#I need ship name ideas for these specific pairings.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-memory-a-distant-echo · 4 months ago

Text

ok, i'm being so brave and making the rec post that i told anon i would do like three days ago.

the obligatory caveats. this is not comprehensive—i haven't read all the fic in this fandom, and i've barely looked at anything not in english. my reading habits are pretty broad—i'll read almost any pairing, and am generally willing to suspend my disbelief to do so. i am not usually an au person, though this fandom is doing its absolute damndest to prove me wrong on that point.

also i have…more…fics that i felt i should rec somewhere, so probably this is rec post one, but ten felt like enough and also saying things in public where people can hear me is, it turns out, absolutely excruciating. please no one be mean to me about this post, especially if you wrote one of these fics, because if you are i will simply fill my pockets with rocks and take to the sea, ok? ok.

excited to find out what i manage to do that ruins the formatting, links the wrong fics and/or people, or otherwise breaks things in this post. please tell me if i've fucked up, or if your fic is on this list and you would rather i keep your name out of my mouth, or whatever.

first, a very special mention to the mlc reference guide by @yletylyf. this is such an incredibly comprehensive and generous resource. you want a timeline for this show that does an incredibly poor job of maintaining its own timeline? it's here. you want episode summaries? they're here. you want all the people and places? they're here. if you're writing fic, you want this guide, because it's so much easier and faster than scanning episodes or subs files to figure out the name of one specific guy or whatever. it also means that at least occasionally you work on the thing rather than accidentally rewatching the same scene five times, or hypothetically watching two to four episodes without even really thinking about what you're doing. the reference guide is the unsung mvp of fandom.

beyond porch and portal, difanghua, teen, by willowdream. this is the vampire au that i didn't know i wanted? the author posted it and their note was like 'i'm trying to be the change i want to see in the world,' and i was like ok sure, i'm not really convinced that the change i need is vampire aus, but i'll give it a go, and then i did and was like, oh shit, i'm eating fucking glass about this vampire au, i'm chewing on my own fucking fingers, i'm so fucking normal about this, i need another hundred thousand words of this and also seventeen more vampire aus in my inbox by monday morning. i literally finished reading it and scrolled right back to the top to read it again. i have no idea why this fic hits so hard, but it took me out at the knees. the voices are perfect. something about it is just impossibly compelling.

不安的遠離，再无歸期 | restless distance, without return, fang duobing/qiao wanmian, mature and teen, by @difeisheng. this is technically two fics but they're short and you should read both of them because they're such a brutal, perfect encapsulation of grief, and a really beautiful acknowledgement of the ways that fang duobing and qiao wanmian can be read as reflections of each other, separated by a decade, and it just fucking guts me. i dunno. it's about the grief! it's about the yearning! it's about someone who understands parts of you that you wish didn't exist! i think i've reread this like once a week for the last six weeks and i feel like it gets overlooked because it's not A Ship but like. it could be. it should be.

dance the silence down, fanghua and feihua, explicit, by @momosandlemonsoda. this fic. ugh. ok. i'm breaking my own rules. i had two when i started writing this post: no works in progress, and no reccing things that i haven't left a comment on, like a goddamn grownup. this one fic is breaking both of those rules and i feel bad about it and will hopefully spend like, all day tomorrow just commenting on every chapter or something, but i have to do this. this fic is so good. this fic ruins me. this fic is 63k, still a work in progress, and also if i were losing the whole internet tomorrow and i got to keep one fic in all the world and it was the only fic i could have for the rest of time, it might have to be this one, even as a work in progress. i ignored this fic for so long—by which i mean probably two of the four months since i first watched mysterious lotus casebook—because i was like, i don't like aus, and i especially don't like rock star aus. (or sex work aus, and you're never gonna fucking believe what else this author is writing and what else i absolutely cannot get enough of—this is a sneaky bonus rec for all i wanna do is wrong, another fic that i feel so so so normal about!) but then i was like okkkkkkk but. maybe i'll try it. people seem to be nuts for it. and then i read it and i was like OH HOLY SHIT PEOPLE ARE FULLY CORRECT TO BE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED ABOUT THIS and normally, honestly, i wouldn't bother posting a rec like this because it's like 'oh haha have you read the five most popular fics in this fandom?' and it feels so redundant, but i know for a fact that a friend of mine who finished watching the show yesterday is reading this post, and even if everyone else has read it, she has not! anyhow as a former music person and a former diner cook, this fic like. i don't know. i feel like it broke me but also fixed me? i literally criticise writing professionally and every time i try to talk about this fic i find myself speechless because it's so perfect to me. i am deeply unwell about this fic. every time a new chapter comes out i sit down and read the whole thing again, yes, all sixty-thousand-plus words of it. some nights you go to bed and you're like 'what's the fucking point?' and then you're like 'no wait, there will eventually be more of dance the silence down,' and somehow that makes things suck a tiny bit less. my wife has made me take out like six sentences from this rec because they're too intense and too weird about it but i need you to understand: you have to read this fic.

in this dream, there is a lover to share this life with, fanghua, g, by @lianhuajing. alternative ending for the end of episode 27, in which li lianhua—precious man who has yet to discover a hill he's not willing to die on—apologises to fang duobing the only way he knows how, and it's wildly upsetting for everyone (but it's ok and it doesn't end miserably, no one panic). this is a delightfully angsty treat, and i love how conflicted fang duobing is in it—i feel like it's not something that i've seen explored a lot, but this poor boy really fuckin goes through it—his best friend and his childhood idol are the same person but are lying to him about it, and his dad's not actually his father and has been lying to him about it, and his best friend/childhood idol may have killed his father, and—yeah, is lying to him about it. like? someone give this poor man a hug and a cup of tea and a snack and a blankie. i love that we get to see some of his internal conflict in this.

quintessence of dust, feihua, teen, by justthereforit. this plays with one of my very most favourite tropes in the world, which is the one where the heart is a physical object and a physical form of trust and control and surrender and—like. this is so good. it's set in episode 13, which is, for me, one of the absolute peak angst points, and it absolutely nails it. di feisheng who's upset and vulnerable and frustrated and angry, li lianhua who knows he's going to die and can't bear the thought that he's going to take anyone else down with him, and they're both just so fucked up. chef kiss. i love it when everyone is emotionally wrecked and continually like 'ok no, i can take one more knife in my soul to protect someone else', and this absolutely delivers on that.

under moonlight, we change our futures yet again, feihua, explicit, by @thesilversun. the wedding room! obviously we have to have a wedding room fic, right? i'm not going to lie: i'm willing to suspend a lot of disbelief for wedding room fics, but in this one, it's actually a wonderfully, horrifyingly plausible setup. it walks a really fine line of keeping people in character, and acknowledging the inherent horror and seriousness of the situation, and also providing some desperately hot sex, and also managing to get the emotional beats of it, too. it has a sequel, which imo really has to be read as the conclusion to this fic, and it's just as good. it's possible that some of what i'm saying here is 'i love vulnerable-inside crusty-outside di feisheng' but like. i do. i love it so much.

what's sealed away, feihua, teen, by @bbcphile. AMNESIA FIC yessssss, a-fei my beloved, fics that handle brain damage/memory issues/amnesia well my beloveddddd. i love the a-fei arc, but i also have had a number of brain injuries and some other stuff that means that my own memory is…not so great, so i sometimes really struggle with how often amnesia in fiction is played off either as nothing to worry about or as a funny thing where everyone's in on the joke except the person who has amnesia. this fic is a great and sometimes very visceral exploration of a horrifying experience, and a really fantastic study of a-fei/di feisheng as a character, as well as the relationship that he has with li lianhua. a-fei trying to balance the trust he has in the sense memory of his body with his understanding of his relationship with li lianhua with li lianhua's reaction to—everything, really—is really well done and wonderful/terrible to read.

我只愿面朝大海 | i wish only to face the sea, g, by foreverstudent. ok so you wanna fuck yourself up some more? go read this. this is canon divergence from episode 39, and fang duobing has learned too well the lessons he's been taught, and sees the shape of things before li lianhua ever touches the wangchuan flower—so he sets about making sure that he won't be able to throw it away. this is agonising and gorgeous and maintains the canon relationships while developing the narrative differently. i wept literal tears. i was like 'ok that's it the worst part is over!' and then i remembered that there was another part coming and then i started crying. anyhow, it is—as ever, with me—about the devotion.

我住長江頭, 君住長江尾 -- i live upstream, you live downstream, fanghua, teen, by @rimbaudofficial. ok so this is Not a fic that i should like, because i am a massive academic failure and despite being in my forties have regular nightmares about having to re-engage with academia for like. any reason. HOWEVER. as noted, i read indiscriminately, even when i'm like 'reading this is a terrible idea and will be upsetting for me personally!', so i was like 'well, how bad of an idea can it possibly be?' and then instead! it was. incredibly charming? it was so fucking cute? the fang duobing characterisation in this is somehow just perfect to me—he's simultaneously confident and vulnerable, and also just so deeply committed to the weird clueless guy who he's decided is meant for him. di feisheng and li lianhua have a perfect weird-bros friendship. i would read another ten chapters of this and i would love it.

#mysterious lotus casebook #fic recs #mlc fic #oh god i hate tagging things so much; ok i can do this #difanghua #fanghua #feihua #i'm a little surprised there's no difang in this because i love it but i guess it's sort of a numbers game #do not @ me about my alphabetising choices #i am not utf-8 compliant and you cannot make me segregate character sets in a way that matters #echoes linger

74 notes · View notes

zvtara-was-never-canon · 4 months ago

Note

Not to compate siblings, but I wish the zutarians could be more like zukaangers, specifically with the incessant need to make Zuko/the fire nation seem less bad. It seems like they're constantly trying to justify Zuko's actions and paint the fire nation as just 'misguided'. Zutarians refuse to give Zuko guilt for the actual things he does.

And it's baffling to me because a big theme that zutara and zukaang share is guilt/forgiveness. Zukaangers lean into this so fucking hard. They will give Zuko guilt for everything he did, everything his forefathers did, everything his nation did, hell everything the world did, and have it juxtaposed by Aang's forgiveness and reminders that Zuko is not his nation nor his past mistakes.

It feels like zukaangers have Aang forgive Zuko because he can and wants to. Meanwhile, zutarian have Katara forgive Zuko because she should. If that makes sense.

Zukaang is everything Zutarians want their ship to be.

Based on a dynamic that is actually a central point in the story and that had a profound effect on these characters? Check.

Selfless hero that looks at the villain, picks up on all the sad vibes on that motherfucker, and confidently says "If not friend, why friend-shaped"? Check.

Hero's kindness living rent-free in the villains head? Check.

CONSTANT red and blue imagery that actually has a deeper meaning instead of just being the result of the show assigning colors to each nation to make it easier for the seven year olds to keep track of everyone? Check.

CONSTANT parallels, with entire episodes and full arcs dedicated to it, including one of the characters having a dream in which they are the same person because they're THAT alike? Check.

Romantic imagery?

Motherfucking check.

I guess that's why Zukaang shippers are much more sane. Even though Zuko and Aang's dynamic with each other in the show was clearly meant to be platonic, it is so important to canon and so throughly explored by it that it becomes IMPOSSIBLE to make the ship work if you mischaracterize either of them. It really wouldn't take much rewriting to make them a perfectly reasonable endgame - and I say this as someone who doesn't ship it and prefers Zuko to be an older brother figure to Aang.

Meanwhile Zutara has nothing beyond aesthetic and "enemies to lovers is a nice trope." The characters don't interact much until the end of the story, don't think of each other at all for most of it, and are openly, genuinely uncomfortable when people think they're dating. It's all about self-inserting as Katara to date an OC they attached Zuko's name and face too, or vice versa (more rare, but it happens).

OF COURSE it's out of character, OF COURSE it completely screws up the dynamic - it was never about "How would this pairing work?", it was about shilling the idea of one of the characters involved.

#anti zutara #pro zukaang #zukaang

64 notes · View notes

the-bad-batch-baroness · 1 year ago

Text

Fortunately Unfortunate

Jesse x GN!Reader

Summary: Jesse’s number is drawn in a lottery, forcing him to participate in a cross-training event with the 212th, and he’s not happy about it. However, his view of the training mission changes when he crashes into your life, literally.

Pairing: Jesse x GN!Reader

Characters: Jesse, Rex, Cody, Waxer, Boil, Sinker, Violet (OFC)

Tags & Warnings: 18+, grumpy Jesse, vehicular accident, no injuries, clone jokes, bad puns, shirtless clones, fluff, humor, angst with a happy ending, implied sexy time offscreen, suggestive themes

Word Count: 9.2k

Author's Note: Apologizing now for the word count (my small ideas never stay small), and for the fact that this fic only went through two rounds of editing before posting... This fic was written for @snippy-tano as part of the @rare-clone-fic-exchange. I hope you like it sweetie, and I hope you don’t mind the additional side characters 😘 As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Tradition

“You can’t be serious?” Jesse groans with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I am,” Rex answers. “Your number was drawn, so you’re going.”

Jesse grunts. “This program is stupid!”

“This program is tradition,” Rex retorts.

“Can’t you send Fives?” Jesse asks. “He loves this stuff.”

“Fives’ number wasn’t drawn, yours was,” Rex crosses his arms and scowls. “ You’ll just have to learn to love it too.”

“But–”

“That’s an order,” Rex interjects.

Jesse grits his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Rex hands Jesse a data-pad. “Your transport leaves in an hour. I suggest you take that time to adjust your attitude. Cody is a good friend of mine and I don’t need you giving him grief.”

Jesse takes the data-pad. “Yes, sir.”

Rex turns to leave and Jesse is left in the cargo bay alone. He sighs as he sits down on a crate to review his new orders. Every month, the battalions swap a few clones in the name of “cross-training”. The clones are picked at random via lottery, and unfortunately for Jesse, his number was drawn this month. Out of the millions of clones, why did it have to be him? It’s not that he’s opposed to cross-training, but he shouldn’t be forced to leave his own battalion to do it.

Jesse swipes through the data-pad and skims over the details. He’s been assigned cross-training with the 212th attack battalion, specifically their ARF unit. He scoffs. The 501st has an ARF unit, and a darn good one. There’s no reason for him to be shipped off-world to play ARF trooper with a different battalion. If the GAR wants to cross-train clones so badly, then he should be able to do it with his own brothers, not with a bunch of clones he doesn’t know.

Jesse sets the data-pad down next to him on the crate and shakes his head. He wants to make Rex proud, but his heart just isn’t in it. Even if meeting a marshal commander does sound interesting, he knows he won’t be working with him exclusively. He’s an ARC, and he wants to do ARC things, and go on ARC missions with Fives and Echo. It's a shame that he’s missing out on their newest assignment. It sounded like a wild ride, and he was looking forward to it.

The intercom speaker interrupts Jesse’s thoughts to notify him that his transport is boarding and will be departing soon. With a heavy sigh, he hops off the crate, grabs his data-pad, and makes his way to the transport. He straps in and closes his eyes, letting his mind go blank as the transport whirs to life and delivers him to his new temporary post. The time it takes to get there is just under one standard rotation, so he takes this time to try to prepare himself for anything.

The transport lands and as the ramp descends, Jesse raises an arm to shield his eyes from the bright sun and the dust swirling into the transport. He steps down the ramp and observes his new surroundings, which isn’t much to look at. It’s a desert planet with little to no vegetation, and the sun glares down hot onto his plastoid armor. He experimentally grinds his foot into the tan earth beneath him and it shifts like powder until he reaches a layer of rock underneath.

“You must be Jesse,” Cody says on approach.

Jesse looks up to see the commander and straightens himself to attention. “Yes, sir!”

“Welcome to the 212th,” Cody gestures for Jesse to follow him. “I’ve heard good things about you from Rex. He says you’re one of his best.”

Jesse follows next to Cody as they make their way to the command center. “Just doing my duty to the Republic, sir.”

“He also mentioned that you’re not particularly fond of this assignment,” Cody adds.

Jesse grimaces and tries to backpedal. “With all due respect, sir, I only meant that I’d rather not be away from my brothers at the 501st when they might need me.”

“Fair enough,” Cody says. “However, if the survival of the entire battalion rests on you being there at all times, then perhaps Rex should be demoted.”

Jesse scrunches his face with indignation and raises his voice. “Captain Rex is–”

Cody turns on his heels to face Jesse and crosses his arms in a silent word of caution.

Jesse takes a startled half-step back and holds his tongue. “Nevermind, sir,” he stammers with embarrassment.

The rest of the walk to the command center is silent. Jesse kicks himself as he realizes how far he stuck his own foot into his mouth. So far that he’s surprised he hasn’t choked on it yet. He doesn’t want to embarrass Rex, yet here he is picking a fight with a marshal commander. It’s definitely one of the dumber things he’s done in his life. But, when it comes to his captain, Jesse finds it difficult to control his emotions. Their history together is too deep not to defend him.

When they enter the command center, Jesse sees two ARF troopers in camouflage armor with colors matching the tan dust that’s been sticking to him since he arrived. He also sees another trooper in gray and white armor standing next to them. As he gets closer, he can hear them chatting away about something nonsensical. He eyes the three clones and mentally sizes them up; not entirely sure what to make of them yet, but he’ll reserve judgment for now.

“This is Lieutenant Waxer and Boil,” Cody gestures with his hands. “They’re part of our elite ARF unit, Ghost Company, and will be conducting your training for the next few rotations.”

The four clones trade head nods of acknowledgement.

Cody turns to Jesse and the clone with gray armor. “I expect you to address them as you would a commanding officer, with respect. Follow their orders and do what they ask of you.”

“Yes, sir!” Jesse and the other clone affirm.

Cody nods. “I’ll leave you to it.”

A moment of silence passes between the four clones as an awkward air blows in.

Waxer is the first to speak up. “Do you guys have names?”

“I’m Jesse,” Jesse answers and stretches out his hand to shake that of the two ARFs. “With the 501st.”

The clone in the gray armor follows suit. “I’m Sinker, with the 104th.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Boil adds.

Another awkward silence passes between the clones and Jesse starts to question the validity of his new assignment. Perhaps this whole thing is a big joke and he can board the next transport off this dust bowl. He absentmindedly grinds his foot into the dusty floor, a habit he picked up somewhere during the war to keep him from running his mouth when he’s bored. If someone doesn’t say something soon, he might, and they probably won’t like what it is.

“Alright, boys,” Waxer says with a gesture of his head towards the door. “We’re heading out to the corral.”

“Corral?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are we learning to ride animals?”

Boil chuckles. “Sort of.”

Jesse looks at Sinker, hoping that he’s on his side about how crazy this whole thing sounds.

Sinker shrugs. “Sounds fun.”

The three clones head out of the command center, leaving Jesse alone in his bewilderment. When his brain catches up to him, he jogs up to the rear and follows them out to the so-called corral. Although, Jesse wouldn’t call it a “corral”. It’s just a barricaded motor pool full of AT-RTs. A part of Jesse is relieved that he doesn’t actually have to ride any animals, but his intuition tells him that whatever they have planned isn’t going to be as easy as he thinks.

Waxer stops in front of the barricade and addresses the squad. “As part of your cross-training in the ARF unit, you’re each going to learn how to ride an AT-RT.”

“Don’t you mean drive?” Jesse interrupts.

“No,” Waxer answers. “An AT-RT isn’t just some machine you can climb on and control. It takes concentration, skill, dexterity, and a mutual understanding between you and the walker. You don’t drive an AT-RT, you ride it.”

Jesse rolls his eyes. There’s a reason he’s an ARC and not an ARF. He doesn’t have the patience for these pansies, talking about a machine as if it’s a living animal. What utter nonsense.

“Shinies don’t even look at an AT-RT until they can show competency riding a living breathing animal,” Boil continues the explanation. “Since both of you are well-established and accomplished soldiers, we figured we could skip the live animal part and see what you’re made of.”

A smirk flashes across Sinker’s face and Jesse realizes he’s alone in his feelings about the training. He grinds his foot against the dusty earth again, feeling way out of his element. ARCs don’t “ride” AT-RTs, they infiltrate enemy lines, perform sabotage, steal secrets, and tip the scales of an assault. His last hope that he might get some in depth reconnaissance training has officially been dashed as Waxer opens the corral and ushers them inside to show them the AT-RTs.

“Do you name them?” Sinker asks as he inspects one of the units.

“Of course!” Waxer exclaims with a proud smile. He pats the side of the unit Sinker is looking at. “This one’s name is Sella. She’s a little glitchy, but she’s seen a lot of combat.”

If Jesse rolled his eyes any harder, they would roll right out of his head.

“Can I ride her?” Sinker asks, his eyes bright.

“Eh, not for your first ride,” Waxer says. “Like I said, she’s a little glitchy.” Waxer moves across the motor pool to another unit and pats the side. “Vala here will be a good starter for you.”

Sinker punches Jesse’s shoulder in excitement and heads over to where Waxer is standing. Jesse rubs his shoulder in mock discomfort, then crosses his arms. He’s still not convinced this is proper ARF training. He wants to be looking at charts and battle strategies, not galivanting around in AT-RTs. There’s nothing useful about this exercise that he can take back to his unit, unless they let him take the AT-RT as a souvenir, which he highly doubts they would.

“How about this one for you?” Boil asks while leaning against another unit. “Her name is Mina and she’s pretty gentle on the new guys.”

Jesse huffs and approaches the AT-RT. “Sure.”

The AT-RT training goes just as well as Waxer and Boil expect. Both Jesse and Sinker fall off their AT-RTs multiple times just on start-up, when the machine initially jerks to life. The breath is knocked out of Jesse’s lungs more times than he can count and he wonders if Kix can order him a replacement set if he ever makes it back to the 501st alive. The only buffer he has is his ARC armor and it’s not enough to prevent the litany of bruises from growing on every part of his body.

By rotations end, Jesse and Sinker manage to stay on their AT-RTs and even take a few steps forward with them. It’s been hard work, but they’re finally seeing the fruits of their labor and Jesse’s ego is just as bruised as his thighs. He gets it now. He understands what they mean by riding an AT-RT instead of driving it. It’s not like a starfighter or an ATTE that he’s driven in simulations. No, these things are like living animals and they need to be respected as such.

At the end of the training session, Jesse doesn’t stop for food at the mess hall. Instead, he hobbles to the medbay for some bacta, then makes his way to the barracks. He gingerly pulls his armor off, each flex of muscle a new sensation of pain. He winces and grunts until it all comes off and he stacks it neatly beside his assigned bunk. He pulls out a ration bar from his pack and settles onto the cot, mindlessly munching away at the bland bar while trying not to move.

Tomorrow, they’re taking the AT-RTs out on a fake reconnaissance mission. He’s not sure who decided that he and Sinker are ready to take the AT-RTs into the field, but he definitely doesn’t feel ready. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to move when he wakes up in the morning, let alone climb onto the back of an AT-RT and ride it out into the middle of who-knows-where. Just the thought of his legs doing that climbing motion again makes his thighs twitch in protest.

The next morning, Jesse wakes when the sun rises and its rays shine into the barracks. He was right, his entire body objects to him moving even one inch off of his cot, but he doesn’t have a choice. He feels like a cadet all over again. Like he just went through a rigorous course of simulations and he needs to go again. Those are days he wishes he didn’t have to remember. He’s much stronger now, and more resilient, but his aching thighs force his recollections.

Jesse swings by the medbay before meeting up with the others at the corral. He begs the medic on duty for anything he can give him to help soothe the pain. He’ll even take a muscle relaxer at this point, even if it makes him drowsy. The medic takes pity on him, tosses him a small bottle of painkillers, and threatens him not to mention it to anybody or he’d be returning to his battalion in a bodybag. That’s a risk Jesse is willing to take. Besides, Kix has threatened him with much worse.

Jesse downs a few of the pills, stuffs the bottle out of sight in one of his belt pouches, and heads to the corral. Everyone else is already there, and he hopes that he isn't too late that they make an issue about it. Luckily, no one mentions his tardiness, but Waxer does have a small grin on his face that makes Jesse suspicious. He wonders how much enjoyment Waxer and Boil get out of torturing their shinies with this training, because clearly they know why he’s late.

Waxer gives the squad a short briefing on their fake mission. He pulls out the data-pad with the map coordinates on it, their rendezvous point, the intel they’re supposed to be acquiring, and any enemy obstacles in their way. This is what Jesse has been after ever since the beginning of the cross-training. He studies everything Waxer shows them, eagerly consuming all of the information and stuffing it away in his brain to use later when he’s back with his own battalion.

After the mission briefing is over, they mount their AT-RTs, Jesse on Mina and Sinker on Vala. Waxer and Boil mount their personal AT-RTs, the ones they’ve been using since they became ARF troopers, and the squad heads out into the desert. Unlike Waxer and Boil, Jesse and Sinker do not have ARF trooper armor. Since the mission is fake, there is no need to outfit them. The squad looks rather odd up close, but from a distance no one can tell they’re mismatched.

The squad spends hours in the desert. The constant back and forth motion on the AT-RT has Jesse convinced he’s also going to need a spine replacement. He wonders how hard it will be to requisition and if there’s a special form he needs to fill out. He tries to pop a few more painkillers but as the AT-RT continues to lunge forward like a jack-rabbit, it makes the task very difficult. In all honesty, he’d rather be dropped out of a LAAT without a jetpack than do this full time.

Around mid-day, Waxer calls over the comms to let the squad know that they’ll be stopping for a break soon. He gives them the coordinates for the only known piece of civilization within ten klicks of their location, and they all head in that direction. Jesse can’t wait. His back, thighs, and butt all thank the Maker that he’s going to be able to rest soon, even if he has to fall off the AT-RT instead of hopping off. At this point, he’s not even sure his arms are still attached to his body.

As they approach their rest-stop, Waxer gives the order for the squad to halt. Waxer, Boil, and Sinker all stop relatively close together, but Jesse keeps going.

“Jesse, halt,” Waxer calls through the comms.

“It won’t stop,” Jesse calls back while pressing every button he can think of to try and stop.

“What do you mean it won’t stop?” Waxer asks as he watches Jesse move further away.

“I mean, it won’t stop!” Jesse yells.

“Hit the emergency brake,” Boil orders into the comms.

“I did,” Jesse answers. He refuses to panic, but the building is getting closer and his AT-RT is not obeying his commands. “I think there’s an electrical malfunction.”

“Great,” Waxer sighs. “Just steer her out of harm's way and we can figure it out.”

“About that…” Jesse pauses. His heart rate increases as the building is looking a lot bigger than it did a few seconds ago. “The steering isn’t responding either.”

“Bail!” Waxer calls as he starts his unit up and rushes over. “Bail, Jesse, bail!”

It’s too late. Jesse braces as his AT-RT crashes into the side of the building.

“Order up for table twelve!” the cook calls from the kitchen as he rings the bell at the end of the order window.

“Coming!” you answer, then rush over to grab the order.

“What’s the hold up?” the cook asks. “Are you daydreaming again?”

“Only everyday I’m stuck working here,” you sing back with a sweet smile.

The cook huffs. “Just make sure the customers are fed. You don’t get paid to daydream.”

“Yes, sir!” you answer with a mock salute as you balance the tray of food on one hand.

You turn around and roll your eyes before walking the food over to table twelve. You’ve been stuck working at this diner for four cycles now with no end in sight. It’s not the worst job you could have, but with the small amount you’re being paid with no raises in the near future, you’ll never be able to afford to go find a new one. It’s an endless cycle of work, work, work, and never any time for yourself or what you want to do. It’s agonizing, but it’s all you have.

The only reason you even have this job is to pay off your parent’s debt. They left you on this barren rock to go on their “galactic tour” and never returned. From what you know, they made a deal with the owner of the diner to ensure you had a place to stay, and in return, when you were old enough, you would work for him to pay off the debt. It’s definitely not the life you would’ve chosen, but it’s the life you have been given, and you should be grateful for even that much.

Your only solace is your best friend Violet. She also works at the diner and hates it as much as you do. The two of you became fast friends when you first started working at the diner and now you spend all of your free time together. Violet also doesn’t have any parents planet-side, so there’s an even deeper connection between the two of you and an unspoken understanding about life. At least you have each other, is what you tell yourself when things get unbearable.

“Tooka got your tongue?” Violet asks as she peers over your shoulder.

“Ah!” you startle. “Where’d you come from?”

“Table eight,” Violet answers. “You had that look in your eye again.”

“What look?” you ask.

“The dreamy and distant one,” Violet answers with a flip of her hair.

You groan. “That obvious, huh?”

“If you were any more obvious, you’d have a neon sign stuck to your forehead,” Violet laughs.

You sigh. “Don’t you want more?”

“More what?” Violet asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “More anything.”

Violet thinks for a moment. “Yeah, more sleep and more credits.”

You pout. “Besides that.”

“What else is there?” Violet asks as she picks up another tray of food.

“Oh, you know…” you trail your voice quietly while bussing the table next to hers. “Like love and stuff.”

Violet snorts. “What? Love? Out here? In this dust bowl? You’re nuts.”

“I am not!” you retort. “It could happen.”

“Yeah, sure,” Violet rolls her eyes, “because gorgeous and attractive people just tumble into our diner like it’s a speed-dating site.”

“I–”

CRASH

The violent shockwave shakes the diner to its core and knocks both you and Violet off of your feet and flat onto the ground. You instinctively cover your head as pieces of debris and dust fall from the ceiling. The patrons in the diner start screaming and run past you to the diner exit as you lay on the floor, stunned by what just happened. You slowly open your eyes and look over at Violet, making sure she’s okay. She looks dazed, but nods and you both help each other up.

“Kriffing banthas!” you exclaim. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Violet says with a shaky voice, still in shock.

You turn around and see a gaping hole in the side of the diner and your eyes grow wide. A mess of twisted dura-steel, snapped electrical wires, and broken water pipes are poking out in every direction. You’re not sure what to make of it. You tilt your head from side to side trying to figure out what happened until you see a clone trooper’s body laying under some debris. You rush over, climbing through the rubble to get to the trapped man. He’s unconscious, but breathing.

“Violet, help me!” you call back. “He’s trapped!”

Violet climbs up alongside of you and you each grab an arm, tugging with all of your might, but it’s no use, he’s too heavy. You pant at the exertion and look around for anything that you could use for leverage. But before you can make your next move, three more clone troopers burst through the front door of the diner. They look around frantically before meeting your gaze as you wave your hands to try and get their attention. They must be with the clone that’s trapped.

“Over here!” you call out to them. “He’s over here!”

The three clones rush over and replace you and Violet. The two troopers in camouflage lift the debris and the third clone in gray armor pulls the trapped clone out from underneath it. They carry him away from the debris pile and lay him on top of one of the diner tables. The clone in gray armor pulls out a bag with a medic symbol on it and rummages through it. Finding what he’s looking for, he scans over the unconscious clone with the device, then sighs in relief.

“No internal injuries,” the gray clone says. “Looks like he just got knocked out. He’s lucky.”

One of the clones in camouflage shakes his head. “Of all the things to go wrong.”

“At least he’s not dead,” the other clone in camouflage says. “Try explaining that to Commander Cody and Captain Rex.”

The first clone in camouflage visually bristles.

“Um, excuse me,” you interrupt with a slight raise of your hand.

The first clone in camouflage takes his helmet off. “Apologies, I’m Waxer, with the 212th.” He points to the clone next to him. “This is Boil, also with the 212th, and that’s Sinker, with the 104th.” He looks down at the clone on the table. “And that one is Jesse, from the 501st.”

“Pleasure…” you say as you try to take it all in. There’s so many numbers and names, you’re not sure how you’ll keep them all straight.

“Wait, hold on,” Violet interjects, dumbfounded. “Y’all just crashed into our diner and you're exchanging pleasantries like you met at the local market?”

“Correction,” Boil says. “Jesse crashed into your diner.”

Violet’s jaw drops and she turns to you. “Are these guys for real?”

“I assure you ma’am,” Sinker says. “We are, in fact, real clones.”

You start to snicker and Violet throws her hands up in defeat. “You know what, I’ve had enough for one day.” She takes her dusty and torn apron off and tosses it on the ground with the rest of the debris. “I do not get paid enough to deal with clowns!”

“Don’t you mean, clones?” Boil asks.

“I meant what I said!” Violet yells back as she navigates around the debris to the exit.

You try to stifle a laugh, but fail. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just stressed. It’s not every day we get clones crashing into our diner.”

Waxer rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. One of the AT-RTs had a malfunction and Jesse couldn’t get it to stop.”

“I see,” you look down at the clone on the table and knit your brows with worry. You feel bad for him. It must have been scary, being stuck on an uncontrollable collision course and knowing you can’t do anything to stop it from happening. Well, at least for you it would have been scary. You’re not even sure if clones feel fear. It’s not something you’ve ever thought about, until now.

“We’ll fix the wall for you,” Waxer says. “Might take us a couple rotations, but we’ll get it done.”

“The owner will definitely appreciate it,” you smile. You’re not quite sure where the cook went off to, but he must have bailed when the wall was smashed. That coward. He talks a lot about your head being stuck in the clouds, but when things go wrong, you’re the only one keeping a level head.

“Can you stay with him?” Waxer asks. “We need to comm our superiors.”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, then pull out one of the table chairs to take a seat. You didn’t realize how much your legs were shaking until you were sitting down and relieving them of their duty, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you’re starting to feel exhausted.

You watch Jesse like Waxer asked you too, but to be honest, you’re not sure what you’re supposed to be watching. You look him over from head to toe and take in all of his features. He’s wearing different armor than the other three clones, but it’s not the standard issue clone armor that you see in the news either. You’re not sure what it is. He’s got two thick leather skirt-looking things around his thighs, two holsters, and a big flappy thing across his shoulders.

You shrug and continue your examination. He also has some type of pouch on his chest that looks like it could either hold ammo or snacks. You figure both are important. There’s also an extra chest plate on top of the standard one. Must be for extra protection. You then look at the blue markings that adorn his arms and legs and wonder if they have any meaning. The last thing you look at is his face. There’s a huge GAR tattoo covering one side. Curious, but not bizarre.

You lean over his body to get a better view, when you hear him stir. You quickly remove yourself and wave your hand over his face to try and get him to wake up.

“Hey,” you call. “Wake up, Jesse.”

Jesse groans as he comes to. “Am I dead?”

You chuckle. “No, just got a little knocked around.”

Jesse hisses as he tries to sit up and raises a hand to hold the side of his head. “Ow, my head.”

“It’s gonna hurt a bit,” you say. “That was a nasty crash.”

Jesse closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What crash?”

“You don’t remember?” you ask in concern.

Jesse opens his eyes, and as they finally focus, he sees the mess of twisted dura-steel and a crushed AT-RT within it. His body jolts at the memory. “The building!”

“Whoa!” you put your hands on Jesse’s shoulders to try and get him to calm down. “Easy, Jesse, easy.”

Jesse breathes heavily at the new surge of adrenaline, but settles down. He shoots you a quizzical look. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”

“Oh, right,” you laugh nervously then introduce yourself. “I’m a waitress here and your friends are just outside. They pulled you out of the rubble and told me to watch you.”

Jesse leans his head back against the table and groans. “Rex is going to kill me.”

“Who’s Rex?” you ask to try to keep him talking. Concussions are very serious, and without knowing if he has one, you don’t want him falling unconscious again.

“My captain,” Jesse answers. He drapes an arm over his face. “He’s the one that sent me to this desolate dust bowl.”

You chuckle at his disdain for the planet.

“Oh, sorry,” Jesse apologizes. “I guess this is your home, huh? I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No worries,” you wave off the remark and smile. “I think it’s a dust bowl, too.”

Jesse chuckles.

“I’m sorry about your AT… thing,” you offer, trying to remember the exact acronym.

Jesse laughs. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t mine.”

You snort and then laugh along with him. “You’re funny.”

“And you’re pretty,” Jesse blurts out.

You stop laughing as you process what he said. “You think I’m pretty?”

Jesse’s stomach flips when he realizes his thoughts didn’t stay in his head. “Kriff, did I say that out loud?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer nervously, your face feeling warm.

“Maker, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Jesse apologizes, the embarrassment written all over his face.

“So, you don’t think I’m pretty?” you ask.

“Uh, no, I mean yes, well, you see,” Jesse stammers, then gives up trying to explain himself. He sighs. “I think my brain got scrambled in the crash.”

You chuckle and pat his arm. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

After your short but awkward conversation with Jesse, the three clones reassemble in the diner to debrief the now awake Jesse. Waxer commed Cody, Boil commed Rex, and Sinker commed Wolffe, although from the sweat on Sinker’s face, you can tell who has the most commanding officer of them all. The consensus is that the GAR will pay for the damages and the four clones will repair the diner wall. None of them seem too thrilled about it, and you don’t blame them.

By the time the excitement has calmed down, and the materials to fix the diner are located, it’s nightfall and you are exhausted. You’re practically dead on your feet, body swaying with your broom while trying to clean up some of the debris on the other end of the diner. You’re the only staff member left to help clean up, so you chose to stay. Of course won’t be paid for any of this, but the faster the diner is back in business, the faster you can start getting paid again.

You dump another dust pan of rubble into the trash receptacle, then plop down onto one of the stools lining the diner counter. You yawn wide and lean your elbow on the counter, propping your face up as you close your eyelids for just a moment to rest. The moment must have lasted longer than you expected, because when you open your eyes again, you wake up in one of the booths with a blanket on top of you and another one folded under your head for use as a pillow.

It’s still dark out, the moonlight beaming in through the large transparisteel panes that line the front of the diner, and you sit up to get your bearings. There’s three clones nestled on the floor, all tangled up together in a mess of armor and limbs. You’re not sure how sleeping like that is comfortable, but more power to them. You realize Jesse is missing, and you pop your head up over the booth to look for him, hoping that he hasn’t wandered off somewhere and gotten lost.

You tiptoe around the sleeping clones, blanket hung around your shoulders to keep the desert chill out, and walk around looking for Jesse. He’s not inside the diner, so you walk outside. You really hope he didn’t leave to relieve himself and you’re about to walk in on something you’re not prepared to see, and luckily you don’t. You circle the entire building and you still can’t find him. Finally, you hear your name being called and you look up to see two legs dangling from the roof.

You shake your head and climb up the side ladder to join Jesse on the roof.

“You should be asleep,” he says, not moving his gaze from the horizon.

“So, should you,” you retort back. “You’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Barely even a scratch on me.”

You sit next to him and let your feet hang off the edge. “I was talking about your brain.”

Jesse chuckles. “That’s fine, too.”

“No more accidentally calling me pretty?” you jest.

“Not making any promises on that one,” he smirks.

You smile and fidget with the edges of the blanket. “Did you move me to the booth?”

“Hope you don’t mind,” he answers. “That counter was doing nothing for your back. Probably should’ve asked first.”

“Oh, no,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

Jesse smiles. “You’re welcome, mesh’la.”

You don’t remember falling asleep on the rooftop, but when you awaken feeling like a rolled up burrito with Jesse’s arm draped across your side, the memories start to come back. You must have talked for a while before dozing off, because you feel like you barely got any sleep at all. The blanket wrapped around you is tight and you wiggle to try to get yourself free from it, but as you do, you start to roll away. You panic slightly before feeling Jesse’s firm hand stopping you.

“Going somewhere?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“Thought I’d roll myself to work today,” you answer.

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “How’s that working out for you?”

You wiggle against the restraining blanket. “Ten out of ten would not recommend.”

Jesse snorts and sits up. “I didn’t want you to get cold or fall off the roof.”

“Appreciate it,” you strain out as you wriggle some more. “Please help me.”

Jesse unravels your blanket cocoon and helps you to your feet. You straighten your dirty uniform out and climb down the ladder to get the day started with Jesse trailing behind you. Violet is already inside the diner, chatting with the other three clones. She gives you a knowing look when she sees you walk in with Jesse, but doesn’t say anything. You’re just happy she’s here to help. When she stormed off yesterday, you weren’t sure if she was going to come back.

As the clones start discussing their plan of attack, the two of you decide the best way to start the day is to eat a hearty breakfast. There’s a lot of work to be done and everyone is going to need as much energy as they can get. The cook never came back, but that’s of no matter, you know how to cook. In no time, a full breakfast and hot caf is served. You dust off some of the debris before placing the plates and mugs down on the table and everyone digs in.

Once breakfast is over, the four clones get to work hauling away the large debris pieces from the wall and the crushed AT-RT. You offer the use of the dumpster in the back of the building, but they insist that the GAR will come pick it up and you should use the dumpster for smaller debris. You don’t argue with them and set out with Violet to clean whatever you can of the mess inside the diner, making sure to wear gloves so you don’t cut your hands on any sharp pieces.

As the day continues, the desert heat begins to seep into the diner. The crash must have broken the refrigerant lines, but with the gaping hole in the side of the diner, the climate control wouldn’t be of much use anyway. You and Violet switch gears and make a refreshing batch of Tatooine Sunset to ensure everyone stays hydrated. You also put damp towels in the conservator to help cool everyone off during breaks. It’s barely midday and you know it’s only going to get hotter.

Soon enough, the clones start shedding their armor, at least the top halves of their armor. You’ve never seen a clone without their armor, but honestly, you haven’t seen that many clones to begin with. It’s when they start taking the top black portion of their bodysuits off that you really take notice. They’re jacked. You stand back in one of the corners, mindlessly moving your broom as you watch them work. Not a single piece of debris makes it into the dustpan.

Violet elbows you in the side.

“Ow!” you exclaim. “What was that for?”

“You’re staring,” Violet answers.

“Am not,” you argue.

Violet crosses her arms. “Four hot, shirtless men are flexing their muscles and sweating in our diner, and you’re not staring?”

You purse your lips trying not to give her any satisfaction.

“Well, I’m going to stare,” Violet says. “I mean, look at those abs. But the difference is that I can stare and sweep.”

You roll your eyes and push some garbage into the dustpan.

“You wanted more,” Violet says as she nonchalantly scoots away with her broom. “Well, more is standing over there with a giant tattoo on his head.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she’s too far away. You hate it when she does that. Violet always seems to know what you’re thinking before you’ve even thought it yourself. According to her it’s her gift to the world, but really, it’s just a nuisance. She is right, though, because Jesse does make your heart flutter. You’ve just met him, but it's like you’ve known him your entire life. Talking to him feels as natural as breathing, and for the first time, you truly feel fortunate for your job at the diner.

You lean on your broom and start staring again, watching Jesse walk over to the rubble, pick up a large piece, then carry it out of the diner and drop it onto the pile. Each movement he makes causes the muscles in his arms and torso to ripple with dramatic effect. The sweat that drips down his body only serves to accentuate how toned he is. Before you even realize it, Jesse’s looking at you and you nearly fall off your broom in embarrassment, but he smiles at you.

You continue cleaning up the diner while stealing glances at Jesse, but he also glances back. You want so badly just to sit down and talk with him more. Your conversation on the rooftop last night was a lot of fun and you both shared different things about your lives. You told him about your parents and how you got stuck working at the diner, and he told you about his battalion and how he got stuck going on this training mission. Both equally unfortunate, but now, it feels okay.

The late afternoon break comes around, so you and Violet make another batch of Tatooine Sunset, as well as some sandwiches. The clones inhale the sandwiches so fast that you’re embarrassed you didn’t make more. You offer to, but they turn you down, being grateful just for the opportunity to eat real food instead of rations. You smile and turn back towards the kitchen. Jesse follows you through the double-doors and leans his hot back against the cool conservator.

“Like what you see?” Jesse asks with a smirk.

You turn around to look at him. “The wall’s coming along nice.”

Jesse scrunches his nose. “You weren’t staring at the wall.”

“How do you know?” you jest. “Maybe I like walls.”

Jesse tilts his head to the side and folds his arms over his bare chest. “Are you sure you don’t like something else?”

You groan. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Jesse gives you a devilish grin.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I like what I see.”

“I knew it,” Jesse says, a little too excited.

“Maker above, would you two please get a room!” Violet exclaims from the order window. “I’m so sick of you staring at each other. The closet is empty if you’re looking for a place to smash.”

“Violet!” you yell as your face flushes with embarrassment.

Jesse snorts. “That closet can barely fit a broom.”

“Then kiss or something,” Violet says. “Anything to get you two back to work.”

Jesse pushes off the conservator and heads towards the double doors. “You heard the task-master.”

“Wait,” you call. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

Jesse stops and turns his head. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

You fidget with your hem. “Kinda.”

“Kinda isn’t a yes or a no,” Jesse says.

“Yes,” you correct. “I want you to kiss me.”

Jesse takes his hand off the double doors and walks over to you. Your eyes dart around as your nerves start to get the better of you. You can’t believe you just asked him to kiss you. You’ve never kissed anyone before. What if you’re bad at it? What if he doesn’t like it? What if you accidentally bite him? Maker, your stomach is in knots. Your breathing becomes heavier as he gets closer, but your nervous energy comes to a halt when he cups the side of your face.

Jesse smooths his thumb over your cheek and gives you a reassuring smile. He dips his head and tilts it to the side before pressing his lips against yours. His lips are warm and their touch ever so gentle as they melt into yours. You place your hands on his chest and all of your worries and concerns slip away as all you can think about is Jesse. You don’t want this moment to end, but eventually he pulls back, breaking the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting for more.

Without a single word, Jesse turns on his heels and leaves the kitchen to go back to work fixing the wall. You stand there, alone in the kitchen, completely dazed by what just happened. You’re not sure if you’re dreaming or not, but you’re too afraid to pinch yourself to find out. You press your fingers to your lips, thinking about the kiss, and your body warms. You’re not sure how you can work now, but you do know that you’ll be spending every spare moment you have with Jesse.

Finally the repairs are complete and tonight is your last night with Jesse. Your stomach aches at the thought of him leaving. Only a couple of rotations ago, he crashed into your life and stole your heart. You didn’t mean to fall for him, but his soulful brown eyes and bright smile captivated you. Besides, the feelings are mutual. You don’t want him to leave, but you know he can’t stay. He’s a soldier, with things to do and places to go, and you’re just a waitress at a diner in the middle of nowhere.

You’re spending your last night together sitting up on the rooftop of the diner, legs dangling over the edge, as you gaze up at the moon and soak in each other’s presence. It’s quiet, like it usually is in the desert, and not a soul would dare to disturb this moment, not even Violet. You want your last night with Jesse to be a memorable one, and what better way to end it then with the way you started it; on the roof. It may be silly to some, but it makes the pain a little easier.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” you say sadly.

“Yeah,” Jesse answers, equally feeling sad about his departure.

“I don’t want you to go,” you admit as your voice quivers.

Jesse wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his side, leaning his head atop yours. “I don’t want to go either.”

“Stay?” you ask.

“You know I can’t,” Jesse sighs.

“Please,” you plead while nuzzling into his neck. “Don’t go.”

Jesse’s heart breaks. He picks his head up and cups the side of your face, leaning in and closing his eyes to capture your soft lips with his own. You press your body against his, deepening the kiss until Jesse is laying flat against the roof and you’re straddling over his stomach. Your lips are locked as Jesse glides his rough hands over your smooth back, pulling your shirt in different directions as he maps out the plains of your body.

Jesse breaks the kiss for a moment. “Come back to Coruscant with me,” he whispers while ghosting his lips over yours before nipping at your bottom lip and pulling them back against his.

Now it’s your turn to break the kiss. “Jesse–”

“We could get an apartment,” he cuts you off before you can protest, then plants a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I’ll take care of you.” Another kiss finds its mark. “My vode will adore you.” A gentle suck at your bottom lip. “We’ll make lots of babies.” He smirks and you can’t stop the giggle from forming.

You sit up and release a soft sigh. “Sounds nice.”

Jesse reaches up and cups your chin. “But?”

You melt into his caress for a moment before removing his hand from your face. “But I can’t.”

Jesse bends his knees so you can lean back against them, then laces his fingers under his head. “Why not?”

You absently draw small circles around his chest with your fingers, the longing evident in your actions but missing from your words. “My home is here.”

“I could be your home,” Jesse reassures with a small smile.

You briefly smile back and tap at his chest. “What if something happens to you? I’ll be alone.”

Jesse knits his brows and frowns, fully understanding your hesitation. He’s a soldier, created to be expendable. His brothers die every day and no one bats an eyelash. There’s no guarantees that he’ll come back from his next campaign alive, but still, he wants this. He wants you.

Jesse untangles his fingers from behind his head and takes both of your hands in his own, kissing them tenderly. “I can’t promise tomorrow,” he admits. “I can only promise now.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek. “Then can I have you, at least right now?”

Jesse wipes your tear with his thumb, then flips you onto your back so he’s hovering over you. He leans down and presses his lips to yours once again, yearning to taste as much of you as possible. If this is his only moment with you, then he wants to remember everything. Every sweet taste, every curve, every bump, and every heavenly sound you’ll make for him as he ravages your body with only the moon above as a witness.

“Jesse,” you say his name breathlessly as your desire builds. “I want–”

Jesse places a finger against your lips to hush you. “I know, mesh’la,” he soothes while rubbing his finger across your plush lips before gently pushing it into your mouth, causing you to gasp. “We’ve got all night.”

The light of the rising sun pierces through your eyelids, rousing you from your slumber. The morning comes quicker than you expect and you groan as you sit yourself up on the hard dura-steel roof. You rub the sleep from your eyes and look over to your right, expecting Jesse to still be sleeping, but he’s gone. Your heart sinks and you whip your head around to make sure he didn’t get up and stretch his legs, but you don’t see him. He must have left before you awoke.

Holding tears back, you stand up and pat down your wrinkled and disheveled clothes, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. But who are you kidding? How could you ever be normal again after a night like that? A night of romance, passion, and longing that made you feel everything and nothing all at the same time. You know this is for the best. He’ll go back to Coruscant, back to the war, and you’ll be here, working your minimum wage job.

You break at the thought. Dropping to your knees you begin to sob, grieving over what you let go of. You don’t want Jesse to leave. You don’t want him to be a one night stand. You want a life with him. Even if it means him being away for weeks at a time or that he may leave and never come back. That slim chance is lightyears better than never seeing him again, than never feeling his burning touch on your skin or hearing his deep voice whisper sweetly in your ear.

You have to go after him. You can’t let him leave, not without you. Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t care. Burdened with the thought of never seeing him again, you wipe your face, pick yourself up, and head to the ledge. You grab the ladder and stare off into the distance, wondering if you’ll catch a glimpse of him, but you don’t. You may be too late. Regardless, you slip down the ladder, ignoring the rungs and land with a thud onto the dusty ground.

You’re breathing heavily, your hair is a mess, and your clothes are horribly wrinkled, but you don’t care. You push open the front door violently. “I quit!”

Violet looks up at you from where she’s mopping the floor and pauses to lean on her mop with a knowing smile. Love wins, she guesses, and she’s right.

You walk over to Violet and throw your arms around her. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“I know,” Violet says as she hugs you tightly.

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, the tears barely held back.

“I’ll miss you too,” Violet answers with a tremble in her voice. She breaks your embrace and composes herself. “Now go, or you won’t catch him.”

You reluctantly let go of your best friend, and with tears in your eyes, you back away and leave.

“You got everything?” Waxer asks as he carries another crate into the transport that’s taking Jesse back to Coruscant.

“Hm?” Jesse snaps out of his daze. “Oh, yeah,” Jesse answers, and then pauses. “I… I left something in the desert.”

“I hope it wasn’t valuable,” Waxer laughs.

Jesse stares out towards the dusty horizon and sighs. “Priceless, actually.”

Waxer claps a comforting hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Sorry to hear that.”

Jesse gives Waxer a half smile, but it quickly fades back into a frown. His transport leaves within the hour and he wonders if he made a mistake by not saying goodbye. He thought if he left without a word, it would be easier for both of you, but he was wrong. His chest feels tight and his heart aches. What he wouldn’t give to hear your voice one more time. He didn’t think it was possible to leave this dusty planet more upset than when he first landed, and yet here he is.

Jesse takes one last look at the place he initially despised, then turns to board the transport. It’s not just you that he left in the desert. He left his heart there too, on the rooftop of that old diner. He sits on one of the crates in the back of the transport and leans his head against the cold frame. He didn’t want this assignment. He didn’t want to come here. It could have been any other clone, but no, his number was drawn. The universe has a cruel sense of humor.

Before the ramp closes, Jesse hears someone calling for the transport to halt. Leaving his bucket on the crate, he makes his way back down the ramp to ask what’s delaying the departure, thinking it might be something mechanical. However, as he barely steps off the ramp and onto the dusty earth, he sees a speeder in the distance. He grabs a pair of scopes from a nearby clone trooper and dials in on the speeder. His breath catches in his throat. It’s you.

Jesse gives the scopes back to the clone trooper he took them from and starts walking away from the transport, his heart beating rapidly out of his chest, wondering if it’s really true or if the desert heat is playing tricks on him. Did you just want to say goodbye or do you want to go with him? He doesn’t dare let himself think the latter. You made it clear to him last night that you won’t go with him, but he wants to hope so badly. He wants to believe that it’s the only reason.

The speeder comes to a screeching halt a couple yards away from Jesse and he watches with bated breath as you jump out of it and sprint towards him.

“Jesse!” you yell as tears fall from your face.

Jesse smiles and opens his arms. You jump into them without a second thought and bury your face into his neck. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you off of the ground and onto his hips, one arm cradling your butt and the other securing around your back.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it in time,” you cry.

“You made it, mesh’la,” Jesse soothes as he kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

You pick your head up and look at him through blurry vision, a small smile growing on your lips. “Not goodbye. I’m going with you.”

Jesse’s eyes dart around your face, looking for any semblance that you’re joking or maybe this is a dream, but he can’t find anything. “You’re coming with me? To Coruscant?”

You nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you try to use it again.

Jesse squeezes you tighter, terrified that at any moment you’ll be ripped away from him. He can’t believe that you changed your mind, that you’re going back with him. His thoughts race a mile a minute as he thinks about your future together. He has a stake in this war now, something worth fighting for that wasn’t thrust upon him by someone else or programmed into him as duty and loyalty. No, now he has you, and he will fight this war to make sure you stay safe in his arms.

“Let’s go home,” Jesse says as he carries you into the transport.

You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @starrrgazingbunny @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @mooncommlink @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @novas-daydreaming

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

161 notes · View notes

eponadolls · 6 months ago

Text

BJD Sales

Hi everyone! I will have several big expenses over the summer (wisdom tooth removal, newer car, potential ADHD and pcos evals/diagnoses, etc) and I want to make sure they are as... least-impacting as possible on my savings, especially since most are medical and I have no idea how much my insurance is actually going to cover... so any reblogs and shares are always appreciated!

Most things will be cross-posted on Den of Angels, Instagram, and Facebook. Additional information will be under the cut. I ship from the USA and due to postal concerns, I can only send the large, high-value packages within the USA right now.

Allergen warning: I live in a pet-friendly, non-smoking household near a corn mill.

Harucasting Smile Maji head: She’s some kind of tan resin, but I don’t 100% remember which one. Her previous owner split the head and body so the coa went with the body. I remember her previous owners name & email, but I don’t recall their instagram handle. Maji has thankfully NOT been recasted so I do not worry about her legitimacy, but I wanted to be upfront about that detail. Her magnets need to be reglued and she still has faceup residue. As with any of my Harucasting dolls, in respect to Haru’s wishes, I will only sell his dolls to pro-artist/anti-recast individuals.

$100 + shipping

5stardoll Elf Elaine: She was painted by her previous owner and given a mani-pedi which is chipping as well as pretty purple body shimmer. Her face still has faceup residue on it. She’s really cute but I need to make room — I am willing to sell her head separately, though. According to her card of authenticity she was produced in late 2018. I believe she is in normal pink skin.

$170 + shipping

Latidoll Blue Yern:

Yern is a slim MSD sized doll and the Blue (MSD) line has been long discontinued. Yern still has her coa and Latidoll manual, as well as the emblem in and outside of her head. I am not sure of the specifics but her torso has had some kind of mod job for mobility reasons?

Yern is from early 2009 and has certainly yellowed, but her yellowing appears to be consistent. Yern would probably benefit from a restringing with thicker elastics but I can get her to pose and stand just fine. Her s hooks were replaced and she has traditional/standard bjd s hooks in her wrists and ankles. For whatever reason one elbow likes to stay slightly bent. Yern will be shipped UNSTRUNG so that would be a good opportunity for her elastics to be changed; she still has an o hook for her head.

Her faceup is holding up really well considering it is quite old but please be aware that it is old, has some wear, and it is not factored into the price I am selling Yern at. The biggest sign of wear I noticed as a small dark streak near her temple.

She has some damage near her foot/ankle. Considering her age I think she has been holding up really well.

$100 + shipping

Dollzone MSD Girl Body: normal pink resin. Arrived from Alice collections in late 2022, spent most of its time in the box. Asking $200 + shipping.

Harucasting Big Geuru: She is in neul medium tan. She has a face up by @tonocha331. She has an extra pair of hands and comes with her box and card of authenticity. She will come without clothes or eyes.

She has some small s hook scratches in one wrist from a previous owner and several small scratches on her belly. Her face up seems to be in overall good condition other than three shiny spots on the side of her head. $550 + shipping

Logandolls Primrose: Primrose in light tan (coffee) with additional heel feet (strung) and an extra pair of hands. She does not come with a company box but she has a card of authenticity and comes with a blanket that I believe logandolls made for her. Received in a trade from my friend @groovyblueworld! She will NOT come with a pair of eyes. If desired, I can ship her in an old Dollzone company box for extra protection. Ordinarily she would cost $480 new but I am asking $440 + shipping - you basically get the extra hands and feet for free and an extra $10 discount. I can also sell a Flower Primrose faceplate in Resinsoul normal for an additional $40.

$440 + shipping

#dollblr #bjd #ball jointed doll #doll collector #doll community #bjd sales #bjd sale #eponadolls #harucasting #dollzone #logandolls #5stardoll

42 notes · View notes

rodlaveraryna · 7 months ago

Text

graf cup brainworms

we! deserve! a wta! laver! cup!

i mean, just look at the wta rankings. a wta laver cup would be a lot more competitive and balanced and fun than the atp version and it would also be grounds for a bunch of great player interactions that we deserve, so i'll be going over teams :)

graf cup is named after legend steffi graf, one of three singles players in the open era to win a calendar year grand slam. the other two are rod laver, who the laver cup is named for, and margaret court, a bigot. it will be held in berlin at uber arena, same location as the atp version. yk, if this was real.

also, i have no clue how teams are made for the actual laver cup. i just made these teams because i can. i'm the tournament director of this nonexistent tournament. what are you gonna do?

team europe

edit 4/23: i had no idea navratilova was such a piece of shit lord… alternative captain suggestions are much appreciated

team roster: ― iga swiatek ― aryna sabalenka ― daria kasatkina ― jasmine paolini ― mirra andreeva ― paula badosa

notes team europe:

― i NEED daria and natalia to give us some bomb ass graf cup vlogs. i just know they would give us the best interviews and behind the scenes look at how it all goes.

― aryna and jasmine are both great in singles and doubles so that's def something they can use to their advantage

― honestly seeing players i like interact with each other was like. a major part in selecting these teams. idk i just feel like everyone here is so lovely and amazing and that's only going to be heightened because of the not super competitive atmosphere

― i have a massive soft spot for mirra. i think everyone who knows her does. i would love to see the whole team just absolutely adoring her

― iga and aryna becoming friends??? maybe??? i like my rivalries sweet off court and fiery on court so it'll be nice seeing them interact

― can't forget the best friendship in tennis aka sabadosa!!! lowkey i don't ship them because they just remind me of me with my best friends but i think a really close platonic relationship like that is SO important and valuable and i'm really glad they have each other like that.

team world

team roster: ― coco gauff ― elena rybakina ― ons jabeur ― zheng qinwen ― emma navarro ― leylah fernandez

team world notes:

― emma and coco feel like they would be a great pair. they're both close with ben it seems so i feel like they would be friends. also they're professional american tennis players. to use some terminology from @fritzes, american idiot solidarity

― the difference in vibe between coco and elena will be absolutely hilarious. i think they'd get along don't get me wrong it's just funny they seem so opposite to me. would love to see them play some doubles together that would be so fun...

― honestly i feel like all doubles permutations in this team would be so funny. if any of these people actually played doubles together (besides coco/emma/leylah with each other) i would be like "what the fuck is she playing doubles with her????" and i think that's beautiful.

― not to make too many comparisons with the laver cup but team world here isn't just america ft. canada. that shouldn't be a super tall order because this is team WORLD but we've all seen the trends for teams in the mens version.

― everyone loves ons yall. including team europe. we all just love ons so much.

― i'm ngl i don't have too many ultra specific notes for this team i just think it'll be good vibes and good tennis. it'll also be very appealing for me personally because i love all of these players and i know most of tennisblr loves them too :)

#thank you for reading this omfg...#tagging all players mentioned #steffi graf #iga swiatek #aryna sabalenka #daria kasatkina #jasmine paolini #mirra andreeva #paula badosa #coco gauff #elena rybakina #ons jabeur #zheng qinwen #emma navarro #leylah fernandez #wta #tennis

69 notes · View notes

olympeline · 2 months ago

Note

Love love love the omega verse fruk content! But, what do we think about omega Arthur accidentally getting pregnant in the 16th century and voila, FACE fam is born… something something “nation people don’t get pregnant even if they’re presenting omega and going through heat” but then new land is discover and “oops” turns out there is a reason why nation people have reproductive cycles

Oh nonny, do not unleash these thoughts on me! I tell you they will take root 🥺

See? Now I’m posting about it. I hope you’re happy! 😩

If this happened, I’m guessing it would be because of a very specific sets of circumstances. Otherwise nation-people don’t reproduce like humans do. When a new land is discovered, a successful settler population is established, with the main bulk of the settlers coming from an omega nation, and a significant portion coming from their alpha partner. And it had to be part of the New World, maybe? Like the clue is in the name. Just something about the Old World that makes it so no new nation-people are born the human way there any more. They used to be but it happened so long ago, when the Old World was new, that now not even China remembers. It’s become like an old wives’ tale to the nation folk. Anyway, all these boxes have to be ticked otherwise the new colony/nation-person comes into being the “normal” way and just appears one day. I kinda like this idea actually. Like a/b/o nations can have kids but such rare situations have to arise that they almost never do? And reproductive knowledge is still a loooot of guesswork back then too, so.

Soooo Francis and Arthur don’t bother with even the primitive precautions they had at the time. Why would they? The NA twins are the first new nation-people born this way in thousands of years, so the Dover pair had no idea they needed to be careful. Just carried on with their usual fooling around every time Arthur’s heat came, including on the shores of the New World. Like, literally on the shore, maybe? Francis is already there with the French colonists when he senses Arthur is near. Goes miles down the coastline close to where the English settlers are. Headcanon here that nation-people can travel much faster than normal humans so this doesn’t take him months, lol. Finds an English ship anchored and their personification alone on the beach. In heat and giving off an aura of STAY AWAY NORMAL HUMANS I LOVE YOU BUT FOR NO SPECIFIC REASON ENGLAND NEEDS SOME ALONE TIME WITH HIS FUTURE MATE ANCIENT ENEMY WHO HE STILL TOTALLY HATES SO GO INTO THE SETTLEMENT AND LEAVE YOUR MOTHERLAND BE UNTIL HE CALLS YOU, OKAY?

Arthur is all curled up in the sand like an overheated, grumpy merman. Scolds Francis for making him wait, then pulls him down and won’t even let Francis move them off the beach until they’ve done it a few times. Something about this heat has made it almost as bad as the first one and it started coming on halfway across the Atlantic. No amount of whining from Francis about sand in his hair or his new clothes getting ruined is going to make Arthur wait a moment longer for that knot. Even after Francis puts his foot down when the tide starts coming in and drags Arthur inland, they still keep at it. Marathon session that goes on and on until they’re both sore, sticky, and totally exhausted.

Francis: Needy this time weren’t we, mon lapin?

Arthur: Mmmm…*Sated omega sounds followed by three day sleep*

Francis stays by Arthur’s side and brings him food when he wakes up. He can’t explain why. He just…really wants to. Struts and sashays right into the English settlement, commandeers a kitchen and supplies, and just dares them to object, lmao. No one is that dumb! So Arthur gets a French feast when he wakes up. Then Francis keeps hanging around and staying close. Eventually a secretly pleased but outwardly embarrassed tsundere Arthur has to shoo him away back to his own lands. The food and aftercare are nice but people might start to talk and suspect, you know? They’re still supposed to be enemies.

Afterwards life carries on and things go back to normal. They get distracted by the day-to-day routine of being nations. So much so that Francis fails to notice when Arthur doesn’t call on him for help with his heats. It’s only when Arthur misses a third time that he starts to wonder. But then, Arthur was a late bloomer and their cycles are always a little wacky. Not so weird to skip a heat or two then have several close together. Francis isn’t too worried and neither is Arthur. Then he starts getting other weird symptoms. Often at hilariously inopportune times:

Arthur: *Mid Anglo-Spanish naval battle* Die, Catholic dog! You…

Antonio:….Yes?

Arthur:…One moment, please. *Dashes to the side of the ship to throw up*

Antonio:…Comida inglesa, ni siquiera una vez.

We’ve basically entered a pregnancy focused romantic comedy at this stage, lol. Not that anyone realises for a long time, Francis and Arthur included. It should be obvious: Arthur throwing up, not getting his heats, the alphas around him (even his enemies) suddenly not wanting to hurt him as much and pulling their punches when they fight, Francis wanting to stick around and be by his side, etc. It shouldn’t take a genius to work out what’s happening. But remember, hardly anyone knows Arthur is an omega at this point. Plus this kind of nation-person pregnancy is something that had passed into antiquity and become a myth. So everyone’s density is justfied.

In the end, it’s Alasdair who works it out first. He’s an alpha and Arthur’s older brother so his own protective instincts had to be going crazy. Which, on top of all the other changes Arthur is going through, the biggest telltale is his scent. Arthur’s brothers know him best out of everyone and, as the group’s sole alpha, Alasdair’s nose picks up what should be impossible. He thinks he’s wrong for months but the evidence keeps piling up. One morning he comes in to find Arthur slumped over with his head in a bucket as has become a common occurrence lately. Then, while Arthur’s good and distracted, Alasdair sneaks up to scent him. Then rips up his shirt and sees that barely there, slightly rounded middle. There’s no denying it then. Arthur’s omega nature and his “arrangement” with Francis was an open secret in the British Isles family. Arthur’s hastily put together potions and spells could disguise his scent enough to fool other nation-people, but not them. They all suspected but none of them, not even Alasdair, ever said anything out of respect for Arthur’s feelings. They knew what a blow it must have been for him. In spite of everything, they still care for the idiot, you know? He’s still their little brother.

Alasdair accuses Arthur in his ordinary, ultra blunt, Scottish way. Arthur brushes him off as being crazy. Alasdair leaves and comes back with Dylan and one of his books on the ancient history of their kind. Dylan is convinced, Arthur isn’t. You know how he is: denial all the way, baby! Dylan says Arthur is sick because the child needs to spend time in the New World where it will be born. Needs to soak up the energy of the land and the like. Otherwise…bad things, for both of them. Arthur says “you’re all crazy stop being crazy go away, crazy acting brothers of mine” but Alasdair says “right, then!” and just grabs Arthur up. Then, with Dylan’s help, they bundle their furious, spitting sibling onto a ship headed for Virginia. Alasdair goes with him. Meanwhile Dylan heads across the channel to tell Francis (“DYLAN DON’T YOU DARE DYLAN I WILL KILL YOU I SWEAR IF YOU SAY ONE WORD TO THE FROG-” - Arthur, probably). Francis is stunned by the news. Stunned and…cautiously ecstatic? I know he really wishes he could have a family in canon. Oh man, he would so want to believe this is real. But also be so afraid to get his hopes up because it sounds impossible. The drama! We love it. 🥺 Francis jumps on the fastest ship they have and sails to the English settlement to be reunited with Arthur. After a hilariously awkward conversation between the Auld Alliance duo (“…so, seems ye knocked up my little brother” “…oui, seems I did” “…aye, carry on, then” “merci”) Francis is allowed into the bedroom to see Arthur. Who’s still a Scottish prisoner, still in denial, and sulking like mad in a nest he made. Don’t ask him why he keeps wanting to make nests these days even though he hasn’t had a heat in ages. Well, you can ask but the only answer you will get is shut up and go away, dickhead. Arthur Bloody Kirkland is the face of the United Bloody Kingdom and he can make bloody nests if he bloody wants to! *Hissy tsundere noises*

Arthur tries to bluster at Francis to go away or better yet help him throttle Alasdair who’s obviously gone mental, but Francis doesn’t give him the chance. Just pounces and kisses Arthur, cheats shamelessly by using wicked lips and fingers on the omega spot on Arthur’s neck, making him go all loose and purry. Then Francis presses both their hands to Arthur’s stomach and they feel something move.

One of the NA twins - probably Alfred, I mean let’s be honest - waking up to say hello.

Even Arthur can’t deny it after that. Shocked and furious, he tries to rant at Francis (“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO ME YOU FUCKING FROG! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! I’LL FUCKING SKIN YOU FOR THIS-!” - Arthur, definitely) but Francis is crying too hard to notice. Then he’s laughing and sobbing at the same time: hugging Arthur, professing his love, and kissing his lips off. Arthur’s shock and fear based rage stands no chance in the face of Francis’s thousand years plus heartfelt yearning for a family. He gives in and lets Francis have his moment of ecstasy. The kissing soon evolves into something else and Francis almost loses control and gives Arthur a mating bite, but pulls back at the last second. They’re not ready for that. Arthur noticed. Arthur didn’t say he did. Arthur is secretly grateful and feels his heart flutter even so.

Things go pretty smoothly after the big revelation, all things considered. High emotions settle and they start planning. Arthur stays in the New World and so does Francis. They have their people build a small cabin on the border between their territories so Arthur can have some peace away from curious human eyes. Alasdair goes back to Britain and takes over as leader of the UK for the time being. Dylan scrapes together every bit of knowledge about nation-person pregnancy he can (not much and not all of it useful) and brings it to the FrUK couple along with the usual books on human birth. They all decide to keep it secret from the rest of their kind. Otherwise everyone would want to come and see this miraculous anomaly. Arthur is stressed enough as it is even if he is starting to come round to the idea. No one wants him and the baby to become objects of curiosity. Then the time comes and Francis is with Arthur for it. Getting screamed at, getting his fingers crushed, taking promises that Arthur will FUCKING MURDER HIM FOR THIS-AAAAARRGGHHH!!! without complaint. It goes just like an ordinary human birth. The only surprise is two babies pop out instead of the one they expected. Arthur names the oldest Alfred, after his great king. Francis, when he finally stops sobbing, names the other Matthew. They know by instinct that their true names are America and Canada. When Francis nuzzles Arthur’s neck and kisses that special place with a soft whisper of “mon amour” Arthur knows he’s asking permission. He says “yes” and Francis bites him, leaving his mark as their new sons sleep between them.

Afterwards Arthur moans and complains that the bite was a stupid idea and now he has to wear a damn neckerchief or cravat even in the fucking tropics, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s him who orders a pair of gold rings for them to wear, hidden by gloves or else worn on chains under their shirts. ❤️ Yeah, they become mates much sooner in this version of events, heh. It’s still a secret though, even to their kids before their old enough not to accidentally reveal it to anyone else. Alfred belongs to America, so he lives in the English colonies. Matthew is of Canada, so Francis raises him until the British win the French Canadian territory and Matthew moves in with Arthur instead. They’re still national personifications and have to obey the politics of the day. So they can’t live together as a family as if they were human. Sad, but we know it turns out all right in the end. Peace comes eventually and they can be a family then. And that’s where I’ll leave this AU, I think. This post is already pretty long.

Hope you enjoyed reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

#hetalia #fruk #FACE family #hws france #hws england #hws america #hws canada #aph france #aph england #aph america #aph canada #omegaverse #asks #nonny #my posts

24 notes · View notes

steddieunderdogfics · 1 month ago

Text

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @morningberriesao3! morningberries has 15 works in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@steddieas-shegoes recommends the following works by @morningberriesao3:

Sweet Surrender

Sneaky Link

How I’d Kill (to See You Again)

"If I could write a sonnet, it would be about berries. She specializes in that very specific angst with a happy ending that grips you by the jaw and spits in your mouth and then you say thank you because it tastes so good. So anyway love her, love her work, love everything about what she writes and does. 10000/10" -- @steddieas-shegoes

Below the cut, @morningberriesao3 answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Funnily enough, it all started when I exclusively read Eddie x reader on tumblr. I didn't have an account yet, so I made a quick burner and would gobble up anything under the tag. I always saw people on the internet "shipping" characters but never really understood it, until I came across one particular fic called Wild Parts, where the pairing was reader x Steddie. I remember being more excited for Steve and Eddie to fall in love than I was with the reader aspect. It all went downhill from there when I discovered there was a whole community that loves Steddie. I decided one day, yeah, I want to make them fall in love, too!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Honestly, the first thing that comes to mind is the classic friends-to-lovers where Steve has a sexuality crisis because he's falling for Eddie. I could read it over and over and never get sick of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I feel like angst with a happy ending is common ground for, like, 90% of my fics. I also find myself constantly writing miscommunication, and giggling at all the comments that say, "IF THEY JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER!" Yeah. That's a point to be made.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

It's quite literally impossible to choose just one when there are so many talented Steddie writers creating new works everyday. I'll rapid fire a few that pop to mind first (all on AO3): Sea Legs by Midnightdrive. Drought by a_star_danced. Wanna Hurt You Just to Hear You Screaming My Name by DotyTakeThisDown. I've Been Having a Horrible Time Pulling Myself Together by Deadrats. Stupid Cupid by DirtyValentine. Money, Power, Glory by StrangerThings1975.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Definitely! I want to write ALL the tropes! I think the reason writing Steddie hasn't become redundant for me is because each time I write a fic, I want it to be different from the last. I rack my brain like, "Okay, I've already done Kas Eddie, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, No Upside Down, Modern Setting, Rock Star Eddie... What's next?!"

What is your writing process like?

It's a very linear process for me. I'm somewhat of a daydreamer; I see the things I write in my head almost like a movie. And then I just type it out as it plays in my brain. I rarely outline anything, but I'll have random gibberish in my notes app to remind me of ideas or big plot points I need to wrap up. I'm honestly surprised anything I write makes sense when I'm through with it. I'm waiting for the chaos of it all to bite me in the ass one day.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I don't know if it's a quirk so much as a fault, but I do this thing where I let my comments pile up and pile up. I won't let myself answer one until I can answer them ALL, because I don't want anyone to think I'm ignoring their comment specifically. I also have to match the energy of the comment, so when it's super long I HAVE to write something back that's super long. This makes it an hours-long task when I let them go for as long as I do unanswered. If anyone hasn't gotten a reply back yet, I PROMISE I WILL!!!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

In a perfect world, I'd only start posting a project when it's completed so I could keep up with a posting schedule. Reality is: having 20 WIPs saved to my laptop in which I'll post the first couple chapters as motivation for me to finish it. It's a flawed system, but it works out most of the time!

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think it'll always be Sweet Surrender. It was my first fic and the first time I had ever completed something similar to a novel after it was wrapped up at 150K. When I look back, I see some flaws, but I'd never want to change them. If we're talking about which fic I think I wrote the best, I'd say How I'd Kill. The fantasy universe allowed me to get creative with the plot and scenery, and I think my excitement for that is reflected in my quality of writing.

How did you get the idea for Sweet Surrender?

Sweet Surrender is an amalgamation of every fic I read and loved when I first was introduced to the fandom. I basically owe it to all the favourite fics I mentioned earlier. Without their inspiration, I never would have started writing fic in the first place.

When writing Sweet Surrender, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response. I cannot capture in words how GOOD it felt when people started reading, commenting on, and loving something that I created. You see it mentioned all the time, but it really is true when they say that a comment goes a long way. I was absolutely gobsmacked to see people following along from the beginning. It was such a motivator, and truly a feeling that nothing else could give me.

What inspired Sneaky Link?

I read Must Be a Devil Between Us, Or Whores In My Head by whateverokayFINE (a modern, OnlyFans AU that Sneaky Link could never touch)—loved it SO much that those daydreams I mentioned took off. It stayed as an unposted WIP for a long time because I told myself that I couldn't write a convincing modern AU. I'm so glad I did though, because I've never had a response to a fic like I've had with Sneaky Link.

What was your favorite part to write from Sneaky Link?

There were so many fun side plots to Sneaky Link—the whole thing was a blast to write. One of my favourites was the main conclusion, when Chrissy got to be the hero. Glitter and Chanel No. 5 really saved the day. Of course the first few chapters were hilarious, too. Dumbass, clueless Eddie will never fail to make me giggle, and his obliviousness to Steve's hidden identity really drove everyone up the wall.

How do/did you feel writing How I’d Kill (to See You Again)?

This story really had its CLAWS in me. I wrote the chapters so fast that I think I put out almost 50K words in a matter of four weeks; I've really never written that quickly before or since. The last few chapters were a little slower going, though. I think I was nervous as the plot got a little heavier how people would react, so there were definitely some mixed emotions.

What was the most difficult part of writing How I’d Kill (to See You Again)?

When I wrote Eddie betraying such a soft, loving, trusting Steve. When he pinned that part of his personality against him. I love writing angst, but I had never delved quite this deep into the trope. I definitely teared up a couple times making Steve go through it like that.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Without spoiling much, I think the end scene of chapter 7 of How I'd Kill (The Judas Kiss) was absolutely thrilling to write, and of course the following chapters as well. This whole idea of "morally gray" Eddie Munson was the reason I started writing the fic in the first place. But when I got to the bit where he had to be morally gray and posted the chapter, I immediately had this fear; I didn't know how the readers were going to react, or if I, as the writer, would be able to properly explain Eddie's motivation or make him forgivable for what he did. It was an "oh shit" moment for sure, but I think I ended up doing an alright job pulling it off.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I'm currently writing a piece for the 2024 Steddie Big Bang called "A Thousand Flowers Could Bloom". It's in collaboration with Inflomora-art, so I'm completely thrilled that I'll have gorgeous artwork to go with this fic. I'm sure by the time this is posted, it'll already be live! I'm so proud of this story—it might be the best I've written yet. So yeah, if you're reading this, please check it out!!!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I don’t think so, but thank you so much for this! It was really fun to answer all these questions <3

Thank you to our author, @morningberriesao3, and our nominator, @steddieas-shegoes! See more of morningberries' works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

19 notes · View notes

spider-bren · 1 year ago

Text

MEANT TO KILL ME | VOLLER X READER

@shadesofkumquat gave this prompt so thank you!! And yes, you are right. There is nothing like enemies to lovers trope. Mads did look sooo good so I’m happy to write this. Hope you like it :)

Prompt: I’m desperately looking for a Jürgen Voller x Fem!Reader 👀 PLEASE 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 Well maybe she’s been kidnapped or something like that kind of enemies to lovers (best ships God). You can even go very spicy, no limits there. Don’t know if that’s what you want to write as you specifically gave ideas, but i’m still taking my chance haha. Mads was so HANDSOME in this movie! (so yeah, I scream too)

Pairing: Jürgen Voller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Reader is Indiana’s student (but not really), Canonical Idealogy - Nazi, Enemies to Lovers

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by Voller’s goons and when Voller comes to you you both know you want each other

You didn’t know where you were. Last thing you remembered was that you were on the street enjoying the festival and suddenly this large blonde American came out of nowhere and slipped a bag over your head, carrying you over his shoulder. Now that the bag was removed, you found yourself in a hotel room cuffed to the large made up bed. The cuffs hurt your thin wrists as you tried to yank yourself and slip free.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said the blonde man who was sitting watching you on a chair with his feet propped up on the bed. He was wearing a suit which surprised you.

Did kidnappers normally wear suits? Or were those just those movies where they were ski masks and stuff?

“Voller wouldn’t like that,” he added with a click of his tongue.

“Who is Voller?” you asked, wearily.

“Voller is my boss. He asked me to bring you here. You know Doctor Jones, right?”

“Yeah. I’m one of his students. What does this have to do with me?”

“I don’t know really. All I know is that I have to keep you here until he comes back.”

“Please, let me go. I don’t know anything I swear.”

“Shut up.”

The door opened and another man came in wearing a dark grey suit.

“Thank you, Klaber,” the man in the glasses said to the blonde. Klaber exited the room leaving you two alone.

“My name is Jürgen Voller."

"What do you want from me?" You struggled against the binds again.

Voller stalked towards you taking off his suit jacket and folding in on the chair Klaber was on. He neatly did up his sleeves before leaning over your small frame. His eyes were golden amber, flecks of green shone in them from behind the glasses.

"I told Klaber to capture you because of Doctor Jones but really I wanted you for myself as soon as I saw you." He sniffed your hair and his lips grazed your ear. "You are very beautiful."

He trailed his long fingers down your cheek. You shivered, trying to figure out what was going on. Your fight or flight response was dormant within you because some deep primal part of you liked this. Like being…captured. Being his prey. He was an extremely attractive man. High cheekbones and plush lips that now were kissing the juncture of your jaw and neckline.

"You know who I am?"

You shook your head at his question. Hands still strained in the chains, your body confused as a swift flush of heat settled in your stomach when he moved closer to you.

"I'm the man that wants to do bad things. Bad things by societal standards, but good things for the world in the long run. I work for NASA. I helped put men in space. But this world needs more than men in little outfits dancing on the moon. It needs a leader. And I am one to do it. See, my dear, I want to kill Hitler. And take over…how does that make you feel?"

Something in you stirred. Hatred. Disgust. This man was everything you had been taught to despise. You had no idea how the hell he was going to go back in time and kill Hitler but that didn't matter. He was evil. A bad, bad man. He wanted to better the world, but with his own force, his own power. His ideals didn't align with yours. Your conscience was rational, if anything.

And yet…when his hands were on you that didn't matter. He was just a man. And you were just a woman.

"Tell me, what do you think of it?"

You gasped as his thumb and forefinger plucked at your hardened nipple. It was harsh. Rough. He didn't give you time to respond.

"I bet it secretly turns you on. I bet you like it. It's wrong and you know it. Nothing wrong about sex. Nothing wrong about lust. You shouldn't be ashamed of your desires. I'm a scientist, I should know. It's natural to want things you know you shouldn't. That's what makes it even more alluring."

His fingers edged towards your skirt and you mentally cursed yourself for deciding to wear it today.

"You want me. Don't be shy now, little one. I will make it all better. When I first saw you, I wanted you. I knew that you'd resist me. You'd hate me. But that doesn't stop me. You want me like I want you. You can run. You can fight me. I will chase you across the world."

"Jürgen," You cried as his fingers curled into your lace panties and found you soaked.

"Klaber doesn't know. He doesn't know how long we've been playing this game. No one knows. How you don't work for Indiana. How we have been acting like we don't know each other for years. Two opposite sides. Different parts of the war. You stand to end me. Your job is to stop me. And you would even pretend to be in Indiana’s class just so I know where to find you. You never told me who you work for. CIA? Interpol? Some secret hate group towards me?" He smirked as he fucked you slowly and easy.

You sighed and bit back moans at the remembrance of how good his fingers were. It had been too long. Voller was and had been your lover for some time now. And even though you were supposed to kill him, you loved him. All that mattered was his tongue stroking yours, his hands massaging your chest, and his fingers moving inside you making you shake and ache for him.

"I guess I never need to know who you are. I already know you're mine."

#jurgen voller #mads mikkleson #voller x fem!reader #voller x reader #indiana jones #dial of destiny #my fic #send requests

160 notes · View notes

player1064 · 1 month ago

Text

Footy RPF Fictober, day 1 - First game against each other

also available on ao3

MORE excuses to not carry on with my WIPs? shocking....

Hoping I can keep this up the whole month - I'll do a mix of different ships for the prompts (though if you really want to see a specific prompt with a specific pairing lmk!!!)

---

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Gary’s head feels fuzzy. His heart is racing, every time he takes a breath he can’t seem to get in enough air so he’s breathing deeper, faster, until his gasping breaths don’t feel like they’re doing anything at all.

And then, Paul. He rests his hand on Gary’s back, warm and solid between his shoulder blades, and it makes the world stop spinning. He’s stood next to the bench, hovering above Gary awkwardly like he’s not quite sure what he’s meant to do with him

(Fair enough, Gary’s not quite sure what he’s meant to do with himself either.)

“Teams are up,” Paul tells him simply. “He’s only on the bench, Gaz, chill out.”

“Wasn’t even thinking about him,” Gary lies.

He hears a scoff. Yeah, right.

He’s been lucky, he is aware of that. Seven years and this is the first time the draw’s gone against him, the first time he’s had to face down the prospect of David Beckham walking onto the pitch in a different colour kit than his.

The Boss had kept him on the bench for the first leg, no need to question why. Gary’s finally getting back to good form again, feeling like his old self – he’s been playing every three days for the past few weeks but he was never going to be picked to play away in the Champions’ League, and not against him.

When he no longer feels like he’s fighting for air he shrugs Paul’s hand off his back and looks up at him with a grimace. Paul grimaces back.

“Is Gaz dying?” he hears Wazza call out from the other side of the dressing room.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses, at the same time that Paul is saying “yeah, probably.”

“Still got another eight weeks ‘til I retire, Scholesy.”

“You’ll be dead before then.”

“Oi! Thought you were meant to be making me feel better?”

“Thought you said you were fine.”

The Boss walks in without fanfare – nobody stands to attention, they all just keep talking among themselves, joking around and drinking their lucozades and stretching out tired muscles. Gary watches, though, as he wordlessly starts copying names out onto the whiteboard. 4-5-1, get the ball to Wazza and eventually he’ll score. Standard procedure.

Milan’s line-up isn’t too different to what it was for the first leg, except that Becks is out and Flamini is in. More defensive, but then they’re going into this leg a goal down, of course they’re going to play it safe.

Gary doesn’t keep the captain’s armband in his locker anymore, these days it’s passed too frequently between him, Rio, and Giggsy for it to really belong to him. So, he stands up and wanders over to the corner the Boss is in under the guise of looking for it, hopes he doesn’t look too pale or run-down after his little – whatever that was, a minute ago.

The Boss looks up as he walks over, gives him a tight smile that tells him he’s not fooling anyone.

“We’re the better team,” he tells Gary, voice low. “We’ll win, no question about it. We’ve already got them on away goals.”

“Boss –” Gary starts, then realises he has no idea what he’s meant to say. If they bring him on I think I might die? Twenty years and they’ve never been on opposite sides, not even really in training. They were a unit, Gaz and Becks down that right hand side – why bother splitting them up? “Boss, I –”

“You won’t play against him.”

Sir Alex reaches out to place his hand on Gary’s elbow, feather-light but it feels heavy as always. “Gary, listen to me. I will not make you play against him. He comes on, you come off. Got it?”

Gary looks up to meet his eyes and nods, feeling small. “Thanks, Boss.”

Becks comes on in the sixty-fourth minute. Gary comes off in the sixty-sixth. He sits on the bench and watches his old teammate fumble passes that a ten-year-old could’ve made, tries to hide the vindictive sort of joy he’s feeling that we’re better than you, bigger than you. And we always will be.

It only takes a few minutes for Paul to come and join him on the bench. He looks annoyed about it, same as he always does. Gary had been brought off, to put it simply, because the Boss doesn’t trust him around Becks; he has no such problem with Paul, but he’s getting older too and if he wants to keep him going (one more year, one more year, one more year), then he needs to make him rest.

“He’s playing like shit,” Paul says, hand held up to cover his mouth – a holdover from 2003, from that one stupid game against Madrid when everything had started to fall apart at the seams.

Gary smirks. He reaches a hand up to scratch the scraggly hairs on his chin, tries to make it look subtle. “He’s playing like an American.”

Paul snorts, sways to the side to bump his shoulder against Gary’s. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Gaz.”

“Bet you fifty quid he’ll say it’s on purpose. That he didn’t want to disrespect the United fans, like.”

“Gary Neville, you little bastard,” Paul says, voice proud. “What’s got into you, eh?”

He shrugs. It’s easier, now that United are three goals up. It’s easier now that he’s losing. Reminds him that the club has had better players than David Beckham, that he needed them more than they needed him. Reminds him that maybe that’s where it’ll start and that’s where it can end: football, Manchester United. That none of the rest of it has to matter.

“Dunno if I should speak to him, after the match. Might be rubbing it in his face,” he says, which really means please help me shake him off before I make a fool of myself.

Paul looks at him for a long moment, then he nods and kicks Gary in the ankle, just a light little tap. I’ve got your back.

#in my unemployment era atm so I actually have Time and Energy to write fics.#(ignores my uni work)#(KIDDING. mostly. I Will Not flunk another year i am Determined)#FootyRPFFictober #beville #drabbles

14 notes · View notes

kewpidity · 4 months ago

Text

kewpie's slapdash tips and tricks for making moodboards

ive been asked a few times about how i make my moodboards and my MethodTM so here it is!

this is an image heavy post and as detailed and comprehensive as i can possible make it, if you have any questions let me know and i'll help if i can!

also, this is made with sites and apps for desktop- i have no experience editing on mobile so if that's what you're looking for im afraid i cant help you, sorry! ↷↷↷

Choose Your Fighter

let's get right into it- first thing first choose a character, or a ship or a series or whatever! i'll be doing a ship because it's a teeny bit more involved than just a single character or series

the ship will be grim x mandy from the one show

Picking Pictures

obviously the most important part of a moodboard is the Pictures

i use pinterest personally, and finding them on there is usually pretty easy, especially if i have an idea of things i want to include. a lot of people already have boards made up for characters as well, so just searching the character names under the 'board' option will usually get you where you need to go!

but i know some people prefer sources with free to use, royalty free type images, so i included those as well:

pixabay unsplash

you can have as many or as little as you'd like, but personally i prefer the classic 9x9 grid style moodboards, so im obviously gathering 9 photos

as for what pictures to choose, here are some things to ask yourself:

do you have a color scheme you associate with this character/ship? are there any themes that are relevant?

these are the pics i choose for my board- they're raw, unedited, and uncropped, which we'll be changing here in a bit

notice that ive chosen the color scheme of pink, black, and white because that suits them and is also the colors in their actual character palettes

ive also picked some things that feel relevant to the ship and its vibes- mandy is associated with daisies, so i got a picture with a girl with a daisy in her eye, which i also paired with a skull with a flower in its eye socket, bringing them together with a common theme. there are also little black shoes and a bloody knee for mandy, a psythe and what could work for cerberus for grim, and since their ship is kind of gruesome and mean spirited (affectionate) as well as the show having pulpy vibes, i got a heart shaped steak, a pulpy romance/horror cover, and an old horror movie card with their VibesTM

Formatting

now that we have our pictures, its time to figure out the formatting! i went ahead and already did that with the pictures above using a site ipiccy, specifically the 'collage' options

ipiccy

once you press 'collage', you'll open up to this menue, where im choosing the 9x9 grid, but as you can see there are other options there if you wanna use them! then you're gonna press 'add images'

then you add images here (mine are already loaded in):

afterwards, you play around with the placement of the images- its okay if they clip or dont properly fit in the box, this is Only figuring out where you want the pictures to go, we'll place them properly later in a different program

when im placing them i like to consider patterns and shapes- top left square is a 'mandy' square, so bottom right should be a 'grim square', as well as echo each other- in this case the flowers in the eyes thing, and so on, even down to the pointy little shoes and the pointy little sythe this part can be v subjective, so i encourage you to play around until it clicks for you

i hope my scribbles kinda help explain visually what i mean:

also as a small personal tip: when i make moodboards i want to capture the feeling of a character/ship/what have you Without just Saying it. because of that i lean more heavily on the pictures themselves and Only ever use One that has text on it. again this is subjective, but to me its a 'telling vs showing' thing and too many words makes the whole thing feel v cluttered with little room for the actual characters involved

once you're satisfied with your placement, take a screenshot to reference your placement, and then we move on to

PS/Photopea, Templates, Adjustments, and PSDs

this is where we get really into it

firstly, i know most people either dont have PS or are nervous about downloading a cracked version (def do not click this because it is def not a link to older ps files you can dl for free) but luckily there's an extremely comprehensive in-browser option that is totally free called Photopea, which can be found HERE

its basically a 1 to 1 rebuild of the real thing, and since its more accessible i'll be using that to finish up my board!

first, you'll wanna throw your template in there, here's the one im using

once you open it, you also need to open the pics you chose to use- i suggest doing this one at a time to not overcrowd the program

once the pic is open, copy it and paste it over onto the moodboard, and then right click the layer and set it to 'clipping mask' which will keep the pic within the bounds of just the template:

then go over the toolbar on the right, press the 'rectangle select', then right click the board and select 'free transform' to move the picture around freely:

now is where you look at the screenshot you took of the ipiccy placement, and then you simply move the picture in the proper place in the moodboard! you might need to select and cut off the part that doesnt fit neatly into the square

continue doing this until you have it all filled out, and take some time to properly fit the pics (for example, the pic with the text needed to be (to does this is photopea drag around the corners while in 'free transform, and if you dont want it to scale at the same dimensions press 'shift' on the keyboard while you drag, which is what i had to do with the text or the flower-in-the-skull to make it fit properly))

its important that All your layers are properly set to clipping mask, otherwise it'll be all messed up! so it should look like like this when you're done, and hopefully everything will be layered on the board properly, and we end up with this:

you could stop here and be done with it, the entire moodboard can be finished now, but i like to tweak things like contrast and value and levels, which are found here in the 'image' section at the top- ive been as tutorial-esque as i can be so far, but this one really comes down to playing around with it and making adjustments until you like the outcome (each layer can be changed individually)

i try to make it so everything feels even- the blacks match and the whites match and none of them feel particularly lighter or darker or more saturated than the others

so we go from this:

to this (if you cant tell the difference i didnt do it well ljksdf, its helped further along and made more obvious by the next step) :

and Finally the secret sauce: PSDs!

these are premade colors/effects that you drop on top of board to help even things out, maybe make some colors Pop

there are a Ton of them free to use on tumblr and deviantart, and Here is a tutorial on how to use them! (its done on mobile but works functionally the same as on desktop)

feel free to make adjustments to the photos more under the psd until it looks right to you

once ive selected and used the psd i wanted, i export it as a png, and this is the result!

i hope this is helpful and not Too confusing, if anybody has any questions let me know and i'll try to help!

#proship #proship selfship #tagging it there so ya'll can see it and make your silly little boards about your silly little ships (affectionate obviously)#kewpies edits

36 notes · View notes

maks-punchout-hyperfixtion · 5 months ago

Text

Punch out headcanons take one

Sorry super punch fans, this is only wii/nes versions

Minor circuit

Glass Joe

Pretty good baker, can't make complex stuff without help though.

Actually retired once after the arcade/nes version of punch out, came back after Gabby jay retired, has had thoughts about it again but keeps remembering that his life would be dull without it. Also his score rested and he still got 99 loses (102 after the wii game)

Has trouble sleeping, uses weighted blankets to help.

Von Kaiser

Your meaning to tell me that dispite being 42 canon years old with some of the most out of pocket head canons ever im the only one that thought it would be funny for him to have a kid be the near opposite of him? Aka he is a dad.

Knows how to cook, doesn't often anymore but still knows

I believe he would like coconuts.no i won't elaborate.

Disco Kid

Likes all kinds of songs, not just disco. Still loves disco though.

Is a relative of kid quick, nobody knows what relation though.

I like the idea that he is friends with aran, i don't ship disco clover but its still a nice pairing we need more.

King Hippo

Can speak English but prefers grunts or noises.

Likes to explain his culture, specifically gifts and other stuff other find meaningless.

Also has a lot of tropical recipes he gives to everyone.

Major circuit

Piston Hondo

Still has that restaurant from the Wii live action ad.

Piston honda? Oh that's his twin.

Definitely has a manga collection. He also has 3 sets of everything. One for display one for reading and one for borrowing. He does not trust aran,soda, bear hugger, and king hippo with them at all.

Bear Hugger

Dad energy. He essentially went and adopted all the boxers with daddy issues, or parent issues in general.

Forced the WVBA to give maple (the bear) a seat in the crowd so she could watch the match, they had to make an entire separate area for her.

Has walked out in the snow with nothing but his overalls and shoes on. That gave everyone a scare forgetting he's used to the cold.

Great Tiger

Uses his clones to do/help with his chores. Once got beaten up by them (a reference of the century here folks)

Once his jewel was stolen and was found in a pawn shop selling for 3 dollars. He was mad at how low the price was then anything.

Once brought his tiger into the shared house, and it immediately broke the couch. The tiger is not allowed in the house anymore.

Don Flamenco

He and Carmen broke up after his first lost, got back together shortly after and forgot the whole issue.

Used bull fighters techniques on bald bull, he would have won if bald bull didn't right hook him into next sunday (literally)

Has tried multiple different types of hair growers, wigs, and more. He is still Balding.

World circuit

Aran Ryan

Actually got in the world circuit fair and square, not by cheating.

He started cheating after some idiot tried to stab him in the ring, good times from the WVBA!

I have a feeling he would say he likes to eat limes raw just to get on everyone's nerves.

Has also gotten confused with his Older brother, spo Aran Ryan, who promptly got a name change after aram started to cheat.

Soda Popinski

None of the boxer can drink his soda because its a legit health hazard to all of them.

Has no clue what the hell is going on 68% of the time.

Has actually used dry ice as a ice pack. This guy isn't human anymore.

Bald Bull

Hates don flamenco with a passion after the bull technique incident.

Is actually calm outside the ring, any public out brust is to get rid of potential paparazzi's (it doesn't work often)

Makes a pretty good calming tea.

Super Macho Man

Once had a horrible movie shoot that made him lose alot of viewer, proceeded to have an early mid life crisis and dye his hair gray.

After his loss with little mac he was more upset at the ladys chasing after little mac rather then him, rather then the sudden drop of viewers (which wasn't even a dent)

Probably had alot of talks about his boxer outfit, you know what im referring too.

Mr. Sandman

Dispite his name, he gets very little sleep. Not like glass joe but still.

He's so strong the WVBA actually has a ambulance on standby whenever he fights.

One time was put up against glass joe, actually laughed, realized it was serious, looked the referee in the eyes and said "if im put up against him ever again we'll need to find a new glass joe" and forfeited the game. Technically if joes score didn't reset it would now be 2-299.

#mak post 2024 #punch out wii #punch out #glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #king hippo #piston honda #piston hondo #bear hugger #great tiger #don flamenco #aran ryan #soda popinski #bald bull #super macho man #mr sandman #punch out headcanons

23 notes · View notes

moonylvs · 2 days ago

Note

hey! Have you ever written RemusxRegulus?

honestly love the ship and saw you were looking for requests

I was thinking maybe a college au, or do whatever you'd like!

Thank you very much for your request! I hope this meets your expectations, sorry for the delay ⋆˙⟡ This is my first request and I'm very happy with the result, I hope you like it too, tell me what you think <3

Secret Friend

Summary: Remus starts talking through letters with a stranger, but who knows how close this stranger might be?

Pairing: Moonwater (Regulus x Remus) You can see this as Romantic to Platonic, you decide.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Non-explicit mentions of stress, anxiety, feeling of loneliness and problematic adolescence (nothing specific), minimal hurt/comfort (You can barely notice it) Muggle & College Au, not proofread.

Remus and Regulus didn't consider themselves friends, not at all, sure, they shared a dorm room in college, but nothing more than that, they didn't even talk in the dorm, Remus had a part time job at a coffee shop so he didn't even spend much time in the dorm, Regulus didn't talk much either, so their conversations were reduced to a simple “Good morning” and a “Could you turn the fucking light off?”, but nothing more than that.

Neither of them intended to establish a friendship, Regulus enjoyed his loneliness and Remus had too many worries to pursue a friendship.

Remus hated the education system at all, but there wasn't much he could do if he wanted to graduate, so he had to adapt, staying late doing projects or even doing them at work, earning a few lectures from his boss.

But here he was again, to say that he hated Professor Sprout's class was an understatement, Remus felt that the teacher was very positive about life, the woman loved social activities and said that being sociable would be very useful for his work life, Remus couldn't disagree more.

Professor Sprout's new job was called “Secret friend ”, even the name was ridiculous, it consisted in that during the rest of the semester you would be assigned a “Secret friend”, who would be a person of any career and grade of the university, with whom you would have to write letters, this with the point of knowing someone from zero, without judging or without ideas of that person.

Remus wanted to die, he had enough to do with his career and his job without worrying about talking to a fellow faculty member, he thought about just never sending the letter and not participating, but Professor Sprout assured that she would give extra points to those who participated and Remus definitely needed those points if he wanted to keep his scholarship.

Remus had to resign himself, he would be talking to a stranger for the rest of the semester, great.

It was Saturday night and Remus was coming back from work totally exhausted, when he got to his room it was already turned off as usual, Regulus used to sleep early and he used to curse Remus for leaving the light on while he was studying.

Remus thought about simply going to sleep, he was exhausted, but as he lay down on the bed he remembered Professor Sprout's project, that damned letter.

Remus cursed to himself, he had been carrying the letter from his “Secret Friend” for two days, ever since Professor Sprout had handed it to him, but he hadn't had the time or the energy to read it.

Remus would have preferred to leave it in his backpack and forget about it, but he had to write a reply by Monday and give it to the teacher, so with annoyance he stood up and looked for the letter in his backpack, before returning to his bed, turning on the light on the bedside table, the brunet was thankful that Regulus was deeply asleep and could not insult him because of the light.

The brunet looked at the envelope of the letter, there was nothing special about it so he opened it and took out the letter, Remus rolled his eyes slightly when he saw it for the first time, it had a perfect and tidy handwriting, the opposite of Remus'.

Remus just wanted to get it over with so he started reading the letter.

“Hello stranger, I don't know how to start this letter, I must admit it wasn't in my plans to have to talk to a stranger for the rest of the semester” Remus couldn't help but laugh as he read the first line, at least the stranger didn't seem too excited about the project either.

“Professor Sprout said I shouldn't give out information that would reveal who I am so I guess this letter will be brief, I find it ridiculous since among the thousands of students at this university you are unlikely to know me, but well, I can tell you that I like poetry, books and art and that I hate this project, we don't have to talk too much if you don't want to either, I just need the extra points, but you can tell me something about yourself if you want, so we'll have something to talk about - Atte. Stranger.”

Remus had to admit he was a little intrigued and amused by the letter, he thought he would have to deal with someone irritating who wanted to talk often, but knowing that his secret friend had as little interest as his own made him feel a little calmer.

Remus thought about answering the letter until the next day, but he knew that his work would be chaotic because it was the weekend, so he grabbed his backpack, a sheet of paper and a pen.

For a moment remus stood thinking, before he started writing, he hoped his secret friend wouldn't make fun of his poor handwriting, his dyslexia and bad calligraphy were something he was not proud of.

“Hi stranger, I'm glad to know that you're not too excited about this project either, I need the extra points too so that's why I signed up, you can write whenever you want, I don't want to talk too much either, my work and school take up most of my time, I like books too but I haven't read anything in a while, do you have any recommendations for me?

There's not much I can tell you about myself, I guess I'm not very interesting, I spend most of my time at school and sometimes in the library, I hate coffee and I love music, any kind of music, I can't go a single day without my headphones.

I don't know what else to tell you about me, you can ask if you want, bye bye stranger - Atte stranger."

Remus wasn't very convinced with his letter, but he couldn't care less, it was just a project, he had no intentions of striking up a real friendship with that stranger.

“Could you turn off the damn light, Lupin?” Regulus snorted without even looking at Remus, the boy just rolled his eyes, putting the letter in an envelope quickly and stuffing it in his backpack to give it to the teacher on Monday, then turned off the light before he could hear another one of Regulus' complaints.

Monday early in the morning Remus handed in his letter, forgetting about it for the rest of the week, his secret friend was serious about not talking so often, Remus didn't care, his week was chaotic and he didn't have the time to worry about it.

Remus's cafeteria job was actually pretty simple, but working double shifts and having to deal with jerks made Remus want to quit, but he knew it would never happen, he needed the job to pay for his degree and generally support himself.

On Friday afternoon Remus had already received his letter, when he got to his room it was empty, Regulus hadn't spent much time in his room that week, but Remus was grateful for it, he didn't want the boy to see him reading a stranger's letters.

Remus took the letter in his hands and opened the envelope, beginning to read the letter which had the same perfect handwriting.

“Hello again stranger, I didn't even remember I had to write you back, my professors have been drowning me with projects, I don't think I asked you what major you were in, but I'm studying art history, it's not as easy as it sounds, I swear I hear one more story about some disturbing fact about a 16th century artist and I drop out of school.

Do you really work? I hope you don't mind if I ask where you work, I don't know many people with a job of their own, my parents would kill me if I even suggested the idea.

I'm very bad at recommending books, but at the moment I'm re-reading “Dead Poets Society", it's my favorite book at the moment, you can find it in the school library, I'm sure there's more than one copy, let me know what you think.

How can you say you hate coffee? It's the only thing that keeps me surviving college, you should try the coffee in that little cafeteria on campus, that's coffee.

I don't have much time to write, I have to finish three essays by tomorrow, so goodbye stranger - Atte stranger.”

Without even noticing Remus had a smile on his face as he read, that guy was funny and even though he sounded a little bitter, he liked him, which was ridiculous because he had never seen him before.

Before Remus could think anything else, the sound of keys brought him out of his thoughts, Remus knew instantly that it was Regulus, so he put the letter in his backpack as he watched the black-haired man walk in, carrying a load of stuff, Remus couldn't help but laugh slightly at the sight of him, he looked frustrated and fed up with everything, now there were two of them.

Regulus didn't even look at Remus as he entered the room, trying not to drop everything he was carrying, in frustration he set everything on the floor and placed his coffee on the bedside table, the smell of it flooding the place instantly.

“Ugh I hate that fucking smell” Remus huffed referring to the smell of the coffee, shifting to the other side of the room, where his bed was.

“You're free to go lupin.” Regulus said without looking at him, taking a sip of his coffee, Remus just rolled his eyes, muttering a low “fuck off” before heading in the direction of the bathroom to take a shower.

A week later the next letter from his secret friend reached Remus, this time he didn't read it in his room, he was in the library, reading the book that the stranger had recommended, until he remembered that he had to write to his secret friend again.

“Hello stranger, art history? Really? I guess it's interesting, my career is more boring, I'm studying law, it's not very interesting but very heavy, I hope you manage to finish those essays, I have to learn half of the constitution by the end of the month, great.

And yes, I hate coffee, that has to do with my job, I work in a coffee shop on campus, I think brewing so much coffee has made me intolerant, I can't even stand the smell, it's disgusting.

To me it's more surprising that someone doesn't work, how do you pay for your career? I guess you're rich or something.

Something tells me that the “little coffee shop” you speak of, is where I work, I hope you are not one of the idiots that makes my day more difficult :)

I'm reading the book you recommended, it's interesting, you have good tastes, I hope you manage to finish your essays, good luck - Atte. Your stranger friend”

To Remus' surprise, he and his strange friend spent the rest of the semester talking, their letters became more and more recurrent, Remus found it strange how easy it was to talk to this person, the guy assured him that no, he wasn't rich, although Remus found it hard to believe him because of the things he told him, he was sure the guy at least lived comfortably.

Remus and the stranger spent the rest of the semester talking, Remus told him that he had a passion for photography, but that buying a camera was way out of his budget, he also cursed his secret friend for recommending Dead Poets Society and not telling him how much the story was going to tear him apart, Remus swore he would die when the stranger told him that there was in fact a movie as well.

Because of this book, Remus had had a fight with the librarian, because despite the stranger's words, there are not two copies of Dead Poets Society in the library and when he wanted to ask for the book again someone had already taken it.

Remus was about to hang Regulus when he saw him in his room reading that book, but he had to restrain himself and hope he would finish it quickly, what did he know about Dead Poets Society anyway?

To Remus of a few months ago it would have seemed ridiculous to talk to a stranger and even more so to look forward to his letters, for Remus it was a way to strike up a conversation with someone without feeling pressured or judged.

He didn't have too many friends at his college, many considered him “intimidating”, plus he didn't have time to go out and socialize with the rest because of his work, so having someone to talk to without feeling pressured was kind of soothing.

That day had been an especially hard day for Remus, his boss had given him a lecture because a customer complained about his “rude” behavior, Remus tried to tell him that the customer was treating him like a criminal and deserved to be called a jerk.

But despite his pleas his boss didn't care, “the customer is always right”, how he hated that phrase.

School was killing him and the incident in the cafeteria didn't help him at all, he felt totally overwhelmed, when he got to his room he was about to gasp with frustration when he saw Regulus there, he could only wish they didn't have a fight that day.

But Regulus didn't even notice his presence, he was sitting at his desk writing without looking up, Remus didn't give it a thought, he just went to his bed and threw himself on it, his arm covering his eyes from the light.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt peaceful, work, school, it was all getting to be too much.

He hadn't heard back from his secret friend for a week now, which wasn't helping him clear his head either, he needed a distraction.

“Can you turn off the light? I have a headache” Remus said, his tone less hostile than usual, he sounded more weary.

Regulus could have protested as usual, insulted him, but hearing the tone of his voice and how tired he looked, he just couldn't, so he just muttered a low “fine” before stopping what he was doing and turning off the light, leaving his things on the table and going to his own bed.

Remus murmured a soft “Thanks” before covering himself with the sheets to try to sleep, he was somewhat surprised that Regulus hadn't protested, the guy had been less rude the last few days, they didn't talk too much, but Remus felt something was different, though there was too much going on in his head to give it any importance.

In the morning Remus felt strangely better, this fulfilled his theory that sleep solved everything, the brunet stretched slightly, scrubbing his eyes slightly sleepily before standing up and going to the bathroom.

Before he reached the bathroom his gaze fell on Regulus, who was still asleep, he looked so peaceful in those moments, then his gaze shifted to the desk, where Regulus' papers were still strewn about.

Remus frowned, his gaze fixed on one of the essays, the guy blinked several times, maybe sleep was playing a trick on him, but he was almost sure that that handwriting was the same of his secret friend.

It couldn't be true, Remus couldn't believe it, Regulus couldn't be the guy he was talking to, Remus didn't even believe Regulus was capable of signing up for that project.

Remus' mind started to process everything, he wasn't sure what career Regulus was studying but he had seen some of his books about “art”, he had also seen him reading Dead poets society, but it all had to be a coincidence, right?

Remus' gaze went from the essay on the table to Regulus and again, he could remember the letters of his secret friend and even if he didn't want to accept it the handwriting was too similar, especially since the boy had a peculiar way of writing the letter M.

Remus saw Regulus stir in bed, he didn't want the guy to know that he had been staring at his handwriting, so he immediately went into the bathroom, trying to organize his thoughts.

Remus wanted to believe he was crazy, so ignoring his thoughts he stepped into the shower, though his mind was elsewhere.

When he came out of the bathroom Regulus was already awake, once again deep in paper, writing non-stop.

Remus wanted to stop thinking, but his gaze went to Regulus' bag, where an envelope was sticking out slightly.

“Where did you get this?” Remus said bluntly, taking the envelope and showing it to Regulus, it was one of his letters, the same one Remus had written last week.

Regulus didn't even look at Remus, his gaze fixed on the envelope, the guy cursed under his breath.

Regulus' silence was answer enough for Remus, he felt a whirlwind of emotions wash over him, he was frustrated but most of all embarrassed, he had been talking to his roommate all this time? With the same one he insulted every morning and could barely tolerate?

A thought clicked in Remus' mind, “You…You knew it was me?” he asked in a low and somewhat hesitant voice, to which Regulus only nodded slightly.

“Since when?” asked Remus again, his voice didn't sound annoyed, if anything, confused.

“Ever since you said you worked in the cafeteria on campus I had an idea it was you, then one day you said your roommate had taken the dead poets' copy of society from the library…”

Explained Regulus in a low voice, without looking Remus in the eyes, Remus could remember, he told his secret friend when he saw Regulus with the copy of the dead poets' society, now he felt like an idiot, what else had he said?

“Oh god” was the only thing Remus said, he was totally confused and bewildered.

“Are you mad that…it's me? The one you were talking to” Regulus asked, with a tone of vunerability that Remus had never heard before.

The brunet felt his chest squeeze like never before, he wasn't sentimental at all, but with those words something stirred inside him.

“No, it's not like that Regulus…. I just…” Remus said, stumbling over the words, he didn't know what to say at all, but he definitely wasn't upset that it was Regulus he was talking to.

“I never thought it was you…that's all” Remus added quietly.

“Why?” Regulus asked instantly, looking Remus in the eyes for the first time.

Remus hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “It's just that you…your always so closed off, you don't even look at me when I'm in the room…And in your letters you talk so calmly and seem to understand everything I say…Why aren't you like that here?”

Regulus felt a pressure in his chest, something he didn't often feel, he hated feeling like this, vunerable, exposed.

“The first time I saw you I thought you were intimidating…I thought that if you thought I was dumb and weak you'd take advantage of that…I thought that if I was tough and closed off you wouldn't want to mess with me” Regulus said quietly, playing with a thread of his sweater, trying to avoid Remus' gaze.

Remus swore he felt someone squeeze his chest, “Intimidating,” was how half his class described him, and his chest hurt to hear it each and every time, he wasn't mean or intimidating, it was the last thing he wanted to be, but he knew his height and the scars from his troubled adolescence gave him that image.

“I'm sorry, Regulus, I never meant to-” Remus tried to speak but the words got stuck in his throat, he hated that they had that image of him and even more that Regulus had had to change his personality because of him.

“You don't have to apologize, Lupin, I know you're not mean or rude, I was just worried, it's just that I didn't know how to fix things afterwards” Regulus admitted somewhat ashamed, scratching his neck in embarrassment.

“We can do it now, can't we?” Remus asked in a soft voice, giving Regulus a small smile.

The black-haired man looked up, his eyes widening, something in his chest stirring, he nodded almost instantly, giving Remus a small smile back.

“Do you fancy going for a coffee?” Remus said kindly, standing up.

Regulus frowned immediately, looking at Remus with confusion “I thought you hated it, you said so in your letters-”

“I can take it for you” Remus interrupted, smiling at Regulus and walking to the door, holding it open for Regulus.

“Who knows, maybe I'll end up loving it, stranger” Remus muttered with an amused smile.

Omg I don't know about you but I loved this, this idea came to me at three in the morning and I definitely had to write it, thanks to the person who made the request, maybe it doesn't have much of a College au but I hope you like it ✦ ∿ (btw, I don't know how many times I wrote dead poet's society)

11 notes · View notes