#so this is currently how I deal with life

[sports-on-sundays]

this simple feeling / LN4 & OP81 / Part 3

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Link to part 1, link to part 2

Warnings: I think I might've messed up the timeline just alittle bit but that's okayyyy (probably should have all taken place like a week or two later but I only realized that after it was all written so I guess you'll just have to deal with it; I'm sincerely sorry), language, sickness, vertigo, let me know if there's more I missed

Requested?: To be honest, I don't think so, but let me know if I forgot about you.👍

A handsome smile adorns Lando Norris's lips as he strolls down the Spanish paddock, and it's extraordinary to believe that despite his outside cover, he has the most pounding headache.

It's all my fucking fault, his mind roars as he catches the eye of Max Verstappen walking past and gives him a friendly wave. Y/n is a nervous wreck over the whole situation, and Oscar seems like he's going to blow if he sees me show Y/n affection one more time.

Why did I ever fucking start this stupid, stupid 'relationship?' It's a mess, and it's all my fault.

And I've got no way of fixing it.

Maybe I should have just given up Y/n in the first place, before all this happened.

Maybe I am wrong for getting in the way of her and Oscar.

But a part of him knows that's not right. He could never give you up. You could never give him up. And neither of you could ever give up on Oscar.

Even though it's starting to look like that might just be the best for him. Or at least, the best option at this point.

After I've gone and messed it all up.

For once in his life, sleep won't just take Oscar Piastri.

It sounds stupid, because he shouldn't be going to sleep. Not here. Not now. But as he lay in his driver's room, all he wishes is for sleep to take him away from his never-ending thoughts into a peaceful, sweet, dreamless slumber.

But every time he tries to replace his current ones with new ones, his brain always leads him back to the main point:

You messed up.

He sighs. He's just being over dramatic, isn't he? Isn't that all it is? Shouldn't he just get over himself?

It's not that he doesn't like Lando. In fact, he does. A... well, a lot. He could see himself having real affection towards him.

He might even want to.

But that longing, confused part in his brain keeps coming back to: But what if Y/n loves him more? Isn't he just getting in the way of what you always wanted?

Isn't this unfair, Oscar?

But that's just the worst part of it all.

It's not unfair. Not one bit.

For your whole life, Oscar has known you. For years, he's cared about you. He's even loved you. He just never said it. Always held back. When he shouldn't have.

If he had just acted way before, in the beginning, it would've been just you and him. That's the way it would have been, and Lando would have never gotten in the way.

But, Oscar's brain whispers, almost like a sneaking suspicion, do you really want Lando out of this, now that he's in it?

Maybe I just have to learn to accept it. Accept him. Trust them both.

Do I just need to get over myself?

Because I am the only reason why this isn't working...

Right?

No one else can feel it, but it's getting awkward. Not even so much in private. In private, Lando is honest, and Oscar tries. In private, you see. They're not all lovey dovey, but they care about each other. It's like all is well, though you and Lando both know how Oscar can get.

But in public, it's worse. Terribly worse. It's like Lando and Oscar want to have something, but they can't. It's like Lando wants it but Oscar won't let him... and, at the same time, as if Oscar wants it but Oscar also won't let himself.

Why not?

In public, since they have to fake, it's like it's hard not to. Because they're closer than friends, but not more than that.

In private, they're trying to fake, so it almost comes easier.

But in public, they almost avoid each other at the same time as being super friendly with each other when they do have to talk.

You hate it.

A huge part of you wonders: If Oscar likes Lando back, why doesn't he just relax and let this whole thing work? Doesn't he need it?

Doesn't he need Lando, just the same way I need him?

He certainly acts like it. Sometimes. The only solution you can think of, though a not very clear or perhaps not very accurate one, and one with certainly no answer, is this:

He wants you more than anything. But he needs Lando more than anything.

But because he wants you so bad, it hurts him to see Lando having you.

Though he has you, too.

But he can't let himself break out and let himself love Lando back, because his feelings towards you are so incredibly strong.

You sigh.

Oscar. Why can't you just give up? Give in? Why can't I show you just how much I adore you?

What do I have to do to show you?

Is there anything I can do that would be enough?

You sigh. What if you're all wrong? What if Oscar really can't love Lando back? What if this whole thing is bound to fail?

What if there's absolutely no solution?

As anxiety begins to fill your chest, you feel as though you're right back at square one again.

Why didn't I just choose, from the beginning? Wouldn't it have been better to break one of their hearts, than all three of our hearts?

Because isn't that what is going on right now?

We're all breaking.

And we wouldn't be if I hadn't ever, ever let it get this fair.

Damn it.

It really is all my fault.

Maybe it's all the stress, or maybe it's just the natural way of things, but either way, by the time a week later that the Austrian Grand Prix comes around, you are in no world feeling well enough to go to it.

Of course, that's fine. You're sick; no one will have a problem with you staying home to rest up and get better. There are plenty of other people who can take care of your usual responsibilities for one race weekend. That's not really a big deal at all.

Of course, Lando and Oscar sure treated the whole thing as one, both of them talking about how one of them should stay with you, and how are you going to get on by yourself, and they feel like such bad boyfriends for leaving you in your unwell state, and so on. Blah, blah, blah.

Really, it was the sweetest thing. You know you shouldn't complain. But you did end up telling the two they were both wrong, not to worry, go race, and it's quite easy to FaceTime and stay in touch so they can check up on you over the weekend.

So despite whatever your boyfriends think about it, that's the decision you made sure was made, because there was no way you'd let either of them do something so ridiculous as to miss a race because of you.

Especially not the Austrian Grand Prix, for God's sake.

Well, whether Lando and Oscar would admit it or not, both of them, in their own little ways, see this as an opportunity for connection with each other.

One-on-one.

So now, of course, Lando has been the sole thing, other than racing, that's been on Oscar's mind all weekend. So much so that he finds himself wandering towards Lando's driver's room after qualifying, his heart leading the way more so rather than his head.

When he reaches the door, he finds it ajar, and peeks in through the door frame, his heart pounding.

Why is his heart pounding?

He swallows, his eyes resting on Lando relaxing, scrolling his phone. He hasn't seen Oscar yet.

Lando. There's a lot I like about him.

Let's just try this. Just for now, forget about Y/n. Think about Lando. Think about all the reasons why you care about him. Think about it as if it were just you and him.

Would you want it to work?

He knows the answer, but wouldn't dare let himself consciously think it.

Oscar gently knocks on the door, as to avoid startling Lando, before saying softly, "Hey, Lando?"

The British man immediately looks up, his hazel eyes meeting Oscar's plain old brown ones. Though he doesn't smile, his eyes soften. And brighten. "Hey, Oscar." He sits up a bit, as to make more room on the sofa. "Wanna come in?"

Oscar nods, stepping inside. Gently closes the door behind himself. Somehow, Lando seems to understand.

He sits down. Closer to him. Turns and looks him right in the eyes. Opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it when he realizes he has nothing to say.

Lando talks instead. "How are you?"

"Fine... and you?"

"Good... I think the race should be promising."

Oscar nods in agreement. The silence feels so simply empty.

"You missing Y/n? Is that what it is?" Lando gently asks.

Oscar considers that for a few seconds, before slowly shaking his head 'no.' "Of course, I wouldn't mind her being here. But that's not it."

"What's 'it,' then?" Lando asks.

Somehow, he just knows, doesn't he?

Oscar's starting to see why you might love that about him so much.

"It's not Y/n I'm missing. I guess I'm missing you. And me. I'm missing us."

"Hm," Lando says simply, seeming to ponder that for a few seconds, before saying softly, almost as a dare, "How could you miss 'us,' if 'us' was never a thing?"

Oscar feels the sudden urge to reach out towards Lando. Put his hand on his, or fix that loose curl, or do something.

But he holds back. Like he's always done with you.

God damn it. Am I really doing it again?

What am I even doing?

"I guess..." Oscar murmurs after some hesitation, staring down towards the tiled floor, "I miss the 'us' that could be and should be but never has been."

Oscar feels Lando look up towards him, but continues staring at the floor.

"Look at me."

But Oscar doesn't dare.

That's when Lando gently moves his hand to grab Oscar's chin and force his head to look at him. Not in an overly gentle way, but not in a way that hurts.

Oscar sighs. Those eyes.

When did he start liking them so much?

"We can make that reality," Lando murmurs, in the same determined way he talks about sports, or strategies. "We can make it happen. You don't have to miss me, or Y/n, and we can make 'us' come true."

Oscar gulps. Nods, though he knows not why.

Maybe it's because I really do want it.

I do, don't I?

Us.

Lando reaches over and grabs Oscar's hand strongly. Wraps his hand around the other man's. "This simple feeling..." Lando whispers. "Don't you like it?"

Oscar swallows. "I don't know if I like it, but..."

Lando waits for him to finish, even after he's trailed off.

"...but I think I know that it's exactly what... what I need."

Lando sighs. A little smile even begins to sneak up on his lips, just gently. Softly. Hardly there.

That's when he leans in and pulls him into a hug. And embrace. And it's refuge that Oscar finds there, in his arms. The same kind of irreplaceable refuge he finds in your arms. He sighs, wrapping his arms back around Lando, feeling the warmth of his body around him like a blanket.

"This simple feeling," Oscar murmurs this time, mirroring Lando's words, swallowing, his voice cracking softly, though tears don't threaten to fall.

It's just a little raw.

"This simple feeling... it's exactly what I want. What I need. From both of you.

"It's like I'd be content if we let this last forever," Oscar finishes softly with, close to Lando's ear.

"We can make it last forever," Lando utters back.

And all time stops in that little room as the two men embrace. A cavern of honesty and truth.

A safe place that promises to hold them forever.

It's funny how someone's cares and concerns can be washed away so quickly.

Like, for example, Oscar's podium at the Austrian Grand Prix in 2024, seeing his team grin up at him, spraying the champagne with George and Carlos, the joy of getting second place.

Partially, also, the joy of being the one to score points for the team.

But once that's all done and he's talking and doing all that PR, it starts nagging at him. You're not here, which means Lando's all alone.

Probably fucking pissed off.

P20.

So it's a mix. He got 2nd! But Lando got 20th.

So he tries to get through all the PR gobbly-gook as fast as possible, while still putting on a good face, since he knows you'll particularly care a lot if he screws up all his interviews the one race you weren't able to make it.

As soon as he's set free from his duties, though, he rushes to Lando's driver's room. On the way, someone even grabs his arm, saying, "Oscar! Oscar! An autograph? Please?" but he brushes them off, saying, "If you stay around, I'll be back to give it to you!" before just running off again.

He honestly can't grasp why he's so particularly and intensely desperate to see Lando.

It's because he did something for me last night when I needed him. Now I can't just leave him when he needs me most.

Soon, he reaches the latched closed door and knocks hard, saying, "Lando? Are you in there?"

There's a few moments of silence, and for a moment Oscar's nerves tell him that Lando isn't even here, and that he ignored that fan for no reason at all, until those thoughts are interrupted with Lando responding with a heavy sigh in his voice, "Osc? You can come in."

Oscar sighs with a certain amount of relief before gently opening the door and letting it shut behind him.

Lando is standing, not facing Oscar, on his phone, texting. Head down.

"How're you-"

"Texting Y/n."

Oscar nods, slowly walking up behind him. He gently rests a hand on Lando's shoulder, and says softer, "What's she saying?"

"Everything she has to in order to try and make me feel less like shit."

"Is it working?"

Lando turns, looking over his shoulder back at Oscar with a wry smile, saying, "Not at all. Max is a fucking-"

"Cheater, aggressive driver, idiot, bad sportsman. I know that's everything you're going to say. You just need to blow off some steam, hm?"

Lando snorts, shutting off his phone, hanging his head. "I've had an hour and a half to do that since the race."

"It takes a while," Oscar says simply, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Lando sighs, nodding. "I know... I guess I'm not even really that mad anymore. Just disappointed. And frustrated."

Oscar nods, glancing away, beginning to slip his hand off Lando's shoulder.

But Lando reaches back, slipping his hand over Oscar's to keep it there, dragging his other hand over his face with a heavy sigh

It's then that Oscar suddenly feels compelled to do something he never thought he would.

Yet he gives in, simply because it feels like exactly the right thing to do in the moment. So he wraps both arms around Lando from behind, pulling him towards himself, letting his nose and lips press against his neck, next to Lando's ear.

Lando sighs in something like contentment.

And Oscar feels himself smiling softly, before it quickly fades off, and he whispers gently in Lando's neck, "You're a good driver. You would've won that race. But I also know that means you'll be able to win the next one, hm?"

Lando nods, sighing. "You're right. I know you're right."

Oscar nods, murmuring, "But you have every right to be upset. And I'll be with you during that working through it as long as you want me to be."

Lando feels an unexpected smile begin to creep up on his face as he mutters, "I want you here with me every single moment you want to be here, Oscar."

"Yeah? It's funny how I've started to like to be with you more."

"I guess that's just my natural charm, hm?" Lando says softly, his smile growing.

Oscar can almost not believe how he naturally chuckles at that and responds softly, "I don't know about that..."

Lando is full on grinning now. That handsome, big, sunny smile of his. "Just ask Y/n about it. She'll tell you all about my charm."

"Hah," Oscar says sarcastically, but for some reason, instead of coldness, like that comment might used to have filled his chest with, he feels an undeniable, affectionate warmth fill his body.

A feeling that he seems to like a lot more.

He just re-wraps his arms around Lando and responds softly, "I'm sure Y/n would tell you all about my charm, too, Lando."

Lando smirks, glancing back at Oscar, meeting the Australian's milk chocolate eyes. "But you don't have to ask Y/n to hear about how charming you are, Oscar. I could talk about that all night." Lando's honestly not sure where all this bravery on his part is coming from, but he's honestly glad for it. Since it seems to be going down well.

Oscar's eyebrows raise as his light complexion becomes slightly flushed. "Hm. You could?"

"Oh yeah," Lando laughs a bit. A beautiful sound. Then the two remain in that peaceful silence, before Oscar lets his hands slip away from Lando gently.

Lando turns, taking the younger man's hand in his, looking earnestly into his eyes. "Hey. Congratulations on your P2, by the way. I was so caught up in my own shit, I completely forgot about your-"

"Don't worry," Oscar says, waving it off. "I don't mind. But thank you, anyway."

Lando grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek and saying simply, "No, thank you, Oscar. Look at the way you've managed to cheer me up like that, huh?"

Oscar smiles at that, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, perhaps in something like peace, or trust, for him to murmur, "Not sure how that happened..."

"Guess it's just that charm of yours we previously discussed, huh?"

And Oscar's eyes flutter open just in time to see Lando peck his lips.

And with Oscar's face fire hydrant red and Lando laughs filling the small room, I'll leave it up to the reader to go and imagine what could've happened next.

Oscar and Lando get out of the car, Lando holding some flowers and Oscar a grocery bag of goodies.

"You ready?" Lando says with a little smile, nodding to Oscar.

"Can't wait to see her, despite the poor state she must be in," Oscar says with a nod, and is about to start walking, when he suddenly stops and, with only a moment of hesitation beforehand, holds his hand out to Lando to take.

Lando looks at the hand, before looking up at Oscar again, taking his hand, with a little grin. He gives him a nod, before the two head off towards the house, hand-in-hand.

You're awakened in your feverish state by the ringing of the doorbell. You know you should get up and at least look to see who it is, but at the same time, who could it be? You're not expecting anyone. So you opt for the easier decision to just assume it's something unimportant like the mailman or something and leave it, letting yourself drift back into your feverish half-sleep.

But just as you're about to fully drift back off into slumber, it rings again. You sigh and stand up with an ornery groan, dragging your shaky legs to the window, to peek out of it, to see what on earth is so important.

But you stop as soon as you see them.

Your boys.

Lando holding flowers.

And what's more, they're holding each other's hands.

And they both look completely comfortable with it.

Really? Even Oscar?

He's not that good of an actor!

Soft smiles adorn both their handsome, perfect faces, shining like a charming prince and a shining knight.

Your foggy brain doesn't take the time to consider which is the prince and which is the knight, and you instead rush to the door right away, unlocking it and exclaiming, "Lan! Osc!" You stumble a bit dizzily as your weakened legs threaten to give out, but Lando's arm is there to steady you right away, keeping you from falling.

"Hey, Y/n," Oscar says gently, putting his arm on yours as Lando plants a quick kiss on your forehead, asking, "You okay?"

You sigh, nodding, and saying after the wave of vertigo subsides, "Just still a bit sick."

"No kidding. My God. Let's get you back inside and in your bed," Lando says gently, letting you use his arm to steady yourself as the three of you head inside and to your bedroom.

Once you're there and crawling back into bed, Lando hands Oscar the flowers and says, reaching in the shopping bag, "Got you some chicken noodle soup, Y/n. Want me to make you some?"

"Oh, God," you murmur, sinking back down against the pillow, "Yes, Lando, that'd be great."

He nods and leaves, going off to do that, leaving you with Oscar.

The first thing Oscar does is say, taking the blanket from the bottom of the bed, "Want this on?"

You nod, sniffing up your stuffed up nose. He gently tucks you in, kisses your forehead right where Lando kissed it, and grabs a tissue for you, seemingly out of thin air.

If you weren't a bit feverish, maybe you would of just known he got it out of the shopping bag. But you kind of missed that detail.

"We got you flowers," Oscar says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to you.

You smile softly, leaning up to smell the bouquet, saying weakly, "Aw... that's so lovely... You guys didn't have to."

He smiles softly. "We wanted to treat you. To show you how much we missed you this weekend." He brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, before frowning and murmuring, "You're really warm. Hey, I'll be right back, m'kay?"

You're not sure how long it takes, but in a bit, Oscar comes back to place a cool cloth on your forehead, and puts the flowers, now in a vase, next to you, on your nightstand.

"They're so pretty," you murmur softly, gratefulness to you warm in your voice.

Oscar smiles. "Pretty flowers for a pretty girl."

You smile softly, reaching to take his hand. "I like you like this."

"Like what?" his eyebrows raise.

"All soft. I like that."

He smiles. "Just taking care of you." He leans down and kisses your cheek, saying, "Can I get you anything? A drink? Water, tea?"

"Oh... I think I'm good. But thank you," you weakly smile.

He nods. "Are you comfortable? Do you want a fan, or another blanket, or anything?"

You shrug. "I dunno... Maybe a fan would be nice. There's a big one in the closet. Jus' put it on low."

He nods and immediately heads to do that. Once he's done, he goes straight to the windows, saying, "And the blinds? Are they good the way they are, or should I-"

"Oscar, Oscar," you say softly, giving a lazy wave of your hand. "None of that matter. Not really. I don't really care. Why don't you just stop worrying and running around and taking care of me and doing everything for just a moment and just come and be with me, huh? That's what I want for you to do the most. Just come be with me. Let's just talk, hm?"

Oscar blinks. "Oh. Of course." He nods, making his way across the room. As he settles down on the bed next to you, he says simply, "Sorry."

"Don't worry. I like it. You just need to give yourself a break, too. And I want to talk with you, Osc." You slip your hand in his.

He nods, and after a few seconds murmurs, "Maybe that's just what I want, too."

"See?" you smile softly up at him.

You sit together in silence for a bit, him gently rubbing your hand in his, before you finally think to ask, "So... How... How are things with you and Lando?"

"You noticed a change, didn't you, huh?"

"For the better. Unless I'm imagining. Or you suddenly became an amazing actor in one week."

He smiles, nodding. "Lando, he... I think we worked it out. I worked it out."

"Worked what out?"

"That I love you, and I might just love Lando, and that in order to love one, I've got to love the other."

You stare. "You... You and Lando?"

Oscar nods. "We talked. I think I can make this work now. Let this work. We can let this work."

You smile. "Hm. Really?" you look at him with fluttery eyes.

He shrugs, smiling softly. "I can't just care about myself. That's not what a relationship is about. Nor can I just care about you. Nor can I just care about Lando. It needs to be selfless, you know? We need to be there for each other."

You grin and murmur, "For some reason, Osc, I really wanna kiss you right now, but I'm sick. It's like you've just said what I've been dreaming for you to say for weeks now. Probably months."

He smiles, nodding. "I guess it was bound to happen. I just had some things to work through. And even though I don't even know how, and don't think he does, either, Lando helped me work through them, partially, too... Oh, and by the way, with the kiss thing?" he smiles, leaning down a bit closer, before murmuring, "I'm sure you won't get me sick. You're probably way past being contagious." And with that, he closes his eyes and leans in to kiss you gently.

It's then that Lando walks in and says with that cheeky smile of his, "Hey, lovebirds, can I get in on this? When's it my turn?"

You pull away from Oscar and tease, "Oh, get back in the kitchen!"

"Jeez! I guess I'll just eat your soup, then, if you're going to be like that!"

"Wait! No!" you say, reaching your arms out for the tray in his arms.

He chuckles, placing it in your lap, and says, slipping on the bed next to you, on the opposite as Oscar, "Did you really think I would eat your food?"

"You might..."

He grins. "I might."

"Hey!" you giggle, rolling your eyes.

Lando lays down next to you as Oscar says, "My goodness, Y/n, you're so peppy as soon as Lando enters the room. You were acting so sick before, just a few minutes ago!"

You grin, looking him over with a shrug, "I guess I liked the way you were treating me so softly and delicately. I didn't want you to stop feeling like you had to take care of me. Now, come on. You lay down next to me, too, won't you?"

Oscar smiles and does so, murmuring, "I guess I can't say no, huh?"

You smile, contented, shutting your eyes as you feel the warmth from both of them, on each of your sides, envelop you. "I guess not."

As you eat your soup, your boys snuggle up to you, their arms wrapping around you, and the three of you talk. Mostly about Austria, and then about he upcoming British Grand Prix in less than a week now, which you're sure you'll be healed up enough for, especially since getting there doesn't require any planes or airports. Sometimes, that can be the worst part of travelling to Grand Prixs far away.

Soon, though, you finish your soup, and sink back down into the pillows, letting the tiredness seize your body once more. As you begin to drift off, the last thing you whisper is, "I love you guys..."

On each side, you feel each of their lips gently kiss your cheeks, but you don't stay awake long enough to hear how they respond to that.

Here you are, with your two McLaren boys.

Sure, there'll be rough spots. Lots of them. Something like this doesn't promise to be easy.

But sometimes, the harder path is the better one in the end.

And right now, in this simple moment, it feels perfectly worth it.

Well, maybe perfectly imperfect.

But would you really want it any other way?

This simple feeling...

[kiraastro]

Super interesting insights! He really does have that rat yoni man look lmao

@Shravana666 on twt discussed that Taurus (Krittika/Mrigshira) is highly likely because of how it would position his planets.

Unfortunately, I don't have a twitter acc anymore so I guess I'm missing out on the entire discussion over there (feeling sm fomo rn 🥲)

If we're talking in terms of physiognomy, mrigashiras do tend to have prominent eyebrows that are thick and expressive (very memorable too). Mars nakshatras also tend to gain attention for their physique and often get objectified (I think it was Claire Nakti that mainly talked about this). Netizens have said he looks like Aidan Turner who has mrigashira sun, mars, and rahu, with either a hasta or chitra moon (no birth time). I'm inserting some pictures of Turner when he was a bit younger for better comparison:

However, I can also see how krittika lagna would apply to Luigi, considering how this nakh has destructive energy and has the power to burn and purify.

IF Luigi has taurus lagna: It would place three natural malefics: sun, mars and saturn in his 12H (which we know can signify things like imprisonment, hospitalization, self-undoing, etc). Luigi has saturn in debilitation (aries). Saturn lords his 9H, 10H and goes into 12H so it can signify loss (12H) of dharma (9H) and career (10H).

His lagnesh would be venus in 11H pisces, which makes his venus both exalted and in great house position. This means that he has great connections with social circles and these circles of people will view him as venus personified. The focus and direction of his life (lagnesh) will always be involved with bigger groups of people (11H). With the influence of venus in pisces, this makes someone selfless and very giving.

Luigi would have leo in the 4H. 4H = relatives/family/home, and leo = legacy. Mangione comes from a privileged family background with material wealth that began with his paternal grandparents. With rahu in 4H, it can indicate someone who diverts from the usual customs and traditions of their family.

It's interesting to note that with taurus lagna he would have moon, jupiter, rahu/ketu in the kendras, indicating a major influence on who he is as a person. Also, purva phalguni moon is directly opposite (mutual aspect) to his purva bhadrapada jupiter which creates a Gajakesari Yoga but, with malefic influences in his case. If he is pp moon, than he is currently running rahu MD, jupiter AD which would further activate his 4H moon, rahu and 10H jupiter, ketu (and all houses associated)

Shatabisha is ruled by Varuna who can sometimes deal with bringing forth justice and is related to tech.

Oooo yes such a great point to bring up! I think the bharani-shatabhisha influence in his chart is also very interesting considering its connections to Lord Yama and Lord Varuna (as you mentioned). Yama being the last judge and instigator of punishments (when he sees it to be fit and fair), and Varuna being the ultimate overseer who observes the actions of everyone based on morality and the cosmic law.

One last thing I want to mention (sorry this reblog is so long lmao): His 12H lord mars sits in 12H itself, making a Vimala Yoga. This yoga is said to give sudden opposite results...

☆彡

I really don't know much about destiny matrix, so I would be really interested in seeing a post about that!

If sources online about Luigi Mangione's birthday are correct that would make him a bharani sun and mars with purva phalguni or uttara phalguni moon. He would also have magha rahu, shatabhisha ketu.

[ghostf1ux]

5 Times Jason Saved his the Flock and 1 Time they Saved Him: Second Time's the Charm

Day 10: Begging

Words: 5.6k

TW/CWs: Graphic description of injury, claustrophobia, literally digging out of a grave

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 (here)

-------------------------------------------------------

Everything was going according to plan.

Except for one small issue.

It turns out, Jason was not nearly informed enough about Blüdhaven. At least, according to his standards. Dick seemed to think what he shared was plenty, but he neglected to let Jason know that the underground owner of the god damn city had a personal vendetta against him.

So… Jason's a little upset. At his brother, for withholding crucial information. But mostly at himself, for getting into this mess.

What is the mess, you may ask?

Well, currently, Jason has had all his gear stripped from him save for the clothes he wears under his suit, which is just a thermal compression shirt and leggings combo, and he's gotta say, the thermal is really not helping in this dingy ass cold ass basement.

That may be in part of the sweat and blood dripping down his neck, the latter starting to pool on the ground from his kris blade embedded in his right thigh, pinning him to the chair he's strapped to by his arms.

Which, in reality, the chains keeping his forearms strapped to the arms of the chair would be easy enough to escape. They aren't very tight. The issue is more the armed guards surrounding him and, oh yeah, fucking Blockbuster standing at the other end of the room. There's also the issue of his… dislocated elbow and cracked radius on his left arm, dislocated right collarbone, several cracked ribs on both sides, and, oh yeah, the dagger in his thigh. And that's not even mentioning the extensive bruising and other minor injuries from the rest of the night.

Dick is so going to get punched later.

Jason grimaces as Blockbuster yanks his head up to face him by his hair, squinting when the fluorescent light nearly blinds him.

“Now, if I remember correctly, you work with that low-life flippy little blue bird vigilante,” Blockbuster states, like it's not even a question. Jason sighs, then immediately regrets the action.

“Work with is a strong description, Buster. Or Blocky? Which do you prefer? Mr. Bust, maybe?” Jason grins a bloody, toothy grin up at the man. He only scoffs.

“You play at being confident, Red Hood. But you will be how I take my revenge against Nightwing. For my life, I will take yours. But not before he knows that he could have saved you, and simply failed to do so.”

“What, you gonna put a bullet in my brain?” Jason croons.

“No, no,” Blockbuster chuckles, “But you're going to wish I did with how you're going to die.”

“Didn't stick last time, doubt it will this time.”

He hisses as his head is dropped and his collarbone shifts, just slightly.

“We'll see.”

------------------------

Dick sighs as he hears his phone ring, cocking his hip out in annoyance as he looks at the unknown number.

“Can you just give me a second? I've gotta take this call,” Dick plants his other hand on his hip as he glares at the purse snatcher cornered between him and the alley wall. He looks confused, but has the good sense to nod in understanding. Dick flashes him a news-worthy smile before answering the call and lifting the phone to his ear despite the chorus of quiet reprimands in his ear from the Bats. They can deal. “What can I do you for?”

“Ah, Nightwing, so good to hear your chipper voice again,” a painfully familiar voice crows. It makes Dick freeze, his posture immediately straightening.

“Blockbuster,” he greets cooly, motioning stiffly for the mugger to turn around so he can handcuff him. “I thought you were dead.”

“Well, times change, you know that, don't you? In fact, I just heard about something like that tonight. Something about it not sticking but… ah, that's not important.” Dick mutes to talk into his comm as he grapples to the nearest rooftop. Blockbuster keeps monologing in his ear but he isn't listening.

“Everyone, status, now.”

The flock knows better than to argue with his uncharacteristically sharp tone. Each one of them on patrol tonight responds with their vaguely positive conditions. So what…?

“...ut I figured I should give you a chance. You may have stepped out of the way of that bitch's bullet for me, but I'm going to graciously allow you to try to find your ally. I expect thanks for this, you know.” Dick tunes back into the monologue, unmuting himself.

“Who? Where are they?”

“Pity you can't even deduce who you're missing. Is Gotham really so much more important that you'd leave your ally alone in Blüdhaven for it?”

Dick mutes again.

“Who the fuck is in Blüd right now?” He nearly shouts, but manages to keep his voice to a loud hiss. Oracle's keyboard clicks in the background of her mic.

“No one, literally no one is in Blüdhaven right now,” Babs responds tersely. 

“Look for locations of everyone who's ever been there who's even vaguely someone I know.” Dick is pacing the rooftop now, with no direction to go and far too much energy he can't expend in any productive way.

“That's going to take awhile, N.”

“Just do it. Please.”

“You probably won't be able to find him, of course, but you'll have the chance anyways.” Dick clenches his fist so hard the material creaks. “I even put a nice little microphone in there for you, so you can listen to him as he dies. Karma's a bitch, blue. And, a plus side, now he'll be back where he belongs instead of sticking his nose into things he shouldn't be.”

Blockbuster laughs, and the line clicks once, twice, three times, and then a slightly staticky sound comes through. Dick's pacing slows and he covers his other ear so he can focus on the background.

It's faint, but it's there. Breathing. Quiet, slow breaths, like whoever it is is sleeping, but ever so slightly cut off at the end to suggest pain.

“O, how's the search?” Dick manages to keep his tone under control this time, reassured by the quiet breaths.

“All the Titans that you've been seen in public with are elsewhere in the country,” Oracle reports. Dick nods, but his guts twists. He's missing something. He's missing something big.

“He was taunting me,” Dick muses aloud. “He's mad that he died, he's trying to get back at me. He wants me to find whoever it is, or at least try. He would've left clues.”

“Oracle, can you play the recording of the conversation over the comms so we can all hear it?” Tim asks. Oracle hums an affirmative, and lets it play over. Then the active call itself is connected, so Dick puts his phone away.

“That was somehow oddly specific and incredibly vague at the same time,” Tim mutters.

“Agreed.”

“Tt. Is it not obvious?” Damian cuts in snidely. “There is only one who ever speaks of how death does not ‘stick’. Oracle, locate Hood.”

“During his previous check in two days ago, Hood was located in Boston,” Batman rumbles. “His investigation into a drug smuggling ring was proving fruitful, and going well. He may have been on his way back.”

“You don't just bump into Blockbuster, you need to be sticking your nose into his stuff,” Dick sighs.

“I… can't find Hood's tracker,” Oracle– or rather, Babs, now that she's turned off her voice modulator– informs them. “His last known location was from two hours ago, and it was in Blüd.”

“His investigation must have taken him there.”

“That is entirely possible, but it does not help us find Hood's location.”

“I've already tried triangulating the call's location, it's like it's not coming from anywhere. It's untraceable, I can–”

“Wait, guys,” Tim cuts in, “I think he's waking up.”

They all fall silent as the breaths become shallower, quicker. As fabric shifts, as normal breaths turn to pained half-gasps, as small, exploring movements turn to desperate, scrabbling ones.

Then Tim asks the question they'd all been dreading the possible answers to.

“Wait, didn't Blockbuster say he was in something? What the hell does that mean?”

And then Jason gives them their answer with his first words, and it's a whole lot more concerning than they ever thought it would be.

------------------------

It's… dark, Jason realizes, as soon as he opens his eyes. His head is throbbing dully, but it's also a little fuzzy, like he's waking up from a drug-induced nap. At first he thinks he's blindfolded, but there's no pull of any sort of covering over his eyes, not even his domino.

The pain floods in a moment later, tearing his thoughts away from figuring out why it's so damn dark. Burning pain, pulsing around his thigh, his arm, and his chest. The slightest movements make his breath hitch, but the clarity it brings to his mind is welcome. His right arm– the one with the dislocated collarbone, his mind supplies– is tingling uncomfortably. 

He grunts as he tries to sit up, finding himself not actually restrained to anything and–

His head thumps against a hard surface covered by fabric. The surprise of it makes him drop back down, onto what he now realizes is a surprisingly soft pillow.

Actually, he's surrounded by surprisingly soft padding.

His heart and his breathing pick up before his mind connects the dots.

Careful fingers, ignoring every stab of pain, feel along the edges of the tight walls containing him. There's a lip between where the wall and the ceiling meet. It's sealed shut.

“No, no no no no no no nonononononono not a coffin please not a coffin I can't do this again– not again please not again–”

But kicking out with his good leg finds he's surrounded on all sides by a well-padded box, sealed tight. 

His eyes burn as he scrabbles at the walls that close in on him, nails digging into the fabric and ripping it apart only to find the lacquered wood underneath. His breathing stutters into gasps for air as it grows stifling and suffocating, pressing into him on all sides.

He sobs, not only at the pain flaring from every movement he makes but at the fact that he's trapped in a coffin and he can smell the wet ground surrounding him. 

“Please, please don't make me– I can't– no–”

Panic courses through Jason's mind as the air grows thin. How long has he been down here? Sometime, a long time ago, he was told that a coffin has enough oxygen to survive for about five hours. The memory is hazy at best but even if that number is remotely true, how much has he already used up? How much is he using right now?

“B- Dad– mom– fuck, Dick– anyone– I– I need h- help– please– I can’t– fuck– I can’t fucking do this again, please, anyone–”

Only a resounding, heavy, painful silence answers his shouts, his pleas. He's desperate, and he sounds pathetic, and he knows that, but he really just does not fucking care.

As he's tearing apart the fabric above his head, his fingers brush against something near the highest edge of the lid, embedded in the wood. Just the smallest bump, but the difference is enough to bring him back to himself, if only the slightest bit. Enough for the pads of his fingers to gently feel across its surface, making out the subtle criss-cross texture of metal.

“A fuckin’- a fuckin’ mic,” Jason breathes out. He lets out a choked laugh, remembering Blockbuster's words from earlier. “D- Dickie I am so gonna- gonna punch you later, an’ you're gonna stand fuckin’ still with no fuckin’- no fuckin' flippy shit- and- and you're gonna fuckin’ deserve it.”

He grins at the thought, dried tear tracks and old blood cracking at the motion. It's enough to motivate him to use the fabric as a mask over his mouth, remembering what he did last time. He's not going to die here. Not to Blockbuster. Not when Dick, and who knows who else, is listening in. He's done some cruel things but making his family listen to him die is not going to be one of them. 

So he digs his nails into the lid of the coffin, and he rips. 

It's a slow process, exacerbated by the blood running down his numb fingers and the white hot stabs of pain from every movement of his shoulders, but there's headway. He feels his nails be ripped off under the pressure, one by one, until his nail beds are just bloody, mangled husks.

Distantly, he thinks he might be screaming. Or sobbing. Maybe both. Maybe in hysterics. Maybe he's just finally fucking lost it.

He just knows that his throat is hoarse but he keeps going, keeps digging, keeps clawing, ripping away the wood and feeling the splinters become embedded in his already torn apart hands and his arms are struggling to move through the injuries of earlier tonight but he does it anyways because he is not going to die like this because he didn't the first time, not with worse injuries and not with being smaller and weaker and not without the experience of already having done it before so now he knows what to fucking do even if he doesn't have a belt buckle to help him.

The smell of wet earth hits his nose just before dirt and soil comes raining down. He screws his eyes shut and grits his teeth through it, feeling it cascade down over his face and chest as he digs. He pushes it down towards his feet so he can keep going. The worms squirm around him, over him, their wriggly bodies trying to find their way back to their homes. Jason gags around the dirt and worms that found their way into his mouth, but he refuses to actually throw up. Not yet. Not until he's out. Not until he can feel the pitter-patter of freezing cold rain on his face, not until he can see that fucking angel gazing impassively down at the zombie that just came back from the dead, not until he can get a lungful of that trademarked Gotham smog that's probably ever so slightly tinged with fear gas and Joker Venom. 

His fingers break the surface, sooner than Jason was expecting. They reach up towards the sky, where a freezing breeze makes his fingers want to just stay there and never move again because it hurts and he's tired, he's exhausted–

Gloved hands find his, frantically clasping onto them with an iron grip and not letting go. He thinks another pair, or maybe several, are digging out the dirt around his fingers, leaving the rest of his hand, and soon his arm, exposed to the elements. He lets his hand go limp, let's himself stop fighting, stop digging. He feels the dirt being pushes away, the pressure of the earth surrounding him becoming less and less until there's ice cold moisture pattering against his head and there are arms underneath his, hands clasped around his hand and his forearm, the fractured one, he thinks, but he doesn't have the energy to scream, to yell, so he whines, he whimpers, while he's wrapped in something heavy, something warm, but it's too much, there are hands everywhere, they could be hostile hands, so he shoves them all away and blindly scrambles back until he can gag and heave and the dirt and the worms are finally being expelled from his mouth and his stomach. His ears are ringing and his chest burns and his body violently shivers and suddenly the weight is back but the hands aren't and it's just so, so warm so he lets himself get lost in it.

He did it.

He's out.

There's a hand carding gently through his hair. He leans into it. It's comforting. It's safe.

He closes his eyes, surrendering to the pull of that comforting, heavy darkness.

------------------------

Someone on the comm line fails to fully stifle a sob at the sound of Jason's cries, his begging, his screaming for help. Dick himself has long since stopped trying to stop himself from crying, instead he's just made it easier by flicking up the white lenses of his domino up so his tears can run freely over the mask instead of pooling within it.

It's not every day you hear your brother, who is as distant and emotionally closed off as they come, begging through tears for someone else to save him.

To say it was traumatizing was an understatement.

“Where are we at with the search?” Batman asks in his signature distant, emotionally-closed-off voice he gets when he actually feels something. It's the only reason Dick knows that internally, Bruce is freaking the fuck out right now.

He can sympathize.

“I– the line is untraceable, even to me. I've been combing through footage of every graveyard in Gotham, trying to find any irregularities but there's nothing yet,” Babs reports shakily. Dick takes a deep, calming breath, and tries not to let it out as another sob. He moderately succeeds.

“Something's been bothering me,” Tim finally states, breaking up the tense silence of the call. Well, silence from anyone who wasn't trapped in a coffin for the second time.

(Apparently. That was something else Dick was still trying to wrap his head around, but it also wasn't the most pressing matter at the moment so he pushed those thoughts aside before he could spiral further than he already had. He'd be of no help to Jason otherwise.)

“N, how was Blockbuster able to call you on your actual phone?” Tim's tone was clinically detached in the way he got when he was also starting to freak the fuck out. Some guilty part of Dick is thankful he isn't the only one.

“He… knows who I am,” Dick mutters, punching some other mugger he came across a little stronger than strictly necessary. “Out of costume. He knows who I am. Got a lucky hit in a fight a while ago, mask broke.”

Tim hums. “If that's the case, theoretically he would know who Hood is as well, right?”

“If he looked into it, sure, he's smart enough to figure that out.” 

And, a plus side, now he'll be back where he belongs instead of sticking his nose into things he shouldn't be.

The words echo in Dick's head. He swings his bike around to thunder down the road in the opposite direction, pushing the accelerator nearly to the max.

“He buried Jay in his own fucking grave,” Dick bites out, leaning down so he can avoid at least some of the icy rain pelting his face. A chorus of swears follow the words, and probably a collective changing of directions. “I'm twenty minutes out.”

“Twenty-five,” Tim mutters.

“Father and I are thirty-five,” Damian speaks up.

“I'm pulling up the feed now,” Babs reports. “Looks like it was set to a loop, nothing seems to be changed, but I should be able to find the real recordings–”

“A fuckin’- a fuckin’ mic.” Jason's raspy words cut Babs off, all of them going silent when he chokes out a slightly hysterical laugh and continues. “D- Dickie I am so gonna- gonna punch you later, an’ you're gonna stand fuckin’ still with no fuckin’- no fuckin' flippy shit- and- and you're gonna fuckin’ deserve it.”

Dick lets out his own wet laugh at that. “You got it, little wing. We're almost there, just hang in there.”

There's almost a minute of heavy, staticky breaths and a distinct lack of screaming, before another sound that'll probably haunt Dick's nightmares forever comes through. It's like nails on a chalkboard, but worse, because just by Jason's sounds of agony and sheer desperation he knows for a fact that the sound is nails clawing through wood. 

He screams and shrieks and Dick tries his best to block it out because if he actually listens he'll be forced to confront the fact that he's the reason any of this happened, Blockbuster did this to get back at him, and there was no explanation that could refute that. It was just plain fact.

The comm line is painfully silent of all voices other than Jason's, who had completely forgone even swearing in lieu of just letting his pain out in mangled, breathless howls. 

Finally, finally, after what feels like both forever and the blink of an eye, Dick is vaulting off his bike and racing towards the cemetery.

“Cut the cameras,” Dick orders just as he scales the wrought iron gates protecting the property. It isn't hard for him to sprint unseen across the various graves and up the hill he knows all too well.

Sure enough, the dirt before Jason's gravestone is freshly reburied. If he listens close enough, past his comm and the thundering rain, he thinks he can hear Jason's muffled screams through the earth.

That propels him to look around frantically for the nearest shovel, which, of course, is nowhere in sight.

Granted, his sight is vastly limited due to the pouring rain, but that doesn't stop the frustrated shout from leaving him. He just drops to his knees and starts digging with his hands.

Minutes later Tim is there with him, immediately dropping down beside him and joining him in his frantic shoveling. 

“B's ETA is five minutes.”

“Bring a fucking shovel,” Dick hisses, too tired and panicked to worry about his tone.

“Bring several,” Tim amends, his voice now having the barest hint of a waver at the end. Bruce grunts in affirmation, which is good enough for Dick.

In what could been five minutes or two, Bruce and Damian are there with them, carrying three shovels. Dick and Tim immediately take two of them, and Bruce helps them with shoveling out as much dirt as they can, as fast as they can. Damian is relegated to spotting duty so they don't accidentally hit Jay with the shovels.

Which is why when Damian's eyes widen and his breath stops for just half a moment, Dick is immediately chucking his shovel out of the three foot hole and digging with his hands again until bloody, mangled fingers break the surface. He latches onto them despite the pain it probably causes Jason, because it's probably better he knows someone is here regardless of whatever injuries he has.

Tim, Bruce, and Damian all drop in beside him to continue digging out around the slowly uncovered form that is Jason. Dick keeps his hand locked in Jason's, getting a better grip on him as more is uncovered. First it's his full hand, which Dick is more than happy to clasp in his iron grip, smiling wetly when he feels Jason gripping his hand just as tightly. His forearm is next, which Dick holds with his other hand, ready to help lift him out. His hand and arm go limp at some point, and only the rapid thread of his pulse under Dick's fingertips keeps him from panicking further. Then there's a muddy streak of white, or at least what used to be white, plastered within black curls. Bruce is quick to work his arms under Jason's shoulders to help lift him out.

“We've got you, little wing, we've got you. You're safe now,” Dick murmurs comfortingly as they start pulling him out. He doesn't answer, and doesn't open his squeezed-shut eyes, but he's shaking like a fucking leaf and maybe that's because he only has his underclothes on instead of all his gear.

Or maybe it's because he just had to go through an extremely traumatic experience for the second time and is still sobbing and hyperventilating.

But who really knew.

He's partially lifted out of the hole to where his full chest is visible when Tim speaks up.

“Wait, wait, stop!” Both Bruce and Dick glare at the younger vigilante, but they do stop.

“The dagger gifted to Todd from my mother is embedded in his right thigh,” Damian reports. “It is dangerously close to his femoral artery. If you remove him too carelessly, we will have a far greater problem.”

“Secure it. Quickly,” Bruce growls, and oh, yep, that's all fatherly worry there. Glad to know he can still let it out sometimes, Dick supposes. Even if it takes one of his children being literally buried alive.

From Dick's point of view, he can't see exactly what the younger two are doing, but he's getting antsy waiting around for even the maybe fifteen seconds it takes them to secure the knife.

And then they both lean back and help Dick and Bruce lift Jason out the rest of the way. A broken whine leaves Jason's lips as he's quickly draped in Bruce's cape, whimpering as he weakly tries to shove himself away from Dick, away from them all, movements jerky and sloppy and bloody, god, there's so much blood. Each movement makes him flinch, each calming touch they try to give him makes him scramble back, so eventually, they stop and let him have his space.

Except for Bruce, who follows Jason calmly and cards the hair out of his face while he gags and throws up graveyard dirt. He drapes his cape around Jason again, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back. Dick watches as Jason's ability to hold himself up finally gives out under his trembling shivers and he sags gracelessly into Bruce's hold, who murmurs comforting words to Jason even as he keeps him wrapped in both the cape and his arms.

Dick breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Jason's breathing even out and his face goes slack. He lets go of Tim's and Damian's hands, which he didn't even know he grabbed. 

“I– I'll take care of this,” Tim says quietly, gesturing back at the grave. Bruce nods, but doesn't say anything further. Damian follows Bruce as he stands with Jason in his arms, looking so small, smaller than he should ever look, considering the six-foot-two at least and built like a brick shithouse build he has. Dick glances wordlessly between Bruce and Tim, panic once again rising at the thought of leaving either of his brothers.

Tim rests a steadying hand on Dick's shoulder. “It's okay, I can handle this. Go be with Jay.”

Dick meets his eyes, searching for any sign of lying from his little bird.

“Alright, baby bird. But come back as soon as you're done.” He plants a kiss to the crown of his head before he's jogging to catch up with Bruce and Damian to head back to the manor.

------------------------

When Jason finally wakes, it's not slow, or comforting, or painless.

When he wakes its with a violent jerk, brain still having yet to catch up with the events around him, his mind filled with the stifling, still darkness of the fucking coffin and the pain, the agony as his fingernails are ripped out one by one from the sheer force of his desperate efforts to escape it, and he's cold, he's so cold, it's like he's dead all over again and there's fucking grave dirt in his mouth, choking him, drowning him, he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe–

“–wing? Little wing, I need you to open your eyes, you're safe, I promise,” a voice– Dick's voice– speaks from somewhere in front of him. He manages to tear his eyes open at Dick's calm words, immediately squinting with the sudden brightness of what he thinks is the Cave medical wing.

How the fuck did he get here?

He doesn't have time to ponder it before his leg is buckling and he's falling into Dick's chest, the older vigilante making only the smallest grunt at his weight.

“Breathe with me, Jay. Let's get you back in the bed, yeah?” He gently leads Jason back over to the cot he'd flown out of in his panic, which he didn't even realize was him panicking until Dick had pointed it out a moment ago.

With only a few hisses and grunts, Jason manages to help lower himself back into the cot. It's only then that he registers the other eyes on him, crowded at the entrance to the medbay. No less than four vigilantes were squished into the space of the corner of the room and the doorway, making Jason roll his eyes once he got his heart rate back under control.

“You–” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat (wow that fucking hurt), “– you all just gonna hover over there or…?”

Because honestly he had no idea what they're doing. But he does know that his voice sounds like shit, because everyone's face grimaces and Tim is quick to walk over to pass him a glass of water with a straw. You'd think he'd gargled glass or something, and he can say that because he technically has! Or at least, was forced to eat some. Zero out of ten, do not recommend. That was a rough couple weeks.

Or maybe this was because he's been screaming and shouting his fucking lungs out at some point. That vaguely sounded like something he did recently.

Jason resolutely chose not to think about it for his sanity.

That being said, he gulps the water down thankfully, after swishing the first couple mouthfuls around and spitting them out to get the lingering dirt taste out of his mouth. Because it's gross.

“How are you feeling?” Babs rolls in next, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the bed from Dick and Tim. Her voice is soft, genuine, in that way she gets when she's really worried. 

Jason shrugs, immediately regretting it when he feels several stabs of pain from it. Looking down at himself now, he can tell he won't be doing anything for a bit. His ribs are wrapped, his leg is wrapped (with the dagger that used to be in it sitting on the table next to him), his arm and wrist are in a cast, and his hands are thoroughly bandaged. 

Yeah, nope, not gonna think about that.

“Better than I could be,” Jason tries, attempting nonchalance. By the looks exchanged between the five present, he doubts it worked. Oh well.

“Pennyworth says you're to remain in the manor for two weeks,” the demon brat speaks up, arms crossed across his chest. If Jason didn't know any better, he'd think there was a tinge of unease, and perhaps worry in his eyes. 

“Nah, I'll be out by the end of the week,” Jason replies easily, waving dismissively. “But don't worry, pipsqueak, I won't be doing anything too strenuous. Probably.”

Because who really knows with this job.

But apparently that wasn't the right answer, because looks are exchanged again and now it's making Jason annoyed. Annoyed, because he doesn't want to admit to being uncomfortable.

“I think we'd all really like it if you stayed a bit longer than that, Jaylad,” Bruce chimes in gruffly. His words are firm, but there's a hint of desperation behind them. “I'd like it if you stayed longer. To make sure you're okay.”

Dick, Tim, and Babs all have their stupid little hopeful smiles, Damian is scowling slightly less than usual which is basically the same thing, and Bruce is looking… oddly emotional. Not walling himself off like usual.

Huh.

Weird.

But no way he was staying in the manor any longer than he absolutely needed to. He can already feel his blood pressure rising at the idea of being trapped here for two whole weeks.

“Yeah… no. I'm not staying here for two weeks,” Jason mutters tersely. “Besides, I have shit to do in my apartment. Cases. Work. Whatever.”

Literally anything to get him out of staying here for two weeks.

“Alright, alright, we can talk about it later,” Duck cuts in before anything can devolve into anything even close to an argument. “But for now, why don't we head upstairs and relax? Watch a movie? It's been a long night.”

“I agree with Master Dick,” Alfred announces as he strolls in with a change of folded clothes. “I will be taking a look at Master Jason's injuries before he follows. I believe Master Tim and Master Damian can decide on a movie together?”

He sends a pointed look at the two, who don't dare linger under it and quickly scurry off, already bickering about their ideas of good movies. The other three turn back to Jason, who immediately feels the air get heavier.

“Jaylad…”

“No,” Jason bites out, “I'm not talking about this. Not tonight. If you didn't already know, then you aren't nearly as good of a detective as you think, Bruce. The Pit can't just bring people back to life, and I had to wake up somewhere.”

Of course the hoarse words come out more exhausted than actually scathing, like Jason meant them to be. Once again, he shoved down the mental images into the recesses of his mind, despite how they clawed at the fringes to get back in, just like he had clawed to get out of those stupid coffins.

God. If Jason had a nickel for every time he had to dig his way out of his own grave, he'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird and fucking traumatizing that it happened twice.

“He's right, B,” Babs chimes in quietly. “We shouldn't talk about this tonight.”

“Or ever,” Jason helpfully adds with a glare. He hisses under his breath as Alfred checks his injuries as gently as he can. Unfortunately, it's bound to be painful when every movement hurts something.

“...Fine. As long as you stay,” Bruce compromises, meeting Jason's gaze. Jason furrows his eyebrows. Since fucking when did Bruce compromise? Where is Bruce and what did this imposter do with him??

Jason acquiesces with a sigh. “Alright, whatever.”

And so Alfred finished up his examination, Dick and Bruce helped Jason get upstairs, and he spent the rest of his night watching movies with his family until he passed out in the giant cuddle pile that they all inevitably turned into.

It didn't stop the nightmares, but it certainly helped once he woke up.

[tmrwsuns]

(❆⋆.˚) pretty like snow !

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [choi hyunwoo x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.5k w. curse words! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

maybe telling your friends about your crush on hyunwoo hadn’t been your best idea yet.

look, you understood that they were trying to be supportive after you told them how haunted you were by the feelings you harbored for a certain friend, but this was not what you qualified as supportive.

you mentally cursed at your friend from the back seat of the van you found yourself in, holding onto the handle on the side of the car for dear life as you tried to not squish hyunwoo to death in every curve the car took a little too fast. you should’ve known, really, that they would pull some shit like that on the trip they planned. but you were naive, thinking only of achieving your lifelong dreams to spend christmas up in the mountains with your friends.

you kind of regretted it now, because making you sit next to hyunwoo on a four person row that was currently sitting five people was just the beginning of what would be four days of complete embarrassment and torture.

“yechan move your ass, i’m squishing the poor girl” hyunwoo said as he tried to push yechan further down the seat, the poor boy being squished between hyunwoo and hunter’s girlfriend, and your best friend, aerum.

“i can’t move! areum is taking up too much space” the younger boy complained as he glared at the girl sitting next to him.

“i’m not! hunter is too big for this row!” she retorted, making the mentioned guy roll his eyes with annoyance.

“you said you wanted me to sit with you!”

“i literally didn’t, i wanted to sit next to yn!” she complained, and you rolled your eyes again because you knew damn well she had orchestrated this whole thing for you and hyunwoo.

“can you guys please stop screaming?” junghoon asked from his comfortable, incredibly spacious double seat in the front.

“easy for you to say” yechan said as he childishly moved around, looking for more comfort. “that’s it, someone had to take one for the team and get on someone's lap”

your eyes widened in fear. oh, fuck no.

“not it!” you screamed, your pointer finger flying to touch the tip of your nose. you were followed by the rest of them, hyunwoo being the last one.

“fuck!” he complained, making you chuckle lightly in victory.

“someone has to carry him, not it!” areum blurted out as quickly as she could, keeping her finger in place.

you were fast, but not fast enough. your finger flew back to your nose milliseconds after hunter’s did, leaving you speechless at the fate you had met.

“i’m not carrying him” you complained, shaking your head.

“he can carry you, you’re the losers so figure it out” yechan said, smiling proudly.

“i’m a girl and i’m uncomfortable with this” you spoke, earning groans from the boys in the row and laughs from the ones in front.

“don’t play that card, that’s so unfair” yechan whined.

“i’m surprised you even made me sit here, really” you continued on with your drama.

“she’s right, you guys are so impolite,” junmin agreed from his place in the passenger seat.

“you’re the one with the single seat, it’s literally your fault,” hyunwoo defended.

“if she gets a single seat then i should too!” your best friend chimed in.

“you’re sitting with your boyfriend, just go on his lap” you pressed, glaring at her jokingly.

“if i do, everyone will start whining about us being coupley!” she retorted, making hunter nod in agreement.

“let’s all stop whining and suck it up,” minjae interrupted for the first time, looking stressed in the front seat. “yn can get shotgun when we drive back, but if you could deal with it for four hours you can deal with it for two more, now shush before i drive us off a cliff”

silence followed after the oldest spoke, all of you reluctantly shutting up until seeun’s voice arose for the first time.

“who told him he’s the leader?” 

and hell broke loose again.

…

“yn, hey, wake up” you heard a distant voice call out as a hand shook your shoulder slightly. you opened your eyes reluctantly and confused as to where you were until everything came crashing down when your groggy eyes met hyunwoo’s. “we’re here, you’ve been asleep for the past hour”

thank god.

you nodded and sat up, stretching your body slightly in attempts to wake yourself up more, missing the small smile that took place in hyunwoo’s lips at the sight.

“aerum wanted me to let you know she wants to crash with hunter until yujun gets here, so i think you might have a room all to yourself” he commented as you both got out of the car.

you had rented a six room house, and since yujun had stayed back to take an economics final, you had the privilege to stay alone for two of the four nights you were staying there.

“oh, thank god” you sighed contently as you walked towards the house “i was not prepared to deal with how messy she is”

hyunwoo chuckled at your words, and your heart melted at the sound “do you think that’s how junghoon talks about me?”

“oh, yeah, definitely” you teased as you entered the building, smiling at how big and cozy it was. 

you missed the way hyunwoo’s eyes stayed fixated on you, admiring your smiling face like you had hung all the stars in the sky just for him until his thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice approaching the both of you.

“you guys have been chosen to go grocery shopping, by the way, congratulations!” sumin said cheerfully, patting hyunwoo on the back.

“what? how?” you complained.

“we played rock paper scissors and you weren’t there so you lost” the older male shrugged, winking at you when hyunwoo wasn’t looking. “so take the car and go ahead”

you groaned in protest, knowing it was no use to argue with him and grabbing the keys before heading out. 

the drive to the store was filled with random chatter and the sound of the radio playing whatever it could pick up, mostly old songs. both of you headed into the bulding, hyunwoo grabbing one of the large carts and letting you lead the way.

“i think we should forget the cereal sumin asked for” you commented as you read the list sumin had sent you. “he doesn’t deserve it”

hyunwoo chuckled and nodded in agreement “i like the way you think, yn” and you had to bite your tongue to not squeal like a little girl. 

“i’ll take this one instead,” you smiled and tiptoed to attempt to grab the cereal box that stood unnecessarily high on the shelf. hyunwoo noticed your struggle and moved to help you, his hand instinctively holding your waist as he reached for the box.

“here, i got it” he said, voice almost a whisper as you stood almost frozen in place. you had been friends for a long time, but being that close was completely uncharted territory.

“uhm, yeah, thanks” you mumbled when he moved away, trying to regain your composure. “next is green onions, we can’t forget the green onions” you rushed, walking away and leaving a slightly confused hyunwoo behind.

“i guess she really likes green onions,” he muttered to himself as he followed you.

…

a whole day had passed since the cereal aisle incident, and even if nothing had actually happened, you couldn’t help but act awkward around hyunwoo. he hadn’t done anything wrong, of course, but the way he made you feel with every single tiny action of his was starting to worry you.

“i can’t act casually around him, it’s so bad” you groaned as you sat with aerum on the front porch of the house. “he genuinely makes me want to scream and giggle just by smiling at me, i think i have a disease of some sort.”

your friend snorted softly, shaking her head. “you don’t have a disease, you have a crush” she pushed your shoulder with hers “and i think he feels the same”

you looked at her once you heard her words, glaring at her slightly and jokingly “don’t get my hopes up for nothing please”

“i’m not! i promise” she smiled as she ruffled your hair “you should just go for it, i think he’d be more than happy if you did”

“i’ll think about it” you smiled affectionately as you watched her stand up when hunter got out of the house, waiting for her to join him. “i’ll see you later, enjoy” 

“bye hun, think about what i told you!” she exclaimed before walking hand in hand with her boyfriend. you watched them leave with a small smile on your lips, wishing that was you with a certain someone.

“hey” you heard someone call from behind you just as you were going to stand up, making you turn around to watch hyunwoo walk towards you.

“hey, what’s up?” you smiled, your hand moving to play with your rings as a nervous habit. 

“nothing much, i just saw you here alone and i thought i'd join you” he returned the gesture, sitting next to you. “i wanted to talk to you, too”

your heart began racing at his words, thoughts flooding your head trying to figure out what he could possibly need to talk to you about.

“sure, go ahead” you tried to mask the nervousness in your voice.

“i just wanted to apologize for making you uncomfortable yesterday at the store, i didn’t mean to,” he said, and you could hear how nervous he was as he looked anywhere but your direction. “i promise i wont get that close to you again”

your eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, a pang of guilt stabbing your chest as you realized what he meant. “you didn’t make me uncomfortable, hyunwoo” 

his eyes flew to yours immediately, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “i didn’t? then why are you acting so weird?”

oh.

you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“don’t even worry about it” you said, trying your hardest to dismiss the fact that he had noticed the effect he had on you, even if he didn’t know why.

“you sure?” he pressed, and if it wasn’t for the embarrassment that invaded your entire being you would’ve thought it was cute how much he cared.

“i’m sure, i really don’t mind having you close to me” and that just made it even worse.

you were on the verge of standing up and walking away towards the woods where you would eventually (hopefully) get lost and disappear when you realized his body had relaxed significatively, a small smile overtaking his pretty lips. “you don’t?”

“not really” you said, barely above a whisper as you tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

“good, i’m happy to hear that” he said as his smile only grew wider. a couple seconds passed before he scooted his body closer to you, his shoulder now slightly grazing yours. 

“the snow is pretty, isn’t it?” you said to break the nervous silence that surrounded you, making  your strongest effort to bite back a giddy smile. 

“yeah, beautiful” he breathed out at the same time that you turned to look at him, finding him already staring at you.

… 

“it’s christmas morning, yn, don’t be a grinch” seeun said from the other side of the door, his consistent knocking starting to drive you insane.

“it is barely morning, it’s seven am” you groaned, covering yourself further with the covers as if that were to shield you from your friend’s annoying voice.

“if you can check your phone for the time then you’re wide awake, now come on before i open your presents for you.” now that woke you up.

“you wouldn’t dare” you exclaimed, sitting up from your bed abruptly.

“believe me, i would” he dared, and even though you knew he wouldn’t, you couldn’t risk it.

“give me five minutes and i’ll be right down” you groaned as you stood up from the bed, going to the adjacent bathroom to get decent to go to your friends.

a smile overtook your face as you walked down the stairs, all your friends sat under the christmas tree the house had come with, dressed in ridiculous festive pajamas as they eagerly waited for you to join them.

“i’m here, go ahead” you chuckled as you approached them, seeun not sparing you a single look before he jumped right ahead to find what boxes belonged to him.

“morning, yn” hyunwoo smiled as you made your way onto the couch, where a spot next to him was conveniently available.

“morning hyunwoo” you smiled back.

“IS THAT YN? GIVE HER THE PHONE” a familiar voice screamed through hunter’s phone, making your attention shift towards it. the boy handed you the phone and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of yujun. “HI YN” he exclaimed.

“hi, yujunnie” you chuckled affectionately “how are you?”

“bad, awful, stuck at an inn in the middle of nowhere with no presents whatsoever” he pouted.

“i’m sorry, that sucks” you mentioned, feeling bad for the boy in the other line.

yujun sighed exaggeratedly “it’s fine, there's a pretty girl here so at least that’s that.”

you giggled and continued to talk to him for a couple more minutes before moving onto opening presents with all your friends. you were in the middle of cleaning up all the wrapping paper when you felt a tap on your shoulder, hyunwoo being the culprit.

“can you come outside with me for a minute?” he asked, sounding a bit more nervous than he wanted to. you nodded and followed him outside, hugging your arms as the cold air hit you. “i got you something else” the boy smiled as he extended a small box towards you.

“thank you, hyunwoo, that’s really sweet of you” you thanked as you grabbed the box, not trying to hide the smile he caused you. you opened the gift and let out a soft breath at the sight of a small necklace, a charm sitting adorably in the middle. “it’s so pretty, thank you so much but why-” 

“sumin told me you like me” hyunwoo interrupted.

your eyes widened as you looked up to him in fear, experiencing the five stages of grief in a single second before trying to quickly brace yourself for the rejection you had ahead of you. you were going to kill sumin.

“he did what?” you asked, the tone of your voice betraying your astonishment.

“he only did it because i like you too, and i wanted to tell you soon because i know how much you like christmas but i was really scared because i didn’t know if you liked me back, so he had to convince me somehow but i wouldn’t believe him so he told me” he rambled on nervously, his inexplicable ability to speak coming out to save you in a moment of panic.

you stood there for a couple of seconds, unable to move or say anything at the shock that was knowing your crush liked you back.

“yn?” hyunwoo asked, trying to bring you back to reality. you couldn’t find the words to express the happiness you felt in that moment, so you did what any sensible person would do; take his face in your hands and smash your lips together.

★blue's corner ;; i hope you guys enjoyed it ! this is part of the love actually series which im doing on both of my blogs so check the rest out ! ★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @fairytopea

© tmrwsuns, 2024

[bartimaeus]

Guess who just watched season nine of Doctor Who I'm deeply unwell.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

space sweepers but they're delivery people and are at no point on screen through the entire movie

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[buck-up-buck]

Canon Events that have happened over the three episodes that have me going INSANE (like, these actually happened and are not Fanon.)

Buck asked Tommy for a tour of Harbour, not because he wanted to consider learning to fly, or leave the 118, but soley because he wanted to hang out with Tommy.

Buck used Christopher for information on Tommy.

Buck pretended to suddenly be into Basketball so that he could go to the game, just because he knew Eddie and Tommy would be there.

MADDIE MOCKED BUCK ABOUT OPENLY HAVING A CRUSH ON EDDIE.

Buck body slammed Eddie while playing Basketball (honestly, I still cannot get over the fact that he YEETED THIS BOII).

Tommy got Buck's address from Eddie and chose to come around to apologise to Buck even though, TECHNICALLY, Buck was the one acting like a spoilt brat all episode.

BUCK WAS KISSED BY A MAN. SPECIFICALLY, BUCK WAS KISSED BY TOMMY. And then proceeded to be swept off his feet by this man and was left starstruck in his apartment, after Tommy openly communicated that he had to go to work and wasn't just kissing and bailing.

"I'm an Ally."... Need I say no more.

Buck acted like a totally fucking idiot on his first date with Tommy, and proceeded to have Tommy cut the date short because of how unready he seemed. WHICH BY THE WAY, TOMMY AGAIN COMMUNICATED SO BEAUTIFULLY WITH BUCK AND PROCEEDED TO STILL CALL THIS MAN ADORABLE. HE CALLED HIM ADORABLE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Buck accidently outed himself to Maddie because he was doing a ramble ramble about his lil buck'ed up date.

Buck told Eddie he was on a date with Tommy, and Eddie proceeded to be the bestie of besties to Buck and told him, they all loved him anyways. HE USED THE WORDS. Bucks face in that scene will forever make my lil gay heart WEEP.

Buck told Eddie he couldn't stop thinking about the hot pilot that kissed him. CRYING.

Buck proceeded to grow the fuck up and apologised to Tommy, face to face, out in a public space, knowing full well that Tommy could have dropped his ass there and then, but still wanted to show him how sorry he was, and that he was, in fact, ready.

BUCK INVITED TOMMY TO BE HIS DATE TO THE MADNEY WEDDING DESPITE ONLY technically GOING ON TWO DATES. AND THEN TOMMY. SAID. YES. HE SAID YES. YES.

Buck also then invited Tommy to Chim's bachelor party, HELD HIS ARMS OPEN ACROSS THE ROOM READY FOR A HUG, told Tommy off for his outfit, showing off true Clipboard Buck form, AND THEN TOUCHED HIS PECK.

Eddie, the bestie of besties, got all sappya and jokey when he saw Tommy and Buck together.

Buck got all pouty when Tommy had to go to work, BUT TOLD HIM TO BE SAFE. HE SAID BE SAFE DAMNIT.

Buck got all goofy and smiley when he saw that Tommy had arrived at the hospital, MEANING, that he was most likely texting Tommy all day updating him on everything that was going on, even if Tommy couldn't respond while attending to the fire.

BUCK. CALLED. TOMMY. A. BEAST. HE SAID THIS CANONICALLY. ARE YOU JOKING. HE FULLY ATTACKED MY MAN, WHILE HE WAS COVERED IN SOOT AND SHIT, SNOGGED HIS FACE OFF IN A HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM, AND CALLED HIM A BEAST. I AM DECEASED.

Buck, the idiot that he is, proceeded to out himself, to his entire family, by coming back into the room, most likely 15 to 20 minutes after leaving, covered in soot because he had been uncontrollably making out with his hot pilot boyfriend.

Eddie, the bestie of besties, GOT SO FUCKING SMUG WHEN HE SAW BUCK AND TOMMY WALK BACK IN THAT ROOM. HE PULLED THE SAME FACE I PULL WHEN MY FRIENDS HAVE COME BACK FROM MAKING OUT WITH PEOPLE AND I AM HERE FOR IT. EDDIE YOU BESTIE SLAY SLAY SLAY.

Hen, the queen that she is, has most likely spoken to Karen about her suspicons of Buck's sexuality, and procceed to say ABOUT DAMN TIME. SHE KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME. HER GAYDAR IS ON FIRE. I LOVE HER.

Again, all of these events happened IN ACTUAL EPISODES, not in a fanfiction. I am FERAL over this. Bi!Buck is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and if you don't ship BuckTommy, leave.

[aceredshirt13]

gang i have to share this P. G. Wodehouse quote with you all because ever since I found it I can't stop thinking about it. it's from a letter he wrote when he was 78 years old to his friend Guy Bolton (many thanks to P. G. Wodehouse: A Life in Letters)

I have been on the sick list myself, but am better now. Inflamed bladder or chill on the bladder or something, the symptoms being agony when I passed water, as the expression is. It brought back the brave old days when I used to get clap.

he really said "yeah the pain from my bladder issue reminds of the days when I used to have so much sex I repeatedly got venereal disease"

[cementcornfield]

the way i know it's taking everything in him not to say some ridiculous comment to the press rn 😭

[rosicheeks]

-

[gumm1defloor]

Am *this close* to venturing into the ValVel tags on AO3 just so I can consume content of them interacting. I swear they better have at least one scene together in S2 or so help me God I will actively start to ship them on main instead of VoxVal.

[autumnfangirler]

hey man, leave that poor 11 year old alone. why are you putting him trough the horrors. he's a baby.

im sorry youre unsatisfied with vincents care :( i can throw in an 8 year old also experiencing the horrors if you want? it doesnt actually do anything about the horrors but theyre a 2 for 1 deal right now so

[chuchayucca]

Tbh I'm surprised nobody else has brought up the idea of Richard being abused too

It feels like a lot of potential for it and an explanation (aside from their status) as to why Roy never got help for it either -- Richard thought it was normal.

Now this is just making me imagine a scene where Carmen remarks that Roy will "grow out of it" (it being his behavior) like Richard did in front of the other Hatz and Ross and Robert just share a Look

Anddd now I'm wondering how much Carmen knows

TW for discussions of fictional CSA/SA and mentions of alcoholism

Me too, I thought it would be an obvious assumption but I guess not.

Exactly, I’ve seen the fandom explore Carmen and Roy’s relationship regarding his CSA but never with Richard. I think it’s ashamed because there’s a lot you can write for the relationship, even outside of their CSA.

Omg that’s a good scene idea. The Hatzgang are realized there is a deeper issue, and Roy has to unfortunately unpack that generational trauma. I can see how learning his dad is a possible CSA victim, like him, starts pushing Roy to tell his parents but also discourages him because basically Richard unknowingly knew Roy was SA but never recognized it because he doesn’t know he was SA too. I also believe Richard normalized his brother’s actions too. It’s truly devastating how Richard indirectly contributed to the normalization of Roy’s abuse but he doesn’t know it’s SA. He believes those fun “games” him and his brother played were normal family bonding activities and is happy to hear his son is getting along with his brother, a brother he admired when growing up.

These headcanons might change as the series continues and the deeper I get into research.

I headcanon Carmen doesn’t know anything but has suspected something was off a few times. She never thought anything of Richard’s behavior at first because he alway been this way. When they became adults, she started questioning as Richard still had issues with intimacy at that point in their relationship and his alcoholism was at its worst. (Short ver: Richard started drinking at a young age to cope with trauma of his SA and the Uncle encouraged this, buying him alcohol for various reasons. Modern day, Richard is a functional alcoholic but has gotten better with his drinking)

As of the moment, Roy’s parents are unaware of Roy’s CSA. The day the Uncle died, Roy did get in trouble but for separate reasons. Carmen and Richard were mad at Roy for hanging out with “plebeians” and sending them to one of his uncle’s private properties. Roy doesn’t feel comfortable telling them yet because they’re snobby, judgmental people, so he assumes they won’t react well.

[inkmaze]

being normal [lying] being normal [lying] being normal [lying]

[mishy-mashy]

Ray (BNHA Resistance OC) incorrect quotes

(Context: Ray is his codename. An OC forced into joining the Resistance after Bruce accidentally concussed him. His Ability was useful, so they wanted him)

~

Ray: I don’t have a New Year’s resolution

Yoichi: You could relax a bit more

Bruce: You could take a bath.

Kudo: Don’t be such a bitch.

Ray: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

-

Kudo: We've decided to adopt.

Ray, still concussed: Congratu-

Bruce, slamming recruitment papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

-

Bruce: Before I forget, do you have any special requests?

Ray: Death penalty.

Bruce: Ray-kun, it’s just about living accommodations.

Ray, whispering: Please kill me.

-

Bruce: Why did you dress up as each other for this mission?

Ray: Leader is the scariest thing I could think of.

Kudo: Ray told me I should pick the dumbest disguise possible.

-

Kudo: Ray, I think you need glasses.

Ray: Leader, my vision is fine. Look.

Ray: *points at Kudo* Leader.

Ray: *points to Bruce* Bruce.

Ray: *points to Yoichi* All For One.

-

Yoichi: When I cried about my brother to Kudo, he hugged me and told me he'd carry my feelings into his battles

Ray: The first time Leader was ever nice to me, I thought he was a fake. It was such a disaster that I avoided him for like a week.

-

Kudo: The first time Yoichi opened a box of Cheerios and looked inside he yelled, "OH WOW! DONUT SEEDS!"

Kudo:

Kudo: I love him so much.

-

Bruce: It's locked. Can you open it?

Ray: Yeah-

Kudo: *kicks in the vault door*

-

Kudo, on the way back from rescuing Yoichi: You need to be more careful.

Ray, who was forced into this: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

-

Kudo: Ray finally learned his gun had a safety lock, but he assembled a rifle last week.

Bruce: This reminds me of the Ray who couldn’t open a tabbed can, but can break into any lock.

Kudo: This is the very same Ray.

-

Bruce: This is the best idea I've ever had in my life!

*Many years later*

Kudo, to Bruce: Letting All For One take Ray's Quirk was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your life.