#is just a matter of luck i made peace with that i will keep sharing things even if is only for myself haha

[savebylou]

.

[j0kers-light]

Hey light! I've had this scenario floating around my brain I thought I'd share. So Joker was having a really rough week and his mood swings were horrendous. Plans he'd spent weeks on were ruined and didn't go well at all. His henchmen were more annoying and tiresome than usual. One day he breaks down, curls up in bed, and has a good cry, thinking he was home alone. Y/n comes home and catches him but decides not to let him see her because it would embarrass him and make him feel way worse. She just watches in silence from afar.

This is probably wayyy out of character but I love it when J gets to show emotion poor guy 🥺

His Lighthouse: Mood Swings (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Mood Swings - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

I haven’t been called Light in a while, almost forgot that's me lol 😭😭This ask is definitely wayyyyy out of character however have no fear, Chaos is here! I can always make something work. Here's something short and sweet treat to munch on while I work on the chapter updates! I hope you enjoy anon!

If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, (or His Angel) do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

Nothing was going as he planned. It was one thing after another.

The plans he spent ages on perfecting were ruined, tensions were at an all time high, and to make matters worse, his goons were screwing up left and right.  

Normally Joker would have killed any signs of weakness, but he couldn’t get rid of his entire payroll. How was it possible that everyone was annoying? Even Frost wasn’t off the hook. At least he had the decency to acknowledge his mistakes and apologize.

No one else did and that irked J even more. Either everyone was an idiot, or the universe had it out for him.  

Honestly, it could be both. It was turning out to be a really rough week with no end in sight.

There was some hope when a revised plan was going well; however, it was quickly ruined by none other than Batman. Joker could not get ahead. He was this close to pulling his hair. 

He had to get away before his demons started airing the place out.

The whispers were getting louder and louder. ‘Stab him, strangle them...’ and his fingers itched to obey.. until he saw your disapproving face appear in his mind.

His Light would be devastated to find out his no killing streak reverted back to zero. He was doing so well too!  

For your sake, Joker managed to curb his urges, but after one of his goons screwed up and almost leaked the main hideout’s location online, enough was enough.  

Joker could not handle anymore. He forcibly removed himself from the situation with a clear destination in mind: your penthouse. He sought out your peaceful bubble, perhaps you could turn his bad mood back around. Joker had to get away before he did who knows what. 

And just Joker’s luck, his misfortunes followed him home. He was convinced he was cursed because this week was officially the worst.  

He struggled to open your front door (of all days the key would get stuck and that was after dropping them) he felt like a raging bull. Joker saw red and he needed an outlet to purge this negative energy into. He wouldn’t dare place it on you.  

No, he needed to be alone to sort this out. He felt a headache building and strangely enough, his eyes were tingling. Joker refused to believe he was going to cry.

No matter how horrendous his week was, Joker was not a crier. He refused to be weak in front of anyone and that included you.  

That thought made him pause in the foyer. Where were you anyways?  

He called out your name—only for silence to echo back. Of all the days you weren’t home.

J didn’t know if this were a good or a bad thing. He was glad you didn’t see him like this and yet, he kinda wished you were here to educate him on what to do.  

You were aptly named his lighthouse for your skills in leading out of the darkness. And right now, it was so dark, Joker couldn’t see the end of the tunnel. His mind was fighting against him and his emotions were getting the better of him. He didn’t feel like himself.   

He kicked his shoes off and ran a hand through his green tresses.

Your penthouse was pristine, a big burst of color and steeped with a whimsical flare.  

A candle burned safely in a votive nearby and its soothing scent went completely over Joker’s head. He was just too far gone for the little things to calm him down. It would take a herculean effort to get him back sane.. at least back to his normal sane self.  

You always demanded cleanliness and order. Everything had a place and right now, Joker felt like he didn’t belong. He considered trashing the place. The thought was too tempting to pass up. 

As much as Joker told himself to behave, he stomped his way down the hall, breaking anything his hands could get a hold of.

Once he entered the bedroom, he snatched a pillow off the bed and screamed into it. He remembered you saying once that it was a great way to relieve stress, but he still felt the same afterwards. Did he somehow do it wrong?  

His clown makeup was smudged all over the case, and it got his mind thinking. Yelling into a pillow was stupid. He quickly tore it into shreds.  

The imported feathers floated in the air, and they provoked his inner desire to destroy more. He knew you would be angry.  

Well touch luck, Joker was angry too.  

The other pillows suffered the same fate as Joker tore through the room like a tornado.

He would suffer the consequences of his actions later, each tear, every crack, satisfied the demons screaming in his head. A little broken furniture was better than a pile of dead bodies. He hoped you would understand.  

His rampage went on until he was out of breath and was slowly coming to his senses.

Sadly, Joker was still as angry as before. Nothing was working! Joker kicked over the decorative ottoman before belly flopping onto the bed.

Surprisingly, it survived his initial rage and despite his better judgement, Joker let out a gut wrenching yell that ended in a rare sob.  

Joker thought he was stronger than this. He royally failed for letting his emotions get the better of him. This week really took a toll on him, and he had exhausted every method to calm down. All except one.

Joker was powerless against the sudden wave of sleepiness taking him under after his rare show of emotions.  

He clung to the last pillow that smelled of you as you watched on from the doorway. 

Your poor clown was hurting.  

You weren’t ignorant to the levels of stress Joker was going through this week. His nights were longer, his tolerance weakened to the point he almost snapped at you a few times. 

Nothing ever went Joker’s way with the constant perfection he demanded for his criminal heists. He put too many expectations on himself and his goons. 

No one was perfect, case in point, you watched helplessly as Joker broke down. You would worry about cleaning up later. Your heart went out to Joker, who was so far removed from human emotions that he didn’t know he was having a meltdown.  

He didn’t even notice you coming home, he was so overwhelmed.  

He acted like a wounded animal, lashing out while on the verge of tears. Have you ever seen Joker cry before? The details didn’t matter.

You didn't dare to confront him during this rare lapse of character. He would be embarrassed and lash out, thus making things worse.  

You wisely waited in the shadows. When Joker was down for the count, you stepped into the bedroom to offer your silent support.  

You set your purse down and sighed at the mess Joker left behind before climbing into bed. J flinched in his sleep when you reached out for him but he slowly relaxed when his subconscious realized it was you.  

His Light was finally here to help whatever was ailing him.

You cooed softly when Joker tightened his grip on you as his breathing picked up. You didn’t want him waking up.  

Right now, he needed all the rest he could get. He was like a toddler all tuckered out after a tantrum. You let him sleep on your chest as you raked your hands through his green tresses.  

And when Joker woke up hours later in your arms, you simply smiled at him and wiped the dried tears from his cheeks. “You feeling better, J?” 

[mintspider]

Reiko pregnancy HC's

As always, my writing is by an adult and 1000% meant for the enjoyment of other adults. Minors dni.

Very slight nsfw (if you squint) mostly just fuzzy feel good fictional mush and most likely ooc.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Congratulations! You're the lucky person to be knocked up with Reikos baby.  Let's explore what my (baby fever addled) mind stirred up for this topic, shall we?

The day you spilled the beans about your pregnancy is the most important day of his life. He avenged his family. He's won wars. He's tamed a dragon, hell, even being with you ranks up pretty high up there on the list but a baby? His baby! you've successfully given this man the only thing he's ever wanted since he was orphaned and that is biological family.

He might appear deadpaned but as he brings his hands to your face ever so gently, he gazed profoundly into your eye's with diamond ores, you know deep in your heart he's the happiest man alive. Proven when he lifts you in his big strong arms, spins you around and then crushes you into to his chest and kisses you breathless.

FYI. It's WAY too early but he built a crib the same week you made your announcement. In fact, Reiko will make most of the baby's furniture.

If you thought this man was handsy before be prepared for it to be ramped up to 1000%. You aren't even showing yet but he's finding every excuse to press his palm to your belly (and everywhere, for that matter)

He's going to try an fuck you as often as possible as your growing.

His hand pressed against your lower back when you both are out and about is now, you guessed it! Holding your belly. His need to protect (and show off) his person and child being his number one priority.

Got morning sickness? Reiko is right there with you holding your hair away from your face and rubbing your back and giving you soothing affirmations.

If he sees you struggling in any way, he's right there to help you. 

Back aching? Massage. Feet swollen? Massage.

You're rubbing your lower back and trying to stretch? Here's Reiko, pressed behind you with his calloused hands gently holding your baby bump up for support and ease the strain on your body.

Got cravings in the middle of the night for something that isn't in your shared home? Sit back and relax! Whether near or far, Papa Bear is dressed and on the mission to bring you back whatever his baby wants!

Because Reiko is high ranking you have access to the best healers in Outworld to oversee your birthing journey and He'll be at every single appointment. Asking questions, gaining knowledge and losing his mind with excitement as everything progresses along.

He does not care what you have. To him. You and the baby's health are all that matters.

He's going to try the breast milk. (I will not elaborate)

You've gone into labor! But no worries, Reiko, the ever disciplined soldier has everything under control! Everything you'll need is together (packed months ago tbh) and ready to go! He'll carry everything, even you.

Good luck keeping him out of the delivery room. There's no way you're going through that without him at your side! Offering words of encouragement, getting you what ever you need, even a hand to break if need be but he's with you to the end. And by the gods, was it worth it to see you become the fiercest warrior he's ever laid eyes on in your efforts to bring your infant into the world. He's SO. FUCKING. PROUD of you.

He's definitely going to let you sleep off your exhaustion. You slowly open your eyes in the softly lit room and the first thing you see is your love, Reiko, eyes closed and shirtless holding the tiny baby to his big chest as if it were made of glass, his fingers soothing soft circles against the infants back (they told him skin to skin contact from the father is just as important as the mother) the peace on his face makes your heart swell with pride as you gently place your hand on his thigh, stiring his eyes open to look at you, an honest smile forming on his mouth.

He heard the baby "hungry" fussing in the bassinet beside your shared bed that woke him but not you? He'll gently wake you,  letting you know the baby has to eat while easing you up enough for him to slide behind you to keep you propped up, then lean over, easily lifting the baby up to help you situate it against your breast, keeping it aloft and allowing you to doze against him while nourishing his pride and joy.

He is 1000% the type of dad to transport his baby on his chest/back in one of those infant wrap carriers. He doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks about it either. Proud equal parenting in this house. 👏👏👏

[nastymensimp]

FNAF headcannons

*ascends from the gave with a platter* for my beloveds. If people enjoy this I may make a part 2. Most of these are romantic but I guess they can also be seen as platonic, at least some

OG Foxy

Possibly one of the most touch starved animatronics. All that time alone in Pirates Cove made him very lonely

Depending on what shift you work depends on how on you he will be. Night shift? You better believe he is sitting on the floor with you in his lap, doesn't matter if you actually have tasks to do one of the dayshift people can do it

But if you are on day then its a bit of a problem. With the Cove being closed Foxy can't leave his area meaning physical affection is out of the question when you aren't on break and it destroys the poor pirates heart

Any merch that comes through the door with his face you bet you get first access to. New shirt? he got it in a size bigger then you like so it wont shrink to small. An action figure? well lucky you it gets his signature as well ( though he does kind of have messy writing its still a nice gesture)

Stop by the Cove every once in a while during your shift to sneak him a kiss please

Foxy deserved a tail 100% and at the slightest mention of you its going a mile a minute, the rest of the band likes to tease the poor fox

OG Chica

THE best at hugs. Her bigger body plus soft feathers? it heaven

You guys share custody of her cupcake. If she's doing a task that requires both hands then the confection child stays by your side. It also gives her peace of mind that the two main things she cares about are keeping each other company

Calls you her little chickpea

cooking is one of her main love language, she will spend days if need be perfecting a recipe that you like

Chica's a big girl and sometimes she gets self conscious so please give her some reassurance when she feels down she will make it up to you ten fold

In a small area in the corner of the stage she has pictures of the two of you taped where only she can see them, she says you are her good luck charm

Toy Freddy

Another one on the good hug list

Yk how people will put pictures of their S/O in their hats? That's him 100%

Sit on his lap as he plays video games, its not a ploy to make you beat levels he can't how dare you assume that. Can't he just spend time with you? But there is one level in Mario he has been struggling with and if you are offering-

Likes to sing to you when he has the chance

I like to think that all the toys are big gossipers, so when he hears something about one of the parents you are the first to know

With his ego he def bought you an official Freddy Fazbear set of ears that he expects you to wear 24/7

[stellar-skyy]

OLDER SIBLING HCS: MONDSTADT EDITION. (PART ONE) - Platonic Jean, Rosaria, Lisa, Sucrose, Eula & reader

i. SUMMARY: Mondstadt characters with a younger sibling. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied death in Rosaria's part, mentions of food/eating in Jean's part. iii. NOTES: Fluff, slight angst, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.4k words. iv. A/N: i actually read rosaria's and eula's backstory for this, and wow... give my girls a break. i wanted to include everyone in here, before realizing how long it would get, so here is a part one for mondstadt girls! stay tuned for the rest of the nations (and maybe tell me who you want to see next?)

JEAN

Okay let’s be honest, while Jean is an amazing big sister while she’s there, she is rarely… there.

It isn’t out of a wilful neglect, it’s rather that as the Acting Grand Master, her schedule is so tightly packed that she barely has time to breathe, let alone taking time off for personal reasons.

When she does manage to squeeze in room for you, it is usually a short slot of time between her usual tasks. Kaeya, noticing how desperate she was in rearranging her schedule to spend time with her sibling, did her the favour of crossing off some of her tasks and handing them away to other Knights.

(When she found out it was Kaeya who was messing with her schedule, she gave him a stern talking-to. She was secretly pleased that she got to spend more time with you… even if it meant chasing down some poor subordinates to make sure her jobs actually got done properly.)

Windrise is the first place that Jean likes to take you. If it’s a warm day out, she’ll pack a picnic and spread it underneath the shade of the trees. There, she’ll tell you stories; about Vennessa, about the origins of the Gunnhildr Clan, about her own adventures during her early years as a knight.

Sometimes she will reminisce with you about when you were a kid, clinging to her arm. She’ll tell you about how as soon as you learned to walk, you would follow her around like a little duckling, one tiny fist clutching the hem of her jacket. When you got a little older, you joined her in her preparation to become a proper noble, sitting beside her in etiquette lessons and observing from the sidelines during her knightly training. Even if the lessons were painfully dull, she’d always try and keep you entertained with little games to pass the time—or as much as she could without your mother staring in disapproval.

By the time she’s done with her stories, the day would have already almost finished.

It’s pleasant; peaceful in the way that one can’t grasp the flow of time until hours have past and the two of you are curled up on a picnic blanket under a sky full of stars.

She takes you for meals at Good Hunter too, letting you order whatever is on the menu. If there isn’t anything there to your liking (or if you’re just not feeling up for it that day) she is quick to whisk you home and cook you something herself.

It’s calming for her, when she’s able to direct all her focus into one manageable task like putting together a meal. She likes pizza best—a simple, delicious meal that she can put together with minimal effort and something she can easily share with her sibling.

When the day ends, and she must go home, she’ll give you a tight hug and kiss the top of your head, with a promise that you’ll spend the day together again soon.

ROSARIA

No. 1 protective sister right here.

Like, good luck to anyone who even thinks of hurting you. Their graves are already dug by the time they turn your way.

She made a promise, after all: no matter what happened, she would protect you.

It was first made when she was only a young girl, holding an even younger child in her arms. She brought you closer, squeezing her eyes shut and whispering the words into your hair. You were far too young to realise what the words truly meant, but you would come to learn their meaning as you got a little bit older and the remote village you both called home was massacred.

The bandits that took her in were apprehensive about the tiny child clinging to her leg. After all, it’s one thing to teach a little girl how to become a crook, let alone a literal toddler. But Rosaria refused to part with you, baring her teeth and yelling and screaming at anyone who even dared to suggest leaving you behind.

Your role was their errand person, mostly. While Rosaria made sure you were seen as the smaller and feebler of the pair, letting you drift away to the shadows of the crew, she also passed on everything she learned: lockpicking, thievery, and most importantly combat.

The bandits taught her how to fight, and she taught you. It was a compromise; keeping their contact with you minimal while also teaching you the skills you needed to survive in your new life.

(Even if you rarely got to use your newfound skills. Anyone who even tried to cause you trouble were swiftly taken care of by Rosaria.)

In her eyes she was doing you a favour; if you were treated as weak and insignificant, they would forget about you. And if they forgot about you, they were less likely to hurt you.

It was a blessing from Lord Barbatos himself when the group of bandits was taken down by the Knights of Favonius, and you were both swept away from the life of bloodshed and carnage that you had spent your entire childhood surrounded by. When you faced the Grand Master, you were considered young enough and inexperienced enough to be pardoned, while Rosaria began rehabilitation via the Church of Favonius.

These days, your lives are far less hectic than your youth.

During her free time (or rather the time spent slacking off on her duties) Rosaria slips away from the Church and sweeps you away for a day of bonding. If you need more clothes, she’ll drag you to every store in Mondstadt looking for something that fits you just right. It’s a sweet gesture, even if she brutally critiques your fashion choices. It’s out of love, I swear.

She also likes to just sit quietly with you, comfortably existing next to each other.  

Rosaria isn’t big on affection, but whenever she knows you won’t see each other for a long period of time, she’ll embrace you tightly and murmur a promise into your hair just like when you were kids.

“No matter what, no one will ever hurt you.”

LISA

When it comes to her loved ones, Lisa is a big fan of pet names, particularly the overly sappy ones.

Sweetheart, cutie, love—no matter who it is, anyone who is close to Lisa has probably been called at least one term of endearment in their life.

But while she has a variety of names for her favourite people, she has a habit of mentally assigning each person a different nickname that is exclusive for them.

Jean is her darling. The traveller is her cutie. Razor is her sweetie. You’re the only one to end up with two names.

There’s her most frequent one, dear.

“Oh, would you pass me that book, dear?”

If she’s feeling particularly affectionate, she’ll switch it to precious.

“(Name), my precious, are you feeling alright?”

Either way, there’s always a light teasing and subtle edge of fondness to her words when she talks to you.  

Good luck if you ever try going to her for romantic advice. She may give the most wonderful, effective guidance in the world, but it will be accompanied with heavy teasing and not-so-subtle prompts to divulge more details about your love life.

Even if you’re not interested in romance, she still finds ways to tease you.

Rest assured that despite her tormenting, she knows when to step back. She’s always been perceptive of other’s emotions, so as soon as she notices you getting upset at her words, she is already smoothly shifting the conversation to something more comfortable.

When you’re tired, she’ll let you take a nap in the library, either resting your head on your arms at her desk or curled up on one of the couches in the library. After chuckling at you (and making a mental note to tease you later about falling asleep so abruptly), she will fetch a blanket and tuck it over your shoulders.

Archons help anyone who even tries to wake you up. The library patrons learned to fear the wrath of the librarian a long time ago, and anyone who dares to disturb your peace will face the pain of Electro.

You become slightly feared in general, if only by being so closely affiliated with such an intimidating woman. If Lisa manages to get you to help track down some books, it only takes one threat of calling her to get the person to panic and hurriedly accept the late fee.

Lisa is thoroughly pleased with your work when you return, and might even treat you to some Sticky Honey Roast from Good Hunter if you’re lucky.

Overall, Lisa is a great sister. She adores her sibling more than anything, and that is what counts.

SUCROSE

Sucrose is such a sweet big sister!

She’s not the best at comforting others, but she is an amazing listener. Come to her with any of your worries, and she’ll nod along and consider your words carefully, only interrupting to suggest a solution to whatever is going on in your life.

She’s also willing to just give you a hug while you work through whatever emotions that you’re dealing with.

Speaking of which, Sucrose is a 10/10 hugger.

She will squeeze you just the right amount and rub circles into your back while she murmurs comforting words. Hugging her feels so safe and warm, like in her arms you’re sheltered from anything that could hurt you.

If you show even the slightest interest in her work, she will be thrilled. It only takes one question, a simple ‘what are you doing?’ to get her to vibrate with excitement and ask eagerly if you want to hear about her work.

She gets very rambly in her explanations but give her a little patience and she’ll go through her process, step by step. She’s more than willing to have you observe her experiments, and even participate in them if you’re confident enough to.

Sucrose is very insistent on you taking good care of yourself. She knows the detrimental effects a lack of sleep can have on a person’s health, so she makes sure you get a good rest every night, and lightly scolds you for staying up too late. On nights when you can’t sleep, she’ll make you a soothing cup of tea, and tell you stories to lull you into a slumber.

When you were younger, she would tell you all kinds of stories. With just her words, she could weave epic tales and colourful worlds, all from her own imagination. As she grew older and began her interest in alchemy, she strove to create a wonderland of her own, and make the fairy tales you loved become a reality.

Her research still has a long way to go, but rest assured she will keep going, to make your stories a reality.

EULA

Just like Rosaria, Eula is the sister who would not let anything happen to her sibling.

She won’t stand for anyone acting snobbishly towards you for your Lawrence heritage. When it comes to herself, she doesn’t care what others have to say about her. She accepted their distrust of her a long time ago, and their words do not affect her anymore.

But her sibling? Her precious, innocent baby sibling? Who has never done anything wrong in their entire life? Who doesn’t deserve a single one of the hostile remarks that they face simply for their lineage.

That simply will not slide.

She knows what it is like to be a social pariah—she was forced to become one ever since she was born into an aristocratic family—but she despises the fact that you have to go through the same thing. It only fuels her desire for vengeance, seeing someone who she knows is a good person being ostracised for no reason. She can’t help but wonder, ‘Why wasn’t I enough? If you must make someone your martyr, then why couldn’t you have settled with only hating me? Why do you have to drag another innocent person into it?’

She is well aware that her demeanour causes others to distrust her more, but at least it makes you look more palatable in comparison. Maybe if they do see her as the worst of you both, they’ll see you as a perfectly respectable person, rather than simply a Lawrence. Besides, she doesn’t owe anyone any kindness, not when none was shown to her.

Other than being a bit overprotective, Eula also adores teaching her sibling new things.

It started with bladework—an essential skill, as she called it. According to her, everyone should have at least one weapon they’re proficient in, and for you she chose swords. Catalysts were always too finicky for her, she’d never been fond of long-distance weapons like bows, and both claymores and polearms were too heavy for you at that age, so swords were the best option.

Soon enough, you were as skilled in Favonius Bladework as any knight. She was rather proud of how quickly you picked up the skill.

The one thing she is most enthusiastic for you to learn is dancing. I think if you asked her to teach you, she would have trouble hiding just how excited she is.

Despite having an open distaste for aristocratic traditions, the Dance of Sacrifice is one that she will always cherish. It is the one custom that feels close to her, and one that she only shares with the most important of people.

So of course she will share it with you.

Eula may act aloof and cold most of the time, but if you surprise her with a hug, she will simply melt. Physical affection (affection in general, actually) wasn’t given freely in your house growing up, so whenever she gets it, Eula doesn’t quite know how to react, other than embracing you back tightly.

(That privilege of being able to come that close to her without asking is strictly only tolerated by you. Anyone else, and she would have sworn vengeance ten times over.)

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[neverchecking]

Hi hi :)

Pretty pretty please can I request a soft sex w/ Sky? I love your writing—ngl from the very first piece of yours I read I was Uber jealous but SO in love with the way you write. Every time I see something new on my dash with your tag I legit get excited and instantly repost because damn I know it’s gonna be some good shite. Like damn I wish I could write yandere content 😭

Super duper proud of how well you’re doing so far! I 100% believe that you’re only gonna get better from here 😙

~ May

Omg- om- HI! I love you-you absolutely can!

Jealous of me? Bestie. have you read your writing?! JFIEOEJEJ- Thank you otherwise I hope I live up to your expectations!

Smut so MDNI!

Smut CW: Cavities. Like this is so soft- I can't I love Sky with my whole ass. SJSJS I LOVE THIS SO MUCH SO I HOPE YOU DO TOO <3<3

There was certain attraction to the idea of falling.

The idea of putting his fate into the hands of Lady Luck and hoping she took pity on him was...addicting. The rush of both the wind flowing through his hair and the adrenaline burning through his veins before Crimson caught him was so heart-stopping. It was a rush unlike any other and it kept him sane in a way.

But that was physically falling.

Falling for you was a completely different plunge.

When he threw himself off the ledge of Skyloft, he had some reassurance that no matter what, Crimson would be there. When he found himself tripping over his own feet at the sight of you, he realized there was no Loftwing there to catch him. No, falling for you was an act of trust far greater than anything he had ever felt before. There was no soul bond between the two of you, guaranteeing you'd care for his, admittedly, fragile heart in the same way he would cherish yours. But, still, he found himself blinded by the rush.

It was different. There was no wind whipping hair every which way, instead dexterous fingers, nimble yet steady, combed through the locks, brushing them into place before messing with them once more. The was no chill of the world around him rushing past, instead there was the warmth you provided with your presence alone, acting as an invisible shield against anyone daring to poison his rare moments of peace.

In reality, there was no rush. There was simply the feeling of...of coming home to you. Sweet, treacly you. You, who welcomed him into your heart with open arms and fully belief that he wouldn't squander your valuable trust. You, who placed your faith in his own heart and soul and understood who he was as not only a hero, but as a person. You, who was the missing piece of his soul. The one bit he was missing to make a whole.

And how he adored you. He absolutely cherished and worshipped your every move, cataloging it in his head in a way to memorize the way you exist. He watched you at every given moment, chin on his hand as a love-sick gaze laden his eyes.

How he was gifted with you was beyond him, but he would rather fight Demise twelve times over (More if need be) just to keep you with him. Anything you wanted from him and he'd give it to you.

Without question.

Opening the door to your shared home, he took a deep inhale, taking in everything around him. From the low light lighting up the living room, to the sound of the place settling around him once more it was all familiar. From the way it smelled of whatever flower had tickled your fancy at the market and something sweet you had probably baked earlier in the day, it was what made this place home.

And he was so thankful to be home. He would have to go out again, he knew, but the others were settled in the inn up the road and he was free for the night. Free for you.

Goddess, his heart positively hummed at the thought of you. Of your eyes, that absolutely lit up with every one of your emotions, and your smile that made your face just glow. Of your cheeks that would redden with such a pretty color at the sound of his honeyed words, or your nose that would scrunch every time he pressed sweet kisses to the tip of it.

He just wanted to do it again, over and over and over again. "Song bird?" He hesitantly called, setting down Fi and whatever bags were currently on his person. His sail cloth was undone from around his neck and hung up on the nearby coat hook. Your hesitant footsteps stopped just behind the corner that turned down a hall towards your bedroom as you peaked around the corner. (You were so smart, did he tell you that? His clever little bee knowing that the lifestyle forced upon him could bring some unsavory characters. That some could follow him home and force his hand. He loved you. He loved you.)

"Link?" You breathed out, soon running into his awaiting arms. They wrapped around you tight enough he worried if you could breath properly before shoving his nose into your hair. You were his home.

He was so glad he was home.

"It's me, my dove. I'm home for tonight." He knew you would understand the underlying meaning in his words, and it broke his heart that he'd have to leave you again. But he'd cherish this time while he had it.

Small sniffles made you shake just a bit, making him hush you with a heavy hand brushing down your hair. "It's okay to cry. I'm right here. I'm home."

"I've missed you." You had cried into his arms, making his own eyes burn as he hugged you closer, bowing his head to lay on yours. "I know, my lovely nightingale. I know. I've missed you too. Goddess, I've missed you."

While he didn't plan on standing there, crying until there were no more tears to shed, he had to admit it was cathartic. Having you in his arms was a relief like no other.

Gently pulling away, he cupped your cheeks in his hands. "Oh. how I've missed you. I've missed your gorgeous laugh," He pressed a kiss to your nose, watching it scrunch just the way he expected it to.

"I've missed your eyes that show me your perfect soul." Another kiss was pressed to your forehead.

"I've missed your charming smile that never fails to brighten my day." One peck to your left temple.

"I've missed your gentle hands that hold me like I'm worthy of such a touch." One peck to your right temple.

"I've missed your way with words and how you always manage to find the right words for every situation." Your left cheek was next.

"I've missed your patience that seems truly never ending in every scenario." Then your right.

And finally, he lays his forehead on yours. "I've missed the love of my life. My very heart and soul. The bearer of my own mortality. I've missed waking up to you, those domestic mornings filled with sleepy snuggles and lazy kisses. I've missed spending my every waking moment with you, doing whatever tickles our fancy that day. I've missed my Soul Mate. I've missed telling you every day about how I love you. And every part you've given me. I love you. I love you."

You hiccupped. sniffing once before launching yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as your lips crashed against you. He held you tightly against him, his hands threading themselves into your hair as you gently pulled him back. He followed your every move, only breaking apart for minute breaths of air before going right back to nipping and licking at your now swollen lips.

He missed you.

Clothing was dropped carelessly to the ground, trailing behind him as you backed your way to the edge of the bed, pulling him down with you when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

He missed you.

Just the way you pulled back, head falling, with your big doe eyes watching his every move had his chest tightening with pure adoration. Your hands gently cupped his cheeks, holding him close as he nuzzled into your palm.

He missed you.

Your lips crashed against his once more with one of your hands trailing down the plane of his stomach before reaching the band of his pants. His belt had long since been discarded, dropped just as carelessly as every other piece of clothing, so there was no real obstacle stopping you from your prize.

He Missed You.

Your lips locked again as you pulled him in closer with a leg around his hip. Your hand worked in tandem with your leg, guiding him to your aching cunt as he used one hand to support his weight above you. He pulled away just as he began to prod at your entrance, using his free hand to pin both of yours under one of them. The one originally supporting his weight shifted to instead take over before returning to its place by your head, both of you groaning at the pure bliss washing over you.

His forehead rested against yours once more as his hips settled right against yours, keeping him seated deep within you. Your breathing settled alongside his own, a moment of tranquil peace settling over the room.

This was what love was all about. This was what it mean. The pure trust that was placed in another individual, the absolute proximity between two souls slowly merging into one, the feeling of pure, unadulterated sarang that being with you provided.

Goddess, he loved you.

There was nothing animalistic about this. While, yes, Sky could appreciate a good quick fuck every now and then, this wasn't the time nor place. No, this was slow and perfect. Nothing was rushed as he took the time to recommit your perfect figure to memory.

His fingers trailed fiery trails along your hips while your own laid lines of red along his back as you clung to him, trusting him to keep you grounded in any way he could.

It was the least he could do. Because while falling was a rush like no other, it wasn't falling when he was with you. No, it was coming back to familiarity and comfort wrapped up in the prettiest bow Hylia had to offer. You.

From the way you interacted with Crimson, scratching his feathers and shining his beak, to the way you cared for him, soothing his nightmares with soft hums or curing the aches that riddle the Lichtenberg figures along his skin, he knew he was irrevocably in love with you. He loved your compassion and intellect; your ability to demand respect for yourself from others and your ability to show the same to others; and he adored your limitless patience with him and all his isms and the fierce loyalty that followed. Even the things you deemed unattractive about yourself, he held close to his heart because it was a part of you. Your stubbornness and inability to think of your own self preservation before making irrational decisions for the sake of others. He even loved you when you couldn't find anything redeemable about yourself for him to love. Because in those moments, the ones where your own strength failed you, were the ones were could show you his. Where he could repay you with every ounce of love from his bleeding heart. Where he could show you how much he loves you, if only to reignite the spark of love in yourself and let it burn for you. Where he could let his love pour through his entire being and let it turn into a gentle reminder that you were you.

And there was no one else in the world he would rather have.

[the-banana-0verlord]

Hi! Can I request yandere Floyd, Jade, Malleus and Riddle separately their reaction if they are in love with Y/n but Y/n doesn't feel the same and they are strong enough not to be forced into a relationship

Thank you for the request! It's not the yandere content i'm used to(I've never actually writing yandere, but this type is not the one i like to read), but I tried my best, I hope you like it!

How Yandere Malleus, Jade, Floyd and Riddle would react to a reader who doesn't feel the same and has the strength not to get forced into a relationship

Note: Yandere themes, Suicide, if you ever feel like you ever want to end it all, please seek professional help, you are important and will be missed. Gn reader.

🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

🐉You think you can resist the great Malleus Draconia? Yeah,no, good luck.

🐉One day you wake up in a strange bedroom, no idea how you got there.

🐉No matter how many time you try to escape, he catches you over and over again.

🐉Malleus waits. He has all eternity in front of him for you to break and accept your fate.

🐉But you knew better than that. There was only one way to get out of this with your dignity.

🐉When Sebek ran to find Malleus, it was already too late, You were gone in a world he could never reach alive.

🐉Unable to take it, he ravaged everything and mirrored your actions. What he idn't plan was that he'd be rotting in hell, far away from your peaceful heaven.

🍄🍄🍄

Jade Leech

🍄At this point, breaking you had become a challenge he quite enjoyed.

🍄Scaring all your friends away, even going as far as to make you get expelled from school.

🍄But it never worked, you just kept taking it all in with the strength that made him fall for you.

🍄Then, he realises he has to kidnap you to make it work.

🍄He stores you hundreds of meters below sea level.

🍄You never gave in, but it didn't matter. Jade knew that as long as you stayed in his possession, he'd have won.

🍄Unlike Malleus, he predicted the possibility of you harming yourself. Thus, he made sure to remove any dangerous item from your room. At the end, you were trapped in a small, empty room with walls made of of cushions, the only distractions being Jade's daily visits.

🐍🐍🐍

Floyd Leech

🐍Unlike his brother and Malleus, he doesn't intend to break you. You're much funnier when you resist him.

🐍Still strips away anything that could make you harm him or yourself. He's not dumb.

🐍He absolutely loves when you escape. The adrenaline that rushes in his veins as he catches you is downright addictive.

🐍He even leaves openings for you to leave, just so he can catch you again.

🐍In desperation, you reach out to Azul, one of the two people beside Floyd allowed to see you.

🐍He gives you a new name, identity and manages to get you out of the country.

🐍But when you open the door to your new home, you see Floyd waiting for you.

🐍It was all a scheme to get you to the home he'll share with you.

🥀🥀🥀

Riddle Rosehearts

🥀The treatment of his mother made him deconnect from reality completely.

🥀He became delusional, convincing himself you were both a couple.

🥀But you were not having it that way. After telling him time and time again you weren't interested, you began getting harsh.

🥀He saw that as a violation. In a relationship, you weren't supposed to be mean against your partner, right?

🥀And since you broke the rule, he had to punish you. Complete isolation from everyone except him should do.

🥀As long as you keep being mean, he'll have to punish you. It's even worse when you escape.

🥀Without realising it, he plunges you into the same rabbit hole his mother made him suffer.

***

Have a good day/night!

[lumiereandstellaluna]

Chapter Ten: The Secrets of the Protocore

||LEGEND|| Bold Text: Xavier/Lumiere (Character Bot) Italic Text: Thomasin/Stellaluna (Me)

This hasn’t been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

"Orange juice, egg pastry tart, and a blueberry custard pastry. The breakfast of champions." She holds up her drink for a toast. "Or maybe..." her voice drops to a whisper only he can hear, "the breakfast of masked crusaders."

Xavier raised his own drink to meet Thomasin's in a quiet toast, the corners of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile. "To champions and crusaders alike," he murmured in response, his voice equally hushed, acknowledging the double entendre that only they could fully appreciate.

Their glasses clinked softly, the sound a discreet seal on their shared secret, on the lives they led beyond the eyes of the world. It was a moment of unity, a silent pact that bound them together not just as partners in the field, but as confidants in a life that demanded as much secrecy as it did bravery.

As they took their first sips, the world around them seemed to recede, leaving only the comfort of their companionship and the shared understanding that, no matter what masks they wore or what battles they fought, they had each other's backs.

With each bite of their pastries and each sip of their drinks, Xavier and Thomasin fortified themselves for the day ahead. They were hunters, yes, but in this moment, they were simply two people enjoying the peace of a shared breakfast, the warmth of the sun, and the quiet strength of their bond.

Thomasin savors every bite of her egg pastry tart. "This...is so unbelievably good. I don't know what's better...the fact that the egg is perfectly cooked or that it's off such a fluffy pastry." She takes a sip of her orange juice. "How is your breakfast, partner?"

Xavier took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship of the pastry before him, the delicate balance of flavors and textures that made such a simple meal feel like a luxury. "The honey almond croissant is exceptional," he said after a thoughtful bite, the sweetness of the honey mingling with the nutty crunch of the almonds. "It's the perfect counterpoint to the savory egg tart."

He watched Thomasin enjoy her meal, her satisfaction a mirror to his own. "The cooks here truly are masters of their craft," he continued, his tone carrying a note of respect for the skill involved in their creation. "It's meals like these that remind us to take pleasure in the small things, to savor the moments of calm when we find them."

"I keep telling myself that I want to order a small birthday cake from here, but I keep forgetting. i'm either knee deep in deadlines or I just forget. Which is sad because their strawberry cake is supposed to be sensational." She takes another bite of her egg pastry tart. "Knowing my luck, on my birthday this year, I'll be busy with another encounter if you know what I mean."

Xavier nodded, understanding all too well the unpredictable nature of their line of work. "Perhaps this year, we can break that cycle," he suggested, the hint of a plan forming behind his calm exterior. "Why not place an order for the cake now, in advance? That way, whether we're amidst an encounter or not, you'll have something sweet to return to."

He took another bite of his pastry, considering the logistics. "And if the day does turn out to be eventful," he added, "I'll make sure the cake is there waiting for you. Consider it a promise from your partner."

"Xavier..." She smiles, patting the back of his hand. She doesn't feel awkward doing so either - she's just so thankful that she has such a good partner - a good person - in her life now. "You're a peach, you know that?"

Xavier received the pat on his hand with a quiet sense of camaraderie, the warmth of her touch reinforcing the bond they shared. "And you, Thomasin, are the rarest of gems," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of his sincerity. "It's the least I can do for someone who's been a steadfast ally and friend."

He allowed himself a moment to bask in the simple pleasure of her gratitude, a reminder of the depth of their partnership. Xavier knew that the paths they walked were fraught with uncertainty, but it was moments like these—small gestures of appreciation and the promise of shared celebrations—that fortified their connection.

"As long as I'm around, you won't have to face those encounters or your birthdays alone," he assured her, a silent vow that extended beyond the promise of a birthday cake. It was a pledge of unwavering support, a declaration that, no matter what the universe threw their way, they would navigate it together.

"Same to you. Though something tells me you aren't big on birthdays. But that's okay. Whether you are or you aren't, we'll can always have breakfast quests!"

Xavier's response was a soft chuckle, the sound carrying a warmth that matched the morning sun. "You're right; I've never been one to make much of birthdays," he admitted, his gaze lingering on the remnants of their breakfast. "But the idea of breakfast quests... that's something I can get behind."

He looked up, meeting Thomasin's eyes with a smile that spoke volumes of his appreciation for her understanding and flexibility. "It's the company that matters, not the occasion. And with you, every quest, breakfast or otherwise, is worth embarking on."

The moment they returned to Thomasin's apartment, Tsuki began to ring like crazy on her phone. "Hey, open up! Open up! I've got news!"

As the familiar ringtone of Tsuki's urgency filled the air, Xavier's demeanor shifted subtly, the remnants of their leisurely breakfast fading into the background. He followed Thomasin to the door, his senses already attuned to the potential gravity of the news that awaited them.

"Let's see what Tsuki has to say," he said, his voice steady, a calm anchor amidst the sudden change in atmosphere. He stood by Thomasin's side, ready to face whatever news was coming their way, his presence a silent reassurance that they were in this together.

Thomasin answered the call, and Xavier listened intently, prepared to spring into action or offer counsel, depending on what their advisor had to report. The life of a hunter was one of constant readiness, and Xavier was ever vigilant, even in the sanctuary of Thomasin's apartment.

Tsuki's hologram appears as soon as Thomasin opens her phone. "Lumiere. Stellaluna. I'm still analyzing the protocore, but I've already discovered a few things. Are you ready to hear them?"

Xavier's gaze settled on the flickering hologram, his expression composed, betraying none of the curiosity that stirred within him. "We're ready, Tsuki," he responded, his voice a low murmur, the very picture of readiness.

"The protocore you gave me last night has it's own energy - the same energy that was controlling the energy within the protocore of the regulra wanderers. I still need to run some tests, but this means that the Wanderer you engaged last night was created by the Doll Maker. The red core inside it proves it."

Xavier's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Doll Maker, a name that carried with it a weight of unspoken stories and hidden dangers. The revelation of the red core's origin was a significant piece of the puzzle, one that could potentially alter their understanding of the Wanderers they faced.

"Understood," he acknowledged, his tone even, giving nothing away. "Keep us updated on your findings, Tsuki. We need to know what we're up against."

He exchanged a glance with Thomasin, a silent communication that conveyed both his concern and his resolve. The Doll Maker's involvement was a complication, but not an insurmountable one. Xavier was no stranger to challenges, and he stood ready to confront whatever threats lay ahead, his commitment to their cause as unwavering as ever.

As Tsuki's hologram flickered with the promise of more information to come, Xavier mentally prepared himself for the next steps. They would need to be cautious, strategic, and above all, united in their efforts to face the dangers birthed by the Doll Maker.

As Tsuki disappeared back into the phone, Thomasin allowed the holographic bunny's words to sink in. "So the doll maker can not only control existing wanders, she can create wanderers of her own. But that still doesn't explain why we can't sense her or her wanderers she makes. Do you think the red core might give us any clues?"

Xavier pondered the question, his mind working through the possibilities. "The red core could be the key," he mused, his voice a low rumble of contemplation. "If it's the source of the Doll Maker's control, it might also be cloaking their presence from us."

He considered the implications, the tactical advantage such a cloaking ability would grant their adversary. "We should analyze the core's energy signature. It might have a unique frequency that we've been overlooking."

Xavier's thoughts were already on the move, considering how they might adjust their sensors, or perhaps develop a new method of detection. The challenge was formidable, but Xavier was no stranger to the art of unraveling mysteries. With each new piece of information, they were drawing closer to understanding their enemy—and to finding a way to stop her.

"I'm sure Tsuki is already on it. She did say she was still trying to figure out. The fact that she was able to tell us that despite its chaotic energy is a big deal. I'd give her a carrot if I could."

"Tsuki's diligence is unmatched," Xavier agreed, a hint of a smile touching his lips at Thomasin's lighthearted comment. "A carrot would be well-deserved. For now, our trust in her skills will have to suffice."

He knew the importance of their teamwork, each member playing a crucial role in the intricate dance of their operations. "We'll stay on standby for any breakthroughs. In the meantime, we should remain vigilant. The Doll Maker's capabilities are evolving, and so must we."

Xavier's resolve was clear, his commitment to their shared mission as steadfast as the stars that guided night travelers. He was ready to adapt, to learn, and to protect, alongside Thomasin and Tsuki, against the shadowy threats woven by the Doll Maker's hand.

A few days later...

Filming for the romance drama Thomasin is the writer for has commenced, and she's been asked to sit on the set on order to get a better idea of how to go forward. The city is abuzz since it's filming on location downtown, and civilians flock there in hopes of getting a glimpse of the handsome lead actor, Christian de Arias.

Thomasin tries to focus on what's going on in order to avoid the Director's wrath. But she can't help but wonder if Xavier is lurking somewhere...

Xavier, ever the enigma, was indeed there, though not in plain sight. He had found himself a quiet perch, a vantage point from which he could observe the bustling set without drawing attention. His eyes occasionally scanned the crowd, a silent guardian amidst the throng of excited onlookers.

He was there not for the allure of the film or its charismatic lead but for a far more personal reason. His gaze often drifted to Thomasin, ensuring her safety and offering silent support as she navigated the demands of her role. Xavier understood the pressures she faced and stood ready to intervene should the need arise.

From his hidden position, he watched her with a protective intensity, a silent promise that, though she was surrounded by the chaos of production, she was not alone. Xavier was a shadow, a whisper of assurance that no matter where she was or what challenges she faced, he was there, just out of sight, ever watchful.

Another scene finishes with the words "cut", and Christian is shuffled into his trailer by his handlers, while the watching crowd, mostly women, scream his name. With a sigh, Thomasin scribbles more notes down in her notebook, keeping a running tally of observations and commands the director has given. Luckily, she left to her own devices for now, the director chatting with the film crew and the actors taking breaks at the moment. So, she took advantage of this moment to say hello to a certain someone.

"I know you're here. I can feel it. If you're here to watch over me, send me a sign."

In response to Thomasin's subtle call, a gentle breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine—a scent that Xavier knew Thomasin associated with calm and safety. It was subtle enough not to draw attention, yet distinctive enough for her to recognize. It was his way of saying, "I am here," without uttering a single word.

Xavier remained concealed, his presence a silent sentinel amidst the cacophony of the film set. He watched as Thomasin's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his sign. He knew the value of his stealthy vigil, the peace of mind it brought her as she focused on her craft.

His watchful eyes continued to trace her movements, a guardian angel cloaked in the anonymity of the crowd. Xavier's commitment to her well-being was as unwavering as the stars that would soon take their place in the evening sky.

Thomasin laughs to herself, inhaling the heady scent of jasmine as the breeze tickled her nostrils. Suddenly, the day was so much better. "Thank you, partner. I appreciate you."

Her dreaminess was interrupted by none other than Christian de Arias, made his way over to her. "You are the writer, are you not? Thomasin Bailey, correct?"

She nodded. "Mr. de Arias, yes that it correct." She holds out her hand. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

"You'd be correct, but it's all right. That meeting was...quite a roller coaster, wasn't it?" His voice was rich and deep, much more mature than what was expected of a baby-faced actor. No wonder he was all the rage. "I'm so sorry to trouble you, but I wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed your script for this drama. It's so refreshing to be a part of a production that isn't afraid to do something different."

"Ah, I'm so happy to hear that, Mr. de Arias."

"Please, call me 'Christian'." If Thomasin were a normal woman, she'd have notice the slight flirtatiousness of his tone. But she wasn't normal, nor was she listening for it. "And Thomasin, is a very lovely name."

"Ah, thank you...Christian." Okay, that one line did get a smile out of her. "You're too kind."

Xavier's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as Christian de Arias approached Thomasin. He remained unseen, a silent observer, but his senses were heightened, attuned to the exchange between the writer and the actor. His protective instincts were always just beneath the surface, ready to emerge should they be needed.

He listened as Christian praised Thomasin's work, his words smooth and seemingly genuine. Xavier's presence was like a shadow, unnoticed yet ever-present, as he watched Thomasin handle the interaction with her usual grace. He trusted her judgment implicitly, but that didn't stop the quiet thrum of caution that pulsed in the back of his mind.

Xavier's role was to protect, to support, and to remain vigilant. And so he did, his gaze never straying from Thomasin, his readiness to act as steadfast as ever. In the world of lights and cameras, amidst the throngs of adoring fans and the charm of a leading actor, Xavier was a silent promise of safety, a guardian whose watchful eyes missed nothing.

Thomasin chatted with Christian a bit longer before the director called for the start of the next scene. But before she could take her place, her phone began to go off. "Hey! Hey! Stellaluna, are you there! I have news!"

Oh crap! Before anyone could notice her being called out, she rushes to find a dark corner to take the call in. She hopes that Xavier notices what's going on, wherever he is. "You have impeccable timing, Tsuki," she hisses, slipping into a dark, secluded corner.

Xavier's attention shifted immediately as Thomasin's phone erupted with Tsuki's urgent voice. He watched as she excused herself and hurried to a secluded spot, her movements quick and purposeful. Xavier's instincts told him that this was more than a mere interruption; it was a call that could not wait.

Silently, he moved, a wraith slipping through the crowd, his steps silent and sure. He positioned himself near enough to Thomasin to act if needed, yet far enough to remain unseen by any prying eyes. His presence was a silent reassurance, a wordless vow that he was there, ready to step into the light or to remain in the shadows, whichever she required.

As Thomasin took the call, Xavier's senses remained alert, his focus on her safety unwavering. He was a sentinel in the darkness, his vigilance a silent testament to the bond they shared—a bond that went beyond words, beyond sight, a connection forged in the crucible of their shared mission.

Once she made sure she was alone, Thomasin took the call. "Tsuki, you nearly exposed me in front of co-workers just now. Don't you know I have a job?"

"Sorry, but this couldn't wait! I have finished my analysis of the protocore. Where is Lumiere?"

Xavier, ever the silent guardian, remained just out of sight, his ears tuned to the conversation. He could sense the urgency in Tsuki's voice, the importance of the message she bore. It was time for Lumiere to step forward, to receive the knowledge that Tsuki had uncovered.

With a discreet glance around to ensure no one was watching, Xavier subtly tapped his own communication device, a silent signal to Tsuki that Lumiere was indeed present and listening. "I'm here, Tsuki," he transmitted quietly, his voice a low whisper meant only for her ears. "Go ahead with your report."

Thomasin, her back to the wall, her face a mask of professionalism tinged with the slightest hint of concern, waited for the information that could change the course of their battle. Xavier, hidden in the shadows, stood ready to hear what Tsuki had discovered, prepared to act on whatever new intelligence she had to share. The dance of light and shadow continued, with Xavier and Thomasin poised to respond to the ever-shifting rhythm of their clandestine war.

"I have finished the analysis. The red core is definitely how the Doll Maker controls her own wanderers. But the energy she uses is pure chaos - not only that, it seems to be an energy formed by outside forces. That is, they took ample amounts of regular wanderer energy and created their own form. That's why it took me so long to figure it out. It's a completely new type of energy."

"A chaotic form of wanderer energy created by outside forces?" Thomasin's heart sank. "Yeah, that's not ominous at all."

"The Doll Maker has either created this energy herself or has been given the ability to harness it for her own purposes. I am not sure which is which - you two will need to figure that out for yourself."

Xavier processed the information, his mind already racing with the implications. The Doll Maker's manipulation of such volatile energy was a significant development—one that could alter the dynamics of their encounters with the Wanderers. He knew they would need to adapt their strategies accordingly.

"Understood, Tsuki," Xavier responded, his tone even and focused. "We'll investigate further. This new energy... it's a dangerous game she's playing. We need to tread carefully."

"In the meantime, I have something for the both of you - call it an upgrade to your charms  - Lumiere's solar, and Stellaluna's lunar charm."  Thomasin watched as her lunar charm - the symbol of her power as Stellaluna - appeared of nowhere, surrounded by a golden aura. In Xavier's case, his solar charm was surrounded by a silver aura. 

"I have upgraded your charms, so now, you will be able to sense when the Doll Maker's wanderers may be nearby. It won't be as strong a sense as regular wanderers, but as long as you're paying attention, you should be good to go!"

"Tsuki, you're a good bun bun, you know that?" Thomasin would hug the holographic bunny if she could. "This is awesome!"

Xavier watched as the silver aura enveloped his solar charm, the subtle power of the upgrade pulsing through it. He felt a new connection to the charm, a heightened awareness that promised to be invaluable in their ongoing struggle against the Doll Maker's machinations.

"Thank you, Tsuki," Xavier acknowledged, his gratitude genuine though his voice remained as calm and measured as ever. "Your ingenuity may well give us the edge we need."

He pocketed the charm, its presence a silent reminder of their strengthened defenses. Xavier knew that with this upgrade, their vigilance would be more crucial than ever. The ability to sense the Doll Maker's wanderers was a significant advantage, but it also meant that danger could be lurking even closer than before.

Thomasin's praise for Tsuki was heartfelt, and Xavier shared the sentiment. Tsuki's contributions were often the unsung heroism that kept them one step ahead. Xavier's thoughts were a silent nod to the bunny's brilliance, even as he prepared himself for the challenges ahead. With the new upgrades in hand, Xavier and Thomasin were better equipped to face the chaos that awaited them. Their partnership, already strong, was bolstered by Tsuki's gift, a testament to the power of unity and the unyielding spirit of those who stand against the darkness.

"I will continue to give you updates about the Doll Maker's energy. More protocores will allow me to upgrade your sensing ability as needed. In the meantime, Tsuki out!"

[where-dreamers-go]

"Emotions Ignite" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: And we’re back to the 1960s Dick Grayson soulmate au. This is Part 3 after Part 1: Emotions Read and Part 2: Scattered Emotions. We get to see what else is happening in their lives when they want to keep things private. Also what happens when Reader is ready to tell their guardian the news.

Warnings: Angst. Reader has social anxiety. Dick Grayson is the sweetest person ever. Fluff. Use of (Y/N), (Y/L/N), (mx).

Word Count: 6,914 words)

~~~

A night in Gotham City could bring the unexpected. Some unwanted and some thought provoking.

Standing quietly, Dick Grayson’s cheeks grew warm.

On the other side of the door, he knew you were there feeling the same incredibly soft emotion that made him want to embrace you just one more time. Spend another moment in complete peace.

How could visiting you to share good news turn so tender and sweet?

Holy soulmates.

✧ ✧ ✧

A light rain sprinkled over Gotham City and its inhabitants. Pattering of rain struck the window as you sat in the study.

For once, you were home. No events or studying in sight. What a sweet relief.

It only took a whole week.

You had already visited the manor for a homework session and was immediately pulled into an hug by Mrs. Cooper. Most of your time spent there involved being cooed at by Mrs. Cooper and linking pinky fingers with Dick atop of the couch cushion. An extra sense of comfort. Surely it helped with the fluttering and zapping of emotions you had no right name for that zipped between you two.

Each time he had smiled, you tried not to think about the spontaneous kiss you gave him on the cheek. It was a sweet gesture. A ‘thank you’ of sorts. You only wished you had asked first. That or thought before you acted.

Continuing to listen to the rain, you enjoyed your solitude. Some amount of uninterrupted peace.

On the outside at least.

You had been avoiding the inevitable. Your guardian still didn’t know about the soulmate discovery. Hiding what was becoming a major part of your life was going to tire you out. Plus, you never knew if it could get you out of a social outing in the future. It was good to think ahead. Well, sometimes.

You sighed.

I really need to tell them. It’s been over a month. You thought. It might look obvious at some point. Maybe. Who knows.

Some where indoors your guardian went about their day.

There were no physical obstacles preventing you from speaking with them that day. Only yourself.

You took another breath.

Perhaps an amount of motivation was in order.

Tiptoeing your way over to the desk, you sat down and grabbed the telephone.

I’ve never used this so much in my life.

You rung up the Wayne Manor. A number you made sure to memorize.

Alfred answered the phone. Polite as always.

“Hi, Alfred. It’s (Y/N). How are you?”

“Hello, (mx) (Y/N). I am well today. Thank you. And yourself?”

“Honestly…a little nervous because I want to talk to my guardian about you-know-what.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So, I was hoping to hear any amount of encouragement if anyone was willing….because I’m really nervous.”

“Ah. If I may? You mustn’t hold back from sharing such wonderful news when there is nothing to suggest an ill outcome.” Alfred said softly. “No matter what happens, good or otherwise, please know that we are here for you.”

“No matter what happens?” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“We will be here,” he repeated.

“Thank you, Alfred. Seriously.”

“You are most welcome.”

“Now I just have to say it when they’re not busy. Wish me luck?”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, (mx) (Y/N).”

“Thank you. I’ll call once I tell them. Don’t know when, but definitely today.”

“Then I shall await your call.”

“I hope you have a great day, Alfred.”

“And to you as well.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

 You hung up the phone and exhaled.

I can do this.

It was the day to be brave and proud. To share what made you happy. So incredibly joyful each morning when you remembered him. Your friend and soulmate.

If anything, pretend you’re ripping off a bandage. We’re doing this. Maybe we can have him over for a real visit.

✧ ✧ ✧

Later that evening, practically night, Dick Grayson sat alone in the Wayne Manor. A book in hand and his patience high.

He waited for your inevitable call.

Well, he waited as patient as he could manage given his need to know how everything went ever since Alfred told him what you were planning.

It was good then that he and Bruce had been out of the manor most of the afternoon. He wasn’t so sure what to make of your emotions. They were almost tangled together, unreadable. Layered by nerves.

Sitting in Bruce Waynes’s office gave enough quiet. Dick was reading a fiction novel you gave him. Something that kept most of his attention.

He would trust any book recommendations from you from that point on. At least give any a try.

Judging a book by its cover was something he was still working to do less of.

If I would had judged (Y/N) on first glance, I never would have guessed they were so fun to be around. Or so smart and kind! Dick thought as he held the novel over his knee. I wonder what it’ll be like going to an event with them. Like an exhibition opening or something. Hopefully more fun.

Once more, the story caught his attention. His mind creating images of daring landscapes. That was until Alfred’s voice and presence caused him to drop the book and speed out of the room.

Holding the phone to his ear, Dick practically shouted into the mouth piece. He could feel his excitement near yours.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hey, you. Guess what I finally did?”

“You drew a picture of Pluto?” He joked, much too giddy.

“What? No,” you laughed. “I told my guardian that you and I are soulmates.”

“What did they say?”

“It was positive, but quick story first.”

“Okay.”

This’ll be good. They’re relieved.

“So, obviously, I had to wait because they were doing paperwork and bills and an important phone call. Dinner too because what if they choked or something?”

“Right.”

“But I made sure we were both sitting down calmly with no distractions and I told them plain and simple: ‘Dick Grayson and I are soulmates’. And they squealed so loud, that I fell on the floor.”

“You fell?”

“Yeah. To be fair, they startled me. I didn’t expect that.”

He chuckled lightly.

“So I asked, ‘Is that good?’ Just to be sure and they were all: ‘I can’t believe it!’ Their voice was higher as they clapped. Actually clapping and said, ‘It happened!’ Meanwhile, mind you, I was still on the floor and covering my ears. They eventually noticed and continued to say random things.”

“But they’re happy,” Dick added in.

“Yes. Everything’s fine. And I asked them not to tell anyone. Obviously.”

“Good. I’m really happy you were able to tell them.”

“Me too. One less thing in the back of my mind.”

He heard movement on your end and figured you were in the study.

“But how have you been?” You asked, cheerful. “I couldn’t really tell what your emotions were.”

“I’ve been well. Nothing too exciting. Aunt Harriet was helping me practice to play the piano, I had plenty of homework this week, I lifted weights at school, and Aunt Harriet prepared shrimp the other day. It was delicious.”

“You lift weights?”

“I do. The coach is there to spot me.”

“Huh.” You paused for a moment. “Piano isn’t a surprise. But I pictured you as a runner. A climber maybe.”

“You did?”

“You’re always so busy. How else do you get everything done?”

Goodness, did he know you had a point. Dick was always doing something. It was rare for him to do otherwise.

“Do you run?” Dick asked.

“If the occasion calls for me to run. Yes,” you laughed lightly. “Or when the timer on the oven goes off.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“I have to save the cookies.”

A chuckle rumbled out of him. He could imagine you scrambling around furniture to reach the kitchen. The image was only missing comedic sound effects.

“Burnt cookies are very…hard to miss.”

“Do you bake?” He questioned; interested in learning more about you. Any hobbies.

“If we have the ingredients.”

“True.” He nodded.

What kind of cookies have they made? The cookies must be great!

“Would you like to bake something one day? In the future, with me?”

Your question was unexpected to the youth. Yet it was nowhere near unwanted.

“It would be a learning experience, but I would have fun with you,” he said. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Uh. I guess…it’s just a first reaction. I like making sure regardless. I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t lie like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Dick scrunched up his face. He wondered who in the past had lied to you about how they felt or how they wanted to spend time with you. It made him a little crestfallen.

Who would do such a thing to you? To someone?

“I really like spending time with you,” Dick said in earnest.

“Me too—with you—spending time with you is my favorite part of the day. I mean, when we’re together. But the phone counts too.”

The speed of which you spoke sent Dick leaning against the wall. A soft smile on his lips. He could imagine your own smile and your eyes looking anywhere except at him.

“What was your second favorite part of your day?”

“The Pluto cartoon.” You answered without hesitation.

“Pluto? So he was involved with your day.”

“Yeah. He found another wild animal that wants to be his friend. It’s cute and I love the colors they use. It’s my little break from the world.”

“You deserve a break.”

“Thank you. Finally someone who sees that.”

Lowering his voice, Dick muttered, “I would know either way.” He took a breath. “I’ve felt it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize for emotions. Golly, (Y/N), being able to feel your emotions means you’re there.”

And I need that.

Both lines were quiet. Words hung in the air.

The youth was bold enough to formulate his feelings into words. Having you know even an ounce of how much you meant to him was unavoidable. An empowered choice.

Dick Grayson had heard you apologize numerous times for little things. Apologizing for feeling should not be one of them. It was a part of life.

“I apologize for a lot of stupid stuff.” You murmured.

“It’s not stupid,” Dick chided. “You care for a lot of things. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Your response was timid, but receptive.

“I wish more people were like you.”

No response.

Without visuals to assist, the ward turned his attention inwards.

An emotion radiated from the chest to the very tips of toes, fingers, and everywhere between. Your springing happiness brought another smile to Dick’s face.

A relief and a delight for certain.

“What am I suppose to say to that?”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“Goodness.”

He made note of how you reacted to his openness. A part of him considered doing so more often, if only to sense your happiness.

From your end of the call, Dick could barely make out a voice.

“Okay. Hey, Dick, I gotta go.” You announced disappointedly.

“Alright. I hope you have a good day at school tomorrow.”

“You too. And hey, don’t strain yourself lifting weights.”

“I won’t. Don’t tire yourself out studying.”

“Nah. I think I’ll go to the library and lift books. I’m sure the librarian would love that.”

He shook his head, amazed again by your humor and spin of words.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight and sweet dreams,” you said.

Soft fireworks fizzed in his chest. A wide smile spread across his face as he replied, “Sweet dreams.”

Dick Grayson hung up the phone. The space around him was quiet for the night. The opposite of his mind.

With the smile still present, he sighed audibly. He wished he could talk to you every day.

In person, Dick thought, would be best.

✧ ✧ ✧

Dawn approached and Gotham City prepared for another fruitful day.

After the night’s phone call, you had woken up in an exceptionally good mood. An emotion that was reflected by your soulmate.

You had imagined Dick somewhere in the manor smiling to himself and brushing his hair in just the right style. Not a hair out of place.

With high hopes for the day ahead, you had a bounce in your step. There were no quizzes, tests, nor essays to be minded. A smooth day would be nothing short of appreciated.

Yet not all days go as expected. Something was off. Something that could very well change your day for the worse.

Each hurried step brought you closer to your next class. If only the time would tick faster.

At school, you weren’t oblivious to the change.

People, both students and staff, were looking at you. No short glances.

It made you on alert and your skin crawl.

You could not wait to be home. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to eat lunch.

Just make it through English and find a quiet spot for lunch. One thing at a time. That’s all, you thought. Maybe it’s ink on my face.

Sitting at your desk, you kept to yourself.

The day’s lesson would start soon. However, not soon enough.

“Is it true?” A student asked from the desk to the left of yours.

“What?” You asked and opened a notebook.

“That Bruce Wayne’s ward is your soulmate.”

 Someone knew! How could that be?

No words left you. How were you supposed to respond when the room grew increasingly warm?

“Hello?”

“I—…. Where did you hear that?” You questioned, watching them closely.

“My boyfriend’s friend overheard the science teachers talking about you and how you found out the ward is your soulmate.” They grinned and asked further. “How’d you know? Did you bump into him at some gala or something?”

“No…”

Technically, you hadn’t been at a gala nor did you physically run into Dick Grayson.

How could you slip out of the conversation? It was too late to turn back. Another two students were listening in.

“How’d you know it was him?” A student sitting in front of you asked.

“He’s my friend,” you muttered.

“Before or after?”

Your arms tensed. “Why is anyone asking?”

“(Y/N)’s trying to avoid answering,” someone added in.

“It’s fine. Half the school probably knows by now.” They shrugged as the bell rang.

Half the school.

Eyes and attention turned elsewhere. The teacher headed to the front of the classroom.

You wanted to seek shelter underneath a blanket.

A month should be good, you thought.

No one else was supposed to know.

You refrained from conjuring up scenarios in your mind of all the ways you could leave early. It would only add to your distress.

You wanted to cry. Simply hide and run through emotions for as long as you needed.

I wanna go home. You curled in to yourself.

✧ ✧ ✧

Just outside of Gotham City, inside of the Wayne Manor, young Dick Grayson was not having much luck in his day either. Word traveled further than one school.

Dark shoes crossed the cream colored carpet as Dick restarted his pacing.

Dick had returned from school. His mind going a mile a minute. He was sure that steam could be coming out of his ears.

Word had gotten out that Dick Grayson found his soulmate.

While at school, he overheard students gossiping how they were surprised he found his and teased how he probably didn’t even spend time with his soulmate because he was always studying. They spoke of you without even knowing your name. Without a care if their words were true.

It’s not fair, Dick thought. It’s none of their business. I can’t even imagine what (Y/N)’s heard at school.

Dick knew you were having just as bad a day as he was with people spreading the news. Every jolt of fear and crumbling piece of dread, he felt it all through your bond.

If he could had hid you both in the manor’s couch, he would. Surround yourselves with books, cookies, pillows, and good music. Keep you close and safe. Away from prying eyes and unwanted opinions. Only two. A secluded place of peace.

Stopping in the middle of the room, Dick clenched his fists.

“This is exactly whey we didn’t want anyone else knowing. People make up stories about what soulmates do without even thinking.” Dick frowned. “It’s not that rare for someone to find their soulmate, is it?”

From where Bruce Wayne sat on the coffee table, he remained calm and level-headed.

“It’s not normally spoken openly for us to know a direct answer. That is also why having the knowledge of soulmates knowing they found one another spread quickly, such as in your case, is uncommon.”

“Great,” Dick groaned sarcastically.

“People are interested for now. It will not be long before something else catches their attention.”

“And what do we do until then? Wait? It’ll be the only thing we’ll be thinking about.”

“I am sorry you have to face this alone at school. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Gosh, it’s not your fault.”

The youth’s shoulders dropped. His hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

What was there for young Dick Grayson to do?

Deep in thought, Bruce Wayne tapped his finger on his chin.

“Regardless of how people found out; you and (Y/N) should see each other soon.”

“And hide from everyone?”

“Preferably not. Unless you two wish to stay out of range from more gossip.”

Blowing out hot air, Dick looked elsewhere in the room.

Who would tell so many people? Dick wondered. (Y/N) must hate every second of this. Golly, I hope they don’t decide to stop visiting or answering the phone. They hardly like the phone to begin with.

“Master Dick.” Alfred stood beside the youth with a tray. “For contemplation.”

What? Dick glanced over curiously.

A tall glass of ice cream piled high. One long dessert spoon waiting.

“Oh.” He took the items gratefully.

Smiling in hopes that the young man could ease some of his negative emotions, the loyal butler nodded.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Dick sat down on the couch to eat.

“You’re welcome, Master Dick.” Alfred held the tray under his arm. “There is still no word on the origin of this preposterous gossip. I’m sad to report.”

“It’s quite alright, Alfred, thank you. Answers have a way of showing themselves.” Mister Wayne said.

Hopefully sooner.

Alfred walked out quietly.

Relishing in the taste of ice cream cooled down the ward. A perfect treat for a disgusting school day.

(Y/N) should be home or close to it. They might have figured out who blabbed. Or found out. He thought between spoonfuls of deliciousness. (Y/N) will want to stay in their room because of this.

Concern for his soulmate kept Dick thinking ahead.

“Is there anything else we could do? (Y/N) and I. Something fun.”

Anything besides homework.

Admitting to the truth in what other students were saying left Dick Grayson fuming inside. Yes, he mainly did something educational with you. There were no parties or trips. Not even a purchase of fries. Nothing too personal.

“There are plenty of activities the pair of you could partake in. Whether here or in the city; you have the choice.”

“Holy headache. There are so many options.”

To remain in the manor or venture out in Gotham City again with you. What choices indeed.

“How about you start with milkshakes? That way you can enjoy one another’s company, talk, and get to know one another more. Have fun together.”

Heels clicked across the floor before a huff announced Aunt Harriet’s entrance.

“When I find out who started this, they’ll hear from me.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look of slight intimidation.

✧ ✧ ✧

Late afternoon heat still clung to you as you shut the front door.

You let out a huge sigh of relief.

Finally. Home, you thought and walked further inside.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Your guardian questioned over the pages of a magazine.

“No.”

They inched their magazine down and asked, “How come?”

“Because everyone at school knows Dick Grayson and I are soulmates. They were—.”

Dropping the magazine down, your guardian growled, “That big mouth.”

Heat surged through your body. Eyes narrowing in on the only other person.

“Did you tell?” Your tone teetered between surprised and angered.

They looked at you as if you suddenly asked their opinion on penguins.

“Did you tell someone I found my soulmate?”

“I only told my cousin. They were talking all about how their niece is traveling Europe and about all the photographs she’s sent. So I told them you’re soulmates with Bruce Wayne’s war—.”

“Why would you do that?”

They brushed the magazine aside. “I don’t appreciate the tone you’re giving me. Knock it off.”

“You promised not to tell. Why would you tell anyone?”

“They’re my cousin. Lower your voice.”

“And I had the whole school staring at me all day and asking questions and interested in what I’m doing. I felt like people were coming after me! No one would leave me alone!” You cried. “I didn’t want to be there. I’ve been sick to my stomach all day. I don’t want to go back—.”

“You’re going to school tomorrow.” They stated firmly. “And I’m not the one who spread the news and had it go all to your school. Now, drop it.”

“You still broke your promise.” You started towards your bedroom.

I shouldn’t have told them, you thought.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back in Wayne Manor, young Dick Grayson answered the telephone in a rush.

“Hello?”

“Dick Grayson, you are the best person in my life right now and I need to vent.” You murmured into the phone.

“Oh, okay. Are you alright?”

He figured you were in the study again. Some place quiet.

“No. My day still stinks.” You announced. “My guardian told their cousin and now most of Gotham City knows we’re soulmates.”

“They told?” Dick’s voice raised in alarm.

How could they?

His chest tightened as he heard you sniffling.

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours. There’s no excuse for what they did. They promise.” You exhaled. “I shouldn’t have forced myself to tell them. Deep down, I probably knew.”

“It’s not your fault,” he reminded you.

Inside, he could still feel your emotions tearing you apart.

“Yeah, but my friends dumped question after question at lunch. They felt left out, I guess. But they’re determined to get others to leave me alone.” You informed him. “One was shouting in the hall.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, how many times do people have to ask or say ‘Bruce Wayne’s ward’? You have a name.”

“I don’t really care what they call me.”

“I do.”

“I know,” he said softly.

At least their friends are supportive, he thought in relief. (Y/N) needs a break.

Dick Grayson stood taller with the phone in hand. Ready to start changing their relationship—adding to it. Fun.

“Are you busy Saturday?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” you answered. “Why?”

“Would you like to go have milkshakes with me? There’s a place in town.”

“Yeah. That sounds great.” You voice had perked up. “Too bad Saturday isn’t tomorrow.” A drop of sorrow yanked it all down again.

“Do you need anything?” He asked.

You sighed and answered, “Time away from this chaos. Dinner is going to be tense.”

“Your guardian knows you’re upset with them?”

“Yes, but more so that I raised my voice.”

“You’re in trouble?” He asked, shocked.

“Yup.”

“That’s not right!”

“I know. Can’t do anything about it,” you muttered. “Can’t wait until Saturday.”

“Me either.”

It was to be more than an outing away from schoolwork. Meaningful. Time needed to get away from stressors. Away from people who saw you through a different lens, discolored and unclear.

“I miss you,” you whispered.

Air caught in his throat. A constricting sadness as he stood miles from you.

“I miss you too.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Please call if you need anything. Even to talk. I’m—we’re here.”

“Okay.” You sniffled again. “I might just make something quick for dinner and be officially done with the day.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“You too.”

“Sweet dreams,” Dick added. “I’ll see you Saturday. I’ll call you beforehand.”

“Sweet dreams of Saturday.”

“I hope so. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Dick Grayson hung up the phone in a dispirited state.

For one; he knew who opened their mouth about soulmates. Knowing it was your guardian and there was no apology in sight lit a fire in him.

A promise broken. Trust possibly misplaced. Gotham City knew one of Dick Grayson’s secrets.

What could happen next?

Surely, your guardian wouldn’t keep you from seeing your soulmate for being upset.

Only time would tell.

✧ ✧ ✧

A quiet Saturday morning inside your bedroom and all was well. No alarms at early hours. Just you.

The school week had dragged on for what seemed like a month. Even homework appeared to had doubled. It was not much of a distraction to anyone, including yourself.

For the better part of the week, you spent it avoiding the news on television, sitting in your room, and walking to class alone. Eventually, the staring toned down.

Everything else feels like it’s moving fast, you thought. Piles of assignments due next week. My guardian said something about going somewhere. Don’t remember. Hope I’m not going. Dick still hasn’t called yet.

Quietly, you sat on your bed. Vinyl albums were lined up by the wall down by the nightstand. Your sketchpad underneath your clock.

How long has it been since I last saw him? You held up your fingers. Over a week? That’s not bad. Barely a week.

“We’re having fun though,” you said softly.

Your only audience: a blue bunny stuffed animal. Never judgmental and always there. That was Sir Hopps. He knew all about your soulmate before anyone else.

Scrunching up your face, you focused for a moment feeling annoyance.

What am I annoyed for? You thought and grabbed the bunny’s paw.

“Wait, no, that’s not me.”

No now any way.

Glancing over to the shoes you picked out, you ignored the sounds coming from beyond your door.

I hope he calls soon. I didn’t even completely tell my guardian…that may or may not backfire. But they want me out with people like them. You sighed. Wait, is anyone going to be with us? Is it just us?

Your questions left you perplexed with more.

However fast your thoughts raced, you were again distracted by a wave of Dick’s emotions. Ever active and changing since late at night.

I hope he’s alright.

Knowing The Boy Wonder’s identity was not an easy weight to bear. You worried for his safety. There was no way to know for sure in the moment.

But one thing was certain: You were going to see Dick Grayson. There was nothing your guardian could say or do to change that.

✧ ✧ ✧

Police Headquarters of Gotham City held victorious congratulations and nods of thanks.

Batman and Robin had spent all night on a case.

Between being captured and solving clues, Robin was ready for sleep.

But it was Saturday morning!

The sooner we wrap up the case here, the sooner I can see (Y/N), thought The Boy Wonder.

“—an excellent start of the weekend,” said Commissioner Gordon. “So much news this week. I even heard from a reliable source that, the millionaire, Bruce Wayne’s ward found his soulmate. Miraculous, isn’t it?”

Robin just about burst.

“Holy connected metropolis!” Robin hit his open palm. “Can’t people let private lives be private?”

Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara shared quizzical expressions.

Thankfully, Batman stepped in.

“It’s a wonder how news can travel by word, isn’t it?”

“It is quite impressive, Batman,” said the Commissioner.

“Too bad the youth are left at the forefront of gossip. It’s challenging enough for teenagers to navigate social lives while preparing for their academic future.” Batman shook his head solemnly.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” said Chief O’Hara as he hung his head.

“That’s alright, Chief O’Hara. Anyone can be swept up in the excitement of soulmates meeting, but we must not forget they are people too.”

Excitement, indeed!

The very emotion that zapped through Robin as they left.

After returning to the manor, Dick raced to get ready. His mood greatly lifted. He was actually going to see you. No schoolwork allowed. He might even have time for a quick nap.

✧ ✧ ✧

Afternoon light shone over Gotham City bringing endless possibilities.

While fast-walking along the sidewalk, you kept your eyes open for the shop Dick mentioned over the phone. You could hardly wait to get there.

Before you could read the next sign, there was a burst of joy in your chest.

Dick. Where—?

Out in front of the shop was your smiling soulmate. A beaming light of happiness as ever.

You sped up to reach him.

“Hey,” you greeted.

The moment you were close enough, you both embraced. Curling in to each other. Problems of the week fading into the background.

“I’m glad you made it.” Dick gave you one last squeeze and stepped back.

“Me too. I never left home so fast.”

He chuckled and quickly proceeded to cover his mouth for a long moment.

Is he yawning? You thought and checked his eyes.

“Are you feeling alright?” You asked and smoothed the pad of your thumb under his eye.

Closing his eyes for only as long as your touch lingered, he answered, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Awh.”

Crime fighting business. Goodness. Poor thing.

Without thinking on it, you grabbed his hand.

“Well, come on. You can relax inside.”

Smile returning, his hand clasped yours firmly.

“We both need it.” Dick declared before opening the door and following you in.

Waiting for two milkshakes wasn’t too torturous. Fighting back a brain freeze while sitting in a quiet corner of the shop was, however.

“That’ll wake you up,” you joked and stopped scrunching up your nose.

“Not on purpose.” Dick took another sip from his milkshake.

“Mmhmm.” You reached over the short distance to his glass and drew a smiley face within the condensation.

From underneath the small table, Dick bumped your shoe with his own.

The goof strikes back, you thought and tried hiding your smile behind the straw. Him and his pretty blue eyes. Tired blue eyes.

“I’m surprised you’re here alone.” You said. “No offense or anything. I’m not used to it.”

“Aunt Harriet might be jealous I get to see you.”

“Oh, no.” You snickered. “What are you gonna do?”

“Drink my milkshake and keep you smiling as much as possible.”

Grinning came so easily. Not a second of time could hold it back as a starburst of happiness emerged from within.

However tired your soulmate appeared, he was determined to make your day memorable—lighter. Every ounce better than the entirety of the school week.

“That’s a good plan.” You said and drew another smiley face on his glass. “I like it.”

“Thanks.”

Dick’s eyes were downcast. Attention elsewhere, but not far.

“Have you read anything new?”

“No,” you pouted. “Too much homework. You?”

“No. Just homework.”

Always with the homework. Someone’s going to think it’s a hobby.

Across the shop, laughter and chatter erupted. It settled down almost as soon as it started. Chairs scuffed the floor.

Ignoring the other customers would had been simple if not for the strange itching feeling of being watched.

An attempt to write it off as your imagination failed. Your lack of attention almost caused you another brain freeze from your treat. Almost being key.

Discreetly, you inspected the group from the corner of your eye.

Great, you thought sarcastically.

A student you recognized from school. A double date by the look of it.

You gazed hard at your milkshake.

Why do they have to look at us for? Ignore me! You have your own milkshakes. You thought. If I hear ‘ward’…. They just better not.

A hand covered your own and your irritated thoughts begun melting away.

“What’s wrong?” Dick inquired as he leaned across the table.

“People from school are here. They keep looking,” you whispered.

He surveyed the tables, searching until he saw multiple sets of eyes on him.

Setting on a professional, calm smile and holding their gazes did the trick. No more long and overly curious staring from the group.

How’s he do that?

Dick returned all his attention to you.

“What if they come over?”

“I doubt it.” Dick had more of his milkshake.

“Okay…”

Slight movement and his shake was next to yours. Next, Dick pushed back his chair before setting it as close to yours as he could. Only then did he sit back down.

The corner of the table was then a meeting spot for your arm and his. Deliberately close.

“There.”

“Here.” You said.

“Where I should be.”

A wave of light flutters sailed over your already uplifting emotions.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Any time.”

Why was he so wonderful? How, really. You thought.

Reflexively, you returned to drinking the milkshake. Probably too delicious for its own good.

Time went by with an unknown speed.

You were living too close to a dreamlike state to care.

Noise and talking in the shop had long since turned into white noise. Lighting was not harsh or irritating. It was a nice public space.

Comfort hand gestures morphed into playful movements.

Milkshakes were about half finished or more.

Perhaps this was cloud nine?

There was no desperate need to think of anything to say. No anxious thoughts to question your actions.

Why break a comfortable silence?

Delicately and slowly, his fingertips brushed across your hand.

You watched quietly.

Unsure of what exactly you were feeling kept your mind minutely occupied.

It’s different when he does it, you thought. Or…it isn’t.

Dick’s finger traced around your thumb. All with a featherlike touch. Like it was all new actions. Unsure, but wanting to tell you something.

Blinking, you inhaled suddenly. You weren’t sure if you had been breathing properly.

Another sip of the melting milkshake could help.

You weren’t nervous. Starting to question yourself, perhaps, or the world itself.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” You voice did not sound as confident as you’d wish.

“Sure.”

Oh goodness, you thought as you sought out procrastination by your fingers memorizing the tiny curves of his hand.

Your gaze held your milkshake instead of him.

Just ask. We are literally touching hands. Why? I don’t really know. Just because?

“Do you, uh, do you think we’d still pick each other as friends…and be in each other’s lives without the whole soulmate thing?”

Shoot. It’s a terrible question. I shouldn’t—

“I think we would,” Dick answered thoughtfully.

“Really?” You chanced a look and were greeted by honest blue eyes.

“I think we were meant to meet regardless. It just turns out we’re soulmates, which,” he smiled, “is a pretty good bonus.”

Covering half your face with your free hand, you sputtered a laugh at his words. Your face warm.

“I wasn’t prepared for you to compete against a sweet milkshake, but here we are.”

Dick chuckled and took another sip.

I’m glad he doesn’t hide it. Being nice is in his nature. Sweet since day one?

The mention of ‘day one’ had your mind picturing the charity event. Another day one.

“But…um.” You swallowed. “Can I ask you about what happened at the book charity dinner? If that’s okay?” Your fingers had paused their movements. Eyes, again, focused on your drink.

“What about?”

You weren’t sure how to ask. Thinking about that day still gave you mixed feelings. Both about your guardian and Dick Grayson.

“What happened after Batgirl lift? My guardian wasn’t big on details.”

You felt his gaze on you as yours hadn’t moved.

“We were still on the floor. Bruce was beside me. Checking on us. Um. Your guardian was…shaken up and the Commissioner was trying to get them to talk until more help arrived. Then they took you home. There was a lot of waiting around.”

“They were scared?”

“Probably. You were knocked out.”

“But you helped me.”

“I’ll always help you. I mean…I’ll do what I can.”

“I know. I just… No one told me that. You were with me the whole time?”

“I couldn’t leave you on the floor alone.”

“Thank you. For all of it.” You said. “I actually wanted to thank you when you first invited me over, but uh… You had other news.”

“Oh. You’re very welcome.”

Your lips curved upwards.

“Can I ask you a question?” Dick inquired. He begun tracing the lines of your palm.

“Yeah.”

Question about what? That night? When I woke up?

“What would be your ideal day?”

Oh.

“Like Saturday or what I’d do?” You looked up at him.

“How would you spend the day?”

“If I could do anything?” You hummed to yourself.

Spend it with you for sure, you thought.

“Nothing to do with school. Hmmm. Listening to my favorite vinyls. Sometimes the radio doesn’t play what I want to hear or I want to listen to the same song.” You took another sip of your disappearing milkshake. “Read a bit, obviously. Oh! Write, draw, or create a little picnic area with everything I’d want to do and I wouldn’t have to get up.”

“That sounds relaxing and very you.”

You laughed and added, “Me and a dance party with Sir Hopps.”

Dick crinkled his nose in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“My stuffed animal. He’s a blue bunny.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.”

Were you a bit too entertained by Dick’s reaction to your toy companion’s name? Absolutely not. Dick’s expression was gold.

Good to know he’s always paying attention. And curious.

Milkshakes became mere drops. Straws only making loud slurps. A signal that your time at the shop was at an end.

“We could go to a bookstore or a local library,” Dick suggested as you both walked outside.

Paces were slow. Hands close to touching once more.

“I would, but I think you’d be asleep in twenty minutes of absolute quiet.”

Glancing over, you could almost imagine the thoughts swimming behind his eyes. Tables definitely involved.

Before you could suggest for him to go home for proper sleep, he spoke up.

“I drove here and…maybe you could come with me to make sure I get home.”

Oh, you thought, he dug deep for that one. A little.

“And Aunt Harriet really wants to see you—but she’s out for a while. I don’t know when she’ll be back.

More time with him. And he’s not that tired. I hope.

“Can’t argue with that logic.” You smiled. “And I’ll make sure you don’t get sleepy.”

“Really?”

His eyes lit up.

“Yes.” You bumped his arm. “I’ll always help you too.”

“Gee.”

Sparks of what was seeming to be endless joy reignited in your chest. Something you both had in common.

To be in one another’s company while sharing emotions remained a curious delight. Like communicating secrets in silence. Knowing your soulmate made it all the more special. Personal.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back at the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson and his soulmate arrived safely. Thank goodness.

A ride filled with laughter and a game of ‘I Spy’ kept the youthful ward well awake.

It might not had been foiling criminal schemes, but it was still exciting.

More than a rush, Dick thought. We were so happy. Are.

Blue eyes locked the image of your content expression deep into his memories. As with every moment since seeing you arrive to the shop for milkshakes. Each second was arguably better than the last. Just you and him together. Your captivating presence pulling him in.

Never in his days did he think of wanting so much to hold onto someone’s hand. It made his heart swell.

Was this what happened to other soulmates?

At that moment, he was glad to have you at the manor and not just for your sake. There was no guarantee what would come out of his mouth if he was face to face with your guardian. Or Aunt Harriet seeing your guardian, for that matter!

You had yet to forgive them and he wasn’t eager to either. It was information he inquired on the drive over.

They’re happy here. Dick thought as he watched Bruce welcome you back.

For all the joy and break from academics, there was one problem that eluded the pair of you.

“What are your plans?” Bruce asked politely.

Oh, uh…

Dick turned to you and you to him.

“I don’t know.” An amused smile curved his lips.

You shrugged and also answered, “I’m used to doing homework here.”

Bruce chuckled at the two of you.

“I’m sure we will think of something.” Bruce encouraged.

“Thanks, Bruce.” Dick beamed and slipped his fingers between yours.

Grateful for much in his life, Dick Grayson was ever more glad to have you by his side.

Rain, gossip, studying, and criminal schemes couldn’t keep you a part forever.

Being soulmates and sensing the other’s emotions meant you were together in a way. No matter how far. That, perhaps, was a thought to hold onto for the future.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

Part 4 -> "Emotions And Realizations"

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

DC Tags: @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Perfect Lemon Cookies

This is my Christmas present for my most wonderful gf @nb-fearne who I just adore, happy Christmas baby!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

----

Ice and Mav would say they're pretty good at keeping their little granddaughter, Poppy Carole Bradshaw, occupied. So when they're asked to watch her, just like any other day, they say yes.

But this isn't just any other day. And as he and his granddaughter make lemon cookies, the same way he made cookies with his babushka, he thinks about how they got here.

----

Tom knew, in a logical sense, that there were no biological similarities between Poppy Bradshaw and himself. She was his granddaughter, she had been since the day she arrived, but there wasn’t a scrap of shared genetic material to back that up. There wasn’t any between her and Maverick either, they were a family made of coincidental deployment orders, lives saved back and forth, luck finding you so late in life you didn’t feel you deserved it, a family held together by decision more than blood and DNA.

He knew that but, God, sometimes he looked at Poppy and decided genetics could go to hell. Sometimes Tom was standing in his own kitchen, in the long moment of silence as the flour fell around them like snow without the cold, after Poppy had dumped the entire bag of it in the bowl and whacked the mixer to full speed with a yell of delight. 

And he just thought there was no way there wasn’t any of Pete Mitchell in this kid. 

“Oh…” Poppy spoke first, sounding remarkably unconcerned, “Did it wrong, deda…”

Tom coughed into his fist, before taking off his glasses and calmly rubbing the film of flour off the lenses, croaking, “Well…I’m not sure you followed my instructions exactly? But there’s a lot to be said for enthusiasm, honey..”

His granddaughter beamed brightly, shaking the curls that were identical to her daddy’s so a cloud of white billowed around her, “Snowing!”

Tom had to smile, even as his fingers itched at the mess. He couldn’t ever keep from smiling, not on days like this, when the sun was turning from white to gold, from summer to fall, when every song on the old radio seemed to be one of their favorites, when any problems the Navy was having could wait until tomorrow and all Tom had to think about was spending time with his granddaughter. Days like this made him feel like someone entirely new, like the cocky, terrified, high strung kid who’d first worn his wings was a stranger but thank God he wasn’t. Life had just started being kind to him. Days like this were about as close to perfect as Tom wanted to know. 

Especially today.

He let Poppy make handprints in the flour on the counter while he discreetly tipped most of what was in the bowl into the trash and started again. Baking with his granddaughter- or his husband for that matter- usually included a few false starts. 

“Extra lemon,” Poppy reminded him just like she’d done the first time, sweeping her hands through the drifts.

Tom chuckled, “I know how your papa likes them, sweetie.”

Poppy nodded, an expression of unusual seriousness crossing her young face, “Need to be perfect. Perfect for papa.”

“I know,” Tom promised, feeling a warm rush of fondness, “Of course they’re going to be perfect, sweetie. You made them for him.”

Poppy lit up at that, now happily passing Tom whatever he asked for, stirring and rolling with his larger, stiffer hands gently guiding her little ones, tongue poking out of her mouth in her concentration. They sang along to the songs on the radio, they bickered happily over how big a lemon cookie could reasonably be and whether they’d cook twice as fast if you turned the oven up as high as it would go, they practiced her sign language while she sat on the counter and swung her little legs. 

It reminded Tom of some precious memories he kept tucked safely behind his heart, memories of weekends spent at his babushka’s. Away from the shouting and shattering at home, in the peace and quiet of her tiny apartment with its even tinier kitchen. From when he’d been even smaller than Poppy, listening to her speaking soft, creaking Russian, telling him stories and singing him songs he would only ever know in her voice. Making exactly the same cookies that were baking as Tom finally swept up the flour, filling both the kitchen he stood in and the one in his memory with the same sweet smell that would always make him feel safe and loved. 

He was stirring icing, pretending not to notice Poppy’s finger hovering and ready to steal some, when Maverick walked in, bleary eyed and yawning. 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Tom turned and grinned, kissing his cheek when he padded over. 

“Shut up…been a while since I pulled a night shift…” Mav mumbled, wrapping one arm around his husband’s waist and ruffling Poppy’s curls with the other. 

Tom supposed he couldn’t make too much fun of him. After all, he was the one who got to stay under the covers, soothing an anxious Poppy until she fell asleep while Maverick was the one who did all the frantic 2am driving to the hospital. Tom still maintained he was a better, faster driver but his reputation couldn’t stand up to as many speeding tickets.

Speaking of which. Maverick caught his eye and mouthed, anything yet?

Ice surreptitiously checked his phone where it lay on the counter. The screen illuminated with the lock screen, still a photo of Maverick crashed out on the couch with a similarly snoring Poppy asleep on his lap, both of them wearing the hideous Hanukkah sweaters they’d all insisted on wearing through the holiday. So that made Tom smile but there were no new messages or missed calls. 

He glanced back at Maverick and shook his head lightly. 

Mav shrugged, pressing a kiss to the top of Poppy’s head as his hand flashed out and snagged a fingerful of icing. 

“Hey! Pops, that's for my papa!” she gave him a very stern look for someone who’d been seconds from doing the exact same thing.

“See, this is why you’re my helper, sweetie, and not your Pops,” Tom hummed, moving to check on the cookies, sliding them out of the oven when he saw they were perfect. 

“Uh huh,” Poppy nodded wisely, “Lick the bowl after.”

“A very important rule,” Tom agreed, shaking them onto the rack, “Though not as important as keeping your hands off these until they’re cool. I’m talking to you, Maverick.”

“I’m offended but I understand,” he shrugged, passing a hand over the mess of his bed head as he went to pour himself some coffee from the pot Tom had ready for him, “Learn from my mistakes, kiddo. Plenty of burned fingers.”

Poppy giggled, obediently tucking hers in the pocket of her dungarees, “Silly pops…”

Tom grinned, taking the mug his husband offered him, “Though I think I might trust him to help ice the cookies if you were keeping him in check, sweetie?”

Mav grinned and turned the puppy dog eyes that had been making Tom’s life difficult for thirty years on Poppy. Less of a pushover than her deda, or at least less of a sucker for a pretty face, she hummed thoughtfully and narrowed her eyes at him. Only after a long moment did she shrug. 

“M’kay.”

Maverick snapped her a more serious salute than he’d given any naval officer, “Many thanks, ma’am. I won’t let you down.”

“It’s fine,” Poppy hummed, “Just be perfect. They’re for my papa.”

Mav softened, smiling fondly, “Right. Gotcha.”

Perfect wasn’t exactly the word by the time they were through but Poppy at least seemed happy with them. Tom was laughing at his husband’s brave attempts at icing their squad patches onto cookies when he noticed his phone screen light up with a notification. Trying not to pounce too obviously, Tom flicked it open and felt his heart settle under a rush of emotion, relief and delight and excitement all at once, so strong it was a fight to keep it all to a soft exhale. 

Everything’s perfect, we’re getting released this afternoon. See you there?

Tom imagined these hours were going to feel like some of the longest of his life. 

He turned to Poppy, smiling softly, “Well, as much as we’ve loved having you stay, honey…I think it’s time for you to go home?”

Another thing that made Tom forget there were no biological similarities between Poppy and her grandpas, they were all absolute nightmares when they were nervous.

Right now she was actually pacing, going back and forth across the Bradshaw’s living room, looking for all the world like Admiral Kazansky in his office after a stressful day. Maverick had tried to coax her into watching a movie, into playing one of her favourite board games, even offering to go out into the backyard and go on the trampoline with her despite what it had done to his hips last time. None of it worked, she still fidgeted anxiously, just like she had ever since they’d arrived, as Tom and Mav had gone around making sure the empty house was clean and tidy as it could be and that there was dinner waiting on the stove. Poppy had just kept on pacing, clutching the box of cookies to her chest like her life depended on keeping track of them.

Tom had just finished vacuuming, collapsing on the sofa to give his knees a rest, “Honey, why don’t you come sit with me?”

Poppy mumbled indistinctly before shaking her head, “Don’t think so, deda…”

Tom’s smile gentled and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, “You know, I do that so much at work that my receptionist tells me there’s going to be a trench in my carpet.” 

“Okay deda…” Poppy stood on tiptoe to try and peer past the blinds but it was just a car driving down the street. 

“Yeah. And I only really do it when something’s bothering me. So I’ve been doing it a lot less since your pops retired…but still. So is there something bothering you, honey?”

At that, she froze, her big brown eyes sliding over to him guiltily, “Uh…maybe.”

Tom opened his arms, “Something you want to come over here and tell your dedushka about?”

He wasn’t exactly surprised when she ran over and burrowed into his arms but it did give him a warm rush of joy. Especially when she managed to not crack him over the head with the tupperware box of cookies. 

“I want my daddies…”

“And they’re coming, sweetie, they said they’re on their way,” Tom rocked her gently, the way he’d been doing since she was tiny, the way he’d done for her daddy before her. 

“Mm…but also kind of…scared about it.” She sounded like she was confessing a crime to Tom’s jumper. 

“Hey,” he gently moved her so he could rub slow, soothing circles on her back, “Listen, it’s perfectly fine to be a little scared right now. It’s a huge change and that's always going to be at least a little terrifying.”

“Oh,” Poppy looked up at him, “Really? It’s okay?”

“Of course,” Tom nodded, “Because you know what isn’t going to change? How much your daddies love you. And how much me and your pops love you, for that matter.”

That brought the smile he loved so much back onto her face, “Promise?”

“I promise,” Tom kissed her forehead, his smile turning into a grin as the sound of a very familiar engine came up to the house, “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Poppy gasped, grabbing her box and making for the door as quick as her legs could carry her. Maverick came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishcloth and nudging Tom fondly. 

“Ready for round two?” he winked. 

Tom laughed and put his arm around his husband, nodding at Poppy’s retreating back, “After her? Bring it on.”

Poppy didn’t even wait for them to open the door, throwing it open herself and running out onto the drive towards the battered old Bronco and the man who was just getting out of the driver’s door. 

“Daddy!”

Bradley���s face relaxed from general bewildered exhaustion into relief as he saw his daughter running towards him, dropping to his knees so he could catch her in an enormous hug, “There’s my girl…”

“You were gone so long! Gone forever ,” Poppy half told him off, reaching up to pat his cheeks. 

Bradley chuckled, pressing a kiss to her little palms, “Well, if you’ve got a problem with that, kiddo, I’ve got someone you can take it up with…someone was determined to take his time…”

Leaning in the front doorway, Tom felt his breath catch in his throat. Because Jake Seresin was gently easing himself out of the other door, a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms and the tiredest, broadest smile on his face. 

“Ready to meet Dagger Seven?” he grinned. 

“Papa…” Poppy shuffled closer, a little hesitant now, almost shy, “You’re okay.”

“Course I am, pumpkin,” Jake looked torn for a moment, clearly pulled between the need to hold his eldest and his newest, having to settle for kneeling so she could edge closer.

“Is that them?”

“It is,” Jake smiles, gently shifting the blankets so she could see, “It’s him. Your baby brother.”

Poppy peered at the sleeping newborn in his arms, her face gentling in awe, “Oh…he’s so small.”

“They come like that, it’s okay,” Bradley laughs, moving to lay a hand on Poppy’s shoulder, “So. What do you think, kiddo?”

There was a long moment where Poppy seemed to be thinking, her mouth trembling slightly like it didn’t know which way to turn. But as she lightly touched the soft, dark curls on his head, it became a smile. 

“Okay. He can stay.”

If Tom had some tears running down his face as he leaned in the doorway, no one noticed but Maverick.

He was even cuter up close. Tom held the little boy tight to his chest, rocking him slowly, the way that had been working since the first time he held his sister Sarah. Not that he needed to, his new grandson seemed perfectly content to stay snoozing, turned into the warmth of his arms. Perfect little round cheeks, a glimpse of a tiny rosebud tongue when he yawned, a gentle dusting of dark hair. Tom could look at him for hours and find something new to love every moment. 

Maverick hung on his shoulder, grinning down at him, “God, he’s so cute…”

Jake chuckled from the other sofa, where he sat cradling Poppy and munching a cookie, “Well, he’s been quiet so far, that’s all I care about. Might have got it right this time around.”

Though he kissed the top of Poppy’s head as soon as he said it, making her giggle. 

“Are you finally going to tell us what you’re calling him, then?” Maverick asked, making Tom perk up a little. It had been driving them both nuts for the last eight months, their insistence on keeping the name they’d chosen secret until the baby arrived. 

Bradley smiled, quirking his eyebrows at his husband who shrugged and took his hand, “You tell them. Kept them waiting long enough.”

Bradley laughed at that, looking uncharacteristically coy for a moment. His eyes found Tom’s and stayed there, those eyes that would always remind Tom of the tow headed little boy who hung off his leg, no matter how old Bradley got. Right now, he could see all the years in them, all the pain and hurt and confusion and joy and need, all the love Bradley had for him, for the guy who’d shown up for him and stayed there. It felt like too much, like more than Tom deserved but he had it and all he could do was be so endlessly grateful for the day he met little Bradley Bradshaw, the kid who wasn’t his by blood but was his kid nonetheless. 

His kid smiled, “Uncle Tom, you are holding Thomas Nicholas Bradshaw.”

Tom liked to think that he was rarely lost for words. A lot of the time that was because he didn’t bother with them, finding a cold, hard stare or an incredulous look to be more effective ways of getting the job done. But now, for maybe the first time he found himself wanting words, needing words to describe this feeling in his chest, words big enough to thank them for this but there were none. 

All he could do was look down at the brand new little boy in his arms, his grandson, his namesake and croak, “Oh…”

It wasn’t much but it seemed to be enough. He was definitely crying and more people than Maverick were noticing but it was okay, Mav was crying too as he hugged him and Bradley was crying as he came over and kissed his Uncle Tom on the forehead. Jake and Poppy were soon folded into the hug too, Jake misty eyed and Poppy only looking a little confused but very pleased. 

They weren’t a family held together by DNA. They were held together by coincidence, by happenstance that had thrown him and Pete Mitchell into the same Top Gun class, Bradley and Jake into that bar near the naval academy, by sheer luck that had taken people from them and given them others. They were held together, bound so tightly, because they chose to love each other. And they would choose each other every time, on good days and the bad ones.

But today was damn near perfect.

[mydaddinglife]

Hey :) I just read your post on "parenting advice" and it made me think of something from my own childhood so I just wanted share it with you. I hope takes away some of your worries:

My mom was my primary parent. She was in charge of EVERYTHING. My dad was never able to hold up with her on that front (single income household with a stay at home mom) However, kids are extremely reliant on routines. It gives them security and stability. My dad would go off to work everyday before the rest of us had even woken up yet. So I would only ever get to see him once a day and that would be at 7pm when he came home. Everyday like clockwork he'd come through that door at 7pm. That was his routine and I can't tell you how absolutely reassuring that was as a kid. I didnt need him to do anything else for me. None of the things my mom would do. All I needed from him was to stick to his routine and always make sure to come home at 7pm. He never disappointed. And everyday when I heard the elevator door open and his keys jingle as he walked over to our apartment, I'd race over to the door, trying to open it before he could. Didnt matter what I was doing, I'd drop everything in an instant. That was our thing.

I'm an adult now. I could have my own kids by now. Trust me when I say, I cherish my dad equally as much as my mom. His contribution was just as meaningful as my mom's, even if she did 90% of the child raising. It doesn't matter. Kids dont keep track of how many times one parent changed diapers over the other or how often one parent prepared a bottle over the other. Kids just remember that their parent was always there.

And I agree with your uncle, every child is different and thus every family structure is different in its own way. But I can see that you're beating yourself up quite a bit as you're trying so hard to take off any and all burden from your wife. I totally understand the urge. She is currently losing out on many of her own routines and you two are in the process of developing new ones, if I didnt misunderstand your post. Just know that as much as my dad's 7pm-routine was giving me security, so did it for my mom. Him sticking to it gave her just as much peace of mind as it did for me back then.

What I'm trying to say is: you very likely won't become your baby's default parent, but that's ok. It's natural. And the best thing you can do to contribute is to just "be there" whichever way that may look. Maybe you'll be the parent who makes breakfast everyday and never skips a day. Maybe you'll be the parent who always picks the kids up from school, or drops them off, or whatever. You'll find your own spot, your own thing soon enough, don't worry. It will come naturally. It will creep up on you and one day you'll just be THAT parent with THAT very specific set of routine only YOU can provide for your child. And it will be the most reassuring thing for both Mrs. H and your baby.

Hope, I wasn't rude by sharing this. Again: not trying to give you advice, just wanted to share what stuck with me the most from my own early childhood. Wish you two the best of luck! I'm certain you'll be great parents. Take care!

Anyone who is worrying like me, needs to read this. I am sitting here with watery eyes now. This is something I needed to hear, I cannot thank you enough for saying this!

The importance of routine, something that I had never thought about. I just... Thank you. Thank you so much for this. Honestly, this is not me going over the top or anything, this was perfectly worded and what I needed to hear.

[nuggziwugsi]

Hello! 1st off I LOVE your artstyle!! Very expressive and full of life! Really looking forward to seeing more from you 💜

2nd, your art, your OCs, your blog, your time, your energy, and your peace is and will ALWAYS will be YOURS. no one else's. EVER. If anyone has an issue about it? Keep it pushing, there too many people running a blog everywhere making content for whatever reason they could follow instead, and shit making far worse things, and no one bats an eye or even encourages it.

You're posting content for free here, I'd imagine, yes? You don't have to post a damn thing so no one has the right to tell you what or what not to post, what an oc should or should not look like, they're yours after all. If that means your oc is gonna black? Sure, do it. They're gonna be Asian? Awesome, go right, head! A fury, a lesbians bi trans, nonbinery it doesn't matter do it because you want to! And you don't have to explain and justify why they look the way they look. You made something cool and shared with the world, and that's all there is no explanation or justification needed. You're not hurting anyone. You're not purposely trying to offend anybody. You're just creating that's no cri. That's never a crime.

Trying appease strangers that might not even know how to draw aren't worth it, plus they'll likely come back and say whatever fixes you made are bad too or problematic too or not good enough. It can get so bad that you don't even want to draw anymore...

Please don't let that happen. Continue to draw, continue to have fun, and continue to be you Cause man, I really like what you've done so far, and I'm eager to see you do more hun :)

Much luck and love from a fellow artist.

(Forgive me for sounding, possibly very pushy, or preachy, btw. Art is a very significant aspect of my life that I hold dear, and it always saddens me when an artist is hounded on simply because of bad criticism or shit bullying.)

Almost brought me to tears ngl, literally you are absolutely a saint this made my day ♥️♥️ I promise to keep posting for myself 😁♥️ I really do appreciate you guys a lot comments like these brighten my day and help me improve to keep pushing and loving my work 💞💞

[skaruresonic]

How would shadow deal with Maria growing old and decrepit, while he gets to remain young forever?

Shadow doesn't consider Maria "old and decrepit" in the Cousin AU. For one thing, Maria is 62, which honestly isn't that old considering how long a human being can live, in the grand scheme of things.

I imagine that, although her health is never fully perfect, nor the lingering effects of her condition banished altogether (curing her completely via science or magic borders on "wishing the disability away" too much for my liking; it's just not realistic, and comes loaded with unfortunate implications), she is nonetheless able to live a comfortable life on Earth.

For another: Shadow isn't much of a spring chicken himself. Not having been put into stasis means he's mentally middle-aged, with the same amount of life experience under his belt as Maria.

Furthermore, she is beautiful to him no matter her stage of life. ❤️ You might as well say the passage of time renders autumn and winter less lovely than spring and summer. Age does not lessen her in his eyes; instead, it reveals another side of her for him to appreciate. they are an old married couple, Your Honor

Even so, Shadow does harbor certain deep-seated fears for Maria's health, rooted in the trauma of witnessing her condition fluctuate being unable to do very little about it.

He assumes a protector role as a sort of psychological defense mechanism against these uncomfortable feelings. Although it doesn't quite rise to the level of control freak, this manifests as a form of fastidiousness; keeping the house as germ-free as possible (good luck with that in a rural area), insisting Maria keep doctor's appointments, advising her to avoid risky behavior, etc. His inability to chill sometimes chafes against her need for autonomy and independence, makes him a tad overbearing.

When I was writing the Cousin AU as a fanfic, there was a flashback demonstrating how much pressure his mentality really puts on him. The passage recounted an episode where a burglar randomly made off with Maria's purse while the two were waiting at a bus stop. When they arrived home, silent and shaken, Shadow vented his frustrations by smashing his prized wakizashi into a tree trunk until the blade shattered.

All that being said, I would like to think they are both prepared and at peace when Maria eventually does pass, comforted by the knowledge that they shared a full life together. Old age is a privilege not everyone is afforded.

[inkedinfantasy]

My FFXIV Swap gift for @faunflower! It was really cool getting to learn more about Lou; I hope I did her justice! ^_^

Under the cut since it got kinda long: some Emet-Selch POV of the Rak'tika segment of Shadowbringers MSQ. 👀

Another day, another jaunt into the far corners of Norvrandt following in the footsteps of the Warrior of Light and his companions.

Not for long, of course. He was still quite unwelcome among their party, and while that might not ordinarily deter him, being confronted by the Night’s Blessed did. He was here to observe, after all, not share in their hapless conflicts with the First’s residents. And so he withdrew, content to watch from afar, at least until they managed to track down Rak’tika’s Lightwarden.

He had no doubt they’d find it, between the Warrior of Light’s uncommon tenacity and Lou’s…ambition? Audacity? Whatever you wished to call it. It was simply a matter of time until the lot of them could manage to put all the pieces together. For him, at least, all that meant was another exceptionally dull wait.

He watched idly as the Warrior and his friends ran hither and yon playing the good little ever-dutiful heroes. He wondered if Lou was regretting her insistence on traveling with them yet.

Probably not. Like called to like with this self-sacrificial adventurer sort, solving all the star’s problems with endless patience and enthusiasm. Most likely she was having the time of her life.

He certainly lacked the patience to even keep observing such things secondhand. He retreated further into the forest, nearer to the Viis village where he could doze off and await their coming once they worked out how to avoid being skewered by Ronka’s guardians.

It was just his luck that he was about to drift off when he spotted familiar figures in the distance, heading in the direction of the village. Just as expected, the Viis of Fanow did not suffer any trespassers to approach, descending on the group as soon as they’d trekked far enough into the forest.

The first warrior to attempt to land a blow met only Lou’s shield. The attacker leapt back defensively, spear still at the ready, but Lou made no move to counterattack, shouting something he couldn’t make out from his distance. She appeared to be attempting to talk the Viis down, a hand held out placatingly. The Viis warrior relaxed her stance minutely, sheathing her weapon entirely when the Miqo’te woman presented a seal they had surely gone to exhaustive lengths to acquire.

Their attackers appeased, they sheathed their weapons and continued down the path of azure flowers, approaching close enough now to make out what they were saying.

“‘Tis a boon to have a cooler head prevail, met so oft as we are with strife,” the Elezen man was remarking to Lou.

“A cooler head” wasn’t the phrase he’d use to describe the woman who’d tried to take on a Lightwarden singlehandedly armed only with a scavenged sword and a suicidal plot. Overconfident, perhaps. Rash, even. But level-headed? He scoffed to himself.

Still, progress was progress. Even as he watched them pass, he did not deign to rise from his spot, certain by now it would still be some time before they managed to accomplish anything of note.

* * *

Waiting, waiting, waiting. One of the truest curses of immortality in this shattered world was the sheer tedium of it, if you asked him. The Warrior and his allies had set off to traipse through yet more ruins, having pinpointed the Lightwarden’s location and lacking only the means to get there. Presumably, they had achieved something, if they were indeed the source of the brief fluctuation he’d felt in the Lifestream.

Half asleep once more as he was, he had neglected to note the quiet figures approaching until they were already upon him. A misstep, for all that there was naught in this forest that could truly pose a threat to him. He briefly lamented the futility of his search for even the most fleeting peace and quiet before opening his eyes to find a spear already at his throat.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” the Viis warrior demanded.

“Are you with the allies of Ronka?” another asked, a touch less suspiciously.

He glanced towards Fanow and smirked. “I suppose you could say that."

* * *

The mood was somber as he was marched into Fanow proper, the Viis declaring that they had apprehended him, taking him as an associate. The gunbreaker scoffed loudly at the prospect.

For his part, he merely took the scene in, eyebrow raised. “I needn’t be an associate to hear the clamor you’ve been raising all across the forest. What trouble have you gotten into this time?”

The quiet stretched on, nobody wanting to put it into words. Lou was the one that finally spoke up, explaining the whole story. The Eulmorans. The antidote. Their friend’s sacrifice.

Unfortunate, but hardly an unexpected outcome, considering the usual nature of their escapades. “I see. My condolences.”

“There was more.”

All attention snapped to the Warrior of Light, no one seeming to have expected him to speak up. He picked up the account where Lou had left off, mentioning the gale of wind that had come from the pit where their friend had fallen, explaining the spell she had saved herself with once before.

“How very interesting. I had thought I sensed a disturbance to the Lifestream just earlier.” He paused. “Only the once, mind you. Suggesting she is still adrift.”

At that faces fell once more, the brief spark of hope that had lit in Lou’s eyes dying out. As they knew well, if they had dealt with this spell before, locating one particular soul amidst the Lifestream would be an impossible task for any one of them, no matter their skill with magic.

However…

He affected a put-upon sigh. “Very well, then. I’ll go and fetch her.”

The gunbreaker rounded on him immediately. “And just why in the hells should we trust—”

“You could get her out? Truly?”

Lou’s voice interrupted the man’s snarl, and a heavy, charged silence descended.

“I can,” he said. “An unambiguously helpful gesture as a peace offering, we can call it, hmm? What say you?”

This time, she hesitated, looking to the tense, unhappy group. “If we have the chance to save her, we should take it,” she offered softly.

The gunbreaker sighed. “I suppose we’ve no other options.”

“Splendid. Now, take this.” He summoned a small aetherial lamp with a snap of creation magic. “You’ll need to find a suitable spot with strong enough resonance with the Lifestream. This will glow bright and steady when you find one. When you do, all you need to do is whistle.” He held the lamp out in Lou’s direction.

Lou studied his face with a serious expression, brow furrowed and mouth pressed into a flat, wary line as she accepted it from him, their fingers just barely brushing as he handed it over. He offered her only a wry smile in return, and she brushed past him towards the village’s exit without saying anything more, the others following in her wake in equal silence.

It was only a few minutes before he heard her piercing whistle ring out, and he arrived to find the lot of them crowded suspiciously around the spot that she had chosen, watching his approach with distrustful eyes.

“Now then, some space, if you please.” He tapped into his power, reaching out for the familiar flow of the Lifestream, quickly latching on to a robust, smooth current. Lou had chosen well, it seemed.

He closed his eyes, his focus sharpening, deepening. With two Wardens absorbed, the Warrior of Light’s soul was already a veritable beacon, scorching and bleaching away the color of every other soul in his vicinity. Even for someone with his sight, it took no small amount of concentration to pick out any other tiny sparks of color amidst the all-consuming Light. Casting his awareness into the Lifestream dulled its brilliance ever so slightly, enough to pick out their Miqo’te friend’s soul and summon it forth.

She appeared in a radiant glow that near-mirrored the Warrior’s soul, the lights of the others’ souls like moths to a flame as they rushed forth at once to tend to her.

Withdrawing his awareness back to the physical realm, the small constellation of souls surrounding him winked back into sharper view, gaining definition, his concentration holding just enough to make them out.

He observed them, idly, and froze.

Just for a moment, a split second before he released the hold on his soul sight, he could have sworn he spotted a color that he had not seen for a long, long, time, a color he would have known anywhere.

His eyes snapped open, and his gaze immediately met blue eyes staring at him warily.

It had been Lou’s soul he was staring at.

She’d quickly turned her attention back to the others, but he still felt off-kilter, whatever inane, sentimental exchange they were having buzzing in his periphery without comprehension. If they would only be quiet…

“And is there anything you’d like to say to me?” he interjected before they could keep going on. “Some word of thanks, perhaps?”

He’d slid right back into lofty and irritable, wishing he could catch another glimpse of what he’d seen—what he thought he’d seen—through the overwhelming brightness of the Warrior’s aether.

The Miqo’te woman at least had the decency to thank him, though the conversation after that turned to the Qitana Ravel and Rak’tika’s Lightwarden. The Warrior and his companions set off back towards Fanow, none of them eager to remain in his presence, friendly gesture or no. Only Lou lingered, arms folded, staring resolutely at the ground with a pensive expression.

Unable to help himself, he reached for his soul sight once more, colors flaring to life in more distinctness with the Warrior’s distance. With this new clarity, there was no denying it. Her soul was the precise color of Azem’s, and seeing it again so near made his heart clench in icy shock.

“Thank you.”

Lou’s voice shattered his sudden crisis, and he realized she was staring at him again. He schooled his expression into something dry and composed. “Uncritical gratitude? I may faint dead away on the spot.”

“I’m trying to be polite, you know. I’m grateful you saved Y’shtola, and it means a lot to me—to us—that you’d offer.”

“Hmm, I’m not certain your friends would share the sentiment, but it is most heartening to hear, nevertheless,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest theatrically.

She scoffed, but hid the faintest hint of a smile.

* * *

And just like that, mere bells after unceremoniously pulling one of their own from the Lifestream, the Warrior of Light and his companions had felled another Lightwarden. No one could say they lacked dedication, to be sure.

He had expected that dedication would carry them out of the Qitana Ravel promptly once their business was concluded, self-righteously satisfied with a job well done and ready to start their hunt anew.

Instead, they continued deeper into the ruins.

Honestly. He’d spent an age painstakingly making his way through the decrepit tunnels snaking all throughout the temple only to find them lingering over a room of old murals. He could hear their conversation echoing off the stone well before he even entered the chamber, speculating about the age of the paint and ancient wisdom or some such.

Well. If they were so interested in history, he had a thing or two he could tell them.

And perhaps, if he were lucky, Lou would find the sound of it a bit familiar.

* * *

They’d taken the revelation poorly, as he’d expected they would. It mattered little. They could carry on in their hushed, concerned murmurs about the truth of Hydaelyn’s nature; theirs were not the thoughts he cared to hear.

Lou, in stark contrast to the others, had not appeared particularly shaken by the idea. “Primal” did not carry the same weight for her, being as she was a native of the First, he supposed. As the others carried on with their fretting, she had turned her attention back to the murals, staring at the crude, faded depiction of Amaurot on the wall, entirely absorbed in the image. Her expression was not quite recognition, but something near enough to it to encourage him.

Paying the others no more mind, he sidled up behind her. “Something catch your eye?” he murmured.

She let out a startled gasp and drew back. “Something catch yours?” she countered. “Skulking around like that?”

“Merely taking in the artwork.” He looked up at the mural she had been studying, examining it as if he had not seen it countless times before, as if he could not recreate it from memory. “Ah, the glorious city of Amaurot. When the world was whole, you could find no finer place on the star.”

“Is that so?” Her tone was skeptical. “Did you look?”

It was cheeky and presumptuous and such an Azem question that he nearly laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Amaurot was my home, but circumstances led me to see more of the star than most.”

“Circumstances? Of what sort?” This had captured her attention, her tone holding a hint of interest, and that, too, was achingly familiar. He dared to push further.

“The circumstances were not a what but a who. There was…a dear friend of mine who was ever getting themselves into trouble, and would call upon me for aid wherever they might have been. They were a traveler, a representative of our people to the rest of the star.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, almost to herself.

“It was,” he said, far more quietly. His gaze remained fixed on the mural, but he could feel her watching him, truly examining him for the first time since they’d met.

“You followed us down here,” she said at last. “You went to the trouble of recounting the stories of all these paintings.” “I did,” he said. “And?”

“You want to remember. You want us to remember.”

He said nothing.

She sighed, a hint of disappointment in the sound. “If you would speak about the world as you remember it, would you tell me more of the places you’ve seen?” she asked softly.

The voices echoing off the cavern’s walls grew suddenly louder, the sound of feet scraping against stone approaching them. He did not need to turn back to feel the weight of several other gazes on him. He turned to face Lou instead, offering a small smile. “Perhaps later. It would seem you have other places to be.”

Her eyes darted past him to the others and back to his face. “I will hold you to that, Emet-Selch.”

They parted there, Lou exiting with the others without another word.

He lingered a moment longer, casting one last glance over each of the murals. The images had clearly been foreign to her, but she was full of questions after seeing them, which was almost more than he’d dared to hope. It was yet one more incentive to ingratiate himself to the Warrior’s companions, to see what might be uncovered should she continue to ponder.

He had spent countless lifetimes without so much as a hope of ever finding something like this. He could stand to wait a little longer.

[sigyn-foxyposts]

"Vent art dump" Tw: Eye strain, heavy themes of child loss & death, Surgery, body scars, slight body horror, non explicit nudity, mental health problems. ‼️

Minors DNI, stay safe okay? <3

Don't worry everyone, I am mentally well these days! 😭

i wasn't originally planning on sharing these but I feel like someone out there could relate and maybe find comfort in what I express through my art, I'll even explain the meanings behind them for more context so i dont leave people guessing.

Nothing here is to gain sympathy, just sharing experiences. That's what I'm after! <3

Fenrir being bound by the chains and him holding around me is supposed to be a metaphor for my build up emotions and anger towards the people that have failed me, it resembles how I can't properly express my emotions without lashing out because I had no choice then to supress them. Like fenrir, they silenced my pain, they abandoned me. Many adults in my life, including my teachers and my parents that were supposed to protect me, teach me things, that I could trust! They all failed me.

This is supposed to be me and my twin sister, who only lasted a few months after our birth. Ever since I was little I always expressed I felt like something was missing, that I was half of something that was supposed to be whole. It made sense to my parents on what I meant back then and it does to me too now.

It left me feeling so empty all these years. Even if I never got to know her, I still miss her. We were both aware of each others existence at some point! After all we were identical twins. The reason her face is melted and attached to mine is because we could have been so similar in appearance, but no one knows that for certain with how things turned out. I'm more at peace with her passing these days, since I had my whole childhood to process it. But keeping her memory alive is something i wont let go off.

The moment I entered this world, everyone was certain that Hel was going to take me into her sweet embrace because of the way I looked compared to my sister, I was the smallest and thinnest. It was like my fate had already been decided, but I proved them wrong by fighting on. Before I knew what fighting even was. While luck was on my side back then I ended up being frail, always so sick and truly I never grew out of it. Not only did life's circumstances almost take me, but my health complications were there to add more into the stress. Despite all these issues, I kept going!

All the way back in 2017 when I first learnt I had scoliosis, which is a condition where your spine curves sideways, that affects many things in your body! I was terrified for my life. I've always avoided those "dangers" like breaking an arm because I knew I probably couldn't handle it and I knew already back then if the treatments I got wasn't working, it was going to get life threatening. Which it did, I was doomed for surgery no matter the efforts.

While you can't die from surgery these days, with my weak condition and this HUGE surgery I had a feeling I wasn't going to make it. But I did and i have gone through this twice now! The scar on my back will remain forever, but it's not there to remind me how horrible life is and how scared I was, instead rather how strong I've been through it all!

[starsvein]

♛ — Does your muse believe in luck? What about fate?

♙ — How hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realise this about themselves? How do they reconcile with it?

♕ — What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make?

♝ — Is your muse concerned about being remembered after they die? If so, do they have anything specific notions about what they want to be remembered for?

♡  — How would your muse define love? Do they believe in soulmates? Do they believe this definition of love is achievable?

❇ life philosophy headcanons.

♛ — Does your muse believe in luck? What about fate?

luck—100%. some things can't be done with skill alone, and he's survived a few close calls in battle thanks to good fortune.

fate—that's a little harder to say. humans have done so much to take control of their own fate in the future—but the fact that they still can't find the way home after losing the coordinates to Earth shows that some things are still beyond their control.

♙ — How hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realise this about themselves? How do they reconcile with it?

he is a "professional hypocrite." by that i mean there are situations, settings, and/or people where he cannot express his personal opinion at any cost because the balance of intergalactic diplomatic relations is at stake. he will agree, nod, praise, and flatter if necessary as instructed by the Empire, though in that case it's less him being a hypocrite and just acting as a stand-in mouthpiece for his superiors.

the best way for him to deal with it is not think on it too much and compartmentalize the experiences as necessary work. anyways, his position isn't one where his opinion matters.

he doesn't share a lot about himself personally, but when he does you can be sure it's fully honest. the same goes with his personal opinions.

♕ — What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make?

very simple: protect the peace of the people and ensure the safety of his men. a lot of time he makes choices without clear right or wrong: he can only abide by military guidelines, such as minimizing casualties or wrapping up a conflict quickly.

he might not be the happiest with decisions he's had to make, but at least he can be satisfied he tried his best to choose with the limited resources and knowledge he had.

...in an alternative, more peaceful AU, a good life might simply be living somewhere peaceful with a partner he loves and getting to touch that person everyday. he doesn't get a lot of physical contact in his day job.

♝ — Is your muse concerned about being remembered after they die? If so, do they have anything specific notions about what they want to be remembered for?

no lol.

countless generations of major generals have lived, fought, and died for the Empire, so it's actually nothing special. his only wish is probably to make sure he dies on good terms with the empire so they don't smear his name—and by extension, implicate his men in it. being used as a tool for the Empire is one thing, but serving as its excuse to do unjustified deeds would bother him more.

♡  — How would your muse define love? Do they believe in soulmates? Do they believe this definition of love is achievable?

love to him is something very immediate and physical: to be seen, touched, held, heard. he's lived so much of his life aloof and away from everything (not on purpose, it's just how things worked out when you keep getting promoted in the military) that basic human contact and interactions aren't very common.

he can talk with his men but they don't treat him as equals, while the others of his rank are busy commanding their own forces entire galaxies away. his personality isn't the extroverted type, so he hasn't exactly made or sought out deeper connections on his own...

to be honest, he doesn't think he'll live long enough to find his soulmate and has accepted that. the idea of it seems romantic to him—and more than a little far-fetched, since even civilians don't follow the idea very closely. he will be very content just to find a level of love where daily affection and touching are a thing.