#and so have to figure out how he learns best

[tizeline]

TSAU!Donnie's Ninpō Explained!

The first ability Donnie unlocks is the ability to see mystic energy! Objects or people with with mystic energy has this colourful glowing aura you could call it, the more mystic energy the more brightly is glows. For example - Mikey already has a very bright aura naturally, which becomes even brighter when he is actively using magic! ..... All of this is to say, Donnie found that out the hard way when he used his mystic sight on Mikey when he was using magic and Donnie as a result got a little bit fucking blinded!

All yōkai and mutants are naturally mystic in nature, they always have a visable aura because of that. Humans are not mystic, so they don't have that aura. HOWEVER! Humans can learn how to use magic through certain means like, y'know, Ninpō for example! When a human uses magic, they do have mystic aura, but only while actively using mystic powers.

(Also Donnie totally accidentally discovered that the "teapot" had bad vibes because his mystic sight lol)

After a while Donnie is able to start making constructs out of his Ninpō. Initially however, he can't really form complex designs, it's mostly just blocks and walls, very simplistic shapes. But it turns out he can use these simpler constructs as effective shields! Which is good considering his soft shell as well as the fact that his battle shell in the AU wasn't built to be used as armour. Both he and April gets a lot of use out of the extra defense.

With quite a bit of practice Donnie is able to actually generate specific and more complex designs! Which means that yes, to the horror of friend and foe alike, Donnie can and will summon an entire arsenal of firepower, yikes. He's not limited to firearms though, he's able to generate all kinds of technology and machinery (drill!!!!)

To create these mystic contructs, it does require Donnie to have a good understanding of what it looks like, how it functions, etc. His imagination and his knowledge of technology are what sets a lot of the limits on what he is able to create, if he can build it in his lab then he can build it with his Ninpō. This particular ability requires a lot complex thought, if Donnie wasn't so smart he wouldn't be able to pull it off as well as he does.

Another limitation is that maintaining the contsructs is very energy-consuming, he'll quickly exhaust himself if he keeps them around. He'll usually only summon constructs very briefly for an attack and then immedietly dismiss them.

The way that Donnnie's Ninpō manifests itself is already very technology-oriented, because of that he can interact with ordinary technology through his Ninpō. Personally I haven't figured out the details of what exactly that can look like, but there's definitely a lot of possibilities to explore here.

One thing though, as Donnie's Ninpō grows more and more powerful overtime, a side-effect of that is that if he gets really pissed off or otherwise very emotional, he'll accidentally make the technology in his near viscinity go haywire lmao. (This has the risk of making him even more angry, which just worsens the problem, and so on haha)

I really like the idea of Donnie being the second most powerful mystic user out of his brothers, after Mikey of course. And because he's mostly self-trained, he doesn't have the best understanding of how to properly control his powers, which evidently can become a bit of a problem. Donnie eventually agrees to let Draxum help him get a better grasp on his mystic abilities after the Hamatos and the Draxums become more friendly with each other.

So uh. About how Donnie kinda accidentally infused Shelldon with mystic energy while creating him which caused the robot to develop a kind of soul? Yeah so because of that Shelldon's mystic energy if linked to Donnie's, which means that Shelldon more or less gains access to the same abilities as Donnie does! He's not quite as powerful as Donnie, and he still needs to practice to fully get a grasp on these powers as well. But point is, that's how Shelldon gains acess to Ninpō in the AU! (He also notices their fucked up "teapot")

----------

Anyway that basically summarizes it! A lot of these ideas are headcanons I have for canon!Donnie as well honestly, the AU is just an excuse to explore these concepts. Donnie's ability to summon fucking firearms and military equipment is also something I've thought about, I wanted to try to think how it would work for him while also putting some limitations on it. ANOTHER THING I like the idea of Donnie's tech constructs basically being the same ability as when Raph creates constructs of himself. The difference lies with that Donnie is a massive nerd so his first instinct is to recreate his own tech with the Ninpō. While Raph being someone who is already so physically strong would naturally use his Ninpō to recreate his own greatest weapon, which is himself. (Donnie uses his brain, Raph uses his brawn, who would've guessed)

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself. 

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would. 

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different. 

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer. 

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee. 

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it. 

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm. 

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?” 

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.” 

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.” 

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” 

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is. 

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.” 

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam. 

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will? 

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in. 

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder. 

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet. 

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines. 

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it. 

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier. 

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind. 

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where. 

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina. 

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!” 

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach. 

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving. 

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?” 

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement. 

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!” 

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on. 

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.” 

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you. 

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you. 

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin. 

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?” 

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open. 

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily. 

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.” 

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.” 

“I think it’s plenty dry.” 

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you. 

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” 

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?” 

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him. 

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.” 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him. 

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?” 

“Is the water nice?” 

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.” 

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots. 

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat. 

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes. 

“Jumping off the roof!” 

“Are you serious?” 

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?” 

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip. 

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours. 

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.” 

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought. 

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you. 

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him. 

“That was…exhilarating.” 

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.” 

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face. 

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot. 

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you. 

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel. 

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.” 

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.  

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.” 

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box. 

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!” 

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response. 

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends. 

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles. 

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.” 

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!” 

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.” 

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself. 

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t. 

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights. 

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire. 

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening. 

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down. 

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan. 

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here? 

The answer is a mystery even to you. 

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser. 

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner. 

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him. 

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now. 

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.” 

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—” 

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.” 

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?” 

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you. 

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?” 

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.” 

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary. 

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted. 

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones. 

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to. 

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.” 

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.” 

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” 

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.” 

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you. 

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.” 

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids. 

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand. 

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.” 

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.” 

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?” 

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.” 

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.” 

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?” 

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.” 

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.” 

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

“He thinks?” 

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.” 

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right. 

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?” 

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?” 

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.” 

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.” 

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.” 

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.” 

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good. 

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being. 

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[ribbonskiss]

THE LEANOVER → OP81

Part 2 of 2. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: You come home on uni break to find your brother’s best friend, Oscar, is visiting. You both fall back into old habits, but some things are not the same.

Tags: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (18+), masturbation, Jack Doohan is from Melbourne in this one for logistical reasons, not proofread at all hah

A/N: finally!!! The end of The Leanover!!!! Sorry for the extended deadline, this one turned out chunkier than I expected and honestly I don’t know if I’m quite satisfied with it but it is what it is. Anyway, enjoy!

Oscar is a handsome boy. This is a fact you find to be so uncontroversial it may as well be accepted as a universal truth. There has never been a time where girls did not whisper amongst themselves when he would enter a room, where the mothers of his friends would not rave with great emphasis to his about how strong and handsome he’d become, where his presence at a function did not brighten up the place, because not only is he handsome, he is beautiful. Beautiful people are magnetic, you think; their beauty lies in their nature, their fundamental quality of supernatural grace, a gift bestowed by the forces that be towards the lucky few.

You recall his last year of high school. You were sixteen, still growing into your body and learning how to use a felt-tip eyeliner pen. Teenagers are fascistic about social hierarchy; they are greatly cognisant of their standings in the high school pecking order, intensely anal about preserving the rigidity of the structure, and thus you had long accepted your status as the forgotten sibling. Oscar and your brother were athletes, students with clout attached to their names; you were awkward, unaware of your own intensity, intimidating to a fault, but more than happy to lay low. Two individuals of such different standings in the social order should never interact—but for the first (and only) time you were now going to the same house parties and birthday bashes, and here was the greatest display of Oscar’s beauty. You can never forget that image: the figure of him standing on the other side of the room, so broad-shouldered and trim, freckles of sun damage littered over his skin all the way down his neck like constellations, his head turned away from you to reveal his chiselled jaw as he speaks to someone while holding a can of Reschs. And suddenly his eyes would meet yours, catching you in the act, and he’d give you a gentle smile.

You were always so grateful for this. So grateful he would look your way and beam so brightly, a glimpse of his inner calmness, his quiet gentle bliss. You were never under the impression you were the only one to be so blessed by his grace; you were just happy to be around him. Sometimes when he would come over, sprawl himself over your couch or lay on the floor, pissing himself laughing at your brother’s antics into the late hours of the night, you’d ask yourself whether you should feel guilty for being the only witness to this part of his life. This secret of his: that Oscar is so much more beautiful than most people will ever know. Not his fans, not his colleagues, not the majority of the world. This is between you and him.

And now you have him all to yourself. A bit greedy, isn’t it? The past week you’ve spent together has been nothing short of lovely. You find out that he’s strangely disciplined. Oscar’s a dutiful housemate, doing the chores you even forget about without the need to be prompted, unlike most guys his age. He likes to hum to himself when he’s got the vacuum going and he thinks you can’t hear him butcher the tune of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. He’s a good cook who prefers careful measurement over eyeballing. He doesn’t read books like you do, but he’s happy to lie on the couch all day and watch a show with you on the telly. And he’s surprisingly touchy—he seems most pleased when you’re both on the couch, your legs crossed and stretched out, resting on top of his, his hand on your foot, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You don’t speak during these moments. Nothing needs to be said; things just sort themselves out.

At some point in the afternoon you get tired, yawning to yourself, and without even needing to look at you Oscar reaches over, tugs at your arm to tell you wordlessly to turn around. You oblige; your head against his chest, his fingers trail up your forearm to your shoulders and, eventually, the back of your neck, smoothing over the soft, fine hairs that reside there. You’re too tired to mind the goosebumps the feeling of his fingertips on your skin gives you, or the increasing thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat underneath you. You shift in his arms, folding your legs up in a way that makes the hem of your shorts ride up, exposing the curve of your thighs all the way up towards the swell of your—well… It would be so uncouth for him to look there.

It never occurs to either of you that the hardest part of the process is done. The feeling returns: the feeling that arises in you when he looked at you from across the room at those parties all those years ago. The feeling of knowing that person so incredibly well. Of sharing a secret together, and letting that secret grow bigger and bigger until it takes on a life of its own. Of sharing that life together. These things do just sort themselves out, but you would never know until you speak of it.

You are growing increasingly needy. There’s no other way to put it. You’re fucking dying. The heat of the dry, punishing Australian summer is starting to get to you, even with how skimpy your attire has gotten, and having him around twenty-four seven is starting to feel more like divine punishment than intervention. You were wrong all along: Oscar is not an angel, but a demon sent to terrorise you all your life until you give in and the Devil can steal your soul for all of eternity.

He works out every other day. That’s at least three days where he’ll disappear into another room in the afternoon for hours, slips right out just to slip into the bathroom, and then waltz back into the living room as if nothing has happened. But something has happened.

Oscar has a very basic wardrobe at home. He likes his soft, mild colours—dark greys and soft whites, beige tones, navy and olives… It’s very on brand for him, yes. And here he is again, today, emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out the door as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. He’s wearing a crisp heather grey t-shirt, fresh from the pile of laundry you’d folded yesterday. The sleeves can barely withstand the size of his biceps; he’s just gotten new dumbbells in. And god, the smell of his skin, the musk of him mixed with the soft clean scent of soap still radiating off of him. It’s like crisp hot white bedsheets, fresh out the dryer, already crumpling under the weight of two lovers, bodies sticky from tangling into each other; like soft detergent left out in the garden, where the grass is freshly cut, and the warm sun hits your skin.

This is as close to a primal urge as it will ever get for you. The first few times you could just tell yourself to look away, but now the smell of him is unavoidable, overwhelms your senses, and lights your entire body on fire. You stick your nose into your book the entire time and pray he goes away. Oscar retreats into the kitchen and wonders if your book is really so good that you’d be that engrossed by it. He’ll have to start reading again soon.

“The worst thing a woman can do,” you say, hand in the air with great feeling, “is be cut down in her prime by a man.”

Three beers in and you’re starting up your great tirade already. Oscar watches with an amused smile as he sits on the grass, green Peroni bottle in hand. “I know it sounds so pathetic and untrue, but it is true,” you continue, pacing back and forth with a giggle. “It’s true! I’m so much better off now. No offence, Osc, you’re one of the good ones.”

“I’m very flattered.”

“You should be,” you nod.

He reaches over and grabs a fresh beer from the esky, flicks the cap off with the belt he’s taken off, and hands it to you. You thank him; “just trying to stay in your good graces, missy,” he chuckles.

You sigh, taking a swig of it as you look up to the sky. “Frankly, I’m glad that part of my life is over already,” you say. “I’m not happy to admit it, but for a long time, I had just thought of myself as undesirable. Invisible.”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows with great concern, an ocean tide of emotion threatening to wash over him. “Impossible.”

“Possible,” you nod, with a bitter smile that’s less regretful than accepting of your past. “You know. Surely you remember.”

Of course he does. He remembers every little thing, because they’re not little to him. He remembers it all, how he’d scare off sleazy, drunken boys from approaching you at parties. Even after he graduated, the threat remained: you mess with her, you mess with Oscar Piastri, the F1 big shot. Boys never looked your way because of that; he used to hold you by the end of the party, sitting on the porch of whatever house you’re at, you latching onto him in your drunken half-slumber, both of you silently wallowing in your desires. Drowning, suffocating in each other’s warmth. Then he’d stay over at your house and wait until your brother fell asleep to press his ear against the wall, listening to your muffled sobbing. You were always too eager to suffer alone, to make a martyr of yourself and accept the cards you had been dealt.

But you stand tall now, a soft smile on your face suggesting a great deal of growth. It’s what he’s always found so beautiful in you. Beauty, he thinks, lies in the spirit, an ability to have infinite love and bliss in the face of the frustrations of one’s life. You are a complete soul, whole in ways he may never be, capable of learning to love over and over again and of light-heartedness in the face of turmoil. He knows he cannot truly achieve this because you are his Achilles’ heal. He cannot bear to think of you off on your own without him, doing things with other slimy ratty boys, going places he may never know of. Having a life without him in it. Oscar frowns; had he been too selfish in denying you all your opportunities? You had graduated high school without losing your virginity, without ever being in a relationship, and he wasn’t sure your first kiss would even count as a kiss. He can’t imagine how much that must’ve crushed you—and he was away, far away on his stupid little racing circuits instead of being at home, comforting you, as he should’ve been.

You wave it all off, as if you could hear his thoughts. “Well, I’ve done all of it now anyway, and I’m happy to report that it’s not for me.”

He cocks up an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘it,’ Tiny?”

“The hookup thing,” you shrug.

Oscar’s chest feels like it could explode; cold flashes wash all over him. “Oh?”

You playfully shush him. “Don’t tell my family, okay?” you chuckle. “But, yes. I tried it. It was good, until it wasn’t. Very quickly I realised I’m kinda, like, spiritually forty. I need to stretch in the mornings and tuck in by eleven.”

“And kick-ons aren’t until at least one,” he tuts. “You’re always been a sleepy girl.”

“That is true,” you nod, taking another sip of your Peroni. “Anyway, it was worth it, at the very least just to get it all out of my system. I’m very comfortably single now.”

The sky is darker than it should be. The sun has already tucked itself away, and it’s not even evening time yet. “You know, it’s so cliché,” you continue. “That Sally Rooney quote, it’s just like that. I went to uni and got pretty. And all of a sudden men saw me—I mean, I was pretty much invisible before. Before in school, when you and my brother were still around, guys used to do this stupid, horrible thing where they wouldn’t speak to me, they’d just speak to you instead. Even when the topic was about me. Well, no one knows I grew up with Oscar Piastri when I’m at ANU. I’m just me, and I’ve got a nice haircut and a decent rack of tits. And they see me, they see me now and I realise now that they’re all just sort of stupid. I’m very sorry, Oscar, but boys are stupid.”

“No need to apologise,” he snickers softly. It makes you smile a little wider. “But surely they were not all so bad?”

“No, I really don’t know how to pick ‘em. They really were all that bad,” you chuckle, eyes creasing as your cheeks push up in laughter. “Think the best one might’ve been the guy I lost my virginity to.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He hums, pretends to be normal about it. “Tell me more,” he says.

You nod and oblige. “It was early in the school year. I went on four dates with him,” you start. “He seemed right on paper. Double major, worked for a diplomat, spoke two languages and was well-travelled. Maybe a bit pedestrian in his taste in music and films, but it didn’t bother me so much. We talked okay. He knew what to do, how to be courteous, held doors open and shit—I didn’t know what the whole dating thing was meant to be like, and I was easily impressed. He took me back to his after the fourth date and we listened to his vinyls: corny 70s Greatest Hit compilations and his favourite Kanye albums.”

You take a break, pulling out a thing of lip balm and unscrewing the cap before squeezing it out. “He told me he used to take ballroom lessons for some weird high school thing he did, and he twirled me in his arms, and it made me feel so light and small and girlish that I felt like I was floating.” Your finger spreads the balm over your lips, the feeling cool and tingly on your skin. “He told me I was funny. He kissed me, and his stubble was so sharp and gritty against my skin that it gave me traction acne the day after. He held my hand the whole time. He was an awful kisser. Just kept jamming his tongue in. But it was sweet enough. No one’s first time is good, anyway.”

Oscar tries to swallows down the lump stuck in his throat. His fingers and toes are tingling, chest tight and contracting still. You take another swig. “I’ve had too many of these,” you say.

“You’ve had three, Tiny.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you shrug, yawning as you set the bottle down on the wooden table outside in your garden. “I think I’d better fuck off to bed now. Sleep tight, Osc.”

He doesn’t sleep in your brother’s bed that night. No, he takes out the spare mattress again and drapes the spare velvet blanket over himself, because he could never forgive himself if he jerked off in his best friend’s bed to the thought of his best friend’s sister. No, there would be no good excuse for that, but tonight is one of those nights where a man simply cannot hold himself back anymore. The alcohol is still burning in his stomach; when Oscar shuts his eyes, all he can see is these elaborate images crafted by his mind’s eye of you, placed in all the scenarios you’d described to him, only replacing that dirty fucker was him, being so gentle and delicate and loving, just how you deserve it. It should have been him there instead to do it all right; it is true that losing one’s virginity is often an awkward affair, his own experience was no less lousy, but if anyone were to have a perfect instance of it it should be you. Oscar can see it all now, how he’d go about it. Holding onto your soft curves as he pushes himself in slowly, the little gasps that would escape your honey-sweet mouth, so warm and wet on his lips. He would die happy, he thinks to himself, as his hand roughly palms his length, hair dampening from sweat in the blistering summer night heat. Cicadas sing outside his window; he heaves wildly, chest rising and falling dramatically as his hand gets slicker with each stroke. He had no idea he could even leak that much.

Thank god you’re sound asleep. He grips tightly onto the soft blanket, balling it in his fist as his eyes shut again tightly, the guttural noise he lets out much louder than he intended. Then Oscar collapses; his limbs go slack, heart beating out of his chest still as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, hand now sticky with his spent. The mattress is damp with his sweat. If he wasn’t before, he’s royally fucked now.

Your parents called; they’ll be home on Christmas Eve, but only in the afternoon, and they’re picking your brother up as well. Which means the two of you have some shopping to do; the house should be looking festive in time for their arrival. Oscar pushes the shopping cart, following you deep into the maze that is Kmart. He helps you haul the Christmas tree box in and out of his car. And he watches as you pull its branches down, giving it shape before littering it with baubles and tinsel. And when it comes time to finish the tree, you look him with bright eyes. He smiled at you, takes the Angel Gabriel out of your hands and places it on top of the tree carefully. You put on your silly little Santa hats and poorly bake gingerbread men.

You never end up throwing the rager Oscar jokingly suggested, but you do hold a small get-together after running into some old schoolmates at the shops. So it turns out that a few girls you used to do drama class with are in town, and of course anyone Oscar invites is going to show up—he’s Oscar fucking Piastri—so here you are, with a decent turnout of people currently congregated in the back garden and the living room. You’re thankful enough of them showed up on such short notice, with Christmas Eve only a few days away, and you’re thankful everyone seems to have gotten more civil and mature since you’ve left school.

The doorbell rings more than once, and you peel yourself off of the couch to go answer it, Balter tinnie in hand now that you’re all out of Peronis. Your eyes widen once you fling the door open, revealing a familiar face, standing with a smile on his face and a couple guys behind him.

“Surprise,” Jack chuckles.

“Doohan in the flesh,” you quip with a smile. “You cheeky boy. Since when were you in town?”

“Since yesterday,” he shrugs, and the guys behind him file past you into the house at the sight of some of their mates. “Heard you were throwing a thing with Big Shot Oscar. Hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing—I come bearing gifts.”

You shake your head. “Of course not, no, I’m glad to see you,” you say, though you sigh at the sight of the twelve-pack he’s got in his hands. “Mate, Strong Zero? It’s not that kind of party.”

“Some of us can handle our liquor,” Jack laughs, putting the pack in your arms before smoothing his hair back. “Don’t spoil the fun for the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes, turning your back to him as you walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. “Congratulations, by the way,” I say. “I’m glad to see two of our finest graduates succeeding.”

“I can tell. You’re beaming, clearly,” he jokes, following you in. “It was never in doubt for Oscar, anyway, so I think I deserve a bigger congratulations for making it, no?”

You peel apart the drink packaging, the tins of drink coming loose on the kitchen counter. “Let me get this straight: you want me to be more proud of you for being a worse driver than Oscar?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m just repeating your words, Jack-Jack.”

“Never said I was a worse driver,” he snickers, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. “You snuck that in yourself. But I always knew you were biased, so I won’t take offence to that, Tiny.”

You turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. Dramatically, he throws his hands up in a display of surrender, but your conversation is cut short.

“Well, well, well,” Oscar grins, strolling into the kitchen and approaching Jack with wide arms. “Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver.”

“Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver,” Doohan beams, dapping Oscar up before pulling him into a hug. “How you been, mate, good?”

“Nah, yeah,” Oscar chuckles, glancing back to you with a smile. “It’s been a splendid break for me. You been good? Didn’t realise you were back.”

“Yeah, just landed yesterday,” Jack nods, a hand on the back of his neck. “Heard you two were doing a thing, thought I’d be jet lagged out of my mind but nah. Wouldn’t miss this.”

You notice Jack’s a little taller than Oscar, who’s having to tilt his head up a little. “Appreciate you showing up, mate,” the older one says. “I’m gonna go catch up with some of your mates, but stick around, yeah?”

“Absolutely, man,” the younger one says with a smile. “Good seeing you again.”

Then Oscar leaves, fingers gliding over the skin of your cheek in passing, a gentle action of tenderness, as if to say goodbye wordlessly. Doohan wiggles his eyebrows. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” you exclaim, eyes avoiding his gaze as you snatch a Strong Zero for yourself.

“That,” he presses on, finger extended now to point to where Oscar had put his hand on your cheek. “The little hand-cheek-look thing. The fuck? Do you have something to tell me, pal?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please mate, just be normal—”

“Don’t gaslight me,” Jack says, as stern as he can be.

“He’s been living in my home!” you gasp. “Of course we’re a little close!”

“Living in your home—”

“Not by choice,” you roll your eyes. “Just—my family’s all out of town right now. He’s kind of all I have at the moment.”

“Agh!” Jack groans, smacking himself on the forehead. “Genius move. Fuck, I should’ve locked you two in a room myself years ago—”

You put the tin back onto the counter and slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

He frowns. “Oh, man,” he pouts. “You don’t mean to tell me you two are still doing the thing?”

“What thing?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“You know, the thing,” he says, eyes innocent and wide as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The weird game you two play. I thought you guys would have gotten over it already.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, making you stammer and go red in the face as your confusion worsens. Jack notices this. “What, you really don’t know?”

“No, Jack, I do not,” you manage to breathe out. “Please, enlighten me.”

He shakes his head, lets out a strange chuckle as he leans back against the wall, having taken a tinnie off the counter. “This would be funny if it weren’t so tragic,” he starts, grimacing. “Oscar used to push guys on the soccer team around for talking about you. He’d go silent whenever you were around and get clammy in the hands. He got weird whenever he’d even hear your name. And I’m sure I don’t have to list out your incriminating actions.”

Needless to say you’re taken aback by this. Eyes wide and blank, you look at him with shock as your mind oscillates between delight and horror, hand resting on your chest as if your heart needs the help. Jack sighs, and after a moment of tense silence he speaks again. “I take it that’s enough proof for you.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“We thought you knew,” he shrugs. “And it wouldn’t have been my place to meddle, and also, it was kind of amusing to watch.”

You scoff bitterly. “Amusing.”

“Well, not so much now,” Doohan nods.

Silence fills the kitchen again, the chatter outside quiet against the deafening quietness inside. “You do like him, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.

You don’t answer, but all he has to do is look at your solemn face and see the emotions threatening to spill out of you. He comes closer, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Just take your time, mate.”

You nod, but you hear Oscar’s distinct timbre in the distance, speaking rapidly to someone. You turn your head and see him standing in the living room near the couch, and then—like magnets—he seems to feel your eyes raking over his figure, and meets your gaze as his head turns a little. Suddenly you’re sixteen again. He’s smiling at you like he used to, so fondly and sweetly, all the way from another room. Everything has changed but this feeling is the same. Oscar nods his head gently, as if to tell you ‘I’m doing okay over here, and I hope you are too,’ and you realise he’s dropped out of his conversation now just to look at you. He has always done this.

The hard part is over, but you didn’t know until it was spoken of.

You sweep the crushed cans off the table and into the garbage bag, back starting to hurt from all the cleanup you’ve had to do. Thank the lord they all left early; you haven’t been able to enjoy yourself fully since that talk with Doohan. Since then his words have just been eating away at you the whole night, but you can speak to Oscar just fine, you think. You’re trying your best, at least.

“Jesus, have the lights always been this bright?” he says, and by the way he’s stumbling onto the couch and slurring his words a little, he’s probably more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

You shake your head, turning around to face him. The cans inside the bag you’re holding clank against one another. “Fun night?”

“Not particularly,” he says, eyes shutting as he throws an arm over his face, lying down flat on the couch. “Just, those fucking Strong Zeroes, man.”

“I told Doohan he shouldn’t have!”

“He really shouldn’t have.” Oscar groans, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to push his face into the couch, and you chuckle before going back to cleaning up, moving towards the pile of cans on the kitchen island.

“Don’t leave,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?” you say. “I’m not. I’m just going into the kitch—”

“No,” he whines quietly, muffled by the fabric of the couch. “That’s too far. Stay.”

You stand still, still holding the bag in your hand, visibly confused.

“We should always be in the same room,” he continues. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

You flush at his words. You’re not sure if he quite grasps the implications of what he’s saying, but you chalk it all up to his current state—surely he’s just a clingy drunk. You put the garbage bag down against the wall, approaching the couch as he pulls his legs back to make room for you.

You sit down. “Are you feeling alright, Osc?”

“No,” he replies, too quickly for your liking. Oscar shuffles back onto his back, eyes still shut as his tone is reduced to grumbling. “I had this really awful thought the other day that we’re so far apart. I’m off doing my races and now you’re off at uni doing whatever.”

You cock your head to the side, clearly about to protest, but he starts up again. “I just want to know what you’re doing all the time,” he admits. “And how you’re feeling. I miss you all the time, and I wanna know you’re okay.”

“Oscar,” you frown, putting a hand on his arm tenderly. “If you want to stay in touch more, of course we can—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay in touch. I wanna be with you.”

You pull your arm back. He winces, missing your touch. “Tiny, this must sound so crazy.”

“No,” you assure him, though you’re struggling to comprehend his words. “I just don’t know what you me—”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your blood runs cold even as your stomach shatters and explodes into a million butterflies that feel hot like lava inside of your body. “I know it must sound so crazy,” Oscar chuckles bitterly. “I know it must be so crazy…”

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think it’s crazy. I just, I wonder how you’ll feel in the morning.”

“It’s not the alcohol.”

He opens his eyes only to look at you, pupils darting around slowly to find you, the only soothing sight when the lights are still killing him. Oscar smiles a little at your familiar face. “I spoke to Doohan,” he explains.

“Ah,” you mumble, flushing. Of course he did.

He pauses a bit, tries to find the courage to speak again. He finds it in how your eyes seem to shine a little brighter where you’re sitting, mesmerised by how beautiful you are tonight. “He’s right, you know. I feel a bit silly, or stupid rather, like I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Well,” you chuckle timidly, looking down at your hands. “I would have some explaining to do myself, too.”

Oscar smiles to himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath; he didn’t even realise he’d been holding it in this whole time. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that.”

At his words, you look up to meet his eyes again, to see how he’s smiling now, and it makes your chest expand with warmth, heart pumping fast. “I’ll feel the same in the morning,” he says, sitting up clumsily now just to look at your face better. He doesn’t want to look away ever again. “I promise you that. I’ve felt this way since forever—I just didn’t know the word for it yet.”

Your eyes widen just a little more at his words; you don’t recognise the inexplicable feeling that’s captured your body, but you think this is what he means. The thing he didn’t know the word for. But you know the word for it now.

“I think I love you too,” you say.

Oscar lets out a quiet noise of relief. He finds your hand in your lap, takes it in his, and just holds it. You look at each other for a long while, taking in the details of one another’s faces. “You don’t look a day over seven,” you chuckle, and it makes him grin softly.

“That’s alright. Did you feel then how you feel about me now?” he asks.

“I think you sealed the deal when you helped me get up on my feet after falling off the slide,” you quip with a smile, and he squeezes your hand a little approvingly.

“You remember that.”

“The little things aren’t little to me, either,” you say, and his heart soars at your words. Oscar can’t resist it anymore; he tugs on your hand a little and pulls you into his arms, hands latching onto your waist as he holds you tightly. You fall into each other like magnets. It just feels right, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but nothing in this world is truly given this way. You had been working for it your entire life, but you’re only knowing this now.

His lips hover over your cheek, and it makes you shiver, but it shouldn’t be like this. “I don’t want our first kiss to be when you’re drunk,” you tell him, pulling away from his flushed face. “It’s… You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. It just has to be right.”

Oscar swallows dryly, but he nods. “You’re right,” he says, with a gentle smile that tells you he’s being sincere. “You’re right. Not like this.”

He pulls you in again, holding you even tighter this time. You feel his heart beating out of his chest against yours, his warm breath against your skin, the warm his arms keep contracting as if he’s afraid to let you go. A warm waft of air filters through the window, left ajar, and swirls around the two of you, bodies now entangled. Neither of you can find a reason to leave, so you don’t. You never end up cleaning the kitchen that night.

The sun’s starting to filter through your blinds now, and you know you have no excuse to stay in bed anymore, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up. Your brother’s bedroom is probably collecting dust already; ever since that night, Oscar’s been sleeping in your bed now, and you both sleep so much better with a cuddle buddy by your side. He likes to be big spoon, but he’s happy to hold you face to face as well, duh! Why would he upset with getting to see your face, eyes shut so peacefully in slumber? He likes to wake up before you because of this, just so he can catch a glimpse of you so soft and pliable in his arms, comfortably happily asleep, but today you’re the one who wakes up first, stirred awake by the birds chirping outside your window.

You try to slip out of his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, furrowing his eyebrows in his sleep. You try again and he does it again, this time with a grumbling noise that makes you chuckle.

“Oscar,” you smile, press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “They come home today.”

“So?” he grumbles back, eyes still shut as he pulls you in, tucking your head under his chin. “What’s it got to do with us?”

“We’ve got to make them brekky, babe,” you chuckle. You press a kiss to his neck now, before deciding you can’t really resist littering them all over his skin. “They’ll be starving by the time they get here.”

Oscar makes a strange, hushed noise. “Well, doing that certainly won’t get me out of bed.”

You’re confused, but then you realise something’s been pressing up against your thigh, worsened by how he keeps pulling you back into his arms. “Oh my god, Osc,” you yelp. “Just from a few kisses?”

“And maybe a very good dream,” he mumbles back. If he were awake, he’d surely be laughing, pleased with himself.

“You dirty, dirty pervert,” you snicker, but you’re tutting at him in a way that sends a tingle down his spine, and your fingers inching down the trail on his stomach is making him shiver. “You’re shameless.”

“Yeah, but something tells me you like it,” he says, but he can barely finish the sentence before you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, shimmying them down. His length springs free; your eyes beam a little too brightly at the sight of it, making him laugh.

“Someone’s eager.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been dreaming about riding you into the bed for actual years,” you chuckle, long fingers wrapping around him. “You look delicious in the morning, you know that? All sleepy and dishevelled. It’s very sexy, Osc.”

“Ah?” he says, a moan disguised as a word. Your hand starts to move and he can barely hold himself back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your mouth is hovering over his cock now, warm breath making him shiver before your tongue makes contact with his tip, swirling all around the head in a way that makes his eyes roll back. “Holy shit,” you hear him mutter to himself, and you smile as you drag your tongue all over the length of him.

“Babe, I love the teasing,” he breathes out. “But I don’t think I can quite take it this morning.”

You hum to yourself, biting back a cheeky smile as a thought pops up in your head. “You know, you’re right,” you say. “We’re running on a tight schedule. And we could use something that saves time, so… if you’re getting head, you could give it too, no?”

Oscar’s face lights up at your words. “You wanna sit on my face? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.”

“Fuckin’ hell, any day of the week, missy.”

With that, he puts his hands on your head and pulls you up for a kiss that deepens into a little more. His lips are soft, mouth hot and wet; you feel yourself dampen a little against the cotton of your panties, something he feels too as his hands travel all the way down to your ass, fingers reaching past the fabric of your shorts inside to find the wet patch growing at your cunt. Your fingers hook into the waistband of both layers, tugging them off eagerly as he steadies his hands on your hips again. You turn around, and now Oscar’s got your pussy hovering right over his face. He think he’s salivating at the sight of it. Is that too crude? Jesus christ, it’s just so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined, waking up with you by his side, having the girl of all of his dreams with him now, eating your pussy first thing in the morning.

“You’re not so tiny anymore, hey? You’re a big girl now.”

You flush at his words. “Just get to it, Piastri.”

He needs no further encouragement, hands on your hips pulling you down to his face, tongue flicking a long stripe all the way down your cunt. You cry out at the sudden contact, and you realise very soon that he is very good at what he is doing, soft wet tongue sliding between your folds carefully, lips wrapping gently around your sensitive clit, hands gripping onto the meat of your ass, an action that signifies a clinginess you’d never know from how soft-spoken he is. He eats you out like a hungry man, lapping up the wetness that soaked your panties before eagerly. When you wrap your lips around his cock, taking all of him in until he hits the back of your throat, it makes him groan against your pussy, and it feels so strangely good that you keep throating him just like that every once in a while, just to feel him shift underneath you and thrust into your mouth a little. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, and he is, but he just can’t resist it when you’re doing that.

“Fuck, babe,” Oscar gasps out, pulling away as his fingers continue to rub at your clit. “If you keep doing that thing, I won’t last very long.”

You can tell by his tone he’s slightly embarrassed about taking such little time to get there. “We’ll get there together, I promise,” you say. “Just—ah!—keep using your fingers.”

He smiles, happy to oblige. This time he dips a finger inside you, tongue now swirling around your clit as his finger curls, finding that cushiony spot inside you that makes your back arch a little. There it is. He slips another finger in, tongue flicking fast against you, fingers pumping at a steady pace as you suck his cock sloppily, drool pooling at the base, fingers still wrapped around his length, lazily moving up and down. It’s all too much for the both of you, both moaning and whimpering against one another as your bodies start to get more and more sensitive, responding to each motion with a little more volume. Your back arches, his hips thrust; you know you’re both getting to that climax.

“Babe, fuck—”

“I know,” you gasp, a long mewl drawing out of you as his fingers, soaked in your slick now, keep thrusting in and out of you. “I’m—hah—almost there, too.”

He nods his head eagerly and latches his wet mouth back onto you, eating you out desperately as his hips start to move on their own, filling your mouth and muffling your increasing cries of pleasure as your eyes shut and roll back.

“I can’t take it,” he moans loudly. “Babe, I—oh my god!”

Just as Oscar starts to flood your mouth, you collapse onto him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, body slack and limp. “Jesus,” you heave out, flipping onto your back off of him, swallowing all of his load down your throat. The sight of it makes him whimper. You take a good look at him; he’s got your slick all over his face, glistening from his lips down to his chin.

“Christ, I made a mess of you,” you chuckle, embarrassed, but he seems proud of himself.

“A souvenir, yeah?” He jokes, and you push his chest, rolling your eyes, but he pulls you into his arms. “God, that was fuckin’ amazing. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

You pull the duvet back up over the both of you as you lie down once again, resting your head on his chest now as you look up at him with a smile. You wipe at his mouth with your hand. “There.”

“Aw,” he frowns playfully. “I quite liked it.”

“You fuckin’ pervert,” you say, going to push his chest again but he catches your arm with his hand.

“Don’t get feisty,” Oscar chuckles, shaking his head before pecking you on the forehead. “Let’s just lay here for a bit. And you know, I’ve been thinking.”

Your finger traces shapes on the freckled skin of his bare chest. “About what?”

“About you, coming to see me,” he says. “You know… I was thinking, maybe you could schedule your classes with me in my mind? You know, money’s not an issue. Transport, accommodation, passes, I can take care of all of that. I just need to know you can see me. Not for every race, obviously. But some of them. It’d mean so much to me, Tiny.”

You look up at him now, smiling. “Of course I can,” you nod gently. “It’d mean everything to me too, Osc.”

His face blooms into a smile, eyes raking over the details of your face, savouring it as if he hasn’t a million times before. “Then it’s done,” he says, bringing your hand up to kiss it. “You can’t escape me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” you roll your eyes.

Before Oscar can counter with a snarky remark, the door flies open.

“Piastri—seriously? My fucking sister?”

That’s the end! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Leave em all in my askbox, and again, thank you so much for reading!

[superbat-lmao]

A Jayroy fic where Jade drops off baby Lian and they just.. retire.

There’s a really difficult conversation they have about dating and raising a kid and vigilante work and they decide screw it. It’s not safe to raise a kid around.

And by retire, I mean they disappear. Go to ground.

(Talia knows what it is to want the best for your child even if they have different opinions on what best is. She gets them off the grid and funded in some sort of suburban hellscape that takes the both of them a while to adjust to. They say they have a deep space mission and just, don’t come back.)

Roy works in a rehab clinic and Jason gets a degree in Literature. He becomes a professor at a small college, taking on graduate students and falling into academia.

They go to therapy, the make friends with other parents, they become normal people. And they have an insane security system for their house, and AI that scrapes cameras of their faces, and a modified basement that Roy compares to the Batcave exactly once that has a gym and space to work on equipment and a method of escape should it be necessary to uproot their lives again.

Because they want to be civilians, but that doesn’t mean that if their past lives come knocking, they’ll be caught unaware and too out of the game to defend themselves. In fact, because they don’t go on patrol, they’re at peak performance at all times and rarely injured more than a sprained wrist or paper cut. Gone are the days of concussions, GSWs, and stab wounds.

The superhero community doesn’t know what to do, what to think. Because all of their resources are expended elsewhere. And because space is a big place, and trying to find two humans in its vastness is an exercise in futility.

So Lian grows up normally. She’s a girl whose parents love her. And her problems are ordinary, like homework and sleepovers and playing soccer.

And when she’s in middle school, the same age as Roy and Jason were when they started superhero training, they tell her about their past lives. About the danger it will bring if they’re found. Because they promised never to lie to her, and to never let her get wrapped up in the vigilante scene.

They’re well adjusted people raising a normal daughter.

And they explain to Lian that they came from very large and complicated families. Families that did dangerous work, work that put anyone who knew about it at risk. And that Lian was a baby, and that all of that risk of their jobs, was not worth her life. That they loved her more than their families, their jobs, their previous lives. But that it meant they could be discovered, and that those old lives would be dragged back up again and she could get hurt.

Lian thinks of it like witness protection.

So Lian memorizes code names and pictures of people that may try and approach her. She learns the differences between friendlies and uglies. Between ex-family, and rogues. And she doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t look into things when her parents ask her not to. Because she trusts them to protect her. She trusts them like a well adjusted young girl who could very well ask her parents for more information, but doesn’t care about the answers because she trusts they’re not important. That it doesn’t change how much they love her or what their lives are.

There are a couple of versions of this:

1. Jason, Roy and Lian live out their lives happily and away from their families. They are never again vigilantes or found out by them.

A) Alfred dies and that is the only thing that almost breaks Jason, that he didn’t get to see the man again before he died.

2. The Bats track them down, ask them what they hell they were thinking, that they thought they were dead. To come home, be part of the family again. They’re told no - and the three of them disappear again to somewhere they’ll never be found.

3. Alfred finds them, says nothing to anyone and once a year, on Lian’s birthday, goes to visit. None of the Bats ever figure it out.

4. Alfred knows where they’re going from the beginning, he keeps them updated on their families and helps hide them from everyone. He never once tells a soul that Jason and Roy are alive. He is allowed to visit Lian sometimes and they are all happier for it.

A) When Alfred gets old enough, he tells Bruce he will be retiring. He asks that he is not followed, that no one from the super hero community is allowed to keep tabs on him. He tells him he’s sorry, but that it has to be this way. Alfred goes and lives the end of his life with Jason, they speak about literature every day, about Alfred’s parents about anything he wants to. Jason buries Alfred in England and Bruce Wayne gets an unmarked alert to its location.

5. The Bats find them, and never approach them. Each Bat basically figures out that Jason is alive, doesn’t say anything to the rest of the family, and keeps tabs on him and Roy. Once they realize that Lian exists, none of them ever breach that level of trust, even as they all grow into old age and move on with their lives.

6. Bruce finds them.

A) He waits for Jason in a cafe, watches him realize who he is and turn to look at the Roy Harper, who nods once and walks away. Jason approaches him and sits down. He asks how he found them. Bruce doesn’t say anything, just looks at his son, alive, seemingly happy. Tells him it was an accident, he had genuinely still thought they were in space, maybe dead, until someone plagiarized Jason’s work, submitted it through a Wayne Enterprises competition of some sort, and it flagged the system. It had been entirely work related, pure coincidence. No capes.

B) And Jason laughs and it’s lighter than Bruce has heard it in years. Jason asks how much Bruce knows about him now, how much intel he gathered before approaching him. Bruce says he knows about their marriage, their daughter, their jobs and habits. Jason nods and he’s smiling. Bruce doesn’t know what to do. He had checked the area, and there were no reports of anything approaching vigilantism, no anonymous casework, no decrease in crime, nothing to suggest the presence of the Red Hood and Arsenal. He hasn’t spoken to Jason outside of business in years, isn’t sure he knows how to anymore. And he looks happy, he’s alive, he’s a civilian.

C) He wants to ask him everything, ask him to come home, wants to know the man his son became. He asks Jason why. Why they disappeared. And Jason is still smiling and it’s honest and Bruce can’t stand to look at him and can’t help it either. So Jason tells him that they will never let their daughter into vigilantism. That they quit, and needed it to be absolute. That he and Roy couldn’t do this halfway, that if they loved their daughter they had to do only what was best for her, and that meant burning their old lives entirely, becoming civilians.

D) Their lives had been too complicated, too many people, too much history. So many ways for things to go badly, to leave Lian without parents or get her killed as leverage against them. And for as much as he and Roy had cared about the people in their lives, couldn’t stop caring about them, they knew that they would just drag Lian into all of the emotional problems that come with being a vigilante. That it wasn’t healthy, for any of them. That trying to do so would kill them. So they disappeared. And Bruce thinks of the pain he and his family had gone through over Jason, wondering how he was doing, if he was dead, hearing nothing and trying not to let it eat at them. But right now, his son is in front of him smiling, something he can’t seem to stop doing. Something Bruce never thought he’d see again.

E) And he has a son in law, a granddaughter. His son has a family, one he built himself. He looks healthy, he’s not closed off, he’s more open than Bruce thinks he’s ever seen him. It’s jarring, like Bruce is wrong footed. He doesn’t know what to say. Wants to tell him about everything that’s happened, to his brothers to their family, to Gotham and old contacts. Wants him back in the loop. Wants to ask about their lives, and college, and his wedding and his daughter. Bruce wants to know all of it. And he wants to know how he did it, how he hid himself so well in plain view.

F) And the detective in him will always prioritize the how over everything else. He wouldn’t be Bruce if he didn’t. So Bruce asks how. And Jason laughs, says he’s not going to tell him.

G) You know I can’t tell you that, old man.

H) He can’t let it go, Bruce can never let anything go, that’s his burden to bear. He tries to push old buttons, doesn’t notice he’s doing it. But Jason won’t stop smiling, won’t switch from civilian to vigilante. There is no trace of anger, of the Red Hood. He doesn’t look surprised and Bruce’s arguments, about flaws in his code, software, he’s just smiling. Won’t rise to the bait. And for once, Bruce has a feeling he’s only felt around Clark. A feeling of being outmatched. Jason knows all of his buttons, isn’t pushing a damn one. Isn’t letting Bruce push his either. It’s not even a stalemate. Bruce has no openings.

I) He starts telling him about his brothers, about missions and life developments. He tries to tell Jason everything. And Jason listens, hears everything he has to say. And Bruce asks him about himself, his life, his husband, his daughter. And he hears about NA and AA meetings, about therapy and raising an infant, and being a professor and his students about their friends and neighbors, about Lian’s friends at school. All of it. Except the how. And at some point, it’s been a couple of hours, but not very long at all, Jason gets a text. He doesn’t look at his phone. And Bruce knows that whatever spell had been cast over the cafe, whatever bubble of another universe he had crossed into, he was about to watch it close. Implode on itself with only him inside. Because Jason was about to leave. All of it, the cafe, the conversation, the smiling and the laughter, it was the one distraction that Bruce was liable to. And Jason has him right where he wanted him. It was something that wouldn’t work twice, and they both knew it.

J) And Jason says, I can’t stop you from telling anyone. I can’t stop any of you from looking for us, but this was the third life of mine that you ended. Of the two of us, I would go to greater lengths to protect my daughter. I am asking you not to make me do something you’ll regret. I am asking you not to look for us, not to tell anyone, not to put it in a report. I did not want to hurt you, any of you. And you have made that unavoidable. I know you, Bruce, and I have spent time healing from everything I’ve been through. I cannot allow you to pull me back into it, to pull the three of us back into your world. I know that this conversation won’t stop you, now that you know. So I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to say this. I know who you are, who all of you are. It was never a question before, that I would keep your secrets. If you look for us, I will go public. It’s not just your life I’ll be placing at risk, it will be the entire league. I will burn every bridge, every alias. I have redundancies in place, you send a super my way you better be sure to send them all. You better be sure you’ve caught all my backups, all of Roy’s backups, everything. We have avoided you for years without triggering any of your, or the league’s, systems. I can’t predict another accident, but if you know what is best for you and everything you’ve built, you will prevent even that from happening. Do not force my hand.

K) Bruce stands, trying to memorize his son’s face. And then Jason is gone. Disappearing down a street and out of sight. And Roy is waiting for him, their house had been cleared of all traces, Talia has new lives set up for them and Lian is asleep in the backseat.

L) Their lives are busy for the next few weeks, traveling and covering their tracks and looking for new methods of being traced. And they change their names, change their lives, are prepared for the upheaval of being new people again. This time, it sticks. They watch Lian graduate school, college, get married, have children of her own. And the media is inescapable - they learn very little about their old families lives, but not nothing. There are funerals and weddings and probably so much more in private, things they will never know, never be part of again. And then they’re just old and together. Their grandkids visit, Lian visits, life is good and long and they are happy.

• Or, it sticks until one day, a spell is cast in Gotham and he’s standing on a rooftop, no mask, identity on full display, surrounded by other vigilantes in mixed states of gear and civilian status. Some being or other from another universe required all hands on deck in this universe and had used a spell to summon them all here.

• Jason spotted Roy appearing near him on the rooftop, both of them stunned. No one had noticed them yet, but their moment of indecisiveness and a moment of pure awareness on the Batfam’s part, meant there would be an inescapable confrontation. Batman seemed to notice them first and looked to Jason, who shook his head. It appeared Batman was trying to talk to the person who had summoned them all here, to argue they should be sent back or ask if it was possible.

• Jason moved himself and Roy towards Batman, doing their best to avoid looking at any of the other vigilantes at all, including but especially family. They walked into a tense conversation.

• You must send them back, they are civilians.

• Batman, you of all people understand the threat we are up against, if the spell believes they are necessary to combat X then they were brought here.

• I understand perfectly well, I am telling you to send them back. Having them here is a security risk, not during the fight, but after. This is not your universe, things are different in ways you can’t know of, this is one of those circumstances.

• Jason and Roy approach, Roy tapping his shoulder in a way that means he’ll follow his lead.

• He announces, You are in violation of the Hempstead agreement. You have one hour to return us to our previous location before we are a security risk.

• They can hear intakes of breath around them, some of the arrow clan and bat clan have approached, uncertain of what exactly is happening, but not comforted by the fact that Batman seems to understand the situation without telling any of them. The argument continues, Jason standing just behind Roy, separating him from the group slowly forming around them, people pushing their way to the center to see their son or brother again. Their friends.

• A decision is reached, It will take me 10 minutes to establish a connection strong enough to send them both through. Do not interrupt me while I prepare, follow me.

• And Jason and Roy are walking away, backs turned to their families. To their friends. There are shouts behind them, their names, other things they choose not to hear. It is all held at bay by Batman.

• They are speaking with the universe hopper, giving him a location to send them while clearly stating that he is not to give out that location to any of the vigilantes here, that violation of these terms will risk the hero community at large. The closer it gets to the ten minute mark, the more the riot behind them frays between silent understanding and desperation. Neither of them turns around, they can’t allow themselves to look. It is excruciating.

• Roy looks Jason in the eye and neither of them are fully able to stand it, but the fact that they’re not alone has to be enough. Jason can see the itch start, the overwhelming feeling that can’t be tolerated, the one that motivates people to seek out something that will just stop. He reaches out his hand, taps it against Roy’s and is met with one of the worst smiles he’s ever seen. It threatens to bring Jason to his knees, but Roy threads their hands together. The portal opens before them and without turning around, they step through.

• There is a shared panic attack, a moment of grief and regret where both of them realize just how greatly they hurt all of the people they used to care about. They break apart together and rebuild each other enough to pick up Lian from school and begin the process of torching their home. Whatever fight they had been summoned for had not happened yet, so they had a larger lead time than they had when Bruce had stumbled across them. But now, the entire hero community, many more points of being able to be convinced, was now aware they were both alive and on Earth.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

lilia dorm uniform vignettes + book 7 parallels

I was rereading Lilia's Dorm Uniform vignettes recently and honed in on the third part, which reminded me a lot of the events of book 7. I think it's highly likely that part 3 here foreshadows book 7, similar to how Ortho's Precision Gear vignettes foreshadowed the original Ortho's passing, revealed in book 6.

***Lilia Dorm Uniform vignette(s) and Book 7 spoilers!***

Quick recap, these vignettes focus on Lilia looking after a baby bat with an injury. The third and final part involves Malleus chatting with him about the experience. Lilia describes parenting as thus: "There's never a guarantee in life that someone will be there to support you. Once you fly out into the world, there may be days when you go without a proper meal and sleep on an empty stomach. You'll experience failures and setbacks. You may have days where your heart feels like it'll shatter into a thousand pieces. As long as you're alive, there will be moments—many moments, in fact—when you must face adversity entirely on your own. A parent must ensure their child can handle such harshness while the little one is still under their protection."

Knowing what we know now... It sounds as though Lilia is reflecting back on his time traveling the world in hopes of finding a way to hatch Malleus from the egg. Firstly, Lilia (especially in the past) has expressed sentiments about being alone. He was an orphan taken in as a ward by the Draconias, yet he still never felt as though he "fit", not with the way the senate treats him like a lesser being, and not with his two best friends (Maleanor and Raverne) marrying and conceiving a child--starting a family, something Lilia feels he does not have and cannot have himself. There's never a guarantee in life that someone will be there to support you. And that's true of Malleus as well. His father is missing and presumed dead, his mother died in a battle to ensure his safety, and his grandmother is kept busy with royal duties to be there for him all the time. That's why Lilia had to step up as his father figure--because otherwise Malleus would have no guidance, just like Lilia did in his youth, which led him into becoming closed off and unwilling to learn about the world beyond Briarland. He doesn't want Malleus--or any of his "kids"--to perpetuate the hatred and distrust that claimed so many lives and left scars on the survivors.

Once you fly out into the world, there may be days when you go without a proper meal and sleep on an empty stomach. This line is reflective of the experiences Lilia had on his travels. In the beginning, it was particularly difficult due to the prevailing anti-fae sentiments among humans. Lilia was not welcome in their communities; he'd have things and nasty words thrown at him and literally be chased out of towns. True, he's also had to deal with rations and always being alert while serving as a general, but it feels particularly frustrating in this context because 1) none of his men are around to support him in these moments; he is lacking the feeling of being a part of a group, and 2) the harsh treatment is being committed by a group for which he cannot retaliate, so it forces Lilia to stand there and just take it... Both conditions which are also true of Lilia when he is able to safely bring Malleus's egg to Castle Blackscale. The senate gang up on him, isolate him, and deem him unworthy of touching the heir... and Lilia can't do anything about it. He isn't accepted at home and he isn't accepted by the world. This makes it that much more meaningful when, later on his travels, he meets an elderly couple in Harveston that welcome him into their house and home. They offer him a warm bed, food, and, more importantly, they are his company. They want to hear his stories, learn more about him and his life experiences. They’re that light at the end of his tunnel--but those things aren't promised to him, and Lilia knows he can't count on them all the time, especially as he travels to the most remote regions. And don't we all fear that dreadful realization of being out on our own with no net to catch us if we fall?

You'll experience failures and setbacks. You may have days where your heart feels like it'll shatter into a thousand pieces. As long as you're alive, there will be moments—many moments, in fact—when you must face adversity entirely on your own. Again, Lilia is also speaking about himself. He was forced to abandon his princess and flee with her child. He lost his best friends and large sections of his home country to a bloody conflict. He took the senate's verbal abuse and degradation. All of this, he faced alone--even when Baur tries to stand up for him, Lilia silences his ally because, deep in his heart, he thinks he deserves this. The wild bat incapable of love, only able to slaughter, doomed to be alone forever. It's through his forced exposure to the world that Lilia learns to open up, and it's through the connections--after enduring so many hardships, so many trials and tribulations--he makes with others that he comes to learn he is capable of love. As Silver says, this must be why the happiest moment of his father's life is the moment of Malleus hatching. A dragon's egg can only do so with the love of a parent--and Lilia has always been that for him. Diasomnia is Lilia's new family, and he's no longer alone. The problem now is that it's Malleus's turn to learn harsh life lessons, and he isn't exactly prepared for them. A parent must ensure their child can handle such harshness while the little one is still under their protection. I think this line perfectly summarizes Lilia's motivations for leaving in the fashion that he does. When Lilia attempted to depart NRC without so much as a formal farewell to Malleus and Silver, many fans were confused as to why he was acting so callous towards his children. Some theorized that Lilia was lying about losing his magic or had some other ulterior motive for lying--when, really, I think the answer is much simpler than that. Lilia wanted to leave as soon as he could, without facing his kids, because that's just in his nature. As Malleus points out in the vignettes: "Is that why you took the approach you did? [...] I suspect this bat will thrive in the wild." This entire time, Lilia hasn't been the gentlest or the most prudent with the baby bat. He fed it milk from a cup instead of a bottle (which resulted in getting the bat all wet), roughly toweled it off, allowed it to hang in a tree when it may not be ready to fly yet, brushed off the possibility of it being hurt again if it falls out, etc. On a surface-level, it looks like bad caretaking. But Malleus wonders if it's intentional. Because the bat was put through those experiences, it can take care of itself once it has parted from Lilia's care. I suspect Lilia may think the same of how he raises his own children. After all, Silver and Sebek sometimes bring up how hellish Lilia's training sessions with them were. Some of his bad childcare is due to Lilia being disorganized and just winging it in the moment, yeah (something which Malleus comments on at the end of the vignettes)--but a lot of how he raises others is also built on the idea that this should make the kids stronger and able to stand on their own.

When Lilia goes to return the baby bat to its flock, he says, "Go on, little one. You can't cling to my hand forever. Get flying." Then Malleus laughs and remarks, "Heh, it seems rather attached to you. It doesn't want to let go." Lilia continues with, "I'm shaking my arm and it's still not letting go... Goodness gracious. I didn't raise [the baby bat] to be so clingy. There comes a time in every creature's life when they have to take action. This is your time, little one. Don't miss your window." And, at last, when the bat is able to take off, Malleus realizes, "[...] I must say, it was rather harsh of you to forcibly shake off the poor fellow when it clearly liked you. Did you intentionally act detached so that it wouldn't fall too far behind the colony?"

THIS WHOLE SCENE IS AN ANALOGY TO LILIA TRYING TO LEAVE NRC WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE TO HIS KIDS.

In this analogy, Malleus is that bat that Lilia has reared--and when it comes time for Lilia to leave, Malleus won't allow for it. Malleus is the clingy baby bat gripping onto his caretaker for dear life. I wonder if Lilia knew that his prince would have a hard time with it, so he tries to have one last happy send-off--so he can grant Malleus the happiness of being invited to something, to be included, and to provide him ample opportunities to socialize with his peers from all the dorms and make other connections so they can be there for him when Lilia is no longer able to. Then Malleus was late, and the time for Lilia to depart has already arrived. But maybe it's better this way, Lilia may have reasoned with himself. If Malleus doesn't appear, maybe he can't be hurt. If Lilia acts detached, maybe... just maybe... it will give Malleus the final shove he needs to let him go, to open up to the people who are going to be present around him, so he won't "fall too far behind the colony", like what happened with the actual baby bat he raised. This is especially suspect because Lilia makes the same plea to the first years earlier in the party by asking them to please give Sebek a lil' push if he ever needs it. "Just... If you notice [Sebek is] ever stuck at some point during your time here... I would ask that you card soldiers give him a little nudge."

THE LILIA DORM UNIFORM CARD FIRST CAME OUT ON THE JP SERVER IN FEB 2023 ALONG WITH SOME EARLY BOOK 7 UPDATES 😩 It’s such good foreshadowing for what happens much later in the same book… OTL I just hope that Malleus is able to learn the lessons Lilia wants him to. Then Malleus can finally be the baby bat that’s able to take flight on his own and join a flock without his guardian at his side forever and ever…

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Listen. Re:Zero is my favourite anime. Let me just yap about this for a minute.

One idea that I keep finding myself returning to when thinking about Linked Universe fanfics is the idea of [Name] having Return by Death from Re:Zero. I have many thoughts.

For those of you unfamiliar with the series, Return by Death is Subaru’s ability to return to a specific, predetermined point in time every time he dies. The user of this ability cannot change or choose where these ‘savepoints’ are, they change automatically at seemingly random (basically, think of them as the world ‘autosaving’ from time to time).

The user of RbD cannot tell anyone about this power, as the one in control of this authority can punish the user by squeezing their heart (basically giving them a heart attack) or by killing the person the user was talking to. Though it is important to note that this restriction goes for telling about RbD directly, so if the user speaks about it indirectly (for example in riddles/confusing metaphors) or if the listener does not understand/think much of the user's mutterings/ramblings, the curse will not take effect.

The user of RbD is almost always marked with a stench of ‘evil’ that makes them irresistible to monsters, leading them to lock onto and attack the user. Though the smell is mostly faint (not even noticeable to most people) a majority of the time, it becomes stronger when RbD or the curse activates. So, the more recent the death or punishment, the stronger the smell.

You better hope that none of the Links find out about this power or how many loops you've gone through (not that the curse would let you tell anyone, anyway). It would shatter them. All they know is that when you suddenly start tweaking, it’s time to lock in. It’s not that they ‘get used to’ your odd (to put it mildly) behaviour, but they do learn to back off and kind of just let it happen after you tell them to not worry about it. It’s still unnerving, but they don’t know what to do other than offer their concerns, since you never want to explain yourself.

Time realises quickly that something is up with you. You seem to know what’s going to happen ahead of time, even if you try to not make it obvious, you’re constantly planning ahead and removing yourself from the group to ‘collect your thoughts’ when you think no one would notice. He’s seen your mood shift dramatically at the drop of a hat. One minute you’re fine, laughing and joking, and suddenly you look like you’re about to have a mental breakdown or you wake up screaming bloody murder. Eventually, it all starts to feel awfully similar to how he was whenever he travelled through time. And all the pieces start to fit into place when he realises this. You have some ability related to time travel/clairvoyance, he just doesn't know how it works. But he is determined to figure it out, even if you never want to give him an answer, always avoiding the topic and trying to lead his attention somewhere else.

Despite how much Warriors teases you for being a ‘scaredy cat,’ he honestly thinks you’re irreplaceable. You’ve gotten the group out of many sticky situations, so much so that you must have some kind of future sight or the goddesses have gifted you with the most brilliant strategic mind in history. You always have a plan, you’ve never made a mistake, you can come up with an idea that’ll get them the best possible outcome all in the blink of an eye. If only they knew… Now if only he could do something about that stupid ‘self sacrificial’ habit of yours.

When forming a plan, he wants your input. When you say that the group should avoid an area, he takes that into consideration, even if when questioned, you say that it’s because you just ‘have a feeling.’ You have yet to be proven wrong in his eyes. He’s almost jealous of you. You unmasked a whole group of Yiga soldiers after being in town for less than a day, all based on tiny ‘hints’ that you noticed (little does anyone know that it took you about 8 loops to figure that mess out). Maybe you should be the head strategist of the group, huh? Not up for it? Alright, fine, but at least try to not steal his thunder, okay?

Hyrule is like Warriors, but way more. He believes you’re the coolest person to ever exist, even more worthy of the ‘hero’ title than him. You’re undoubtedly the weakest in the group, but you never give up, you’re still out there fighting because you believe you all can win. He’d trust you with his life if you asked. Travelling with the Chain made him realise how much he needed positive connections with others, so he wants to be there for you too, especially given he’s seen your ‘mood swings’ and self worth plummet. He is your number 1 supporter, just like you’re constantly inspiring him and others around you.

He also finds that he’s often healing you. He’s noticed that on days when you’re really out of it, you inflict harm onto yourself for reasons he can’t fathom. You’d scratch yourself until you begin to bleed, usually on your arms, but sometimes on your neck as well. He’s tried to snap you out of it, and while it does usually work, he can never get you to stop for good.

Hoo boy. Twilight. So you know how he almost died? Yeah, turns out that that injury was a ‘canon event’ that you cannot change. When you forced a RbD (in other words, you killed yourself), you found out that the fight had already happened and your last respawn point was set afterwards. That was the first time that Twilight realised that there was something seriously wrong with you. While Rulie was passed out from using too much magic, and the others wouldn’t dare enter the room for various reasons, and he was falling in and out of consciousness, you stood by his bedside, hardly able to choke back tears, apologising for ‘not being able to fix this.’

Of course, he had noticed that smell on you, how it seemed to fluctuate at random but still sticking to you, and how monsters were drawn to you like moths to a flame whenever that smell spiked. It reminded him of the Twili magic that clung to him. Could you have been affected by something similar? But by what and what did it do to you other than make you an irresistible target to monsters? This and other factors cause him to be very protective of you, similarly with how he is with Wild.

Wild is down for your crazy plans, even if he has to admit that some of them sound dicey at the very best. But you have the devil’s own luck and he’s honestly thankful that you’re the lucky one out of everyone.

While he is glad that others (including himself, of course) have high opinions of you, he’s keeping a close eye on you and how much pressure is put on you. While he might not remember much of his ‘previous life,’ he’s all too familiar with what happens when expectations are piled onto someone. Because of this, he’s trying to joke and laugh with you, telling embarrassing stories because he wants people to remember that you’re a person, not a walking list of accomplishments. But should you ask for his help, he’s not going to say ‘no.’

I want you to know that of all of the links, Legend is the one most determined to know what is up with you. Yes, he teases you the same way that Warriors does, but he recognises that you are deeply messed up (takes one to know one, bitch). He’s seen that faroff, dead look in your eyes and it felt so real that - if it was not for you blinking - he could swear he was looking at your corpse.

He once cornered you (literally) in an attempt to get you to tell the truth, but when he noticed that genuine fear in your eyes, he backed off. He swears that he’ll get to the bottom of it, but knows that forcing it out of you won’t help. Even if your ‘stubbornness’ is wearing his patience thin.

Sky is basically your therapy dog. You know how his Zelda was always standing up for him? Well, now he’s doing that with you. He knows a bullying victim when he sees one. He sticks close to you when in new places and should you show any signs of discomfort, tries to distract you.

One thing that makes him nervous though, is what happens when you come into contact with the Master Sword; it burns you. With some help from Twilight, Sky knows that there’s a ‘curse’ on you, which would explain some things about you. He doesn’t like how the sword’s power isn’t enough to get rid of it, like it could with Legend’s transformations. Whatever this curse is, it’s powerful and won’t be easy to get rid of. Not like he’ll give up on finding a cure.

Four is surprised at how quickly you begin to pick up on swordplay. Did he teach you some of those moves? He’s sure he would have remembered it if he had. Maybe Sky taught you? The Skyloft knight was the best swordsman in the group, so it’s possible. But something keeps nagging at him that that wasn’t the case.

You’re hiding something. Something big; he’s absolutely certain of it. And he knows that the others know too. Still, it’s not like none of them have secrets they’re sitting on. But what could possibly be so important that you won’t tell them? It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, you’ve shown time and time again that you’re an amazing person. It’s just that he feels a little hurt that you don’t trust them enough to tell them what’s going on with you. They’re all worried about you, but if it really means that much to you, he’s sure that you’ll tell them eventually.

Wind wants to make bets with you on basically anything and everything. Is it going to rain today? Who will be the first to trip on a rock and fall flat on their face? Will the next portal lead the group to his era? Yes, these questions are often silly, but he genuinely wants to keep you happy. That’s why he’s constantly sticking to your side, telling jokes and stories, inviting you to play some stupid game of chase. Wind is a lot more emotionally intelligent than many assume (mostly because they underestimate him due to his age), so he can tell when your mental health is about to take a nosedive, despite the happy ‘mask’ that you put on.

One person who you never thought would ‘understand’ you is the Fierce Deity. You have no idea how or why, but it seems like he holds you in very high regard. Not necessarily for your physical strength or weapon skills (lord knows you could never match him or any of the Links), but he seems to ‘get’ you, like he… Respects you? He can’t help but see you as a warrior in your own right. He looks at you and he sees that look in your eyes; the look of someone who has seen death many times. It’s a trait that is highly valued among warriors (because it shows experience) and often even seen as ‘attractive.’

He is actually the only one who learns the truth about you. Fierce has seen Time repeat the day night cycle over and over so many times, so he’s more than familiar with the concept of time travel. But when he learned the method behind your power - when, in a last ditch effort, you put the mask on and his mind and memories fused with yours - his respect for you shot up sky high, but he’s also incredibly worried about you. The toll that your ability has already taken on you is immense and he knows that it’ll only get worse as the group gets closer to defeating the one behind the portals. It’s times like these that he wishes he had the knowledge and ability to give you comfort. Yes, he has more than enough strength to protect you in a fight, but being locked away in a mask (one that his host refuses to use), leaves him useless.

All he can hope for is that you two could get a moment alone, where he can tell you that ‘he knows,’ and let you let out all the emotions that you’ve been forced to bottle up for much too long. If you want to use him as a shoulder to cry on and vent out everything you’ve gone through, he’ll let you. As for why he can’t be killed by the curse, it’s because his status as a literal deity is protecting him.

[cybershock24601]

More post canon Rookanis thoughts today as I contemplate how weird their inclusion of Spite in their relationship would be to everyone. Even if Spite isn’t involved romantically they still try to make the guy feel included like they did when they ordered that extra cup of coffee on their little date in game.

Personally I feel like the Crows (especially Caterina and Illario for similar yet different reasons) would do their best to ignore the fact that Lucanis is an abomination now and has a little guy riding around shotgun at all times and that fiction works right up until Rook moves in with Lucanis and suddenly it’s a lot harder to ignore Spite.

Especially since I headcanon my watcher Rook has always been able to tell when Spite is talking even if she can’t hear what he’s saying. She’s sensitive enough to freaky fade stuff to hear something, though it took her a bit to figure out that something was Spite as his words sounds like muffled whispers from a room over where you can tell someone is talking but can’t at all make the words. So in the time between the games end and Rook moving in with Lucanis while she’s settling Watcher responsibilities and helping with the aftermath of everything that happened, she’s also working with Emmrich to hone her magical senses enough to hear Spite. It’s a good skill for a Watcher to have and it would probably be nice for Spite to be able to talk to someone else without having to highjack Lucanis’ vocal cords, also Rook’s a nosy bitch and doesn’t like not being able to hear what the third person in the room is saying because she knows Spite talks about her.

Anyways, now everyone can’t ignore Spite’s existence as rookanis set up a third place setting when sitting down for some afternoon tea and coffee and occasionally pause before replying to something no one else can hear. Or Rook suddenly giggling out of nowhere at something Spite says because she’s not nearly as good at not reacting to Spite’s unheard commentary. Creepiest of all is when someone walks into the room when Lucanis is taking the nap to find Rook and Spite playing card games together and it’s so unsettling for the people who have known Lucanis their whole life to see him with his eyes glowing and his face twisted into foreign expressions, not to mention how strange it is to hear another voice coming out of Lucanis’ mouth.

Caterina nominally ignores the whole thing but is probably looking into how to get Spite exorcised. Illario ends up in learning things about Lucanis that he never knew as Spite is more willing to air Lucanis’ grievances in their relationship which ends up giving Illario a new perspective on a lot of things in their past and possibly leads to Lucanis and Illario having a truly honest and emotionally open talk for the first time in their entire lives. Teia treats Spite cautiously at first but ends up viewing him like some sort carnival side show where yes Spite unnerves her but the little guys actually really funny, and unlike everyone else, it’s Spite that ignores Viago because his protectiveness over Lucanis has manifested in snubbing Viago in return for hurting Lucanis’ feelings all those years ago when he ignored Lucanis’ affections. Very funny if this is how Viago realizes the knife was actually Lucanis’ way of flirting and not some sort of indirect threat. Teia and Rook are absolutely cracking up while this happens due to the absurdity of the situation.

[lqveharrington]

so high school with rodrick heffley, pretty please

congrats on 2k!! 💞💞💞

So High School | R.H.

summary: your romcom life with rodrick heffley <3

pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader

includes: fluff! reader’s last name is Reynolds, kissing, making out, underage drinking, mrs. heffley being a saint, greg being greg

a/n: this one was really fun 😜

You were Crossland Highschool's best girls tennis player. You were the number one player since sophomore year. Now that you were a senior, all eyes were on you to carry the team to states. You've been practicing all summer and had indoor practices during winter until it was finally time for spring sports.

The free time you used to have was all poured into hours of countless work toward tennis. But that never stopped you from being committed to a perfectly good rom-com relationship in high school. You found your mind wandering to him every so often whenever you took your water breaks, a faint blush tinting your cheeks every time.

After all, he kept you motivated to pursue the sport.

The sun was beginning to set as your team finished practice. You had a white towel wrapped behind your neck as your friends left the court one by one, each exhausted but happy with how they practiced.

“I’ll see you tomorrow — Mmph!” You got cut off with a loving yet bruising kiss, your hands coming to rest on the chest of the person before pulling away, eyes fogged with lust before you shook it off. You smiled brightly up at the boy who you learned to love. “Hi, R. What’re you doing here?”

He smirked and kissed your temple, reaching for your tennis bag. “I caught the last bit of your practice with Jen.”

You flush and rest your head on his shoulder as he lead you away from the courts and toward the van, intertwining your hand with his free one. “Gosh, my form was bad today.”

“I thought it was absolutely perfect.” He squeezed your hand softly and tilted his head when he recounted what he last saw. “Although, you were laughing a lot.”

You bit your tongue and held back another laugh. It wasn't your fault you kept laughing whenever you served. A stupid memory kept popping up and it made you cackle every single time.

“I was thinking of dinner last week with your family.” You grinned cheekily and shook your head at the thought. “When your father made a horrid joke and you mimicked him the entire ride back to my house.”

He snorted and pulled you closer to him, resting his hand loosely around your hips. “He sounded so corny. Talking about his mini figures like they aren't toys we found at Toys"R"Us.”

You hummed and let a small laugh fall from your lips, sighing when he pressed a kiss to your forehead this time. The warmth from him felt calming compared to your three hours of practice.

“When’s your game?” He asked and adjusted your bag over his shoulder, the rackets clinking together and the loose balls rolling around the inside.

“On the fifth. It’s the final match in regionals before we move onto state.” You smile confidently. Your team has worked too hard to just lose your final match, you wouldn't allow it. Still wearing your bright smile, you looked up at him, “You’ll come watch?”

Rodrick raised his brows at you and scrunched his nose, pulling the passenger side door open. “Duh. If I don’t, you have permission to slap me across the face.”

“And you know I would never do that.” You pat his cheek and turn to enter the van, putting on a sarcastic smile and gesturing toward the van floor. “Charming.”

“I cleaned!” He protested and entered the driver's side, starting the van up before resting his hand on your thigh. He gently massaged the space and began to drive, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You look down at his hand and the thick ring around his middle finger, blinking furiously to rid yourself of any thoughts before you arrived to his house. “Mhm, you say that every time.”

“Like you were judging the inside of my van the first time we met.” Rodrick squeezed your upper thigh, making you hold your breath before you recounted the first day you met.

“How could I ever forget?”

Flashback

“You’re drunk, Reynolds.” Alison carried you out of the house and stumbled down the stairs to stabilize your drunken figure.

“Am not!” You hiccup and giggle when she made a face at you. Taking a strand of your hair, you twirled it in front of your face, making you cross-eyed. “Okay, maybe just a little.”

“In truth or dare, you were dared to kiss the hottest guy at the party.” She sat you down and put her hands on her hips, eyebrows furrowed like you kissed the weirdest man in the room. “You kissed Heffley.”

You sigh softly and tilt your head back, giggling when you remembered his initial reaction to you kissing him. “What? He’s hot.”

“Luckily for you, he’s sober and driving you home.” Alison patted your head gently. You pouted and gave her puppy eyes, making her cover her eyes in affliction. “Don’t look at me like that! You have practice first thing in the morning and you would hate yourself if you couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Fine.” You huff and cross your arms, wobbling again when you stood up from the stairs. You grabbed on to her arms and giggled when you poked her cheek. “Lead me to Heffley.”

Alison shook her head and lead you over to the white van, speaking to Rodrick quietly while you looked up the sky in awe of the stars and airplanes. You leaned against the van before you felt yourself being moved into the van itself.

You look at the person and gasp, cupping his face at pulling it close to your own. You looked at his features, smiling giddily at his reddened cheeks. “You’re pretty.”

His eyes widened and looked back at your friend with a flushed face. “Uhm— Am I supposed to—?”

“Yep! Good luck! She’s a clingy drunk!” Alison called out as she raced back inside the house, leaving you to be with the man you kissed merely an hour ago.

Rodrick gently removed your hands from his face and buckled you in, holding back a laugh when you pouted. He switched over to his side of the van and drove over to your place, which was written on his hand in messy ink. He kept watching you to make sure you didn’t throw up or fall asleep on him, but you kept reaching for his hand like a baby. It was like you needed to have physical touch at all time.

Eventually, he gave up trying to keep you at bay and gave you his hand, seeing you grin happily from the corner of his eyes. You played with his singular ring and looked at the intricate details, smiling to yourself.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask and hiccup, looking out the window to try and identify where you were even in you intoxicated state. “To your place?”

He gave you a surprised look, jaw dropping ever so slightly before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are drunk.”

You pout again and lean your head back on the window, looking out at the stars and dark sky. Your laughter filled the silence until Rodrick realized what you were doing.

“Hey hey! No, you’ll get hurt.” He tugged your hand and pulled you back inside the van, pulling your window up. Your pout deepens, huffing when he shakes his head at you.

After he watched you for a little longer, you looked around the interior of the van and hiccuped when he went over a curb. “Your van is nice. I like the paint on the outside.”

Rodrick hummed and squeezed your hand gently, “Thank you. I did it myself.”

“That’s amazing!” You beam and mentally praise him for his craftsmanship.

You looked back outside the window and you noticed the houses began to blur together, making you confused. You blinked a couple of times until your vision cleared up, giggling when you caught Rodrick's eyes again.

“Wait, are we going back to your place? I like talking to you. You’re a very secure person, Heffley.” You let go of his hand and fix your hair, humming to yourself.

He glanced at you before speaking, “Rodrick.”

Your head laid on the back of the seat, tilting it when he spoke. “Mm?”

“You can call me Rodrick, Reynolds.” He parked the car in front of your house and dug in his console for a water bottle. He uncapped the bottle and watched your drink the water before helping you out of the car.

“Well then you can call me…” You tap your chin and shrug, clinging onto his arm like a koala when he led you to the front porch. “I’m not sure. But you can always call me on my number!”

“Jesus.” Rodrick chuckled at your words and held you steady, meeting your glazed eyes. “We’ll talk when you’re not drunk and confusing words together.”

“Yay!” You giggle and push up on your toes to kiss his cheek before leaving him to enter your house. “See ya’ later, Rodrick!”

End of Flashblack

Rodrick helped you out of his van and sent you a teasing smile, kiss your cheek when you stepped out. “You so wanted to kiss me on the lips again when I dropped you off.”

“I did,” You link your hands with his as you made your way to the Heffleys’ front door. You look up at him and match his smile. “But not after you took me out on an actual date — “

“Then pulled me to the backseat of the van to make out afterwards.” He cut you off and pulled you into his arms, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“Is it my fault you look handsome?” You pinch his cheek and laugh when he swatted your hand away from his face. “Besides, I know you liked it.”

He cocked an eyebrow up and crossed his arms at you, subconsciously reaching a hand up to his neck. “You gave me hickeys!”

You copied his movements and tilted your chin up, challenging his accusation. “So did you—!”

“Hi, kids!” Mrs. Heffley cut you off as the door jerked open at an alarmingly fast rate, causing the both of you to jump back in surprise.

You blinked at her before smiling brightly, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Heffley!” She pulled you in for a tight hug, loving you like you were her own child. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m doing well, don’t worry about me. How was your practice?” She brought you inside and gestured for Rodrick to close the door behind him. He grumbled as he did shut the door. His mother took his own girlfriend away from him the second they got home.

“It was great. I did individuals against Jen, then we did doubles with the other players on the court. I need to work on some of my backhand, but otherwise I should be set for my game.” You shrugged and moved to stand by Rodrick, feeling his annoyance toward his mother growing the more she kept you from him.

“That’s wonderful.” Mrs. Heffley reached over to squeeze your shoulder. “You two wash up for dinner, okay? I’ll call you down when we’re going to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You gave her an innocent grin and make quick steps up the stairs, Rodrick's hand hot against your back as he led you up to his room. “She’s so delightful, I love your mom.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes and picked you up by the last step, tossing you onto his bed before crawling above you. “More than me?”

“When did I say that, Rodrick?” You murmur when he dropped his full body weight on you. You ran your fingers through his messy hair as he buried his face into your neck.

“Mm, just a few seconds ago.” He mumbled into your neck and slowly began kissing your more sensitive spots, earning quiet gasps from you. “Think I could skip dinner and get away with just dessert?”

“Rodrick Heffley!” You tried glaring at him but were met with a kiss to your lips instead.

He parted from you and looked into your eyes, planting extra kisses to your lips until you looked dazed. “Yes, baby?”

You mouth parted a little and you shook your head, pulling his face closer yours. “Never mind.”

In a blink of a crinkling eye, small kisses became a thirty minute make out session. You fell deeper and deeper into him as your kisses became more and more passionate. His lips covered every part of your face, neck, and above your chest, your fingers carding his hair every so often when you weren't busy reciprocating his kisses to your lips.

His hands settled on the curve of your hips, fingers thumbing the hem of your tennis skirt before you both heard stomps coming from the stairway.

“Rodrick, mom’s been yelling at you for the past whatever to get down for— Oh, my god!” Greg shouted at the sight in front of him and turned away, covering his face with both hands as he felt his face redden and warm.

Instinctively, you kicked Rodrick off of you and you gasped, looking over his bed to see him holding his head. “Sorry—!” You quickly fix your hair and adjust your top, not meeting the younger Heffley's eyes. “Greg, what are you doing?”

“W—well mom wanted me to get you both down for dinner.” He stuttered and began walking down the stairs when he met his brother's deathly glare. “I’m just gonna go!”

“You distracted me.” You pouted at Rodrick as he stood and thumbed your bottom lip.

He kissed your lips before you stood from your spot on his bed and grabbed fresh clothes of yours from one of his drawers, pushing his face away from you when he rested his head on your shoulder and met your eyes in the mirror.

“Look away, Heffley.”

Rodrick raised a brow and turned around, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. “I’ve seen you in less—“

“Rodrick.”

“Whatever, fine.” He put his hands up, making you smile when you saw him through the mirror. You threw your skirt at him when you finished changing, making him turn around as you fixed your hair from its messy state. “Don’t sweep your hair to the side.”

“Why not?” You frown and look at your neck, eyes widening at how many hickeys there were. They were darker than you’ve ever seen on yourself before. It was like a vampire got to you. “I have dinner with your entire family soon!”

“I couldn’t help it.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed a kiss to your cheek, meeting your glare. “Ah, you’ll be fine.”

“Rodrick!” You rest your forehead on his chest before rolling your eyes. There wasn't much you could do now, you didn't even have any makeup to help conceal it. Sighing, you reached for his hand and crossed his room to head down to dinner. “We need to go before Greg wants to be a baby and snitch.”

“He’s just jealous.” Rodrick chuckled and earned a smack to the chest from you. He smiled and leaned closer to you when you made your way down. “Think my dad will make another horrible joke?”

“Probably.” You mumble and smile at said father as you rounded the dinner table, quietly thanking Rodrick when he pulled the seat out for you. “As long as your mom’s cooking is top tier again, I’ll be too busy to notice it and your parents will be too busy to notice the darkening hickeys.”

Rodrick grinned at you and rested his hand on your thigh. It was going to be a long dinner.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[monimccoythings]

Cigarette break

Maybe it's a bit ooc on Logan's party his old age had made him soft 🥺 but I love him being awkwardly affectionate with Laura. Dad bod Logan y'all. This one has a tiny bit of reader

He knows he shouldn't be doing this because you hate it. You hate how it poisons his lungs, how each drag consumes him a little. You worry so much about his health sometimes it annoys him. But making you and Laura happy is his top priority so he tries his best to break out of this habit.

That's easier said than done. No matter how many years he spent training in Japan, learning about discipline, self control and meditation, this vice is nearly impossible to quit, the need for nicotine gets under his skin and doesn't leave until he lights another one.

So that's why he has to smoke in secret now. Not as frequently as he would like to, because you are too smart for your own good and could figure out something's up. That's one of the things he admires of you, even if it's inconveniencing him right now.

Logan just grumbles some excuse about taking out the trash, and just stays on the porch, away from your prying eyes, quietly enjoying his cigar. He feels like he's committing a terrible sin, but fuck, he is trying as much as he can to not give in.

"Y/N hates it when you smoke."

Logan prided himself on not flinching with fright when Laura suddenly appeared by his side. How long had she been there? Jesus Christ, he's going to have to put a bell on her.

He just let out a soft hum. He had been caught, what excuse could he make?

Laura quietly walked towards him and awkwardly hugged his leg. With his free hand he slowly patted her head. None of them were really accustomed to being affectionate with each other, shit he's not even sure Laura was used to being affectionate with anyone that wasn't you. They were still finding some middle term that both feel comfortable with, it usually led to a few weird encounters, but they were both pretty headstrong and refused to give up.

They stood there for a few minutes, which was the time necessary for him to finish his cigar and clean the air around them. They would have to go inside soon, or you'll start to suspect. Still, when it's time to take a step back into the house, he found himself wishing to stay like that a bit more. His old age had turned him into a softie, yet it's not frequent to see Laura being so openly affectionate with him, he would like to enjoy the moment for a bit more.

That's a vice he would never want to quit.

[h-sleepingirl]

Hi!

I've been participating in the hypnosis world for about a year only as a subject, with somebody's audio files I've grown to enjoy. Being relatively... intelligent? (ADHD former "gifted kid" stereotype,) I've loved the way it can be so calming to my head which often has thoughts racing left and right with no end.

Your latest post about being a wizard with tomes piqued my interest and I would love to learn more and be one myself, especially in regards to Erickson who I had no knowledge of prior to today. Where would you recommend I start...? I would love to DM you and chat if the response would otherwise be too vague and long to be a reply to anon :)

Excellent to hear! I’ll give you some recommended reading and info. (And thanks for asking in my inbox, because this may help others!)

Milton Erickson was a hypnotherapist active in the 1900s who helped shape the form of modern hypnosis. There are many mythology-type stories about him. He really pioneered non-authoritative hypnosis (like, not “You will go into trance now!”), and hypnosis where he considered each client individually in order to figure out the best hypnotic method for them (this is the most critical thing and we still need to learn from it IMO). He’s known for some distinct techniques including storytelling and indirect language, although how those work and what they are depends on who you ask. He was a major inspiration for Neuro-Linguistic Programming, which takes inspiration from him but really changes a lot.

If you are just starting to learn how to hypnotize another person, I would not recommend STARTING with Erickson’s direct works (I mean feel free to read about the guy, just don't try to fight through his writing yet) -- but I don’t think you have to wait too long, especially if you have some experience as a subject. I would highly recommend reading a VARIETY of “intro to erotic hypnosis” guides -- there are a bunch, and as you’ll see, everyone teaches them differently. That’s because there are MANY ways of looking at how to do hypnosis and what it even is. Keep that in mind as you explore. I would like to offer my own guide: https://www.learnhypnokink.com/ in which I do try to teach a more overarching perspective that should be useful for learning other perspectives, and especially useful for progressing past beginner level.

Reading is great and if you only ever want to read that is fine, but a lot comes from experience, too. I don’t have recommendations for finding people to play with -- just remember that as a hypnotist, you have boundaries too, and you do not have to let yourself be used as a “trance vending machine” by eager subjects.

In terms of Erickson, take a look at his Wikipedia page or articles about him to get the gist of his character and history -- fascinating stories about him. And then when you want to try, read “Hypnotic Realities”, by him and his student Ernst Rossi. This is THE definitive Erickson book. I would not recommend reading books ABOUT "Ericksonian hypnosis" first -- anything talking ABOUT Erickson really tends to transform the meat of what he's trying to communicate IMO. Read from the source first. “Hypnotic Realities” is the greatest book on hypnosis of all time in my opinion, but it’s dense and challenging. It’s also beautifully subtle and you should plan to reread it ever so often because you will get new things out of it at different places along your journey.

Good luck! I hope this helps you and anyone else curious!

[the-sweet-hibiscus]

I know we love to cast Gaz as Mr. Perfect relationship goals but I genuinely think it's not until he dates you that he learns what a relationship is outside of appearances.

Like you start dating, and he brings you your favorite flowers every two weeks (even though you prefer pictures, bc the smell of them makes you sneeze) because he sees Price do it for his wife.

He gives you back massages (even though what's really bothering you is your feet) because Soap was bragging about how he did that for his bairn at home.

He even eats you out every time he spends the night (this...this you don't have a problem with) because Simon mentioned that's how he keeps his Bird happy, and Gaz knows that happy wife equals happy life.

But he doesn't understand compromise. He doesn't get that you want him to go to the work party and mingle with the ass hats you complain about every day.

He doesn't understand why you want him to stay in with you instead of going out with one of his mates for the fifth weekend in a row.

Because you're still there at the end. He romanticizes the idea that he comes home to you – because that's what the books on your shelves say, right? The bit who's so jaded by life but had a soft spot for you?

It's not til you're halfway out the door, tears streaming down your face, that he realizes how superficial he's been. When you ask him "what do you even like about me? What do you even like about what we do?" And he can't answer.

It takes him weeks actually.

Weeks to figure out how you would actually listen when he'd critique interrogation techniques on TV. Or the way that you agreed to go to the military ball with him – even though you'd rather have cuddled up with a movie and some snacks. But worst is how you'd make his mom's soup whenever he had a particularly hard week, not because he asked, but because you knew he needed it.

Once he does figure it out, though, he's determined. He will be getting you back. And he's going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

[havendance]

Brainstorming the best points in canon for various bat-girls/women to get turned into cats for fic purposes (I am accepting suggestions):

Cass: One year later. She gets turned into a cat instead of the whole deathstroke thing. Tim finds her when he returns to Gotham and begs to be allowed to keep. Alfred says no though, so he calls in a favor with Barbara and Cass gets stuck with the OYL Birds of Prey crew and has to sit through Shiva and Barbara bitching at each other about a number of topics that also includes Cass herself seeing as she’s gone missing

Alternatively: That vaguely at the end of post-crisis setting so many fics have. She is recently returned to Gotham when she gets turned into a cat. Unfortunately for her, when trying to investigate, she gets stuck under Damian’s care as part of one of Bruce’s attempts to teach his son responsibility (unaware that the cat is his missing daughter). Neither of them are particularly happy with this but they grow on each other.

Helena: Post Birds of Prey #80. Helena has just stormed out of the Aerie post argument with Barbara when she suddenly gets transformed into a cat. She gets picked up by Dinah, who thinks she’s adorable, and gets stuck as the Bird’s mascot/pet. Helena would rather be a anywhere else but instead she is stick listening to Dinah grump at Barbara for how she handled the situation, and watching Barbara get the Braniac virus, and everyone keeps giving her head scratches and well maybe it isn’t that bad after all.

Barbara: Her Suicide Squad era. She wakes up one morning as a cat and has complicated feeling about how she isn’t paralyzed in this dorm. She then hangs around Suicide Squad headquarters listening in on people (and collecting pets) until Waller figures out how to transform her back.

Stephanie: War Games. Half-dead and staggering through Gotham after escaping Black Mask, Steph gets turned into a cat by a well-meaning magic user trying to save her life. Spoiler is presumed dead/missing in the gang war while Cat!Steph ends up hanging around either Leslie’s clinic or maybe Selina (I need to read more Catwoman comics), recovering and grappling with the results of her actions.

(Bonus) Bruce: His loser era (pre-Murderer/Fugitive). Sasha thought that that learning that Bruce Wayne was Batman would mean that he wasn’t able to ditch her anymore. Appearently not. Now she has to figure out where the hell Batman went, cover for Bruce Wayne’s disappearance, and also take care of the new cat he apparently obtained. She isn’t getting paid enough for this.

[smilesatdawnmain]

Qi Bao: 

Bao is 6 years old, and the youngest of their family. Bao was born… very differently then their siblings. Bao is genetically neither boy, nor girl, and thus goes by They/them. Being the youngest, Bao has a lot of growing up to do, and a lot more things to learn in this crazy world. 

Haoyu: There is a very large age gap between these two. The things that Haoyu worries about, thinks about, and dreams of, are distant concepts to Bao. Relationships and mates are like cooties and gross, being King is a childish playtime routine for the day, and having the world look at you just feels like- a lot of strangers looking at you for some reason. It was also difficult for Bao to understand Haoyu most of the time. Their older brother truly doesn’t talk a lot due to their ears. But Bao really loves their big brother. Haoyu has this cute little mini drum toy that he plays whenever he comes home so Bao knows. Bao gets piggy back rides, dress up time, action figure fights, and all sorts of fun from their big brother. Haoyu hasn’t told anyone else this, but whispered to Bao that they would be his best man at the wedding! When Bao asked what wedding, Haoyu wrote in their palm, “When I ask my love to be my forever mate- that wedding. It just hasn’t happened yet.” Bao hates cooties, BUT they will make an exception this one time. 

MK: MK is so cool! Like a big hero! Bao like to listen and watch MK’s energy to copy him, mimicking everything he does. One time MK leapt off the mountain side to show off a cool trick- and Bao jumped right with him! They both got really scolded by Baba that day. Bao likes the feeling of MK’s head band and often sneaks it to wear for a little bit. MK usually gets mad if anyone does this- but not at Bao. Sometimes MK is superrrrr frustrating cause they won’t let Bao do fun things like he does, or like the others do. Bao is gonna get super strong just like MK to show MK doesn’t have to watch over them all the time! Plus! Bao’s Shade is so strong, sometimes it can even give MK a run for his money! So Bao has a super tough ace up their sleeve, as Xue tells them. If Bao gets scared or lonely, they got to their Daddy. But if Daddy isn’t home, Bao goes to MK next. MK is a lot like him- how he talks, and walks, and smells. Bao thinks MK would be a good Daddy too just like their Daddy. But MK thinks Mates are gross and covered in cooties too, just like Bao! 

Xiaohua: Xiaohua is like Baba in how he talks. Really expressive and descriptive and just- it just makes sense in Bao’s brain when Xiaohua describes something. Xiaohua is always getting Bao treats and toys, and new Tea and Noodles band merch! Bao really really really loves that band, and so does Xiaohua! They sing, and dance- and Xiaohua and Rumble makes songs with Bao like a real band. Bao wants to be a singer when they get big. Xiaohua one time, late in the night, snuck Bao out to go to a concert. He brought MK’s noise cancellation headphones to block out all the really powerful sounds, and sat Bao on his shoulders the entire concert. That had been the first time they had ever been out of the mountains without their parents. It was a night they would never forget. Bao doesn’t like to copy Xiaohua like they do MK, cause Xiaohua likes to steal and do tricks- but… Bao likes how big Xiaohua’s heart is too. It’s big like MK’s. 

Sying: Bao has a favorite sibling. All their siblings spoil them, and protect them, and treat them with great care… but Sying is different. Everyone treats Bao so carefully, like they might break- but Sying tosses Bao over her shoulder and throws them into the river as strong as she can! It’s- it’s amazing! She wakes Bao up early in the morning, drags Bao out of bed to train- doesn’t go easy on him. Doesn’t pretend to lose- she never lets Bao win, ever. Sying often just tucks Bao under her arm and walks off the mountain- she gets scolded a lot for this, but Bao doesn’t mind. Bao has to remind her “I am blind” and she just stands there all dumbfounded because she honestly forgets! She forgets… Because it isn’t a focus for her. Bao loves her a lot. Super a lot! She is strong, and kind, and her fur is soft, and she is honest… Like, honest in a real way. Bao wants to be like her, when they grow up. She still protects Bao, but Bao also protects Sying. They protect each other. 

Savage: Bao wants Savage to be like Sying and- and play with them! Properly! Savage likes to prank on everyone but Xue, and Bao. Xue is scary, so that is fine, but Bao wants pranks done to them too! Bao even tried learning pranks to do on Savage, to make Savage mad, so that he would prank back. It didn’t make Savage made though- he seemed happy? Instead of playing pranks on him, Savage would bring Bao with him to play pranks on others. It wasn’t quite what Bao had in mind, but… they like it. They like giggling and making little schemes with Savage and learning to be sneaky like he is. Not that Bao likes to be sneaky and mean- so their pranks usually involve silly things like string and funny noises. Savage works with that best he can. Together the two are trying to prank Xiaohua. It hasn’t really worked. Xiaohua is too clever. But they did prank Daddy! That was funny! 

Rumble: Rumble is the hardest person for Bao to talk to. While Haoyu doesn’t talk a lot, he still can. Rumble however, can’t talk at all, so it is very tricky for Bao to know what they are talking about as clear as the others. Not that Rumble has a lot to say anyway. Rumble has to write in their palm a lot so Bao knows what he wants to say. That can take a bit though, especially when Bao doesn’t know how to read words or letters yet. Their language barrier was far worse when Bao was smaller. It’s a bit easier now, but they have also always had their own way of talking. Savage always knew what was on Rumble’s mind and could translate, and sometimes… it was just clear what Rumble was trying to say. Bao doesn’t know how to explain it. Plus, they don’t need to be able to talk to make music!! Bao and rumble make the best music together. Like their own personal language. Bao also likes to hear Rumbles thoughts on- who they are. Bao doesn’t really understand what they are or what “feels” right, but Rumble assures them that they’ll understand it more as they get older. That they will always love Bao exactly for who they are, no matter who that turns out to be. 

Xue: Everyone is afraid of Xue. Xue is very very scary, when she wants to be. But also super sweet, when she wants to be. She is an onion. Cause, you know, of the layers? That is how Savage explains her to be. She doesn’t like how Savage talks about her. Xue likes to make Bao a lot of soft clothes that they like, so Bao doesn’t complain a lot. She is nice to Bao and gives them sweets. She always asks questions about their Shade too. They talk and talk and talk about fun things like toys, and games, and books, and about the instability of the government- typical things. Bao learns a lot from her. She really cares about the Kingdom. She knows what works and what doesn’t- always knows when something is wrong and how to fix it. A lot of people look at her like she is a meanie who just wants power but- Bao thinks she just wants to be in charge because she knows how to run things “efficiently’ as she says. She wants people to not suffer needlessly… She is kind, just in her own way. 

Previous Sibling Qi Xue

(Bao has also gone through a bit of a redesign. Still the same look, but their hair is colored differently)

[satureja13]

While Sai and Kiyoshi implement the Astromech scanners they'd bought on Batuu into Great A'Tuins systems and Skully and Malfoy watch the bridge,

Vlad is holding Ji Ho in his arms. Ji Ho is still exhausted from traveling and the stress over Winterfest and New Year. Vlad feels over the Bond that he is on the verge of sleep. Since they still haven't figured out how to properly communicate, it's the best time to ask this one question that is haunting him since they left the First Order Headquarter... He would never dare asking Ji Ho this while he's fully conscious. Maybe Ji Ho would even lie to him to not make him upset. But he needs to know. Vlad whispered: "Did he touch you?" ... Ji Ho was already breathing deeply and snuggled even closer: "... don't worry ..."

'Don't worry'?! Vlad expected an honest answer from the core of Ji Ho's unconscious - and all he says is 'don't worry'?! Vlad is even more upset than before. If this Sith touched Ji Ho, he would kill him! They are still in Batuu's orbit until they'll continue their odyssey to hunt down Tiny Can and try to track the meteorites. It's now or never. Kylo and Vlad already dueled before. No one won though. But Vlad feels he'd have the upper hand when he'd let his hatred and wrath consume him. (Yeah, Vlad. That's the exact pathway over to the dark side!)

Vlad got up. He's so upset. He can't lie here beside Ji Ho. His rage would disturb Ji Ho's sleep over the Bond... Lenny also tries to encourage Vlad to follow him so Ji Ho can sleep in peace ^^'

He went to the bridge to tell Sai and Kiyoshi about what happened. But they are busy and only listen half heartedly. Time is money and they can't afford staying here much longer. Parking a ship as huge as Great A'Tuin here at Batuu is expensive as hell! So Skully nudged Vlad to tell him and Malfoy his sorrows... Well, Malfoy and Vlad hadn't the best start and Skully is no one you'll want to have around but Vlad needs to vent or he'll combust ö.Ö'

And of course Sai and Kiyoshi listened. Saiwa: "Gods Vlad! So you finally have Ji Ho in your arms at night. Nothing is holding you back anymore. That's what you ever wished for. You even died for him. And then you do something that stupid? It's as if you don't want to be happy, huh?" Kiyoshi: "I think it's very wise of Ji Ho. Would you love him less if Kylo had touched him? No. So what's the point of knowing? Seeking revenge? And sacrifice the peace we just established? What would be the consequences? For us, the people on Batuu and the diplomatic relationships. Is it really worth it? 'Don't worry' was the best he could say. If he said 'No' you'd feel his worries you might not believe him and his disappointment over you accusing him over the bond and you'd think he lied." Skully: "Man. I always thought such a Bond must be the peak of love and romance. Always knowing how the other feels. But in realtity it's a course!" Then Vlad's phone blared:

'Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

Every move you make And every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you'

The Police - Every Breath you take Vlad: "How did you do that?" ö.ö But Skully just chuckled. And Malfoy yelled at Vlad - in chicken... And this how they ended this stupid 'Vlad denying himself to be happy' conversation...

Since Vlad (Jack's best friend) and Sai (Jack's oldest friend) are here together, Kiyoshi thought it's time they learn that Jack and him had scratched the 'just' from 'we're mates, just mates'... Kiyoshi: "Jack and I are having a romantic relationship again." ... No one said anything. After all Jack had to go through during his relationship with Kiyoshi and after their break-up. The nightmares and the months of pain. And Kiyoshi also paid for it. 60 years he'd been suffering in this tree... They both almost gave their lives. Kiyoshi also his humanity - almost. But they are fated mates. And even Ms Coombes had to admit that troublemakerJack is the reason why their precious minor deity/demon Kiyoshi is still with them.

Vlad knows how much Kiyoshi loves Jack. They'd spend nights together beside Jack's pod when he was in his coma. So Vlad came to the conclusion that Jack's happyness is the most important and he'll support him in his decision to try again with Kiyoshi. Saiwa though, is worried beyond measure. Jack is like a little brother to him and Sai wants to spare him from getting hurt again... Saiwa: "Omg why?! You just left all that crap behind you just to do it all over again? After you healed Jack from his heat you promised us you won't go down that road again!"

But Sai also knows that nothing can keep Jack from wanting what he wants... Kiyoshi tried to reassure them. Kiyoshi: "I'm truely sorry. We tried. But he's my fated mate - and I'm his Alpha. What are we supposed to do? These bonds are holy and we learned the hard way that they can't be broken. I will take good care of Jack and won't let him down again. And if something goes wrong we'll be honest and won't keep anything from you. No secrets anymore. I love Jack and I want to make him happy."

And what is Sai supposed to say to this? He knows he's beaten. He also wants Jack to be happy. They are both grown-ups (yes, Jack too ^^') so who are they to stop them? So he just said: "Ach!"

Kiyoshi: "I' would like to promise that you won't regret it, but even I can't see the future. But I would give my life for him." Vlad: "Fair enough. That must do. Hm? Sai?" Saiwa sighed from the dephts of his soul.

Outtakes

Ji Ho dreaming of Jeb again...

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[wiltq]

Shadows age and how it matters an incredibly large amount for his character.

(I figured out titles)

I know that we all know that Shadow reacted to Maria’s death in an unhealthy way but nonetheless made sense, but I would like to bring something up that makes it make even more sense.

I love looking at people arguing over Shadow’s age, it’s fun to see different ideas on what they think his age should be, the only bad part is that there is in fact a right and wrong answer.

I am firm believer that Shadow didn’t age in stasis(literally look up what stasis is, you can’t age in stasis) therefore being the age he was on the Ark.

Shadow was probably only around a year old(in terms of being conscious) when Maria died seeing as she looks the same when she finds him and when she dies, so he was quite young.

I know that Shadow was sort of programmed with the mentality and physical body of a teenager, but people don’t seem to understand how little that means. It shows us what his canonical age would technically be, but it hardly matters regarding his actions. Shadow being programmed all of this information instead of experiencing things to learn it will change how he reacts to things.

He did know what the concept of death was when Maria died, but he had never had time to both process that fact that she was dead and the concept of death entirely. Shadow, by all logic, would react to Maria’s death like a much younger child.

We could argue that teenagers would react better than him even if it’s their first time experiencing loss, but by then they would have already experienced many other negative emotions, over time teaching them healthy ways to react.

But for Shadow? He was told. He never experienced things like this before, he has the mental state of a teenager but the experience of an infant. Things like empathy and grief can’t be understood simply by being told, you have to learn through experience.

That’s the reason why children can be cruel, they don’t understand empathy, they aren’t old enough to even think that people other than themselves actually have feelings, it’s the reason the best way to react to their cruelty is with sadness, they won’t like it when you’re not happy, it’s an inconvenience for themselves.

If they don’t understand that you can be upset, they’ll react with more cruelty because they’re angry.

They typically learn this from ages 4+. Shadow is 1.

Shadow at this point doesn’t even fully understand that other peoples feelings matter, he doesn’t understand people can feel what he feels and he doesn’t understand the idea that people can’t understand how he feels like this, he still doesn’t understand emotions.

And then before he can learn how to deal with this grief he loses even more trust with people because he was put into stasis.

The point is, Shadow being angry at everyone in the world because of what people did to Maria 50 years ago makes more sense than if he wasn’t, other characters in the sonic franchise have lost people but they’ve had time to mature.

[aishangotome]

[Nokto] Love's Cleaning Time - Part 3

Part 2

Emma: Could that man perhaps––

Emma: Resemble the person I love?

The shopkeeper blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter.

Bookstore owner: So that's how you're going to play it. I see, there's no gag order on that question.

Bookstore owner: I'll just say they resemble each other.

(Just as I thought... All those books were sent by Nokto.)

*flashback over*

(After that, I actually tried to press Nokto for answers, but...)

(I reconsidered and stopped, thinking he might have a reason for wanting to keep it a secret.)

(But now... I wonder if I can subtly ask him about it.)

Keeping my eyes on the books I was holding, I voiced the question that came to mind.

Emma: Even so, every single book that arrived was interesting.

Emma: They were all full of love amidst the sadness, and I reread them many times.

Emma: It must have taken a long time to choose them, Nokto, right?

(...I wonder if this kind of rudimentary, leading question is no good...)

While my heart pounded, I tried to maintain a calm facade...

Nokto: Well, yeah. But it wasn't such a bad way to spend my time, surprisingly.

Emma: Eh...?

I hurriedly looked up at his unexpectedly straightforward answer, but Nokto was looking at me with his usual relaxed smile.

Nokto: The person who sent them probably thinks it wasn't such a bad way to spend their time.

Emma: I asked that question to Nokto just now, right?

Nokto: That's right. So I just answered on behalf of the person who sent them.

Emma: That doesn't seem to make sense...

Nokto: So, let's say you've figured out that I'm the one who sent the books. What are you going to do about it?

Nokto: It was so long ago, and now there's no evidence.

(It's true there's no evidence, but I did hear that story at the bookstore.)

(Nokto's reply just now, maybe this is the final push...!)

My heart races with the premonition that this time, I might be able to hear the truth from his own mouth.

Emma: But whoever the sender is, I'm very grateful.

Emma: Back then, my life had changed completely, and I was so busy learning that I couldn't even go to the bookstore to carefully choose books.

Emma: Rio, Sariel, Leon, and the others were worried about me. It was really a good way for me to take a break.

Emma: Around the time I started to get used to palace life, I went around to bookstores in town to make up for lost time.

Nokto: You know, there was that day when you went out to browse bookstores on your day off and didn't come back until evening.

Emma: Was there...?

Nokto: Oh, you don't remember? I was waiting for you to come home, crying sadly.

Emma: ...Were you really crying?

Nokto: Now, who knows?

Emma: Honestly...

A smile naturally spreads across my face at Nokto's teasing reply, which hasn't changed since those days.

Emma: But it's true that I might have been going around bookstores from morning till night. The bookstores in town have slightly different selections, you know.

Emma: Oh, speaking of which, the owner of the bookstore near the fountain praised Nokto's taste in alcohol.

Emma: He was impressed that you even knew about rare alcohol. How did you learn about his taste in alcohol?

Nokto: How, you ask? Well, that's...

Nokto: ......

After a moment of silence, Nokto gave a small smile as if admitting defeat.

Nokto: Hmm, it seems difficult to recover from this.

(...!)

Nokto: You've become quite the negotiator, haven't you?

Emma: So then, could it be...?

Nokto: You win this time. Trying to trick me like that, you're pretty good, aren't you?

Finally arriving at the answer, I smiled, suppressing the urge to jump for joy on the spot.

Emma: I'm growing thanks to you, Nokto. I was pretty natural, wasn't I?

Nokto: Just a little. Well, I admit you did your best, but...

Nokto: I've got a bone to pick with that bookstore owner. I bribed him, and yet he still gave you information.

Emma: He didn't tell me it was Nokto.

Emma: I just asked, "Doesn't he resemble the person I love?"

Nokto: Ah, so that's how it is.

Nokto: When you first came to the palace, you were a stiff, serious girl. When did you become so cunning?

As Nokto chuckled and sighed, I asked him what I had always wanted to know.

Emma: Why didn't you tell me back then that you were the one sending the gifts?

Nokto: Why, indeed? Just a whim, I suppose?

Not satisfied with that answer, I stared up at Nokto.

Nokto: So, would it sound more plausible if I said that giving books as gifts isn't really my style?

Nokto's evasiveness triggered an intuition, a gut feeling.

Emma: It sounds plausible, but that's not the real reason, is it?

Emma: The me from back then might have believed that, but it won't work on me now, the one who knows Nokto inside and out.

Nokto: Oh? That's a nice thing to say.

Emma: Could it be that you were too embarrassed to say so, Nokto?

I thought I was getting close, but Nokto's expression didn't change.

Nokto: No way. I said it was just on a whim, didn't I?

Emma: But to give me that many books on a whim...

Nokto: If it makes you happy, it's a small price to pay, right?

Emma: ! Nokto...

Nokto: Right now, I'd rather focus on getting back at you for tricking me than dwell on the past.

Emma: Eh... Ah!

Nokto placed the books he had received on a nearby table.

Then, he smoothly pulled my arm and pushed me onto the bed.

Emma: Getting back at me? But I told you just now that I'm still cleaning!

Nokto: Of course I'm interrupting you. Getting back at you is my top priority.

Emma: Wait... Nn, ah!

Nokto's hand entered my skirt without hesitation, and my body trembled with a shiver at the sensation of his fingers caressing my inner thigh.

(No, if this continues, I'll be swept away again. At least...)

Before our lips could touch, I lightly grasped Nokto's shoulder as if to stop him.

Emma: I... have one thing I want to confirm.

.

.

.

Part 4

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