#Her not really thinking about how he’d feel for a variety of reasons

[ciderjacks]

I like your post about chilchucks marriage a lot!! I just wanted to give my personal opinion on how I see it.

Even tho chilchuck is mature enough to admit when he's wrong, I would say that he's not very good at telling people just how much he cares about them. Even if he does work and acts of service that prove his love, he still routinely fails to verbally or physically show love to others. So personally I wouldn't blame his wife for leaving, to her it was probably : my husband gets hurt -> he's never home to help me with 3 kids -> he never tells me he loves me and doesn't hold me -> this isn't a good fit for either of us.

I also think we as the reader have the advantage of knowing the person chilchuck has grown to be post divorce, we have very little insight into how he was before he was blindsided. And I would assume being left alone had a big impact on who he is now and that he probably changed quite a bit in that time, he grew because he had to become his new self on his own, and that new self had to be someone who would serve his needs post divorce and learn from his mistakes.

that makes sense, I think especially his difficulty expressing his care through normal ways is probably a part of it. (though I wanna correct that like based on the troll excerpt and other material we see w them, it seems like he was there to raise the kids. Marcille’ s vision of him not being around often was based on the fact that she’s only known him after he had nothing tethering him down anymore, and thought his kids were way younger than they were)

The thing is she definitely knows he loves her, and given their relationship, almost certainly is very familiar and not too bothered by The Way He Is. The way I see it, it’s more like:

life with best friend turned husband going great -> our kids move out -> he starts taking more jobs, leaving longer, and is always coming back in a horrible state -> these days I worry if he’ll make it back, and he’s cagey about what he’s even doing -> his habit of being very closed off is quickly going from endearing to frustrating -> the meeting his coworkers only made me more uneasy (could be because his coworkers were sleazy, or because she felt like they knew him better than she did) -> things have changed -> you know what? Fine. I’ll leave, that’ll snap him out of it for sure.

[mxtxfanatic]

Why Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli Matter

Even though their time as living characters in the narrative is short, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli actually have a major influence on how Wei Wuxian chooses to go about his second life.

The comfort that Wei Wuxian couldn't express a desire for but that Jiang Yanli once tried to provide, anyways, without needing a request, he now seeks out in Lan Wangji:

No matter what [Jiang Yanli] said, Wei WuXian continued clinging to the tree, refusing to come down. Afraid that he’d hurt himself, Jiang YanLi put the lantern under the tree and extended her arms to catch him, too worried to leave. Thirty minutes later, Wei WuXian’s hands finally grew sore. He let go of the tree trunk and fell down. Jiang YanLi hurried to catch him, but Wei WuXian still landed with a slam.

—Chapt. 71: Departure, exr

The very instant he had wrapped his arms around the tree trunk, his eyes had warmed. Now, as he looked down, his vision was already blurry. Lan WangJi was standing underneath the tree, staring up at him. He was also clothed in white, but without a lantern. However, under the shower of the moonlight, his entire person was bright and clear, as if engulfed in a sheen of pure light. With his head slightly raised, he was watching Wei WuXian intently. With his gaze at the tree top, he took a few steps closer, as if wishing to extend his arms. Suddenly, Wei WuXian was overcome by a strange yet powerful urge. He wanted to fall down, just like that time many years ago. A voice in his heart said, ‘If he catches me, then I will’...... At the thought of the words ‘I will’, Wei WuXian let go. At the sight of him falling without a hint of a warning, Lan WangJi’s eyes widened. Instinctively, his body moved and the next moment Wei WuXian was in his arms, or, more correctly, in his embrace. ... He could not see Wei WuXian’s face. His face was out of Wei WuXian’s sight as well. But there was no need for Wei WuXian to see. With his eyes closed, he was engulfed in the soft, fresh scent of sandalwood that always lingered on Lan WangJi. Wei WuXian’s voice was hoarse, “Thanks.” He was never really afraid of falling. All these years, he’d fallen plenty. Of course, it still hurt everytime he fell. If there was someone who could catch him, then he couldn’t be happier.

—Chapt. 87: Core Part 9, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Except Lan Wangji is both willing and capable of protecting Wei Wuxian where Jiang Yanli due to a variety of reasons was not. Because of this, Lan Wangji is able to carry on the torch that Jiang Yanli left behind from Wei Wuxian's first life into his second, such as when he begins to cook for Wei Wuxian.

As for Wen Qing, the lesson that Wei Wuxian learned from his unintentional big sister is so important that he both lives by it and endeavors to pass it on to his shizhi :

After a few steps, [Jin Ling] looked backward and said, “Why are you just standing there? Are you just going to wait for my uncle to come and get you? Let me tell you, don’t think that just because you rescued me, I’ll have some kind of deep gratitude toward you. Especially don’t hang your hopes on me telling you some mushy nonsense.” Defeated, Wei Wuxian strolled up. “You’re young. In your lifetime, there are two pieces of ‘mushy nonsense’ you will always have to utter sooner or later.” “What are they?” Jin Ling asked. “’Thank you,’ and ‘I’m sorry.’” Jin Ling scoffed. “I just won’t say them. What can anyone do about it?” “There will eventually be a day when you’ll say them with tears in your eyes,” Wei Wuxian said. Jin Ling made a derisive noise. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian said, “I’m sorry.” The boy stared blankly. “What?” “On Dafan Mountain, what I said to you. I’m sorry.” It hadn’t been the first time someone had jeered at Jin Ling for lacking a mother to raise him, but no one had ever apologized to him with such seriousness. He didn’t know exactly what the feeling was, but being slapped in the face with such an apology made his entire body prickle with unease.

—Chapt. 24: Malice II, fanyiyi

This scene preludes Jin Ling's softening, where he actually does begin to be more mindful of his words, how he speaks to others, and especially how he interacts with "Mo Xuanyu." The fact that no one had ever seriously apologized to Jin Ling allowed the boy to justify being rude and mean-spirited to others, but the fact that Wei Wuxian does and about something that people had mocked him for often without regret causes him to reevaluate this "uncle" as well as himself. This apology, though it may seem small, is what sparks the actual beginning of Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling's shishu-shizhi relationship, and none of it would have been possible had Wen Qing not torn down the wall of "what need not be spoken."

Because of these two women, Wei Wuxian is able to form closer bonds and live a more fulfilling life during his second chance, and through this, the legacy of his sisters lives on.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

It’s a little unclear, in the end, how the conversation gets there, because all in all the Richmond dressing room isn’t the site of that many sex jokes, not since Colin came out and no longer feels the need to make them. But they’re still lads, yeah, and young, mostly, so the jokes still happen, even if it’s just gentle ribbing, and silliness.

So: somehow, one morning halfway into Roy’s first year as head coach, the topic turns to sex, of the rougher variety. Roy’s only listening with half an ear, he’s busy sketching out the new trick plays Nate’s dreamed up on the whiteboard, and he doesn’t really catch the build-up, but when Jamie’s name is mentioned his ears perk up without him even really noticing. It’s become instinct at that point, keeping track of Jamie (even as Roy does his best to give all his players at least some semblance of equal attention).

“We know that Jamie likes it rough, though,” Zorro says, and the rest of the group oh:s and ah:s either knowingly or in surprised glee.

“Eh?” Jamie sounds startled by the assertion, but not particularly put off. (He never really is, as long as he gets attention, Roy thinks with an internal scoff that’s far fonder than he’d ever admit to.) “What makes you say that?”

“You told us!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy can see Jamie shake his head. “I don’t know what you’re on about, mate.” Still not bothered, but clearly not understanding what Zorro is getting at either.

Isaac throws him a disbelieving glance. “You don’t remember, bruv? It was when you first came here, before you started going out with Keeley.”

“Yeah,” Colin interjects, “You’d only been here for about two weeks, I think, but you came into training with these marks and bruises, and it turned out you’d hooked up with a girl the night before, but you hadn’t known she was a professional dominatrix before you got to her place.”

Hoots and titters at that, delighted and amused but not unkind.

“Exactly,” Zorro says. “And you told us you’d just gone with it because you have to try everything at least once, and it hadn’t been bad.”

Ah. Roy remembers now. He’d already been absolutely fed-up with Jamie’s attitude, the arrogance and selfishness and incessant need to put others down, and the striker’s total lack of shame and casual smugness about the marks had rubbed Roy entirely the wrong way. Not because people should be ashamed for liking that sort of stuff, of course (Roy wasn’t), but there was such a thing as common decency and unspoken rules about not parading around the dressing room like you were in a fucking porno or some shit and—

If Roy was honest about it, he’d mostly been pissed because it was Jamie, and everything Jaime did pissed him off back then (though, to be fair, most of what Jamie did back then was fucking shitty, so it’s not like Roy was wrong to be pissed. Most of the time).

“Oh.” Jamie’s voice is soft, suddenly. Small, in a way that has alarm bells going off like air raid sirens in Roy’s head. “Yeah. Um.”

The realisation hits Roy a second before it does the rest of the team, and his ears are already filling with a terrible ringing as the room falls silent behind him. He can feel himself grow rigid with rage, and with cold, curdling shame.

“Shit, man,” Isaac says eventually.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.” It’s odd, the way Colin’s earnest, unhappy voice seems to be coming from so very far away.

“What?” Zorro, still not getting it, and then he does, and Roy, at a great distance, can hear his face crumpling. “Oh shit, Jamie, I didn’t mean—“

“No, don’t worry about it, man. It was a long time ago, yeah? It’s fine.” It’s a heroic attempt at sounding casual. Might have succeeded, too, back before they all knew Jamie as well as the do now.

Roy doesn’t stick around to hear the team offer their comfort and Jamie try to wave their concern away. He walks into the coaches’ office, and the only reason he doesn’t slam the door as hard as he can is because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. 

“You all right there, Coach?” Beard looks up at him from behind his book, brow creased in quiet assessment.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Nate jumps down from the desk he’s been perched on. “Did someone die?”

And Roy wants to tell them to fuck off. Wants to punch the wall so hard it stops his mind from spinning. But he’s been talking with Dr. Fieldstone about that, hasn’t he, how his maladaptive coping strategies are tripping him up, and fucking over the people he cares about in the process.

So he takes a deep breath. And he doesn’t look at them when he starts talking. “Back before Ted came here Jamie came in with these bruises all over his chest and back one day, and he told us he’d had sex with a fucking dominatrix. And I believed him, okay? I just… I fucking believed him, even though it was weird fucking bruises for— That’s not the fucking point. But because I thought he was an arrogant fucking prick and I fucking hated his guts, I told him— “ He trails off, looking up at the ceiling. Uselessly, his cheeks are burning. Maybe his eyes are, too, if he’d let himself feel it. “I told him I’d be happy to pay to see someone give him a trashing. Give ‘em extra if they knocked a couple of his teeth out so he’d shut up for once.”

Beard doesn’t say anything, but he leans back in his chair with a look on his face that lets Roy know that, yeah, he’d fucked that one up good and proper.  

“Oh,” Nate says. “So it was his dad who— That’s— But— I mean, that’s not good, obviously, that’s awful, but it’s… It wasn’t you who hurt him, Roy. And I mean, you and Jamie have said all sorts of thing to each other. Done all sorts of things.”

And that’s true, isn’t it. And mostly Roy is happy enough to write it off as tit-for-tat, old foolishness and bygones, Jamie a prick and Roy sometimes an idiot, and they’re both better now. And he doesn’t know how to explain to Nate and Beard how knowing that Jamie looked up to him ever since he was a kid, knowing that he never took that poster down, even after that, after everything, makes his casual cruelty and failure to protect Jamie all the harder to bear, even if he hadn’t known at the time that there was anything to protect Jamie from.

“Coach—“ Beard begins, but is interrupted by a knock on the door, and before Roy can tell whoever it is to fuck off, Jamie sticks his head into the office. Must have made his escape from the rest of the team, then. “Sorry, Coach, are we getting started or what? The lads— “ He catches sight of Roy’s face and his eyes widen. “Jesus, Roy, what happened? Are you all right, man?”

Under other circumstances, Roy might have found it remarkable how quickly and effortlessly Jamie makes the switch from Roy’s respectful star player to Roy’s friend, his entire demeanour changing as he moves into the room. As it is, Roy doesn’t say anything, but he must have made some sort of noise or moved some sort of way, because Jamie’s face twists in alarm, and then he’s across the floor and gently but firmly pulling Roy into a hug. “There, it’s all right, man, I’ve got you, lad, it’s all right.”

Roy blames all the fucking therapy he’d been doing for the past eight months for not pushing Jamie away but instead allowing the other to hold him, and allowing himself to hesitantly wrap his arms around him in turn. Fuck Nate. Fuck Beard. Fuck the team. Fuck anyone who thinks they get to have opinions on that.

He’s got an inch on Jamie, but Jamie’s broader, solid and strong. Steady, as he puts a hand on the back of Roy’s neck, murmuring nonsense that Roy knows is supposed to be soothing, and which maybe is. Mostly, it’s reassuring to have Jamie there, whole and hale and safe.

“What’s going on? Is Phoebe all right? Did something happen to your sister? Keeley?” Jamie is starting to sound a little freaked out, and Roy realises that he can’t just stand there mutely forever and let the fears grow in Jamie’s mind, he needs to fucking say something, explain.

He’d rather never say another word.

Tough fucking luck, Kent. “Do you remember what I told you when you said you’d had sex with a dominatrix?”

The way Jamie stiffens tells him that, yeah, Jamie does. “Roy—“

Roy tightens his grip, not wanting Jamie to pull away. “Don’t fucking tell me it was fine, because you were a nightmare for the rest of that day, you were absolutely fucking horrible to everyone.” Worse than usual, lashing out—not that Roy had known it at the time, or had thought it anything more than Jamie being a fucking prick for no other reason than to be a prick.  

For a few moments, Jamie doesn’t say anything. Then he lets out a long sigh, relaxing into the embrace and pressing his face against Roy’s neck. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters, “it was all shit, mate. I mean, all of it was, it wasn’t just you— But, Roy, listen… “ And now Jamie does pull back, just enough so that he can look at Roy. His eyes are tired, but the set of his jaw determined. “You fucking hated me, right? Back then, I mean. You hated me, ‘cause I was a prick, and I hated you, ‘cause you were a bitter old cunt.”

There’s no fucking denying it, is there. Roy gives a sharp nod. “Yeah, but—“

“No, let me just— I’m not saying that makes it all right, yeah, I just— You hated me, okay. But, would you have said what you said if you’d known what really happened?”

Roy’s lips twist into snarl. “What? No! Of course I wouldn’t fucking have— “ He might have ached to put Jamie’s head through a wall several times a day, but he wouldn’t have stood by for Jamie’s piece of shit father—

“See?” The little twat has the audacity to look triumphant at that, as if he’d scored a particularly neat goal. “That’s what I’m saying, yeah? Even when you hated my guts, you wouldn’t have said that, if you’d known what was going on. But you didn’t know, ‘cause I didn’t want you to, or anyone to, and I’m an amazing actor, yeah? So, like, it’s not fine, but it’s… Don’t beat yourself up over it, man. You didn’t know.”

It’s absolution, the kind Roy doesn’t think he deserves and the Jamie is far too quick to offer. But Jamie is also right: Roy hadn’t known. Wallowing in guilt won’t do anything to change the past, or help Jamie now.

“All right,” Roy says. “But that was still a shit thing to say and I wish hadn’t done it. You never deserved any of what that arsehole did to you, and if… fuck it, when I made you feel like I thought otherwise, that was my fucking bad, and I’m sorry.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.” And there’s a tremulousness to his faint smile that makes Roy think that for all his claims to the contrary, it had still been something Jamie needed to hear.  

It does Roy’s fucking head in that Jamie’s been up to see his dad several times since he got word that James Tartt is in rehab. But they’ve argued about that already, bitterly, and Roy has very reluctantly admitted that it’s not his call. All he can do is offer Jamie whatever support he needs, whenever he wants it.

Clearing his throat, Roy gives Jaime an awkward pat on the shoulder before carefully extricating himself fully from the hug. “We’re still on for dinner with Keeley tonight?” He’ll make Jamie’s favourite dish, he decides. Throw in some dessert.

“Yeah, of course, yeah.”

“Good.” He jerks his head to the door. “Go on then, tell the lads to get on the pitch, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, Coach.”

As the door shuts behind him, Roy turns on Beard and Nate who – wisely – don’t say anything.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about this,” he tells them sharply. “I don’t want you mentioning a fucking word of it ever again.” Because maybe he’s gotten to a point where having a fucking breakdown and hugging it out with Jamie in front of them isn’t the end of the world (even if it’s a near fucking thing), but if someone tries to make him discuss it, he’ll need to start head-butting people, and he’s been trying to stay off that since he became manager, because it just isn’t a good look, is it, and he’s trying to be better about that sort of thing.

Nate and Beard glance at each other. Roy doesn’t really care for the knowing look in their eyes, but they merely offer a nod and a yeah, yeah, of course, sure in reply, and that will have to do.

In this messed up world, a lot of things would have to fucking do.

“Right,” Roy says, already moving to follow Jamie. “I’ll see you on the fucking pitch.”

---

A/N: This was supposed to be the fourth of the stand alone ficlets I call The Locker Room Conversations, but it got quite a bit darker (and less team focused) than I usually do for those, so I’m not sure. I’ll sit on it for a bit, maybe fiddle a little, and see where I put it when it goes up on AO3 eventually.

If you like the idea of the team uncovering sad truths about Jamie’s past and are into heavier angst (and more of the team taking care of Jamie), I highly recommend checking out i should be the poster kid for this shit by anotherlongstoryshort / babytarttdoodoo

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (8)

Chapter Eight: Bad Territory

Gif by @rebekadjarin

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The group is divided, each side with a mission of their own to follow

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, angst, fluff, limited (y/n), Crosshair feeling left out, me making up how the Force can work/be used, more dancing around M-count things, and me making up a rough timeline

Word Count: 5.2K

Author's notes: Not gonna lie, I struggled a lot with this one for a variety of reasons but I hope people still like it! Thank you @burningfieldof-clover for your much needed and valued assistance during this!

Pabu

Omega sat on the steps of the Marauder anxiously tapping her boot as she stared at her commlink.

“You know staring at your comm won’t make Echo contact you any faster.” Crosshair told her as he approached.

Omega got to her feet with a sigh. “He and Rex lost most of their squad in that attack. All because the Empire was after me and (Y/N). I have to do something to help them.”

“You are. Follow (Y/N)’s example and keep staying away.” Crosshair said.

“Wow, I’ve never been used as a positive example before.”

Omega turned to see you and Hunter standing in the doorway of the Marauder.

“Crosshair’s right. We need to know more about why Hemlock’s after you and what his M-count experiments mean.” Hunter added. “Until then, you both have to lay low.” He said with a firm look at the two of you.

Hey, Omega is the priority here, not me.

“Don’t start with that.” Hunter chastised. “It’s a high chance that Hemlock being after Omega means he’s after you too, especially if M-counts are involved somehow.”

We don’t know that he’s after me specifically, I’ve always just had issues with any Imperial official. I’m more of a general Imperial threat. Me getting captured, I could wind up anywhere.

“That’s a very reassuring thought, thank you.” Hunter muttered sarcastically.

Besides, even when I handed myself in, I wasn’t sent to Tantiss so I might not even be on his radar since he seems to be looking for clones and not Jedi to test on. Omega is the one we know for sure that Hemlock is after.

“Hey! Incoming transmission. From Phee!” Wrecker came to tell the rest of you.

To be continued. You placed a chaste and pacifying kiss to his lips before you headed towards the cockpit.

“No, not to be continued, you’re laying low the same way Omega is!” Hunter called to your retreating figure before he too headed back in.

“They were arguing, and I didn’t hear a single word she said?” Crosshair as the two of you walked back inside.

“Hmm?” Omega stopped patting Batcher and then understood his question. “Oh that! You mean she hasn’t tried it with you yet?” Omega asked curiously. She’d honestly barely noticed the interaction; she was so used to moments like that now.

“Tried what?” Crosshair asked.

“It’s a Jedi communication thing.” Omega tried to explain but that was really all she could provide. “I don’t quite understand how it works but she does it with the rest of us. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d be able to do it to you too.”

“Right.” Crosshair said hesitantly, unsure as to what he could’ve done to make you think you couldn’t trust him with that. But he pushed that to the back of his mind for now before inquiring, “And Phee?”

“She’s a liberator of ancient wonders.” Omega said with an appropriate amount of showmanship.

Crosshair just stared at her unamused and not playing into the mystery she was trying to create.

“Pirate. She’s a pirate.” Omega admitted with a sigh.

How you lot had managed to make allies with a pirate was something he found himself wishing he’d been there to witness.

--

Wrecker put the transmission through.

“Hey Phee.” Omega said warmly.

“Hey kid.” Phee replied.

“What do you got for us?” Hunter asked.

“I’ve been asking around about this M-count thing, which hasn’t been easy, by the way. Tech’s brain was the data bank, not mine.”

The grief you were in constant battle with asked for another way in, but you let is wash over you as Phee continued to speak.

“But I came through. As always.”

“And what did you find out?” You asked.

“Word is, certain class one bounty hunters have been retrieving M-count target for the Empire.”

Again, you ruminated in your thoughts over this. Omega couldn’t have a high M-count, not in the way the Empire seemed to want, you’d know if she did. And it was all to do with clones, so it had to be something about their DNA specifically. “A high M-count signifies Force user potential. But that’s not got anything to do with you.” You added hastily as you saw Omega’s look of excitement. “So, why else would they need her if she has one?” You asked Phee.

“Don’t know. You’re better off asking a bounty hunter.” Phee replied.

“We have run into a few.” Hunter revealed.

“What about Fennec?” Omega suggested.

“Who?” Crosshair asked.

“Fennec Shand.” You said, your feelings about her made very clear by the distaste in your voice. “She was hired by Kaminoans to abduct Omega. Tried to pick me up along the way.”

“She might know something.” Omega said.

“She’s dangerous, but it might be our only option.” Hunter agreed and she definitely a better option compared to Cad Bane.

“I can probably track Fennec down for you.” Phee said. “But she’s not gonna hand over that information for free.”

“Naturally.” You and Crosshair said in the same wry tone.

But as he said that you, Hunter, and Omega noticed the way his hand began to tremor despite Crosshair’s efforts to stop and hide it.

“I gotta split. I’ll get back to you.” With that, Phee ended the transmission.

“Yeah, I don’t like it.” Wrecker said nervously to Hunter. “We can’t trust Fennec. Not around those two.”

“Agreed. You and I will go alone.”

“But-” Omega protested.

“Hold on-” You began to argue.

“This isn’t a debate.” Hunter said definitively. “Stay on Pabu and stay out of trouble. All of you.” He said to the three of you.

“Fine by me.” Crosshair drawled before he left the ship.

Hunter addressed the two of you once he’d gone, concern in his voice. “See if you can convince him to get his hand looked at. Ignoring it won’t make the problem go away.”

--

You walked back to the ship as you saw Hunter and Wrecker getting ready to depart.

“I already told you no.” Hunter said as you stood on the bottom of the door staircase.

“Hunter-”

“You and Fennec have a score to settle and I’m not going to tempt her with it. What we need to know is more important than that.”

“I know that but she’s dangerous and I don’t see how having someone else there to help would be such a bad idea.” You disputed.

Hunter went for another tact, “Did you hear Phee say the phrase ‘high M-count targets?’ ”

You ground out a sigh, “Yes.”

“And don’t you have one?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Did you hear that bounty hunters are being used to retrieve them?”

You shot him an exasperated look. “Yes.”

“Do you see where I’m going with this?”

You exhaled a defeated breath. “Yes.” You begrudgingly acknowledged.

“Good.” He came down a couple steps and placed both hands on your shoulders as he kissed your forehead. “We’ll be careful.”

“Yeah, you better.” You threatened but with a caring smile on your face. “I’ll see you soon.” You hopped off the stairs and watched the ship take off.

--

You rejoined Omega and Crosshair who were standing by the Wheeping Maya tree. “Sooo, what do we want to do today? Walk around, go for a boat ride, chill by the beach and talk about our feelings?” You broached casually. You couldn’t get away with making him sit down and push him into doing something about his hand- Omega had the better shot of using an approach like that. What you were doing fit the rhythm you and Crosshair had before everything in the galaxy went to shit.  

Crosshair ignored your suggestions. “You can help me train.” He said as he grabbed his rifle.

Omega glanced up at you to see if you wanted to say anything yet, but you only shook your head as you both followed him down to the beach cove.

--

“How’d you want to handle this?” Omega asked as Crosshair started prepping his scope.

I’ll open the door for you. Give us a few minutes.

--

“Target practice or hand-to-hand?” You asked as you reached him.

“Target.” Crosshair with a hard stare at you, warning you against any further unrelated conversation.

“I’m here to help as you requested.” You raised your hands in surrender, “I only ask because the most recent time you tried hand-to-hand; you got your ass handed to you.” You taunted as you made your way to your position and removing your lightsaber from your belt. “Now remember, the goal is to aim for me which finding the motivation for shouldn’t be too difficult.” Omega, when you hear the blaster fire stop, you’re up.

You weren’t facing him when you sensed the shot that was being aimed for the middle of your back. You ignited your lightsaber and blocked it on the half turn. “Hey, that was good!” You called back. “More like that and I might actually have to try!” You got into your stance and waited.

Crosshair heaved a sigh as he set himself again.

--

You disengaged your blade to signal that it was time to stop, and you lightly jogged over to where Crosshair was waiting. “Twenty shots, but only eleven I had to actually dodge or block… you really gotta sort that out, it’s not like you.”

Crosshair glared at you, “I forgot how annoying you were to train with.”

“Oh, I’m just the warmup.” You said with a knowing grin. “She’s the real challenge.” You nodded past his shoulder.

Crosshair followed your eyes, and he gulped as he saw Omega walking towards with gritty determination on her face. He already knew exactly how this was going to go.

--

Finding Fennec Shand hadn’t been very difficult, the hardest part now was getting her help without giving too much away.

“So, what kind of information can I help you with?” She asked, relaxing into the booth but she saw the wary look the two clones shared with each other. “See, the way this works is you tell me what intel or target you’re after, and I give you a price. So stop wasting my time.”

“We hear the Empire has a bounty out for M-count targets.” Hunter replied tentatively.

Fennec adjusted her posture. “Why do you wanna know about that? You trying to find your girl?” She looked at the helmeted clone who visibly tensed at her words. She sipped her drink. “She’s been quite the busy Jedi, nice price on her head too.”

“The why is our business.” Hunter said stiffly.

Fennec let the evasion slide and shrugged as she lounged back once more. “I haven’t done one of those jobs myself, but… I might know someone who has.”

“Can you put us in touch with them?” Hunter requested.

“Now that will definitely cost you.”

“How much?”

“More than you’ve got. But we might be able to work something out.” She took another gulp of her drink. “I’ve read your files from before.” She addressed the bigger clone, “You’re good with demolitions and ordnance, right?”

“Ha! ‘Good’? I’m the best.” Wrecker boasted proudly.

“And you’re the tracker.” Fennec said to the other one.

“What’s your point?” Hunter questioned warily.

“There’s a bounty I’ve been trying to bring in. Worth a lot. But he’s been hard to catch without a crew.”

“Oh, so you want us to work with you?” Wrecker sussed out.

“No. You’ll be working for me.” Fennec corrected. “You follow through, I’ll get you what you want to know.”

Hunter barely debated the situation in his head. Getting the information was all that mattered. “Deal.”

Fennec nodded and grabbed her stuff. “We’ll use my ship. And so we’re clear… I keep the payment on the bounty. All of it.”

--

Omega sat next to Crosshair whilst you crouched by Batcher’s side, absentmindedly petting the hound as AZ finished scanning Crosshair’s hand.

“How does your hand feel now?” AZ inquired.

“The same.” Crosshair grunted dejectedly as he massaged it with his good hand.

“Unfortunately, it may never heal 100%.”

“There’s nothing else you can do?” Omega appealed.

“I have exhausted all the medical treatment options. Perhaps the issue is not something physical.” AZ theorised.

“You think it’s in my head?” Crosshair hissed angrily.

“If you were to elaborate more on the experimentation you were subjected to, I could determine the cause.”

“Forget it.” Crosshair snapped as he shoved past the droid.

You jumped to your feet attempted to catch his arm, but he shrugged you off.

“Crosshair?” Omega called out to him as he left but he didn’t look back.

“If he won’t talk about it, I’m not sure how else we can help him.” You pondered anxiously.

“I have another idea.” Omega said. “But you need to be there too.”

--

“We’re working for her now? We don’t even trust her.” Wrecker whispered as he and Hunter stood in the back of Fennec’s ship. It wasn’t like Hunter to not think through the dangers of taking a job like this on.

“What choice do we have? We need that information. Just be ready for anything.” As soon as Hunter said that the door slid open, and Fennec appeared.

“We made a deal. I’m going to keep it as long as you hold up your end.” Fennec reminded the clones.

“Wanna tell us who it is we’re going after?” Hunter asked.

Fennec brought out the puck and activated the image. “Sylar Saris. ‘The Slayer od Ordo Eris’. One of the slipperiest marks around. Got a tip on his location.”

“Well, what did he do?” Wrecker asked.

“Hmm. Got greedy. Took out a couple top bosses for the Haxion Brood and escaped with a cache of credits. Powerful people want him found. The other hunters that went after him? Never came back.” She waited half a second before continuing, “Sylar knows the planet like the back of his claw. But eventually, everyone’s luck runs out.” Fennec turned off the puck as she finished the brief and retreated to the pilot seat.

--

You watched the line of fruit on the rock ahead as Crosshair raised his rifle, but his hand was still trembling, so his shot skimmed the top of the fruit he had been aiming for. You had thought a degree of normalcy was what he needed but now it was time for both you and Omega to push him- even a little bit. “That was close.” You said encouragingly.

“Close doesn’t count. It’s either a hit or miss.” Crosshair replied sharply.

“You’re still more capable than most.” Omega said with a soothing touch of his arm.

Crosshair only sighed and sat with his back against the rock. “That’s not good enough for a sniper.”

You and Omega both hopped up on the rock.

“Have you ever considered that AZ might be right?” You proposed slowly, your voice kind and gentle. You knew how hard accepting help with something like this could be and it couldn’t be rushed into.

“Whatever they did to you on Tantiss could’ve affected you more than you realise.” Omega backed up the suggestion in a similar tone.

“No. No, no. It’s not in my head.” Crosshair disagreed.

“Just because there’s nothing AZ can do, doesn’t mean your hand can’t get better.” Omega said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you’re the one who has to fix it.”

Crosshair considered it. “How?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

Crosshair glanced over at you to see a familiar scheming smile on your face but there was a kindness to your eyes that told him you weren’t messing around with this. “I’m not gonna like it, am I?”

You and Omega shared a smile, “You don’t like anything.” You two said in unison as you left the rock.

“True.” Crosshair conceded with a sigh as he got to his feet.

--

The light was all but gone and between the toxic swamp air, the mines in the river, and the gators that attacked them, it had already been a trying journey and things weren’t getting much better since Hunter couldn’t get a proper read on the current anymore.

“Well, tracker? Which direction?” Fennec asked as she slowly steered the hired boat.

“The currents are too calm to tell.” Hunter admitted reluctantly.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you guys aren’t cut out for this job.” She said irritably.

“Oh. You think you could do better without us?” Wrecker challenged.

“I wouldn’t be doing any worse.”

“Well, (Y/N) got the best of you and even Omega managed to get away.”

“Apparently, they both got away from you too.” She watched as that clearly hit a mark with both of them. “So what happened? I know what your girl’s been up to, tracker, but what went down for her to get to that? And how’d you lose the kid?”

“What’s it to you?” Hunter deflected coldly as he pulled out his macro’s and searched ahead for any sign of Sylar’s safehouse.

“Just seems odd. You’re both willing to work for me, considering our past. That information must really be important to you.”

Hunter said nothing. He feared that anything he would say would give something more away.

“And just so you know, I didn’t lose Omega. I let her go when the bounty was called off.” Fennec informed them.

“By who?” Hunter asked, turning to look at her.

“The client. They thought Omega would be safer with you guys. Guess they were wrong about that.” She glanced between them both. “And your Jedi wasn’t worth the trouble since there wasn’t a set bounty on her at the time. Though, if I saw her again, with the price on her head that might change.” Fennec couldn’t help but goad. She scoffed as she saw the helmeted glare from the tracker.

“I guess you’ll work for anybody as long as you get paid.” Wrecker said with a hint of disgust.

“Good guys, bad guys. Their money is all the same.” Fennec said breezily.

“Well, money’s not everything.” Hunter said.

“That’s cause you don’t have any.”

Hunter couldn’t respond to that because there was nothing to argue against. He simply brought his binoculars back and scanned the water. “Someone came through here. Veer starboard up ahead.”

--

‘Slippery mark’ had been right. They’d been able to find his hideout but actually subduing Sylar had proven a far more difficult feat than anticipated.

In the end, it had taken a team effort from the three of them to knock out the insectoid and even then, it had taken four stun blasts to successfully managed it.

Wrecker released a breathless groan as he stepped over the target. “You were right to bring us along.”

“I’m always right. Grab him and let’s go.” Fennec instructed.

--

“If this is a Jedi technique, how is this going to help me?” Crosshair asked dubiously as he saw you and Omega sit cross-legged with your hands on your knees on a rock facing out to the sea, the orange sunset giving the water a warm purple hue.

“One, it’s not solely a Jedi technique because, as you can see, Omega does it.” You pointed out.

“But-”

“Two, I’m also out of practice so we can both learn together. Come and sit down.” You encouraged, patting the space between you and Omega.

Crosshair reluctantly mirrored both your positions. “So, this technique…”

“Mediation.” Omega reminded him. “It’ll help you heal. Not just your hand, but your mind too.”

“I doubt that.” Crosshair tried to follow the example of you two, but he couldn’t quiet his mind and his hand had started to shake again. He inhaled sharply as he felt Omega take a hold of it and turn it so that his palm was facing up.

You closed your own eyes and spoke calmly. “You need to breathe. Take slow, deep breaths and find your centre. Focus on yourself and what you’re feeling and accept it. Let it pass through you and don’t run away from it.” You guided him as you followed your own advice and found yourself becoming one with the living Force around you.

“And don’t compare yourself to her. It works slightly differently.” Omega told him.

Crosshair glanced at you from the corner of his eye to already see that you were completely at peace, and it looked like nothing could ever bring you out of it. “Where did you learn this? Did she teach you?” He asked Omega.

Omega kept her eyes shut as she replied, “No, she hadn’t done it until after I picked it up from my friend Gungi, and the other Wookies on Kashyyyk. But she helped me with it thereafter. I think she needed that moment again too.”

“You’ve been to Kashyyyk?”

“Uh huh.” Omega took another deep inhale and exhale. “You’ve missed a lot.”

“I know.” Crosshair realised.

“Now, close your eyes and focus.” Omega repeated.

Crosshair did as you both suggested and let go.

--

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Fennec said as the clone departed her ship.

“Hang on.” Hunter turned on his heels. “You promised us information.”

“I didn’t say I had it on me, but I’ll get it. Ater I deliver Sylar to my client.”

“That’s not what we agreed on.” Hunter growled.

“You can either fight me or trust me. Take your pick.”

Hunter shared a look with Wrecker but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Good choice.” Fennec before she stepped into her ship and brought the ramp up.

Hunter and Wrecker could only watch her ship leave the station hangar. Having to trust the word of a bounty hunter was not the ideal situation they wanted to be or leave in.

--

Fennec put through the transmission and addressed the hologram.“I just finished a job with some clones. They were asking about the Empire’s M-count bounties. What can you tell me?” She digested the muffled chatter that came in response. “I’m sure you can find them easily enough. I’ll send you what I have.”

--

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), we’ve finished.” Omega shook your shoulder. “Come back.”

You jolted back to the current moment. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Just wanted to tell you that Wrecker and Hunter are back.” Omega said as she stood back up. “How was it this time?” She asked you.

You exhaled deeply. “Better but I could still feel my focus drifting more than it used to.” Plus, no matter how often you trained in it, you had never gotten to see your master again and you were beginning to think it had been a one-time deal. If what you needed to talk to him again was to reach a certain level of emotional turmoil, you wouldn’t want to get to that place again. “How was it for you?”

“It was good.” She replied cheerily before she set off to meet up with Hunter and Wrecker, Batcher close at her heels.

“How’d it go?” You asked Crosshair as you got to your feet.

“Eh, I still don’t get it.” Crosshair grunted in reply.

You smiled understandingly at him. “It gets easier.”

“I know, I’ll keep trying.” He took a step in the direction Omega had gone but your voice stopped him.

“I’m not talking about the meditation.” You said softly as you grabbed his shoulder to turn him to face you. “I’m talking about dealing with whatever it was that happened to you.”

Crosshair cast his eyes to the ground. “I can’t tal-”

“Believe me, I understand how hard it can be to recount experiences like that, so I don’t expect you to, not any time soon. The second you wanted to; I would be there but that’s not what I’m saying right now.” You reassured him.

Crosshair regarded you carefully. “Then- then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that whatever you’re feeling, whatever memories in your head that are so fresh it feels like they’ll haunt you forever, it’s okay to feel them. And, while they may never go away entirely, it does get easier.” You looked at him with warm sincerity. “Just don’t bury them because that’s when they’ll eat you alive.”

Crosshair’s eyes widened slightly at your words as he recognised the place you were coming from, and he was grateful for them.

“Or not dealing with them can lead to reckless and damaging decisions that get your face slapped on every Imperial noticeboard across the Outer Rim. Take your pick.” You joked to lighten the mood again.

Crosshair managed a smile at that.

You patted his shoulder. “I meant what I said though, it gets better. We’re all here for you.” You started to walk away to see Hunter and Wrecker to find out what information they got from Fennec.

“Omega mentioned a Jedi communication thing you do?” Crosshair said to your back.

“Yeah, I do it with all of them.” You called back over your shoulder.

“All?”

“Uh huh.” You said casually before you stopped in your tracks as you realised what he was getting at. You swivelled around again, “Oh! Yeah! I can do that to you whenever you want!”

“But you haven’t.” Crosshair countered as he walked over to you.

You shrugged. “You said you needed time to adjust, and I didn’t want to freak you out.” You replied simply. “I wasn’t conspiring to keep it from you, I just didn’t want to assume anything.”

“If you still don’t trust me, I-”

You rolled your eyes. “Would you shut up; I just said it was because I thought you needed more time. Do you want me to do it with you too?”

Crosshair shifted on his feet. He didn’t like the position he suddenly found himself in, it felt rather pathetic.

“It’s a simple yes or no, come on, we have places to be.”

“I’m sure Hunter can last ten minutes without your mouth attached to his.”

“Okay, see now you’re just pissing me off.” You tossed your hands in the air and went to turn away.

“Yes.” Crosshair grumbled. He’d already missed out on so much and he didn’t want this to be yet another thing.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” You drolled. “Give me your hands.”

“Why?” Crosshair asked suspiciously.

“Because I’m actually in love with you.” You jibed flatly as you shot him a look of exasperation.

Crosshair rolled his eyes at you. “Gross.”

“Sometimes it helps when it’s a first connection, especially when I haven’t been around someone for quite a while.”  You explained. You held yours out and waited expectantly.

Crosshair hesitantly complied- both hands steady this time- and watched you intriguingly.

“Fair warning, it can feel a bit weird.” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You reached into his Force signature, and it was what you expected. It was barbed and you could feel a resistance- a wall- to it. But there was also vulnerability, a longing for growth and acceptance, that wanted to let you in and that was what you appealed to. When you felt that the connection was there, you opened your eyes and looked at him. Now, can we go see your brothers please?

“Okay, that’s really fucking weird.” Crosshair said as you let go of his hands.

Hey, you asked. You grinned at him before the two of you officially set off to go meet the ship.

--

One week later

“Any word?” Omega asked as she and Crosshair stepped into the Marauder. They’d been mediating by the Maya tree and decided to come check in. The news that Fennec didn’t have any immediate information to offer had been disappointing and each day that went by without any communication only let that disappointment grow.

“Nothing.” Wrecker groused.

“Fennec never told us how long she’d take.” Hunter admitted before he noticed you weren’t with them. “Where’s-”

“Don’t know. We thought she was with you.” Crosshair said as he placed a toothpick in his mouth.

“You’ve not seen her all day?” Hunter double-checked. He’d seen you when you’d woken up but then you’d left, and he and Wrecker had been on the ship for most of the day.

“No, we haven’t. Batcher must be with her too.” Omega guessed since the hound hadn’t been with them and wasn’t anywhere on the ship.

Hunter mulled this over in his head. This isolation you were now putting yourself in since you’d heard the news about Fennec’s lack of information was beginning to become a real habit.

“Three seconds. That’s all it took for you to decide to go find her.” Crosshair teased, earning a snicker from Wrecker in the process.

“Shut up.” Hunter mumbled as he left the ship.

--

You had been aimlessly wandering the shoreline, occasionally chucking a stick Batcher had found for her to chase.

The Empire,

Omega,

M-count,

Jedi,

Clones,

The Empire,

Omega,

M-count,

Jedi,

Clones…

You ran that list over and over again in your head but couldn’t see the connection. The Jedi were dead and hated by the Empire- what could they need that M-count for? Omega wasn’t Force sensitive and neither were any other clones but that was Hemlock’s main test subject choice. So, what was it about an M-count in clone genetics that mattered so much? What were you overlooking? A demanding bark pulled you out your thoughts and you saw Batcher had dropped the stick at your feet and was waiting expectantly.

“Tell me, Batcher, what am I missing?” You crouched down and held the sides of her face in your palms and smiled at the hound. “Tell me, girl!” You laughed as she let out an affectionate whine and licked your cheek.

“You know, it might help to share your theories with someone who can actually talk back?”

“Uh oh, the tracker found me.” You said as you scratched her jaw before you glanced past her with an affectionate look to the clone walking towards you. “And how’d do you know she doesn’t?” You disputed light-heartedly as you stood up taller.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Hunter played into the joke as he reached you before he turned more serious. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” You said dismissively.

Hunter just stared at you with a knowing look on his face. “Don’t do that, don’t shut me out. You’re not keeping to yourself for no reason.”

You remembered your own advice to Crosshair and swallowed tightly. “It’s right in front of my face, Hunter. I should know why this M-count matters for Omega but it’s not clicking and it’s driving me insane!” You rubbed a hand across your tired face. “I don’t know what I’m not seeing.” You confessed as you hung your head with a defeated breath.

Hunter placed his hands on your upper arms and brought his eyes to your level. “If it were obvious, we’d know it already.” He said as he rubbed his thumbs comfortingly up and down your arms. “You don’t need to keep working through this alone.”

“I just feel so useless. I should be able to figure this out!” You said with a frustrated huff.

“I know, it’s hard to just wait it out, but Fennec will come through. Until then, we just have to be patient.” Hunter said as he put his arm around your waist as the two of you and Batcher headed back to rendezvous with the others. “Jedi are meant to be good at that, right?”

“Would it shock you to know that I struggled with that?” You remarked satirically as you mirrored his actions.

Hunter chuckled. “Not in the slightest.”

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @notgonnaedit, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @nightmonkeysstuff @superbookishhufflepuff

[coff-in]

aaAAAA I've been lurking and um um um I have brainrot from two of the previous asks >_> What if what if

Younger Sister Reader from the I love you more than I should post x Yandere Andrew post Decay route?? And they have the same toxic thing going on from that one post where Andy threatens to off himself if the reader moves an inch from his side. Like all I can think of is Andy having a shit ton of romantic feelings for reader that the reader is just coming into realization about while also reeling from the fact that, yk, Ash is dead? Andy telling his baby sister that he doesn't want to live if he can't have her (romantically, carnally, etc.) I just really want a jealousy scene where reader like...looks at another man and Andy is like "So. You want me to die?" and then reader has to comfort her older brother in a variety of ways that are decidedly not very sibling-like. Andy basically going "date me or I die" and reader is just. panicking.

notes from coff-in: i had trouble writing a ficlet or headcanons for this for some reason so it's just me fucking word vomiting my thoughts directly. also also also, thank you!!! i would've never thought people come to lurk on my blog, GUH IT'S SUCH AN HONOR!!! ur going to make my heart explode

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is 1 year younger than ashley, incest, NSFW

i think it would mostly play out the same as yandere andrew with the older sibling but with more incestuous overtones. all i can think about is andrew and baby sister [reader] going out shopping or something. baby sis [reader] asks one of the employees where she could find some seasonings or something and the employee points to the aisle and leaves, then andrew comes up behind [reader] saying “did you really need to talk to him? hm? maybe you just wanted to ogle at him up close, huh? is your big brother not handsome enough for you anymore?” [reader]’s like “no no no!! I just needed to find the chili pepper, im sorry :(” and andrew makes her kiss him with tongue in the aisle to calm him down.

they’d have to get a job together, this is non-negotiable to andrew. preferably the same position so they’re close to each other but i think he’d settle on being in the same workplace in general if reasoned with enough. baby sis [reader] hides back into her shell again like she did when nina died but she doesn’t come back out this time. faced with the loss of her big sister ashley and the possible suicide andrew threatens her with, [reader] just deems it safer for her to be as introverted as possible. she’s still has some independence and autonomy but it’s only around andrew if that makes sense. she’ll cook and clean and entertain herself at home with or without andrew but in public she’s very introverted and clingy with andrew. andrew isn’t complaining about any of this though.

andrew’s very happy that he gets his baby sister to himself now! with all the fucked up shit they’ve done together he’s not too conserned with introducing themselves as a couple even if people put two-and-two together that they’re blood related. i can see him being very physically close and intimate with his baby sis [reader]. a hand on her lower back, hand holding, a finger curled in her hair, sleeping in the same bed, and like… a lot of sex. [reader] loves her brother and he’s been respectful when it came to sex. it took her a while to properly figure out how to feel about andrew’s romantic attraction towards her but she does feel the same way too (whether it was natural or something that was fostered while on the run). he likes to leave hickeys on her neck and other obvious places so people know who she belongs to.

every morning they wake up together in the same bed and say “I love you” to each other and they do it again every night before they go to bed.

i also think about semi-public sex with them, too. andrew gets jealous somehow and drags [reader] into an alleyway and forces her on to her knees and flops his cock on her face. “how about you show your big brother how sorry you are, huh?” she tries her best to take him into her mouth but she’s just really bad at it because she’s never done this before. andrew doesn’t mind, though, and praises her for her effort and eagerness because he can’t be mad at his baby sister for that long :) he cums into her mouth and her cheeks get filled up too quickly and some of his semen spills out of her mouth as she tries to swallow it all and andrew’s like “aww, what a good baby sister you are :) it’s ok if can’t swallow it all. i’ll have more for you later.”

i love this idea, thank you ‘nonnie.

----

coff-in

[theshelbyclan]

Getting away with murder

Summary: Teddy knows she can get away with murder when it comes to her brothers, but maybe she really did go too far this time

A/N: I have no idea how this one started, where the idea came from, but I had a vision and couldn’t let the idea go... enjoy!

Words: 3324

*****

“Oh,” John took a deep breath and turned to his sister. Then he whispered again, “Oh, Teddy... oh, you didn’t...”

“I didn’t mean to!” she hissed back, “Obviously, this is not what I had in mind either!”

John looked at Arthur again, who had just walked into the shop. It was still early, so only the Shelby’s were present. Thank God. Suddenly, John burst out laughing, but luckily he was too far away for Arthur to hear. To Teddy he said, “Well, it was nice knowing you.”

Teddy fidgeted nervously, “What do I do? Do you think I can fix it?”

“That?” Giggles erupted from John now, “Absolutely not.”

“Fuck...” Teddy sighed deeply, “Tommy’s going to kill me too.”

“Look at your oldest brother, fucking look at him! Look at what you’ve done to the poor man!” John pointed, his voice nearing hysterics now, “And you’re afraid of Tommy?”

The truth was, Teddy wasn’t quite sure who to be more afraid of. On the one hand there was Arthur, who would indeed explode, but his temper was like dynamite and therefore short-lived. Then there was Aunt Polly, who raised her with an iron fist and seemed to have a wide variety of punishments at her disposal when needed, all of them horrible. And lastly, Tommy, feared by all and with good reason. Just the thought of his piercing eyes made Teddy knees wobble.

“Stop laughing!” she hissed, “I’m going to get killed no matter what, so what the fuck do I do now? Maybe I can, you know, make it a little less bloody?”

He looked down at his youngest sister and John could feel a little pang of sympathy for her. In many ways, the two of them were alike: they often didn’t think their actions through. And here she was again, finding herself in serious trouble, as she so often did. He did want to help, mainly because he liked her too much to be killed this young, “Maybe if you tell Tommy what happened. He always likes that, when you’re honest, you know? Just tell him you made a small mistake.”

“Mistake?” Teddy spun around to face him, “a fucking small mistake? How in the hell am I going to pass that off as a small mistake?!”

“Tell him you had a seizure?” John giggled.

Teddy rolled her eyes, “Perhaps they won’t think it’s me.”

“Oh, they will. This has ‘Theodora Shelby’ written all over it.”

“Fuck.”

John looked at his sister again, who was biting at her nails nervously. People often thought she sought out trouble, and they were right, but not as often as everyone thought. Sometimes, bad things just seemed to happen to her as a result of some very bad judgement. But she didn’t mean for it to happen, not really... “Come on,” he grabbed Teddy and dragged her towards Tommy’s office, “It’s like a bandaid, alright? Just rip it off and do it quick!”

“No! John, no seriously I can’t...” Teddy protested, but he had his hand firmly on the cuff of her shirt and there was no escaping him. And before she could protest again, he’d pushed her into Tommy’s office.

Stumbling in, Teddy almost tripped over her own two feet. As soon as she met Tommy’s eyes, she turned around again, but there was John blocking her exit and he pushed her closer to him at once. Trapped between two brothers, Teddy couldn’t see a way out.

A massive toothy grin was plastered all over John’s face as he said, “Tom? Teddy here has something to tell you.”

“You fucking prick,” Teddy hissed at him, but that only caused him to laugh more.

But Tommy was busy, he was always busy, and whatever it was, he wasn’t in the mood for it. Still, he was the first one responsible for Teddy and he never tried to evade that responsibility. So, he demanded in a very strict and brotherly fashion, “And what exactly is John talking about, Teddy?”

“I don’t have a clue...”

Icy-blue eyes glared at her and Teddy gulped. Then he demanded, “Did John, by any chance, tell you I’d go easier on you if you told me yourself?”

Teddy’s jaw dropped. How the fuck did he work all of that out in just under a minute? How in the hell was Thomas Shelby, her brother, practically clairvoyant when it came to her mischief? And again, he could read her mind, “Gypsy witchcraft.”

So Teddy conceded, “Yes, he did.” She looked over at John, who was standing in the corner now, chewing his toothpick. It was like he was watching a film and enjoying every second of it. Silently, Teddy cursed him, even though she knew she’d gotten herself into this mess in the first place.

“Sit.” Tommy demanded, “Explain.”

Teddy sat down carefully and tried to find the best words she could, just to make this a little bit easier on herself. But there were no right words. “I wanted to help Arthur.”

As soon as she mentioned the word ‘help’, John burst out laughing again. Tommy held up a hand to silence him and narrowed his eyes at Teddy, “Help him with what exactly.”

“I thought... maybe he wanted to look a bit more like us?”

“In what way,” Tommy sighed and lit a cigarette. He’d spend twelve long years with his sister already, and still she managed to surprise him every day. So, he was mentally preparing himself for the worst, just in case.

“You know,” Teddy still tried to evade the question, “we’re dark and he’s... ginger?”

“Not anymore, he’s not...” John sniggered in the corner.

Tommy raised his eyebrows in question and waited for his sister to continue. As he waited, he tried to think like Teddy and imagine what she’d gone and done now, but for all his gypsy witchcraft, he still couldn’t worm his way into his sister’s crazy mind.

“I might have made a small mistake, Tommy,” Teddy finally confessed, echoing John, “when trying to fix Arthur’s hair.”

Tommy turned to John abruptly and he spoke to him like Teddy wasn’t even there anymore, “What the fuck has happened to Arthur’s hair?”

“Tommy, listen...” John held up his hands like he wanted to make clear he had nothing to do with this whatsoever, “I don’t know what she did to him, but the poor bastard looks fucking terrible.”

The older brother frowned again and leaned over his desk to study the guilty party’s face up close. She, in turn, tried to curl up in her chair, praying to God she could just disappear. But just as Tommy was about to open his mouth, a knock on the door sounded.

“What!” he barked.

“It’s me, Tom. I’ve got these papers for you to sign. Can’t work them out. Some boy dropped them off for you...” a familiar voice stumbled on the other side.

Tommy shot John a strict look and Teddy an absolutely lethal one. Then he called out, “Come in, Arthur.” And he quickly poured himself a drink, preparing himself for whatever the fuck was to come.

But he wasn’t prepared. As soon as Arthur stepped into the office and Tommy took one look at him, he spit out part of his whiskey across the table. Teddy wiped it gingerly off her face and tried to make herself even smaller. John, meanwhile, was dying.

Arthur, however, didn’t seem to have the vaguest idea what was going on. “You alright, brother?” he asked Tommy, as he handed over the papers.

Tommy managed to stumble, “Yeah, bad quality, that’s all... I’ll, Uhm, I’ll take a look at these, eh?”

“Right, well...” Arthur pointed at John suddenly, “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“You dropped him as a baby, remember?” Tommy waved a dismissive hand, “He’s mad, ignore him. I’ll get these papers back to you as soon as I can, alright?” Teddy had to admire his ability to adapt.

“Yeah...” Arthur shot another look at John, who had his mouth covered with a hand now and appeared to be either laughing or choking, it was hard to tell. But he decided to just leave it be and left the office soon after.

Apart from the occasion snort from the corner, the office was dead silent once again. Finally Tommy spoke, “You fucked up his hair and he has no idea.”

Teddy quickly started, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear, Tommy! I just made a small mistake!”

“A small mistake is when you accidentally drop a plate or lose a fucking button, Teddy, but that,” he pointed, “is something else entirely.”

“It’s not that bad, though, is it?” Teddy whimpered.

Tommy raised his eyebrows and sighed. Then he decided, “You’re on your own. You’ve officially gone too fucking far now and I’m not helping you.”

“But Tommy...”

“Nope! You’ve made your bed. I’ve told you again and again, Teddy, one of these days you’re going to get yourself killed and you’ve done it now. Congratulations.”

“Please, Tommy!” she pleaded, “It was an accident! I’ll do anything, I swear!”

“It was an accident, eh?”

“Yes! Well... sort of.”

“Oh, sort of...” he coughed a laugh, “So not really.”

Teddy sighed theatrically and was completely desperate now, “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, alright?”

Tommy tried to do everything in his power to keep himself from smiling and he had managed so far. He slowly lifted his cigarette up to his lips and mused, “You’ll do anything?”

“Yes.”

“Without protesting or scheming? And without one fucking question in the fucking process?”

“Yes, fine.” Teddy sulked a little.

“Good!” Tommy stubbed out his cigarette and allowed some mirth to find its way onto his features, “Well in that case, you can start by telling me how exactly you managed to dye your eldest brother’s hair green!”

*****

Arthur Shelby sat in his office, surrounded by books and papers. He’d recently gotten into business with a local breeder and it had proven profitable, but there was a lot of paperwork involved.

“I need a drink,” he mumbled to himself.

As he crossed the betting shop, he saw no one because it was still early, only his youngest brother Finn. “Morning,” he greeted him, “Did you get the papers?”

Finn nodded wordlessly, with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“What?” Arthur demanded.

His brother pointed slowly at his head.

“Oh, right,” he nodded in reply while opening the door to go outside, “Almost forgot my cap. Thanks, Finn.”

After a few moments, Finn moved and muttered to himself, “Fuck. Teddy’s really done it now...” And he quickly went on his way to try and find her.

“So that’s why!” Finn burst into Tommy’s office as soon as he had spotted his youngest sister sitting there. “I knew you weren’t buying it for yourself! You hardly even bother to wash, let alone be pretty...”

“Thanks for that, Finn,” Teddy grumbled.

“I don’t mean that,” he protested, “I mean, you’re not like the other girls, who brush their hair and...”

Tommy held up a hand to silence him, “Bought what?”

“I think you’re very pretty, Teddy,” John smiled at his sister.

“I do too!” Finn sighed, “I just meant...”

“For fuck’s sake!” Tommy called out, “Teddy, you are beautiful and anyone who tells you different can fuck off. Now, back to the fucking business at hand: buy what?”

“Hair dye.”

A long sigh followed.

Teddy tried her best not to meet his eye, “I bought some black hair dye for Arthur. How was I supposed to know it would turn his hair green?”

“Because his hair is ginger, that’s why,” he replied darkly, “You really should have more girls as friends, Teddy, they probably could’ve told you this.”

“Oh...”

John swallowed some more laughs and asked, “What do we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do. We just have to make sure he doesn’t go out like this or we’ll lose all the respect we’ve earned around here.”

Finn dragged his feet across the floor a little, “Tommy, he just went out.”

“Fucking hell.”

“I made sure he wore a hat, so that’s something?”

“Right,” Tommy slammed a hand down on the table and decided he’d spend enough time on this nonsense, “Teddy, you are going to find your brother and you’re going to tell him what you did to the poor bastard.”

Teddy protested, “Tommy, I...”

“Nope!” he interrupted, “No more fucking excuses from you. Now, either you find a way to fix his hair or you convince him to cut it all off. I don’t give a fuck what you do, but you are going to repair whatever damage has been done to the good Shelby name, alright?”

“Yes, Tommy,” Teddy gave in, and with a heavy heart she stood up and left the room, with Finn in tow.

Only after she’d closed the door behind her, Tommy allowed himself to smile.

“Arthur is going to go mental,” John commented dryly.

“Just go and make sure that he hits a hole in some wall and not our beloved sister, eh?”

John turned around and just as he opened the door, said, “You know, if this was anyone else, you would’ve cut her.”

“Yes,” Tommy sighed, “but it’s Teddy and she can get away with murder with me and she fucking knows it.”

John turned smirked and turned to leave. But Tommy added, “So do you.”

“You’re going soft, big brother!” John called down the hall as he walked away.

“Am I?” Tommy muttered to himself, “Maybe I just have too many fucking younger siblings... Fuck, I am going soft.”

But the truth was, he’d always been soft for them. And he knew it.

*****

Flitting from corner to corner on the streets of Small Heath, Teddy shadowed her big brother Arthur. He’d gone down to the Garrison to pick up another bottle of rum, but luckily he hadn’t taken off his cap inside. Now, he was making his way back to Watery Lane.

“What are you going to tell him?” Finn whispered.

“Anything but the truth,” Teddy mused, but she hadn’t decided on a strategy just yet.

Carefully, the two siblings followed their brother inside. But their stomachs dropped when they realised Arthur was talking to Aunt Polly and as he did, he reached upwards to take off his cap.

“No, no, no, no!” Teddy called out, but it was too late.

Polly’s mouth fell open at the sight of his green hair, but quickly narrowed her eyes at her niece, sensing the culprit at once.

“What?” Arthur asked, completely oblivious.

“You may want to sit down for this one...” Polly told him in a low voice.

“Someone tell me what the fuck has been going on!”

Suddenly, Teddy had a thought and exclaimed, “Can I cut your hair, Arthur?”

He took a swig from the bottle of rum, “Why the fuck do you want to cut my hair?”

“I want to be a hairdresser someday!” Teddy tried her most angelic smile.

“Theodora...” her aunt warned darkly, but Teddy ignored her, praying to God she’d survive both Arthur and Polly’s potential wrath.

“Please, Arthur? It’s been getting way too long and Tommy tells me we have to protect the good Shelby name.”

He reached up and felt at his hair. Nobody dared breathe. “Alright,” Arthur finally agreed, “but don’t fuck it up! I don’t want to walk around Birmingham looking like some bloody circus act.”

Finn almost choked.

“Great!” the twelve-year-old devil beamed, “I’ll get the scissors.”

But in the kitchen, Aunt Polly hissed at her, “You are going to explain this to me and it better be good, or I’ll make you regret even getting up this morning.”

She gulped, grabbed the scissors and took a deep breath. Then she draped a cloth around Arthur’s neck and started snipping. “Not too short!” he warned, but it had to be. Luckily, the roots were still ginger, so she didn’t have to go completely bald to save him, but long tufts started falling down all around him.

Pretty soon, all the green was gone and somehow, Arthur looked more like John than he’d ever had done.

But he wasn’t satisfied and as he felt at his head, he bellowed, “What the fuck did I tell you! Fucking hell, Teddy, you’ve probably made me look like some fucking choir boy!

“Just wear your cap,” Finn offered. “You look a lot better, Arthur.”

“Do I?”

Teddy grabbed the mirror off the wall and showed him. Arthur sighed deeply: he hated it. Still, he didn’t want his little sister to be hurt, so he said, “Maybe hairdressing’s not for you, Teddy. Or maybe you just need to practice some more, but not on me! But I can live with this...”

“Thanks, Arthur,” Teddy smiled and he had to smile back at her.

“Right!” Finn concluded, “Guess that’s that! Remember Teddy, Tommy wanted you to do that thing?”

“What thing?”

Finn eyed the green hair scattered around on the kitchen floor. It was only a matter of time before Arthur would notice. “You know,” he stumbled, “that thing... at the Garrison?”

Teddy suddenly understood her brother was trying to save her, once again, and nodded slowly. But one strict matriarch demanded, “What thing?”

She turned on her heels and lied, “Oh, nothing really. But Tommy wanted me to gather some of the betting slips and make sure the Garrison books are all in order, because I’m good with numbers, you know?”

“And what are the odds?” her aunt narrowed her eyes again.

“They’re not good.”

Polly nodded, “I’d say they’re looking very bad.”

Teddy sighed, “I agree.”

Arthur frowned, “Are we still talking about horses?”

“Yes,” both women replied in unison, even though they weren’t.

“Right,” Arthur shrugged, “Then fuck off, Teddy, and go and do as Tommy told you. Finn, clear up this mess.”

Quick as a flash, Teddy was out the door and Finn immediately gathered as much of the hair as he could, suddenly hopeful that Teddy was actually going to get away with it. Then he left as well.

Polly was left in the small kitchen with Arthur. As he felt at his hair again carefully, he muttered something about getting back to work. Polly meanwhile noticed just one tuft of hair still lying on the floor and she picked it up and stuffed it down the pocket of her skirt. She had no idea why she was even protecting her niece, but she was.

“Give me that.”

Polly looked up questioningly at Arthur, who had turned around again.

He held out a hand, “I’ll keep that.”

“So you did see.”

“As soon as she made the first cut.”

His aunt handed him the bit of hair and carefully Arthur tied a piece of string around it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.

He shrugged, “The damage was already done.”

Polly smiled. In many ways, Arthur was the one that did surprise her the most.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“No,” he decided. “Let her think she got away with it.”

“She already thinks she’s brilliant,” Polly huffed, “That one always seems to think she can plan and talk her way out of anything.”

“And she’s bloody right, isn’t she?” he affirmed affectionately, before walking away.

“She has to learn some time!” Polly called after him, even though she knew it was no use. They worshipped the ground she walked on and nothing was going to change that, not even one harsh and determined aunt who sometimes feared the moment Teddy would have to venture out into the real world, where things weren’t so easily fixed. But let her keep her innocence just a little while longer, that’s what Arthur had meant and she knew it. She understood it even.

She would have to learn eventually, but evidently, not today.

*****

Masterlist

[darksigns-exe]

Rest Here With Me - Nick x Noah x Laurie (OFC)

Paring: Nicholas Ruffilo x Noah Sebastian x Laurie (OFC)  Warnings: Swearing, Angst Word Count: 5.7k

To Know You're Mine Masterlist Masterlist

The plan had been for Noah to stay with them for two weeks. Just until he finds a place for himself where he doesn’t have to compete with the roaches (or the two clowns he had for roommates before) for the contents of his fridge.

They’re breaching the end of week four now, and he’s nowhere near finding a place that he can afford. The ones he can get immediately stricken from the list for a variety of reasons. Roaches, rats, very bad plumbing, too far away. The list seems endless, and he’s starting to lose hope that he’ll find anything at all. At this point, Noah is willing to pay someone for a room in their basement. He’d ask Nick and Laurie, but he really doesn’t want to bother them more than he already has. Sure, he’s helping around the house. He’s even, for the first time, really figured out how to work a dryer without shrinking all of his clothes. No one’s going to tell him that he isn’t trying to carry his load here. They’re letting him stay in their house for free, the least he can do is take a little bit of work off his friend’s shoulders. 

Staying with Nick and Laurie has come with the added benefit of getting to spent so much time with his friends. They’ve been together long enough for Noah to consider Laurie equally important to him as Nick. She’s always there to listen to his whining about the girls that scorn him, always there to tell him that he’ll find the right one eventually. And he’s inclined to believe her over most people. With Nick so busy at the tattoo parlour, Noah’s been hanging around Laurie much more. On some days, he goes down to the record store with her, hangs around while she goes about her normal day. He’s glad to help, even if it’s just carrying things around or packing up orders for the online shop. They spend their lunch break with Nick, meeting him half way in-between the record store and tattoo parlour for a quick bite. Noah feels like a part of them. He almost doesn’t remember what it felt like to spend his days without them. 

For now, he’s paused the endless apartment hunting and has turned to something that gives him a little less of a headache. The melody that has been floating around his head has finally made it to the proverbial paper. He’s been slaving away at the bones of it for the better part of the day now, with no real end in sight. It’s slow-going, but at least it’s going. It’s been a little difficult to focus on the music recently. His head has been so full of worries that he can’t find the capacity to really focus on anything else. It feels good to focus on this for a change. The constant dread of having to find a place to stay has been wearing him down like little else. 

A knock on the door finally shakes him out of the loose concentration he’s been in. 

“Come in?”

It feels a little odd to invite Laurie into a room she technically owns, but he appreciates that they’ve given him a space of his own for the time being. It’s not big, but it’s more than enough for him. Laurie pushes into the room, her laundry basket resting against her waist. She sets it down on the pull-out they picked up shortly after he’d come to stay with them. For a very, very brief moment, his head goes back to that thought he tries to push away so desperately. Sometimes he finds himself filled with misplaced envy. There’s a shred of him that wonders how things would be if he’d met her before Nick. If he’d been able to get her before his friend, maybe things wouldn’t have gone so piss poor. 

But he hasn’t, and now he has to deal with it. 

“Come on.” She smacks her hand against his back, “You’re done for the day. Nick’s coming with food, and I’m done with the laundry.”

Her hands linger on his shoulders for a moment too long, Noah thinks. Not in a bad way, no. He likes how she digs her fingers into his skin and always finds the knots that have been bothering him all day. 

It’s comfortable. 

Everything with her is.

He wishes that she wouldn’t make it so damn easy for him to feel this way. If she was just a little less her he wouldn’t have such a hard time pushing this misplaced crush to the back of his mind. Noah swallows the feeling down as best as he can. 

“What did he get?”

“Pizza I think?” Her hands are still massaging his shoulders. “We could watch that film we missed while you were away.”

Out of instinct, he lets his head thump back against her belly. He likes how affectionate he can be with her. The touch has never felt intrusive or out of place. 

She brushes the loose strands of hair from his face. 

“We don’t have to.”

“No, that'd be nice.” He replies, blinking up at her. 

He thinks that she wants to say something, but she remains silent. 

They remain locked in this staring match for a moment longer. If he wouldn’t know it better — no, surely not. Noah banishes the thought before it has a chance to develop properly. That’s his best friend's girlfriend and one of his closest friends. 

Her hands pull away from him as if his skin is boiling hot. 

“I’m gonna get the plates out.” She speaks quickly before rushing out of the room. 

Noah sits in this odd silence for a long while. Surely she doesn’t feel that way. Laurie and Nick have been together for ages. It’s always been them as a pair, and as far as he’s aware they’ve always been happy. He can’t deny that he enjoys the affection Laurie showers him with. He likes how close they’ve become over the years, but he would never think to force himself between his friends. 

Noah doesn’t know what to do with the feeling in his chest. He can’t act on it but ignoring it will do nothing for him either. 

Music buzzes from the stereo when Nick unlocks the door. That itself isn’t unusual. Laurie always has something playing when she’s at home. It takes him a moment to recognise her choice of that evening before he thinks that this isn’t something Laurie would pick. 

He finds Noah leaning in the corner of the sofa, one of the cats comfortable curled up in his lap. He looks up from the notebook in his laps and gives a quick nod to acknowledge Nick’s arrival. The air in the room feels oddly tense, even with Laurie not here. Something is up, and Nick isn’t sure that he likes it. 

Laurie is pacing the length of their kitchen when he enters, her hands nervously wringing together in a way that he hasn’t seen since the false positive some years ago. He doesn’t want to see her like that ever again, and the fact that she looks so wrecked right now does nothing to ease his mind. He approaches, quietly as he can, but her already tense eyes seem to spot him immediately. 

“You’re back.”

“I’m not late, am I?” He automatically checks his watch, just to find that he is, in fact, not late. 

“No — we have to talk about something.”

He hates the look on her face, the tense posture of her shoulders. 

“Before or after food?”

She shakes her head. They’ll eat first, she tells him. It won’t matter if they talk now or later. 

Nick doesn’t enjoy the feeling it leaves him with. He knows that if it’s bad, she would have told him immediately, but she wouldn’t be so anxious if it wasn’t something big at the very least. 

The pointed silence around the table when they sit down to eat doesn’t help. She and Noah are both tense in ways that he really does not like. He knows them both well enough to not consider that an option, but they look awfully suspicious. Something has changed today, and in a way, Nick already knows what she’s going to tell him later. 

He’s seen how close they’ve become since Noah has moved in with them. They’ve always been close and really Nick has always liked that. Noah and Laurie are his favourite people, and he’s glad that they’re this close. He isn’t blind, though. He knows what Laurie looks like when she develops feelings for someone. They’ve talked about it – more than once, and Laurie has made it more than clear that feeling this way has nothing to do with him. And he knows her well enough to know that she would never go behind his back with this. The last (and first time) she’d seen someone who wasn’t him was years ago. Maybe it had felt different hen because the girl hadn’t been his friend and bandmate. He’ll hear her out before making further conclusions. 

They don’t have time to talk until they’re getting ready for bed later that night. Noah had given a curt good-night shortly after they’d finished eating before vanishing into the spare room. Nick hates seeing them so distant so suddenly. He can’t stand the thought that something is keeping them apart like this, even if it’s a good thing at its root. 

“You wanna have that talk?” he asks when Laurie slips under the cover next to him.

She sighs with a weight that could shift mountains, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and it didn’t really become clear until today.” 

Nick sits up a little. He takes her hands into his, hoping that it’ll calm her nerves a little. The shaky breath she draws in doesn’t make him feel too confident in that. 

“Talk to me. You know you can tell me everything.” he squeezes her hands, but his heart sinks a little when he feels her hands still trembling. 

Without pushing it further, Nick pulls her against his chest. His arms wrap around her, keeping her as close as he can while her body shakes with quiet sobs. Nick isn’t sure how long they sit like this. It doesn’t matter, either. He’s content to hold her as long as she needs it. Only when he feels Laurie calm a little again, does he speak again. 

“Do you like him?” he asks quietly. 

God does he hope that the words don’t make him sound as if he’s upset about it. 

Laurie is silent for a long while, and Nick suddenly isn’t sure if he’s read too much into the situation. 

“I don’t know when it happened, either.” she sounds so pitiful. 

“Oh, darling.” he sighs, pressing a kiss against her forehead, “It’s not like you have a say in what your heart wants.”  

“I just don’t know why it had to be him.” Laurie pulls away enough for her to be able to look at him, “Why could it not have been someone else.” “I don’t think that Noah realises how easy he makes it for people to fall for him.”

Laurie shoots him a questioning look at that, and it's only then that Nick really realises what he said. He can’t deny that he’s been harbouring a whole host of feelings for the younger for a few years now. But Noah had made it very clear that he had no interest in guys, and really that’s perfectly fine with Nick. It does make the ache in his chest bloom up just a little bit more. 

Laurie’s hands cup his face, thumbs caressing the tops of his cheeks. There’s a sad strain of pity on her face, and Nick recognises it as the same kind of pity he feels for her. The kind that wishes to take the ache away, to make the hurt vanish without a trace. 

It stays, though - no matter which way he turns it. He wants them to be happy above all else, even if that means shoving his own feelings to the side. 

“I’m not going to stand between you, you know that. Even if it could make things complicated. We’ll figure it out. We always have.” 

Nick tries his best to swallow the ache down, for their sake. This whole thing still hinges on Noah’s feelings, but he knows how easy it is to love Laurie. And he can’t possibly blame Noah if he really does feel that way for her. It’ll sting for a while, but Nick’ll get over it. Seeing them happy will be worth it, he reasons. 

“Nicky?” she sounds so utterly defeated, and he doesn’t have to look up to notice the quiver of her lip. 

He does regardless, and the deep-seated furrow of her brows really cements the severity of this all in his chest. 

“You know I love you, right?” it’s Laurie’s turn to squeeze his hands, “Whatever happens between Noah and me will not change that. You will always be it for me. Nothing and no one can change that. I love you.” 

It tears at him. 

For her sake and for his own. 

Seeing Laurie so torn up about this makes his chest ache. The worst thing is that he knows that Noah won’t make the first move. He won’t be the one to start the conversation, and Laurie is way too scared to ruin what they have right now to do it, either. He’ll play matchmaker if that means that they’ll stop trying to avoid each other. 

Maybe his issue isn’t that he doesn’t want them to be together, but rather that they’ll be together without him. If it weren’t for the menial detail that Noah isn’t into guys, he could even see them as a trio. 

All he can hope for is that this won’t break them. 

In the days following that moment, Noah feels himself drifting away from them. The unspoken words still seem to dangle between them, and with every day that passes the wall becomes higher and higher. He returns to burying himself in work. If he works, he can’t think about the feeling that has settled in his chest. The feeling he thinks is the gentle beginning of love. He’d be fine with it under normal circumstances, but as fate would have it, the lucky lady is no other than Laurie. Noah isn’t sure what entity has been cursing him lately, but it’s starting to become a real issue. Maybe if he finds a place for himself, he’ll get over this. 

A sharp knock sounds at his door before it flies open. The lack of courtesy tells him it’s Nick. He doesn’t say anything as he moves across the room towards the pull-out. Nick’s never this quiet. Noah can’t deny the tension that has been hanging over the house for the past few days. He’s tried so hard to keep his interactions with Laurie to a minimum, all in the hopes that it’d make that feeling go away. It’s only made things worse. 

Noah turns his chair so that he’s facing Nick. He feels himself crumbling under Nick’s gaze. 

“You got something to tell me?” Nick asks rather pointedly. 

He feels cornered. There’s nothing to admit because nothing has happened, but he can’t stop the guilt from boiling up in him. At the same time, he isn’t even sure if this is what Nick wants to hear. 

Thankfully, Nick takes the decision from him. 

“I’ve known you for how long? Eight years?” He’s so awfully calm that Noah has no idea if he’s about to blow up in his face or if he’s about to break into laughter, “You’ve known Laurie for almost as long. If something’s up, you can tell us.”

“I- don’t know. I didn’t plan to- I can go.” He offers weakly. 

The last thing he wants is to disrupt what they have. They’re still his best friends, the people who have given him asylum on more than one occasion. And as in return, he worms his way into their relationship like some kind of fucked up parasite. 

“And go where? Are you going to sleep on someone’s sofa again?” It’s not mean, but the sting is still there, “Noah no one’s asking you to leave. I just need you to talk.”

He opens his mouth, but Nick quickly interjects, “Not to me. Talk to Laurie.”

“But you’re —” he gestures feebly towards Nick. 

“Talk to her. Just this once, listen to what I tell you to do, okay? I know you don’t want to have that conversation, but I’m not going to have your inability to talk about your feelings fuck up my relationship or my friendship with you.” He’s never seen Nick look this stern with him, “Fucking fix this. I’m not going to dig you out of this one. If you can't, you better figure out what you’re doing next.”

He’s gone before Noah has the chance to reply, and maybe that’s for the better. 

He sits with his thoughts for the rest of the morning. Laurie’s long out of the door when he decides that he’ll take that first step, even if it terrifies him to no end. 

Noah decides that he’ll stop by the café Laurie likes before he heads to the store. Showing up empty-handed feels like the worst option. 

He gets her one of the sandwiches she likes so much and an iced coffee. The cookie will stay in the pocket of his jacket until she inevitably brings up that a little sweet treat would be nice. His own order doesn’t look too different. 

Hell, she’s coloured off on him so much already.

His heart pounds in his chest as he gets closer to the record store. Noah doesn’t know how he’s even supposed to broach this topic. 

Hey, I think I’m falling in love with you and your boyfriend said to tell you, and I don’t know what that means for us.

Every iteration of the sentence feels bad. Sometimes he wonders how he’s managed to write a single song. The sign of the store coming into view stops him from stewing on it for much longer. Noah stops dead in his tracks. He has to rip the band-aid off now. If he doesn’t do it now, it’ll make things so much worse. 

His grip on the little paper bag tightens, crumpling the handle of it even more. His palms have never felt this sweaty before. Noah doesn’t know which outcome terrifies him more. It doesn’t matter what she’ll say, everything will be different after today. 

Noah pushes through the door. The little bell dings and it makes him wince. Soft music filters from the speakers mounted high up on the wall. He doesn’t recognise the song, but it’s soft and dreamy, and it almost lulls him into a false sense of safety. 

The bright red of Laurie’s hair pops through the crack in the curtain that obscures the back room. The smile on her face dims just a little bit, and Noah can’t deny the sting of it. She doesn’t say anything as she approaches the counter. Noah hates that she doesn’t come rushing around to greet him like she’d done before. 

“I brought snacks?” He says, holding up the bag and tray with drinks. 

The tense look on her face eases a little, but he can still see her chewing on the inside of her lip. 

“Thought we could go sit in the park for a bit?” He feels so awfully helpless, “But we don’t have to. I can just leave yours here and —”

“I’d like that — the park. Not you leaving.” Laurie looks so hesitant. 

He’s never seen her so nervous and fumbly, and he wishes that he could just make it go away again. He’ll swallow his pride and get over this feeling if it means that they’ll be okay again. But this breaks his heart. 

“I’ll get the keys and my bag. Give me two.” She almost sounds as if nothing had changed, “Can you turn off the music?”

Noah gives a quick nod before he sets their lunch down on the counter. He’s done this often enough to know what she wants him to do. After the music, he flips off the lights in the back and makes sure that the lamp in the back is unplugged. It shouldn’t be an issue, but he knows that Laurie doesn’t trust it and will ask him if he’s pulled the plug on it before they leave. She always does. 

When Laurie re-emerges from the back room, she gives the store a quick once over. 

“Lamp’s already unplugged.” He adds before she can even open her mouth to ask the question. 

She gives him the faintest trace of a smile, and that’s good enough for him. Laurie nods and Noah swears that he can see a tinge of pink on her cheeks. 

They’ve taken this walk so often, and yet it still feels so very different today. They’re quiet. Noah doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say just yet. He tries to find a good way to start this talk, but none of the things he can come up with feel as if they do the situation justice. In the end, he decides that he’ll just wing it. Coming up with a big speech doesn’t feel like him, he’ll stumble his way through it, but he’ll say it. That’s what matters. 

Their usual spot is a little bench under one of the trees. It’s shaded enough, but not so much that they’ll be cold. The tray with their drinks stands between them like an impenetrable wall. He watches as Laurie takes the first bite of her sandwich. He feels way too nauseous to eat. Maybe this was a dumb idea after all. But then she pulls her leg up under her body and turns towards him, as if she’s waiting for him to say something. 

Say it. 

“Laurie.” He starts softly. 

She looks up from her coffee. 

“Can we–we should talk about — fuck it — I know you’re with Nick and God this sounds bad —” he draws in a breath to sort his thoughts before the words suddenly bubble up and out of him, “I like you more than I should considering that you’re Nick’s girlfriend and I wish that it wasn’t like this, and I’ll go if that’s what you need, but I just want us all to be like it was before.”

His hands tremble like they’ve never done before. In the long seconds before she answers, his brain runs through every probable option, every scenario that could possibly follow.

Laurie reaches for his hands. They’re always so soft and warm and comforting. She’s held his hand so often, but it feels weightier now. 

“I know you do. You’re not very good at hiding it.” Noah feels his cheeks heat, “It’s okay, though. I’m glad that you told me. I know that’s difficult.” She goes quiet for a moment, “I know that this is a strange situation. You don’t want to cross a line that you can’t exactly uncross again, and I understand that it's scary. Nicky and I have talked about this a few times. He knows that I’m not against seeing more than one person. I’m not saying that that is what has to happen. But I want you to know that whatever you feel for me is perfectly fine.” She briefly glances down at their joined hands, “I won’t lie, it scares me too. I don’t want your friendship with Nick to suffer if something goes wrong here. And I don’t want what we have to suffer, either.”

“What if we just don’t let it go wrong?”

It feels so simple, too simple, but it brings a smile to her face nevertheless. 

“I’m going to try everything in my power to not let that happen.” Laurie sounds so earnest and mixed with the soft look that she fixes him with, he can’t help but believe her. 

“And you’re sure that this is fine? I don’t want to push myself into something I should not be in.”

“It is absolutely fine. If you want to see where this — us — can go, I’m all for it. It doesn’t have to be more than a bit of fun, although I would not be opposed to it becoming more.”

Noah thinks for a long moment. She doesn’t let go of his hands. Her thumbs rub gentle circles into the skin on the backs of his hands. 

It feels like the biggest decision he’ll ever make. A part of him wants to back out and leave them be as they are right now, but there’s a different part of him that begs him to say yes to this. He hadn’t considered this to be an option, but now that he thinks about it, it just makes so much sense. If it means that they’ll all be happy, it’s good. 

Noah shifts their hands around so that he can squeeze hers. 

“You’ll tell me if I mess something up, right?”

She breaks into a relieved smile. 

“Of course.” She replies, “And regardless of this, you know that you can always talk to Nick and me. In fact, I would love it if you and Nick had your own talk about this.” 

He swallows. Nick and he have had plenty of talks, many of them getting into more personal things. But the idea of discussing the parameters of their relationship somehow terrifies him beyond reason. Nick knows more about him than most people do. It’s nerve-wrecking – all of it is. 

“I just want you to be on the same page. This will only work if we all talk, okay?” Laurie’s words ring around his head for a moment. 

He knows that they’ll be so very patient with him. They’ve always been. He has never felt as if there was something he couldn’t tell them. As much as this all scares him, he knows that ultimately they’ll be alright. The brush of Laurie’s thumb against the back of his hand soothes his mind. It almost makes him forget his worries. It feels as if they’re back to normal, except that it’s all different now. Noah’s heart still pounds with the knowledge that it’s more than okay for him to feel this way.

While they sit here, Noah almost forgets that she isn’t just his. Almost. But it doesn’t sting. Laurie looks less burdened now that they’ve talked about it. The constant worried frown has disappeared from her brow. His own chest feels lighter, too. The brick-heavy feeling had slipped from his shoulders, and instead he feels a lightness. A gentle, bubbling feeling that makes him jittery in the best way possible. 

His eyes flit across her face while Laurie tells him about her morning. Noah keeps getting caught on her lips. He can’t look away, can’t stop himself from thinking about what it would be like to finally kiss her. 

“Laurie?” he doesn’t mean to interrupt her like that, but he absolutely has to feel it now. 

She stops in the middle of her sentence, “Hm?” 

His heart thumps so heavily that he’s sure that she’s heard it. Noah’s chest feels so tight all of a sudden.

“Can I kiss you?” 

She’s quiet for a second, breath caught between her lips. Noah doesn’t think that she’s ever been more beautiful. Her skin shines in the warm afternoon sun, the little sparkles of whatever makeup thing she’d put on her cheeks that morning reflect the light so beautifully that it makes her look like some enchanted being. 

“Please.” he knows that he must sound so pitiful, but he’s beyond caring for that. 

The hand, that isn’t still holding on to his, comes to brush against the side of his face. The touch is so gentle, so delicate. He leans into it, lets himself enjoy the warmth of her palm. Noah feels her fingers drift towards his neck before a thumb traces across his cheek. He feels dizzy, heart pounding so fast that he thinks that he’ll pass out at any moment. His eyes fall shut as she steers him closer. The first touch of her lips against his fills his ears with static. He’s kissed enough girls to know what it feels like, but somehow kissing Laurie feels so very different. His hand flies to her waist, and Noah isn’t sure if it’s to keep her close or to steady himself. Either way, he presses closer, just for a moment. It’s over way too soon, he thinks. Noah soothes himself with the knowledge that he can kiss her whenever. She’s his as much as she’s Nick’s. He’s allowed to kiss her, to touch her, to like her – to love her. 

Laurie stays close, even after they part again. He dives back in for another quick kiss, and she giggles so sweetly that it makes him feel as if he’s floating a few inches above the ground. They stay on the bench for a little while longer, idly talking until their phones ding with the same notifications. 

Either you’ve strangled each other or you’ve made up. Can you bring dinner when you come back? 

Noah scoffs at the message. He types his reply saying that they’ll be back soon, before he looks over to Laurie. The softness on her face sends a shiver down his spine. No one has ever looked at him like that before. 

“What d’you wanna get?” 

“What a-” 

“Don’t say pizza. Not again.” She interjects quickly, “If it were up to you, that’s all we’d eat.” 

He wants to protest, but Noah knows that the last few times they’ve asked him, he’s always given the same suggestion. 

They settle on sushi. Laurie holds his hand while they wait for their order, and it all feels so very normal. Nick is already waiting for them when Laurie unlocks the door. His eyes drift between them as if he’s trying to read their minds. Something eases his worry though and he gives Noah a curt nod. 

Nick has cleared off the coffee table in front of the sofa so that they can have their food there. It’s comfortable. The awkwardness of the last week has worn off as quickly as it had made itself known, and Noah is glad that he doesn’t have to sit with the anxiety of losing both of his best friends over a misplaced crush. 

He helps Nick clean up the remnants of their dinner while Laurie gets herself into something comfy. It feels so oddly domestic, so very normal. They move around each other without much issue, as if they’ve been doing this for years. And maybe in a way they have. 

“I’m glad that you told her.” Nick breaks the comfortable silence between them, “She really does like you, you know? It tore her up just as much as it did you.”

He takes a moment to comprehend the words, “She’s so —”

The right words fail him then, but the look on Nick’s face tells him that he knows exactly what he means. 

“I know.” He pulls Noah into a tight hug, “I will fucking skin you if you fuck this up.”

There’s just enough humour in his voice for Noah to know that he’s not in any danger yet. 

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Don’t have to promise me that. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Nick says as he detaches himself from Noah, “Let’s get back there. Our girl’s waited for long enough.”

Our girl. 

The phrase makes his heart pound with joy. 

When they get back to the living room, Laurie has already found a comfortable space in the middle of the sofa. The makeup from the day is gone, and her hair is piled up in a mess of a bun on top of her head. Noah thinks that she looks just as beautiful now as she did earlier when they’d been in the park. She pats the cushions to either side of her in a silent invitation. 

“The choices are Raiders of the Lost Ark  and Phantom Menace.” She announces as they find their spots. 

It’s not really a question. They’ll watch Phantom Menace and have a little giggle about it, as they always do. 

Nick slumps down to her right, leaving Noah the slightly more spacious spot to her left. Noah immediately sags against her, his head leaning on her shoulder. Over the course of the movie he ends up leaning somewhat against her. They’ve been close like that before, but it feels so different now. Her fingers are in his hair, gently combing through the strands. Noah lets himself be lulled into a comfortably dreamy state by her touch.  For a moment, he forgets that she isn’t just his — that Nick is sitting on her other side, his hand placed firmly against her thigh. 

The brief and quite frankly misplaced irritation subsides quickly. He’s surrounded by people he adores. Comfortable, safe and loved. They’re his oldest friends. Always there when he needs them. Hell, Noah knows that he could call either of them in the middle of the night, and they’d be with him in an instant. And he’d do the same for them. Because that’s what you do for your friends, right? Except the feeling in his chest feels so much deeper than just friendship. 

They’re more than friends. He feels safe here, comfortable. For once, he doesn’t feel as if he has to be on edge or ready to bolt. 

The realisation hits him then. 

He knows that what he feels for Laurie is more than friendship. He’s sure of that. But when he forces his thoughts towards Nick, the feeling doesn’t really go away. He doesn’t quite know what to do with that realisation. It sits on his chest like one of their cats, heavy but so strangely comforting. It’s a little unnerving, he’s never felt this way for another man, and suddenly he isn’t so sure if this is a new feeling or if it’s been there the entire time. 

Noah decides to deal with it on another day. For now, he’s content to feel Laurie’s hand in his hair and the soft rise and fall of her chest against his back. 

[project-sekai-facts]

This post is going to be a very brief overview of this year's April Fools Day event. I'll only be looking at content that has been posted on the official social media accounts for now, which isn't much but it's what I can access at the moment. Home screen translations from @/pjsekai_eng on Twitter were also used. Next year I'll do a much more detailed analysis because things like Area Conversations will be more readily available.

Summary

For April Fools Day, a new school called MIKUdemy has appeared in Shibuya, which all the characters in the game, including Kanade and the main Virtual Singer(s) for each unit, have been invited to attend for a year. The school's headmaster is Mikudayo. A new song called Be The MUSIC! was released, featuring all 26 main characters.

The characters were all placed into classes of six or seven students. These classes were as follows:

Pure Heart Class

Students: Ichika, Shizuku, Toya, Emu, Kanade, Miku (N25)

Pure Heart Class, a heartwarming and peaceful space ♪

A comfortable class with a calm and fluffy atmosphere. Do other classes worry for them because "There's no Tsukkomi!"...?

Other info:

Ichika feels a bit embarrassed about being called “pure”. She also finds being in the same class as older students to be strange.

Shizuku feels that N25!Miku is like a little sister, and keeps checking in on her.

Since Shizuku and Toya both like reading, the former asks the latter for recommendations. Toya tells Shizuku about Where’s Wally.

Toya thinks that he might be able to compete in the school’s ball game competition if he takes part in the (alcohol free) Dizzy Bat game.

Emu arranged an anime screening for everyone. She also wants to try playing a conch since the school has one in the music room.

Kanade wonders about how everyone is able to handle going to school in daylight. She also wants to talk to Toya about music composition.

Solid Heart Class

Students: Shiho, Airi, Akito, Nene, Ena, KAITO (WxS)

Pragmatic and stoic! That's Solid Heart Class!

This is a class of pupils who are calm and objective. For some reason, they seem to care about the Pure Heart Class students...

Other info:

Shiho understands why Ena and Akito aren’t fond of being in the same class and she is glad she didn’t end up in a class with Shizuku. She likes her class because it has a lot of stoic and independent students.

Airi is worried about Shizuku’s class because they don’t have anyone to play the role of tsukkomi.

Akito is annoyed that he is in the same class as his sister, partially because you can’t tell who’s being spoken to when their last names are used. He thinks Toya’s class must be nice but admits it doesn’t suit him.

Nene is a bit nervous about being in the same class as upperclassmen. She also mentions that Akito and Ena fight like children.

Ena says that WxS!KAITO makes her uncomfortable because he is so much nicer than N25!KAITO. She also worries about being able to wake up in the morning, and decides to let Akito wake her up in the worst case scenario. Airi tells her to not do that.

Passion Heart Class

Students: Saki, Minori, An, Rui, Mizuki, Rin (MMJ), Len (VBS)

When you have an idea, act on it immediately! This is Passion Heart Class!

This class is full of action-oriented students! When walking by the classroom, please watch out for flying drones and energetic students.

Other info:

Saki thinks the named classes make the school seem fancier. She says that at Mikudemy, you can find “something special”, and she wonders what it might be.

Minori wants to invite Rin and Mizuki to attend the Idol History class with her. She also decides to complete in the school’s dizzy bat competition to get better at variety show activities.

An thinks the lessons at Mikudemy are really fun and she thinks she wouldn’t mind studying for exams. She is going to compete against Haruka and Mafuyu in basketball for the ball sports competition.

Rui says he never thought he’d see the day he felt comfortable at school. He quickly befriends VBS!Len because of his similarities to WxS!Len. Mizuki mentions that he’s unexpectedly a good big brother-figure.

Mizuki wins some discount coupons for an ice-cream shop and invites Saki and An to go with them to buy some.

Cautious Heart Class

Students: Honami, Haruka, Kohane, Tsukasa, Mafuyu, Luka (L/n), MEIKO (VBS)

Thoughtful yet firm! They're Cautious Heart Class!

The pupils in this class have outstanding leadership skills. Their warm compassion towards others is remarkable.

Other info:

Honami plans on making the most of her year at the school by studying hard. Tsukasa thinks she would be good on the kick rounders team, but she’s not so sure.

Haruka wants to try out dizzy bat at the upcoming ball sports competition.

Kohane says that having someone as mature as MEIKO in her class makes her shy.

Tsukasa thinks being invited to Mikudemy is a sign of destiny. He invites Mafuyu to have lunch with the rest of the class, and she thinks he’s really loud.

Mafuyu thinks it’s nice that she got to try out some instruments in the school.

[ladykyrin]

Would love to hear more about your Yohan’s Mother Fic idea/WIP, she's such an interesting not-there character. Thank you :)

Thank you so much for asking!! I’m very excited about this WIP so I’m grateful for the opportunity to talk about it 😂

So, for this fic, my take on Yohan’s mother is that she was a sex worker who had him at a young age—somewhere between 20 and 22—and wanted to keep and raise him, but couldn’t afford to without financial support from Jisang. When Jisang refused to give her any money, she left Yohan on the Kangs’ property and called Jisang to tell him that she’d done so, believing that Yohan would be much better off being raised as part of a wealthy family. She never anticipated that he would be abused; she only wanted the best for him. As Yohan grew up, she kept tabs on him from afar, watching him rise through the ranks in the justice system and eventually skyrocket to fame as the chief judge of the Live Court Show. For a variety of reasons, she never reached out.

This WIP is set post-canon, starting about a month after Yohan’s visit at the end of ep. 16. After Yohan’s “death,” Yohan’s mother—whom I’ve named Junhee—decides she can no longer bear not knowing anything about her late son beyond his public persona. Knowing that Gaon worked closely with Yohan, she reaches out to him, hoping to learn more about Yohan. Gaon agrees to meet with her; he’s relieved to have a chance to talk to someone about what Yohan was really like beneath the charming facade he presented to the public. He finds that telling her stories about Yohan and Elijah helps to alleviate his loneliness in the wake of the Kangs’ departure. One meeting turns into many, and Gaon and Junhee bond. Along the way, Junhee starts to figure out that Gaon was (is) in love with Yohan; meanwhile, Gaon struggles with the guilt he feels over keeping Yohan’s survival a secret from Junhee.

I know where it’s going after that, but this summary is already getting really long 😅 I’ll happily share more if people are interested, though! I started outlining this idea six months ago, and though I’ve barely put any of it into prose, I think about it constantly.

Here’s a little snippet from what I’ve written of the first chapter; it’s a piece of a flashback where Gaon remembers Yohan buying him suits.

Yohan lifted a striped tie from a shelf, turning it this way and that under the light. After a few moments, he returned to Gaon and held the tie against his collar, knuckles brushing lightly against his throat. A beat passed, and then he nodded, apparently satisfied.

“We’ll take this,” he said, handing the tie off to the assistant who was hovering nearby.

“How much is that?” Gaon asked, resisting the urge to rub his neck. “My budget is limited, you know.”

“Your budget is irrelevant.” Yohan crossed his arms and addressed the tailor. “He’ll need three suits. One black, one charcoal, one navy.”

Gaon sputtered. “I agreed to one suit. Like I said—”

“Put it all on my usual card,” Yohan interrupted, shooting Gaon a sharp look. “He’ll need dress shirts and shoes as well, and something for formal events.”

Incredulous, Gaon said, “You are not buying me a whole new wardrobe.”

“Not a full wardrobe, no. Just necessities.” Yohan arched one eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather keep borrowing from me?”

Warmth climbed up Gaon’s neck. He’d long since moved most of his clothes from his house to the Kang mansion, but it was true that a couple of Yohan’s shirts—in addition to the clothes he’d worn to the Social Responsibility Foundation gala—remained in his closet, left over from the first week he’d stayed there. He’d dreaded the awkwardness that would ensue if he tried to return them, and Yohan had never complained, so Gaon had assumed their absence was going unnoticed.

Apparently not.

Thank you again for the ask! Please feel free to send another if you’d like to know more :)

[ongreenergrasses]

no anon we die like men what's your most rancid haymitch opinion 👁️👁️

idk if it’s that rancid tbh but i have really mixed feelings about Haymitch being an alcoholic. i think it’s realistic that he’d use that to cope after the tragedies he’s suffered. he’s experiencing such prolongued trauma and he feels things so passionately and deeply, it is totally reasonable that he’d try to numb that. but at the same time it bugs me because he is indigenous. many indigenous communities struggle a lot with addiction and substance abuse for a variety of complex reasons I’m not going to get into here, and I think it could’ve potentially been good commentary on that, but it’s not addressed. the class divide between the Seam and the Merchants is not addressed in terms of looking at his addiction. it is not a nuanced portrayal of addiction, it does not take into account the many factors that contributed and continue to contribute to his addiction, and most importantly she seems to have absolutely no awareness of how that issue disproportionately affects the community Haymitch is part of and it shows in her writing. so making him an alcoholic just feels like she’s falling into stereotypes there.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.28

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - The Bracken and Blackwoods gather evidence against the Pipers.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.6k

“Does it really matter at this point?” Shanda threw her hands up in defeat. “What’s done is done and you all agreed to it in some fashion. So suck it up, we’ve got bigger issues.”

She was standing in front of all of the newly married couples, sans ser Joth Piper obviously. She hadn’t slept a wink, they’d all been up talking and debating what to do with the mess set before them. Shanda bad insisted they gathered the rest of the couples there a few hours ago. She might be annoyed by Bellena on most occasions but she did not wish harm upon her. She sat just as prim and proper as ever, seemingly unaffected by it all but Shanda worried about her.

“Martyn, tell us again exactly what you hear him say.”

Martyn sighed before standing to relay the same words he’d been repeating all night. “After you and Alysanne left, I decided I would take a look around. No one saw fit to let me in on what was actually happening.”

Shanda knew he was still pissed at her but she had tried to find him. She was frustrated that Alysanne hadn’t just clued him in. She thought it had been obvious that Martyn was not a part of keeping the men in the dark.

“So, I started listening in on people’s conversations. Everyone was already half drunk and too eager to boast about whatever exploit their house was up to. Most of it was boring regular stuff. Some of it was just straight up lies but Ser Joth. He was different.”

Shanda turned away from her brother. She was so angry she almost could not bear it. Royce had lost it, he’d been removed from the room seconds after he found out and she knew he would not be fit to stand at the trial.

“He was bragging about an incident which was nothing out of the ordinary. It was when he mentioned Shanda that my ears perked up. As far as I knew, the two of them had never met before this trial. So how could he have one upped my sister? And why was he so smug about it?”

She met Martyns gaze then and felt her heart squeeze at the sight of him. The two were so very much alike and because of that, they’d finally exposed a killer.

“I waited, hiding behind them in the shadows. I was hoping he would just blurt it out, say how he had won. But it was worse.” He could not keep the tremble out of his voice. “He pulled out a familiar dagger, Garron’s. Wrapped around it, mothers topaz necklace. And then he said, ‘The stupid bitch wanted to cut through us from the Gold road to the River road, well we cut through them easy enough.’”

To her it was indisputable evidence. Martyn would know their mothers necklace anywhere and there was no mistaking Garron’s dagger. The handle was inlaid with iridescent pearls only found in Blazewater Bay where the man had spent his youth living and fighting in Saltspear. But Joth could’ve disposed of both by now and they would only have Martyn word against two Pipers.

“I believe you, Martyn. But if they’ve disposed of the dagger-“ She left the sentence to hang there, unsure of how to continue.

Lady Smallwood spoke up in the ensuing silence. “It’s probably nothing but I thought I should mention it anyway. About a moon or so ago, the Pipers asked to cross our lands. We didn’t think anything of it, they said they wanted to access the Bluefork for some fishing variety. We have allowed this crossing before on occasion and saw no reason for worry at that time either. So we allowed them over. I hadn’t thought of it since but now that I think about it, I’m worried.”

“Worried how?” Martyn asked, looking at the tense set of her shoulders.

“Well, it's a rather serious accusation. But during the trial, there was mention of a fire at Stonehedge.”

She let the statement hang in the air but they all knew what she was insinuating.

“Fucking hell.” Benjicot said, pacing angrily.

“They wouldn’t have had to cross any other house to reach Stonehedge either.” Beck chimed in looking equally as upset.

“Maybe the ghost of High Heart could testify for us.” Shanda said bitterly.

“What about House Harwin?” Piped up Elyana Darry. “Supposedly ser Harwin’s daughter is a proper horse woman. Perhaps she might’ve seen something of the Pipers.”

Shanda frowned trying to remember ser Harwin’s daughter. He had only recently become the lord of Harrenhal, his father passing away sometime last year. The name escaped her though.

“Her name is Mellara.” It was Bellena, of course, who answered. “And she’s headstrong and annoying so good luck bargaining with her.”

Shanda rolled her eyes. “We know you two were fostered together for some time, Bell. Help us out.”

Bellena sniffed, holding her head up high. “You’ll owe me for it, Bracken.”

“Actually it's Blackwood now.” Benjicot said, stepping forward and placing a hand on her back.

Shanda shook his hand off. Sometimes the team you get isn’t the one you want. But this was what she had to work with so she didn’t waste anytime bemoaning the fact her husband was a brainless animal.

“I’ll owe you one, I swear.” She said to Bellena instead, ignoring Ben.

Bellena stood, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles out of her skirt before she left. Shanda suddenly felt so tired, wishing for nothing more than to collapse into a soft warm bed.

“I’m going to talk to Elmo. There’s no sense in holding this thing at dawn. All of you should get some rest, I’ll let you know what’s going to happen later.”

Alysanne looked more alert than anyone else and it was so confusing. The woman had been blasted with alcohol half the night and yet looked a whole heck of a lot better than Shanda felt. She wondered where the magic endless reserve of strength the woman pulled from was hidden. The rest of them all simply nodded and said their quiet goodbyes. Shanda took a moment to thank them all personally as they left. She worried about Bellena, who refused to express any distress despite her new husband standing accused. She resolved to go to the Harwin’s quarters to meet with her. It would be better to share the burden together.

She began to tell Benjicot just that when Marcelle interrupted her.

“I’ll deal with Bellena. She could use more patience than you have. Go to sleep before Elmo summons us all on a twisted whim.”

She considered protesting but before she could open her mouth to argue, Benjicot had thanked Marcelle and was sweeping them out of the room.

“You really are an insufferable brute.” She complained, pulling against his hurried pace.

“And you’re a stubborn pain in the ass. We’re even, now keep walking before I pick you up.”

She pressed her lips together firmly and fought the urge to slam herself to an abrupt stop. The faster she walked, the sooner she could go to sleep. It wasn’t long before the familiar sight of her door greeted her and she let out a sigh of relief. It had been the longest day/night of her life. Not to mention the week that had preceded it had been a living nightmare. So it was to her great displeasure when Benjicot did not simply drop her off and leave for his own quarters.

“Ben, you should get some sleep.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

She frowned as he began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off while staring at her. She rubbed her temples, turning away from him. She leaned against the table, thoughts still racing despite her sleepiness. She wondered what Alysanne was saying to Elmo and whether it was working or not. She nibbled on some stale bread, wishing for something better but too tired to go grab anything.

“Shouldn’t you go to your own room?”

The look he gave her said it was not up for discussion and she didn’t have the energy to protest. A knock on the door interrupted whatever response she was mustering up. Benjicot opened the door just an inch before he was pushed aside by Alysanne. She came blessedly, with food. She set two trays down and a flagon. Shanda could have kissed her.

“You’re an angel.” She said instead, shoving fresh hot cinnamon rolls into her mouth.

“I know. You’re all going to have me sainted after my death for it too. Now, Elmo has agreed to move the trial til tomorrow.”

“Then it is a trial after all.” Benji murmured.

They’d been unsure if Elmo would actually charge Joth and the Pipers. After all, there wasn’t much evidence.

“We found the dagger.”

Shanda’s heart leapt at the news. She grabbed Alysanne by the hands and spun them around, laughing.

“That’s wonderful news.”

“It was enough for Elmo to call for an official trial.”

Alysanne grabbed a roll of her own and bit into it before continuing. “Also found this by the luck of the gods only.”

She produced Shanda’s mothers necklace and she gasped. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of the jewel glittering back at her. She gingerly reached out to take it from Alysanne.

“They tried to chuck the dagger but a guard saw them. I went down to watch them dive for it, that was a trip. The necklace was sewn into a dressline in his cousin's closet. Almost didn’t spot it but something just told me to check.”

Shanda looked at her in awe before pulling her into a fierce hug. “We will definitely saint you.” She promised.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be back this evening. I talked Elmo into letting us have a private dinner tonight.”

Still in shock and admiring the jewel in her hands, Shanda did not notice Alysanne’s exit.

“Come on, finish eating. We need to sleep.”

Shanda looked up from the necklace, pocketing it before glaring at Ben.

“Do you ever do anything besides boss other people around? Or is that a special privilege you save for me?”

He moved to her side, pulling her out of her seat. He then sat in it and pulled her into his lap. She could feel the vibration of his voice when he spoke next.

“Most people don’t need to be reminded to stay on task half as much as you do. Shall you eat or do you need assistance?”

“Agh, whatever!” She picked up a fork and began to pile a plate full of food, ignoring the satisfaction radiating off of him.

“How are you feeling?”

She froze mid forkful for a second before snapping out of it. “I’m as good as can be expected. Better than Royce. Better than Martyn too which means pretty good I’d say.”

“I’ll kill him for you.” He whispered against her neck as she bit into a strawberry. “If he chooses a trial by combat, I’ll cut him open and display his insides.” She slowly swallowed, goosebumps breaking out on her skin as he ran his fingers up and down her arm.

She wanted to be disgusted by his words. She knew she should be. It was wrong to wish death upon anyone and worse to endanger Benjicot’s life to do it. But the fantasy of it played through her mind for longer than it should have before she shut it down.

“Let us pray that does not happen. I only just became a wife, I’d rather wait a moment before becoming a widow.”

“Like he stands a chance of defeating me.” He scoffed, offended at the notion. “Don’t worry about me, my love.” He snuggled into her, squeezing her tightly. Then he abandoned breakfast and took her with him. Lifting her into the air before depositing her on the bed. He crawled in after her and wrapped his arms around her. The two of them settled down together snug under the covers. She felt her eyes drooping closed against her will and she fought a yawn.

“You should be more careful.” She said, failing to contain a yawn.

“Shhh.”

Wrinkling her face in irritation, she snuggled deeper into the bed and fell asleep instantly.

***

A harsh wind snapped around her, her wind temporarily blinding her as she struggled to pull it back. Thunder sounded and she could hear the rain moving across the trees as it grew closer to her. The roar would have been lovely if she hadn’t caught sight of her surroundings. She was on a cliffside, rocky uneven terrain tried to trip her at every turn. The sky was dark with clouds and she squinted for sight of anyone else. Why was she up here again? The cliff made her think of Seaguard though she had never been before and couldn’t know if that’s where she was now

The rain finally reached her, soaking everything and making the uneven ground even more treacherous as she navigated her way down. At least she hoped she was heading down, it was so dark it was hard to tell which way she was going. But something felt oddly familiar to her, she just could not place what it was. She was sure she had never been here before and yet the persistent feeling that she had lingered about her. She kept walking, hoping to see another person or a castle somewhere in the distance. But all she saw was rocks and moss as far as the eye could see.

As she walked, she came up short, nearly plunging off the side of the mountainside cliff. She was sure she had been walking the other way but turned around and continued on. The birds began to show up then. At first it was only a few but the number grew the longer she walked until there were hundreds of them. All watching her with their blackened, unblinking eyes. It made her want to scream. The next time she nearly walked off a cliff, when she turned around a field of crows stood just behind her. They left her no room to walk as they coated the ground around her.

“Get away! What do you want?” She screamed at them, feeling horror at the sight of them.

They all charged her, flying up to peck her face off. She flew backwards in fright, flying off of the cliff. The wind whistled past her louder than it had ever been. And then she hit the water.

Shanda woke with a start, her heart pounding. She stood up, breathing heavily. When she managed to calm her heart she saw Benjicot still fast asleep. Judging by the sunlight coming in, it was only noon. She’d only gotten a few hours of sleep. She walked over to the table where the leftover food sat and poured herself a drink. As she drained it, she thought of the dream. It had mimicked the vision she had in the godswood. That was why it had felt so familiar.

Glancing back at Benjicot, she envied his peaceful slumber. When he woke up, they would have to have a serious conversation about their visions. She wouldn’t let him persuade her away from getting answers this time. It was worrying her not to know what it meant. She hoped this trial was the ensuing storm waiting for her. She wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, given the sensitive nature of the situation the last thing they needed was prophetic revelations happening in the middle of it all.

Placing her cup back on the table she made her way back over to the bed and crawled under the covers. She shivered, it was so blessedly warm inside from the sheer amount of heat Benjicot radiated. She curled up beside him, already half asleep by the time she was fully horizontal.

[antisocialmastermind]

Chapter 4

Day 4: RKDSNEA = darkens, ranked, reds

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 on Ao3

Kurt’s going to miss his own damned artists’ reception. Because of Serena Mbali, whose work he totally admires. But that doesn’t give her the right to ruin his life. Goddammit.

The reception had been scheduled for a Saturday evening in May. All the artists had enthusiastically committed, ready to celebrate the opening and each other and perhaps influence a few sales. Kurt always, always works at the restaurant on Saturday nights – Saturdays mean big tips. But he’s also worked hard on these pieces and on helping to get the gallery ready for opening. He wants to be there. So he grovels and begs and manages to convince Leslie to trade shifts with him. It means working a double on Friday, which well and truly sucks. But he’ll be able to sleep it off on Saturday and attend the reception in the evening.

Until Serena, who has been ranked a “must-see” artist by the New York Times Arts section, calls Elliott in a panic with barely a week to go. She’s had a scheduling snafu and wants to know if it's possible to move the reception to Friday night so she can make a flight to London on Saturday. Serena Mbali is far more of a draw than Kurt Hummel. Elliott wants her – needs her – at this reception. So he checks with the other artists and dashes out updated publicity. 

Groveling and begging don’t work this time. As prettily as Kurt pleads, he can’t find anyone to take his Friday night shift. And, honest to god, can something go his way? Just one time? He’s beyond disappointed, but it is what it is. He’ll miss the reception.

****

A few days before the gallery’s opening, Kurt delivers his pieces to Muse. He hangs and labels and adjusts them. Checks the lighting. Does what he can to make his work sing from its place on the gallery wall. He has a good variety, an illustration of the breadth of his work, each piece unique, contrasting, but there’s a cohesiveness to the grouping that’s pleasing. 

He walks through the space, viewing work by all of the contributors. He considers Serena’s pieces. They’re striking abstract works and she has a way of layering and texturing paint that makes Kurt want to stroke his fingers over her canvases – as if her work is meant to be experienced by his hands as well as his eyes. She’s good, and Kurt understands why Elliott wants her present for the opening.

He lets time seep away as he stands in front of Elliott’s work. Most of Elliott’s pieces are depictions of Kurt and seeing himself in Elliott’s galaxy of materials and styles and colors is dazzling. He remembers the first time Elliott asked him to sit for a painting. The result of that first collaboration hangs in front of Kurt now, an austere oil portrait that recalls Sargent. Kurt had asked Elliott why on earth he’d want to paint him, and he thinks of Elliott’s answer now.

“I just really know you Kurt. You play everything so close to the vest, but there’s so much going on with you all the time, right under the surface and I notice it, because I know you. But most people don’t. And I just want to see if I can catch that. Like, make all of you visible. Does that make sense?”

Kurt smiles. It does. 

It’s been a painful month of letting go of his crush on Elliott. He’s spent more time out of the apartment than he used to, and has worked hard to understand both Elliott and himself more clearly. Thinking now of Elliott’s words, he realizes how lucky he is to have a friendship so deep. Elliott’s a beautiful guy and he’s been a huge part of Kurt’s life since they met. 

But Elliott doesn’t bank his passion. He spends it. Everything with Elliott is just out there for everyone to see. All the time. And Kurt thinks that’s a great quality in a best friend. 

But in a lover, Kurt reasons – or maybe even a boyfriend one of these days – he’d like someone who banks a little passion. Who saves some just for Kurt. Who feels more passionate about Kurt than he does about the mailman or a new tattoo. Kurt deeply loves that Elliot’s so passionate about everything.

“But he’s not the guy for me,” he mumbles under his breath as he stares at all of Elliott’s ways of seeing him. Each of Elliott’s canvases has captured a little whisper of secret Kurt. Each of them is beautiful in its way. But not one of them feels intimate, or besotted or infatuated. None of them feels like love.

And, just like that, Kurt realizes that he’s over Elliott Gilbert.

****

Kurt doesn’t have time to even poke his head into the gallery on opening day. He’s working a double and he oversleeps and he really needs to spend some time on his latest piece. Elliott’s long gone by the time he’s awake and functional, so he takes advantage of the quiet, empty apartment. He throws a piece of dyed leather into the bathtub and sets it to soaking, then grabs a hand-etched stamp and some weights and drags them out to the fire escape.

He has to throw the scrap of hide into a pot to carry it outside; It’s heavy and he doesn’t want it to drip all through the apartment. On the fire escape, he shakes and smooths the leather and looks it over. He’d endured Elliott’s wrath about the stains in the bathtub to get the colors he wants, but it’s worth it. The leather’s soft. Its gradient starts with a deep, rosy magenta and darkens to an intense, rich plum. It’s perfect. He stretches it through a frame and lays it atop the stamp, covering it with a layer of thin cotton and pressing the weights on top. It should be dry and ready by tomorrow.

He needs to get moving if he doesn’t want to be late for his shift, so he grabs his bag and keys and phone and bustles out of the apartment. He texts Elliott, Good luck *please* let me know how everything goes! and runs for the train.

****

Of course Kurt’s working a double on the busiest day in the history of restaurants. He doesn’t sit for almost twelve hours, and he only manages a few bites of a beet and goat cheese salad when he ducks into the wait station for silverware or a cruet of olive oil. By 10:30 he’s grouchy and starving and his feet are going to fall off, and he almost cries with relief when Kevin offers to do his closing side work so Kurt can go. He hugs Kevin and grabs his things before he can change his mind. 

He’s slipping out the back door of the restaurant when his phone buzzes with a text from Elliott: Debriefing at the up and up get there. Kurt sighs. He’s really too tired for this. But he missed the opening and he should at least make an appearance and he can sleep tomorrow. He texts back, omw order me a charc board and a parisian night suit, and heads for MacDougal Street.

By the time Kurt flings himself into their usual corner spot at The Up and Up, his charcuterie board and fancy cocktail are waiting for him. Elliot’s smart enough that there’s separate food for the rest of the group. No one likes hangry Kurt. He reads the room, tiredly looking at each of them in turn. Elliot’s grinning and even Sebastian looks pleased, but Chandler seems like he’s just waiting for permission before he literally explodes. Kurt gratefully shoves a manchego-topped cracker into his mouth and picks up his drink.

“Okay,” he prods, “how’d it go?”

“It was—” Elliott begins, but Chandler’s gushing over him.

“Kurt,” he squeals, “Rachel Berry was there!”

For a second, Kurt thinks he’s just tired and must have misheard. He blurts out, “What?” 

Rachel Berry is the hottest Broadway starlet around right now, and her appearance at the Muse opening will undoubtedly be all over the art and gossip sections over the next few days. It’s amazing publicity and Kurt is stunned. He might be her biggest fan and oh my god, Rachel Berry has seen his artwork. 

“How?” he stutters, “Why?”

Elliott’s grin nearly splits his face in two. “Serena,” he responds. “They know each other, and Serena felt so bad for asking me to move the reception, she convinced Rachel to make an appearance. Free publicity for days, baby!”

He laughs giddily and Kurt shoves his charcuterie to one side so he can bang his forehead onto the table. “I can’t believe I missed it,” he groans. 

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Elliott says sweetly. “But thank you for taking one for the team.”

Kurt helps himself to a handful of Elliott’s truffle-rosemary popcorn and sighs. “Okay,” he says. “What else? Anyone else good? Sell anything?”

“Well, you did,” Elliott says. “The silk and wool piece with the fiery reds.”

“Oh, wow,” Kurt beams. He’ll take it.

“And, of course, Serena sold a couple,” Elliott continues. 

He’s about to go on when Chandler interjects, “Oh! Elliott made himself a new fan.” 

“Oh, my,” Kurt replies. “Do tell,” He waggles his eyebrows for effect. Elliott looks pleased and maybe a little embarrassed.

“We think he’s one of Seb’s,” Elliott says, and Kurt looks at Sebastian, who just shrugs.

“No clue,” Seb rejoins. “I left those damn fliers all over West Street. Not sure why they insist he’s mine.”

“Because that was a Dior suit, Sebastian. Easily cost the guy four grand,” Chandler snaps, and Kurt feels his eyes widen as he turns back to Elliott.

“No idea.” It’s Elliott’s turn to shrug. “I missed him. I was talking to Rachel Berry and by the time Chandler told me, he was long gone.”

“He was only there for about half an hour,” Chandler nods. “But he spent the whole time sitting in front of Elliott’s stuff, just, like, studying it. He smelled divine. I wanted to lick him. Ooooo! I wonder if he’s a critic!”

“Did he buy anything?” Kurt queries, and Elliott looks embarrassed again.

“He did. Window.”

Window is the blue and yellow, vaguely Van Gogh-esque piece that Elliott finished recently. It’s a large canvas, and a sale like this is amazing good fortune for the gallery and for Elliot as an artist.

“That’s amazing,” Kurt breathes. “You do have a fan!”

“I guess I do,” Elliott shrugs. “But so do you. It was Rachel Berry who bought your piece.”

Kurt’s scream turns several heads. Elliott and Chandler are giggling madly as Kurt whacks Elliott on the shoulder and Sebastian rolls his eyes like this is all so far beneath him.

“You ass!” Kurt yells. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Kurt buys the next round.

Chapter 5

[ghostwise]

omg pls pls pls

6. Randomly while holding hands bringing joined hands together to kiss the back of the hand

phonophilia - She's a consummate killer, but she's a bard first and foremost. Aya muses on Astarion's voice.

“Were you ever a musician?”

Astarion looks up, brows raised so high as to blend neatly with his white curls. “Come again?” he asks, reining in his surprise.

Aya regards him appraisingly for a moment. She’s been silent for a while, strumming at her lute. As Wyll and Lae'zel have gone off to investigate a somewhat precarious area past the cliffs west of the temple, she and Astarion are alone for the time being. The question came out of nowhere.

“You ever, you know, sing? Play an instrument?” she elaborates, her voice low. “You have a good voice, so I wondered if you’d ever put it to any musical purpose.” She then scans him again with a lopsided grin. “Your fingers are very graceful. I can picture them on a violin maybe? Or a piano? Or is a harpsichord more your speed?”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion scoffs.

And yet, his interest is piqued. After a beat he scoots close to her, and aims a wry smile in her direction.

“You have me curious now, though. Tell me more about my graceful fingers and good voice.”

Her laugh is deep in her throat, a gruff sound that scratches his brain just so. “Well, for starters, you have a really smooth timbre. A lot of color to it. Your vocal placement is interesting; you speak with your chest but flip to your head voice often, and sometimes back and forth in a characteristic way. It’s not easy for everyone.”

“I’m not everyone, darling,” Astarion purrs, utterly pleased with himself and only half understanding her.

“That’s true,” she says with a sigh. “I would love to see those vocal chords of yours.” 

To be honest, music and lyricism aren’t in his realm of interests. Poetry in particular leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Settings where orchestras and waltzes take place make him wary, for a variety of reasons… but it’s undeniably charming to hear her speak so passionately about anything that isn’t murder.

As if reading his mind, she reaches for Astarion’s hands. Now they are to be assessed. She looks at them, slowly running her fingertips over his knuckles, and feeling his wrists.

The rough feeling of her calloused fingertips might have put him off once, but somehow it elicits a different feeling as of late. Shivers. Sparks.

“These hands are quite nimble,” she says. “Surprisingly strong, too. Whether picking a lock or cutting throats, you do everything with such finesse, Astarion. Put to the right instrument, and you would be great, oh, I am sure of it.”

“Perhaps.”

He turns his hands over and she quickly laces their fingers together over the lute, which still rests solidly between them.

“Even so, I think I’ll leave it to you,” Astarion says, eyes fixed to her freckled wrists, and the soft shadow of her pulse fluttering there. “You seem to have it covered. I've yet to see you encounter an instrument your talented hands can’t coax into song.”

“Believe me, it’s a surprise to me too, each time,” Aya says. “I never remember until I have it in my hands. And I cannot recall how I came to all of it, but…”

“But?” Astarion presses.

“I suppose I like it.” Aya shrugs lightly. Her grip goes slack in his hands. “I think music must be the only good I am capable of putting in the world.”

He could be imagining the tinge of sadness in her words. Perhaps it’s there for his benefit, perhaps not, but he’s inclined to think the latter. And he’d rather like it gone. She’d been all lit up just a moment ago.

“Don’t look so glum, my dear,” he says, and raises her hands to his lips. “Come. Play me something. I’ll sing you a song.”

[fountainpenguin]

Hc: tootie’s actual name is trootie, but she couldn’t pronounce it years ago and it stuck with her

That's similar to my headcanon. I gave her the spelling Trudy, although "Tootie" was used as a nickname (like Tootsie Roll).

I did a search to see if it comes up in my files, and here's a scene I wrote in 2020 that makes me laugh (ft. aged-up Tootie now using her birth name):

Molly looked curiously at Trudy, tapping a finger against her lip. “Didn’t she move to some small country in Europe with her boyfriend or something?” “Husband, actually. She’s really the queen of this micronation they rule together.” Trudy’s eyes turned misty behind her glasses. “I wonder how she’s doing right now.” Since Tootie asked a valid question, we may as well pause our brunch date for a moment and take a brief trip one million million miles away from planet Earth. At that precise moment, Queen Victoria could be found sprawled across her royal mattress (which was, of course, stuffed with wads of cash for extra padding) in her second-favorite set of skull and crossbone pajamas, snoring half-contently. Each of her arms hugged a fat sack of coins with a ridiculously elaborate Yugopotamian money symbol printed on its front in blue. The covers tangled around her legs in a cyclone, which was the only reason she hadn’t completely rolled off the bed to the floor. Rolled off the side, it’s possibly worth mentioning, that her husband normally tried to claim for himself whenever he spied enough room to place a tentacle. As for her husband? King Marqavalier had just made the mistake of attempting to hold his wife’s pale human hand in her sleep. The death-defying trial proved successful on occasion, but that night turned out not to be tonight. He was now rinsing himself down furiously in the royal bedroom’s private muckpool wing, mumbling a variety of incoherent curses he’d picked up during his time on Earth, even though he wasn’t certain what they meant and happened to be using every single one in all the wrong ways. Back in their bedroom, Vicky murmured in her dreams and rolled over to cuddle with a third bag of taxes she had personally collected from the royal manure connoisseur earlier that day.

Along the Cherry Lane

Tootie growing up to live a relaxed life because her sister is in a loving relationship with an alien who adores her and she gets to rule over a bunch of people who are super into her way of threatening them with axes, my beloved...

Actually, do you think Mark gets huffy when Vicky threatens their subjects with weapons? We know driving a spear into the tentacle is a courtship signal for Yugopotamians and I feel like he probably had to have some talks with her about why she can't just attack people.

Vicky at a royal banquet: /throws an axe at the butler Mark: I'm being cheated on

Of course, the beauty of their relationship being that Mark spent 50+ years on Earth learning human culture, and would probably NOT interpret this as cheating and would instead interpret it as super hot the way he did when his ex almost sliced him to bits and threw him in the dungeon, but-

[fallingthruspace]

Started a post regarding my thoughts about the season 2 premiere of Carnival Row, but it was getting way too long. So here’s the cliff notes version

🚨SPOILERS AHEAD🚨

- I’m really loving the variety in types of Faun that they’re introducing this season. So far my favorite is the man running the street fighting ring who looks like a bull

- That fae disease is fucking BRUTAL and I love the makeup and effects they did to show it. Watching Oona try to fly was heartbreaking

- Vignette and Philo are cute as always but seriously need some sort of relationship counseling. Or at least better communication skills

- Seeing Imogen and Agreus being happy for five whole minutes before shit hit the fan was nice. Also the fact that they apparently need to be touching/kissing 90% of the time is so sweet. Their love language is physical touch and we love to see it

- Nice to see that Dombey continues to be an insufferable piece of shit. I know he’s just there to be the racist asshole that everyone hates and I hope this seasons monster eats his face

- Speaking of insufferable pieces of shit: Ezra Spurnrose. I knew he’d make up some story about Agreus “kidnapping” Imogen to avoid a scandal or some shit. Still pissed me off

- And speaking of Ezra, that nightmare Imogen had about him was freaky as FUCK. Enough that it made me wonder if there was a reason, other than being with Agreus, that Imogen wanted to run away from Ezra specifically. (NOTE: no, I don’t think he touched her or anything like that, but he is a creep and maybe he did say or do something that had Imogen picking up on his creepy vibes)

- Please, for the love of god, let Tourmaline get over Vignette. Vignette is clearly choosing Philo over her again and again, Tourmaline deserves better

- I was wondering if Tourmaline would be the next Haruspex since a few of the trailers showed her eyes glowing blue just like Aoife’s were in The Gloaming. Guess I was kind of right

- i simultaneously love and hate Sophie Longerbane lol

- interested to see how Agreus knows that faun Imogen was talking to in the kitchen (Leonora? I can’t remember how to spell her name)

- I fucking KNEW that the Ravens would burst into the room before Philo could make his big announcement. It’s waaay too early in the season to spill that tea

- I did not expect Dahlia and that other Fae to be killed, seeing their heads nailed to the wall genuinely took me by surprise

- Does anyone know what the critch who look like a tall, upright version of Gollum from LOTR are? I’ve rewatched s1 multiple times and don’t remember them being mentioned.

- New Dawn feels like a thinly veiled Communism metaphor

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Anton Grandert of Boba Fett and other members of the Sand People tribe jump on a repulsar train from speeder bikes in the deserts of Tatooine. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 2, The Tribes of Tatooine. Calendar by DateWorks.

For as many places as he had been and the wide variety of terrains that he had traveled, over, through, under, and along, Grogu still found the almost endless types of vehicles in use around the galaxy amazing.  Speeder bikes, repulsar trains, star ships, tracked trucks, wheeled vehicles of all makes, and flight packs… were just some of the ones he’d actually been on at some point or other. Add to that list all the critters that had been trained to haul people or their equipment around and the over list more than doubled in size. 

Think about it. Some people just got from point A to point B on their own feet or whatever passed for ‘feet’ in their species (Hutts didn’t really have feet, after all). You just point yourself in a direction and go. But… what if it was raining? Or cold? Or hot? Then maybe going by foot wasn’t the best idea. 

You’d look around and see what else could be done. Maybe you were lucky enough to have a flight pack and zip, zoom you were off! In the air and flying wherever it was that you wanted to go. Fast. Efficient. Cool. Actually, it was pretty darn cold depending on your altitude and the weather. Grogu was pretty sure that’s why Din Djarin had that blanket that he wore like a cape. He wished that he had one of his own. The blanket and the flight pack. He didn’t need one if he didn’t have the other. 

But say, you got air sick. Just the thought of flying and zipping and dropping through time and space made their stomach curl up into a knot. Peli said that was part of the reason she’d never left Tatooine. Anytime she came close to climbing into a starship, her stomach started to argue with her brain and so far, her stomach always won the argument. The Mandalorian had made a crack about her repairing something she’d never fly and she told him that he had plenty of equipment that he’d never used, but she didn’t complain at him about Grogu being an only child. His dad did not bring that topic up again. 

Anyway, Peli said, that instead of flying around like a person who didn’t have something better to do with her time, she preferred to have a droid or mech coach bring her from Mos Eisley to wherever she was supposed to go. Like the one she had ridden in to bring Grogu to find his dad after R2-D2 landed Luke’s X-wing at Peli’s garage and repair shop.  Grogu had enjoyed that mode of transport as much as any of the others he’d ever been on or in. It was a little slow, but you could stop whenever you needed to and throw up and no one complained.

Grogu had asked Peli if she’d always had a delicate stomach and she had laughed. 

“Kid, I can eat a whole Krayt dragon and not feel even a tiny bit queasy. But the very first time my mom put me a little eopie ride at the Bunta Eve fair, I puked my guts up. After that I knew I was meant to ride in a carriage like a great lady.”

Grogu had nodded his head. He’d never met a great lady, so he had no idea how they got around, but he liked the idea of riding an eopie. It was probably a lot like riding a blurrg, once you managed to tame it. Although Tatooine didn’t have any native blurrg, so he had no real way to compare them. He wondered if they were closer to riding a rancor, the way Daimyo Fett had, or riding a bantha like his dad had done when they met the Sand people. 

That’s when he started to giggle. He’d suddenly thought about a rancor riding on the back of a bantha, like a polite gentleman as they escorted the great lady on her eopie. What kind of great lady would ride around Tatooine on an eopie? As far as he knew they didn’t have royalty or even much of a world wide government. The Hutts had been as close as anyone had been to being royalty on Tatooine and that was only because they were ruthless and do whatever it took to have power over the people of the planet. That didn’t sound very great to him and, besides, the Daimyo had explained that they were carried around on a litter by a dozen or more people. That didn’t seem like a great mode of transport.

“Kid, she’s talking about the lady who came here who knows how long ago and saved a bunch of kids from one the Sand People tribes from a krayt dragon. Although, the way I heard the story, she was a teenager who just ran right into the krayt nest and got chased out by the dragon and the kids got away. Also, the word for ‘Great Lady’ translates to ‘reckless’ in their language. Sounds like someone your dad should meet.”

Fennec laughed as the Daimyo entered the throne room. 

“What are you cackling about today, Fennec? The Dream Guardian? That’s what the Sand People really call her, my young friend. And she rode that krayt dragon into the Dune Sea and returned to rescue the children.”

Wow, now that’s a mode of transportation Grogu hadn’t even considered. Riding a krayt dragon… hmmm, if riding a mythosaur made you the Mand’alor, then riding a krayt dragon must make you something pretty cool, but he’d never heard of a Dream Guardian. 

“Don’t worry, kid. You’ll meet her soon enough. You’re just her type.”

Grogu smiled at that. He liked the idea of being someone’s type. He hoped this was the way.