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trashlie · 2 years ago

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ILY FP 237

Wanna know something that feels insane? I went to go reread 151 for yknow, reasons, lmao and I noticed it came out September 30, 2021.

/2021/!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT'S BEEN 2 YEARS SINCE THAT EPISODE DROPPED?! NO WONDER WE CAN'T BE NORMAL ABOUT ANYTHING!!!!! NO WONDER WE'RE ALL AS FERAL AS SHINAE AND CLIMBING WALLS AND CHEWING THROUGH OUR KEYBOARDS. I can't get my head around this lmao TWO WHOLE YEARS?! What the HECK?! This has been WILD!!!!!!!

Anyway, I kind of wish you guys could have seen me immediately after reading this episode because I swear it felt like I went through the five stages of like, grief or something, for reasons I'll get to lmao like, my friends and i live blog at each other as we read and it was just a wall of screaming cat emotes sent over and over and DREAD and STRESS and some kind of dramatic chaos and calamity before we got it out of our systems and were like "okay i can be normal* about this now

*as normal as possible all things considered lmao

Anyway. AN EPISODE AIN'T IT? Let's go

I had fantasized a lot about how I waned Dieter and Nol's conversation to go, and as always, I was not entirely on the mark. That's why I'm not the one writing ILY XD But regardless, I love what we got, and we got things that I did NOT expect at all!

There's something about how it starts off with that sort of.... "we're pretending everything is normal and that you didn't totally oversee me making moves on the girl you like while i thought you were sleeping and you don't even know why I came back after blocking all of you let's definitely make visitation plans" that is so funny to me, even though that's absolutely how I expected it to go. Dieter is the master of playing it cool, much to his own detriment, but it works in this case, because Nol is so very like a feral cat, isn't he?

I'm actually really glad that we touched on the topic of visitation because I was SO CERTAIN Nol wouldn't want them to visit him, wouldn't want to be seen like that, wouldn't want to be reminded of their lives going on while he's stuck behind bars for a crime he didn't commit. And Dieter is not that subtle with the way he goes down the list of the potential visitors Nol can have - not that there's, yknow.... many..... lol but we all know what he's getting at, carefully hedging the important matters at hand. "It would make you happy if she visited you, too... right?"

Something so funny about my agitation at the end of this episode was that I so badly wanted to comment on how Nol's reaction to Dieter winning the game reminded me SO MUCH of the expressions Shinae makes lol I don't know if that's just a result of quimchee's artstyle or just one of those many things they have in common, but it makes me laugh a lot.

Dieter possesses a rather straight forward nature that I'm so envious of. I'm the kind of person who struggles to bring up things that I need to talk to friends about, too burned by past experiences that didn't go well that I still get worried that addressing important topics with my friends will go south even though I know better, so I beat around the bush, I hem and haw. But Dieter is SO direct with Nol, even as Nol tries to deflect, even as he attempts to bush it off. It's so admirable! Especially while Nol is being.... well. Nol lmao

I CANNOT believe that he really went nine-year-old on the playground being accused of liking a girl like. He LITERALLY went BLEH why would I even HURL alkfjkafjafjkafkjafjk MY GUY?! ALKFKAFJAKFKAJFKJ?1 He is akjffakfj a MENACE truly related to Nana!!!!!!!!!

I think this must be the most open and honest Nol has ever been with Dieter. When you think about it, Dieter really is the one friend who has been the most "on the outside" of Nol's life, he has only known Yeonggi, and it wasn't for malicious reasons. That's all the stuff Nol dislikes about his life, that he tries to neatly compartmentalize. Up until recently, he was able to do so. Kousuke was off his back, he was more or less free. Everything changed when Rand went out of country and Kousuke had Nol helping out at the office. Dieter had no reason to really know much more about Kousuke and Nol's relationship because Soushi joining their group meant Kousuke wasn't around as often, and we saw that they both were able to thrive (as well as possible) outside of the way of each other.

So for Nol to open up enough to tell him that he doesn't really make friends, despite how it looks. That most people don't really seem to like him, that he doesn't like his peers or his family, that they are really the only people he has let into his life is big. There's so much Dieter still doesn't know about him, but baby steps. You can't just dump all of that, even if he was ready to.

And in him saying this, to some degree I understand. After all, all this while Nol wasn't even aware of those feelings, of what she meant. I think there were moments - like at the formal when he made her laugh - but it wasn't anything like when he had his head rest upon her shoulder, feeling at peace despite his injuries, feeling calm despite the location, feeling like he could fall asleep and learned that it had nothing to do with medication that made him realize it. So on the one hand I DO get his logic, because what if he IS misplacing this feeling, what if he IS wrong, what if he's making something out of nothing?

But I'm sure on another level he knows better, because he knows what Dieter saw, because he was acting on what he felt.

I think Nol has never had feelings for anyone, because he has nothing to compare this to. He said he "tried to make it work" with Alyssa, but there's a sense that he was never actually into her, that there weren't actually any feelings there and they never grew as time went on. And now that he feels these unfamiliar things for Shinae, how is he to know?

What's really funny is that this is the same tactic as Shinae, but in reverse. When she told him we're all friends and he adamantly told her no, because he knows better, because it wasn't platonic, because their kind of friend is so different from how she's friends with Dieter. And even though he's the one who knows his feeling and suspects hers, he still tries the same logic she used: that anyone else could be in her position and maybe he'd still feel the same, that maybe it's just because he's so starved for kindness that he's responding to that.

Again, we know better, but it's so funny to me that she literally tried to use the logic that all friendships are different but also she could put anyone else in his place and it would be the same.

Please. I need them to stop kidding themselves lmaoooooo

For Nol's sake, though, he needs it to be a thing that will pass, because in his mind not only does he endanger Shinae by caring about her, but he also betrays his friend, only further hurts him, and given that Nol's whole deal is that he tries to rebalance the bad he brings into the world by making up for it with good, he's really doing a terrible job.

Unfortunately for Nol, feelings don't work like that and logic can't control them. He can tell himself it might be a thing that can pass, that it might be something that he'd get over, but that doesn't change Shinae's feelings, and the fact that she clearly likes him, not Dieter. It would be so much easier for Nol if Dieter actually treated it like a betrayal, if he was mad at him, if he felt like Nol had wronged him. He wants him to be angry, because he can at least use Dieter's anger and pain as a reason to step back, because god knows Nol himself does not have the will power to do it on his own. If he can say "Acting on my feelings is hurting my friendship with Dieter" he could have a concrete reason to ignore them, because it's not worth losing his friendship.

But that's not who Dieter is. He isn't giving him that kind of excuse.

We can see, too, just how important those friendships are to Nol, that hurting Dieter would be reason enough to drop his feelings! Because these are the only friends he has. The only people who have made him feel like he has value. Made him feel not like nothing but something. A somebody. Special. That's not something worth throwing away, which is ironically what gets him into this problem. These people made him feel special, and he came to care about them as they care about him, and in his mind this has endangered them all, and it's more than enough reason to hold them at arms' length, to smother his feelings and hope they'll die out like cold embers, hope that if he doesn't fans the flames or add new wood, it will go cold.

I really feel for Dieter having this conversation because honestly, it can't be easy. Even though he's holding himself together, we know that it still hurts. His expression with his eyes closed when he mentions how he's seen the way Shinae cries for him... agonizing! He's seen it multiple times now! He's always the one who picks up her pieces and gives her comfort, even though it hurts him to do, even though he knows why she's crying. It wasn't just what he saw that morning when they thought he was asleep - he's been watching this all along, from the beginning, always consciously comparing himself to the people in her life and how she interacts with them. Even as a friend, he doesn't have what she has with Minhyuk or Nol. Dieter knew all along what he was getting into, knew all along the way they interact, the way they gravitate towards each other, and he couldn't help but hope he might have that, too. That with enough time they could be like that. All this morning did was show him that he was never going to have that with her, that he never really stood a chance. ;~; But he tried! It's more than Nol can say right now....

Nol's agitation is such a BIG deal! Again, Dieter has never really known Nol. Yeonggi wasn't like this! Yeonggi didn't have this energy, that feral cat energy, that edge! His shock in response to how Nol responds shows that much - because to him this isn't a big deal, if he likes her then he likes her and he just wanted Nol to know that he won't hold it against him. But there is just so much Dieter doesn't know! He can't understand at this point why Nol is so emotional about it, why he seems so agitated and upset, why he's insisting it will never happen. Seeing those emotions on his face!!! The way Dieter goes from startled to defensive to concerned.

"If you don't like seeing her hurt, it's in your best interest to keep her away from me."

That sounds so threatening! He's the only one who is hurting Shinae, what Nol is saying can't possibly make any sense to Dieter.

He doesn't know about the formal.

He doesn't know about Shinae getting tricked by Yui, how she was coerced to attend that harrowing formal in order to protect someone who it turned out didn't need protecting.

He doesn't know about the fall from the pool and how she hit her head and was in the hospital when she should have been at home getting a good night's sleep the night before her college entrance exams.

He doesn't know about the contract she's locked into.

About the roofies, about Sangchul.

About how Shinae could have been assaulted, or how she could have died.

This is the most honest Nol has probably ever been with Dieter, with anyone but Shinae at this point, frankly, and unfortunately Dieter doesn't know anything, can't understand, but what he can see is that Nol means it. The fear on his face! He looks so childlike in how distressed and afraid he is!

When we really think about it, in Nol's eyes, it is about him. That he is a blight, a mistake who was never supposed to exist. That what happened to his mom was because of him, because he exists. Because he didn't treat her well. What happened to Shinae is because he took interest in her, because she meant something to him, and that wasn't acceptable. He believes harm comes to those he cares about, but in his view that's the extent of it. It's not that Yui is a monster, it's that she's a monster to him.

He doesn't have our objective knowledge. He doesn't know that Kousuke has been drugged and manipulated his whole life, that she drove that wedge between him and his father. He doesn't know that Yui invited Shinae to Kousuke's apartment and treated her inappropriately, tried to undress her, put her in Kousuke's clothes. Does he even really understand how Shinae wound up at the formal? That it wasn't about him at all - that Shinae was convinced Kousuke did something wrong by giving her a job she didn't deserve, that she had to attend the formal to "protect his job".

So to him, it's just because it's him. Because he cares. Because he is a mistake and doesn't deserve any of this, and that they are punished for him not knowing his place. His worries extend to Dieter and Soushi as well, because they are also people he cares about, and maybe the universe will harm them, too, to remind him of his place.

He doesn't know what he has to protect them from, just that he must.

One of these days, we are going to get flashbacks of what happened when Nol was taken away to Hirahara Memorial, and I'm not ready. The way he looks so small and childlike sitting there in his bed with all of his fear and distress, all of these feelings so knotted up inside. What did they do to him when he was in there? What did they say to him, that made him so deeply internalize this belief? Almost two years of being broken down, being convinced that the things that happen to those you care about are the direct result of you caring of your existence. And that's the most frustrating part about it - it's so deeply ingrained, so intricately woven into his psyche that he can't just change his way of thinking. It's going to be so difficult to undo that thinking!

Not that this is really new to us but, just getting to really mull over this is so heartbreaking. Nol is so terrified of losing her, that he's willing to lose her to protect her. He'd rather not have her at all if it will keep her safe, if it will protect her from harm, even though it's so clear that he wants the opposite. He cares so much and it makes him so very afraid. How does he live like that?! That constant battle of wanting vs what he fears, how he let them into his life and broke his rules and in his mind this has put them in danger.

"If you don't like seeing her hurt, it's in your best interest to keep her away from me!"

He really would rather be the one that hurts her to protect her than to take any chances and it just makes me feel SO EMOTIONAL. ;A; OKAY. Because what can you even do to help him? He is so..... I don't like it when people say the word broken, because it often feels low-key like they mean someone is too traumatized to ever be "repaired" but when I say Nol is so broken, I mean that he has been put in situations that have damaged his self-view, that have damaged his psyche, that have altered the way he thinks and feels to such a degree that he is sitting here willing to hurt people in order to protect them, because he lives in this constant fear of unknown that he cannot predict. They took this vulnerable kid and put him through absolute HELL, they broke him and then they refused to put the pieces back together.

I hope that Dieter will talk to someone about it. Is it something he can talk about with Shinae? Can he pull together any clues? He's our most observant character, but does he know enough to start to grasp this very real fear that has gripped Nol? He was there at the arcade when Kousuke and Yui came to pick up Nol, when he reacted strangely to her being there, when he slapped away Kousuke's hand. Is that something that he'd remember, think is worth pursuing? And even if so, what can come of it? He looks genuinely worried and concerned, though, and I hope that something will be able to come of it, because I think even if he can't understand what Nol fears, he at least knows that to him it's very real.

Soushi's timing with the jello just.... KILLED me. KILLED ME what a time to interrupt ;______; How do you get back to that conversation?! And especially with Kousuke there now, it's effectively over. It just!!! LKFAFKJAJFKAKJFAJKFKJAF KLJAFKJAF AKJFKAJFKAFJKAF IT KILLS ME OKAY AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGH

And while I know very well that Kousuke is there with good intentions, that he looks so haunted standing in the hallway waiting for Nol, I can't help but feel a heavy curtain of foreboding coming down, because Kousuke comes in like an omen. Because things go bad when he shows up, even when he's not the one trying to stir things up. And frankly, I don't look forward to this, because I know whatever is going to go down is going to hurt! There's something so..... I guess bitter about Kousuke's very too little too late moment, how he has struggled all these years with how badly he wants Rand's love, how much he fears not being good enough, how terrified he was that Nol could have it and replace him, the guilt for destroying a young child who was never a real threat to him (even though Yui absolutely made him out as a real threat in Kousuke's mind). It's like... knowing that Kousuke is starting to unlock this, is starting to see the insidious underbelly, while knowing it's too late. Nol has wiped his hands of him. He literally nearly died as a result of what happened the night before and even if Kousuke is coming to reach out to him, or to confirm something, Nol has no reason to entertain him, to hep him.

I feel like we are very much seeing that table turn, the role reversal. We're going to watch Kousuke fall apart, trying his best to hold himself together, with no one to turn to, no one he can actually trust, his paranoia eating him alive. It's not that I think anything heavy is going to go down as much as.... maybe we're going to watch Kousuke reach out to him, whether for help or to acknowledge something - that Nol, too, was drugged, that this must be why he hates tea so much, that so many times he ignored Nol's pleas for help - and Nol is probably going to reiterate how very done with him he is, that he wants nothing to do with him or this family any more, that he is done with them and what they've done to him. And just. AUGH ALKJAFKJJKFJKAF IT KILLS ME I'M SO EMOTIONAL I'M SO DISTRESSED BECAUSE WE KNOW WHY KOUSUKE WAS LIKE THAT WE KNOW HOW HE WAS MANIPULATED, HOW THE DRUGGING WAS USED TO ALTER HIS MEMORIES AND HOW HE RECALLED EVENTS HOW HE BELIEVES IN THIS FICTITIOUS VERSION OF NOL WHO WAS FORMED BY YUI'S WORDS AND IT KILLS ME BECAUSE NOL IS SO WELL WITHIN HIS RIGHT AND I JUST. TRAAAAAAGIIIIIIIIIIIIC SIIIIIIIIIBLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIINNNNGSSSSSSSSS ;A;

And things just always go south when Kousuke comes around. He puts Nol in a worse mood, he starts to act out more. We literally watched this kid jump off a fucking balcony into a pool below and revisit the last time he was at the bottom of a pool, contemplating never returning to the surface! THINGS NEVER GO WELL WHEN KOUSUKE IS INVOLVED AND I'M NERVOUS AND SCARED AND I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ;A;

At this point, I feel like everything really is up to Shinae at this point, because Nol is back to trying to rebuild his walls and put them up as high as he can, so ready to try to ignore these feelings, to play them off, to tell her that it probably means nothing, that he must just be acting this way because she's been nice when no one else has and if it was anyone else he'd probably feel the same way and GOD I am ready for her to go off on him. He all but told her to leave and come back when you know why you're fighting so hard for me, but I don't think he's actually PREPARED for her going back knowing her feelings, knowing what she wants.

Until now, there's always been a disadvantage between Shinae and Nol in their relationship, where he is always the one with the leg up, the one who knows more, the one who is making moves, the one who is in control of things. But I think we're going to see that change, based on her very feral way of fighting her feelings, how she was about to try to break down his door in order to continue their conversation, how agitated she is by the thought of him throwing her away.

It really does come down to her pure determination, and I'm fully expecting her to go in there and get into an argument with him lmao and frankly, I welcome it. I think that's the only way they're going to get anywhere. There's so many things they need to talk about, they need a heart to heart DESPERATELY but I don't think we're going to lead with it. I go back and forth on how I expect her to go, because she was SO READY to go back in and demand her things back "if I can't have you" (SCREAMING STILL) but now that she knows her feelings... will she? I hope she will, still. Because now it's almost worse, right? That he's taken all these things from her AND he still has a girlfriend AND he now has her heart? HOW IS THAT FAIR, GIVE IT BACK, GIVE BACK EVERYTHING!

I want them to argue because I think they're both a little more honest when they aren't thinking about what they're saying, when they let the hotheaded energy take over and words come out. Nol is probably going to play the "this probably doesn't even mean anything" game, the "this will probably pass and we'll both move on" game, the "maybe i'm just a selfish asshole friend and none of this means anything" game and Shinae is too hardheaded to let that slide.

I want her jealousy and insecurity to come out when Nol tries to shield himself with “I have a girlfriend” and I want her to remind him he said it was fake and he resents her. I want her to look him in the eye and ask if he can really throw it all away, if he wouldn’t have any regrets if he gave up and left her. I want him to fail to answer and instead tell her that maybe he can, who knows, maybe none of this is really real. And I want her to kiss him and prove to him how very real it is, how very much they both want it, and how very much they need each other.

And when she pulls away he can lean in, following her, pulling her back in, his brain off because god knows the moment her mouth touches his it's all over, he's melting, his resolve is crumbling and he's going all in, pulling her against him fingers in her hair mouth crashing back on hers so hungry so touch-starved so full of want.

They can talk about everything else once she's convinced him this isn't so fleeting. She can remind him what she already said, that she deserves a choice in this matter, that leaving doesn't change anything because she still works for the company she's still under contract and now there's more she can tell him - how Yui made her an offer that would essentially tether her to them, how Rand told her to take it that he says Yui will never let her go. That it was not about him that Yui is a witch, tell him about Kousuke's birthday, tell him about the way she got tricked, tell him about the things she tried to do to her.

I've already acknowledged that nothing can undo the years of damage that was done to Nol in the hospital and through years of abuse, but I think Shinae can, at the very least, make him see that she very much is just as trapped, that she's worse off if he leaves, that together they are so much stronger, that they don't have to endure this alone. He can tell her how scared he is and she can stroke his hair and reassure him the best she can that he's allowed to be scared in front of her that she feels scared, too, but maybe she's more afraid of losing someone who means so much to her, who is literally the reason she's gotten through everything she did. That maybe he thinks he's a monster but she's something else in him, that he is the sole reason she could endure that harrowing night.

I WANT THEM TO HAVE AN HONEST HEART TO HEART SO BADLY. I feel like we MUST be going that direction. There's been too much build up not to. As Lil Anon put it, ILY has never been quick to reward, and we must go through the ups and downs to get there. We've had this moment dangled in front of us for so long but we're not getting it easy. But we can see it in the narrative - the emphasis on their mutually realized feelings, that Nol was given that 3 day extension that leads so close to Christmas, the emphasis on her mouth, that these feelings happened before he went to jail. If there wasn't going to be a resolution, NONE of this would have needed to happen, especially not the 3 day extension. Quimchee is absolutely drawing this out - and not even in the "putting up pointless obstacles just to draw it out" kind of way but in the "you are going to be so satisfied when we get there" kind of way lol. It's just so easy to get spooked because that's what the writing is doing! That's tension, baby.

Hopeful optimism is always my downfall lmao but I just feel like we ARE going to have that resolution, that even if there's no relationship at this time, they will know where they stand, that she can convince him not to push her away, that they are too important to give each other up. Whatever he's afraid of, they can brave it together! I WANT IT AND I FEEL LIKE IT'S SO CLOSE OKAY AND I'MA FLKJAFLKJAF AFLKJAFLKJAFKLA FLKJAFLAKJFLKAFJLAFKAFKLAFJAFKJFKAA

We were given two small asides about Nol's phone and the Bible, and I wonder if we'll be seeing those play out the 22nd. The phone is obviously coming in Kousuke's visit next week, but I wonder: does it even work anymore after everything that happened? It was still working after the pool fall, which feels like a miracle, but after falling from the second floor, after getting slammed around in the snow, now covered in blood, will it still be able to turn back on?! lmao I'm not sure what to make yet of Alyssa's messages left hanging like that, especially after walking "into the light" with Gun. There's the fact that she's off to some schedule, so could there be a chance for those dating rumors to come up that she has to strike down? On the one hand, they feel like they could be left hanging, which kind of feels so symbolic of their whole relationship lmao but. IDK!!!! At the very least it probably needs a charge LMAO but idk idk this is the area I get murky because I think it can go so many ways. I don't think Nol has any intention of breaking up with her at this time, especially because he'll probably try to use it as a shield against Shinae, but.... I've always felt the break up would come from her due to dating rumors. Especially because of how bad his reputation is at this point (violence, roofies which makes it sound like he sexually assaults people) it would be EASY for Alyssa's agency to spin it and make it sound like indeed, she does not have a relationship with him and in fact he has frightened her or something. They were even in public at the Christmas party arguing even on the dance floor, before what happened later so. Idk SOMETHING will come of that, I'm sure.

But I'm also hoping referencing the Bible means that maybe he will find it when everyone else has left and he's bored - especially if his phone won't turn on - and take a look at the letters Shinae mentioned, since he only thought there was the one.

This is really important to me, because I need Nol so badly to see how he stands in the same place his father did. I want him to be able to better understand his parents - how his mom stayed clinging to a married man who she could not really be with, how she uprooted her child and herself to move closer to him. How she tried over and over to be there for him, to try to support him, and Rand didn't allow it. How unlike Rand, Nol has less to lose. He isn't married, he doesn't have a child, a family. He doesn't NEED to stay in a relationship that will only suffocate him, that will turn him into a hollow husk of a man like Rand did. I NEED him to realize that he is on a fast track of following in his father's footsteps, in becoming this empty meaningless man.

I want him to see how Rand's feelings for Nessa never went away. Even after she died, he still carried her around in that Bible. In her letters, in the photograph of Nol. He carried her around because he never got over her. And is Nol prepared to live that way?

This is also why I'm perfectly fine with Nol and Shinae kissing before he and Alyssa break up, because I think it would help him better understand his parents - how Rand had a duty to his marriage, but he fell in love with someone who actually meant something, and how she was the love of his life that he never got over. To understand how his mom could be with someone who was married. For him to understand that feelings are NOT logical, that you can't really control them. He never meant to develop feelings for the girl his friend likes - but it still happened.

Maybe if Nol can understand them, it will help him forgive them a little, give him a tiny bit of peace. And hopefully help him to make the right decision, to accept the love people give him, and to face his fears together with them.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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shinobus-left-eye · 1 year ago

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i am so so normal about the ryuseitai climax story— is anyone else here having a massive kanata brainrot rn

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gothyanki · 2 years ago

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Some of the placeholders in this fic of mine are really... really?

#a placeholder from late last night:#“[do I want him or do I want to be him? both? starlight and the dark. his eyes when he talked about la révolution]”#absolute. brainrot.#followed by the stage direction [KARLACH AND VIN HUG]#all the rl deadlines this week are melting my brain #i do not know what kind of person i will be by sunday

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dragonofmisery · 4 months ago

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something random I was thinking about one night

Growing up, I would stack up channels I’ve subscribed to. However, I have now realized it should be more meaningful. Tossing out background noise trash, keeping channels that cause me to reconsider my thoughts, and actually subscribing to those channels of humor I enjoy. “He just posts memes!” Yes, which is good, because you have occasional memes to laugh at in a spare 10 minutes perhaps twice a week or hopefully every day. It doesn’t have to be “productive” or “valuable” to the system. Just be sure it isn’t destructive, mind-numbing, needlessly distressing. Curate your life for happiness, or the system will curate it for you.

#ponderings #youtube #internet #the internet #capitalist brainrot #anti capitalism #late stage capitalism #the modern internet

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amass0fvoices · 2 years ago

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I think gen loss demon slimecicle pushed me over the edge

I can feel the brainrot taking hold

I always thought the dsmp people were a bit odd

And here I am bingeing all the slimecicle qsmp vods I can

Goddamnit what’s wrong with me.

#I’ve got no fuckin morals #ITS STAGE 4 BRAINROT I CAN ALREADY TELL #ITS FUCKIN TERMINAL #AAAAAAAAAA #this stupid fuckin gunky man #I HATE THAT IM SO FUCKIN ATTACHED #AAAAAAAAAAAAA #opossum speaks #some late night ponderings #about myself and the blorbos I feel myself claiming #I can be normal about this one though. he’s a real guy. I can be normal.#I WILL be normal.#ignoring the fact that I’ve listened to spirit of the slime maybe 50 times since the gl soundtrack came out #I have been normal

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miwachan2 · 1 month ago

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hear me out VampiricEquinox-BAND AU

LISTEN 3 days ago i was listening to "The Law" by Reach and I was like, "This is definitely a vampire eclipse song, it fits him so well and i listened to it on repeat and then thought what if Eclipse sang it? .... What If Eclipse Sang It omg what if he sang it on a stage- BAND AU! and now this band au exists OwO I already got a little lore~ HEHEHEHE but i'll put that under the cut because its gonna be long and vague and messily written

So its a twist of the original Vampiric Equinox au lore with ALOT of changes and changing the whole vibe just for it to make sense (to me atleast) SO Eclipse, Sun, n' Moon were in a band, a VAMPIRE themed band Aka: "Eclipse & the Bats" (idk about the name but bear with me) (also may or may not be real vampires, im debating if I wanna keep that or not), Eclipse was the main singer and leader, did the writing, choreography, everything was under his control and decision. Sun was the guitarist and Moon was the drummer and they both followed Eclipses plans I even got concept ideas of that sun n moons outfits looked like when they were in a band with eclipse (not solified but ill fix it later)

something something The band breaks up! and that pissed off Eclipse but TOO LATE! band broke up, he lost his brothers, now he mad lol and then kinda drops off the face of the earth, doens't release anymore music because hes a sour puss Sun n Moon are stuck. they want to keep making music but they have no idea what to do, they were never allowed to be anything but a guitarist and a drummer, and they don't have a singer anymore Plus their fame was all because of Eclipse, so they're kinda back at square one BUT THEN! they come across Y/N and Bee! a small duo trying to make their music, which isn't bad, but it lacks some needed sounds to really get their foot in the door. Sun n Moon team up with Y/N and Bee and THUS! "The Hunters" is born! more something something, their band starts to gain popularity! But just as they start to be getting better gigs and onto an actual stadium

ECLIPSE RETURNS TO TAKE THE SPOT LIGHT! He got a new band and back up replacements, popping out songs, new band name: "Total Eclipse" AND his first song, a diss track against "The Hunters" GASP! and THEN!! They become rival bands!

HUueHuehueHUEHUEh uHEhuH EUHeu hEHEHEHEHHE

aight thats all I got OwO Look- I know its cringe, its so cringe, but I like it uwu Might do a few more doodles of this Au of my AU 'cause the brainrot is rotting

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hivemuthur · 2 months ago

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To Be Known - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. Uncharted waters for me, because I have no idea how many chapters it will come out as.

Reader is: British, Young Vic (get it?) theatre company director, working class, in her 30s, a control freak, a semi-conscious sub. Viktor is: Czech (as always), working in biotech with Jayce, working class, in his 30s, a control freak, a conscious dom.

MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 4,6K

warnings, or rather this work contains: d/s dynamics between main characters (but who the fuck knows what Mel and Jayce are doing), love (attraction?) at first sight, no strings attached to lovers/strangers to lovers (so like reverse emotional slow burn?), lots of porn, angst, happy resolution. I will be adding kink warnings as they appear in the future chapters.

author’s note: Ok, so, um, hi! A Deer and a Man is ending, so something else has to begin. It’s like… a very freeform thing I’m doing here. Sort of about nothing, just relationships with d/s dynamics, because I want to play around with some kinks and stuff. I’m trying to make it make sense here, but not everything might, since it’s just my subjective take on things. It will have some d/s etiquette but not always, because I’m clumsy and my characters get infected with my clumsiness :v Nothing’s new really (hehe, get it?), some plot, some porn, some feelings. It’s basically me going to IKEA asking you if you wanna come and grab some vegan meatballs and the meatballs are smut in this :v So yeh, hi, welcome to another blurb of a mutlichap work.

Special thanks to my friends @rennethen and @strongfartzemergency for pre-reading this and enabling my brainrot. Artist is @petitesieste, just ahh ♡

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Your eyes glaze over the computer screen, trying to memorize a list of poor souls to probe the next day. An ouroboros of theatre life has reached another mark, one where you must make a million decisions in a short span of time: Which plays will grace the stage, who’s performing in them, who’s directing, and who’s dressing all those people in their fancy costumes? And, most importantly, who’s paying for all of it?

So far, a successful year has set your bar even higher, with the next season looming in the golden light of August evenings. You don’t even have time to warm your bones in it—you have to think ahead, transport your brain to the future, to a cold January, when the real test begins for you. In truth, you don’t have time to do anything beneficial for your bones, and you’ve just learned to accept that your joints crack like dry wood every time you move.

A head peaks through the crack in your door, and you don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Charlie,” you greet him, your nose still scrunched up by the screen. “I know, I know. I’m going, I just need a second.” You begin to rise from your chair but remain hunched over, extending your arm blindly toward the computer. “Did you bring my shoes?”

“Yes, and I’m not kicking you out,” says Charlie, passing you a pair of ballet flats. “But if you want a driver, well… he’s getting impatient.”

“That’s okay, I can commute,” you smile at him, taking the shoes and glancing at your watch. “It’s only Camden… oh, shit, it’s very late. You should, in fact, kick me out.” After a few hurried jumps while putting the shoes on, you're back to frantically picking up unrelated objects and shoving them into your purse: tissues, lipstick, random notes to review in the morning, and Mel’s gift—a seasonal Young Vic pass for her and her plus one.

“Where are you guys meeting?” he asks, passing you the rest of the things you will obviously want or need. It’s a seamless collaboration with Charlie. Since the very beginning, you two have been sharing a brain, and this is partly why nothing has collapsed yet. On the contrary—both you, as a theatre company director, and Charlie, as an assistant director, have been doing an amazing job, mending together a forthcoming approach and love for theatre. And this is all your head is at, despite the one evening of reprieve where you can share beers with friends in a pub that Mel has chosen completely out of character for herself. Which is why, instead of answering, you ask, “Do you really think we can do Hamlet?”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to do Hamlet?” Charlie parrots, passing you a coat with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, is it not a bit… on the nose? It’s my second year, and my brain’s steamed up so much that I’m doing Hamlet?”

Charlie chuckles softly, as he steps behind you to dress you up. “You are going to do a bitchin’ Hamlet. And now can you please go and have some fun for once?”

“This is fun, Charlie. Hamlet is fun,” you say, holding his arms and giving him a playful shake. “Fun!”

“Calm down, captain,” he grins, rolling his eyes. “Where are you guys going?”

“Ugh… World’s End?”

“World’s End?!” Charlie covers his mouth in feigned horror, his eyes wide. “This is so unlike Miss Medarda!” he whispers, shooting you an incredulous look.

“I know, Mel wanted casual,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. Then, as you move past him, you swat him lightly on the shoulder, seeking another round of uninhibited cackles. “Don’t be mean, Charlie!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Charlie laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, World’s fucking End, who would’ve thought. Let me fetch you a driver, my lady.”

You shake your head and scan your office one last time, making sure you haven’t left anything important behind. Figuratively, of course, since almost everything dear to your heart is actually being left behind. And even though it’s only for a couple of hours, not being in control is frightening.

On the other side of the coin are your friends, with Mel right up front. She’s been there since the very first second of your meeting—right after you yelled at a light technician, making him flinch and nearly fall off the ladder. You had immediately corrected yourself with, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. But this lightwork is still shit. Please fix it. I ask you kindly.”

That was when Mel grinned, wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and whispered into your ear, “Okay. I want to be your friend.”

Since then, Mel has been one of the main patrons of your theatre company, and you—being a firm unbeliever in your own abilities—are convinced it’s largely her money and pep talks that have granted you the creative freedom that led to you becoming an artistic director. Your worlds collided fast and hard, and, being another person married to her work, she quickly became one of the closest people in your life.

Until Jayce.

Mel, being someone who treats every relationship as an investment, doesn’t limit her influence to the arts. So when her family decided to fund research grants for scientists from the Francis Crick Institute, you knew something was coming as soon as she justified the decision with, “And they are both very handsome.”

You know the urge very well—the ever-nagging need to have everything under control, to oversee every grain of sand that rolls through the waist of the hourglass, every second planned, every schedule so tight there is barely time to breathe. It’s one of the things that bonded the both of you.

So when Jayce came along—with his motivation stemming not from a sickening need for self-accomplishment or a desperate urge to prove something to the world, but from the purity of his own heart and a healthy curiosity—Mel began to crack. And then the disease spread to you.

Now, you actually rest. You spend your free Sundays socializing. You talk about things other than work. You’ve even been on a few unsuccessful dates. And it’s all Jayce’s fault.

You loved him for it immediately—the small crumbs of the outside world granted to you and Mel through his unabashed joy and excitement. Jayce made things fun, and turning your phone off—briefly relinquishing control—became a little less terrifying.

From there, your thoughts drift in different directions until your absent-minded stare at the moving lights outside the car window is interrupted. The driver, in a grumpy tone, informs you that you’ve arrived at your destination. You crack the joints in your hands before thanking him and bidding him goodnight.

The World’s End is all red from the outside, its glow bleeding onto the wet pavement. Through the glass, you spot the back of Mel’s heavily accessorized hairstyle, a head of intricate twists and gleaming accents. You glance at your reflection, and—well. You’ve seen better days.

Your mini skirt has twisted around, placing the slit exactly where you don’t want it, so you yank it back into place, cursing Charlie for not telling you. In the process, you notice a small eyelet in your tights, the hole widening with each step you take. No nail polish to stop it from spreading. You curse yourself for that one. Your shirt is crumpled at the stomach—a reminder of hours spent hunched over your desk. Your necklace has caught a bunch of stray hairs, which you pick out frantically as you stride toward the door. And the rest of your hair? An artistic mess, sculpted by an impatient hand that’s raked through it a hundred times too many today.

Once inside, Mel’s slender hand and a row of her impossibly white teeth beckon you forward as she stands up to give you a hug.

And the inside of The World's End is exactly what you would expect from a Camden pub—big, loud, and brimming with mismatched charm. The walls are cluttered with a collection of art that looks like it was bought in a rush at a local flea market. There's a hum of conversation mixing with the thrum of the music playing in the background, and the space itself is large, almost cavernous. The low ceiling and uneven, wooden floorboards give it an unpolished look that feels welcoming to some, but it's not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to see Mel at.

Mel, in contrast, belongs in a sleek, minimalistic bar, somewhere where the drinks are as carefully curated as the furniture, where everything is perfectly composed. Here, she’s lost in the midst of it all, a little too refined for the space, as if her sharp lines don’t quite align with the pub’s rough edges. The things we do for friends.

“Darling, I’m glad you made it,” she chirps, walking toward you and spreading her arms wide.

“Now I can say I’d go to the end of the world for you,” you murmur into her shoulder, squeezing her tight. Then, pulling back, you present a small envelope. “Happy birthday, love. Here—best possible seats.”

Mel’s brows lift as she takes the tickets, flipping them between her fingers. “You shouldn’t have,” she says, though the gleam in her eye betrays her excitement. “But thank you. You wouldn’t believe who Jayce has managed to drag along,” she murmurs into your ear.

“Oh, it can’t be,” you whisper back, scanning the table over her shoulder.

A few of her closest friends sit huddled together, deep in conversation and laughter. Then, Jayce’s broad frame, unmistakable even in the dim light. And next to him—

A pair of loose shoulders, wrapped in a red shirt stretched between two sharp blades. The nape of his neck, covered in a mess of brown curls. He leans on one hand, nodding along to whatever Jayce is saying, his profile cutting sharp against the glow of the street lights.

Viktor. The last man standing, the one seemingly immune to Jayce’s influence when it comes to making people step out of their comfort zones. And yet, here he is. Of all occasions, it’s Mel’s birthday that has somehow coaxed Viktor out of his self-imposed solitude. A horse you wouldn’t have bet on.

You are led to the table, where all the seats seem to be taken—until Viktor removes his cane from the empty stool beside him and gestures for you to sit between him and Jayce. As you lower yourself onto the stool, you take his hand briefly and say, “The smartest man in the room, finally in the room.”

“You must be talking about Jayce,” he counters, a glint of amusement in his eye. He holds your palm for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go. “I’ve heard much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you reply with a smile—until Mel’s head suddenly pokes between the two of you.

“What’s your poison, honey?” she asks. Only now do you notice her flushed cheeks and the way she’s completely disregarded the concept of personal space, her arm stretching beyond your shoulders to tug playfully at Jayce’s hair.

“A pint of bitter?” you say, startled.

She frowns slightly, but you quickly follow with, “Cheers,” hoping to steer her attention elsewhere. Her eyes squint at you, but she relents, giving Jayce’s back a clingy hug before strolling off to the bar. Only now Viktor’s hand releases yours.

He studies you for a moment before turning to his glass, giving you the chance to take a closer look—

The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the hollow between his collarbones, skin up to his neck is covered in a satin sheen of sweat. Tendons shift beneath it, blue veins threading along his throat. His hair is faintly damp around the ears, curling and plastering itself to his temples. From the side, his jaw forms nearly a perfect square.

You don’t dare to look higher.

Lower down, though, his sleeves are rolled up carelessly, exposing freckle-specked arms. You spot it by dropping your gaze naturally.

Mel was right. They are both very handsome.

As the birthday gal disappears toward the bar, you are left wedged between the two scientists, the noise of conversation assaulting your ears. Across the table, Amara leans in, her many rings clinking as she refills someone’s glass from a sweating bottle of wine. Beside her, Salo—always overdressed for the occasion, his blonde curls neatly combed back—gestures broadly mid-story, his voice animated. A few seats down, Mion, the youngest among them and always balancing the line between sharp and naive, listens intently while occasionally stealing olives from Mel’s abandoned plate.

"So," Jayce starts, shifting his weight so he can face you properly. “What’s keeping you so busy these days?”

You exhale, stretching your arms along the back of your seat, making your spine pop. “Wrapping up meetings with playwrights, directors, and actors—making sure everything aligns. Managing funding and sponsorships, finalising script choices.”

Salo whistles. “Sounds like a headache.”

“It’s a miracle she’s here at all,” Jayce adds, nursing his beer. “I half-expected her to send a regretful telegram from the depths of her desk.”

That earns a laugh from Amara, who nudges your foot under the table. “And what are the plays, then? What’s in?”

You rest your chin in your palm and do a mock countdown with the fingers of the other. “Further than the Furthest Thing, The Scottsboro Boys, A Streetcar Named Desire—possibly Hamlet.”

Mel, just returning with your beer, lets out a delighted gasp as she sets it down. “Hamlet? Oh, darling, tell me you’re doing it.”

“Calm yourself,” you warn, reaching for your drink. “I said possibly.”

She spreads her hands dramatically. “I can already see it now—the staging, the lighting—”

“Don’t start designing the posters just yet,” you cut in, but she’s grinning too widely to be discouraged. “I can still change my mind.”

“You know that’s a lot for one person,” Viktor remarks, leaning in from your right, his voice lower, meant just for the two of you. His pupils are darker, wider than the number of glasses of wine he’s had would suggest, assessing you from under hooded eyelids.

“I’ve always run through my life,” you say simply, tipping your glass toward him. “I do have help, though.” Viktor clicks his tongue, his mouth curving into a half-smile.

Before you can figure out what it means, Mion suddenly snaps her fingers. “Wait—how did you and Mel meet, anyway?”

Mel waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I saw her preparing Yerma, and it was love at first sight.”

“Love?” Salo lifts a brow.

“She was standing on stage, sleeves rolled up, arguing over how the chairs should be arranged.” Mel sighs theatrically. “Her diligence. Her eye for detail. I knew I had to have her.”

Jayce snorts. “And by ‘have her,’ you mean ‘fund her.’”

Mel grins. “Exactly.”

The table dissolves into laughter, glasses clinking. Conversations crisscross—Salo and Mion bickering over some technical aspect of stage production, and you don’t have the heart to correct them. Jayce launching into an enthusiastic recounting of an experiment gone wrong. Someone beside you leans in to talk, and for a moment, you lose the thread of conversation.

The haze of smoke, the warmth of alcohol-softened breaths, the layered voices—it all blurs. Next to you, Viktor is speaking, but his words are swallowed by the noise.

The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just the drink settling in. Sounds overlap and ring in your ears as exhaustion takes hold and you zone out. Somewhere nearby, a bottle of wine gets passed around, then discarded in the middle of the table, still within your reach. A voice cuts through the fog, softer, closer. Then sharper, clearer than before.

Foreshadowed by Viktor’s hand on your leg—his right palm rests on you, and the moment it does, you tilt toward him, only to find he’s done the same. His fingers press inward, just barely grazing the inside of your thigh. It’s a gentle invasion, entirely unprovocative, something that simply happens—natural. His left arm hovers over your backrest as his mouth nears your ear, and you can feel the tickle of his hair on your cheek.

“Pass me the wine.” A soft command, tilting toward a question at the end, firm and quiet all at once.

You reach for the bottle without looking, your eyes fixed on his throat as he breathes. The moment it comes close, his touch leaves your leg and finds your fingers instead. His skin brushes yours, spreading the sweat from the glass onto your own, and something coils low in your stomach.

“Good…” he murmurs, clipped, as if something else should follow. “Thank you.” And then his warmth is gone, leaving you painfully sober, achingly empty.

It’s one of the most agonising seconds of your life—except this time, there’s something sickly sweet curling around the edges, a lingering undertone that was missing from all the other agonising moments you’ve suffered through.

For the rest of the evening, your attention doesn’t waver, save for the necessary moments to put Mel in the spotlight.

Viktor lingers close. Not close enough to raise any eyebrows—everyone else is too busy bickering and laughing at Jayce’s anecdotes—but enough for you to notice and relish in it. His breath occasionally fans your face when he leans over you for the bottle, his knee bumps yours under the table. He sits tilted toward you, his arm hooked against your stool, and his eyes never leave you, one way or another. He bombards you with questions and answers yours without blinking.

"Where did you study?" you ask, lips glued to the rim of your glass, leaving an stamp of your lipstick there.

"Abroad," he says vaguely, tipping his head. "You?"

"England. Try again," you counter, not looking up, only baring your teeth to the remnants of a cocktail in your hand.

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, tilting his glass idly in his fingers before conceding, "Vigilant, of course. Very well—biochemistry at UTC Prague." He pauses, watching your reaction. "Then onward to Francis Crick through MSCA. Now—tell me yours." The last part, a command again, gentle and firm and you find yourself reciting in no time.

"Theatre and Performance at Goldsmiths," you reply, your words a little looser, the alcohol working its way through your veins.

"Ah, how prestigious," he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.

"If you consider five years of bullying that, then yes," you slur, twirling your drink in your glass. His expression sharpens, brows lifting slightly in silent question. You sigh, meeting his gaze. "I got The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art scholarship. Before that, I led an utterly non-prestigious life in Staines."

"Hardworking girl," he purrs, and oh—his hand returns to your thigh, this time less inconspicuous as he drags a long finger up and stops just beneath the hem of your skirt.

"Where do you live?" he asks, his voice dipping lower, quieter, like the answer might be something just for him.

"Hackney," you answer immediately, then, seeing his knowing smile, feel the need to correct yourself. "The bad Hackney. You?"

"Eh, Islington," Viktor says, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

Your mock jaw drop is immediate. "Unbelievable," you drawl. "And you dare to make fun of my fancy living?"

Viktor smirks, his fingers brushing your thigh before retreating. "You are making it up. But we can share a cab home then."

Something jumps in your chest at the thought of being locked in a tiny space alone with this man. And the cab driver, but, nevertheless. "I suppose we can. When do you want to go?" you ask, as steadily as you can manage right now.

He exhales slowly, then leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's go now."

You have to stop your eyes from rolling in your skull. In fact, with the mix of various alcohols cursing through your veins and the secretive glances he’s been giving you, you’d probably nod vigorously if he offered to fuck you on the bar.

You step away from the table, weaving through the crowded space as you pull out your phone. Your fingers tremble slightly—whether from the drinks or the anticipation, you can't tell. It doesn’t matter. The cab company confirms your ride is on its way, barely three minutes out.

When you return, Viktor is still lounging against the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his now-empty glass. He doesn’t look at you right away, but his body angles toward you the moment you step back into his space. You lean in just enough to let the scent of him—wine, sweet sweat and washing powder—settle into your senses before speaking.

“We have three minutes,” you say casually, as if not stopping yourself from clenching your thighs.

Viktor gives a small, knowing nod and starts shuffling around for his cane and coat. His movements are unhurried, but there’s a quiet efficiency to them, a preparedness that has you smiling.

From across the table, Mel lets out a dramatic sigh. “You’re leaving already? I knew I shouldn’t have sat two workaholics together.”

Jayce snorts into his drink. “At least they lasted this long. I was expecting Viktor to slip out halfway through.”

Viktor hums in vague amusement, fastening the buttons of his coat. “And miss all your storytelling? Impossible.”

Mel rolls her eyes but grins. “Fine, fine. Go, be boring. Just don’t forget—” she waggles a finger at you—“you owe me a Hamlet.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Mel.”

With that, you feel Viktor’s hand brush lightly against the small of your back—an absentminded gesture, almost cautious, but it sends a thrill down your spine.

It’s raining again, and neither of you has an umbrella, so you huddle together under your purse until Viktor opens the door for you. You fall in with no grace whatsoever and slide your ass across the back seat to make space for him. He steps in slowly, throws his address to the driver, then slumps down beside you, looking at you expectantly.

For a moment, you freeze—until you realise everyone is waiting for your address. Mumbling out the street and number, you lean back, your shoulder blades pressing against his arm.

And oh. You know damn well you won’t be able to let this go beyond tonight—or that you shouldn’t be fucking around where you figuratively eat—but he smells good, and his eyes stay on you, dark and hungry. So you tip yourself into the crook of his shoulder, tilting your head up with an innocently pleading look.

Viktor chuckles, as if something has just been confirmed, and his slender hand finds its way between your thighs. His body shifts subtly, shielding you from the driver, who barely suppresses an eye roll in the rear-view mirror. His lips, burning with alcohol and want, close over yours. His tongue pushes inside, licking slow and deep along the row of your teeth. His fingers travel up your leg, stopping painfully close to where you ache for him most, and squeeze—just enough to brace himself as he leans in further.

You fumble with the buttons of his coat, slipping your hands beneath to tug his shirt free from his trousers. Another warm chuckle rumbles against your lips.

“So efficient,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to mouth at your ear. His breath is hot when he whispers, “Do you want to fuck here, or will you be a good girl and wait until we get home?”

A strangled moan escapes you, and your own hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. Viktor grins against your skin.

“Good. Quiet,” he purrs, before dragging his tongue in a slick trail down your neck, stopping halfway to suck a bruise into your flesh.

Breath stumbles in your lungs when he stops, lips flushed, wet and red with your smeared lipstick, his teeth barely grazing your skin before he leans back to look at you. His fingers remain firm between your thighs, a teasing pressure that makes your legs tense and tremble beneath his touch.

Whatever has led you to this moment is not your usual behaviour, but somehow, you can’t be bothered to announce it. Long ago—somewhere after shitty date number five, or fifteen—you swore off bad sex for the sake of no sex and peace of mind. You grew tired of partners who were more tease than do, and the ones who assumed you’d thrive on organising everything in bed, just as you do at work.

You crave someone to take that pressure off you. Someone who would simply allow you to be dumb, even just for a few moments. To fuck your brains out so that poor strongest muscle of yours can replenish and breathe before you have to step back into the saddle and lead the chaotic orchestra of theatre technicians, actors, directors, and founders toward whatever critics deem a successful season. To take all the decision-making away and praise you for it.

And you have no guarantee that Viktor will do exactly that—other than the way his roaming hand squeezes your leg so firmly or the way his tongue, insistent and wanting, doesn’t ask permission before invading your mouth. The way he has stared at you the entire night has left you hotter and more bothered than anyone’s scrutiny ever has. And even if this is a mistake, it’s one you are willing to make. Your thighs shake at the thought, and Viktor gasps softly against your lips.

"You're trembling," he murmurs, voice low as the vowels roll thickly off his tongue. His free hand reaches up, pushing your hair aside. He trails his knuckles along your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly against your parted lips. "Cold, or something else?"

You give a breathy laugh, rolling your hips ever so slightly into his palm, chasing that friction. Viktor hums, pleased, before his fingers slip higher—just barely ghosting over the hanging-there nylons shielding your underwear. Your breath catches.

The cab rattles over a pothole, jolting you both, but neither of you pulls away. If anything, it only makes Viktor bolder. He shifts to face you fully, pressing you back into the seat as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling languidly around yours. You taste wine and your own spit on him, and it makes you dizzy.

His hand abandons your thigh only to grab your wrist, dragging it to the front of his trousers, where he's already half-hard beneath the layers of fabric. "I want you," he breathes against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip before letting his forehead drop to yours.

You palm him through the material, pressing just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. The sound alone makes a fresh gush of lust bloom in your knickers.

Then—a pointed cough.

You both jolt as if caught doing something far more illicit than you already are.

"Islington," the cab driver announces dryly, eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Viktor huffs out a laugh, dragging his fingers through his already-mussed hair. "Do you want to come in?" he says, as if you hadn’t just been grinding against each other like reckless teenagers in the back of a cab.

You swallow, pulse still pounding in your ears. "Yes," you nod. "Yes."

“I suppose we will wrap up the ride here,” Viktor says reaching for his wallet and taking out one note too many to make up for whatever the poor man had to endure.

“Yeah, mate, I figured. Have a great night.”

#my writing #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor smut #viktor x f!reader #viktor x oc #arcane #arcane fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor nation #to be known

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crabsnpersimmons · 7 months ago

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Voice Cast: Donnie Osmond

some of you may have already seen a preview of this guy, but here he is!

this is Eddie! my Eclipse OC, who i've been brainrotting about lately

Eddie used to be a performer, singing and dancing on stage as part of a touring show. He fell in love with another performer, who shared his dream of having a big family some day. but as a robot and a human, they didn't believe it was possible for them. His love eventually left the show to elope with another man—a human man. Years later, they reunite, but she is alone and pregnant. Due to complications during childbirth, his love passes away, leaving behind her twin infants, whom she named Solomon and Lunete. After that, Eddie decides to retire from the stage to raise the twins.

While he misses the stage, he tries his best to be the best father he can be for his kids.

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floofyflowers · 4 months ago

Note

HI ive been brainrotting so could i req naib romantic hcs please?

hi, hope you're having a wonderful start to 2025, lovie! it's been a while, hasn't it? (so sorry i am two years late on this!)

naib subedar x gn!reader - general romantic headcanons ❤️

implied ptsd (naib's), but nothing blatantly discussed!

you're the most wonderful thing to have happened to him in the longest time. he truly, truly treasures you and deeply so.

he's a quiet lover; he'd rather let his actions speak louder, making up for his sparsity in words.

that being said, he loves doing things for you!! oh, you're feeling down today? he soon appears with your favorite drink in hand, holding it out to you, made with his own love.

(/nsx) too tired to bathe yourself? don't worry, he's gently scrubbing your back after a long day.

sometimes, he does struggle with voicing everything he feels.

the love he holds for you runs so deep, yet he could never bring himself to find a way to voice that. all he can do is hope you spot the soft adoration in his eyes as he gazes upon you.

he truly doesn't mean to make you feel unloved; if you asked him to, he would do his best to try affirming his love out loud more often.

his 'i love you's are soft-spoken, a quiet murmur in your ear as the two of you hold each other in bed.

he often gets nightmares, and you have to gently remind him that he can rely on you for comfort. you urge him to wake you up, and he softly hums in acknowledgement; in the end, it's not until much later in your relationship does he let himself wake you up.

in the earlier stages of your relationship, he felt a little guilty. he felt undeserving of your love, of finding solace in you. he believed he was the last person to deserve you.

through your love and time, though, he slowly (very slowly) grows more comfortable in the idea of being loved by you (very, very slowly, though) (did i put enough emphasis on how slow it takes)

you teach him how to look at the world with a little more love, and he teaches you how to take it all a little more slowly :)

in a normal life, outside of the manor, he'd most certainly have a picture of you in his wallet. if someone were to ask about it, he'd tell them that's his spouse/wife/husband.

only lets you mess with his hair!! oh my goodness, his hair is so soft. he doesn't really invest in haircare, but it's still so, so soft and nice. he'd let you braid it, style it, accessorize it, whatever you want (but only behind closed doors).

his love is written in the soft look he has on his face when watching you, in the comforting hold of his hand on your waist, in the little and not-so-little acts he does for you.

speaking of, while it's not his biggest love language, he likes physical touch. he'd rather give it than receive it, but he doesn't mind if you yourself are touchy (i think he just doesn't like being caught off-guard; spontaneous hugs from behind would be a no-go for quiet some time)

he likes caressing your hand, though :) he enjoys cupping the side of your face to observe your features, the face of his beloved.

love lit by candlelight, quiet moments in bed, gentle kisses on the palm of your hand; your love is a soft one :)

not proofread read at all! definitely could do better, and i honestly really liked writing for naib, so i might come back to him again...

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #naib subedar x reader #idv mercenary x reader #mercenary x reader #idv mercenary

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whenmemorydies · 11 months ago

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Lessons of a mentor: every second counts

The Bear brainrot continues unabated and a character that has been sitting at the back of my mind since I first watched 2x07 Forks has been Chef Terry. Her influence is felt in a multitude of ways throughout season 2, most notably via the impact she's had on her former chefs, Carmen and Luca. What fascinates me more about Chef Terry though are the parallels between her and Syd and the home truths that both these powerhouse women keep dropping (and which many a loudmouth dude on this show keep missing...*womp*).

Lots more under the cut. This is a long post but this show is so bloody juicy I couldn't help myself!

Who is Chef Terry?

So quick recap: Chef Terry is the Executive Chef at Ever, a 3-Michelin starred restaurant in Chicago, loosely based on and shot on location at the actual Ever. In the show, the restaurant opened in 2012 and was awarded "the best restaurant in the world" that same year.

In 2x07 Forks as Richie walks past portraits of Ever's alumni, we learn that both Carmen and Chef Luca (now based in Copenhagen, Denmark) both worked at the restaurant together, under Chef Terry. This is previously hinted at in 2x04 Honeydew when Luca talks to Marcus about working with a chef who worked "harder and faster than [Luca] ever could," and who inadvertently pushed Luca to get "better than [Luca] possibly could be, just from trying to keep up with him."

Chefs Carmen and Luca at Ever.

In 2x07 Forks, we get Chef Terry's origin story as she recounts it to Richie, who Carmy has sent to Ever to stage for a week. We learn that:

Chef Terry, like Richie and Syd, is an only child. She likely had a tense relationship with her father (who we learn was a Corporal in the military) before he passed, but is incredibly close with her mother, her only living parent.

Carm getting Richie a spot to stage at Ever was not a favour because Chef Terry doesn't do favours:

Chef Terry is quick to praise folks who try to learn. Note when she asks Richie if he'd like to peel mushrooms with her and she tells him that his first attempt is great (despite the fact that process-wise, he peels them in the exact opposite direction she does):

She had previously tried to open "a giant place" years ago when she was younger, and by her own description, "was on fire [and was] arrogant." Chef Terry then says she moved too fast and couldn't keep the place open.

She later opened Ever after coming across the building's "For Lease" sign while walking.

Its clear from her conversation with Richie about Ever's beginnings that Chef Terry is a firm believer in it never being too late to try again:

But for me, the most important thing we learn about Chef Terry in the 5 minutes she's on screen with us, is her belief in time being well spent. When Richie first sees Chef Terry, she's quietly peeling mushrooms by herself in the kitchen. When Richie asks her why she's doing this work, instead of a stage, we get this lovely bit of dialogue:

Chef Terry then goes on to tell Richie about her father and how he kept pocket notebooks in which he made hundreds of entries about different experiences while he was on military tour.

While Chef Terry never tells Richie how her father signed off on each of his pocket notebook entries, its implied by the end of the episode, that The Bear's mantra of "every second counts" originates from those very notebooks.

This was revelatory to me. Up until Chef Terry and Richie's conversation in 2x07 Forks, "every second counts" in this show was synonymous with Carmy's "sense of urgency", taped to the pass in 1x02 Hands and tattooed across his knuckles in the form of "S O U".

Prior to 2x07 Forks, "every second counts" was wrapped up in the frenetic pace of a restaurant's back of house, with Mikey dying well before his time and by his own hand, with the panicked need to fix the regret and broken-heartedness that accompanied years of estrangement, with Donna's litany of cooking timers going off every other minute in a kitchen covered in chaos and passata. It had to do with time slipping away and the persistent, but always losing battle to try and steal it back.

But in Chef Terry's conversation with Richie, it is made clear to the audience that the lesson in "every second counts" is not about speed or clawing anything back. Those notebook entries were not made for any other reason than to describe, remember, and step into a moment. Chef Terry peels mushrooms at first light in her restaurant because it attaches her to her work and connects her to those whose bellies she fills with her food. "Every second counts" is about savouring every second that we have, while we have it, and being present in each of those moments, as much as we can.

Its about realising that every second does count because every second has meaning.

Time spent informed by this knowledge, is time well spent.

Lessons and Parallels with Sydney

Like Chef Terry, Sydney also tried to run her own business, Sheridan Road, but it "got too big too fast", and she was unable to keep up with its demands. As she tells Carmy in 1x05 Sheridan,

My credit got destroyed. I mean, my whole shit got rocked.

The failures of both of their respective businesses pushed both women into the depths of existential crisis. Chef Terry tells Richie how she had been "unemployed, angry, depressed", and "blaming everybody else for all the time I'd lost."

While Sydney never makes an admission like this about the fallout of Sheridan Road, the depth of the impact of that failure on her is clearly apparent in the show, most notably in 2x09 Omelette. In this episode, Syd's father Emmanuel asks her why she is putting so much pressure on herself to be successful with The Bear. Syd responds, its because she doesn't know if she could start another business.

Later in the same episode, we hear Syd's even more vulnerable admission to Carm about her fear of failure, under that pretense for intimacy table.

Like Chef Terry, Sydney does not do favours. Recall when she fixed Tina's bouquet garni-infused cream in 1x04 Dogs after the latter kept ignoring Syd's advice on how to prep the mashed potatoes and ended up ruining her first batch of cream in the process:

Also, bonus Fak attack (lol) from the same episode:

But also like Chef Terry, Syd is generous with her praise when folks try - as opposed to only praising those who succeed. The praise is for the attempt in the moment to grow, not in the growth itself. Recall in 1x02 Hands as Syd calls out orders to Ebra, he falters and says back the wrong count. Syd gently corrects him and Ebra tries again, after which Syd says,

Gorgeous. Thank you, chef.

Its a small moment, but its one of the first times we hear the word "gorgeous" used inside The Beef. You can literally see Carmy's shock at the utterance, at the firm kindness of the exchange between Syd and Ebra. I personally like to think this might also be a moment of recognition for him, where he sees an echo of his mentor, Terry, in the woman he's about to hire as his sous chef.

And finally, of all the characters on this show, the one who seems to best understand that every second counts because every second has meaning, is Sydney. To me this is epitomised by her omnipresent notebooks in which she's always writing, clearly echoing Chef Terry's father and his will to remember the detail.

Sydney's question to her father in 2x09 Omelette is also indicative to me of a person who understands that each moment we have on this tiny blue dot is precious. When Emmanuel tells her that he doesn't think she needs to make everything "the thing" because she will always have his support, Sydney asks him,

Why can't we put everything that we have into everything that we can?

I've no doubt that Sydney's ethos, embodied by this question, is the result of the passing of her mother when she was a child. With that loss, Sydney would have learned from a young age that every second is important. She knows that you can't get more time, so you make the most of that which you have. Or in her words, you put everything you have, into everything that you can.

Its striking to me how differently Syd and Carm have interpreted the intention behind "every second counts" in the context of death and bereavement. Sydney moves through life with a drive borne out of knowing that our lives are finite and so every second contains the potential for possibility. Its why she had the guts to start her own business, had the optimism to apply to work at The Beef under a culinary hero, and had the hope to take a punt with The Bear.

In contrast to this, Carmy rails against time: at the time that he lost with Mikey, at the seconds that he might lose with each hiccup that delays a plate on the pass. For him, there's never enough time because it is constantly being snatched away.

He tells us in 2x03 Sundae that he struggles with being present in the moment and open to the world because he is always waiting for "the other shoe to drop",

I have to remind myself to breathe sometimes. I have to remind myself to be present, you know. Remind myself that the sky is not falling, that there is no other shoe. Which is incredibly difficult because there is always another shoe. I dunno, I think, you know maybe if I could provide more-more-more amusement or-or enjoyment for myself, it would be easier to provide for others, you know.

This isn't to say that Carmy isn't trying. Throughout the show, we've seen glimpses of him stopping to sit within a moment: his making time to talk to Richie about purpose in 2x01 Beef, his constant beckoning to Sydney to "say more" in both seasons 1 and 2, his return to art and drawing in season 2 - an act that physically forces you to slow down and observe detail, his repeated attempts to check in with Natalie about how she's doing despite his discomfort at the question, and most obviously, taking the time to softly, intentionally and unhurriedly comfort a worried Sydney with less than 25 minutes to open on the opening night of their restaurant.

To me, there are a number of reasons why its no surprise that Carmy is drawn to Sydney. I've mentioned a few here in this reply to @mod-doodles. Chief among them though are her consistency, her stability, and her integrity, all informed by Sydney's ethos of putting everything she has into everything she can; into making every second count, just like Carm would have seen his mentor Chef Terry do while he was at Ever.

I reckon Carmy's ultimate challenge in The Bear is going to be getting to the realisation that Chefs Terry, Sydney and even Luca (recall his chat about "openness" with Marcus in 2x04 Honeydew) have already reached: that because every second counts, happiness and peace - indeed amusement and enjoyment - are to be found in the doing, in the process, in the getting there, together. I'm sure by the end of our journey with these lovingly crafted characters, Carm will get there too.

Author's note:

Incidental to the above is this show's God-tier level casting. Storer and Calo have made it a point to cast famous and immensely talented actors in some of the smallest parts on this show...why? I'm thinking specifically of the casting of Jamie Lee Curtis as matriarch/walking emotional vortex Donna Berzatto and Olivia Colman as Capo/Chef Terry. Jamie Lee Curtis appears in The Bear throughout one full episode (2x06 Fishes) and in one scene (with everyone's favourite unproblematic king, Pete) in 2x10 The Bear. Olivia Colman appears in the show for just under 5 minutes, at the end of 2x07 Forks.

I reckon that, while the speaking parts for these characters are relatively small compared to other roles in The Bear, the casting choices here are reflective of the impact of these two characters on Carmen (in particular) and others on the show. The showrunners needed to cast folks whose reputations would precede them in order to instil in us, the audience, the same gravity of their presence as would be felt by the characters in the world of The Bear.

Donna Berzatto:

Donna's impact on the psyches of her children is huge. For evidence of this, watch the faces of Carmen, Natalie and Mikey whenever they're in proximity to their mother in 2x06 Fishes. They are constantly watching her, gauging her reactions and her levels. This is most clearly the case for Natalie who spends most of Fishes in a state of panicked fear, anticipating her mother's every move. Who better to cast as the anxiety-inducing-word-slurring-flirtatious-alcoholic Berzatto matriarch than scream queen, 80s/90s sex symbol and survivor of intergenerational substance abuse, Jamie Lee Curtis?

Chef Terry:

In contrast to Donna, Terry is a stable, consistent force of nature who has mentored successive waves of chefs that have walked through Ever's halls. She's overcome setbacks and had to relaunch herself, doing so with great success, while remaining grounded. While Olivia Colman's been plugging at acting on screen for over twenty years, she didn't reach the height of fame that she's currently enjoying until much later in her career and her life. By many public accounts, she's an incredibly talented, kind and down to earth A-lister. Also this interview with her is so Chef Terry coded I wouldn't be surprised if Calo and Storer read it and offered her the role the next day:

“There’s some amazing actors who don’t get asked back because they don’t behave very nicely,” she said. “Learn your lines, try and know everyone’s name, be on time … There’s a million people who would have your job in a second and more … who are better than you. Take your job seriously and not yourself.”

Without naming names, Colman said: “We all have actor stories of people who were unpleasant, unkind, ungenerous – and it goes around.”

Nor should actors ever become too grand to take on even a short film, she suggested: “Some people might think: ‘I don’t do that any more.’ I think that’s exciting to do. You’re going to meet new people or a new writer who might remember you later on … [Do] not get too up yourself, too grand. Work is work. If I now decided: ‘Oh, I will only do feature films,’ I might not work again.

“If you get accolades for something, enjoy it for a bit, but put it aside and pretend that hasn’t happened a week later. You still need to work and no one else will remember it either after a week. So crack on.”

Yes, Jamie Lee Curtis and Olivia Colman are fantastic actresses who could have acted the pants off their respective roles without their own personal backstories and filmographies doing any lifting...but given the limited time that they're on screen, having actresses who can bring all of that history and shorthand to the role is GOLD for quickly creating meaning and depth for the audience.

As soon as Donna first turned that corner in the kitchen in 2x06 Fishes chaotically balancing a tray of branzino in one hand and a cigarette in the other, yammering about spilling shit everywhere, I knew I was in for a ride. Likewise, as soon as Chef Terry gently suggested where Richie might find the polish he was looking for (instead of biting his head off because he was a mere stage and she was Capo), I knew I needed to be seated for the lesson that 2x07 Forks had been building up to all episode (and indeed that Richie's entire character arc had been building up to for almost two seasons). And phew...did these two brilliant women absolutely deliver.

K that's the end. If you made it this far, DM me because you are probably incredibly patient, kind and like to read and I need more of that energy in my life LOL. Thanks for spending some of your precious time with me <3.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #the bear meta #ayo edebiri #jeremy allen white #chef terry #donna berzatto #chef luca #will poulter #olivia colman #jamie lee curtis #every second counts

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orangez3st · 1 month ago

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Pardon the Way That I Stare

Clone Commando Boss × F!Reader

✧ Summary: Delta Squad's sergeant is having a silly little crush on a cafe stage performer.

✧ Tags & Warnings: songfic, love at first sight, tooth-rotting fluff (dare i say so), reader is described to have hair that gets tucked behind the ear, reader plays guitar and sings, delta shenanigans

✧ Word Count: 3.7k

✧ A/N: I was planning to hold this off until the next Friday but I couldn't wait with all this widespread Delta brainrot—it's spurring me on 😩 and! This goes to you all Boss gurls (gn). This fic serves as a friendly reminder on the fact that Boss was voiced by Temuera Morrison himself and thus makes every clone an amazing singer, really. Hope you enjoy this one! Playing the linked tune is recommended too 🎶

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Boss (in-header image)

divider by me -> Delta Squad helmet PNG's by @stars-n-spice

“Hey Sarge.”

When Boss breaks out of his mulling, the cafe remains the same. Still bustling with typical normality of early dinner hour—cutleries cutting into pastry plates or scooping fried grains, decent chatters drowned by the stage performer's voice accompanied by the unmistakable acoustic strums of guitar.

“Do me a favor and give this”—Scorch slides a cool glass of water toward him—”to the girl in the front.”

The sergeant stares at his fellow Delta. “Where are you going with this?”

“Come on, Boss,” Sev scoffs, “You've been staring.”

“For a painfully long time,” Fixer adds, for once not clutching a datapad close to his person.

Scorch snaps his fingers. “See? Even Fixer's gonna blow himself up if you keep staring and do nothing.”

Okay, he may or may not be admitting that he's been staring at you for a bit… you just look ridiculously dashing in your obvious sixth-semester-uni casual getup while seated on the high chair and strumming your nylon guitar away, your warm and slightly raspy voice piercing through the cafe atmosphere. Nimble fingers moving through the chords and soft overhead lighting silhouetting your figure, you bring a certain inviting air that captivates the Delta sergeant.

Someone said you had your tattoo removed Saw you downtown singing the blues It's time to face the music I'm no longer your muse

“You're staring again,” Sev's voice yanks him out this time, followed by Scorch's shameless snicker and Fixer's smirk.

“Fine,” Boss relents, picking on a mushroom fritter that they ordered and chews. “But after the song ends.”

“She looks like she needs a break,” Scorch wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe a cute little brief ice cream date afterward?”

“Scorch,” Boss warns, heat creeping into his cheeks. Son of a gundark. “I’m—” Kriff why is he speaking? Too late to go back (even Fixer is staring into him too intently and too encouragingly, which is strange coming from Fixer) he opts to hope for the best, “I'm not sure… if she wants ice cream. Affects the throat or something like that? She sings.”

“One night of ice cream won't do much harm to a singer,” Fixer says.

“And why are you encouraging this?”

“We agreed you need to get laid,” Sev says, quite shamelessly in the middle of a bustling cafe.

“Tone it down, Oh-Seven,” Boss commands in his best Sergeant voice, very uncharacteristic of him since usually it's Fixer's line.

Speaking about Fixer, the other one who's been uncharacteristic tonight; the slicer continues to encourage him. “Boss,” he says, an air of seriousness floating about him, “Just a date. It's fine.”

In another life I would be your girl We keep all our promises Be us against the world

The Sergeant loosens up, leaning back into his chair. If the way he crosses his arms isn't getting any acknowledgement that this teasing conversation is over, nothing's restraining him to close the bill and wrap up. Thankfully, they resort to themselves; Scorch scooping up his spagyu shaak fat fried grains, Sev slurping his blumberry peppermint milkshake noisily, Fixer mulling over the extra-shot long black that no doubt will serve its purpose after curfew, and Boss watching your strum your chords with a hint of a smile.

You haven't noticed the certain intrigued guy in the audience, though. As an occasional cafe singer, you're used to being ignored, but it's no longer lies that performers crave for appreciation too. You've got a little box in the corner for people to put their credits in, and always slip a thanks love! in your songs at the sound of money.

Ending the song with its last chord, you lean closer to the mic. “Thanks for coming to Serenade, we hope you're having a great dinner—early dinner, afternoon snacks. My favorite is the Rishi corn cream soup with a perfect buttered golden brown toast, if you ask me.” The gig should involve you promoting the menu like a radio broadcaster, unfortunately, and it cuts your performance hour by 9 seconds or something. “But hey, if you've got any request for me to sing, just lob it at me, loves. Thanks again!”

Without waiting for responses, you step off the chair to take 5.

“Hey, that was amazing.”

Stashing your guitar, you turn and briefly observe the man behind the voice. A sharp inhale of breath. He's a clone, you notice, and out of the usual grey leave attire. Instead, the clone in front of you dons some proper civvies that you almost mistook him for a fellow uni student had it not because of the famously similar features and broad physique of an experienced soldier.

The direct praise, and the fact that he approaches you to compliment you personally, makes you smile. “You think so?”

He nods. “I've… been watching, if you didn't notice. Your voice is pleasant.” You enjoy watching the way his hand rubs the back of his neck. Then, as if startled by the cargo in his hand, he hands it to you. “Also, here. This is for you.”

Your eyebrows lift to the sky at the perfect, enticing glass of water—the very first thing you’ve been wanting to grab. “Oh thank you!” You probably shouldn't take something from a stranger, but you're sipping on it already by the time you realize it. You wipe your mouth with the back of your sleeve, lifting the empty glass to your eye with another smile. “Double thanks actually, love.”

“You're welcome,” he smiles, offering a hand. “I’m Boss.”

Shaking his hand, you supply your own name as well to the introduction. “Enjoying a nice leave, Boss? Or a small getaway from mess hall food?”

Boss chuckles airily. “You could say it's both.”

You hum, warming up quickly to the friendly air of the conversation. “You here alone? With your mates?”

“Yeah, my squad. They're over there.”

He jabs a thumb backward, and you look over his shoulder to catch the stares of three other men, who then either nods up at you or waves friendly. You grin and wave back, frowning when one of them, the one with bleached hair, waves you over. Without waiting for Boss and instead anticipating what shenanigans could possibly occur, you approach their table curiously.

Meanwhile, Boss resists the urge to groan out loud, thus succeeding in keeping his composure.

One of them with glasses and green bomber jacket acknowledges your approach with a welcome nod. “You really shouldn't take something so easily from strangers. I thought you were gonna play hard to get.”

“Disappointed?” you smirk, “Can't blame a thirsty performer who's been singing three songs without a water break in between, boys.”

From beside you, Boss sighs out loud. “This is Fixer, Sev, and Scorch,” he introduces, pointing to Glasses, Muscle Tee, and Bleached Tips—respectively. To be honest, you were growing to like the nicknames of your creations—

“Hang on,” you pause, index finger pointing around the table, “You're the Delta Squad?”

They straighten up and shift in their seats. You almost want to laugh.

Scorch though, poses no shame at all with a stupid smile, a gesture that signals you're graced with the presence of the clown of the group. “Now how did you know that?”

“Oh y'know, you're famous.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Heroes of the Republic and all.”

“You sure?” Sev challenges, catching your nervous tic, “That's Cody and Fi and a bunch of shinies on the propaganda posters, not us.”

You wilt under their scrutiny. Scorch's is playful though, and genuinely curious, but Fixer's is completely serious. He must've thought of you as a spy or something. A little exaggerated, but you understand. “Fine,” you huff, “I've got a douche ex who happened to work in your establishment.”

“Huh,” Boss remarks beside you, “Officer?”

“Mmmno...”

Scorch snorts. “No way. A reg?”

You open your mouth to quip, but you're already flushed in slight embarrassment that words escape you.

“Hey, no need to be shy about dating clones or we'll be insulted otherwise,” Fixer says.

You chuckle awkwardly. “Sorry. Didn't mean that. But he was really bad.”

“Well. Have you ever tried with a commando?” Sev asks you, one eyebrow arched.

“What, like you?” you grin, glancing at Boss. Oh you know his intention for approaching you with praise and a glass of water, alright. Unable to stand his ground with you batting eyelashes at him with a glowing smile, Boss looks away. You hold in a snort. Got him. Shrugging and still locking your gaze his way, you quip, “Well I see no harm in that.”

“Hear that, Boss?” Scorch grins, his cadence matching the maniacal enthusiasm with his brother. “Absolutely no harm.”

“Sure here's my comm,” you joke, inviting a round of chuckles from around the table. “Anyway. Any song requests? As much as I'd love chatting with you all, I need to fill up my hours before wrapping up for the night.”

“Sarge here got something,” Sev grins, a maniacal glint in his eyes. “Go on, sir.”

“If you three are done with the bullying, I'm gonna assign us all four to the 0430 PT.”

Fixer visibly pales.

“Actually he wants to go up on the stage with you. Heplaysguitartooyouknow,” Scorch says quickly before ducking under the table.

You giggle at his antics before turning to Boss, whose face is in his hands, amused with the fact bomb. “Your squadmate speaking the truth, love?”

He grunts.

Whatever spell you're putting on him, it works. Especially when you throw love so easily, even though it's casual, but it's working. Boss curses himself, or not. Maybe he's gonna be lucky today. Your subtle barely flirting is having an effect on him that he starts to feel hot under the collar.

“Well done, wiseguy. You've doomed us all with early PT,” Sev grumbles.

Scorch pops his head up and looks at you wide-eyed. “Save us!” he whisper-shouts.

“Yeah don’t punish them, Sarge,” you deadpan, your cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. Part of the reason is you've taken the fact with heartfelt surprise that Boss, too, plays an instrument. That makes you wonder which style he likes. How well he plays. How often. Does he grumble when the strings are out of tune? Most importantly, how charming is his singing voice?

Then, your playful and sociable upbringing shifts into something else. Boss, who's been watching you since the squad stepped inside the cafe, recognizes it instantly. Sweet, with infinite layers of kindness. Passionate, encouraging. It's surprising to him still how much he can deduce out of you in a mere hour.

“Do one song with me,” you ask, without pressure, of course. “If that’s okay with you? If that's not going against whatever clause in your rules?”

“None of our rules goes against singing in public,” Fixer supplies, unhelpfully. “Yours?”

You shrug. “This is my cousin's place. I can do whatever I want as long as I perform onstage,” you grin, tugging at Boss' sleeve, “Come along? We'll just do one song that you like and you can go back to your seat.”

You bat your eyelashes again, your eyes glimmering.

Well how is he supposed to say no to that.

“Fine,” Boss sighs, then turns sharply to the rest of his men. “And we still get early PT.”

Collective groans.

“I'm so sorry about them,” Boss immediately says as both of you strut away and head for the stage.

“I get it, don't worry. I bet they give you life in your team.” You throw a grin over your shoulder as you return to the small spot in the corner, stepping over cables and grabbing your guitar. “Now say about you playing guitar?”

Back at the Delta booth, Sev observes the way both you and Boss trade a light conversation only you can hear. You're agreeing on something with those repetitive nods and passing your guitar to Boss before going to the back, leaving the Sergeant a little awkward with the instrument.

“Think he's gonna survive the crowd?” Scorch says beside him.

“S’not a massive crowd. No one's really paying attention,” Fixer replies, “Performances like this are purely for the ambience.”

“Plate of fried grains on cold feet,” Sev bets, still watching you finally return with an extra chair, “With extra chili.”

“Absolutely not,” Fixer sharply cuts in.

“Deal,” Scorch, the spice lover himself, pipes up mid-bite, his fork falling to the plate. The duo then shake on it.

Fixer lets out a long sigh. “Why.”

“Welcome to Serenade, citizens of Coruscant, here we have the best grilled cheese with three kinds of Saleucami cheeses. Or was it four? Either way, it's really good with blumberry peppermint milkshake, not gonna lie.”

“And she's an excellent gimmick,” Scorch laughs, his shoulder shaking from the intensity of it. Sev scoffs, twirling the straw in the aforementioned milkshake that he actually ordered for himself while his brother clutches his chest. “Love her already. Imagine Boss with a silly girlfriend!”

“Looking at it now,” Fixer smirks, watching both of you finally settling in, Boss sitting just beside you with an extra mic in front of him that you helped set up.

You're situated near the electric drum kit supplied by the cafe itself, ready to focus on a particular set of rhythm of the song Boss whispered to you earlier (and wing it, since this is practically a spontaneous collab). Holding your guitar, Boss experimentally strums a chord. You grin at his excellent handling—he definitely plays on a regular basis. Maybe his brothers get annoyed here and then by his excessive playing.

“Nice,” you remark, leaning away from the mic as far as you can. And Manda, you're multi-talented. Your pleased smile is so brilliant Boss can't tear his awed gaze away from you. He can't help but smile as well—your energy onstage is infectious and it's getting the best of him, boosting his confidence. “Ready when you are, love. I'll wing it and harmonize.”

He chuckles to himself, once again feeling his cheeks warming against his own will. Or maybe he wants that. Maybe he wants you to keep calling him love.

Without further ado, Boss starts to pluck a set of chords that click instantly within you. The drumsticks in your hand, you let your brain running miles per hour and your foot tapping gently against the floor to discover his rhythm.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you You feel like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much

You can't help but bite your lips in, stealing glances at Boss who's knowingly, knowingly, doing the same to you. “Very subtle,” you mouth at him, inviting his grin and the next set of lyrics breaking a little from his laughter, sounding all too happy, and full with his robust, charming smile. You shake your head. Your cheeks may hurt like it's swollen, but you're ready with your drum kit and set yourself off to the rhythm.

Pardon the way that I stare There's nothing else to compare

As he sings, Boss tilts his body to you, finding you slightly frowning to keep up with your drum kit and focus because even the most terrible partygoer on the dancefloor knows the importance of rhythm.

But at least you now know that this song is for you.

And if you feel like I feelPlease, let me know that it's real

“Oh it's real,” you quip to the mic, your eyes flicking to Boss who's chuckling to himself away from the mic, and you decide to enter to fill him in.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you

You nod along his riff, the catchy one that everybody knows and sometimes gets them dancing to it. Smiling, you let your muscle memory work its wonder as you fall into a duet for the chorus with your new performing counterpart.

I love you, baby And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby To warm those lonely nights I love you, baby Trust in me when I say

“They have to trade riduurok tonight or I'll combust,” Scorch comments, chin in hand, already absolutely shipping you and Boss practically married on the stage. Sev hums in agreement, subconsciously mimicking his brother's stance, head swaying slightly to the beat.

Fixer scans the entire cafe. The difference is striking—people wouldn't expect a clone performing in it. One with a great voice, at that. Boss is talented in that particular area. Fixer has lost count already how many times he catches Boss singing in the shower. A tinge of worry slips into his thoughts, though; he hopes you're not getting in trouble for this since the lifted datapads to record the performance is an after-effect of your initiation. Or maybe not, since it might boost the cafe's today's income.

“Worse thing is we'll be gaining more fans,” Sev quips.

Fixer nods along, playful. “And more demands for clones to initiate a music performance.”

“Next time you know we're setting up a fundraiser concert,” Scorch says.

“Yeah? For who?”

Sev scoffs, “What kind of question is that?”

“Why, us, of course!!” Scorch grins, ��After all; we're broke.”

In the end, you're taking another five after doing three more songs with Boss on request from the patrons, every single one of them particularly spontaneous. And honestly, you can't exactly figure out how both of you fall so naturally with each other's play on your instruments. It's as if you can read each other's mind, surrendering to one another's lead only signaled with a stolen glance that somehow you just know what would entail, what would be perfect.

And in the end, even after packing your beloved guitar since your given hours are up (and after one more plate of fried grains with extra chili for Scorch because apparently Sev lost a bet), your post-performance adrenaline is still coursing through you.

Boss notices how energetic you are, and he can see he's been contributing to such an effect. His arm shivers at the spot where you touch him fondly while you strike up conversation with the others, and all he can think about it is you're breathtaking you're great you're so talented your voice is perfect can I take you out—

Oh, he's down bad. You're going to take over his mind for the week, and maybe even longer.

Finally the Delta Squad clears their table, with Boss insisting to walk you to your dormitory building when you told them it's just a few blocks away. Well, not that you complain. The boys don't. Boss surely doesn't. As the neon lights of Coruscant nightlife wash over every surface and every pedestrian making their way along the sidewalks, Fixer and Sev take initiative to lead the way, one of them gripping a datapad, holomaps already pinned to your place. From behind, Scorch drapes both arms heavily over your shoulders and Boss’.

“You’re leaving good memories for us four,” Scorch says to you—your guitar case slung over his back—before sparing a glance at Boss with a knowing look in his eyes, “I think we won't be able to stop thinking about you.”

You laugh, the pleasant sound setting butterflies to explode in Boss’ stomach. “Just don't let my fabulous self disturb your missions out there.”

“Oh it won't,” Scorch wiggles his eyebrows, hand going up to ruffle Boss’ reg haircut, “At least to me—”

Boss shrugs him off. “Scorch.”

“Oh relax, Sarge. You sound too much like Fixer on the field today.” Scorch lets both of you go, intercepting the space in-between and walking backward toward the other Deltas. “Try to be yourself while asking her for that ice cream date.” Winking, he cups his hands around his mouth and whisper-shouts, “It's not too late!”

Watching Scorch finally turning around, you let out an awkward chuckle. “Um, what ice cream date?” You turn to Boss.

The Sergeant rolls his eyes. “It's, um,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Just a di'kutla inside joke. Dumb inside joke.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You make inside jokes about ice cream dates with your mates?” you smirk, touching his arm, “You sure it wasn't about me, love?”

Boss has to resist the urge to groan while shoving his face into his hands. “Fineitwasaboutyou.”

“Gods, you're cute,” you gush, the last syllable morphing into a pretty laugh that makes him wanna triple cartwheel on the very sidewalk he's walking on. He pretends to not hear that. He doesn't hear that. It feels too unreal. He doesn't. Compared to yours, where did his confidence boost go? This Boss is totally different from the guy who took to the stage and gathered quite an intrigued audience moments ago.

He releases a stiff laugh, though it sounds deliberate to you so that the tension on his shoulders melt away. “I'm so sorry.” Stupid. This is what happens if you've never gone out for months.

“No don't be!” you laugh, “Besides, I’m all ears for another date.”

Boss freezes momentarily, his steps faltering for a split second before catching up to you, and for the first time that moment he really looks into you. “Another date?”

“Mhm,” you nod enthusiastically, “I'd say that was already a date.”

“The duet?”

“You were amazing, in case I haven't told you that.”

“You have. About ten times, actually.”

“That is because you are.”

Despite being rendered speechless, Boss manages a smile at you, a genuine one, his confidence finally bursting off of him.

“Copy that,” he says, “Know some good place for dinner some time next week?”

You hum. “There's this Kommerken flank steak wrap place I’ve been really wanting to try. Or do you want something sit-and-talk kinda date?”

“Wrap sounds good,” Boss agrees quickly, “Anything else?”

You try to think of anything else. Wrap means on-the-go food, you're going to walk and talk, maybe exploring a patch of Uscru while at that… “Park?” you suggest, leaning closer to him, “I'll bring my guitar and serenade you to oblivion, love.”

Oh how badly he wants to close that distance between you. But… looks like it has to wait till next week, then. “Game on, love.”

Other featured song:

Taglist: @yoursrosie @msmeredithrose @hellfiresky @filamentlights @heidnspeak @lucyysthings

@mutilatemyheart more Boss fic for the cause!

Credits: Fixer wearing glasses is @leafdupe's headcanon 💚 vod I simply must adopt that one

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