#echo needs a hug™

[sanshinexx]

In a world where Fives survived

[More incorrect quotes and fanart here]

[padawan-snack-packer]

[You Give Them a Hug — Clones Edition]

🚨 HUG HEADCANONS DISCLAIMER (aka: why are my feelings doing this??) 🚨

Hey friend!! Just a heads-up before you dive headfirst into the Clone Hugpocalypse:

This is:

✨For fun.✨

✨For feelings.✨

✨For healing my (and maybe your) inner sad clone child.✨

These headcanons are lovingly crafted with:

Unhealthy amounts of affection for emotionally constipated space soldiers,

Absolutely zero canon accuracy unless it serves The Bit™,

The kind of hugs that won’t fix everything, but they’ll try really hard, and

That sweet spot between “haha this is silly” and “WHY AM I SOBBING AT 3AM OVER A MAN NAMED WAXER???”

We’re here to give the boys hugs they deserved but never got, be unreasonably specific about emotional reactions to surprise cuddles, make jokes, get soft, get feral, maybe cry into our caf a little, and fill the galaxy with therapy via physical affection.

So if you’re:

Down for some clone comfort chaos,

Cool with affectionate nonsense,

And not too fussed about blending humor with trauma like a Force-sensitive emotional smoothie…

WELCOME!!! Let’s hug some broken war brothers and watch their brains blue screen in real time!!!!🫂💙

Rex

You approach him after a mission, he's mid-debrief with Commander Cody, all business—and you just wrap your arms around him.

Short-circuits like a protocol droid in a thunderstorm.

“Uh. Uh. Uh. Are you—hugging? Is that allowed? Wait—is this a prank??”

Freezes completely. He has been shot at, crushed under debris, and chased by a Zillow Beast, but THIS? THIS IS NEW.

But once he realizes you’re being sincere?

He hugs you back with this awkward, hesitant little pat on the back.

…Then his whole body melts just a little.

Won’t admit it, but he thinks about that hug for days. Constantly.

The next time you do it, he hugs back properly. Arm around your waist. Soft smile. You can hear the PTSD unclench.

Fives

“OH???”

You hug him and he immediately goes full dramatic soap opera romance novel mode.

“Oh cyare, I never thought I’d feel joy again!” dips you back like you’re on a dance floor in a 1940s holo-drama

Spinning you around is highly likely.

“What was that for?” “Just felt like it.” “Well, prepare to be hugged back so hard you question physics.”

Keeps score. “I hugged you for longer. That’s 10 points to me.”

Will start randomly leaning on you just so you'll initiate hugs. Professional cuddler. Certified clingy. No takebacks.

Echo

Hugging Echo is like trying to hug a very anxious piece of military-grade toast the first time.

He stiffens IMMEDIATELY. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. Just internal.exe has stopped working.

You pull away and he’s like: “Wait. No. That was… actually kinda nice.”

Next time you hug him, he’s prepared. It’s still a little awkward, but he softens into it and gives you a little squeeze back.

One time he rested his chin on your shoulder and made a soft noise. You almost died from the gentle.

Eventually becomes the kind of guy to hug you in private but also glare at anyone else who dares look at you like "NO TOUCHING. THIS ONE'S MINE."

Jesse

You hug Jesse? Oh you are in for smug bastard energy.

“Ohoho, so someone likes me.”

Immediately picks you up.

Spinning is almost guaranteed.

“I am your favorite clone now. It’s science.”

Will initiate revenge hugs at the most inconvenient times. In the middle of a strategy briefing? “Come here, you adorable tactical disaster.”

Says things like “how dare you be so huggable, this is sabotage.”

Secretly very soft. Like, he’ll rest his forehead against yours before a mission and say “come back to me, alright?”

Kix

You hug him? You just activated his Care Mode™.

He immediately assumes you need comfort and goes into medic boyfriend mode:

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you bleeding internally? Let me check your vitals.”

“Kix, I just wanted to hug you.”

“…OH. Then never mind. But also drink water.”

Once he realizes it’s casual affection, he gets very warm and smiley.

Gives amazing hugs back. Firm, grounding, with the faint smell of bacta and caf.

Will gently guide your head to his chest. You can hear his heartbeat and a very quiet “you mean a lot to me, you know.”

Hardcase

INSTANT EXCITEMENT. “A HUG?? FOR ME???!!”

He picks you up. He spins you. He almost knocks over two troopers and a crate.

“DOES THIS MEAN I GET TO HUG YOU WHENEVER I WANT NOW?!”

He's so tall and enthusiastic it’s like hugging a golden retriever on steroids.

Will randomly run up to you, yell “HUG ATTACK!!” and tackle-hug you like a joyful missile.

Gives the kind of hugs that lift you off the ground, squeeze all your sadness out, and refill you with explosive energy.

“You looked sad, so I brought you a hug and also six different kinds of rations because I wasn’t sure which flavor helps feelings.”

Dogma

You hug Dogma and he freezes like a booted droid.

“W-what…what is this? Is this allowed? Is this a breach of protocol?”

You say “I just wanted to,” and he blushes so hard it looks like he’s overheating.

Tries to salute while you’re hugging him.

Very stiff at first, but once he realizes you’re safe, not joking, and this isn’t a punishment or test—he melts.

His return hug is so careful, like he’s worried he’ll break you.

Won’t initiate a hug himself, but he leans in now. He always leans in.

Cody

You sneak-hug Commander Cody while he’s organizing intel.

“Is this an ambush?” “Yup.” “…Accepted.”

He doesn’t show emotion often, but he likes you. A lot. So he lets his guard down.

Low-key one of the best huggers. Solid, warm, comforting.

The kind of hug that says I will keep you safe until the end of time.

After the first time, he starts greeting you with shoulder squeezes that slowly evolve into full-on hugs.

If anyone walks in: “They tripped. Onto me. It’s fine. Shut up, Waxer.”

Waxer

You hug Waxer and this man straight up breaks like a brittle cookie under a warm cup of caf.

Shocked Pikachu face at first. Like he fully does not know what’s happening.

He blinks. Looks down at your arms. Then at you. Then back at your arms like “Do they know I’m just a clone?”

You don’t let go. You just keep hugging him. And he just… leans in. Slowly. Carefully.

It’s gentle. It’s soft. It’s the first time in weeks he’s remembered he’s a person, not a number.

Murmurs something like: “...Thanks. That’s... rare.”

From that moment on, you are family.

Starts giving you surprise hugs. Especially when you least expect it.

You hand him ammo? Hug.

You fall asleep on the transport? Blanket + hug.

You stub your toe? “This calls for a hug AND a bandage.”

Secretly knits little stuffed Tooka dolls for orphan kids and denies it violently if caught.

If you ever say “you deserve love too,” he cries. Quietly. In the hallway.

Boil

You go to hug Boil and he IMMEDIATELY does the grumpy-cop reaction. “Whoa whoa whoa what are you doing—what is this—are you bleeding?”

Arms locked at his sides like you’re hugging a parking meter.

“Did Waxer put you up to this? This feels like a Waxer thing.”

You say, “No, I just wanted to hug you.”

And he shuts down like a battle droid hit with a logic loop.

“...Oh.”

He slowly, hesitantly raises one hand and pats your back like he’s diffusing a bomb.

One week later: He initiates a hug by awkwardly standing next to you and saying “Hey, if you need to do... that again or whatever, I guess I got a minute.”

Turns into hug tsundere. Grumbles the whole time but pulls you closer anyway.

You overhear him telling someone else: “No, I don’t like hugs. I just let them because they’re small and emotionally fragile.”

Meanwhile, he’s actively spooning you during downtime.

If anyone hurts you, Boil becomes a one-man war crime.

“No one touches my squishy little hug-friend but me. Got it?”

Bonus: The Domino Squad Bros (Before Umbara… RIP)

Hevy: Hugs you like a linebacker. Back pats that rattle your spine. Somehow always smells like gun oil and joy.

Cutup: Tries to tickle you mid-hug. Laughs so hard you both fall over. Says “awww, is someone getting attached?” while being the clingiest man alive.

Droidbait: Turns into a red-faced mess and blurts “I THINK I’M IN LOVE—wait no I mean um cool hug yeah.”

Echo (pre-ARC): Gives the kind of hugs that are more like gentle head rests. Hides his face in your neck and says “thanks. I needed that.” Your heart? Gone.

Bonus: Wolffe Pack Edition

Commander Wolffe

Hugging Wolffe is like hugging a brick wall with abandonment issues.

You approach him after a mission—he’s grumpy, bruised, barking orders—and you just wrap your arms around him.

And he’s like: “...what the hell is happening?”

FREEZES COMPLETELY. Arms stiff at his sides. Helmet still on. All systems shutting down. Internal monologue: “okay. okay. they are touching me. what do I do. do I arrest them. do I hug back. am I allowed to like this. oh no it’s nice. abort mission.”

Eventually—very slowly—his arms come up. He hugs you back like a tired, grouchy lion.

But then? You hear this tiny, low little exhale. Like he’s been holding his breath for 20 years and just remembered how to breathe. That hug heals him on a spiritual level.

Says absolutely nothing about it afterward. But his hand lingers on your back just a second longer than necessary the next time you walk past.

Sinker

“HEYOOOOO IS THAT A HUG I SEE??”

Immediately all in.

You don’t even finish initiating the hug before he scoops you into a bear hug so powerful your bones shift alignment.

Spins you around. Shakes you. Shouts “WE’RE FRIENDS NOW FOREVER YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT??”

Is 5000% a hugger by nature. Just never thought he was allowed to do it in the army.

Now that you’ve started it? You’ve unlocked the floodgates. Expect surprise hugs, one-armed shoulder squeezes, lifting-you-off-your-feet hugs, “hey I missed you for 5 minutes so here’s a hug” hugs—

Dangerously affectionate golden retriever energy.

Will absolutely start a “HUG THE ENTIRE BATTALION” campaign if left unsupervised.

Boost

You go to hug Boost, and his first reaction is: “...Are you sick?”

Then: “Wait. Are you dying?? Is this a goodbye hug?? DO YOU HAVE A FATAL WOUND??”

You reassure him it’s just a hug because you care about him.

He immediately does a 180. “Awwwwwwwwwwww! You care about me??? Of course you do, I’m awesome!! C’mere!!”

Picks you up like a child and swings you side to side while yelling “I’M LOVED! I’M LOVED!!!”

Absolutely insufferable in the most lovable way.

Starts initiating random sneak attack hugs. Behind crates. In line for food. Mid-mission. “Time for your daily emotional support clamp! HUGGED!!”

Tells Wolffe you hugged him and Wolffe just walks away immediately.

Comet

You hug Comet and he goes completely still.

Not in a “what is this” way. More like a “oh… oh no I need this and I didn’t know” way.

Arms go around you slowly, almost reverently. He’s warm and solid and still smells like blaster oil and ration bars.

He says quietly: “...Thanks. Been a rough one.”

Doesn’t let go right away.

He’s the kind of person who holds a hug like he thinks it’ll keep you both grounded. Like if he lets go, the galaxy will fall apart.

After that first one, he’ll give you real, deep hugs when you both need grounding. Doesn’t say much. Just holds on and lets the silence do the work.

Also becomes your Official Debrief Cuddle Buddy. End of long day? “You look like you need five minutes of hug.” And you always, always do.

🐺 BONUS: Wolffe Pack Group Hug Edition

You try to hug them all at once.

This is chaos.

Sinker lifts you and tries to twirl you.

Boost yells “PILE ON!!” and launches himself at the group like a very affectionate missile.

Wolffe is stuck in the middle of a dogpile of affection, looking like he wants to die and also maybe cry.

“Why. Are we. Touching this much.”

Comet somehow ends up holding Boost in a princess carry.

At one point Sinker tries to start a “hug chant.” It does not catch on. (Except with Boost. It echoes for 12 hours.)

Wolffe says nothing for days. Then randomly, at 3am, grumbles: “...That was kinda nice.”

[anton-luvr]

hii could u write abt how riize would react to you avoiding their kisses as a prank? like the tiktok challenge! tysm i love ur writing!!

# WHEN YOU AVOID THEIR KISSES ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x gn!reader | fluff | bf au, prank au ⚝ note ; this is perhaps my favorite request... tysm for requesting anon!!! hope u like it and thank u <3

# SHOTARO. - the smile on his face instantly falters. he freezes for a while, trying to process what just happened. softly, he'll mumble "why'd you move away? come back here :(" and tugs you back by your arm so he can kiss you. once you burst laughing and tell him it's just a prank, his signature smile is back on his face as he kisses you.

# EUNSEOK. - petty mode: activated. the moment you dodge his kiss, he'll go "oh so you don't wanna kiss me? okay, fine don't kiss me then" and he'll saunter away with a scoff. when you run after him to tell him it's just a prank, he'll huff and fold his arms, grumbling about how "it's not funny". but once you kiss him, all pettiness melts away and he attacks you with tickles to make you promise not to do that again.

# SUNGCHAN. - he'll be in absolute disbelief. like did you just turn away??? from his kiss????? when you ask for them almost 24/7?????????? he instantly knows there's something up, and he'll chase after you to kiss you, your laughter echoing across your apartment. when he finally catches up to you on the sofa, he'll pin you down and smother you in kisses till you're breathless and your stomach hurts from laughing.

# WONBIN. - bro is confused™. he's oblivious at first, and he'll ask you if he has something on his face. but when you shake your head no and move away from him when he tries to kiss you again, he gets even more confused. he'll whine a "then why won't you let me kiss you?", and you can't help but laugh and give in to your lovely boyfriend.

# SEUNGHAN. - he instantly thinks he did something wrong, because you've never declined his kisses before. he'll apologize so so so gently, voice full of so much love and care for you. he didn't even do anything wrong but it's so sweet, and you kiss him and tell him it's all just a prank with a smile. he doesn't even care about it, because "as long as i still get to kiss you at the end of the day, i don't mind."

# SOHEE. - you have officially left him #heartbrocken. like the drama queen he is, he'll gasp and screech "do you not love me anymore?" before clutching at his supposedly wounded heart. even when you laugh at him, he keeps the act up. "are you laughing at my suffering?!" he wails, groaning in false pain. needs plenty of kisses and cuddles for the drama to go away after you tell him it's only a prank.

# ANTON. - he wants the ground to open up and eat him alive. he gets sooooo embarrassed and will literally turn and run away from you to hide himself, face bright red. when you stop him to tell him it's just a prank, he gets even more embarrassed. he'll whine a "not funny, don't do it again." while he hugs you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart (drop an ask to be added to my taglist!)

[aestariiwilderness]

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 15 Spoilers

Finale-Inspired Scenario

I know it was very touching and all with Hunter's "if you need us [Omega], we'll be there". I was Touched™. But all I could think of then was this scenario: Omega: mysterious badass pilot in the Rebellion from any outsider POV. Strange mildly Force-sensitive, very young woman with very extensive, if unorthodox military experience. Animals follow her around. May or may not be a pirate. Has devoted mildly Force-sensitive friends who appear to consider her their leader. Has very odd contacts in very odd places. Weirdly naive about a lot of things (dirt continues to fascinate her) but terrifyingly experienced with others (cloning, mind-wiping, sentient experimentation, etc.). Can fix anything. Has a weird grudge against Saw Gerrera (but who doesn't?). Escape artist who overflows with compassion at the MOST INCONVENIENT times but will also absolutely stab a bitch with no compunction and watch him fall to his death riddled with blaster holes. Never speaks of her origins, history, or family. The famous Captain Rex knows her personally. Senator Chuchi hugs her. Captain Hera Syndulla has apparently known her since childhood. Other pilots and members of the Rebellion are fascinated by this mystery. They place bets on her past -- former Jedi Padawan is currently leading the pool, with "amnesiac formerly brainwashed Imperial child soldier or Emperor's Hand" trailing not far behind. And then. Oh no! Mysterious badass pilot Omega is in a bind. Trapped somewhere behind enemy lines. The Rebellion is collectively in despair, dithering about whether they can spare a "suicide mission" to get her. And then. Multiple (three or four, depending on whether Echo retired to Pabu :D) oddly similar geriatric hippies with scars, facial tattoos, and a tamed lurca hound apparate into their council room. One of them has a toothpick. He has no teeth left, but he is somehow still chewing it disdainfully. Another has one eye and appears to be 1. made of durasteel and 2. has a hard time fitting in the council room. The shortest one has a Ponytail with a capital P, seems to be cosplaying as Moses, and refuses to listen to anyone. They have an incomprehensible system of numbered plans that correspond to no military system anyone has ever seen. They spend 70 percent of the twenty minutes they are on base arguing with each other and ignoring absolutely everyone else. Rex gets a pat on the shoulder. A middle-aged pirate is their getaway driver. The hound will not stop chewing Important Wires. No one has any idea what they want. People only start to get a clue when they yeet themselves at the planet Omega is trapped on and disappear as quickly as they came. There are multiple explosions, screaming, and what sounds suspiciously like a fusion generator overloading catastrophically over an open comm before it is abruptly cut off. The Rebellion gives them up for dead even though Rex, Syndulla, and Chuchi seem oddly unconcerned. Cut to three weeks of radio silence later. There is an unauthorized landing. The code is very old, the signature masked, and it blasts through their security measures like it doesn't exist. A very beat-up ship trailing smoke and parts coasts in to the hangar bay over the protests of the landing crews. Geriatric Hippies Numbers 2 and 3 spill out in a flood of more smoke, completely untouched and looking mildly irritated instead of suffocated. 3 has two stumps and no hands now. He does not appear concerned about this. Somehow, he is still gumming the toothpick. The getaway pilot/pirate is yammering on about where she can (steal?? borrow? liberate?? what?) some upper class robotic hands for him. Geriatric Hippie Moses emerges next. The lurca hound beside him is trailing what looks suspiciously like stormtrooper armor from the corner of her jaws. Badass Pilot Omega, none the worse for wear, is thrown over Hippie Moses' shoulders fireman-carry style, complaining loudly and vociferously that she is NOT A KID and does NOT NEED TO BE CARRIED and YOU KNOW HOW YOUR BACK GETS, HUNTER, PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW --

Omega is summarily deposited in front of Rex with several squinty, semi-threatening looks that he cheerfully ignores. They leave -- without bothering to repair their ship, it is absolutely still on fire -- with a lot of meaningful silences, back-slapping, hair fussing, armor-tightening, you-forgot-this and did-you-take-your-kit and do-you-have-the-grenades-I-made-you and are-you-drinking-enough and don't-forget-to-comm-home.

A brave technician who had nothing to do with any of this dares to inquire about the injuries, the second missing hand, and the, uh, wreck they're driving. They are summarily sneered at, called a "reg" in the most scathing tones possible, threatened with dire death should Omega come to any harm, and left standing on the landing pad.

Rex is pinching the bridge of his nose and doing Lamaze breathing. Syndulla is trying not to laugh. Chuchi just looks fond; Omega just looks sheepish.

The entire Rebellion: ....what was that

Omega, sighing deeply: ...my younger brothers

The ghost of Rampart in the background: I HATE CLONES Bonus points if Jedi Knight "Kanan Jarrus" aka Caleb Dume happens to be strolling past the hangar bay just in time to see Geriatric Hippie #3 ("Toothpicked, Toothless, and Handless") and Geriatric Hippie #1 ("Skullface Moses"), screams piercingly, and Force-levitates himself to the base roof. It takes both Hera and Ahsoka to get him down three hours later

[aruanimess]

Soft prompts- berumin where Armin tries to zip up Bertholdt’s jacket 🤭

Quiet acts of love prompts

Hello, anon! Thank you for the prompt. I honestly loved writing this! Sorry it took a while, life got a little crazy lately 😅

~~~

His fingers are shaking with jittery nerves as he unlocks their apartment door, keys tinkling softly in his grasp. He pauses at the threshold to listen. Water is running, wet splashes echo as it hits the tiles, and a deep voice is singing the jingle of a cereal commercial. Armin smiles; Bertolt is showering. 

Perfect. 

He slips inside, hiding the Package™ behind his back, even though by now he knows he doesn't need to. His sneakers are off next, tucked carefully on the rack by the entrance. He tiptoes to the bedroom, tucking the Package behind the bed frame, pulls the party horn out of his pocket and sits crossed legged on the mattress to wait patiently for his boyfriend. 

Bertolt emerges fifteen minutes later. His hair is neatly combed, and he's already dressed in a clean pair of joggers and a plain white tee. The scent of aftershave is filling the air. 

Armin smiles to himself. His boyfriend is so proper he won't walk around naked even in his own home. 

He blows the party horn. Hard. 

Bertolt jumps in surprise. He actually jumps a few centimeters off the ground in an adorable little hop that reminds Armin of a startled giraffe. 

Armin beams at him proudly. "Happy Birthday!" he cheers. 

His expression settling into that of pleasant surprise, Bertolt smiles softly. "Hello," he says, approaching the bed and giving Armin a little kiss on the forehead. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon."

"I wanted to be the first to wish you," says Armin. He loops his arms around his boyfriend's neck and allows himself to be pulled upwards while Bert straightens his back. Dangling awkwardly from his neck, he plants his knees on the bed to prop himself up. 

"You're out of luck then," Bertolt murmurs in his hair, hugging Armin's waist tightly. "My mom called me at midnight. So did Reiner." 

"Rats," curses Armin playfully. He peppers Bertolt's jaw with kisses to make up for the late well-wishing. "I got you something," he whispers into the hollow of his throat. 

"Really?" Bertolt sounds surprised. He shouldn't be, but he's always had trouble accepting good things. 

Armin nods. He disentangles himself from the embrace and goes to retrieve the Package.

Before he hands it over, though, he waivers. "Um, it might be a tad presumptuous of me to get you this present. It was a bit of a gamble really, but I thought, what the hell, you really deserve something special, right?"

Bertolt shoots him a wary glance. "Is it like... a sexy present?" 

Armin presses his lips together. "Uh, not exactly... Here. See for yourself."

With slow hesitant movements, he starts opening his gift. Armin bites his lip in anticipation as Betrolt takes his sweet time to undo the sellotape and carefully peel the wrapping paper back. He fidgets with the excess skin on his knuckles while he waits. He should have foreseen this. Bertolt is not the type of guy to ruin somebody else's work, even if that's some amateurish wrapping job Armin hastily threw together because he didn't like the look of the shopping bag.

Finally, the present is revealed. Bertolt holds it up at arms length to inspect it and blinks owlishly at it as if he can't trust what his eyes are showing him.

"A leather jacket?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and surprise.

Armin blushes furiously. Damn, he messed up, didn't he?

"Look, um, I know it's not really your style, but um... I saw you eyeing it the other day at the mall, and then you told me that story about playing Putzie in your high school's production of Grease, and you said you loved the outfit, and you made that joke about only tough guys wearing leather, and I thought... Well, why should it be like this? It's just an article of clothing, right? If you want to wear it and you like the look of it then you should wear it! But, um, I now realize that I might have overstepped. It's ultimately up to you to decide if you want to change your style or not. I'm sorry. I've kept the receipt. We can change it if you hate it."

He's too scared to look up and meet his boyfriend's eyes. What was he thinking? A present like that has implications. Bertolt is probably convinced that Armin doesn't like him the way he is, that he's trying to change him, to turn him into some stereotypical version of a bad boy. It couldn't be further from the truth of course, but actions have meaning and the meaning of this action evaded him until now.

A warm hand engulfs his own. Armin raises his eyes.

Bertolt is smiling. His cheeks are bright red, but his expression is soft and gentle. "I don't hate it," he says. "I don't know if I'm bold enough to wear it outside, but... I really like it!"

Relief floods Armin's chest. "Really?"

"Yeah." Bertolt nods. He takes a step backwards to have some space and slips the jacket on. He does a little twirl. "How does it look?"

Armin beams. "Amazing!" His eyes dart to the zipper. He points to it. "Can I do the honors?"

Bert lets out an airy giggle. "Of course!" He comes closer again, within Armin's reach.

With a huge grin on his face, he brings the ends together and drags the pull up, watching mesmerized as the teeth align, up and up his boyfriend's torso, hugging his chest in the tight black fabric. He's a little breathless by the time he has the jacket closed.

Bertolt must notice because he's peering at him quizzically. "What- what is it? Is it bad?"

Armin avoids his eyes. "No, no! It's great! Just-" he hesitates. "I guess it's a bit of a sexy present after all..."

Bertolt gapes at him. "Oh," he manages to say after a while. Then his expression turns devious. "I can't blame you. Comes with the territory when you're dating a bad boy."

"Right," laughs Armin. "Tough guys are known to have this allure."

"Are you doubting me?" teases Bertolt.

Armin pauses and takes a moment to look at his boyfriend. Really look at him. He stands a little taller, he notes, a little prouder. His grin is relaxed, and he's joking with him without stuttering at all or shying away. He's lovely like this.

"No," he says. "No, not at all." 

[melonthesprigatito]

Had a fever dream last night that I thought was wildly entertaining. I can not for the life of me explain why I was so invested in it, but it was one of those dreams that I remember a lot of details of because it happened right before I woke up in the morning.

So, in the dream, it starts on a beach, yeah? Some big ass Pokéball has fallen from the sky. And I do mean BIGASS. You know that Basketball 2 Tumblr post?

It was like that but a bit bigger. So the military shows up with a few tanks and a bulldozer because this big thing fell from the sky onto a beach so OBVIOUSLY it must be a space craft or something and it needs to be moved. For tourism reasons.

Somebody objects to this because what if moving the big round space thing does something dangerous? And the general just laughs at him and the soldiers all point and laugh like they're characters in a freaking preschoolers show.

The general says, and I quote "What, it's not like it's going to unleash some giant terrifying monster!"

The bulldozer rolls the Pokéball over onto it's button and unleashes some giant terrifying monster.

It's a Flareon. A 60 foot tall Kaiju Flareon because it came out of a huge Pokéball. I believe my brain picked Flareon because I found my Comfy Friends plushie to hug yesterday because I'm currently going through a double whammy of a migraine and a cold.

Apparently nobody in this world knows what a Pokémon is so the army screams like little girls and opens fire. The Flareon gets really sad and scared because miscellaneous missiles and stuff being hurled at you hurts a lot so it runs off into the city and the army's like FUCK FUCK FUCK

Cue your average Kaiju movie scene, people running and screaming etc etc etc. Except Kaiju Flareon isn't malicious, it's just looking around at everything like :OOOO and :3. A dog starts barking at it and the Flareon mistakes this for play time and starts wagging it's tail and going "Arf arf arf :3" too, which scares the dog off and makes Flareon sad again.

Now there's a crowd of people standing around because the giant monster just exhibited suspiciously dog like behaviour and so far hasn't tried to hurt or eat anyone???? The only real damage so far is a couple of cars because it used them as chew toys and spat them out because they got oil in its mouth.

Flareon notices this crowd of people and is very excited because it reeeeeeally wants belly rubs. So it rolls onto it's back with it's legs dangling in the air, expecting belly rubs.

Nobody wants to go anywhere near it and Flareon gets ABSOLUTELY HEARTBROKEN, like, it specifically asked for belly rubs, why are none of these tiny Trainers giving it belly rubs??? 🥺 Did it do something bad????? 🥺🥺 Is she a bad Pokémon?????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I drew a diagram of this part because I just need to convey how absolutely sad this Flareon looked.

So one Brave or Stupid™ guy breaks out of the crowd like "I want to pet the giant monster" and people start trying to hold him back like NO DON'T PET THE GIANT MONSTER and the guy's like

So he stacks a bunch of random objects to make a staircase ala Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom to get up onto the Flareon and gives her the belly rubs. Flareon flips over onto her belly and accidentally squishes the dude but he is miraculously unharmed, and the entire crowd is like "Hey, this monster is basically a giant puppy!" and gives Flareon LOTS of head pats and now everybody is best friends. The military shows up again and people start yelling at them and calling them assholes for trying to hurt the big Flareon and so the military just... Goes home I guess???

So basically the whole Kaiju situation is resolved because the Public™ went "Big doggy :)" and basically adopted the Flareon as a city mascot and named it Big Floof. There's basically a montage of antics like Big Floof chasing a giant beach ball around at the seaside, getting escorted places by fire trucks, getting a huge dog bowl custom made for it etc etc etc

Then a fucking KAIJU SKARMORY maybe four times the Kaiju Flareon's size shows up out of the blue, and I anticipated a big battle because clearly Flareon has a type advantage and would want to defend its new home but my brain went "Nah".

What happened was that the military showed up again and the general yelled at the Kaiju Skarmory on a megaphone like "I'M CALLING YOUR MOTHER!" and unfortunately that's when I woke up and I was annoyed at that because I really want to find out how that would have went.

Who is this Skarmory's mother? Why would that threat work on a rampaging Kaiju? Would an even bigger Kaiju Skarmory have shown up like, idk, Cloverfield? I have so many questions.

Anyway I would have wanted to give the big fluffy doggy head pats as well

[paintedscales]

a02 :: Just Really Needed A Hug

A little less than a week after the initial events of the confrontation with Endsinger have gone past. Bearing a number of injuries that need more time to heal than she is used to, Nomin is made to stay at Old Sharlayan’s infirmary to recuperate. On one such night where she is reliving her time within Ultima Thule, when she gets a much needed visitor.

A Soft™ Fic Prompt Meme

Word Count: 1,569

Night in Sharlayan was generally quiet. Normally, Nomin would not have minded, but with the window to her infirmary room cracked ajar to give her just a taste of the outside world that Sharlayan had to offer, she could only capture the distant sound of the water. Gentle waves as they lapped at the academic island.

Nomin missed the cacophony of crickets, of frogs, of the occasional hooting of owls. The gentle winds and the distant flow of water would have had to suffice. At least it was something to take away from the agitating silence that hung in the room as she rested.

A box of paints laid open next to her on the bedside cabinet, and Nomin sat at the edge of her bed. Alphinaud had brought them to her when he and Alisaie came by to visit earlier that week. He remembered the brushes she had him buy for her in Ishgard after they fled Ul’dah. It was endearing how he set up an easel and canvas for her to paint on as Alisaie set out food picked up from the Last Stand for the three of them.

The two of them were gone now. Likely returned to their family’s estate.

Nomin did little to linger on their whereabouts. Her attention was elsewhere. For a long while, she merely stared at the easel in front of her, a look of distant melancholy on her face as she held one of her wider brushes in her dominant hand. The canvas situated upon the easel was splashed with black and violet, hints of pinks, blues, and greens giving depth and an idea. Nomin had been paused in blending the nebula of colors. Once she pulled herself out of her stupor, she soon placed the brush within a cup of water. Reaching over, she dipped her index and middle fingertips in white paint before sharply flicking them at the canvas.

Stars. She was creating little flecks of white, glittering stars.

The edge of the universe remained a vivid image in Nomin’s mind, and she was determined to commit it to canvas. For who else would ever get to see a sight if she were not willing to paint it as she recalled it?

Nomin wiped her fingers on a cloth and picked her brush back up, swirling it in the water to rid it of any remaining pigment before bringing it out and wiping that as well. It was dipped into a spring green before being mixed with a little violet to dilute the color and begin adding a smoky haze of it. It continued like this for a while until Nomin had added brighter and brighter greens. Winds brought to life in Ultima Thule.

Pain.

Not fierce. Not of pure anguish. But pain all the same stung at her eyes beholding the imagery of the green winds painted upon the canvas.

“The rest is up to you.”

Those words made Nomin’s breath catch in her throat once they rang out in her memories.

She set her brush down as her hands trembled and she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Feeling tears prickle at the edges of her eyes, she blinked them back, both of grief and relief. Shakily, Nomin raised the palms of her hands to wipe them away as she bit back hiccups and sobs.

She hated the idea of losing everyone. The pain and fear of it happening, one by one, was still there in her mind.

More so, Nomin hated that something so hauntingly beautiful could make those feelings and fears crash down upon her like violent waves in a storm. That something so beautiful could be filled with anguish, fear, depression, and loss.

That something so beautiful could be painful.

Tup, tup…

The noise of rubber soles making contact with the marble floor made Nomin jump and immediately look up toward the window where the sound came from. She felt no indication from her Echo that anyone was on their way. Perhaps she was too caught up within her own thoughts and emotions to notice it.

Dabbing at her eyes quickly, Nomin looked up to see who caused the disturbance. Standing there was Estinien holding a bag; it seemed he had taken to finding an opportunity to enter the infirmary without using the front door. However, his appearance alone was cause enough for Nomin to quickly stumble off the bed’s edge, knocking over her easel and paint with a clatter in the process as she hurried over and clumsily threw herself at him.

Aches and sores be damned.

In the midst of Nomin hugging Estinien and tightly clutching the fabric of his shirt, Estinien stood there with some momentary feelings of surprise and uncertainty. He was at a loss as to how to react. He felt her horns poking his torso as she pressed her forehead into him. After a long few seconds, he finally set the bag down by his feet and slowly wrapped his arms around the shivering au ra.

Feeling his arms -- his warmth -- wrapped around her made the dam break for Nomin as her tears and sobs came out even more. For his warmth reminded her of the embracing winds out there at the ends of the universe. The winds that Estinien sacrificed himself to make. The winds that she thought would be the only reminder of Estinien she would have left.

“Come now… ‘Tis only been a few days…” Estinien said, his voice just barely higher than a whisper. Lifting a hand, he ran his fingers gingerly through Nomin’s hair. “You do not intend to start mewling like a lost babe every few days apart, do you?”

Nomin shook her head slightly, the pressure of her horns varying between each shake against Estinien’s ribs. He was only thankful that she was not leaning in with her entire weight on them.

“... Then what has you…?”

“Please… Estinien…” Nomin choked out, her voice small. “I…I need this. I need to know that this is real.”

Estinien said nothing, allowing only his expression to soften as he affectionately tightened his hold on Nomin. He leaned his head down, pressing his lips against the top of her head and holding that for a good long time. As he held himself against her, he closed his eyes.

He felt her shake. Heard her holding back her sobs. Felt her fists as they bunched up the fabric of his shirt.

“I can only guarantee you that this is real,” Estinien reassured the Xaelic woman once he pulled back to rest his cheek instead against her head. “Not once did I doubt you, Nomin. I ask you not to doubt me now.”

Nomin pulled back, making Estinien readjust to gaze down at her. Her eyes were puffy -- both her sclera and skin stained violet with wet trails of tears running down her cheeks and scales. He had only seen her like this once before, and the crying was never pretty. All the same, Estinien looked at her with calm affection and warmth as he drew a hand up to use his thumb and index finger to wipe the tears from her eyes and cheeks.

“I just…I don’t want to lose you. Not again…” Nomin said while Estinien dried her tears.

“... Twice have you brought me back,” Estinien replied, ushering Nomin to the bed now that she had loosened her grasp and gradually let go of him. He let out a small, silent sigh, and proceeded to pick up the paints and canvas that had been knocked askew to the floor. As he got the paints cleaned up, he continued: “by the Fury, Nomin. Both times when I believed that giving up my life was the only answer, you denied it. Not only that, ‘twas not only myself you brought back. Thancred, Y’shtola, Urianger, Alphinaud, and Alisaie… We would not be here were it not for you.”

A sad pout was evident on Nomin’s face as she kept it pointed toward the ground.

Estinien brought the box of paints and set it on the bedside cabinet before moving the easel and now a somewhat smeared painting moved out of further harm’s way. He sat down on the bed next to Nomin and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“I’ll have you know…you’re far more relentless than Tataru or Krile,” Estinien went on to say, his tone never really changing cadence to indicate his lean into jesting. There was, however, the slight curl of a smirk growing upon his lips. “They chased me full well around Kugane. Though I doubt they could bring me back from death the way you have. If you end up ‘losing me,’ I’d wager you would find a way to drag me back. All for Alphinaud’s sake.”

An amused scoff forced its way out of Nomin’s mouth as she chuckled and wiped at her eyes again.

“Yes…all for Alphinaud…” Nomin replied, slowly finding her laughter. She sniffled as she chuckled a couple more times. It was a jab at her telling him that she did not want to lose him for Alphinaud’s sake when he was in the infirmary after he was freed of Nidhogg’s hold. Though she gave Estinien a tired smile, it seemed more than enough for him as his own smile became more genuine knowing that he managed to make her laugh.

[lavendersiic]

thoughts on persona 5 bc if I didn't write them down i'd explode

After 250+ hours I feel such a mix of emotions, the ending was bittersweet, inspiring, and heartbreaking. I’ve been feeling it especially today, almost an emptiness and sadness knowing that I’ll never experience the game for the first time again. I have to say goodbye to the characters and story I’ve spent time with almost daily since November. I’m feeling especially reflective and tender with all of the thoughts and questions that the game has left me with, from thoughts about how I can be a better friend and community member, to Big Thoughts™ about free will, happiness, and the nature of reality - this game has left a lasting impression and is something I’ll carry with me for a long time.

The Experience: 

Persona 5 Royal is incredibly successful in delivering a captivating and emotionally resonant story. I felt immersed in the world, empowered with meaningful choices, and continuously engaged through its meticulously crafted game loop. The narrative was so engaging and evocative, through the combination of art, music, writing made for a special first-time experience. There is room for improvement in accessibility, but overall this game is kind of a masterpiece. 

On my second playthrough, I did feel a bit of repetitiveness in some of the palaces. Many of the palace rulers were painted as purely evil villains. Madarame gains some nuance as we go through Yusuke’s confidant, see him grappling with the conflict between the truth of Madarame’s vanity and the fact that he did care for him. This clear cut moral view of the first few antagonists is an indication of the way the Thieves’ view the world. As teenagers, it is understandable that they would have a more simple view of morality, but you can see that evolving throughout the game. By the time we get to Maruki's palace, we are given a deeper exploration of his character and the morality of his motivations and actions are treated with more nuance. I think a big part of this is the fact that Maruki is more of an antagonist than a villain, though I think it also hints at the Phantom Thieves' maturing perspective on morality.

Friendship and Forgiveness:

There’s something about the nature of a social sim that really brings into focus how straightforward it can be to show up for those I care about. It can be as simple as investing time, listening and validating their experiences, and making memories together. It can be easy for me to overcomplicate things, to feel like I need to be doing more for the people in my life - but in reality just making time and space for people can be enough. 

I couldn’t talk about this game without talking about Akechi (best boy). He was instantly one of my favorite characters. It was just nice to hear someone with a different opinion at first, up until that point it felt like we were in a bit of a Phantom Thieves echo chamber. I believe that it’s important to have people around you who support you, but there is also value in having people who challenge the way you think. Before the reveal, he really is a breath of fresh air, he’s charming and goofy and even though you can tell he’s not being 100% honest, there’s something really special in the growth of your relationship as he slowly lets his mask go. 

After the reveal, I felt so heartbroken and confused - and mostly I just wanted to hug him. I just wanted him to be free and happy. In the moments where we reach rank 9 and 10, I remember just wanting him to join us - I was quick (maybe too quick) to forgive all he had done. I spent two in-game days mourning his death, revisiting the places we spent time together, and reflecting on our relationship. 

At the beginning of Third Semester, I was overjoyed to see him alive, even if it meant he would be in prison for his crimes. I was so happy that he was alive and that we had a chance (even outside of the game world) to continue growing our relationship. As third semester continued I just enjoyed having him around, his chaotic one-liners made me smile and it was nice to see him being authentic to his darker side. His evil laugh brought me so much joy. 

When we meet with Maruki and it’s revealed that Akechi actually did die in Shido’s palace, and that he was brought back by Maruki because we essentially wished it to be, I lost my marbles. Akechi’s willingness to die in order to be the master of his own fate was equally heartbreaking and inspiring. I wanted to accept Maruki’s deal in that moment just to have a happy life with Akechi, but I wanted even more to respect his wishes. 

When I think about what drew me to Akechi’s character, I definitely related to his experience of feeling like he always had to present a pleasant mask to the world, otherwise risking rejection. I related to his desire to feel needed, something I still struggle with now. I think that believing what I do now - that everyone deserves to be loved in their wholeness, their dark along with their light - I felt compelled to offer that same love and forgiveness both as Joker and as myself. 

Seeing Akechi’s struggles to find acceptance, and hopefully giving him at least a small sense of that in the time we spent with him was one of the biggest emotional payoffs of the game for me. 

Free Will

The question of free will was a throughline throughout the story, and we are challenged to consider the morality of taking desires, even with good intentions. With many of the other themes and moral questions raised in the game, there isn’t a right or wrong answer. As the player, taking on the role of Joker - unwavering in his view of justice - is exciting, but the game encourages us to still consider the moral implications of their actions, especially with the addition of Maruki’s palace.

The third semester brings up this conflict between the allure of a pain-free, comfortable reality and the chaotic freedom of choice in the real world. Ultimately, I agree with the decision to fight for reality - for personal agency and free will even with the guarantee of chaos and pain. It is a tempting test, even more so than Yaldaboath’s offer to return the world to it’s previous state. It was a easy to decline Yaldaboath, but sitting across from Maruki in Leblanc, I felt truly conflicted for a few moments. I knew in my heart that the right choice was to stop him, but at the same time - it was tempting to accept that world free from pain and suffering.

After watching both endings, I ached for Maruki’s reality. I wish that life could be that simple, but there was an underlying sense of unease at the almost sickly sweetness of it all. It felt like everything we had struggled through was empty. The true ending was bittersweet and heartwarming, and seeing all of the characters moving forward towards the lives they wanted held so much more meaning.

Conclusion

While my sleep schedule might be temporarily wrecked, I don’t regret the hours I invested into this game. It was a really beautiful and thought provoking story, and what I want now is to apply what I felt and learned to my reality, so that I can live a full, free, and connected life. While I'm reluctant to let the world and characters go, I'm excited to turn my focus towards my goals, nurturing connections with my friends and family, and prioritizing self-care and rest.

[dr-george-ordell]

TITLE: Damn those blasted catgirls i just want a hug.

FEATURING THE CHARACTERS: Van, Aaron

WRITERS: mari, nat, mari. @nat-of-personifications

RATED ALL AGES.

If there was one memory Van found unsettling, it was that one dream-or fever induced nightmare-he had of Aaron. And catgirls.

Yes, fucking cat girls of all things. As ridiculous as it sounded, he had a valid reason, and NO he did not do anything weird beforehand to get that dream.

Basically, that cat movie with terrible cgi and taylor swift? He was pretty sure them creepy catgirls were in a cult to. He could barely remember that damnned movie from last night as he was pissed of his own head absolutely drunk.

Alohilani had dropped that DVD of the cursed movie in the barracks, as a result leading him to pick it up and read the premise of the play? musical? he didn't know.

The other thing he had no fucking clue on was whatever demonic urge pisessed him to watch the movie. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Perhaps it was sheer boredom. He. Did. Not. Know.

And that confusion and effects of alcohol fused together in his brain, making a morbidly terrifying amalgamation of Garfield (lord knows why garfield was even involved) the creepy cgi cat humans, and finally his granddad. Aaron. Aaron bloody Siegel.

The vivid dream was disturbingly detailed, follwong the plotline of that cat musical until he reached the mid point. And there. He met Aaron.

The elder man was speaking in a rather squeaky, distorted, honeyed voice that was vomit inducing (he had thrown up in his sleep), and the senior Siegel was prancing around like a showgirl at a club-rave, singing a horrible tune about faries of all blasted things. Faries.

He had woken up screaming and choking

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on the remains of the spit-vomit in his mouth, his mind lagging as it tried to process the insanity it had manufactured. He’d knock out Alohilani's teeth with that DVD the next time he saw him if he had any less self-control.

And he desperately hoped the memory of that dream would burn out in the dumpster fire that was that part of his brain before he needs to see Aaron again. Ira probably would've amnesticized this night away and he wouldn't blame her.

He almost wonders if Ira's dreams ever reached this level; at least she forgets them when she comes back to consciousness. His wondering is interrupted by delayed headrush and claws around his head pressing deep into his eyes, and he collapses back into bed, groaning.

He's not sure if this was from a hangover (which it shouldn't have, considering his kind of metabolism; it took six drinks last night for him to begin to feel tipsy) or sheer terror at the dream. If Alohilani tries to come in to check on him, he's seriously considering punching him in the face.

He also wishes he corrected dream-Aaron about the fae. Most of his raving was glaringly incorrect, and he knows he was smarter than that.

Then again. Van was the one who decided to watch the Cats movie, piss drunk or not.

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

Groaning and falling back, Van gingerly wiped the now crusted vomit upon his mouth and chin, staring up with awfully glazed eyes at he had the sudden urge to cry.

What on earth was he thinking? What would Aaron and Ira think of him if they saw him in this sweat-shivering vomit-covered mess.

An unfamiliar voice let out a cut off sob that echoed in the room, until he recognised it as his own.

Heat flared up in his cheeks at the fact he was unable to recognise his own voice, and pondering over what Aaron's reaction would be in finding out he had such lucid dream.

Again quiet sniffles emerged from hjs as salty water fell down the sides of his face, light blurring as his last resolve snapped against his will.

Shakily he sat halfway up, letting out a pained shout as the pain continued to entice more noise out his mouth unwillingly, and much more loudly as he fell back on the dingy mattress.

He somehow hadn't registered someone opening the door and switching the harsh lights on, Van yelling at the suddden shock and covering his face with his hands upon instinct.

"-me! Sir, are .... lrightm?" A distant, disconnected voice above him spoke too loudly for his hungover self, Van merely curling up into a tighter ball as he whined in protests and covered his ears.

A firm, gloved hand came to grab him by the shoulder with no warning, Van letting out a blood-curdling scream of terror, the next movements of him passing too quickly to recount. After that, all he remembered was someone tracing their gloved fingers over his knuckles as they gently placed his face into their shouldor.

He wouldn't accept this. He shouldn't. But a combination of his inhibitions being completely worn, and physical contact after months of being blocked up in a metal box called his office, he completely lost it, much louder and much more violently before.

His damp hair pressed into his face as he bawled hysterically into the other person's shoulder, fists violently fighting to get away even though his whole body yeared to keep hugging the other person on and on forever.

He thrashed, he wailed, he even disgustingly smeared snot by accident on their shoulder, but what mattered was that they were warm, smelled familar and were being much, much kinder to him during such an embarrassing outburts.

A hand snaked through his white hair, something that'd usually had him biting, but the way those individual firm fingers carded through his hair seemed to but something smaller, and more vulnerable in him to peace.

He couldn't tell if he was being rocked either, but appearances and formalities be dammned, if this is the few time he gets being held by just someone.

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Fanfic created with #FranticFanfic.

[iambecomeahamburger]

Draw the squad: Bad Batch edition

[ssahotchnerr]

can you imagine aaron being with a reader who just loves to sit in his lap? like there could be ten vacant chairs or they could be in a crowded room but she’ll always choose to sit on his lap?? at first aaron’s like baby 😅 what are you doing 🤭 but she’s all like i’m sitting here 😌 in your lap 😌 it’s my spot, right? and after a while he doesnt question it and just hugs her further into him

pleaseeeee 😭😭😭

hehehe aaron's lap just becomes your designated spot™ <333

it all started late one night and he brought work home, so he's sitting in the office filing away. since you haven't seen him almost all day :( you can't help but wander into his office in desperate need of his presence. as you silently move closer to him, he peeks up at you and gives you a questioning look, and your only response is settling into his lap 🥰 hehe a lil laugh echoes through his chest and amusingly he asks, "what are you doing?"🥰 to which you just snuggle further into him, press a soft kiss on his neck and mumble, "nothing."🥰 UGH he lets out a little small laugh and doesn't question it further <333 and as he's writing, his free hand finds the small of your back and he's just rubbing it so so gently 🥺 you almost and usually do fall asleep in his lap; just so content to be so close to him and knowing there is literally no other place that could ever be as comfortable as your aaron's lap<3 and whenever you crawl onto his lap, his cheeks flush every. time. the fact that you can be so happy just sitting there in silence, just wanting to be with him, makes his heart swell with all the love possible🥺. and to both your benefit, it also gives him a reason to not stay too late at the bau. if he has work to do still, he can at least go home, do it there while you keep him company no matter how long it takes <3

and after that, no matter where you are, you're either falling onto his lap yourself or he's pulling you himself on it <3333 one night you join him and the team when they go out. upon your arrival to the usual bar they frequent, you're settling in and penelope gestures to an open spot next to her for you to take. before you can even react and much less think, aaron's immediately grabbing onto your waist and pulling you on him. AH you respond with a giggle and throw your arms around him, saying "you're right, this is my spot" 🥰 and grant him a kiss !!! meanwhile the team is all o.O but aaron couldn't care less hehe <3 like you said, this is your spot. if it's open (and it always is), that's where you'll be.

AND jack will fight you for a spot on aaron's lap too 🥺😭 hehe he's the one exception of course. you'll be lounging on aaron's lap, watching tv or something and enjoying your alone time for the time being <33 and then jack finds the two of you, crosses his little arms and gives you the cutest lil pout >:( "c'monnnn share daddy. you've had him for so longggg." and how can you say no to him?!?! but you'll make quick playful banter with him <33 you'd cross your arms right back, mimic his pout, and say you don't want to share 🙄 but since he's your baby, you'll make an exception, to which jack laughs and launches himself at the two of you <3333 whenever this happens aaron fights a smile hehe <3 watching his two favorite people fighting over him when it'll just result in family snuggles 🥹; no one is left out so there are no room for complaints <333 hehe your boys 🥹

[padawan-snack-packer]

[You Give Them a Hug — Bad Batch (+ Omega!) Edition]

(aka: You broke them. And now they’re in love with you forever.)

So you peeps seemed to love the Clones Edition over here, so here is the Bad Batch version of it!!!

⚠️ TW: Not Canon. Just Vibes. ⚠️

This post contains: – Excessive hugging. – Deeply non-canon affection. – Clones feeling emotions they were not properly equipped to process. – A concerning lack of military professionalism. – Irreversible softness.

If you're looking for canon compliance, emotional restraint, or literally any kind of plot... you're in the wrong galaxy, sweetheart.

This is just me projecting unhinged love onto traumatized war orphans with muscles.

Proceed at your own risk. Hug responsibly. 💥🤗💥

Hunter

You hug Hunter and he just… stops functioning.

Like you initiated it mid-mission and this man has full-on emotion-induced lag.

“...Why’d you do that?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Loading Hunter.exe

He gives you this soft, stunned look like he didn’t know he needed physical affection until just now.

His return hug is slow, careful, warm. His arms wrap around your back and he doesn’t squeeze—he holds.

Stays silent for a moment. Then a low murmur: “...thanks. I needed that.”

From that point on, it’s Hunter Hug Radar Mode™.

You’re sad? He’s already moving.

You’re happy? Hug.

You yawned vaguely near him? “You look tired. C’mere.”

Somehow always smells like leather, dirt, and safety. It's like hugging your childhood treehouse and a protective panther.

Wrecker

OH.

OH YOU’RE IN FOR IT NOW.

You hug Wrecker and he goes FULL GOLDEN RETRIEVER MELTDOWN.

“AWwwwWWWWWWW!!! C’mere!!!”

Picks you up. Swings you. Spins you around until you’re dizzy and giggling and possibly concussed.

His hugs are LIFE-THREATENINGLY STRONG. Like being hit with a loving freight train.

“You’re the best! I’m gonna hug you every day forever now!!”

Immediately makes you a “You Hugged Wrecker” award out of scrap metal. It has glitter glue.

He initiates hugs constantly now. If you don’t hug him back fast enough, he starts whining like a sad bantha.

Tells Crosshair about the hug with tears in his eyes. Crosshair pretends not to care.

“They hugged me, man. Me!! WRECKER!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t start crying again.”

Tech

You hug Tech and it’s like hugging a 3D-printed anxiety machine.

Freezes.

“Wh—what are you doing? Is this…physical bonding? Are you malfunctioning? Am I??”

Absolutely stiff as a board. One arm hovers near your back like he's trying to remember what humans do.

You explain it’s just a hug. Tech mutters: “Hmmm. Fascinating. Increases oxytocin. Improves cardiovascular health. Reduces cortisol. Hm.”

But then you do it again.

And he goes quiet.

Softer.

Then his hands gently rest on your back and he melts like butter under a Tatooine sun.

You pull away and he clears his throat 14 times and then gives you a 12-slide presentation on “the measurable benefits of repeat physical affection among squadmates (with graphs).”

Secretly loves it. Won’t say it, but builds you a hug simulator in case he’s unavailable.

Crosshair

Oh.

OH YOU BRAVE, BRAVE FOOL.

You hug Crosshair and it’s like hugging a sniper rifle possessed by the ghost of unresolved trauma.

“...What the kriff are you doing?”

Arms at his sides. Staring down at you like you're a wild animal. Clearly thinking “kill or cuddle?”

You say “just hugging you.” And he just…blinks. Once. Twice.

Then you feel it: the tiniest shift. He leans in. One hand—just one—lands gently at your waist.

It’s not a full hug. It’s not even half a hug.

It’s 0.5 seconds of fragile vulnerability.

Then he pulls back and growls “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” …But his ears are pink. And he doesn’t move away from you for the rest of the day.

Later that week, you find a ration bar left on your bunk. It’s the good flavor.

Written in Sharpie on the wrapper: "Since you like touching people. Here's something to touch your mouth." (he tried)

Echo

Echo is a man held together by trauma, stubbornness, and like...two screws and a charging port.

You hug Echo and it’s like hugging a haunted vending machine with trust issues.

He doesn’t react at first. Just stiffens. Hard. Like his brain didn’t even register this as an available interaction option.

“...Why?” he asks, very quietly. Not suspicious. Not annoyed. Just… genuinely confused. Like he doesn’t think people do that to him anymore.

You say, “Because you deserve it.” And he. Short circuits.

It’s all in the eyes. That distant, shell-shocked clone stare goes soft. And sad. You get half a breath of “I don’t—” before his voice goes hoarse and he just leans in.

One arm—cold metal, whirring servos—wraps around you. The other presses tight, his hand fisting in the back of your shirt like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

His forehead rests on your shoulder. You feel him exhale. And it’s the sound of a man finally letting go of a weight he’s carried since the Citadel.

When he pulls back, his face is unreadable. But he says “...Thanks,” with such quiet, aching sincerity it wrecks you for 48 hours.

The next time you get hurt, Echo’s at your side before the medic droid.

He doesn’t hug you again right away. But he touches your shoulder now. Bumps your arm. Stays close.

Then one day—randomly, silently—he hugs you first. No words. Just that same warm, quiet grip. Like saying: I’m still here. And so are you.

Omega

YOU HUG OMEGA??

SHE SHRIEKS WITH GLEE AND TACKLES YOU LIKE A TINY STAR-WARS THEMED KOALA.

“HUG TIME!!!”

Wraps every limb around you like she’s a baby monkey and you’re a tree.

Refuses to let go for 10 minutes. It’s warm. It’s pure. It’s the most healing hug in galactic history.

Immediately declares you her “hug buddy.”

Makes you a friendship bracelet with “❤️ HUGS THUGS 4 LIFE ❤️” on it.

Tries to get the rest of the squad to join in. “Group hug! Come on! HUNTAH YOU’RE NOT TA COOL FOR LOVE.”

Eventually becomes hug ambassador. Sneak attacks everyone until the whole squad is touch-positive.

Hunter now does “the forehead touch.” Wrecker hugs everyone at breakfast. Tech nods politely and lets her sit in his lap. Crosshair lets her hug him while muttering “don’t tell anyone.”

🧸 BONUS: Bad Batch Group Hug™

You say “GROUP HUG” and Wrecker YEETS HIMSELF AT YOU FIRST.

Omega screams “YESSSS!!” and jumps on like a koala.

Tech mutters “Oh no it’s happening again” and gets absorbed into the chaos.

Crosshair stands two meters away looking like a feral cat. But you hold out your hand and he sighs, grumbles, and slinks in like he’s being drafted into a cult.

It’s warm. It’s slightly sweaty. Someone’s armor is digging into your hip. But everyone’s breathing slows down. There’s peace.

You say “I love you guys” and Hunter goes silent. Then softly replies: “Yeah. You too.”

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

I finally caved, so

Predictions for the final Bad Batch Episodes!

Ep 10: Retrieval

Fairly certain this'll be the Batch getting off that planet, though its most likely them retrieving their ship somehow. I'm still holding out hope that Echo and Rex will be the ones to end up getting them though, since I get the feeling Cid will be a no-show. Which might finally get Hunter to see that she does not at all have their best interest at heart. Which leads us to:

Ep 11: Metamorphosis

I'd love it if this was either just Crosshair or Hunter and Crosshair paralleled. Meaning we watch Crosshair starting to reject the Empire and Hunter starting to want to join the rebellion. Either one of those would be more than acceptable to me.

Though I wouldn't mind another cute filler. I'm thinking something like a huge butterfly that Omega ends up riding or something, but my imagination is probably running away with me. (butterfly bc yanno caterpillar and like metamorphosis. you get it.)

Ep 12: The Outpost

REX AND ECHO EPISODE, REX AND ECHO EPISODE, REX AND ECHO EPISODE PLEASE

(but srsly, we know that Echo and Omega see each other again, bc they share that hug that we got from leaked pics. not the one from the ep 8, there'll be another one. my moneys on either next ep, or this one. Something abt the batch helping out with another mission or Echo needing them and them coming to his base or something. Either way, gotta be one of these two.)

Ep 13: Pabu

Gotta be filler. Probably some wise-cracking oldie, who takes Omega on an inspirational wisdom journey or something. That or another kid who's just there to wreak havoc with Omega and give Hunter even more aggressive Dad Vibes™

Ep 14: Tipping Point

I'm betting Cross on this one 100%. This'll be his breaking point, this'll be when he needs his brothers back. Would love a little batch teaming up with Rex and Echo to get Crosshair out, since that's what those two do now :) (this would not be the ep where they actually get him out. Just the one where he decides he wants out and reaches out to the Batch or Rex or something)

Ep 15 + Ep 16: The Summit & Plan 99

Them getting Crosshair out. I think if someone's gonna die this season it's gonna be in one of these two episodes. Probably a lot of epic fire fights, schemy little plans and way too many feels for all of us to handle. I'm so excited :)

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Holy shit, look at this! One month to finish one chapter, and then I churn out another in 5 days. Who am I?!

Seriously, your response to last chapter blew me away. That's what got me writing so quick. That, and I can't bear our Ralphie being sad, lol. This is a very Ralph-centric chapter, so I hope you enjoy! <3

Also, this chapter introduces what may be my most favourite character yet. I can't wait to write more of her.

Set your alarm to a sound you like, they said. You’ll wake up in a better mood, they said. Guaranteed good start to the day, they said. You don’t even remember putting your phone on charge last night. You remember getting out of the taxi. You remember opening the door. You remember going up the stairs. You remember face-planting into the bed. But you don’t even remember getting your phone back out from where you’d put it.

Something doesn’t feel right about the bed, though. You roll over and notice there’s no other weight pressing down on the mattress. Turning yourself fully, you see that Ralph’s not in the bed with you. Neither are his pillows. His phone is charging on his nightstand, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Until you see some movement out of the corner of your eye, and look down to see him asleep on the floor. He’s brought his pillows down with him, but he’s only got his coat to cover him. Leaning across the mattress, you reach down over the side of it to prod him. “Hey. Ralph. C’mon, get into bed.” He grunts, shaking his head around until his face is buried into the pillow. You tut and groan, “Fuck’s sake, I’m taking a shower and then going downstairs, so just… Stop being so bloody awkward and get some decent sleep, at least.”

Holding your head as you shake it, you clamber out of the bed and trundle your way into the bathroom. Poking at the remnants of last night’s face, you try and save as much of your skin’s condition as you can by taking a wipe to it before you get into the shower.

The shower takes far longer than usual, as if you’re not already running behind on your own schedule. As you watch the water run down your limbs, words echo in your head. Having you at my ankles 24/7 is fucking exhausting. Tell me the truth already, it’ll hurt less. For fuck’s sake, Ralph, I don’t want you gone! I’m just a -thing now. Tipping your head up, you let every stream of water punch you in the face, cleansing you of all the negativity that last night had left on you. 

Once you’re finally washed, dried and dressed, you don’t even bother checking if Ralph got into the bed before you go back downstairs. The friends that are awake so far greet you gingerly, and you groan, your face wincing. “Do you guys -”

“We’ve already agreed that we’re Switzerland here,” Connor interjects. “We don’t know your side. We barely know Ralph’s, he was a wreck.” You let out another small groan. “And it’s obviously very fresh so we won’t pry,” he holds his hands up.

“But, we are still here for the both of you, however you need us,” Scott nods.

You nod back, “’Preciate it, thanks. I was actually gonna ask if - I’ll happily take back anyone’s bags, to make room, but I was wondering if… Any of you had space, if you could… Take him home for me, I’d be super grateful.”

“He can come back with us,” Anna looks over at Scott and his partner, who both nod back.

“We’ll take care of him. Take the time you need,” Scott comforts you with a warm hug across the shoulders.

Once you hear one more person coming down the stairs, you feel your insides turn to lead in seconds. Grabbing some toast, you sneak your way through the ground floor rooms so that you can get back to the stairs without having to face him again.

Quickly filtering through the clothes in Ralph’s - your suitcase that he’s using, you can tell he’s gotten dressed for the day, so collecting his remainders and packing them, as well as your own, you get to loading up your car. Anna and the boys helpfully take their bags out, too, offering hugs and words of sympathy and gratitude.

“Ralph mentioned something about wanting to go somewhere before we leave, so we’ll probably be a bit late back, okay?” Anna tells you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nod, “I think it’ll do me good to have some me time.”

“I do, too. Just don’t get too angry and do something stupid, ’kay?” Anna makes you promise and gives you one final hug before you head out onto the road.

As you set your phone up to start playing music for the drive home, you notice the notifications on your lock screen:

Missed call (12)

Voicemail (9)

With a heavy sigh, you leave them on the screen, at least until you get to a service station. After filling the car up, getting some snacks and a drink for the journey, and getting back on the road, you finally bite the bullet and start playing the voicemails through your car’s speaker:

“How dare you run out on me?! You didn’t even give me a fighting chance to truly say my piece, I thought that very unfair of you. Need I remind you that all of this is extremely new to me, not to mention completely terrifying?! Life as I know it is gone, and I don’t know when I can go back. How can you not see that from my point of view?!”

“I was only looking out for you, you know. It wasn’t proper, the way he was around you. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, like you were a piece of meat, it was vulgar. And especially while you were under the influence of alcohol, how advantageous for him! What with you being so far from home, I was simply intervening to make sure you were safe!”

“And what on earth made you think that I see you as a replacement for my own mother?! For one thing, Mother never even did any of her own cooking or cleaning. I thought you were a friend. Friends don’t leave their friends stranded in loud places that they don’t know, half a hundred miles away from another place they don’t even know anymore!”

“Don’t you even worry yourself any further. As soon as we get back to London, I’m making it priority number one to go and find that old man and demanding he take me back to my own time again. I don’t care that he told you that it was random, I’ll sleep under the bridge with him for however long is needed if that’s what it takes to get me back to my home. That’s what you want, and so that’s what I’ll do. If I’m going to be an unwanted presence, I may as well do it in a time and a place that I know, where I have enough money to my name that people will at least pretend to like me without ever telling me they don’t!”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake here. I was getting upset and so I went outside for some fresh air, and then I wanted to go home too, but I can’t do that without money and so I started walking in the direction that I thought was the sea, but now I fear I’ve gone too far. I’m going to turn back. I hope I haven’t accidentally made any turns that I’ve forgotten about. Oh, what a fool I am. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ralph. Why am I even on the phone, it’s not like you can help me now. Or that you’d want to.”

“I’ve given up on walking now, I’m just sitting on the edge of the path. People keep dropping coins next to me. Perhaps those can be a consolation fee to you. Or perhaps this is how I earn my keep after all. Everybody pity poor, pathetic Ralph. Not enough to stop his father going through his staff as if our home doubled as a brothel, not enough to save his mother from the heartbreak of Father’s death. Not enough for Victoria to ever even consider me more than the social title we both held together being who we are. Not even enough to keep the only person who ever cared about me to stay.”

“Oh blast, what have I done? I don’t want to lose you. I - Just because I had promised myself that I wouldn’t repea- Gah, don’t do it, Ralph, this isn’t the proper way, stupid -”

“I realise that last message left quite abruptly. Connor found me and took me back to the bar and now we’re waiting for a taxi but I went to the toilet first. And I felt that feeling again when you look at yourself in the mirror and suddenly everything feels all wobbly. And I think I’ve said some very bad things that I can’t remember. But I do know I’m still mad at you, as well. I didn’t want to say any of those things, but you can’t deny you’re not responsible for this fight, too. I hope you’re sleeping well.”

“We are home now. Well, not home home but we are back at the house. I went up to the bedroom but you were already in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. I shan’t wake you, and I suppose I should learn my place at some point. I took the liberty of taking your phone out and putting the charger into it. I couldn’t tell you why I’m still leaving you these messages, I suppose I just… I’m upset with you, but also I want to talk to you, because you know better than anyone how to make me happier again. And I want to talk about all of this, but also I don’t know if that is such a good idea or it’ll just keep dragging this out. But won’t it be worse if we never do? Mother and Father never talked their problems out - not that we’re - oh, I give up.”

You’re not sure how you feel. You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to shake Ralph by his shoulders, but you also want to hug him tightly and let that citrusy scent of his envelop you.

He’s right, though. You want to talk to him, but you also don’t. Because you know that the things you want to say, the things you could say to the Ralph you envision in your head, the real Ralph wouldn’t reply in the same way. He’d probably get defensive and you wouldn’t actually get anywhere because he’d get stubborn and you’d get upset. Or maybe he would hear you out. Maybe you’re just villainising him at the moment because of how fresh the wounds of last night are.

Even so, even if you do start to address every elephant in the room, how far do you allow that to unravel? Do you tell him the truth, that if you don’t spite him for his actions, you’ll only keep forgiving them if only because you can’t bear to think of life without him? Do you stand there and beg for him to never leave the 21st century, consequences be damned? Do you honestly believe your life is some kind of late-2000s rom-com movie?

The closer you get back to London, the more you dwell on certain parts of certain messages. Especially the part about Ralph deciding he’ll live the rest of his days in this era with Homeless Pete. Was he serious about that? You have most of his possessions either with you or back at the flat, but would he come back for them? Would there even be a point? No, you can’t imagine Ralph would last more than twenty minutes out there roughing it. 

But what if he doesn’t come back to you? What if one of your friends agrees to take him in, instead? You’re sure that your relationship with them wouldn’t change in the slightest, but you’re not certain that he would remain neutral. Would he feel too uncomfortable around you? Would there be a home amongst your friends’ that you would no longer be welcome in?

Maybe he is out of your life for good after this. Maybe he is just going to find somewhere else to live until the time machine lift fixes. Maybe going cold turkey is what you need. You were getting too ahead of yourself. And besides, even in a scenario where he really does have no choice but to return, it’s only a matter of time before all of this piles up again, and then you’re right back here. Is it worth putting yourself through this much turmoil time and again for something so fruitless?

But that insinuates that you’ve only ever been helping Ralph for your own ulterior motives. Ralph didn’t come to you seeking anything other than - well, he wasn’t seeking anything out, the poor guy just ended up here. But you happened to find him. And you took him in and gave him the roof over his head that he needed. You kept him fed and comfortable, is that not just something you’d do out of the kindness of your own heart? Is it really fair to turf him out because you can’t keep your feelings in check? Or is it fairer to cut him loose, and let him forge his own path with whomever he wants to, not just the first person he meets?

As you pull into the familiar busy streets of Croydon, you wonder just how far back Anna and the others are. Her last update, and Connor’s, all came at similar times, but where Connor was informing you all that he, Grace and her boyfriend were halfway there, Anna was texting to say they were just leaving Brighton.

Parking your car in its spot, you look up through your windscreen at the towering block of flats, resting your chin against your steering wheel. You know that everything’s just going to remind you of him in there, too. But where else could you go?

~~~

After one final trip to the beachfront, Ralph knew it was time to face the music. No hiding behind false smiles and fake words. Although, maybe he had ruined the chance at fixing things with words, even if they were true. Perhaps you’ll be truly sick of him. The way everyone always is.

Of course, nobody likes a self-pitiful fool. You’d made that abundantly clear last night. But what else is Ralph to do? It’s not wrong. He’s always been second fiddle. Never picked in classes, never favoured by his peers, never favoured by his parents, even the help were always far more charmed by Victoria than they were by him. And Ralph never understood why, he always tried to emulate his sister in every way, but that just wasn’t right, for some reason.

In the car, Anna suggests playing some songs that’ll make Ralph feel better. He agrees, and it does lift his spirits as he hears the familiar voice of his now-favourite singer, but the lyrics bring his mood straight back down again. He frowns, “I thought you said these songs would cheer me up.”

“I said they’d make you feel better,” Anna corrects. “Sometimes when you’re feeling sad, it’s better to just… I dunno, let someone else talk about how you’re feeling. Makes you feel less alone in it all. It’s cathartic.”

And so Ralph spends most of the car journey back in relative silence, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the car window as he argues with himself. What the devil is he supposed to do now?

Yes, he may have told you in the heat of the moment that he'd rather live with that awful man, and yes, in theory that does sound like the perfect solution - it gives you the closure from Ralph that you apparently want, as well as giving him direct access to the only person who can help… put him back. Those words pierce him, etching deeper into his brain every time he thinks them.

But, in reality? Ralph tries to remember the area that you’d taken him to when you’d first talked to that homeless man about how he’d ended up here. He remembers dirty people, dirty mattresses with little to no springs. No place for a Penbury, that’s for sure. Though is Ralph even one at this point?

What does he expect to happen when he goes back in time, back to Penbury House? You’d always encouraged him to tell Victoria to “shove it”, but how well would that be taken? Surely she’d just tell him the same thing and turf him out? She’d have more reason to, it’s been her place of residence and she’d surely have the other four on her side.

And did he want to win Lauren back? DId he want to come back with a bravado that she’d find attractive? Did he really want her to find him attractive anymore? Yes, he’d been drawn to her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but she certainly made her intentions with him - or lack thereof - very well-known. Ralph looks in the mirror at Scott and his partner in the back seat, both chatting away as they hold hands. Lauren would never love Ralph like that. 

Scott’s reflection catches Ralph’s eye and raises his eyebrows in slight concern. Ralph simply nods with a small smile. He looks over at Anna, who’s singing along with the song that’s currently playing. She notices his gaze and briefly meets it, gesturing encouragingly as her singing becomes more deliberate. Though Ralph has yet to master lyrics to the songs he now likes, his smile does grow a little bigger as he moves his head from side to side in rhythm with the song. Anna, in turn, beams back at him before focusing on the road once again.

This is the sort of love Ralph always dreamt of having someday. Of course, there’s still more that he’d love to have. He’d love someone to wake up to every morning, to embrace and to kiss and to devote every waking moment to. Oh blast, this is his internal monologue, he can say it; he’d love to wake up to you every morning, to embrace you and to kiss you and to devote every waking moment to you. 

But this sort of love is just as important. Friends who check up on him, and who cheer him up. He’ll miss that once he’s back in his own era. Not that he’d be able to keep it up for much longer if he were to stick around. Your friends are loyal creatures, and you’ve known them for far longer. It would only hurt anyway if he were to stay and they were to pick you.

Though, who’s to say that they would? The words you’d told him days ago echo in his mind. If Ralph wants to be their friend, he has to believe that they want to be his friend, too. And they’ve only ever made him feel like he was part of the group, from the day they met him. Perhaps they’d be willing to remain in contact with Ralph even if you didn’t want to. But wouldn’t that split the group up? Or has Ralph been underestimating you, as a part of the friend group as well, and perhaps you would still remain friends with him after all of this. But could he face you after the things that were said?

And how would he explain himself? You’ve obviously got it in your head that Ralph only intervenes because he wants attention. Does he explain that he wants so much more than that? That he wants a whole life with you? What would be the point in disclosing that now, when obviously Ralph’s destiny would doom any sort of relationship between you. If he knew how long he had, perhaps he could simply keep those thoughts where they already remain, in his imagination. For the sake of the group, and for the sake of just getting to spend as much time around you as possible.

Is that self-destructive of Ralph? Maybe. But if he’s on borrowed time, what’s the use in wasting it? Doesn’t he deserve these fleeting moments of happiness, too? Even if he knows they’ll only end in disaster for him, it’s not as though he’s got a lot going for him, anyway

Before Ralph knows it, he’s starting to recognise certain streets. And then Anna’s stopping outside your block of flats. Ralph gets out, with gracious nods of thanks and grateful smiles to everyone in the car, and waves them off as they drive away. He looks up to the ninth floor windows, eyes squinting with the brightly lit clouds that overcast the late November sky.

Ralph takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He squares his shoulders up. His eyes still trained on the window he knows is yours, he once again inhales deeply, holds it for a second… And promptly turns on his heel and power-walks down the street.

He’s not sure where he’s going, wherever his legs take him, he supposes. He rounds a corner and is suddenly met by a very familiar face. “Ah! Mister… P-Peter, wasn’t it?” The man grunts and waves his hand from side to side. “You’re the one that brought me here, aren’t you?” The man studies Ralph’s face intently for a moment and then realisation dawns. He clicks his fingers as his eyes widen and he nods, and then before he can react, Homeless Pete grabs Ralph by the arm and leads him back to the building Ralph first emerged from almost 3 months ago.

Ralph looks through the open doors, to the carpeted floors that look unchanged from when he last walked them. The lift doors stare back at him ominously. “Are - are you bringing me here because… Is it time?” Despite the inevitability of this moment, a tidal wave of sadness crashes over Ralph. This is it. The man shrugs and nods. 

Ralph looks at him with sorrowful eyes, “Do you think I have time to say my goodbyes, at least?” Another shrug and a wrinkle of the nose bridge. Ralph is perplexed. “Well, how long have I got?” A shrug, a gesture to himself, a gesture to the lift. Until Mr Peter goes in himself, Ralph deduces. 

He ponders for a moment. “Do you - what would happen, would you say, if I were to… To not go back? Would it affect… You know?” Ralph gesticulates wildly around himself. With a fleeting amused smile, Homeless Pete shakes his head. He gestures to himself, then out to the left. Back to himself, and then out to the right. Another shrug. 

As Ralph’s trying to figure it out, Pete then taps his arm, holds up 4 fingers and looks at Ralph expectantly. He then points to the ground, and holds up the four fingers again. “Oh! Do you mean the four that travelled to us? L-Lauren and the rest?” The name still catches in his throat. Pete nods. He looks all around, in all directions. He shrugs at Ralph. “Do you think life is no different with them staying where they are?” Pete shakes his head.

Ralph could practically feel his brain doing somersaults trying to understand it all. So, perhaps there is a chance for him to stay, after all? But how on earth would that be feasible? He can't do anything that requires legal documentation - he could never get a job, or buy a house, or see a doctor, or travel the world, or get married. What if he became horrifically unwell? Which is the worse fate, to die a slow and physically painful death amongst friends, or a slow and emotionally painful death from a broken heart, all alone?

Even that rides upon the illusion that you and your friends would remain with Ralph until the end of his days. What if you never take him back? What if you do, but the cycle repeats itself until you leave him hung out to dry? While his lady friends are all good company, none of those are exactly chomping at the bit to talk to him. He’s usually the one that starts conversations with them. How could he expect any of them to put him up forevermore? He’d have to disclose the true nature of his existence to them eventually, and what if they took it poorly?

“Could I… Have some time to mull this over, please?” Ralph eventually asks. A grunt. Four fingers up. A point to the ground. “You would like to reconvene at 4pm?” A nod. “Very well, I shall return by 4pm promptly.”

Ralph turns away and starts walking in whatever direction he’s stopped at. He keeps walking, hoping to outrun the swarm of conflicting thoughts trying to consume his head, until he hits the high street. At the end of it, another familiar building. Far older than the rest. With a big black sign hanging off of the side wall that has a big white W on it.

Ralph approaches the bookstore as though his legs are moving him there automatically, completely independently from his own volition. He stops himself as he gets close, though - letting someone pass breaks him out of his trance. Watching so many people going in and out of his front door. He recognises a dark plaque by the side of it - it’s much too far away for Ralph to read it, but he doesn’t need to. He knows what it says by heart. Penbury House, est. 1898. It was a wedding present from Ralph’s maternal grandparents so that his parents may start a family. Oh, how his mother’s family loved that she were married to Lord Penbury. She was no lowly peasant herself, of course, but a Lord, no less!

Ralph always resented inheriting that title. It made him just like his father. And it was his father’s penchant for… Whatever he was doing with that young woman, that led to his untimely demise. A real stain on the Penbury name. If not for the twins turning their reputation around to being total carefree socialites, with free rein of a mansion, complete with the family wealth, and no parental guidance, they surely would have had no leg to stand on.

Taking another deep breath, Ralph marches past the old oak doors and into what was once his hallway. Cash registers adorn the hallway, along with a Customer Service desk right up at the front. Ralph approaches it and asks meekly, “Excuse me, do you know much of the history of this building?”

“Uhh, I know some super rich family owned it until the daughter blew all their money and it was repo’ed. Someone made it into a bookstore and then, big capitalism over here,” they gesture wildly with their arms, “Waterstone’s bought it out. As far as I know, they obviously didn’t keep any of the furniture but all of the walls and floors and that are restored as best they can be.”

Of course Victoria wasted all their family’s fortune away. With the help of those four, no doubt. Ralph wonders whether that means he really is needed back in his own era. To keep her from ruining the Penbury name. With a small nod of thanks to the staff member, he slowly starts to walk around the hallowed halls.

The dining area, filled with aisles of jigsaw puzzles and card games, like the ones he was playing with your friends over the past week. What a strangely apt crossover of Ralph’s two worlds, he thinks to himself. In the next room, there are craft supplies and children’s games all around it. Children run laps around their parents. What a strange sight to behold in a kitchen, though now it looks as though there was never a stove in it. The living area is absolutely chock-full of books. Piles and piles. “Best Selling”. “New In Stock”. “Booktok Finds”, whatever that means. There’s a couple on a book cover in a display titled “Modern Romance” who look a lot like a cartoon version of Scott and his partner. If he could, Ralph would have liked to buy them it.

He thinks back to the ukulele that Connor had bought him. Although he’d had no means of paying him back, Ralph had tried to insist on paying Connor back in some way, but he’d shrugged him off, insisting that it was “fine” and “’s just what mates do, innit?” No matter how much he racks his brain, Ralph can’t remember a time when anyone ever bought him a gift. On his birthday, he’d get presents for little boys, but not necessarily for Ralph. Footballs and train sets and toy soldiers. He had far more fun on Victoria’s rocking horse, or even games as simple as a hoop and stick, though running through the house with them always ended with harsh words and a harsher reception from his father’s cane.

The door leading out to the garage has a sign on it that says [Staff Only]. Clerks would walk in empty-handed and come out again with arms full. He assumes that’s where the inventory is kept.

He notices that there are people running up and down the stairs, and asks the very helpful clerk at the front if it’s okay to go up there. They tell him it is, and explain that there is a cordoned off area for staff only, but that there are plenty more books to be found, as well as some toilets if that’s what he’s looking for. He assures them that it isn’t, but he thanks them again regardless. 

Victoria’s quarters are now the staff quarters. The bathroom… Still serves some of its purposes. The master bedroom and his father’s office are all also filled with bookshelves. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, seeing all these people walk through rooms that even Ralph and Victoria were forbidden from, back in the day.

Which leaves one more room. Taking a moment to compose himself, he steps into what used to be his bedroom and is met with the most amazing smells. Sounds of china clinking against itself as cups find saucers. The gentle chatter of people sitting in what appears to be a small cafe. So many people in his space. Nothing to suggest it was ever the room he grew up in.

He’s stood by a counter, looking around while lost in thought, when the barista behind the counter gets his attention. “Everything okay, sir? Would you like anything?”

Ralph coughs out, “Oh, please, I’m no sir. Um, it’s fine, I haven’t… Brought any money with me or anything. Just here to look around.”

Nodding slowly while frowning, the barista steps away for a moment before returning and sliding a full cup of saucer his way. “Oh, no!” they say in a very deliberate tone. “I seem to have made this all wrong for one of my customers, and I would hate to waste it! Would you mind taking it off my hands, so my boss doesn’t see?”

Ralph looks perplexed. “But I just saw you - and how could you possibly go wrong with tea, you’ve not put any milk in yet or -”

They wave him off. “You look like you need it. Call it my good deed for the day. What milk should I “accidentally” put in?” They make air quotes with their fingers, which makes Ralph chuckle. 

He tells them which milk he’d prefer and they add it to his liking - “accidentally,” Ralph repeats the motions back to the barista who smiles back. “Should I tell others of your good deed, or do you wish for it to remain unknown?”

They grin widely. “Maybe no photos, but you can subtweet me if you like.”

Ralph frowns. “What’s a sub-tweet?”

“You can tweet about it without mentioning any specifics about me,” they explain. “Big fan, by the way.”

Ralph looks elated, but then his face falls. “Would - Are you going to ask me for a photo?”

“Oh god, no, I don’t think either of us are prepared for that! This chat’s been more than enough for me,” they smile at him once more before serving the next customer.

Ralph takes the cup with a warmth in his heart as he finds a free table that, once he’s sat at, is in the exact same placement as though he were sat at his own bed. He rubs his thumb back and forth across the rim of the cup, replaying that little conversation over and over. Being shown such a genuine act of kindness, with the person getting absolutely no personal gain from it, and within the walls of his own home, as well - sure, the people who wanted photos was flattering enough, but for once, someone just wanted to connect with Ralph. To validate that they didn’t think him an annoyance.

That gets him thinking yet again. About all of the times in this building he’s heard, “Not now, Ralph!” “For crying out loud, boy, will you stop?!” “Ugh, what is it now, hm?!” And about how he hasn’t heard a single utterance of any of those phrases since living with you. 

Maybe it was never Ralph that was annoying - you never made him feel that way, even at the beach when he was trying to help you find your rock. Every time Ralph tried to help, you were never unkind. Even when he would get too excited and hand you one that he’d already done before, you telling him, “You’ve already shown me that one!” was accompanied with laughter. What a sweet sound that was. Ralph misses it so. Even when the day’s excursion was unsuccessful because he got distracted playing with a child, you were completely unperturbed by it.

Maybe Ralph isn’t annoying. Maybe you were just the first selfless person out there who had the patience for him. Maybe…

Ralph shoves his hands into his coat pockets and feels around. He feels something large and leaves it be, and then feels something long and smooth. He takes out the photo reel of the two of you and looks at each photo. He’d have never been allowed to pose for any of the Penbury family portraits like this. Not even the soft smiles in the top one. The smile that looks so good on you. How could Ralph ever want to do anything other than make you feel like that all of the time?

As he sips his tea, his thumb absent-mindedly rubs over the bottom photo. Ralph couldn’t believe his luck, to feel your lips on his face. Of course, he had plenty more from the rest of your friends, but it wasn’t the same. How lucky Ralph was on that day. How happy the two of you were. He’d do anything to make sure you were that happy, again.

Anything.

He pockets the photos carefully, before finishing his tea in one big gulp, thanking the barista silently but profusely, and making his way out of Penbury House once more.

He wasn’t exactly expecting Homeless Pete to be waiting outside of the building the whole time, and so it’s a rather charming surprise to see him there still. Ralph stays back for a few moments, figuring out what his next words will be to Pete, since they’ll likely be the last he addresses them with. Once he’s decided, after several minutes of deliberating, he takes a deep breath and strides up to the other man.

“Mister Peter, after thinking long and hard about this, I have decided I wish to stay. I just feel as though I still have -”

Homeless Pete cuts him off with a grunt before turning around and shuffling into the building. Ralph frowns at the sight of the back of him. He was so looking forward to getting certain things off of his chest, and it was such a big decision to make, now it all feels rather anticlimactic. It’s rather underwhelming, if he’s being honest.

Turning back and walking down the high street, he sees what appears to be a costume store of sorts. There’s a suit jacket that Ralph rather likes the look of, but it’s paired with the most hideous colour combination. Looking around at the rest of the window display, he recognises the style of tasselled dress on the second mannequin with great familiarity, though something puzzles him about the display. There’s a board on it that specifically states, “Party like it’s 1922”, but these colours were not in season at all! What an amateur display of affairs. The only thing that remains true to that year are the trousers of the suit, but again, the top half is all wrong.

Ralph does spot something on the rack behind that looks like it would go well, though. And he’s strangely taking this display very personally. Once again working on autopilot, he marches into the store and promptly starts stripping down the suited mannequin. Finding a more appropriate shirt and tie to go along with the outfit he’s designing in his head, he starts muttering nonsensically to himself under his breath. 

He doesn’t notice the store clerk, who’s been watching him with amazed confusion at the sheer audacity of his actions, creeping up to him until they ask, “Sir? Can I help you?”

“Oh, heavens!” Ralph yelps before letting a laugh bubble out from his lips. “Made me jump. No, thank you, I’m perfectly fine as I am!”

“…Right.” They slowly back away into a back room, out of Ralph’s perception. Not that he was watching, anyway, he’s on the lookout for a dress that complements his new suit layout far better.

Just as he’s pulling the dress over the mannequin’s head - blindly, as he has his head turned away from it and his eyes squeezed shut, for good measure - an older woman with a kindly face approaches him. “Hello there, love. Did my employee’s window display offend you, by any chance?” she asks in a Cockney accent.

“Oh!” Another yelp causes him to jump up on the spot. “You’re a sneaky pair, aren’t you! Yes, I’m terribly sorry, it’s awfully rude of me, but you see… The colour palette was all too wrong for the year 1922 anyway, and even then, nothing really complemented each other. I just thought this looked more cohesive, and… Honestly, I’ve no idea what came over me, the more I stand here the more of an utter fool I feel for being so inappropriate, I truly hope you can forgive me but I understand if you can’t, I shall leave immediately,” he hangs his head as he rambles, but the woman pats his arm.

“Chatty li’ul thing, int’cha?” She grins. “Name’s Florence, but don’t call me that, everyone calls me Babs. Always have since I were a kid.” She provides no further context, which Ralph tries not to dwell on as she continues, “Look, ���ere’s the fing, I ain’t the spring chicken I used to be, and I’ve been lookin’ for a fresh pair o’ hands. You seem to have an eye for this sorta fing. Fancy a job ’ere?”

Ralph’s eyes widen. “Oh, I, um, I can’t - I’m not… resgistered with any… Banks, you see,” he scrambles to think of a decent excuse, his eyes squeezing shut and his fingers curling in and stretching out.

Babs, however, screeches out a cackle. “Oh, ain’t you a - ’ere, in’t he a crack-up?” She asks the person behind the counter, who nods without looking up, with the air of someone very used to Babs’ personality. “You and me, darlin’, we’re one and the same. I don’t trust them toffs at the bank, neither! They want my money, they can prise it out me cold, dead hands! That’s why I pay cash in hand, sweed’art, all I ask is you show up a few days a week and I’ll pay ya for ’em. How’s that sound?”

A job with no ties to needing any sort of administration? Sounds too good to be true. But Ralph doesn’t care in this moment. “Oh, Ms. Babs, this really does solve such a gaping issue for me, you have no idea how indebted I am, thank you so very much,” he gushes as he shakes her hand enthusiastically.

She laughs, “Calm it, Kermit, I’ve already ’ad an ’ip replaced, I’d like to keep both me ’ands if I can ’elp it!” Ralph lets go as though she’s electrocuted him, which only makes her laugh more. “Go on, away wiv ya. See ya Monday, 9 sharp! We’ll talk shop more then. And you can drop that Ms malarkey, an’ all!”

Ralph smiles and bows at her, then at the other clerk, then at Babs again, who waves him away with a warm smile. Turning on his heel, Ralph’s filled with a confidence he’s never felt before as he strides back down the high street. Perhaps he could do it all. Perhaps he could even tell you how he truly feels about you.

Or, once the tower block comes into view, he could freeze up entirely at the thought. How presumptuous of him, to assume you’d reciprocate. Ralph would be lucky if you were to talk to him again after last night’s display. And what would he even say to you? Is it worth all of the mental energy to plan a whole monologue in advance, or would you simply repeat the other man’s actions, and slam the door in his face before he got the chance to say his piece?

Taking a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists up, he finally marches his way into the building, pressing the call button for the lift with such force that the arrow imprints in the pad of his thumb. As he’s waiting for it to come down, a familiar sound from behind him surprises him, as he turns to face whoever caused it.

~~~

Once you’re in your flat, wrestling both your bag and the suitcase into the lift with you and practically juggling them as you try to unlock your door, you take Ralph’s stuff and quickly throw it all into the bedroom, shutting the door and metaphorically shutting everything to do with Ralph in there. Except this had been his home for the last 3 months, so everything everywhere reminds you of him. Shaking your head, you go to your bag, throw everything that isn’t clothing out of it and take it out to the launderette with you. Keep out of the house, keep busy. Just until your mind stops swimming.

You watch your clothes spin around in the soapy water and wish you could do the same to your brain. What do you do with Ralph? Do you forgive him? Do you not? Do you seek his forgiveness? What if he doesn’t forgive you? 

You’re still very sure that your anger was valid. But perhaps not all of it was justified. You’ve been putting an awful lot of emotional weight on the idea of Ralph. Imagining him as the perfect boyfriend, and then trying to see the worst in him to combat those feelings. That doesn’t sound like someone with a winning argument in the real world.

Something about not having the security of having Ralph safe at home has you feeling a sense of numbness. Time passes without you even noticing. You’re not doing anything to help it along. Just sitting, staring, pondering.

Once you’re back home, you check the time and frown. Based on the time Anna said she was leaving, she should have been back well before now. You text:

Panicking, you then text the group:

Pacing the flat, your mind races more than ever. What if he’s hurt? Or worse? Or what if H.P’s found him because the time machine’s finally working now? What if he’s just walking the streets because he doesn’t want to return home? What if he really is living with the vagrants? What if he’s just doing all of this to make you panic over him? Truly, anything’s possible. Truly. He’s even in your head, now.

You look out through your window, uselessly from this high up. You know your friends said that you should stay at the flat, and it makes sense, in case he does come back. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s lost? What if you need to be out there?

No. You’re useless to him and to your friends if your mind’s frazzled. You try asking your Echo if it can play you some music before remembering that a certain someone rendered it useless to you. You try and flick through your TV options but none of them are a worthy distraction.

After some frantic cleaning, you swear you’re starting to hear voices. Who else would be talking out in the hallway? Could it be? But who would he be talking to?

You press your ear to the door and pure relief washes over you as you hear the sweet, familiar tone of a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Running to grab your phone, you hurriedly text them to call off the search before swinging the door open.

“- dunno how the fuck she even got out, let alone all the way down there."

"Must have been the stairs, though it would be rather humorous if she learned how to operate the lift all by herself, wouldn't it?" Ralph chortles. Fuck, you've missed the sound of his laugh, and it's only been a day.

"Alright, look who's here!" Your neighbour cheers as they see you. They're standing in their open doorway, while Ralph is in the hall cradling Cheese the cat. Quickly, while his eyes haven't met yours yet, you snap a picture of Ralph holding his feline friend to send as a quick update to the group.

When Ralph looks around to see you, his eyes immediately fill with delight, then remorse, then excitement, then dejection, finally settling on looking at you with intent to gauge your reaction. Your neighbour, oblivious, continues, "Literally, mate, I owe you so much for finding her. Name your price."

"Oh, nonsense, just knowing she's safe and home is reward enough for me," Ralph scratches her just beneath her jaw as he rocks her like a baby, to which she purrs loud enough for even you to hear. The same cat who you'd had to being out of hiding before by standing in the doorway and throwing ham into your neighbour's flat until she came out to eat it.

"Well, if you think of anything, you let me know. I just hope nobody told the big man that they saw a cat walking around when we're not meant to have them," your neighbour grimaces.

"Ahh, if I catch wind of any grasses, I'll sort them out," you smirk before turning to Ralph again. "Ready to go?"

Ralph's big doe eyes bore into yours as he nods, gently putting the cat down and then quickly making his way back into your flat.

"He's a good'un really, isn't he?" Your neighbour simpers.

Watching him go, your wistful smile remains even as you look back at your neighbour. "Yeah. Remember what I told you when you first met him? Harmless."

"Yeah, yeah. You would think that," they smile knowingly. Narrowing your eyes, confused, you simply wave them off and go back through your door

Ralph seems to have shut himself in your room. You feel as though he's probably got a reason why he wants to avoid you, and there's many a thing you don't want to hear from him, either. But you've felt a fraction of what it would be like to lose him and that alone was torturous. Every time you felt bad all day, you only wanted to talk to Ralph. Now that you finally have the opportunity to, you're not going to waste it. Just remember to rein it in.

You knock on the door. You step back. He opens it. You exchange similar looks of curiosity, but something about him being here and in front of you overpowers you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to hug him tightly. His arms snake around your sides, and you feel his hands splay out against your back and press into it. It’s a hug that says it all. It apologises and it forgives, a crossover of exchanges between you. He smells like coffee shops and second-hand smoke, but the familiar scent of Ralph still remains as you bury your face into him.

When he pulls away from you, it’s to hold you at arm’s length with a gleeful glint in his eye. “I’ve got some news for you.”

Your heart sinks. Surely, anything that’s good for him that’s happened over the course of today can’t be good for you. But you wouldn’t be a good friend if you weren’t supportive. So you put on a smile and ask, “Oh, yeah?”

“I’ve got a job!” he singsongs, skipping on the spot. You look at him incredulously, and he explains. “It’s a bespoke costume store, run by this… Rather eccentric character, and it pays cash in hand! So I can earn some money and pay you back!”

You rub your face. “Look, Ralph, when I said those things -”

“That was a justified cause for concern, and I wish to rectify it. I, myself, said things that I did mean and things that I didn’t. But I don’t think it’ll do us good to talk about that too much.”

“I don’t either,” you smile back. “I’m glad you’ve found something to keep you occupied. Though, what about when… You know… Lift’s back in service?”

Ralph pauses. Does he tell you that he's willing to take the risk and stay as long as he can? Would you trust Homeless Pete as a reliable source or would you assume Ralph was stupid for doing so? He feels far too fragile to have another argument. And so he simply shrugs, "Then I shall have to do some awful things very quickly to ensure I'd never be welcomed!"

You laugh loudly, "Ralph!" and he grins back at you.

"Oh, and before I take this coat off…" he starts, shoving his fists into his pockets.

"Ah, yeah, we can put that reel on the fridge!” You grin, but Ralph shakes his head.

“Well, yes, but also… Um, well, I had noticed that due to my incessant bothering, you’d, um, forgotten to actually pick out a stone from the beach,” Ralph starts.

You interrupt him with a groan, slapping your forehead with the heel of your hand. “Oh my god, I forgot my cool rock this year!”

“W-well, I went back earlier this morning - goodness, was it only this morning?” Ralph asks under his breath. “Anyway, um, I know this is… Probably… A very easy shape to mistake a rock to be, but I didn’t remember seeing it on the shelf and so…” You look down, and in the palm of Ralph’s hand sits a stone that’s in a near-perfect heart shape.

“Oh, Ralphie,” you gush, pressing your hand to your chest. Even after everything last night, he still went out of his way to find that for you. If he hadn’t clarified that it was merely an easy shape to find, you’d have questioned the nature of it specifically, but he had, so there’s no need to look deeper into it. You have your answer.

“Well, I just thought even though it might not have been worthy enough for you to have picked, you still get to keep your tradition this year,” he explains hurriedly. “I know it’s just a circle with a dent in it, but -”

“But it came from you, and it’s unique to the shelf, so it’s absolutely living there,” you insist, pushing his fingers to curl up around the smooth stone and holding his hand there for a few beats. Not wanting to linger too long, you snap back and clear your throat. “Why not put it on there, I’ll order us a takeaway, and we’ll find something trashy to put on, yeah?” Ralph nods meekly and you practically float over to the sofa, you’re that happy to just have your Ralph back, for however long that may be.

“Oh, hey, good news and bad-ish news on your front,” you shout to him in the other room. “Good news is, everyone seems to be over making their icons the photo of you flapping about microwaving the egg!”

He frowns as he pops back into view. “And the bad?”

You show him the sea of icons, all Ralph, all wearing a polo shirt, all stood behind the painting that hangs on the back wall, all with a rose in his mouth. “I think they’ve found your Tinder.”

Ralph groans as he approaches the sofa to sit down next to you, and you rest your head on his shoulder comfortingly. You don't feel the need to move it as you pick out a movie you think Ralph will like. "Here, this one's good," you point out. "It's another musical, you like those."

"I do!" Ralph lilts excitedly. "What's it all about?"

"Okay, so in the seventies, there was this insanely popular group of singers called ABBA..."

next chapter

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba’din - Chapter 13: Hostage

Summary: The Bad Batch executes a plan while on shore leave.

Warnings: drunkenness, bad decision time™, attempted “kidnapping” jk lmao but like sorta if you squint real hard and tilt your head a little

Author’s Note: drunk Hunter is the most ridiculous character I’ve ever written and I love him so much.

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“Jaine, you have to tell me who this fine specimen of a man is!” Sinya gushed, brushing a lek from her shoulder.

“Sinya!” Jaine hissed.

Argus put a hand up. “I’m right here,” she grumbled.

“Jainey, who’re them?” Hunter slurred, his brow furrowed. “They dun look like good comp’ny.”

“They’re my friends,” Jaine said through gritted teeth. I’m not drunk enough for this, she thought as she grabbed Hunter's arm and led him away from the table.

“Hey, no need to be s’pushy,” he protested.

“Hunter, I’m going to ask you this one time and one time only,” she steamed. “What the hell is wrong with you? You interrupt my night out with my friends who you immediately insulted, you’re absolutely wasted-”

Hunter shushed her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a tight hug. “‘Ts okay, Jainey. Wer gonna get ya back to the barracks when m’brothers find me.”

“Hunter,” she growled. “Let go of me!”

She struggled against him, but it was no use as he lifted her up over his shoulder, her dress riding up uncomfortably.

“‘Mon, Jainey. Back to th’ barracks.”

“Hunter, I swear to the gods above and below if you don’t put me down right this instant!” she shouted, slamming her hands against his back.

“Oh, maker,” Echo groaned as Hunter approached him with a fuming medic over his shoulder.

“‘Mon, Ech, wer goin’ home,” he smiled, ignoring the squirming Jaine on his shoulder.

“Kriff, are you okay, Jainey?” Echo asked.

“Echo, get me down from here!”

Echo tried, but Hunter was stronger than him. He fought against the poor woman being removed from his back, ultimately shaking Echo off entirely, and sprinting out of the back door into a small alley.

“Hunter, I’m going to fucking kill you!” she raged.

The door came crashing open, the rest of the Bad Batch came pouring out, taking in the sight before them.

“Bad Batch,” Tech whispered loudly to them. “R&R Plan 7A; the Hostage.”

The rest of the Batch nodded, moving quickly, Crosshair walking over to simply talk to Hunter about anything other than Jaine, while Echo and Wrecker worked on extracting her from his arms. Tech, well, he’d make sure Jaine was alright after, and likely help Crosshair restrain Hunter, but for now, and since Hunter had approached Jaine’s table, he was recording.

“Hunter, remember how you used to tell us the legend you heard about the aiwhas? How’d that go again?” Crosshair asked.

Hunter’s eyes sparkled as he began to tell Crosshair for probably the two hundredth time in their lives about the aiwhas on Kamino.

As he spoke, he used his hands to mimic the motion of the creatures, and so his tight grip on Jaine began to loosen.

Echo and Wrecker nodded at each other, a silent countdown until they’d yank Jaine away from Hunter.

“Hang on, Jainey,” Wrecker whispered. “Might get a little bumpy.”

A moment later Echo grabbed onto Hunter and Wrecker pulled Jaine away, and Crosshair immediately twisted Hunter’s arm behind his back.

“Easy, brother,” Crosshair soothed. “I think it’s time we got you to bed.”

Wrecker placed Jaine back on the ground and she smoothed her dress out, yanking it back down as far as it would go.

“Are you alright?” Tech asked nervously, appearing at her side.

Jaine didn’t reply. She was seething.

“Hunter, don’t you have something you think you should say to Jaine?” Echo prodded as Crosshair faced the sergeant in her direction.

Jaine’s glare at the concrete didn’t rise to meet his pouty-looking face.

“‘M sorry, Jainey,” he whined, but it was obvious that he was beginning to lose consciousness, starting to slump forward in Crosshair’s grip.

“We’ll get a taxi,” Tech sighed, giving a quick nod to Jaine, and pulling the rest of his brothers with him.

Echo, however, remained still. His eyes were on her, despite the fact that she was glaring holes into the pavement in front of her.

“Jaine?” he asked, cautiously. “Are you okay?”

Jaine could feel the moment her anger broke.

“Am I okay? Are you serious, Echo?” she seethed.

“I’m sorry. When he drinks it’s hard to predict how drunk he’ll actually get. One minute he’s fine, the next-”

“He’s kidnapping women who are already pissed at him and dragging them away against their will?” she snapped. “I mean really, I leave you all alone for one night and you’re out getting drunk and going banthashit insane? What if I wasn’t there, huh?”

“I know.”

“What if he’d picked up someone else and began to carry them away?”

“I know.”

“Kriffing hells, Echo. He could be decommissioned for that! All of you could!”

“I know, Jaine!” Echo burst. “I know, but like I said he changes from minute to minute and I know that it’s not an excuse, but we’re all at least a little buzzed and not on top of our game. I was supposed to be babysitting him, but I let him get away from me, okay? So, if you’re going to be mad at anyone now, be mad at me, because I don’t think Hunter can take anymore of it!”

Jaine stood in a stunned silence. It took a lot to make Echo snap like that, but Hunter can’t take more of her anger? Cool, calm, collected Hunter?

“Echo,” she mumbled. “What are you talking about?”

“He blames himself for you leaving-”

“Maybe he should,” Jaine bristled.

“He knows he hurt you and he feels terrible,” Echo explained, leaving out how Hunter was literally crying, for his sake.

Jaine took a deep breath. “Echo, I know he’s your brother and you’re just trying to help, but if Hunter is the one that’s sorry, Hunter is the one who should apologize.”

“I know, but I’m sorry, too,” Echo mumbled sadly.

“What?”

“It’s just - well, everything happened after that nightmare and I guess I feel like maybe all of it’s my fault.”

Jaine’s irritation started to cool, her eyes watching the ARC trooper carefully.

“If I didn’t have that nightmare, if I didn’t make you stay with me, Hunter wouldn’t have gotten upset and you wouldn’t be leaving.”

“Echo-”

“Echo, ya comin’?” Wrecker bellowed, rounding the corner. He noticed Jaine was still there and smiled. “Need a ride, Jainey?”

“Thanks, Wrecker,” she smiled, jumping in before Echo could continue. “But I’m going to head back in with my friends. Have a good night, Wreck.”

As she turned to leave, she placed a hand on the right side of Echo’s chest. “Goodnight, Echo.”

He watched her walk back into the bar, frozen to the spot. He could almost feel the warmth of her palm against his chest, and felt the heat of it run straight to his cheeks. The placement of her hand just then reminded him of his old ARC armor. Thoughts of his captain, and ultimately his twin, flooded his brain, the three of them swirling around in a hurricane of affection.

“Echo?” Wrecker called again, breaking him from his own head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

-

“Jaine! There you are!” Sinya shouted across the club, clearly leaving poor Argus hanging for a kiss. “Hey, where’d your boyfriend go?”

“Again, not my boyfriend, Sinya,” she said, rolling her eyes as she plopped down into the booth.

“Oh, why not? He’s so hot,” Sinya whined.

“Still here,” Argus groaned, feigning offense.

“Oh, it’s okay, honey, you have very similar faces,” Sinya giggled with a wink, earning more eye rolls. “Anyway, Jaine, you have to grab that man up, before someone else does.”

“Gods, Sinya,” Jaine growled. “For the last time, I’m not grabbing anyone up! They were my squad and I can’t be interested in any of them.”

Sinya looked at her, her eyes a little hurt by the tone, but nodded, becoming uncharacteristically quiet. Argus scowled at her.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Sinya smiled a little and shrugged. “I shouldn’t have pushed your buttons like that.”

The women looked at each other for a moment before wrapping each other in a tight hug.

“Aww, you know I can’t stay mad at you,” Sinya smiled.

“I will never understand your relationship,” Argus laughed, shaking his head.

-

When Hunter woke up, he was amazed at just how shitty he felt. Of course, he had gotten drunk before, he’d even been plastered a few times, but this morning-after felt worse.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” a monotone voice said with an obvious edge of irritation mixed in it. Hunter almost didn’t recognize the voice, it was so icy.

He started to open his eyes, the harsh lights of their barracks on Coruscant hitting his overly sensitive eyes. “Jaine?” he asked.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Thanks for reading! - Dang

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Hey~

Just read your first and I am so in love with them, especially the Ace one! This boy owns my heart, so I wanted to ask if you maybe could write something fluff with an café au for Ace? I am a sucker for cafés ✨️, books 📚, autumn 🍂 and coffee ☕️ (well and Ace)

Have a lovely day! I hope your doing fine!

(Also you can just ignore this request, that's more than fine, I you dint feel like writing something like that!)

aw thank you so much, anon!! I'm a huge sucker for ace and cafe AUs too, so this was literally Thee Perfect Combination ™. Sorry it took so long and I hope you enjoy it! 

Server!Portgas D. Ace x College Student!Reader

notes: Modern cafe AU, fluff, SFW, Server!Ace, Ace is basically working at his uncle Garp's Cafe by force bc he broke his window and is forced to pay it off LOL.

wordcount: 1.1k

"Ace," you call out from the cafe's entrance, stepping foot into the warm air of the cafe and waving at the server a few meters before you.

The boy turns his head to the direction of the entrance. Even with your soft spokenness, Ace could hear and recognize your honey-like voice from a mile away. A wide grin was plastered on his endearing freckled face as he waved back at his most familiar customer. You smile at him as you walk across the cafe, looking to sit at your favorite spot at the corner of the cafe away from any immediate distractions. 

It's been a couple weeks since the season had officially shifted from the exciting yellows and sky blues of Summer, to the calm brown and reds of Fall. School life was getting as overwhelming as the dead leaves that were collecting on the pavements of the city you resided in. The new term started quite recently, and to say you were overwhelmed was an understatement, considering your struggle of trying to keep up with the pressures of being a college student. The tedious school projects with inconsiderate teammates, the various schedules of exams, and the 10 paged, double spaced essay assignments snuck up on you so quickly; it made it almost impossible to focus at home or the school library with the anxiety brewing in your gut. However, your lack of focus always seemed to improve when you would study at your favorite local cafe; the eye candy at work giving you the motivation you needed to keep going whenever you’d see him on his shift. 

"Missed me?" A raspy voice with a tinge of playfulness echoed in your personal space, and you almost dropped your giant textbook on your foot, scared half to death from being snapped out of your intense focus so suddenly. Your eyes travel towards a grinning freckled boy who stood opposite to where you were sitting, his beautifully built and tan arms folded on the rounded cafe table as he leans on them to support his weight. His cream work uniform hugged his form snugly to show off his figure; a sight you've caught yourself staring at many times for way too long, sometimes to the point where he’d catch on himself and tease you to get a reaction out of you. 

"Jesus, you scared me!" You whined. You lightly tapped one of his big arms with the back of your pencil.  

"Woah, my bad. Didn't realize you were so focused," he apologetically explained, "you look tired, Are you doing okay?"

"Mmm, you know how it is with Uni," you laugh, but with a distinct annoyance in your voice. He catches onto this.

"Look, I may not be the smartest 'Himbo' out here, but if there's anything you need help with then you better let me know, Firecracker." He says, giving your head of hair a rustle. You whined at him to stop, but that only made him more relentless with his teasing. Ace was then met with a punch to the head out of nowhere, and an angry Garp stepped into view to give his grandson a hard time for messing around instead of serving the customers. 

"What the hell are you still doing here, kid? I told you to serve table 3 ages ago! Get back to work, you lousy punk! Seriously, d’ya think that window you 3 brats wrecked is going to fix itself!?" Garp points at the cracked window in question, which you’ve remembered being there since Ace had started working there a month ago. You remember Ace complaining to you once about his employment at his Grandfather's Cafe against his will; due to his recklessness when he was piss drunk playing beer darts with Luffy and Sabo in the parking lot late into the evening; throwing a beer dart so hard that he sent it flying into one of the gigantic windows of Garp’s Cafe, and turning the glass into a web of cracks. Thinking about this had you threatening yourself to hold back a laugh in front of the bickering relatives before you. 

Ace just waves away his Grandpa's insults as if he's heard it all before, his cheery face displaced with an aloof one as soon as he hears Garp’s gruff voice nagging up a storm. The freckled boy then gives you another glance as he's about to leave to tend to his duties, observing your unusually dull aura; you were clearly tired and overworked from working so hard. He knew the toll school had on you every day he would notice the faint eyebags seeping through your foundation and the yawns you’d try to hide every time you’d step foot into Garp's Cafe. Doing so much for grades was almost a foreign concept to someone like him, as he was usually a carefree guy with not a worry or care for consequences in the world. It was hard not to notice such a normally energetic person like you turning become so lifeless during midterms. It always caused a twist in his gut, something he usually never felt for anyone except you when he noticed your worn out looking body typing away at your laptop in the corner of the cafe. 

"Hey," he starts, and your eyes peel away from your illuminating laptop screen like velcro, meeting his brown, kind ones, "make sure you have enough energy for tomorrow, Firecracker. ‘Cuz we're going out."

You blinked back at him. You weren’t aware of this outing prior to this sudden declaration. Tired eyes squinted in confusion, as you wonder what the mischievous boy could be up to, but there was no cheekiness in his eyes; only concern and worry. 

"But I still have an essay to finish before the end of the week–" 

"Just a couple of hours off is all I'm asking you, for my sake. I don't think I can get a good night's sleep knowing you're not looking after yourself." He chuckles, trying to mask his anxiety for you in his speech, despite ironically voicing his thoughts out loud. The sweetness in his voice and his concern for your wellbeing makes your heart thump. You didn’t realize how much you were worrying the people around you with your systematic hustling. You felt awful, but at the same time grateful that you knew you had people you could rely on in your life to break you out of your vicious cycle. 

"Um, I mean…I guess I could take a couple hours off...for your sake." You avoid his eye contact and fidgeting below you, a giant rush of heat flooding your face as you say the last 3 words of your sentence. Ace grins excitedly. 

"It's a date!" he exclaims loudly, and his glowing, smiling freckled face was the only thing you could keep your mind on even after he was peeled away from your table and dragged behind the counter by Garp. You couldn’t help but chuckle silently at the giant goofball in front of you. 

Maybe a break wouldn’t hurt after all, if it was for Ace’s sake.