#small batch admittedly but i needed it out

[slaapkat]

another round of Daemon AU headcanons because im bored

TOP GUN

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell - Field Mouse, “Dorothy”

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw - Yellow Lab, “Polly”

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky - Siberian Husky, “Matilda”

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - American Mink, “Josephine” aka “Josie”

DC COMICS

Steve Savage / Balloon Buster - Red-Tailed Hawk, “Imogene”

Hans von Hammer / Enemy Ace - Eurasian Wolf, name unknown

Can go an unusually long distance from his daemon

unknown if wolf is truthfully his daemon, or if he has a daemon at all

shunned socially for this fact as further proof of his “inhuman” nature in the sky

[copperbadge]

This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

[justaparsec94]

Feeling

Summary: When you and Hunter are left alone on The Havoc Marauder the feelings the two of you have kept well hidden finally come to light...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!Reader

Word Count: 5,271

Author's Note: I really don’t know how Hunter’s senses work, especially since they seemed to forget about them as the seasons went on. I like the idea most of fandom subscribes to that all of his senses are heightened but I saw a post once comparing his electroreception to that of a platypus which absolutely kills me. I guess we’ll never know for sure but no matter what I love our dear platypus man LOL

*******************

The Havoc Marauder was uncharacteristically silent as you sat in the cockpit. Most of The Bad Batch, minus Hunter who had stayed behind claiming headache, had left for a supply run earlier and likely wouldn’t be back for a few standard hours. Hunter had retreated to his bunk to sleep moments after the others had left, effectively leaving you alone.

Normally, the chance to explore a new place on a new planet would have thrilled you but like so many other things that had changed recently too. What had once brought excitement now brought fear. You had volunteered to stay with the ship as you didn’t want to risk being seen in a busy spaceport. Not that there were many left in the galaxy that would recognize you, but you just didn’t want to take any chances that might further endanger the squad. Having a former Jedi amongst your ranks was essentially a death sentence these days, and The Bad Batch already had enough heat on them as renegade clones. 

With a sigh, you sunk further into the copilot seat as you stared out the viewport. As much as you appreciated some peace and quiet, which admittedly was hard to come by with the squad, the silence left you with too much time to think. Somedays it was hard to wrap your head around all that had happened. The weight of the grief you felt threatened to drown you when you took a moment to stop and acknowledge it. Everything you had once known, had once believed in had been completely turned upside down. Your friends, your former master, all gone in a moment. 

As far as you knew you had gone from being one of thousands to one of only a few that remained and even then you had only just barely survived. You weren’t sure if your survival was the will of the force or simply just the result of being in the right place at the right time. In your more cynical moments, you believed it really had only been luck. If Jedi masters with far greater power than your own hadn’t survived you felt you really had no right still being alive. It was a thought that kept you up most nights, survivor's guilt. 

Having only been nighted a few rotations before the Clone Wars had started you had never been assigned your own battalion. Instead, throughout the war you had often completed recon and special ops missions that had the GAR assigning small squads of clones to you as needed, mostly commandos. It had been how you had met The Bad Batch in the first place. You’d been paired with the squad on several missions towards the end of the war. In the end, this use of your skills as a Jedi had likely been what had saved you. You hadn’t been near any clones when the order had come through, instead you had been klicks away from the nearest squad scouting. The clones had known you were on the planet though and the manhunt that had happened in the days that had followed Order-66 had nearly claimed your life multiple times. But despite everything that had been thrown your way you had still managed to escape off-world with a blaster wound burning in your side and a broken arm. 

Your first thought had been to simply disappear in the galaxy, to find some small backwater planet to live out the rest of your days but without enough fuel or credits to get you anywhere far, desperation had driven you to seek out Cid. You had used the Trandoshan as an informant many times throughout the war and while you still didn’t trust her it had turned out to be a good idea after all as it had led you directly back to The Batch. 

You’d been terrified at first, drawing your lightsaber on them the minute they had entered the bar, but it had become clear rather quickly that they were not following orders like the other clones had been. They’d explained everything, Order-66, Palpatine, the inhibitor chips, everything that had happened in the days following the end of the war. To hear the truth, that the men you had fought alongside for so many years, your friends, had been used like pawns in a game, treated in such a horrendous way by both The Republic and the new Empire had broken you more than anything else. It had been in that moment as you stared at the squad in front of you in Cid’s dingy bar that you had come to the realization that everything you had once believed in, everything you had fought for had amounted to nothing at all. All it had done was bring about the demise of nearly everyone you had cared for. You hadn’t been protecting the galaxy, you’d just been one part in bringing it to ruin. 

The thought continued to haunt you, even now, months after the end of the war. It had been hard to keep going afterward but being with the Batch and Omega had helped. You had always gotten along well with the squad during the war, in fact, they had become your favourite team to work with and despite not often working with Jedi they had seemed to accept and respect you. You’d always felt welcome amongst them. When they had suggested you stay on with them as they worked with Cid you had initially refused, not wanting to put them in any more danger than they were already in. Even if you had mostly shut yourself off from the force to better hide yourself you still didn’t want to take the chance of being detected. But Cid being Cid hadn’t really given you the option, if you wanted to get the credits you needed to disappear into the galaxy you were going to owe her, and running jobs with the Batch became the only way to do so. 

You sighed as you slid further down in the seat if only your master could see you now. Jedi Knight turned mercenary. Your eyes began to sting as you thought of your lost master. Master Antar Wei had been so very kind, wise, and caring. He’d been a true keeper of the peace, a gentle soul with the strength of a warrior. He had taught you so very much, without his teachings you would not have been the person you are today. He had been as close to a father as you had ever had and his loss was nearly unbearable. Tech had been able to get access to some of the Empire’s files and when Master Wei’s name hadn’t appeared on any of the wanted lists you knew he had likely succumbed to the same fate that nearly all of the Jedi had. 

You startled slightly as the door to the cockpit opened, so lost in your own thoughts you hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps. You swivelled the chair around to turn and look at Hunter as he entered, trying your best to school your features into an expression that would best hide your inner turmoil.

From the look on Hunter’s face, you hadn’t done the best job. His warm brown eyes were filled with concern, the lines of his face taught as he hovered hesitantly just inside the doorway. He shifted from one foot to the other as his eyes briefly swept the cockpit, as though searching for signs of danger, before they settled back on you.  

“Are you… alright?” He asked stiffly, as though he found it uncomfortable to ask you such a thing. His long hair was ruffled, likely from his sleep, making him even more ruggedly handsome than usual. You felt momentarily guilty for disturbing him before you noticed the air of tension that usually surrounded him when he had one of his migraines was no longer present. Only the same unease that had been clinging to him for the past few weeks was there.

Of all the members of The Batch, you had always gotten along best with the Sergeant. You admired his intelligence, his straightforward manner, the sly sense of humour that he let escape every once and a while, and the way he was fully devoted to his brothers. He was one of the most honourable men you had ever met and watching him go from stoic soldier to caring older brother to Omega had been a joy to witness. 

Truthfully you had been wrestling with feelings for the gruff clone that were decidedly not Jedi-like since the very first mission you had been on together. There had always just been something about him that had drawn you to him. His signature always seemed brighter to you in the force, and like a moth to a flame, you had struggled to maintain your professionalism around him. Attachment was forbidden after all and some days when you looked at the ridiculously handsome man you knew your feelings were treading into dangerous territory. That had been before though, you reminded yourself, the Jedi were gone and with it, you supposed the rules you had once lived by were as well. 

At one point you had been certain that your feelings were not just one-sided, Hunter kept his emotions very closely in check, but there had been looks, touches, conversations, and jokes just between the two of you that had set your heart pounding. But that also had been before. It seemed that whatever had been there was now long gone. In the last few weeks, all you had been able to sense from him was tension. He had done almost a complete 180. He no longer talked to you directly unless absolutely necessary, whenever you entered a room he left as soon as he was able to, even on The Marauder he always retreated to the space furthest away from you. A part of you wondered if you were just overreacting but the other knew that you weren’t, something had changed in him and you had no idea what had caused it. Hunter’s cooling towards you had just been another knife in your already fragile heart. You had lost so much and watching him slip away too, even though he’d never been yours in the first place, had only added to your pain. 

You realized suddenly that you had been quiet for longer than what was considered polite you finally spoke, shaking yourself fully from your melancholy thoughts, “I'm fine,” Your voice was soft as you nodded at him. You did your best to plaster a gentle smile on your face in an effort to ease his obvious discomfort.

“Your heart rate was elevated,” Hunter said, answering the question that had been at the forefront of your mind. Though you thought with amusement that you should have known, Hunter’s heightened senses meant there was very little on The Marauder that could be kept secret, “I thought something had happened…” 

“No,” You replied with a soft sigh, shaking your head sadly as you continued, “I just got a bit lost in my thoughts. I'm ok.”  

His warm brown eyes were still intense but some of the worry had drained out of them as he looked at you for another long moment, “Are you…sure?” He asked hesitantly, looking somewhat like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“I’m sure, thank you, Hunter,” You replied with another nod, hoping to reassure him even though internally your heart was aching at the distance between the two of you. 

“Ok, I’ll uh - leave you to it then…” While Omega’s presence had forced him to get better at dealing with emotions he still had the tendency to avoid emotional confrontations like a plague. But this complete avoidance was new, in the past you might not have talked about it but he had still always seemed to know when you were feeling down or conflicted. You’d spent many hours and missions together sitting side by side, usually, no words were needed as you had always just found comfort in his solid and warm presence, sometimes he would distract you with stories about missions the squad had been on, but often it was just his silent company that he offered. Those moments together had always been your favourite. You still didn’t know where things between the two of you had gone so wrong. 

You watched as he went to turn around and suddenly you found yourself moving from your seat.  Silently and quickly you closed the gap between the two of you, your hand reaching out to grasp his wrist, pulling him to a stop before you could really even consider what you were doing. You were so tired of everything but especially this unspoken conflict the two of you seemed to be in, “Hunter, wait…” 

He turned to look at you with wide eyes before his gaze darted between your face and where your hand was on his wrist. You let go of him, trying your best to ignore the way your palm was tingling from touching him. He’d always had that effect on you but whereas it had been comforting before it now only brought a sense of sadness, a sense of loss.  

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong, or something to upset you in any way…” You said softly, the words suddenly flowing out of you without really thinking. Your heart was beating painfully in your chest and your stomach rolled with anxiety. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze as you continued to speak, too afraid of what you might find in the depths of his eyes if you did, “It was not my intention and if there is anything I can do to fix it I will. Or if my presence isn’t wanted here I understand. I know I’m putting you all in danger by simply existing.”

Finally, you looked back up at him just in time to see Hunter’s expression morph into one of confusion and shock, “What? What do you mean? You haven’t done anything wrong. Why would you think that?” He shook his head, “And no, that’s not - you’re part of this squad and we don’t abandon our own.”

“Then what is it?” You asked, suddenly nervous about confronting him. You’d faced down thousands of droids, beasts, criminals, and other adversaries in your life but staring in the face of your friend as you prepared yourself for rejection was almost more terrifying than going into battle, “You can’t seem to stand being in the same room as me. You always seem to leave as quickly as you can, you only talk to me when absolutely necessary, and even then it’s usually through someone else rather than directly. So, I felt the only reasonable conclusion was that I’ve done something wrong, that I’ve upset you in some way. But I can’t change if you don’t talk to me about it.”

Hunter seemed shell-shocked as he stood in front of you, his mouth opened and closed a few times. You could feel the rush of emotions from him without even really trying, but it was so jumbled you couldn’t make sense of any of them. Even in the dim light of the cockpit, you could see his face flushing, which was something entirely new. You had never seen Hunter this nervous before. He was quiet for so long that you were beginning to think he wasn’t going to answer. 

“I don’t - I’m not angry at you. I’ve never been more relieved than that day you showed up at Cid’s. I - I thought you had died but then you came back to us, to m-, and you’re a part of this squad. You haven’t done anything wrong…” Hunter finally spoke, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest, “I’m not upset…” 

The way he trailed off left you with more questions than answers, so you simply stayed quiet, hoping he would continue. 

He took a breath, as though he was steadying himself prior to battle, “You’re…You’re not the problem,” he said finally, “I am.”

You waited another long moment for him to elaborate, but when it seemed like that was all the explanation he was going to give you took a few steps towards him, closing the gap between you.

“What do you mean?” You asked. He seemed to tense at your proximity and at this distance, you could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his nostrils flared momentarily, the slightest flush of red on his cheeks. Your own heart was suddenly pounding in your chest at the intensity of his gaze.  

“I just…I…” He started then stopped, redness was beginning to creep its way up his neck and you were surprised to hear he sounded… embarrassed.

“I can…” He tried again, his voice suddenly lower and rougher than you had ever heard it before, “I just feel you more than anyone else. I always have.” 

Suddenly everything seemed to click into place, the feeling that had always been there between the two of you, the looks, the touches, the soft way he had always spoken to you, his sudden running away, the emotions he tried so hard to dampen around you. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t figured it out before, that his sudden avoidance was not a rejection of you. It was fear.   

You took another step closer, watching his face closely as you grasped his wrist gently once more. His eyes widened at your touch and his entire body seemed to stiffen but he didn’t pull away from you. 

“What do you feel Hunter?” You asked softly, your voice steady despite the fact that you were thrumming with nervous energy. You couldn’t stop the question from flowing out of you. Maybe it was wrong to ask, maybe it went against everything you had been taught, but you found that in that moment, as you stared up at him you didn’t care anymore. 

He let out a shuttering sigh before his head dipped just slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes were molten and so intense that you felt as if suddenly every nerve ending in your body were alight. You had kept your connection to the force limited in the past few months but you let your hold on it loosen in that moment, letting it surround the two of you. You listened to it sing, just as it had done every time the two of you had been together in the past. 

“Everything. I can hear your voice in a crowd of a hundred, I can smell you even when you’re not around, and I can feel your heartbeat in a different room. When you’re near me I can’t take my eyes off of you and even when you’re gone I can’t stop thinking about you,” Hunter’s voice was a husky whisper, “It-it’s not appropriate but I can’t seem to control myself. So it’s just better if I leave you alone.” 

You were quiet for a long moment, considering before you spoke softly again, “Better for who?” 

His eyes widened, as though he couldn’t quite believe what you had just asked. Before you could have enough time to second guess yourself you reached out gently to place your hand over his heart. Even without your own heightened senses, you would have been able to feel the way it was pounding in his chest. You had never been so close to him before in such a way and the sensation was thrilling. It was as if the air itself between the two of you was humming with energy. 

The brown of his irises had been almost completely engulfed by the black of his pupils as you looked back up at him, “I feel you too Hunter. I have from the moment we first met. The force feels different around you too, like you’re calling to me.” 

You closed your eyes as his hand reached up to cup your jaw ever so tentatively as if he were afraid that his touch would shatter you. Your skin thrummed under his touch and you pressed further into his hand, revelling in the sensation of finally being so close to him. For so long you had been so worried that his feelings for you had shifted. To have the truth finally out in the open felt as though the weight of the galaxy had suddenly lifted off of your shoulders. 

“But you’re a Jedi,” Hunter said softly, hesitantly, causing your eyes to pop open once more, “It’s not allowed.” 

“Attachment,” You replied as a wave of sadness washed through you. The words the Masters had once preached echoed through your head, “You’re right, it is forbidden. Or it was. I’ve spent so many days and nights thinking about the Jedi Order, about all that has been lost. And I still don’t know the answers to the questions I have, I don’t know that I ever will. But I can’t help but think that our ways only led to our downfall. Perhaps if we had done things differently if we hadn’t been so blinded by our own morality…” 

“I suppose we’ll never know. But the one thing I do know is that I want whatever this is between us. I’m not sure how something that feels so right, something that seems to be part of the force itself, can be considered wrong. I don’t know how many days are left to me, I am no longer a Jedi but I will live the rest of my life in danger. I do not wish to live the way I was before. I want you Hunter, I have since the moment I met you.” 

As you had spoken Hunter’s head had slowly lowered down towards yours until you were nearly touching. At your final words, his forehead had pressed against your own. His gaze was still intense as ever so slowly the hand on your jaw tipped your face up towards his own. His voice was so low when he spoke again that you felt it more than heard it, “I’m yours.” 

His words were all the encouragement you needed to close the final gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with your own in a desperate kiss. He was warm and wonderful and everything you had ever dreamed of. The hand you still had resting over his heart curled in the fabric of his blacks, pulling yourself closer to him as he deepened the kiss. His free hand came up to press against the small of your back, the heat of it searing into your skin as you gently nipped at his lower lip. You’d had dalliances with others before, that hadn’t been forbidden , but you had never experienced anything quite like this. The force seemed to come alive as the two of you melted into one another, thrumming in the air around you. Everything else seemed to fade away into nothing , there was only Hunter. 

A soft moan escaped him as you pressed further up into him, the sound rumbling in his chest and sending a shiver down your spine. You lifted your free hand to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his surprisingly soft hair. You’d always wondered what it would have been like to run your fingers through it and reality was proving to be better than expectation. He seemed to shiver at your touch, the hand at the small of your back flexing just slightly as he pulled your hips flush against his own. You could still feel his heart racing beneath where your other hand was still fisted in his shirt as his tongue pressed against your lower lip. You parted your lips, giving him access and gasping at the new sensation as his tongue explored your mouth. It was dizzying finally being so close to him, to be this connected. 

After what could have been simply minutes or hours Hunter pulled away from you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Your own pulse was still racing as he tipped his forehead back down to rest against your own. His eyes were closed as he pressed further into you, nose just brushing against your own as he held you close. 

You were both silent for a long time, simply basking in the warmth and feeling of being in each other's arms. But finally, Hunter spoke, his voice low and rough, “I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you, that I made you feel as though you’d done something wrong,” 

Your eyes opened, gazing up into his face that was suddenly filled with sorrow. You let the hand at the back of his neck slowly move until it cupped his jaw, mimicking his own hold on you, “It’s ok Hunter, everything has been so complicated lately. And I understand how conflicted you must have felt, I’ve felt that way too.” 

Hunter let out a soft sigh and with it you felt all of the tension he had been holding dissipate, his muscles relaxing beneath your hand as he seemed to melt further into you. He closed his eyes as his thumb gently stroked along your jawline, the sensation of it was electric and you wanted nothing more than just stay there and bask in his presence forever. 

His breath was warm against your face as each inhale brought you closer together. He tipped his head just slightly, his lips gently brushing against your own in the barest hint of a kiss, once, twice, before you pressed deeper into him. You shivered as your lips melted into his, tongue sliding over his full bottom lip before giving it the gentlest nip that made his chest rumble with another groan. 

The two of you came slowly together and apart, gasps and gentle moans escaping you both and you discovered this new part of one another. Your heart was racing in your chest, your skin tingling with each soft touch of his lips to your own, your skin flaming beneath his hands. The feeling is intoxicating and you have just enough wherewithal to briefly wonder if this is exactly why attachment was forbidden, because truthfully now that you have him you never wish to let him go. 

Eventually, you do pull away, instantly missing the contact but forcing yourself to look up at him as he moves both arms to wrap around your waist. You take a moment to simply look at him as your breath begins to even out once more, eyes tracing the lines of his face, the dark shadow of his tattoo. You’ve always appreciated how handsome he was but being so close is something special. You get lost in him for a moment as you notice the flecks of green in his warm brown eyes, the freckles across the bridge of his nose that are so faint they barely stand out against his deeply tanned skin, the dimple that appears only on the left side of his face as his mouth lifts into a soft smile as he gazes right back at you. 

You blink once, twice, trying to clear your mind of the distraction that he is and focus on the thought that had originally pulled you away from him. 

“How is your headache?” You asked gently, a small wave of guilt for having woken him in the first place rushing through you. It had been the reason he had stayed behind after all, and it wasn’t very often he had the chance to get any extra rest with the lifestyle you all led. 

His mouth curled into a smile and he let out a small huff of laughter, his hair flopping over the top of his bandana as he shook his head, “It’s fine. Forgotten actually,” He replied as he moved his hand to cradle your face once more, his touch feather-light. 

“Good,” You answered before you turned your head just slightly to press a soft kiss to the palm of his hand, “But you should still get some rest. It’s not easy to come by these days.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, his gaze still intense as he moved his hand away from your face, both trailing down slowly until he had your hands grasped in his own, “Only if you join me though.”

You felt your face flush at his suggestion, you wanted to, desperately, but another worry suddenly entered your head at the idea, “The others might be back soon, though…” This was still new and while part of you didn’t care if his brothers and sister saw the two of you together the other part wanted to keep this budding thing between you secret for just a little bit longer, if only for his sake as you knew how intensely private Hunter was. 

Hunter’s mouth ticked up into a smirk again, his brown eyes dancing with amusement as he answered, “Tech has been calculating the odds of us getting together since our very first mission and Omega has some Mantell mix riding on it.” 

You couldn’t stop the soft laugh that burst out of you at that, a bright smile overtaking your face, “Well, we wouldn’t want to let them down, now would we?” 

His eyes were warm and there was the barest hint of a smile on his face before he lifted your hand closer to his mouth, pressing a soft and quick kiss to your palm. Your smile brightened at his replication of your earlier gesture, the skin beneath his lips tingling from the contact. 

You let him lead you back towards the bunks, your pulse racing beneath your skin as he climbed up into the middle first before holding a hand back out to you to steady you as you found your own footing. It was a tight squeeze, but after some mild shifting you finally settled, your head resting against his chest as he laid on his back, his arms coming up to wrap around you and hold you closer to him as you let your leg rest over top of his own. Being so close to him every feeling you had ever sensed from him was amplified and it was easy to just get lost in the sensation of him as you listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat. Neither of you said a word, for there really weren’t any words to be said. Nothing had ever felt so right before and there was no way you were ever going to let that go, ever let him go again. 

It didn’t take long for your eyes to slip shut or for his own breathing to even out, his grip on you never lessening though even as he slept. The trauma of the past few years still haunted you as you lay with him but the thoughts were easier to push away as you focused on the force and the way it moved around the two of you, calming, gentle, right. You knew that nothing could ever truly repair the damage left by your losses but for the first time in a very long time, there was a glimmer of hope brewing in your chest. With Hunter, there was a chance at a future, something you hadn’t been able to even consider since Order-66 had been issued. 

You weren’t sure what that future would hold, for any of you, but right now, wrapped up gently in Hunter’s arms you felt safer than you ever had and there was nowhere else in the galaxy you would rather be. 

[moodymisty]

Bad Batch - Sleeping/Cuddling Headcanons

Author’s Note: I've had these in my drafts since I started this blog a year ago, so... enjoy? :3

Relationships: Tech x Gn!Reader, Crosshair x Gn!Reader, Hunter x Gn!Reader, Wrecker x Gn!Reader, and Echo x Gn!Reader

Warnings: One or two very mild hints of lewd content, so I'm being very safe 18+ only

✦ Wrecker ✦

Wrecker has always found the feeling of sleeping with something- or someone- in his arms soothing. Maybe it's the weight, or just the feeling of his arms cradling around something soft. Lula was always there for him, and he still has the stuffed tooka sitting comfortably, and close by, in the corner of his bunk.

When you came along, you ended up replacing the plush tooka in a way; Serving as a new, larger thing to hold.

Whether he's on his back and you're on his chest, or on his side and he's got your front or back against his chest, Wrecker will always have both arms effectively caging you in a hug; Holding you tight.

When it's cold, as The Marauder often gets when you're in hyperspace, it's magical. This man is a human heater in it's purest form, and him snuggling close is warmer than almost any blanket.

And also waking up after some sleep is almost always a highlight. You'll get a kiss and a 'good morning' (even if you're in hyperspace and gods know what time it is) before you have to break apart and get out of bed. Or his bunk. Or the co-pilot's seat because you fell asleep in his lap again.

But Wrecker is usually a heavy sleeper, so you've become a master at slowly wriggling your way out if you need to in the middle of the 'night', and then slipping right back in, feeling his arms re-tighten once you return into his reach.

Every now and again however Wrecker will be latched onto you too tight to allow you freedom, and you end up having to wake him up in order to escape.

Sometimes he'll let you go right away, but other times he'll put up a fight and smirk before putting some weight on you, trapping you with him until you pay the toll to escape.

The toll is always a kiss or sometimes two; Though lately he keeps raising the price...

✦ Hunter ✦

Hunter admittedly takes a decent while before he's willing to be affectionate to the degree of cuddling.

He has to get using to being with someone in such a vulnerable state, and train himself out of bad habits that tell him to keep these types of things to himself, and people at arms length.

But you're nothing if not persistent, (while also being patient and understanding of course) and after a few times of falling asleep on his shoulder or inviting him to spend the night at your home, he eventually gets his inner thoughts sorted out and allows himself to indulge.

Once he's more comfortable, Hunter is always the big spoon. Tugging the covers almost and sometimes completely overtop of the both of you, Hunter will wrap his arms around your waist and tug close enough that his face presses against the back of your head.

It almost feels like a little cocoon or nest in a way, and even if you don't normally sleep like this, you have to admit it's very comfortable. (Though maybe having Hunter as part of the equation helps just a bit.)

As he's getting more sleepy he'll always take a deep breath and sigh, your hair brushing against his skin. He once tried to explain it to you once; That your familiar scent being so close meant that you were safe and he could relax. That with you in his arms, he could loosen his shoulders and close his eyes, knowing you were right here and unharmed.

Hunter always hates the way he eventually has to drag himself from the little pocket of warmth beneath the blankets you both created, but he at least got a good night's rest.

When he can't have you close by however, he absolutely has something that serves your place usually while deployed on The Marauder.

For awhile it was one of your nightshirts, and another time it was a small blanket you'd use to drape over your legs when it was cold. They both smell like you, and with his senses it helps him get to sleep that little bit faster when you aren't right there.

✦ Tech ✦

Tech often falls asleep in places he shouldn’t, and most times you end up having to herd him back towards his bunk in order to get him to sleep properly.

If and when he does lay down he’s almost always on his back, leaving an arm away from his body so you can tuck against his side.

It was a bit awkward for him at first; He felt like he needed to figure the 'right' way to do sleep in the same bed together or hold you. He ended up taking your comfort as him doing it 'right' enough however, and quickly embraced his new sleeping habits.

If he doesn't instantly pass out he’ll usually tinker or read something, sometimes out loud; As once you'd asked him to, eager to listen and him eager to share. It also helps that Tech's voice is extremely consistent and soothing, and more often than not can lull you to sleep faster than anything else can.

Recently however, you’ve been trying to read to him as well. He had given you his datapad with something pulled up and quietly asked if you would; Saying he wanted to continue reading, but his head hurt too much to stare at the screen for any longer. But Tech can't leave things unfinished, even if for a few hours.

He seemed almost surprised when you had said yes, every now and again glancing over to see his eyes closed with goggles off while you read on to the next sentence.

Now almost every time you're both pressed side to side, with Tech always having an arm around you as you or him partake in some pre-sleep winding down.

Sometimes you might stutter or find the topic he's chosen a bit boring, but he seems to really enjoy it, listening to you repeat sentences of borderline incomprehensible technological theorycrafting while you wiggle deeper into the hold his arm has around your shoulders. Your cuddles and sleeping habits are a consistent, well oiled machine, which always end with a goodnight kiss.

(Meanwhile, Hunter is cursing his hearing. Please put down the datapad it's been over an hour and you're both still mumbling about software constraints and he is suffering.)

✦ Echo ✦

Echo has always had trouble sleeping, especially before you’d arrived in his life. Though even if he does, and it's obvious, it takes more than a little while for him to allow himself to show he is troubled by it.

So it ends up taking a little while before you get to the point of cuddling up, and even then, you can feel Echo is a little stiff and awkward. It wasn't bad when you sit in the same seat as him, just laying your legs over his so your weight doesn't weigh down his legs, but now that your limbs are all tangled up, it's a bit more obvious.

He admits that he worries his cybernetics make him uncomfortable for you to lay with, and that maybe it isn't the best idea. He doesn't want to hurt you, he says, illuding to you waking up with dents on your skin from where your leg laid against his.

But you wake up with dents in your skin from your clothes or your leg falling off the side of your bed or the bunks in The Marauder, you're not going to let something so silly prevent you from waking up with him beside you.

Speaking of Echo's cybernetics they often make him run a bit colder than the average person, but you have zero complaints. Especially if you're on a hot planet like Tatooine...

It also means you better have more than one blanket, as he'll probably end up stealing it while he sleeps. You're all snuggled against his chest with his chin on your head, until suddenly your back feels cold; The blanket having been pulled away.

There's also been a few times that he's teasingly put a cold piece of metal against your skin under the blankets and made you almost squeal, but bringing that up always makes him feign innocence.

But most of all, he loves waking up before you, and enjoy the feeling of going back to sleep with you again. Sometimes he'll sneak a little kiss but it oftentimes it ends up waking you up, but you don't mind.

✦ Crosshair ✦

Crosshair often sleeps partly leaning up, even if you lament about how that would destroy your back if you ever tried it.

Part of it is always wanting to be alert and ready to go if anything happens, and sometimes he simply passes out while working on something (his rifle, usually).

When you end up joining him in his own bunk instead of your own, for the first while he continues the habit, feeling as you lay close to him with your head by his waist.

He pretends to not be fond of the affection- as he always does- though he never actually puts his foot down. He continues to let you awkwardly sleep on him, until he finally relents to start laying on his back and you throw an arm over his stomach.

He'll throw his arm over his eyes and fall asleep, and even he can't deny that when he wakes up, he feels a little better than usual.

The sniper is absolutely a heat leech, and he- embarrassingly so to him, gets particularly cuddly when he's cold. He runs chilly, and he doesn't say it, but he really enjoys having someone keeping the little pocket of air underneath the one thin blanket he has warm because his body can't seem to do so itself...

He's far more open to this sort of affection when you're alone, like in your home per say, but if you're on The Marauder, he doesn't mind too much if you sneak into his bunk. He'll give you a little side eye, but it's more amused than anything.

It's not gotten to the point that if you for some reason don't instantly join him as you usually do, Crosshair will end up getting almost frustrated, and you'll be able to feel the heat on your back.

Sometimes you'll wake up randomly almost feeling like he's brushing your hair out of your face or touching your forehead, but he always denies doing such a thing with a scoff if you sleepily roll over and ask.

[heyclickadee]

Okay, a few thoughts on the trailer now that I’ve collected my thoughts a bit:

1. Between the shots of the crashed ship and Omega in the cockpit, it’s looking like a self-rescue on Omega’s part. At this point I’m thinking she gets herself and Crosshair out, and then, based on the shots of Cross with the batch, gets separated from him at some point. He rejoins the batch, and she is…somewhere else. Though I don’t know if that means she goes back to Tantiss.

2. It’s entirely possible that she gets got by one of the bounty Hunters in the trailer, and that’s what separates her from Crosshair.

3. I do think that it is Crosshair in the armor, but other possibilities include: one, Tech, who may not have his own armor anymore and needed to wear something protective on short notice, and; two, Hunter’s having a real bad time and is actually hallucinating Crosshair being with them. I don’t think that’s the case though—I think it really is Crosshair.

4. It’s also possible that those shots with Crosshair are from a little later on in the season.

5. Poor Omega’s going to be in Tantiss for months.

6. I swear Hunter looks like he’s lost weight. Like. I know a lot of the fandom is deep in the Crosshair and Tech are twins sauce (and honestly, I am too, I adore that head-canon and basically think if it as canon), but darn it if Hunter isn’t getting so drawn he’s starting to look a little like Crosshair.

7. I find it weirdly amusing that the half the trailer in which the bad batch actually features is mostly taken up by Hunter and Wrecker doing Adventure Man things. I get the sense they were scrounging to find shots of the batchers that weren’t massively spoilery (and they still put those shots of Crosshair in. Which, admittedly, is one of the things that makes me slightly suspicious of that being Crosshair at all, because that could be a misdirect, but only slightly).

8. I’m going to laugh if it turns out that Cid hired all of the bounty hunters we see to find Omega. Like, if that’s what she uses the money she got from Hemlock for, and she’s basically trying to get Omega out of the situation she got Omega into and goes a little overboard on the means.

9. Ventress! I’ll be honest, Ventress has never been at the top of my favorite character list, though I’ve warmed up to her quite a bit (I used to like the idea of her more than the execution), but I always love Nika Futterman’s performance, and I’m intrigued to see Ventress here at the very least. Because. How. She was very dead. Very, very dead. Not “fell into The Mists” dead—she had a funeral after being dead for months. My only thoughts are that were either seeing her in a flashback sequence that takes place before Dark Disciple, or it turns out that nightsisters can use their force magic to do some weird shit after getting hit by lightning. Either way, I don’t think she’s fighting Wrecker and Hunter here—that’s just some misleading editing.

10. Man, I hope Hemlock dies a lot.

11. Anyway, speaking of the dead and those back from it, Tech is so alive and I’m trying to not be the Smuggest of Gremlins until we for sure see him, but jeez are they making that difficult. (I checked the trailer release blurb on the Star Wars dot com page—it doesn’t mention Tech being dead. It just says the team is “scattered” after the events of season two. Like. Guys, you’re not even trying anymore.)

12. And more on Tech, I do think it’s possible—possible, mind you—that Tech is the guy we see in the clone X armor in front of what looks like the Archium. There are some small differences between that armor and both the armor we see on Clone X in season two, and the Clone X we see speaking later in the trailer—namely, the shoulder straps, what looks like a glass visor covering the two eyeholes, and *sigh* the pouches. And it’s the straps and the pouches that are giving him a bit more of a Tech-ish silhouette—especially the pouches, and especially from behind. If it is Tech, though, I don’t think it’s a brainwashed Tech at all (and honestly, it’s the pouches that make me lean towards not brainwashed if it is Tech in there, because a shin pouch is just a very Tech-and-not-blank-slate thing to wear).

I actually think it’s more likely that it’s Tech in disguise and having taken the armor from the Clone X we see later in the trailer (with some adjustments of his own), and that that’s what’s being referred to by the titles “Infiltration” and “Extraction;” Tech infiltrating imperial forces, and then the others having to get him (and probably the people of Pabu) out. And, if that’s the case, I’m banking on these shots being from the midseason. (I know I said I wasn’t going to speculate on the episode titles. That was aspirational.)

Basically, I could be persuaded that it’s Tech in there or that it’s not. I’m less likely to be persuaded that it’s a brainwashed Tech in there—I still don’t think that’s happening.

12. Whether that is Tech in that armor or not, I do think that the clone X we see speaking in the trailer isn’t the same guy in the armor in the Archium shot.

13. I am SO HAPPY to see Phee back THANK GOODNESS. I was a little worried they’d drop her like a rock, but nope! She’s here! She’s got her cool jacket! We see her ship!

14. There is a criminally small amount of Echo in the trailer, but I’m not giving up on seeing more of him. It’s possible that he’s either a walking spoiler, or that he features a little more heavily in the back half of the season.

15. “The Cavalry Has Arrived” is the most optimistic episode title in the whole damn show and, yes, I will die on this hill.

16. Crosshair. Oh, Crosshair. Someone please save him immediately.

17. There’s a lot of early doom panic around, well, everyone and everyone (especially Hunter) dying that I’m honestly going to ignore going forward. For reasons.

[mangoisms]

i don’t want you to the bone (i just need to lay down with soft skin close)

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ summary: The school year starts and with it, autumn days and sick kids. You’re fine but Tim keeps getting sick for a reason you can’t figure out. A fourth and final time reveals that reason — that is, his apparent lack of spleen.

━ word count: 3.1k

━ contains: established relationship, domestic fluff, sickfic, comfort no hurt

━ a/n: technically takes place as an extension of my other tim fic, i’ll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute), but prior reading is not required; all you need to know is reader is a teacher’s aide for sixth graders! title is also from this song

━ you can read this on ao3 as well (and find my end notes ^_^)

New school years are always a little nerve-wracking. 

New faces, new personalities, new parents. 

But each time you do it, the easier it gets. 

A routine forms quickly and you fall into it like it’s nothing. 

For the first part of it, August and September, you and Ms. C are getting adjusted to the new batch of kids. Seeing which ones are struggling and accommodating them accordingly. Autumn sets in. Mornings are colder, days are shorter, leaves start to brown. Then the sick days start rolling in. 

The common cold and flu take out a couple kids at a time every couple weeks. But your immune system is nothing to scoff at, not after working at Gotham Elementary in Burnley with the third graders. Middle schoolers are better on that front but there is still some room to improve. 

Last year, you took a hit, a small cold taking you out for a couple days. This year, your second here at Gotham Pointe, you’re perfectly fine. 

You are still wary, though, too aware of your clothes and what you might carry back home. As a general rule, you don’t like sitting on the couch or the bed in your work clothes just because it feels a little gross but it is particularly exacerbated by your career choice. 

And your boyfriend is an additional factor. 

Not for anything particular, just that you want to be mindful for Tim. Especially since he spends ninety percent of his time at your place. 

You see him as soon as you step through the door and you often linger, sharing a kiss, taking a while to talk about your respective days and discuss dinner. Only after you go and take a shower. 

Sometimes, he takes you out for your lunch break, too. And of course you’re in your work clothes and can’t change or shower and you admittedly forget and let him get close. 

You simply did not think you would ever need to get extreme about it. 

This, you would reflect after everything, is wrong. 

The first time, a couple weeks into the school year, it’s a cold. 

You both surmise he got it somewhere outside. Gotham isn’t exactly the pinnacle of cleanliness, so it’s hardly a great mystery to ponder. You mostly focus your energy on getting him better. 

Then it happens again in September. The flu this time. It prompts you two to go out and get your flu shots — after he gets better, anyway. 

You think you’re in the clear after that. 

But then it happens again in October. Another cold. Less severe. Or so he insists. 

And then again in November. 

And you start to worry. 

“Why do you keep getting sick?”

A weak cough, then a sniffle. “Just want an excuse for you to take care of me.”

You shake your head, seating yourself on the edge of the bed, pressing the back of your hand to Tim’s flushed face. His fever still rages on, skin hot to the touch. 

Despite that, he finds it within himself to be cheeky. 

From the bed, dark hair mused from the pillow, a little sweaty from the fever, cheeks flushed, nose stuffy and eyes bleary, Tim gives you a dopey smile, one you can’t resist returning. 

“I’ll take care of you anytime you want, handsome,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of it. “But this is the fourth time… What’s going on?”

“It’s fall,” he says. “People always get sick in the fall.”

“Not four separate times.”

“I’m just special like that.”

“All the jokes even with a fever of a hundred and one, hm?”

“Just for you, gorgeous.”

“Alright, cornball,” you chuckle, grabbing the CVS bag with the medicine you picked up on your way home. “I called Alfred on my way back. Just wanted to get his soup recipe but he insisted on coming down with a batch for you. He’ll be here in a little while.”

Tim hums an affirmative, sitting up with a small groan as you pour out a dose of medicine and hand it to him. He gets a comical look of disgust as it goes down, nose wrinkling. 

You smile, taking the little cup and handing him a glass of water, which he quickly drains. 

“I’ll go ahead and take a shower,” you say, picking up the bag and the medicine. “You need anything?”

“I’m good,” he says, dropping back onto the pillows and yawning. 

“Alright.” You lean over to kiss his head, ignoring his groan of protest. 

“Gonna get you sick —”

“You didn’t the last two times, so I don’t think you will this time,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand. “I seem to be the strongest immunity-wise. Which is odd since you grew up here and should be more prepared for it…”

“Well, you know,” he mumbles, noncommittal as he burrows under the sheets and closes his eyes for what you imagine is his hundredth cat nap of the day. 

You don’t really know and you’re still… worried about this, so you just squeeze his shoulder and rise from the bed. 

Every time you bring up going to the doctor, he shoots down the idea. Even when you point out you don’t need to go to the ER and you can just go and see Dr. Thompkins. But that makes him refuse even more. Says it’s just a cold or the flu and not an issue. But this is the fourth time. You’re rapidly approaching your threshold for concern. 

Maybe you can bring it up again today. 

You ponder ways to approach the conversation while in the shower. It’s not that he’ll fight you about it and you need to plan for that. It’s just you want to be prepared. Think it through. If anyone will appreciate having a plan of action, it’s definitely Tim. 

You have something of an idea when you step out of the bathroom. But you find the bedroom empty and voices coming from the living room. 

You quickly recognize Alfred’s posh accent and Tim’s soft tenor, thick from his stuffy nose. 

You don’t intend to eavesdrop. But it happens anyway. 

“… much too often,” Alfred is saying. 

“I know,” Tim responds, sighing. 

“Are the antibiotics not working?”

You frown. Antibiotics? What antibiotics?

“They do their job when I need them, it’s just that it’s been viruses, not bacteria.”

“I see. And this increase in viruses is because…?”

Silence. 

You remain rooted in place near your bedroom door, the wood thin, conversation easy to hear, even with the fan whirring in your bathroom. 

“It’s her,” Tim eventually sighs. “From the school. But she tries, Alf —”

“I understand,” he says gently, placating. “I am not placing blame on the young miss. But does she know?”

An even longer silence. 

Your heart pounds fast in your chest and you feel dizzy and off-kilter all of a sudden. Do you know what? What are they talking about? What are you doing? You’re the reason he’s getting sick? That… makes sense, it does, but… why is he so susceptible to it? 

You’re not blaming him. Of course not. But it’s just — it’s weird, right? And Alfred is talking about antibiotics that Tim has to take? As far as you know, he doesn’t take any medication. Tylenol sometimes. Daily multivitamins that you often have to remind him to take because he forgets. But that’s not medication. 

“No,” Tim finally says. “She doesn’t. I haven’t told her. I just don’t want her to feel bad. Because she will. I should’ve said something sooner about it and we could’ve worked something out but I didn’t and now we’re here.”

“Master Tim…”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

You’ve heard enough. You’ve done enough. Dammit. You’re going to have to tell him about this. It was wrong to listen behind his back. Even if you want to know what it is he’s hiding, mostly, you just feel guilty. You seem to be the common denominator here and it’s not a good thing. 

You try so hard to respect his boundaries. Because there are things he does not want to talk about. Does not like to talk about. But you don’t like the thought of him not saying something to you because he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. You understand the intention! But you also don’t want him to feel scared to tell you stuff. Even if they hurt your feelings. 

No doubt because of his love for you and you get it. But still. 

You grab your dirty clothes and step back into the bathroom, then shut off the fan. Should announce your presence to them as you putter around the bedroom, tossing your clothes into the laundry and sliding your feet into your slippers. 

You emerge a minute later, Tim sitting on the couch, bowl of chicken soup in his lap, Alfred perched near him, the TV on the evening news. 

None of them give any indication of their prior conversation and neither do you, greeting Alfred as you usually do, serving yourself some soup, too, at his insistence. He sticks around for a little bit then bids goodbye, making you promise to give him updates and that if need be, I am perfectly willing to team up with you to get Master Tim to see Dr. Thompkins. 

After, Tim takes a shower while you get your dishes washed up and everything else locked up for the night. Checking on the boys, checking the locks on your windows and doors, then the super expensive security system you had covertly installed by Tim that your landlord would probably kick up a fuss about if he knew. But needs must. 

You pop into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face, getting ready for bed, thinking about how to approach this. 

Seems simple, in the end. Just say it. 

It’s nothing, right? Easy-peasy. 

But your nerves betray you. And he notices. 

“You feeling okay?” he asks, sliding in next to you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. For you, of course. Always for you. 

You sag into the pillows, sighing. “Tim… I, uh, heard your conversation with Alfred. I didn’t mean to! But I know that doesn’t mean much since it still happened… I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” he says, sitting up against the headboard like you. The look on his face is hard to read. 

You wince. “I’m sorry again. And this will be the last I talk about it if you want but I just need you to know… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing, you know? But you can tell me anything. No matter what.”

A small shake of the head. “I know. I just — well, you know. I didn’t want you to feel bad. I should’ve said something first about it.”

“About what?”

He sits up, reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

You watch him carefully. 

It’s a familiar sight. The scars that litter his body. Amassed since he was fourteen-years-old. 

Fourteen. 

Just a kid. 

You were doing jack shit at fourteen. As fourteen-year-olds should be allowed to do. 

And you know the story, you know how Tim got involved with it but… sometimes on bad nights when he wakes up from a nightmare and can’t go back to sleep, either huddled in your arms for comfort or turned away from you, curled in on himself for subconscious protection, on the days where the injuries sustained bother him, body aching and in pain, stress pulling him apart at the seams, or the nights he gets called out and sometimes comes back in pieces for you to put him back together… you really, really loathe Bruce. 

Maybe his initial introduction couldn’t be helped. Batman needed a Robin. That’s what he said. But everything else after that… how Bruce treated him sometimes, how Bruce treats all of them. 

It pisses you off. 

But you can’t do anything about that. You can’t change it. All you can do is be here. Go at his pace. 

You’ve seen his scars. You’ve made sure not to make him uncomfortable. Tim is beautiful to you, a Michaelangelo painting come to life, the kind of beauty that haunts you, but those scars have harrowing stories attached to them and you understand that anyone might be uncomfortable with it. 

You told him that. And that helped. And by now, you are intimately familiar with them. You don’t know all the stories. He doesn’t want to scare you. Like you could ever be scared by him. But nonetheless. You’ve seen them. Run your fingers over them, pressed kisses to them. Wondering about the pain he suffered. Still suffers. Wishing you could take it all away. 

“I was seventeen,” he tells you, once his shirt is off, revealing pale skin, toned muscle, and so many scars. Bullet wounds, stab wounds, bullet grazes. You shift, knee pressed to his, your eyes on his face. 

“Stabbed in my spleen,” he goes on, taking your hand and pressing it to the horizontal scar on his belly. Your thumb brushes the silvery, textured skin, heart clenching at the thought. “They had to take it out.”

“Your… spleen?”

You scramble to grasp your scant biology knowledge. You were required to take science labs when you were in college but you went for astronomy instead of biology or anatomy. Before that, your only experience with biology is your class from freshman year. A very long time ago. 

So, you come up with nothing for what a spleen does. But you can infer. You just need him to confirm it. One look between you and he nods, sighing. 

“It’s not very well-known,” he says, glancing down at your hand, fingers stroking the scar, his own wrapped loosely around your wrist. “But the spleen has a small part in fighting pathogens. More specifically bacterial infections. I’m —” his lips purse, displeased with what he is about to say “— particularly susceptible to those kind. And I’m supposed to take antibiotics at the first sign of some kind of infection. But the spleen is also for pathogens — viruses — in general and well, antibiotics don’t work on those.”

“You’re immunocompromised.”

He winces. “That’s… a very strong word.”

“But not untrue, Timmy.”

“No,” he mutters. “No, I guess not.”

You quickly understand your place in this. Even if you shower, you two still talk, still kiss, still linger before then. Then for those lunches…

“I’m sorry,” you sigh.

“No,” he groans, leaning forward to scoop you into your arms. He’s still hot to the touch, still feverish, but you don’t care, arms circling him as he buries his face in your neck. 

“No?”

“No,” he grumbles. “I should’ve told you from the get-go. I just… honestly, honey, I forgot. And by the time I realized we might need to accommodate when you come home…”

“You didn’t want to make me feel bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

You run your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his. The scent of his shampoo, eucalyptus, is fragrant and pleasant to your senses. “Don’t be. I know why you did it. Let’s just accommodate better from now on, okay?”

You feel him nod. 

“You don’t need to go to the doctors, then?”

“Probably do,” he sighs. “I’ll call Leslie tomorrow. See if she or Jean-Paul have an open slot.”

That relieves some of your concern. You press a kiss to his hair. “Good. You worried me.”

“I know.”

No use in apologizing. He’ll always worry you. He might have stepped down from Red Robin but he still gets called away. For a Titans mission, for a favor to Conner or Cassie or Bart, then of course, for the way Bruce is perfectly able to guilt him into joining them for patrol. 

“No detours when I get home,” you say next. “Try not to touch anything. Keep my jacket separate from yours. Dirty clothes, too. And lunch…”

“I still want to take you out for lunch,” he says a tad petulantly into the skin of your neck. “I’ll just… I don’t know. Take some of that Emergen-C stuff. Bulk up my immune system. We don’t have to do anything extreme.”

Which is an amusing statement, coming from him of all people. 

But you get it. It pleases you, to know he still wants you very much. Your time. Your company. And that these indulgences are entirely feasible with your relationship. That he is willing to cut corners for it. But you’ll have to put your foot down on some of it. Just to make sure you don’t get him sick. 

For now…

You kiss his head. “I love you, you know that?”

He kisses your neck, arms tightening around your waist. “I love you.”

You squeeze him. He sighs, sounding particularly put-out about something. 

“What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he mutters. 

“We’re on break next week. Kiss me.” 

Probably not your best decision. But also not your fault that your boyfriend is very pretty and also a great kisser and also that you think you’d kiss him forever if you could. You’re like kiss deprived by this point, since he started feeling bad yesterday and developed a fever last night. Hopefully that breaks tonight. 

“I can get you sick.”

“We’ve been sleeping in the same bed. And also you know I didn’t actually catch anything —”

“You and your immune system of steel,” he complains. 

“Bet Conner’s jealous. Also, why the complaint? Do you want me to get sick, is that it —”

“Just bringing it up very frequently, while I can do nothing but suffer.”

“Oh, you’re suffering, are you? Suffering with a butler to make you dinner, with my excellent bedside manner and pretty face —”

He laughs, finally pulling his face from your neck, eyes crinkled. The smile that curls your lips is nothing less than lovesick but you don’t care. You cup his hot face in your hands, thumb rubbing the sensitive skin under his eye, feeling the way his cheeks curl with his smile. 

“I’m bringing my continued immunity up to make a point, Timothy.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” he asks, teasingly latching on your last name like you’re at school. 

You turn your head, starting to pull away. “Well, if you don’t want to kiss me —”

He groans. “Okay, fine. But if you get sick —”

“You’ll take care of me just like I took care of you,” you finish, smiling. “You love me too much to abandon me like that.”

A smile. “Yeah. Yeah, guess I do.”

You share a kiss to seal the deal. 

(And yes, a week later, you do get sick. 

And yes, he does take care of you.)

reblogs are appreciated!

[pwurrz]

i feel like the clan members all encourage yakumo to eat more in their own ways, methods ranging from just the right amount of subtle to slightly overbearing.

eiden, for example, notices that yakumo enjoys watching other people at his cooking. he has a habit of serving everyone else first, watching their differing reactions with a pleased smile, and then finally eating himself, if there’s anything left by that point. because of this, eiden tries to save yakumo a portion, encouraging him to eat alongside them instead of acting as a bystander to their meals.

edmond feels like he has to do something to repay yakumo’s kindness. the serpent often goes out of his way to make a separate batch of whatever baked good he’s making, specifically altered to edmond’s tastes. and while edmond feels immensely grateful, he’s also too shy to simple express this gratitude out loud. occasionally, when he’s treating himself at one of the bakeries at the market, the knight will ‘accidentally’ buy two servings. and he can’t possibly eat two servings by himself, so he has no choice but to give one to yakumo! it’s really as simple as that, no need to look any further into it!

quincy and olivine are admittedly more subtle in the way they encourage yakumo to eat. which.. isn’t saying much. quincy has made a habit of cuddling against yakumo’s back while he cooks, his head resting on the serpent’s shoulder and arms wrapped around his slim waist. sometimes, because he yet again happened to notice just how small yakumo’s waist is in comparison to his own hands, quincy will remind yakumo to save some food for himself.

olivine, on the other hand, will often be sitting in the library with yakumo, reading to him while enjoying tea and snacks the serpent takes the time to make each time they meet up like this. without taking his eyes off the page, olivine will ask yakumo if he’s had any of the snacks he worked so hard to make. he knows that he hasn’t, and yakumo flustered silence only proves him right. at that point, he’ll take yakumo’s hand into his own and remind him it’s more than alright to enjoy the effort of his hard work.

garu and especially karu feel downright offended when they learn that yakumo doesn’t often eat the food that he makes, on his behalf, of course. it just doesn’t make any sense to them! how does yakumo make such good food if he never tries any of it? and how could he just not try any of it when it’s so good? he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on! garu uses his sweet puppy eyes to get yakumo to share his food while karu.. well, if the food’s so good, everyone should try it! especially the person who made it! and he’s not taking no for an answer!!

just.. the boys taking care of their housewife and reminding him that he’s loved through their appreciation of his cooking, but also their care for his wellbeing ♡

[jaketswine]

biscuits

jtk x reader; little father’s day blurb…

1k+

warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff; language

you had set your alarm a bit ahead today, hoping to wake before jake did.. not that it was a difficult thing to do. he could sleep through absolutely anything.

thankfully, it would work to your advantage today. rolling over and turning off your blaring alarm, you checked to make sure you hadn’t woken him. satisfied that he was still snoring peacefully, you threw your covers off and tiptoed out of the room.

you knew jake had no idea what today was.. he never remembered special dates. birthdays, anniversaries, holidays; all of it went way over his head. but sometimes that made it easier to surprise him with things.. exactly what you planned to do today.

padding into the kitchen, you retrieved all the ingredients you needed to make his favorite breakfast. biscuits and strawberry jam. he had told you early on in your relationship that he was a simple guy, easy to please. and that had proved to be true.

after moving in together you had begun to try your hand at making biscuits from scratch. through much trial and error.. and a ton of gentle constructive criticism from jake, you had finally perfected it. he told you so every time you made them.. and you figured that they would be the perfect addition to today’s surprise.

whipping up a batch of them, you waited for them to bake while you made his morning coffee. pulling out a jar of jam his grandmother made just for him, you plated everything together. grabbing utensils and napkins, you placed everything on a tray so he could enjoy it in bed.

before you headed back to your bedroom though, you grabbed the small gift box you had hidden for him, tucking it under your arm.

making your way towards your bedroom door, you could tell that his snoring had stopped, and you wondered if he was fully awake yet. before pushing open the cracked door, you knocked gently, stepping inside.

jake disgracefully rolled over onto his back, peeking his eyes open. he gave you a sleepy grin when he saw you in the doorway, and sat up further, tucking his pillow behind his back.

“well good morning doll, I wondered where you were.” you placed the tray of breakfast on the open area of the bed before sitting down on the side by him.

jake looked over the tray, then up at you, “what’s all this?”

“just a little surprise for you this morning.. thought it might be a good day for biscuits.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly.

the movement of your arms, caused jakes eyes to catch on the box tucked under your furthest one.

he eyed you suspiciously, raising a finger to point at it, “okay… and what’s that?” you watched his mind turn over for a second, “oh shit! it’s not our anniversary is it?”

any other occasion, you probably would have thrown your head back laughing, but you were admittedly a little more nervous today. you let a small giggle fall from your lips, “it’s a surprise.. would you like it before or after you eat?”

in response, you received an absolutely dumbfounded look from jake, along with “are you joking? of course I want it now!”

he reached his hand out to grab it, but you grabbed his hand instead, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “do you know what today is?”

flicking his eyes toward the ceiling, he thought for a moment before looking back at you, defeated, “I really don’t, but i’m sorry if it was important. you know i’m awful with dates…”

giving him a warm grin, you took your hand from his and replaced it with the small box. “go ahead, open it.”

he hesitated over it for a moment before placing his hand on the lid, looking back at you cautiously. you let out a huff at his unsure movements, “jake open it. please.”

“okay, okay… why do you seem nervous?”

“jake! just open it!”

he jumped to action at your slightly raised voice, lifting the lid off the box.

pushing the tissue paper to the side, he peered down into the box before looking up to you. “so.. the biscuits…?”

giggling at how quickly his brain had connected the dots, you nodded your head.

a smile grew on his face; one far larger than you had seen in a while, causing any fear you had to drift away.

he laughed in disbelief as he raised the object up out of the box, “so, we’re really having a baby?”

his smile only grew wider as you nodded in confirmation, “yeah babe, we really are. I found out last week.”

“why didn’t you tell me then?” he sat thinking about his own question for a moment before asking, “wait, is today father’s day?”

with another laugh, you nodded, “you’re gonna be a dad jake.”

placing the box to the side, he practically jumped out of bed, lifting you up and spinning you around, placing kisses all over your face.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby. god, this is so exciting!”

“me too.. i’m glad you’re excited, I was worried for a bit…” you trailed off, causing jake to look at you with confusion.

“worried about what doll? you know i’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

“no, I know. it’s just… with you all going on tour next year, it’s not fantastic timing, and I just don’t want you to get stressed out and—“ jake stopped your rambling with a loving kiss.

setting you back down, he pulled back, “y/n, we are going to give this child the best life we possibly can. no amount of touring is going to stop me from being the best dad I can be. and there’s no doubt that you’re going to be the best mom in the world..”

he paused his thought to move his hands down to your stomach, “I already love them so much, I cannot wait to meet them.” when he looked back up at you, his eyes were glassy.

you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his nose, “come on, let’s eat before the biscuits get cold.”

jake giggled lightly at you, nodding his head as a small tear fell down his cheek. he shook his head, “they’re gonna love your biscuits just as much as I do… I love you”

sitting down on the bed, you pulled him down beside you, placing one more kiss to his lips, “I love you. happy father’s day.”

taglist: @gretnavannfleet

[captmickey]

Know How To Pick Em, A King's Quest fanfic

Admittedly, this is entirely inspired by @thewatercolours fanfic Path of Kingship (which you should all absolutely read).

This is just me going "This is how No2 met No3"

Can be found on AO3

---

It wasn’t entirely unheard of for things to run as a skeleton crew, let alone within the castle confines of Daventry. It was, however, a massive grievance for everyone that has remained within the castle.

The remaining Royal Guards have gone from double shifts to triple, even quadruple, shifts. It was exhausting, taxing both mentally and physically, and at times overwhelming… but it wasn’t impossible. Not entirely. Especially so when under the reins of Royal Guard Number One who, Number Two theorizes, hasn’t slept for more than thirty minutes per day.

That wasn’t to say it was a bragging right by any means, but it was enough to have everyone, king included, frantically worry when the captain would stand still at absolutely random and sometimes snore.

This was why Number Two found himself in the mess hall with the newest guards. A forceful takeover from the second in command, sure, but the priorities of Number One laid with the castle maintenance and the crown itself. He also, personally, did not mind seeing over the training… it was very much a welcomed change of pace compared to picking fruits out of trees.

Glancing at the notes scribbled from the aforementioned leaders, Number Two couldn’t help but purse his lips from underneath his helmet. There weren’t a lot, but the four that were here, standing tall in their new armor, were personally picked. They had excelled in the physical and written exam and seemed to be bright eyed about the new ruler.

(As to why, he couldn’t say, but he couldn’t hold back a snort when it was brought up. The lad was promising, even he could admit, but right now it was still too new.)

Number One said he was going to keep selecting and reviewing potential guards… but because of how small the staff was, he could not wait for the traditional celebratory way the new royal guards nor could he see to their training as he needed them to start as soon as possible. Meaning Number Two was going to be at this for a moment.

And at it he was, as this was the third (fourth… maybe seventh) welcoming party he did for this batch of guards.

“Alright, you lot…” Number Two began, “welcome to the first day of your new lives. I’m certain you’ve been told of the difficulties that lay ahead, and I’m here to re-enforce that as we are in a bit of a…”

Painful transition, running around like a headless chicken, figuring out as we’re going. All terrible thoughts, Number Two thought, but those were the criticism of those that left the castle.

“Of a growing phase.” He said with a smirk. “And like all growing phases, it’s not always pleasant, and at times it’s painful. But I’m sure you all will be more than up for the task.”

“Captain!” They saluted in understanding.

Number Two, briefly, looked over his shoulder, wondering if perhaps Number One was in the room. But there was no one there. He looked back at the others, realizing they were calling him captain and he sighed.

“Excellent, but save that for the actual captain.” He said, lowering the notes. “I’m Second In Command, Royal Guard Number Two.”

Three of them flinched slightly and hesitantly lowered their arms, mumbling an apology. He couldn’t help but chuckle and shook his head.

“Quite alright, it is your first day and fortunately for you, your transition into being a Royal Guard will be gentle.” He paused and scoffed. “Well, gentle might not be the right word. I will still drill and train you in the same manner as Number One would.”

“Cap– sir!” They saluted.

“See? Learnin’ the ropes quickly.” He glanced back at his notes. “Right, I’m going to give you all your numbers. Remember, your names are off limits while on duty. While you’re in that armor and that helmet is on, you are your number. This is a matter of privacy and safety, but for now, I require helmets off.”

They all nodded and did as such, tucking it under their arms as they all stood tall.

Starting from the far left, Number Two glanced at the first one. A fairly built young man, though young may be in the eye of the beholder as he could very well be just a year or so younger.

“Lewis?” Number Two asked.

“Sir.” The man, Lewis, confirmed.

“Congratulations, you are now Number Five. You may put back your helmet.”

“Sir.” Number Five nodded.

Continuing down the line he stood in front of another man, definitely younger, that was for certain. Number Two glanced at his notes and read it as ‘Philip’.

“Philip, you are now Number Six. Congrats, helmet on.”

“Sir.” Number Seven nodded and slipped his helmet back on.

“Hubert?” Number Two looked at the fellow, noting the extremely slicked back hair and stoic expression. “Many congrats, you are Number Seven.”

Number Seven, quietly said thanks and gave a nod before slipping his helmet back on. Probably with ease, Number Two thought.

He stopped by the last one, wondering if, perhaps, Number One in his sleep deprived stupor, added an additional ‘A’ to the name of the last figure. There were many notes on that one, plenty from Graham himself based solely on the poor excuse of a handwriting that, hilariously, Number One had every right to criticize. Smiling - good, said Graham’s notes with a scribble of a smiley face. Excel in physical/written exam - see attach., said Number One’s notes.

A woman was Number Two’s mental notes.

Curly head of hair with eyes filled with enthusiasm and a hint of a smile ready to blossom on her face, no doubt she was trying to suppress that grin that the lad seemed so fond of.

“Robert…a?” Number Two asked, almost hesitantly.

“Yes, sir!” She saluted, her smile now prominent on her face. “Cadet Roberta, ready for her ranking!”

“Roberta… so not… not Robert.” Number Two looked once more at his notes, noting that there was no mention of her gender… then again, there was no mention of the others.

“Is there a problem with my name, sir?” Roberta asked, sounding a little less enthusiastic.

“Hm? Oh, no no, no problem at all–”

“Because the captain has a similar reaction with my name, sir.”

“Did he now?” Probably slipped his mask off for a moment, Number Two thought, normally Number One was on top of his hiding-his-emotions-in-front-of-everyone game. “What had he said of it then?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Of course.” Number Two looked at Roberta. “Just to be certain, you’re not taking a place for your brother, are you?”

At that, Roberta looked insulted. “Absolutely not, sir. But if I may speak freely, I am beginning to suspect you have an issue with my gender.”

And right there, Number Two realized why Number One liked her.

“No. No, not at all–”

“I’ll have you know that my being a woman has no drawbacks and I have scored rather well on all my exams and–”

“A-at ease, cadet.” Number Two quickly spoke, frantic in trying to diffuse the problem. “I was just merely understanding the captain’s writing.”

“What?” Roberta blinked.

He quickly showed her the notes, specifically the part of how her name was written, in a panic-induced gesture for one reason or another and her cheeks slowly looked flush.

“Ah, I can see the confusion now, sir.” Roberta said. “My apologies.”

“No, if anything, I should apologize.” Number Two sighed in relief. “Now, with that out of the way, your number?”

She widened her eyes and stood tall once more, saluting in the process. “Sir!”

“Congratulations, Number Three. At ease.”

“N… number…” she smiled from ear to ear, seemingly surprised by her new number and, somehow, stood taller, “thank you sir! I won’t let you down.”

As Number Three beamed ever so brightly and slipped on her helmet, Number Two couldn’t help but hear a slight giggle escape from Number Three. He looked to the others, all with their helmets properly placed and standing tall and ready for training. Tucking away the notes (and making a note to talk to Number One about the new guards), he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I will see you all on the training field in thirty. Be sure to collect your swords from the armory. You are dismissed.”

“Sir!” They all saluted, but it was Number Three’s that sounded louder.

She, Number Two thought, was going to be the most interesting.

—-

As the new recruits gathered on the training grounds and practiced, Number Two followed Number One to observe the others, stopping any cadets to correct their posture or fighting form. Number One, whose arms were behind his back, observed each of the new recruits, trying to commit their faces, name, and number to memory so as to know who had one strength and weakness. Number Two, however, was keeping tabs to see who was working the hardest so as to make sure they didn’t work themselves too hard to prove one thing or another.

After all, it was his duty to oversee their training while Number One was helping Graham.

“I have to say, you sure know how to pick ‘em.” Number Two said.

“I take it that was a compliment?” Number One asked.

“Of course. Aside from the occasional correction, they are an eager lot.” He pointed out, looking at the recruits when his eyes landed on the curly haired newly ranked Number Three training with another guard. “Very… eager.”

Number One, noting the pause, raised a brow and followed the gaze of his second in command. “I take it you met Number Three.” He said.

“Roberta… yeah.” Number Two nodded.

“Something about her catching your eye?”

“I could ask you the same thing. She was… very animated when I met her, not something you usually are eager about if the lad is anything to go about.”

“True. But I believe my notes clarified my reasoning.” Number One said, his attention still on Number Three. “Excelled in her written exams. Scored first place, in fact. And her physical exam was nothing to scoff about.”

“Really?” Number Two looked at him, his own brow raised. “How so?”

“Why not ask her yourself?” Number One side-eyed him.

“I believe I shall.”

“How bold.” Number One chuckled slightly as Number Two shoved him.

Number Two walked over to Number Three, noting her pose as she swung her fist. Her pose wasn’t wrong, in fact it was nearly perfect. But there was always room for improvement… right?

“Impressive.” Number Two said, startling both Number Three and the other guard.

“Sir!” The two saluted, standing straighter as Number One walked up as well. “C-Captain!”

“At ease.” Number One gestured.

“What form is it you’re training on, if you don’t mind my asking?” Number Two asked.

“Oh, we were learning how to flip our enemies in case of a moment of being disarmed, sir.” Number Three beamed.

“Were you, now?” Number Two continued, his confusion about her physical exam still at an all time high but now… now impressed she was even trying. “It’s not proving challenging, is it? You did remember to use your core when doing such a feat?”

Number Three, at that, frowned a little. “It’s no challenge, sir. But I am curious, how would you go about it?”

“Oh. Well, I would first um…” Number Two looked at Number One who merely continued smirking, clearly too late to back out now. He sighed and then looked at the other guard. “Mind if I take over, mate?”

“Sir.” The guard saluted and stood back.

Number Two walked closer to Number Three, unsure how to go about it without actually hurting her. He had no doubt that she was strong, incredibly so if she caught Number One’s attention, but she was still a lady, and he made it a rule to never lay a hand on one. But she was asking for feedback, and he said he would be training them.

“Firstly, I wouldn’t leave myself so open, no point in leaving your arms so far apart, otherwise… I could do this.” Number Two leaned in, nearly grabbing her sides but halting just about. “See?”

“Hmm… yes, I do, sir.” Number Three nodded, the frown slightly subsiding. “I… I didn’t think about that.”

“No worries, that’s why we train, right?” He said, smiling a little.

He then gave a very nervous chuckle as she did not return the smile his way and he leaned back, clearing his throat slightly. “R-Right, well… care to try again?”

“Of course, sir.” Number Three quickly fell into position, almost eager, though her smile wasn’t shown. “Ready.”

Number Two nodded, feeling a bead of sweat on his forehead as he got into position. He really… really didn’t want to hurt a lady.

“Don’t hold back, now.” He instructed.

“I don’t intend on it, sir.”

“Huh?”

In a blink of an eye, as the spar began, Number Two saw the world go into a blur as all of his defenses got obliterated in an instant. Arms wrapped around his side and gripped him like an iron clasp, forcing his feet to be lifted from the ground with embarrassing ease. He saw, within the blur of colors, the training walls, the sky, and then the walls once more, though now upside down as the air got knocked out from his lungs.

It didn’t take long to realize he was suplexed in less than ten seconds.

And it was all by Number Three.

His cheeks felt slightly red at the realization and the very loud and prominent laughter of Number One, wheezing at the absolute humiliation of his second in command.

A humiliation, Number Two internally felt, was deserved for ever doubting or hesitating around Number Three.

“How was that, sir?” Number Three asked, rhetorically, no doubt.

“W-well done…” Number Two mumbled, remaining on the ground just as Number Three left him, “excellent job, Number Three…”

She gave a quick bow and huffed, walking away. Upside down.

Number Two, having not moved, just heard Number One’s laughter get closer to him and sighed.

“So, see now why I picked her?” Number One asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Very… very much.” Number Two said. “You know how to pick ‘em.”

[sombersummerskies]

A Champion's Love: Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Interference

Word Count: 4005

CW: None

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

“Alright fellas, we’re doing laps today! Sword training’s been fine, but what you lot need to work on is endurance! Let’s go!”

You’re stood atop one of the walls of Lookout Landing, looking down at the soldiers you were working on training. It had begun after the attack on the fortress, you’d worked with the Lucky Clover Gazette (Traysi’s newspaper, which she was currently printing from her small home in Hateno Village) to put out flyers all across Hyrule. Soon you began to get people pouring into the landing searching for work and asking to be taught by you.

Now, three months later, you had a formidable set of soldiers. Many of them were showing natural skill and proving their work ethic to you by training day and night. You weren’t cruel, of course, you’d allow them days of rest. You’d organized them all into separate groups and would cycle out who you’d be working with on a day-to-day basis. Admittedly you had a bias, as today’s group consisted of your favorite trainee: Link.

Of all your ‘students’ Link was showing the most promise, immediately adept with sword fighting. After some practice, he proved to have good aim with a bow as well. You watched as he, along with the rest of his unit, jogged laps around Lookout Landing.

You hear your name be called out and turn. Peering over the edge of the wall you see Purah waving up at you. She grins, “hey champ! How goes training?”

“Well enough, once I get their lazy butts off the ground,” you reply jokingly, “how about you? How’s the Purah Pad coming along?”

The Purah Pad, the latest project of the small scientist. With all of the Sheikah technology being dismantled, it included the old Sheikah Slate as well. Now all of the tech was being repurposed into new machines, and the first Purah was working on was a new handheld tablet with a working map and runes.

“It’s okayyy,” she drawls, shrugging her shoulders, “still needs quite a bit of calibration before I even want to try testing it out. But soon I’ll have it working in a snap! Oh, by the way, let your platoon know that breakfast is ready in the shelter!”

“Will do!” you shout back, giving her a thumbs up before you turn back to your soldiers.

Once they finish your laps you get their attention, letting them take a break to eat. The majority seem grateful, attempting to catch their breaths and hide how red their faces are from the running. You take count of each of them as they descend into the shelter, ensuring everyone is accounted for. The last person in line is Link who gives you a smile as he wipes the sweat off his face with his tunic.

“You alright?” you ask him, “a little jog won’t put you out of commission, will it?”

He shakes his head and grins, signing back to you: I - feel - great - but - need - water.

“Better stay hydrated, soldier,” you chuckle, teasingly pointing a finger at him before he descends down the ladder.

Eventually, you hop down into the shelter as well. You can’t help but smile at the sound of conversation amongst all your trainees. It reminds you of when you yourself were a soldier in training for the army. You take your portion of breakfast, which today appears to be veggie rice balls and a slice of meat pie.

As you eat your lunch you idly chat. Some people ask you about your experiences as a knight, others talk to you about traveling around Hyrule. With the resident chef you ask for cooking advice, and with the shelter’s nurse you arrange to place a new order for medical supplies (as some of your soldiers are more prone to injury than others).

“Oh, look, a new batch of papers from the gazette,” someone says.

Slowly the pile of newspapers is handed around the room, everyone interested in reading it taking their own copy. Someone kindly hands one to you, knowing that you’ve made a habit of reading every edition that Traysi publishes. When you turn the papers over, however, you’re shocked by what you see on the front page.

An illustration of Prince Sidon has been printed on the paper, one depicting him at the entrance to Zora’s Domain. Ceremonial Trident in hand and with a wide, cheerful grin on his face. In bold text at the top of the page it reads Zora Prince Returns To Hyrule. Your eyes quickly skim over the small text of the article, containing details of how the domain celebrated the prince’s return and how beloved he was, being one of the important figures that helped fend off Calamity Ganon.

Your fingers trace over the drawing, a small smile sneaking its way onto your face.

When you look up you see a multitude of faces looking back at you, cheesy grins on all of their faces.

“At ease,” you instruct your soldiers, “and keep yourselves out of my business. I should have you each do fifty push-ups for being so nosey.”

They respond with a symphony of ‘yes ma’am!’s ‘sorry’s and ‘please forgive us’s, all of which make you laugh and roll your eyes.

“I’m joking- partially, do make it a habit to not pry into my personal matters,” you respond, “however, you can count yourselves lucky. I’ll be ending training early today and making my way to Zora’s Domain. Just make sure all of our weapons are sharpened before we have our next sparring session.”

As you make arrangements for your journey East it’s hard for you to contain your excitement. You’re giddy, it’s been half a year after all since you last saw the prince. Did you look presentable? What should you wear? Should you bring a gift? What do you even gift to a prince who has all of the luxuries one could ask for?

You ponder these questions as you ride horseback on Persephone, thoughts swirling as she gallops toward the Lanayru Region. As you think about gifts, something on the side of the road catches your eye. You tug on the reins, bringing your steed to a stop.

In the grass was a group of blooming flowers, a mix of blue nightshades and violets.

‘A gift,’ you think, kneeling in the grass.

You pluck the flowers gently to keep their stems intact. Once you gather them all into your arms you walk down the path on foot, whistling for Persephone to trot beside you. Your fingers work deftly, looping the flowers together and tying knots out of the stems. As you walk you pluck more plants, adding armoranths to the mix.

Eventually, you’ve crafted a wreath of flowers large enough that once you see the prince you’d be able to place it across his shoulders.

‘Perfect,’ you think to yourself as you climb onto Persephone’s back once more.

“C’mon Persie, let’s go visit Sidon,” you murmur, patting the side of her neck.

…

Your boots pad against the smooth floor of the palace. You’d left your horse at the end of the bridge, allowing her to graze in the grass. It was the evening now, the sun just having set behind the mountains. You’re greeted by many of the Zora, all of whom seem to be in good spirits.

There’s a grin on your face as you say hello to everyone you pass. The flower wreath is draped over one of your arms as you walk. You make your way up the large staircases, past the goddess statue, and up to the throne room- only to be shocked when you find the room empty.

Your smile drops a little. “Maybe he’s in his chambers,” you mumble to yourself, turning on your heel and descending the staircase. As you attempt to enter the inner hallways of the palace, you’re suddenly stopped in your tracks by two elder Zora. You recognize both of them from a few months prior, one resembling a squid and the other a sawfish.

“Ah- Hylian-” one of the councilmen pipes up, “why are you here today?”

You feel your eye twitch but attempt to maintain your composure, “I’m here to see Prince Sidon, I’d like to welcome him back after six months away.”

“He’s busy,” the other elder shoots back dryly.

“O-oh,” you reply, “may I ask with what?”

“I should think that it is none of your concern, Hylian, it’s royal matters after all.”

You clear your throat nervously and nod, “I see, of course. Could you at least let him know that I’m here and would like to speak with him?”

The two men share a glance before one curtly nods his head, “of course, we will make the prince aware of his guest. Now please, vacate these halls, you have no purpose down here.”

There’s an odd tone to his voice, but you choose not to question it. You bow your head and reply with a quick thank you, even though internally you want to do nothing more than scream at the councilmen. You retreat from the halls and make your way up the stairs once more, eventually finding yourself at the tide pools beneath the throne room.

With a sigh you take a seat, removing your boots so that you can dip your feet in the cool water. Gently you set the flower wreathe aside, ensuring it isn’t damaged. You want it to be in pristine condition for when you present it to Sidon.

You aimlessly kick your feet as you wait. The occasional Zora who passes by stops to hold a conversation with you, the majority of them asking about how you’d spent the last half a year. Eventually, some of the children come to keep you company, Tumbo and Laruta excitedly talking your ear off about their various shenanigans.

The smile doesn’t leave your face as you chat with the kids, but internally you can’t help but worry.

Sidon was nowhere to be seen.

You’re not sure exactly how much time passes, but it’s enough for the Zora to enjoy their suppers. For the children to be called home. For the guards to swap to night watch. For the luminous stone lamps to glow brighter. For the moon to cross the sky.

Hours. Hours pass.

And Prince Sidon never shows up.

The tears start before you can stop them. One falls, then another, and very soon you have your face buried in your hands as you silently sob. You count yourself lucky that all the Zora had left for bed, meaning no one was around to bear witness. You curl in on yourself, hugging your knees as you weep quietly.

What had changed? Could six months possibly be enough time for him to forget about his affection for you? You understood that he had his princely duties, but to not even come and say hello.

Perhaps this was normal? You’d never been in love before, let alone in a relationship. Perhaps you were acting naive.

Sniffling you stand, grabbing your boots and the flowers and walking away from the tide pools. You move silently, walking to the front of the palace. The nighttime is quiet aside from the trickling of the various waterfalls. You pause.

The centerpiece of the plaza, Mipha’s statue, smiles down upon you.

“Am I doing something wrong?” you whisper, casting her a forlorn look, “was I expecting too much?”

There’s no response, of course.

You sigh, taking the wreath and placing it on the ground in front of her, arranging it delicately. Then you tug your bots on and hug your arms to yourself, walking away toward the bridge. You can’t bring yourself to look back at the palace, the tears threatening to fall again.

…

Unbeknownst to you, the prince had been in the Pristine Sanctum; a private chamber hidden behind one of the many waterfalls of the domain, known only to the royal family and its council.

“Father, an arranged marriage?” Sidon pleaded, looking up to the king with concern on his face, “how could you never have told me? Why must I have found out in such a way?”

King Dorephan sighed deeply, a frown on his face as he leaned back in his chair, “I apologize, my son. I hoped that it would never have to come to this. Had I known that Sola would be so diligent in pursuing this outcome, I would have informed you sooner.”

Beside the king, Muzu stands with guilt written on his face as he casts his gaze downward. He had been the one to tell Sidon about the arrangement- though the prince had never informed anyone of the conversation he heard in the first place.

Prince Sidon stubbornly confronts them both, “I will not go through with this. I will not be forced into a marriage.”

“But sire, the alliance,” Muzu retorts, “we have a long and storied partnership with our fellow settlement, it would be a historic upset to sever that!”

“Is there no other way to maintain our ally?” Sidon challenges, “is a marriage truly the only solution?”

Dorephan answers, “our standing was severely weakened after the calamity. With the heir to the throne, Mipha, dead, and Hyrule as a whole beaten down by Ganon, our allies saw no benefit in keeping their ties with us. The settlement Lady Yona hails from is our last Zora alliance. If we do not remain connected with them, we risk losing our connections to our history and culture. King Sola demands a marriage- he knows that our bloodline stems from ancient times and is well-respected. He believes that an engagement will heighten not only Yona’s legitimacy but his own as well.”

Sidon shakes in anger as he stares up at the king. “Father, this is not fair,” he responds, voice tense with emotion, “you chose your queen. You chose her out of love and compassion. Why can I not choose mine?”

“... every king must make sacrifices for the sake of fulfilling their duty,” the king replies sadly, “I fear that this must be yours, my son.”

“You expect me to sever my relationship? To sacrifice the love that I have for _____?” the prince says with gritted teeth, “you would like to see me heartbroken? To see me in despair? You expect me to break her precious heart as well?”

“Son-” Dorephan sighs woefully, but Sidon does not relent.

“I will not allow this, I will not lose someone whom I love so dearly again,” he argues, “I will find a way around this, I will find another solution.”

Before either of them can attempt to stop him, the prince turns and marches out of the sanctum. Even the coolness of the waterfall does little to calm his anger. As he walks out he’s surprised to see two of the councilmen awaiting him; Luve and Morato.

“My liege,” Luve, with the fins of a sawfish, says as he bows out of respect, “I trust that your meeting went well.”

Sidon’s shoulders tense but he forces a smile onto his face, “it was fine, thank you, gentlemen. If you excuse me, however, I will be on my way.”

“Ah, but sire!” the other, Morato who resembles a squid, pipes up, “you are needed in the library, you must write about your diplomatic travels for the archive.”

The prince does his best to hide the disappointment that he feels. “I understand, and I will do my due diligence to archive my journey, I promise. However, I’ve made arrangements to travel to Lookout Landing. I intend to visit Princess Zelda and the Hylian Champion.”

Luve and Morato exchange looks with one another as if they’re having a silent conversation that Sidon cannot interpret. “The Hylian knight is actually quite busy” Morato retorts, crossing his fins, “we hear she’s preoccupied with training the new army, and we suspect she is not accepting visitors at this time.”

Sidon feels himself grow more frustrated by the second and attempts to reply, “yes, I understand, but-”

He’s swiftly interrupted by Luve, “Your Royal Highness, we insist you maintain your responsibilities. The archives need to be updated as soon as possible, this is not a matter which can be delayed.”

Prince Sidon takes in a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm before he says something he may regret to the two elders. “... Understood. I will go to the library. At the very least, could one of you get in contact with Captain Bazz? I would like for him to forward a message to the champion for me.”

Luve and Morato smile keenly, nodding their heads at the prince. In truth, neither of them intends to relay any kind of message. Just as neither of them had intended to inform the prince of your presence in the palace.

Thus, Sidon spends his evening in the domain’s library, unaware that you were waiting for him at the tide pools. Hours pass as he diligently writes on the parchment paper, documenting his journey to the allied settlement. He describes fanciful feasts, exciting festivals, and his thorough exploration of their cove- but he does not document the arrangement between the kings. He refuses to make note of the supposed engagement between himself and Lady Yona.

Once the prince feels satisfied, he rolls up the parchment and places it on one of the many shelves the library maintains. As he retires to his private chambers for the night, he is none the wiser to your presence- or the fact that at this same moment in time, you were walking away from the palace.

Sidon sighs as he sits in his room, placing his chin in his hands as he thinks. Why had the councilmen been so insistent? Documenting his diplomatic trip was important, yes, but it could have been done at any time. He would have far preferred to spend those hours traveling West toward Hyrule Field.

He misses you so dearly. After months away he longs to see your face, hear your voice, feel your touch. He can’t help but pine for you. “I will make my way to Lookout Landing tomorrow,” he whispers to himself, “nothing will delay me any further.”

The next morning the prince is in the plaza, the owners of the Seabed Inn and General Shop having requested his presence. They discuss inventory as Cleff, owner of the shop, seems particularly interested in establishing trade with the new landing in central Hyrule. As the three Zora converse, some of the children come running by.

“Finley,” the inn owner, Kayden, chastizes his daughter, “please be more quiet, we’re having a discussion.”

Sidon chuckles, waving a hand, “it is fine, I implore you, let the young ones have their fun.”

“Prince Sidon, Prince Sidon!” Laruta cheers, drawing his attention, “did you see the champion? She was here yesterday!”

His heart skips a beat, eyes widening as he listens to the child’s words. “Pardon? Did you say that the Hylian Champion was in Zora’s Domain?”

This time it’s Tumbo who speaks up, “yeah, at the tide pools! I was telling her all about our new game, where I pretend to be a big scary monster, and Finley and Laruta and Keye have to try to beat me up, and-”

As the young Zora rambles Sidon feels his heart begin to race. He looks up at the two owners and bows his head, “forgive me, there’s something I must attend to. I will be sure to reach out to the head of Lookout Landing to establish that trade!”

He quickly turns and spots Bazz at the entrance to the Great Zora Bridge. The prince immediately walks over and catches the captain’s attention, pulling him aside for a conversation. “Sidon?” Bazz asks, confused about the sudden urgency.

“Did you have a chance to send that letter to the champion?” Sidon asks, “if not, there’s no need to bother yourself with it any longer, I will be going to central Hyrule myself.”

Bazz stares back blankly, a look of confusion finding its way to his features. “... a letter?” he replies.

Now it’s Sidon’s turn to be confused. “Yes, the letter, did the councilmen not inform you of it yesterday?”

The captain shakes his head, “prince, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Prince Sidon pauses, shutting his eyes and sighing. He puts together the puzzle pieces in his mind, hands clenching into fists and a frown forming on his face. “I see,” he sighs, “it appears that there is some interference at play here.”

“Interference?” Bazz repeats, tilting his head, “how do you mean?”

“_____ was here yesterday, I can only assume with the intention of seeing me. However, I was never informed,” Sidon explains, “at the same time, I had asked the elders to contact you and have you send a message to Lookout Landing. It appears they deliberately ignored me.”

The captain sways to the side nervously, leaning against his spear, “well. This is certainly a predicament. You don’t think that… they’re trying to interfere with your courtship, do you?”

Sidon’s gaze, full of anger, is cast downward, “I fear this may be the case. If it is, I will confront the elders about it later. For now, however, I will be traveling Westward to the landing.”

Bazz salutes his friend, “good luck to you then, prince. Don’t let anyone stop you.”

The prince replies as he casts his gaze upward, eyeing the throne room, “I don’t intend to.”

…

“_____? Are you feeling alright?”

You groan, tugging the bedsheets over your face, wanting to hide from the world.

“Come now, you must eat something. It’s nearly lunchtime, and you’ve been in bed all day.”

With a grumble you tug the bedsheets off, looking up at the figure beside you. The princess gazed down at you with a face of concern. The both of you were in the soon-to-be laboratory, Purah having been kind enough to let you sleep here to avoid the communal shelter.

“Will you at least have some water?” Zelda asks.

You allow yourself to be dragged out of bed and guided to the table. You’re handed a glass of water which you sip on slowly, throat sore due to the fact that you’d cried yourself to sleep the night prior. Zelda stands behind your chair and you feel her fingers begin to pull your hair apart, likely attempting to make your bedhead appear more presentable.

The princess fills the silence by talking, letting you know about the progress with the schoolhouse in Hateno Village. You blink the sleep from your eyes as she speaks, grateful that she wasn’t seeking any responses from you. There’s a plate of pastries on the table and you reach out to grab a nutcake, which seems to please Zelda.

“The soldiers were awaiting instruction, so I’ve told them to spar for the time being,” she explains, pulling her hands away from your hair, “they were admittedly a tad worried about you, but I said that it was a personal matter… do you still not want to talk about it?”

You shake your head silently.

Zelda sighs, but nods her head, “alright. I will not pry. But whenever you’d like to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

This brings a small smile to your lips. You’re eternally grateful for her friendship. It helps to soothe all of your confusing and upsetting emotions, even if only a little.

‘Might as well make myself useful today,’ you think as you stand, ‘trainees are waiting to hear from me, after all.’

You wordlessly get dressed, tugging on your tunic and armor, strapping on your gloves and boots, and securing the Master Sword’s scabbard around your torso. You splash your face with water, hoping to get rid of the evidence of your tears and tireless night. As you dig through your travel pack you hear a voice outside the door.

“Hey champ!” Purah calls out, “you’ve got a guest!”

‘A guest?’

~~~ <> ~~~

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[nahoney22]

I was wondering if you could conjure up a situation where fem!Reader and Omega are summoned from the Havoc to assist the boys in a mission they thought they didn't need girls' help, and the girls came to provide medical help. However, upon arrival, turns out the issue the boys are facing (Idk, negotiations with an unbearable overseer on the behalf of the natural inhabitants?) needs a ~feminine touch~. Aka Aggressive (persuasive) negotiations. Tbb perspectives? Tbb looking at each other like:

Thanks for the request @agenteliix ♥️ hope this is okay

Rescue Mission

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Bad Batch Boys & Omega X F!Reader

word count: 3.2k

You and Omega find the Batchers in trouble and now it’s time to prove your worth in this squad

warnings: SFW, mentions of mild misogyny, threats, mild canon-typical violence but nothing major, imprisonment, platonic relationships.

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

“Omega, stop pacing.”

“They should be back by now! I don’t like this.”

Admittedly, you could no longer ignore the terrible anxious feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You were all given a mission by Cid, a simple trick of negotiations against a sly dealer in exchange for valuable goods. However, this was two hours ago now and yourself and Omega were told to stay on the ship.

“Try comm them again.” You instructed her and she hurried to the control panel to patch a signal through to them but to no avail.

Truthfully you hated how the boys would dismiss you and Omega. There had been plenty of times you had helped them out on missions when they were in a tight spot and if they’re not back in the next ten minutes, you had a feeling that you would be doing it again.

And so the ten minutes passed and you could not hold out any longer. So whilst you and Omega packed your stuff, you revisited the details on your holopad about where this buyer is. It wasn’t too far, luckily and maybe you could try and get a signal to them on the way. You informed Omega that they may need medical assistance and since yourself and Echo had been training her more on this field, perhaps it’s time to put it to good use.

As you’re both walking once you leave the Havoc, Omega is a few steps ahead of you and you soon hear her starting to pant. “Omega, take a small breather. I need you strong.”

She’s reluctant, you can tell by the way her shoulders tense but she does stop and so do you once next to her. “They should’ve let us come with them. They could be hurt.” She mumbles.

You agreed with her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as you pull out a flask of water and hand it to her. She gratefully takes it, gulping the water down before handing it back to you. “Kriff, I hate how they think we’re weak.”

“Language, Omega.” You frown at her but not because of the profanity but because of what she said after. “And what do you mean by that?”

She’s shuffling her feet this time, a heavy burden that had been lingering on her shoulders for a while finally coming to light. “Remember when we stayed at that Cavan back on Ferrix? And I was playing with that group of boys?”

“Yeah, that was around two months ago. Why?”

“Well, they said girls were weak. And for a job to be properly done it should be by a man.”

You watch her look down at her shows, kicking her feet into the ground when you turn to stand in front of and kneel. “Look at me, Omega.”

Omega chews on the inside of her mouth because she knows she’s going to be reprimanded by you. You have done nothing but show her how much of a force you can be in battle and she respected you, a lot. When she does look at you, her eyes are teary and you feel a horrible twist in your gut.

“Since when did you let that define what actions you partake in this galaxy, hm?” You question, arching your brow.

She thinks for a moment before shrugging.

“Answer me, Omega.” You push her with an answer quietly.

“Never.”

“Exactly.” You smile gently and cup her cheek. “You’re just as strong as your brothers. Don’t let a group of little boys tell you differently.”

She smiles, sniffling a little but you could see her be content with your words of encouragement. “But, why did they leave us? Why tell us to stay on the ship?”

To be candid you were unsure why you were told to stay behind but it could have been for a reason. Maybe they knew they were going into a dangerous situation and needed someone to hang back. Or, it’s because they thought the two of you could need a break. After all, several missions back-to-back had been starting to take its toll on you. The boys were used to it since it was in their blood and you were a mere civilian at one point who needed saving from a bad situation. They knew you were strong and capable but still, you didn’t like being told to stay back without reason.

“I’m unsure.” You say as you return to your full height and look to the sky. “The sun is setting. We should be there before nightfall when we save them. Come, we’ll teach them on telling us girlies to stay on the ship.”

Omega watches you take off and feels a wave of courage bolt through her. When she gets older, she wants to be just like you: Fearless, bold and hopeful.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Upon arrival, yourself and your fellow companion scout the area out first. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Omega glanced at you as you stared ahead through your binocs and she was determined to show you how she had improved when it comes to surveying areas. “A mildly armed compound. No signs of any cameras outside so we won’t get caught sneaking in unless there’s a guard.”

“Very good. Let’s go.”

With such ease, the two of you sneaked in through a lazily guarded window that was open. You both crept along the stone floors and walked into a hallway. You place your hands on your hips and shake your head.

“I don’t understand.” You mutter.

“What is it?”

“Look at this place… there’s no guards even here. How did they get captured? If they did that is.” You frown, hands extending out to show how deserted the place seemed to be.

Omega nods slowly. “Let’s keep goin’.”

“After you.”

Still sneaking, you both hug along the walls but half at a corner when you see a heavily armed sentiment being guarding a room.

“Set your blaster to stun, we don’t want to harm anyone… yet.”

Omega follows your orders and takes out the guard. You grab their feet and wait until Omega opens the door and allows you to slide inside to hide the body.

The young one looks around and you turn once you hear her go ‘look!’. In the corner was the boy's armour and weapons. However, they looked unscathed from any blaster bolts so by the looks of it they’ve been stripped and are being held captive somewhere else.

“Stay close to me and if anyone speaks let me do the talking.”

You both come to a hall and for a moment you both freeze as in your view is a long queue of what looked like sellers of some kind. All different species holding baskets, sacred looking jewelry, fancy pottery etc.

“Looks like the dealer is in that room there.” You hum quietly to Omega.

Omega looks from behind your back and frowns. “That’s a long queue for just a buyer.” She says and you’re inclined to agree.

“Yeah… must have a lot of credits.” You mumble.

You’re in deep thought, thinking of a plan but then you spot a vent which was conveniently big enough to fit you in. To the left were some old wicker baskets and rags and that’s when a plan springs to mind.

“Hey Omega,” you turned to look at her and she could see the mischief on your face, “how good is your acting?”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

“We need to make contact with the girls.” Hunter growls slowly, on his knees with his hands cuffed to the wall behind him.

“That would be a good idea but since we don’t have our weapons or comms…” Echo grumbles beside him in the exact same position.

What seemed like a sound plan completely went up in flames. They had thought that they could swindle their way with a fake vase in exchange for something Cid’s buyer had wanted.

Instead, they’re now being held captive. The guards had left on patrol but still they had to be cautious as the buyer was across the room, speaking to sellers.

Tech is thinking hard on how to escape or how to contact you and Omega whilst Wrecker is trying to use all his strength to free himself from the binds but to no avail. However, all their heads are turned when the last seller of the day comes in and they recognised that head of blonde hair anywhere.

“Is that…..?”

“Omega?”

They watch her walk straight ahead, completely ignoring the sight of them to her left as she carries a small basket in her hands, a cloth over the top.

The buyer is watching her curiously. He’s an older species of the planet you were on and wore sparkling jewels around his neck that were an eyesore. He screamed wealth but he also screamed arrogance.

“Speak.” He orders once Omega stops a few feet away from in front of his table.

Omega is holding her breath, legs shaking with nerves. Not only was she trying to pitch something she didn’t even have but she had four of her brother's eyes trained on her back.

Show them who’s boss, show them who’s boss she repeats in her mind like a mantra and takes a shaken breath.

“Hello sir! How are you today?” She says aloud, putting on her brightest smile.

The man blinks at her, uninterested.

“I… I am here today to sell you fruit from my home planet. A delicacy.” She wriggles the basket in her hands as if to entice him but she grows hot in embarrassment as he erupted into laughter.

“Fruit, girl?! Fruit?! I have no time for this.” He stands and is ready to call it a day and call for his guards to take the Clones away when Omega steps closer to him.

“Wait! Please, I can explain why they’re so good.” Omega protests and glances just for a second behind his head and then back to his gaze.

He’s practically mocking her with a smirk and this irks something in Hunter as he watches. He knows that she’s here to help but had no idea what she had in mind.

“Do I look like I care for fruit?”

“What if I tell you that it keeps you youthful for a hundred years?” It didn’t sound believable, not one bit in her mind but he had actually arched a brow. Ah, now his interest has piqued.

He moves back to where he was, taking a seat “And what do you mean by this, girl? Speak up.”

Omega feels her confidence shoot up. “These are grown in a marsh on my plant, uh, Kurgstor, and legends have said one bite of this fruit will stop you ageing. Eternal youth.”

The buyer is tapping his fingers along the table, looking to the covered basket and then to the young and seemingly innocent girl. “Is that why you’re young? You’ve eaten one?”

“Uh… no. I want to save mine for when I’m a bit older.”

Omega can tell he’s interested. She’s trying to stay cool and calm but she’s waiting for your lead.

“Very well. What is it you want for them?”

Ah, she did not think of this. She’s tapping her feet somewhat anxiously and idly glances over to her shoulder towards her brother who was watching her intently. Could she ask for them in exchange for this ‘fruit’ or would it be obvious? She’s thinking deep in her mind until she remembered what her brothers were here for.

“I would like the Vase and Trinket from Naboo in exchange for these fruits.” She said proudly, head held high.

“You’re not the first person today to require these items… may I ask why?” He questions, casting a gaze towards the men he had chained up with a disgusted glance and then back down to Omega.

“They’re… nice.” How stupid. She cursed herself mentally at her stupid excuse but for the dealer, it was a better excuse than any.

“Very well, it seems like a fair exchange. A vase and trinket for eternal youth.” He claps his hands together over his enlarged stomach and stands to his feet. “See those fools over there?”

She nods for him to continue. “Tried to sell me a fake. Ha! As if I could not tell the difference. They think they can try to pawn me a fake heirloom for something as valuable as anything from Naboo.”

They’ll be disposed of soon for trying to swindle me.” He scoffs, rising to his feet again with both hands placed firmly on the table. “Agree with me that they’re fools, child.”

Despite the fact she hated being called ‘child’ she smirks a little and turns to her brothers and tilts her head. “Yes, they are fools.” Clearly, he had some kind of authority and satisfaction i

Wrecker was almost laughing, knowing that his best friend and sister were right that they got caught how they did. The others however… a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

“But before I make the trade I would very much like to see these fruits of yours. I’m hoping they’re delicious looking and not just powerful.”

She tenses and her eyes go wide. The plan that you conjured up was replaying in her mind and as a subtle clang echoes through the room, the buyer is about to turn around when, “Of course! Do you mind-?” She nodded down towards the basket in her grasp and the rag over it, suddenly pretending it was heavy.

He turns back and with a heavy and lazy sigh he nods and walks around his desk and stands with his back to it. His hands are reaching down towards the basket and Omega prepares herself for what’s about to happen.

He rips the rag away and instead of the fruit he was promised, he is instead face to face with a blaster that she had been hiding.

“W-what is the meaning of this?” Terror is evident in his face, his hands began to shake as the young girl pulled a blaster on him. “Guards! Guards! Intruders!” He calls out in a panic but Omega pressed the barrel to her weapon to his gut which soon shut him up.

“Release my friends!” She hisses at the man. He looks to the clones who are now sat upright, ready to fight once freed. Then, a smirk appears on his face and he laughs. Laughing at her.

“Nice try. Do you really think I’m gonna let you get away with this? Do you even know how to use that weapon, child?”

“I’m better than you think.” Omega defends her honour and does not hesitate to place her finger on the trigger.

He’s watching her intently, arms folding over his wide chest and belly laughs at her. “I know you don’t have the guts to shoot me.”

“No,” Omega says quietly, a satisfied look on her young features, “but she might.”

“Who-?”

He stops still, a horrible chill running throughout his body as something cold and familiar is pointed to the back of his head.

You’re on the table behind him, crouched and attention focused merely on the man in front of her. “Put your hands in the air.”

“THOSE ARE MY GIRLS!” Wrecker cheered, all of them watching in pure amazement at your cunning plan of rescuing them. They had seen you sneak through the vents behind the dealer.

The dealer does what he’s told and you hop off the table, switching places with Omega who begins to look around for the valuables they originally came in for.

As you’re looking at him, you look down to the necklaces around his neck. With your eyes narrowing and looking closer, you reach out and yank one from his person with much protest from him.

“Give that back or I’ll have your head!”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. You know this is a fake right?” You hold up the jewel into the light, inspecting you casually and turn to him in amusement.

He gulps, blood running irritatingly hot. “I never wear fakes!” He growls and this time it was your turn to laugh at him. How ironic, the boys are caught trying to sell a fake and this idiot is wearing fake jewels.

“Trust me, I know a fake when I see one. How many others have you conned?” You excuse, throwing the necklace back at his feet.

This time he doesn’t answer and hangs his head in shame. You’re watching him closely when Hunter calls out your name.

“Hey, you uh, fancy freeing us?” He gestures to his bound hands and you can only roll your eyes and smile. You were so glad they were alright and so ordered Omega to go help free them once she found the valuables.

You’re too busy paying attention to watching the boys get freed when a sudden hand wraps around your neck and you’re flushed against a large and protruding stomach. Echo calls out to you at an offensive stance with the others following suite but you knew you could handle this yourself.

You didn’t even have time to hear what the dealer was threatening you with when you slammed your elbow into his nose, breaking free and twisting his arm around his back and kicking his calf to make him crumble to the ground.

“Wanna try that again?” You snarl, blaster aimed at the back of his head once more and now he’s a quivering mess and apologising profusely.

Omega looks at you, wide eyed. “You alright?”

You sigh and nod, now knowing not to ever turn your back to this slimy nerf-herder. “I’m fine. Thanks, Omega.” You nod gratefully to her and that’s when you stunned the dealer.

Once you walk over to the boys, they thank you and Omega.

“Well, since that’s dealt with we should try and pass the guar-.”

“Already dealt with.” You shrug casually in reply to Tech, leaning into Wrecker’s side as he engulfed you into a proud side-hug. Of course beggire you started your endeavour in the vents, you stunned and hid away every guard in your view for a swift escape.

“What about our amour? They locked it away-.” Hunter begins, rubbing the tension out of his now freed wrists but again, you interrupted.

“Found and secured.”

Hunter felt a small wave of guilt. He knew what you were getting at since he was the one to tell you both to stay on the ship and now he had the sore job of apologising to you and Omega. Also, a massive slap of ‘I told you so’.

He says your name and then Omega’s sighing a little and steps towards you both. “Thank you for saving our arses, couldn’t have done it without you.”

Omega grins at her brother's praise before handing him the valuables they were initially here to get but you only hummed and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, next time maybe you boys can stay on the ship and let us girls handle it.” You playfully pat his shoulder and make head towards the exit, Omega following after you quickly.

The boys remain and each share the same glance that could only scream their amazement for you both. More than before, they were in awe.

“Despite being saved, I believe that we may be in more trouble.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Masterlist

Requests are Open. Please read my Masterlist at the bottom to see what I won’t write about to avoid disappointment. Please also tell me if you’d like female, male or gender neutral reader and if you’d like NSFW or SFW. Thanks ♥️

tags: @twistedstitcher27 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @jennamelinda12 @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell l @theroguesully y @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @sadspring @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @salaminus @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @shawtyitsyou @in-the-crosshairs @therealnekomari @cyarikadarling @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory ntory @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @fiveshelmet et @the-good-shittt t @photogirl894 @buddee @s1st3r @imperialclaw801 @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater

[babywchronicles]

Review: The Witch-Crafting Handbook

To be honest, I feel like I don't have a lot to say (though it won’t seem like it) about The Witch-Crafting Handbook by Helena Garcia. It was a little underwhelming, not at all what I expected, and feels like it doesn't quite belong in the 133.4 Dewey Decimal call number on the spine (forgive me, I work in a library).

This book is fun in a DIY sense, but didn't have much else going for it otherwise, even if it wanted to appear like it did in places. More under the cut.

So, when I picked up all my books for this batch of reviews, I wanted to get things that were really appropriate for what I wanted: more information about being a witch, witchcraft in general, and how best to proceed with my witch journey. In short, this is not one of the books that will help me with that. Perhaps it was the fact I assumed it would be going into this project that it left me disappointed.

I thought that it would have practical things, or more than it does, maybe involving charms, or tools, or something like that. And, while the first “craft” in the book is a besom (albeit more a “high-end fashion besom” to make a useful tool less boring), and Altars are touched upon (in a decorative way, though she briefly mentions what an altar is), a good portion feels like it is all aesthetic. This book is all Looks with no Magic, even if it pretends to be at times. A lot of the Real With Stuff™ feels like it came from a quick online search.

The book starts out with some anecdote with her grandmother with some her recipes for this like burns, removing stains from tea cups, and putting candles in the freezer so they last longer when burning (I’m skeptical), along with a section of “Interesting Facts” about the history of witch craft that make it feel like this is more of a Halloween Party Decoration manual that it is. Honestly, if I had read the introduction first (a bad habit of mine is to skip it to dive into the actual meat), I may have been a bit forewarned. Note to Self: read the introduction from now on.

The book is then broken up into three sections: The Witch’s Wardrobe (spooky clothes), Home Accessories (self-explanatory), The Witch’s Apothecary (hair and skincare products mostly), The Witches Cauldron (baked things that look spooky), and The Tipsy Witch (alcohol). At this point, even without having read the introduction, the table of contents was giving me a little bit of an off-putting feeling. But, I was writing a review, so I pressed on.

I should say here I made none of these things, so I don’t know if they’re even well done recipes or craft instructions. I read it, and am giving my opinion based on that alone, because I am uninterested in everything in this book. It is also worth mentioning that throughout the book, the projects either have perfectly staged, full page photographs, odd doodles representing the item, and sometimes no picture at all. It makes it feel like some of this was really just filler.

The Wardrobe section is… not my thing. It’s clearly a “let’s look Halloween” section, and some of the items in it are, honestly, ugly to me. Some of them honestly strike me as something you’d wear to a costume party and never again. But, maybe it’s just me. Some of it is admittedly cute, like the mushroom hat for a child, but it’s not something I would seek out. A lot of the items also have an expansive list of craft stuff you need to make them, which I have, but nothing I would sacrifice for this.

The décor is also disappointing. It all feels like Halloween decorations to me. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Halloween decorations: Some may have seen my plastic skeleton in my witch corner in previous posts. I lived for visiting Spirit Halloween every October as a kid. It’s just not what I wanted from this book.

It is in the Home Accessory section that we find the short entry about altars. I had small hope going in, but while it touches on what Altars are for, it really does feel like a how-to on adding a little more witch onto that corner dresser you have room on. It is also somehow made less impressive because on the next page, on the other side of a glorious photo, is a craft item called “Vintage Halloween Hangers” that are just decorated clothes hangers with a doodle of hangers with a cat and a clown(?) themed witch on them. I wasn’t going to show pictures from inside the book, but this…

Anyway. The Apothecary section I skimmed, honestly. At this point I wasn’t interested, and I’m not a skin care kind of girl anyway. I did notice something for beards, so good on her for being gender inclusive and body-hair positive. For cooking, I looked at the pictures and felt disappointed at the Halloween party or making your kids happy vibe. I feel like at this point, the book had kind of given up any pretense of being more than what it is. I didn’t even look at the alcohol, completely bored and beyond ready to close it. Maybe it never did take itself seriously, but I really expected more Magic from a book in the Magic section of the library.

I’m beginning to feel like whoever put the call number to this book lied to me… But then, books are published constantly, and I don’t think this one was looks at very closely. Maybe the publisher billed it as a witch craft book and not something that belongs slotted next to the Christmas Crafts books. Maybe the title was confusing. Has the Dewey Decimal system failed me for the first time? No, wait, the call number for “Halloween – Handicrafts” is 745.594. This is just misplaced. Whatever.

Overall, it’s a cute enough book (even if I don’t personally find much of it aesthetically pleasing, with a wasted pair of socks thrown in for good measure), and perhaps perfect for someone looking for a witchy look, a Halloween look, but not seeking something witchcraft-related. You’re not going to get any spells or charms between the covers of this one, but I suppose if you need the vibe to get in the head space for your craft, it might work for you. It’s not for me, but some DIY-er might like it much better. Look at other reviews or check out our from your library if given a chance, though. It’s not one I would immediately buy.

My fancy new rating image is below. I hope you’re all having a good one, and will see prosperity in the future. It’s a rough time in the world right now. I know I’m struggling a bit, which is why this took so long. My other books are going to be so overdo, haha. Thank goodness for a library that doesn’t charge late fees. I count myself lucky there.

[tiredassmage]

For the Swtor asks, OC of your choice! 28, 47, 55! 😁

Thank you so much! I think... I will do this batch for Trooper!Tyr specifically, since I just got to spend more time with him.

[SWTOR OC Asks]

Which I think I'll also use as an excuse to ramble about the au again and what it does to me, so we'll definitely need a cut for this one, lol!

So, a little context, since it's been a minute since I've spoken on it, but speaking of Tyr means I'm generally speaking of my canon Cipher Nine - but now I, admittedly, have a small card game's collection of him in all of the tech classes for funsies at this point, and putting Tyr through Republic SpecForce military training does something... really interesting compared to who he is as an agent. Trooper!Tyr grows into the role in Havoc Squad sort of while he's deeply wet behind the ears yet, particularly as a SpecForce soldier - and where his original canon's training as an Intelligence operative asked a lot of him controlling his own presentation and carefully manipulating his perception and the perceptions of others, what I tend to see more of in the Trooper story edition is... a bit more one-trick pony.

Tyr's loyalty to the Republic as a trooper is pretty deep, and while him and General Garza certainly butt heads during his career (not helped by the fact that Tyr was an SIS transplant to investigate the SpecForce defections on behalf of the SIS to begin with), he's generally dogged in his duty - and it means SpecForce doesn't face a serious investigation from the Republic Senate until Eclipse Squad's takedown during the events of Shadow of Revan - because Tyr had pretty summarily eliminated Tavus and the rest of his original Havoc counterparts under Garza's orders. And that... haunts him as much and more than it does create eventual resentment between Tyr and Garza for turning one of the Republic's finest SpecForce units into, in Tyr's sentiments, a "Search and Destroy unit hellbent on covering your failures and indiscretions."

And yet, for as much as he resents what SpecForce service made of him and Garza's disposition of it all in general, he... still follows a lot of those early patterns of operation established within his first year in Havoc for... the vast majority of the rest of his service.

Anyway! I don't... think any of this necessarily comes up for these particular questions, but man!!! He's just super fascinating to me, and it's super chewy to see what different circumstances made of a character I've loved dearly! So, without further ado, onto the actual asks, lol.

28. Have they done anything embarrassing?

His partner and his flight officer in Havoc is a friend's oc, Hyroh, and... I think Hyroh would call it embarrassing how eagerly Tyr will tell the story of how he got his broken nose, lol. About as eagerly as Tyr will tell the story that the scarring down his chin and his left shoulder are from when he raced swoopbikes illegally when he was in his teens and got sent over the handlebars in a race accident at sixteen years old - which is... frankly a story Tyr is not nearly embarrassed or self-aware enough about, probably, as far as how close a brush with mortality as it could have been.

Anyway, the story of Tyr's broken nose then is... actually related to the hunt for the Havoc traitors in that it's Hyroh that broke his nose - for Tyr having put a bolt through Tavus, no less. To say near the least on the matter, Hyroh and Tyr disagreed heartily about the handling of the hunt for the former members of Havoc, and it was sort of capped off by Tyr's unyielding loyalty to duty and Garza's order in that moment that Hyroh lashed out about it. It's not their first disagreement and it's not their last, so more the embarrassing part of it is that Tyr tends to wear it like a badge of honor - that his boyfriend (no one tell Command) checked his stupid, reckless ass before he could... well, maybe not entirely before he could wreck himself, as it were, but that they come back around after the incident and still scuffle and spar, serve in Havoc together for several more years (with more thrilling highs and harrowing lows), and still form a relationship.

Tyr's maybe... not so much embarrassed about telling the story at least most of the time as he is that it... takes him as long as it does to figure see to the full extent Hyroh's position - which is that the things they do and the Republic they serve... it isn't perfect. Not that Tyr believes they're entirely without fault, but it... the ends were meant to justify the means. And that's all well and good until you (meaning Tyr) realize stunts like leaving the former Havoc on Ando Prime aren't isolated incidents. And, frankly, Tyr has found some sense of time and place as he's matured, and he's... a little more embarrassed now of the gusto of which he'd tell the (shorthand, no mission details) version of the story when he was younger. Mortifying ordeals of realizing you were kinda a silly dipshit in your twenties and all that.

47. Did they remember Nico's little umbrella?

I can't forget Nico's little umbrella. I'm not sure how much Tyr particularly cared to remember the little umbrella, but... I'd like to think he did. That little umbrella touch was likely a much-needed touch of levity; the edition of this Tyr going through the experiences of the Outlander is... a really, really rough time starting the Alliance, to be semi-brief. Tyr's had a lot of lows in his time with SpecForce, and losing what had become his support network in the core members of his team in Havoc really did some numbers on him for a while - numbers that he's still recovering from, in some respects.

On one hand, a drink is a drink is a drink... especially in the kind of low Tyr was during the early stages of the Alliance. On the other, being told "show me who you are through crafting an alcoholic beverage" is... so not what he expected and a little baffling that it... probably managed to be at least a little bit of needed amusement.

55. Vaylin has conditioning, how do they feel about using it?

Wait, no, this is why I felt the need to preamble so much about canon agent edition versus trooper edition. Because this one is SO CRUNCHY!!! Between the two!!!

The trooper edition of Tyr being more of a one-trick pony is... relevant here because Tyr's a trained soldier this time - and the distinction matters when talking about his disposition and handling of problems. Tyr as he is as a Havoc commander is not really a man that I'd call suited to leadership - of a military squad, let alone a body like the Alliance. And having everything he understood, knew, and cared for ripped out from under him in the way that being thrust into the role of Outlander and Alliance Commander did it means Tyr's... pretty short on patience and sympathy for the figures perpetuating a lot of that pain and suffering. (Though the relationship he develops with Senya does... interesting things to his relationship with Arcann that end up working out positively where I was pretty certain he'd not be the forgiving type, but... that's another ramble.)

I don't think I actually have my clips for this one and it's been a minute since I've done KOTXX on him, so I admittedly don't remember his exact thoughts on the matter. But where Arcann he comes around to a lot on Senya's faith in him (and... Tyr's own relationship or half-lack thereof playing into those feelings), I think... Vaylin consistently proves a consistent threat to him. I think he feels for Senya perhaps more than anything. But, at the end of the day, Tyr's a soldier, and Vaylin wants to burn everything to the ground - right to be angry about her treatment or not. And... Tyr's more or less a kid from the worse-off side of the space tracks who's strength is as a sniper, not... sword battles with fuck-off powerful Force users. Right or wrong doesn't have as much place on the battlefield as it does in the aftermath, no matter how much they might wish it different. Wishes won't keep him alive long enough to regret it, so... they needed what advantages they could get. Vaylin's conditioning was one of them. And of the many things Tyr's done in his life, especially as a soldier, I'm not sure I can say that making that call is one of the ones he regrets - not nearly as much as others on that list, at the very least.

[jhonatheshiny]

DF Fanfic: A Sweet Victory

WARNING: STUFFING HUMOR AND FEEDERISM CONTENT AHEAD. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

It was another succesful(if long) Mogloween for the Cauldron Sisters. The day was saved by (DF HERO), the people of lore trick-or-treated to their hearts content, and the Maskmaker sold as many masks as ever. But there still was one Gorrilaphant in the room that needed to be addressed.

"Um, I don't mean to rain on your parade,..." Bubble sheepishly stated. "But what do you want to do with this leftover candy?"

Toil and Trouble paused for a moment, and looked at the massive mound of candy that they prepared. Due to all of the commotion that year, they weren't able to sell nearly as much candy as they prepared.

"Oh..." Trouble muttered in dismay. "I was worried this would happen."

"Okay Myx, any ideas for how to get rid of all this?" asked Toil.

"Hmm....." Myx pondered for a bit. He honestly had no idea what to say. He knew it'd be a bad idea to dump it in Doomwood, and the Void wasn't a much better option considering how much trouble it'd be to open a portal to it.

"Maybe we keep it?" Myx finally proposed. "After all, you girls have worked yourself to the bone this year. It'd be a shame to waste it."

"That's... actually a pretty good idea Myx" added Trouble. Admittedly, she had worked up quite the appetite from this year's kerfuffle, so she was more than happy to have something to snack on.

"You say that like it's a surprise..." Myx muttered to himself "I have good ideas sometimes."

"Hold on a sec!" Toil asserted loudly. "How are we going to keep it from spoiling? There's no-"

But before she could finish, her stomach let out a loud rumble, almost as if it wasn't gonna hear any mention of throwing away the mound of leftover candy.

"Hehe, you were saying Toil?" Trouble teased.

"Oh hush, you!" exclaimed Toil, embarrassed by her tummy's outburst. "You know full well that it'll spoil before we can eat it all!"

But while Toil was talking, another loud roar from a hungry belly could be heard. It belonged to Trouble, who began to eye the candy hungrily.

"Um, Trouble?" Bubble and Toil asked worryingly.

Before they could say anything else, Trouble took one of the candies and popped it into her mouth. The taste captivated her in a way that no other batch had before. Before she knew it she started shoving piece after piece of it into her mouth.

As Bubble looked on in horror and confusion, Toil's mind started to wander. Trouble was usually the last to snack on the candy after Mogloween was over. Was it really that good?

Soon enough, her stomach started rumbling even louder than before. "I guess one small piece wouldn't hurt." Toil thought to herself.

As she put the piece in her mouth, she began to feel the same flavor sensation as her sister. How was this candy so good? Without hesitation, she crammed two huge handfuls of the delicious concoction in her mouth.

As Myx and Bubble watched the two of them mindlessly gorging themselves on the mound of sweets, they wondered whether they should say something. Instead, they both decided to leave and let the scene unfold. "After all," they both thought. "they must've been REALLY hungry!"

~

After a good few hours of Toil and Trouble shoveling pound after pound of the sweet mound into their gullets, their efforts finally made all of the candy disappear. The two of them slid to the ground with a moan

"Uggh, why did we think that was a good idea?" Toil groaned loudly. The other thing that groaned loudly and constantly was her distended belly, jutting in front of her like a balloon. She was so full she felt like the candy was in her lungs!

"You're assuming we were thinking at all" Trouble chuckled, before clenching her overstuffed belly. As delicious as the candy was, she was sincerely glad that there wasn't anymore, as she felt like her gut would likely pop if she had even one more piece!

As the two sisters huffed and puffed from how engorged they both were, they both shared a look, and the same thought occurred to them both. "Maybe this year's batch was too big."

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 22🧂

Today is the last part of the Great Rainbow Bake Off preparations! Now we only have the actual competition to go :) In this one, Dokkaebi does her best with Lesion's support. (Rating T, fluff, ~2k words)

.

“What even are cookies, anyway”, Dokkaebi muses as she tries and fails to turn the hand mixer on. Regardless of how many times she flicks the switch, nothing happens. “How does this stupid thing work?”

Lesion, already looking like he regrets ever making her acquaintance, condescends to showing her where the cable is concealed on the underside and even plugs it in for her. “Now be careful with the -”

Too late. She’s already jammed the beaters into the bowl and turned the appliance on, producing an impressive cloud of flour and flinging bits of raw egg and butter around when she jumps at the sudden flurry of action. While trying to turn it off again, she lifts the mixer and spatters both herself and her gracious host in various ingredients while yelling about how dangerous this thing is, and then Lesion is by her side once more to finally put a stop to the salmonella carousel.

Accusingly, she asks him: “Why don’t you have a stand mixer?”

He glances down at his ruined jumper and gives her a look conveying very much what he’s too polite to say. “You need to start on a lower speed”, he explains gently. “And don’t lift it before switching it off.”

“You’re lucky you don’t smoke anymore. Hey, do you think we could go out back and make a flour explosion instead?” By the time the old man opens his mouth to, no doubt, refuse, she’s already waved him off. “Nah, forget about it. I need to win this, so I better practice. How does your oven work?”

She’s awarded with a quiet sigh.

No doubt he’d been looking forward to a quiet evening alone, being misanthropic and morose on his own as he wraps himself in five blankets and drinks litres of tea and/or coffee, but fortunately for him, Dokkaebi stepped into his life to disillusion him of that option. She chose him not just because he has an oven at all, it’s also that Hibana merely laughed when she was asked whether she can bake, Mute shushed her in case Smoke caught wind of their conversation (and though involving them would no doubt have ended in hilarity, nothing constructive would’ve come out of it), Vigil silently shook his head and IQ’s expression turned into quiet horror. She didn’t bother asking Echo – he probably would’ve lied and said yes, then watched her clean his kitchen so she could use it before revealing he has no knowledge to offer her after all.

So yeah. Lesion it is. He’s got a well-stocked pantry, a functioning kitchen and the patience of a saint, making him the perfect victim.

For some reason, her cookie batter doesn’t look right but she figures it’ll be fine anyway. After plopping all of it in small portions onto the baking tray, she tosses it in the oven and glances at the prominent wall clock to gauge the time.

“No timer?”

“Don’t need it. I know when twenty minutes are over. Do you think they’ll come out great first try and I won’t have to do anything else for the contest?”

Lesion raises a brow and glances at the admittedly-malformed lumps she just produced. “Sure. It’s possible.”

.

“Second try!”, she announces good naturedly, slamming the oven door shut. By now, she’s grateful for the apron Lesion provided and has made ample use of it. She looks like she butchered a chocolate Santa. “Done. Now to analyse what went wrong with the first batch.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Lesion is perched on the only chair in the small room, doing a crossword puzzle in between critiquing her non-existent talent.

“No. But it can’t be that hard, right? Dom said so himself. And he would burn a salad.”

The old man is judging her, she can feel it in the back of her neck – it’s a skill she’s developed over years of being surrounded by guys who think they know better than her. Even if it’s warranted in this case.

“Why do they look so odd? What’s this white stuff?” She pokes the sad, melted masses of sticky dough she rescued from the oven half an hour ago with a frown. Some of them have weird holes, others are flatter than the rest, and some display streaks of a substance she can’t identify.

“Flour”, comes the exasperated reply.

“Oh. But it’s supposed to be in there, right? You can’t make cookies without flour.”

“You didn’t mix them enough. You’ve had clumps of butter that melted out of the dough in the oven, that’s this brown stuff here. And you didn’t chill them, that’s why they’re so… horizontal.”

Huh. Good to know. “I didn’t chill these ones either”, she points to the glistening balls of dough currently being baked.

Lesion gives her another look.

“You could’ve said something!”

“I’m already keeping you company, that should be enough.”

.

“Weird that it’s so little dough this time”, she wonders out loud while inspecting the cold blobs with narrowed eyes. This time, she feels like she did everything right, she made sure everything was incorporated well and even put the blasted things in the fridge for a good while. “Oh well. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Then you got some time to help me. Who’s the first programmer again? Babbage doesn’t fit.”

She regards Lesion with disdain. “Lovelace. How dare you forget that the first ever computer programmer was a woman.”

“And another, I need the name for the protocol employed by network switches to ensure -”

“Spanning Tree. Also based on the work of a woman.”

“By the way, what kind of cookies are you making again?”

“Sugar coo-” Dokkaebi slams her fist on the table, making Lesion jump. “Fuck! I forgot the sugar!”

.

She doesn’t miss Lesion’s conspicuous glance at his wristwatch. “I’ll be done soon”, she threatens while watching her handiwork, crouched in front of the oven. It’s really working overtime today, she reckons. “This is the last one. Everything’s in, I mixed it well, I chilled it, I gave them a little kiss and wished them goodnight, and now they burn in hell for their sins.”

“What crime did they commit, being sinfully delicious?”, he mutters in the direction of his phone while typing away. Dokkaebi suddenly realises she hasn’t checked her notifications in more than two hours, which is an absolute miracle – normally, her fear of missing out gets the better of her and though she’s been trying to cut down on screen time, she finds herself unable.

“I wish.” Both of them have yet to eat a single cookie and while they’ve nibbled on some, they didn’t dare eat a whole one. Just in case.

She deems the cookies done and gets them out with an oven mitt, poking at the malleable substance with curiosity. “They look good. Don’t you think? They might be fine.”

Lesion, for once, looks vaguely impressed. The cookies are a nice golden-brown colour and have held their shape well, somehow. Dokkaebi cuts one with a knife and lets it cool on the counter for a bit before offering one half to Lesion, putting the other half into her own mouth. Both of them bite down at the same time … and spit it back out at the same time.

“That”, Lesion forces out with a grimace, “tastes bad. What did you do?”

Dokkaebi struggles to come up with an answer before sweeping her gaze over the counter still littered with ingredients, nearly slapping her forehead once she notices. “Oh. I used salt instead of sugar. Oops.”

Another sigh. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to keep trying.”

.

A while later and in the midst of an involved multi-player battle, Dokkaebi hears footsteps approaching. She’s so engrossed in her current game that she doesn’t look up when Lesion opens the door, merely opting to ask: “Weren’t you going to sleep?”

“Not if you’re setting my kitchen on fire.”

It takes a second. “Oh fuck!” She nearly drops her phone as she scrambles to yank the tray out, coughing at the smoke emanating from it.

“Looks like someone’s getting coal for Christmas.” Lesion looks and sounds very much done. Just like the cookies. “Please go home now, Grace.”

.

She’s back the next day, undeterred. Lesion may do his best in trying to ignore her, though he thankfully is brave enough to try whatever she shoves under his nose from time to time.

“Not bad”, he rates her first attempt that day before audibly biting on something very crunchy. “Ah. Especially the eggshell. A brave addition.”

Right. Next try.

“This… tastes odd, and it’s kinda dark. What kind of flour did you use?”

Dokkaebi doesn’t really understand the question and shrugs, irritated. “Flour.”

“No, but -”

“It’s flour. It says on the packaging. Flour. See?”

Another look.

“Okay. What’s wrong with it?”

“This is buckwheat flour. It’s not the same as wheat flour, it tastes -”

“Flour is flour, it should do the same thing!”

“It doesn’t though, it will -”

“Flour is flour!”

.

Dokkaebi has never seen Lesion’s place this neat. While she occupies his kitchen, he apparently can’t relax enough to do nothing which results in him pacing about the flat and compulsively cleaning and tidying whatever sticks out. And there’s a lot of things that stick out. In the time she’s produced three more failed batches, he’s made sure the bathroom is sparkling, folded his laundry, put clean sheets on, took out the trash, sorted his books and tidied the living room.

In turn, she has not taken her phone out once.

“Try this”, she pants once she’s finally gotten a hold of him, meaning once she tackled him into the couch because he wouldn’t stop running from her and the cookie-shaped threat in her hand.

With an air of defeat, he bites into it and -

- and doesn’t look like he just drank paint thinner. Instead, he pulls a not bad face. “Surprisingly tasty. Different. What did you change?”

“I bought them at the shops.” For a second, he believes her, and this is even more of a victory than hearing him call them tasty. If he entertains the notion that these are store-bought, even just for a heartbeat, then she’s finally done it. “Honestly, I just did the same thing as always.”

“Everything is the same?”

“Yeah.” He gives her a blank look. “No, really! Butter, sugar, flour… all the same. Come look.” She gets off him and allows him to breathe once again, leading him to the kitchen and presenting her ingredients. “Here. I mean, your white sugar ran out, so I used the packed brown one. But sugar is sugar, it won’t make a difference.”

Lesion just sighs.

.

It’s a testament to the old man’s patience that he doesn’t close the door in her face the next afternoon.

“You were right”, is the first thing Dokkaebi says. “Flour is not flour, and sugar is not sugar. I looked it up. There’s an actual science to this, I thought it was just throwing together the same things with different results.”

“Come in. I restocked, so you can just keep on baking.”

“I actually brought everything I need.” And then some. She holds up her shopping bag and returns the rare smile she receives. “I’ll probably want to use half white, half brown sugar since they do different things, and I’ll try out baking soda instead of powder. Also, I read that browned butter can -”

“You know, I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

Dokkaebi scoffs. “Give up? This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I think I’ll keep baking even after the competition.”

“Good.” Lesion gives her a nod of approval, takes the bag and motions for her to go ahead. “So, you were talking about browned butter?”

[narrators-journal]

Black pepper and mint

This is another Ao3 ask for a/b/o and breeding, so I got a little creative with the little micro-fandom I haven’t tapped into yet. I hope this is enjoyable <3

ALSO! Just so you all know, I tried using the community labels to see what would happen, and I’ve now taken my works *out* of them by deleting the tag, so hopefully they come back into general view. But that’s why they vanished in the first place.

🎊 Also also, this is the last kinktober ask from my batch! You can send more in now until the end of the month 🎊

CW: A/B/O, breeding, Akechi smells kinda awful on purpose

            "Akechi! I'm home!" Akira called as he carried his shopping in. However, instead of his mate calling out to him like he usually did, he was instead greeted with a familiar scent of mint and black pepper. Well, that's stronger than it was. He thought. Putting the groceries down on the kitchen counter and following the unique scent.

Admittedly, Akechi's scent was off-putting to most. It was cold and very strong, so almost no omega enjoyed it. Akira though wasn't an omega, but an Alpha. And while he didn't think his beloved mate smelled mouthwatering, he enjoyed how identifiable it was. Akechi didn't smell good in a rut, but the brunette also wasn't particularly good as a person.

             "Akechi? Hon?" he asked, poking his head into the master bedroom. Finding the room rummaged through. With Akira's side of the dresser pulled out with his clothes half hanging out of it. Not to mention his pillow case missing, along with the throw blanket he used nightly. So, with a hum, the dark-haired alpha closed the door and instead went to the small bedroom, that the two alphas affectionately called Horny Jail, one room down. When he poked his head into that room, he found the sight he expected. And the dizzying, potent smell.

Sat on the bed, on top of the collection of about everything Akira had worn, was his throw blanket bundled into a ball.

            "Akechi." Akira hummed, hiding a smile behind his hand when the throw blanket squirmed. Writhing until the familiar man's disheveled head popped into view. His mahogany-colored eyes narrowed the instant he saw his mate.             "Get over here." He ordered, making Akira snort, but the boy did approach the bed, pulling off his shirt as he went.

            "Not very patient, huh?" he chuckled, letting his disheveled, shirtless boyfriend lunge at him to drag him into a kiss.

Expectedly, the kiss was hungry and rushed, Akechi wanting nothing but the feeling of skin against him. So, the dark-haired man matched that level of desire, only pausing to get lube and keep it at the ready. Outside of that, he let his partner tear the button off of his pants and yank them down his thighs. He didn't even fight for dominance like he usually did. Akechi's rut made him far too aggressive for that, it was easiest to simply let the brunette drag him into the nest.

Matching his desperate energy, Akira broke the kiss to offer his neck. An offer the brunette took. Littering Akira's skin with lovebites and small bruises, only pausing to nuzzle the mating mark he'd left on Akira's neck. Then, he returned to leaving fresh bite marks on the dark-haired man. Humming at the noises those earned.

Once he was satisfied with the array of marks, the detective almost slammed his partner onto his back on the bed.

             "Easy, hon." Akira chuckled. Watching the brunette push his legs apart so he could sit between them. "I'm not going anywhere, no need to break me so soon."

             "You were gone too long." Akechi panted back, stealing another kiss while he applied lubrication.

             "I was only gone an hour."

             "Still too long." Before the ebony-haired alpha could argue any further, Akechi slammed into him. The abrupt feeling made him gasp before the sound turned into a moan to match the one his partner let out.

After that, no more words came out. All Akira did was grab the bed and moan as the insatiable alpha he called a mate dug his nails into his hips and started slamming into him. Chasing his own high with little to no heed toward Akira's own desires. Which, oddly enough, only seemed to fan the flames in Akira's belly into more of a wildfire.

So, Akira joined his mate in filling the room with little more than wanton moans and the slapping of skin. Both of them getting lost in the gratifying friction and warmth while Akechi's strong scent mixed with the more cinnamon-heavy one Akira let off. The scents only seeming to further fuel the two. Akira arching his back and hooking his ankles behind Akechi. The brunette giving off a growl before speeding up.

         "I'm gonna fill you with so many kids." Akechi panted, Akira giving an eager nod in response. Unable to form a verbal response with the maelstrom of pleasure swirling within him.

Could either of them indeed get pregnant when they were both male Alphas? Akira had no clue. All he knew was that the thought of Akechi filling him to the top with his seed, made the dark-haired Alpha clench around his partner. The increased tightness, in turn, earned a guttural moan from the brunette before he stuttered to a stop. Slamming into Akira one last time before filling him with that last shot of warmth that sent him over the edge and into the dizzying rush of euphoria as well.

Once that initial orgasm took the edge off, Akechi melted onto Akira like syrup on a pancake. Letting the ebony-haired alpha play with his hair while they both caught their breath. In return, Akira let his mate stay buried deep inside of him and continue to mindlessly thrust into him. In an hour, the brunette would be desperate to go again, but for now, they enjoyed the afterglow.