#quinn must've helped a lot

[caracalliope]

AND it happened specifically on Beta Colony, which is fascinating.

Beta is factually way less ableist than Barrayar

Beta is ALSO a weird conflictedly mystical place of origin for Cordelia, and nobody is exactly straightforward about it (I wonder if at some point, child Miles heard about the never-realized possibility of Cordelia and Aral separating and Cordelia taking baby Miles to Beta)

15-year-old Miles is like "if I can't make it there, I can't make it anywhere"

15-year-old Miles has a relatively limited scope of experience with Beta's more cloying, more sickly-sweet kind of ableism, Betan therapy jokes notwithstanding

15-year old Miles is 15, and a boy, and most importantly he's from Barrayar, thus having heterosexual sex is the litmus test for being a successful man|human being, and he preemptively imagines Beta to be sexually liberated in the specific way that 15-year-old Barrayaran boys dream about (lots of willing horny straight girls, and everything else is just exotic seasoning)

his first time messes him up so badly not just because he failed at it but because he failed on Beta, the planet of sex and no infanticide! Where milk and honey flow through the streets!

Like yessss absolutely this reads like bi repression to me:

He had been fifteen on his year-long school visit to Beta Colony, and he'd found himself for the first time in his life with what looked like unlimited possibilities for sexual intimacy. This illusion had crashed and burned very quickly, as he found the most fascinating girls already taken. The rest seemed about equally divided among good Samaritans, the kinky/curious, hermaphrodites, and boys. He did not care to be an object of charity, and he found himself too Barrayaran for the last two categories, although Betan enough not to mind them for others. A short affair with a girl from the kinky/curious category was enough. Her fascination with the peculiarities of his body made him, in the end, more selfconscious than the most open revulsion he had experienced on Barrayar, with its fierce prejudice against deformity. Anyway, after finding his sexual parts disappointingly normal, the girl had drifted off.

but frankly it also reads like a more general separation of sex and desire. He wants his cherry popped the right way. Failing at that has put him off the kinky, the curious, but possibly also everyone else.

(I love though that fascinating & already taken is his Type when it comes to Ekaterin, and hilariously, he's also only fully interested in Bel after Bel is taken.)

I think the author was trying to convey to me that Miles is straight in this flashback, but the wording reads to me more as mildly repressed bi than anything

also... god, poor Miles. fifteen isn't a very good year for anyone, it's okay.

it's so cool to see competence porn that addresses this kind of thing, though...

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It's just that... you don't really get along all that well, do you? At least, that's what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers (very vague, im sorry, but you'll see), slow burn, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: here's part 3! it's looking like this story is going to be surpassing my usual 5 parts... so, um... i hope everyone gets invested enough to keep reading past that!

Wordcount: 4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

You couldn't stop thinking about it, and it was so dumb. But... you simply couldn't help it.

That framed picture somehow would find its way back into your thoughts every so often. It felt a little weird, but you also kept almost automatically rationalising it for yourself. You had photos with Mark all over; your social media pages were littered with photographs of the two of you throughout the years, and the comments accompanying them would probably make anyone feel the same way you did about that framed photograph in Joe's hallway.

So then, why did that framed photograph feel so weird to you?

Joe loved Poppy like you loved Mark, you knew that to be true. The only reason Poppy wasn't weird about your friendship with Mark was because of her friendship with Joe.

You all understood on a level not many other people did.

But still... you didn't know why, but, that photograph of the two of them felt... odd. Kind of raised your hackles a little. So, you asked Mark if he'd seen it when he was over at yours for snack night: a night of lots of snacks and dips as a substitute for dinner.

"So, I've got a question... remember when I went over to visit Joe two weeks ago?"

Mark snuck a baby carrot into his mouth that scooped up a dollop of hummus twice its size, and then immediately wanted to say something.

"Hmm," Mark hummed urgently, his face in a deep frown as he chewed.

It took ages for him to get it down, but you waited because going straight in to call Mark's fiance's friend weird might not have been the best way to go about this.

"Yea, what the fuck happened?" Mark asked, eyes big, but already aimed at another snack to grab from another bowl.

"What do you mean? Nothing happened,"

Mark looked at you all sarcastically as he chewed, as if to say, yea, all right, sure.

"What? We talked about your wedding, set dates for events, you know, figured some things out," you waved a hand around to convey the casuality, "But–"

You were about to ask Mark if he'd seen that framed photo of Joe and Poppy that he'd cropped the two of you out of, but Mark interjected before you could bring it up.

"No... something happened." Mark said matter-of-factly and then he paused and looked at you, ready to listen to what you had to say for yourself. But, you kept quiet too, because what the fuck was he on about? So, Mark continued, "Joe didn't speak to Poppy for like... five days? Four or five days after that, which is," Mark leant back and tilted his head back to shout his next words towards the ceiling, "a huuuuge deal!"

"Oh, well, that must've been unrelated to our meeting... we just talked about your wedding, he said I was nice, and–"

"Ah!"

Mark pointed a finger at you that he held right next to his face, one eye closed as he looked at you.

"That's it. He said you were nice,"

"I am nice," you argued.

"Yea, we tell Joe all the time... but he said you were nice?"

Opting to ignore the fact that you'd now heard from several sources that people were talking about you behind your back, you explained how you'd nearly walked out after Joe thought he was being smart that night. How you had said that you were a nice person, implying that Joe could just have been friendly and polite, and it would've been normal. And then you explained how, at the end of the night, Joe had struggled through telling you that he agreed and thought you were nice too. You mocked Joe to paint a vivid picture for Mark and exaggeratedly stuttered your way through the words Joe'd said.

Mark just ate and listened to you, and by the end shook his head a little at your impression, a dangerous smile playing his face.

"But have you seen that framed photograph he has in his hallway? Right by the front door?"

You finally got to the point you were trying to make.

"Of Pop?"

"The one we're cropped out of," you were hoping for Mark to be a little outraged, but he remained totally calm.

"Yea, Poppy has the same one, we've got it framed upstairs, on the landing," Mark said as he licked spilled mascarpone from his finger. "Smaller version, though,"

"We're cropped out of that,"

"Yea,"

"Mark... we're cropped out of that," you needed more of a reaction from him.

"Yes."

But you didn't get it. Mark didn't seem bothered at all. Like you'd said, Mark was made of trust and had just gone and proven it once more.

"He went and had a photo printed that he then had to cut two people out of... don't you think that's weird?"

"Why would it be weird?"

"I mean, I don't know... there are so many other pictures of the two of them, why did he choose a pic that he had to cut us out of,"

Mark shrugged, said, "It's a nice photo of them," and that was that. It was a nice photo of them. It just... it bothered you. You were unable to articulate why it did, exactly.

A phone buzzed on the table, and both of you looked to see if yours was the one that was ringing. It turned out to be Mark's.

Joe was calling.

"Speaking of," Mark said, answering and bringing the phone to his ear, "Joe!"

Mark listened, then rolled his eyes at you even though you had no idea what Joe was telling him.

"How drunk?"

You couldn't help but let a huffed laugh escape you. Poppy and Joe had gone to the pub, you knew. Context clues filled you in on the situation.

"Fucking hell," Mark said and kind of slumped into your sofa more as he listened to whatever Joe was telling him. "I mean, I'd give you advice, but you've been in this situation more than I have,"

Mark was going to have to leave, wasn't he?

He suddenly laughed loudly at something Joe said, head tipped back, mouth wide open, before muttering, "Shared responsibility," softly, indicating he was repeating Joe's words back to him.

"Yea, no. All right, that's fine... see you in a bit. Keep a close eye on her, though, will you?"

Mark said it with love so evident in his voice, it made you scrunch up your eyebrows. If someone else had been there, you'd have made eye-contact with them and would've probably audibly awed.

Mark laughed again at something Joe said, then shook his head as he looked at you, like you knew what the fuck was going on.

When Mark hung up, he turned to you and without any warning said, "Let's go, we're going to the pub."

When you walked in about twenty minutes later, the place was absolutely packed.

"Go grab four beers, I'll find them," Mark said, and you asked, "Four beers? Not three beers and, I don't know, a sprite for Pop?"

"Four beers," Mark said again, holding four fingers up for emphasis before he pushed himself in between a few people and disappeared into the crowd. Off to find Poppy and Joe.

You turned towards the bar and sighed at the fact that Joe and Poppy hadn't just gone to a normal pub, but somehow, one that seemed to exclusively house an after-work-drinks sort of crowd. Most people were dressed smartly, men in suits with top buttons undone and women in pencil skirts and high heels that crossed their legs at the ankles as they held drinks against forearms that were folded over their stomachs. You were in jeans and converse and definitely felt out of place, but the atmosphere was nice. You almost couldn't hear the music over the loud chatter and the belly laughs.

Just when you thought, okay so how am I going to get these four drinks over to my friends when I don't know where they are, all three of them popped up right beside you.

And Poppy was wasted.

"Babe," she slurred as she slung both her arms around your neck the minute she laid eyes on you; eyes that were barely open and kind of crossed over, mind you.

For someone semi-posh, Poppy got sloppy alarmingly quick when alcohol entered her system. She was like you in that way.

"I love you, you know that?" Poppy sprayed into your ear loudly, voice control out of the window, and it made you wince at Mark over her shoulder.

"I'm taking her home," Mark said and that's when you noticed that Joe was trying to get one of Poppy's arms into her coat. She was still attached to you, however, so it really wasn't working out for him.

"I really do," Poppy didn't pay Joe any mind and instead evaded his hands and grabbed you by the face as she pulled back from her hug. For a second you were scared she was going to plant a fat drunk kiss right onto your face.

"Not like Mark does obviously, but I do love you, you're amazing,"

You frowned through a smile, not sure where this was coming from. Had Joe and Poppy talked about the two of you like you and Mark had talked about the two of them? That didn't sound completely out of this world. Kind of made sense, actually.

"Okay, Poppy," your frown turned into scrunched up eyebrows, but your smile remained, unwavering.

"No, listen to me," Poppy got all serious, her hands still clasping your face. She tried to make stern eye-contact, but her eyes were dancing.

"Let's go Pop," Mark interrupted, but it was like he wasn't even there.

"You're so important,"

She was so, so drunk. You could smell the liquor on her breath.

"Thanks,"

"And nice,"

You shot eyes over to Joe who quickly looked down, folding Poppy's coat over his arm, giving up on trying to get Poppy to put it on. He passed it to Mark who leant in to say something closer to his ear that you didn't catch, but Joe laughed, mouthed, "Tequila," and then held up 6 fingers. Mark groaned.

"Poppy," you moved your hands to covers hers and softly pried them off of you. "Thank you. I love you too. But, look who's waiting," you pointed a small finger over her shoulder at Mark, and Poppy seemed very annoyed which only made you laugh.

"Let's go, babe," Mark took hold of Poppy's shoulders and you saw him work to hold her up as much as he was working to guide her towards the exit. Her feet were everywhere and nowhere, just like her the aim of her eyes.

"Good luck," Joe grinned at Mark who looked back over his shoulder.

The two of you made eye-contact, and within 2 seconds of just looking at each other, you'd said goodbye and promised to call each other tomorrow, all unspoken.

"Don't let those beers to go waste," Mark nodded towards the bar where the four beers you'd just paid for still stood, waiting to be drunk.

Oh.

Immediate panic washed over you.

Mark and Poppy were leaving, which meant now you and Joe had four beers to share and... you and Joe had four beers to share.

Mark could've been smug about it. Could've made a face at you to tease, but he hadn't. Had just quickly said to drink the drinks and then turned his full attention to his fiancé who was bumping and leaning into people left, right, and center.

"You got it," Joe wasn't going to let himself be told twice and slid two glasses slightly more towards you before grabbing the other two, one drink in each hand, double fisting. It looked like Joe had also had a few drinks already, which, of course he had. Poppy hadn't been doing tequila shots on her own, you assumed.

Suddenly, your evening with Mark of bitching about Joe from the comfortability of your own sofa in your own flat had turned into an evening in a posh pub with the actual dude himself. Alone. Just the two of you in a sea of suits, button-ups and pencil skirts. The prospect of it was awful.

Who would mind two wasted beers? No one really. Certainly not you, at least. Joe could have all four if he wanted. You were about to come with a dumb excuse, a polite one, to get out of there, but before you could, Joe cleared his throat.

"So," Joe said, and you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Joe was sort of turned to you, full body language engaged and ready for a chat.

A chat.

With you.

Like normal people.

Like friends.

"Who's going to be your plus one?" Joe asked and immediately busied his mouth as he took a slow sip of beer, peering at you over the glass.

You frowned a little at his question, and then more at the way he looked. All suited up, top buttons of his shirt undone, loafers – he looked like everyone else there, fit right in amongst the office crowd even though you knew very well Joe didn't have an office job. Joe didn't know how to do water-cooler-talk, didn't know how office gossip worked. Why these after-work drinks at the pub were such an important part of working in an office. You did, or had done, but still, Joe fit in with everyone else and it was very clear that you didn't.

It made you feel inferior but also a little rebellious at the same time.

You reached for a drink for yourself, deciding that you actually would mind wasting two beers that you'd paid for and you copied Joe, taking an even slower sip than he did, buying yourself time. If this was going to happen, if you were going to have drinks and be out with Joe, you weren't going to be the first one to back out. You had said you were going to at least try to be friendly, hadn't you? And it seemed like Joe was trying, so now you had to too.

"For the wedding," Joe clarified, like you didn't understand what he originally meant.

You took long to answer, smacked your lips and looked at your glass as you lowered it, saying, "I don't think we get plus ones, Joe,"

It was Joe's turn to frown.

"Of course we do,"

"Don't think so,"

You had the wedding invitation stuck under a magnet on your fridge. Saw it every day. Nowhere did it mention a plus one for you. You assumed later because you'd been asked to be Mark's best man. You'd have actual jobs to do. Bringing a date just to leave him stranded was weird, and so it made sense to you.

"Why wouldn't we?"

Joe hadn't had the same train of thought, it turned out.

"Does your wedding invitation have a plus one on? Because mine doesn't,"

Joe thought back, eyes darting around but not really looking at anything. "I don't... I don't remember word for word exactly what the invitation said–" Joe paused abruptly and looked at you, one corner of his mouth slightly upturned. "Well, I do, of course," He didn't, but he didn't need you to know that. "But surely..."

"I think they kind of want us to focus on the jobs we've been given," you said, feeling all smug that you got to tell Joe something he didn't know yet. One-upping Joe felt stupidly good. You were in jeans! In dirty old canvas trainers!

"Oh yea," Joe quipped, and you didn't like how casual that suddenly sounded.

"Like not forgetting the rings,"

And there it was. In a reflex, you lifted your middle finger up at him and immediately realised that Joe could absolutely take full offense. You weren't people who flipped each other off for fun. You said you were to at least try to be friendly, but nothing else had really changed since your meeting over at Joe's house. You weren't suddenly people who were comfortable around each other to be mean in ways you could be mean with Mark, knowing that the bickering was never damaging but more a fun way to get actual frustrations out.

But luckily, Joe gasped a small gasp through a wide smile. No offense taken.

"I thought you said you were nice," the face Joe made almost seemed flirty.

"And you agreed," you threw right back at him. "Even told Pop about it,"

Joe didn't argue, and so you knew you were right. Joe and Poppy had talked about you and Mark.

A pause followed where you weren't sure how to continue the conversation, and the feeling of wanting to abandon the evening all together crept back in. You'd had half a beer, had said some words to each other, so you knew it'd be all right for you to now go, well, I actually have to go get going. But then, something else crossed your mind.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Joe absolutely wasn't expecting the tone switch in you, suddenly sort of serious.

"Have you thought about your speech already?"

You'd briefly mentioned it the other night, your speeches. You'd said that you would just need to make sure that the vague idea of them wouldn't be insanely different from each other. If you were just going to do a a short quick little cute speech, Joe couldn't do an insanely long one that included a whole PowerPoint presentation, or something else insane, like a song. But, you'd very quickly come to the conclusion that neither of you wanted to speak into a microphone for very long.

You wanted your speech to be heartwrenchingly beautiful though. Mark was going to fucking wail at his wedding, you'd absolutely make sure of it.

"I have," Joe said, nodded slowly, and for a second you thought, how the fuck is this guy an actor?! He was obviously lying.

"Okay..." you phrased it like a question, and a short silence followed where you both narrowed your eyes at each other, not fully trusting what wasn't said aloud. Joe was confusing you and you didn't like it.

"But we really don't get plus ones?"

You knew Poppy would have laughed at the way he said it. You didn't. You just shrugged.

"Maybe Poppy doesn't want you to bring a date, just because,"

Oof. Wrong thing to say. Insinuating all kinds of things Joe didn't appreciate, you could see it in the sudden tension in his jaw. It hit almost below the belt. You kind of meant it, though. Had that blown up framed photo of them on your mind still.

"And perhaps Mark doesn't want you to bring one for the same reason,"

You learnt the hard way that dishing it out was far easier than taking it.

That stung, like it always did when people would assume you and Mark were dating, and wouldn't believe it when you said you weren't.

It stung almost extra because you'd just thrown someone a comment you hated getting yourself, and then got it right back like you deserved. The fact that it was from someone who'd probably gotten the comment loads too made you feel even worse about it.

Served you right.

If the air between you hadn't been awkward but maybe sort of pleasant for a second, you missed it.

Slow sips from wet beer glasses were had, and you cursed yourself for not being able to just call it a night already. You were committed to win this now, even though none of this was a contest. Nothing ever was, but you were just like that. Couldn't help wanting to win at everything, especially when it came to petty shit like this. There was no way you were going to leave this pub before Joe did.

It was all awkward comments, feigned naturalness and ease, and when you finished your second beer, you hated how Joe just went and ordered another two. He kept you there and you realised he was onto you. He fucking knew you weren’t going to say no, weren’t going to be the one to back out first. You were too much like Poppy in that way, you thought, and it felt a little vulnerable. Like Joe could read you, could really see right through you, just because he knew Poppy so well.

But with alcohol in your system, you started feeling invincible. Feelings like guilt and regret took a back seat, which was dangerous.

Made you order the next round, just out of sheer spite. And you'd barely eaten - just things like cucumber and carrots with hummus and tzatziki - and started to really feel the effects of it.

Made you smile at a stranger like you shared an inside joke when he bumped into Joe and made him spill some of his drink.

Made you ask stupid questions, like why Joe had a cropped photo of him and Poppy framed in his hallway.

"I don't know if you've fully understood the situation, but I can explain it in simpler words, if you'd like?"

Patronising. Joe spoke to you like you were an idiot.

"I am friends with Poppy, and have been friends with her for a looong time. We're family, and sometimes it's nice to have photographs of family up on your walls. Some people think so, at least,"

So very patronising, it was honestly insulting. He was also missing the point. Didn't understand what you meant. He probably wouldn't, even if you explained it, you thought, so you left it alone.

"It's okay if you don't get it," Joe looked down his glass before adding, "if you don't have that same sort of bond with Mark, I don't expect you to understand," and taking a sip.

Too far.

You were getting too intoxicated to just... take shit like this.

"Oh you wouldn't fucking know what friendship was if it stared you right in the face," you challenged.

For a second tonight had been about proving to each other that your friendship with you best friends didn't cross any inappropriate boundaries. Now, however, it was suddenly all about proving to Joe that your friendship with Mark outweighed his friendship with Poppy.

Joe had no fucking idea how bonded you and Mark were.

How you'd gone through absolutely shit in your teens, and how Mark had managed to haul you through, pulling you out at the other end with a lot less scars than you'd imagined beforehand.

How you'd spent years not thinking you'd live past your teens, battered and bruised from trusting people you were told time and time again you could trust. Had to trust. But should've never trusted. How Mark was the one who'd held out a friendly hand and had proven to you time and time again that men sometimes didn't want all the things you weren't ready to give. Weren't willing to hand over.

How Mark had fixed parts of you which you'd redeemed unfixable until he'd gotten all up in there.

How Mark was solely responsible for your strong belief in the power of kindness. The power of true friendship. The platonic soulmates type of shit.

Joe had no fucking idea. And so you told him again, "You wouldn't even fucking recognise it,"

Joe was about to fight you on it, but he felt something had shifted. Saw something in your expression, in your eyes, that made him swallow his words whole.

Joe saw something that made him believe you on your word. Maybe his friendship with Poppy was a small tiny thing in comparison.

"I'm sorry," Joe's features softened immediately upon the sight of you, and it was all kinds of wrong.

Somehow everything felt unfair all of the sudden.

You needed to leave.

Needed to be polite and thank Joe for the lovely evening all sarcastically and leave without a good excuse to do so. Just, get out.

Away from Joe who didn't understand. Who made fun. Who judged. And who was he to fucking talk?

When you hurridly turned, intending to run, Joe gently reached and touched your upper arm. Strong fingers, but somehow a soft touch.

"I need to leave," you said, and without saying anything else, Joe let you go and let you walk out.

No questions asked.

No goodbye from either of you.

—

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[websterss]

Ethan can't cook, well he can but he can't cook a lot of stuff if you cooks for him he will straight up love you

Even more than he already loves you like if you make him , his favorite dish he would be so shocked he would be asking "can you teach me how to cook this" bouns points if you can bake

It’s giving domestic lifestyle 😭 this is that cute shit I adore. Assuming that Ethan’s mom is dead or out of the picture, he’s incredibly surprised when you do things like cook for him. He never got as much attention as Quinn and Richie did from his dad, his mom was the one to make him feel loved, so he's just starving for touch, love, and EVERYTHING, so to have you love him and cook one of his favorite dishes OH GAWWWD he’s never been more in love. OH MAHH GAWWD. When you're cooking and he comes up behind you to lay his chin on your shoulder.

"Can I help?" He leans over gestures to the pot.

"Yeah?" You have to turn your head to look him in the eye, but your smile never falters.

"Is that hard to believe?" He laughs.

"No. It'd be nice to have some help actually." You kiss his cheek. "Thank you. Can you help me cut up some tomatoes?" He nods and pulls away, and starts washing his hands.

"I used to help my mom all the time when I was a kid. She even got me a stool and everything 'cause I could never reach anything." He recalls. You stop what you're doing, your heart skipping as you managed to have another look inside what his childhood was like.

"That must've been nice..." You offer a smile.

"It was..." He trails off and frowns. He brings the knife down on the tomato cutting up one slice, then another. "After she uh...she died, my dad he uh- he didn't really let me set foot in the kitchen. Said I'd burn the whole place down." He shrugs. "I can't blame him though. I set a pan on fire once..." He grimaces.

"Nooo..." You gape with laughter ridden in your eyes.

"Yeah..."

"Well, you haven't burned down my kitchen yet, so I'd say you're doing alright." You tease. One hand stirring the spot, your other on your hip as you glance at him.

"I wouldn't count me out just yet." He jokes.

[rottentiger-art]

The whole PCA being a scam just doesn’t make sense to me at all. That school is old and has a reputation. There’s even generations that have gone there.

The embezzlement is a plausible thing. Dean Rivers being involved, maybe. The scam thing? Not so much. The one thing that would make sense is if the events that happened were such a scandal that the media had a field day and it snowballed from there and everyone started saying that the school wasn’t accredited at all.

It didn’t help at all that the school went practically bankrupt because there was no money. So that further fueled the flames of the school stealing’s people money and what not. Thus, explaining the throwable line regarding PCA and Dean Rivers because people believed something that wasn’t true..?

Yea, it was dumb honestly, but they needed the school to be abandoned so they could use it for the wedding. I hope it was really a things went out of proportion with the media and just rumours being taken as truth (though Stacey being into detective stuffs on the movie makes me think she must've looked into it)

But ngl, PCA being up for sale gives me hopes something could come out of it in the future. Like, Chase being a teacher, Logan jobless and with a lot of money to spend (+plus Quinn would be busy for the next two years, so he's be bored and missing her), hear me out-

[howlingday]

If mama Harley can handle ren let’s see how she handles the big guns….and by that I mean the emotional mess that is Ruby

"C'mon in, sweetheart." Harley sweetly offered from the doorway. "I promise I won't bite on the first session."

Ruby gave a nervous chuckle as she passed Harley and sat herself on the couch. Since arriving in Beacon only a few weeks ago, it seemed Harley- er, Dr. Quinn was comfortable enough to move herself in. Her diplomas hung from the walls, though a few looked like they were taped together from torn shreds. But her friends gave their words that these sessions were good for them.

"It's a joke, ah course." She seated herself in the comfy chair across from her. "Somthin tah put yah at ease."

"Uh, thank you." Ruby let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm just really nervous about this."

"An why is that?" Jaune's mom asked. "Is it because I used to be a criminal?"

"You did?" Ruby asked, more curious than afraid.

"Mhm, and I used to be one of the worst people in Gotham." Dr. Quinn nodded. "But then I learned bettah, an now I help girls like you learn bettah."

"What would I need to learn better?"

"What do yah want tah be bettah at?"

"Um..." Ruby scratched her head. "I'm kind of confused."

"Hm, well..." She tapped her chin. "What do you think yer not good at?"

"I guess," Ruby closed her eyes as she spoke, "I don't think I'm a good leader sometimes, but I think I'm getting better at it."

"That's good." She scribbled in her notes. "What makes you think you're not a good leader?"

"Well," Ruby twiddled her thumbs, "I kind of get my team into trouble. Like when Roman Torchwick got a hold of an Atlas Paladin, there was... a lot of damage that the school promised they would cover."

"And you feel it was your fault?"

"Wouldn't you?" Ruby asked. "I mean, have you ever led a team?"

"Several, sweetie." Harley beamed. "And you bettah believe I got us into trouble. But I also got us outta trouble. That's what leadahs do, right?"

"I... I guess..." Ruby sighed. "I just wish Mom warned me before she..."

The room was quiet, save for the novelty clock on the wall. Much like the face of the clock, the space was open for interpretation, with the numbers piled on the bottom perfectly representing Ruby's self-esteem. Unlike on the clock, however, Harley could actually pick up the pieces here.

"I know this might sound cliché, but why don't ya tell me about yer mothah?"

"She was... She was my hero. From what I can remember, she was everything I wanted to be. She was strong, brave, pretty, made the best cookies ever." Ruby chuckled, then sighed. "But then she left one night. I never got the chance to say good-bye, or I love you, or... anything. Not until I was standing in front of her grave."

"That must've been hard fer you." Harley said.

"Yeah." Ruby sniffed. "It was. Until I left for Beacon, I would always visit her grave and just... talk to her."

"What did you talk about?"

"School. Yang. Dad. Uncle Qrow. Anything that I thought she would normally ask me about." Ruby wiped her eye with her finger. Harley pushed the box of tissues closer to her. "Sometimes, though, I wish," Ruby gulped before taking a tissue, "I wish I could see her again. Even if she really was gone. Just so I knew what happened to her."

Ruby blew her nose and sniffed. Harley set her notes down and took a tissue herself. Doctor-patient confidentiality meant any tears shed by either of them would be kept quiet on her end. Ruby's end, not so much, but it was something she was willing to risk.

"Ruby," Harley blew into her hankie, "when you stepped into my office, you were very nervous. Scared, too, I bet. But now you're here, showing your emotions with a stranger. That takes guts, and I can't speak for yer mothah, but I want you to know that, as a mothah, I'm proud of you."

"Th-Thank you." Ruby sniffed.

[lowkeyerror]

Perfect Timing

Harley Quinn x Reader

Word Count: 1135

Warnings: None

Everything was set up perfectly. I was supposed to be able to be in and out of the warehouse in less than 5 minutes. I would usually have someone do these types of things for me, but Penguin requested to see me.

" Hello Ms. L/n pleasure to see you," the short man staggered over to me.

" Pleasure is all mine Mr.Cobblepot. Do you have the goods?" He tapped his umbrella and two of his henchmen appeared with the guns.

A smile crept it's way onto my face," Marvelous," I reached out to touch them but the swatted my hands away.

" Where's my money?"

I snapped my fingers and one of my goons brought me the two briefcases.

" Too much money for one case but it's all there," I showed him the money and then we traded cargo.

When I handed him the money, shit hit the fan. There was a smoke bomb and then a lot of grunting. I was smart enough to duck behind a crate and sort of wait it out. I made my move to sneak out before seeing my henchman fall with an arrow in his neck. He looked in my direction and reached out towards me with his last breath.

Why would he do that? He basically gave me away. Even with his last breath he was still a fucking idiot. I let out a heavy sigh," Please don't shoot, I'm standing up." I slowly rose to my feet with both of my hands up. When I was all the way up I was impressed.

I had never had the pleasure of meeting the Birds of Prey, but it seemed like today would be that day. Dinah Lance and Renee Montoya stood on either side of Helena Bertinelli who still had a crossbow pointed at me.

" Cool crossbow," her face didn't relax at all at my attempt to crack a joke.

" Montoya, who is she?" Black Canary asked the former cop.

" Y/n L/n and she's way out of her league. Petty theft mostly."

" Well it looks like we've put the big dog on a leash," Huntress said, readying her crossbow.

I couldn't help but let out a scoff. This woman must be behind the curve because petty theft is way behind me. I go for gold and strike pure platinum now.

" Petty theft? Really Montoya? You've left the force and it shows. I'm a big dog, I even would say the big dog," I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

" Looks can be deceiving, you know that better than anyone don't you?" Just as the hostility was about to peak someone barged into the warehouse.

Harley was going to answer when she laid her eyes on me. She released a high pitched squeal and ran over to give me a hug, " Y/n L/n as I live and breathe. How you doin' sugar ?"

" Am I interruptin' somethin' ?" Harley Quinn strode into the building.

" What are you doing here Quinn?" Montoya asked with irritation present in her voice.

I hadn't always been so bad. Montoya was right, I was only doing petty theft. It wasn't enough to live shit it was barely enough to survive. I had to do something Gotham streets aren't kind to anybody. You're either with the streets or they eat you alive.

" HARLEY YOU CAN NOT FRATERNIZE WITH THE ENEMY," Montoya yelled at her, but the girl just brushed her off.

" Y/n is the biggest softie I know you guys."

A blush spread across my face," Harley, I'm not that girl anymore. I've gotten my hands dirty and they ain't coming clean," I let out a humorless chuckle.

Helena busted out in laughter. She went on quite a while before she realized no one was laughing," Oh you're serious?"

"Look this little reunion shit is cute and all but we have to take her in," Dinah spoke ready for this to end.

" Guys wait," Harley bit her lip and looked at me, then them," Can we keep her?"

" There is no we, Harley. You made that clear when you took off in my prized possession," whatever Harley took from Dinah must've cut her deep because the ex-singer was mad.

She had changed a lot, but she still went to bat for me like she had in the past. I remember when I met her, on the streets, well more like I tried to steal something from her. She almost broke my hand for trying to snatch her sandwich.

"Look you guys, the way I see it you owe me. Without me your little vigilante group would not exist. Y/n is a victim of the streets just like we are. She deserves a second chance."

I couldn't help but stare at Harley.

I was just a kid back then so she gave me half of the sandwich. She even snuck me into The Joker's place and let me stay there a few nights.

" Harley you've gotta stop fighting for me, It's obvious they don't want me in their little group. It's fine it's not the first time someone doesn't see my potential and it won't be the last. So take me to jail so I can break out and get back to business."

"Harley she's a bad guy, we're good guys and you're just somewhere in between," Dinah argues.

Harley doesn't relent," Crossbow Killer here killed people just for revenge, Montoya is an alcoholic, and you... I've got nothing you're perfect. But Y/n deserves a chance I'd bet Bruce that she's good at heart."

" See Harley, she understands so why can't you?" Montoya said making her way to cuff me.

Harley frowned " Sorry about this you guys."

She aimed for the lights with her gun and shot them out. The warehouse went dark and I felt a tug on my arm. I could only assume it was Harley. I ran with her out of the warehouse laughing all the way.

We hopped in her car and she drove away. " They're going to come after you," I told her when she finally started to slow down.

" Nah those are my girls, they love me."

She smiled at me and grabbed my hand," I'll always have your back cupcake."

" Harley?" She hummed in response

" Thanks for always having my back. It means a lot."

I couldn't hide my blush from the former clown princess. She hit the brakes hard and parked the car. Harley didn't say anything instead she grabbed a handful of my shirt and pulled me into a wild kiss.

All the tiny hairs on my arms stood up as well as the hairs on the back of my neck. I let her take control not like she needed me to anyway.

" Harleen Quinnzel, you are my favorite everything."

" Oh I know sugar."