#and we're like 'idk why this works but i'm pretty sure it does'

[moth-eats-paper]

My complete thoughts on TMA through 93-200

MAG Thoughts on ep 93-200

THERE'S A CAT

John's hand still hurts from the cult of the flame

There's also a missing calliope. I think thats how you spell it

The institute is a death trap.

Both John and Elias are vessels of “The Eye” and can make people spill their guts Gertrude was also one up until Elias killeClayr. So that's fun

GORGEY MIGHT KNOW/BE A PART OF ANOTHR GOD?!?!?!

LAST WORDS OF A CORPSE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN GORGEY?

Gorgeys not ok

Nor is Marten

I quite like the new girl shes funny

Is anyone in mag alive lol

Well idk John why does Elias do anything.

IT'S THE THING GIRL DOLL PLASTIC THING OMG

(I have no idea what i was trying to type here^)

Tim and Marten are not okay especially marten

Spooky doll thing changed her mind apparently

And Michael (the spooky one) use,d to be an assistant of Gertrude funnnn

Ep 100 time baby :3) No one in the institute knows how to interviewnoople except John and I'm pretty sure that's because of “the eye”

The spself-cannibalismThe spiders are weird

Why is this woman so calm about a ghost woman who's on fire burning her (poor marten he's very confused)

Tim is speaking to a maniac

Melanie (I think it's her) is speaking to a man who keeps getting side tracked

THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU GOT OUT OF THE SPIRAL AND WENT TO DINNER

The poor detective

SPOOKY MAN NAMED PETER JUST APPEARED FROM NO WERE AND I THINK HE'S FROM THE UNKNOWN?!??

SPOOKY DOLL WOMEN!

THE COFFINS BACK

“Sarah wanted to use nails but I talked her out of it because I'm a good friend!” YOUR A MANNEQUIN (I love that line so much lol)

Oh wax love that

Mmm skin

Don't skin John please

ARE YOU GOING TO MOISTURIZED JOHN AND THEN SKIN HIM?

MICHAEL HOLY SHIT HE'S BACK

oh he's going to kill John

Revenge?

Oh

Oh dear he doesn't want to be Michael

MICHAEL BECAME THE DELUSION

Oh he's making a statement

MICHAEL SHELY

Oh god Gertrude

Unrelated but my cat has decided to try and kill me

PETER LUCAS IS ALSO THERE

Oh god Michael Shelley is very dumb

Only just know getting scared? What the fuck

Doors. fun

I can't even spell whatever that is

THE SPIRAL

Of course she didn't care

Just don't trust Gertrud

The Worker of clay?

His laugh is silly

Oh oh dear

Oh dear the doors not working

OH JESUS

HELEN

MICHAEL BECAME HELEN

HELENS GOING TO HELP?

HELENS THE DISTORTION NOW

So I guess the distortion only wants what that person wanted

Why does Elias just agree with the person who's trying to kill him

I think this man has bugs in his skin

He does

John can suddenly read French and then can't

I LOVE MARTIN

Melanie keeps trying to kill people

(People being Elias)

Pig episode (like actual pigs not the police)

Oh the pig no no like you sir

Oh god I guess this pig is a weird thing

THE CIRCUS?

Oh god not more circuses

Oh dear I think the pig has decided to eat clowns now

Oh self cannibalism

Whelp the pig ate someone

Loud sound

The eyes doing it's thing

JOHN DOING THE THING WITH THE EYE

Tim keeps scaring people

Tims not ok

OMG TIM STATEMENT

Tims brother went missing

I don't think it's Tim's brother

Whelp he's gone

Oh clowns know

OH DEAR CLOWNS

I don't think that's your brother Tim

Oh blood

Oh dead clown

Oh no more skin .

Oh famous clown

Tim and Elias drama

Oh we're in China

Oh creepy opening

I wonder. Is this in Chinese? I know that the eye can allow you to read other languages in order to obtain more knowledge. Even if you never spoke that language or were able to read it you just suddenly are able to.

Oh screams

Nevermind I'm pretty sure it's in English cause it seems the person writing it is a British soldier

Does he have the black plague?

OH DEAD BODYS IN THE WATER

Oh-

This is a sad man

“True and total war”

GOD DAMMIT NO CIRCUS

HE CAN READ MANDARIN AND AND CHINESE NOW (cause of the eye)

IT WAS FROM 2004 NOT 2014

Oh the proper one's are in America

Space station time

I wonder if this is the same space station as the one Gertrude read

I think she kept talking about it in one of the statements well more specifically the guy who it is from

We love Melanie (even though she keeps trying to kill Elias but she has a good reason)

FAIRCHILD IS BACK

IT IS THE SAME SPACESHIP BUT JUST A DIFFERENT GUY

Because the one Gertrude read was the isolation guy. This is about the other two people who were on the ship

Oh god the space weird space hands are back I think

Oh blood

Oh he's bleeding

Oh god he's just going to let himself die

Old screaming things

Don't envy the isolation guy he had a really shit time

Whelp now he's in limbo space

OH SOMETHING'S BLOCKING THE STARS

Oh deep thoughts

Melanie is thinking deep

She's skeptical of stuff

Oh dear

IS HE STUCK IN SPACE

Viscera I think is how to pronounce her name?

MARTIN HAS A CRUSH ON JOHN?

Viscera and Melanie are gossiping and I'm here for it

Oh performance review

OH GOD ELIAS

JESUS CHRIST ELIAS STOP LEAVE POOR MELIAINE ALONE

WHAT DID HE DIE OF

WHY DID YOU GIVE HER THE KNOWLEDGE OF HIM DYING

THAT'S TERRIFYING

He can just make her watch her dad's death!

I want texas toast I'm going to go make some

JOHNS IN AMERICA

Whelp he's being followed by a police officer

And Jared's “death”

GERTRUD WAS ARRESTED FOR BREAKING INTO A MORGUE

He just has to read statements to make him feel better

A screaming oven lovely

OH THERE'S A FIRE

OH A TRAINS ON FIRE

What do you mean you'd burn them?

John is better!

OH SHIT IT'S THE POLICE

WHAT IS THAT ACCENT

OH MY GOD ITS THE VAMPIRE HUNTER

YIPPEE MARTIN

I fucking hate Shakespeare

Lovely more masks

Poor Tim

And Melanie

AWW

OH SHIT

SOMETHINGS HAPPENING

PETER LUCAS IS BACK

Lucas seams so silly

Viscera gets really excited about her reading and I love that about her

Mmm more statements

I'm pretty sure John just asked for a statement because he was starting to feel sick lol

MORE VAMPIRES (I think) YIPPEE

His accent is kinda hard to understand

BODYS IN BOX

Spoopy people

Love how she calls the vampire hunter old man

Oh bodys on table

Silent screamers

OH WATER

Staby stab

Oh she killed him

OH SPOOKY THING

HAHAH DOLL THING (why is his voice kinda-)

More Marten :3

This girl sounds like an asshole

THIS PERSONS TRANS TDZSDHUGDZ

That is a long ass name

“Spiders are eating” PFF

Oh don't walk into people's jaws

Mmm Japanese spider movies

YOU HAD TO TRY AND CONVINCE YOURSELF HE ONLY HAD TWO ARMS

Oh spoopy

Oh they found A Way to distract Elias

A leitner?

JARED

Jared is cool

Jared's mom was an ass

Hmmm more things to kill and torture everyone

I keep forgetting meat is in this

Jared is so sad

MURDER

YIPPEE VISCERA

We're back in America and they found a bomb and the taxidermy or what's left of it

John and Tim drama

YIPPEE TIM A JOHN ARE OK

Oh tunnels

Bomb time

The meats back

LITENER

No more arm

And now he's in the water

PFFF

HELEN

Aww

YIPPEE SPOOPY

Meeting timeee

Gurtrud tape time

Wolfgang?

Puppets?

I think this is from a older time in europe because of the writing and how it is worded

DON'T GO

Mmm more robotic things

OH GOD A STAGE

Mmm birbs

BLOOD

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CURL YOUR LEGS INTO A FIST

Funsies

Oh he's being protective of martennnnn

PLANS

SECRET PLANSSS

JOHN STATEMENT HDHJDGKDVJHK

Awww john

ITS LIGHTENERS

Melines to relatable

MELANIE STATEMENT

MARTIN NFSUSSTUDIY

TIMM

Aww goodbye Jarey

mmm masquerade

MARTIN!!

“sorry Elias I can't hear you there's a DOOR in the way” I love marten

Hehehe bomb

Oh god marten don't die

OH GOD THAT'S NOT WAX WORK

MARTIN NO

ELIAS FUCK YOU

Uh oh

SILLY MUSIC

WHAT'S HAPPENING

Mmm nothing is everything and everything is something

God what is happening

EYE THINGGGG

TIMMM

TIM SET OFF THE BOOM

Oh

What the fuck is this

He's not responseuve

Oh eye always watching

ELIAS STATEMENT?

(I'm listening to this for a second time)

Hehehe sad man

Oh

Oh dear

THE ELBOWS DON'T WORK

The sky?

Oh

OH

Ma ma that's not edible

I don't want the box to sing

NOT THE COFFIN

Oh tunnel

Hmmm blood

TRAIN TIME

Hmmm watching

WHERE'D SHE GO

Oh dig

DOOR

Ants?

Oh

He screams

Who are we watching?

MARTIN

What

ARE TIM AND DAISY DEAD?

Bye Eliasss

PFFFF

OH

Lucassss

YIPPEE PETER

NO TIM AND DAISY ARE DEAD

Season 4 babyyy

Oh

Poor marten

This is so sad

Oh

WHAT

WHAT DO YOU MORE GOODBYE

First actual episode of season 4 :3

Oh?

WHO IS THIS

WHAT

WHERE

YOU SAW JOHN IN A DREAM?

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU

Oh statement

He sees how people die funnn

“What am I?” I ask that often

Oh

OH

Ship into the middle of nowhereeeee

MEMENTO THING

Snakes?

Oh

Nevermind it's death

Why ya calm

Oh

Did you accidentally kill a bunch of people

Nope

YOU GOT A GUN?

YOU KILLED THE CAPTAIN!????

oh

OH GOD YOU KILLED EVERYONE

This is this Oliver guy

SPIDERS

Oh

That's funnn

Oh boy

Melanie (I think it's her)might have scared him off

Oh

OH

JOHNS AWAKE?

Zombieeee

I keep sending the homophobic vase because I can

oh no it was gorge

AND VISCERA

Magic tape?

JOHN!

HIII JOHN

oh

6 MONTHS

He's very confused and I can see why

Hehehe eye thing

Statement timeeee

YOU CUT SOMEBODY'S HANDS?

I think this dudes on something

Maybe

Idk any more everything is odd

YOUR BEING FOLLOWED MX STATEMENT PERSON

Oh

This person's a little silly

Awww I love John

Even though he keeps making have deep thoughts

THEY CAN'T FIND DAISY'S BODY?

Oh oh god marten are you okay buddy

Oh

Aww

He miss his boyfriend (I'm desperately waiting for them to get together)

W E B yippee

Oh god meline she's very traumatized

Oh

Oh that hurt

OH MY GOD THEY'RE GETTING ATTACKED BY THINGS

(Not at the moment)

I think everyone's losing it

HE JUST CALLED HIMSELF THE ARCHIVIST NOT “Johnathan Sims head archivist” JUST THE FUCKING ARCHIVEST

EVERYONE IS EITHER DEAD, PART OF SOMETHING, FUCKING LOOSING IT OR ALL THREE.

Real honestly

It's always weird MX statement person

Oh

Is the site sentient

OH DEAD

Is this a thing of the eye?

No it was the web

Oh he's a fish kabob

I can't tell if this is the buried, flesh or end

BAGPIPES

IT'S THE PIPER

it's the slaughter

Cause everyone slaughtered each other

Pfff

Eye thing

Mmm

OH GOD

126 is the distortion

Awwww

MARTEN

The recorder is silly

DOESeter

Idk if I liself-esteemt he still will

Of course he's worried about his boyfriend

ITS THE COFFEIN

OH

oh

OH MY GOD HE CAN DO STUFF

He had killed the thing

Lot of truck

DAISYS ALIVE BTW

We have bone Turner

SPACE PART 3

Oh god that sounded ow

YIPPEE

I can't really update during school

PFFF The eye is just my brain absorbeing things cause it's never anything useful

THE TAPE RECORDER IS JUST A SINGLE FOR KNOWLEDGE

GARRY

Garry reference

God damnit John stop being creepy to strangers

The computers are eating people again

SIMON FAIRCHILD

Mmmm cult's

MELINES GOING I GOUGE HER EYES OUT SO SHE CAN LEAVE THE EYE

oh god

Oh

WHAT HAPPENED TO DAISY JUST NOW?!?

I DIDN'T WANT HER TO DIE

Oop angey Martin

Oh dear

Peter Lucas is an asshole

Into the lonely

PFFF

LOVE THAT

John is so smart

THAT'S SOME OF THE GAYEST SHIT EVER

Oh god the eye opens

They gay

SEASON 5 BABY

Oh

PFFF

Aww

Stop being depressed

TF you mean I'm faceless

PFFF

Ah the not Sasha

Oh it pissed of John

“Ceaseless watcher turn your gaze on this wretched thing” HE SAID THE THING

Martens broken

They broke Marten

I think it the lonely

Oh

Oh god he's getting relatable

HE JUST KEEPS HATING THE CHAIRS 😭

“I am marten blackwood and I'm not alone anymore” HAD ME SOBBING

It's the bone man idk what his name is but I hate his voice

Helen just wants to have fun

Who the fuck is doctor David

I didn't realize they could get any gayer

THEY ACTUALLY FELT TIRED AND HUNGRY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LIKE FUCK IF I KNOW

AND THAT FREAKY PIRATE AND WEB WOMEN ARE THERE

(They also just like feel asleep lol)

Doctor doe Jane is silly

Silly

HIII Helen!!!

“You've always said you were Helen!”

“I am! I also ate her… it's really simple if you don't think about it”

THEY SAID I LOVE YOU

George and Melina are backkkk

And Meline fucking slays

The gays are arguing

DOSE ANNABELLE OWN THE TAPES?!?!

Christ that is scary

“Shocker, I have self esteem issues. Not the point” I am Martin

This is adorable and sad

1 MORE EPISODE

Oh

Oh god John

Oh he's pleading

Oh

OH MY GOD

HOLY SHIT

SHIT

OH

OH DEAR

IS JON OK

Oh

That's scary

Statement

This doesn't sound like a tape

Oh god

He's going to die

I'm going to cry

He's going to kill him

I'm actually going to start crying

Oh god

Simon?

Oh

#hello tumblr #i love my dead gay son #:3 #the magnus archives #tma podcast #tma #the magnus archives podcast #i love marten (i relate to him a little to much) #i love the magnus archives #paper says stuff

[tanadrin]

on reflection, i think there's a symmetry to, say, doctors who are willing to refer patients to osteopaths or other ""holistic"" healthcare providers and the susceptibility of engineers to certain kinds of crankdom (of the "i-disproved-relativity-in-my-garage" type). both are forms of scientific training of a sort, but they're heavily outcome-focused and not theoretically focused. in large part, this is good! you do not as a doctor need to have a robust theoretical defense of every treatment you provide to patients, and it would be impossible to do so, because medicine is a huge and complicated subject. you do not, as an engineer, need to have a subtle grasp of theoretical physics to build a bridge; you just need to know what the latest developments in bridge-building are.

but it means in both cases you can have people who are skilled in their field, or who even excel, but who don't understand very well why certain techniques work. and in the case of alt medicine, where there has been considerable work to try to obfuscate or deceive people on how shaky the theoretical basis for their techniques are (stuff that literally if you remember your high-school physics and biology at all will make you go, "wait, there is no plausible mechanism for this, that's not how any of this works"), doctors who do not have time to read studies on RCT trials of every type of medicine they have ever heard of will blithely recommend stuff to patients that's actually complete horseshit, especially if the culture around them has been normalizing that woo as part of "holistic" therapy for the last hundred years, spurred on by alternative medicine practitioners and a public with a fear of needles and ~chemicals~ that medical practitioners have not done enough to allay.

it does not help that medicine only emerged very recently from being about 99% bullshit. like maybe at the end of the 19th century at best medicine was starting to be put on a broad-based empirical and theoretical footing--before that it's truly insane the stuff that wasn't just considered perfectly normal medical practice, but was considered serious Science. i mean, this is why we developed double-blind studies in the first place--because theoretical explanations of medical treatments are still necessarily often secondary to the process of finding ones that actually work, so we need really robust mechanisms to avoid confirmation bias or outright charlatanry. and while mainstream medicine is far from perfect in this respect, "alternative medicine" is all far, far worse.

#imagine if bridge-building was still trial and error half the time #like medieval cathedral building #that's probably not very fair to medicine #like we've gotten so much better in just the last seventy years #at targeted medical research #but still sometimes we develop new treatments #and we're like 'idk why this works but i'm pretty sure it does' #psychology still feels like it's full of individual practitioners with idiosyncratic theories #inventing therapies in an ad-hoc way #like ye olde 19th century doctors #but psychology is still theoretically very weak #so that kinda makes sense to me

[haneys]

I didn't want to wake up so bad today because I had a dream I was in love with a big burly polar bear furry 😭😭😭 take me back he was the oneeeeee

#patxt #and the DRAMA and the STORY i was some sort of a rebel in a very vaguely fantasy kingdom #and basicially the whole thing was that the ruler of the kingdom had unfairly imprisoned people including children because of something idk #and i was trying to free these people. the twist was that the ruler had powers of like jumping realities/reseting time lines? idk how to #call it but basicially each time I succeeded she would do the abra cadabra and boom back to the square 1 + I am in bum fuck nowhere + the #Land and castle look different + everyone's memories r reset too right. #so I was teying over and over again and it was also becoming harder with each time to trick the ruler BUT that's when the polar bear guy #comes in. so basicislly he was like her first general kinda think like u know right hand very cold and strict and hardened by time but also #kept in the dark by the ruler about the horrors and the injustice. and somehow thruout the resets and mt endless tries HE STARTED TO #REMEMBER ME FAINTLY AWAWAWAAAAA that's how u know it's true love *sighs dreamily* and at one point I was sure I am super fucked and that's #the end of me but he actually covered for me and iw as like o_o and as the ruler left he YOINKED me from the balcony edge I was dangling of #and im like ACK and he backs me to a corner and wants answers about my goal but also why does he feel like he remembers me and I'm like #I csnt add reaction pics here but basicially LITERALLY my heart was beating. so I tell him abt the war crimes and he DOESN'T believe me and #is like not angry because he's pretty stoic but hes not having a swag time BUT he let's me go and goes to check for himself and finds that #it's true. and as he goes to the ruler to confront her she is actually in the middle of performing the Thanos snap so it's all futile. but #from that point on he was able to Remember thruout the resets just like me and we started to work together to actually uncover #1 why the war crimes lol and 2 how is she able to reset the time lines and why does she resort to it 3 why can we remember thruout them #so we're working together anf the ruler acrually started to get suspicious of him that he might actually be able to Remember the resets and #since obviously she remembers thruout them too if she found out even ONCE he was helping me it would be super over for us lol. the dream #plot line never got finished but the last thing I remember was me being buried in his arms in a big fluffy warm hug and saying ilys LIKE #GRAAAAAAAGH EXPLDOED THE WORLD EXPLODED THE WORLD EXPLODES EVERYHRING GIVE ME THAT BEAR BACK!!!!!!!!!

[benedictscanvas]

If you’re still taking requests, I have an idea that’s been PLAGUING me in the best way possible: Jamie meets reader and she doesn’t know him at first and then maybe a few dates later she’s like “omg you were on that shitty reality show” like she does not pay attention to football at all idk I just thought it would be cute 🩵🩵 I absolutely adore your writing 😊

i love it when an idea is plaguing. thank you for being so lovely in your request, i appreciate it and you so very much <3 ALSO i ended up playing dnd unexpectedly yesterday, so another drabble tonight and then a new chapter of be still, my foolish heart tomorrow!! | 1.4k words, tw language

You're sat in the Crown and Anchor for what will now be your sixth date. Jamie swears that it's your seventh, and that your first date was actually when the two of you stood on the doorstep of your house for three hours before you finally realised how long you'd been chatting.

You'd been assembling a swing in the garden out front of your house and Jamie happened to be walking by. He stopped to ask if you needed any help and that was it. It was eleven o'clock when he finally went on his way with your number written on a piece of paper that he clutched in his fist.

But it couldn't be a date, you'd say, because he hadn't kissed you when he left. Realistically, you just enjoyed the scrunched up face he made when you playfully argued with him about it, but he didn't need to know that yet.

You were meeting his friends for the first time. It felt early, but Jamie insisted how fun they were and that after you'd met them, the two of you would be able to hang out way more because you could come and visit him at work. You weren't sure why you'd have to meet them here first, but he said it would all make sense.

Nothing about this made sense, because you were currently the only ones in the pub, stuffed into a corner booth. Jamie's thigh brushed yours as he jiggled it, seemingly as full of nervous energy as you.

"Why is no one else here, Jamie?" you whispered, lest the woman behind the bar who looked not to be messed with heard you, "Is something going on?"

"Oh, I jus' booked it out," he says nonchalantly. You gape at him. It had always been clear he had some money, but never this much. Your first thought was the fact that he'd only ever been to your house, never you to his. Granted, it had only been three times so far anyway, but still.

"Are you like...rich-rich?" you ask tentatively, then carry on talking before he can answer, "That sounds terrible, oh god, you don't have to answer that. I don't care either way, you know, I just like-"

"Y/N, babe," he interrupts you, squeezing you into his side, "I know what y' getting at. I'm pretty loaded, I'm not gonna lie, but I didn't want y' to know until I was sure about ya."

Jamie was sure about you? That was news to you. You were a little nervous about how early it was to be sure, but it wasn't as if you weren't sold on him too. You were practically besotted with the man really, even if you were hesitant to tell him.

As if he could read the surprise on your face, he opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted-

"Hey! We're not late, are we?"

There were a few men congregating at the doorway, and the woman at the bar waved them in, greeting them like they were old friends. There were far more people than you'd expected, around ten men and two women crowding into the pub. There was no way all of you would fit around this corner booth.

You crammed any anxiety to the bottom of your stomach and stood up to greet everyone.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, it's so lovely to meet all of you!"

"What the fuck guys?"

Jamie's interjection cut your introductions short, just as you were about to hug the man closest to you who was beaming until Jamie spoke up and ruined his mood.

"I invited Isaac, Colin and Keeley. What are you all doing here?"

They had the decency to look a little sheepish. So that was why Jamie hadn't warned you that there would be 12 of them.

"We all wanted to come and meet the girl you've been droning on about for weeks, bruv," one man chimed in, "We tried drawing straws but it just turned into a huge fucking argument. So here we are. Trust me, mate, like 30 of us wanted to come, so count yourself lucky."

"I didn't fuckin' invite 30 of ya!" he exclaimed, winding a protective hand around your waist. Rather than being intimidated, you now felt incredibly touched that Jamie had been talking about you enough that his friends wanted to meet you so badly, "Did you lot even think about how overwhelming y' might be? Fuckin' idiots."

"Oi! We're on our best fucking behaviour, Tartt. Stop moping and introduce us, you prick."

Okay, so that was definitely Roy. You'd heard at least a little bit about him, that he was sort of a friend/mentor of Jamie's but quite...harsh. That definitely wasn't the word Jamie had used, but it worked.

"Okay! Fuckin' hell, right then..."

And he went around the group. They all pulled chair up to the few tables surrounding yours but didn't crowd you too much. There was Isaac, the one who'd explained things when they came in, Colin and Keeley, of course, who you fell in love with instantly. One group who sat slightly separately were Rebecca, Roy, Ted and Beard who all seemed significantly older than Jamie to be his mates, but you didn't want to question it when everyone was being so nice.

"So, we haven't seen you, so that must mean you've been watching this one on the telly, right?"

Rebecca gestures to Jamie with a warm smile, but when you turn to him, confused, he looks like a deer in the headlights.

"On the telly? In what?"

Rebecca looks suitably shocked now, staring from Jamie to you and back to Jamie.

"She doesn't...?"

Jamie hangs his head and you're left even more confused. You're left staring at the side of his face until it hits you: you'd never connected the dots before but now Rebecca had mentioned TV and you were looking right at him...

"Oh my god!" you exclaim suddenly, making everyone around the table jump, even though the younger lads weren't paying any attention, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He looks thoroughly guilty.

"Look, Y/N, I jus' wanted to get to know y' without-"

You weren't finished though, still babbling away to yourself as you stared at him, imagining him as he was when you'd seen him through the screen.

"I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything! Not once you'd helped me, but I suppose if I'd realised maybe I would have been more wary of you. You were terrible on that show! All my friends hated you, and I guess I did too, although I still had a bit of a crush, I can't lie-"

You trailed off when you saw the expressions on everyone's faces. The silence was only broken when Roy burst into loud laughter, throwing his head back in a way you guessed was rare for him.

"You know me...from reality TV?" Jamie said, enunciating every syllable and looking at you in terror. You smiled at him easily, reaching up to push a stray hair back from his face.

"Can't believe I didn't realise it, but yeah. Changes nothing for me, you know. It was a couple years ago right? No more dating shows on the horizon for you?"

If you'd realised this immediately, yes you would have been more on your guard. But you didn't, he was clearly very ashamed of his time on there and you were already falling for him and how fucking nice he was to you. Like every move he made was deliberate. It actually made a lot of sense now, if he had a past to make up for.

It took him a few moments of processing, but he was able to pull you into a side and plant a long, lingering kiss on your forehead eventually.

"No more dating shows," he said, full of relief, "Also, I'm a Premier League footballer, since you've taken that one so well."

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

"You're a what?!"

Roy's laugh echoes long into your night, as do the laughs of the rest of Jamie's friends, or teammates as you quickly come to know them. Jamie's more relaxed than he's ever been with you and yeah, you can get why he was sure about this now.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt oneshot #busy week drabbles! #like real people queue

[scribbledghost]

I have a suggestion for a promp!! ✋feel free to consider it if it fancies you, disregard if it doesn't 💕 i felt like it might interest you, bc I really loved the drabble about reader being on base and the alarm going off and her finally meeting ghost, so to say! i feel like you might like the vibe of this as well. idk how to word it well, but i love stories where the two whole different worlds of a couple meet/merge bc of A Situation which lays their differences bare, their consequent reaction to their so's/the situation at hand itself etc

i saw this super cute tiktok the other day of a couple, where the husband/bf? is trying to instill more safety awareness into his partner, he pretends to leave the house, closes the front door and even fakes his footsteps but then knocks on the door to see if his gf will automatically open up assuming its him or look thru the peephole to see who it is

she doesn't ask, and opens up right away (like most of us would do i mean lbr!!) and he berates her for it while she playfully waves it off as him being too paranoid and so serious (mannnn I wish I had it saved!!!) and idk i think was just such super cute moment and I could totally see simon and his so in this situation. Simon has more than his fair share of awareness of what could and does go wrong in the world and is determined to "train" his gf and give a safety drill whenever he sees the opportunity for it (he might even do so bc he is, unconsciously or not, trying to protect her from a fate his family faced because of him) but his gf is happily unaware of that dark side of the world and is like "🤷‍♀️aww but i just knew it was you babe besides im pretty sure nothing could get past you to get to me anyway💕💕" and he is both baffled bc of her casualness (she's a civilian but still), somewhat amused bc he can never get "mad" at her, it would be like getting mad at a puppy who doesn't get a trick right on the first try, and he feels his heart swell because she feels, she knows nothing would get past him to hurt her. he would die sooner than to have a hair on her head harmed (ok this got angsty real quick!!!🥹💕❤️)

🌻anon (also I am sorry for the wall of text omg!!! English isn't my first language so i guess I overcompensate to explain myself wow!! You are a gem in this fandom btw??? I honestly love how detailed your writing is. Quality work, top notch!👌😘💕)

Note: I have been staring at the last paragraph of this for the past five minutes because thank you so so much???? (Also your English is perfect I promise) it seriously means so much to me to hear people like my writing 🥺💖💖 But this definitely interests me! (Personally, I'm wildly paranoid about my own safety, so I'd definitely be checking that peephole every time lol but we're gonna disregard that)

"Love, you're gonna end up givin' me more gray hairs than I've already got."

"And why's that?"

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a huff. He's not angry - he doesn't think he could ever be angry at you (at least not for long) - but he's starting to wonder if you've got any self-preservation instincts at all.

This isn't the first time you've failed one of his many "safety tests," as you call them. From leaving your car unlocked while you're sitting in it to opening a window overnight when the weather permits, he swears he's aged a decade since living with you. Price had once told him that worrying for your safety was part of the package of loving a civilian, but Simon hadn't quite predicted he'd be worrying this much.

"How many times have I told you to check before you open the door?" he asks.

"But I knew it was you. You just left," you chirp. Good lord, you're too cute for your own good.

"And if it hadn't been me?" he asks. "If someone had taken me out on my way to the car then come to you? You've got to start considering the possibilities, love."

To your average outsider, it probably seems like he's berating you. But the way your eyes sparkle at him tells him you know better. Chastising you, perhaps, but there's no true anger there.

Instead, there's an undercurrent of fear. He knows the consequences of opening the door to the wrong person. And he knows that if the day ever comes when he comes home to blood on the walls and the sight of your lifeless eyes, he'll sit next to you and make sure he dies there too.

But that's a road Simon doesn't want to go down. Not right now, anyway. Not when you're here, smiling at him with mischief in your gaze.

"Simon, be real. I know nothing can get past you to get to me."

He feels his heart rise when you tell him this. Of course, he knows in his soul that he'd never let anything harm you. He knows he'd do unspeakable things to keep you safe. But to hear you say that you know it too sends warmth through his chest.

"Be that as it may," he says, unable to stop himself from quirking a small grin, "you still need to check. Just to be safe."

He grabs your hand as you raise it to wave him off, pulling you slightly closer and angling your chin so he can really look at you and convey the seriousness of his words.

"Please, love," he says. "For me?"

Your gaze softens as you lean into his touch.

"Okay, Simon," you murmur to him. "I promise I'll check before I open the door. For you."

Part of him isn't quite sure if he believes you. But for now, he lets himself feel relieved anyway.

"Good," he says as he leans in to kiss you. "I'll hold you to that."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost scribbles

[alaydabug2]

@myfairkatiecat Ik I said I didn't post on tumblr....BUT I DO NOW

Ok so to go more in depth of the theory about Keefe's mind shattering

Here you can see the different ways people can shatter

"But some turn erratic and reckless."

SHANNON

Who does that sound like to you

Furthermore, Keefe didn't really start becoming reckless until he found out about his mom

Yeah sure he ditched class and was a trouble maker, but he never really did anything to crazy until his mom

In neverseen alone he covered his room in paper scraps, took fathomlethes (which I believe are an elf version of drugs, but that's for another time to deep dive), tried to run off to ravagog on his own, and ran away to the neverseen

That's not even a book finding out about his mother

I also believe that his minds is slowly shattering bit by bit like Alden and has come extremely close several times

Also in neverseen when he had to be sedated for 24 hours because he was in shock and kept replaying the recovered memory over and over, when in legacy his mom got away and he was shaking and yelling

There's probably more too but I can't think of it rn

I also think what will be the last straw

I think he actually killed Ethan Benedict Wright II and his daughter (sorry if the next bit sounds weird this was copy and pasted from my YouTube 😭)

Ok so

Keefe has been going numb in stellarlune

We're all aware of that

He's not acting himself

Going numb

Abilities not working

Just overall worrying behavior

AND Shannon said some major information is going to be unveiled in unraveled

Well Well Well

I've come up with something

What if Keefe DID actually kill Ethan and his daughter

Hear me out

Shannon said that she was going to try and fit the information in unraveled into stellarlune

But it didn't work out

Then in try for book 10

But didnt fit

Well in stellarlune we know the 2 humans WERE actually brought up

Could that have been Shannon trying to write in the information about them but didn't work?

But you're probably wondering how this means Keefe killed them

Stick with me

Almost there

Keefes memory of him delivering the letter was SHATTERED

Not washed

Shattered

That was the only memory (as of known so far) to be shattered

The rest got washed

Why go out of your way to shatter THAT specific memory when the others were washed

Like the one with Gisela was on the roof with Alvar

That wasn't anything he needed to remember later

But why treat it different

Also

Gisela was talking like Keefe had something to do with their death

(Could've been manipulation tactic and it probably was but still)

Keefe had also visited their graves and asked about them

Confirmed stuff about them WILL be in unraveled

He wasn't acting himself in stellarlune

Yes he wasn't acting himself in unlocked either

And also yes he's been going numb and that absolutely will contribute to that

But idk

It just seems like there's more to it than JUST that

And THAT would definitely mess someone up

AND I'm already pretty sure his mind will shatter in book ten

So that could be the tipping point for it to do so

AND Shannon said this is game changing news

That definitely would be COMPLETELY plot changing and everything

And it would make sense why we'd need to see this revelation through his pov rather than in Sophie's just being told

Even if Keefe didn't kill them himself

But more so he had a more direct role in their murders than previously thought

So what do yall think of this

#kotlc keefe #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc theory #kotlc keefe sencen #theory

[simpingcowboy]

Pedro boys and why I'm swiping left on their tinders

This is all to be silly!! I love them all very much <3

Frankie Morales

His name there says Frankie (Catfish)....with his main profile picture being him holding you guessed it...a catfish. He doesn't have many other photos on there, with the exception of a few older military photos that are so blurry you can hardly tell which one he's meant to be.

The rest of his page is pretty empty aside from the music section, where you actually get the first real glimpse at what this man is about. While his music selection is very respectable, it does not overshadow the glaring issues with his profile.

In short, Frankie's profile makes you think "Am I dating the man? The fish? Or a catfish?" Swiping left fs.

Marcus Moreno

This one isn't his fault! His profile is perfect. No really. All the women at The Heroics made sure to help him with it! His photos are cute and show off all his best assets. The bio is a little cheesy in an endearing "yeah he's definitely a dad" way. The problem then? It's Marcus fucking Moreno!!! Leader of the Heroics!!!!!! On Tinder???? There's no way anyone is going to believe it's really him. I believe there's a verification option on Tinder now, but really...even then Idk. Unless he fully comes out on an interview or something to super casually mention he's on Tinder, it just ain't working. No one likes a catfish! (Sorry Frankie!)

Jack Daniels

Mr. "Tinder What?" himself!!!! Let's say he manages to figure out how to set up a profile and all that. It's gonna be inTERESTING to say the least. His photos are actually pretty solid. An intriguing mix of photos of him on the ranch and photos of him in the Statesmen HQ looking very well put together. Opening line is definitely "Save a Horse! Ride a Cowboy! 🤠♥️" Very on brand for him. Followed by something very pro-american about the flag or serving his country and honestly... that's where I'm gone 😅. We get to see a bit of Jack's political mind in Kingsman and let's just say i don't wanna know the rest of it.

I'm grateful this is Tinder and not Bumble. Because if Jack used the audio prompt and I heard that smooth Kentucky accent...forget EVERYTHING I just said. I would be taking a chance on him. Sorry 😔 I can't fix him, but I will have fun trying!!

Joel Miller

For namesake, we're gonna set this pre-outbreak. There's no time for swiping in the apocalypse. Profile isn't bad just very empty. He's not really trying and it's kinda obvious. His bio reads something along the lines of "Single dad of a spoiled teen" with mostly photos of himself and Sarah on his profile. A few photos of him and Tommy out camping or on a work site.

And as handsome as he is, the profile feels like something his kid forced him to make as a way of getting him off her back. I wanna sympathize and help her out, but I don't know I have the heart to attempt to win over this very clearly emotionally unavailable DILF. So for that reason, I'm swiping left.

Pero Tovar

If for some ungodly reason Pero was given Internet access and had a dating profile... it'd be a disaster. His bio reads something along the lines of "I don't open this app. If you wish to see me meet me at this pub" with approximate days and times he's there.

The first picture on his profile is a way too far away blurry shot of him training. If I was feeling brave enough to continue scrolling through his photos...the rest would certainly be borderline explicit highly suggestive photos of his torso and groin. And whilst I might think about it for approximately .25 seconds any remaining sense of dignity would kick in before I actually did anything about it. It'll sting momentarily, but I will be swiping left.

Ezra

Another man on this list who should absolutely NOT be given internet access. His photos are beautiful but uninformative...the only shots of him are blurred and artistically obscure. He pads the rest of his profile with photos of books he's reading and grainy shoots of the forest.

The bio...if there's a word limit best believe that Ezra has hit it. He used every given character at his disposal and managed to say very little with all of it. Something about a wandering spirit longing for companionship and a couple sexual innuendos for good measure.

While visually and verbally not the worst profile on this list, his pretension is so utterly palpable through the screen I actually don't think I'd be able to make it through the end of his bio without cringing...also his music selection is all just banjo instrumental???

#am writes #pedro pascal #pedro boys #ezra prospect #pero tovar #joel miller #jack Daniels #marcus moreno #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters

[shadow4-1]

You're Not My Boyfriend! - Crazy!Soap x Reader Imagine (SFW)

[I just found out that my best friend of 10 years thinks we're dating (even tho he knows I'm married and have only ever referred to him as a friend - albeit my best friend). Idk what mental hoops he had to jump through to get to this point. Instead of dwelling on this interpersonal fact, I'm going to distract myself with a imagine on why Soap would most certainly act with the same kind of crazy.]

The two of you crossed paths for the first time because you're someone who works a support role for the 141 (ie. the medical/technical fields). You're not in the 141, in fact, you rarely see them because you're too busy with your own duties behind the scenes. You know they're important/a big deal because your superiors tell you so, but it's not like you really care. You don't deal with them enough to.

When you finally crossed paths with Soap, you find all of the team a bit brutish. You don't really like talking to them, and if you have to, you keep it curt. Soap is the one who actually tries to chat you up. You still keep up the same behavior because no thanks. He smiles too wide, and he doesn't blink enough. You're 95% sure all of these men are psychopaths.

A few weeks go by, and you completely forget about him. It isn't until flowers and chocolates and teddy bears with your name on it start showing up. The same note is always inside: Can't wait to see you again. Your stomach flips because you haven't been on a date in a couple years. All of your coworkers think you finally have a new significant other. They coo over the gifts and talk behind your back about how someone like you doesn't deserve the effort. You don't have it in yourself to speak up nor would it really matter.

You throw yourself into your work to distract yourself from the gossip. You tear through assignments like it's no one's business. Eventually, your productivity is noticed by Laswell. Unbeknownst to you, she does a background check on you. She finds out you've already been noticed by the 141 and have been receiving gifts from a particular member. She's half tempted to tell you but decides against it. She knows this won't end well either way. Laswell decides to leave you be, but manages to pull some strings to get you a well-deserved promotion.

The gifts stop for a few months but start up again sporadically. Rumors start about how the timing of the gifts matches up with the 141 deployments. Someone on the team has taken a liking to you. You roll your eyes at them, and you don't want to believe them. Those meatheads from the 141? One of them likes you when they've got dozens of other pretty young things working in their peripherals? Ha, likely story. The person actually sending you the gifts is probably the old janitor. After all, chivalry is so dead nowadays.

The gifts keep coming even as you enjoy your new promotion. The notes start to change, but they continue to remain anonymous. You start to accept that your favorite flowers are being sent from a 141 member. You have to see them more often, thanks to your new post. It doesn't take you long to figure out which man has been trying to capture your attention. God, why does it always have to be the creepy ones?

He's too touchy and too insensitive, and he's loud and makes you feel small. You want him to leave every time you have to be in the room with the team. Why couldn't it have been the Captain or the maniac in black? Why does it have to be the Scottish one who won't shut up?

You learn (against your will) that his name is John "Johnny/Soap" MacTavish, he's single and ready to mingle, he loves his mum and his sisters and he thinks you're "bangin" (whatever that means). It's so obvious he's got a crush on you, but you desperately try to play it off. He's a puppy, and all you have to do is wait for him to grow up and realize it's never going to happen.

One night, you decide to head out with your coworkers for drinks. And lo and behold, guess who dragged his whole team out to the same bar? You're understandably pissed off, but you can't bear to tell Soap off in front of everyone. It's probably the biggest mistake of your life.

He physically sweeps you off your feet and refers to you as his "bestest girl". Despite how annoying he is, his good mood seems to run off on everyone...including you. He buys you drinks, and you keep him at a respectable arms length. Despite how much you really don't like him that way, you have to start admitting he's got a weird charm to him.

You make him repeat it back to you. He seems all too happy to agree with you.

Later on in the night, you take him off to the side. You explain to him clearly that the two of you are friends. Only friends. You'll never be more than that. But, he's a good guy, and if he needs someone to talk to, you're down to be friends.

"Yes, Bonnie. We're only friends."

With a sigh, you slap his shoulder and tell him to buy you another drink.

Weeks drag on. The romantic gifts stop, but the gifts keep coming. At first, it's nothing you'd really bat an eye over from a good friend. It's Scottish hot chocolate tablets that he swears you have to try. It's CDs of his favorite bands because your taste in music should be broadened! It's books and bags and stupid little trinkets to personalize your desk.

You can't believe you find yourself humoring him, but you do. After all, it seemed like his crush on you disappeared. You get him weird snacks and make him mixtapes for his longer missions. Always under the guise as a treat from the rest of the staff, you send care packages if you can. Johnny calls you out on it but you feign ignorance. He's your friend. You'd actually hate to know he's slogging around in mud, hungry and alone.

That sounds like pure hell.

"Y' git used to it, Bonnie."

Eventually, he suggests spending time outside of work. He mentions he'd gotten a new gaming console you'd been dying to have yourself. That night, the two of you sit comfortably side by side, trying to kick each other's asses at a video game. When he wims, he leans back and laces his arms beneath his head, grinning and laughing. He looks so proud of himself. A part of you whispers that it's because he'd weaseled his way into your good graces, but you were in too good of a mood to listen to that part of your brain.

Just as you were about to get ready to leave, Johnny stops you. It was late. You should take his bed and get some rest. He'd take you to work in the morning. Despite yourself, you agree. It was late, and you were tired, and the drive back home would be too long. You take off your pants, crawl into his huge bed and pass out.

The next morning was normal. You had an extra uniform in your locker, so you got changed at work. You had gotten a great night's sleep, so you didn't think about your appearance. But apparently, everyone else did.

The gossip began at full force. Someone saw you changing despite the fact you always came into work in uniform. Johnny looked terrible. It was obvious he hadn't gotten great sleep last night. You looked well rested. In fact, you were even glowing! And Johnny had dropped you off, too?

Oh no.

You wanted to address the new rumors, but that's all they were. And even if you did, you were sure it would just backfire. You tried to keep your head down, but one of your best friends (a fellow coworker) came by your desk. Apparently, Johnny was bragging that his bestest friend spent the night over.

You were so mad you tracked him down and pulled him to the side. You whispered angrily at him, chastising him for making it seem like the two of you were an item. You were only friends!

"Yeah, you're m' bestest girl." He shrugged, grinning happily. "N' m' you're bestest boy. We love each other."

The deranged pieces were starting to come together. The way he brushed off the advances of the other girls. The way all of your prospective partners disappeared after getting into it with him. The knowing, almost pitying glances of the 141.

"W-we're friends!" You squeaked. "You're not my boyfriend!"

"Boy friend. Boyfriend. What's th' difference?" Johnny laughed hard, doubling over. "We're together."

After that, you blocked his number and tried to ignore him. Of course, it didn't work. Johnny was relentless. He got new phone numbers to text you. He started sending gifts (this time a mix between the romantic and the mundane). He sent letters of all kinds during deployment. He even sent pictures you were sure would get him in trouble.

You tried so hard to ignore it all until one night, he messaged you on social media.

He was out on a mission again, but he just had to say how he felt:

I can't wait to get home and see you again. I miss you so much. You're one of the only people I can talk to and laugh with. I'm sorry if I made you upset. We should talk about it over dinner. My treat, Bonnie.

You knew better. God, you knew better. But that part of your heart that wanted to trust and love won over. You agreed to talk when he returned, but you made it very clear that it would be a meeting between coworkers, not even friends.

The day eventually came, and the two of you sat across from each other at a too fancy restaurant. There was a dress code, so you had on a nice dress. You were mad from the jump, you couldn't believe you'd let him talk you into this.

He was dressed nicely in a suit, with a bushel of flowers and a medium-sized gift box. He apologized for making you feel uncomfortable. He'd never meant to make you feel that way. He really did see you as his best friend. In his eyes, you were the only person who truly understood him. He let his physical attraction blind him, and for that, he was sorry.

"I'll admit, I did a few bad things against y'." He offered you the box. "I wanna give it all back, wipe the slate clean, love."

Love?

You shakily opened the box and felt bile rise up in the back of your throat. It was pairs of your old panties, missing chapsticks, nail polish, scrunchies, and even a dirty uniform shirt you thought you had lost. The contents of the box had a slightly musky scent that no longer resembled yours. He'd stolen these things and had kept them for a long, long time. Perhaps even before the two of you had become "friends".

You covered your hand with a mouth as you felt like you were getting sick. What the fuck?

"We'll, now tha' everything's been laid bare..."

You watched in shock as a few classical musicians with their instruments came around the table. They encircled you and began playing a romantic piece with sweet vibratos. The guests at other tables started to gasp and point at you. You tried to stand, but John put a hand on your shoulder to keep you sitting. With a voice loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear he began to talk.

"These last couple years you've been my bestest friend, m' bestest girl." He sighed dreamily before getting down onto one knee.

You were mortified. You tried to pull your feet away from him, but he placed a firm hand on your knee. He pulled out a shiny box from his suit pocket. The music hit a peak that made you start to cry from overstimulation. No, no, this couldn't be happening. He's crazy!

"Please, be m' bestest girl forever." He practically pleaded, opening the box to show off a much too large diamond ring. Women at the tables behind you gasped. The music began to stop, but the whine of the violins hurt your head. Tears began to spill down your face.

"Marry me, love."

The entire restaurant went silent.

You could feel dozens upon dozens of eyes on you.

The pressure was too much for you to outright say no.

But you couldn't say yes, either.

You began to sob loudly. You covered your face and tried to hide away from the gaze of the strangers. John shushed you and cooed and pulled you into his arms. You wanted to fight him but his large body shielded you from the petriying public gaze. He rubbed at your back and whispered encouraging words to you. Eventually, he got you to stop blubbering and pulled away from you just enough to look down into your face.

"I love you. N' 've always loved you." He smiled.

You squeaked at the feeling of ice-cold metal being slipped down your middle finger.

You looked down at the ring in shock.

The entire restaurant erupted into claps and whistles and congratulatory whoops.

"N' now we'll be bestest friends forever, love."

#cod imagines #soap x reader #soap headcanons #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap imagine

[yandere-wishes]

General Grievous is not a nice yandere. I hc that these feelings towards his darling are more suitably classified as a morbid obsession or curiosity.

The Bride of Grievous

(A snippet from a Yandere!Grievous fic I've been dying to write) 

You have no idea how feral I am over this man!! The body horror that would come with being his sweet little darling!! I'm studying Robotics and Mechatronics at university and I gotta say I LOVE Robot/cyborg characters. They are my holy grail!!😍💞😍💞😍💞😍

You're 100% right Grievous is one of the worst Yanderes. He's obsessed with turning his darling into something he finds attractive and worthy. overdosing in a morbid curiosity to see just what he can turn you into. 

Listen Grievous does NOT like organic beings. He prefers cyborgs and droids to anything else. So for this to work, you're going to have to already be a cyborg to even catch Grievous' eye. Sure a talented mechanic or the heiress to a droid manufacturing company would also draw the general's eye. But there's something about your mechanical essence that draws him in. Bonus points if you're both. 

Now I'm playing off the idea that the reader comes from a wealthy family of engineers who are the prime supplier of droids for the empire/separatists (idk which timeline to set this in exactly). You've been left with a few cybernetic implants after an accident that happened when you were too young to have formed a functioning memory. 

There's something about you that's...not right. You build the most advanced automatons but instead of programming them to become soldiers or anything remotely beneficial to warfare. You merely treat them as family. As your children. Your dolls. Doting on them as a mother would. You blame it on your heritage. On the accident that left you tettered between machine and mortal all so many years ago. 

Not quite human 

Not quite robot.

Another option, a secret third.

Glitching between realities. 

When Grievous makes a personal visit to your family estate. Needing to strike a new deal for a rather large shipment of androids. He's surprised to find you, the heiress, taking charge of the transaction. He's even more interested when he notices your cybernetics. And how you don't hide them but instead seem to have made many personal enhancements to them. You're pretty too, and it's been such a long time he's been with someone sentient. 

He's just so interested in you. Following you around like a wolf does its prey. Listening carefully to your jovial tone as you go into great detail about all the new features of this new batch of battle droids. He's even taken aback when you reprimand him for belittling a R0-GR.

Maybe somewhere along the line, you offer to work on him. To implement some new weapons. Add a few folding missiles into his casing. Even going so far as to propose giving him a speedy digital processor to clip into his brain. He scuffs at your boldness, pushing you aside as he moves past you. What a disgusting offer.

So why does the thought linger in his head?

When he returns to base, he finds his mind wandering to you. To your bizzare existance. You've practically shredded your humanity. Yet it still clings to you like a leech. He wonders if you'd thank him for taking it from you. Swoon over him for having saved you from the pesky flesh and blood. He falls asleep dreaming of the sounds your new metallic body would make as it clangs against his. 

He kidnaps you soon after that. Stealing you away in the dead of night. Your family can search all they want, and send all the bounty hunters they want to try and retrieve you. But Grievous won't let you go. He loves watching as he makes you take him apart. Nibble fingers peeling away metal layers to access his wires. Pulling off prosthetic limbs to enhance them. With you by his side, the Jedi will never be his match ever again. 

But it's Grevious we're talking about. He's a greedy creature, never satisfied with what he's given. He blames Dooku for this behavior and blames the benefits of being half Sith and half machine. He's become spoiled. Maybe it's not such a bad thing. 

He starts to return the favor. Tearing you apart piece by piece. He used his lightsabers to cut through bone and replace it with metal. Drugging you with ecstasy and spice as he plucks away your humanity. He adores the love-sick looks you give him. Loves how, even when you've come down from your high, you still crawl onto his lap and litter his cold body with kisses. He'll keep your face just the way it is. He loves the feel of your chubby cheeks and soft lips too much. 

Soon Grievous will turn you into a creature much like himself. 

His perfect little creation.

A loving robot who can think for herself (with the general's help of course)

He's finally found a lover worthy of him.

All this being said I now need a poly fic with Maul, Anakin, and Grievous with a cyborg reader. 

#general grievous #star wars #clone wars #star wats clone wars #grievous #general grievous x reader #general grievous x you #yandere general grievous #star wars grievous #grievous x reader #grievous x you #yandere grievous #yandere grievous x you #yandere grievous x reader #yandere #yancore #yandere headcanons #grievous headcanons #yandere imagines #star wars headcanons #star wars imagine #robot aesthetic #robot girl #robotcore #yandere x reader #yandere x you #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars general grievous

[hibernationsuit]

5 Songs, 3 Outfits

Thanks for tagging me @spaceratprodigy aaaaa this is so fun <3

Rules: Post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear

Tagging @vvanessaives @elvves @yrlietlanaevyss @cilantlis @quickhacked @reaperkiller @velocitic @dickytwister @katsigian @edgepunk @devilbrakers @babylon5 @ncytiri and everyone else who wants to do this 🤍 (+ no pressure to do this obviously hehe)

picked toby for this hehe :3 also switching it to be outfits first, songs later bc i added commentary for the songs and they're under read more. hehe. i also added a bonus song there.

Outfits

sources: one / two / three

Tobias likes comfortable clothes and has a high preference for oversized sweaters and shirts. He also likes wearing flannel shirts or soft warm jackets <3 He likes somewhat neutral, earthly tones, but isn't afraid to use funny patterns either :)

Songs:

Firestorm - Siamés: Toby's a guy who easily goes to do something he really wants, especially when highly motivated, and has accepted the fact that this road can and will have lots of "falls" and problems for him. He's still going forward :) idk man this whole song just reminds me of him <3 also, these lyrics: "to be in the glory, you'll have to survive to your falls"

Black Mambo - Glass Animals: I think going against the higher-ups is a big part of Toby's story and personality tbh. This man has many opinions and he is not afraid to say them. Or blow a whistle or two. Also can be seen as the whole "some guy goes against the Halcyon Board" song.

So Much Love - Depeche Mode: I remember this one uquiz calling Toby sooooo much. This guy has so much love to give and does that all the time, he wants people to feel good, feel loved. Something something, also Dave Gahan saying this about the song: "It's like we have so much love here, we really do, but we're afraid to use it and access it." Based on what we know abt tow universe, I doubt it's better there, so showing vulnerability or doing something nice might indeed look "weird"/"unusual"/"not productive" and thus may even be looked down upon?? idk man.

Dying to Live - Poets of the Fall: honestly no matter what i said above?? toby doesn't like showing his true self to other people and gets, well, ashamed? scared? when forced to talk about himself or explain why he did something and all. He also tends to overthink everything so much :/ Which then has kinda lead to also kinda missing out on many things in fear sjfkkfkgnfkfn

Shine - Dave Gahan & Soulsavers: honestly just toby vibed song. also somehow relates to toby's optimism <3

BONUS SONG which is strongly related to young long hair Toby

Fear of a Blank Planet - Porcupine Tree: i was listening to songs that were in control at some point and idk why but the moment this was on i suddenly got?? so many long hair toby thoughts??? very fitting for him honestly. Obviously only some parts of the lyrics are fitting (which seems to be the case for most songs) but um. yeah. thank my obsession with control soundtrack for accidentally creating long hair toby. After leaving the family he kinda got into this very...unhealthy kind of behavior in which he basically either spent his time working A Lot (or doing some side gigs bc no matter how smart you are i doubt a junior chemist's salary in udl would let you pay for your rent and necessities properly) or spent in clubs or sitting all alone at his apartment doing something or having sex. Additionally I'd mention how his substance use got v high, specifically smoking and drugs. I'm pretty sure corporations actually encouraged their workers to use them to get better productivity and all even on Earth, and while Toby didn't really care abt the whole 'be profuctive' thing, boy did he enjoy getting rid of feelings and having more focus.

#tag game #oc: tobias

[minhosimthings]

Since you already assigned a bf/gf to your moots , how about giving your moots a trope with the idol you ship them with?

Ooh alrighty! This is fun damn

@astraystayyh: Hyunjin || Art classmates to lovers

Both Sahar and Hyun are such poets in their respective arts and I feel like they'd really bond over that a lot, but never actually admit their feelings and communicate via their art works SO CUTE

@frenchkisstheabyss: Seonghwa || Cafe strangers to lovers

Just because both of them are so bubbly and they're really likely to start up a conversation like they'd look at each other go oh hey pretty person and YAY I love them so much they can destroy me

@lovestay-channie: Jeongin || oblivious best friends to lovers.

Both of them are such genuine cutie pies so I think it would be like a oh we're the bestest of friends to why does my heart beat so fast around this pretty person DONT ASK ME WHY

@jaylaxies : Jake || roommates to lovers

Moving in with each other because it the last option, realising they share some similar interests, comforting each other over some bad breakups, providing comfort when one is sick, realising that they're idiots in love and then never going away? Oh look it's Aria and Jake.

@junnieverse : Beomgyu || Project partners to lovers

I just wanna see the bickering between both of them on what to do for the assigned project like it would be so cute and then later they'd apologize, maybe take each other out for coffee and then oh look is that a cupid

@sumaneun-stars - Sunghoon || Arranged marriage to lovers

I know Skye goes mental for this and it's such a cute trope for both of them like I can imagine them being cold towards each other, ignoring each other, but one day some shit happens, they realise they like each other and then BAM they're smooching in the corridors 😊

@yunabi436 - Jay || Traumatised × I will love you regardless

YUNA KNOWS EXACTLY WHY I CHOSE THIS I DONT NEED TO GIVE AN EXPLANATION

@sjyluv - Jake || Barista × Regular Customer

this would suit Mia so well, I genuinely believe she's the kind of person to strike up a conversation everyday with the cute barista not knowing he likes her too and then one day he writes down his number on her cup ODNSJSUIDKCN SO CUTE

@chlorinecake : Han || Fwb to lovers

Look, it's just something in me which is like hmm yes Chloe and Han rejecting their feelings for each other but then realising that they're actually idiots and love and not just doing it for pleasure she's mine tho

@angel1kisses : Niki || bad boi × good girl

*Sigh* just imagine, Vampie tutoring Niki, and he pretends not to care but he actually does and one day when Vampie doesn't tutor him he realises he can't actually live without her because she's the very oxygen she breathes now excuse me while I sob

@candewlsy : Jungwon || Athlete × Athlete, but it's enemies to lovers

I crave this so much, just because I think mizu would like if won taught her how to play some sport and they just bond over their love for their respective sport and it would be so cute like AGHHH imagine the bickering (out of love)

@haecien : Jun || Old friends to lovers

Idk why but I like the thought of Harua and Jun being childhood bffs but they went to different colleges and then met up with each other years later and then ooh love blossoming and all that crap

@amazzwon : Dokyeom || Boss × Secretary

It's not like I'm projecting my own feelings for my babygirl hahaha This would be so HAWT imagine the OFFICE SMUT imagine the SIR KINK imagine the- ok I'll just stop here

@jaeyunluvr : Mark Lee || Idol × Producer

First of all my baby Kayz is so talented and im 100% sure Mark would fall for her talent (and her gorgeous self) and I can just see him flirting with her every chance he gets and then he finally gets the courage to take her out on a date!!!!!!

@minhypen : Sunoo || Speed dating

Them, being the extremely friendly people they are would be instantly attracted to each other at some speed dating event and they'd probably get each other's numbers at the end to have a proper date 😚

@mnwrld: Minho || Babysitter × single dad

I feel like my darling Kana knows why I chose this for her....

#mona's sessions #moots! #moot games #damn i like doing these games #also i ate a rum pudding today

[vashtijoy]

on canon

So here's the deal:

No work of fiction has a single interpretation. There are as many interpretations, pretty much, as there are people, and that's because the job of fiction is to tell us about ourselves—about others too, yes, and about the world around us, yes. But primarily, a work of fiction is a collaboration between the author and the reader/viewer/player/etc.

What does that mean, exactly? Surely the creator is the one who gets to say what a character is? Well, no.

Let's take a character (call him... idk, something nice and generic, like "Boro"). The creator wrote Boro with certain ideas in mind. But Boro doesn't really come to life until he reaches the viewer—when the creator's concept interacts with the viewer, to create something new. And there are a lot of viewers.

A work of fiction is as much what the viewer sees as it is what the creator intended. It's what we all bring to it, as much as it's what the creator wrote. Art is not dictated; it's not a straitjacket, with rules and diktats that must never be broken. Art is released into the world. Because art is nothing without an audience.

What Boro (or his frenemy Ben, or their close lookalikes Bight and Bell, or any characters or canon you want to name) are is as much about how you think of them, and what you see, and what you personally bring to them, as they are about their dialogue and visuals and the events of their plot.

on fanfiction

This means there is really no "bad" fanfiction. We all create and write to our own vision—we draw on our ideas of the original work, on the inspiration we personally drew from it. We take the things that spoke to us—that moved us, or obsessed us, or that we just found funny—and we create things we love, using the original work as a source. Plus, we're all learning our art—some of us have been writing for twenty years, and others have just started. That kid writing today will write the epics of tomorrow. So don't bite the newbies.

Sometimes our shared universes overlap, and that's great! Sometimes nobody else agrees, which can be kind of lonely—but doesn't make your vision somehow less valid. We are not painting by numbers; we're creating a palimpsest of slightly different (or very different) visions.

Why start fights because someone else doesn't share your artistic vision? Make your own thing that you like. We're a flock of birds singing, not the Borg.

digression: so why do you spend so much time talking about canon

I'm more of a researcher than I'm a writer. And what became clear to me very early on was just how much I'd missed on my playthrough of P5R—and just how well the story hung together, when you scratched a little below the surface. Those things interest me. I don't like the feeling that I misunderstood things, and I like unearthing connections, obscure text chats that are easy to miss, cockeyed correspondences that don't necessarily mean anything, and so on.

For me, canon is our shared baseline. It's the light outside before it hits our retinas, before we get into the detail of whether the blue I see is really the blue you see. I find digging into canon can spur ideas; a close look at it can support interpretations that are often ridiculed ("Akechi feels remorse for his actions" would like a word).

Ultimately, everything I blog about is my interpretation. I hope it's accurate and I'm glad when it speaks to people! But it's not the law. And if people are creating things that don't agree with it? Good. That's exactly how it's supposed to be.

tl;dr

Write your story. Sing your song. Tell your truth.

#fanfiction #writing #canon #death of the author

[bees--in-my--bones]

Beyond the Barricade

Masterlist

Character: Enjolras x f!reader

Summary: All you had ever known was life at the Musain. You worked hard to stay alive and keep your family comfortable, and that's all that you ever needed. But your life's path will be forever altered by a young revolutionary who has his sights set on changing the world.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 19,000

A/N: Enjolras x Reader!! I love this guy so hopefully this isn't half bad. It's all one big long part because I didn't really have a good way to break it up, but I had a couple ideas for scenes that didn't make it in, so if this does well maybe I'll write a couple short one shot things.

Also just want to clarify I'm not an expert, I watched the movie and read wiki articles, but I haven't gotten around to reading the book so there's some stuff I'm just kinda extrapolating. Like I'm pretty sure they meet in the back room of the Musain, but they just meet in the upper floor here. And in the final battle there's the Musain as the base of operations and a non named tavern where they keep the bodies and Javert, just for my own storytelling purposes. (Even though I think there's another place in the book or something idk)

Anyway, enjoy!

-----

You scrubbed at the counter until your arm burned, trying your hardest to get the stains out. Despite your best efforts, nothing budged. You sighed and tossed the rag into your bucket of soapy water, moving on to the leftover dishes strewn across the counter top.

The Café Musain would open soon, and your sister had not done the work that your father had asked of her the night before. So now, as usual, the chores fell to you, while your sister was out gallivanting, probably with one of those ridiculous Amis de l'ABC. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the mere thought of them. Their revolution had merit, sure, but a fight against the monarchy was hopeless for a bunch of schoolboys. Your father, however, was sympathetic to their cause, so he allowed them to use the upstairs room of the café whenever they pleased.

Your father lumbered through the door, already tired in his old age and having spent the morning arguing with vendors and traders, trying to prevent them from increasing the supply prices yet again. He paused, taking a moment to catch his breath after the long walk and looked around the café. When he saw you behind the counter, he sighed. "Where is your sister? Why is she not helping you?"

You shrugged. "Marie is out and about, I suppose. I can't keep track of all her callers."

Your father pinched his brow. "Okay," he sighed. "Okay."

He made his way over to a table and lowered himself into a chair.

You finished cleaning the glass and filled it with fresh water. Making your way around the bar, you set it down in front of your father.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said softly. He sighed again and leaned back in his chair. "Les Amis de l'ABC are coming tonight. I know your sister usually tends to them, but I want you to do it today. I hate to say this, but she needs to be put in line. I want her to have her fun, but we're struggling here, and if she cannot tend to her duties properly, she doesn't get to do the jobs she likes."

"You're punishing her?"

The nights that Les Amis came to the café, you usually let Marie take care of them. They were a bit too much for you, and you didn't mind working up front while she got to flirt with the students as they planned their revolution. She was not going to be happy about this, and you weren't exactly thrilled either.

"I think it's appropriate discipline," he replied, "until she can manage to balance her work and social life. We are better off than most, but we cannot afford to neglect our work."

"I understand, Papa. I'll talk to her later. "

He laid one of his large hands over yours. "Thank you, Y/N. I'm going up to my room now. I need to go over the books once more before we open."

The big man stood and patted your shoulder gently before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the empty café.

—--

You glanced at the old clock on the wall. You were supposed to open in a matter of minutes, and still no sign of Marie. Usually your father would have come back to help, but you imagined he had fallen asleep in the small apartment upstairs. You decided not to wake him. Your sister and you could manage on your own, provided she showed up, and the old man needed what rest he could get.

You snapped up your head at the door creaking open. In walked Marie, who you hadn't seen since the night before. She rubbed her eyes, all but ignoring you, and grabbed the rag from its bucket, beginning to clean off the counter.

You plucked the rag from her hands, tossing it back in the bucket. When she looked at you in confusion, you sighed.

"It's already done, Marie. I spent the morning doing both of our chores, which I didn't even get to until much later than I should have, because I had to clean up the mess you left last night." You had to admit, you weren't even that upset, just tired.

She tugged at her sleeve and looked away sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I really did think that I would have been back sooner. But my friends and I-"

You waved your hand. "It doesn't matter." You grabbed the broom out of the corner and handed it to her. "Give the floors a once over before we open."

She took the broom without complaint and began sweeping. You sat down at one of the tables, giving your feet a much needed break.

"Les Amis de l'ABC are coming tonight," you told her, watching as she moved about the room.

Instantly she perked up. "You know, I think Courfeyrac has his eye on me."

You leaned forward in your seat, resting your head on your hand. "Shame we'll never find out."

She paused her sweeping. "What do you mean?"

You gestured for her to keep sweeping, which she hesitantly did. "Papa says you aren't allowed to tend to Les Amis until you can show up to work when you're supposed to."

Marie opened the door with a loud sigh and swept out her pile of dust. "I suppose that means you're doing it then."

"Yes."

She moved to sit on the counter with another loud and dramatic sigh. "Fine. Tell Courfeyrac I said hello."

You shifted in your seat to face her. "You aren't upset?"

She shrugged. "I knew that Papa would be fed up sooner or later. I'm just glad the punishment isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Why do you do it, Marie, leaving us with all the work? Why don't you care about the family?"

"I do," she protested. "I do care about you. I guess I just find my life difficult to come to terms with. Is this café where I spend the rest of my days?"

You joined her behind the counter as the first few customers began to trickle in. "We do not live in a forgiving world, sister. If you want a stable job and home, then likely so. Unless you manage to find a rich man somewhere willing to marry a barmaid."

Marie let out a short laugh. "That would be the day."

—--

Soon, the café was bustling with the evening business.

Your father entered the room, looking slightly more rested than he had earlier that afternoon. You were glad, he deserved the reprieve.

He approached the bar and motioned for you to come talk to him.

He leaned over to you and lowered his voice. "Our.. guests' meeting is about to begin. Your sister and I will take over out here. Bring a few bottles of wine up, they usually start with those."

With a nod, you gathered up the drinks and glasses and made your way to the private upper room. As you approached you heard a strong voice speaking confidently. "Too long have the people of France lived under the thumbs of dictators. I thank you all for joining me today to fight for a new world, a world reborn."

You slipped into the room, staying in the shadow of the doorframe, meaning to allow the speech to come to a natural pause before interrupting. You didn't get the chance, however, before a voice in the corner cried. "Marie! How nice of you to join us!"

"That's not Marie, you louse, that's her sister!" another voice cried, this one much higher than the first. You glanced down in front of you and your eyes widened.

"Gavroche!" You couldn't help but exclaim, startled to see Eponine's younger brother. "Does your sister know you are here?"

"Yep!" The boy said proudly. "I'd be happy to take that off your hands, milady," he said, reaching for the tray of wine.

You lifted it out of his reach. "I think you're a bit young for me to be giving you this."

A hand rested on the boy's shoulder. "Pardon young Gavroche, he only wishes to be of help."

You looked up and met the eye of the blond man who had been speaking at the front of the room only moments ago. Your breath hitched for a moment at his intense gaze.

"I can take the wine," he added when you said nothing. You blinked away your initial startledness and handed the tray over to him.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said. He leaned closer to you, a conspiratorial look on his face. "We'll likely need another round soon, though, knowing these men."

"Of course, Monsieur. I'll be back soon to check on you all. I'll be up front if you need anything before then."

The rest of the night was spent going back and forth, clearing away a glass or two at a time, doing your best not to draw attention.

At the end of the night, you stood behind the counter, counting the night's earnings as customers began to leave.

Marius approached the counter, as he always did this time of night, after Les Amis had had their fill of drinks and politics and were heading home.

"Good evening, Monsieur Marius," you greeted him.

"Hello, Y/N." He handed you a pouch of coins. "This should cover the tab, along with a little extra as a tip. You did excellent on your first night with us."

His tone was slightly teasing. He knew you would rather stay behind the counter. But you weren't lying when you shrugged and said "I didn't mind it all that much. Work is work, people are people." You counted out the change as he watched, sorting it into neat piles. "They're making you pay again?"

"They all chip in," he said. "They just make me take it up to you. Trying to force me to talk to people, I think" he said with a grin.

You laughed softly and put the money away. "Have a good night, Marius."

"You too, Y/N."

You watched the young man leave the café before turning to get the cleaning supplies out. When your father saw what you were doing, he came over and took the supplies from you. "Marie will take care of the cleaning up after Les Amis de l'ABC are gone from here on out," he told you.

You raised an eyebrow. "You don't think that's harsh?"

"It is. That's precisely the point."

Marie sighed one of her signature sighs as she passed by and took the cleaning supplies from your father, the same way he had taken them from you. "You two go on up to bed then, I'll take care of this."

Your father gave her a little pat. "Good that, Marie," he said, before turning and making his way to his room.

"I think I'll go sit outside for a while," you told her. "It's a nice night."

She shrugged. "I'm not your boss."

Shaking your head, you opened the creaky door and sat on the concrete step leading up to it, leaning your back on one of the pillars that framed the entrance. The city was silent this time of night, and you loved the brief respite from your hectic life. You hadn't been able to enjoy it in a while, though, thanks to Marie and her antics always leaving you with far more work than free time.

No sooner had you relaxed than the door opened once more, spilling warm light from inside on to the dark street.

You jumped to your feet, startled by the sudden intrusion. "I am so sorry, Mademoiselle," said the silhouette at the same time you started splattering muddled apologies, your brain still scrambled from the scare.

The voice gave you pause. You recognized that voice. As the figure stepped away from the door, you realized why. The leader of Les Amis de l'ABC stepped on to the street, concern in his eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

You nodded as you smoothed down your clothes taking your seat once more. "You startled me is all. I didn't think any patrons were still here."

He shrugged. "I was working on a paper and Marie kicked me out."

"If you need to finish, I'm sure I could-"

"No, no," he interrupted. "Thank you, but I can finish it another night."

"Alright then," you said. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

He gave you a curt nod. "Mademoiselle." Turning on his heel he began to make his way down the street. He only made it a few steps before turning back towards you. "Actually, I do have a question for you. You seem like you actively avoid my little group, but tonight you replaced Marie. Why?"

"Marie was being punished, that is all. Our father told her she could not work with you all because she enjoys it."

"And you don't."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He asked no question, only offered an observation.

"You don't agree with our ideals," he said when you didn't respond. Another observation. He stepped forward, offering you his arm. "Walk with me. Allow me to convince you."

You laughed softly at his boldness. "Is that what you say to all the women?"

A hint of a smile brushed his lips. "Only the pretty ones."

"I don't know," you said, now smiling as well, your teasing tone juxtaposing your objections, "walking off with a strange man at night sounds dangerous."

"What if I promise to protect you?"

You glanced back at the door, light glowing from the crack at the bottom. With a sudden burst of resolve, you pushed yourself off of the stone and took his outstretched arm. "I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"I'd expect nothing less."

The two of you walked side by side in the night. Neither of you spoke for a while, but the silence was comfortable.

"So why do you avoid us?" he asked, finally breaking the quiet.

"I don't avoid you, per say…"

He only raised an eyebrow in response.

You shrugged. "I only think that you are taking great risks to do what you do, and have seen very little reward. It's not something I want a part in."

"The reward will come," he responded. "In time. Even if we are not there to see it."

"In time, perhaps," you said. "But I find it difficult to justify jeopardizing what I have for a world that I will not live to see."

"But what of those who have nothing to jeopardize? People suffer because of tyrants that hoard all of the wealth. France is dying because of the rich who hold the resources captive."

You stayed quiet for a moment after that, pondering. Finally you asked, "Say you're starting to convince me, what can a few schoolboys possibly do?"

"Light the flame of revolution. We won't be fighting the war, merely the first battles. We are not foolish enough to believe that change will come quickly, but if we give it all we have, people will rise when we fall. Then one day the world we long to see will come into fruition."

Again, this gave you pause, as you pondered over the words and their meaning. "Would you mind terribly if I sat in on the next meeting? Of course, I would still do any of the services your group needs."

"That depends," he replied, his tone light. "Would you be sitting in the way that Marie does, or would it be to listen to what we are discussing?"

This made you laugh. No doubt Marie was often a distraction in meetings, with her bubbly personality and her need to make friends with any human being who crossed her path. "I would like to think the latter," you told him.

He smiled. "Then I would be honored that you join us." He slowed and came to a halt. "I believe this is your stop, Mademoiselle."

Sure enough, you had made a full loop around the block without even realizing it, and you were back at the front door of the Café Musain.

"Right," you said, "I'll be seeing you soon, then." You dropped his arm. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

Taking your hand in his, he bent over and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles. "Goodnight, Mademoiselle."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks at his gentle touch.

With a final nod goodbye, you turned toward the door. You had only made it a step when he shouted, "Wait!"

You stopped and turned around to face him, waiting for him to say something more.

“I never learned your name,”

“Y/N,” you called. “And yours?”

“Enjolras.”

“Well then, goodnight Enjolras, and I will see you again soon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N, I look forward to it.”

—--

When you walked in, the chores were complete, the lights were out, and Marie was nowhere to be found. As silently as possible, you made your way up the stairs, past the upper room that held the Amis meeting space, and into the small apartment on the topmost level. Your father's door was shut tight, but you could hear his snores even through the thick oak frame. You cracked the door to your small room and slipped in, trying to avoid waking Marie in the next room over. You quickly slipped on your nightclothes and ducked under the covers, heart still thumping in your chest from the excitement of the night.

"Where were you?"

You jumped up at the sudden noise as Marie's whispered question broke the silence to see your sister looking through a crack in your open door.

Your chest tightened at the question, but you responded hesitantly, "I went on a walk."

"That's not the whole truth," she said, slipping into your room.

"How would you know that?" you hissed in response.

"I saw you walking with someone."

So there was no hiding it then. Not that you had a reason to, it was just a friendly conversation. "Enjolras."

Marie gasped loudly.

"Shhh!"

"Oh, stop it," she said. "Papa is fast asleep."

She lit the candle on your small nightstand and plopped herself down on your bed with such force you couldn't help but make a soft "oof" sound. "What were you doing with Enjolras?"

You shrugged. "He saw me outside and asked to talk to me about his revolution, so we did, that's all."

"Ugh," said Marie. "Boring. I've never been able to get him to say more than a few words to me though, so clearly something you're doing is working."

Your eyes widened at the implications of her statement. "I'm not doing anything! We were just talking!"

Marie looked disbelievingly at you. "Mhm, sure. You have to admit he's attractive though."

You hid your face beneath the covers, which she promptly yanked down. "I'm going to take that as you agreeing with me," she said.

"Even if I did agree with you," you said, swatting away her hand, "there's nothing to do about it. He's more interested in the revolution, and his family is far wealthier than ours."

"True," she said, "but he has never once tried to recruit me for the cause, even before I started getting a little friendly with some of the boys. And how can you truly think class would matter to him? It's the antithesis of who he is."

"I'm sitting in on the meeting next time."

Marie nodded. "Good. And you'll be waiting for him at the steps again at the end of the night."

"I will?"

"Of course. You must establish a pattern."

Your jaw dropped. "Marie, are you trying to set us up?"

"Yes," she answered shortly. "And it's going to work." She pinched out the candle and left back to her own room without so much as a goodnight.

—--

You thought about Enjolras a lot the next few days. There wasn't even much cohesive thought to it, just his smile, his warm hands, the way the dim street lights shone through his hair.

The rest of Les Amis de l’ABC were regular customers of the café. They were loud and jovial on the nights they had no official meeting, but never had you seen Enjolras on a night that there was no meeting. Now that you were listening, though, you heard the other students speak of him. He preferred to stay home studying and planning than spend his nights out and about.

You replayed the memory of your walk over and over in your mind, for no reason other than the joy it brought you to remember him.

Finally, finally, the day came when Les Amis de l'ABC would meet again above the Café Musain. You hated to admit it, in the fear that you were getting excited over nothing, but your heart buzzed all morning at the thought of seeing him again. The customers began to arrive and you busied yourself in the back doing inventory as your father made the night's meal.

Marie poked her head around the corner. "Y/N, he's- they're here," she corrected herself quickly after seeing your father.

"Thank you, Marie," you said, and gathered up the tray of drinks you had already prepared.

Your father looked up from his task. "Good luck."

Muttering a quick "Thank you," you slipped out the door and made your way upstairs. Like the last time, the meeting had just started by the time you got there. It came to a quick halt as you entered though, as the men realized that drinks had arrived.

You made eye contact with Enjolras from across the room, and you did your best to ignore the butterflies from his intense gaze. He made no move to get to the drinks like the rest of the men did, but you gave him a small smile and he nodded briefly in return.

You spent the majority of the night in the back of the room, listening, save for the time you spent running for drinks and food. The more you listened, the more you found yourself being swayed towards the revolution. The things they spoke of called to mind all of the suffering people you saw around you, even in your small sheltered corner of the world. Who knew how bad it was in the areas of the city even poorer than yours, or rough areas like the docks, where you were forbidden to even go.

Enjolras was a strong leader, confident and well spoken, and it was clear that he was respected by everyone in the room. It made you wonder why a man who already had plenty of people that agreed with him and the ability to sway many more was wasting his time by radicalizing a singular barmaid. Free drinks on the battlefield, maybe.

Like all nights, this one came to an end. You gathered up the dishes and took them out to Marie, who had begun cleaning the kitchen. Les Amis de l'ABC began filing out the door, talking loud and cheerily as they left.

You placed the dishes into the bucket of soapy water, earning a sharp look from Marie.

"Get out there," she said. "He'll be out soon."

You shook your head. "Marie, he's probably already left with everyone else. I know what Papa said about your punishment, but at least let me do the dishes."

Did you want to do the dishes? No. Were you far too nervous to come face to face with Enjolras again, now that Marie had put all these ideas in your head? Absolutely.

Marie quickly moved in front of you, blocking you from the dishes. "He hasn't left yet, I have to kick him out every single time he has one of these meetings."

"Marie-"

"Go."

Giving her a sharp glare, you obliged. As you sat on the stone and leaned against one of the pillars framing the door, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. Enjolras or not, you had a sizable appreciation for the peaceful night.

Like before, you were alone in the night, and like before, it didn't last long.

The door creaked open, gentler than it had last time, and light once more flooded the street.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, I was wondering if I would find you out here again."

You stood and turned towards the voice, pleased to see that the small smile on your face matched his own.

"I thought I had given you my name?"

He held up his hands in concession. "My apologies. Y/N, I was wondering if I would see you here again."

"Well, here I am,"

"Here you are indeed."

The moment's silence that followed was far more awkward than any silence had been last time, but he made no move to leave. You cleared your throat. "Working on a paper again?"

He chuckled. "I usually am. Marie is responsible for cleaning again?"

You nodded. "For the foreseeable future."

He nodded, and things were silent again.

It was his turn to clear his throat. "Care to take another walk? You can tell me what you thought of the meeting."

You stepped toward the street, looking back at him. "I thought you'd never ask."

And so you did walk. And again after the next meeting. And again after the next.

You talked of politics at first, but your conversations soon gave way to more personal matters. Talks of opinions, and the future. His favorite color was red. He was in law school. He told you he wanted to help people who couldn't help themselves, but he didn't need to say anything for you to figure that out. He was not warm or welcoming, not on the outside, but his compassion for others was evident in everything that he did.

You noticed that he started coming to the café far more regularly. At least once a week he would sit working silently in the most private corner of the upper room, never ordering, but he would always meet you at the end of the night for your walk.

You found yourself spending all your time thinking of him. He was on your mind in every idle moment. But still, you hesitated to admit why.

You fell into a routine on meeting nights, and no longer felt dread before attending them. On one such night, you were running a bit late. You hurriedly made your way up the stairs, only to be greeted outside the door by a seemingly flustered Enjolras.

He took you by the shoulders and guided you away from the doorframe.

Tucked in the corner of the hallway, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "Can Marie work tonight?" he asked.

You shook your head. “It’s just me and Papa tonight, actually. Marie is sick. I actually needed to talk to you about that. It’s why I was late up here and why I won’t be able to stay for the meeting tonight.”

“Let me take the drinks in, then,” he said. “Best that you get back downstairs.”

“Oh, that’s alright. It’ll only take me a moment,” you replied, trying to move past him.

“Y/N, please do not go in there.”

“What is this about, Enjorlas? You’re acting strange.”

“I will tell you later.”

You pushed past him, balancing your tray on one hand. ��Or you could let me do my job,” you said, walking to the doorway. He reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N, please.”

You pulled your hand away and walked into the room. The second you entered, you were greeted with shouts of your name, accompanied by hearty laughter. The men were usually excited to get their drinks, but never this excited.

In the corner, one man grabbed his closest companion tightly. “Y/N, my love!” he cried, gazing into the other man’s eyes. “Nothing can tear us apart!”

The other man clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched voice, “Oh, Enjolras, run away with me!”

“Enjolras” took “Y/N” into his embrace, the two of them writhing in what you could only assume was an exaggerated passionate kiss, earning plenty more laughs from the rest of the men.

You could do nothing but stare in horror as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up at Enjolras, your eyes still wide in shock. “Someone saw us out walking together, and the story spread,” he told you gravely. “I am truly sorry.”

You gently removed his hand from your shoulder, not wanting to give the men any more ideas than they already have, and your shocked expression morphed into a determined one. “You have nothing to apologize for, but these men do.”

You slammed the drink tray on the table, and the harsh sound was enough to gain everyone’s attention. “I don’t know what you all think is happening,” you began, “but I can guarantee that anything happening between Enjorlas and I is none of anyone’s business but our own. But since you must know, he has been teaching me politics so that I can better understand these meetings, which up until now, had been full of men I respected. My father does you all a great service by allowing you to meet here, and by disrespecting me, you disrespect him. Not to mention the disrespect to the man who leads you sorry lot.”

You pushed the drink tray to the center of the table. “Serve yourselves tonight.” Turning on your heel, you stormed out of the room. There was no protest, only deafening silence. You did not look back, remaining steady on your course, but if you had, you would have noticed the small proud smile on Enjolras’ face.

—--

You finished the clean up as fast as you could that night, in the hope that you would still be able to catch Enjolras before he left. To your dismay, you caught a glimpse of him leaving right around his usual time, even without Marie to kick him out. You finished up the rest of your work, feeling quite disappointed, and made your way outside regardless. May as well get some fresh night air if you still could.

To your surprise, you found a familiar figure waiting. Enjolras was silhouetted in the darkness of the street, but there was enough light to see when he outstretched his hand toward you. “Care to join me?” he asked.

Silently, you took his hand, and the pair of you began your usual stroll.

After some silence, he finally spoke. "Like I told you before, one of the boys saw us out walking after the last meeting. The mockery has been nonstop since. You have my sincerest apologies that you had to hear that."

"It's not your fault. We both know it means nothing."

But did it mean nothing? Not if you asked Marie. And maybe, just maybe, there was a small part of you that didn't quite mind what those men were saying.

"Nothing?" asked Enjolras, his voice tight.

You kept your sights straight ahead, unable to look him in the eyes. "I only mean to say that what we do is our business, no one else's."

He seemed to relax almost imperceptibly when you said that, and you couldn't decide if that made you feel better or worse.

Suddenly, you felt a droplet on your skin. Looking up at the sky, you could just make out the edges of the clouds in the inky darkness. You had barely made it a few more steps when the rain sped up, moving quickly from a drizzle to a downpour.

Almost instinctively, Enjolras shrugged off his coat and held it above the two of you, trying to offer the best protection he could from the rain. “This way,” he said, his voice raised slightly to be heard above the sound of droplets hitting the ground. He led you to a shop front with a small outcropping, where the two of you huddled, trying to stay as dry as possible. Despite Enjolras’ best efforts, though, both of you were soaking wet.

“Here,” he said, wrapping his coat around you. “We can wait here for a while until the rain slows down.”

“Oh, I don’t need this,” you tried to protest as you began to take off his coat. “Better that you stay dry, you’ve got a longer route home.”

“I insist,” he replied, pulling the coat around you once more. “I would be abandoning any gentlemanly values I have left if I let you give this back to me. Winter is creeping closer and this rain is freezing.”

You held his gaze for a moment, trying to gauge if you had any chance of convincing him to take it back, but were met only with his intense eyes and sheer determination behind them. Deciding that he really wasn’t going to take the coat back, you pulled it closer around you. He gently pulled his arm around you, and without even thinking about it, you nestled into his side. The soft pitter patter of the rain was peaceful, and you were pretty sure you could have fallen asleep there if you had wanted to.

“Y/N?” Enjolras broke the silence after a while.

“Yes?”

“I must confess something to you. I have to admit, I was not… completely bothered by what my men have been saying about us. I do not appreciate their mockery, but… I don’t mind when they talk of us being together.”

You pulled back, looking up at him in shock. “What are you saying?”

Reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, he chose not to respond with words, instead moving his hand to your jawline and drawing you gently into his face, planting a light kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, your face was burning and you were left speechless. His gaze was darker than you had ever seen it before. Seeing the stunned look on your face, he stood and offered you his hand, refusing to meet your eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of turn. Let’s get you home.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t out of turn, that you felt the same way, but you were paralyzed, overwhelmed by your emotions, so you took his hand and made your way home through the downpour. You moved like a zombie, feelings burning bright on the inside, but unable to articulate any of it outwardly.

—--

Marie was asleep when you got back, and you quickly and silently got into bed, piling a few extra blankets on top to combat the steadily dropping temperatures. As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts were filled with Enjolras, and you could only hope that he had made it home safely and warmly, and that you hadn't offended him too terribly.

—--

You woke the next day to white flurries outside your window. It was the first snow of the season, and it showed no signs of stopping. As of now, it was only a light dusting, but you were sure that by late afternoon the ground would be covered. Marie was up and about, having recovered from yesterday's sickness, and your father only spent part of the day out of his room, retiring early because of the cold’s poor effect on his old bones. You and Marie spent the evening by the warmth of the kitchen fire, chatting, reading, and working on various projects since no patrons had made their way through the thick snow that blanketed all by now. It grew darker outside and the snow grew higher. Marie had just begun to suggest heading to bead when you heard a knock at the door.

You exchanged worried glances and Marie quickly made her way to the front of the store, with you following close behind. She opened the door and let out a large gasp.

“Enjolras?” she said, clearly taken aback.

“Is Y/N there?”

She stepped aside, allowing him to see you. He rushed forward, gripping your shoulders firmly, as Marie shut the door behind him as fast as she could. He seemed to be completely unaffected by his blue lips or his usually curly hair that was frozen into frizzy chunks.

His gaze was more intense than you had ever seen it, his blue eyes seeming to bore into your very soul. “Y/N, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go another moment without seeing you again. Last night was all wrong, I know that, but I need you to know how I feel, and I need to say it properly.”

“That can wait,” you replied before he could continue. “We need to get you warmed up right now, before you get sick. I don’t need to explain to my neighbors why a rich boy died of frostbite in my home.”

“Marie,” you said, taking Enjolras’ hand and leading him to the kitchen, “will you grab my blankets from my bed and bring them down here? And see if there's any of Papa's old clothes about? I’m going to heat up some of our leftover dinner.”

Marie gave you a mischievous look, glancing back and forth between you and Enjolras, but for once in her life she kept quiet and did what was asked of her, and she scampered upstairs to get all the extra winter furs she could find.

“Take off every layer that you can without exposing yourself,” you told him. “Marie will bring back a change of clothes, but the wet clothes are going to be what kills you if you don’t get out of them.” He complied silently removing his coat and layer beneath that, leaving him only in a button down undershirt and trousers.

You busied yourself getting him something hot to eat. "Thank the Lord that Marie never cleans up after herself," you muttered to yourself when you noticed that she had left the pot she had used for dinner out above the fire, keeping the small amount of soup still inside of it warm.

The entire time, Enjolras' gaze never left you, waiting for you to relax for a moment before he spoke again. He would have to wait longer, though, because just as you set the soup in front of him, Marie entered the kitchen with a large pile of blankets. She set them down next to the hearth and brushed her hands together. "Well, unless you two need me any longer, I think I'll head up to bed."

"Alright. Thank you, Marie, goodnight," you said.

"Yes, thank you, Marie," Enjolras added.

Marie left, with a wink to you behind Enjolras’ back. Ignoring her goading, you turned toward the hearth, throwing your last log on and stoking the dying flames higher. When at last you were satisfied with your work, you turned to find Enjolras standing, and an empty bowl set on the table.

"Y/N I-"

You shoved a shirt and pants into his hands. "You're soaked to the bone. Change."

"You're avoiding this."

He was always too perceptive, wasn't he? Yes you were avoiding it. It wasn’t as simple as I love you and you love me. There was your status, his status, the work you had to do and the degree he was working towards. The revolution you were fighting.

You started to move past him, out of the kitchen, to give him some privacy. “Obviously. Regardless, you still need to change.” There was no denying that you were avoiding the subject to him- he knew you all too well.

His arm reached out, lightning fast, and he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His grip was firm, but not painful. You avoided his gaze, waiting for him to let you go, or say something. “Help me, then.”

You looked up, finally making eye contact. You could see the dare dancing behind his eyes. He knew it would be improper. He also knew you would do anything he asked of you. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down your arm and took your hand, slowly guiding it up to the top button of his shirt. You stood silent and stony faced, weighing your options. Finally caving, you reached up with your other hand and began undoing his shirt, slowly, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin with every button.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice low.

“You noticed?” The sarcasm dripped from your question.

“I notice everything about you.”

You clenched your jaw as you undid the last button and he shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders. You turned slightly to the side, trying to avoid looking at his bare torso. From noticing the way his skin gleamed in the firelight. From watching the way that the melted snow ran down his body.

“Why did you come here tonight?” you asked.

“I told you. I did not get a chance to tell you how I felt properly. Nor did I give you a chance to respond.”

“At the risk of your life? You could have gotten lost in this storm, and then what? You wander for hours until you freeze to death?”

“You truly think so little of my navigation skills?”

You rolled your eyes. “Say your piece then.”

He stepped towards you, taking your chin in his hand and slowly guiding your face to look at his. “I have never met anyone who makes me as happy as you do. I count down the minutes until our next walk together. I want to be with you as much as possible. Seeing you only once in a while is not enough for me. You are smart, hard-working, and kind, and I want a future with you. I love you, Y/N.”

For all your bravado, your angry facade melted the moment he finished speaking. Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “Never did I think I would hear you say those words. I love you too, Enjolras.”

This time, you initiated the kiss. It was far more passionate than the last. Enjolras kept one hand firmly on the side of your face, and snaked the other around your waist, pulling you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him until you couldn’t anymore, finally having to come up for air. You pressed your forehead to his, panting slightly.

The reality of what happened suddenly hit you. You had just kissed Enjolras, who was currently holding you very tightly against his very bare chest. And the air around you was still freezing. Gently, you pushed yourself away from him. “Finish changing,” you told him. “I’ll be right back with more firewood.”

He smiled. You had never seen him smile so brightly. “Come back quickly,'' he whispered as you left.

—--

The cold outside was unbearable, even in the back alley behind the café where you stored the firewood. How had Enjolras made the journey all the way from his school in this? Grabbing a bundle, you rushed back inside, hurrying back to the kitchen and its warmth. When you entered, you found a fully clothed Enjolras curled up in the large pile of blankets on the floor next to the hearth.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, the worry evident on his face. “You’re shivering!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. I’m glad you have the color back in your cheeks. You had me worried.” You threw more logs on the fire, stoking the flames to a much more considerable size. You set down the poker, but did not get the chase to stand before you were being pulled into a mass of fur and warmth. Before you knew it, you were once again wrapped in Enjolras’ embrace. Surrounded by blankets and his strong arms, you were so warm.

“Please stay,” he said gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you were lulled to sleep by his gentle breathing and the sounds of the crackling flames.

—--

When you woke, Enjolras was still asleep. Judging by the dying flames in the fireplace, it had only been a few hours.

Carefully, you removed yourself from Enjolras’ embrace and out of the pile of blankets. You wanted nothing more than to stay with him, but you would prefer to not have to explain to your father why you were in such a compromising position.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving" you had told him only a little while ago, but you knew he would understand.

Silently, you made your way to your room. Making a stop at Marie’s room, you stole a few of the blankets off of her massive pile and curled up in your bed, drifting back to sleep with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart.

—--

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pushed yourself out of bed. Marie's door was still shut, and as you walked out of your room, you saw your father's door wide open, with him nowhere inside. You grimaced, hoping that he hadn't been too upset after finding Enjolras.

As you made your way downstairs, you were astonished to hear your father's hearty laughter from the kitchen. Of course, you really shouldn't have been. Your father had always sympathized with Les Amis de l'ABC, and he had no way of knowing what Enjolras had said or done last night. You shivered as you remembered his gentle touch and the way he held you.

Rounding the corner you were greeted by your father and Enjolras, who were talking at one of the tables in the main seating area.

"Good morning chouchou!" your father called. "Enjolras has been telling me of you and Marie's heroics last night."

Enjolras nodded. "It was quite foolish of me to think I could visit Grantaire and make it back to my own home before the worst of the storm hit. I am incredibly grateful I was able to stop here," he said, giving you a pointed look as he subtly filled you in on the story he had told your father.

"I'm just glad you were not stranded out in the storm," you told him, taking a seat at the table.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found him curled up next to our fireplace this morning," your father said. "Speaking of, I should go prepare breakfast. I was a bit distracted after finding Enjolras." He gave you a quick pat on the shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.

You turned to Enjolras, your voice lowered so your father could not hear. "You lied to him?"

"I didn't know if you wanted him to know or not," he replied. "Should I have told him the truth?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. "Give it a little more time, I think. We're only just figuring it out."

Before he could reply, your father stuck his head out from the kitchen. "Y/N, would you go wake Marie? Breakfast will only be a few minutes."

—--

For a day trapped inside, it flew by surprisingly quickly. Once Marie joined you, your group spent much of the day around the table, talking and exchanging stories. The snow had stopped, but your father insisted that Enjolras stay one night more to give the drifts that covered the streets more time to melt. After several protests, Enjolras agreed.

Your father and Marie had turned in for the night (Marie far too eagerly), leaving you and Enjolras completely alone, just like the night before. You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, unsure of what to say.

"Alone at last," Enjolras remarked.

"Indeed," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "What to do?"

He smiled fully, a rare sight to see. "I have a few ideas."

He leaned across the table, meeting you halfway, as he captured your lips in a kiss just as passionate as the one from the night before. Slowly, without breaking the kiss, he stood and maneuvered you so that you were sitting on the table, him standing between your legs. You ran your fingers through his silky blond curls, tangling your hands in his hair as you drew him closer to you.

Eventually you had to stop. The short pauses between kisses was not nearly enough to catch your breath.

You broke away, the both of you panting, and you buried your head in Enjolras’ neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

You slowly pulled away, the lightheartedness of the past few moments fading as reality crashing back down on you. "Enjolras, I think we need to talk about that."

His brow furrowed. "I thought you told me you loved me too."

You sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "I do it's just-"

"Go on." His voice was low, gravely serious, but not threatening. You felt safe with him, you always had.

"You are in a completely different class of society than I am. I know you don't care, but that does not change the obstacles that come along with it if we want a future together. And the revolution! How can we truly commit to one another if the most important thing is France?"

When he didn't respond, you raised your eyes to finally meet his and saw that his gaze had softened considerably as had his words when he finally spoke. "We can face those challenges together, when they come. And the revolution is not an obstacle so long as our love for this city binds us together."

You nodded, a silent agreement to his reassurement. He took your face in his hands. "I know you, Y/N, and you know me. Our love for each other is stronger than anything the world can throw our way."

"I'm going to hold you to that," you whispered.

"You had better."

You leaned back into him, planting a kiss on his lips, far gentler than the one before.

"I should probably go up to my own bed," you told him, your voice all too easily betraying your hesitating to leave him.

"Goodnight, chérie," he said, placing a kiss on your brow before he moved to the side, allowing you to hop off the table and walk past him.

You didn't get very far when you felt him grab your hand and spin you around until he was holding you tightly against him once more and pressing one last kiss to your lips.

You broke away and brushed a golden lock of hair away from his eyes. "Goodnight Enjolras, I will see you in the morning."

—--

Enjolras left early the next morning, the snow having melted enough for him to make the journey safely. "A few days' time," he told you, "Then I will be back for a Les Amis de l'ABC meeting."

You helped your father work in the kitchen, preparing for the guests that would surely arrive that afternoon now that the snow had subsided. Marie worked on cleaning tables and floors in the outer rooms.

"So," your father began. "You and Enjolras?"

You froze, your eyes widening at the unexpected comment. "Whatever do you mean, Papa?"

Your father laughed heartily. "You think that I do not notice? You look at that man like he is the greatest thing you have seen, and he looks at you the same way. Not to mention the walks you two have been taking for quite some time now."

You stared in disbelief. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew. You and Marie aren't as secretive as you think you are. I'm happy for you chouchou. Enjolras is a good man, and I can tell he makes you happy."

"Thank you, Papa," you said sheepishly. You scooped up the pile of inventory you had been working on and left the kitchen to take it to the storage, shaking your head and muttering to yourself, "He knew the whole time." Try as you might, though, you couldn't shake the smile from your face.

—---

The rest of the night was largely uneventful. Customers came in, you served them, and they left. You and Marie were cleaning up for the night when a familiar face burst through the door.

"Oh no!" the girl said, looking around at the empty space. "Are you closed already?"

"Never for you, Eponine!" A grin spread across your face at the sight of your old friend. You hurried towards her, pulling her into a hug. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months, and Gavroche never gives me a straight answer when I ask him!"

"My parents were busted in a scam and we had to flee to the countryside. We've only just returned," she replied, squeezing you tightly.

"And what of Gavroche?" you asked. "He has been here the whole time! Has someone been caring for him?"

She nodded. "There was no time to take Gavroche when we ran, but we knew he would be able to stay with one of Les Amis. He's been staying with Courfeyrac, I believe."

"Oh, Eponine," you said, "I wish you would just come and work here. We could give you an honest living and lodgings, and you would not need to live a life on the run."

"Y/N, you know I couldn't. My father is far too vengeful, and I would never want to put you and your family in danger."

You sighed. "I know Eponine. Just remember our doors are always open. Truly, I am just glad you are back."

“You must catch me up,” she said, suddenly excited as she pulled you down to sit at a table.

“Well,” you began with a smile, “I have made good friends with Les Amis de l’ABC.”

Eponine’s shock was evident. “You? Getting all buddy buddy with the politicians?”

“You know I have never been one for politics, but it is far more than that. It is the very roots of our society that must change.”

Eponine laughed. “You sound like Enjolras!”

You shrugged and looked down sheepishly, a small smile on your face, and Eponine gasped. “What?” she asked.

“Two days ago he told me that he loved me.”

Eponine stared, her mouth agape. She leaned back in her seat, shaking her head silently. “You and Enjolras, of all people. Who would have thought?”

—--

Your time with Enjolras was a blur, filled with joy and passion - for one another and for the revolution.

You went to meetings and rallies, him hardly letting you out of his sight in the crowds. But most importantly, you had continued your nighttime walks, that brief moment of bliss that the two of you could share together, away from the rest of the world.

And you were ever so thankful for those moments, because you had something big planned.

Tonight he stopped in front of the Café Musain, took you in his arms, and kissed you, just as he always did. Spring was in full force, and the warm air danced around you. But instead of going inside, as per usual, you grabbed his hands and pulled him around the back of the building.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you hushed him. “Follow me.” You began to scale the side of the building, the hand and foot holds familiar to you. You hoisted yourself onto the roof, looking down at your lover following, although somewhat slower than you had been. When he was within reach, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up to you, a little too forcefully, causing him to stumble over the ledge and into your arms.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said quietly, still holding him close. He smiled, something that was becoming rarer and rarer these days, and began to lean in for yet another kiss- not that you ever tired of them- when something gave him pause. He stepped back from you, although he did not drop your hand, and surveyed the roof, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Y/N, what is this?” he asked, gesturing to the scenic roof that Eponine and Marie had helped you prepare earlier that day. A dozen or so candles flickered in the night, illuminating a simple blanket adorned with flowering embroidery. The flowers on the blanket matched the small basket that eponine had brought, filled with a flower arrangement. You pulled him down to sit on the blanket with you and pulled out another basket, this one filled with the food that you had made that morning. Pulling out the contents, you spread them around the two of you. “It’s a picnic,” you told him. “I made it for us. I thought it might be romantic.”

Enjolras smiled again, and it warmed your heart. “It’s amazing Y/N,” he said.

You pushed some food towards him. “Eat,” you said, “I’ll be right back.”

As he ate, you opened the door on the corner of the roof and dropped the ladder. You climbed inside the café and dashed to your room, grabbing a box and quickly running back to the roof. You took your place back on the blanket and handed him the box, slightly fidgety with impatience. “This is for you.”

“Chérie, you know I do not expect gifts. You did not have to-”

You waved your hand, dismissing his protests. “Just open it.”

After one last pointed look towards you, he complied, and opened the box, pulling out the contents with a shocked look on his face. He slowly felt the fabric as he looked up at you. “Y/N, this is beautiful.” You swelled with pride as your hard work was appreciated, watching him admire the red jacket you had made him.

“I worked some shifts at the sewing shop to afford the nicer fabric,” you told him. “And then I spent my evenings working on it. The buttons,” you scooted closer to him to point them out, “are the best part.” You ran your finger over one, and in the candlelight you could see the inscription on the metal. ABC.

“Y/N,” he said softly, wonder in his eyes, “this is amazing.”

“You did say red was your favorite, right?” you asked.

“I did,” he said, shrugging on the jacket. “It’s perfect Y/N.”

“I do not have much to give,” you told him, “but I wanted you to have something to remind you of me.”

“I do not need to be reminded, Y/N, for you are always in my thoughts. But this jacket is now my most prized possession.”

You smiled. “Good. I am glad you like it.”

—--

Time went on, and as it did, political tensions rose. And as political tensions rose, so did Enjolras’ stress. He was more distant, and the more you tried to reach him, the more he withdrew. He was becoming short tempered and irritable, and you did most of the talking on your walks.

Why could you not comfort him like you used to? Was your presence no longer enough?

You waited for him tonight, as you always did after meetings, and when he exited the café, he did not offer you his arm, simply rushed past you.

“Apologies, Y/N,” he called over his shoulder, not breaking stride, “but I have far too much to do. I will try to make time to see you soon, but it may need to wait until the meeting next week.”

Before you could even reply, he was out of earshot, and you were left alone on the stairs of the Café Musain.

—--

The next day, you rose bright and early, a mission on your mind.

Quickly dressing and grabbing a bite to eat, you made your way downstairs, passing by a barely awake Marie

"Where are you off to?" she slurred, still mostly asleep.

You sighed. "To find Enjolras. I should have said something to him sooner, because he's been so stressed lately, but I didn't want to bring it up. But then he skipped our walk last night…"

Marie raised her eyebrows, the fogginess of sleep seemingly disappearing instantaneously. "He skipped your walk? He's never missed one, has he?"

You shook your head. "I'm worried about him, Marie. Only a few weeks ago we were as thick as thieves, but since we've received the news of Lamarque's sickness he's like a completely different man."

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You'll find him, Y/N, and you'll help him through this, I know it."

You nodded your thanks and made your way out to the street only to be startled by Gavroche, dashing across the street with some of his friends.

Perfect.

"Gavroche!" You called after him. "Gavroche, I need your help!"

The young boy spun on his heel and sprinted towards you as his friends continued onward. “Whad'ya need, Y/N?”

You crouched down to his level to speak to him. “I need to go to Enjolras’ apartment. Do you know where it is?”

He nodded, but then his brow furrowed. “Haven’t you been seeing him? Why don’t you know where he lives?”

You sighed. “I’ve never had cause to visit him alone in his apartment, but I’m afraid that he sorely needs my company, even if he refuses it. Can you show me the way?”

“Absolutely!” he said, and he stuck out his hand as you stood up. You gave him a stern look, but dropped a few francs in his hand. Lord knows the boy needed it more than you did.

You followed him down the city street, passing through familiar shops and homes, before he finally stopped in front of a small building wedged between two much larger ones. “This is it!” he told you. “I deliver his letters here all the time.”

You ruffled his hair. “Thank you, Gavroche. Do you know if Eponine will be at the meeting next week.”

“That depends,” he said with a laugh. “Will Marius be there?” Before you could respond, he ran back in the direction you came, no doubt meaning to catch up with his friends.

You felt a twinge of pity for Eponine. Her unrequited love towards Marius had been tearing her to pieces, and you could hardly bear to watch her fall to shambles like this.

Take care of Enjolras first, you told yourself, then you can worry about Eponine.

Steeling yourself, you approached the door and gave it a sharp knock. You waited, but no response. Another sharp knock.

“Go away!” called a voice faintly.

No way in hell you were going to do that. Jiggling the handle slightly, you were pleased to find that it was unlocked. The door opened with a quiet creaking and you slipped inside.

You rounded the corner of the main entryway and what you saw made your heart sink. Enjolras was slumped over his desk, his hair a mess, his clothes crumpled, and the entire room in disarray. You stepped forward, and your shoe clinked against a glass left on the ground.

“Get out,” he muttered, sounding groggy.

You pressed forward, approaching him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Enjolras, it’s just me.”

He turned toward you, giving you an appraising look, but he quickly looked back down at his work. “I said get out.”

You raised an eyebrow. His words were slurred, and you could smell the sharp stench of alcohol on his breath. “Enjolras, have you been drinking?” You had barely known him to have a single drink, much less get drunk.

“It does not matter. Now, if you would leave me be, I have matters to attend to. Letters to write, rallies to plan.” He batted your hand away.

Not satisfied with his answer, you snatched the letter he was currently working on out from under him. “Dear Commander,” you began, reading his work aloud.

“Hear the the pleas the cries of the people who we need we need assistance. I beg your well wished and timely response.”

You tossed the letter back on the desk. “Enjolras, this is incomprehensible! You need to take a break. You need rest.”

He leaned back in his chair, placing one hand over his eyes. As the sunlight from the window illuminated the panes of his face, you noticed the thin layer of stubble that covered his usually clean-shaven visage. “There is no time for rest,” he told you. “Every day, Lamarque is nearer to drawing his final breath, and we are running out of time.”

You took his chin in your hand, guiding him to look up at you. “All your efforts will be for naught if you kill yourself in the process. Rest, Enjolras, please. You need sleep just as the rest of us do.”

“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine. I will take a break.”

You kissed his forehead. “Good. Come on now.”

Seeing as there was no bedroom on the first floor, you guided him up to the second floor, and like you had all those weeks ago when he had turned up half frozen on your doorstep, you slowly undressed him, allowing him to feel your hands on his skin at every opportunity as you rid him of his dirty clothes and helped him into a pair of clean nightclothes. He was silent, and kept his eyes closed, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away as you tended to him.

He laid in bed, and you sat on the edge beside him, using a damp washcloth to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face.

“Thank you, my love,” he said quietly as you finished up.

You brushed the side of his face gently with your hand. "I only wish that you would speak to me instead of working yourself to the bone."

"I'm sorry," he said, placing a gentle kiss on the palm of your hand. "You deserve much better than a man like me."

This gave you pause. "What is it then, that you think I deserve?"

"A lover whose focus is on you, not France. You deserve to be happy."

"What did you tell me, when I said nearly the same thing? You are not fighting for France alone, my love, I am fighting with you. Together, always. I am the happiest I have ever been."

You leaned in close, a teasing smile on your face. "Except, of course, when you choose to ignore me instead of telling me what's wrong." You planted a kiss on his lips, feeling his smile against your mouth.

"You're right," he whispered. "You're always right."

And with that, he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you down on the sheets next to him. "Please stay," he whispered.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving," you replied.

—--

Together you worked. Together you built a revolution, rushing to tie up as many loose ends as possible before the inevitable: Lamarque's death. Meetings were more frantic, rallies more crowded and more prone to intervention by law enforcement. But you stayed by his side and he stayed by yours.

You rushed through the square, glancing up at a nearby clocktower. Enjolras would be expecting you by now, but no matter, you would watch the rally from the crowds like everyone else did, rather than by his side as usual. You pushed to the front, muttering apologies to deaf ears, as no conversation was comprehensible in the massive crowd.

"Lamarque is the only one who stands for the common folk, the only one in our government who fights the wealthy elite in our name! But he is ill, and fading fast!" you heard Marius' voice ring above the crowd.

You pushed further forward and then there, up on the stage, you saw Enjolras. He looked almost angelic, the sun streaming through his hair, passion written on his features.

"How long do we suffer for their benefit before we take what's ours and cut the fat ones down to size?" your lover cried. "Join us in our rebellion! Join us at the barricades!"

Just then, the police burst in from the opposite side of the square, sending the crowd into a frenzy as they rushed to clear the area. The entire time, the students were shouting to the people to not give in, to meet again the following week in the same place for another rally.

You moved against the crowd struggling to stay upright. People were moving in every direction. Which direction was Lamarque’s home? Which was the police? The world was spinning and you had lost all sense of direction, until by some blessed luck, you ran into Marius. “Marius!” you cried, grabbing his arm. “Where is Enjolras?”

“He’s near, he’ll meet us back at the Musain.”

You followed him through the crowd, and soon the people thinned out, and you saw a flash of red ahead.

“Enjolras!” you cried, rushing forward to reach him. He turned quickly at the sound of your voice, and swept you into his arms as you came towards him, holding you tightly against his chest.

“Y/N,” he said into your hair, “I thought you had not made it to the rally today.”

“I was just late,” you replied, your voice shaking. “After the panic, I could not find you. I feared something had happened to you.”

He rubbed small circles onto your back. “It would take far more than a mob to get rid of me. From here on out, we will travel to rallies together. With tensions rising, it is far too dangerous to go on your own.”

You nodded against his chest, still gripping him tight.

“Come now,” he said, releasing you from his embrace, but grabbing on to your hand instead. “Let us go prepare for tonight’s meeting. We will have much to cover.”

—--

The students were gathered together now, and energy was crackling throughout the room. Throughout France, the people were beginning to rise in protest. Notre Dame, rue-du-Bac, everywhere, they were eager to stand and fight.

“The time to rebel is fast approaching, '' began Enjolras. “The people are stirring, rising up with us for the common good of France. I need you all to stay sharp.” He shot a pointed look at Grantaire, who was chugging from a bottle of wine. “The National Guard outmatches us by far. We need a sign that will unite the people, that will call them to arms.”

“Marius, wake up!” Joly shouted across the room. Marius looked dazed, completely indifferent to the meeting happening around him. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! What’s gotten into you today?”

“Some wine and say what’s going on?” Grantaire offered.

“A ghost,” Marius mused. “Yes, she was like a ghost. There one moment, gone the next.”

Grantaire laughed, the sound almost barking. “Marius has found himself a girl at long last! I am aghast! Never have I seen him in such a state. Why, it’s better than the opera!”

Your stomach dropped as you thought of Eponine. Did she know of Marius' mystery woman? By some stroke of luck, was it Eponine?

“Marius, now is not the time.” Enjolras said. “Is this what we must fight for now? The right to sit around and talk of women? The right to a night at the opera? This is real life men, not a game for a few young, rich, fools to play. We are coming out of a dark age, my brothers, but there is a red dawn at the end of this black night.”

“You should know how it feels, Enjolras,” Marius protested. “When you see Y/N, are you not struck to the bone in breathless delight? Does she not fill your vision with a burst of light each time you think of her?”

“Yeah, Enjolras,” you said playfully, nudging him slightly. “Do I not do that for you?”

He shot you a sharp look that said “Now is not the time to make light of the situation.”

“What I feel for Y/N is not relevant at the moment, and she knows that as well as I do. If your woman was here, helping with the rebellion, we would not be having this discussion. We all have a higher call now, a larger goal, one far more important than finding solace for our lonely souls. Feel how you must Marius, but you are no longer a child, and we need to be present at these meetings. Our little lives are nothing in comparison to the whole of France.”

“Hear, hear!” you cried, raising your glass at Enjolras’ words.

“Hear, hear!” the men echoed.

“Listen, everybody!” The group turned sharply toward the doorway, where Gavroche stood waiting. “General Lamarque is dead!”

You drew in a sharp breath. You knew it was coming, had known for a while now, but it was still jarring to hear the words aloud.

“Lamarque,” said Enjolras. “The people’s man, fallen at last. His death is the sign we have been awaiting.” He grew more confident as the plan solidified in his mind. “His funeral day will be soon, and there we will gather to honor his name. There will be a crowd there, a massive one, of the people who knew Lamarque to be the last truly good man in our government, and from their candles of grief we will kindle the flames of rebellion. The tomb of Lamarque shall lay the foundations for our barricade, for the freedom of all of France!”

He was met with cheers and jubilant shouting. You silently took his hand in yours, and he looked to you with more hope in his eyes than you had seen in months. “Tomorrow!” he yelled to his men. “Tomorrow we meet again and prepare here. Bring what ammunition and supplies you can find, we will need all you can get!”

The men trickled out, and as the uproar died down, Enjolras muttered to you, “You remember our night on the roof?”

You nodded.

“Could you take me there now?”

—--

You did as he asked, leading him up to the trapdoor in the ceiling that led to the roof, and soon the two of you were alone in the cool night air. As soon as the door was shut, Enjolras pulled you into a kiss, kissing you far more passionately than he had in a while. “We’re close,” he finally said. Another short kiss. “So close.”

You held him tight. “I’m proud of you, Enjolras. You’re changing the world."

"I could not have made it this far without you, ma chérie."

"Then into the new world we ride," you told him. "Together."

You couldn't place the look on his face. Hesitant, maybe?

"I have two things I must ask of you , my love."

"Anything," you replied.

He released you from his embrace and backed away a bit. He reached for something small in his pocket and then took a deep breath before kneeling.

"Y/N, since the day I met you, my world has been brighter, more hopeful. You occupy much of my thoughts, and to be apart from you is the worst fate I could imagine." His eyes, so often your only windows into what he was feeling, were shining with emotion. "You have already done so much for me, but would you do me the greatest honor of all and become my wife?"

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall. All you could do at first was nod, for fear of bursting into sobs, but eventually you were able to croak a small, "Yes."

In an instant, Enjolras was on his feet, kissing your face over and over muttering "Thank you," and "I love you," over and over. He slipped a ring onto your finger, and you held your hand up to examine it. It was a simple band, nothing ornate, but it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"I will get you a nicer one someday soon," he told you. "I had not planned on doing this tonight, but after the rally this morning, when you clung to me in the streets, I knew that I couldn't wait another day to ask you."

"I don't want a more expensive one," you told him. "It would never mean as much as this does."

He held you close and rested his head against yours. His jaw was tense, almost as if he was in pain.

"Enjolras?" You asked, raising a hand to his face. "Are you alright?"

He inhaled sharply at your touch. "I'm afraid there is one more thing I must ask of you."

"What is it?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"I need you to take your father and sister and leave the city."

Your blood ran cold. "What?"

"It's far too dangerous here. I cannot- I will not- be the reason you get hurt."

You stepped away from him, disbelief written over your features. "What happened to together Enjolras?" You held up your left hand, now adorned with a ring. "I made a promise to bind myself to you only moments ago, and now you ask me to break that promise?"

"Y/N-"

"No! I am sick of this, Enjolras. When I agreed to see you, you told me that this revolution was something we would fight together, and now you try and send me away!"

"Y/N, we are fighting together, but I need you to stay away from the actual battle. I could never live with myself if you were hurt."

"What about me? How do you expect me to sit by while you risk yourself? I will arrange for Papa and Marie to leave, but I will not abandon our cause in its hour of need. I will not abandon you."

He held your gaze, the stubborn look in his eye no doubt matching your own.

"Fine," he finally said gruffly. "But if you are going to stay, you have to follow orders, the same as the rest of my men. Regardless of what you think, I need to keep you safe."

"Of course," you nodded. "So long as you don't order me to leave."

"I won't."

You embraced him once more. "I love you, Enjolras."

"I love you too, ma chérie."

—--

Marie and your father were gone. There was some protest about you staying behind, but they saw the way you clung to Enjolras' hand, and had been watching the way you had thrown yourself into revolution work the past few months. They packed up what things they needed and left for an inn on the outskirts of Paris.

The next day was a blur. Preparing was busy work. You organized weaponry and ammunition, you helped deliver messages to other rebel groups across the city, and you kept Enjolras from losing his head.

One day more, and then you would be in the fight of your lives.

The students prepared late into the night, and eventually, there was simply no more that could be done. Most stayed the night, setting up a makeshift camp on the second floor of the Musain. You and Enjolras once again found yourselves on the roof, looking over the city at night, pondering the challenge that tomorrow would bring.

“Are you ready?” you asked him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Silence once more. The comfortable silence took you back to all those months ago. The time that you had first met, and the walks that ensued. The time that you had spent together, simply enjoying one another’s presence.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Unless I’m remembering incorrectly, we’ve already had this conversation. Is the stress getting to you so much that you forget?”

“No,” he said. “Will you marry me tonight? Right now?”

You were taken aback. “Now? That’s a bit soon.”

“We may not have another chance,” he said grimly, and for a moment, the gravity of tomorrow weighed on your mind once more, but you quickly pushed it back. You were as prepared as you could be. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Let’s get married then.”

—--

Soon, Les Amis de l’ABC were gathered in the upper room of the Musain, like so many times before. Unlike usual, however, you were there to celebrate a union, rather than plot the downfall of the monarchy.

Combeferre was chosen to officiate, as he was widely regarded as the second in command of Les Amis. You and Enjolras stood facing each other, hands clasped together.

“We are gathered here on this night to celebrate the union between two of our most core members,” Combeferre began. “Enjolras, you have bravely led us through all our trials, and continue to do so even now. Y/N, you have only been with us a short time, but in that period you have shown tenacity and passion in all that you do. I understand you each have something to say?”

You smiled up at your fiancé. His features were softer than they had been in a while, and his smile was more relaxed. He was less tense, like his stress had all but vanished, if only for a little while. “Enjolras,” you said, completely lost in his eyes, “I have no idea where I would be if not for you. Not only did you show me love, but you opened my eyes to a world beyond my own, and to the possibility of a better future. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing, because as long as I have you, I know that I will be alright. However tomorrow ends, I am grateful that we will be fighting for France hand in hand, as husband and wife.”

Enjolras took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was no doubt one of the biggest challenges he would have to face in the coming days: being emotionally vulnerable in front of his friends. “Y/N, I still cannot place what it was, but the first night you came into our meetings, you left your mark upon my very soul. I have thought of you every day since then, and I could not ask for a better woman to call my wife. You care for me when I don’t deserve it, and remind me again and again that I am stronger than the things holding me back. I love you more than I could ever articulate, and I will never be able to thank you enough for agreeing to marry me."

Combeferre nodded curtly. "Now-"

"Wait!" you said. "Gavroche, it's time."

The young boy dashed up to the front of the room and handed you something.

"Thank you, Gavroche," you said.

"Something for you, something for me?" he asked hopefully, earning a chuckle from yourself and many of the students gathered there.

"After we finish up here," you told him, ruffling his hair. He grinned up at you and ran back to his seat. Turning back to Enjolras, you noticed his look of confusion.

"I really wanted to exchange rings," you began, "so I raided my father's small jewelry collection. He's been saving it in case we ever fell on hard times, but I don’t think he would mind." You opened your hand to reveal your engagement ring and a similar band that you had found. "I think it belonged to my grandfather," you told him as you handed him your ring.

You took his left hand and gingerly slipped the ring onto his finger, and he mimicked your actions with your ring.

"Now," Combeferre started over when you had finished. "Enjolras, do you vow to take Y/N as your wife and cherish her through all times, bad and good, until the end of your days?"

"I do," he said, practicing glowing.

"Y/N, do you vow to take Enjolras as your husband and cherish him through all times, bad and good, until the end of your days?'

You nodded, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "I do."

Combeferre smiled. "Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. Enjolras, you may kiss the bride."

Enjolras’ lips were on yours in an instant, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire time. He dipped you down low, earning quite a few wolf whistles and cheers from the students.

He helped you back upright and there was a smattering of applause from your companions, as well as some very loud sobs from Grantaire.

"Would you be quiet?" Marius asked from next to him, nudging him slightly before snatching the nearly empty bottle of alcohol from his hand.

"I'm sorry" Grantaire half blubbered, half slurred. "Weddings make me emotional."

"So does liquor," Marius muttered.

"You're drunk, Grantaire," your husband said, arm around your waist. "Get to bed. In fact, all of you should get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The members of Les Amis de l'ABC filed out of the room, off to their respective sleeping spots, when you noticed a slip of a boy with his hat pulled down over his brow trying to leave out the back.

"One moment," you muttered to Enjolras, and you followed the figure out the door. "Eponine," you called after "him." "I know it's you."

She paused, then turned back towards you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wanted to be there, but I didn't want to face Marius."

You hugged her. "That's all right 'Ponine. I'm just glad you came. And I'm sorry to hear about Marius. What girl has got him acting like this anyhow?"

She shrugged. "Some rich girl named Cosette. I grew up with her, actually."

"You're far too good for him anyways," you told her. "Any man worth his salt would be lucky to have you."

She tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I'll be alright on my own tonight. Go back to your husband."

You hesitated, not wanting to leave her when she so clearly needed a friend.

"Go," she said.

"Well if you're that eager to be rid of me…"

"Congratulations, Y/N," she said, and she was soon out of sight.

—--

You couldn't help but worry for her, but your mood brightened when you found Enjolras waiting for you.

"Come on," you told him. "Let's spend our first night as husband and wife together."

—--

The second the door to your room was shut, his mouth was on yours. You laughed a bit at his eagerness before surrendering yourself to the kiss.

He guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed frame. "Do you trust me?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded.

He lifted you into his arms and laid you down on the bed. He leaned over you, his hair falling around his face like a curtain. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Enjolras."

That night was bliss like you had never felt it. Enjolras was gentle and rough and kind and passionate all at the same time. It seemed like you were there for an eternity. When you held you in his arms at the end of the night, you wished it truly had gone on forever.

“Please stay, Enjolras.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

—--

The next morning, you woke to him standing at the foot of your bed, buttoning his red coat. A small grin cracked on his face when he saw you stir. “Good morning, chérie.”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. “You should have woken me when you got up.”

He bent over and placed a kiss on your brow. “You looked so peaceful, that I just couldn’t disturb you. Do you own a shirt and trousers?”

You nodded. “Somewhere around here.”

“Wear them today then. You may get a few stares at the funeral procession, but I would rather you be wearing something more practical for what follows.”

Groaning at your stiff muscles, you pushed yourself out of bed and began to rifle through the small trunk that held your clothes. You tossed what you needed onto your bed, and Enjolras picked them up.

"Allow me?"

You nodded, and your new husband helped you into the outfit, which was just baggy enough to hide any curves and make you look like a young boy.

"You've never looked so lovely," he said jokingly.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your two cockades from the nightstand and handed one to him. He pinned it on your lapel, and you did the same for him.

"I love you, my beautiful wife.”

You grinned. “I love you too, my beautiful husband.”

—--

You stood at the front of the crowd, watching Lamarque’s funeral procession slowly parade down the street. You held Enjolras’ hand tightly in one hand, and Eponine’s in the other, although a bit more discreetly. You didn’t think she wanted anyone to know that she was there. Quietly, Les Amis started singing. It was a song you had heard many times before, but still gave you chills. You added your voice to the choir.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

The surrounding crowd looked around in confusion, but slowly, they started joining in.

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes

The voices crescendoed, and soon the vast majority of the people were singing.

Will you join in our crusade

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?

Enjolras gave your hand one last brief squeeze before jumping out into the middle of the procession, waving a bright red flag for all of Paris to see.

Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!

Following his lead, Les Amis ran for it, crowding the funeral procession, and a few bolder onlookers in the crowd did the same.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

Somewhere in the confusion, Eponine’s hand slipped from yours.

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

You and Les Amis crowded the hearse, climbing up onto its sides as it continued down the street.

When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

Enjolras joined Marius, standing on the top of the hearse. His voice rang out over the crowd.

Will you give all you can give so that our banner may advance?

He leaned over the side, offering a hand to you.

Some will fall and some will live

You took it, and he hoisted you up next to him.

Will you stand up and take your chance?

One arm was around your waist, steadying you and the other was grabbing the hilt of his red flag. You sang at the top of your lungs, and yet you could not hear your own voice over the crowd.

The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

The crowd was following the procession now, the swell of people moving down the streets of Paris.

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes

The procession came to a halt. Standing before you was the National Guard.

They threatened you, but you didn't think they would do it, not really. Until the shot rang off, and almost as if it was in slow motion, a woman in the crowd fell to the ground. The echoes of the shot rang in your ears as you looked on, stunned.

You looked toward Enjolras, whose features were grim, but determined. “To the barricade!” he cried.

The revolutionaries ran, moving like their life depended on it, which it did. You came to the little square where the Café Musain was and called to the people in the buildings to throw down whatever they could, which they did immediately, all too willing to aid in the downfall of the monarchy. You ran into the Musain, grabbing what chairs and tables you could to toss out onto the street.

You made swift work of the project, and foundations of the barricade were built, blocking you from the National Guard waiting on the other side.

“I need a volunteer!” your husband cried through the frenzy. “Someone who can find out their plan and when they will attack.”

A man that you did not recognize approached. “I will go,” he declared. “I was once a part of the guard, and I know their ways well. I will find out the truth.”

Enjolras nodded. “Thank you for stepping up, citizen.”

In the blink of an eye, the man was gone.

Ejolras dashed to the top of the barricade and planted his red flag there, a symbol of the revolution.

Soon night fell, and the buzzing of the day’s adrenaline was still taking hold. Everyone rushed about doing whatever they could.

“He’s back!” a voice cried, drawing your attention to the barricade.

“Listen friends, I have the information you seek!” the strange man called from outside the barricade. “I have counted their men and overheard their plans. They are strong, and it will be a dangerous fight.”

Enjolras gestured for him to come around the barricade. “Have faith. If you know their plans, we will find a way to overpower him. There is great strength in the people here.”

“You are safe for tonight,” said the man. “They wish to starve you out and weaken your forces before they attack in the morning.”

“Liar!” echoed a young voice. “Good evening, dear Inspector Javert!” It was Gavroche. “This man is no ally, he’s the law!”

Courfeyrac and Grantaire quickly grabbed him. “Throw him in the tavern,” Enjolras directed coldly. “We will let the people decide his fate.”

Javert’s face twisted in anger and he spat at Enjolras’ feet. “Kill me if you wish. You schoolboys know nothing of the world and the laws that bind it. I renounce your people’s court.”

They tried to pull him into the tavern, but he flung the two men off of him.

Enjolras rushed forward as the men struggled to restrain him. Javert rushed to the corner grabbing something-

“Enjolras, watch out!” you cried, as Javert swung a metal bar straight at his head. It missed narrowly. Enjolras wrestled the bar away from him, and swung it down hard, knocking the Inspector out cold.

Suddenly, you noticed the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You weren’t the only one who noticed something off, as the rest of the people gathered began looking around. Realization dawned in Enjolras’ eyes, and the men rushed out of the tavern, grabbing guns as they did.

“They’re coming!” someone yelled

You were in charge of reloading Enjolras’ musket, so you settled in behind him, on the ground below the barricade, as he took aim.

“Who’s there?” shouted the leader of the National Guard.

You clenched your jaw. The time was here.

“French Revolution!” your husband cried.

“Fire!” was the only response he got, soon followed by a volley of gunfire.

Shouting. There was so much shouting. The shouts soon grew louder, and you looked on in horror as you realized why.

They were climbing over the barricade.

You saw Marius grab a barrel of gunpowder and a torch before scurrying up the barricade.

What was he planning?

He reached the top nearly nose to nose with enemy soldiers. One raised his musket.

Oh God, you thought, Oh God, he doesn’t see.

Before you could cry out, before you could move, Eponine lept, seemingly from nowhere, in front of the musket, right as the shot rang out. Her body seemed to fall in slow motion, and you stood paralyzed. You hardly processed Marius’ threats to blow the barricade and the retreat of the National Guard as you ran to Eponine’s side. You took her hand in yours.

“Eponine!” you cried. “Eponine, please be all right.”

“Y/N?” Her voice was shaky.

“Yes, Eponine. Hold on, all right? We’ll get you a doctor.”

“I love you Y/N. You were the best friend I could have asked for.”

“I love you too, Eponine, but don’t talk like that, okay? We’re going to get you fixed up, don’t worry.”

She shook her head, but then you saw her eyes brighten. You turned over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. Marius stood looming over you. You backed away, knowing that she would want him by her side in her final moments.

He knelt down and held her, whispering to her, as her light slowly dimmed. The hot tears in your eyes mixed with the cold rain as your vision blurred.

You saw Gavroche, standing alone, the rain pouring down not masking the silent tears streaming from his eyes as he watched his sister bleed out. You approached him, and gently took his hand into yours. He squeezed so hard that it hurt, but you didn’t say a word.

Eponine went limp and her hand fell from Marius’ face. You stifled back a sob. As he passed you, Enjolras placed a hand on your shoulder, a silent reminder that he was there if you needed him. He and a few of the others gently lifted her body to take it out of the rain.

A while later, you were sitting quietly with Gavroche when Marius approached you. You tried to push down the swell of anger that came when you laid eyes on him. He, who had only noticed Eponine when she killed herself for him,

“Gavroche, can you do something for me?” he asked.

“Anything. Without you, I would have bitten the dust,” the young boy replied.

Marius handed Gavroche a letter and a few francs. “Deliver this for me, would you?”

No sooner had he spoken than Gavroche was off, leaving only you and Marius.

“Was that to Cosette?” Your voice was cold.

He nodded sheepishly, and your face twisted in anger.

“Eponine sacrificed herself for you! Took her own life so that you can live, and all you can think of is your wretched girlfriend? And now you have the gall to ask her brother to deliver your love letter? You didn’t even acknowledge her until she was dying in your arms!”

Enjolras dashed over, alerted by the yelling. “What’s the matter?”

“He doesn’t care,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his arms. “He doesn’t care that Eponine is dead. My best friend is dead.”

“I care,” Marius said quietly, the look on his face grave. “That I can promise you.”

He turned and left, leaving you and Enjolras alone.

You sank to your knees, no longer having the motivation to keep yourself upright, as the sobs racked out of you.

“She didn’t deserve this,” you muttered into his chest as he rubbed small circles on your back. “She didn’t deserve this.”

“No one does,” he said. “That’s why we fight. Why we must keep going, so that Eponine’s death is not in vain.”

You nodded, still sniffling slightly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, smoothing your hair. “Her death has shaken us all. Why don’t you go try and get some sleep? I’ll join you shortly, for a little while, but I have things that need to be taken care of.”

“I think I’d like to be alone, just for a bit,” you told him, “but I’ll sleep when you sleep.”

He kissed your brow. “That’s fair. Now go, and I’ll be there soon.”

—--

You had done as Enjolras had said, and you were sitting in your room, staring at your candle as it slowly burnt down. The tears had long since dried, and you were sure you must look a mess.

Bang!

Bang!Bang!

You jumped to your feet, startled as a series of gunshots went off. You raced downstairs, grabbed a musket, and prayed to God it was loaded. When you stormed into the square, armed and at the ready, the gunfire had died, and Enjolras was closing the tavern doors.

“Enjolras!” you cried, running to his side. “What happened?”

“Enemy marksmen from the roofs,” he said. “We took care of them. And there is another volunteer from the National Guard, but Gavroche has claimed he is trustworthy. He’s taking care of Javert as we speak.” As if to punctuate his sentence, a loud gunshot rang from behind the tavern. And thus ended Javert.

The men were relaxing, leaning against the barricade after a long and difficult day. Enjolras turned to address them. “Courfeyrac, you take the watch. The enemy may attack before light. Keep the faith, all. The people will rise, we are not alone.”

He took your hand, leading you along with him. He approached Marius, who was lost within his work, reinforcing the barricade. “Maruis,” he said, “rest.” Marius’ jaw tightened when he saw you, but he nodded curtly at Enjolras’ command.

Enjolras led you to an outcropping in front of one of the surrounding buildings, and leaned against the wall. The fatigue was evident on his face, but he drew you in and held you close as Grantaire began to sing an old drinking song.

Drink with me to days gone by

To the life that used to be

At the shrine of friendship, never say die

Let the wine of friendship never run dry

Here’s to you

And here’s to me

You could feel the soft rumble of Enjolras’ voice as he joined in. His soft voice was comforting, and you couldn't help but chuckle when he kissed your head as the rest of the men sang

Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads

And to witty girls who went to our beds

You stayed like that for a while after the song was through, listening to his heartbeat. Despite his relaxed appearance, you could tell how stressed he truly was. He was scared.

“Go on up to bed now,” he told you. “You need to get some rest.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told me to do that,” you said. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Never,” he said. “I just worry about you. And I have far too much to take care of to rest.”

You nearly laughed at that. If anyone should be worried it should be you. He was working himself to the bone, and at this rate, he wouldn’t even survive until the next attack.

“You need to sleep as much as I do,” you told him. “Come to my room with me, just for a few hours, and then we’ll take care of your stuff together, okay?”

He sighed. “You've swayed me, chérie Let’s go get some rest.”

—--

You woke a few hours later to an empty bed. You sighed loudly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. At the foot of your bed layed Enjolras’ red coat and a note.

I’ve gone to see how the other barricades are faring. I know you would have wanted to come with me, but I promise I will be back soon. Keep my coat safe, chérie. I love you.

You scoffed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset at him. He wanted to keep you safe. You just wished he realized that you wanted to keep him safe as well.

You put on his coat, and were pleased to realize that it smelled like him. You met up with the rest of the men outside.

“Looking sharp,” Grantaire said with a wink, earning a gentle playful slap on the arm.

“How are things looking?” you asked Combeferre.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The rain has damaged our supply. We’re working to see what we still have, but it’s not looking good.”

A sudden whistle from the top of the barricade drew your attention, and your heart soared as you saw your husband climb over.

Before he could even crest the barricade, Marius ran over to him, “Enjolras, the rain damaged the gunpowder. We’re low on ammunition.”

“We’re the only barricade left,” Enjolras replied, but his eyes were trained on you as he spoke.

“What?”

“We’re the only ones left.” In a perfect demonstration of his inner character, Enjolras spoke to the crowd as he approached you, wrapping one arm around your waist in a silent greeting. France came first, but he would not forget you because of that. The look he gave you was a silent apology for leaving you alone.

“The people have not stirred,” he announced. “Those who still live in fear have abandoned us, so I will say this. All who wish to leave must do so now.”

The air was thick. Would they stay and risk losing their lives, or leave and risk losing their values?

The silence was broken by one little boy, singing a familiar tune.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men?

The people around you joined Gavroche, with hushed tones at first, but then soon at full volume.

It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drums

There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

Soon the troops were gathered again, their spirits reinvigorated, but the concern of ammunition was a big one. No one was sure how you were going to keep going on.

“Gavroche!” you heard someone whisper urgently, and looked up to see a few of Les Amis, leaning over the top of the barricade. Your stomach dropped and you climbed over the edge and looked over the side to find Gavroche, holding sacs of gunpowder and taunting enemy forces. A gunshot rang out, narrowly missing the boy.

“Gavroche!” you hissed. “Get back here!”

Your words fell on deaf ears as Gavroche looked up, grinned, and continued onward.

Courfeyrac yelled for him, trying to jump over the barricade, but he was held back. All you could do was watch in horror as one, two, gunshots struck Gavroche down. His lifeless body stared at the sky, his blank eyes devoid of all their usual mischief and playfulness.

Courfeyrac ran out to grab the body, bringing him back and laying him at the base of the barricades. His sobs hit you like a knife. How many more must die?

“Bring him to lay next to Eponine,” you said quietly, and someone, you didn’t see who, obliged.

“You at the barricades!” the leader of the National Guard shouted. “The people of Paris sleep in their beds. No one will come to help in your fight. You are on your own with no chance at all! Why throw your lives away?”

Enjolras took on a new air, ever the leader. “Damn their warnings!” he cried, “And damn their lies. Let us die facing our foes. We can still make them bleed.”

“They will pay for every man!” yelled Courfeyrac, still teary.

“Others will rise when we fall!” your husband shouted, his voice thick with passion. “One day the Earth will be free!”

He grabbed your hand as the men ran to arms, speaking now in a low voice. “You told me not to ask you this, but I must. Please go. This ends in prison or death for all of us if we stay.”

“I’m not leaving you, Enjolras,” you whispered.

He nodded and raised his gun. “To arms, then.”

“Cannons!” came the shout from the other side of the barricade. Your blood curdled, but you held fast. This was judgement day.

“Fire!” cried Enjolras, and a volley of gunshots rained on the National Guard. He tossed his musket down to you and you handed him the new one you were holding, prepped and ready, and began to make quick work of the old one.

Through the screams, the bloodshed, the falling bodies, you did what you were supposed to do. You tuned it out and changed the weaponry. But soon the guard advanced. The bodies were dropping from bayonets instead of muskets, and you were forced to retreat. Those who had previously been sympathetic closed their doors, shutting out the dying students in the streets.

“To the Musain!” you cried, and the straggling survivors followed. There were shouts to barricade the door, but it wouldn’t hold for long. Your group ran to the second floor

Enjolras grabbed your hand. “I know you don’t want this,” he said, speaking hurriedly, “But I don’t care. Go to the storage room on the kitchen and don’t come out, no matter what you hear. I love you.”

“Enjolras, I won’t-”

“Go! I love you!” He was moving away from you, towards the stairs, forcing himself to leave because he knew you wouldn’t leave him.

“I love you too!” you yelled after him, and ignoring the sinking pit in your stomach, did as he asked.

—--

You shut yourself in the tiny room and curled into a ball on the floor. You were surrounded by bottles of your father’s finest liquor and extra cleaning supplies.

You broke the skin on your hand when you bit it to keep from crying at the gunshots outside.

The footsteps and shouts of the National Guard retreated, and there was silence in the Café Musain once more.

You were alone once more.

Your eyes scanned the small room around you, an idea forming. An idea that you knew Enjolras would hate just as much as it would make him proud.

It’s either die here or rot in jail, you thought. There’s no getting out of here without the guards seeing me. May as well make all this effort worth my while.

You grabbed what you needed and threw the supplies in a small satchel. Placing a hand on the doorknob, you steeled yourself, and then stepped outside.

There was a thin haze in the air, most likely smoke from the barricade and musket fire. You slowly crept your way up to the second floor of the building, and stifled a gasp when you saw the bodies of your friends littered on the floor. Grantaire was slumped next to the window, and next to him-

You knew it was true, but you didn’t want to believe it. You slowly leaned over the edge of the windowsill, and felt a pang of horror as you saw Enjolras’ body hanging from it, waving his red banner proudly, even in death. You had no time to process it, before you heard a guardsman cry. “Up there! Someone’s still in the building!”

You sprinted away from the ceiling and up to the top floor. You pulled the trapdoor down and hoisted yourself onto the roof, then quickly scampered down the side of the building, two bottles of brandy clinking in your bag.

You rounded a corner, crouching at the edge of the barricade. You were hidden for now, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Opening the bottles of alcohol, you stuffed a rag down the neck of each. You kissed the neck of one bottle. “For you, Les Amis de l’ABC.” You kissed the other. “For you, Eponine.” Bringing your hand to your lips, you kissed the band around your finger. “For you, Enjolras.”

With that, you lit each rag with a flint and steel, and raced to the top of the barricade.

“Vive la France!” you cried, so loud that it hurt your throat, and you hurled the two makeshift bombs towards the enemy’s cannons, right into the highest concentration of gunpowder.

If the explosion wasn’t enough to knock you off your feet, the responding volley of gunfire was, and you fell to the ground as the bullets tore through your body.

“Vive la France,” you whispered once more as the darkness enveloped you.

—--

You woke to sharp pain from your core and the sounds of a woman sobbing. You realized suddenly that you were being carried, and as you slowly opened your eyes, you recognized who it was.

“Marie,” you whispered, barely able to get the sound out. Your sister screamed and nearly dropped you.

“Y/N, you were dead!”

“Not yet Marie, but I’m dying. Where did they put Enjolras’ body?”

“You know, then,” she said grimly. “He is in the tavern. I’ll take you.”

“What you did was amazing,” she said as she walked. “Everyone’s talking about it. They’re calling you the Belle of the Barricade.”

You crinkled your nose. “I was never one for semantics.”

Marie laughed, but there was little joy in the sound. “You were very brave, Y/N. Your bravery won’t be forgotten. Why, I’ll tell every patron we have about my daring older sister who took on the National Guard single handedly in a final attack.” She was smiling, but tears were streaming down her face.

She laid you down on the floor next to your husband’s lifeless body. “Marie?” you said softly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“We were married. The night before the funeral procession, we were married right in the Musain. I want you to know. And Papa.”

She nodded tearfully. “I’ll tell him.”

You raised one hand to Enjolras’ face, so rigid and smooth in death. “I told you, my love,” you whispered to him, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

And with that, the strength ebbed from your body, and all went black a final time.

—--

Light, warm and pure surrounded you. Your eyes opened, and as your vision cleared, a face came into focus.

Enjolras, his face far more peaceful than you had ever seen it. The lines of his face had softened, and he looked for once like a school boy, not a hardened general.

“Enjolras?” you asked. Your brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

“Beyond the barricade,” he replied, offering you his hand.

You took it, and he pulled you towards him. The two of you went forward into the light, into the world you longed to see.

-----

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, because it was really fun to write.

Also sorry for the fade to black scene, I'm just not a fan of writing smut.

But I appreciate anyone who took the time to read this, and I hope I was able to do Enjolras justice.

#enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras imagine

[xxlovelynovaxx]

I'mma be honest, in spite of all the ableism I've faced, people buying into the "HOW DARE YOU SAY YOU LIKE X, I CAN'T DO X" ableist caricature still surprises me.

That's literally the disabled version of "HOW DARE YOU ASSUME MY GENDER?!" Like yes, there is probably a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent of the disabled community that actually does that, don't get me wrong. I've also seen trans people do the transphobic caricature one; there always has to be that One Person that Becomes The Strawman. (Although, in all likelihood, of the like ten total cases of each on the entire internet, I'm pretty sure nine are actually abled/cis ableists/transphobes sock puppeting to make it seem like the strawman is real.)

But like, when I've actually investigated the vast majority of cases of people claiming a disabled person is doing this or similar, it's actually a valid complaint getting twisted wildly out of proportion so that abled/cis people don't have to examine their ableism/transphobia.

"HOW DARE YOU MAKE SOUP FOR YOUR NEIGHBOR" was "hey why are you literally snooping through our trash to find out what we're eating" and also "hey if you want to help a disabled person it's important to communicate with us so that you don't accidentally put in work to do something that we have to reject, and/or accidentally make us do extra work" and also "hey sometimes abled people offer 'help' that's not helpful to make themselves feel better and then demand we accept it AND perform emotional labor and fall over ourselves in gratitude and accept the help just to make them feel good and that's actually really ableist and this specific situation with my neighbor that I have context for was actually that".

That's just one example. I've seen dozens upon dozens. An actual valid issue with anything from subtle and/or minor ableism to huge and/or blatant ableism, turned into caricaturizing the disabled person as a hysterical and unreasonable angry fun-hating and selfish brat.

It's really old.

I know it's a common tactic of bigots in general. Racists, queerphobes, antisemites, and ableists are especially groups I've seen do this.

But still like. There's so many people I'd expect to be better that just swallow this uncritically and spout it back out and just... idk. I wish people would be better.

#ableism #transphobia

[toomuchracket]

do you think d!word girlie is all into her wellness and working out? idk, I picture her as being really into her skincare and pilates etc when she has the time? and maybe she works out with matty sometimes, like maybe she introduces him to some skincare products, or when she’s out he uses some of her bath salts or moisturisers because they smell like her <3

anything to decrease the stress of your job, you're into lmao. i don't think you're necessarily at the gym every day, maybe a couple of times a week when you can, but i see you as being a fan of a daily youtube yoga/pilates/morning and evening stretches (sidenote these are actually p good) sesh. i'm sure i saw someone say on here that doing yoga in matty's house would be so good because it's so calm - that's one of the first things you say when you go over there for the first time for drinks with everyone, and matty chokes on his wine at the thought of you a) casually being in his house, b) casually being in his house in workout gear, and c) casually being in his house in workout gear stretching your body out. and then he feels guilty for thinking that. but he's like "well you can test that theory out whenever you want lol", and you just giggle but internally you spiral a lil bit. you do try it, though, once you start dating, and after matty does his "obligatory boyfriend ogling bit" (his words) he actually joins in; in return, you go to jiu jitsu with him a couple of times, but as we've seen from previous blurbs you're both far too competitive and far too horny to actually progress with it lmfao. the "too horny" thing is also why you and matty only go to the gym together on tour when there's no real other option - he's been yelled at by his pt too many times for looking at you do a spin workout or squats instead of doing his own workouts lmao (and you're no better, staring at him with obvious lust as he does literally anything all sweaty and breathless). but aside from that, you both like going for walks and hiking and stuff, so you do that together with no issues lol.

and skincare/beauty/wellness... let's just say, you are a woman on a decent pay grade (i know they're skint. but this is fiction! either way, i suppose, you have a simpy rich boyf who likes spoiling you, so you have Funds lol) with a space nk loyalty card, and by god do you use it to buy some fancy moisturisers and makeup and fragrance. but also you're a boots girly who loves a garnier sheet mask. duality! i think matty learned about your interest in it pretty quickly - thinking one of your earlier dates as an exclusive couple in a central london restaurant was interrupted by you getting a notification that your click and collect space nk order was in, and you were like "oh i'll pick that up tomorrow", and matty was like "babe we can get it when we leave here lol we might as well if we're nearby". once you collected the order (while you queued, matty test-sprayed all of the perfumes to find out which one you wore so he could buy you it for your birthday lmao) and the two of you were settled with a drink in a nearby bar, matty was like "so. what did you get?" and literally made you do an unboxing for him lmfao; he was so cute, though, genuinely interested in what you were saying about your purchases and asking questions and smelling the body lotions and whatever. you actually bought him a little travel size version of a lotion he loved the scent of, but ever since you guys started properly dating and staying with each other he just steals yours lol. but you don't mind, because he has a really nice shower gel that you always use when you're at his, so it balances out. like you said, it's a comfort thing - you both use each other's things (and the bath salts you reserve for when the two of you have romantic baths together) because they smell like them, and it makes you feel safe. it's the same with you guys and evening skincare, you and matty just love the little rituals you share and time you spend together every night you're both in the same place, and it just feels so cosy and comforting and domestic and sweet <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty

[pynkhues]

Hi! I just read an extremely popular Brio fic and it was wonderfully well written but I found I kept losing interest. I realized it’s bc while Rio felt somewhat authentic for the AU, Beth seemed like a completely different character. There wasn’t really much background information on her so the changes didn’t really make sense to me, even in an AU setting.

How do you approach AU settings to make sure the characters feel connected to the originals? Like in your pornstars AU I can still see Beth in there, even if it’s not something I would have ever expected of her! So I’m curious as to how you approach that.

Also why do you think this seems to happen more to Beth versus Rio? Are people just projecting themselves onto her you think? Idk I just feel like she has such a strong personality that I’m curious why I seem to feel that way in some fics.

Anyways, love your work 🩷🩷🩷

Hi! Thanks for your lovely words, although I'm sorry for your experience with that other fic. It can be such a bummer when we're overall enjoying a story - whether fic, or books, or shows - but for whatever reason it's just not quite landing. I know the feeling pretty well, haha.

For me, I find that capturing a character in all writing is basically about distilling two things:

What they want

What they need

These two factors in so many ways embody the main narrative arc of a story. In fact, many author talks I've been to suggest that plot in its entirety is a matter of asking three questions - what does a character want? What's standing in their way stopping them from getting what they want? And how will they overcome this obstacle? I don't entirely agree with this, and it's not a method of plotting that I personally subscribe to these days (although I have used it in the past and still sometimes find it helpful when I'm stuck), but I do think it can be useful to think about in terms of the role character motivation contributes to story overall.

More to the point though, I find dividing a character's wants and needs to be super useful, both in terms of analysis and writing, as to me, it's those wants and needs that really feed into everything when it comes to characterisation.

Beth's actually a great example of this as her want vs need are both complimentary and frequently in conflict with each other:

What Beth wants is to earn enough to save her house, provide for her children and get herself, her sister and her best friend to a point of financial security that doesn't leave them in a state of constant free fall.

What Beth needs is to feel real self worth, to connect with the woman inside of herself beyond wifehood, motherhood and even sisterhood, and to be seen and acknowledged as that woman by people she respects (i.e. Rio, but not just him). She needs to be seen as capable, and to feel autonomous and in control of her future.

Both of these wants and needs have greater implications when filling in the details of a character. In Beth's case, her adultification as a child in raising her sister feeds her lack of identity as an adult at the start of the series and her need to find herself (she's been raising children her whole life!), Dean's cheating compounds those feelings of self-worth, and him losing the family house is what becomes the catalyst for Beth to act. Her wants are created due to the situation Dean forces her into, her needs have been there for a lot longer than that.

When writing fic in general, but especially AUs, I try not to change the wants or needs of the characters. Like I said, I tend to view them as pretty crucial to the character overall, but I also think those wants and needs are what makes me feel connected to them as opposed to other characters or other shows. Those are the things I like! Why would I want to change them?

And anyway, I tend to find it super fun figuring out how those wants and needs might guide characters in a different setting. In both the porn star AU and the pirate AU, I really wanted to use the time period, the industry and the context of those story worlds to see how Beth might navigate her needs and wants, and to see how those factors might influence the shape of her story arc. It was pretty interesting to realise that I didn't think much changed, even in the pirate AU which is set so far in the past. I hope that means I understand her as a character, or at least, I guess, my interpretation of her, haha.

As for other writers - - yeah! I mean, in some ways I do think Rio's probably easier to write because his own wants and needs are more ambiguous on the show and he's therefore a little more malleable in fic. A lot about him can be true when we ultimately saw so little of him, whereas Beth, as you said, has such a strong personality and defined character that to change elements of her voice or her background, or to make certain decisions for her, can leave us with the age old feeling of: 'she wouldn't do / say that'.

I do think that, especially by the end of the series, there was a not insignificant portion of the fandom who didn't like her so ultimately wrote her differently (I personally had issues with the fact that so many people wrote Rio as punishing and Beth as both taking and deserving that punishment, which is why some high profile fics in the fandom aren't of particular interest to me), but I think there are other factors as well.

Yes, some projection, yes, some who mostly wrote her to be able to write about Rio, yes, some who were simply disinterested in her interiority, but I also think GG was a lot of people's first fandom, and a lot of people's first time writing fic, and that ultimately, Beth was a complicated character who only got more complicated over the four seasons of the show. She's not easy to write, and I do think the fandom was chockfull of talented writers, but a lot of talented writers who were still ultimately pretty new to writing.

I've been writing for a long time (man, I think I worked out that I posted my first fic when I was about 13 which was like, twenty years ago now, haha, and I had my first short story published in a journal at 19 too), and ultimately writing is a skill like anything else - you get better the longer you do it. :-)

#i do think there are a lot of people who write beth super well #this fandom really was lucky with its writers #but yeah #i get what you mean too #welcome to my ama