#this might honestly come across as TOO forgiving but i want to assume people have good intentions

[magentagalaxies]

hey so i'm not making a DNI because i don't want to (i initially had a longer attempt at articulating a reason and then i realized i don't have to explain more than "i don't want to") but the past few blogs that have followed me are very harry pottter focused and given the actions and rhetoric of jk rowling i'd appreciate it if any blogs who prominently post harry potter themed content would kindly refrain from following me.

you can probably still reblog my posts, not bc of my moral stance but bc honestly i don't really notice who reblogs from me unless they have a huge red flag in their url, but in terms of following my blog i'd prefer it if harry potter bloggers could just not

and i know there's always the excuse of separating the art from the artist (like people who continue to post about harry potter but end every post with "fuck jkr tho"), and not everyone even knows why jkr is a horrible person bc a lot of the discussion is very online (that's the reason this is worded so empathetically, i'm assuming harry potter fans who follow me are in either of these two camps but if you're just an outright terf then go fuck yourself of course). but even if you're entirely dedicated to balancing every harry potter post with a post about hating terfs, the fact that harry potter is still being promoted in a way that's uncritical of the content itself makes me uncomfortable and by making the harry potter brand maintain relevance that's still supporting jkr no matter how many times you put "fuck terfs" on your blog

disagree with me if you want bc i can't control whether people post about one of the largest fandoms in history, but i can make a statement being like "hey if you follow me and your most recent posts are all harry potter gifsets i will be blocking you so honestly for your own convenience please don't put in the effort of following me"

[mixsethaddams]

Throwing my hat into the latest trend of Shovel Talk posts. tw reference to past child abuse (not detailed)

Eddie gets the shovel talk from no less than five people.

Dustin, Robin, Erica, Max and Lucas. (Those two came as a pair, as they so often did since the Vecnapocolypse) Actually, technically six, if you count the fact that Dustin kept saying And Will Said...

They all say in and around the same thing. Steve deserves the world, he's been the babysitter for longer than Eddie's been the DM, blah blah blah. Honestly, Eddie's getting a little tired of people assuming he'll hurt Steve and leave him heartbroken. By the time he closed the door after saying goodbye on the final He Means More To Us Than You Do conversation, he was left in no doubt that the kids expected him to fuck up royally and they would not hesitate to choose Steve when (not if, as far as they were concerned) it happened. They would never forgive him. It was good to know where he stood, he guessed.

What Eddie didn't know, was that Steve was getting a few shovel talks of his own.

Wayne was first, obviously. Steve wasn't surprised to be pulled aside at the Byers/Hopper barbecue to listen to some very unsubtle threats about what might happen to him if Eddie came home with so much as a pout Even One Time, Boy, You Hear Me?

More surprising, was Joyce.

Joyce came by one night under the pretence of bringing by some leftover lasagne. Steve offered her a tea and they sat in the kitchen together while she asked polite questions about how things with Eddie were going. When Steve was done telling her all about the constant butterflies in his stomach, she clasped his hand gently across the table.

"I'm happy for you sweetie, I am,"

"Thanks Joy–"

"But you need to understand that Eddie is a fragile boy, and he needs real love, Steve. He's not the type to be happy with a, what do you call it, a fling? He's not the type for that,"

Steve was taken aback.

"This isn't a fling, Joyce,"

"Can you promise me that? I remember him from when he was just a kid and, god, well, I'd hate to see him hurt,"

Steve's mouth was open and closing like a fish, totally at a loss for words.

"Steve, can you promise me that? I know you're grown now and things are different, but I need you to say it for me,"

"I promise, I... I'm not who I used to be,"

Joyce patted his hand.

"Good boy. I better get home,"

And then there was Hopper.

Hopper knocked on the front door of the Harrington house early one Saturday morning, three sharp thuds on the door that made you think, Yup, Cops Are Here.

Steve answered still half asleep, barely aware he'd even pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

Hopper didn't accept the invite to come inside. He noticed Eddie's boots by the door.

"He here?"

"Uh, yeah, has been since yesterday, why? Did someone say he done something?"

"No, he's not who I'm here for,"

"What? I haven't done anything?"

"Good, and I expect you to keep it that way,"

Steve didn't know how to react. His eyes were still adjusting to the daylight and his brain hasn't quite woken up yet.

"Hop, I don't know what you're talking about,"

"El told me that you all know about the night he went to live with his uncle, says he told everyone the basics when Jon was worrying about turning out like Lonnie,"

"Yeah, he told me some more about it after too,"

"Figured he might,"

Steve shuffled from one foot to the other.

"I still don't know why you're here..."

"I was the one who carried him out of that house that night, Steve,"

"Oh,"

Oh indeed. Hopper's voice was gruff and low. Steve was actually nervous.

"I listened to him cry for hours. He couldn't breathe it was so bad. I never wanted to hear another child even speak after having to sit in the room while he told Wayne what went down,"

"I–"

"And I don't think I'll ever be able to sit right with the idea of that kid being sad again, because of someone else messing with him. I never forgot what he sounded like when he cried. Don't make me have to see him cry again, Steve. Do you understand me?"

Steve was stunned. All he could do was nod dumbly. There was no point offering any sort of defence, Hopper obviously wasn't here to listen. He was here to tell. Of all the people Steve might have thought would be on Team Munson, the former chief of police wasn't exactly top of the list. Eddie's distinct lack of criminal record through his teens might have been some indicator though.

Hopper gave Steve a curt nod and turned back down the driveway without another word.

He closed the door and leaned against the wood, letting out a low breath. Eddie appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes.

"Baby? Who was that?"

"Uh, Hopper..."

Eddie huffed a sleepy laugh.

"Hmm, shit, Law Man swing by to make sure I was behaving myself?"

Steve went to Eddie and pulled him into a tight hug, nuzzling into his hair. He really had no clue, did he?

"He was just checking in,"

Eddie hummed and went towards the kitchen to switch the coffee pot on. He had told Steve about the shovel talks he got from the kids earlier in the week. Trivial threats about leaving Hellfire and never helping him write a song again or going to one of his shows, taking back his Walkie privileges, things that seemed like the end of the world to a group of minors. Eddie had wistfully mentioned that Steve would never have to worry about being on the receiving end of something like that, he didn't think anyone really cared enough. Maybe You'll Get A Weird Look From Wayne, But I Think You're In The Clear, Golden Boy.

Eddie had no idea about the people that were looking out for him without him realising it. It made Steve's heart hurt. He'd half expected Robin and the others to have words with Eddie. It was almost a joke, he hadn't thought twice about it because he just kind of knew it would happen. He knew they cared, and he couldn't imagine how it would feel to be so sure that they didn't. That no one did.

Steve made a promise to himself then and there to never let Eddie feel like no one cared enough ever again, giving himself his very own version of the Don't Hurt Eddie Munson shovel talk.

It was the least Eddie deserved.

(Also posted to my ao3)

[octo-in-the-mainframe]

Deltarune Stuff I Think Might Happen Before the Next Chapters Come Out (so I can say I was right)

Papyrus is the Knight. (I have a whole essay on this I just haven't edited it yet).

Gaster won't be evil, but he will be an antagonist at some point.

Gaster will probably make an appearance in Chapter 6, maybe in the Bunker.

Noelle is the angel.

Every Undertale main character will go to a Dark World, except maybe Alphys and probably Mettaton (Unless the whole town turns into a Dark World).

My reasoning is that Toriel, Asgore and Asirel are so obviously important, Toriel is already in a Dark World, Undyne is most likely coming along for the ride, and Sans and Papyrus are connected to Gaster and also Noelle and Dess through Snowdin and the weird bonus content for the Xbox version of Undertale.

Sans will die in the Weird Route, giving us an actual "No Mercy" Papyrus battle.

(I know this sounds edgy but like...Sans is the ONLY main character who doesn't die unless it's a No Mercy Route, mad sus).

Nightmare Knight will be used in some way for the Knight's theme.

Megalo Strike Back will make an appearance, possibly in whatever potential Gaster battle track we get.

Dess has more to do with the secret bosses than we think.

Dess is trapped in a NEO Dark World and/or the Depths.

The Secret Boss Soul Modes are based off the colors behind Sweet Capn' Cakes in the room where you can make them play their Jingle Bells remix.

Asriel is to Dess as Kris is to Noelle.

Gaster is 666, Chara is 999, Papyrus is 333. (I don't remember what the 3's stand for but there was a reason, or if this even matters in context to Deltarune).

Spade King will have an arc dependent on if you manage to recruit everyone, though I don't know if it will mean redemption. I've seen people get really mad at this idea and honestly? As long as it's a sensitive portrayal and has him apologize to Lancer and do better going forwards I'll be fine with it. I only really think this might be true because of how he is in Chapter 2, and that it would be weird to have the only guy actually criticizing you for your actions to be just straight up an evil guy you can ignore. Also, abusers are people too, and fandom spaces have a really hard time accepting that forgiving and growing is just as realistic as cutting the abusive person off. (shout out to @nukedimplosion for putting this into way better words than I could).

And now, for how I think the message of the game will present itself...

The game likes to tell you your choices don't matter right off the bat. I have a hard time believing the "No one can choose who they are in this world" person to be the same guy who was so nice about our "WONDERFUL CREATION," so I'm going to assume there are two different people talking to us.

I think this other person could be Dess.

Gaster, who has survived despite being shattered across space and time, Gaster, who has managed to connect with us, the real world, is ultimately someone who wants to change fate. Pushing and pushing until he gets the result he wants. I think Gaster believes that our choices mean everything. Why else would he gives us a character creator of all things?

But the other voice...

They do not believe in choices. They've been stuck in this pit of nothing, forced to keep going knowing everyone they love is living on without them. They most likely know about the secrets of this world now, having spent so long in its depths. Dess takes away the character creator, forcing you into Kris's body because she didn't get to choose. But some part of her, deep, deep down, wants to believe she still has a choice. So, she put us in someone who has even a slight chance to Find Her.

Someone who remembers the day she disappeared.

Someone who remembers the Bunker. Noelle isn't any help, no matter how much she misses her. Noelle blocks everything out. Asriel is out of town.

It has to be Kris.

It has to be.

And on the other hand, Gaster is optimistic, but some part of him realizes that this could all be for nought too. I think it would be really cool if we have an optimist desperate for freedom, and a pessimist who won't let herself believe in a way out.

(To clarify, I realize this has little to no evidence to back it up, it's just using what we DO have and filling in the blanks with the vibes I get from the characters. Like, I do genuinely believe Gaster likes us and the world of Deltarune. I don't think he's evil or anything. With the tiny bit of info we have on Dess, she seemed like a protective but fun older sister. I think she would feel ashamed for not being able to take care of Noelle while she's stuck, and after having been a very assertive person in her life, feeling hopeless when faced with the seemingly impossible to escape depths for years. Of course, I could be wrong, and she actually has some sick plans for the future or something, and Gaster could be more malicious than he seems. But who knows?)

Oh, and before I get someone asking why Papyrus would overthrow the three kings, every Knight candidate needs a reason to do this, and none of them make sense until we get more context. Another thing: all of the Knight candidates that seem possible either haven't been seen yet or are side content. (Or are Kris. And. I have so many reasons why I don't think they're the Knight. At least, not THE Knight). It's very likely that any of them could be built up in the next couple chapters.

Heck, I think we might see them in Chapter 3, curious as to why a new Dark Fountain has been opened. It would be a neat way to introduce them to the group, being in someone else's Dark World, where they're not fully in control. We would also get to see how they'd act towards the Darkeners of Kris's Dark World. We would be able to get some of their personality, without them being the main focus. At the very least, I think we'll get more hints so they will actually be a satisfying reveal with what we're given. Though, this might result in too many characters...hmm...

Anyway, I think that's it.

I might come back to this if I have more, and depending on how the 14th goes, we might have some new stuff to theorize over.

[michelemoore]

Takhuk,

November, 2022

Michele Moore-V

From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere. Dr. Seuss

In late October, while walking along a street, I saw a man pulling the last of the brown dried leaves from a tree in front of what I assumed was his house.

Yes, that is what I saw, as, on a gorgeous late October day, I walked down the street toward the salon in my neighbourhood where I was scheduled for a haircut. The sun in the blue sky was so so bright and warm I might have been ‘walking on sunshine, wooah’ and oh yeeah, don’t it feel good! And then I saw, across the street, this man with his arms reaching into the lowest branches of a modest sized, mostly bare tree. I looked closely to see what he was up to, because that’s what I do when I’m out walking anywhere, I watch. People, squirrels, cars, ants, clouds. Birds! Big shiny black beetles lumbering across the sidewalk. You know, the usual things the world offers us for amusement during a city stroll.

The tree the man was concerned with looked to be about as ready for winter as most other trees around, just a few leaves hanging on, hanging in there. I didn’t see any objects being draped from the branches, I didn’t see any tools in his hands. So I slowed my pace to take a closer look. Sure enough, there he was, tugging and twisting those last stubborn leaves off their stems and dropping them on the grass below, where sat, put putting away, a little old lawn mower. With no bag on the mower to collect the dead leaves, I assumed the old guy’s fall cleanup routine involved chewing up the dead leaves with his mower and leaving the bits on the grass to decay and eventually enter the soil below and form humus. (how’s that for good gardening terminology?) A sensible approach, I thought, to the management of a small city front lawn with just one modestly sized leaf bearing tree.

Forgive me if you don’t share my humour, but when I really understood that he was truly removing the few remaining leaves on that now virtually naked tree, I cracked up. Out loud. But not so loud as to catch his ear, I would not have wanted him to misunderstand me. I wasn’t laughing at him,  I was laughing at my species and the things we will do.

Giggling to myself as I slowly tripped along on the opposite side of the street, I watched as he picked and twisted one leaf after another, having to exert some significant effort to disengage those determined brown but obviously still kicking leaves from their stems.

Continuing on with my walking and giggling, I imagined various scenarios as to why the man was using precious time in his sunset years, what an awful term but honestly, how else shall I put it, the guy looked as old as the hills, which I hope to be some day too so long as I can still push a lawn mower, to denude his tree of its last few fall leaves? Why could he not just let them drop when they were good and ready?

Could it have been that he had nothing better to do? Surely though, if he just wanted to be outside he could have simply stood and watched….the birds, the cars, the ants, the people. He could have gone for a walk. Certainly if he could still push a lawn mower he could walk. Maybe, being of a very mature generation, perhaps he felt he had to be productive throughout the working hours of a regular week day. That, even at his advanced age, he could not just be outside for the simple pleasure of being out in the sunshine. In that case, could he not have hosed down his steps? Raked the dirt in his flower beds? Again and again? Inspected his siding and windows?  

Perhaps he had a thing for tidiness, a thing so powerful that he would find the sight of a few renegade leaves sitting on his lawn after he had packed away the mower for the season utterly intolerable. Maybe a bit of that Type A personality. (I have this problem when it comes to kitchen towels. Can’t stand seeing them helter skelter, need them neatly folded on the counter or out of sight.) Perhaps, for this gentleman, a sense of order, a sense of the proper way of things, means that when trees lose their leaves they are to lose every single one of them, that bare branches means, Bare branches!

Or, perhaps he had a wife inside who drove him to it. SHE perhaps was the one whose mind and soul felt shredded every time she looked out the picture window and saw those half dead leaves triumphantly fluttering in the wind. Or, maybe he had a wife inside who couldn’t care less, it was just that she had the television on too loud and he just had to get OUT! Or she was cooking liver and he could not bear the odour?

By the time I got to the salon I had exhausted my mind of all possibilities. I shared the story with my stylist. We decided the fellow was a man who liked to accomplish things, liked being outside, had run out of ideas and was bored out of his mind. We also speculated about a wife inside, and the possibility that there was no one inside, which made me think I should stop and say hello if the man was still outside on my return trip. He wasn’t, but you know I will be watching for him next time.

We all do inexplicable things, right? And most of the time, we can simply laugh at ourselves, and at each other, and be grateful for the entertainment we provide each other.

I hope your autumn has been equally entertaining and that your cup overflows with laughter and love as we head into the season of sparkle and snow. 

www.michelemooreveldhoen.com

photo courtesy of Clem Onajeghao/Unsplash

[drakenology]

Arguments - feat Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima and Tamaki Amajiki

author’s note: i’m feeling angsty today. so this is gonna be about arguing with some of the bnha characters. anyone else feel off today? just me?

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff 🥺, and suggestive themes not full on smut. characters aged up! some of these are long.. i was feeling dramatic

headers from @annicon

Bakugo

as much as i love this man i can admit he would be SOO stubborn

would get frustrated easily

yells 🥺

he knows when to walk away when the conversation isn’t getting anywhere which is good

would NEVER hurt you (i’ve seen ppl write that this mf hits you... girl...domestic violence is not an aesthetic.)

he isn’t the best with words so it’ll take him a little while to admit he’s wrong because he can’t verbalize how sorry he is sometimes

when he does he’ll hug and kiss you and apologize like a million times after he’s done being a stubborn little prick.

gives you the best “i’m sorry “ dick imaginable holy shit

Bakugo done did it. He pissed you off. You were already having a terrible day and then you come home to this motherfucker with a bunch of people over after you told him that you weren’t in the mood for company. So for the rest of the night when everyone left, you gave him the silent treatment knowing that he HATES when you ignore him on purpose.

“Y/N?”

You say nothing, continuing scrolling through your phone to look like you were preoccupied.

“Y/N, what’s your problem? I know you hear me.” Bakugo persists.

You ignore him, turning your back to face him. He grunts and grabs your shoulder, turning you back around to face him.

“Y/N if you’re pissed at me just say that. But ignoring me is fucking immature and it’s pissing me off!” He yells. Translation: “What did I do? 🥺”

“I’M pissing YOU off!? That’s funny. Because it’s not like you didn’t completely ignore my fucking feelings tonight. Why did you invite Kirishima and Denki over after I specifically said I didn’t feel like playing fucking HOSTESS!” You shout back, throwing your phone somewhere.

“Are you serious!? I never told them to come here they just showed up. What was I supposed to do tell them to piss off!?” Katsuki asked.

“YES!” You scream, annoyed that he’s not getting the reason why you’re upset. You never minded having Bakugo’s friends over but you just wanted to have a calm night with just the two of you. You were exhausted and fixing dinner for you and 3 other people and listening to loud chatter about sports and video games was not on your to-do list.

“This is so fucking petty! I don’t get why you’re so mad that they came over.” Katsuki said shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s the problem, idiot! You don’t fucking get it! I worked all day today. I just wanted us to relax but no, you wanted to have a fucking guys night in my living room! It’s the complete disregard for my feelings that’s pissing me off not the fact that they came. I told you I was tired and you having them come over anyways was like a big fuck you to me!” You explain, your face pulled into a face Katsuki knows is your angry face. Bakugo sighs, not ready to admit that he was wrong.

“Tch. Whatever. I’m gonna go sleep on the fucking couch. Let me know when you’re done being fucking frigid.” He shouts, clearly out of anger.

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Katsuki leaves your shared room and slammed the door, you throwing yourself onto the bed. You feel tears sting your eyes as you sob into your pillow. You hated fighting with Bakugo, and you knew he hated it too. He has a hard time expressing himself without getting defensive sometimes. But you knew he felt bad. You sigh and close your eyes and go to sleep.

The next morning you get up from bed and get ready to start your day. You shower and brush your teeth, you and Bakugo strategically avoiding each other all morning to go and do your daily routines. You didn’t utter a word to each other. Just questions and short answers.

“Got work?”

“Yup.”

“When?”

“7:30.”

The silence killed you both as you sat at the table and ate breakfast, Bakugo’s face pulled into a frown as he ate. You roll your eyes and go to put your dishes in the sink and grab his once he’s done. You can hear him get up from his chair as you wash both your plates and dry them. You had assumed he was leaving so you just wash all the rest of the dishes without turning your back. Suddenly you felt familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Let me go.” You say, tearing up at the sudden touch. He was trying to make up with you and you were so ready to forgive him. The tension was almost too much to bear. This fight was small and it turned into something way bigger than need be.

“Not until you listen to me. I’m sorry, ok? I should have never yelled at you the way I did. And calling you frigid wasn’t ok either. I shoulda just told everyone to go home. We have those dumbasses over all the time. One night wouldn’t have killed me. I’m sorry. Can we just forget this shit ever happened? I hate it when you’re mad at me.” He pleaded, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You smile and turn around to look at his face, cupping his cheeks in both your hands as you stand on you tip toes to kiss him. He kisses you back eagerly, happy that you and him are back on good terms. He pulled away from the heated kiss and looks at the clock on the microwave.

“6:30...we still have an hour to kill. If you’re late I’ll drop you off.” Katsuki says, his eyes turning dark with feral lust.

“Late? What are yo-“ you’re interrupted by Bakugo pulling you into your bedroom with determination to make things right.. his way.

Tamaki (🥺 my new found love)

Tamaki is NOT a confrontational person so arguing with you is really hard. He hates raising his voice or even getting to a point to where he’s angry because he doesn’t want to think about hurting you in anyway.

He’ll shut down and turn cold or try and act nonchalant.

he might even avoid conflict by changing the subject

if he’s riled up enough though he’ll cuss you out.. to his dismay

doesn’t like being mad at you and vice versa

hates arguments.. like honestly can you just get over it so he can eat you out now?

speaking of eating you out, he gives apology head and he won’t stop until you say you forgive him.

Tamaki didn’t like to admit it but he was really jealous. Like really really jealous like YANDERE type jealous. You and him were out to dinner with Mirio so you were all chatting about mindless nothing, catching up like you always do. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for you but to Tamaki it appeared that Mirio was a little too playful at dinner with you. He was cracking jokes and poking fun and Tamaki took it as him flirting with you; which Mirio would never disrespect your relationship like that. Rage sat in the pit of Tamaki’s chest as you laugh at all his jokes. He was furious but hid it pretty well for the night.

“And then Tamaki wet himself in front of the whole class when I scared him with my quirk in middle school. Can you believe it?” Mirio laughs, causing you to laugh at the thought.

“Oh leave him alone, Togata.” You giggle, waving your hand in front of your face to stop the tears from laughter. He had been making you laugh all night all to Tamaki’s disliking. He was quiet all dinner, which you noticed immediately after Togata’s last joke.

“Hey Tamaki, is everything ok?” You ask, concerned that he might not want to be out anymore.

“Yeah.” He said coldly. “Actually I’m just gonna go to the car. I feel kinda sick.” He stands from his seat and walks to the exit, absolutely fucking furious that you were “flirting” with his childhood friend right in front of him.

“Awkward. What’s up with him?” Mirio asks, completely dumb founded by Tamaki’s sudden disappearance.

“I dunno. I’m gonna go to the car and see what’s wrong. Do you mind?” You ask, standing from your seat.

“Nah that’s cool. I’m actually gonna head out. You go on ahead, Y/N. I’ll take care of the tab.. this time.” Mirio jokes. You giggle and thank him, walking towards the exit. You walk through the parking lot and find the car, seeing Tamaki sitting in the passenger side with his arms crossed across his chest. What was his deal? You open the car door and sit in the driver’s side to meet a thick tension.

“What’s wrong Tamaki? Do you really feel sick or are you upset with me?” You ask.

“Why don’t you ask Mirio? I’m sure he’ll be able to answer since he’s the only guy you talked to all night. It was like I wasn’t even there.” Tamaki says, calm but obviously pestered.

“Is that was this is about? Tama you know it wasn’t like that. Mirio has always been a jokester what’s the difference now?” You ask, getting a little upset at his accusation.

“The difference is that he was trying to make a pass at you. He was so obviously flirting with you.” He says, his tone becoming stern. You’re shocked at how he was getting, frowning at how unreasonable he was being.

“No he wasn’t, Tamaki.” You say, looking him dead in his eyes.

“Yes he was. I’m not about to fight with you about this he was clearly fucking flirting with you. He joked with you all night and you laughed at every single thing he said. You must want to fuck him, don’t you?” He asked, looking at you with some sort of betrayal in his eyes. This infuriates you.

“What are you talking about!? You know I would never cheat on you Tamaki. Especially not with your best friend. What’s with you!?” You ask sternly, not amused or pleased in the slightest.

“Whatever, Y/N.” Tamaki says, looking out the car window while turning the other way so he’s not facing your side of the car. He knew this was stupid and he knew your loyalty was never to be questioned but he couldn’t shake this feeling of jealousy.

“No. You don’t get to start a fight and then blow me off when you’re through arguing! Talk to me!” You yell, furious at this point. Tamaki shrugs, avoiding the situation entirely now.

“Just drive. I wanna go home.” He says, not taking his eyes off the view from his window. You roll your eyes and start the car, pulling out of the parking lot to start your way home. The drive home was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You were so angry that you didn’t talk to Tamaki the whole way home, knowing you’d probably cuss him out if he said the wrong thing. Tamaki immediately felt bad after picking that fight. He didn’t know what came over him, he knew he had to make it up to you before you two go to bed angry with each other. You approach your shared apartment and park the car, silence still riddling the car. The tension between you both was intense and it scared you. You’ve never seen Tamaki this upset. Jealousy was always an issue for him but he’s never reacted this strongly.

“Y/N?” Tamaki says breaking the silence. You look at him, a little relieved that he’s talking to you again.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I know you’d never cheat on me, of course. But I was just so jealous. It felt like you and Mirio were on a date and I was just the third wheel. The thought of him taking you from me drove me crazy. I wasn’t thinking. Can you forgive me?” He says, placing his hand on top of yours on the steering wheel. You sniffle, tearing up at his apology.

“Tamaki, I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I love you so much. No one could ever take your place, not even Mirio. I’d never betray you like that, ever.” You sob, tears flowing down your face. Tamaki questioning your loyalty really hurt your feelings and he hated seeing you cry.

“I know that. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. It was so stupid of me to even assume.” He says, taking his hand and wiping your tears away. He took your hand and gave it a sweet kiss to soothe you, rubbing circles with his thumb on it as he consoled you. You giggle and wipe your tears, happy that you guys made up after that silly fight.

“Let’s go inside.”

Todoroki

arguments between you two get heated. It gets to a point where sometimes you don’t speak to each other for days. he’ll definitely give small reminders that he still loves you to butter you up to alleviate some of the tension.

raises his voice

just as stubborn as bakugo

to a fault of his upbringing facing his emotions was hard for him sometimes, causing him to be cold when you fight

when it’s time to get over it and make up he’ll make it a huge event; flowers, chocolates and lots of freaky apology sex

cant stand arguing with you just like tamaki but wont back down in the slightest

is sure he doesn’t say anything harsh to make the situation worse.

“Why are you being so stubborn?!” You shout at your bi-colored haired boyfriend. The two of you have been fighting all day to your surprise. Shoto was usually easy going and you two hardly fought. But today, a bug seemed to have crawled up Todoroki’s ass and he’s been picking fights all day. You’ve been arguing about small things like who left the bathroom light on or who ate the last hot pocket. Right now it was an argument about when you’re going to meet his father Endeavor. It’s been almost a year since you two have been together and you don’t even think his father knows you exist.

“For the last time Y/N we’re not going to my dad’s house. That’s final! You can argue with yourself about this. End of discussion.” Shoto says, very annoyed at the thought of being near his father. He still couldn’t stand him, even as an adult. He can’t bring himself to bring you around him because he knows how he can be. If he even says something slightly rude to you he’ll flip the fuck out. You groan in frustration, wishing he’d at least consider.

“He doesn’t know we’re together does he!? What am I to you some secret? Why did you stay with me all this time if your family doesn’t even know I exist !?” You shout, tearing up with seering anger.

“It’s not that. Of course he knows we’re together; my whole family knows! Why do you want to involve him so badly?!” Shoto yells.

“Why wouldn’t I want to meet my fucking boyfriend’s father!? You’re not making any sense.” You say, getting more and more frustrated as Shoto makes excuses.

“You know what? Fine. We’ll go meet him tomorrow. But as soon as he treats you like you’re not good enough for me don’t be surprised when I tell you I fucking told you so. God you can be so stubborn sometimes.” Shoto shouts, rolling his eyes at you.

“Oh I’M stubborn!? That’s rich coming from you. You’re being so unreasonable right now. I know you and your father-“

“YOU DONT KNOW SHIT ABOUT MY FATHER. Stop speaking on things you haven’t the first idea about!” Shoto yells, punching a nearby wall. (Oop.) You flinch, shocked at how angry he got so quickly. You tear up and run off to your bedroom, Todoroki immediately regretting getting so upset with you. He scared you and that’s something he never wanted to do to you under any circumstances. You cried yourself to sleep that night, angry that things got so heated. Why did he react like that? And why was he treating you as if you knew nothing about him and his father. He would vent to you about him all the time and you gave him advice when you could. But tonight you felt like you were nothing but an outsider. Shoto didn’t even bother coming into the room. He couldn’t face you after making you cry. Right now, he hated himself for treating you like that. He was just so afraid of his father’s judgement he didn’t want him to hurt your feelings with how crass he was. If Endeavor found the slightest thing wrong with you he’d never let you or him forget it. He could hear him now calling you unworthy of the Todoroki name. The thought alone enraged him. In his own cryptic way, he was trying to protect you from him but this was no way to do it nor did he have the right. Todoroki slept on the couch, missing your warmth against him in your bed.

The next morning the two of you drove to the Todoroki estates in silence. You were still pissed at him and Shoto didn’t want to say anything to further upset you. He was annoyed he was making this trip in the first place but he knew he had to man up for your sake. It was unfair of him to try and keep you away from his family especially since you would one day take on his name and be a part of the family when he married you. He knew he couldn’t keep you away forever, but god couldn’t he have had a little more time? He dreaded this day.

“Ready?” Shoto asks coldly, trying to hide his remorse from his tone. You nod, getting out of the car before he could walk over and open the door for you. Shoto is surprised and gets out with you, guiding you to his old home. He can’t lie, he’s so fucking nervous. What if he hates you? Not that he cares what he thinks, he’ll marry you anyway but still. He at least wants his blessing. You walk with Shoto to the main room of the home and wait for Endeavor to come downstairs. Suddenly you hear footsteps from across the room. It was him. He was tall and his aura was so dark and intimidating.

“You must be Y/N.” Endeavor says, looking down at your small frame. You nod, a wave of nervousness shooting through your body.

“N-Nice to meet you sir.” You bow respectfully.

“No need for that. Please, have a seat.” Endeavor says gesturing to the couch. You and Shoto sit down next to each other, Endeavor following suit by sitting across from you two.

“So.. how long have you two been together?” Endeavor asks, his booming voice almost sending an echo throughout the empty room. You gulp and look towards Shoto.

“10 months.” He answers for you, taking your hand to calm you. You’re still mad at him but god you’re glad he’s doing his best to ease your anxiety.

“And you just now arrange a meeting? Hm.” Endeavor questions, looking at you as if he was scanning you to find something irredeemable about you. You look down at your lap, unable to keep eye contact with the intimidating man.

“I-I wanted to meet with you sooner. Me and Shoto fought about coming here last night but I convinced him.” You say nervously.

“I see. You seem like an ok girl. Shoto has had his fair share of.. inadequate women in his life so, you’re a step up from the rest.” Endeavor says, motioning for a maid to make you all some tea. You laugh nervously, Shoto squeezing your hand in annoyance. Was that a compliment?

“You two seem like you’ve been fighting.” Endeavor says suddenly, observing both your body language. You’re both shocked as you turn to look at each other. How’d he know that?

“What’s it to you?” Shoto asks, glaring at his father.

“Oh nothing. But if you’re planning on marrying this girl it’s probably best to not argue too much with her. Hell, she might up and leave.”

Shoto looks at you, pain in his eyes. The look on his face alone said “I’m sorry.” Shoto hated to admit it but his father was right. Fighting as much as you have been, especially the fight you had last night was toxic and could take a toll on your relationship.

You smile at him and turn to Endeavor

“I’d never leave him.” You say, snuggling closer to Shoto as he blushed. He was embarrassed that he was being so vulnerable around his father but he knew that only you could make this happen.

After a long conversation with Endeavor and Shoto, you leave with a feeling that you might have won him over. You think? He was hard to read, just like Shoto. He was more like his father than he likes to admit. Shoto opens the car door for you to get inside and then walks to the drivers side to come in. You sit in the car for a while, silent until Shoto grabs you and leans over to kiss you. You kiss him back, tearing up into the kiss.

“I’m sorry, snowflake. I can’t believe I raised my voice at you like that. I was just so scared that he was gonna hate you and say something disrespectful. I should have just told you that instead of being defensive. I’m so so sorry I scared you. Please forgive me. ” He pleaded, peppering kissing on your face.

“I know. And I forgive you.” You giggle, pulling Todoroki closer to you to kiss him again.

Kirishima

Out of all the boys he’s the least stubborn when it comes to fighting. But don’t be fooled, he’ll argue you down. he’s very good at managing his temper when it comes to you.

Regrets starting a fight in the first place

Just wants to cuddle and go back to normal

But when he’s angry hooo boy

doesn’t even yell, he’s like a calm angry which is terrifying

tries talking over you, trying to plead his case

will not rest until the situation is resolved and over with so you guys can move on

like all the others... apology sex

will try not to lose his patience

You and Kirishima had been together for a while now so it was only inevitable that you two have your first fight. You were always a vigilant person and wanted to help others even though you were quirkless like Deku was at one point. Kirishima is protective of you to a fault and the thought of you getting hurt or worse didn’t sit well with him at all. You assured him that you were capable of taking care of yourself and protecting yourself but he wasn’t having any of it. You spent years perfecting your martial arts skills, training your ass off for countless hours everyday and he knew that. But he didn’t want you to one day meet your match without him there to protect you.

“Y/N, drop it. You’re not going on missions with me and that’s final. It’s too dangerous.” Eijiro said, his brows furrowed. He was trying not to lose his patience with you but you kept insisting. He just wished you’d forget about this whole thing; for your safety.

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do! I’m fully capable for taking care of myself and you know that.” You yell, irritated at your boyfriend underestimating your abilities. Eijiro sighs and stands up from the couch to stand in front of you, inching so close you could almost kiss.

“I’ll die before I let you go out there. Do you know what would happen to me; to your friends and family if something happened to you!? We’d be crushed. Please just drop this.” Kirishima says, wanting to avoid this conversation all together. But alas, nothing was changing your mind. You were very head strong and stubborn to no avail so you weren’t going down without a fight.

“You can’t stop me!” You yell

“Oh I can’t?” Eijiro challenged.

“No. You can’t. You can’t treat me like a child, Eijiro.” You say. “How can you say I’m not ready if you don’t give me a chance to prove I am!?”

“Because you just aren’t! Okay!? You say you’re not a child but you’re acting like one and a petulant one at that. Just drop it! God, you can be so stubborn sometimes. Don’t you see I’m just trying to keep you safe!?” Kirishima yells, instantly regretting raising his voice at you and losing his cool. You tear up, furious that he’s treating you like some kid. You grab your stuff and prepare to leave his apartment.

“Where are you going?” Kirishima sighs

“Fuck you, Eijiro.” You say, walking away from him and going outside to cool off. Kirishima tries to grab you before you leave but you snatch your arm away from him and walk outside with a huff and a slam of the door. You wipe your hot tears away and start aimlessly walking down the street to go home. Hell, you don’t even know your way home from Eijiro’s place but you’ll be damned if you go back there. As you walk you see Kirishima’s car pull up to the side of you, driving slowly to keep up with your walking pace.

“Y/N please get in the car.” He says out the car window

“No! I don’t wanna talk to you so just go away!” You yell, continuing to walk as the brisk wind assaults your bare skin. Dammit you forgot your coat.

“Y/N! You’re being ridiculous just please get in the car. You left your jacket; it’s freezing out here!” Eijiro shouts, getting out of the car and grabbing you to pull you inside. You groan, obviously being overpowered by your strong boyfriend. Kirishima slams the door and gets back inside, drives back to his apartment and parks in the driveway. He sighs and leans his head on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry I got so heated with you. But can you blame me? I’m worried about you. Sure we’ll be on these missions together but what if something happens? What if I’m not there to protect you when something goes wrong? These missions are unpredictable; anything could happen and I’d literally die if even a scratch is put on you.” Eijiro pleads. You start crying, sniffling at his words. He was right to be worried.

“I love you, Eijiro and I appreciate you being so concerned about me. But that doesn’t give you the right to shelter me. You can’t just force me to not follow my dream.” You sob, wiping your tears away. Eijiro grabs your hand and kisses it.

“I know. I just can’t bear the thought of you being hurt. But if this is what you really want, I have no choice but to at least see this through.” Kirishima says, holding your small hand in his two massive ones. You smile, putting your other hand on top of his.

“Thank you. Also, I’m sorry for saying fuck you to you. That was mean.” You say pouting.

“It was. Hurt my feelings.” Eijiro said faking sadness, immediately laughing as he watched your face frown up again at the thought of hurting his feelings.

“Oh shut up.”

[nevertheless-moving]

Invisible Hand Chaos AU x 2

Star Wars Time Travel AU #31

Continuation from HERE

Anakin whirled to face his Master, “Did you know Yoda had a baby?” he asked incredulous and slightly betrayed.

“What? No. Also he could just be another of Yoda’s species. Obviously.” Internally Obi-Wan thought about the still unnamed larva in a hidden aquatic creche, but the Mandalorian’s associate even called him Baby Yoda...

“Unbelievable,” Dooku muttered. “That little green hypocrite.”

“Did you know about this?” Anakin asked the Sith Lord, temporarily forgetting about the fight in favor of the revelation that Yoda might also have a secret family.

“Of course not, the troll never tells anyone anything,” Dooku ranted, deliberately setting aside the fight in favor of unloading decades of suppressed irritation with his former Master.

“I feel we might be jumping to conclusions here-” Obi-Wan offered weakly. 

Anakin scoffed. “He literally just called him Baby Yoda,”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, your apprentice is correct. It would seem the Grandmaster of the order has been keeping some secrets.”

“This is absurd!” Obi-Wan protested as the small child on the balcony above tilted his head curiously, watching the conversation below with interest from the safety of his Buir’s arms. 

“I agree.” Anakin said self-righteously. “If Yoda can have a baby then- then everyone in the order should be allowed a family.”

“Anakin...”

“Anakin, as interesting is this all is, I’m still in somewhat of a bind over here,” the Chancellor called across the hall, irritated and somewhat alarmed by the sudden outbreak of peace in the room.

“We’ll be right with you Chancellor, don’t worry!” Obi-Wan called back. 

“We just need a minute to figure some Jedi business out!” Anakin added. 

“You there- Mandalorian” Dooku called up sharply. 

“...Yeah?” the Besker-clad warrior answered uncertainly.

“What is the parentage of the child in your arms? How did you come to possess him?” The count's question cut through everything else in the room, and the two Jedi held their breath as they waited for the answer.

The Mandalorian pulled Grogu in closer, “He is a foundling. I know his name as my child.”

“Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan and Dooku muttered, Obi-Wan fondly, Dooku with exasperation.

“What?” Anakin asked bewildered.

“The Mandalorian adopted him- hold on a second, I’m going to try something.” Obi-Wan said.

“Mando! Forgive me- Have you already attempted to return your foundling to his people and been denied? If not, we can show you where to find an elder of his kind.”

The Mandalorian stiffened. “I already found one of his people. It took a great deal of time; neither of us knew there were any others left in the galaxy. By the time I met Luke...the child was mine and we would not be parted long. The three of us began traveling together. He acted as mentor to Grogu, though he is too young to be considered the boy’s senior. In time...we decided it would be simpler to raise him as a warrior together. We are one.”

“Oh. How wonderful.” Obi-Wan said weakly. 

Anakin’s brow furrowed furiously and he lowered his voice “Master did I get that right? This guy is really good friend’s with one of Yoda’s people but the friend is not the Child’s biological father and they don’t know anyone else from the species?”

“He actually said he was married to one of one of Yoda’s people but other than that your conclusions are correct. Very good Padawan.” Obi-Wan nodded, attempting to wrap his head around the various implications.

Dooku made a triumphant hum, “Then, by simple inductive reasoning, and in the absence of an alternative candidate, we can assume that the Child is, in-fact, Yoda’s offspring.”

“Exactly!” Anakin agreed with Dooku excitedly. 

“Interesting that he would give the spawn to a Mandalorian, rather than the creche. Embarrassment, perhaps.” the Count mused. 

“Unbelievable.” Anakin agreed indignantly. 

“Ok, now hold on. Foundling is pretty literal most of the time-” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Mando- was the child entrusted to you or did was there a rescuing involved?”

“...I was assigned to find him as part of a bounty, but found the imps who I was supposed to give him to...unpleasant.”

“Imps?” Anakin asked. 

“There you go!” Obi-Wan said, with just a tinge of hysteria. “Yoda didn’t abandon the child- not that it necessarily is Yoda’s child- he was kidnapped.”

Anakin gasped, “Master! We have to save him!”

“Hold on now, Anakin- He seems perfectly safe at this point and we were here for the Chancellor remember?”

“You won’t be leaving here with the Chancellor or the child.” Dooku sneered. “I can sense the force potential- and I am in want of a new apprentice.”

“Over my dead body,” Anakin snarled.

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey Luke-” the Mandalorian said into the comm as the three swordsman began circling one another “-it looks like two of the Jedi are attacking the other- do you want me to get involved?”

“...Din, by any chance, are any of the laser swords red?”

“Yeah, the fanciest dressed one has a red lightsaber, the other guys are blue. Does it matter?”

“...Red lightsaber means not Jedi. I- hold on, I think I see you!”

The three combatants jumped apart again, looking up at the slight comm echo to the sound of footsteps and the absolutely blinding force presence of the approaching Jedi. 

Had he never learned shielding? Obi-Wan thought hysterically. “Or was he just so powerful that he never bothered restraining himself?”

He tried to exchange a glance with Anakin, but his padawan was too focused on straining to see the incoming Master force user of some kind- light, but not necessarily Jedi. He instead looked over at Dooku, shrugging in confusion. Dooku grimaced back at him in solidarity.

The being finally entered. He was- significantly taller and less green than Obi-Wan was expecting, but still probably shorter than anyone else in the room.

“Din- are you two alright?” The soft-faced man asked in a remarkably gently voice, appearance somewhat at odds with the overbearing power he exuded.

“We’re fine, Luke but look! More Jedi!” He gestured below. 

Luke peered over the balcony, eyes growing wide as they passed over the faces of everyone below. “hoLY KRIFF!” He shouted.

The ship shuddered and Obi-Wan glanced nervously out the view ports, suddenly remembered that the damaged ship only had so long before it fell out of orbit.

“Do you know them?” Din asked. 

“Do I- for fuck’s sake Din, I love you but I have literally shown you holopics of my father before.” Luke whispered furiously. The room unfortunately was utterly quiet and remarkably acoustic, meaning his words carried easily to the listeners below.

“FATHER!” Anakin yelled, causing Luke to wince, slapping a gloved hand to his face.

“FATHER!” He repeated loudly, head ping-ponging between Obi-Wan and Dooku as if trying to find a resemblance, before gasping to stare at the Chancellor, before gasping again to squint at Obi-Wan. 

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE A SECRET FAMILY!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh for force sake- I do not have a secret son. Honestly, Anakin, he’s clearly in his 20s, be reasonable. His birth would however fit into the timeline of Dooku’s withdraw from the order.” Obi-Wan said, raising a brow.

Dooku puffed out his chest, “I did not fail to meet the Code, like so many of the pathetic masses. Before I left the Order I followed the rules precisely. When my disagreements grew too great, and my attempt for structured reform were repeatedly rejected, I left for ethical reasons, not personal ones. I looked at the code and decided it was failing the Jedi.”

He smirked and lifted his chin at the chancellor, who was watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression, “My, my Chancellor, this is an interesting surprise.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots, Dooku. Obviously the boy’s parents were force sensitive, look at him.” 

Dooku’s smirk grew wider.

“This is absurd! Again!” Obi-Wan threw up his arms and lifted his head to address the dark-robed young human, “Hello there, Luke, was it?” 

“Uh, yes. I’m Luke.” The powerhouse responded nervously. 

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi-”

“Yes, I know who you are.” Luke responded drily.

Anakin gasped. 

“He is not my son.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I’m not Obi-Wan’s son.” Luke called down cheerfully.

“Oh.” Anakin slouched, oddly disappointed. He liked this guy for some reason, felt- connected to him. Maybe it was the dark robes, or the force signature that nearly rivaled his own (though it was somewhat lighter), or even the gloved hand that he suspected was mechanical. If he was Obi-Wan’s son than that would make him practically his brother! The Chancellor might be neat but Dooku...ugh.

“Would you be so kind as to tell us whose son you are? I realize its none of my business but you’ve peaked our curiosity. And then afterwards, regardless of your parentage, we would not mind help in rescuing the Chancellor of the Republic from this slowly crashing ship.”

“Right. Right.” Luke nodded. “Would you give me a second?”

He pressed his head to the side of Din’s helmet and started whispering rapidly, to quiet for anyone else to hear. 

The group below exchanged glances, beginning to tense up again. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian nodded and spoke, “Let’s do it. I trust your judgement.” Luke grinned and returned to the edge of the balcony. 

“Ok, I can help with the first, but not the second.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Obi-Wan replied.

Anakin bristled. “So Dooku is your father.”

Luke smiled at Anakin. “No. You are my father.”

Anakin blinked as Obi-Wan’s face twisted in confusion. “No...” he said slowly. “No, that’s not true. That’s impossible.”

Luke’s smile grew wider, “Search your feelings,” he said urgently, with the full weight of his force presence screaming honesty with every word, “You know it to be true.”

Anakin gasped as he reached out into the force to find...his son. Impossible, but true. The ground trembled, either with the immensity of the realization, or catastrophic engine failure.

“No.” Obi-Wan said clearly to Luke on the balcony.

“No.” He repeated firmly, snapping a finger in Anakin’s face to try and break him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “It’s not true.” He said to the room in general, incredulous it even needed to be said.

Dooku began slowly backing away. The confrontation was rapidly spinning out of his or his Master’s control; he had only stayed this long to indulge vain curiosity. Regardless if the boy was insane, lying, or a time-traveler, he was clearly powerful. The ship’s orbit was gradually decaying and with any luck he could use his dead man’s switch to speed up the crash as he departed, neatly killing everyone who could stand against him in one stroke.

“Anakin,” the lunatic on the balcony continued, “You can destroy the emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny! Join me, and together-”

Din cleared his throat.

Luke stopped and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! Sorry. Got a little...carried away there.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“Anyway- yeah. I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m from the future, I guess we... time-traveled accidentally somehow? I uh- was kind-of quoting something you said to me once and you kept going along with it and... yeah, definitely got carried away. Sorry, I really don’t know how we got here but, weird stuff happens around me- one time I was on Yavin IV and these ghosts started- anyway. Long story. Surprise!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok...I might believe you’re Anakin’s son.”

Dooku had nearly reached a side door when his treacherous Master called out- “Anakin! Master Kenobi! Dooku- he’s getting away.”

Skywalker’s- Anakin Skywalker’s- attention snapped over to the Count and with a outstretched arm, he crumpled the steel door, throwing a beam across it for good measure. The ship moaned alarmingly and several more red lights began blinking at the navigation panel, unnoticed by anyone.

“Luke- son- I don’t know what Emperor you’re talking about, but help us defeat Count Dooku and save Chancellor Palpatine! After that- after that I’m happy to, um, join you? And meet your... husband? And padawan? Sorry, we were kind-of in the middle of something...” 

“Wow. Ok. I’m not sure if-” Luke started to respond before being interrupted by the Mandalorian.

“Wait, Dooku! I know that name!” Din said suddenly. “The covert hated him! He was the evil Sif Emperor you defeated, right?”

“...Sith Emperor. Din, darling and light of my life, as always, your grasp of history and recent current events never fails to amaze me.” Luke sighed.

“You must stop him, before he becomes Emperor,” Palpatine shouted desperately. 

Luke sighed again, more heavily. “Fine. FINE! Kriff the timeline, I didn’t ask to be born anyway. Din- go help capture...Emperor Dooku. Grogu- Pod. I’ll go- free the Chancellor.” The floor beneath them gave a lurch. “Before this ship breaks apart. Go!” 

Luke and Din jumped off the balcony as a shiny metal pod with a transparisteel view screen closed around Grogu, hovering between them, well off easy reach of the ground.

Din landed between Obi-Wan and Anakin, helmet turning to face each of them in turn, “...I’ll follow your lead.” He finally said, arming his weapons.

Obi-Wan grinned fiercely, “Excellent, Anakin, stay with me.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Mando, you- Is that the DARKSABER- ARE Yoouu- ugh you know what, I will ask after the fight. I will ask after the fight. How did the Mand'alor- NEVERMIND. Let’s just- FORCE I have so many questions-” 

“No time, Master!”

And the battle began. 

[matan4il]

Hi! Sorry if these has been discussed before and sorry if the take may sounds silly, but what's your take on 4x14's will scene having some sort of mutual rejection effect talks I've seen lately? Also, speaking of rejection, what's the possibility of Eddie thinking that he can't have someone working in high risk jobs (first responders like firefighters, soldiers, cops) as his "partner" now that he knows Christopher has a panic attack over the possibility of his dad dying because of his job?

Hi lovely!

Thank you so much for this ask, it def wasn't discussed on my blog yet. But even if it were, I'm always up for a nice chat, you never know what new insights you might stumble onto. ;)

So as I've mentioned before, due to my vertigo making reading difficult, I haven't come across this idea of a mutual rejection in the will scene in 414. So I tried to think what that might refer to and I'm honestly at a loss? The most I could come up with is that maybe Buck would experience it as rejection that the legal status he's been given in Christopher's life is only in the event of Eddie's death, but I honestly couldn't come up with a single idea on why Eddie would experience the scene as being rejected by Buck... If you'd like to illuminate me on this, I'm here to listen!

As for the aspect of the will tying Buck to Chris legally only if Eddie's gone (i.e, assuming I guessed right), I honestly don't think Buck would experience this as rejection. Because think of Buck, who's been left behind and ACTUALLY rejected HIS ENTIRE LIFE starting with HIS OWN PARENTS, the people who we first experience the world and our place in it through, who was then also abandoned by HIS FIRST TWO MEANINGFUL ROMANTIC ATTACHMENTS, and who then met an elderly man he identified with (Red) only to learn that Red has also been left behind by everyone that mattered to him, think of Buck who's so filled with this fear of being rejected that he thinks he's easily replaceable by JUST ABOUT ANYBODY (as we saw when Eddie first shows up, and when Buck first sees Lena Bosko) and that no matter how much history and love he has with the people he's closest to, he doesn't believe it's enough for them to forgive him for something that isn't even his fault (his certainty that he has to leave the 118 because he thinks he broke it by making Chim leave).

Buck started out his friendship with Eddie by being sure this man, who is too incredible for words, will immediately replace him. And instead, he discovered this guy honestly wanted to be Buck's friend. And then next, this man trusted Buck with telling him about Chris, despite having a millisecond of hesitation. Eddie also showed him Christopher's picture. And went with him to pick up Chris. Which would be amazing amounts of trust even under normal circumstances, to have a parent so trusting regarding their kid with a colleague they were off to a rocky start with, but even more so when that kid has CP! And Eddie showed Buck that trust and kept letting Buck more and more into their lives. And here's the thing: this isn't something Buck could automatically expect. Think of other parent at the 118, we never see Buck being so embraced into a family unit and a co-parent position as he is with Chris, so he must know that this is out of the ordinary amounts of trust. And then Buck thinks he broke Eddie's trust by losing Chris during the tsunami. Yet, the next thing he knows is that Eddie turns around and says, "don't be silly, of course you didn't, in fact I TRUST YOU MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE, MY FAMILY INCLUDED, WITH MY KID." This moment isn't something Buck would expect to happen, but it did.

And then Eddie topped it all off by showing that HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE THIS MUCH TRUST IN BUCK, even after he's gone. He doesn't just trust Buck to take Chris to the zoo and have fun with him there, HE TRUSTS BUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER'S EDUCATION AND WELL BEING AND WHOLE FUTURE. He trusts Buck TO FIGHT FOR CHRISTOPHER MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE EVER WILL. And then he adds, "That's what I want for him". THAT'S WHAT I WANT FOR HIM. There's not a splinter of rejection there in my book, Nonnie.

Just think: Buck, that first time he saw Christopher's pic, probably knew he was already being afforded a lot of trust, he never could have dreamed Eddie would ever put THIS MUCH TRUST, that he would one day make Buck THE LEGAL GUARDIAN OF HIS KID. And yeah, the context is what would happen if Eddie died. That's like meeting and befriending a king just 'coz you like the man wearing the crown and 'coz you think he's awesome, expecting nothing in return, secretly being scared he would stop being your friend one day 'coz he's a king, what can you possibly offer a king? And instead one day, out of nowhere, he offers you half his kingdom. When you didn't expect him to give you a thing! I don't think you'd look at it and go, "well, this is just HALF a kingdom, not all of it, so this is rejection."

And yeah, it does mean that there's still space in Eddie and Chris' current life that isn't occupied by Buck, but then... this scene was just s4, we have more seasons ahead of us and still need more places this family unit could advance to...

I'm sorry I kept going all caps, they just make me go feral for real. XD And also sorry if after all of this, it turns out I guessed wrong. But even if I did, I hope you enjoyed reading my rambling thoughts on the epic nature of what we've had with Buddifer already! Thank you again for the ask! xoxox

To anyone else who sent me an ask, I am going through all of them, thank you so much for your patience! If you wanna check whether I've replied to yours yet, you can have a look at my ask tag. xoxox

[ceciliablossoms]

I just read the whiskey angst and i cried a bit 😭 can i request Fruit Punch + Absinthe after that the reader feel stressed and go for a walk outside but are attacked by Abiss Mages and seriously injured and Diluc / Childe / Kaeya is surprised when the reader return with a pathetic form but the reader don't want them to touch them pls 😭😭😭 REVERSE UNO

I genuinely wasn't expecting people to like that one enough to request a sequel. I originally had no intention of making a sequel but with so many people asking how can I not?

Haha.. I couldn't sleep again...

The Whiskey fic

TW: Mentions of Injury, Swearing, Self Hatred

Absinthe: “Get out of my sight! I don’t fucking want you here!”

Fruit Punch: “Why are you bleeding!? What the hell happened?!”

-------

Diluc

It had been several days since he had last seen them and honestly speaking the man was a mess. What he said hadn't fully sunk in until he finished his work and upon realising that he had made a severe error, a pit formed in his stomach.

He was extremely disgusted with himself. Nobody should ever talk to their significant other in such a way under any circumstances. Not only that but he had also called them a hindrance when they had only been trying to help him. Pathetic.

He ended up seeking them out, arriving at their small house in Mondstadt. He had approached their door as they were exiting their home. They visibly bristled.

As the days passed they wallowed less, sadness and dejection becoming anger. How DARE he have the AUDACITY to talk to them like that? To treat them as though they were holding him back?

“Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here!”

He didn't even flinch out their outburst. He deserved it, "I have... come to apologise for my actions. I-"

"Didn't mean it? Save your words. I don't wish to hear it." They pushed past him. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me."

He watched as they exited the gates, steam practically pouring from their ears. As much as he wished to apologise, craved to say that he was sorry, he was sure that they wouldn't have it. But, he sat on the stairs to their house regardless and waited for their return. Whether they would accept it or not he was still going to try to make amends.

He didn't know how long he sat there waiting but they still had yet to return. The worry had long set in, hitting its peak when there was a small commotion at the gate. They pushed past Swan, who was following after them in a panic.

They walked with a limp, blood seeping through the hand that clenched their shoulder tightly. A cut adorned their face from temple to jaw. It too was bleeding heavily.

Diluc approached them with haste, alerted by their state, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened!?"

They pushed past him too as he reached out to them, "Don't.... touch me..."

Diluc glared at Swan as a way to tell him to go back to his post. He jumped but obliged nonetheless as Diluc began to follow after them. Grabbing their non-injured shoulder in his gloved hand, he tugged them gently to stop them from moving.

His tone was stern, "You do not have to speak with me nor do you have to accept my apology. But you will get those injuries tended to even if I have to drag you to the church myself."

They pulled themselves from his grip, out of breath and tired, "Why is it that you care? I'm but a hindrance remember. Even as we speak I am obstructing you."

"If those were my feelings I wouldn't be here. I don't expect forgiveness but I would still like to let you know that what I said doesn't define how I feel for you. That is of little importance right now. Your injuries need to be dealt with"

They said nothing, looking off to the side. Sluggishly they move towards their home again, quietly ushering for him to follow. "I have plenty of medical supplies of my own." They paused, "When my injuries heal, I expect an apology in full. And as for my trust... You'll have to work for it."

He was relieved. Their words suggested that there was a still a chance for him.

-

Tartaglia

It took him a while to calm down. After all, he did tend to brood on things until they festered. At first, he only got angrier. Angry that the cheater got away with it. Angry that they sided with the cheater. Angry that they helped the cheater.

He thought about it more though, and the more he rationalised the more he calmed down. They didn't really side with him, did they? They only helped him because he would have bled out had they not. As much as he wanted to beat the man's ass all over again, he let it slide. Killing him would be a waste anyway. Instead he would let the man's near death experience serve as a reminder.

When he was fully calm, he sought them out, their words echoing in the back of his head. 'Talk to me when you're fucking sane', they had said. Had his actions truly made them feel that way? Or was it in anger just as his words had been?

He checked Bubu Pharmacy first, seeing neither them nor the cheater. He assumed it was because the cheater was in the back getting treatment and that they had gone on their merry way. The search continued.

His hunt continued all across the harbour and he was unable to tell if they were going out of their way to avoid him or if he was looking in all the wrong places. Finally, he resorted to asking around, getting a couple tidbits of information from some Milileth.

He was told that they were seen exiting the harbour and that seemed extremely miffed. So retracing their steps, he left the harbour as well, following along the path that led toward Guili Plains.

He continued to follow the path until Wangshu Inn appeared in the distance and quietly pondered why they came out this far. Something seemed off though. Halting his movements, he scanned the area, sapphire eyes landing on a familiar silhouette sitting at the base of an apple tree.

He was unaware of how long they'd been sitting there when he approached, but there they were an apple in hand. They finished mid chewing and spoke after they swallowed the fruit in their mouth.

"Get out of my sight. I don't fucking want you here." Despite their icy tone, he knew that they weren't angry anymore. They did, however, want to be left alone though he did not oblige.

His eyes travelled to the blood that coloured the grass beneath them. There was a teasing edge to his voice as he tried to lighten the mood, "Why are you bleeding? What happened, hm? Get in a fight without me?"

Finding each other bloody was nothing new to either of them and playing it up was a game of sorts. An inside joke if you will. Most of the time he acted like a worried spouse for them and vice versa, but at this moment it was genuine worry. They scoffed.

"Yes, but unlike you, I don't try to kill men on the street."

He held up his hands in defeat before sitting down across from them, "Not gonna let me live it down, are you?"

They rolled their eyes, leaning their head against the tree trunk, "It happened a few hours ago. But you get a free pass because I don't have the energy to debate right now."

He moved to check their injury and they slapped his hands away with a quiet 'Don't touch me'. Yet he continued to eye it warily, staring at their face as if to ask permission. His gaze was gentle, genuine worry spread across his face. They caved after several minutes, looking away.

Pulling their shirt up to reveal the injury on their hip, it appeared as though they tried to cauterize it. With a sigh, he stood and held his hand out to help then up. After a moment of hesitation, they accepted his hand and immediately after they stood he crouched in front of them and signalled for them to get on his back. They obliged and he carried them back to the city.

"Don't think that this means I forgive you for what you said to me."

For once he didn't feel like teasing, knowing that it wouldn't help mend the situation, "I know. I do wish to apologise though. My words were... unnecessary. I took my anger out on you."

"Damn right." They patted his head, "Though if you're a good boy I might forgive you faster."

He sighed, fully aware that they were going to use him as an errand boy for the next few days.

-

Kaeya

He continued after their encounter as though nothing had happened at all. The silence that filled his office after they left was deafening but he took the time to finish his work. All of the paperwork that had piled up and all the tedious remedial tasks had been finished, the rest of his duties taken care of as well.

Days passed before he finally decided to confront them, and over that period his the guilt over his cruelty toward them festered. He was fully aware that they were trying to help, trying to make his workload lighter, yet he still snapped at them.

If he hadn't taken out his frustration on them then the two would be together right now. If he had just let them help will all of it then we would have gotten done much faster and gotten to relax much sooner. The stack they did do, however, was the biggest one from the piles which did shorten the time he was working. If only he hadn't scared them away.

He began his search for them at their home, finding it empty. Thinking for a moment, he began to check the usual places they went when they were upset. As he headed to Windrise it turned out that he didn't have to look far, for they were limping over the bridge that led into the city.

They were bleeding heavily from their chest, hand clutching the wound with unspoken panic. He rushed toward them, reaching out to support their body weight.

His voice was demanding, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened?"

"It was just an Abyss Mage. Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here."

He knew he deserved their scalding words but that didn't stop him from trying. He held his tongue to stop a smart ass comment. Usually, he wouldn't hold back but he knew this wasn't the time.

"You may not want me here, but if you don't get some help you'll bleed out before you can make it to the cathedral." He spoke calmly despite his internal conflict, and they knew that he had a point.

Begrudgingly they leaned against him as he escorted them through town. Moving hurt as it aggravated their injury but it was necessary. As soon as they got inside the cathedral he called for Barbara who appeared around the corner. Her face contorted in horror as she escorted them to the infirmary.

Kaeya sat amongst the pews and waited, having an internal debate with himself. Would they forgive him? Would they even hear him out?

Hours passed before Barbara remerged with news of their condition. He could see them but they could not leave for a while. With caution, he entered, knocking on the door frame to get their attention.

They turned their head in his direction but scowled when they realised that it was him. "Do you need something?"

He hummed, "No but you do." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took their hands in his, "I wanted to apologise. Both for what I said to you and for taking your kindness for granted."

They stared him down but say nothing but sincerity in his eyes, "I'm listening."

He was slightly caught off guard by their response, nevertheless though it made him happy. They fact that they were willing to listen showed that there was a possibility for forgiveness.

[novelconcepts]

The night Dani sees Peter Quint, a blackout happens during the storm. The officers say that it's not safe to stay there in the middle of a storm and without a way to talk to the police if necessary. Hannah and the kids go to Owen's house. Jamie offers a ride, her little flat, clothes and a bath (since crazy Dani decided to run after Peter during the storm).

There's just one bed prompt. Maybe a small couch or chair.

They listen, which is frankly more than Dani expected when Hannah insisted on calling the police. She suspects it has less to do with the Peter Quint of it all, and more to do with the lightning strike, the cataclysm of rain, an old house plunged into deep black. No phone lines, the officers point out with weary expressions that say they are not certain Peter Quint is truly a danger--but Lord Wingrave is not without a certain amount of authority around these parts, and if any further tragedy should befall his niece and nephew, these men would find themselves overloaded on unpleasant paperwork and worse press. 

Bad reasons, Dani thinks with a scowl. They ought to have gone into this field to help people, not scoff at Hannah’s fear and Dani’s unease. They ought to be doing something, not simply waving them off the property for the night. It’s listening, sort of, but it isn’t hearing. 

She glances at Jamie as the officers speak--directly, she notes, to Owen, as though as the only man among them, he has defaulted to de facto lord of the manor. He looks uncomfortable, rubbing a hand through wet hair; Dani remembers him saying, I was born in Bly, wonders if he went to school with either of the men in slick uniform. 

Jamie doesn’t look uncomfortable. Jamie looks angry. There’s a fire burning in her Dani suspects never entirely went out after this afternoon’s rose debacle, one that might have been tempered if they’d been able to track Quint down outside. But he’s in the wind, the product of long legs and a better awareness of the terrain. Dani, giving chase into a fresh downpour before she could think better of her choices, is still itching at the memory of his long coat vanishing into the dark. 

She’d run into Jamie, instead--full-force, a bone-rattling collision that had sent them both tumbling into the sopping grass. It might have been funny, if not for the echo of Quint’s footfalls dying away.

“If he’s here?” Jamie asks now. “Quint. If he’s still here? What then?”

The officer in charge gives her a brief look, barely long enough to register detail. “If he’s here,” he says boredly, “all the better that you aren’t.”

Jamie grinds her jaw. She seems barely to be containing herself, resisting the impulse to explain in no uncertain terms that this is their home, this place Quint is intruding upon. Their home--Hannah and the kids and Dani, at least--where Quint would be trailing slimy fingers. The idea of that smirking face going through the bedrooms makes Dani shudder. It seems to press Jamie toward an unwise argument. 

Without thinking, Dani reaches out, lays a hand on her shoulder. Jamie’s hair is still dripping, her jacket sodden. Her eyes, catching on Dani’s face, widen a little, her teeth unclenching. 

“You have somewhere to go?” the head officer reiterates, glancing back toward the door as though dreaming of a warm car, a comfortable house far from the manor. Owen nods in Hannah’s direction. 

“Mum won’t mind. Can have a little sleepover.”

“Yes!” Flora perks up. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet, leaning against Miles’ side, but her whole face switches on like a lantern now. “A sleepover!”

“How’s about it, Miles?” Hannah taps him lightly on the head. “A little evening adventure.”

He looks uncertain, but when she ruffles his hair, a slow smile creeps across his face. Dani’s relieved to see it--she’s started to believe Miles is thirty-five in a ten-year-old frame, the weight of so much loss bearing him down like an anchor. He deserves a little fun. 

“And you,” Hannah adds, looking to Dani as if reading her mind. “What do you say to a night off?”

Dani blinks. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necess--”

“Chased a man into the storm,” Hannah interrupts. “Not a decision I’d approve of twice, but it was quite brave. And, forgive me dear, but you look like you could use a proper rest in the aftermath.”

That might be, Dani thinks absently, the nicest way of saying you look like shit I’ve ever heard. 

“I’ll just get cleaned up real quick,” she says, “and then I’ll be perfectly fine to--”

Hannah raises a hand. “I insist. Let Owen and I handle them for the evening.”

Dani opens and closes her mouth several times. What’s the alternative? Is Hannah expecting her to stay here? Here, in a house they’re all carefully not admitting feels much bigger in the dark, huddled around the glow of policeman flashlights? 

“Can crash at my place,” Jamie says, almost gruffly. “If you don't mind the company.”

Hannah looks unsurprised by this offer. Dani feels a little light-headed at the idea. 

“I--I’m all muddy.”

Jamie makes a show of looking down at her own clothes, caked in wet clods of grass, soaked nearly to the skin. She raises her eyebrows in Dani’s direction as if to say, Any more sterling arguments?

Dani has none.

Jamie doesn’t say a word as they load into her truck, Dani trying her best to shrink down to inhabit as limited a space as possible. Her legs ache with the effort of holding her feet aloft, her thighs pressed together to prevent staining the whole seat with grime. Jamie glances in her direction, pulling carefully out onto the road, and Dani could swear she’s trying not to smile.

“Know what I do for a living, don’t you?”

Dani nods. Jamie clears her throat.

“Then should go without saying you’re not the first to track mud into the truck. Relax.”

Embarrassed, Dani does as she’s bid. From the corner of her eye, she sees Jamie’s mouth twitch again--sees Jamie’s hands resting comfortably at ten and two, Jamie’s shoulders slightly rounded as though by holding her posture firm, she can punch a hole through the sheeting rain. She doesn’t seem nervous in the least to be driving through this mess with Dani huddled beside her. 

Jamie, Dani is starting to think, doesn’t get nervous.

Well, that makes one of us. 

She has nothing to be nervous about, is the thing. Chasing a strange man into a storm, racing after him with nothing but a fire poker and a hot protective impulse--that should have made her nervous. Should have scared the shit out of her. And it hadn’t. She’d felt bizarrely well-equipped for the decisions she was making, at the time. Peter Quint, she’d been certain, should have been the nervous one.

But now, sitting with wet hair and mussed clothes beside a woman she’s held barely three conversations with, Dani feels distinctly out of her element. No kids. No easy warmth of a carefully-sewn-together family opening its arms to let her in. Just a truck, rattling along a slick road on its way to a tiny town she’s never set foot in before.

And a woman with wet curls plastered to her forehead, stealing tiny glances at Dani like she’s not quite sure what to do with her.

“Flat’s small,” Jamie says, as if apologizing, as she parks outside a pub that looks older than any establishment in Dani’s hometown. “Don’t need much. But there are no screamin’ kids.”

Flora and Miles aren’t much for screaming without reason, but Dani thinks she takes Jamie’s point all the same. Quiet, Jamie is trying to say. Dani can properly rest here, Jamie is trying to say. Jamie doesn’t mind offering up her space.

“Ready?” The rain is still coming down in a torrent. Jamie’s hand is positioned at the doorhandle, Jamie’s posture strung tight. “Make a break for it on three. One--two--”

They run, damp clothes made soggy all over again, and Dani is surprised to hear herself make a whooping sound of joy as she splashes through puddles. Jamie, she thinks, could move faster--Jamie’s got a runner’s stamina when she puts her mind to it--but she’s jogging along at an easy pace, refusing to leave Dani behind. Her hand catches once on Dani’s sleeve, pulling her to the stairs behind the pub, guiding her up to a door at the top.

“Storms like these,” Jamie says when they’ve tumbled breathlessly into her home, “remind me of bein’ a kid. Sitting in school, hoping the power’d go so they’d send us home early.”

“Did it ever happen?” Dani wraps her arms around herself, trying not to shiver, trying not to drip too expansively across the scored floorboards. Jamie grins.

“Once. I was seven. Spent the whole day out in it anyway, caught the worst cold of my life. Best goddamn day a kid could want.” 

She looks so at home here, as Dani watches her pull off her boots, drape her jacket lazily over a chair, stride around turning on lights. At the manor, Jamie is casual enough, rarely inclined to rush or worry, but here, it’s instantly clear she knows every creak in the floor, every stubborn lightswitch, every inch of a domain that is entirely Jamie. 

A domain she has, for no reason at all, opened up to Dani tonight. The reality of it crashes home all at once, landing hard. Jamie barely knows her, and still is willing to give Dani a place to stay. Jamie barely knows her, and still is holding out a gray towel and a bundle of clothes, her smile crooked.

“Thought you might like to get out of those.”

A spike of warmth makes its way up Dani’s spine, settling somewhere around her ears. She crushes it down, forcing herself to accept the sweats and t-shirt with a grateful smile of her own.

“Thank you. Honestly, you didn’t have to do any of this--”

“The rain,” Jamie says easily, “is the fun part. The cold, not so much. Bath’s this way.”

Bathroom, Dani assumes she means--until Jamie gestures at the little tub, barely big enough for a woman her size. She looks marginally embarrassed for the first time, but it’s a resolute sort of embarrassment, as though Jamie has little patience for it. 

“Not much,” she says. “But still better than catching ill. Take however long you like.”

Dani watches her back out of the room, a tumble of unfamiliar emotions in her chest. Someone offering up everything--home, clothes, bathtub--without asking for something in return is strange. Someone doing that much and then leaving, peaceable as the turn of a new day, is unheard of. She hesitates, waiting at the closed door for signs that Jamie will change her mind--or knock, having thought of something else Dani might need--and nothing comes. This room has become, so long as Dani wants it, her space. Jamie will take it back only when Dani’s finished. 

Unwelcomely, she tries to imagine Eddie doing this very thing. Eddie, who only refrains from haunting her European adventures with postcard and phone call because he has no idea how to find her. Eddie, who would think the offer of clothes and a hot bath automatically come with other perks, and who would smile as he stepped in to collect like he couldn’t imagine her wanting to be left alone. 

She shakes her head. Eddie is gone, and she is here, and Jamie isn’t him. Is so unlike him, in fact, it’s hard to imagine them standing in the same room.

And why, some little part of her pipes slyly up, are you comparing them in the first place? 

She shivers, turning on the water, letting it run as hot as possible before sinking in. She leans her head back against a wadded-up washcloth, surveying the simplicity of the bathroom--single toothbrush, single cup for water, a minute assortment of hairbrush, hair ties, sunscreen. There is a dried rose framed beside the door, a small bunch of purple-and-white flowers she can’t name in a tiny windowsill vase. 

It’s all very discreet, all very Jamie. To look at it with this much freedom, to be trusted alone in a space that has belonged to no one else, makes her heart pound.

She’s only being nice. And so what? What does it matter? 

It matters. Even if she never says so, even if she never lets it out of her heart, Dani can’t deny that it matters. Like it mattered watching Jamie walk into the kitchen earlier this week, glancing at her with an easy raise of brows like she was thinking, Sure. You can stay. You’re one of us. 

Jamie, calling her Poppins, telling her she’s doing great, offering her flat without a second’s pause. None of it warranted. None of it asked for. All of it so incredibly welcome.

She stays in the bath until the shivers ease out, carefully soaping her hair with the little bottle of shampoo on the windowsill. A different scent and brand than her own, and as she’s rinsing clean, she realizes she will smell like Jamie now. If for only a night, her hair--and the clothes Jamie gently pressed into her hands--will hold just a little bit of the gardener’s influence. 

The warmth she’s beginning to attribute to Jamie sweeps through her again at the idea. That, and the awareness that these are Jamie’s things hugging her body. Jamie’s belongings, offered up like she feels not the least bit possessive about her living space. Sure. You can stay. You’re one of us. 

“Warm?” Jamie asks when she finally steps back out of the bathroom. Her hair is still wet, though she’s changed into a clean white shirt and sweatpants of her own. Dani nods, confused when Jamie grins. 

“What?”

“I think,” Jamie says placidly, “this is the first time I’ve seen you out of pastels. Suits you.”

Dani glances down. The threadbare black t-shirt bears a jagged white London Calling in peeling letters. She can’t help smiling.

“Maybe I’m a secret punk fan.”

“Are you?” Jamie sounds interested. Dani shakes her head.

“Sorry, no. Always open to learning, though.”

Here it is again: that funny, twisting feeling in her stomach that says she is at home with Jamie. That Jamie is easy and warm, despite the anger simmering somewhere deep down and a tendency toward cropping her sentences with swear words. That Jamie has opened her home to Dani only because Jamie has opened to her, on some level neither of them is entirely sure how to approach. 

“Thank you,” she says, because it’s easier than putting this feeling into words. “For all of this. You didn’t have to.”

Jamie shrugs. “Wanted to. You haven’t had an easy couple of days. Sometimes, a little quiet goes a long way.”

She’s seated on the arm of the couch, bare feet dangling an inch off the floor. Looking at her, Dani can’t entirely wrap her mind around the idea that she’s only known this woman for a couple of days. That she doesn’t, in fact, know much of anything about her at all. 

And still, when Jamie rises and begins arranging pillow and blanket on the couch, Dani’s stomach performs a backflip she’d never come close to feeling with Eddie.

“That’s really kind of you,” she says, the words a blind effort to distract from her trembling hands. “I really don’t need much, you don’t have to go to any trouble--”

Jamie glances over her shoulder. “No trouble. Bed’s just that way.”

Dani turns to look. Sure enough, behind a pulled-back curtain, she can just make out Jamie’s mattress and frame. “I--I mean, I won’t be bothering you, if that’s what you--”

“What?” Straightening, Jamie frowns. “No, I mean, it’s yours. Take it. I sleep on the couch half the goddamn time anyway, it’s no--”

“I am not,” Dani interrupts, “taking your bed, Jamie.”

Not since her last argument with Miles has she been engaged in such a standoff. Jamie, still holding a pillow, looks ready to chain herself to the couch. Dani, heady with the inescapable awareness of Jamie’s shampoo rinsed out of her own hair, can’t have that. It’s too much. Clothes and space and ride--all of that, she can accept. But foisting Jamie from her own bed?

“I’m not doing it,” she says. Her arms are folded, her mouth pulling into a smile she can’t for her life shake. “I’m told I'm very stubborn, so you might as well just let me have that couch now.”

“I--” For the first time all night, Jamie seems to be at a loss. “I’m--aiming for chivalry, here, Poppins.”

“You’ve been nothing less,” Dani assures her. “A white knight, really. But I’m afraid this is where I have to draw the line.”

“I sleep on it all the time.”

“So, it’s my turn.”

Jamie’s whole face seems on edge of some kind of collapse--though into laughter or upset, Dani can’t begin to guess. She has a brief flash of possibility, the two of them standing on either side of the couch all night, arguing well into daylight over who ought to take the proper night’s sleep.

“You’ve got kids to handle in the morning,” Jamie says reasonably, proving her point.

“You spent all day working in the sun,” Dani volleys in return. She thinks for a moment, then adds, “Also, I knocked you into a puddle earlier, and you didn’t get a nice warm bath.”

“Didn’t need one.” Jamie looks exasperated. “Poppins, come on. This doesn’t have to be a big bloody deal.”

It doesn’t, Dani agrees. It really doesn’t. All Jamie has to do is step out of the way, step behind that curtain, put herself to bed where she belongs.

Or, alternatively--

It’s coming out of her mouth before she can stop it. Before she can run through all the reasons not to suggest this very thing. Before she can pin down the butterflies having a dogfight in her stomach and make a decision based in good judgment. 

“Look, if you’re that committed to making me sleep in the bed, come join me.”

Jamie nearly drops the pillow. Her calm has utterly vacated the flat, leaving behind a woman who looks--if Dani isn’t much mistaken--much nearer to frantic than she’s ever seen Jamie before. Much nearer to the kind of nervous Dani had been on the ride over. 

“I,” she says. “That--I shouldn’t--”

“It’s the best compromise,” Dani says, trying to sound reasonable. Trying to sound as though the invitation to share Jamie’s bed isn’t making her entire body run with sudden electricity. “Neither of us is very big, I’m sure we can fit.”

“I’m--sure we can.” Jamie is grimacing. Jamie looks pained. If she had an elegant way out, Dani would take it back simply to erase that look from Jamie’s face, a look that says Jamie would rather sleep in her tiny bathtub than wherever Dani is. 

Elegant way out, she can’t find, and she’s tired. Tired, and buzzing with nerves, and somehow, the au pair wins out over all possible variants of Dani Clayton. “It isn’t that bad an idea,” she says, her voice steady. “I don’t even snore.”

This breaks something open between them. She can’t put her finger on just what it is, or why, but suddenly Jamie is laughing, and Dani is grinning, and she knows the stalemate is at its end. It’s been too long a night. There’s just no point.

“Here,” she adds, settling at the edge of the bed, watching Jamie switch off the lights and creep closer as though trying not to startle a skittish animal. “I’ll lay right on the edge, you won’t even have to know I’m here--”

“Don’t be silly,” Jamie says. She hesitates; Dani wonders if she’s giving a final chance for Dani to shoo her away, to choose a night spent alone after all. She thumps the bedspread with a flat palm, staring meaningfully at Jamie until the mattress sinks beneath the weight of au pair and gardener alike. 

“See?” she can’t stop herself saying. “We fit.”

Jamie stares at her, a lingering gaze Dani couldn’t decipher on her best day. She opts to ignore it, stretching out under the rumpled covers. Beside her, Jamie slides a hand beneath her head, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Not so bad,” Dani says, wishing she could shut up, wishing she could stop thinking--about Jamie’s head on the pillow beside her, about Jamie’s scent sunk into this pillow, about the indent of Jamie’s body in this old mattress where maybe no one else has ever lain. Jamie makes a low sound in her chest. 

“Long day.”

“So long.” Was it only this morning Dani was having a small panic attack, the strain of a new job on top of familiar guilt too heavy to bear? Was it only this afternoon she’d grabbed Jamie’s shoulder, pulled her back from storming off to skin Miles alive?

Was it really only this evening she’d stalked out after Peter Quint, crashed headlong into Jamie, listened to police officers warn them all away from the manor in a blackout?

Jamie clears her throat. Dani’s starting to think it’s a nervous habit--Jamie seems to do it only around her. Why on earth would I make her nervous? “Comfortable?” she asks the ceiling. Dani nods. 

In the dark, the bed seems smaller. The pillows are touching, the blankets bridging the brief gap between Jamie’s right leg and Dani’s left. In the dark, Jamie’s breath is audible, the smell of rain and shampoo and clean clothes twisting together into a single knot. 

In the dark, Dani thinks, they could be anyone. Not gardener and au pair, but anyone, bound by a single unpredictable night. 

She wonders if they should talk--about Peter Quint, about the tension of the evening, about the kids, or the roses, or any number of little odd moments around the manor. She wonders if Jamie expects her to ask questions--who Quint is, what he was to Rebecca Jessel, what he might be doing skulking around the house. 

She can’t quite find it in her. It’s too warm, too soft, the silence as inviting as the rustle of Jamie’s borrowed clothes against her skin. Laying in the dark, Jamie’s foot nearly touching her own, listening to the storm pound the windowpanes, Dani is breathing easier than she has in months. 

“I’m glad,” she says quietly, “you’re here.”

Jamie’s head rustles the pillowcase, turning to look at her. “Yeah?”

Dani smiles. “Yeah. I can’t explain it, but I feel...safer.” Something sharpens behind her ribcage, something that begs her to add, With Hannah, with Owen, with the kids, too. She doesn’t. It’s true, but it’s also not really what she means. 

“He doesn’t know where to find you,” Jamie says, and for a moment, Dani wonders how she could possibly be talking about Eddie. Then Jamie adds, “I hate that fucker. So does Owen. Everyone is safe tonight.”

Right. Peter Quint. Of course. “I’m glad,” Dani repeats. She feels the mattress shift as Jamie carefully settles in. “Jamie?”

“Mm?”

Too many things to say. Too many questions to ask. Too many of those butterflies winging around as Jamie’s elbow bumps her, as Jamie’s breath brushes her cheek. She shuts her eyes, the simple image of Jamie’s gaze inches away too much to handle. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Poppins,” Jamie murmurs. And though Dani’s heart is racing, though her skin is hot, though the storm outside is brutal and Jamie’s bed is much smaller than she’d thought--she finds herself relaxing. Finds herself thoughtlessly shifting to a more comfortable position on her side. Finds herself, even, leaning in toward Jamie’s warmth as the sound of her breathing shallows. 

For the first time in what feels like years, Dani Clayton sleeps.

[hardcasey]

Sweet Tooth

Won't Fade into the Background - Part 2

Pairing: Toast x F!Reader

Summary: You are an owner of a bakery on Coruscant and end up running into a certain clone with a penchant for baked goods. 

Word Count: 7k (I got carried away lmao)

Rating/Warnings: T, Mostly fluff again, though it gets a little PG-13 at the end. Nothing too crazy tho.

A/N: Who’s more of a background clone than everyone’s fave boy Toast? I decided to give him the classic bakery au meet-cute that he deserves. <3 Not proofread so let me know if there are any glaring errors!

“You sure you don’t need any help cleaning up?” Your employee, Vella, called from the front of the shop. 

You poked your head out through the little window that separated the kitchen from the rest of the store. “I’m good, Vel. Go enjoy your Friday night.” 

“Alright, night boss,” The Twi’lek woman gave you a mock salute and laughed when she saw you roll your eyes before turning and heading out the door into the busy Coruscant streets. 

You turned back to your current task, taking inventory. It was not the most glamorous job, in fact it was your least favorite part about owning your own business, but it had to be done. With a sigh, you started counting, quickly losing yourself in the monotony. 

You were the proud owner of a small bakery on Coruscant. It was not the most lucrative job by far, but it had always been your dream to bake for a living, and you were proud to have achieved that goal so quickly. It had taken a lot of hard work to get to where you were now, along with quite a bit of luck. You had been finishing up your last year in culinary school when you walked by a place for rent right in the heart of the city. It had been right around when the war started, and the owner wanted to sell off the space as quickly as possible. You had the sneaking suspicion that he may have been involved with the Separatists and was trying to jump ship and flee the planet. Honestly, you didn’t really care what his deal was, only that he was giving you the place for a steal. Seppie or not, you were thankful for him. There was no other way you would have been able to afford a place in this part of the city otherwise. 

You had dropped a considerable portion of your savings into the purchase and renovation of the bakery, and there were times that you were subsisting off of nothing but cheap instant noodles, but everything had worked out in the end. The prime location meant there was a lot of foot traffic and it didn’t take long before you were turning a profit. And the quality of your pastries and baked goods earned you a loyal customer base, and you had many regulars that stopped in for a cup of caf and a little treat on their way to work. 

Once you finished up taking inventory, you headed out to the front to start cleaning up, stacking the chairs up on the tables so you could start sweeping. You were saving up for a droid that would sweep the floors for you, but you were still a ways off from that so you had to do it the old fashioned way. 

It was then that you noticed there was someone looking in through the window, clearly ogling the display of pastries and cakes that was there. The light from the setting sun pouring through the window cast their face in shadow, so you couldn’t tell who it was. 

Might as well invite them in, you thought to yourself as you leaned the broom against the wall. After all, the bakery wasn’t technically closed yet, though you almost never had customers at this time. 

You swung the door open and were about to say something to the figure when you saw them jump, clearly not realizing you were there. 

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry for scaring you! I just wanted to let you know that the bakery is still open if you want anything.” You said gently, holding your hands up in a placating manner. 

Now that you were outside, you could see the figure more clearly. They were a human male, with tan skin and warm brown eyes. He was wearing a grey uniform and his short dark hair was partly obscured by a matching grey hat. He seemed very familiar to you, and you were about to ask if you knew him, before it hit you. Duh! He was a clone. You weren’t used to seeing clones in anything other than their distinctive white armor, so it took a moment for your brain to put two and two together. 

“Oh, uh, I was just looking, ma’am! I’m very sorry.” He said quickly, the same way that a kid who had just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar would. He looked so sheepish, as if he was about to bolt any second. You weren’t sure why he was so apologetic, he was just looking through the window. A bunch of people did that. 

“No need to apologize, everyone looks through the windows.” You said, flashing him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“I, uh, just wasn’t sure if you were gonna run me out or something,” he told you, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Not many businesses are open to clones, and I wasn’t sure. I’ve never seen any clones in your shop and I guess I just assumed.” 

Okay, that lowkey made your blood boil. Why would anyone discriminate against the clones? They were the ones putting their lives on the line to protect the Republic, for kriffs sake! You hadn’t interacted with many clones, but the ones you had run into were nothing but polite and respectful. 

“That’s terrible! We absolutely allow clones here! You know what, come inside. There are still some pastries leftover from today. I’ll put them in a box for you and you can bring them back to your, er, squad? Company? Your friends!” You finished breathlessly, a little embarrassed you knew so little about anything involving the military. 

“Are you sure? I-I don’t have any money to pay for them,” He said sadly, his eyes darting down to his shoes as if there was suddenly something fascinating about them. 

“Nonsense! They’ll be going bad soon anyway and will just end up in the trash. You’ll be doing me a favor, honestly.” Without allowing him to protest further, you grabbed his elbow and tugged him into your shop. In the back of your mind you registered how big his bicep felt, which surprised you. He looked fit, yes, but it wasn’t like he was some meathead. Maybe his uniform just did a good job of disguising how strong he was. You felt yourself blush once you realised the path your thoughts had veered down and quickly pushed them out of your mind. 

“It smells good in here,” he said to no one in particular as he dropped his harm and headed behind the counter to start filling a box with leftover pastries. 

You smiled at him, before you realised something. “Forgive my manners, but I didn’t catch your name.” 

“CT-1928, ma’am.” He replied, his back straightening ever so slightly as he did, as if the action was ingrained in him.

“Do you have a nickname? I know a lot of clones go by them instead of their number.” You said delicately. You didn’t want to offend him by asking, but it felt so strange, so dehumanizing, to call him by a number. 

“Oh, uh, my brothers call me Toast.” He said, once again sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not the greatest nickname, but it’s the one that stuck.” 

“Haha, I think it’s cute. And don’t worry, my parents used to call me Possum when I was little, because I used to climb around and get into the trash. It was cute until they said it in front of my friends, then they started calling me that too.” 

He laughed at that, his shoulders relaxing, his posture not so stiff. “My brothers started calling me Toast because the first time they served toast in the cafeteria after I got my assignment, I ate so many pieces I made myself sick.” 

“Pfft. That’s amazing,” You laughed as you shuffled things around so you could fit one last croissant inside. You got the sense the clones didn’t often get to have sweets, so you were going to make sure Toast could bring as many back as possible. “So are you here on shore leave?” 

“I’m actually a member of the Coruscant Guard. So I’m here often. Well all the time. I walk by this place every time they send me off to run errands, which is often since I’m still the new guy.” 

“Oh, that’s cool. That means you work with senators, right? That must be… something.” You’d read stories on the holonet about some of the more notorious senators and you doubted they treated the clones particularly well. 

“I haven’t personally worked with any members of the senate, though a lot of my brothers have. Most of my day is spent staring at security cameras. So, pretty boring. Though I’m not complaining.” 

You tied up the package with a neat little bow before handing it to him, another bright smile flashing across your face. Something about his earnest, open demeanor was very endearing to you and you secretly hoped you’d get to see him again soon. If not anything else, you could at least learn a little more about the clones that dedicated their lives to protecting the Republic, since your knowledge on the subject was apparently so lacking. 

“Well it’s good to hear that you’re local. Hopefully you can stop by again the next time you’re running errands. And feel free to invite your brothers too!” 

“T-thank you, ma’am. That is very kind of you.” He said before taking the box of pastries in his hand, holding it almost reverently. He was trying to hide it but you could tell he was very excited to eat some sweets later. 

With one last nod he headed out of the store, the bell chiming lightly after him. You stood there, simply watching his receding form blend into the crowd, catching yourself smiling at the prospect of seeing him again. 

~~~

Toast hadn’t made it three steps into the barracks before his vode were descending upon him. Well not really him as much as the box full of sugary confections in his hands. 

“What ya got there?” Jek inquired, already tugging at the ribbon to investigate the box’s contents. 

Toast shoved his greedy hands out of the way and marched over to the counter where they kept the caf machine, which was in a perpetual state of disarray. The caf machine was old, probably older than any of them, and saw high traffic 24/7. Honestly, with the amount it leaked and sputtered, it was a miracle the machine was still functioning. Toast hoped it would at least until the war was over because when it went, Fox would be in the grave right next to it. 

“You know that bakery on the way back from the Jedi temple?” Toast inquired as he placed the box on the counter, starting to pick at the knot so he could open it without cutting the ribbon. It was a pretty striped pastel pink and he wanted to keep it. 

“The one with the little tooka-shaped cookies?” Rhys’ eyes went wide with excitement. 

“Yeah, the lady who worked there saw me looking inside and then gave me all the leftover pastries from the window.” 

“For free!?” Jek exclaimed as he shuffled back towards the box, “What did you get? Did you get an eclair? Please tell me you got an eclair.” Toast nodded and handed his brother one, who promptly dug in. 

“What’s this about eclairs?” Stone rounded the corner, instantly noticing the box and saddling up to him. “Did you get sweets?” 

Toast spent the next few minutes divvying up the various pastries between everyone. He chose something made up of many thin layers of dough, filled with chopped nuts and soaked in honey. Baklava, he thinks it was called, or maybe balaclava? He didn’t know the difference. But he didn’t care as he devoured it, savoring each bite like it was something precious. He glanced around and saw all his brothers were experiencing similar states of bliss, if their expressions were anything to go by. 

~~~

He didn’t have a chance to visit the bakery for the next two weeks, too busy running around dealing with mess after mess. One day, a prison riot. The next, bomb threats at the senate. Everyone in the guard was so exhausted and in desperate need of a break. So when Hound mentioned he was taking Grizzer for a walk, Toast decided to tag along so that he could get some fresh air. Well, fresh for Coruscant. 

At some point they’d run into Rhys and Thire, on the way back from patrol duty. Neither of them were in a rush to get back to HQ to receive new marching orders, so they ended up tagging along. 

Their little group wandered the streets, just walking with no direction in mind. Grizzer had his snout pressed close to the ground, desperate to sniff everything. Toast smiled at the massiff’s antics from behind his bucket, before glancing around and realizing they were just a block away from the bakery. 

“Hey, guys. Wanna stop at that bakery? It’s just over there.” Toast asked, pointing his finger at the little awning in front of the shop.

Thire looked at him as if he had two heads. “Why? Do you think we’ll get handouts again? Not that I’m complaining, free is free, but didn’t you get those because it was the end of the day and she was planning on throwing them out? It’s the middle of the day now…”

“Well, she said I could come back whenever. And that I could bring you guys too.” Toast felt his cheeks heat up for some reason, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What if she was just being polite, and he wasn’t really supposed to come back? What if he brought too many of his brothers and she thought he was taking advantage of her generosity? 

He was just about to suggest they should move on when Rhys piped up. “Well, what are we waiting for? C’mon.” He was already halfway to the bakery before anyone could respond. Rhys had a major sweet tooth and nothing motivated him more than some sweets. Hound and Grizzer were right on his heels, having missed out on the pastries last time. 

Toast caught up to them quickly, with Thire right behind them, though they all froze as soon as they made it up to the doors. There were people inside this, lounging around sipping drinks and chatting. Could they go in? Would people get mad? 

All his vode were waiting for him to do something, and his eyes searched frantically around the storefront as if he would find an answer there. And, surprisingly, he did. Sort of. Because hanging right in the window was a sign that read ‘CLONES WELCOME’. You had to have hung it after your interaction, there was no other explanation. Something about that made his heart race. 

All of a sudden, you appeared in the window, a friendly grin on your face as you pointed at the sign and waved for them all to come in. 

“You didn’t tell us she was pretty, vod,” Thire whispered as they shuffled their way inside. Toast could just feel the shit eating grin from under his brother’s bucket. He just gave a noncommittal grunt as a response, which only made Thire laugh. 

The group of them stood awkwardly in the threshold of the store, not really knowing what to do with themselves. A few patrons looked over to see what was going on, and Toast braced for some sort of outrage at clones invading their space, but after a few seconds they all turned back to whatever they were doing before. 

Toast stood there dumbly, just staring at you. He hadn’t really been able to take a good look at you the last time, too distracted by how strange the whole situation had been. But now he could see that Thire was right. You are pretty. Very pretty. 

If you noticed how tongue-tied he was, you didn’t show it. You just greeted them with another smile and oh Maker that smile. It was the kind of smile that lit up your whole face and Toast wanted to see it every day for the rest of his life.

“Hi! Is this your first time here?” You asked, cocking your head to one side. 

“He’s been here before.” Hound answered, shoving Toast to the front of the group. 

“Oh, are you the one from a few weeks ago? Toast?” 

You remembered his name! He was pretty sure he was about to melt into a puddle right then and there. It took a second to realize that he hadn't answered yet and he quickly sputtered out, “Y-yeah. That’s me.” 

“I’m glad you came back! And you brought your brothers,” You turned to address the rest of the clones and offered out a hand, “It’s nice to meet you all, what are your names.” 

Hound, always the people person and the one most used to interacting with the public, stepped forward and shook your hand. “I’m Hound. That’s Thire and Jek. It’s nice to meet you ma’am, I’ve heard you’re a great baker, though I wouldn’t know first-hand.” 

You cocked an eyebrow at Toast, “You didn’t share?” 

“He was out on patrol, I swear!” Toast stammered, holding his hands up in front of him. 

“Hmmm, I guess I’ll take your word for it. Though I think he should get to pick out what he wants first. It’s only fair.” 

“Really?!” Hound exclaimed. His enthusiasm seemed to rub off on Grizzer, the massiff sitting up on his back legs and wiggling excitedly before letting out a happy bark. “Down boy,” Hound ordered, placing a hand on Grizzer’s hand to calm him down. 

‘Awe, he’s just excited,” you giggled as you bent down to give him some pats of your own. “Can he eat treats? I have some by the door that I give to some of the other dogs.” You asked Hound as you straightened back up. 

“Yes, he loves treats. Would you mind if I took them to go? I don’t want him spoiling his dinner.” 

“Of course! Now pick out what you all want. And you can put a box together to take to your brothers.” 

You spent the next twenty minutes helping them pick out pastries, answering questions so they could pick out something for each of their brothers. After they had made their selections, you sat with them at one of the tables and chatted. Well, you mostly asked questions and they all talked over each other in their excitement. Still, you enjoyed the time with them, happy to provide a place for them to relax and unwind. Their jobs seemed incredibly stressful and by reading in between the lines of some of the things they told you, they seemed to be mistreated by a good portion of the senators, made to run menial errands or be the punching bags senators took their frustrations out on. You could especially see it in Toast, in the way he was so scared of offending you, how he would avert his eyes all the time and flinch if someone spoke too loudly. It honestly made you want to burn down the senate building. 

Everyone had finished eating when Thire looked down at his wrist and exclaimed, “Oh kriff, it’s been over an hour! Fox is gonna kill us.” 

Toast scoffed. “Correction: Fox is going to kill you and Rhys. Hound and I are off right now.” 

“Bring him an extra tiramisu to smooth things over.” You said, already wrapping one up and adding it to the rest of their haul. 

The group scrambled around, putting their buckets back on and grabbing the various pastry boxes you’d filled for them. Toast paused before turning to you. “Um, we don’t have any credits on us right now, but I can bring some tomorrow. The Guard has a small discretionary fund we can-”

You stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

“A-are you sure? That was a lot of food…” Toast didn’t want her to lose money because of him. After all, he was the one that brought his brothers here. 

“It’s okay, seriously. I actually started a little program where customers can buy a coffee or a pastry or whatever for a clone. There’s actually a little bucket next to the register that I set up,” you turned and pointed at it so he could see. “It was actually my employee Vella’s idea. She came up with it the day after we first met, and it’s been pretty popular. There are a lot of people out there who are really thankful for what you guys do, you know.” 

Toast didn’t know what to say, but he felt like he wanted to cry at such a nice gesture. “That is… really kind of you. Thanks.” It didn’t feel like nearly enough, but they were the only words Toast could form at the moment. 

“Of course,” you said, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “Now go catch up with your brothers, and let the rest of them know they’re always welcome to a free drink or pastry here.” 

Toast thanked you once again before heading outside to where his brothers were waiting, trying to convince himself that your hand hadn’t lingered on his arm for a beat too long. No, it was just wishful thinking. 

As he and his vode made their way back to the barracks, Rhys threw an arm around his neck and said, “Wow, Toast, your girlfriend is the best!” earning him snickers from the rest of the group. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Toast tried to protest. 

“But you want her to be~” Hound teased. And he was right, Toast wanted that more than anything in the galaxy right now. But he knew it was impossible. You were beautiful and kind and funny and perfect and he... was just a clone. 

“It’s not like it could ever happen anyway,” Toast sighed. 

Thire nudged him with his shoulder. “Psssh, we all saw how her hand lingered on you. She definitely likes you.” 

“Definitely,” Rhys echoed. 

Toast smiled under his bucket. It might be a pipe dream, but in that moment he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. 

~~~

In the following weeks, you fell into a sort of routine. Toast would stop by your bakery at least once a week, sometimes more depending on his free time. And you cherished every moment you got to spend with him. Sometimes he would bring fellow members of the guard along, and every visit ended with your stomach cramping from how much you’d laughed at their various antics. You were confused how such a chaotic bunch of individuals were able to come together as an effective police force… that is until you met Commander Fox. His talent for wrangling them deserved a medal in your opinion. 

As much as you enjoyed his brothers, you really looked forward to the times where you and Toast were alone together. He’d always come to you with some wild story of an eccentric prisoner or a crazy heist perpetrated in the lower levels. Honestly you hadn’t expected him to be such a gossip, but you were hardly complaining. 

In return for his stories you started teaching him how to bake. It started off with him just watching you work as he talked, sometimes asking questions about what you were doing or peaking over your shoulder to get a closer look. Eventually he became an assistant of sorts, spending his time grabbing ingredients for you and washing the dishes once you were done with them. 

Today was the day you were going to convince him to bake a loaf of bread with you. You were going to start him off with a simple loaf of white bread, one that didn’t require much kneading and didn’t have a long proving time. You had already pulled out all the ingredients, bowls, and utensils and were waiting patiently for him to arrive. 

By the time you heard the bell ring and saw him coming through the door, you were tapping your foot in anticipation. He wasn’t late - in fact he was right on time as always - but you were just itching to see him. 

“Toast! You’re here!” Ugh, that was the best greeting you could come up with? you cringed internally. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind your banal greeting, a smile on his lips as he pulled his bucket over his head and placed it on a nearby shelf. You found yourself longing for a reality where he greeted you with a peck on the lips along with that sweet smile. Maker, you had it bad for him. 

His eyes flashed over to the ingredients on the counter. “What are you making today?”

“I’m not making anything today. But we are. I think it's time for you to try your hand at baking. And in honor of your love of toast, we’re starting off with bread.” 

He rolled his eyes at that, but the corner of his mouth still quirked up, showing off one of his dimples. “Isn’t bread kind of hard to make though? Maybe we should start out with something simpler…” 

“Where’s your courage, soldier?” you teased, poking a finger at his chest. He huffed and you laughed. “Now c’mon, wash your hands and get your apron on.” 

He ended up taking the top half of his armor off, in only his blacks from the waist up, his sleeve rolled up to his elbows. You were half thankful and half disappointed the apron covered the way his form fitting shirt stretched across his chest. At least you wouldn’t be distracted, but boy oh boy did you want a closer look. 

The two of you chatted about your days as you started working on each of your loaves. With so few ingredients the process went quick, and soon enough you were kneading the dough. 

“Now this is called the slap and fold technique. First get your dough together in a ball like this… and then you slap it down!” You demonstrated by taking your lump of wet dough and slapping it down on the table. “Then you just fold it in half and repeat. We need to do it for about five minutes.” 

“I think you mean we knead to do it for five minutes,” Toast said with a cheeky grin.

“Blegh. Terrible.” You flicked a bit of flour at him as punishment. “I think you knead to be locked up for that pun.” Toast just laughed and continued working, the smile on his face never dropping. 

Once you were ready, you shaped both of the loaves and put them in the oven. When you turned back to him you couldn’t help but giggle. He was absolutely covered in flour. 

“What? Do I have something on my face?” He asked, face suddenly becoming serious. 

You stepped close to him and brushed his face clean with your thumb. “On your face, in your hair, on your shirt. I think you managed to get flour everywhere except the apron.”

“Well you were the one throwing it at me!” came his retort as he used his hands to shake his hair out, turning it from  grey back to its lovely dark color. 

“Touché. Now let me help you get cleaned up. I think you got some on your back. Somehow.” You grabbed a washcloth and wet it under the sink and started using it to wipe the flour off his clothes.  

“It’s one of my many skills from cadet training.” He told you, eyes twinkling, as you dabbed at a spot you missed on his face. You could feel his lips moving as he spoke. Stop thinking about how soft they probably are, you chided yourself. 

“You’re just lucky you’re so charming.” 

That made him blush and avert his eyes, which would have been cute if you weren’t worried you’d gone a bit too far. You didn’t want to embarrass him or anything. You had thought the two of you were flirting, but maybe you read the situation wrong. You were notoriously bad in the romance department, something Vella had told you after the third time you had missed a customer trying to flirt with you. 

Toast cleared his throat before turning back to you. He noticed you’d stepped back away from him and sighed internally. That would have been the perfect time to kiss you or ask you out or something. Anything other than dancing around each other like you two were doing now. Despite the fact that his brothers believed you two were already together - no matter how much he protested - he still wasn’t sure if you felt the same as he did. He had his suspicions, but what if he was wrong? You were his only friend outside of his brothers and he didn’t want to do anything to mess that up or make it awkward. 

He thanked the Maker you didn’t tease him, just turning and starting to wash the dishes. He grabbed a bowl and joined you at the big industrial sink, dunking his hands in the warm sudsy mixture and used the sponge to start scrubbing at the stubborn bits of dough that refused to come off. The two of you worked in silence, though not an uncomfortable one, Toast was glad to find. Just as he was finishing drying the last bowl, he remembered something. 

“Oh, uh, I almost forgot. Do you know Senator Amidala?” 

“Not personally, but I’ve heard of her.”

“Well, she is throwing a banquet or something in a few days and the bakery that was supposed to handle the desserts fell through at the last minute. Thorn suggested you as a replacement and asked me to ask you if it was possible.” 

“Hmm. It depends on how long I’d have, and what kind of desserts she wants. Plus how many guests she’s having. I’m not saying no, but I’m not sure how realistic it is. It’s just me, Vella, and two others on staff.” You had started pacing, already running the logistics through your head.

“What if me and the rest of the guard helped you?” 

You paused your pacing to look at him. “That could work… but would you all even be able to take off work?”

“Well, it’s been pretty slow this week and we’re spending most of our time getting ready for the party…” You responded with a noncommittal hum so he pressed on. “How about I call Senator Amidala and Commander Fox on the coms and we can get everything worked out?”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great.” 

For the next twenty minutes you hashed out the details with Senator Amidala - Padmé, she insisted you call her - and Commander Fox. Eventually you settled on an order of one large, four-tiered cake and a hundred little fruit tarts. Fox had been hesitant to lend out his troopers until Padmé had offered to replace the old coffee machine in the guard’s office. The party was in three days, so it would be a tight deadline, but you were sure you could do it. Especially with the guard’s help. There was also the motivating factor of the hefty payment Padmé was offering. It would be enough for you to buy an army of cleaning robots!

As soon as you hung up you were already placing an order of the ingredients and messaging your employees to tell them about the job. You were so focused on your task that you jumped with the oven’s timer dinged. Toast stifled a chuckle behind his hand and you shot him a look as you pulled both loaves of bread out of the oven. Both loaves were a perfect golden brown and looked absolutely delicious. 

Toast hovered over your shoulder as you placed the bread on the cooling rack, and you had to slap his hand away a few times as you waited for them to cool. Once you could hold them safely in your hands, you handed Toast his loaf and took yours in your hands. “C’mon, let’s take a picture together with our bread.” You tucked yourself into his side and held your loaf up as he snapped the picture. 

Once you were satisfied with the picture you relented to his puppy-dog eyes and cut into the bread. You both slathered a piece in butter and tapped them together as if they were wine glasses before taking a bite. 

“Mmmmmhhh,” you both groaned in unison at the first bite of warm bread. There was nothing better. 

“This is so good.” You mumbled in between bites. 

“So much better than anything in the caf.” Toast agreed, his eyes half-closed in bliss. Before you missed it, you snapped a picture. Toast with his toast. It was perfect. 

~~~

You stared at the sight of the twenty clone troopers in front of you, decked out in aprons and hair nets, standing at parade rest in a line as Commander Fox, also in an apron, paced back and forth, hands behind his back, as he gave them their orders. 

“Now I want you all on your best behavior. It may seem like you’re on a break, but I want you to treat this as if you’re still on the clock,” He stopped pacing and turned to his men, “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, sir!” They all responded with a salute. 

You took that moment to snap a picture of them all, Fox’s head snapping towards you at the click of the camera. “I want to remember this,” you told him, fighting back a smile. 

You turned to Padmé, who had insisted on coming to help out herself, bringing along her two droids and a Jedi to offer some extra hands. She came complete with a chic outfit for the occasion and you envied how good she looked at six in the morning. You showed her the picture and she asked, “Can you send that to me?” Fox huffed loudly and the two of you broke out into a fit of giggles. 

Once you got a hold of yourself you started listing out tasks that needed to be done to Fox. “We’ll need people to clean and cut the fruit for the tarts. Another group can help with mixing and cutting the crust. For the cake, we’ll also need one group handling the batter, and another the frosting and decorations. And we can rotate who is on dish duty.” 

Fox immediately started delegating out tasks to his troops and you assigned a member of your staff to help each group. Everyone quickly scrambled to start working on their tasks, the troopers clearly very excited to help. 

Throughout the day you flitted from group to group, demonstrating how to do things when needed. Your employees were handling everything so well and you made a reminder to yourself to give them a nice bonus after this. You stepped away from where Vella was showing the boys how to make flowers out of frosting and found Toast lecturing his brothers about the right way to measure flour. 

“You can’t just scoop it out straight from the bag, you’ll use too much that way. You have to sift it in like this,” He started demonstrating the proper technique for them, and you noticed he had somehow managed to get flour all over himself again. 

“Good job, Toast,” You said as you passed him, brushing the flour out of his hair as you went. “Keep up the great work, boys!” You gave them a thumbs up and moved onto the next group, dodging the R2 unit as it made a beeline to the fridge, a tray of freshly cut fruit balanced on its head. 

The next two days passed by smoother than you could have hoped. There were only a few minor incidents. Hound tripping over R2 and spilling some batter, Thorn having to scold Jek and Rhys for eating half of their frosting. Nothing you couldn't handle. Commander Fox had everyone working like a well oiled machine, making sure everything stayed on time. Throughout both days, Padmé’s protocol droid busied himself with taking pictures of the event, and Padmé promised to send them all to you after the party.

It got down to the wire, but you managed to put the last slice of jogan fruit on the hundredth tart with forty-five minutes to spare. Your employees handled loading everything up into the speeder to take them to the venue. You watched them out of the corner of your eye to make sure things went smoothly. Padmé came up to you and thanked you profusely for rushing such a huge order and promised to promote your business to all her friends before she and the rest of her entourage hopped into the speeder with your employees and took off for the party. 

You turned back to the clone troopers, who had already finished washing up most of the kitchen. “Don’t worry about the rest, guys, I’ve got it. You should probably start heading back and start getting ready.” 

“Trying to kick us out so soon?” Fox mused. 

You laughed. “Actually, before you go, I have a little surprise for you all. As a way to say thank you and as a pick me up before the party. I know those things can be tiring.” You went and retrieved the gift you had stayed up all last night working on, keeping it behind your back until you were right in front of them. 

You held out a plate of cookies shaped like their helmets, each one customized to look like the helmet of each of the troopers there. You had recruited C3-PO to take reference pictures of all of their helmets while they were working, and the droid had really pulled through for you, even managing to get detail shots for you. 

“Woah, are these our helmets?” Stone asked as you handed him his cookie. 

“Look, it’s me.” Thorn said to Fox as he waggled his cookie in front of his brother’s face. Fox rolled his eyes but even he couldn’t fight his smile away. 

You beamed as each of the troopers examined their cookies and thanked you for them. They all groaned as you forced them to get together for one last picture and the shutter had barely flashed before they were scarfing down the cookies. 

Once they were done, Fox and Thorn started hoarding the group through the door. Before Toast could follow his brothers, Fox turned to him, “You stay here and help out with the rest of the clean up.” 

Toast blinked for a moment before he responded with a “Yes, sir.” 

He waited until he was sure the last of his vode were out the door before he turned to you. He planned on saying something funny or romantic, but all his words failed him as you launched yourself at him and pulled him into a big hug. “Thanks for all your help. I couldn’t have done this without you.” You told him, your voice muffled from your spot pressed against his chest. He returned the hug and rested his cheek against the top of your head. 

You couldn’t be sure if it was him who tilted his head down or you who tilted your head up, but you soon found yourselves nose to nose. Maybe sleep deprivation lowered your inhibitions, because you soon found yourself raising up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his. His arms tightened around you as he returned the kiss, letting out a groan as you both melted into each other. It started off sweet and gentle, but quickly developed into something more heated as you swept your tongue across the seam of his lips. He let out another tortured whine as he opened his mouth up to you, pulling you flush against him with one hand falling down to grab your ass while the other hitched your leg over his hip. 

Eventually you needed to come up for air and reluctantly parted from him, a blush rising to your cheeks as the string of saliva that connected you broke and dribbled down your chin. He wiped it away with his thumb before bringing his forehead to rest against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a while, gazing into each other's eyes as you caught your breath. 

You brought up one of your hands to brush a bit of flour out of his eyebrow. “You managed to get flour on you somehow. I don’t think we even used flour today.” 

He grinned at you. “It’s one of my many charms.” 

You giggled and pulled him back in for another kiss. Your lips had just met when you heard a camera shutter go off and you both whipped your heads around to the source of the noise. 

Vella stood in the doorway to the kitchen, camera raised and a shit-eating grin on her face. “Haha, I knew it! Thire owes me ten credits!” 

Both of you blinked at each other for a moment before joining in with her laughter.

[stressedoutcanary]

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’  Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead, 

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed. 

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.  

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room. 

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you. 

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one. 

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile. 

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator. 

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement. 

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’ 

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time. 

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing. 

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you. 

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation. 

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord. 

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze. 

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.  

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Queer Subtext in The Illusion of Living - Part 5/5

It’s time to address the elephant in the room: Henry.

Joey tries very, very hard to ‘no homo’ his relationship with the man:

“His presence was helpful, I can happily admit, but his absence was even more so. Not having him at the studio ended up being one of the best things that could have happened to it. Of course, the funny thing is, I couldn't have not had him without having him in the first place. Just like you can't appreciate the light if you haven't spent time in the dark, so too does a person's absence become clear only if he has been around.” TIOL, page 154

“A letter from Henry. You might not think I'd keep such a thing, but I do. I have no ill will toward the man as you know. Him leaving, as I said, was the best thing that could have happened to the studio. His letter reminds me of that.” TIOL, page 218

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

The only hint we get regarding Joey’s true feelings for Henry is the following note by Nathan:

“NateA: Joey has always been a professional person, far more so in many ways than me. That is why this section of the book is so forgiving of the man who abandoned the studio he helped create. Joey can't help but see the good in people. That being said, as a good friend of Joey's, I know that Henry's departure was a great upheaval for him and a great personal betrayal. Joey never truly forgave Henry, and I don't think he should have felt obligated to. The fact that Joey is so gracious in this part of the book is a reflection of his incredible generosity in allowing Henry Stein to be stainless in the eyes of history. I think, had he lived longer, Joey might have in later years called it his greatest illusion.” TIOL, page 155

I’m very surprised by the harshness in Nathan’s tone here. Especially since Henry appears to believe that he and Joey have parted on good terms, and Joey admits that they have continued to exchange letters for a while after Henry’s departure. We’ve also seen Henry’s note to Joey in the game, and it comes across as warm and supportive:

It really doesn’t sound like anything ugly happened between him and Joey. So then why are both Joey and Nathan convinced that Henry is a monster?

While I can believe that Joey is pathetic enough to consider anyone who slights him his worst enemy, Nathan comes across as a more level-headed person. So for him to voice his approval for Joey’s petty grudge must mean that he knows something that we don’t. But what could it be?

Honestly, nothing else comes to mind except for romantic heartbreak. It’s the only thing that could justify a man holding such a deep grudge for so many years. This isn’t Joey’s first friendship that grew apart over the years - his army friends have moved on with their life as well. It’s a normal part of life and there’s nothing in TIOL that would suggest Joey is unable to cope with that. We also know that the studio did fine for quite some time after Henry’s departure, so it’s not like Henry left Joey deep in debt. Henry wasn’t even the only animator at the studio:

“When the studio opened I surrounded him with artists of all skill levels, and the Writing Department had its own de facto leader in Mr. Hemmings, and so the whole of Creative was well managed for that first year of the company before I had to part ways with Henry.“ TIOL, page 155

And so we’re left with only one rational explanation: that Joey isn’t so much hurt by Henry leaving his job, as by the fact that Henry left specifically for the sake of his marriage.

Try as I might, I found no reference to Linda in TIOL. Even though Joey claims to have been friends with Henry for many years, he makes zero mention of ever having met Linda. While there are some hints that Henry wasn’t yet married to her at the time when he and Joey opened the studio together (such as the fact that he claims he hasn’t seen her in “days” even though he presumably slept at home, implying that he and Linda weren’t living together at the time. A shopping list among his notes in the Handbook also suggests that he cooked his own meals, which would be unusual for a married man with a demanding job), the two were already a couple by then, and must have known each other for a while already. Surely, as Henry’s friend, Joey would have met her?

Even when talking about Henry leaving, Joey uses a cryptic language:

“Henry left for his own reasons, and the correspondence between us became less and less. To be honest, it was almost like a weight off when he left. He had grown more sensitive as the studio became more successful and giving him pep talks had become exhausting for me. All the good qualities he brought, the hard work and diligence, were being undermined by a restless need for something different. Something that wasn't Bendy. I will never understand that drive. Bendy was and is perfection.“ TIOL, page 177

In DCTL Norman claims that Henry left to spend time with his wife. Why doesn’t Joey say that? It doesn’t make him look bad to admit that an employee left to enjoy a quiet family life. It’s almost like he refuses to acknowledge Linda’s existence at all. Like it’s too painful for him to speak of her.

Perhaps the “personal betrayal” that Nathan is referring to is related to Henry choosing a real family, over the “studio family”, and the possibility of having a real child, as opposed to a fictional one?

The symbolic image of Bendy as a child shows up multiple times in the game: for example the drawing from Henry appears to depict Bendy, Alice and Boris as a happy family, with Bendy holding onto their hands like a child would:

There’s also Alice using a womb imagery to describe the ink machine:

And of course, the final monologue is centered on Henry’s choice to pursue a family:

That monologue is very interesting if we assume Joey to be gay. Because a gay man would never have been able to follow Henry’s road. Gay!Joey could never choose to have a real family with a man he loved, because that option was denied to him by the homophobic society he was living in. The studio is the closest thing to a family that gay!Joey could ever hope to have. 

And evidently, that was not enough for Henry.

If Joey’s indeed gay, that must have felt incredibly unfair to him - knowing that he had no chance of happiness in marital bliss from the start, through no fault of his own. This would explain his desire to create a real, living, breathing Bendy, no matter the cost, just to prove to Henry that Joey’s “child” can be just as real as the one Linda could give him.

“Bendy was Joey's child, and he felt just as strongly about Bendy as I feel about my flesh-and-blood son.“ TIOL, page 2

This idea of an illusory choice very much resembles the choice between the Angel Path and the Devil Path in Chapter 3. It’s the only choice that Henry ever gets to make in the game, yet no matter which way he chooses, he still ends up in the same corridor. Some of the golden messages highlight his helplessness:

The symbolic meaning of the choice between the Angel and the Devil also shows up TIOL. There’s a scene in the book, where Joey writes a play about an Angel and a Devil fighting over the soul of a human man. Eventually, the Devil confesses that he doesn’t want the human to make his choice, because then one of them would have to leave. The play was supposed to end with the man making his choice, but according to Joey they lacked a third actor, so the ending was never played out.

I believe that the play is symbolic of the relationship between Henry and Joey, specifically with regards to Henry choosing a relationship with Linda over his friendship with Joey.

There are several reasons that lead me to believe this:

The human in the play making a choice between the Angel and the Devil is reminiscent of Henry choosing between Devil Path and Angel path in BATIM.

The play highlights that the Devil is on the left side of the human, while the Angel is on his right side:

“ANGEL: Spending my time with a devil has been an enlightening experience. Working with you over these years with you sitting on that left shoulder, so far and yet so near, all our debates, they were invigorating for the spirit. 

DEVIL: I won't miss you! Fighting all the time, trying to trick you into agreeing with me, trying to push you off that right shoulder of yours. The violence and the anger. I won't miss it at all!”, TIOL page 89

Much like the Devil Path is on the left side in the game, while the Angel path is on the right side:

The Devil is obviously a stand-in for Bendy. Joey even dances on the stage at one point, and one of Bendy’s nicknames is “The Dancing Demon”. Joey also claims that the Devil from the play was an inspiration for Bendy:

“Let's start with the basic idea of a cartoon.You need a main character. Someone who has adventures and who the audience relates to." I did. I needed that. I needed a character who didn't just reflect the general population back to itself, but a more exciting version. I had no interest in moralizing, besides I didn't think moralizing was particularly realistic. People don't see the world as one populated by do-gooders. I thought of the angel in my play. She could never be a lead character. The devil on the other hand…” TIOL, 165

The fact that Joey claims the ending was never played out is strongly reminiscent of the missing ending of the Tombstone Picnic

It’s possible that Joey is lying about the ending not having been played out, to hide Henry’s role in the success of the play, much like he removed his part in Tombstone Picnic. After all, what would be the point of writing a play for 3 actors, when you only have 2? Why not ask someone to play the 3rd?

Although the play itself is centered more on the relationship between the Devil and the Angel, rather than their relationship with the human, there is still a strong queer symbolism in the play:

“Abby shifted nervously next to me the whole evening. She was in a dress for the first time in a long time, white and soft. I was pleased she'd come in character. For my part the only red thing I owned was a garish bow tie, so that was all I was able to contribute visually.” TIOL, page 82

The angel is played by a woman, who usually wears men’s clothing, but of course, the Angel being a symbol of Christian values couldn’t possibly be portrayed breaking the gender norms. She had to wear a dress, though Abby is clearly uncomfortable in it. She’s essentially performing heteronormative feminity. Next to her we have Joey as the Devil, dressed in a red bow tie, which as I’ve mentioned in the first part of this analysis, used to be a symbol of homosexuality. 

This contrast between the uncomfortably heteronormative Angel and flamboyantly queer Devil is striking. It’s also very much in line with the views of the society in the 1920s. For something to be the symbol of purity and goodness, it has to be heterosexual, and the Devil is queer, because he’s also the symbol of sin.

That symbolism could be indicative of Joey’s own internalized homophobia. Back in his army days, his friends used to bully him for breaking gender norms. Joey likes to present himself as the hero, who was easily able to outsmart the bullies, but many of his later remarks in the book and in DCTL show that some of that attitude has left a deep mark on him.

The symbolism could also be intentional. Joey boasts about having personal ties to Noel Coward, a real life gay playwright, who was known for his many affairs with men, and for putting an ungodly amount of queer symbolism in his works:

“The old woman took a liking to me, and she was nice enough. Besides, her connections were incredible. She knew everyone, she even had the playwright Noel Coward come to stay with her whenever he was in town.” TIOL, page 144

There’s a lot of evidence pointing to the play being symbolic of Henry’s choice between his relationship with Linda and with Joey. But it’s also symbolic of Henry’s choice between Bendy, and a real child. The studio family, and a traditional family. Heteronormative relationship vs a queer relationship. 

Although there’s no indication in canon that Henry might be bisexual, he doesn’t need to be. The game has beaten into our heads that the “choice” is an illusion. Henry was never going to choose the Devil, or at least that’s what Joey believes. Although we’re never told what choice the human in the play was going to make, we’re told that he was supposed to be dressed in white, which suggests that he chose the Angel. 

“(The door stage right opens. A man all in white enters calmly and chooses a seat, brushes it off carefully and sits. He takes his hat off and holds it gingerly in his lap.) (Quiet.) (Curtain.) THE END” TIOL, page 91

That might be why the Devil in the play confesses that he doesn’t want the human to make his choice, fearing that one of them will have to leave once such a choice is made:

“DEVIL: You think he has made a choice? 

ANGEL: It is possible. 

DEVIL: Do you think he might be all bad? 

ANGEL: I hope he is all good. 

DEVIL: If he is all bad, my job here is done. If he is all good, you can go home. 

DEVIL: Strange. If we win we also lose. You would think that would be something I would find delightful. 

ANGEL: You would think I would love to make such a personal sacrifice.” TIOL, page 89

The line about a “personal sacrifice” is very interesting in this context. The Angel and the Devil clearly care for each other and for the human, and don’t want their relationship to come to an end. Though the Devil in the play seems to make gestures that the audience interprets as romantic in nature, Joey insists that it isn’t the case:

“I leaned in and placed a hand on Abby's knee. There was a gasp from someone in the audience, but I knew Abby wouldn't be flustered by it. That wasn't the nature of our relationship.” TIOL, page 89 

It makes me wonder if perhaps Linda and Joey used to be friends at some point, and both competed over Henry’s attention.

There’s a much overused trope in fiction where two men compete over a woman, which ends up ruining their friendship. It would be really interesting and subversive to see a man and a woman competing over a man instead.

EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot to add this part:

"Joey, thanks for coming," said Henry, approaching from behind us. I turned to look at him He had dressed up for the event but every item of clothing looked slightly wrong. The sleeves of his shirt a bit short, his vest a bit long, his tie askew. He smiled, though, with such confidence that I couldn't help admire him. I still do.” TIOL, page 160

Joey fell for Henry’s smile, how romantic!

“We watched in silence as he worked. Despite his lack of genius, to this day, I will always say that watching Henry work was a real pleasure.“ TIOL, page 173

“It's fascinating. Henry was never the showman like I was. He didn't tend to be easily remembered by those who met him when we did business. I was invariably the face of the company, the one introduced first at a gala, the one to whom people slipped their business cards.Yet in the end he ended up setting up camp in this small corner of my memory. I can't deny that he is tied to the creation of Bendy, to the creation of the studio itself. That at one time, in one small apartment, one too warm evening, we had shaken hands. That once upon a time we had been partners. He'll always be there, in the dark recesses of my mind. Always linked to me that way. Funny how the forgettable man is now forever in my mind” TIOL, page 177

[recurring-polynya]

For the Renji birthday prompt: A fic where Renji discovers that he can't go tits out anymore now that he's married (maybe with some jealous Rukia thrown in perhaps)?

I maintain that the new tits-in regime is self-imposed; I present to you my thesis. (I did not attempt to take on The Vest; I assume it came later, and I eagerly await more Vest Lore from Kubo himself)

Warning that I sincerely hope deters absolutely no one: This fic is about boobs. It contains many, many synonyms for boobs. Some of them are rude. 

Read on ao3 or ff.net

---

“I’m telling you, you’re jumping to conclusions. Sometimes he puts them away when he fights. He told me this.”

“I haven’t seen them in weeks.”

“It’s been winter.”

“That has never stopped him before. And it’s April now. Open season. And yet…?”

“I think we should just ask him.”

“You can’t just ask a guy, ‘hey, where did your tits go?’”

“I could, but I refuse. Abarai’s aesthetic is his own business.”

“Since when?”

“Okay, he’s here, someone’s gotta do it.”

“Not it!”

“Also not it!”

“Matsumoto, you have to do it. You’re the one who talked him into letting them hang out in the first place.”

“I agree with Yumichika. Renji knows what he’s doing, and if he has decided that the puppies are off-limits, that’s on him.”

“Hey, guys!” Abarai Renji’s cheerful voice rang out over the din of the bar. “Sorry I’m late!”

“Just means you have to catch up quick!” Rangiku declared, pouring him some sake.

“No missus tonight?” Shuuhei asked.

Renji’s entire face went pink and he got the same moony look in his eyes he always got whenever someone mentioned his wife or his marital state generally. “She sends her regards and says I’m supposed to drink extra for her. She goes over to the Manor on Wednesday evenings now to hang out with her brother.”

“Have you actually managed to call him by his given name yet?” Iba asked. “Now that you’re related?”

“His given name is ‘Captain’ and I call him that all the time,” Renji replied snottily.

“So. Renji,” Izuru said, leaning forward on his elbow. “Are you doing something different? With your look? I feel like there’s something different about you.”

Renji’s face lit up. “You noticed!” He swung his head around, his long braid swinging over his shoulder. “I’ve started braiding it!”

“Oh, no, it’s permanent?” Yumichika moaned.

“That’s not new,” Iba scoffed. “You slept with it like that the whole time we were roommates. I just figured that you didn’t have time to fix your hair in the morning anymore because you were too busy taking care--oof!”

“It looks very nice, Renji!” Momo said sweetly, extracting her elbow from Iba’s rib cage.

“It’s different,” Renji glowered at Iba. “I braid it loosely at night to prevent breakage and lock in moisture. This is an action braid.” He wheeled on Yumichika. “And I’m only French braiding it for now, because it’s shorter in front than in the back, you know, because of the accident. Once I’ve grown it out to all one length again, I’ll just do a regular braid.”

“You could just cut it to the length of the shortest part and go back to the pineapple hair,” Ikkaku suggested. “I always liked the pineapple hair.”

Renji turned pink again. “Ah, well. Rukia likes it long.”

“Yeah, I don’t think the braid is… what I was thinking of,” Izuru soldiered on.

Renji sucked his teeth thoughtfully. “I got a new tattoo? A pair, actually.”

“Oh! Did you?”

“On your chest?” Shuuhei asked hopefully. A healing tattoo would be a good excuse to cover up.

“Nah, on my thighs.”

Izuru sighed. “Since when do I look at your thighs, Abarai?”

“I have good thighs, Izuru.”

“He probably just looks different because he’s so happy now,” Rangiku suggested. “By which I mean getting your back blown out every night.”

“That could be it!” Renji agreed cheerfully. “Oh, I was wearing a scarf for a while there, when we had that cold snap! Is it the scarf? Or maybe the lack of scarf? It’s a nice scarf, Captain gave it to me for a wedding present. He says a man of quality should own a scarf.”

“I give up,” Izuru sighed.

“Hey, jocks, what’s going on?” a new voice interrupted.

“Akon!” half the table chorused and Renji scooted over so Akon could slide in next to him.

“Glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, sorry, I had an experiment I wanted to get finished up.”

“We were just talking about how there’s something different about Renji,” Shuuhei pressed.

Akon surveyed Renji for a moment. “Well, he’s got his tits tucked in for once. Aren’t you hot? You told me once you did that for ventilation.”

“That was very much a lie,” Renji clarified. “And I’m a married man now, my cans are closed for business. Speaking of which, Rangiku, fill ‘er up again, please, I’ve gotta keep up my wife’s reputation.”

---

Momo couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Out of their entire friend group, she was pretty sure she was the least interested in Renji’s… bosoms. There was a time… long, long ago when she had thought he was pretty hot stuff. She still counted him among her closest friends and favorite people, but had long ago come to the conclusion that big and beefy just wasn’t her type.

“Why, Lieutenant Hinamori! What brings you to my office?” Acting Captain Kuchiki Rukia leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. She must have been practicing, because the last time Momo had seen her do that, she had nearly fallen backwards out of the chair.

Momo sighed. “I have to tell you, this isn’t business.” Not exactly. It sort of was, in the sense that Shuuhei and Matsumoto (who apparently did care very much about Renji’s chest situation, so long as she wasn’t the one who had to confront him about it) had come over and dramatically draped themselves all over the Squad 5 couch and complained about the dreary state of affairs to Captain Hirako until he ordered Momo to go do some investigating.

“Good, because I have been filling out Nanao’s new skills-inventory-for-seated-officer forms all morning and I’m about to lose it,” Rukia said with an overly cheerful grin.

“We could go out to the yard and fight?” Momo offered hopefully. Maybe she could tell Captain Hirako that she got distracted and forgot to ask about Renji.

Rukia’s face fell a little. “Er, I’d love to, but I really shouldn’t today. Sentarou just made me this pot of tea, though. Do you want some? It’s lemon ginger, it’s really good.”

“Sure,” Momo agreed.

“So what’s up?” Rukia asked again, once Momo was perched in the guest chair, a fragrant cup of tea cradled in her hands.

Well, might as well just rip the bandage off. “I need you to know that I was put up to this by… you know. The idiots. The cowards we go drinking with.”

“Understood,” Rukia agreed.

“There is… some concern… about your husband.”

Rukia’s eyebrows shot up. “My sweet pumpkin pants?”

“I’m leaving,” Momo announced.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Rukia waved her hands, laughing. “I’ll be serious. What has that lunkhead done now?”

“This is so dumb,” Momo muttered. She cleared her throat. “He’s stopped going around with his bazongas hanging out all the time, and everyone’s losing their minds over it.”

Rukia stared at her. “Excuse me, his what?”

Momo made a vague gesture at her own chest. “You know. His… boobies.”

“That’s what I thought you meant,” Rukia nodded, her brow creased in thought. “Bazongas. I like that.”

“Not that I care!” Momo excused. “I mean, I agree, he should be allowed to dress how he likes, but you two seem to have a very equitable relationship and I said that I was sure he wasn’t doing anything that he hadn’t agreed to--”

“Hold on,” Rukia interrupted. “You think I had something to do with this?”

“You didn’t?” Momo asked. “He said he was keeping them tucked in because he was married now. We assumed it was at your request.”

“I didn’t even know!” Rukia replied. “I mean, I came home yesterday, and he was just--” she made a hand gesture like she was pulling her kosode open, “--completely out--”

“I don’t need to hear this,” Momo begged.

“Well, I tell you I had nothing to do with it,” Rukia assured her. “No one is more supportive of Renji acting slutty in public than me. Everyone knows I have that locked down, and honestly, it just makes me seem more powerful.”

Momo squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to punch Shuuhei so hard.”

Rukia rubbed her index finger over her chin. “It’s possible this came down from Brother…”

Momo whimpered, although, honestly, having a conversation with the other Captain Kuchiki about Abarai’s pectorals couldn’t possibly be more awkward than this.

“...or it might be… something else.” Rukia frowned. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“You will?” Momo asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. I can’t promise to bring the jugs back, but I’ll make sure it’s just Renji being a doofus and not Renji hiding his anxieties under aesthetic choices or Renji being oppressed by his brother-in-law.”

“Thank you, Rukia,” Momo said. Rukia could be bossy at times, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “Sometimes, Renji has to be bullied into taking care of himself.”

“You’re telling me!” Rukia exclaimed. “Thank you for caring about him,” she added warmly.

“For the record, I care about him,” Momo replied. “Everyone else just misses the view.”

“Noted,” Rukia replied.

---

Renji had his nose stuffed in his cookbook, which lately, wasn’t a good sign. Renji only owned one cookbook, an encyclopedic tome that he only cracked open when he was trying something new or otherwise wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“I hope you aren’t making that kale curry again,” Rukia noted dryly.

Renji jumped three feet in the air. “Aaah, shoot! Rukia! I didn’t hear you come in! I’m so sorry!”

Rukia hopped up on her kitchen stool and leaned across the counter to give him a kiss. “We’ve been married for four months now. You don’t have to greet me at the door every single day, you know.”

“Sixteen weeks, three days,” Renji replied. “And I can still be sorry about it.”

“Just tell me we’re having something normal for dinner, and I’ll forgive you,” Rukia replied.

Renji jerked a thumb toward the stove behind him. “I made oden,” he explained. “It’s simmering, probably’ll be another ten minutes.”

“Ohhhhhh, I love your oden!” Rukia stretched her arms across the counter and did grabby hands at his hands until he laced his fingers through hers. “Did you make enough for me to take some for lunch tomorrow?”

“Depends on how much you eat tonight,” he replied. “Your appetite’s been really hit or miss lately.”

“Yeah, well...” Rukia agreed. “So what’s with the cookbook, then?”

“Oh,” Renji said vaguely. “I’m thinking about learning to bake cookies?”

“I’m in favor of that,” Rukia agreed, although her mind immediately went back to the conversation she’d had with Momo that afternoon.

“I’m not sure this book is helping,” Renji admitted. “If I was any good at baking, it would be one thing, but it’s too different. I’ve always been better at learning stuff from other people. Do you think it would be weird if I asked Iba’s mom to teach me? She used to make these little sesame biscuits for Iba. I would always steal them from him. They were so good and he didn’t properly appreciate them anyway.”

“It would absolutely be weird, and I think you should do it anyway,” Rukia proclaimed. She paused. “But maybe you could wait a few more weeks until we tell everyone we’re pregnant so all your friends will stop asking me what’s wrong with you.”

Renji’s eyes widened. “Did your brother say something last night? Because he told me he liked the braid!”

Rukia snorted. “No. He’s worse than you are anyway, he’s been reading books. Please make him stop, if you can. Actually, I’ve been getting complaints about,” she circled a finger in the vicinity of Renji’s chest.

Renji glanced down, and realized that his kosode was still neatly folded up to his collarbone. “Oops, sorry! I told you I didn’t hear you come home.” He immediately began untucking it.

Rukia leaned her chin on her palm, watching his progress. “I realize that making emotionally constipated people face their feelings is usually your department, but it seems you’ve got something heavy rattling around in there. Wanna talk about it?”

Renji’s eyes slid to one side. “Talk about what?”

Rukia cocked an eyebrow and waited.

Renji heaved a sigh. “Do you remember that time, back in Inuzuri, the first time I used my reiatsu in public? When I blocked a lead pipe with my arm?”

Rukia almost choked. “What do you mean, do I remember it? Of course I remember it.”

“Well, not so much that, but do you remember afterward, when you said I was too big and mean to be a sneakthief anymore? That it was better to confront the world and show it what we were made of?”

“I do remember that. I did not call you mean.”

“You probably didn’t. It’s probably just something I thought about myself.” He looked pensive for a moment. “In any case, it was something I really took to heart, especially after we split up. At first, I just wanted to make myself as big and loud and scary as possible. I liked the way people shied away from me. Later on, after I started hanging out with Yumichika, I realized that walking around sexy could be intimidating in a different sort of way, and I liked that, too.”

Rukia had a comment for that, but she decided to just listen, instead.

Renji smoothed the page of his book with his fingers. “I don’t want to look scary anymore.”

“You don’t look scary,” Rukia reassured him. “You haven’t looked scary in a long time.”

“I want to do better than that, though,” Renji frowned. “Has your brother ever talked to you about his dad?”

Rukia blinked, surprised, mostly that Byakuya had talked about Soujun with Renji. “A few times.”

“I, uh, asked him what his dad was like. Since I never had one myself. I expected him to either blow me off or start bellyaching, like he does about his granddad, but he didn’t. He said his pop was very gentle and kind. He said he was a good dad.”

“Byakuya loved his father a lot.”

“Yeah, that was pretty clear.”

“I hope he finished by saying what a good father you will make, but it’s my brother, so I’m sure he didn’t.”

“He said something about how he was sure I would proceed in my own way.”

Rukia sighed again. “Renji, you’ll be a great dad. It’s super obvious. I’ve only told half a dozen people that I’m pregnant and all of them who aren’t Byakuya have immediately reacted with ‘Renji is going to be such a good dad.’ You don’t need to change anything about yourself.”

Renji sucked his teeth for a moment. “Well, all my good dad instincts are telling me our kid is gonna wanna fight the world bad enough as it is, that the last thing they need is a dad who wants to fight the world, too. I’ve fought the world long enough. I’m probably never gonna be gentle, but I can try my best to be kind, and I can dress like a normal person in public for a change and… maybe I can make a cookie? It’s worth a try, I think.”

Rukia flashed him a sad, but fond smile. “You’re such a dork. A sweet, thoughtful dork, though, and I will support your experiment, even though you know I love your bazongas more than anyone.”

“‘Bazongas’? Oh no, did those assholes make Momo come and talk to you?”

Rukia shrugged and tried to look innocent.

“Anyway, you’re my wife, I will take them out for you whenever you want.”

“Yay!”

Renji furrowed his brow into its “determined” configuration. “Do not get me wrong. I am actually upping my chest day routine. I am going to keep them immaculate, and when my shirt gets ripped off in a fight, people are going to lose their minds over how lush my boys are.”

“I love you so much,” Rukia replied.

[sleepysnk]

Hi!!! Can I request a Levi x Fem! Reader one shot where the Reader is Levi's Assistant and he wanted to confess to her but doesn't know how. During lunch the 104th female cadets were asking the reader about her thoughts and advice when it comes to love. Which Levi overhear and uses those advices to confess to the reader.

Lots of fluff please

I love your writing style sooo muchhhh

aw! this is so cute 🥺 i really loved writing this one! thank you for your kind words anon! it means a lot 🖤. i hope you enjoy :)

Levi x Fem!Reader: Assistant

Warnings: None

(Y/N) was a great cadet. She impressed her peers with her skills, her knowledge, and many other unique things. She was quite a stellar cadet, and she even impressed the Commander of all people.

Now people with great abilities deserve to have some kind of reward. One day, she was called into Erwin's office. He discussed with her that he think she deserves a great reward for everything she has worked hard for, and being honest the girl was shocked at first.

He offered her a squad leader position, or to become an assistant. Now, he explained that both came with huge responsibilities. She was a bit under pressure on what to do, if she became squad leader, she would pick people to be apart of her squad. She'd get her own office, room, and she basically became a higher-up.

She also could become an assistant. He explained it's somewhat what Moblit is to Hanji. The thing was, the only assistant option was Levi.

(Y/N) didn't have the best relationship with him. They never really spoke, she was always intimidated by him. She decided to save the stress and go with the assistant position.

When Erwin told Levi about it, he was a bit confused. Why would (Y/N) want to assist him? He was also mad that Erwin didn't mention it a lot earlier, but he had to go with it anyway. He didn't mind having one, it would help him get things done a lot faster.

The first few days were a bit rough for her. Levi totally had her running around HQ like a maniac, he'd make her get him tea, or even to clean his office. She was always tired by the end of the day, and he always worked her out.

Over time, they started to talk a bit more. She got out of her shell, and talked to Levi about a lot of things. Levi would speak to her more, even if it was just a one word answer.

Thing was, over those months she was his assistant, Levi fell hard for her. They shared so many stories together, and having her around was something he genuinely enjoyed. He wasn't sure how to tell her though, she was his assistant, and what if she thought it was weird or creepy?

(Y/N) though, had no idea about this. She just assumed Levi was an unavailable person, because of how cold and stoic he was. He did treat her a bit differently from everyone else, he always spoke to her, and he could be nice sometimes.

It was obvious to Erwin and Hanji though. They knew that Levi had something for her, it's just how obvious he makes it. He mentions her a lot to them, and they always told him the same thing.

Go. For. It.

Unfortunately, the raven-haired male would never listen to them. He assumed he couldn't ever tell her without her rejecting him. Of course, Hanji tried to tell him to give it a shot, and that (Y/N) isn't the type to reject him. Levi was just telling himself that.

He never really knew how she felt about love either. She never mentioned it, and he assumed it was because she wasn't looking for it. Unless she was, but just not with him.

One day, he decided to just say fuck it and do it. Thing was, he didn't know how to. He didn't know what she liked, how she felt about him, etc. The man was loosing it trying to figure out what to do.

During lunch, he watched as (Y/N) sat down with her friends. She was such a beauty to him, and he always admired her.

"How was training?" Mikasa asked and looked around at everyone.

(Y/N) sighed. "Honestly, my legs are gonna fall off" she replied and ate some of her bread.

Sasha sat down and seemed a little upset. "Everything alright Sasha?" Krista asked and nodded.

She sighed. "I don't know how to get Connie to like me back! I try and hint it, but he's so blind!" she replied and huffed.

(Y/N) nodded. "Girl, you have to show it. You can't push him and expect it to happen" she said and smiled a bit.

"(Y/N), you've never really talked about love before. How do you even feel about it?" Ymir asked and crossed her arms.

Levi looked up as Ymir asked that question. He wants to pay attention to what she has to say, maybe it could help him?

She sighed. "Well being honest, I've always wanted to fall in love with the right person. Love is so cool, well at least from what I've heard" she replied.

Mikasa took a sip of her water. "Got any advice for Sasha here?" she asked.

"Sasha, you have to go for it. If I were Connie, I'd want you to confess to me. Maybe be passionate about it! I would like someone to confess to me under the stars, and kiss me under the moonlight not gonna lie" she replied.

Sasha looked at her. "But that's so cheesy (Y/N)!" she said and started to eat.

She laughed a little. "Yeah it might be cheesy, but being honest, it's really cute. I'd also want that person to be 100% honest, like tell me how you feel about me. You know?" she said and nodded her head.

Levi knew instantly what he had to do to get (Y/N) to be his girlfriend. He planned to do what she suggested during the night, he knew it would be a cloud free sky.

Hours went by after lunch, and Levi was expecting (Y/N) to come to his office soon. She had dish duty, and was told to head to his office once she was done. He left a note in his office for her to meet him outside, he needed help with 'odm gear'.

(Y/N) finished her duties and headed to Levi's office. It was kind of late, it was around 10 p.m. the sun was down, and she was pretty tired. She hoped that Levi wouldn't work her too hard, if he did she wouldn't forgive him for that.

She got to his office door and knocked.

Silence.

"Captain?" she said and opened the door to his office.

He wasn't there, which confused her. Maybe he was sleeping or showering? She listened for the shower, but it was still quiet. She walked over to his desk and saw a note on his desk with her name on it.

Y/N,

I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I need you to meet me outside. I need some help with the ODM Gear, please head there as soon as possible.

-Levi.

She nodded and shrugged. Nothing she can't handle. (Y/N) made her way towards the ODM Gear area, she wasn't exactly sure what she had to do, but she hoped it wasn't much. She noticed how pretty the sky was. The moon shined over the landscape as the stars danced across the sky. The air was warm, since it was summer time.

Levi saw her approaching. This was the moment of truth, he wasn't going to go back now, and he sure as hell wasn't going to waste the opportunity to confess.

"Captain?" she said and walked into the room.

He revealed himself. "You finally got here, I was waiting for you" he said and crossed his arms.

She nodded. "My apologies sir, I wasn't sure where you were. That's all" she replied and looked at him.

Levi sighed. "Come with me please" he said and walked outside.

The girl was confused at where he was going. "Um.. Levi? Where are you going?" she asked and nodded.

"Just come with me" he replied and looked back at her.

(Y/N) without any other choice, just followed him. She was a bit confused at where he was taking her. She didn't want to question him though, Levi being angry would be a bad sight.

He stopped at this field. She looked around at the wind blew a little. "Why are we here?" she asked and looked at him.

Levi turned around and looked at her. "(Y/N)... there is something I want to talk to you about" he said.

She nodded. "Well what is it?" she asked and looked up at him.

He sighed. "(Y/N)... you being my assistant for so long has made me realize that you aren't just an assistant to me. Yeah you can be weird, but being honest, you made me realize so much about myself. I may never speak on my feelings, but I want to tell you honestly how I feel" he said.

She blinked for a moment. "What are you trying to say?" she asked.

He ran a hand through his hair, and grabbed her hand. "What I'm saying to you is that I have strong feelings for you. I didn't want to tell you, but being around you has made me a better person. I'm not great with words or emotions, but I know the feelings I have for you are true" he replied.

(Y/N) stood there for a second. She was shocked that Levi out of all people had feelings for her. She didn't really know what to say, it was a beautiful moment in her mind.

"Levi I... I can't believe that you have feelings for me. This is a lot being honest" she said and looked at him.

He nodded. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, but I can't hold in my feelings anymore" he replied.

She smiled a bit. "I'm not saying I don't feel the same at all, but I want to take it slow. I will admit, I have some feelings for you as well" she said.

His eyes widened at the words. She felt the same way? "You do?" he asked.

She giggled a bit. "Yes Levi! I do. You're the only guy that has shown me something so passionate, and I'd love to head into something serious with you" she replied.

Levi felt a smile grow onto his lips. "If that's the case, then I would love to take things slow" he said.

She smiled. "I would love that" she replied and looked into his eyes.

He pulled her into a hug. He couldn't believe she didn't reject him. After some time, they headed inside. Levi was a very happy guy in the end.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

No no can you elaborate on the whole The Green Knight vs Magicians Fanfic thing?? Like I’m genuinely invested

haha that is very nice of you (and ty for an excuse to talk about The Process, lmao)! basically i watched the show and wrote a post-resurrection quentin story that was in my view pretty gentle (wild geese) - it spends a lot of time in a painful headspace, so i don't think that was every reader's experience of it, but there's very little friction in the story, everyone is pretty much nice to each other the whole time, the problems of the story are all carried over from the past, and (most relevantly, for this), quentin basically does what he "should" do, and he wants what he's "supposed" to want, the entire time. the story hangs on his courage, and doesn't dwell on his faults. it was my post-4x13 catharsis story, where i wanted to scoop him up and set him somewhere safe, the story equivalent of handing him a blanket and some hot chocolate. writing that fic was like giving him and therefore myself a hug.

damage control for a walking corpse came from a different set of impulses, one of which was just the impulse to do something different: like, i'd done a sweet post-resurrection queliot reunion, so how else could i play that? i'd written an eliot story where the love confession goes terribly, which i enjoyed, but thinking about why quentin might reject eliot and why in general quentin might come back to life with a lot of anger at the world made me want to explore that from his perspective. and there was also... like, in that david lowery quote i posted, when he says, "i wanted to roughen myself up a little, i wanted to do something that had to be reckoned with in a different kind of way": yeah! that! like there was this voice in my head whispering: but what if you made it worse? no, worse than that. worse than that, even! keep going! i've said before that one of the things driving that story was writing whatever i thought was funniest, but another guiding principle was that if i got an idea that made me flinch, that meant i should put it in. i wanted to write a story that didn't pull its punches, that didn't, like, toe the line of something fucked up and unpleasant and then back down so that everyone stays appropriately sympathetic. i wanted to drive across the line in a monster truck and force myself to figure out what was on the other side. i wanted people to say and do things i didn't have an automatic resolution for. in lowery's phrase, "i wanted a protagonist who is someone unlikable," although i wouldn't phrase it that way because i think the word "unlikable" is for babies (i get what he means and forgive him but believe we should not encourage its use). but i wanted to explore things like ego and denial and vindictiveness, these ugly, embarrassing sides of ourselves that every single person has and most people don't love to look at. lowery has talked about how he put a lot of his own worst traits into gawain, and i find that really refreshing in a discourse landscape where identification is assumed to happen only on the axes of aspiration or pain. sometimes i identify with characters because they suck in ways that i also suck! i like a story that makes me wince in recognition. and i like a story that does that and then turns things around in some way (although i also like a story that doesn't!), because to me, "you are valid" is a less hopeful lesson than "you can change."

and re: "i wanted to tarnish his legend and see what changes the story would go through as a result" - i mean, yeah, i also wanted to do this with quentin coldwater specifically, largely because his prickly, flawed nature is so much of what drew me into the show and appealed to me about him specifically. if you took like an average of the quentin coldwaters that show up in fandom, that guy would be a lot nicer than the dude on the show. that is neither a bad thing nor remotely unique to the magicians, and as a reader i'm like, often down for that ride. but as a writer i am very driven by novelty, because i often need to feel like i am solving a puzzle to stay engaged, and i had, again, already written a story where he basically shows up ready to bring the best of himself; i wanted to write a story about the guy who responds to penny's attempt to show genuine empathy about the death of alice (who by that point was also btw like the one person on earth penny himself might plausibly identify as a friend) by accusing penny of being bad at sex, which is an iconic and incredibly slept on scene. it's easy to identify with quentin when he's sad or caring or brave. but i like that the show asks us to engage with him when he is petty and unwise and dickish (and i find it honestly kind of [thinky face emoji] when people very vocally relate to quentin, but not in any particularly unflattering ways). i wanted to do that, but like... more. lol. what happens to the story about quentin if quentin makes it extremely difficult, actually, to root for him? what happens if he doesn't really want to get better? what happens if he's running away harder than just reading a favorite old book? what happens if he does things he actually kind of should regret? i wanted a quentin who didn't just to come to some new understanding and feel better about himself, but who profoundly needed to change the way he was living. which i guess is part of what i liked about the green knight, too: that understanding only really counts in the end if it's paired with action. that gawain learns: the bad news is you are what have done, but the good news is you can change what you do. you can't tell that story with a character who's on his best behavior.

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 2/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU (chapter 1 tumblr | AO3) with all the shenanigans. And some fake marriage. Because why not.

This Author has long been of the opinion that there is nothing so dangerous during the season as a mother desperate to make a match for her daughter, especially when that daughter is plain, or comes without a substantial dowry. But this season may bring a danger even greater than a desperate mother of daughters: desperate mothers of sons, unable – or unwilling – to seal the deal.

While certainly families with daughters, no matter how titled or landed, stand to lose much if they are unable to find a suitable marriage, the prospect of title or land passing out of the family without a suitable heir is enough to drive even the most respectable of families to desperate measures. Especially in the case of the Marquess of Enjolras, who is approaching thirty without a suitable marriage match in sight.

It is rumoured that the Dowager Marchioness is at her wit’s end and determined that her son shall marry by the end of the season. She is even accused of going so far as to negotiate terms without her son’s knowledge. There were several reports of a great row coming from the elder and younger Enjolras earlier this month, with son and mother shouting at each other for the entire park to hear. 

The Dowager Marchioness finds herself in good company, at the least: the Duchess de Courfeyrac has long despaired to any who will listen that her eldest will never settle down, and the rumour is that the Baron of Pontmercy has proclaimed he is refusing to marry any girl save for young lady he caught glimpse of for but a moment at the Thénardiers’ ball (and whom he has never seen since, assuming she does exist). And of course, the landed gentry without titles find themselves in similar straits. Just take Mr. Grantaire, who, despite owning one of the largest houses bordering the park, has yet to find a wife, and as he is well past the age one would expect, his father has all but given up on him and retired out of the country.

Of course, with the exception of Baron Pontmercy, it is well known that neither Lord Courfeyrac nor Mr. Grantaire, nor most other young rakes who have yet to settle down, finds himself short of unsuitable women, but our gentle readers will know that unscrupulous women might warm a bed but will rarely walk down an aisle. And on a contrary note, the Marquess may well be a monk – there is not a single rumour that this Author has heard of any woman, suitable or otherwise, who has warmed his bed.

Then again, there is none who would ever think to bat the term ‘rake’ in the direction of Lord Enjolras.

But speaking of our notable rakes, this Author has learned that the Marquess of Enjolras has called upon Mr. Grantaire this past week. And our readers may remember that despite several seasons’ worth of acquaintance under their belts that neither man would consider the other friend, which causes this Author to wonder just what those two have to discuss.

Whatever they may be up to, this Author is certain it will bring nothing but more despair to their poor guardians. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 18  APRIL 1831

Grantaire blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he said, and Enjolras thought it was too his credit that he sounded only mildly baffled.

Still, Enjolras could not help the flush that rose in his cheeks at the absurdity of his request. "I am fairly certain that you heard me perfectly well," he said, a little stiffly.

"Heard you, certainly, but..." Grantaire trailed off. "You wish for me to help you get married."

"Correct."

"But you need that marriage..."

Again he trailed off, and Enjolras cleared his throat delicately. "To not be real, correct," he finished in what he hoped was a helpful way.

Judging by the look Grantaire gave him, it had not been. Still, Grantaire was silent for a long moment, taking several sips of whiskey before telling Enjolras, "I will not claim to be anyone's first choice to ask for help with any variety of matters, but I still never thought I would see the day when I would be asked by a marquess to assist him in committing fraud."

"And yet if memory serves, once upon a time, you offered me your help with anything," Enjolras said. "You even offered to black my boots."

Grantaire looked momentarily surprised. "I did not think you would remember that."

Enjolras shrugged. "It was not I who drank my weight in wine that evening."

Grantaire smirked. "True enough." His smile faded slightly and he finished his second glass of whiskey before standing and crossing again to the drink cart. "While my offer of assistance still stands, there is something I must know first."

Enjolras eyed him warily. "What's that?" he asked.

"Why," Grantaire said simply, pouring himself another glass. "If you wish for my help, I need to understand the circumstances that have driven you to this most desperate – and patently absurd – endeavor."

Enjolras scowled, though he had certainly assumed that Grantaire would not just blindly assist him without asking why. "Fine," he snapped. "If it will move this conversation along, then I will tell you." 

He waited for Grantaire to return to his seat with his whiskey before sighing and telling him grudgingly, "It's my mother."

"Your mother," Grantaire repeated.

"Yes," Enjolras said stiffly. "Do you intend on repeating everything I say? Because if so, this tale may never be finished."

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. "Forgive me, my lord," he said coolly. "Your statement merely took me by surprise, as I did not expect you to be a man who is cowed by anyone, let alone his own mother."

Enjolras sighed and drew a hand across his face. "No, it's you who must forgive me," he said, even more grudgingly than before. "I should not have snapped at you, but my mother..." He sighed again. "There is none who vexes me like she does.
"

"Not even I?" Grantaire asked, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Well," Enjolras allowed, "perhaps one other who vexes me like she does." Grantaire smiled, but it was too soft to be his usual smirk, and there was something in his expression that Enjolras could not quite place, but made him flush again, and he looked away, busying himself by pouring another cup of tea. "In any case, my mother is insisting that I get married so that my future bride's dowry can support the lavish lifestyle to which she has become accustomed."

Grantaire took a sip of whiskey. "And I suppose telling her no is off the table?"

"I have told her no many times," Enjolras said with a sigh. "And cut her off from the money I control to boot. But her only other assets come from some land she inherited in her own right, and she is threatening to raise levies on the poor people who work that land if she does not receive any additional funds."

"Like the fiefdoms of old," Grantaire murmured, a dark looking crossing his face. 

Enjolras nodded. "Precisely."

It took a moment for Grantaire's expression to even out, and he gave his head a swift shake. "So then, give her more of your money," he suggested.

"I cannot."

Grantaire's brow furrowed. "Why ever not?"

This, honestly, had been what he had been looking forward to least about having this conversation with Grantaire, in large part because he knew the man was liable to mock him with the reminder that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. "Most of my money is tied into trusts and investments to maintain the houses and lands, and to support infrastructure improvements in the village," Enjolras said. "And what remains is held in a trust by my solicitor that only I can draw on, and for specific purposes only."

"And let me guess, supporting your mother is not one of those specific purposes?"

Grantaire's tone was wry, and Enjolras sighed. "Indeed it is not. In fact, when I wrote the trust covenant, I deliberately chose to strictly forbid that type of use."

It looked as though Grantaire was trying very hard not to roll his eyes, but for once, Enjolras couldn’t really find it in himself to blame him. “So if you can’t use the money already under an existing trust, then you need new money, and the easiest way for that is…”

Grantaire trailed off and Enjolras nodded, relieved that Grantaire had finally caught up. “Some poor girl’s dowry,” he finished.

Grantaire pursed his lips, his expression skeptical. “You truly believe your mother would not just sell some jewels or something if the situation were truly that dire?”

“She might eventually,” Enjolras allowed, but his tone turned grim. “But I know my mother, and purposefully cruel is the kindest way to describe her. She would sooner squeeze every cent from her workers than suffer even a minor inconvenience, no matter the pain or destruction she leaves in her stead.”

“And you’re certain this is not simply a ploy to try to get you married off?” Enjolras looked affronted at the question and Grantaire held his hands up defensively. “I beg your pardon, but it had to be asked. Mothers are known for resorting to extreme measures in their desperation to see their children married off...or so Lady Whistledown would have us all believe.”

Enjolras wet his lips with his tongue as he contemplated his answer. “She might,” he said honestly. “I certainly wouldn’t put it past her. But I believe that if that were her true motive, she would’ve tried to force me into marriage through guilt over wanting grandchildren or a daughter-in-law, not going straight to the money angle.”

Grantaired nodded. “Well,” he said, “it’s good to know that you come by your manipulation tactics honestly, at least.” Enjolras gave him a withering look that Grantaire blithely ignored, asking instead, “What if you used some money from your trust to make a large purchase, a house or a tract of land, and then sold it quickly? Surely the profits from the sale would not fall under the terms of the trust.”

“They would not, but the trust—”

Grantaire groaned. “Do not tell me that you set up the trust so that you could not use it to expand your lands or holdings.”

Enjolras threw his hands up in frustration. “You know damn well I wish to be rid of these things!” he half-shouted, his irritation at the entire situation getting to the better of him. “Why would I allow myself the right to purchase more of that which I wish to depart from?”

“Because you really should have foreseen this becoming an issue,” Grantaire sighed, rubbing his forehead. He drained his glass of whiskey but to Enjolras’s relief, set it down on the table instead of getting up to pour himself another. “May I ask a question you will certainly find foolish?”

“Have you ever asked for my permission before?” Enjolras returned.

Grantaire half-smiled. “A fair question,” he said. “And I suppose I should not get in the habit now. Very well.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why can’t you just get married? Most marriages of your social strata are loveless, or at least start out that way, more business arrangements than unions, and most if not all have at least financial motivation.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I would not do that to any poor woman,” he said, his voice low. “Even if they imagine they would be stuck in a loveless marriage, I would not take from them the chance at one, or at having a family of their own, neither of which they would get from me.”

For a moment, Grantaire’s expression was almost soft as he gazed at him. “I see,” he said slowly, and Enjolras frowned at his sudden change in tone.

“What?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Here I thought you might be waiting for true love.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes again. “Hilarious,” he said dryly.

But Grantaire just gave him a small smile. “I would suggest you do not dismiss the idea until you have tried it.: 

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you’re not wed?” he asked snidely. “Are you waiting for ‘true love’?”

Grantaire’s expression didn’t so much as twitch but Enjolras still immediately regretted his words, or at least the tone with which he delivered them. “I am not wed because I do not wish to be. Now forgive me, but I believe we were here to talk about your nuptial problems, not my own.”

Enjolras nodded stiffly, not quite willing to apologize yet again for the crime of sticking his foot in his mouth, but luckily, Grantaire moved on quickly. “So then borrow money from one of us,” he suggested, tracing a finger idly over the brocade fabric of his chair. “Certainly I can give you the equivalent of a good dowry.”

“And explain it to my mother how?” Enjolras asked. “A dowry is a one-time cash injection that my mother knows will not come again, and she can plan accordingly. If she knows or suspects that I have borrowed money, she will not stop until I have bled my friends dry.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “I did not know that I was counted as one of your friends.”

“Do you really think I would ask this of someone I did not consider friend?”

Grantaire looked away, his expression unreadable. “Well,” he said, his voice a little strange, “in fairness, you do let Marius join us at the Musain, so.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he snapped. “I will not let my mother bleed dry my friends, acquaintances and occasional nemeses, then.”

Grantaire looked back at Enjolras, his usual smirk back in full force. “Occasional nemeses,” he repeated. “Oh, I do like the sound of that.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Enjolras asked impatiently.

Grantaire stood abruptly, but he didn’t return to the drink cart. Instead, he wandered over to the window, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stared out the window overlooking the park. Enjolras knew him well enough to know that he was thinking, and he stayed quiet despite everything in his nature wanting him to ask what was going through Grantaire’s mind.

After a long moment, Grantaire gave his head a little shake, still staring out the window. “It’ll be tricky,” he murmured, almost solely to himself, as if he had forgotten Enjolras was in the room. “We will need a plausible explanation, a suitable scandal...and of course, long-term…”

He broke off and stared out the window in silence for one long before turning back around, his troubled expression replaced by something like resolution. “Adélaïde,” he said, and Enjolras stared at him.

“I’m sorry, who?” he asked blankly.

“My sister,” Grantaire said firmly. “She is the solution. You will marry my sister for her dowry.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and promptly closed it again, completely taken aback by how this conversation had suddenly turned. “And dare I ask what you will say if I tell you that I have absolutely no desire to marry your sister, for her dowry or for any other reason?”

Grantaire didn’t look remotely deterred. “I can’t imagine she’d be too thrilled with the match either, but seeing as how she has no say in the matter…”

He trailed off as Enjolras recoiled, his expression darkening. “I did not think you the kind of gentleman who would think so little of his own sister’s consent.”

To his surprise, Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I think a great deal of her consent,” he said impatiently. “But she gets no say because she has been dead for almost twenty years.”

“Oh.”

Enjolras barely breathed the syllable, the word more an instinctive response less to what Grantaire had said and more to the pain he could see painted across Grantaire’s expression, even as his brusque tone tried to hide it.

Grantaire just jerked his head in what may have been a nod, a muscle working in his jaw, and Enjolras hesitated before saying, tentatively, “I am sorry. I did not know.”

“No one does,” Grantaire said quietly. “I…” He trailed off before shaking his head. “She and I were quite close when we were children, and after she died, it was simply easier to not speak of her.” He did not wait for any additional sounds of sympathy from Enjolras, instead straightening his shoulders as his tone turned businesslike. “But that works in our favor, as it means that no one in London knows that she is dead. It will not be difficult to tell a few key people about her, that I indulge my sister for nothing and that she has fallen in love with someone back in the country, the vicar’s son or something. And why should I subject her to the marriage market when her hand is already spoken for?”

He delivered this scenario as if it was one he had thought about before, and Enjolras shook his head slowly. But Grantaire did not let him interrupt. “Then you can come visit me,” he continued. “Just a friendly visit out to the country for a few days, mid-season. But we can stage a scandalous encounter between you and my ‘sister’ and leak the details to Lady Whistledown. A quick marriage without any of your family in attendance will be the best way to settle the scandal, and you can be ‘married’ with none the wiser.”

“Save for you,” Enjolras said faintly.

Grantaire considered it and nodded. “Myself, and likely my butler and housekeeper. I cannot imagine pulling this off without their assistance.” He looked at Enjolras expectantly. “So what do you think?”

Enjolras shook his head again. “It seems almost insane enough to work,” he said slowly, because he could not think of anything else to say. “But it’s also a ruse I cannot imagine keeping up for long, and while I might pray every day that my mother drops dead, I doubt this ruse would outlive her.”

“Ah, but you are missing the beauty of it,” Grantaire said. “As my sister is already dead, it’s easy enough to stage an illness and then her death.” Enjolras made an unconvinced noise and Grantaire added, “And besides, because of the nature of the scandal, it would make it only natural that she would not wish to subject herself to London, giving you plenty of time before she needs to grow sickly for you to carry on without any concern.”

“It certainly seems like you’ve thought this through,” Enjolras said, scrambling for some protest that would make Grantaire stop and listen, that would get him to reconsider this almost certainly asinine plan.

Grantaire smirked slightly. “I have,” he said simply.

Enjolras gave him a look. “Then I know beyond doubt that it will not work.”

Grantaire just shrugged unconcernedly. “It may not,” he said. “But what have you to lose in trying? And what other options do you possibly have?”

None, was the answer, and it was all that Enjolras could tell Grantaire, a little helplessly. “None. And I have nothing left to lose.”

“Good,” Grantaire said. “Then we have a plan.”