in relief, of her being simply just here, and hope, that she may give something away.

A brief silence brings their eyes to meet. Amber on sea green.

“I want your help.”

“Then tell me how I could help you,” he says quickly, squeezing her hand in hopes of convincing her better. “I’d like to.”

It's when her face falls and a shake of the head.

“It’s not time yet.”

“Please,” he exhales, “Don’t want vague answers. Tell me plainly.”

It shifts from a plead to a demand swiftly, flying out of his mouth just as so. Seeking satisfaction of following, demanding, waiting for orders that his mind tirelessly revs for – to act out.

“I can, and I will,” Sho’cye tells him firmly. “What I want for you now, is you graduate your training. To be a good soldier. To be Captain. To fight for those you defend wholeheartedly. To be who you want to be. I wish not to stand in your way. My presence here is merely to become your haven – your safe place to rest. For now.” She exhales softly. “And for now… I want you to grow to be a good man. Smart, stable, unyielding, good man. And I am here, believing you will be.”

Again with the selflessness. Compassion. Kindness. Unconditional love and care and gentleness. All that he’s never seen behind the confined, pristine white walls of his home, and yet, all that he always sees in a pair of radiant sea green eyes that greet him warmly every time he steps into his dreams. The Coastline. And yet… don’t know why, still.

“Because,” she goes on, “the purpose of our meeting is just as precious to me as who you’d become.” A soft, soft graze of reassurance upon his palm. “I promise you, you’ll have your purpose. You have my word. But for now…”

“Would it be much longer till you’re telling me?”

He knows he isn’t built out of patience – as his strongest suit is sharp wit and willingness to comply behind a set of plastoid armor and almost certainly not patience – but if it means to expect an undying loyalty, he’ll wait for months upon years.

A glint of knowing in her eyes that he embraces welcomingly in familiarity. “It won’t be until you die of old age, that’s for sure.”

He scoffs. “I won’t die of old age.”

“Accepting the battlefield as your grave already when the war hasn’t even begun?” She catches the skeptical look he gives her and attempts a playful smirk, “Wanna bet?”

He shakes his head, accidentally dismissing her playfulness. A sharp inhale and a realization later, his eyes don’t hide any kind of pain and the bitter eventual truth because, “That’s why I’m here for.”

Apparently she finds it absurd. “No.” Her luminous smile returns, and there’s the littlest surge of hope inside him he wishes he could turn his back on. “No,” reiterates Sho’cye, as her hand will linger where it is until he wakes up, “You’re here for much more.”

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Word Count: 2,116

A/N: This one is for @yoursrosie who I know would've found this sweet! Love your reactions, thanks for loving Sho'cye ❤️❤️

[myherowritings]

These bakustans got it all wrong babe, shouto is where it’s AT. Bakubro doesn’t have ANYTHING on our main man todoroki. Yes, bakubaby may have a rockin bod and mega smut potential, but we all know who the REAL mvp is. 👌👌

YEAH PFFT BAKUGOU MAY HAVE THE PERFECT PERSONALITY TO COMPLIMENT MY SUBBY BITCH ASS BUT DO WE CARE ? N O. HE’S STILL A TINY LITTLE PUNK. 

our mans shouto tho,,,,,

look at his cute little smile HIS SOFT TOUCHABLE HAIR HIS BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL EYES he’s perfect and pfft if we’re speaking about good smut potential…….HIS QUIRK IS FUCKING HOT AND COLD HELLO THINK OF THE TEMP PLAY OH MY