#first game kids are still my favorite and nothing will change my mind

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) hope you like it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff and dad!mason word count: 1.9k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“Have you ever thought about when we will have kids?” Mason asked when you two were driving home after a game. 

“What?”

“I mean, don’t you think it’s the perfect time?”

Mason had been talking about kids for a while now and you realized that his obsession with the idea made you want kids too. You started to notice how he spent more time with the kids than with the adults at celebrations, the kids in the family had him as their favorite person and he played with any child he met on the street.

You know he's going to be an amazing dad.

“Y/N, you know I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I think it’s the perfect time ‘cause we’re young and we can sit with our baby everyday, running around, travel. I mean, it’s time.” 

“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind, uh?” 

“I’m sorry but no.” 

Tonight, after the game, as you waited for Mason next to Anouska, you watched her and Luke's children run over to Mason, who opened his arms for the kids to cuddle with. Luke, who was walking next to Mason, also smiled at the scene when he saw his friend so happy with them.

“How can he be so passionate about children?” Anouska asked you and you smiled at her. 

“Yeah, he’s so natural with kids.”

“I don’t know why you’re not pregnant yet.” She said and started walking towards her husband and Mason, leaving you behind. 

But the thing is: you think you are pregnant but are too scared to take a pregnancy test. For a few days now you've been feeling tired, very sleepy and the smell of Mason's perfume has started to bother you. But you love his perfume and that's why he uses it every day.

And of course, you still haven't told Mason yet, even though you know he'll love it if you're pregnant. 

He spends the rest of the way home talking random things about the game, happy to have played 90 minutes and also happy about the victory. 

As soon as you arrived home, Ace greeted the two of you, happy to no longer be home alone. You took off your sneakers and lay down on the living room couch while Mason went to the kitchen. Ace climbed onto the couch and came to you, laying his head on your stomach, something he's never done.

You froze.

Is there any chance…? Maybe it’s something you never noticed, but… in your stomach? Ace looked at you with those beautiful eyes and you melted for the dog, petting his head. 

“Do you think there's a baby here?” Ace just let out a slight groan and closed his eyes, then Mason came back from the kitchen with two bottles of water, and handed you one. Mason sat on the couch next to you and Ace stared at him, accepting his owner's affection.

“Hey buddy, what did you do while you were alone?” The dog leans his head against Mason's hand, closing his eyes once again. 

But something happened that had never happened before.

Mason leaned in to give you a kiss, running one hand over your shoulders and the other he ran over your belly to your waist, but when Ace saw Mason's hand on your stomach, he stood up and started barking in Mason's direction.

“Ace, what’s wrong?” Mason asked, and the dog was still barking and growling at him. As soon as Mason let go of you to see what was wrong with Ace, he stopped barking. “Do you think he is in any pain?”

You didn't want to tell Mason without being sure, but Ace's reaction made you believe you were pregnant. Maybe he was smelling it, dogs do that, don't they?

“Mase, maybe- let me try.” You grabbed Mason's hand and pulled him towards you, making him wrap his hand around your waist once again, then Ace started barking. 

“Dude, are you jealous of her?” Ace growled at Mason, but when you ran your hand through his fur, he calmed down. “I can’t believe it. Ace, do you know that I wanted a dog and not her? Why is she your favorite?

“Mase, I don’t think he’s jealous.” You spoke and stood up while Mason continued to sit on the couch. Ace laid down where you were sitting. “I think he's being protective.”

“What? I would never hurt you.”

“No, I know…” You took a deep breath. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Mason stood frozen as he absorbed the information. You looked at him and could clearly see his eyes filling with tears.

“You’re kidding.” Mason spoke with a trembling voice and you wanted to cry too, knowing that it's his dream to be a father but maybe you're not even pregnant. 

“I’m not sure, actually, but there is something different happening in my body and I know that for sure.” Mason stood up and Ace came to attention once again. 

“Babe, I'm so happy but I don't want to celebrate until we know for sure.” He wipes away a tear and you smile, walking over to him and hugging him. 

“I know this is your dream, sweetheart, but even if I’m not, we should start trying for a baby.” Mason squeezes you against him, but this time Ace just gets off the couch and walks to his own bed in the corner of the room. 

“I'm going to the pharmacy right now.” Mason said to you and took his keys and wallet. “You come with me?”

“I'll wait here, I'm nervous.” Mason came back and gave you a kiss, then he ran to the door. 

15 minutes later Mason was back with numerous pregnancy tests. Your hands were shaking and you could see he was nervous too, but as always, Mason was trying to reassure you, so he was trying not to show it.

“Read the instructions for me.” You asked as the two of you entered the bedroom bathroom. Ace went upstairs with you but laid down on the floor as he looked at you and Mason. It was as if he wanted to participate too.

Mason read all the information and refused to leave the bathroom while you were taking the tests, and even though you were embarrassed, you let him stay there. 

“We have to wait 5 minutes.” You walked over to Mason, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and sat on his leg. “What if it is negative?” 

“So we're going to make a baby in the next twenty minutes.” 

“Twenty minutes? Is this what you can handle?” 

“What? I'm tired, I ran for 90 minutes.” Mason laughed, knowing you were messing with him. 

“You better get better if you want to get me pregnant.”

You continued talking, but time passed slowly. When the timer reached the 5 minutes you programmed, you and Mason looked at each other, not knowing what to do.

“Okay, I'll see the result.” Mason said and you both got up, you almost bit your nails out of nervousness. Mason walked to the sink and looked at the three tests you did, without saying anything.

“Babe, oh…” He said and you ran to him. “Oh my God, you are very pregnant.”

You looked at the three tests and saw the two lines in all of them. You gasped and looked at Mason, who had tears streaming down his face and a huge smile on his lips. 

“Mase…” 

You spent a few minutes hugging each other and even Ace joined in while the two of you were kneeling on the floor.

“We’re having a baby.” He filled your face with kisses. “We’re having a baby.” 

“We’re having a baby, I can’t believe it.” You wiped your own tears and heard Ace whimper next to you.

Mason approached the dog and petted him.

“You're going to take care of her, aren't you, buddy?” Ace looked at Mason as if he agreed and you smiled. 

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

The pregnancy flew by, you released the news after a few months on Instagram, as Mason wanted to tell everyone that he was going to be a dad. You told your family two months after finding out you were pregnant, because you wanted to make sure everything was okay before telling anyone else.

Summer was excited, but she was also jealous knowing that her favorite uncle was having a baby. Mila still didn't quite understand, so you and Mason needed to reassure Summer that she was still his favorite. Stacey, on the other side of the world, also celebrated when you told her via video call.

Mason couldn't stop telling everyone that your little girl would be home with you soon.

The birth was due at the end of December or beginning of January, so everyone came to Manchester for Christmas and New Year’s eve, as you couldn't travel many hours to London. Your family and his came and you thanked Mason for the big house he bought.

The end of the year festivities had passed and she still hadn't arrived.

Mason kindly asked his family not to stay until his birthday so you two could prepare for the baby's arrival. But you asked your mom and Debbie to stay to help you the first few days until you felt safe enough to be alone with her while Mason was at training or traveling.

On January 9th, you were already fed up. 

Your belly was huge, your back hurt, you walked slowly and could barely sleep. Mason tried to help you most of the time, stayed awake with you or tried to ease your pain. He trained early in the morning and in the afternoon he was at home with you, you went for a walk with your mother and mother-in-law for a bit but you soon came back as it was very cold outside.

Mason made dinner and you ate together, then the two of you went to watch while your mom and Debbie were in the kitchen talking. 

You didn't want to sleep before wishing Mason a happy birthday, but you were sleepy and there were still a few hours until midnight.

But things got weird when you felt discomfort in your stomach, then another, and another. 

“Mason, I think it’s time.” Mason jumped off the couch and started running, screaming around the house as he packed things for you. 

The next few hours were painful, you cried, screamed, but Mason never left your side. 

Around 2 am, she was born.

“She’s perfect.” You cried as you held her for the first time. Mason was sobbing next to you, you had never seen him cry like that and you were sure that little baby girl would have him in the palm of her hands.

“You were so strong, so brave, Y/N. Thank you so much.” He kissed your forehead, and ran his index finger across the cheek of the baby who was looking at you attentively. 

“Happy birthday, Mason.” You can finally wish after hours of pain. “I love you.”

“Thank you, babe.” He said. “That was the best birthday present I could have.” 

“You said you would choose her name.”

“Yes, but we can choose another one if you don't like it.”

“What name do you want?” 

“Annie. Annie Katherin Mount.”

“It’s perfect, Mason.” 

IF YOU WANT TO READ, this is the insta au about annie :)

[ladyazurith]

You mentioned in one post that you think one problem with the game is that it twists itself into pretzels to fit the various different narratives, even when it doesn't make sense for the characters. Can you talk more about that? (Because I totally agree.)

Very much so! It's really bothersome. The first thing is in the individual chapters they tend to act like the students don't know each other well outside their own dorms, almost like they're practical strangers who have never interacted before. When everything else points to the opposite. Take Chapter 5 for example. They try to act like Ace and Deuce have no idea who Epel is, yet in Ace's CR story, he clearly meets Epel during their sorting. Never mind how they behave during events. And in chapter 2 when Cater is with Yuu and the others scoping out possible targets, it's presented like he doesn't know most of them well, when he clearly knows *everyone*.

Then from there, it's how the characters act in their individual chapters. Chapter 1 is mostly okay in this regard. Events with Riddle happen quickly enough that him having a major change of heart and acting "normal" in material from then on isn't too jarring.

But moving on from there it's a trainwreck. The chapter's overblot victims/ antagonists can get a little bit of a pass, but even then it stretches things.

Like Ruggie for instance, he is very shrewd and isn't above taking advantage of a situation. But he's not evil, he very clearly cares a lot about his home, his grandmother, and the other kids who live in the area with him. The idea that the character we see in every other situation would cause serious harm to someone else over a game is kind of ludicrous. He could have very easily risked expulsion if things had gone too far, and then he wouldn't be in a position to help *anyone*. Leona is even kind of iffy to me. While Leona tends to go out of his way to appear uncaring/unmotivated/lazy, he's actually an incredibly good dorm leader who cares about his students. Most of his real issues are internal, and harming innocent people who aren't even part of his beef with Malleus just seems out of character to me. Never mind what he does to Ruggie. Some of it can be explained by the build up of blot but not all of it.

And then Chapter 3, Azul, Jade, and Floyd. For the most part, I can see the tweels going along with everything because they both thrive on chaos. But Azul's plan is just...stupid coming from someone who's a professional businessman. First off he has no shortage of workers for the lounge. Ruggie frequently takes shifts there, and Cater while not a waiter also does a lot of work with them. But the whole sea anemone thing was just gross. And apparently, there was nothing in the contract about not disparaging their employer. It might have caused a spike in business at first just because people want to see what's going on for themselves, but overall, he'd ultimately hurt his business and drive customers *away*. Never mind the whole bullying backstory comes out of NOWHERE. Like I do have sympathy for Azul and what he went through and he is one of my favorite characters, but Ch 3 suffered from poor writing in my opinion. Narratively the whole thing was a mess.

Chapter 4 is handled better in my opinion. For the most part, I have the least amount of complaints about what goes on here. My biggest one though is what I mentioned before, Characters tend to exist in a bubble during their chapter events. You can not tell me that Cater nor Lilia wouldn't have tried to figure out what the hell was going on with Kalim. Or Silver for that matter. Never mind how Kalim had the authority to keep his entire dorm at school over a holiday when it's shut down?!!? I get his family is rich and powerful but, that still seems like a stretch idk.

Jamil I think was a least handled well otherwise, his actions and motivations seemed consistent with his character. In the end, he didn't really want to harm anyone, he just wanted his freedom and was desperate. The only real question is what did he think was going to happen next? Even if Kalim got kicked out of NRC then he would have only had about a year and a half of 'freedom' it wouldn't have solved any of his problems. And if Kalim had turned up dead, there would have still been severe repercussions for him and his family. IDK for someone who is supposed to be good at planning and scheming there definitely were parts that weren't well thought-out.

Chapter 5 and Rook is where this conversation started I think but I'll touch on it again. His actions at the end of chapter 5 are COMPLETELY out of character for what we know about him otherwise. Hiding his obsession with Neige from Vil, and then revealing it IN FRONT OF him while he's still licking his wounds from his overblot is just...if this was the only context we had for Rook, no one would be calling them friends. He had no real reason to reveal he was the one that cost them the competition.

The reception to this was so bad that's why we have the start of chapter 6 where Vil gives his speech about professionalism and why he's okay with Rook and what he did. I don't believe the narrative that Vil wasn't hurt at all, not with how he's shown to be so insecure especially where Neige is concerned. Sure I might buy the part about Rook voting for NRC not hurting him, but not the rest of it.

Never mind otherwise Rook isn't cruel. Especially not to Vil, and his actions were just that.

This is also biased, but the fact that Cater was cut from the team, and the reasons why rub me the wrong way. I know that they just wanted Jamil and Kalim because they were the previous chapter's focal point and Ace and Deuce because they're tied to pretty much everything because of Yuu and the story. But Vil keeps talking about being a professional, admitted straight up that Cater's audition was *perfect* but brushed him off and passed him over anyway. (Also Ironic because Cater's VA actually is a musician/singer/ensemble group member and not a traditional VA) but that's off course of the question lol

Also, I will never not be salty that RSA won with their song/performance. All for the narrative. And THEN they gave us a shot at seeing some kind of revenge or at least a win over them after the VDC with Epel's hometown event and yet again WE STILL LOST. I don't understand that one either. It's just frustrating for the players to be put in that situation again needlessly. There was no real narrative/story reason we had to lose.

Chapter 6 we finally get away from the narrative that the characters can't know who each other are in the main story at least -_-;. overall I don't have too many issues with Chapter 6. (other than the mini games -_-) Idia's character is kept consistent. We get some fun moments from the cast, and for the most part its in line with what we know of them and their characters. Azul and Riddle are gold, Jamil needed to hear what Leona told them. (tho it was a little pot kettle but then again that meant that Leona knew what he was talking about). And over all things don't seem AS forced. Had hoped things were gonna get better.

Then Chapter 7 rolled around and they murdered Lilia's character. The character we knew would NEVER treat his family like that. He even gives Malleus a speech in Cater's Halloween SSR about how he'll always be there when he needs him. He's consistently been shown to value his family and connections. It was just such a drastic change I am still baffled. I understand why he would be leaving, but to not really talk to those around him or explain what's going on and make an effort to keep in touch and stay in their lives? It's absurd. Of course Silver and Malleus broke down, if in high school my dad basically told me he was dying and that he was going far away and I'd never see him again, I'd have lost it too, and I'm not nearly as close to my dad as they were to Lilia.

I know they needed something to trigger Malleus's overblot but again this just seems like poor writing to me. The idea of Lilia loosing his powers and possibly dying I think would have been enough if they'd framed it right to push Malleus over the edge. That's difficult /emotional enough and they wouldn't have had to completely destroy Lilia's characterization to make it work. They could have even had the scene with Silver and Malleus when SIlver breaks down crying in front of him after trying to stay strong in front of Lilia so as not to worry him.

I'm trying to reserve too much judgment until we see the entirety of chapter 7 but unless there is some unknown reason for Lilia to have chosen this method of leaving, I don't know how to really justify it.

I get sometimes characters have to make difficult choices it is what helps make a story interesting, but if those choices arise from conflict that's not framed well or meaningful, it loses its potency. It comes across like us as the players and the characters themselves being cheated.

[firstfirerebel]

𝑆𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟

Sumary: Lloyd is having a sleepover at the monastery of his father. Reader is close to Lloyd but struggles with the other ninjas

Pairing: Garmadon x reader (platonic), Lloyd x reader (mentioned crush)

Warnings: feeling outcasted, mention of past toxic friends, social problems, fluff

Readers gender/pronouns aren't stated, so read it as you ❤️

Standing in front of the monastery was harder than you first assumed. You weren't too keen on a sleepover with the ninjas. To everyone else, this would sound mad. A sleepover with THE ninjas! Others would kill to have that! It's just that you're not good in groups. You just always ended up being the outcast.

The poor friend that just swang along. Meanwhile, all the others were bffs.

Besides, you didn't even know the other ninjas. You were only close to Lloyd, and he wanted you to be there. After some of his puppy eyes, you accepted.

You were at the monastery before. You even knew Lloyds Father, but that didn't linger your fear. Maybe you could just turn around and go -

"Hey, (Y/n)! I'm glad you could make it!"Lloyd yelled of his window from his room and waved at you.

Great, no turning back now...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Lloyds room, you unpacked your bag. The others were already there. Kai had his stuff in front of Lloyds bed. Zane was next to Lloyds bed. Jay and Cole slept across, but still near, of Kai. And Nya was next Zane.

You put your stuff in the left corner, near Lloyds bed. You unpacked your pillow and blanket on the small mattress that was prepared for you. The last detail was your favorite stuffed animal, Lloyd gifted it to you when you two were at a funfair together. (Imagine it as what you want, I personally imagined an Eeyore type of stuffed animal)

Your bag with your other stuff was at the end of your sleep area.

"Okay, then let's get downstairs!"Jay screeched like a little kid.

"F-For what?" You asked quietly, but they either didn't hear or ignored you.

As the others ran downstairs, Lloyd turned around. He noticed that you weren't coming along.

"Are you coming (Y/n)? We want to play some video games, " the blonde explained.

Forcing a smile upon your lips worked as you followed him quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, guys. What shall we play?" Cole asked into the group.

"How abo-"

"Our Ninja Video Game!" Kai suggested, not noticing that he had interrupted you.

Since only four could play, the plan was to switch the consoles from time to time.

Lloyd, Kai, Jay and Zane were playing meanwhile Cole and Nya watched them.

You sat on the ground a little away from the others. You didn't get this game. But they seemed to love it. Maybe you could change the game later to something you actually liked to play.

"Oh no!" Kai whined as he got shot by the enemy.

"Yes! My turn!" Nya took the controller of her brother and started to play.

Jay got shot next so Cole got to play. As Zane was game over, you stood up to get the controller, but Jay was in your place faster.

"Ehm, isn't it my turn?" You asked, but they played that stupid game so loud they couldn't even hear you. No, all eyes were on the screen.

'Nothing will change. I'm just not cut out to be with others. I should just accept that.' With this thought, you silently left the living room and went to Lloyds room.

You saw how all the other sleeping areas were connected, except yours. It was away from the others. And that's how it was in real life. You didn't belong to them, they were a team and you? You were just someone who was friends with one of them.

As fast as you could, you packed your stuff back into your bag. Expect your stuffed animal. You needed to hug it now.

"(Y/n)? Shouldn't you be down with the others?" When you turned around, you saw Lloyds Father, Sensei Garmadon.

You kept quiet, hoping he'd go and mind his own business.

"You don't look good. Wanna have a tea?",

You didn't want to decline his nice offer, but on the other hand you wanted to get home as fast as possible.

"Come with me, you can tell me what's bothering you", with that he left Lloyds room and obviously intended you to follow him. You let out a sigh and took your plushie with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what is it?"

"I don't know what you mean, Sensei. I'm fine", Carefully you took a small sip of your cup to see that it still was too hot to drink. Your stuffed animal was on your lap, so Garmadon didn't see it.

"If anything is fine, then why aren't you with the others?" A worried look was on his face.

"Ehm, I just don't like the game, so..." You felt how you slowly crumpled down. You already could feel the hot tears in your eyes. And Garmadon obviously knew that it was a lie.

"You know that you make my son verry happy, right? He loves to spend his afternoons with you, and when he's home, he never stops talking about you. I think you are what makes him feel normal sometimes. Lloyd would never do something to hurt you, so if this sleepover is a problem for you, I guarantee that he doesn't know it, "

"T-that's not it, Sensei. I also really like Lloyd, but bonding with others is really hard for me. I just can't do anything right! If I say my opinion, I'm rude. If I keep quiet, I'm too shy. And it goes on and on. I'm just tired of trying to win a war, I know I'll never win, " It felt good to finally say this out loud. You always had to keep it to yourself, so you wouldn't annoy somebody.

"And I don't even know the others. Lloyd is the one who made me come here in the first place. And now .... I don't know, I just want to go home, "

The elder let out a sigh and took a sip of his teacup before his attention was back on you.

"I won't force you to stay here just because you make my son happy. Making sure that you feel good is more important. If you aren't okay, you can't help anyone else. Alas, nothing will change if you keep hiding your emotions. Bottling up the bad feelings and forcing up a smile just for others will only make you sick. Both physical and emotional, "

As you slowly took a sip of the tea, you tasted a little bit of cherry and cinnamon and some herbals as well. It made you feel warm from the inside, or maybe his words caused this feeling?

"But won't that be intrusive?" You almost whispered. All your past friends said that you were a bad friend cause you wanted to get some advice, help or maybe just talk about it. On the other hand, they never bothered to tell you about their hard life and their problems...

"A true and loyal friend would never call you that. You have a special place in their heart, and friends always have their backs and can trust and rely on each other, "

So Lloyd was a true friend. He never expected you to play a role and just wanted you to be you. Sometimes, he was your reason to smile, and so were you his.

"Thanks, Sensei. This talk helped me a lot. It might take some time for me to make friends with others, but now I know what my worth is, " With that, you drank the rest of your tea, and at the same time, Lloyd came inside the room.

"I've been looking for you, (Y/n)! I'm sorry that we ignored you! It really wasn't our intention! It's just that - "

"It's okay, Lloyd. So! Wanna explain this nonsense making game to me?" You asked as you stood up and held your stuffed animal in your right hand.

"Sure!" With that, he took your left wrist and ran downstairs with you.

Garmadon just smiled at the two of you and drank another cup of his tea.

[zippidi-dooda]

So, years ago I was rewatching Cars and since the Bakugou brainrot was strong, I suddenly got the idea that "Hey, Lighting's a bit of a prick at first ... what if I made a story based off this movie with Bakugou as McQueen?" I was specifically looking at the scene where McQueen gets the white-wall tires, y'know his "suit change to impress Sally, and that one drawing someone made of Bakugou in a white suit occupied my brain and it solidified my "this is a good idea" thoughts (ps can't find that specific image no matter how I search it, but if I do I'll add it here sometime)

I had planned to take notes, rewatching the movie over and over to see what I could replace some scenes with since the characters for this story would be human racers and stuff.

Now, I never got around to it

But I took mental notes only writing the important things (what characters would best fit as who) and imagining scenes between Y/N and Bakugou (but not writing those down for some reason??? Still remember bits of some of them though) And wrote half of the first chapter

Here they are to finally see the light of day, (I'll explain why I wrote the characters as who if I remember why):

Summary

Life going was perfectly for the speed racer, Bakugou Katsuki. He had it all, the speed, the fame, the money, and was just one race away from becoming Japan's number one racer. But life seemed to have other plans in mind for him.

***

Speed.

That's what was always needed of Bakugou on the track. And Bakugoy always delivered. Today would be different though. 

He was speed.

He'd push it to the limit - no. Past the limit.

He would win this race and Deku would no longer be number one.

Deku . . . .

Man how he hated the curly haired, green eyed freak. Deku would never amount to nothing, all of those days Bakugou spent playing in the backyard with the kid, racing their remote control cars and playing video games taught him that.  

He never once lost to that loser and made sure to let Deku know that would never change. Ever. Bakugou would always be on top. Number one.

Boy did karma hit him hard.

"Dynamite! You gotta get out there already!"

"I fucking got it!"

Bakugou opened his red eyes, looking around his trailer. 

He was sitting on top of a cabinet with his eyes closed, waiting for show time.

Being alone in his trailer doing nothing was a ritual he always did before a race.

No reason why. He just did it.

The trailer had space for tools and such in case he needed to tune up his car on the go. But there were also shelves lined with his trophies from past races and merchandise featuring him or his car. A single picture waited for him on top of a small cabinet, which held snacks and an extra pair of clothes for him. A mini fridge was next to it holding drinks and such in case he got thirsty on a long drive.

Bakugou practically lived in the trailer. Always having to travel here and there to get to races. He sat in his car the whole time. It was a little cramped sure, but he preferred it to taking a plane, flying to his hotel, having to deal with paparazzi, possibly bumping into Deku or other competitors and having to talk to them.

Bakugou had a short fuse and often ran his mouth to the point rivals would try to fight him. And when that happened Hakamada would force him to have grade school lessons for manners and etiquette and all that to teach him how to "play nice."

That was useless. (And for some reason he was always forced to wear jeans and over-brush his hair?)

Katsuki Bakugou didn't need to be treated like a kid. So the trailer became his favorite place.

Through the tinted windows he could spot the extra from his pit crew who yelled walking away, past the other trucks. He rolled his eyes at them, he knew he could finish every race without a crew but it was required in order to race. So he (had to) let them stick around. They never got along, but it was fine by him since it meant no unnecessary interactions outside of the racecourse.

His manager, Hakamada, did chew him out for it saying he needed a good relationship with the team in order to get a better performance. But they did just fine now so there was no need to try with them.

Bakugou tightened his gloves, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then got ready to walk out the trailer door. He took a second to pick up the photo sitting on the cabinet. He looked at it for a second, memorizing again every detail on the piece of paper, his grip tightening before pressing a chaste kiss to it and tucking it into his chest pocket.

It was a good luck charm you could say. Never raced without it on him.

It was go time.

He was instantly blinded by flashing cameras clicking away, mics up in his face, people waving at him, and shouting - from both the reporters and the crowd.

"Mr. Dynamite!"

"YESSSSS!"

"DYNAMITE!"

"Over here!"

"Tulsa from Konto News, can I get a statement?"

"SIGN MY FOREHEAD!"

"Do you think you'll win this race?"

Bakugou held back a groan.

He always had to walk with a crowd of reporters towards his station. Still, he hadn't entirely warmed up to all the randos always in his face but he indulged them with some words.

"Sit down and watch the damn race for your answers."

"Mr. Dynamite, over here!"

"Dynamite, I'm with Dai Press-"

"I LOVE YOU DYNAMITE!"

"MARRY ME!"

He paused in his walk and addressed the people around him.

"All I have to say to you is, I'm gonna win. That is one sure thing you can get from this race so stick around."

They grew louder. Bakugou ignored them and continued walking until he heard one thing.

"You and Deku have been neck in neck since the start of your career, Dynamite, and you've only been first in the beginnings of every race. You've never actually ended any race in first. Never went home with a first place prize. How do you expect to come out on top today?"

Bakugou turned on his heels and scanned the people, "Who the hell said that?"

He wasn't sure and everyone continued speaking over one another. So, he yanked a random mic out of someone's hand.

"Deku's had his undeserved moment in the sun long enough. I can promise you this: his lucky streak ends with me. Got that? Put that in the papers."

Shoving the mic into whose ever hand, Bakugou continued to his spot, picking up the pace and blocking out everything else anyone had to say.

***

"Alright Dynamite, if you want to win this race for once you need to get your ass over here for a pit stop. Every time we call you over. Can you do that or are you enjoying eating greenies dust all the time."

Bakugou scowled at the extra handing him his helmet.

If they really wanted him to listen maybe they shouldn't be such assholes to him all the time. He wasn't the problem here.

"Fuck off extra, I don't need to stop for you losers every lap. You're just here freeloading off my success so sit down and shut the fuck up."

Bakugou snatched his helmet and shoved the guy out of his way. Right into another extra dressed in aquamarine. 

The two fell down, knocking over a dresser full of tools on the way. Tools were scattered all across the ground.

Bakugou couldn't be bothered to help.

He took a waterbottle from another extra's hand and took a big sip.

"What the fuck man!'

"My bad ... man ... I'll help clean this up."

"Get the hell out of here, I got it."

"What's going on here?"

Bakugou scowled at the last voice. 

It was Deku. And he had no business coming over to him like this. Every goddamn race. The two were always stationed next to each other meaning every pit stop and start and end of the race Bakugou had to see his rival's annoying face. 

And every chance they were near each other, Deku felt the need to say hello.

Idiot.

"Nothing just fell down."

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I got this."

"Are you sure cause we can totally help out."

"Don't worry about it, it's our station we'll handle it."

"Get the fuck out of here Deku, you got stuff to do and so do we." Bakugou said.

"You're right, but I only came over for a second. Just to check up on you."

"I'm fine. Now leave. And keep pink cheeks out of here. I don't need her or anyone else distracting my crew, got it?"

"Got it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess," The short, brown haired, brown eyed girl walked over to him with a pen and paper in hand. "I just wanted to see if I could get an autograph. It's for my nephew, you're his favorite racer and it's his birthday next week so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for him."

Bakugou rolled his eyes before taking the page and getting ready to sign it. It had a crudely drawn image of himself besides a little boy, the girl's nephew he assumed, the both of them holding up a trophy as confetti rained down on them. 

Bakugou froze for a moment.

The picture, though ugly, warmed his heart. He knew he had fans but this drawing just showed that they believed he would win a race. And the fact that he had a fan that probably knew Deku, met with him face to face (there was no way the dumbass didn't like pink cheeks since she was always around him, so he probably went to her house once or twice) and they still picked him over the momentary number one . . . It made him feel good inside. 

Maybe one day he'd have a kid of his own and they could cheer for him too . . . .

He smirked and began to sign.

"What's the extras name?"

"Hiro."

"Tell him he's on the right team." Bakugou gave back the paper. "There you got what you came for now leave."

"Thank you so much. C'mon Deku."

The girl began to drag him away.

"Hold on, Uraraka. Kacchan . . . ?"

Bakugou frowned again. "What now?"

The boy's mouth opened and closed for a bit as he searched for the right words to say.

He held out his hand to him. "Good luck out there today."

Bakugou scoffed and slapped his hand away.

"You'll need the luck more than I do cause I'm gonna beat your ass this time."

Deku smiled a bit as he watched Bakugou walk away. He may not have said it the normal way but at least he'd told him good luck back for once.

Deku turned and walked back to his own car.

***

Notes

McQueen: Bakugou - main character, acts like him and their traits align, need that Life Could be a Dream scene to happen with him

Mater: Kiri - the best friend that will make him realize things, who else could fill thus roll, their energy would match well

Chick Hicks: Todoroki - he's not a hick and personalities don't match but he fits as a well known figure that Bakugou would hate yet want to race, Todo will remain calm and aloof and claim BK is his best friend

Dinoco: Midoriya - BK hates him and would also want to beat him as a racer so of course he's here, could be switched with Chick but since the Dinoco brand was a dominant figure/sponsor in Cars I imagine the brands they race for as the old Pro Hero's and the biggest retiring Pro is All Might and he trains MD so obviously it'd be the same in this universe and so Dinoco's Dad: All Might - for those reason's

Doc Hudson: Aizawa - the mentor figure, he does watch and help BK so I think it's fitting, their personalities and morals seem to align and they both stay away from the cameras so despite Jeanist also being a good choice here, I thought that AZ fits better (Jeanist ended up as BK's current/first sponser)

Sherrif: President Mic - (I was today years old when I realized it's Present Mic not President) since he also helps watch and guide these kids I think he could work this role, using police sirens would make sense considering his quirk, can't separate him and AZ

Army Dude: Shinsou - also one who can't be separated from AZ, not particularly a connection to the character but the Radiator Springs residents kinda seem like they don't like McQueen at first so they'd need to hate BK as well and Shinsou would be good at that, he can also cause some drama by being close with Y/N if so desired

Red: Eri - another who can't be separated from AZ, Red is shy and timid which can be applied to Eri especially since she may be scared upon seeing BK wreck the town as a first introduction, Red listens to Sally's requests which can apply as well

Filmore: Mineta - uhm, why? I honestly don't remember but he may be subject to change, Filmore is kinda another form of comic relief I think and Mineta can be useful to create certain situations, a reason to stir up protectivness in BK, and since Denki will be in here I'd like to put them in shared scenes since I think they're funny together

Guido & Luigi: Sero & Kaminari - need the BakuSquad here and I think it'd be interesting to have these two co-run a store, Guido and Luigi are interested in McQueen at first but then aren't (cause he's not a Ferrari) and Sero and Kaminari seem to have no trouble poking fun at BK so I think it could work

Flo: Ashido - again the BakuSquad, their personalities really seem to match, sassy confident Mina is a must and I think she'd run an amazing dinner, so fun, she would also be one of the only gal-pals for Y/N and vice-versa

Sally: Y/N - MC and love interest, I can make personalities match a bit and BK would need people that question and prod him, lots of liberties here

Granny: Y/N's grandma - honestly who else is this gonna be, loved this lady in Cars and would derive most dialogue and scenes using what was in the movie, could write scenes where Granny is no longer out of pocket and senile and gives serious advice and warnings to BK when they're alone (delivered through one line of dialogue and she's immediately back to appearing crazy as if nothing happened)

I never wrote anything about the flame sticker car Ramone and honestly don't know who could fit as him now, maybe I'll search for suitable characters or write up a specific one if I decide to continue this.

If you'd be interested in reading a story like this, feel free to tell me and I might pick this up again

And if you do want this, also share suggestions for who in mha can fill in for the role of Ramone

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader! 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a “secret” crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mando’a. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Reader’s senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers. 

Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.

Word-count: 8,270

Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker. 

That's how the weeks always started. 

You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.

The old fashioned way, older department heads joked. 

The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922’s helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked. 

And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your “secret admirer”. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker. 

You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to- 

Nah, who are you kidding? 

You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them. 

The shimmering shell  That conceals a beetle’s wing Is called elytra  - I wish I was a beetle 

Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago. 

He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering. 

Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair. 

You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried. 

Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Tech’s typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. It’s been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs. 

“Good morning, Tech.” 

Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago. 

“Hey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?” 

You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. “Good morning. I suppose, yes…” He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time. 

You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits. 

Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Tech’s closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker. 

“Don't let your caf get cold.” 

The datapad drops away. “That is for you,” he explains, “if you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.” 

You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. It’s saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolan’s (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return. 

Shame… the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. You’re going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals. 

Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)

“Mmm… That’s nice. Thank you again, Tech.” 

“You are welcome.” he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you. 

Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers. 

Setting aside notes as you read them, you’re careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what it’ll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all. 

Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. “Yes, Tech?” You’re careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that you’re not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness. 

“Senator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,” he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, “and since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.” 

“Well that’s very kind of the senator.” you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with. 

You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf. 

“I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I… accepted on your behalf.” Tech confesses, aware he’s more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but he’s strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. He’s noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on Taungsday… 

Cautiously, Tech adds, “You could always give them to a friend.” 

Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that won’t be necessary, and he’d been correct in his assessment all along. “I don’t mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, I’ve been obsessed with Naboo for a while now…” you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper. 

There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe it’d inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories. 

Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described. 

All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds. 

I’ll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise. 

The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. “What fascinates you so much about Naboo?” Tech asks, curiosity burning at him. 

“Oh… I dunno,” you say with a shrug, smiling, “it’s hard to put it all into words.” And you wouldn’t exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While you’ve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Tech’s left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you don’t. 

Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather. 

To simpler splendors  Like summer's gentle breezes and honey most sweet - When will the rain stop?

You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe it’s not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that he’s echoing back to you now. 

Tech’s level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldn’t happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant. 

A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99’s genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like he’s not taken notice that you’ve read his latest haiku. 

You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the day’s tasks. “Take your time, Tech.” you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. “I know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.”

Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before he’s ready to help you with your tasks for the day. 

On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.

“Dammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver… Would you mind handing me the… the, uh…?” Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. “Oh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when I’m done?” 

Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. “I will not. I’m finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.” He does not need to remind you to go slowly. 

Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; he’s supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good. 

(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow can’t.)

Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune he’s got stuck in his head. “Disarmed and partially dismantled by… CT-9903. That’s your squadmate Wrecker, right?” 

“Correct.” Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. He’s only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them. 

Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. “He did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.” Yes… Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is… should be… of going off. 

“Reddy…”

He catches the warning. “Sorry, ma’am.” 

You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better. 

So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again? 

“... dammit…” You’ve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve. 

Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another. 

“May I?” Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now. 

He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.

And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.

You step to the side, accepting the offer. 

“Thank you, Tech...” you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy. 

“You’ll want your datapad soon,” Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove. 

“Oh, yes…!” 

Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database. 

However, the camera will not focus.

“Strange…” You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve used this old datapad for taking pictures.” 

“Press the red, center button on the top row twice.” 

Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. “Oh, that’s what that button does.” This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work. 

“Been using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?” Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. “Just real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?” 

Tech smiles knowingly. “Learning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.” The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go. 

“Hah, can't argue with that comparison!” he says agreeably, his smile sunny. You’ve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. He’s not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility. 

Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. “Good work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.” you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, who’s already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you. 

“Glad that’s over,” you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, “Thank you for the help once again, Tech.” You’re certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone. 

Tech’s deliberate stride slows to match with yours. “It was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.” A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration you’ve become accustomed to in the time Tech’s been here. 

You’re very familiar with how he appears when he’s concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error. 

The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his goggles…

Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database you’ll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day. 

“Tell ‘em I said hi.” you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesn’t prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Tech’s concentration. That’s when you’d truly taken notice of it for the first time.

Tech, utterly embroiled in some “little” project he’d created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really don’t have to stay here. 

You turn another page in your holomag. “I’ll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.” It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Tech’s presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.

Someone hadn’t been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutches’ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified. 

“He’s got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but I’m starting to suspect you’re looking for excuses to get rid of him because you’re feeling threatened by his intellect!”

Clone Force 99’s second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow. 

“Tech, this is when you’re supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.” Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. He’s gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, he’s come to check up on Tech, finding that he’s still at the GAR research center. He’s too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances. 

“Especially after this morning… Don’t make me do the nat-born thing, vod.”

Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect. 

“No thanks necessary, honestly.” You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if it’s worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunter’s eye. “It was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.” Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now. 

Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence. 

“Don’t, Hunter.”

“Glad you made a friend, Tech.” Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. “Wrecker might get jealous.”

“I think we all would.” Echo says with a kind chuckle.

“Plenty of me to go around,” you promised the three of them, “I love making friends with the GAR.”

A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. “Mmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?” He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. “I’m thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so I’m not wrestling with those on top of everything else I’ll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?” 

“I will be fine.” he assures you, sliding the clipboard from “your” side of the desk over to his. “I may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.”

“It’s ‘naboofields’. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.” 

You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting. 

“Not very secure, I know.” you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity. 

“Have you ever been to Naboo?” Tech asks. He’s noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders you’ve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern.  

Tech doesn’t do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be… homesick?

“Were you born there?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t born there, and I’ve never visited before. Naboo’s just some… silly dream of mine lately.” 

“Why do you say ‘silly’?” The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. “Has someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?” He couldn’t imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan. 

He’s assured there’s no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. “No one other than me, I guess. I dunno when I’d ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for stars’ sake…” You’re considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste… just a taste!)

What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you weren’t sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret? 

“Would it be impolite to presume you don’t have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?” Tech assumes you’re well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.

“Karabast, I- I hadn’t even thought of…” Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasn’t a sick day, anyways? “I have some PTO I’m owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies… I, uh, think I have more than two week’s worth.” Truthfully it’s been some time you looked at the amount of PTO you’ve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine. 

Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. “I was merely curious.” The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like aren’t you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. “May I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?”

“I was warned it was grisly.” you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. “So, as long as you don’t mind or won’t be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me… Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.” 

Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war… (Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience. 

“This should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.” Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. “I’ll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.” he promises. 

You make sure you’ve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everything’s agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it. 

Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. “Appreciate it, Tech, thank you. I’ll catch you later.” 

“Watch out for the deeper puddles, don’t slip.” Tech calls after you. 

He’s overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rain’s gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight. 

‘When will the rain stop?’ Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.

Habitually, you call back that you’ll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You don’t expect to be gone long.

Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Tech’s poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home. 

Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Tech’s broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Tech’s been careful not to voice how much he’s come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know he’s getting somewhat impatient. 

“If I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldn’t have tried to kick the first over the precipice…”

“That’s how you broke your leg?”

“Had it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than Echo…” 

He’d return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it won’t be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis. 

And you’d go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. You’d miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. You’d miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Tech’s face as the rest of his features. 

You’d miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was. 

“Swing by your locker lately?”

“You have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.”

“What do they say?”

So much by using so little. 

Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work. 

They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner. 

Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while he’s still here. (While there’s still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) He’s been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isn’t too far from your place. You’re not sure what the protocol on this is (or if there’s any), and he’s more than welcome to turn you down, but-

This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way. 

You’re going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you don’t want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by. 

You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists. 

And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough. 

It's time to stop daydreaming.

When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off. 

“Hey, Tech, I'm back.” You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. “Got some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.” 

“Yes… You certainly did.” One of the analysts lost their temper with the ‘newfangled’ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note. 

“Speaking of notes,” he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, “This came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.” 

Giving the lieutenant’s request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republic’s letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twi’leks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but it’s simple enough that you don’t mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off. 

“Thought you’d have gotten more done than this.” you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk. 

Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. “Felt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.” He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up. 

His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have minded too much, but thank you. What’d you do instead until I got back?” You figure it didn’t take all too long to study the commando’s footage, finding the notes Tech’s took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance. 

It’s the same thin lettering as the haikus. 

Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. “General research. Nothing important.” He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand. 

They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasn’t the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words I’m sorry - and that was normal with his brothers. 

So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word “Liiiike…?” while you continue to settle in, Tech knows it’s okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say. 

“It was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.” As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. “They’re made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.” The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function. 

“Huh,” you say politely with a smile to match, “I had no idea. That’s really neat.” 

You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy. 

For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didn’t work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows. 

While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. That’s not bad. 

“Good to know….”

“What is it?” Tech asks.

“Oh, just poking into weather records,” you hum, hiding the portal, “Seems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I don’t think it was a product age failure.” From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army. 

Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but you’ll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge. 

You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too. 

When the personnel from another department finally leaves, they’re grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word “di’kut!” loudest of all. 

You recognize the Mando’a. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time… Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasn’t in there.) You wonder where they know the word from. 

Speaking for yourself, you’ve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and you’ve added a few more words to your repertoire from Tech’s uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that he’s allowed you to see some of. 

And speaking of them… Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if there’s any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence. 

“Hey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where you’ll go first?” 

A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off. 

Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. “None that I’m aware of, but I suspect we’ll be going wherever we are needed.” There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in. 

“Is there some reason you’re asking?” He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated. 

Shoulders bounce. “What if I said I was just curious?” You don’t expect him to buy that, he’s too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once you’re certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. “Being curious isn’t a crime, is it?”

“On some planets it is. Some rather… ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.” 

The question had been rhetorical, and you don’t mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also don’t want to begin to imagine how that sort of “crime” is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is… frankly ridiculous.

“Well good thing we’re not in one of those isolated cultures.” you say, now thinking how you’ll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after he’s read your poem instead. 

“Agreed.” Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like he’s performing an inspection. “So I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I don’t believe you are ‘just curious’.” 

“I did have an idea…” you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, “Since I heard Clone Force 99 isn’t keen on following every little order…” This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to “his” side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them. 

Can't we ever go  to a nice place, verdant fields  of spring eternal? - Feel like breaking a few rules?

Tech’s eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didn’t take you for the sort of person who’d encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone… Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone. 

“I thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeks…” You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. “I thought… Maybe once your leg heals up, and you’re cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?” He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if you’re away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally. 

Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.

“You know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?”

You swallow nervously. “W-what?”

“That it almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date.” 

You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but there’s little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If you’re blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look. 

You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. “I take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.” His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own. 

“I did. A while ago, actually.” you confess, confirming his suspicions. “I had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didn’t see a reason to say anything, or stop you.” You add that you’ve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you. 

He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. “You really want to spend time with me on Naboo?” Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, you’re asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet. 

You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime. 

Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until he’s cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory. 

“Poetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now you’re offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.” you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would. 

And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech. 

That was what mattered most.

First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! 🩷

Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: Open]

[mewkwota]

HI there! <3 for the character ask:

Can you do Megaman X? Hes my favorite boi

And just like that we ended up going through all the main Mega Mans. (Sorry ZX and Advent sorry-sorry-sorry)

Send Me a Character

And I will tell you my:

First impression When was the first time I saw X? I believe it was this bootleg cartridge of 32-in-1 games, but he wasn't even in any of the games. (It was the X4 boxart being used for something else, o'course.)

Not knowing any context for this part of the series, I obviously didn't have much interest in X. His constant angy faces just made me think it was too hardcore for me, like DBZ-fandom-powerscaling-hoo-hah-hardcore. Those sorts of things turn me off easily.

I think OP things can be fun and cool (See: My child) but talking about it like it's a BDE contest is too much for me. I just Do Not Care.

It wouldn't be until I decided to look more into Rock's brother that I learned X had another side to him, on top of the DBZ-powerscaling-hoo-hah that people will still bring up for him (and Zero). This was mainly because I wanted to draw more of the Light family together, but I had no idea about X's personality.

So yeah, I see it now. He's such a sweetie, poor thing. Because of course we don't wanna talk about the other things X can express, it's always "just this one" or "just that one" in a totally good or totally bad context. I think X is interesting because of all of that, and it's simply that he acts so complicated, like a human.

That is the point, I think.

He tried so hard and for what, to die and have four kids on his own. Poor thing.

Impression now Nothing has changed. I'd like for him to take it easy, I know he can't.

Favorite moment There is this cute image of X playing with tiny figurines of enemies (I can't find it online, but it's in the Classic/X anthology thing from UDON) and he looks so bappy-happy. It makes me think he'd like to collect figurines, maybe even taking after Dr. Cain's own hobby.

Idea for a story We're going back to Xeno, my friends ahah! I had this ongoing story in my head where X invites KOS-MOS to a friendly outing, with the idea that it would help her soften up a little (it was also Shion's idea). Of course later on, what X doesn't realize is that this was something KOS-MOS was always able to do.

Stupid hijinks were supposed to ensue in the background.

Unpopular opinion I don't think I have anything unpopular to say. Whatever I have in mind puts me on one of the two butting-sides in discussing X's being.

Favorite relationship Please see the previous character in this series of Asks.

Favorite headcanon Aside from the thing about the figurines above, I think X could've gone through "Reploid" puberty, kinda like how Axl seemingly did between X7 and X8. His mentality definitely can mature so why not? In X1 his voice sounds so high, but now one of his boys got that voice.

He's just not as soft on others.

Oh yeah, and if he could sing it'd be like an old-school VOCALOID. (HAYATOM is totally YAMAHA, yes-no?)

[bidisasterevankinard]

so hard to choose from all these wips but pls gimme some of:

🔄🔄🔄

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

📝📝📝📝📝

👨‍🍳👨‍🍳👨‍🍳👨‍🍳👨‍🍳

yeah months after but I finally got toanswer it (I'm sorry <333)

9 from 7x4 reverse with Sal:

“So, how was football?” Tommy aims for feigned disinterest, missing some lightness in tone for it to be believable, but Sal just drugs and smiles.

“It was fine. Kid got us good tickets. And it was cool to watch the game with someone who doesn’t moan every second about how bored he is.”

“Hey, I don’t moan!”

“Yeah, you're right. You whine like a baby who wants cuddles from their mama.”

“I don’t whine,” whines Tommy and on Sal’s smirk and a raised eyebrow answers with silence, changing the tactic.

9+ for break up and make up after 7s au:

“And then Sal …” when Evan says the name it’s like the lever inside his mind is yanked down and his brain is off. Evan’s voice is around him but he hears nothing. It’s like the headphones are put on him and he can make some outside noise, but not enough to actually comprehend anything. He just sits there, passing his food, not in the mood to eat. His stomach feels too easy to make sick.

“..my! Tommy!” the louder when before voice and the touch of his shoulder makes him jump in his seat and Evan takes his hand away. “Sorry, you just weren't answering me and I asked if you wanted to come to my place or you wanted me to come to yours as you seem pretty tired,” Evan smirks, but his usual playfulness and Tommy tries to answer but big blue eyes go sadder.

He guesses he didn’t fool Evan.

“Sorry, Evan, I’m really tired and have a headache. Want to be alone. If it’s ok?”

15 for Justin knows best:

“From what I saw he was,” Mr. Russo’s voice answers, “he was almost eye fucking you during renovations.”

“I’m sure he did it not to me, but to Eddie. Or should I remind you that it’s him he took to Vegas and I’ve got only one Harbor tour that I asked about.”

Justin nods to sadness in Mr.B voice feeling the anger on his uncle and Mr.Diaz getting higher. They broke his perfect plan and made Mr. B sad.

“First, Eddie was on the other side of the room and those big blue eyes were still taking off your tank top and shorts. Second, I remember about Vegas. You were mopping about it a lot recently,” Mr. Russo listed. “Maybe it was just a friendly fly? I mean they watched a fight together. If you ask me I’d fight a guy who takes me to a fight as a first date because I hate it. And you too.”

“Yeah, I thought it too,” Mr. says and then he somehow gets sadder, “but it wasn’t only Vegas. They also worked over Eddie’s Chavele. And yesterday they went to Karaoke trivia together. And Eddie asked me to babysit,” Mr. B whines the last sentence and Justin sees red. 

and 15 for second part on I wanna dance with you universe

“What is it?” Evan asks and Tommy shrugs, giving him a playful look, and waits for him to open the box, loving the laugh Evan makes when he reads the custom inscription.

Still laughing, Evan takes the bright pink apron out and turns it so that Tommy can read it, bold black lettering makes him smirk again.

He’s my favorite housewife

“So you want me as your housewife?” Evan asks.

“Do you like it,” Tommy ignores the question.

“I like the color and the title but only if it’s a joke. Because if it’s not, it's like a huge red flag and I’m gonna run from here right now.”

Tommy hugs the perfect waist, kissing the neck, loving the shiver that goes over Evan’s body, “just a joke, baby of course. And now as far as I remember,” Tommy nuzzles into Evan's neck, biting it, “I was promised that if I'll buy you apron you love, I can fuck you in it. Only in it,” Tommy whispers in Evan’s ear and  bites the skin right near it.

“I-I did say it, didn’t I?” Evan puts his hand in his hair pushing his head till their lips meet.

Using his body weight Tommy pushes his boyfriend till he’s near the counter and then sits him there, not breaking the kiss, with pleasure swallowing the moan Evan makes.

Ending the kiss Tommy gets back to working on Evan’s neck, while his boyfriend unbuttons his shirt.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x8, Let The Games Begin. Part 6

When we last left the Gilmore Clan, Richard Gilmore was regaling his family about his past as a dirty, dirty freaking man skank. That is, until he met his darling wife.

Emily expressing a rare sentiment and compliment to Lorelai: You know, your father is having a wonderful time. It means a lot to him to share this time with you and Rory. I'm glad you're here.

What Lorelai Hears:

You know what I always say to you, kid. Enjoy it while it lasts.

I mean, we've had to see the balcony where Rory was concieved a number of times so maybe we should just bring this thing full circle. Lorelai pouts that she is bored and she wants to go home. A few moments later, as the fam is touring the grand and lovely halls of the university with Richard playing tour guide, Lorelai keeps looking around for some kind of an escape route, utterly bored and disinterested.

Let's play my favorite game and yours! Why Is Lorelai Gilmore Scowling?

1.. Her father did something beyond incredibly generous for her child, so she is jealous of her child? Again? 2. There is a nefarious brainwashing attempt by her father underway that, if successful, might have her child interviewing at more than one university and everyone knows that if you decided you wanted to go Harvard while in Kindergarten, you can't change your mind, and with Harvard having a nearly single-digit acceptance rate and Rory having virtually nothing to throw into the pot but her grades, Rory is going to be a total shoo in to Harvard. Backup schools are for DORKS. 3. Despite the fact that she just listened to a whole afternoon of happy memories that her parents have from this school, including Yale being the reason Lorelai even exists in the first place, she'd rather sabotage the whole thing just to spite her parents than have Rory attend the same school. 4.She is mad at her father for going "Behind her back" arranging this incredibly generous once-in-abso-fucking-lutely-nobody's-lifetime opportunity instead of telling her directly, even though if he told her to her face that he arranged this interview for Rory, she still would have had a hissy fit. 5. Lorelai's brain is pea soup and she did not consider that Rory might actually like Yale after visiting Yale (not surprisingly, nobody has asked Rory for her thoughts on the matter). 6. Lorelai would turn to dust if she couldn't control Rory's life at every turn 7. She's upset with Richard springing the interview on Rory as a surprise without consulting Rory first and she didn't have time to prepare (fair, but this is Lorelai we're talking about here so you know that's not the whole enchilada) 8 .The whole enchilada

Google sez: Yale's acceptance rate was just under 17% in 2002, while Harvard's was around 11%. (It’s barely half that in 2024) You know, I hear that Lorelai's alma mater, the local community college, is really nice this time of year. Rory's mother and grandparents steamroll her, never asking her what she thinks about anything, while in turn she never stands up for herself or speaks up on her own behalf, and wouldn't you know, the interview is about to happen RIGHT NOW, so Richard attempts to usher his wordless grand daughter right into the interview cave.

For the love of God, Rory. Say something, you spineless jellyfish.

THANK YOU.

You were only delaying the inevitable by not telling Lorelai ahead of time, Richard. Now she's going to have a meltdown in public like a crying toddler who didn't get a candy bar. I hope you're happy. Lolelai: What do you think you're doing? Richard: Trying to get my grand daughter into what I think is the best Ivy League school in the country. Lorelai: She doesn't want to go here! Richard: She doesn't know that yet. Lorelai: You're unbelievable dad, you corner her alone the other night without me there (how dare he) Richard: Of course I did, you wouldn't let her go. I knew the last thing in the world you'd want is for Rory to go to Yale. Lorelai: And why is that? Richard: Because I went to Yale, therefore Rory can't. Lorelai: Oh, the CRAZY REASON?! Richard: You're allowed to feel that way. It's my prerogative to make sure Rory knows all of her options. Lorelai: Calls her father a liar Richard: This is for Rory's own good Lorelai: Rory is going to HARVARD. Richard: We'll see. Lorelai (louder and angrier) NO, RORY IS GOING TO HARVARD! IT'S ALREADY BEEN DECIDED WITHOUT YOU! Nobody "decides" they're going to Harvard or Yale. The only person doing any "deciding" is currently interviewing your daughter. If you selected 1-6 in the Why Is Lorelai Gilmore Having A Temper Tantrum in Public quiz, come on down and collect your prize. Number's 1 and 5 are pretty much implied. Rory is a few feet away being interviewed by a big wig Yale admissions officer, who certainly doesn't know any other big wigs from other certain Ivy League schools that begin with an H, who won't ever hear the story that he interviewed a student whose mother was screaming "SHE'S GOING TO YALE OVER MY DEAD BODY" (paraphrased) and that this student had already "Decided" she was going somewhere else and just wasted his time. The Yale and Harvard admissions guys with Rory's application:

Lorelai's meltdowns are such a bitch to write. There are 5 minutes left in her meltdown.

Only Mommy can do that. Lorelai: accuses Richard of pulling a "Stunt", Richard said he was just trying to avoid an argument with Lorelai. That's cute that he would think that was possible. Lorelai: My whole life you've had to control everything, if you didn't get to control something, then you just didn't deal with it. You couldn't control me, you couldn't deal with me! Ah, Lorelai, I think this is another conversation that would be more suited to a therapist's office than in public.

Lorelai's therapist furiously taking notes off camera (and seeing dollar signs)

Richard: This has nothing to do with you. This is about Rory and her education which is frankly something you know nothing about. You never went to college, you don't know anything about how it works. You want Rory to go to Harvard that badly? So do thousands of other mothers. Yale is an excellent school. The equivalent of Harvard in every way, except one- I went here. I'm an alumnus. That makes it easier for Rory to get in. And if you knew anything about how college works, you'd know this. I'm not leaving Rory's education to chance simply because I might offend you. Her future is more important than her pride. If you don't like that, I'm sorry. And if that makes you angry, what else is new?

That was the one of the best Humblings I've ever been blessed to witness. Lorelai: Ugh, sounds like the my daughter's a loser, Gilmore named sullied, future squandered speech! I'm calling a cab, we're leaving. Emily tries to reason with her, Lorelai states it doesn't matter what anyone thinks besides herself and Rory, even though we're 32 minutes into the episode and not one person has yet to ask Rory what she thinks. Emily: So what if she takes a meeting at Yale? That doesn't mean she won't be going to Harvard. If she gets into Yale that might make her more appealing to Harvard! You're on such a crusade against your father that you haven't even stopped to consider that if Rory went to Yale she could still live at home. Lorelai: She is still going to Harvard! *literally screaming* SHE'S NOT APPLYING TO YALE! Better hope that admissions officer doesn't have his window open. Now I want Rory to get into Harvard and hate Harvard so much that she drops out in the first week or she flunks out in the first semester. Just to crush Lorelai's dreams, nothing more. The mid-way Yale dropout-and-return just didn't give me the same heartwarming satisfaction. You know, I thought Lorelai's freakout in Teach Me Tonight was the height of her insanity and immaturity. This is on some whole other level from the depths of heck. Screaming at your parents for getting your kid's foot in the door at an ivy league school when thousands of other hopeful parents would chop off their hand to give their kid the same chance, can only happen on the special plane of existence that Lorelai Gilmore alone exists on, and we mere mortals aren't meant to comprehend it. And finally, if you chose #7 on the Why Is Lorelai Gilmore Scowling Quiz, you're technically correct, the best kind of correct, because after Lorelai (Rory) exits the interview, one that was seemingly a success, she immediately turns to Richard to chew him out for springing the interview on her last minute and not giving her time to prepare. That is more than fair. And I'm glad to see her standing up for herself. Anyway, I've been writing for like four hours straight? I've gone beyond my Lorelai Limit. It's been real. If you've made it this far, I see you, I appreciate you. Peace out girl scouts. See you in part 7.

[naychuchu]

🐈‍⬛

tw: this is my first time actually posting anything i’ve written. i made these pretty late at night so i’m sorry if they’re bad i just wanted to write something. probably some spelling mistakes and stuff i didn’t feel like checking it throughly.

a/n: please be nice

personal

* i’ve mentioned this before but baji absolutely LOVES the yakuza game

* favorite one is yakuza 0 (definitely not because this is the only one i’ve watched so far🌚)

* john cena fanboy for absolutely no reason. has his theme as his ringtone

* number 1 baby metal fan. owns their merch and goes to every concert

* his favorite season is summer for obvious reasons but his favorite holiday is definitely christmas because he and mikey ride around with shin

* HATES horror movies. like nothing can convince this man to watch them. even the kiddie ones like goosebumps or scary stories to tell in the dark will have him act like the devil just touched his soul

* definitely the kind of guy to walk around with one lens in his glasses after a fight

* purposely named his bike cockroach knowing pah is afraid of them

* he used to hate his fangs when he was little because kids used to tease him and say he was a dog

* that was until he started saying he’d bite and give them rabies if they kept messing with him

* cannot grow facial hair to save his life

* judges people on how they interact with animals, specifically cats

* despite popular belief, i don’t think he would get any tattoos. he seems like a piercing guy and definitely cannot sit that long for a tattoo

* gave himself the alias edward because he used to watch twilight with his mom

* he even had a phase when he acted like a vampire but will vehemently deny and threaten anyone who dares to bring it up

* is lactose intolerant and just like many of us will eat dairy and instantly regret it as soon as it hits his stomach

* sometimes he feels insecure about the fact he was held back, all of his friends moving up while he’s left behind

* even though he has a reputation for committing arson and slightly unprovoked violence, keisuke is truly a model citizen☝🏽

* volunteers at shelters, helps the elderly, feeds the homeless, solves climate change. he truly is a saint and can do no wrong!

home life

* i like the idea that his mom was a teen mom and that his father was never really around and just stopped coming one day

* due to her job, his mom sometimes works really late or super early so over the years he’s learned to cook (the only good thing he can cook is yakisoba)

* on the nights he knows his mom will be back late he cooks her food and despite it not being the best she still loves it

* even though she works a lot the two of them are still very close and their favorite thing to do is read manga and watch mystery dramas whenever she’s off

* despite not knowing his dad(he only visited when he was a baby) he never felt insecure about it

* he’s a total mamas boy, and will fight anyone who says something about her

* when ryoko was younger, she wanted to have a lot of kids but after having keisuke she changed her mind. she felt it would be selfish to have so many kids when she works so much and after realizing how much of a handful he can be.

* despite that and having him at such a young age, keisuke was the best thing to ever happen to her and wouldn’t trade him or his wildness for the world.

relationship

* back on the yakuza point, whenever you’re sad he’ll grab a hair brush, turn up the radio and start singing 24-hour cinderella to you until his voice is gone

* when you guys get in a fight he’ll act like he’s in a 2000’s r&b mv and start singing bakamitai. chifuyu gets the hose to spray water above him, kazutora plays the music, and ryusei records the whole thing so baji can send it to you

* a biter, like what’s the point of him having those sharp ass teeth if he don’t try to take a chunk out of you

* whatever your favorite animal is, he’s gonna buy every single book about them so he can share little facts about it with you

* if you’re into a specific artist or group, he’ll listen to their whole discography and learn everything in the fandom

* becomes a horanghae enthusiast and will force you to be one as well

* just like he’s loyal to his friends and toman, he’s loyal to you

* like foreva togetha foreva LOCKED IN 🤞🏽

* a girl tries flirting with him and all of a sudden he’s hellen keller

* the type of boyfriend to say you’re too spoiled whoever you ask for something while doing said thing you requested

* will literally lift his ass off the seat while you’re sitting next to him and fart on you then blame it on you

* talm bout some ‘ew the hell did you eat’ like his diet doesn’t consist of yakisoba, monster energy drinks, and beef glizzies

* speaking of farts😸 keisuke will send pics of his shit to you asking if it looks normal

* will make fun of you if you’re lactose intolerant as if he don’t be upside down on the toilet fighting for his life

* is constantly in your personal space. like he’ll be standing behind you while you play like candy crush or best fiends mumbling about moves you can make. sometimes he’ll snatch your phone and play it himself

* what’s yours is his. mid chew on something he wants? he’s opening your mouth and popping it in his, no matter if it’s soggy

* absolutely loves giving and receiving hugs, being in your arms makes him feel safe and gives reassurance that despite all of his flaws you still love him

* stares at you with his mouth open, no matter what you’re doing or how you look his eyes are on you 24/7

* takes the absolute worst pictures of you on facetime and puts each one in his favorites until the end of time

* throws rocks at your window at like 4 in the morning knowing you both have school just so you can ride around with him until the sun comes up

* i feel like he’d totally like mellow down on the things he does. he doesn’t want to worry you while he’s away

* constantly checks up with you so you know he’s okay and not lying on the ground somewhere and dying 🌚

this is so scary bye 😭

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game Extras ~ Suitor Dossiers

Hello, stars! Thank you so much for your patience for Chapter 32. It's almost done, but it's a big one! I was planning to put these into the chapter as well, and I still might, but I figured I'd share some details about the suitors since you have all been so patient and kind! I hope you enjoy it, and I'd love to know who your favorite is! This post includes a poll to share who you'd like to see more of during this little game. 9 guys is a lot, lol. I want to make sure that I give special attention to yours faves! (Not changing their motivations though, so I hope you like what I have planned for them 😈🤭)

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! ~ If you haven't read Part 31 yet, I highly recommend finishing that first before looking at the dossiers.

Image descriptions are located at the end, as the dossiers are on images.

| numbers game masterlist | turtletaub fanfic masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

What's this?

It was rare to find trash on the ground at the Oak Roots Estate. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked up what looked like a brochure.

Oh...

Are you fucking kidding me...

Image Descriptions: Alternating images and text in the form of a brochure shows each of the nine suitor's faces with some personal details, and a quote. The format is laid out with snooty cedar leaves, the sun shining through trees, soft greens, exaggerated font, and images of arrows (as in bow and arrows).

Dossier Text: Each picture includes the phrase "Which hunter will claim her?" The final picture also includes the phrase, "Make your bets now!"

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Red Haired Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~

End of Image Description.

WIP Update I hope you liked this little tease! Chapter 32 is 8300+ words already, and I still have a few more outlined scenes to finish, including the smut. If y'all didn't crave the smut every chapter it would have been out by now, lol. There's a lot going on at the Oak Roots Estate! 🌲 Life is lifeing, but I have received word that the major factor keeping me from my usual writing schedule is fading, and I'm so happy because this story dominates my brain, and I miss all of you so much! Thank you for your patience, I can't wait for you to read the next update! See you soon! Lynna 💜✨

Author’s Note: All of the character details above are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the character’s history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

| numbers game masterlist | turtletaub fanfic masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[chaoticm0therfvcker]

Beach Day (ElderLily modern au)

Elder Faerie and White Lily are on their first date since they tied the knot and got married to each other, and it’s your classic day at the beach! Sadly, Elder Faerie isn’t as excited for this as he’s acting, for he has a secret he’s kind of ashamed of

Tags: transmasc elder faerie, body dysmorphia, elder faerie has top surgery scars, a shitload of fluff and cuteness

“I can’t wait to show you the beach! It’s so beautiful.” White Lily excitedly told Elder Faerie.

As a kid, Coconut Beach was one of her favorite places to visit, next to Dragon Hill. It was this beautiful beach, with the softest sand, the clearest water, the cleanest coast, and so, so many different sea shells and little fish, and even some bits of coral from a coral reef near the coastline. That beach, as well as the national park, sparked her love for travel, and as soon as she was old enough to be on her own, she traveled the world, discovering new cultures and figuring out who she truly was.

It’s how she met Elder Faerie, it’s how she fell into that coma, it’s how she discovered all the fear and grief and darkness that plagued the world and sparked yet another passion, one for peace and love and justice and prosperity. But above all else, it’s how she realized just how precious her friends and her lover truly are, and how despite her now fragile form, she must care for them in any and every way possible. Crazy how the butterfly effect works, huh?

That beach changed her life, and now, that beach was going to be hers and Elder Faeries first date since they married and moved in together.

“And I can’t wait to see it, my love.” Elder Faerie replied, glancing at his wife and smiling softly.

Admittedly, Elder Faerie was happy to be going to this beach. He had seen just how happy Lily was to be taking him to this place, and the way her eyes lit up while describing this place to him, and after seeing all the horrible things she had been through recently, he knew he had to do whatever possible in order to preserve that innocent joy. Even if that meant facing a fear that had been looming over his head for years now.

See, Elder Faerie is a transgender Man. He was born a girl, with his cutesie innocence and his love for both cute girl stuff like fashion and makeup along with boyish stuff like video games and fantasy weapons. However, when he hit puberty, he realized something was off about his identity, about the way his soul felt broken when he developed curves and breasts, and his suspicions were confirmed when he discovered the gender spectrum in health class; he realized that he was in fact, a man. Sure, he still liked the classic “girly stuff” like cute dresses and his long, luxurious hair that reached down to his waist, but didn’t mean that he was truly a man.

He was a man stuck in a girls body, and now with a new body build and a bunch of crazy hormones, he was aware of how trapped he was, and he hated it.

Of course, White Lily knew all of this, and it almost made her love him even more. The way he braved such a difficult time, how he discovered such an amazing thing about himself, and how he was willing to share such a personal detail with her made her heart flutter with admiration and love.

However, because of his gender identity, Elder Faerie had gotten top surgery when he was in his early twenties, and while White Lily was fully aware of this too, she had never seen the scars left behind by his procedure.

Despite how wonderful he felt no longer having breasts, he hated those damned scars. It felt like some sort of burden, a dark secret that was harder to own up to than even realizing that he was trans. It made him feel incomplete, disgusting, fake. He had tried overcoming his fear by coming up with some stupid scar story like trying to dry a kitchen knife off with his shirt, but nothing realistic enough came to mind.

He wanted so desperately to believe that White Lily would accept him no matter what kind of scars were on his body, but nothing could calm his fear.

“…sunscreen, umbrella, drinks…” White Lily was mumbling to herself. She then turned to Elder Faerie, who had a wide-eyed blank expression on his face as he tightly clutched the steering wheel. “Are you okay, honey?”

Elder Faerie snapped out of his daze and glanced at White Lily with a confused expression on his face. “Huh? Oh, of course, I’m just thinking of all the wonderful things that might be at this magical beach you love so much. I packed my bathing suit, right?”

“You’re wearing it, silly. Don’t you remember putting on your swim trunks before we left?” White Lily giggled, “Are you… sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Elder Faerie reassured her, “just tired I guess.”

Just then, they pulled into the beach’s parking lot, and after finding a place to park, they got out and unloaded their stuff. Walking onto the soft sand on the beach, the couple found a spot, laid out their towel, and got to enjoying the beach. They shared snacks and drinks, made cute little sandcastles, and talked about life together.

Then, White Lily wanted to get in the water.

“I’m going to get changed into my bathing suit,” she said, pointing her thumb at the nearby bathroom, “why don’t you take your shirt off so we can go swimming? The water is really nice.”

Elder Faerie nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Once she had walked off, Elder Faerie sat down on the towel and wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his head in the space between his knees and his chest. He just felt so… ashamed. He was ashamed of his body, of the scars on his chest, of his fear, of his cowardice, hell, he was ashamed of his shame! Most of all, he was ashamed of his lack of trust in his own wife. He knew White Lily loved him for who he was, and that she would be perfectly fine with the remnants of his top surgery. However, something deep within him was withholding his ability to show her the truth. Would she really be fine with it? Even if she was, how would she react to the way he kept this from her. There were just too many variables to trust that it would go well.

“Fae…?”

Elder Faerie’s head shot up at the sound at his nickname, and he saw White Lily standing before him, looking concerned. “Fae, what’s wrong? You’ve seemed off all day.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” Elder Faerie replied, shaking his head.

“Honey…” White Lily sat in front of Elder Faerie, “I can tell that something’s wrong. I know you want to support me and share my passions and stuff, but I don’t want you do feel like I forced you to come here.”

“No, it’s not that, I wanted to come here! I just-“ his breath hitched, and he could feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes, “I just-”

Before he could say anything more, White Lily leaned forward and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly and nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, Fae. You don’t have to worry about anything, i promise. I won’t force you to tell me what’s wrong, but I can’t help you if you don’t communicate with me. Just tell me what you need from me and I’ll do whatever I can to make you feel better.”

Though hesitant at first, Elder Faerie returned the hug, relaxing into White Lily’s grasp. “There’s… something that I need to show you.”

Elder Faerie stood up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off of his shoulders. There was his bare chest, featuring his top surgery scars.

White Lily stood as well and gazed at the scars, gently reaching out and grazing them with her fingertips. “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“As you know before we met, I got top surgery.” Elder Faerie explained. “The doctors removed the breast tissue, and I didn’t have boobs anymore, and it felt amazing. But these scars, they made me feel ugly and unwanted. I know I could’ve easily trusted you to see them, but I couldn’t bring myself to show you.”

Once he had finished, White Lily immediately pulled him into a loving kiss. “You are not ugly, you are the most beautiful person in the universe, and you have been the most amazing boyfriend ever. Even before we confessed our love for each other, even when I was in that coma, you were the most incredible man that I could have ever encountered in my entire life, and a few scars aren’t going to change my view of you.”

“I’ve just felt so ashamed of them,” Elder Faerie admitted, “I was ashamed of my scars, and ashamed of my own inability to tell you. I mean, I’m supposed to be the brave one in this relationship! I’m supposed to support you, protect you, keep you safe and loved! And I’ve survived so much, and yet I’m afraid of showing you a few little scars.”

“It’s okay to be scared, my love.” Lily replied, “it’s okay to be vulnerable, and you don’t need to protect me. And how I see it, these scars tell a story. One of pain and fear and confusion and doubt, but also one of hope and love and triumph. They tell a story of a challenge you were able to overcome and the way it changed you for the better.”

Elder Faerie looked at his girlfriend lovingly, feeling himself start to tear up again. “I love you so much…”

“I love you more~” White Lily replied in a cheerful, sing-song tone of voice, “now c’mon, once you touch the water you’re going to love it.”

White Lily grabbed her lovers hand and started to pull him towards the water. Elder Faerie happily followed, quickening his pace so that he could walk next to her. Once they reached the water, White Lily dipped her toes in, Elder Faerie following suit. Then White Lily playfully kicked water at him.

“Hey!” Elder Faerie said through giggles. Putting his hands up defensively, he kicked water at White Lily as well, earning a giggle and a similar response from White Lily. Soon, the tension between them had melted away, and it was as if their sad yet intimate moment had never happened. The two were playing like kids, giggling and splashing each other, swimming out into the deeper parts of the water, and even exploring the nearby coral reef, White Lily of course having to wave hello to all the cute little fish that swam past them.

Soon, hours had passed by, and by the time they had dried themselves off and loaded their stuff back into the car, the sun was setting behind them.

“Today was amazing,” Elder Faerie gushed, “you were right, that beach is amazing.”

“I told you, that beach changed my life,” White Lily agreed, “I know it’s just sand and water, but that beach is the reason I decided to explore the world, and we both know what would’ve happened if I had never traveled.”

Elder Faerie chuckled lightly. “Well, you did travel, and we met, and we fell in love, and now we’re married, so it doesn’t matter.” He hesitated for a moment, then added “Maybe we should go there more often. Maybe even invite my little brother and his son when they visit.”

White Lily smiled softly and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“That would be amazing…”

Taglist: @janayuga @katsunemillennium @trustymikh @c00kietin @tartelongan @cedric-my-beloved

[little-de-vil]

A little gift for @persephoneprice and anyone else who gives a shit about my OCs. Behold: THEIR INSTAGRAMS! This changes DAILY, but I always have some form of consistency when it comes to each one. This wouldn't be possible without @caesarflickermans' Instagram template!

For Celeste, I focus on very front-facing pictures with a warm, creamy color palette. Nothing extreme!

For Vance, his is very geared towards his native District 2, with little to no posts related to the Capitol. That was intentional because of both his image as a Victor, but also because it's where he's most comfortable. All of the pictures of his kids are in nature, which isn't what they focus on in their own accounts, but is where they are most comfortable too (at least for the two older ones). The picture in the far left middle row is the exception to the rule with young Celeste (FC'ed by Anya Taylor-Joy) in her extravagant wedding dress.

For Wren, he goes by his mothers theme of very front facing pictures, but doesn't have the same organization. Very much a current moment/hodgepodge of whatever is going through his mind. I purposefully gave him the most recent picture (top far left) as one of a mountain in 2, which he posted after he found out that he and his family wouldn't be going home for the Harvest festival that year and wanted to give the people of the Capitol a glimpse of his home. I am also partial to the middle picture of the middle row since that's a picture of Swan House (Snow's Mansion) that I took the first time I visited there!

For Cassia, she doesn't post too often, only on special occasions (like her father's birthday) or when she's told to by her team (like that top far right picture showing off a dress she wore for the Victory Tour that she hated). I also wanted to give her hints of her romantic life with the middle video of her and her partner, Angus, another Victor from District 10 (I think I made him the 69th? Idk, he's still a huge WIP).

And last but not least, Marina Livia Snow! I just finished hers up yesterday and this was the most difficult one to do by far I’m still not entirely sure if I like it! I wanted for her to have this eternal image of youthfulness and innocence as she is a literal child, the most Capitol of the trio, and she's also Snow's favorite so double whammy! And as we all know, it is only the children in the Capitol who are allowed to maintain their innocence. I wanted hers to be very bright, very social and very materialistic (I think I succeeded in the latter in an earlier draft of it, but that's neither here nor there). I wanted hers to mirror her mothers the most in terms of content and color, as a proximity to whiteness.

I wanted their story highlights to all have a similar format, from parents to children.

For Celeste because she is always "on," I decided to start with her prep first before going into her family. The pictures she chose for them are equally beautiful and presentable. I also wanted to her to have a sense of ownership over them, hence "my" XYZ for everyone.

For Vance I had him start with "quarries/mountains/rivers/rocks" based off a Peacekeeping funeral song I wrote. As for his family, I made sure that Celeste was still a bit more Capitol as that is her area of comfort, and for his two eldest children to be out in 2, along with their district nicknames.

For Wren, I wanted there to be joy and laughter seeping out of the pictures of his family, as a ways to remind himself of those times [the last one is of his partner in District 7, more on him later].

For Cassia, I wanted the pictures of her parents to be very one-dimensional and distant since that's more or less how she feels about them post-Games. Another silly picture for Wren, of course, and another hint to her partner, who the people nicknamed "The Butcher." I also wanted to have a Pre-and-Post story highlight for her to have everyone be that much more aware of the shift in public image after the Games.

And finally, for Marina's story highlights of her family, I wanted them to be very casual, with Celeste's seeming as such as it's still heavily manufactured for this sense of casualness (think "Beauty Base Zero").

[wish-upon-the-universe]

u should. read my fic. or somthing idk im not ur mom

The Change God was not kidding when they said Dormont was trapped in time, but it doesn't interrupt the family travel plans! ...much.

It was strange.

One moment, you were watching Bonnie run away, time stretching on for what felt like years. Visions kept morphing in your mind’s eye; Bonnie making it safely, Bonnie being crushed by a sadness, Bonnie never able to come back to Vauguarde and growing up without their sister...

The next moment, you were stumbling forward as shades seeped back into the world and the curse faded away.

The King was gone. That was the only explanation for why Vaugarde began to move in time again, right?

A week passed.

No sign of Bonnie. Everyone in Vaugarde was scrambling to reunite with loved ones. The mail and communication services between houses was overwhelmed. As unlikely as it was for your Bug to be near Bambouche, you organized search parties nonetheless. The tracks Bonnie left behind as they ran were frozen in time, proof of escape, only to then abruptly stop. According to the travelers who were frozen in time alongside you, Bon had to travel through previously frozen towns, and nothing could change their landscape. Still, you searched as Bambouche recovered, desperate to find any new evidence anywhere.

The small fishing town found an overabundance of fish in the sea, due to the lack of fishermen culling the populations. Plenty was caught, and celebrations lasted for days. 

You couldn’t enjoy it, not when you didn’t have a clue as to where the last of your family was. 

A month passed. 

Nothing, still. You clung to hope by your fingernails, desperate to keep any semblance of faith in you. 

Bambouche was a small town - everyone knew of Petronille and Boniface, the runaway siblings. It takes a village to raise a child, and you could say with confidence that it was true. The townspeople were just as heartbroken as you over Bonnie missing. 

Even when search parties were coming back with less and less information, people promised to keep their eyes out. Flyers and letters were put up and sent out. Surely, surely someone would have seen something by now? But with each passing day, it felt more and more like Bonnie would never come home.

When you couldn’t muster the energy to cook anything, your neighbors left their “leftovers” so as to not waste food. When the house slowly accumulated dust and grime, a group of teens came by and said their community service project was to clean every house in town. When you sat at the dock, dried tears staining your face, and a longing in your eyes, an impromptu “release of the curse anniversary” party was held with lots of your favorite food and drinks being served. You don’t comment on it.  

Three months passed. 

Bambouche was slow to receive news, but gossip traveled like wildfire across the whole country. You’ve heard about Mirabelle and her party of Saviors. What you hadn’t heard until recently was that Mirabelle had recruited Bonnie. 

At first, you were angry: how could the Change God’s chosen drag a literal child into a quest like hers? But as more rumors trickled in, a timeline was established. 

Mirabelle had originally asked for the Defender’s help… only for all but one to turn her down. The man - Isabull or something -  had accompanied her until they ran into a second companion. A foreign traveler from Ka Bue, with a 2 ton book in her arms and daggers in her glare. 

The trio had made their names known for a few months before being joined by a second traveler. The only things to distinguish them was a darkless wizard’s hat, a thick cloak (in Summer, no less!), and the glint of a dagger. And finally, some time after you were frozen, the group had picked up Bonnie. 

You really wanted to be mad and blame the adults for bringing a child… but you knew better than anyone what your Bug was like. No doubt, as soon as they heard the group was headed to the King, they did their absolute best to stick with them, insisting on kicking the King’s butt personally all the while. But that wasn’t what was worrying about the rumors. 

Not all of Vaugarde had been unfrozen, apparently. The King had nestled himself in Dormont, a tiny town south of Bambouch. It was the last place to have been cursed, and it was where the Saviors had been headed to. 

Where they were probably trapped. 

No one had been able to reach Dormont since the curse lifted. Anyone who tried would find Dormont’s House - warped into a hideous castle - behind them, no matter what direction they approached from. No one was able to get in… and that meant its residents and guests couldn’t get out.

Bonnie couldn’t get out.

You weren’t sure what to think of the rumors. 

Six months passed. 

Theories floated with the gossip, whispering that the King had removed the curse to use all his power in his months-long battle with the saviors. They whispered that something was protecting Vaugarde from Dormont and the village was stuck in time, imprisoned in the moment just before the Saviors defeated the King. They whispered that the Saviors did defeat the King, at the cost of Dormont and their lives. 

You stopped listening to rumors after that.

A year passed. 

You locked yourself in Bonnie’s room on the one year anniversary of getting frozen and Bonnie running to what you thought was safety. For one, horrible, miserable day, the sky mourned with you and your wails were drowned by thunder. 

A year, a month, a week, 3 days, 4 hours, 19 minutes and 28 seconds passed. The sky split open in a visceral shade.

A year, a month, 2 weeks, 5 days, 18 hours, 41 minutes and 15 seconds passed. There was a knock at your door.

[prettyiwa]

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work anywhere. Do not mention me or my work on Tik-Tok.

Relationship: Ex!Semi Eita x F!Reader Content Tags: Bassist!Semi Eita, Post MSBY-Schweiden, Fluff, Past Relationship, Mentions of a Messy Break-Up, High School Sweethearts, Lingering Feelings, Awkwardness Summary: Throughout your relationship with Eita, there was only one song he never shared with you completely. He used to hum its melody while he worked, though its lyrics remained a mystery to you. No one expected the first time you'd hear them would be during a show following a surprise reunion years after your separation. Word Count: 2,390

A/N: I found this in my WIPs and decided to share what I had. I'm slowly coming to terms with sharing unfinished WIPs and the idea that I may never fully return to them. In the meantime, enjoy?

Ushijima’s question is forgotten the second you hear the opening chords of the next song. Your attention returns to Eita—as though he hasn’t been the center of it all evening—and all coherent thought escapes you. Your heart swells and your breath catches and all you can do is listen to the gentle bassline Eita provides before other instruments join in, one by one.

Suddenly seventeen again, you’re listening to this progression for the first time before he blushes and flusters, ceasing his playing before offering a proper greeting. But that swelling in your chest halts when you’re reminded that you’re not seventeen, that you’re twenty-four with years having passed since you two last spoke.

The song continues, its full form light and hopeful, melancholy if only to you because it viciously reminds you that you’re no longer the kids who believed they could conquer the world together. All the same, the smile that appears on your lips is completely involuntary, a reaction to hearing his lyrics for the first time.

It’s not until he looks away that you realize the hold he’s kept you under, that he’s undeniably aware of your presence in the back of the audience. While you remain uncertain whether Satori’s teases have merit or that Shirabu didn’t set this up for personal entertainment (or that, perhaps, the truth lies in either’s persistence), you are certain that Eita sees you now.

Your heart remains hopeful, willing you to see the yearning in his expression, but there’s that voice in the back of your mind telling you that you’re projecting, that he’s sung this song hundreds of times before for the attention of any of the women around you. The romance you two once had is dead and gone and this is nothing more than a reminder of what once was.

Hell, you’re only here because of a series of coincidences—your return to Japan aligning with Ushijima’s game in Sendai; a schedule change that made Shirabu unavailable to attend the MSBY v. Schweiden match; a passing comment made by Reon regarding Eita’s show tonight; Ushijima inviting you since it’s been years since he’s seen you and months since he’s spoken with Eita. At no point yesterday did Eita otherwise speak with you. He only stared as though confronted with a ghost while you were invited to his performance by the grace of your high school friends. If not for how deeply you missed everyone—if not for how easily swayed you are by all of them—you wouldn’t be here.

The truth remains that Eita wouldn’t have invited you, that he likely already had this song on his set list before your reemergence in his life, that you aren’t the one he intends for it.

Still, you’re both here. He’s playing with his band at his favorite venue and you’re in the audience to cheer him on. One of the first promises you two made each other, fulfilled, something you can cherish if all else is lost. It does nothing to temper your longing, but it soothes some of the sting.

Girls on either side of you swoon, enamored by the pretty men on stage offering prettier lyrics while you’re faced with the largest what-if of your adult life and all of the abandoned promises and sweet nothings that were once yours. What does it matter when the promises that truly mattered are being fulfilled?

The song finishes, its lovely melody coming to a close, but you don’t realize you’re crying until Ushijima offers his handkerchief. Eita’s gaze shifts away again as Ushijima says, “I haven’t heard him play that song since high school.”

“Have you seen Eita perform with this band before?”

“I have. Sometimes they play in Tokyo and if they have a show when I’m in Miyagi, I’ll attend.”

“I’m glad. That makes me happy,” you answer with a smile before returning your full attention to the band.

It means nothing that Ushijima has never heard the song any of the times he’s seen Eita play. It’s not as though he played it for you. Even if he did… it changes nothing. All the same, you’re glad you’re here and glad you were given the opportunity to listen to the finished piece.

With the performance over and the band retreating to the back, you’re about ready to call it a night, certain Ushijima’s feeling the same. Instead, he beckons you to the periphery, providing identification to security as he leads you both to the back of the club. It’s too loud for you to get a word in edgewise once you realize he intends to bring you to Eita, but you don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.

Heart racing, you can’t help but remember yesterday, remember how Eita behaved, deciding he doesn’t actually want you here. He’s never been one to hold back, always asking for what he wants—“the answer’s already no if you don’t ask,” he used to say—so for him to say nothing? Well… It’s easy to anticipate push-back.

“Ushijima,” you prompt once the hallway provides a buffer to the cacophony of the club, “are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t know if Eita wants to see me. Maybe it’s better if I just leave and let you two catch up.”

Stopping in front of the door, he turns to you with a furrowed brow before speaking. “He wants to see you. We were both pleased to run into you after my game.”

“I’m happy I got to see you, too, but I don’t know.”

“I can show you the group conversation if you don’t believe me,” he offers, pulling out his phone.

“Ah, no, it’s okay, I promise,” you say with a laugh, pushing his phone away. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“You still care for him, don’t you?”

“I never stopped.”

Before he can respond, the door opens and the drummer pauses upon seeing you. Sizing you both up, he calls back to the band, “Ushijima and some chick are here,” before pushing past you.

Ushijima enters, taking the space once occupied by the musician, waiting for you to join him. The back room is small, adorned with signed posters from bands who’ve performed in years past, cramped with a mini-bar and unnecessarily large seating, making it feel cluttered even without people.

Everyone watches as you enter, curious as to the identity of “some chick,” and you’re struck by the tension that hangs in the air, the obvious remnants of an argument. Your search for a quiet distraction isn’t in vain as you catch sight of Eita.

Painfully aware that you aren’t alone, that it’s getting harder to breathe under everyone’s continued scrutiny, that the temperature’s rising, that your palms are uncomfortably sweaty, you find that you… don’t care. Not when he’s no longer looking at you as a ghost but as a friend that he’s missed. He looks at you like that, smile stretching his lips, and you can almost forget that last brutal argument.

Offering an awkward little wave and sincere praise for their performance, you feel it more than you see it—the release of the tension in the room, a collective breath held being released. The groupies start gushing over professional athlete Ushijima Wakatoshi and the musicians greet him like they’re used to it. Meanwhile, Eita stands as you approach, disbelief still tucked behind his expression despite his smile.

“You came.”

“Of course I came. I always promised I’d see you here,” you remind him, returning his smile.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“How could I miss this? I don’t think I have any right to say this, but I’m proud of you and your hard work. For whatever that’s worth.”

A steady flush starts to rise on his cheeks before his smile turns boyish. Uttering your given name in conjunction with his thanks, the other conversations stop and eyes are on you two again. Not until his guitarist repeats your name do you look away, surprised to meet the frustrated faces of his bandmates.

“Oh, so she’s the one you threw our set list out the window for?”

“I’m—what?”

“I already told you guys—”

“Yeah, yeah, you didn’t know what you were doing until it was too late. Doesn’t change the fact that you almost left us hanging in the middle of a set.”

“What are they talking about?” you ask, determined to not read more into the situation than you already have.

“Nothing. They’re talking about nothing. Can we—?”

“Nothing? Nothing except your boyfriend surprising us by playing a completely different song than the one we planned. He’s lucky we’ve practiced it before or we would’ve all been left in a lurch.”

Eita looks at you again and you’re reminded of a child being caught with their hand in the sweets jar. Your mind can’t seem to move past the casual use of “boyfriend” and the reveal that he hadn’t planned on playing that song.

“We aren’t—shit. Ei- I mean, Semi?” you ask, alarm audible in your voice as your cheeks start to burn.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he turns to you, eyes wide, mirroring your trepidation. “I told you guys that we aren’t together.”

“After that stunt tonight, you better be.”

“Semi, I can leave. It’s fine. We came back to say ‘hi’ and tell you that the band’s performance was great,” you say, pulling back. Ushijima starts and you wave him away. “It’s okay, Ushijima. I can call myself a cab. I’ll text you.”

Ushijima hesitates, not wanting to leave you on your own but wanting to respect your wishes, only relenting when Eita steps forward, closing the distance between you two again. He shoots a glare toward his guitarist and cellist before turning to you.

“Please don’t go. You just got here.”

“Semi,” you warn, guilt rippling through you as he deflates. “Listen. It was great seeing you and being able to watch you play, but I should get going. It’s been a long day.”

You can tell he wants to push back, that he wants you to stay—and what a wonderful feeling it is, knowing that—but he senses your discomfort and nods. “At least let me walk you out.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure to take her out through the back so your fan girls don’t get pissy.” The guitarist sports a scowl when you say goodbye to Ushijima, allowing Eita to usher you outside.

It’s hard to place what you’re feeling as you follow, hard to reconcile the way you find this comfortable despite the distance between you. Maybe the silence is as equally daunting, equally filled for him as it is for you. He waits until you’re both outside before saying anything, though he still hasn’t turned to face you. “Look, I need you to know that—”

“It’s okay, Semi. Truly.”

“Will you just let me speak?”

“Sorry. I’m just… nervous.”

“And you think I’m not?” he asks, turning and pinning you with his stare. “Shit. None of this is going the way I thought it would.” Hiding his face behind his hands, he takes a deep breath before bringing his hands up, smoothing over his hair.

“What’s not?”

“Tonight. You.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I thought I would’ve gotten over my nerves around you. Things between us… didn’t end on the best of terms.”

“To put it mildly,” you agree, remembering how vehemently he refused your proposal to split, how quickly concerns over distance were warped into insecure accusations until the argument destroyed any hope you had to remain friends.

“I miss you. It was like a dream seeing you the other night.”

Your heart hiccups at his uncharacteristic openness about his emotions and you look at your shoes before asking, “Didn’t Shirabu tell you I was coming? Or Satori?”

“You must be confusing me for someone who has a better relationship with Shirabu. And Tendō said he didn’t tell me because he thought it would be funnier this way.”

You can’t help but laugh, but let some of your nervous energy escape with the sound. When you look up again, you find the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry. Shirabu told me he planned on seeing the match with you and Reon, only for his shift to change at the last minute.”

“He told Reon, but Reon seemed to forget to pass it on.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize again, amused by their antics. Part of you wishes you had looked at the group chat when Ushijima offered. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Let me take you out for coffee.”

The answer comes a little too quickly and his familiar confidence starts to make itself known, but you hear that little seed of doubt that Eita’s always worked so hard to hide. Even still, you’re worried that it’s too much too soon, that you’ll both get caught in the illusion of “what could have been” rather than what is, that there’s nothing but pain waiting at the end of this road.

“Just coffee, and just as friends, right?”

“Of course.”

“Semi—”

“Just coffee. No surprises. No unwelcome guests. No songs that catch everyone off guard. Just coffee.”

“So you didn’t plan on playing that song?”

“I’ll tell you more about it when we get coffee,” he teases, flashing you a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

Gods is this man beautiful. So easy would it be to fall into old habits, to give him whatever he asks for. There’s an undeniable pull for you to learn all the way he’s changed in the years since you last saw him, to discover who he is now, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating in such a way that only Eita could pull off.

Bowing your head in an attempt to hide your answering smile, you relent. “Okay, fine. Just coffee. Let me give you my number and we can figure out a time that works for us both.”

His fingers brush against yours as he hands you his phone and you don’t miss the way his smile grows and you know deep within your bones that there’s no way it’s going to be just coffee. Not that either of you seems to mind.

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

[quinloki]

Help Me

Quin

You put Thatch in my brain!! I already have two himbos I guess what’s one more 😭😭

To be between them… sigh….

The size of his hands in that one... /fans self/

AHEM.

Yeah, Marco/Thatch is certainly a pair I would not complain about being caught between. That being so big - he makes me think of Peeta from Hunger Games - he's just been in and around cooking and such since he was a kid and the man is hella strong.

Thatch is all big and barrel-chested and you know he's tossing sacks of flour four at a time like they're hardly nothing, and how he could man-handle you into oblivion. But I also see him as having this Massive Hopeless Romantic streak, and he wants to be a Gentleman™, even if his understanding of one is highly romanticized.

Holding open doors, easily just setting you down places where you'll be safe and comfortable.

It's a slow build up because he doesn't want you to feel pressured by his presence or affections, and once he's sure your desires are reciprocated, it's still not something fast at that point. Oh, it's happening, don't misunderstand, but he's just so careful and gentle.

His fingers almost touch when he grabs your thigh, and your so small and he's just so big, a good 6 inches taller than Marco and his nearly 6'9" height. He doesn't have a devil fruit, just a great control of haki and a body built like a tank.

Thatch can make everything from flattened steaks to delicate pastries, and that skill is certainly what he takes advantage of with you, but there's a little nervousness still there for him. If he breaks a pastry no one cares, but he doesn't want to leave a mark on you - and good luck to you in your endeavors to change his mind.

Your first few times might take hours as he explores, tests, learns, etc. Even after he learns he won't be rushed, any good chef knows a proper meal is savored, and you are his favorite dessert.

Once he puts his back into things though, and that hair falls and wreaths his face as he's caged over you.

He can be a dom, but he's a switch for sure, and I think when paired with Marco and/or Izou he's such a sub it's adorable, but gods I just want him to drill me into that mattress some way, some how.

[fictionkinfessions]

what a wild experience it is to be relatively young while also having a large number of past lives constantly popping up in my memory.

i've been nonhuman more times than i know, but just like i suited myself then, humanity fits me perfectly now. i have more estranged family members than the combined amount of everyone i've met in this life, but still act awkward around my blood relatives because i haven't quite gotten confident in this new self yet. i've worked any imaginable number of jobs but my new first one still seems just as intimidating, at least socially. i've held unbelievable, unsustainable power and more times than not used it for good, for the sake of my people, but i feel guilty accepting simple help from my loved ones. every past and present social convention is more suggestion to me now, yet still i follow, knowing there's nothing worse than being above or below everything where the only part of you others can see is your shadow.

where i once was the pitch black void of destruction for my enemies, i'm now small and soft and doting, and the craziest part is, i was always both.

i cycle between feeling intimidated by/estranged to those older than me and thinking of people my age or older as kids. just like most anyone, they're rambunctious and unafraid and openly, adorably don't know what they're doing because, in their eyes, it's the beginning of their first time. i've done that, too, but remembering it from the perspective of beyond keeps me from experiencing it quite the same way again. the amount of times even before adulthood i have been referred to as an "old soul" is comical- i am old, so old that my highest desire is to teach, to care, to protect others whenever they need it, yet i'll never be too old to remain young in the ways that matter. every menial "coming of age" thing i have done and will go on to do i have done once, twice, a thousand times, but this time is not special in that it won't be when i stop getting excited. my brain prevents me from remembering it all, but if i've learned anything, it's that excitement and joy are all that remain when all else fades away. knowing this means every choice i make will not be a missed or seized opportunity, rather a dedication to love and life itself.

i've had the hard truths of existence carved into my mind over and over. i've been broken and reassembled and built up to tumble back again, yet each time i move on, the burning remnants become nothing more than a fuzzy afterimage that superimposes itself on my being, now entirely different in the exact same way. really, that's the beauty of it; a different body and mind with the same information will come to a different conclusion, even if similar. no set of hands can sculpt a lump of clay the exact same way twice. i am the clay and i am the hands and i am the eyes that gaze upon my self-creation in admiration, in a way some may wish to but cannot in quite as much depth. one day i will hold an entirely new form and choose a new, yet equally true, metaphor to describe the ways in which i've changed. and then, too, i will be young and grown, and grow up while remaining young, and love relentlessly, unconditionally. in this, i will never be alone.

collectively, i'd say my age outranks that of this universe itself. but just like it, i am still a kid, marvelling at the gift of life with bright eyes despite every wild possibility. beauty is within the love you create. so i say to you, another irreplicable creation within the crushing embrace of existence:

reread that cringe book you like, or replay that game that used to be your favorite as a kid, or pick up the hobby you've wanted to try that you know the people around you would think is lame. rant about the most seemingly meaningless things just because you wanna. be as spiritual or non-spiritual as you wish. embrace your various identities and interests with a whole heart, and if they change, let them. you change every day you exist, and you will never be precisely as you were or will be, which makes the you you are now infinitely valuable. if your people are too blinded by the biases of this world to make peace with the harmless things that bring you joy, find new people who can admire the story of each smudged fingerprint in your surface just as readily as every smooth curve and minute detail. whether it be through friendship, romance or family, let yourself be shaped by the influence of others in that irreplicable way you would never achieve on your own. stand on your business when you have to, act the way you feel, speak your mind. make mistakes and learn from them, and make them again, and learn something entirely new. take it from me: you will never run out of things to learn or to love, and that's the greatest gift of all. learn what you need and what you can, and most importantly of all, learn what you love so that you might have the time to love it for as long as possible. remember your time is limited, but acknowledge anything you do to fulfill yourself or something important/necessary to you is not a waste, despite how limited you may be. take whatever pace makes you comfortable, no matter what vindictive minds may insist, and live a life full of all the things you and your loved ones desire, so that no matter when the day comes that you move on, you will know it was worth it.

and, if you can, leave a positive impact on those you meet who could use your irreplicable influence. never force yourself to become beholden to another (just as any other shouldn't be to you) and uphold your personal safety before anyone else's, but if you have the chance to change something for the better, don't choose to let it go. if nothing else, you'll thank yourself for it, as will i. i know you're struggling, and you are trying, and i love you. i believe in you. as long as you always protect and value your own voice, you will live in the best way. never give up on that.

(p.s: also don't give up on your sleep schedule! i'm sitting in tumblr writing this at 4 am on a friday morning. when this is posted, chances are you will never know me or even want to, but remember those you do know and hold them fondly in your heart. and especially appreciate those who choose to work for the benefit of others, like mpc! (thank you for providing this space for people to share things they otherwise couldn't.))

to whoever you might be today, take it easy out there.

- a friend

x