#his recovery is phenomenal

[warpedwings]

[nerdyqueerr]

even tho im technically a 5e perma-dm i havent been doing it for long enough to get truly fed up, especially since i still want to run the one big 5e fantasy game i never had the chance to do. Plus I have some engaged 5e players who help me keep the ones who dont even understand game rules on track. Having a second play group where i dont gm (hi owen!) also helps. My 5e players were down to try new systems and although they don't seem to share my excitment for finding new games, they're clearly down to follow me when I do - which raises the issue that I'd like some of them to gm stuff sometimes, mostly bc ive never been on the other side of the table with this specific group and I'd like to try.

[court-jobi]

Hi, is there any Headcanon of a Married relationship between Izuku Midoriya and the reader? Could you write based on the Canon? Although the Reader, besides being a heroine (Izuku the teacher), is a model for clothing brands, cosmetics, etc! like any celebrity.

The reader is female!

ooooo~ how fun, anon! Let's see what I got... first headcanon request, here we go!!

A/N: I've gotten several fun asks recently, and am moving those larger works to the top of my WIPs as time allows. This is so fun, and you all suggesting prompts like these make it a joy!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!reader (SFW)

MARRIED HEADCANONS!

Married!Izuku who -even though you're coming up on your third wedding anniversary- still crams love notes on index cards into your e-reader before he leaves for the day. You have it plugged into the side table of the living room and will pick it up as soon as you come home from work to wind down; so even though he will have a later arrival home than you, you'll hardly feel alone with Izuku's words of affirmation pouring out their surprise greeting.

Izuku writes in the middle of the night when he wakes before you- whether by an overactive mind or a nightmare he'd sooner forget. Rather than disturb your much needed rest, will channel reflective thoughts towards you onto paper- and sneaks their secrets around the house where you'll least expect them. Just when you think you know all his hiding spots, he picks a new one to surprise you. Once satisfied with his "journaling" tactic, he'll scoop you back up against him and settle into sleep.

Married!Izuku who chooses a travel tumbler for you every morning and fills it every time it's empty. Car ride ahead? It's crafted with your homebrewed coffee to keep you awake. Got a photoshoot ahead? Water it is, keeping his love hydrated. You are his beloved beverage goblin and though he finds your car to be a tervis graveyard, what's one more dish to wash if it makes you happy?

This man, who will hiss when your hands are too cold against his, getting ramped up far too easily when it comes to worrying over your health... meanwhile Izuku toughs through the worst of allergies himself with a hundred sniffles (and an aversion to cough medicine.) It's one of the first big arguments you had as a couple: you forcing him to take better care of himself when his self-preservation streak peeks through and nearly wears him into the ground during grad school. He'll start to defend himself, only to be caught by flashbacks to the last time he tried managing things on his own, and rightfully apologize. You are a team, and Izuku tries his hardest to let you step in and give him the same care and caution he gives you. It's a hard lesson, managing pride when it comes to taking care of someone so selflessly, and Izuku is still unused to this treatment when turned to himself. You're doing your best, armed with a world of grace to set him straight.~

Married!Izuku who is a phenomenal teacher. One of the most patient souls you've ever met, which is a large draw that led you to date him! You're encouraged to stretch your ways of thinking, listening to his alternative points of view... and find yourself marveling that a man who's so closely engrossed with training the next generation of heroes is still so happy to watch the news at the end of the day in hopes of learning more!

You've gifted him a notetaking tablet that's meant to replace his waning supply of favorite notebooks, but if you find that blue Campus brand in a shop that's selling your brand deals somewhere, you are absolutely picking it up for him. He cries every time you make him close his eyes and hold out his hands, producing your surprise in giddy silence. "They don't make this edition anymore!! H-HONEY!!"

^^^After a day of sparring with his students -giving them a run for their money- you'll be the one patching him up out of sight of Recovery Girl, everything from a lightly busted lip to each blooming bruise he's gonna feel in the morning. You're surprised he's getting hit as much as he is when he's still renowned as one of the heartiest teachers at UA- quirk or not, he is no lightweight. You may worry over him just as much, but with your honorary brother-in-law 'Kacchan' running drills on him on the weekends, you know Izuku is in tip-top shape. No one is invincible, after all.

Will gladly talk to your mom on the phone~ welcomes it, actually! Izuku wants to learn every little tidbit and creature comfort he can about you, so any nerves he had about meeting your family when you began dating dissolved once he kept that goal in mind. (This mentality won your father over well, to a comical degree once Izuku showed him the notes folder on his phone with your die-hard favorite secret pleasures only a loved one would know...) Allmight makes his trip to your dinner table every other week or so, becoming a ready and available father figure to you while yours lives hours away. It does your heart a world of good sitting in his nurturing company.

Married!Izuku will carry your luggage to and from the airport without a single grunt or complaint (That's what he continues to work out for, even as a teacher!) A few tears upon departure and arrival, sure, but will always ground himself steady in his pride over the hard work you're putting in. He's the one who calls to wish you a goodnight when you're on location for hero support, and a sends a text for every morning and lunch break. Regardless of timezone, he's going to make sure you are part of his routine like nothing's changed. You rely on this consistancy more than life. Living apart -even short term- is expected at this stage of your career where you're needed more than ever to help fund your hero ventures through sponsorships... but Izuku will forever be your biggest supporter.

///Little does he know, you are cramming in twice as many roles to help fund a certain someone's hero suit development, per Bakugou's discretion. It's the one, solitary lie of omission you keep from your husband, but one you trust is going to be worth it in the end to see him shine where he wants to once again. He'll always be your hero, but you'll help him see that realized self any way you can.///

Married!Izuku will be flooding the groupchat with every single advertisement that features your face. Every last one. And there are many. The girls will share you on each of their socials in support of whatever you are sporting, while the boys will... look respectfully and congratulate Izuku on his absolute knockout of a girl. Izuku is just insanely proud of his wife and will make it everyone's problem~

He may be operating on a teacher's salary, but is the most thoughtful gift-giver. Married!Izuku will choose experiences over 'things' when it comes to you, like vacationing to the largest library in the world where you can spend hours holed up on a loveseat somewhere, taking notes on all the old tomes you find, using those classic academia desks as if you were still at the 'study abroad' college where you met... Trip planning gives you both something to look forward to amidst your busy schedules, and takes the financial pressure off you both as well. Not that he won't still treat you to just about anything you ask for when you're giving him that sweet, small 'please' standing in the checkout line at the corner store...

Married!Izuku, who misses you adorably when you're not home. He runs a fairly typical working schedule that lines up with yours for the most part-- makes him the happiest, coming home to you! You adhere to a few sacred rules in your shared home: you always go to bed together, you can occasionally go to bed angry- but always remain in each other's corners, and you know giving him head scritches is the easiest way to make Izuku pliant enough to sleep. He'll nurse your migraines that aren't so pretty, you'll give his hands massages when the phantom pains make them ache. Whatever you can do to give your man some ease into his life, you give wholeheartedly.

You'll kiss Izuku's every trouble away; and the ones that linger, you'll tend to as gently as you can until you can replace the thoughts with something sweeter, kinder, delicately on his still-healing heart when the embers remind him of old hurts you weren't around to see. You care for Deku just as you do your darling Izuku- as they are two sides of the same coin. You polish and affirm them both, strengthening all the parts that have made your life partner the man he is today. That made him him.

Married!Izuku: your darling husband with eyes that light up when you enter a room, mist up when they see you down, and stare eternally grateful on you as you listen and take in every word he has to give and through every promise shared-- just like your vows.

[rwrbficrecs]

A combined rec list for July & August ❤️

Before This, After That by @orchidscript (book-verse)

@dot524: Henry has a serious horse-riding injury and is in a downward spiral with his recovery until Therapist Alex pulls him out of it. I liked the sharp-edges interaction between them as they fall for each other. I actually read this one a while ago and it was just as good as a reread!

The darkest part of the forest by @everwitch-magiks (book-verse)

@suseagull04: I've loved this entire series, but this was my favorite by far so far! The way the author does world building in her fics is incomparable, even in a fic this short! I would love if she decided to make this a multichapter someday!

Count The Stars and Constellations by @everwitch-magiks (book-verse)

@suseagull04: I've said it once already this month, but it bears repeating: the way the author does world building in her fics is absolutely phenomenal! This one's an outer space saga for the ages, plus it's a multichapter, so we get to see Alex and Henry fall in love over the span of several years, and it's a bit angsty, but absolutely worth it!

An Exquisite Temptation by @tinyarmedtrex (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry became a Catholic priest to escape his homophobic family. Never did he expect to meet a stunningly attractive and equally charming, mouthy Texan who would seriously challenge his devout faith. Y'all can guess where this is headed, right? Delicious in so many ways: emotional, full of ‘80s vibes, angsty, smutty—an absolute masterpiece! Chef’s kiss!

How to get over Henry Fox: A list by dazedandconfused (book-verse)

@na-dineee: This AU is set in 2002, and Alex breaks up with the love of his life Henry. Even though it's clear they’d only be apart for a year, the story is still so gut-wrenching. The hurt and angst really got to me—reading that fic is a challenge, but it's absolutely worth it.

late night devil (put your hands on me) by @nine-butterflies (book-verse)

@suseagull04: The way this author took a 4 chapter fic and gave the world so much history and lore is absolutely incredible! Plus there are so many moments of Alex and Henry's relationship that're reminiscent of the book. Everything about this fic is amazing- and it's also definitely a good fic if you're looking for something for Halloween when it arrives soon!

right there beside him (all summer long) by @theprinceandagcd (book-verse)

@daisymae-12: The winter in Australia had me craving a story with summer vibes and this fic was perfect for that. Loved everything about this fic!!

Interrupted (series) by RadioFriday (book-verse)

@dot524: Henry is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, just like his dad was. This story follows him and Alex through their painful journey, including the end of it and beyond. Read this if you’re in the mood to have your heart broken, over and over.

the very essence of love by dollarstoreannabethchase (book-verse)

@suseagull04: It's RWRB, but from Henry's POV. The angst of the original is heightened in this (believe it or not, it can be done), but that makes the ending that much sweeter, and I loved the insight into Henry's thoughts!

somewhere in your world by @callmevenji (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Prince Henry, student at Oxford, tries to reach a hook-up gone wrong – and ends up texting someone else entirely: Alex. A deep chat friendship unfolds, while simultaneously Henry begins to fall for the charismatic FSOTUS. Whether it’s the universe at work, coincidence, or fate, the pleasure of reading this heartfelt fic is indescribably beautiful !!

In the Grand Scheme of Things by @itsmaybitheway (book/movie-verse)

@suseagull04: Meet cute at a wedding, instant attraction, intellectual banter- this fic has it all! Plus this is the best AU characterization of firstprince I've seen in a while, it's fantastic!

marked by rizcriz (book/movie-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: a soulmate AU with some extra drama - Henry learns that the reason he hasn't met his soulmate was his grandmother's plotting. Extremely well executed - my heart was breaking and then singing when it all turned out well.

Someday Soon I’ll See You (But Now You’re Out of Sight) by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays (book-verse)

@dot524: In the mood for some intense angst? I needed like two business days to recover from reading this one. The story is a devastating view of complex grief as different characters deal with Alex’s death. I thought that the odd and asynchronous ways the grief manifests for different people was raw, real, and well done.

peace by @raysletters (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is the Sky High AU I didn't know I needed! I love how this isn't a carbon copy of the movie but uses each character's strengths and weaknesses- and it's also just a very cute magic high school AU, which is just the cherry on top!

Son of a Gun by foux_dogue (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I hope you’ve all read 'It's not a secret' by now? I wasn't aware until it was published, but I needed that follow-up so badly! In this fic, which can be read as a standalone, Alex cuts down his work as a tattoo artist to take care of the kids (good thing Henry is loaded) and inevitably has to deal with the Milton-Saylor Academy Mom Squad. Absolutely wholesome, full of domesticity—just like, excellent!

You Set The Tone by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex is an emergency room doctor and Henry a pediatrician in the same hospital, and their animosity (read: infatuation) with each other began just as unfortunate as in canon. Their gradual coming together, intertwined with the medical emergencies, is wonderfully crafted. The tension is effortlessly maintained over 70k words, never feeling contrived. I was so moved while reading, it hurt phenomenally good, and I cried more than I have in a long time.

pick your poison babe (im poison either way) by sheWritesToLiveVicariously (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Co-workers to lovers with lots of emotion and a touch of angst—it never gets old, right? This 5+1 story is part of the "little moments that pass us by" series, and like all the stories in it, it's rather short, but full of feeling, very soft, and so touching. I'm already looking forward to hopefully many more fics in this series.

Down In The Valley by @aforgottennymph (book-verse)

@daisymae-12: This Stardew Valley AU was such a lovely read and as an avid stardew valley player, I thoroughly enjoyed all the little easter eggs and references to the game. Even if you’ve never played Stardew, this is still such a sweet and delightful read!!

[aimbutmiss]

It didn't take Mihawk long to catch up to whatever was going on between Shanks and Buggy.

And no, it wasn't because he used to listen to Shanks sob about the clown at dirty bars on random nights back in the day. His previous knowledge of their relationship was not needed with how obvious the red head was being at the moment.

Shanks watched Buggy's every move, listened to his every word as if they were sacred—as if he'd be punished by God if he missed a single thing.

His eyes moved down, to the red lips.

He licked his own in hunger.

He looked away, biting his lips.

So, Mihawk was no genius, but you didn't need to be one to see the desperate need and want in the man's every move.

Buggy saw it too, he was certain—but he ignored it like his life depended on it. He went out of his way to act like everything was normal between them, as much as he could. But the clown's phenomenal act had its limits too. You could see it crack in the way his breath hitched when their eyes accidentally locked, or when their knees bumped under the table. The recovery was fast after those single seconds, but Mihawk's eyes were faster. He watched, he saw, he knew.

The meeting was (thankfully) over, and Buggy was the first one to rush away despite Shanks' proposal to share a drink, leaving them behind. The man in front of him was clearly down in the dumps, but Mihawk had no intention of consoling him. He had done that on many nights in their youth with nothing in return, so he had learned his lesson the hard way. It was better to let the man drink away his worries on his own, as he usually did.

He was more worried about Crocodile, who had looked on the verge of killing Red Hair the entirety of the meeting. And even now, after everything was over, he was still fuming in the seat beside his. The two men didn't like each other, that was another obvious take away from the night. This meeting was a stupid idea from the beginning—Mihawk was surprised Crocodile agreed in the first place. Maybe it was curiosity that pushed him towards that decision, maybe something else—the man was certainly harder to read than the other two. But now, on his cigar number-God-knows-what, Crocodile probably regretted that decision.

He gently laid a hand on the man's thigh in reassurance, shifting his focus away from Shanks. "We should go home now. Let's not keep Buggy waiting."

Crocodile slowly came to his senses, calming down. He put out his cigar with a smirk, staring at Shanks head on. "You're right." He wasn't acknowledging what Mihawk said, but what he meant. No matter what the red head did it was them who got to go home to Buggy, not him. The frustration was unnecessary.

"It's always nice seeing you, Red Hair." Not necessarily a lie, but said to console Shanks nonetheless. He ended up doing it again... He still did have a soft spot for the sad man after all. With that, Mihawk got up to leave and walked side by side with his "business partner" to where Buggy was waiting for them. He was probably gonna be a lot more silent than usual, lost in his thoughts of the past, but that was okay. He wasn't alone— Mihawk would make sure of that. Because, unlike with Shanks, when he consoled the clown he actually got love in return. It felt nice, being loved after loving your whole life. He was glad he met Buggy, and ended up where they are somehow.

Mihawk was a man who didn't like leaving things to luck, but when it came to this—to them, he was grateful for it.

[linddzz]

Here an assortment of Facts About Morpheus in the Red Flags AU. Where I'm starting to lean more towards the version where they meet and are already into each other before the ""Fake Date"" Incident:

-Jessamy is the raven he took care of when he found her injured outside of his townhome. He now has a room with a window he often keeps open for her to fly into whenever she feels like it. I don't know how legal any of this is in London but tbh it doesn't matter because he also does not know what the laws are and doesn't care.

- His townhome is very dark maximalist in decor, which tends to surprise people at first. There are houseplants and little statues all over, and the walls are hidden behind millions of bookshelves. There is an art studio room and books scattered everywhere. Very recently, hypothetical visitors would notice a lot of child locks and child proofed areas that have a bit of a panicked "I bought every safety thing in the store bc I have no idea wtf I'm doing" energy to them.

- He has a therapist. Yes, the Morpheus that Hob meets is the upgraded version who is actually working on himself already. This is what the improved personal growth version of Morpheus is like.

Anyway, said therapist is Gilbert F. Greene. Because Morpheus going head to head with an unstoppable force of old timey adorable optimism who will also not take his shit is delightful. Dr. Greene insists on going by first names and Morpheus always makes "Gilbert" sound like a slur in retaliation. Some conversations I imagine include:

"Good morning Gilbert, you will never guess who had what you might call a """relapse into self destructive behaviors"""" last night."

"I am very sorry to hear that my dear boy. Let me say though, that I am so very proud of you for calling me! That is a phenomenal step for you and it's wonderful that you are being proactive in your recovery."

"Don't patronize me Gilbert. I will hang up."

(this ended up being super long so I'm just gonna spare y'all's dash. Warning for some lightly touched on mentions of drug use and self destructive behavior.)

- Him getting a therapist was part of the requirements for gaining visitation rights and then weekend custody once a month with Orpheus. The therapy is actually helping, and he's bitter about that.

- His given name is actually Dream, he goes by his middle name. All the Endless siblings have awful names. Desire goes by Adonai because who calls a fucking child Desire???

When Hob meets the rest of the family, Destiny goes "it's good to see you again, Dream" and Hob begins turning to Morpheus like "lmao who tf is named Dream" only to find Morpheus glaring daggers at his brother.

- The Endless parents are rarely around. Some of the siblings still live in the manor and they all use it for family dinners, but it's common for their parents to be off travelling for years at a time.

- Morpheus is an author and a painter who has a bajillion pen names to go with each genre he writes in, so it's hard to figure out exactly how much he's written. Even before becoming a father though, his face and full name is mostly associated with children's fantasy stories that he illustrates himself, and his Art vs Artist vibe is very Miyazaki.

Him and Calliope collaborated on a series of illustrated poetic translations of ancient epics. Their divorce was exactly as messy as one might imagine the divorce between two passionate artist types might be.

- His downward spiral of self destruction started before the divorce but oh boy did it nosedive during and after.

- When she got pregnant after divorce proceedings had started, there was a moment where they were both meeting with lawyers and one asked something along the lines of if this meant they would try for reconciliation and staying together. Calliope said "no" immediately.

It's not like Morpheus exactly thought they would get back together, but the speed and firmness of that hard "no" had his head screaming with white noise and some badly thought out self medication for months, which ended up being why Calliope got full custody and he is just now able to get more involved with the now two year old Orpheus.

- His rebound with Thessaly was also messy. She was just in it for a fun fling and he was... Morpheus. He found out he got dumped when she informed him she was already in the process of moving back to Greece, and Johanna said he needed to be banned from any more beautiful Greek expats from that day forth.

- No one can figure out what the deal is with him and Lucienne. The simple explanation is they're queerplatonic soul mates. Lucienne's wife Gault thinks they're a bit codependent (not an inaccurate assessment), but is more civil with him since the day she yelled at him to go get an actual therapist instead of constantly putting his shit on Lucienne, and he actually did. (It is unclear if this or Calliope demanding therapy for him to get visitation with Orpheus was his wake up call catalyst, but probably a bit of both.)

- Lucienne was originally a personal assistant. She now works as his editor since she seems to be the only person who can keep track of all the shit he's written. She is also the only person who can get away with critiquing his works in progress without sending him into a fit where he might burn all his manuscripts.

- When Morpheus started mentioning this Gadling guy a lot, Lucienne paid a visit to the pub. Not to do anything so crude as to threaten a man's life if he breaks her sensitive friend's heart. What could she do anyway? No no. She's just here to smile with zero trace of humor and ask some questions while looking him up and down through her spectacles. Hob will later describe this as one of the most pants shitting moments of his life, and he felt like he got transformed back into a primary school kid who talked slightly too loudly in the library.

- Morpheus went through a slutty phase during and shortly after University that was less of a healthy and fun exploration of his sexuality and libido, and a bit more "I will take anyone who will have me in any way they will want me and I know that if nothing else, I'm pretty."

- Him and Johanna used to have a game seeing who could get more free drinks in one night. This had to be put to an end when it turned into the catalyst for at least three screaming fights between them.

Fight subjects were

Quality vs Quantity. Morpheus insists his ability to get people to buy him a single glass of wine that costs £50 beats Johanna's cheap beers. Johanna disagreed. loudly.

Is it cheating when Morpheus ran to the bathroom to smudge on some eyeliner and then stole Johanna's lip gloss? Is it further cheating when Johanna realized that his main method of getting drinks was "act like Adonai"? Accusations that he would ever act like his horrid annoying younger sibling sent Morpheus into an absolute tantrum.

Competitiveness DID overcome sibling rivalry enough for Morpheus to go to Adonai for makeover assistance. This backfired because it made Morpheus hot to the point of intimidating, and Johanna won that night.

- After Hob starts flirting with him, Morpheus goes suspiciously into a Romantic, Pre-Raphaelite inspired art era featuring lots of noble knights with dark sunlit hair. A lot of them seem to be lured in by dark haired fae entities all La Belle Sans Merci style. It's disgustingly obvious.

-Therapy has made him juuuuust self aware enough to know that he MAYBE tends to go a bit hard and fast with romance. This makes him a little more cautious with Hob than he usually would be, and he's doing a bit of "Hob is so nice and sweet and interested but I'm gonna mess it up :(((" pining. Everyone around him is fucking sick of it. He is not self aware enough to realize he's still going super hard and fast, but this time he's doing it while sighing sadly and drawing Hob in his sketchbook all the fucking time.

[newtonsheffield]

Wait... he moves out of the palace after his recovery? Why though? I mean, I guess I know why, but still... why? 😭

Yeah, he moves back out for a little while. Honestly barely 12 weeks when all’s said and done. Basically, Anthony is just… he is trying to adjust to his new situation without Kate and all the help living with her provides.

In the end though Anthony realises that he absolutely can’t sleep anymore without Kate’s hair tickling his nose and her light snoring in his ear. He can’t sleep without her head resting on his chest. And they don’t have to be apart any more. He can stay with Kate and accept her help in his life and that’s fine. Plus Kate’s mattress is way more comfortable than his and the shower pressure is phenomenal 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

[nico-di-genova]

In My Mind, You are Safe

A/N: What was meant to be a one chapter drabble has spiraled out of my control and now become a fic that requires timelines and setting. Anyway, enjoy part 2 from Lawrence's POV. Registered AO3 Users can read here, if they want! :)

Lawrence thought the worst sound he could hear was that of his son’s tears – the frightened sobs when he called after his bike accident and apologized first before even explaining what had happened. He thought it would be the hitch in Lance’s breath when he asked what to do, what he should do. In reality, the worst sound is the absence of it.

He finds himself missing the simplicity of two broken wrists. Now, Lance has broken ribs, a fractured skull, a jagged line of angry red stitching that runs from lower sternum to his hip. It all makes a broken toe look juvenile. Lawrence feels stupid for even panicking over hairline fractures and a two-week recovery time. He feel stupid for putting a six year old in an unpredictable machine in the first place and letting him grow an appetite for it.

Lance’s mother pushed for golfing, tennis, swimming even at one point. Lawrence should have listened.

Lance still cannot breathe on his own, and Lawrence is already forgetting the natural sound of it – instead he has grown familiar with the steady beep of a heart monitor and the snoring habits of Fernando Alonso.

The man is curled over in a chair he is two days away from establishing residency in, head resting alongside Lance’s bruised thigh, finger looped through his son’s limp pinkie. It is a sight that Lawrence wishes wasn’t familiar. A sight that forces him to confront the truth of their relationship, not that they were doing a phenomenal job at hiding it in the first place.

Lance only smiles, genuinely smiles, at things he cares about – that he’s deemed worthy of expending the energy on. Chloe’s dog, Chloe, his mother, good food, the first snow fall in Montreal that promises decent skiing and now apparently Formula 1 veteran, Fernando Alonso. Lawrence knows his son, knows he is a bad liar because his tell is written in the very core of him. He’s spent too many years and too many billions trying to make Lance smile the way Fernando has so easily managed it.

But now Lance smiles at nothing, and Lawrence finds he doesn’t mind if Fernando beats him to it. He just wants his son back.

“His, um, his eyebrows. I think they twitched today,” he tells the nurse when he comes to check Lance’s vitals.

“They could have,” the nurse says, not dismissive, but not validating to Lawrence’s optimism either. He lifts Lance’s sheets to inspect the healing along Lance’s stomach and disturbs Fernando from his sleep in the process. Bandages and gauze are peeled away with careful fingers and then there is the sight of Lance’s mutilated abdomen, just as gruesome as the night they first wheeled him out of surgery. Pink skin, still raw and angry and raised against the stitching holding him together. Skin yellowing around the cut, only marginally better than the dark bruising that was once there. It is the visible reminder that the steering column of Lance’s car, a car Lawrence had given him and deemed safe, nearly took him away for good.

“His neurological activity has been improving since we took him off the sedatives,” the nurse says, when he glances at Lawrence and seems to see the guilt. It is meant as a piece of good fortune, instead it reminds Lawrence of the medically induced coma they are working to ease Lance out of. The coma he was in to prevent seizures caused by the swelling on his brain. Because he’d hit the wall at a top speed of nearly 200 KPH and his helmet had done an admirable job of keeping him together but could only manage so much.  

“So when can the tube be removed?” Fernando asks, wiping at the sleep crusted at the corners of his eyes. He looks annoyed to be woken, like he was having a particularly wonderful dream. Lawrence envies his ability to sleep at all.

“We’re not there yet.”

Fernando grumbles something in Spanish. The nurse, unfortunately, is fluent, “If you want him to keep breathing, then yes.”

“Is choking him. He would hate it.”

“Well, he’s not really in a position to make requests.”

A strange position for both Lance and Lawrence to be in. The first instance where money does not hold sway, other than affording Lance the luxury of a private suite and all the comforts that can be provided while he remains unconscious and unmoving. It also secures a lounge that neither Fernando nor Lawrence have made much use of. Other than to make cheap cups of coffee from the Keurig and complain about the taste.

“Breakfast?” Fernando asks, once the nurse deems Lance safe and unchanged, leaving both men to sit awkwardly with Lance being the divide between them.

Lawrence shrugs, “Sure.”

“Shit coffee?”

“Is there anything else?

“Shit tea I think.”

Lawrence laughs, dry and humorless, “Coffee’s fine.”

If you put enough milk in it, it’s almost drinkable. But Lawrence doesn’t actually care about the taste, it’s more the caffeine he needs – or, more accurately, the sleep he is fighting. There is a fear in him that if he closes his eyes Lance will somehow stop breathing for good in his absence. Like he’s only still here because Lawrence’s unwavering control is willing him to be, and not the ventilator.

“You sleep yet?” Fernando asks when he returns with two steaming styrofoam cups of joe, offering one to Lawrence with the milk already added. Fourteen days is a long time to get to know someone when you’re both tied to an unconscious twenty-five year old.

Lawrence shakes his head and sips from the coffee gratefully, it’s clear he’s been here too long because the sludge has begun to go down easier. “No, not yet. Didn’t want him to wake up alone.”

It’s clear from Lance’s condition that he will not be alert anytime soon, but Lawrence doesn’t want to risk it. He hadn’t been there after Spain, had only gotten to the hospital two days later when Lance was already post-op and loopy from the pain meds.

“Hi dad,” he’d slurred, “I’m all good now.” He’d proceeded to try to give Lawrence two thumbs up, but the casts they’d cemented his wrists in were clunky and his body uncoordinated. Lawrence had spent the flight speaking with Lance’s doctor, discussing everything from cost to recovery plan. Everything had been clinical and controlled until he was faced with the sight of Lance, disheveled and clad in a hospital gown half hanging off one shoulder, that made it all hit him like a freight truck.

He can’t miss being here when Lance wakes up, not again. He had his assistant bring him his laptop and any pressing work, has Fernando bring him coffee, has his wife bring him changes of clothes and the occasional cup of decent espresso, and he sometimes dozes off in the straight-backed chair, but waking up with a crick in his neck and pain in his back is enough to keep him fighting against it. He knows it’s all starting to take a toll though. When he goes to the bathroom he is faced with the sight of a man who sits just outside of death’s door, hollow-eyed and sunken-cheeked. Sometimes he thinks Lance might be waiting there with him, it’s not always easy to chalk that up to sleep deprivation.  

“I will watch him,” Fernando says, sipping from his coffee, “Wake you up if anything changes.”

“No, no. I’m okay.”

“You will end up in a hospital bed beside him soon,” Fernando shrugs, like he’s unbothered by the thought, “If you do not rest.”

He’s right, Lawrence knows it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Besides, he is not the only one who has found it impossible to leave Lance’s side. It’s race day in Hungary and Fernando isn’t in a car. Both of the Aston drivers have been replaced by their reserves, morale in the garage has reached an all-time low. Fernando isn’t in the headspace to race though, so Lawrence doesn’t press it. He doesn’t need two drivers on life support.

“I’m okay for now.”

Fernando shrugs again, and then drops it. He is not the sort to hold someone��s hand and coax them into doing something. Lawrence thinks that’s maybe why Lance might like him. His son has always been stubborn, always pushed against those who try to guide him, or those who try to tell him he’s somewhere he does not belong. Lawrence has learned he performs best under pressure, when he has something to prove, which was why he had wanted Fernando as their second driver to begin with. The downside to Lance’s unwavering drive is that he often ignored the limit, pushed where he shouldn’t, took risks that were unneeded, and then ended up paying the price for his mistakes.

Silverstone wasn’t Lance’s first crash, it was just the first where he hadn’t managed to get out on his own. At first Lawrence hadn’t been all too worried. In the small span of time where he’d known Lance had gone off, but the cameras hadn’t found him yet, he’d been disappointed, frustrated because they both, Lance and Fernando, had been doing so well. Fernando was pushing, ignoring team orders, but Lance was responding, defending, winning. It had felt, at first, like a confirmation of all that Lawrence knew to be true. That Lance was good, great even, he just needed a fire lit under his ass and something to work for.

And then the cameras found him.

‘Stroll is in the wall!’

‘Lance? Lance are you alright? Lance. Respond. Confirm you’re alright.’

The silence had stretched on, the crackle in Lawrence’s headphones sending a chill down his spine. Lance’s race engineer had radioed him again and again, but each time the empty crackle only seemed to grow in length.

‘Lance, confirm you are alright. Confirm.’ It stopped becoming a question, but a hopeful demand.

Lawrence had watched as Fernando stumbled out of his own car, barely waiting until the vehicle had stopped moving before he was sprinting across the gravel toward where Lance’s car was crumpled against the wall. There was smoke, flames breaking out at the rear end. He turned away when Fernando pulled Lance from the wreckage, had seen the flash of blood spreading rapidly across the green of Lance’s suit and knew there would be no response.

He hasn’t thanked Fernando for saving his son, hasn’t forgiven him for the crash either. They speak around it in the same way they speak around Fernando’s finger around Lance’s pinkie. It is becoming harder as the days stretch on, harder to ignore the desperate way Fernando looks at Lance sometimes, like he is willing him back into consciousness with the same force he pulled him from the car with.

“His mother is coming by today,” he says instead, pointedly ignoring how Fernando is sipping from his coffee with one hand and holding Lance with the other.

“How long?”

“She hasn’t said, probably no more than an hour.”

Claire can’t stand to see Lance like this. Singapore had been bad enough for her, this has been her worst nightmare. She visits Lance in short bursts, where she can ensure he is still breathing, even if it’s not of his own will yet. They don’t speak, in the same way he and Fernando hardly do, too much tension that threatens to boil over and they don’t want any of it to land on Lance. People in comas can sometimes hear what’s going on around them, at least that is what Lawrence has been told, so they all play nice in hopes it will mean the kid will come back to them faster.

Claire visits, Fernando leaves. Claire leaves, Fernando returns. Lawrence sits immovable through it all and Lance remains unchanged. A system.

“I will go, text me when I can come back?”

Lawrence nods. He ignores the way Fernando casts one last look at Lance, the longing, the worry, the guilt that is imbedded there. He is mad at Fernando in the same way he is mad at himself, he blames Fernando for causing the crash, blames himself for putting Lance in the car, like they were both responsible for Lance being here in the first place. But Lance has broken two wrists biking, ruptured his eardrum wakeboarding, sprained his ankle snowboarding, and he’d returned to all of those sports without pause afterward. If time could be reversed, neither he nor Fernando could have kept Lance out of that car. Because Lance is stubborn, it’s who he is. He doesn’t give up, even when the odds are stacked against him, and that’s how Lawrence knows he will wake up. He has unwavering faith.

———————————-

“We should have cards,” Fernando says, two days later, when they’re both sitting in silence watching the third rerun of Jumanji on the tv. “Or that game, the hippo one, something to do.”

“Hungry hippos?” “That one, yes.”

Lawrence knows it, knows Lance and Chloe used to play it because he can still remember the chaotic noise of it – Lance’s frustrated yells when he lost. It used to give him a headache.

The sparsely used lounge, it turns out, has a deck of cards stored in a cabinet. Lawrence finds it when he’s searching for spare sugar for his third cup of coffee that day, since they’d exhausted the packets stocked at the coffee bar.

“Do you have a 2?” Fernando asks, leaning forward in his chair, propping his chin on one hand and his large collection of cards in the other.

“Go fish.”  

Fernando groans, reaches out to grab a card from where they’ve balanced them on Lance’s knee. There’s four threes spread across his thigh and four sixes along his calf, both of them are Lawrence’s wins.

“You have a four?”

Annoyed, Fernando resignedly passes the card over Lance’s body.

—————————

On day seventeen, Lawrence sleeps. It is not entirely his choice, but rather his body’s refusal to operate any further without rest. He stands to go to the bathroom, and when he does the room spins. Fernando catches him, guides him to the couch in the lounge.

When he wakes up there’s a blanket thrown over him and a stiff pillow beneath his head. It is dark out, Lawrence is thrown by the lack of light because it had been distinctly morning when he had gone to pee. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, to wipe the sleep from his eyes and blink until the room comes into focus.

Distantly, he can still hear the steady beep of the heart monitor, the hiss of the ventilator, the sounds that reassure him Lance did not give up while Lawrence slept soundly. It is only comforting for a moment, until he remembers the dream he had in which Lance was screaming for help and Lawrence could not reach him. The way he kept trying to claw his way through debris and rubble to reach his son, but the screams only seemed to grow further and further away until they tapered off into whimpers and then into the crushing sound of silence.

He stumbles from the couch, pulling the twisted blanket from his body as he goes, and only breathes when Lance is in his sight once more.

In the dark, the shadows of his face seems more prominent, the paleness of his skin more ghostly. Lance doesn’t tan, he goes from white to burned in the span of a few hours, but he is not normally the color of a piece of paper either. It’s eerie, discomforting, makes Lawrence think of his choked off screams from the dream.  

Fernando seems to have also lost his battle with sleep, the man is passed out once more with his head pillowed on Lance’s bed. His hand rests around Lance’s wrist, an upgrade from the pinkie, fingers resting along the kid’s pulse point.

Lawrence, for the first time, truly tries to take stock of his son’s injuries. He studies the bruising on his face, the swelling that has gone down and been replaced with bruised eyes and tender skin. The yellowing marks around his neck that continue below the line of his hospital gown. The two splinted fingers of his right hand that Fernando has been so careful to avoid. It’s better than it had been, easier to look at, but still makes Lawrence taste bile at the back of his throat.

‘He’s lucky to have survived at all,’ he’d overheard one of the nurses say while Lance was still confined to the ICU. He’d been on the phone with Claire and had to physically hold himself back from saying something nasty. But he supposes, now that he really looks at Lance, they hadn’t been wrong. A skull fracture, major blunt force trauma, the g-forces he’d sustained to his body in the crash, it is a miracle he’s even still here.

Lawrence feels suddenly grateful, to God, or to Fernando, he isn’t sure which.

“Lance?” he whispers, like the boy will suddenly open his eyes. Like he’s a child asleep in his bed and Lawrence can rouse him with a gentle shake to his shoulder and a kiss to his temple. Like it’s an early morning where he can pull a groggy Lance from his bed and bring him to the track before the dew has even dried from the grass, watch him do laps in a kart that still sits on the side of too big for him.

Lance doesn’t wake up, but Lawrence is almost positive he sees his finger’s twitch, curling instinctively in his sleep. He doesn’t miss that it’s fingers from the hand Fernando is clinging to, the same pinkie the Spaniard had made his lifeline.

———————————

The next morning he proposes Fernando return to racing. Media day starts in Belgium tomorrow and they could have Fernando there in time if he left within the hour.

“No,” Fernando states, not even considering, not even bothering to have emotion in his voice.

Lawrence grinds his teeth, “We can’t keep making excuses, Fernando. There’s money tied-up in this, my money. You have a contract-.”

“And? Fuck your money. I do not care about your money, or the sponsors. Have Felipe race the rest of the season. I will not go.”

Lawrence is standing at the foot of Lance’s bed, arms crossed, anger beginning to course through him. Fernando, relaxed in his chair, with his hand around his son’s wrist looks right at home. Lawrence thinks of those same hands pulling Lance from his burning car, those hands pressing forcefully to Lance’s wound, blood coating his gloves and soaking through to his fingers. He thinks of Lance holding those hands, kissing them, knowing them because Lance has idolized Fernando since he was a child and Lawrence knows the look he gives Fernando now is not that of an awed fan but that of someone who has grown into something more.

“What are you,” Lawrence finds himself blurting out, asking not because he really wants to know, but because he needs to, “to him, what are you?”

Fernando looks at him, blinks, shrugs, “I do not know.”

The resigned honesty of it makes him even angrier.

“But more than teammates?” He demands, “More than a mentor? I know my son, Fernando, do not lie to me.” Lance once dated a girl who he was convinced he was going to marry. Took her to races, to dinners, to birthdays and parties and every family event he could conceivably sneak her into. He’d looked at her with the same wide-eyed wonder Lawrence sometimes caught him looking at Fernando with, like he couldn’t believe they would settle for someone like him. Like he was only worth settling for.  

“More, yes,” Fernando concedes, but doesn’t expand.

“He loves you, I think,” Lawrence says, because he has never seen Lance look at anyone, since that girl, the way he looks at the man.  

Fernando finally looks sad then, face falling, eyes filling with that familiar guilt.

“I know.”

“He’s almost half your age.”

“I know,” the guilt deepens. He finally drops Lance’s wrist, pulls away and keeps his hands curled in his lap, like he realizes this is finally the moment Lawrence stops ignoring the truth of them.

Lawrence thinks about asking him to leave, knows he could force him to go to Belgium if he wanted, bring out terms like ‘breach of contract’ and ‘lawsuit’, but Lawrence is not a cruel man, especially not where Lance is concerned. He allowed that girl into their lives, into his own birthday party that was meant only to be for close family, all because Lance had asked. And when they’d broken up, he’d put Lance back together – let him cry and scream and throw the belongings of his room around until there was no more energy left in the kid and then he’d sat Lance down and told him it would all be okay. He kept saying that. Through Formula 3 when Lance would win and still not feel like it was enough because the other boys would say he bought the trophy. When he hit Formula 1 and would go to his driver’s room instead of the media pen after a race because the tears wouldn’t stop flowing and his own frustration at himself became too much. Lawrence would be there, he would always be there. But Fernando was here now too, and he guessed that counted for something.

He uncrosses his arms, drops the fight because he’s tired and the room is too small for such arguments, “You stay now, and you better mean it.”

Fernando swallows, nods, “Okay.”

Felipe and Stoffel race in Spa on Sunday.

——————————

By week four, Lawrence is beginning to lose it. He’s become immune to the antiseptic smell of the hospital, the bland taste of the cafeteria food, the beeping of machinery that keeps Lance alive. It all becomes background noise, until he’s numb to it all, just existing. The coffee doesn’t taste bad anymore, it tastes like nothing at all.

He watches Jumanji for the sixth time and finds that the film is growing on him.

Fernando has not left.

“So how did it start?” Lawrence asks one night. He’s twirling hospital spaghetti on a fork, picking at hamburger meat listlessly with the metal prongs.

Fernando slurps one of the noodles, “Me and him?” he asks, pointing to Lance with his own silverware.

Lawrence nods. He has gone past avoiding the topic to wanting to understand it.

“Um,” Fernando starts, “Bahrain, I think.”

“This year?”

“No, uh, last.”

So when Fernando had sang Lance’s praises to the cameras. Lawrence had assumed that was all for show. He’d been warned of the drivers poor sportsmanship, his un-teammate-like behavior.

“So you weren’t trying to impress me?”

“No I was,” Fernando admits, “wanted you to think you had gotten your money’s worth at first.”

Fernando had not come cheap, but he still wasn’t as much as Newey was shaping up to be. He’d taken a good chunk from Lawrence, but not enough that he would seem like a bad investment so early on. He maybe had been laying the groundwork for a contract extension, if the car proved to be a challenger.

“So when did it-?”

“Become serious? Summer break.”

Lawrence thinks he remembers that, Lance mentioning something about a yacht, his voice lilting with obvious joy over the phone. You could hear when Lance smiled, his voice changing with the shape of it. They’d had lunch a few days later and there was an obvious mark on Lance’s neck, something he kept trying to hide with a hand when he would lean an elbow on the table and rest his neck against his palm. Lawrence didn’t care to know about his son’s sex life, in the same way he cared little about Chloe’s, he cared only that both of his kids were happy. And at the time, Lance had seemed to be. He hadn’t questioned it past that, even when he'd seen Fernando’s name pop up as a text notification on Lance’s phone and seen the way Lance blushed over his salmon and orzo.

“And you’ve talked about it, you and him? About the future? He’s young, Fernando. He can make his own choices, yes, but I don’t know if he’s thinking in the long-term yet, not really.”

He doesn’t meant to imply Fernando is old, but they’ve both been twenty-five, both known how it seems like you are weathered and just beginning all at once. Like you have the answers, you just haven’t figured out where to apply them yet.

Fernando bites at another noodle, “Yes, we have talked. Some. But it’s not- we are not- I don’t know.”

“Serious?”

“Maybe.”

“But you’re here. You don’t have to be.”

“It’s serious enough for this. I need to be here, when he wakes up, not racing circles. I would be no good in the car right now. My head is-“ he motions vaguely in the air with his fork, a piece of tomato soaked hamburger falls off of it and plops onto the white linens of Lance’s sheets. Lawrence understands that. Can respect it even. He also maybe isn’t the one to judge a relationship. Not with a divorce under his belt and his own wife younger than him. He just has the inherent need to make sure Lance is safe, cared for. He’s had the same need since he first held Chloe in his arms and realized what it was to be a father.

Fernando picks up the hamburger, drops if back onto his own plate, but the red stain it leaves behind stays.

————————

Twenty-nine days after Lance’s crash Lawrence is returning from making his daily Keurig coffee, stirring the milk into the sludge with a stir stick when he looks up to see Lance blinking back at him.

The cup falls from his hands, splatters against the linoleum and spreads in a puddle across the floor. Specks of it land on his dress pants, some of it on his hands, he hardly notices the burn of it. Lance, bleary-eyed and groggy stares at him, blinks slowly.

“Lance,” Lawrence sobs. Lance’s eyebrows furrow, the movement so startling because he has been without any for so long that Lawrence cannot help the strangled sound that escapes him. The noise pulls Fernando from his sleep, he lifts his head from the bed and looks from Lawrence to Lance before letting out a cry of his own.

Lance lifts a lethargic hand to the tubing at his mouth, tries to pull it out with muddled fingers.

“Aye, no,” Fernando panics, pulling Lance’s finger away and trapping them in his own grip, “We’ll get someone, we take it out now, yes?”

Lance nods, makes a choked sound around the polyvinyl. His fingers curl around Fernando’s hand, gripping, responding to the touch. Lawrence can’t stop looking at the movement as he stumbles for the call button beside Lance’s bed. He can’t stop shaking. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” Fernando soothes, brushing Lance’s hair back from his forehead in an intimately calming gesture.

Lance’s panicked breathing through his nose worsens. He looks from Fernando to Lawrence with ever-widening eyes.

“You’re okay, son,” Lawrence tries, kneeling beside Lance’s bed and pressing a firm hand to his shoulder when Lance tries to rise against the wires and tubing keeping him down.

The coffee soaks into the knee of his pants. Lance chokes again.

“You’re okay,” they both repeat, hoping that it will be true.  

[apple-and-berry]

My thoughts on the Saudi Arabian GP 24

I am in complete awe of Max Verstappen and seeing him race makes me think why didn't I get into f1 earlier so I could have watched his whole journey. He was phenomenal. Those who called the race boring, I just want to tell them the race wasn't boring Max is just that good. Also when he was asked how does he feels with his 100th podium and he replied saying it's also 88 missed podiums, I wasn't expecting that answer but I understand. I just want to say Max I only have one heart how many times are you're going to win it.

Charles Leclerc started P2 and I was hoping for him to maintain that, don't know what happened there but nonetheless happy for him.

I was shocked with the reveal of Carlos appendicitis and was sad to not see him in the race. Wishing him a speedy recovery. Also apparently this also goes back to Alex Albon's appendicitis. I need someone to explain me that. I was hoping for a double podium for Ferrari but okay next time.

Also Ollie Bearman did a great job considering his hasty entry to f1. I am looking forward to what he does in future because he's got potential. Well deserved driver of the day.

Special mention to McLaren boys, Lando and Oscar were so good. They were amazing and I am hoping podiums for them.

Alpine or Al-pain, they are not looking good.

The best part of the race was Kevin Magnussen's big brain energy to get Haas points. It was weirdly funny to watch.

[letsquestjess]

A Brother in Need

Summary: Echo struggles after returning from Skako Minor, but his brothers are there for him.

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: While there are no graphic descriptions, the Citadel and Skako Minor are briefly mentioned.

A/N: This one was written for @swprequels-big-bang! Can't wait for you all to see the art to go with it. It is phenomenal and I love it!

-- -- -- -- --

In the hushed atmosphere of the medical room, Echo couldn’t shake the unease, as if the stillness masked an imminent awakening of the dormant machines. After previous checkups had caused him more stress than was beneficial, the medics minimised the use of technological equipment, and in the rare circumstances it was required, he was not alone for a single second. 

His grip on the edge of the medical cot tightened. Occasionally, the scomp link attached to his other arm would disrupt his sense of balance. The staff promised him that his body would adapt, but the discomfort made it seem like an everlasting struggle. Each day, he pushed himself to the limit, desperate to reclaim his former strength and abilities, only to be met with failure at every turn. 

“Almost done,” clone medic Zel said, working swiftly. 

A wedge of blue light emitted from the hovering AZ unit and Echo kept his head drooped as it conducted the scans. With practise, he found if he averted his gaze and directed his attention away from the mechanical hum, he could cope long enough to complete his medical checks.  

“The difficult bit is over,” the medic assured him, collecting the reports from the droid and dismissing it from the room. “All I need is a blood sample, and then you’re good to go.” 

Zel acted with deft precision as he covered the back of the proffered hand with the cylinder and applied pressure to the syringe. As soon as he connected the specimen to the console, the monitor on the far wall lit up, flashing and stabilising into a solid green. 

Examining each result individually, he reviewed the list and returned to his patient with a comforting smile. “Your vital signs appear to be within the normal range, but I’m going to keep you on minimal training for another week and then reassess. Don’t want to cause more strain.” 

Echo acknowledged the medic’s terms with a meagre nod. 

“How has the past week been for you?” Zel inquired, as he tidied up the medical apparatus and disposed of empty packets in the correct bins. 

“Fine,” Echo replied, silently hoping that his prompt response wouldn’t betray the lie. Although he was far from fine, he intended to proceed with his routine so long as he met the requirements. 

“Have you been training regularly?”

“I have.” 

“And how have you coped with that?”

Echo grew silent, his throat bobbing with a grim gulp and his mouth becoming dry. Zel posed that question to him every checkup, and each time he faltered or contemplated lying, the medic waited, never pressuring him for a response. His duty as a brother held priority when not in emergency situations, and Echo conceded the truth was the only way to get the help he needed. “Not so fine,” he confessed. 

“Recovery isn’t a quick process,” Zel said. “It’s like learning everything all over again.”

“I’m trying, I really am, but… I just…”

Zel drew up a chair and took a seat beside the medical cot, noting Echo’s tight hold on the bedframe and the restless flicker of his eyes. “No rush. Take a breath.”

Inhaling against the pounding of his heart, Echo loosened his grasp and nestled his hand in his lap. He had no reason to be embarrassed in front of his brother, but the notion he could not carry out his duty filled him with a shame so intense it clenched at his soul. “I… trip a lot, stumble over nothing. I’m getting strange pains at the worst times during training. Although my new squad is supportive and assures me I’m not failing them, I know I am. Most of the time, I struggle to keep pace, and they have to take on extra to get us through the simulations.” His gaze dropped to the scomp link, mourning everything that was taken from him. 

“I won’t insist that you stop training unless it becomes too much to handle,” Zel said. “If that happens, I expect you to return here. It might help if you make a note of when the pains happen. Could be something with the prosthetics that need a bit of tweaking, but you’re doing well. And just so you know, you are not disappointing anyone. You joined Clone Force 99, right?” At Echo’s hum in response, he grinned. “I’ve heard they have unconventional methods, but if they are backing you up, maybe you should reciprocate that trust. Is there a particular squad mate who will listen?” 

“They all would,” Echo replied without hesitation. “I might get a few sarcastic comments, but I think that’s their way of showing they care.”

Rising from his seat, Zel returned the chair to the console and signed the datapad to approve of the results. “When an enemy is marching towards you, it’s not always possible to hold the line alone,” he said. “The principle applies to any form of recovery. You’ve got to do a lot of the work on your own, but not all of it. Let your squad assist you. You’ll get there. Just takes time.”

* * *

Sleep shunned him. He was unable to find rest, never mind a shred of sleep in the swarm of thoughts. Regardless of how much he swatted them aside or composed his breathing, they always crept back in, peering to check if he was aware before hurtling at him at full speed. 

If he could settle at night and handle the noise during the day, he wouldn’t have been bothered, but his mental haze had no sense of time or compassion. He would often recall the blaster smoke scent or find himself involuntarily retracing his steps towards the ill-fated spacecraft, prepared to defend his Jedi comrades and brothers. His footfalls reverberated, compelling him to the ramp, until... 

Resigning himself to another sleepless night, he lowered his legs from the bunk. He wobbled from the impact, still getting used to his prosthetics and afforded himself a moment to regain his balance. Even sitting had become an act he had to think about before he did. 

He scrubbed his face with his palms and lifted his head. A dull glow washed across the central table. Had he been so engrossed in his own thoughts to not notice Tech at the workbench? To grant himself some credit, the intelligent clone was usually rather quiet at night when he tinkered with his latest projects, mindful of the squad in their slumber. 

“Apologies if I disturbed you,” Tech murmured, the glass of his goggles capturing the sheen of the welding tool pinched in his grasp. Metal melted beneath the precise tip, cooled by a second, shorter instrument. “My brothers can sleep through almost anything.” 

“I’m not usually a light sleeper,” Echo replied quietly. “I mean, I wasn’t before…” He pointed at the connectors implanted into his skull and drank in the tepid skim of conditioned air. A delicate breeze tickled his nose and chilled the skin surrounding the embedded machinery that kept him alive. He held onto every sensation, hoping it would anchor him in the present and maintain his concentration on his mission. 

His wrists dangled from his parted legs, his head bowed and his body exhausted beyond its capacity. Zel’s advice leaked into the dense mist in his mind. Trust them, he told himself. They are your squad. Your brothers. They support you as much as you support them. 

“I go to bed but rarely sleep,” he said. “Hardly get the sensation of needing rest like I used to. Sometimes, I drift for a few hours, but it doesn’t last long.” Determined not to fester in the stuffy bunk, he shoved himself up from the thin mattress and made his way over to the table, collapsing into the seat across from the preoccupied clone. 

“That will be your cybernetics,” Tech said. 

“I gathered that.” Echo placed his scomp link onto the counter to alleviate a little of the pressure in his shoulder. Upon his return, he barely allowed himself any time to recuperate before immersing himself in retraining. A soldier at heart and a proud defender of the Republic, he used every stumble and fall as a reminder to stay focused. 

However, amidst the grumbles and the effort it took to push himself up again, within the measured breaths to soothe his irritation, he was reminded of the fact that he was no longer the man he once was. His body had been altered, parts of him removed and replaced with metal, cold and biting. 

Tech moved the tools aside and wiped away the leftover mineral powder from the curved device he had been constructing. With studious care, he began to file at the sharper edges. “If you would find it useful to discuss the challenges you’re facing, my work doesn’t require much concentration at this point.”

At that tiny allowance, words poured from Echo in a way they never had before. The floodgates of his thoughts burst open, unrestrained, tugging at the burden on his chest and lifting each cumbersome strain. The relief of being home, the grief at the news about Fives, and the fear of not living up to his past achievements whispered through the night like sacred secrets. In the end, he felt a sense of liberation as he plucked them out of his head and set them down before him to process. 

“I am sure that you have already been told this, but it will take patience for you to adjust,” Tech spoke once Echo had spilled out his soul. “Not just to a new body, but a new squad and new surroundings. We work… differently to most.”

“Different isn’t a bad thing,” Echo said. 

Tech’s lips curved in agreement and he stepped away from the bench, presenting his latest project to his teammate for inspection. “Can I ensure this fits before I complete the final alterations? You will not feel any discomfort.”

“Sure. But what is it?” 

“It is a piece of headgear that should help with the issues you have been having,” Tech responded, fastening it around the back of Echo’s head and removing it a few seconds later once he was content with the sizing. “I am certain that the implants are contributing to your difficulties, but this will isolate those problems and facilitate a stronger connection between your body and the cybernetic aspects.”

Echo observed him as he perched on the table, fine tuning the device. Tech had been working on this project for weeks, devoting the majority of his free time to finishing it. And it was for him. All those hours, those late nights, the quiet moments alone had been all for his benefit. “You’ve made this for me?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Tech said, as if it were the most clear-cut thing in the entire galaxy. “You are our brother. Why would we not help you?” 

At a loss for words, Echo sat in stunned silence. 

“I believe the slips you have been experiencing during simulation training are due to a disconnect between your neural relay and your prosthetics,” Tech continued, “but this headpiece is designed to assist you with that.”

“I… Thank you,” Echo said. “It, uh… it means a lot. I’ll leave you to it.” Getting up from the bench, he turned back to his goggled brother and smiled. “Don’t stay up too much longer. If Hunter finds out, he won’t be pleased.”

“He will not mind,” Tech assured him. “Not since I am helping a brother in need.” 

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 30

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Here, taste this, tell me what it needs.’

Kara accepted the offered spoon and blew on it before taking the sauce onto her tongue with the considering look of a connoisseur.

‘Hmm… a tiny bit more oregano I think. And a couple of squares of that super intense dark chocolate you think I haven’t discovered yet.’

Lena chuckled, going to fetch the ingredients Kara had suggested.

‘That’ll teach me to think I can hide chocolate from you. I only bought it yesterday, you’re like a blood hound.’

‘What can I say, I take a healthy interest in my snack options. Your chocolate is pretty safe though – I maintain that candy really shouldn’t be bitter. Well, except when you’re adding it to a savoury recipe, then that 90% cocoa stuff is perfect.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

Lena knew that the idea of adding cocoa to savoury dishes was hardly a new one, but it still felt instinctively wrong to be dropping squares of chocolate into her marinara, the smell of it as it melted mingling with the tomato and herbs in a blend that was frankly confusing to her senses. It was not a choice she would have made on her own, but she had come to trust Kara’s instincts when it came to flavour.

After a few days of take out and easy freezer-to-oven dinners, Lena had insisted on cooking proper meals (because pot stickers and pizza alone were not nutritionally balanced enough to aid a speedy recovery, even if they did technically contain vegetables), and over time cooking together had become a welcome part of their evening routine. To begin with Kara just sat nearby while Lena cooked, reading aloud to her from whatever book Lena had on the go at the time, or else exchanging stories about what they had each been up to during the day; but as her pain diminished and she started to regain more use of her wrist, Kara had begun to take an interest in the cooking process itself.

After the pancake disaster Lena had (not unreasonably, she thought) felt some trepidation the first time Kara had offered to help make dinner, but they quickly discovered that, as long as Lena took over all charge of the process, they actually made an amazing team. Lena had always enjoyed cooking for herself when she could find the time (she found great satisfaction in taking unrelated parts and bringing them together to make something new and better, whether it was an image inducer or a mushroom and stilton tarte tatin), but it was Kara that was the real surprise. She made short work of anything that needed chopping, grating or mashing and acted as an enthusiastic sous chef for any dish Lena suggested they try, but she really came into her own when it came to flavour combinations, and was inevitably the one to suggest the exact missing ingredient to elevate whatever dish they were making from mere ordinary week night filler to something that could be served with pride at any dinner party.

As usual, once the chocolate was fully stirred in and the sauce had had a few more minutes to combine, Lena found that Kara’s recommendation had been spot on. Her additions added a depth and richness that had been missing before, and nicely balanced out the acidity of the tomatoes to create something that tasted truly phenomenal.

‘Okay, that’s amazing. How did you know that would work?’

Kara grinned and shrugged, half smug, half bashfully pleased with the compliment.

‘I guess there have to be some advantages to basically being a walking stomach. I’ve tried a lot of different flavours, and I pay attention to what makes things go well together.’

‘Well, I’m impressed. I grew up in a house with a professional chef on staff, and some of your dishes could rival his.’

‘Not without you they couldn’t. I get too distracted when I’m cooking, and either eat half the ingredients as I go or else mess up my timings and end up with a burned crust at the bottom of the pan.’

‘We’re the dream team.’

‘Yup!’

Lena couldn’t help thinking how many other things that applied to in their new shared experience beyond simple meal prep. Now they had settled in and Kara was able to do more for herself, living together was becoming comfortable in a way she had never imagined cohabiting with another person could be. Even with Jack, who she really had loved, sharing their space had felt like an ongoing negotiation to maintain a balance between her comfort and his, both of them having constantly to give ground in order to maintain domestic harmony.

It wasn’t like that with Kara. There was compromise of course, but it never felt like a fight. It felt more as though the two of them were a team, working together to solve whatever the problem was rather than just trying to get their own way. Like when Kara had started feeling homesick for her own apartment around about the two week mark, and they talked it through and then Lena brought over a whole load of her things to make the penthouse feel more like home. It could have been a disaster of clashing taste and excess clutter, but it wasn’t. They had spent a happy afternoon decorating together, Kara sitting on the couch with her injured leg propped up while Lena followed her suggestions for where to put things: a painting Kara had done here, some bright throw pillows there, a couple of cosy woven blankets draped over the back of the sofa where they could be grabbed and snuggled under while watching a movie.

What they ended up with was a blend of both their styles that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow did. Lena had always thought that she preferred her spaces to be clear and modern, as far removed from the dark, old money clutter of the Luthor Mansion as she could get, but she found now that she liked this so much better. It was cosy and friendly, and it reminded her of how safe and happy she had always felt in Kara’s apartment. Having her things here side by side with Lena’s own felt right, like this was their home, not just hers.

She didn’t like to dwell on just how much she loved that feeling, because if she did she would be forced to remember how fleeting it was. Kara was getting stronger every day, and was already well enough to have started working from home, though she was yet to return to the office. And her recovery was a good thing, of course. A wonderful thing. But Lena couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach when she remembered how soon the time would come when all this would be over, and she would have to go back to living alone in a place that would feel too big, too sterile, too unnaturally quiet without Kara and all her things to breath life and warmth into it.

And of course when Kara moved back to her own apartment Lena would have no more excuses to put off fulfilling her unspoken promise to track down Lex, and however that played out, it was bound to change things. Even with her best case scenario, where she successfully killed Lex before he could kill her and made it out with the cure, restoring Kara’s memories would bring an end to this cosy domestic bubble they had made for themselves. And if somehow they managed to work through all of their history and found they still loved each other on the other side of that, Kara would go back to juggling her work at Catco with saving the city while Lena returned to being a proper full time CEO. They would both have much less time for just hanging out together, learning to make their own pot stickers and practising Singstar duets, especially when they no longer lived under the same roof.

But, she reminded herself, they weren’t there yet.

Kara might be well enough to write articles from her nest on the couch and hobble to and from the bathroom with the assistance of crutches now, but her leg was going to be in plaster for a few more weeks, and she wasn’t done recovering yet.

She still needed Lena.

They still had time.

��Are you okay love? You look a million miles away.’

Lena turned to meet Kara’s gently concerned look with a smile, letting her spiralling thoughts fade into the background to be replaced by the much more tangible presence of their evening plans.

‘I’m good. Just pondering what movie we should watch after we eat. I think I’m in the mood for something cheerful tonight.’

‘How about Singin’ in the rain?’

‘Again?’

‘Well, how could you not feel cheerful listening to those songs? But I’m open to other options. Actually I was looking for movie night ideas online yesterday and thought it might be nice to watch Imagine Me & You some time… would you be up for giving it a try? I think it’s mostly cheerful. There’s a happy ending for definite.’

Lena had never heard of ‘Imagine Me & You’, but mostly cheerful with a happy ending and something other than the musical they had watched four times since Kara moved in was okay with her.

‘Sure, sounds great.’

They ate their (excellent) meal and then Kara loaded the dishwasher while Lena brought the crockery over to her and wiped down the surfaces. They could have left it for the cleaners to take care of in the morning, but the shared chore felt easy, natural, a routine they had performed over and over and could gladly perform a thousand times more, if given the chance.

When the kitchen was back to rights they grabbed a bottle of wine and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, and settled down on the couch. They were long past the point of sitting cautiously apart on the more-than-big-enough-not-to-touch sofa, and Kara’s shoulder was pressed up against Lena’s before she had even managed to work the lid free from the ice cream.

‘How many tubs do we still have left?’

‘About eight.’

‘And we’ve eaten…?’

‘… about eight.’

Kara laughed, bopping her head gently against Lena’s as she dug her spoon into the banana-nut-fudge that was tonight’s flavour of choice.

‘I can’t believe you bought sixteen flavours of ice cream just to cheer me up.’

‘Well, you were sad and in pain and I wanted to make you feel better – I’d have bought more, except I also needed room for all the frozen potstickers and oven-ready pastries.’

‘Ohhh those were so good. I felt like I’d just walked into a Parisian bakery on our croissant mornings.’

‘Now we’ve got into the swing of cooking we should try making some from scratch. I bet you could come up with some really interesting breakfast pastry flavour combinations’ Lena suggested.

‘Yes, lets do that on Saturday! First flavour possibility, banana, walnut and fudge. What do you think?’

Kara held out the ice cream tub to Lena, and she dug her spoon in to sample.

‘Hm… banana – not my usual go to, but I could be convinced as long as we used real ones, and could be paired with a custard base. Walnuts would add a nice crunch and flavour. Fudge… pretty good in the ice cream, but I’m not sure about the pastry.’

‘You’re right, semi-sweet chocolate would probably be better for balance. I like the ice cream though, solid six out of ten. Remind me what it’s up against?’

‘New York Super Fudge Chunk.’

Kara winced and patted the tub in her hand sympathetically.

‘Oof. Poor thing never stood a chance.’

‘Agreed. I’ll update the spreadsheet.’

Given the sheer quantity of ice cream flavours they had had to choose from and the need to find novel ways to fill their time during the first couple of weeks, Kara had started what she called the “ice cream play offs” in a bid to find the ultimate ice cream flavour. And Lena, being ever the scientist, had been unable to resist the temptation to record their results properly, which had led to the creation of their unofficial official Ben and Jerry’s world rankings spreadsheet, which they updated meticulously each time they picked a new pint to sample. It brought together Kara’s enthusiasm for food and Lena’s inherent nerdiness in a glorious shared investment in their unserious contest, and cumulatively they had spent at least a couple of hours arguing companionably over whether Cherry Garcia or Chocolate fudge brownie should make it to the next round, or if Netflix and Chill’d should gain or lose points for being called that.

Now the serious matter of ice cream ranking had been decided they at last pressed play on the movie and settled down to enjoy the story, each occasionally dipping their spoon for another bite as they watched.

It started with a bride getting ready for her wedding day, and Lena mentally prepared herself for a couple of hours of cheesy rom com.

There was a moment pretty early on where Rachel (the bride) made eye contact with the florist as she walked down the aisle that made Lena raise an eyebrow, but it wasn’t until the way they looked at each other during the first visit to Luce’s shop that she was certain beyond doubt of what sort of movie Kara had picked for them to watch.

Oh.

Lena had imagined watching a queer love story together many times before – had even considered suggesting one in their previous life, as another hint to the intentions that Kara never seemed to pick up on, but she had never actually done it. Now Kara was the one making the move, and fuck, it was as if she was taking a sledgehammer to the foundations of Lena’s good intentions to maintain this last bit of distance between them.

They took another blow when, during a tension-loaded scene in a darkened classroom while Rachel fantasised about reaching out to touch Luce, Kara pulled her legs up to stretch out on the couch, moving her head from Lena’s shoulder to lie in her lap with a contented, kittenish sigh.

She did her best to keep her hands to herself, but by the time Luce was wrapping her arms around Rachel to teach her how to project at a soccer game she found she was, without quite knowing how it happened, idly playing with Kara’s hair. As soon as she realised what she was doing she froze, and made to move her arm back to the safe distance of the back of the couch, but Kara made a little grumbling noise of protest.

‘Don’t stop. I love having my hair played with, it makes me feel all floppy and relaxed, like a cat being petted.’

So Lena went back to running her fingers through the soft golden waves, her nails scratching lightly over Kara’s scalp in a way that made her give a little shiver of pleasure.

‘Mmm, it’s so nice, I could fall asleep.’

‘You probably shouldn’t, you’ll have a terrible crick in your neck if you sleep like this... Maybe we should call it a night and go to bed?’

‘Noo, I want to see the end of the movie. And I don’t want to stop hanging out yet. I don’t mind a cricked neck.’

Lena knew she absolutely shouldn’t say what she was about to say, but Luce was telling Rachel that the lily means ‘I dare you to love me’, and Kara was soft and relaxed against her knees, and right at that moment she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything else.

‘I have a TV in my room. We could finish watching in there if you like, then it wouldn’t matter if you fall asleep before the end.’

Kara looked up at her, and her expression said she was aware of how much more could be read into that offer than mere practicality, but she didn’t say so. She smiled and nodded against Lena’s thigh.

‘Mmkay. I’ll change and brush my teeth now then, just in case.’

‘Good idea. Just in case.’

Lena changed too, opting without quite knowing why to put on the marshmallow pajamas she had just ‘happened’ to pick up from Kara’s apartment when she’d gone round to collect her things. They weren’t hers to put on, technically, but she didn’t think Kara would mind, and though she still didn’t feel much like her usual put together self in them, she felt like Kara’s Lena, and that was all she wanted to be right now.

Kara gave her the softest smile when she saw what Lena was wearing.

‘Aw, my marshmallow Lena is back. You look so cute in those, I think I’m going to have to officially give them to you.’

‘Don’t. I like that they’re yours.’

Lena felt herself blushing at the confession, and looked away quickly before it could turn into anything more.

‘Lets finish watching the movie before we really do get too sleepy.’

Once Kara was settled in beside her Lena pressed play, but she couldn’t focus on what was happening on the screen. All she was aware of was Kara in the bed beside her, no longer actually touching her but somehow feeling even more intimately near than when her head had been resting in Lena’s lap on the couch.

This was a terrible idea. It was a terrible idea...

She slid further down against the mound of pillows at her back, and, hidden beneath the covers where she couldn’t see and could therefore pretend it didn’t count, she laced her fingers through Kara’s.

Kara squeezed her hand in return, and the movie played on.

They did not let go.

[rayllurn]

Okay, so now that I’ve had a chance to slightly recover from the rayllum brain rot (i’ll never make a full recovery) here are some of my (mostly) non-rayllum related thoughts on s6:

-I’m actually shocked the age rating is as low as it is…there was a lot of really emotional and shocking stuff (I’m looking at you, Viren’s death scene, Claudia screaming and crying over Viren’s body, Sol Regem eating Pharos, Soren offering to sacrifice his literal heart, the entire first half of episode eight, the startouch elves murdering a literal child).

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show where the relationships feel so intimate to the point of making me feel like I’m invading on a personal moment (before remembering that the characters aren’t real lol). Specifically, Terry bathing Claudia (I’m so soft for this) and Callum and Rayla sharing a blanket (and a very sweet and intimate moment) on the frozen ship. Idk man it’s just so fucking good. It all feels so sincere and mature. Also whatever the heck happened between the end of 06x06 and the beginning 06x07…y’all know what I’m talking about.

-I haven’t seen enough people talking about the music because oh my god, it’s phenomenal!! The standouts for me are the end of 06x06 (aka rayllum kiss scene) and when Viren is casting the “hearts of cinder” spell in 06x08. Score release when????

-On the topic of 06x08, it’s objectively the best episode of the season, maybe even the entire series (although on a personal level, 06x06 is my favorite for *reasons*).

-The Janaya vows were spectacular. 10/10 no notes.

-I REALLY loved Ezran and Soren this season. Ezran was so grown up and showed tremendous leadership and strength when negotiating with Karim, who was incredibly disrespectful and arrogant towards him (also, that dude was plastered lmao). Soren taking control and making the choice to evacuate the castle (which is 100% what Ezran would have done), and then begging Viren to sacrifice him to cast the “hearts of cinder” spell and save lives?? HELLO?? That was so emotional and made me love Soren that much more (which I didn’t even think was possible).

-All of the voice acting was A++. Racquel’s sobbing and screaming gives me CHILLS. Jason’s acting during Viren’s sacrifice scene? Outstanding. Sasha lowering her voice as Ezran gets older? So talented. They are all so good holy crap. They really have the A Team.

-The scene of Rayla with her mom and dad is devastating, but also bittersweet. I’m glad Rayla has a sense of closure here.

-Ruthari reunion when??

-Sorvus and Sorpeli are REAL and I’m not mad about it.

[deathbxnny]

YQ's Mother Requestor Anon here! [Figured it's probably time I say that...]

Since people want a happy ending/alternate for the JY executes YQ's Mother request, I'm here to deliver! So the happy ending is that an older version of YQ makes a deal with the Aeon of Finality Terminus [Who theoretically can travel though and back in time] and becomes Terminus' Emanator in exchange of saving his mother/placing her body in hibernation to heal and regenerate.

But where exactly? Well, none other than Mr. Luocha's coffin! Older!YQ happens to be the person that Luocha promised so he has to run this errand and delivered the coffin to the Luofu, quite the plot twist don't you think?

How YQ's Mother!Reader awakens is at the Stellaron crisis, thanks to the overflowing power of the Stellaron that sped her recovery.

And oh yeah, they don't know it was Future!YQ that made it all happen until the Current!YQ does so, effectively a time loop/paradox.

[I hope ppl like this ending ^w^]

-----♡

A/N: Hello anon! Thank you for this phenomenal request! I love it! Also I'm sorry for the wait, I'm admittedly kinda burnt out with hsr haha, but anyhow, I hope this will be okay!

(OG Post to this here.)

Content: Angst, mentions of reincarnation, time travel, good ending, hurt/comfort, mentions of past death of reader, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns, but is reffered to as Yanqing's mother!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

Yanqing found out about what happened to his mother on complete accident. He had overheard it one night on his birthday, where Jing Yuan drunkenly told his brother how much he regretted everything he had done to them. And especially to poor Yanqing, who had to grow up without his dear mother. What made it even worse, was the realisation, that his mentor was his father all along.

Yanqing wasn't the same afterwards, as he began looking for any information he could find on what happened. He quickly learned that his entire life was a lie and it hurt. It hurt so much, that it nearly killed him from the heartbreak. And the trust he had in his mentor, or father to be exact, was completely gone.

When he confronted Jing Yuan about this, the man only sunk deeper into his depression, his fears finally becoming his reality. He explained everything to Yanqing and didn't stop him from leaving afterwards, as he knew he deserved to be left by his own son as punishment. Jing Yuan knew it would happen and eventually just accepted his fate, until he resigned from his duties altogether due to the heartbreak.

Yanqing on the other hand, was determined to find a way to bring his family back together. And after making a deal with the Aeon of Finality and becoming an Emanator, he was finally able to achieve his goals and turn back time. He didn't know if it would work, but he also just wanted to see his mother and father happy again. So he accepted his fate, as time turned back and everything went into action.

Back in the past, a certain merchant doctor was hauling around a coffin through the crowd of scared citizens, researchers and guards. He was mildly annoyed, mainly due to having been stuck somewhere earlier and only getting out through a cloud night and a mysterious man, but alas, he finally made it to his destination. The young man he spoke to regarding the delivery, told him to bring it to the general of the Xianzhou Luofu, something that did confuse Luocha a little at first. But he didn't care enough to question it either.

Setting down the coffin infront of some confused guards and a young blonde boy, who looked equally as baffled, the merchant simply asked for his pay and left. Yanqing asked a couple guards to get his mentor, as he carefully inspected the coffin in thought. He couldn't recall any mention of it and couldn't think of a reason for it's existence either. Jing Yuan seemed to share the same sentiment, as he and Yanqing shared a confused look.

The coffin was brought into a different room away from everyone, so that the two could have a closer look at it without endangering anyone. As Yanqing and Jing Yuan talked about what possibly could be it's purpose, the lid suddenly moved. Both of them jumped at this, a couple guards immideatly drawing their swords alongside Yanqing, who were halted by the general. They were all suspicious of it, as it arrived very closely after the Stellaron incident and were sick of surprises today.

But it seemed like life was in for more drama, when the lid began lifting again and a hand weakly reached out, as a soft voice asked for help. A voice Jing Yuan immideatly recognised. All colour left his face, as he stumbled forward in panic and pushed the entire lid fully off. Yanqing gasped in surprise at his mentors sudden action, quickly reaching his side with his swords to make sure nothing hurts him. But what he saw in the coffin, made him freeze.

It was you, Jing Yuan just knew it was. Especially when he cradled you close to his chest and let his apologies flow out of his mouth endlessly. He didn't know how this was possible or why you were back, but he just wanted to hold you. You were still quite weak and could only weakly hold onto him too, gently telling him that it was okay, before your eyes fell onto Yanqing. You immideatly knew who he was and gave him a smile, gently asking him to come closer. He was confused, asking Jing Yuan who you were, which made you answer for him.

You were his mother. The person he had only heard stories of. Who's death was never explained to him. He didn't know how to feel, just letting you hug him and it somehow felt familiar. Like he just knew you were telling the truth through the hug alone. Jing Yuan then told him the truth about everything. It was the first time Yanqing saw him so weak and emotional, practically begging for you both to forgive him.

The boy was confused and felt even a little betrayed for a moment, but was stopped by you gently telling him that it was okay. That it might take a moment for you to trust him again, but that you're just happy to have your family together again. And Yanqing supposed that for the beginning, he'd accept that too.

It was ultimately unknown how you were able to reincarnate and with time, you three decided to just forget it and live out your life's as the family you deserved to be.

-----♡

A/N: Okay so this was a long one... I hope it was okay, because I'm not only really burnt out, but also horribly sleep deprived, so I can only pray that any of this is coherent. Thank you again for the request Anon!<33

[cafejulii]

How Albert, William, and Louis Reflect The Holy Trinity in Christianity

(a 3 part analysis series that I had made year ago on another social media platform but would like to post here because why not)

P3: Louis

Louis serves as a reference to the Holy Spirit, the final part of the Holy Trinity - the one who continues on the word and mission of the Savior through the Apostles, despite the Savior no longer being present in the world

As William was "dead" the M16 required a leader; a leader who could uphold the values of the Moriarty Plan, however, in a way that worked more in the shadows rather than in a direct way such as the Lord of Crime. Thus, Mycroft offered Louis the lead position as "M" in the M16 so that he may not only be able to atone for his sins, but ensure the security of the "beautiful world that [William] has created" and make sure that it remains "alive and unstained". Louis serves as a phenomenal leader, as he is effectively able to execute his plans with the assistance of the rest of the team, providing them guidance based on the principles taught to him by his older brother, strengthening both the bond and resolve of the Mi6 as a whole.

This reflective of what the Holy Spirit did for the Apostles, as the purpose of the Holy Spirit coming upon them and the rest of the world was "...to bring good news to the poor...to proclaim the release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind [and] to let the oppressed go free." These are all things that Jesus had done throughout his lifetime to create a better world [just as William did] that must be maintained even though both saviors are no longer present. Christ may not be directly on Earth during this time, but the power of the Holy Spirit serves as the driving force of the apostles, for gifts of the Holy Spirit [wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord] ultimately result in the resolve that the Apostles have towards the continuation of Christ's mission, despite knowing that they may perish while completing it.

The interesting thing about Louis,though, is that he was only able to show his full potential the moment that William and Albert were no longer in the picture. This was not because he did not dearly care for his older brothers or did not trust them, of course, but it is simply because both William and Albert took the majority of the lead roles during the era of the Lord of Crime. Since the beginning, it was always intended that Louis was to be the one to live in the New World and maintain it. William even went as far as to shield Louis from the main plan entirely by not allowing him to go on missions for the longest time. Though this was done with the intent that Louis would enter the New World without his hands stained with blood, he did not fully accept the role given to him, as he insisted on being present throughout the plan as it was ultimately their mission, not just William's.

Gradually, Louis was able to secure his spot as a major asset to the Moriarty Plan, for as the series progresses, he is seen more and more on field missions. It is to the point that by the time he can assume the title of M, his brothers were no longer around to hinder his progression as a leader by assuming leadership positions themselves, however, he was around them enough to know the attributes of a good leader. As a result, he was more than capable of directing not only the M16 but the Moriarty Household, as he [alike the Holy Spirit] is now the most present/ influential force of the Trinity.

Just as bits and pieces of the works of the Holy Spirit were seen during Christ's life, the full power of the Holy Spirit was only able to come on the day of Pentecost, as the phenomenon and the operation of the Holy Spirit were able to come solely when the main mission of Christ was completed. [aka William's Mission]. As I mentioned before, the Holy Spirit was then to bestow its power on the Apostles, becoming the most influential being in their lives..."But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you." John 14:26

—————-

Though my last portion of analysis diverts from Louis specifically and onto the Moriarty Brothers as a whole, I must tell you of this theory I have had ever since I formed the connection of them being a reference to the Holy Trinity. Since Part 1 of Yuumori is reflective of Salvation History in the New and Old Testaments (ending with the Apostles carrying on the mission and word of the savior), my thought is that Part two will then be related to the parts of Salvation History that are yet to come, specifically of the prophecies stated in the Book of Revelation. (The last book in the Bible that tells of the apocalypse that will ultimately bring about the New Heaven and the New Earth)

As the Moriarty brothers had reformed British Society and are working to maintain it, my theory is that now they are attempting to reform world society as a whole as the atonement for their sin due to the crimes they committed in England [just as how the eventual goal of Salvation History is the redemption of the entirety of the human race] This reformation will be done not in the killing of those directly in power, though, but through the acquirement of information that will affect the outcome of world events in favor of the ultimate good [as seen in Chapter 57].

I refer to the Apocalypse specifically, as Louis mentioned a feeling of "sensing the sparks that wil embroil the entire world into war", which is possibly may be a reference to The World War. Though WWl started in 1914, a while away from the current setting, Yuumori often strays away from complete historical accuracy so there may be a possibility of the creators starting the war earlier for the sake of continuing the narrative. Such destruction can very well be considered apocalyptic, as the estimated amount of casualties in World War 1 totaled to around 20 million.

Due to this, I believe that The Brothers will work to either stop World War 1 or prevent it from happening entirely by acquiring information that will alter the course of history, and give the entire human race, not just England, the vision of the beautiful world in which William had created.

Though a bit of a stretch, there is also evidence to this theory stated by Sherlock, as he has the feeling that William is planning something big again despite his main mission being completed. (and after all, who is better able to predict William's actions than Sherlock?)

—————

And finally, notice how despite the Moriarty brothers being three separate people while having three separate roles still refer to themselves as The Lord of Crime (Lord being singular)?

This reflects how the Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirt are three beings in one despite having different physical forms and different roles in Biblical Scripture!

Anyway that is all for now <3

I hope those who have seen this enjoyed this mini series!

disclaimer: I am an ex-christian, however, I had been raised in the faith and just happened to keep a large interest in scripture despite the fact I have departed from the church. Do correct me if there is any misinformation.

[avengersfantasies]

hii!!!! can I send a request? if so can I request a Bucky Barnes x reader fic? maybe where reader and Bucky live together but reader has some eating issues that they haven't told Bucky about and he finds out one day. like maybe a hurt/comfort? If not that's totally fine im just in recovery right now and just needing some comfort rn ty!! <33

Summary: After eating dinner one night, your roommate, Bucky Barnes, discovers what you have been keeping to yourself.

What to expect: eating disorder (bulimia), fluff

taglist: @pattiemac1 @justsebstan @winterslove1917 @crist1216 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @kandis-mom @vonalyn @mavrellover91 @natashasilverfox @gojoismysensei @itsafamilyshow @casa-boiardi

Join a taglist here

Submit a request here

You walked in from your date – the smell of your roommate’s cooking immediately hitting your nose. It smelled amazing. Everything Bucky cooked was phenomenal.

            “Welcome home!” the soldier called out from the kitchen. You flashed him a quick smile as you walked in and sat down at the bar. “How was the date?”

            You sighed. “It was…okay, I guess,” you answered.

Bucky nodded and tasted the sauce he was finishing up making. “You hungry?”

“I’m good,” you exhaled. “Had a lot to eat at the movie.”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What all is there to even eat at a movie?”

You chuckled and shook your head – walking off to your room without responding. You knew full-well that you hadn’t actually eaten anything at the movie except for a few bites of popcorn. You got into your bedroom and started to change into some comfortable clothing, and the familiar sound and feeling of your stomach growling echoed loudly. You ignored it – continuing to change into your sweats and get comfortable in bed. You lay in bed scrolling on your phone and laughing at videos posted by some comedians you followed. After a handful of minutes, however, it became too much. Annoyed, you got out of bed and headed to the kitchen where Bucky was cleaning up and putting away leftovers. Without a word, you opened up one of the cabinets and grabbed a plate – stacking it with food and putting it into the microwave.

“Thought you weren’t hungry,” Bucky reminded you.

You shrugged. “Yeah, well…smelled too good.”

You gave him a soft smile as you went to the other side of the bar to sit and begin eating your meal. It was delicious, that much you had to admit. If there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that Bucky knew how to cook a homestyle meal.

“It’s really good,” you told him.

He smiled. “Thank you…it’s one of my mom’s recipes.”

Hearing those words and knowing what you were going to do once you finished eating caused a wave of guilt to crash over you – causing you to look down and eat smaller bites. His mother…the woman that he no doubt loved more than anything in the world, the one he had lost when he was a young boy had created the recipe for the food you were eating, and you knew that as soon as you finished, you’d be throwing it up. Were you insulting her? Him? If he knew what you did after every meal, would he be angry with you? How many other times had you thrown up food that came from his mother? In the end, it didn’t matter. You weren’t strong enough for these thoughts to stop you from doing what you’d been doing for years.

“Thank you, Buck,” you smiled – putting your now-empty plate in the dishwasher and heading to your room. “Goodnight!”

“Night!” His voice was happy, and he felt accomplished having made one of his mother’s beloved recipes and having it turn out good.

You locked yourself in your room before bolting to the en suite and locking that door as well. Almost on instinct, you threw your body to the toilet – forcing yourself to throw up everything you had just eaten. You always sobbed quietly as you regurgitated your meals, but this time was different. This time, you sobbed loudly – not caring if anyone heard you. The food kept coming, and each morsel that left your body caused more guilt.

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice called out from the other side of the bedroom door. “Are you okay?” You didn’t answer, too upset to respond to him. At this point, you didn’t care if he found out what you were doing…if anything, a part of you wanted him to find you. Some part of you needed him to. Hearing more of your sobbing and puking, Bucky easily broke the lock on the bedroom door and entered – making his way to the bathroom and breaking that lock as well. “Hey, hey, hey,” he spoke softly – kneeling down next to you and rubbing your back. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you sobbed – looking over at him with tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Sorry? What’re you sorry for?” he asked frantically – desperately wanting to figure out what was happening. “Did something make you sick?”

You let out another sob. “I’ve been sick, Bucky.” His eyes searched yours for some sort of explanation, but the more you sobbed and gasped, the more he understood. Soon, the realization set in.

He pulled you close to him – wrapping his arms tightly around you. “How long?”

“Since high school,” you cried out.

He kissed the top of your head – resting his cheek on the same spot. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize.” A tear escaped his beautiful blue eyes and landed in your hair. “I should’ve realized.” The feeling of being wrapped in his arms brought you a sense of calm – a feeling that everything would be alright. He wasn’t angry that you had just thrown up the food that he had worked hard on making. In that moment, all he cared about what you. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head. “No…please.” Bucky stood up and grabbed a wet washcloth and got your toothbrush together – helping you get up from the floor and clean up. He flushed the toilet while you brushed your teeth, and once you were done, he carried you to your bed. “Please stay…” Your voice was hoarse and weak as you practically begged the soldier to stay with you. “I can’t be alone.” Bucky nodded and lay next to you – pulling you close to him and rubbing your bath with his metal hand. The coolness of his arm soothed you enough and helped you catch your breath. “Please help me.”

“I’ll do anything you need me to do,” he promised – placing a gentle kiss on your head and holding you as you fell asleep from exhaustion in his arms.

[bestworstcase]

re: talk of Burn, do you have any idea why Yang's aura clearly broke when Neo struck her in V8 (right after activating Burn)? my theory is that perhaps activating her semblance does something like Tock's where it makes her aura manifest more solidly on her body (which is how it can make her hair light on fire) and therefore also, like Tock, means that her aura is more vulnerable. to me this would also explain why Yang would use it as a finisher at first; using it when she's already going to run out of aura makes it, in a sense, less dangerous because she's already gotten most of the other uses out of her aura that she can get.

would love to know if you think this is accurate, or what you actually think is going on with yang's semblance on a mechanical level (if you're interested in that anyway)

first, a general point about aura and aura breaking. the characters’ use of meters has led to a sort of popular fanon that aura works like hit points in a video game, where you have this many and taking damage reduces your HP by a certain number until you hit zero and then your aura breaks; (dark souls splash screen voice) YOU DIED.

i do not think it works that way.

from world of remnant:

aura is a manifestation of the soul, a life force that runs through every living creature on remnant—whether they are a meager shopkeep or a renowned knight. however, what sets true warriors apart from all others is their ability to amplify and control their aura.

aura is the power of one’s soul. it’s guided by emotion, self-knowledge, and spirituality. in its purest form, it becomes a semblance.

defensive aura is not a passive effect. we know this for a fact. in V5, oscar finds it physically exhausting to engage his aura in this way and ren tells him that’s normal—it requires intense concentration at first, then becomes second nature with practice. in V7, jaune’s aura-training demonstrates that recovery, regaining aura once it has been depleted, is a conscious action that can be improved through practice. this is because the “aura level” tracked by those meters is not a measurement of how much aura you have in the tank, as it were, but something like the density of the aura-field you’re pushing outward, or speed of flow, or something along those lines.

(the way i’m handling it in TDT is there’s a hard upper bound to how much aura you can hold in your skin, like a sponge not being able to absorb more water, and what auraleric gauges attempt to measure is % of maximum saturation because everyone’s aura will break around 5-10% saturation even though the amount of aura you have at 100% varies. anything you push out above that threshold is projected as transient bursts of energy and that’s where you start getting into offensive techniques.)

hazel’s phenomenal endurance is noted to derive from his rapid recovery, not the basal amount of aura he has. (he even just shrugs off being impaled.) i believe his semblance gives him an edge here, because it requires concentration to amplify one’s aura and hazel can’t be distracted by physical pain.

which brings me to aura-breaking. it doesn’t happen when the proverbial tank is empty. auras break when you can’t sustain the mental effort of generating enough aura; this might happen because the well you’re drawing from really has run dry (<- think this is what happened to nora with the high voltage door), but it might also be because you’re too tired, or you took a really painful or unexpected hit that shattered your focus, because you’re panicking or furious.

i think tock’s semblance is in the same ‘family’ as hazel’s and ironwood’s in that it puts her into a state of intense focus by blocking out anything that might shake her—with hers being far, far more potent than theirs but so potent she can’t maintain it for longer than sixty seconds, and possibly needs the ticking clock to ‘anchor’ her focus.

(fic stuff again, because tock’s alive in TDT for butterfly wing flaps reasons: sixty seconds is not a hard limit of her semblance; she can and on one occasion did go for much longer. to project an aura field you draw aura out of your reserve, which is the aura that naturally ‘pools’ around your soul; if that runs dry and you’re desperate enough, pushing hard enough, you can wring more aura out of your soul. blood from a stone. it hurts a lot, it will mess you up, and it can do permanent damage similar to what the aura transfer machines do to pietro. sixty seconds is how long it takes for tock’s semblance to drain her aura reserve, rounded down to allow for a margin of error.)

so. yang.

i think, mechanically, when the average person with aura training gets hit, their aura burns up to disperse most of that energy. (<- when they’re swatting gunfire away, the bullets bounce; the energy is reflected.)

but yang’s semblance absorbs energy—which is to say, if you had a ball throwing machine shoot a tennis ball at yang and someone else with equivalent training from the same distance, it would hit yang harder because her aura is less reflective; more of the ball’s kinetic energy flows into her body. then, like a battery, her aura converts that energy into some other form that can be stored.

sort of like dust, in fact. dust has a lot of potential energy, which is released when the material reacts with aura. given the literally explosive firepower yang gains from burn, i think that she’s storing this absorbed energy in the same form as occurs naturally in dust, which would put burn in the same ‘family’ as coco’s hype or arrastra’s equilibrium…

…and would also mean that this statement:

some prefer to use dust in its raw form: elegant, yet destructive. those who choose to wield dust in this state must possess a certain level of discipline to ensure that their resulting powers do not break free of their control.

is true of burn, too. and that tracks with who yang is and how she uses her semblance—even in V1-3, yang takes a more head-on approach to fights and tends to soak up more damage before exploding bigger vs her increasingly nimble and even acrobatic style post-beacon, but her control over those massive volcanic eruptions is immaculate.

the way burn works in general requires that yang be very, very in control of her aura at all times because she needs to balance between absorbing energy to charge up her semblance while reflecting enough to prevent injury, and this is one reason why i think yang is probably the best out of the cast when it comes to using aura. ren might have her beat on the more spiritual, extra-sensory perception side of things, but yang has to keep her focus while getting hit harder than anyone else Because Physics.

and that brings us to neo one-shotting yang’s aura. here is what happens: cinder is gloating from atop a pillar of fire while people scream and run in a panic all around them, and out of the corner of her eye, yang sees a glint of steel and realizes that neo is about to stab her unsuspecting baby sister in the back, she’s too far away, she can’t get there fast enough—burn is, in that moment, a reflex. instinct. she panics and hurls herself in between neo and ruby without even thinking about it because the only thing in her mind is GET TO RUBY NOW.

and that’s why her aura just shatters. it requires concentration—you practice until it becomes instinctive, until you don’t need to think about it, muscle memory. but it still takes focus. intention. yang has incredible self-control and thus incredible control of her aura, but everyone has limits, and hers are “holy fuck that guy stabbed blake” and “neo is going to kill ruby go go go.”

her semblance in itself doesn’t make her defense any weaker—but when she’s terrified enough for burn to activate reflexively like this, her aura will break if she gets hit because she’s freaking out.