#which is Fine siblings don’t have to look similar

[klemen-tine]

Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

Part 2

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot. 

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting. 

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs. 

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it. 

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?” 

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and– 

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.” 

“Dami!” 

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing. 

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair. 

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life. 

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about. 

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham. 

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne. 

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.” 

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.” 

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book. 

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.” 

“Jay, I swear to God.” 

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.” 

“Little wing–” 

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.” 

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words. 

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs. 

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?” 

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–” 

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!” 

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched  Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present. 

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it. 

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee. 

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle. 

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’ 

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason. 

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?” 

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass. 

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze. 

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission. 

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home. 

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here. 

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine. 

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight. 

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over. 

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child. 

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance. 

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing. 

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away. 

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them. 

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why. 

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here. 

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder. 

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.” 

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up. 

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others. 

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred. 

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home? 

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence. 

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered. 

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking. 

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea. 

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.” 

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector. 

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?” 

In the L/N Manor 

Y/N walked  the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere. 

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm. 

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it. 

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham. 

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him. 

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window. 

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl. 

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?” 

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face. 

“Did F/N do this?” 

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?” 

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice. 

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!” 

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory. 

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.” 

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.” 

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go. 

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip. 

“Guys, you’re scaring me.” 

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move. 

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing. 

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor. 

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages. 

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” 

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably. 

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–” 

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands. 

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.” 

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.” 

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say. 

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–” 

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile. 

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. 

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. 

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different. 

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his. 

“I-I should change first–” 

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.” 

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something. 

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted. 

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty. 

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air. 

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about. 

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family. 

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like. 

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick. 

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.” 

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman. 

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers. 

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.” 

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper. 

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say. 

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly. 

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-” 

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance. 

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–” 

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family. 

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly. 

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.” 

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.” 

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.” 

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.” 

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in. 

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.” 

“Language.” 

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company. 

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!”  Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.” 

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper. 

“Just… just please don’t do that again.” 

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

[pitchsidestories]

little me (to my sister) II Alexia Putellas x Putellas!Reader

masterlist I word count: 882

a/n: thanks anon for giving us the idea for this story, enjoy 🫶🏻

“Something’s off.”

You looked up in surprise, suddenly torn from your thoughts by Aitanas voice.

She observed you closely through narrowed eyes.

You thought it was funny how she strained to figure out what was wrong.

With an innocent grin you stretched your legs out in front of you and leaned back against the dressing room bench.

“I don’t know what you mean, Tana.”

“Something just feels very wrong today.”, she said once again, her gaze still fixed on you.

You were just waiting for her to finally realize it. The white 11 printed on the chest of your warm-up shirt wasn’t really subtle. Everyone knew which Putellas sister this number belonged to.

“More like looks wrong.”, Mapi corrected the midfielder and winked at you.

A few of your teammates had grouped around you, smiling at each other once they saw you wearing your older sisters shirt.

“Hello? Can you stop staring at me?”, you complained playfully.

Vicky flashed you a lazy grin in reply: “Wait until your sister sees it.”

Luckily, your sister had a habit of putting in some extra work in the gym before your actual training so she left the house early that morning, her shirt unattended in her closet.

“She won’t even notice.”, you calmed Vicky with a laugh.

You were wrong about that.

Alexia walked in a few minutes later, a blush on her cheeks and sweat beads on her forehead from her previous workout while she sipped on some isotonic sports drink.

She only took one look at you and immediately yelled: “Is that my shirt?! You little…”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised that she had stopped herself and curious about what insult she had planned on using: “Little what?”

“I’m going to murder you!”, she replied and took a few threatening strides towards you. The familiar upward curve of her mouth telling you that she wasn’t actually mad at you.

Laughing, you lifted your hands in defense: “Don’t! Remember, I’m mums favourite!”

Your sister gasped offendedly: “You’re not even mums third favourite!”

“That’s not true. Mapi, help me!”, you called your friend while your sister cornered you on the bench, blocking the obvious exit with her body.

Mapi shrugged nonchalantly: “I mean… I really thought she was you for a moment, Ale.”

“What?!”, you both said simultaneously, staring at the defender.

You and Alexia did look similar but there was no way that you looked over thirty years old!

Ingrid put a hand to her girlfriends arm, subtly grimacing: “You offended two Putellas at once, that’s a new record, love.”

“But I agree with Mapi. They look so similar.”, Kika chimed in and was immediately rewarded with a glare from your sister in return.

“Are you saying I look old?!”, you asked the Portuguese woman, your lips formed to a pout.

An amused smile appeared on Alexia’s face. “I’ve to admit I’m a bit flattered by the fact that I still look as young as her.”  

“I can assure you, you don’t.”, you replied teasingly.

“Rude.”, your older sibling commented, punching you playfully.

“You’re basically twice my age.”, you added grinning.

“Don’t exaggerate.”, she laughed, hands resting on her hips.

“I don’t!”, you insisted. The age gap between her and you were thirteen years, and you turned 17 in June. You were forever your mother’s miracle she hadn’t expected anymore but was glad to have received.

“So, are you going to swap shirts or play with each other’s?”, Aitana interjected curiously.

“We’ll swap shirts. Come on, little one.”, Alexia declared in her captain voice.

“Come and get it if you want.”, you gave her a challenging look.

“Don’t play games with me.”, your sister rolled her eyes in an annoyed manner.

“Or what?”, you stuck your tongue out cheekily before starting to jog away from the blonde.

“Fine! I’ll catch you anyway.”, she yelled smirking.

“Prove it.”, you responded, you stumbled over your feet which was then Alexia caught up with you, her body towering over you.

“I got you now give me my shirt.”, the midfielder demanded slightly out of breath, after she started to tickle you.

“Ale, stop!”, you gasped.

“I’ll when you return what belongs to me.”, the captain said.

“Okay, fine. You won.”, you sighed, swapping her shirt for yours.

“Thank you.”, Alexia smiled satisfied.

“Happy now?”

“Very., your sister confirmed, she paused for a moment when continued beaming, this is your friendly reminder that cooking is on you tonight and no, Olga won’t help you this time.”

“I already gave you your shirt back, you could at least let your girlfriend cook for me.”, you whined.

“No, it’s your turn.”, she shook her head.

“Ugh, fine.”, you groaned.

The training was about to start now, the playing time was officially over, and you wanted to prove Pere that you belonged into the squad not because of your famous surname but because of the talent of your own.

Later in the kitchen Olga noticed you struggling with the recipe you were trying to cook, so she stepped inside with a friendly smile on her lips.

“Don’t worry I’ll help you, Ale is busy with business calls, so she won’t notice.”

“When is she not busy?”, you returned smiling.

“Good point.”, your sisters girlfriend admitted.

Gratefulness was spreading in your chest.

[marlenesluv]

Rule Breaker (CS)

summary: charles has one rule for you, don’t date his teammate. he doesn’t want his little sister infringing, but both you and carlos can’t help falling for each other. so what harm does a little soft launch do? well, a failed soft launch. (side note: carlos watches game of thrones and i love game of thrones, so there’s some content like that in here as well.)

type: smau + dialogue

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!fem!reader (7 yr age gap. reader is 22, carlos is 29.)

warnings: cussing

fc: anaïs (_ssiana on insta)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

Being the youngest Leclerc sibling came with its benefits. Like being able to watch your brothers race, meeting lovely fans, having your own amazing fans, and getting to travel across the world. Opportunities were endless for you. Magazines wanted photo shoots, people wanted interviews, you were lucky really.

The only con? Having to look at Carlos Sainz Jr. every day, and not be able to do anything about your crush.

When Carlos joined Charles in Ferrari in 2021, Charles made a point to forbid you from dating him, just like Arthur did with his friends. Which you figured was fine, until you met Carlos.

He was such a gentleman, pulling your chair out for you, getting you a drink when you wanted one, making sure you were comfortable in the paddock, and making sure your headphones felt good before races.

Carlos experienced something very similar. Charles took him aside an hour before he was to meet you, and told him that you were off limits. He didn’t want a relationship with his younger sister to ruin such a good team, god forbid the relationship be messy and end horribly.

But lucky for you and Carlos, your relationship was perfect. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. That was until you were spotted together at dinner after his win in Singapore. People couldn’t fathom what was going on. The ‘young, innocent, law degree leclerc’ dating Carlos Sainz? Her brothers teammate??

Arthur had his suspicions. The way that you were on your phone at family dinners, smiling and blushing, was enough of a sign for him. Charles, oblivious as always, had no idea. And Arthur wasn’t a snitch, you got yourself in this, you could deal with Charles on your own.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After about three months of privately dating, that article came out. So, you both decided to soft launch your relationship. Surely Charles couldn’t be all that mad. Carlos knew from the first time he met you, that he wanted to spend his life with you. Cliché? Sure. But your demeanor, sarcasm, kindness, and the way you held yourself was enough to make him want to drop to his knees.

“Do you think I should post this?” you asked Carlos, showing him a picture of the two of you, but not noticeably him.

“Yeah, you can’t even tell it’s me.” Carlos looked at you, head on his chest so he could see your phone.

Post-sex cuddles were very important, you even said ‘I need them to survive. Don’t laugh at me!’ They were intimate, yet sweet and calming.

“Okay. I’m gonna post it with these other two…” you typed a caption and posted it, groaning in Carlos’ sheets as he laughed, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’ll be okay, amor.” he kissed your temple, both of you falling back to your cuddles as you drifted to sleep as your post got attention.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, carla.brocker, and 576,024 others

y/n_leclerc: nom nom

view comments…

charles_leclerc: who is that in the second photo, y/n?

↳ y/n_leclerc: what second photo?

↳ charles_leclerc: don’t gaslight me

f1updates: she slays, again, as always

lilymhe: prettiest girl ever

↳ y/n_leclerc: that’s you tho??

user6: who tfffff is that man?!?!

y/n.fan624: is that like…her new bf? you mean to tell me….i don’t have a chance anymore???

↳ y/nseditfan7; i don’t think any of us ever had a chance :/

cs55edits: that looks like the sainz vacation home, no?

↳ user2: oh my gosh.

yourbsf: pizza looks so good (so do you)

↳ y/n_leclerc: it was so good (thx, you always look good)

user7: you guys smell that? its a soft launch

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Soft launching was a good idea, in theory. You both thought it was the perfect way to announce your relationship, but not with Charles calling you every ten minutes and blowing up your messages to find out who the guy was in your photo on Instagram.

You sighed as your phone started ringing for the eighth time during this Game of Thrones episode. You and Carlos sat by each other, watching your show. Game of Thrones time, was your guys’ time to disconnect, not be on your phones, and enjoy the show and each other. Not a time to deal with a protective older brother.

Looking down at your phone, you saw the picture of you and Charles as he called again, “I should probably just answer. He’s not gonna stop until I answer.” Carlos got up, gave you a kiss and started walking to the kitchen, “Answer him, hermosa. I’ll go get more wine.” As Carlos went to the kitchen, your thumb hit the ‘accept’ button and you put your phone up to your ear.

“Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas répondu ? Je pensais que tu étais mort ou quelque chose comme ça ! Qu'est-ce que c'est, y/n ?!”(why have you not been answering me? i thought you died or something! what the hell, y/n?!) Charles was shouting through the phone, you could tell he was worried and pissed at the same time.

“Je suis désolé, Charles. J'étais occupé. What’s up?” (i’m sorry, charles. i was busy.)

Charles sighed on the other side of the phone as he sat down at his barstool in his kitchen, “Please, just tell me who this guy is. I wont get mad, I swear. I don’t even care who it is, I just want to make sure he’s a good guy.”

Carlos made eye contact with you as he sat down beside you, whispering “If you want to tell him, you can, amor.” You nodded, taking a deep breath, “Carlos.” You said. One word. One name that brought fear through Charles. Carlos?! His teammate.

“What do you mean ‘Carlos’?” Charles asked, his voice suddenly too calm. “Carlos….I’m dating Carlos.” you stared at Carlos as he went wide eyed, Charles silent on the other line.

“Charles? Are you there?” you heard shuffling, Carlos handing you your wine as Charles cleared his throat.

“Okay. Um…alright. I gotta go, Y/N. Love you.” Charles hung up, leaving you staring at the glass in your hands.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Carlos asked you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, “He didn’t really say anything when I told him. Just ‘Okay, alright, I gotta go, Love you.’ and then hung up.”

Carlos sucked his lips in, placing his hand on your neck, making you lean into his touch. You fell back into his sofa, clinging to his side, Carlos turning Game of Thrones back on and pulling the blanket over you two.

He wasn’t sure what it would take to convince Charles that this wasn’t a fling. But he would try everything.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n_leclerc, landonorris, and 834,231 others

carlossainz55: I’m not very good at soft launches, anyway

view comments…

y/n_leclerc: no, no you are not, mon amour

↳ carlossainz55: oops 💗

chili55: y/n: “let’s soft launch!” carlos: “how about no.”

y/neditsss551: WOAAHHHHHH

landonorris: mom and dad

↳ y/n_leclerc: landoooo

char16car55: where’s charles😭

↳ f1fan: look around everybody on mute 🤫🤐

carlando554fp: my fav leclerc😪 she’s so prettyyyy

user4: AWOOGA I LOVE THE LECLERCS

arthur_leclerc: nice to see my suspicions have been confirmed

↳ charles_leclerc: you had suspicions?

↳ lorenzotl: um..what’s going on

user8: leclerc brothers protective and confused mode LOL

f1wags: ooooo new wag, yet one we already know we all love and adore

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After Carlos’ post, you freaked out. Of course, he asked you first, and double checked, and triple checked. You wanted everyone to know that you guys were dating. The only worry was ‘what would Charles do/think’?

Both of you had talked to Charles since the call a few days ago. Charles asked Carlos when he wanted to train again, and Charles checked on you everyday.

Arthur didn’t care. He was worried, at first. He thought maybe Carlos wouldn’t treat you like a princess, like you deserved to be treated. Carla told Arthur that you couldn’t have a better boyfriend.

When Carlos posted, Carla called you immediately, asking for details. Like when you started dating, the first date, did Charles know? And you trusted Carla with your life. The girl knew how to listen, too.

Lorenzo wasn’t too bothered. He knew Carlos, knew he was a good guy, and accepted it fairly fast. He also wanted you to be treated well, it’s what you deserved.

Charles wanted the same thing. He looked out for you the most. The guys you dated had to pass a test in Charles’ books. They needed to be kind, funny, honest, loyal, a gentleman, a family guy, good goals, and they needed to love you. And Charles ticked all of those off when he saw that post. He knew Carlos more than a lot of people.

Carlos was kind, loyal, and honest. He never lied to Charles, never broke a promise, and was kind to everyone. The man was also quite funny. He knew he could be a gentleman, he saw him with his last girlfriend three years ago. Carlos was a huge family guy, and had good goals. And obviously, he loved you. Charles decided he had no reason to be mad. You two were in love, and he needed to accept that.

When you called him, you were nervous. Carlos had went out for his morning run, which you usually joined him on. But you wanted to talk to Charles. It only rang three times before he picked up.

“Hello?” your brother groggy voice came through your phone speaker, which was sat on the counter as you made coffee.

“Hey. Can you talk for a minute?” stirring your coffee, you picked up your phone to hold in one hand.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Are you mad at me? For dating Carlos? Because we aren’t breaking up if you are. You’re just going to have to deal with it! Charles, I love him more than anyone-“ Charles cut off your rambling.

“Y/N, stop. I’m not mad. Its okay.” he sat up in his bed, looking at the time- 5am? You called him at 5am? “Wait, it’s 5am. Why are you even up??”

“Oh, Carlos and I have been getting up every morning at 4:30am to run and workout together.” you took a sip of your coffee, “I skipped today to call you, through.”

“Wow. He’s already rubbing off his good habits.” Charles smiled, happy that you were happy.

“Yeah…you’re okay with this, though?” you asked, setting your cup down.

“Of course. I’m sorry about the other day. I was just startled.” he apologized, he really did feel bad. He didn’t intend to be rude and freak you out.

“It’s okay. Thank you for being okay with this. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

“Great, I need my eight hours. Night, Y/N,” Charles yawned, making you laugh a bit. “Night? Love you.” Charles muttered an ‘I love you’ back and hung up.

No need to worry about that anymore, you thought. Carlos walking in the front door, and by your smile, he didn’t even need to ask. Charles obviously didn’t mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 593,204 others

y/n_leclerc: my game of thrones watching buddy <3

view comments…

carlossainz55: hold the door

↳ y/n_leclerc: hodor :(

user3: oooo its official guys, the carlos bf content is here

charles_leclerc: didnt need to see this

↳ arthur_leclerc: did any of us?

↳ lorenzotl: no.

↳ y/n_leclerc: you guys are soo dramatic. shut up

lilymhe: awww you guys are adorableee

↳ y/n_leclerc: me when i see you and alex

f1wags: carlos is boyfriending so hard

landonorris: WHIPPED

↳ carlossainz55: have you seen her? had a conversation with her? of course i’m whipped

↳ y/n_leclerc: 🥹🫠

ferraribabe: the way he’s so sweet stopppp

yourbsf: holy shitttt, you guys are THE couple

*liked by creator*

user8: wowowowow too cute

formula1updates: new favorite couple - unlocked

user1: a couple that watches game of thrones together, stays together

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 601,138 others

y/n_leclerc: muy guapo, papi🖤🤍

view comments…

user3: PAPI???? Y/N PLS

carlossainz55: she’ll never know guys, shhhhh

↳ charles_leclerc: but i do

↳ carlossainz55: it was a joke…

↳ charles_leclerc: i’m pushing you off the track this weekend.

f1wags: they way they look at each other🥹 (THE CAPTION????)

user5: oh…ok!

arthur_leclerc: cant wait to hit a spaniard this weekend

↳ carlossainz55: dios mío. cállate

↳ lorenzotl: we know spanish, carlos

↳ y/n_leclerc: i hate my family sometimes (not mom tho)

↳ leclerc_pascale: ❤️

leclercsfp16: my fav family

y/n.editingggg: adorbssss but girl the caption??

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, and 578,014 others

seen by: carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and 532,103 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 1,238,014 others

carlossainz55: “you are the moon of my life” ❤️

view comments…

y/n_leclerc: did you j khal drogo quote drop

↳ carlossainz55: i thought it would be cute :(

↳ y/n_leclerc: it was so cute <3

↳ carlossainz55: :))

f1ygotedits: my two favs: carlos and got 😋

user5: the way they make me want to sob bec they’re so cute

verstoppan1fp: their pics >

vroom34: my fav game of thrones lovers

thenightwatch99: the way he khal drogo quoted

user3: mama y papa 😪👏

f1editpage: can’t wait to see her with carlos merch

↳ char16pg: charles is gonna be mad lollll

formula1page33: they’re soo cute🥹🥹🥹🥹

charles_leclerc: cant believe im the only single sibling now

↳ arthur_leclerc: i can

↳ charles_leclerc: 😦

user8: awwww the cutest shut upppp

y/nandcarlosfp55: ARG SO CUTE

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, landonorris, and 548,024 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n_leclerc, georgerussell63, and 929,820 others

carlossainz55: i took an amazing, photographer photo of her, and she took this monstrosity one of me??

view comments…

y/n_leclerc: no, amor. you look so handsome

↳ pierregasly: why are you lying to him?

↳ carlossainz55: you are a dick, pierre

↳ pierregasly: 🫨good one

user3: LOL I LOVE THIS

f1wags: our fav wag photographer!!

formula1wc: carlos is turning his instagram in to a y/n fan account

chilipepper55: michael phelps WHO⁉️we only know our olympic swimmer carlos the mermaid sainz!!!

carmenmmundt: y/n looks so elegant

↳ carlossainz55: and me?

↳ carmenmmundt: 😬

landonorris: bro rly said 🧜‍♂️😟

user1: merm-couple

f1memes: the third pic is so cute. HELLO?!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Chapter 22

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: there might be some spelling errors here and there which I’m sorry about—I’ll try and remember to check through in the morning <3

word count: 7,866

-Part 21- -Part 23-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

More than once, you find your feet leading you in the direction of Bas’ house, but you always turn before you can reach his street. 

A few days ago you’d thought it would take a fortnight for the transition between autumn and winter to truly become apparent. You were wrong. 

There’s no way you could mistake it for anything else, with the way breath now huffs from chapped, rosey mouths like ancient, angry beasts prowling across an early morning moor; how now when you step outside and leave the warmth of the heating enchantments the cold nips at your throat, splashing ice into your lungs, encasing your arched ears in snow-kissed winds; how even without much sense left in your hands you can feel as your blood recoils from the temperature, scrambling back to be closer inside your body and abandoning your limbs for the sake of comfort. Useless body. If you were instead one of the massive bears kept in the Winter Court with thick coats and dense, padded bodies this would be much more bearable. 

As it is, you have to settle for keeping a brisk pace and wrapping yourself in an uncomfortable amount of layers. Layers that wrinkle too easily beneath one another and store sweat in their fibres. It’s always a relief to be once again indoors so you can shed the many skins. Especially when so much of the cosier cloaks are inlined with fur. You try not to let it bother you but as soon as that particular smell of leather creeps in, or meat with a little too much preserving salt…

Winter’s gotten a little easier. You can appreciate some of its beauty now it’s less likely to kill you. Its glittering exquisite. 

“What about this?” Elain gestures to a folded quilt that’s laid out amongst other similar items: bedsheets, pillowcases, towels, flannels, cloths. The quilt is a patchwork of small squares about the size of your open palm, each one different in pattern but similar in colour—pinks, pale pinks, whites, creams, oranges, pale oranges, a glitter of egg-yolk yellow. Around the hem hangs a slight frill made up of white lace. On its underside shows the padding designed for comfort, perfect for maintaining heat and being a cozy blanket to nestle under. 

An image passes through your mind then of all four of your crammed into that tiny bed, stuffed beneath a blanket like this in the depths of winter. Fingers so cold they felt like ice, cold enough to wake you from your sleep if a bare foot grazed your calf. Nesta and Feyre would usually be on the outside during the colder months, rarely taking place in the cozy, warm centre. You and Elain ever the middle children. 

A second image forms soon after, except instead of being set in an alternate past seems to fit more with a branch of the future: all four of you stuffed on the long sofa in the River House’s living room, the fire crackling behind its muffler but Nesta still on the furthest side. Some of you would be reading, Nyx might be cuddled beneath the quilt, close to Feyre’s chest, and maybe you might be stitching something together or sewing a pattern onto the sleeve of Elain’s top. Nyx would probably be briefly fascinated by the lace frill. Then if it was interesting enough he might try to eat it. 

You zone back in when you realise Elain’s looking to you for an answer. You wince, wanting to pull back into yourself and hide in your skeleton, sit on one of your own ribs, arms hung over an upper one. “I really… It’s lovely, but the bedroom I have is fine. We don’t need to find replacement stuff.” 

Elain seems a little crestfallen but quickly blinks it away, already turning her head to scour for something else that might take your interest. “Are you sure? It looks so warm,” Feyre pipes up, inspecting the little patterns of the squares. “I can imagine you all wrapped up in this, tucked away into a chair with a book heavy enough to break someone’s foot.” 

“I’m sure,” you assure her. “Really, the bedroom in your house is more than enough. I’m not sure I even wear half the clothes in the wardrobe—I’m fine.” 

After the news had been announced, tears had been shed, and you’d all spent the night on that sofa too afraid to let go of one another, Nesta had been the one to suggest fixing up the House of Wind again. It had been patched up after the initial explosion, but Nesta had suggested making it somewhere nice, reasoning all of the furniture had been destroyed anyway, so your room would be in need of some redecorating anyway. ‘Besides,’ Nesta had pointed out the following morning, ‘It’s mine. I can do what I like with it.’ And spend Rhys’ money while doing it, had gone unsaid, but after Nyx’s birth at least some of their aggression seemed to have boiled off. 

“This just seems like too much,” you admit while walking at Feyre’s side, Nesta strolling along the far side of the street while Elain’s already begun appraising a new set of pale green pillowcases. “You don’t have long,” Feyre murmurs in reply, her voice straining toward the end, “six months will fly by.” 

“I don’t mind,” you whisper absently. “My room’s fine as it is. We don’t need to redecorate the entire House of Wind.” 

Feyre falls silent, feet tapping in time together along the icy cobbles. Then her arm is tentatively slipping beneath your own, gently linking at the elbow, careful not to cause any aches in your flesh. You squeeze her faintly, bodies pressing closer in the cold, arms locked to try and keep up warmth while walking through the city. 

You glance up at the clock tower constructed at one end of the main square. It reads midday. Elain will be leaving for the human lands in a little under an hour and none of you have yet had lunch. Feyre follows your gaze, reading the time. “She won’t be gone for long, remember?” Feyre assures quietly. “She’ll be back before night.” 

You blink, turning to face your younger sister, “Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking…” You flush, averting your eyes as you pull your arm from Feyre’s, “I’m not that clingy.” It comes out sounding more defensive than you’d thought it would, the tug of your arm rougher than you’d anticipated, but you speed your pace regardless, crossing the street to instead join Nesta. She’s looking into the window of a large bookshop, her sharp eyes picking out titles even through the warped and rippling glass panes. 

Nesta reads even more than you do, which is saying something. You’re not sure you could even read a romance book anymore. Not without a piercing sense of loss pinned through your heart. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Nesta muses, pulling from your thoughts, standing straighter as if she’s considering entering the shop, “of having a meal up at the House of Wind. Would you come?” You blink, looking over to her inquisitively, “Just…a meal?” 

“I was thinking of bringing Emerie and Gwyn to it, too. None of you have met one another.” Nesta turns back to the window, though she doesn’t seem to be looking at the books anymore. “Elain and Feyre would be there, too.” 

“For sometime near solecist?” 

“That could work.” 

You pull a part of your lower lip into your mouth, nipping at the interior. “Have you thought of a present for Feyre this year?” You ask, still being without a gift. It’s still about two months away, but…time has a habit of slipping through your fingers. Silverish eyes slide sidewards to you, and you glance at her questioningly. Nesta looks back into the window, “I think the plan is to all do something together. Elain seems to think that’s what Feyre wants.”

“Do you think she does?” 

“Probably,” Nesta replies. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Won’t that ruin the surprise?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to know what she wants so we don’t do something she won’t enjoy?” 

You purse your lips. “Elain can ask.” 

Nesta seems to decide she’s done with the bookshop, turning her body to move on ahead and you follow quietly. “So, about the meal?” She reminds, and you swallow but manage a short nod of your head. “It sounds nice.” Your lips part, throat flexing in preparation to add on, I’d like to meet them, but something stops you and then the moment has passed. Nesta seems satisfied enough with your answer. 

Had she also mentioned Elain and Feyre intentionally when bringing up the dinner? 

You worry your lower lip. It’s been nice spending time with them again. Being on the sofa. Feeling bones press together. Hair sliding over shoulders. But has it been too much for them? Feyre has a husband and a baby and a court. Nesta has Cassian and her own life. Elain…is who you’d usually spend time with, but she’s leaving to visit Lucien. 

Bas is leaving too, soon. 

Maybe you should be returning to the House of Wind on your own instead of making them take you there and pad the way. You’re not ready to go back. Maybe you should just lock yourself up in the Prison. But that’s a stupid thought, one that’s not going to help you. Why try and make things worse for yourself? 

Your stomach grumbles and you flush, putting your hand over it in attempts to quiet the noise. 

It’s about time for lunch, anyway. 

————

“You haven’t been up to the House since, right?” 

You startle, spinning around as your hand recoils from the door handle, chest rising and falling so rapidly that saliva gets caught in your throat and you have to cough into the crook of your arm. At least you didn’t eat too much over supper, or you might have been worried about being sick.

Azriel stands silently in the hallway a little distance away, his eyes vaguely alarmed at your abrupt reaction. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I thought you’d heard me.” 

“It’s fine,” you excuse, coughing once more before lowering your arm, going to straighten your skirts before a rush of something shy flutters through your chest and your hands instead join at your front. “You’re just…very quiet.” 

Azriel hums, and you shift on your feet. You’ve been spending so much of your free time with your sisters that you haven’t really seen anyone but them over the past two days. Well, aside from Madja, who you’re still seeing every morning at ten o’clock, much to your relief. You lick your lips, finding them chapped and dry. “So…was there something you wanted?” 

Azriel nods his head once. “Not exactly. I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to readjust yourself to the dimensions of the House, since Nesta’s told me you’re redecorating.” You flush, eyes dipping away, once again shifting on your feet. “Well, it’s more her idea…” you hedge, “since…you know, it’s hers now…?” 

“I know. But you’ll be wanting new furniture,” he reasons. “The walls had to be realigned so your room will be wider once it’s complete.” 

“Once it’s complete?” 

He nods his head. “You blew it up, remember?”

The flush deepens and you take a subconscious step back towards your room. You hadn’t meant to wreck the House, even if it was only your room that was really ruined. “I just meant…you mentioned walls needing to be realigned, so I was wondering whether they’ve yet been…” 

Azriel nods his head. “They have.” 

A beat passes. “So, are you coming?” 

You look up, surprised. “Hm? Where?”

His eyes narrow. “To the House. Is your head okay?” 

“Fine.” Your brows furrow. “Fine.” 

“No headaches?” He pushes, hazel eyes scanning swiftly over your body in a painfully analytic fashion. “No bouts of forgetfulness? Brain fog?” 

“No. No, I’m fine. None of that,” you assure, glancing down to the hardwood floor, a small part of you still stumbling at his attention. But it’s all good and fine noticing a problem once it’s obvious. “Besides,” you add, “I’m sure Madja would have picked that out by now…” Right? Madja’s been nothing but dependant as company. Competent and kind, so gentle with your skin and flesh and mind. 

Azriel seems to disagree, his head tilting slightly and you wonder if it’s a movement he’s showing intentionally or whether it’s simply something he’s learned to do when around other people after having every reaction trained out of him. “You’re only seeing her for about twenty minutes each day. It’s easy to miss some things.” 

“Yes, but isn’t she…? It’s Madja. Isn’t she supposed to be…I don’t know, one of the best healers in Velaris?” Isn’t she? Arrogance aside, wouldn’t it make sense Rhys would only want someone he could trust around during Feyre’s birthing? Madja must have proven herself to be reliable hundreds of times to be trusted enough to work so high up. Azriel nods his head, confirming your inner thoughts, “Probably in all of the Night Court.” 

“So, she would know if something was wrong.”

“There’s no harm in double checking.” 

You swallow, eyes awkwardly scanning him and the hallway, too nervous to look at him properly. “Well,” you say, once more clearing your throat, “I think I’m fine.” 

Azriel nods his head. “Shall we go?” 

You brows furrow deeply. “Where?” 

“To the House of Wind,” he says, stepping forward as if to reach for you, “Did you forget already?”

Your nostrils flare, lips curving at their edges. “I’m messing with you, Azriel.” 

His hand pauses in mid air, then it retracts and he stands straighter again, a look of faint displeasure held between his brows, “You shouldn’t joke like that.” Tension coils in your chest, and you look away from him, lips pursing, “life’s dismal enough as it is. I’ll joke about what I want to.” Azriel sighs, taking a step back to where he’d originally been standing, reinstating that cold distance between you that has your heart stretching thin. 

“Joke about what you like, but keep that humour away from your sisters. They’ll be going through a lot, right now.” 

You look at him then, arms lightly folded across your chest. “Will they?” You ask, tension coiling tighter. “Yes. I’m sure they’ll be finding it the most difficult right now.” Azriel’s chest expands, then he’s blowing out a harsh breath, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You know you could have said it better.” 

Quiet hangs in the air, then your throat is rolling, fight disintegrating when he makes no move to respond, shame at your snappiness creeping to your surface; disappointment he didn’t attempt to amend the exchange. Just one sentence would have been okay. You’re past pretending like you’d demand a lot from him. A few words and forgiveness would fall from your lips in a desperate spill, hungry for his care. 

Your lips press together. “Shall we go, then?” 

Azriel had flown you up—he hadn’t wanted you to winnow. You hadn’t thought much of the House since you’d been staying in Feyre’s home, but now you’re back and the smell is wrapping around you and it feels like you never left. It’s after a family dinner, you’re not yet obviously ill, warmth from Bas’ palms lingers on your hips and you’re still on good terms, Mor’s offered to take you out into Velaris and you never wrote back to Eris. You never told Azriel how you felt, and you still speak regularly in the library, your heart fluttering every time your eyes would meet, and you still think you’re in with a chance of keeping his attention. 

They hadn’t felt good at the time—they hadn’t felt enough—but you’d take them back in a heartbeat if you could. 

The two of you walk in silence down the hallways that lead to your old room, but when you reach for the handle you almost pause, able to feel the weight of Azriel’s attention on you and for a truly awful moment you worry they’re all inside, your room already done up, money already wasted on you, and you’ll have to pretend some kind of gratitude for the debt. But you cast the thought away, because that’s ridiculous—you’d been out with your sisters just this morning. 

You’d been unfair to Feyre. Short-tempered. Intentionally choosing to keep misunderstanding her. And then you’d done the same with Nesta, pushing your emotions onto them. 

Maybe it would be better for you to return up here again, so you’re away from them. Isolated, so your foul moods don’t bleed onto them. So they can stay happy, and you can deteriorate without having to feel bad about your inner necrosis. So they don’t see the way you’ll fall apart over these last six months. 

The handle twists in your palm and the door swings open. 

Azriel was right about the walls—they’re further apart than they used to be, your room suddenly a few inches wider, enough to disorientate you. But that’s not it. 

Your hand falls away from the handle, breathing shallow and deathly as you step back into the room. A small bed has been pushed where the old one used to lie, a similar looking desk up against the wall, a wardrobe near the windows, all resembling their previous pieces but so clearly different. Emptier. 

Your stomach drops, and the ground falls out from beneath your feet. 

“Where-” Your throat strangles the words in your mouth. Warping them to a hoarse rasp. “Where are my things?” 

You hadn’t thought about it. You’d put it out of your mind. Made sure to lock it up tight in a box along with the rest of the mess because you’d fall apart time and time again if you could think about it. But if the furniture was obliterated, and the walls destroyed… 

“They were blown apart, too.” 

The far end of the room stretches, distancing itself further and further from you as the walls either side become narrower, the floor beneath your feet groaning as if it’ll give any second. All of it’s gone? Everything? Everything?

You walk over to the desk, fingers tracing the surface, lips stitched shut. A painting had once sat there…greens, and golds, and falling stars. A romance book sat in solitary on an upper shelf. A bookmark with silver thread. A pendant with a small map contained inside. 

Your feet carry you to the wardrobe. There’s no smile drawn into the dust on the mirror. No lipstick, nor nail polish. The jigsaw you never touched, still wrapped in its bow. All of it? All of it’s gone? 

Scared eyes turn to the bed, glancing once to the empty bedside before you’re faintly walking over, lowering to your knees to peer beneath the mattress. Staring into the empty space beneath. Dark and hollow. No box holding your golden solar system. No bags from a shopping trip with Mor. No comfy slippers, and that dress that you’d only worn once, in the shop. The one that had looked nice, and you’d never worn it, too ashamed of yourself. 

“Did the-” The words are sticky, drying your throat together, tongue stuck too the roof of your mouth. “My orrery…?” 

Your heart is pounding and there’s a delicate fire beneath your skin, a cool sweat glossing your flesh. A soft roaring around your ears. You can’t have lost all of it. 

“A couple of things made it,” Azriel says from the doorway. You turn to look at him, the air around him warping and spinning faintly. Shallow and shimmering. Azriel shifts, something about his expression changing that you can’t quite pick out. “Are you feeling alright? You look…” 

“I’m fine,” you whisper, staring at him because it seems too much effort to really move your eyes elsewhere, lids pinned to your brows. A couple of things made it. A couple of things survived. 

Azriel nods his head. “Wait here,” he says, “I’ll get them.” He looks like he might says something else, hazel eyes flicking over you, but he keeps his mouth shut and turns, disappearing from the doorframe. 

In his absence a wave of dizziness overcomes you. It’s without nausea, but the room is shifting, your head unable to find a balance to keep your body upright and you end up settling lower to the ground, lying on your side, knees curled to your chest. The room is so empty without any of yourself in it. Is this what Bas’ home will look like once he’s gone? 

Is this what your room will look like, once you’re gone? 

You picture it, the raised bed with the thick duvets, the desk pushed up against the wall to lie beneath the window, the bathroom connected with its cool, pale tiles. The room you and your sisters spent an afternoon and evening contained in, chatting and drinking tea; the room Madja’s tried to heal you in; the room you found out you were going to die in. Will it stop being your room once you’re gone? Will Feyre repurpose it? Keep it as it is? 

A floorboard creaks in the hallway, but you just don’t have the energy to move. Choosing to instead curl tighter, allowing your eyes to close in order to try and contain the hot pressure that’s building behind them. You don’t want to cry. 

Can death come any quicker? 

Footsteps pause on the threshold, and shame tugs on your gut, wanting to scuttle away and hide beneath the dark hollow of the bed. To crawl away to some dark space and be out of everyone’s way, keeping to your own corner far from anyone else. Safe and alone in the darkness. Like a small spider lurking on the top shelf in a wardrobe, just trying to keep out of someone’s way. You could get so far if you had eight legs. If you were as small and nimble as a spider you could go anywhere. 

The mattress stretches as a weight is delivered to it, then a presence is gathering at your back. 

A few seconds pass, then he’s asking quietly, “What are you thinking about?” 

You take time evening your breaths before you answer. “Spiders.” 

“Is there one under there?” Azriel asks, still keeping to that soft, low voice. Your lips tremble, but you open your eyes enough to look into the darkness, peering about for any eight-legged creatures. You shake your head faintly. “What got you thinking about spiders?” He asks next, and you realise his voice is close enough he’s probably sitting behind you. On the floor with you. You try to shrug your shoulders, not wanting to answer, but the movement is stunted from lying on your side. 

“Do you mind them?” He asks. 

“No,” you reply, voice creaking through the quiet. They’d made you uncomfortable at first, when they’d started creeping into your house all those years ago. Spinning their webs on bookshelves and between table legs, down the hinges of doorframes, where the breeze brings in smaller bugs for them to catch. “They’re small.” 

“Even the big ones?” Azriel replies. 

“They don’t hurt anyone.” 

“They look creepy.” 

Your brow furrows, then you’re rolling over on the floor to face him. Sure enough he’s sat a little distance back, arms around his parted knees. “Are you scared of spiders?” 

Azriel’s eyes twinkle. “Not the small ones.” 

You blink, unsure what to make of that. “Then, the big ones?” He hums in a way that might be a yes. It’s hard to pick out what he means by that one, smooth noise. “Which ones?” You ask, watching him quietly. “I know there are large ones in the Summer Court jungles? Arachnids as big as your torso.” 

Azriel smiles. “Those are fine.” 

“But their venom can paralyse you,” you argue softly, brows furrowing. Small ones are fine, small ones can’t hurt you. But the larger ones, those can bite. Those ones can be dangerous. “They’re easy enough to avoid,” Azriel reasons. 

A look of concentration knits itself between your brows, and you push yourself up from the floor, shifting back to lean against the bed. “What court do they come from?” Azriel’s lips curve faintly—he’s not going to tell you. “The continent?” You ask, trying to work around it, but this time he shakes his head. “On Prythian?” He nods. Your eyes narrow, inclining your chin by a singular degree, “how big are they?” 

Azriel pauses, thinking. “Curled up…probably as large as that bed,” he answers, nodding to the bed you’re leaning against. “Splayed out…each joint in a leg was probably around your height.” Your eyes widen in fascination. Then they narrow again, suspicion rising in your mind, “is this creature magical?” His lips don’t smile, but his eyes do, and he nods his head. Your mouth parts, “that’s cheating.” 

“How’s it cheating?” Your mouth opens again but you can’t give an answer, eyes darting about as you think. “You’ve done most of your learning while you’ve been here, haven’t you? We have books on the creatures here. I’m sure you know some of them.” 

“I don’t know of any spiders that big,” you reply with your brows furrowed, frustrated you don’t know the species he’s talking about. Azriel laughs and you avert your eyes, scowling into the floorboards. 

“She’s locked up in the Prison now, anyway,” he says casually, as if that makes it better. You look at him again, “‘she’?” 

He nods. “Can you guess?”

Your brow tightens again. “I don’t want to.” You pull your knees up to your chest, readjusting your skirts so they’re covering your ankles. Leaning your chin into the dip of your palm, a downward tug to your displeased lips. Azriel raises a brow, “I didn’t know you were a sore loser.” 

“We weren’t competing.” You mutter. 

“Are you really upset?” He asks, sounding perplexed. You sigh, shifting on the floor now the bed is beginning to dig into your spine. “No,” you mumble, “I’m used to it.” 

He smiles, eyes twinkling, “used to what?” 

You don’t smile back. “You.” 

Azriel’s features mellow out, light winking away in his eyes and you watch the warmth sift down and out from his expression. “You aren’t entitled to my affections, just because of your situation,” he says softly, but sternly. No leniency afforded to you. No padding or gentleness to muffle the hurt. An ashamed blush creeps up your neck, spreading through your cheeks as you lower your head. “I’m not talking about that,” you mumble. Gloved fingers wring together and you pull your legs tighter to your body, “I’m talking about how needlessly cold you were. How clearly you cared for Elain without thought for me.” 

“You needed a clear answer. I was helping.” 

“You used me,” you whisper. 

Across the floor, you can feel it as Azriel stiffens. Almost freezes. 

“You used me,” you repeat, this time looking at him, “you knew how I felt about you. There’s no way you couldn’t have, Azriel. You-”

“You kissed me back.” Hazel eyes pierce into you, the shadows at his back stirring as though raising from their sleep. “You-”

“I’m talking about before.” The whisper rushes out of you on a swift exhale, hurrying to get the words past your lips so he doesn’t remind you any further. You swallow, a familiar feeling of shame coating your skin. “When I would speak with you in the library. And you would only speak with me to learn more of Elain. You were using me.” Azriel’s brows narrow and your heartbeat quickens unpleasantly. “You know I was making sure she was okay,” he claims softly, “the Mother knows you were too preoccupied.” 

“Stop lying to me.” A hot pressure is building behind your eyes again, staring at him in this room with the walls that feel like they’re closing in. “I know you love Elain. I know that, so stop trying to pretend like I’m imagining it. You wanted to know more about her so you spoke with me to learn more. You must have known how lonely I was, how hard it was for all of us after being ripped from our home, from our lives, and shoved into a world we had never wanted to be a part of. It’s like you’re just trying to get me to hate you.” 

As soon as the words leave your lips you freeze, staring at him with widened eyes. 

“Is that-?” You cover your mouth, toes curling in your socks as you huddle your limbs together. “Is that why you were so cold afterwards? Was it so horrible to deal with? Was it really so disgusting to you that…?” 

Azriel says nothing and you feel at that moment like the earth might split open and swallow you whole, suctioning you down far below the ground for discovering such a horrible secret, snatching you away before you can tell anyone and sealing you a thousand times in jagged stone beneath cold, damp earth. 

————

Her eyes are wide and her chest is heaving, knees pressing tight together as if to hide her body from him. He should lower his head to respect her dignity, look away to offer her privacy but that in itself would be yielding too much information. Doing anything other than watching her crumble would be exposing a part of himself and no matter how much she’s hurting, he cannot. He will not. 

Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head. He hadn’t meant any of it. But had he really been expected to simply accept her tenderness for him? Even if he wasn’t the spymaster he’d be able to see how much she thinks of him, how she listens to him and hangs on his words as if they heal wounds. If she thinks she loves him, she should know how awful he is. 

————

You shake your head, still staring at him. Then you try to push yourself to your feet. 

You need air. Need fresh air, and to get out of a room as cramped as this one. But when you stand you spot the things he’d laid on the bed. The things that had survived the blast, and you freeze. 

On top of the bare mattress, weighing into the bed is a thickly bound volume. The spine reads: Prythian: An Anthology Of Discoveries, in golden lettering. Sitting small atop the book however, is a familiar silver band, its narrow edges smooth and shiny. It’s the ring Eris gifted you on that last day in Autumn. The one he’d told you would help keeping your magic in check. The one you’d left discarded then nearly killed Azriel by being unable to control yourself. 

“This…? This is all that made it?” Your fingers trace the title, and you consider for a moment raking your nails down its surface, scalping its smooth leather and ripping the pages from the spine. The silver is cold against your fingers, and you imagine casting the window wide and throwing it out to the winds. Throwing it far, far away, somewhere you’ll never have to see it again, where you’ll never be reminded of the poor choices you made that brought such an unbearable amount of shame into your life. 

You can feel it begin to crush into you again, and your knees shake like they might buckle. Why is this all that lasted? 

“The book was enchanted, as many are nowadays.” Azriel’s voice is far off in your head, the world tipping beneath you. “The magic protecting it was ripped apart, but the book’s still intact. The ring seems to have its own magic warding it, though it’s been damaged.” 

“Is this-?” You turn to face him, arm banding across your stomach, able to feel as the shame and hurt squeezes you insides. “Is this your way of punishing me for what I did? By showing me this?” Azriel’s brow furrows, and he takes a step forward, “No.” You’re not sure you believe him. He takes another step forward, so he’s stood before you and you have to tilt your head slightly to look at him. “I thought you’d be happy. I thought it would make you feel better. That you had something to keep.” 

“That reminds me of why you all hate me,” you say, hot tears spilling from your lashes, scalding your cheeks. “You can’t be expecting me to believe that you’re showing me these things because you’ve forgiven them. That you’ve so suddenly had a change of heart about what happened. Not this.” You sniff, trying to hide your face. “Not you.” 

Silence hangs in the air, stretched and painful until, “You think we hate you?” 

“I know you do,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” 

Scarred fingers collect around your wrists, and you try to cover yourself as he gently pulls your palms from your tear-stained face. “Look at me.” Look at me. 

Does he know what he’s doing? Or are you joining dots that have no business being joined? You open your eyes but look away, staring at the floor, at a section of wooden panelling that must have been redone when- “Look at me.” 

His shadows cooly gather beneath your chin, lifting your head but you stubbornly refuse, instead casting your gaze to the right where the door is. Just anywhere but him. Anywhere but his eyes, eyes that will make your heart splinter. You look at the threshold, the handle of the door- 

Azriel’s wings open, and then you’re ensconced in night. 

His shadows gather between your feet, circling overhead so there’s nowhere for you to look anymore but him, everything else inked out to be bland and uninteresting. Only a very small amount of light is allowed through the darkness, like a dozen black veils of silk have been thrown over you to keep you together. Slowly your breaths begin to settle, transported away from the demanding present and instead somewhere else entirely, where time has been paused and you have no pressure of worry beating down on you. 

Your nostrils flare, but your breathing has become even. Chest slowly rising up and down, calmed and quietened. 

Your throat trembles, but you look at him. 

His hazel eyes are normal. No disgust or revulsion to be found. No ice, either. At first glance you might have called the look indifferent, but…calm. Quiet. 

Hands release your wrists, one lifting to the circle of your shoulder, but the other moves for your chest. You inhale softly as his fingers graze across the fabric of your top, his touch featherlight and careful. They pause, coming to a stop in a place you’re certain he’ll be able to feel the pounding of your heart. But he makes no remark on the wild rhythm, instead pressing the pads of his fingers down so they’re resting atop your breast. “You have a scar here, don’t you?” 

Something tugs from beneath your ribs, an alertness jerking awake beneath his touch. 

“It’s small, isn’t it? Barely there. Less than a scratch, but it’s scarred.” 

What? How does he…? 

His hand finds yours and he guides you a step closer to him, then lifts your palm to the side of his stomach, his ribs. “I don’t hate you,” he says quietly, but in the shared silence you have no need to strain your ears; you can hear him perfectly. “None of them hate you either.” 

“You’re lying,” you whisper. 

“I’m not,” he replies, pressing your palm flat to where that matching scar lies, embedded deep in his flesh. Where he’d stolen the arrow you had meant for yourself. 

Your head hangs in defeat, and your forehead meets his chest. His hand releases your shoulders, scarred fingers skimming the small hairs sprouting from the top of your nape. 

————

Night has fallen by the time you return to the River House. 

It’s dark and you wrap your arms tight over your chest, wind playing with your hair, kissing ice up your neck. At your side, Azriel seems unbothered by the descending winter, appearing as stoic as ever. 

Coming up the pathway that leads past the front lawn you can see the lights in the House are one, letting you see in to the living room and kitchen, each separated by the hallway that connects to the door before you. No one’s in the living room, but you can easily make out the figures of two of your sisters in the kitchen—Feyre and Elain. You wonder what they could be speaking about when Elain soundlessly slams her hand down on the table. 

You pause, and you know Azriel’s watching too. 

Elain’s teeth flash in the faelight and your brows narrow, pulse spiking—they look like they’re arguing. You hurry a step forward, hand falling to the handle but Azriel places his palm atop your shoulder, pausing you. You look back at him. “We should give them space. Let them sort it out on their own.” 

You consider, glancing between him and the front door. Teeth nip at the interior of your lip—you’ve not seen Elain like that in a long time. She’s not one to become easily agitated. “No,” you say, “they’re my sisters. I want to know what’s wrong.” 

“It looks private. You should wait-” 

But you turn the handle, giving him a strange look, “They’re my sisters.” 

As soon as the door opens, Elain’s voice rings through the halls, bouncing off the walls with crystal clarity, “I want to know why I had to hear it through Lucien, Feyre. Who, I might add, didn’t even hear it from one of you.” 

Quiet settles, tense and taut and you halt, blinking. What have you just walked in on? 

With as little noise as possible you push the cloak from your shoulders, hanging it on one of the hooks in the entryway. Elain’s voice carries on, unaware of the new listeners. “Are you going to explain it?” She asks, voice softened from its previous cut, still bearing a nasty edge. “I didn’t want to worry you,” comes Feyre’s quietened reply. “I didn’t mean to hide it, Elain, but the timing was never right, and you’re both…” 

“We’re both what?” Elain asks sternly, her voice tight. “Untrustworthy because we aren’t as tightly knit with others in your circle?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Feyre replies, with soft steel. “That’s got nothing to do with it.” 

“Then tell me why you didn’t think to mention it.” 

Silence falls, and you feel guilt gather in your chest for eavesdropping. You turn to glance at Azriel but he seems to have vanished into shadow at some point. Maybe he actually had intended to give them privacy, but you’re in too deep now. Instead of hiding you straighten your skirts, quietly stepping further along the hallway until you reach the kitchen, peeking your head around the doorway, “is everything okay?” 

Cocoa coloured irises flick to you and Feyre turns in the kitchen, spotting you in the hallway. “Fine,” Feyre says—too quickly. You look over to Elain, but she’s watching Feyre instead, coca eyes simmering. You swallow, and step decisively into the room, steadying your voice, “What’s wrong?” Because something’s clearly amiss. 

A tense silence passes and you can feel your insides trembling, as if the quiet is a living, breathing creature, gently but increasingly firmly pushing against you, weighing on your shoulders, pulling on your back, an invisibly current slowly trying to drag you from the room. You stand still. 

Feyre’s shoulders sag in a way you haven’t seen before, her can lowering in a way that casts heavy shadow beneath her eyes and into the downturned corners of her mouth. “We’d thought to keep you out of it,” she says, much too softly for High Lady. “You’re both…” But she trails off, landing her face in her hands and rubbing along the narrow lengths of her curved brows. Her hands fall to her sides and she leans back against the table, arms moving to fold over her chest. “I know what it’s like, to be kept out of something…” She looks at both of you in turn, blue-grey eyes anguished and distraught, showing a turmoil she’s been battling with for quite some time. And what she’s said is true—she knows what that’s like. How she almost died without knowing the circumstances of her own child. She knows better than anyone what it means. 

So what could have made her decide…? 

You release the tension of your stance, settling back against the wall since this seems like something important. 

“You may have seen us to be more on edge than usual…” Feyre confesses, casting a glance to Elain. Your older sister’s expression doesn’t give, but acknowledgement passes through her eyes and Feyre continues. “Nesta’s been practicing with Ataraxia more frequently, despite how little we know about its nature; Amren’s been trying her efforts at furthering her understanding of The Old Language; then the trip Nesta and Cassian went on to the Day Court…to visit Helion’s libraries.” She swallows thickly, shadows accentuating the roll of her throat. “Helion, Spell-Cleaver.” 

“Nesta mentioned a binding spell,” you now recall from that supper all that time ago. Amren had bitten her off. Nesta had Ataraxia out on the table when you’d gone to visit her. What Eris had been talking about during your visit to Autumn. It must have something to do with why he was surprised you weren’t learning to fight. 

But why would you need to?

“We…” Feyre starts but swallows her own words. Besides her, Elain shifts on her feet, her attention casting skittishly around the dimly lit kitchen, only small yellow lights lighting the large room. Your younger sister sighs harshly, rubbing her face once before looking at you fully, hands again to her sides. “We think the Prison is collapsing.” 

Her words settle into the quiet of the kitchen and seem to disappear in the external world while they ring endlessly within your mind, repeating in a space away from the linear passage of time and instead growing louder and louder with every hurried repeat. We think the Prison is collapsing. 

What are you supposed to say to that? 

You can feel your eyes stretch, throat turning dry from breathing through your mouth, lips open while you stare. 

“Why?” You manage to gasp out, throat closing up on itself. Why would the Prison be collapsing? Why now? Why?

“When Nesta fought Lanthys,” Feyre begins solemnly, “perhaps even when she first retrieved the harp…whether it was Ataraxia, one of the Dread Trove, or Lanthys exploiting a worn fibre of the spell’s fabrics…maybe a combination of the three…we don’t know for certain.” 

“You don’t know why the Prison is breaking?” Elain asks, staring at Feyre. 

“We know the wards are weakened,” she corrects, as if savouring the small grace that they seem to still be holding. But for how much longer? “We think it’s in relation to a magical object imbued with Cauldron-made power being in close proximity to such an ancient antiquity…that their magic might have abraded the spells of the Prison… But no. We don’t know for certain.” 

The walls tilt, shadows stretching and you’re thankful you’re leaning against the wall. Feyre meets your gaze with a look you could call grieving. “Please let’s discuss this further in the morning. I’m sorry it was kept…that I helped keep it from you—both of you—but for a conversation like this…” Feyre looks to Elain, a bit of that strength being forced to her surface. “We can speak in the morning.” 

Elain watches Feyre silently, and for a few moments you think you might see anger in her eyes, but it’s turned calm and quiet. “I imagine it’s difficult, in some respects,” Elain says, “to play the role of High Lady.” 

You can’t tell whether it’s meant as consolation or a jab, but Elain’s already departed from the room, leaving just you and Feyre. 

“How long have you known?” You ask in the quiet. Feyre shifts but doesn’t look away from you, “Long enough that we’re running out of options.” 

You nod your head, more than just fatigue now weighing on your lids. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” 

————

It’s strange how you find yourself meandering the opposite way from your bedroom when you reach the top of the stairs. Seeking out a room you’ve never once tried to approach without explicit permission beforehand. But the whole night had been strange, and your head is swimming slightly, paddling in the shallow part of a clear river. 

Your hand lifts, but at the last second, and for no discernible reason, you change your mind, opening the door quietly without knocking. 

Azriel is sat at his desk, a low light atop the surface, a lampshade tinting the colour a pale yellow. Ink scratches over parchment, and you pause on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. You could understand the pleasure of spying, if it means seeing people like this. 

He looks up after a moment, seemingly finished with his task as he sets the paper aside and lowers his quill. 

“It was Blue Annis, wasn’t it?” You speak before he has a chance to. “The spider you were telling me about.” 

“Yes.” Azriel inclines his head. “It was.”

Something big enough, cruel enough, powerful enough to strike a chord of unease into Azriel. And the container holding her and countless others is fraying? 

You lean a little more of your weight into the doorframe. “How long do you think is left before the wards are sparse enough for one of them to slip through?” 

“Probably another month,” Azriel replies. His expression doesn’t falter as he adds, “one might’ve already managed.” 

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, fear twisting in your stomach. He must be able to smell it on you. Azriel leans back into his chair, “We’re checking each cell to make sure. So far everything’s been where it should, but it’s a slow process. By the time we happen across an empty one…” He raises a brow as if to say: Who knows how far it’ll have gotten?

A shudder spider-walks down your spine. “Are they all as scary as she is? As Blue Annis?” 

“You’ll work yourself up into a panic like that,” Azriel tells you, his face remaining serious. “You’re already imagining the worst possible creature you can think of, aren’t you?” 

“Is she less scary than I’m imagining?” You ask dryly, forcing a wry curve of your lips. 

Azriel’s eyes seem to twinkle, but maybe it’s the light. 

“What’s she like?” You force yourself to ask, voice lowered beneath the night. But Azriel shakes his head, “Ask me another time.” 

His lips curve, but the light in his eyes has winked out. “You don’t want her to be the last thing on your mind before night.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[megumimania]

THINKING BOUT YOU— gojo satoru

synopsis: whilst in a meeting about megumi’s conduct, gojo’s mind seems to be focused on one thing, you.

warnings: dad!gojo, gojo satoru x fem!reader, megumi having to put up with gojo’s bs, fluff, gojo being a shameless flirt, gojo attempting to be a concerned parent

“this is stupid.” huffed a 13 year old megumi.

megumi wasn’t here on his own volition of course as this was the doing of his annoying guardian gojo satoru. ever since he found out you were megumi’s teacher he’d been bribing megumi to get into trouble at school so he’d have a reason to come and see you.

“oh megumi this isn’t stupid, remember what i promised if you played your part?” he asked with a mischievous look in his eyes.

megumi knew that gojo had him hook line and sinker. he cursed himself for showing a semblance of a smile when they walked past the pet store last week.

“fine but don’t get in a mood when she turns you down.” he replied with a sass that gojo dismissed as typical teenage angst, something he was all too familiar with.

megumi politely knocked on your classroom door sparing no time for gojo to prepare his little act. “megumi, come take a seat.” you beckoned him in noticing the little scratch on his cheek that made you slightly concerned.

his tall white haired guardian followed in shortly after, taking the seat opposite you. “i’m really glad you could make it today gojo-san.” you addressed him politely, reaching over to shake his hand as you’d do with any other parent.

his hand lingered on yours for a second longer as he gazed into your eyes with such an intensity it made megumi sick. he was really pulling out all the stops for you wasn’t he?

“there’s no need for the formalities when we’re practically the same age.” he pointed out with a charming smile, letting your hand go in the process.

your cheeks were practically aflame as you tried to retain some sense of self control. “oh right…um. megumi.” you nodded at megumi who looked like he’d rather the ground swallow him whole than watch this interaction play out.

you expressed your concern over megumi’s behaviour and something about a report. gojo was half listening, half not. he was more preoccupied with staring at you with not a single ounce of shame. even behind those spectacles his gaze was intense making you lose focus at some points.

“…this is megumi’s third fight in the last two weeks.”

a sharp kick from under the desk by megumi jolted him back to earth. gojo winced in pain as megumi looked on as if nothing happened. he made a mental note to embarrass the hell out of megumi later.

you were unaffected by the silent altercation going on in front of you. despite megumi’s disdain towards his guardian it seemed like he rubbed off on him a little bit. their mannerisms were eerily similar that if it wasn’t for the physical differences, they could’ve easily passed for siblings.

“if this was any other student this would be an immediate suspension but megumi is a stellar student and we don’t think he would benefit from that at all.”

gojo let out a sigh of relief.

as much as he loved being around megumi, he could admit that he did not have the time nor the facilities to teach him whilst he was at home. in his defence he was too busy carrying the jujutsu world on his back, which was a gruelling task in of itself.

he slapped his knee an indicator that he was ready to grab megumi and go home. he ushered megumi outside, telling him to wait for him in the car to which a disgruntled megumi surprisingly did. as soon as he left, gojo jumped on your desk.

his sapphire blue eyes trained on you, watching you mark your students essays with a furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

ah how he knew the pains of marking essays all too well, with panda's and toge's essays being the ones he usually offloaded to other staff when they wasn't looking.

“how did i do?” gojo asked, his voice like honey to your ears.

the classroom was now tinted with a pinkish orange hue as the sun started to set, casting shadows in the classroom. “megumi’s a smart kid, he probably knows now with how obvious you were.” you responded, trying to not loose this mgroove you were in

“i wasn’t being that obvious.” gojo grumbled to himself. he knew damn well he was being obvious as hell but didn’t want to admit it, the irony of his remark making you scoff.

"seriously?" you gave him a deadpan stare. gojo's whole existence was the epitome of obviousness: his striking looks, his cursed technique, his lineage, hell even his personality was far from discreet. however he still maintained his defense.

"megumi is a smart kid but at the end of the day he's still a kid. he probably thinks I was just being a bit too full on." he drummed his fingers against the desk and you laughed at his delusion.

in the short time you knew megumi, you already established that he was an incredibly smart and perceptive kid, even for someone his age.

“stop doubting him.” and that was a tough pill for gojo to swallow, it was easier to pretend that megumi was like every kid in the world than accept the fact that soon he’ll have his childhood robbed from him.

that he would be forced to grow up and become essentially a child soldier for an invisible group of elders and clan leaders, fighting battles that will scar him for life. being a sorcerer was a thankless job but thank god the pay was decent.

gojo decides that he’s not going to bore you with his late night worries about megumi, after all they were his own worries sto bear.

“i’ll think about it more once you’ve given me a kiss.” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling as he closes his eyes and puckers up. you snort at his childish behaviour as you eventually cave in, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

you pull away as a camera clicks from behind you, a blinding white flash, forcing you to blink away the light. megumi looked smug as hell, finally enjoying the first time he’s successfully managed to one up gojo. the childlike glee in his typical sullen expression being the one that gojo desperately wanted to protect.

“you little…” gojo took off after that not bothering to finish his sentence, busy chasing megumi down the hallway outside into the car park where your back window conviently faced.

gojo now had megumi in a headlock much to the dismay of their driver, who honestly looked so worn out and so over their nonsense. gojo’s long arms desperately tries to reach for the camera in megumi’s hands but to no avail as the camera is already in the air before he can react.

in a move no one saw coming, megumi manages to shake off the invincible gojo by biting his finger. the white haired man winces in pain looking at his slightly reddening finger with minimal concern, as the camera lands in the driver’s hands.

after a few minutes of roughhousing gojo surrenders, warily draping his arm lazily over megumi’s shoulder as they make their way back to the car. your heart warms as the love and admiration they have for eachother is clearly shared in their own weird ways.

with the playful display of bravado over with now, you peel your eyes away from the window, closing the lights, blinds and whiteboard, grabbing your jacket before locking your classroom door shut.

your walk home is nothing short of uneventful but even as the music blares in your headphones, you can’t get over the sound of megumi and gojo battling it out in the school car park, the thought of that bringing a smile to your face.

he truly did love him.

[agaypanic]

can u write a chase davenport x baddie like everyone knows she’s fine asf and has no clue why she’s dating him and he’s just super lovey and fluffy

Chase Davenport Dating a Baddie Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: a bit suggestive in one part but that’s it

***

Everyone’s surprised that he pulled someone, period

But seeing that he pulled you specifically?

They act like this is earth-shattering news

Lowkey thought that it was a prank or that he was paying you 

“So, Chase, when are we gonna meet this girlfriend of yours?” Leo asked as he and the bionic trio entered the school. To be honest, they half thought Chase was joking when he told them he was in a relationship, but wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Uh… Oh! Seems like right now.” Chase left his siblings to go to his locker, where you were waiting for him. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him.

“Oh my gosh, she’s gonna slap him,” Adam said as you raised a hand to Chase’s face. But to everyone’s surprise, you used the hand to pull his face to yours and kiss him.

Adam, Bree, and Leo slowly approached you and Chase, clearly shocked. When you pulled away, you noticed them and gave a wave.

“Hey.”

“This can’t be real.”

Chase is absolutely smitten with you

Follows you around like a puppy

He just wants to do anything that’ll make you happy

“Chase, you don’t have to carry my bags.” You tell him, but you still let him take the bag of things you just bought from your hand. Watching his muscles flex as he grips the multiple bags is definitely a plus.

“I want to.” He shrugs, jutting out his elbow to signal you to take it, which you happily do. 

The two of you go through the mall, occasionally popping into another store. Before getting to the food court, you stopped in front of Victoria’s Secret. Getting an idea, you bite your lip to stop from grinning and turn to look at Chase.

“You know Build-A-Bear?”

“Yeah.” Chase nodded, soon perking up. “Oh my gosh, we should go and make mini us’s.” You couldn’t help but smile at the idea and his excitement.

“I was thinking something similar to that.” You say, looking at the store, yourself, and then back to Chase. “More of a… real-life Build-A-Bear.”

Despite being a genius, it took Chase a minute to realize what you were insinuating. But when he did, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really?” He asked. You nodded, and the next thing you knew, Chase was running into the store with the excitement of a child.

Before you left the mall, you did end up going to the real Build-A-Bear.

If you like getting your nails done, he insists on paying

When you let him pick the color, he gets all giggly

Almost always chooses blue tbh

When he chooses the color, you ask for his initial on one of your fingers to surprise him

“Hey!” Chase greeted you as he entered the salon. Whenever he dropped you off, he’d always pick something up for you after your appointment and would come back right when you were finished.

You met him at the counter, where he gave your nail tech his card before looking at the hand you were holding up for him. He held your hand, smiling as he looked at the nails.

“You got my initial.” He softly cooed, thumb brushing over the white ‘C’ on your ring finger. “So pretty.”

You blushed as he kissed your knuckles, taking his card back before leading you out of the salon by your now interlocked hands. Even though Chase had treated you like this since the beginning of your relationship, and you should’ve been used to it, he never failed to turn you into a giggly, bashful mess.

“I got your favorite,” Chase said when you got in the car, handing you the bag of food. You took a bite, moaning at how delicious it was.

“Ugh, I love you.” You said, grabbing his face with a freshly manicured hand and kissing him. He gently latched onto your wrist, thumb rubbing over the joint.

“I love you too.” He said, stealing another kiss before reaching over to steal some of your food.

[physalian]

Character Types: The “Fixer”

Oh look it’s another chance to bring exposure to casual traumas in real people thinly disguised as writing advice heyyyyy

The “Fixer” is the character who puts everyone else before themselves, but isn’t quite so self-destructive as the jaded loner—this person’s whole schtick is that everyone else’s needs and emotions come first, which will usually end up with them behaving and appearing very extroverted, fun, and kind.

They have no idea they’re doing it, either, and see nothing wrong with their behavior or what logic there is in saving a little slice of the pie for themselves. They’re not self-loathers or angsty abusers and if there are parts of themselves that they don’t like, they probably think of these aspects as “what can you do? Oh well” with zero motivation to exercise their demons, because they don't see them as demons but something they deserve to suffer with.

Or, they know exactly what they’re doing and cannot see the merit at all in themselves deserving a piece of the pie, as if they’re inherently lesser than everyone around them for Reasons they cannot articulate, Reasons that, if their friends or loved ones share the exact same traits, they’d bend over backwards and make excuses for. They have normalized their existence that there’s nothing left to angst over. “I am lesser” is just. A statement of fact.

These characters come in several flavors:

The parental figure (possibly single) or “mature” one in the family who’s always prepared, always has the big backpack with bandaids and wet-naps, probably the first to say “we’re family, all’s forgiven” in effort to keep the peace.  They’re the person who literally eats last or not at all, even when conserving food isn’t necessary, usually with the smallest, now-cold serving. Also can be the parentified sibling.

The person in a romantic relationship doing a whole lot more giving than receiving, whether it’s physically or emotionally, insisting that they’re fine, that their partner need not go out of their way to do XYZ for them, but is incredibly in tune with anything and everything that their partner might need. They’re likely to be in an abusive relationship, either emotionally or physically, or both, because a sensible partner who loves Fixer as much as the Fixer loves them wouldn’t let Fixer get away with an unfair share of back-breaking emotional labor. The abuser takes full advantage of it and laughs when they’re not looking.

The “mom” of the hero team/friend group, similar to the actual parental figure, but in this dynamic, everyone’s about the same age. The Fixer probably isn’t the leader, but second or third in command, as they don’t think themselves capable of making the Big Decisions and prefer running support. They take the most cramped bedroom, the most undesirable odd jobs, and do far more than their share of the chores and other tasks, probably without the rest of the group realizing it until something happens to them. No one asks this of them, they automatically assume this is their burden and don’t even think to suggest equal shares.

Alternate case:

They’re the “leader” because no one else wants to do the job, pretending to be way less stressed than they are and habitually protecting their team from the worst of it with little white lies, to the point where no one has any idea how much they’re suffering in silence until they eventually break. As opposed to a properly communicative leader who regularly delegates important tasks and is very transparent in all their decisions. They might also be the leader because they don’t think anyone else in their team could perform as well under pressure, pressure they’ve been under their whole life.

I actually wrote two of these, the Original, and then the Original Who Went to Therapy, between two different WIPs.

Original was the second in command of a plucky space crew in the sci-fi WIP I always mention, who was very versatile and OP and thus took it upon himself to take the lion’s share of the work around the ship because he could do it quickly and delegating the tasks to the rest of the crew was, to him, objectively pointless. He was also an empath with an ability he couldn’t turn off, literally stuck doing the emotional labor far and above normal human conditions.

He was a firm believer in “if I can, I must” and repeatedly put himself in dangerous situations because he’s the only one who could escape them alive, and to not act would be selfish, and above all else, he feared looking selfish. This all came to a head when Magical Shenanigans ensued and his own powers turned against him, stressing him to the point of his body going “we are taking a Break” and he got bedridden until he learned how to talk about his feelings and let people in.

While he was sick, him Not Being There for when the rest of the plot carried on without him meant that  his team very badly felt his absence because he did so much without them realizing it, and they did not handle it well, picking a different character to shovel all the labor onto, until they too overstrained themselves, and an intervention was necessary.

He was the friendliest character of the team to their newest member, their only cheerleader when the whole rest of his team was skeptical. He was also quite desperate for validation and approval, to the point where he made a bunch of little white lies that quickly caught up with him, pretending to be something he’s not so people would like him.

—

When I ripped the above character out of that WIP and tossed him and another character into Eternal Night, he got an upgrade and a whole bunch of therapy.

Enter Dorian. The main difference between these two is that Dorian can actually stand up for himself and establish boundaries, and got a friend/girlfriend who went “I can fix him” and actually did. He’s still very much a Fixer with a Martyr complex, a vampire who only turned to make sure the people he was stuck with held up their end of a deal and did not expect to keep living after the deal was done…for about three hundred and fifty more years.

This is a character who was a parentified Fixer, sixteen years older than his oopsie little sibling, and did not handle it well when they were separated. He’s very obvious to everyone who knows him, especially when those people have known him for centuries, and know “yeah give that one a little kid to protect and he will predictably fall on his own stake”.

One of his love interests (he’s poly), the “I can fix him” girlfriend, is not at all afraid to call him out on his martyr bullshit, or when he’s bending over backwards trying to save people who don’t want to be saved, or risking his own sanity, health, and reputation for people who insist they don’t want his help.

I specifically designed and introduced Kymiria to look and act like a stereotypically jealous mean girl who doesn’t want to share her man with the protagonist. Except. She’s right. About everything. She knows Dorian extremely well and got him through some awful shit and isn’t about to stand by and watch him break himself again for someone who she thinks doesn’t deserve him (and she’s also right on that point). How she goes about protecting him is totally different.

But for the mortals who live with his coven, he’s the most popular vampire around and the favorite by all the children for a country mile. No one who hasn’t been living with him for decades has any idea that there’s anything traumatic behind his smiles.

—

I like writing Fixer characters because I don’t get to see enough of them. They’re not as popular as the Angsty Sad Boy and certainly not as popular as My Trauma Excuses My Aggression Boy. People who have suffered tend to fall on either end of two extremes: Either they continue the cycle of hate and abuse or they make absolutely certain no one in their life will ever suffer what they did. I like writing and reading the latter, particularly when they're men as most “fixers” we think of emphasize “womanly” traits of kindness and nurturing.

These characters are also their own worst enemies. Their inability to treat themselves as deserving of respect and forgive themselves continuously gets them into sticky situations that they wouldn’t be in if they were just a little bit more willing to put their own needs first.

—

If you're interested in reading my take on Fixers in a bona fide novel, check out Eternal Night of the Northern Sky!

[door-insurance]

So I played Life is Strange 2 for the first time ever

I didn’t wanna play it for a long time not cause it didn’t have Chloe or max (tbh I got sick of their asses around BtS they’re not even my faves)

By that point I was in college and had lost interest in the whole franchise but also I was very apprehensive of white creatives writing racism with no input from the group they’re portraying, they don’t usually do a good job

Sometimes they make it cartoony, sometimes they trivialize it, sometimes they romanticize it

So years later adulthood kicked my ass and I came back crawling to this franchise for some comfort, I finished True colors annnnd I finally started 2 after hesitating annnnd

^sketched this while playing

SPOILERS

I actually liked it

I liked Sean, the drawing segment he does- he was such a likable main guy, deserved better honestly.

I also liked Daniel, he was very adorable and I never got it when people called him annoying like no shit the 9 year old is gonna act like a 9 year old- just don’t be a jerk to him, I know he can be frustrating but that’s what taking care of a kid is like

And lis had always been about realistic complex characters, y’all can’t handle a traumatized nine year?

I have two younger siblings and two nieces plus I’ve been a bratty younger sibling to two older sisters

Maybe I’m just used to it?? But honestly Daniel wasn’t that bad

The racism portrayal in the first few episodes was not all that cartoony and it actually felt real at times, like I can check for American news rn and find stories similar to what you see in episodes 1-3 (minus the telekinesis)

Although the gas station racist hick spouting trump slogans was a bit on the nose, it’s more of dialogue thing

Some people thought the gas station detainment was egregious but it can happen unfortunately, especially to vulnerable people in rural areas and by someone of a higher systematic advantage

One other thing I did not like was the love interests, I thought Finn and Cassidy were alright characters on their own but why do we need romance in this game where the protagonists are always on the run?

I don’t like to compare lis 1 to 2 but when it comes to the romance the former did a better job as it spent more time establishing it, plus max stayed in the same place for the majority of the game- but you know what? Sean doesn’t have to be in a relationship right? It can be a one off thing, that’s fine

Which brings me to my next point

How old are Cassidy and Finn?

Cause Sean is still 16 and no, being on the road didn’t mentally age him- he’s not “mature” for his age

He is still a kid

So for some reason Dontnod never really specified their ages but some articles described them as teens (they look 30 to me) and they can be around 18 right? Their lives are hard stress ages you- it happens, we can with live that, it’s just a two years difference

But teens or not

why did they animate a whole knocking the boots scene???

Of all the games in the series, the only one that gets a sex scene is the one with the much younger protagonist and his ambiguously aged older looking love interest and I think it’s only with Cassidy you get to do it in the tent

Alex Chen was robbed of a on screen booty call from a beanie wearing lesbian with a sexy radio voice or a buff ass Adonis of a man who was Smokey the bear’s regional manager or something

Anyways I’m gonna move on I’m uncomfortable lmao

*im not hating on people who ship Sean with either Finn or Cassidy, I’m not even tagging your ship names- im just stating my personal preferences on my blog

One last thing I did not like about LiS 2 and it was the one thing that kept me from playing it for years

That one scene from episode 4

So at this point Sean Diaz went through the following:

-lost his father, had to abandoned his loved ones, education and home

-was accused of killing a cop

-had to take care of his little brother on his own while on the run, the same brother with telekinesis and none of them know how to control it

-was harassed, beaten then detained by a racist white man

-had to take refuge in an abandoned cabin with little resources

-the dog that they adopted at the gas station eventually gets mauled

-the one time they found solace at their grandparents house they had to leave abruptly cause the police was hot on their trail

-on their way out they can potentially witness the neighbors kid that they befriended get hit by the police car that’s chasing them

-they find shelter at a nomad campground but oh no they get involved with drug trafficking cause they barely have any other options to make money (unfortunately this happens a lot IRL this isnt egregious)

-Sean now has to deal with the trafficking, making sure that Daniel doesn’t get into any trouble with his powers while fake ass giancarlo esposito is breathing down his neck

-and guess what happens next… Daniel gets robbed into pulling a heist on temu gus fring and it goes badly, Sean can potentially lose a love interest/friend in Finn

-Sean gets hurt, Daniel goes so mad that he blows the whole place up; a shard glass flies into Sean’s eye and he ends up losing it

- Sean wakes up from a coma and learns that his brother is missing and he’s about to be taken to jail

- the one thing that consistently brought him joy during this trip was his art and because of the missing eye he can’t even do it the same anymore cause it hurts now

- Sean has to escape the hospital with a hot wired car, little money and has to drive across two states just to get to his brother

-on the way he dreams of his father, he wants him back he wants his old life back but that’s not gonna happen so he has to move forward

Im not listing all this as examples of bad story telling, a lot of these are real life experiences of homeless people. im just painting a picture of the shit that Sean had went through so far

Cause right after the dream sequence, Dontnod didn’t think all that was enough no you had to see Sean get hate crimed by two lifetime movie, sitcom special of the week racists- be made to either sing or suffer a brutal beating

It added nothing to the plot, it didn’t need a choice system either- it’s a hate crime, you’re not asking Joyce for fucking pancakes or eggs n bacon at the whales diner or hosing down Lisa the fckin plant.

This to me went straight to trauma p*rn category, it’s wheelchair Chloe all over again

I hated it then in LiS 1 and I hated now in LiS 2, this is why I don’t dick ride Dontnod that often

They always had this tendency right before the end they single out a particular character and mentally whip them, they become the writing teams punching bag- they think we didn’t get it the first time that this character is going through it, they just hammer it in with the subtlety of a heart attack and I hate it

“Yeah but it’s there to show Sean’s resolve to find Daniel-“

HE ESCAPED FROM THE HOSPITAL AND THE FEDS, HE HOT WIRED A CAR TO DRIVE ACROSS TWO STATES

He’s starving, dehydrated, suffering from chronic pain

That’s enough

Let the character breathe

You ask why not a lot of people wanna play this game and I’m gonna tell you, as much I enjoyed it myself it’s not an easy game to play- it gets brutal, especially right around the end

I’m not against bleakness or extreme conflict, I’m into that but sometimes that doesn’t translate well to any gaming format- especially a choices matter game that’s meant to be replayed

Some people have asinine reasons not to play LiS 2 like it dealing with racism and those people suck, lis had always dealt with progressive themes like calling out objectification, cyberbullying and sl*tshaming

Racism shouldn’t be the exemption

but misuse of racial trauma and not knowing when it’s appropriate to invoke it is a huge turn off and hella triggering to a lot of non white players and I remember when LiS 2 dropped I’ve seen (mostly white) lis fans at the time proclaiming that not wanting to play it meant that you were racist

Like I said there were probably racists who didn’t wanna touch the games cause of the main characters skin but there were people like me who were apprehensive of the “Let’s go to the mosh pit Shaka brah” people handling racism

This is the same studio that had Ms Grant (one of the few black characters from LiS 1) claim that the white settlers peacefully shared the stolen land with the native Americans

I find that shit harder to believe than the time traveling powers

And they were doing alright in the first episodes they covered stuff like unconscious biases slipping through, dog whistles, polite racism from the grandparents segment, police brutality, racial profiling and being targeted/othered- some of these things I went through when I visited western countries

Then they did the bullshit I feared theyd do…

I really don’t blame myself for being hyper vigilant at the time and honestly I was going through a lot then, even if I wanted to I wouldn’t have touched LiS 2 cause it’s a very heavy tasking game to play

I know I kinda made it seem like I didn’t like this game but I did, its the best one in terms of the choice system

It had more weight to it, seeing Daniel internalizing what you say to him or how you act around him was so cool

Also what the second game has over the first one aside from the choices system is the ending selection- I never liked picking the endings for max, I wanted her to pick the ending or her coding/script to do that

Its definitely more fleshed out technically even though LiS 1 has a special place in my heart it’s always gonna be no. 1- but im also glad that I got to experience the 2nd game for the first time, I liked it

Personal lis ranking

1: Lis 1

2: Lis 2

3: True colors

Discount bin: BtS

My personal fave moments from LiS 2:

- beating up the racist bully and giving him a concussion

-mushroom (rip icon)

- victorias letter

-winning that that bear from that claw machine

-gorillaz song that was not feel good inc

-Brody pointing at a fucked up looking arcadia bay yelling “that’s the past!”- that was hilarious

-Sean paying tribute to Arcadia bay in his sketchbook (this fucking kid man, he’s so sweet he deserves the world- what did he do to make DONTNOD mad at him)

- the wolf animation and the story that plays before every chapter

-this was the worst hate crime in the whole game

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The triplets kittens snuck in to NRC to see their big sister figure Crewle daughter, and seeing her they all are happy and admire her alot, and she adore them as if they are their siblings

What's more that childhood friends knows if you're close when they called you big brother

Vil, Leona, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Deuce be when the kitties calling them big brother and quietly said " can you marry big sis (yn)?? We think you'll be a good mate/husband for them "

The Kittens | Crewel Daughter Reader

The kittens would rather infiltrate the princess academy because that is where you usually are

And when they do they’re pampered beyond compare

So its entirely different when they end up in NRC

Now the thing with NRC is that the school is on a private island

That takes a lot to travel to anyway 

So the only way they’ll end up there is through nefarious means

Beating up and apprehending their kidnapper

They don’t know what to do but they recognize their beloved godfather

“Ah my little kittens, what are you doing here?”

Appalled by their journey 

he takes good care of them and eventually the beast children meet your obsessive suitors:

Vil Schoenheit 

“So Miwster Vil?”

“Yes, young Marie?”

“Awr you taken by anyone?”

“You mean…romantically? Well, you know me and (Y/n) have been together since the beginning.”

“Ooooh so you’ll marry godsiwster one day?” 

“Hehehe, yes.”

He knows he’s destined to be with you

He’s just happy your godsiblings can recognize him as your lover already

He treats them well despite Toulese and Berlioz puffing their chests at him 

Whipping children into beautiful shape is his expertise

Naturally, when Duchess is finally able to pick them up she recognizes him 

“Oh thank you, Vil! Their hair! And their dress! They look divine! But even in your youth, you were such a proper gentleman!”

“Why thank you, Duchess. Your praise is an honor.”

He expects this will carry over when Duchess and Marie talk next

Leona Kingscholar

“Hey! Big Bwother!”

“Ugh what?!” 

“Are you gonna marry (Y/n)!?!?”

“What?”

“Big sis! Are you gonna be her mate fwor life?”

“...Yeah, if anyone tells you different bite them for me.”

“Yes th-thwir!”

Toulouse the little orange cat boy is set on following the strong lion around

Similar to Cheka in that he endlessly follows Leona around

But his energy is more like Jack in that he admires the dorm leader’s strength and coolness

He doesn’t immediately push him away because he’s so familiar with you

He knows this kid will be singing his praises to you when he finally meets back up with you

“Y-your highness!? I apologize for any trouble my son might have given you!”

“It’s fine. The little tiger is definitely going places.”

“I’m so grateful! Thank you, your highness.”

Yeah, he better deliver

Maybe putting the wall of you visiting if the little tike ever wants to see him again

Azul Ashengrotto

“You’re vewy smart big browther!”

“Why thank you!”

“Will you marry big sis (Y/n)?”

“E-excuse me?”

Berlioz takes to his side right away

Proudly wearing his tie as he cutely escorts guests around

His glasses fog up in heat as he imagines what your kid would be like

Not only will this kid give him rapor with you 

The Duchess is a renowned noble in the Shaftlands

A wonderful investor and corroborator for any romantic ventures

“It was an honor tending to your child, he was a pleasure.”

“Well, that certainly puts me at ease. You’re such a bright young man it's hard to believe your so young. Your maturity reminds me of (Y/n) do you know her.”

“Oh I do. More than you’d believe”

Jade Leech 

“Well here you are little lady.”

“Why thank you Jade! You truly are quite the gentleman. Big Sis (Y/n) would looove you.”

“Oh would she?”

“Mmmhmm I’ll tell her about you when I get home. But! You have to let me be the flower girl at your wedding, okay?”

“Yes, m’lady.”

He’s got his gentleman butler+ act on lock 

Perfect for catering to Marie’s little lady personality

And like a little noble lady she makes promises and is bound to gossip

Which seems to be in favor of Jade 

Who smiles as he recognizes the behaviors that she’s copied 

From you of course

“Duchess your daughter was a lovely guest.”

“I can’t help but thank you for taking care of her.”

“And I humbly accept.”

Floyd Leech

“Oi oi where ya going so fast?”

“I’m running because I know I need to train to be the fastest tiger ever!”

“Ah? Then let me help you!”

“Wow! You're so fast and strong! I’d say you're a perfwect mwate for Big Sis (Y/n).”

“Yeah I think so too.”

He enjoys the seemingly endless energy of Toulouse 

He only runs faster because he’s pumped just thinking about you in the future

Sitting back while he runs with your little one

It's just a matter of time

“Thank you, Floyd. Toulouse is tired out but it seems he had fun.”

“Yeah we did! He was a blast!”

He thinks fondly of him but doesn’t expect much until you thank him later

Deuce Spade

“Ya ever think about marryin’ Big Sis (Y/n)?”

“W-what?! What are y–”

“I think you should. I'd like to have more fun with you!”

He doesn’t connect that Berloiz and you are related in any way

Until the little cat boy flicks his ears as Deuce offhandedly swoons as he talks about you

When he does he gets flustered 

Before getting laughed at and going back to playing with him

He bows deeply to Duchess when she returns

“T-thank you for being there for (Y/n)! Consider this a small thank you for that!”

“Oh? Such vigor for a young man. Well, I am grateful you watched over my little gent. I’m sure (Y/n) would be pleased as well.”

“R-really?!” 

He can’t help blushing aggressively at your name

He hopes the duchess doesn’t laugh at him when she tells you

[dearest-painter]

No she’s MY DAUGHTER! PT.1

Summary: Y/N Drew is the adopted daughter of Jessica drew as a 6 soccer year old girl. What she doesn’t know is that she looks a bit to familiar to her mom’s boss, in his eyes she’s the reincarnation of his dead daughter. When Y/N and her friends have to help an anomaly stay alive it reveals that more people want her as family.

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is basically Gabriella O’Hara aka Miguel’s dead daughter but you can change your looks just some things will look like Gabriella,Reader is a soccer player which is based off of my experience,Reader is 6 years old so no romance bc duh,very out of character characters,this is a series,Her mama brought her to a chase,Reader is BFFS with Pavitr,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

PT.2 PT.3

You and your mama just arrived at her work, your dad couldn’t watch you as usual as he had to go into the office this time so you just went with her. You’ve only been here a few times as she tries to keep you out of this stuff, you were wearing your soccer uniform as you just finished a soccer game. “Mama can I get something to eat, I’m hungry” “Of course sweetie, let’s go to the cafeteria so you can eat plus mama is hungry herself” you giggled and nodded. You were so excited for a new sibling! You knew they’d need LOTS of attention and help so your parents would be busy but that’s fine! Your more then willing to share the love your parents give you!

You were skipping as you were happy to see your best friend soon! You two got there and got some food. “Gracias!” “Your welcome little one, on the house Jessica” “You sure?” “Mhm, your pregnant and also little one seemed extra hungry” Jessica nodded her head as you two ate then threw away your trash. She kept holding your hand the whole time as she wants to be sure your safe, you didn’t know where your mama’s motorcycle was but you knew it was somewhere.

“Mama is gonna go do some work so you stay here, okay baby?” “Okay mama! Be safe!” She kissed your forehead then went to works as you sat down and started to draw in your coloring book. You didn’t know where you were which worried your anxiety but you were calming down as you were coloring….staring..someone was staring at you..you weren’t insane and knew it so immediately you got up and looked around just to see if you could see ANYTHING that would show the thing watching you.

Miguel was looking at you surprised…his daughter is alive? Lyla saw you were getting nervous and started breathing heavy as you were scared so she appeared on your watch. “Hi there!” “AHH!” You jumped and fell as you stared at the holographic women…you blinked a bit before responding. “H-hello?” “Hi there! I’m Lyla, your Y/N drew aka Jessica Drew’s adopted daughter” you nodded your head slowly confused why this random lady knows about you. Lyla saw the worried looked on your face which she didn’t like as she was program to also care for Gabriella and you look exactly like her. “I’m an AI, I was made to do and learn about anything in any universe. I know about your family and history as a quick scan then I know everything. I know that isn’t comforting but that’s the truth”

You nodded your head feeling a bit more comfortable..sorta but you kept feeling eyes on you. Miguel was still in disbelief seeing a girl look similar to his daughter, is this the universe saying that his daughter still needs him? Recantation..that what must’ve happened, you were his daughter just in a different form! Yes that’s the answer! He just wishes he found you before Jessica did. “I-is there someone else here? I don’t like the feeling of being watched” “Just Miguel, he’s just a grumpy workaholic man. He isn’t much talkative so how about I talk to you while you color?” You felt a bit calmer knowing you weren’t going insane so you nodded your head and got back on the chair as you went back to coloring as Lyla talked…you wanted your mama and dad really bad.

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

While I’m not a Luz/Hunter shipper, I do think it gets too much flack from hardcore Lumity fans. After looking at fandom discourse last night, I kind of realized it has some similarities with another controversial ship which happens to be my OTP. That being Shinji/Rei from NGE. A depressed 14 year old befriends an imperfect clone who slowly breaks out of their shell and becomes their own individual despite being made to serve a cruel master. TV tropes even describes Hunter as a male example of a Rei Ayanami Expy. The arguments against them by antis are even kind of similar.

Two arguments that have been levied against both are “they’re sibling coded” and “it’s gay erasure”. First, Luz is bisexual and can be in a M/F relationship and Shinji doesn’t have a confirmed sexuality. Liking Lunter or Reishin does not make someone a homophobe who hates Lumity or Kawoshin. The sibling criticism is based off Rei having some of Yui’s DNA which makes people uncomfortable at the idea of pairing her with Shinji and how people view Luz and Hunter as adoptive siblings. The romantic implications were more explicit in the rebuilds and manga but were there in the 90s anime too and there’s no problematic elements like incest or pedophilia in Luz and Hunter’s dynamic.

I never picked up on the similarities between these pairings until now but both get too much hate from the fandoms. If you don’t like it, fine, but leave people who do like it alone. It’s like people haven’t learned a thing from the SU fandom about not bullying people for liking a different pairing.

[imagineanime2022]

So W/ Powers Like Oogie Boogie

Fatgum X Reader, Mirko X Reader, Eraserhead X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Pro Heroes Fatgum, Mirko, Aizawa, with reader, who has a quirk similar to Oogie boogie and even has her own theme song and even Some of the other heroes are terrified of reader, HELL reader’s presents just scares the heck out of endeavor (which that would make Dabi and his siblings proud🤣)

Fatgum

🍭 Tai loves everything about you from the persona that you put on when going out as a hero (if it's just what you like in general then he loves it even more). 🍭 Doesn’t understand why anyone would be afraid of you, you were fun to be around and he didn’t mind the bugs too much it’s not like they're around all the time. 🍭 Not going to lie he will often be singing your song while doing normal around the house things. 🍭 He introduces you to everyone that he knows because he doesn’t want them to be afraid of you, he loves that the kids seem to like you a lot.

Taishiro had been stuck in the office doing paperwork all day, he was bored. The TV in his office showed the news. He caught sight of the stark white suit that you wore and stopped to make sure that you were okay. “That seemed like a tough one, are you okay (H/N)?” The reporter asked and you smiled. “Oh yeah all good, nothing to worry about here, a little secret is that he was afraid of the bugs, these little guys helped me out.” You answered that the little worm sitting on your shoulder seemed to hide in your shoulder. “Really this little guy?” She asked, you put your finger up to the little bug who wrapped around your finger. “This little guy here, he’s often my help behind the scenes, he doesn’t like the camera’s very much.” You explained. “I have to go, I’m still on patrol but everyone tries to stay safe and I’ll do the rest.”

It was only a few hours later that you walked into his office, he had a bright smile on your face as you walked over to him “you haven’t been out today.” You stated as you leaned down to press a kiss to the side of his head. “I had paperwork to catch up on.” He gestured to the table where he was half way through his work. “So no time for a quick lunch?” You asked. “Always.” He answered, now noticing that you weren’t in your hero costume. “Are you done for the day?” “Mmhm.” You hummed, “if you're only doing paperwork today I can hang out here until you're ready to leave.” “As long as you promise to not distract everyone with another one of your fun shows.” He smiled, pulling you into his lap. “I promise.” You said. “I don’t believe you.” He teased and you rolled your eyes. “You don’t want me to stick to that promise.” You argued, beginning to hum the tune to your fan-appointed theme. “Lunch, then the show.” He scolded you and you looked at him and nodded. “Fine let’s go.” You said as you jumped up from where you were sitting to pull him up to go and get lunch.

Mirko

🐇 Mirko and you were drawn together by the loud flashy personalities that your hero personas put out, when you both worked together you were a show to behold, villains hate it but heroes treat it like a comedy act. 🐇 Mirko loves your suit as well, stark white unless you're in darkness where you glow in neon colours and make a light show of dealing with a villain. 🐇 Rolls her eyes whenever she hears people singing your song, don’t get her wrong she loves your song but it was used everywhere which meant that she looked forward to the new versions that you come up with in the comfort of your home. 🐇 You actually love that everyone is afraid of you, it makes your job easier, you both love walking into Endeavours agency to talk business only for him to struggle to hold eye contact or even stand too close to you.

You and Mirko walked into Endeavour’s agency with your arms linked “what are you two doing here, do you not have work to do?” Endeavour asked. “Work to do?” You asked. “I’m off the clock, is there a reason that you don’t want me here?” “If you are off the clock then civilians aren’t allowed in this building unless they need help.” Endeavour said and you raised an eyebrow smirking at him. “So are those your work studies?” You asked as you looked around him at the three younger boys across the Lobby, one of them looking over with widened eyes as the others followed suit. You smirked as your shadow stepped from one side of the room to the other. “Hey there.” “Who the hell are you?” Bakugo asked, you raised your eyebrow, you had met him on his placement with Best Jeanist. “This ones a joker, we both know that you know who I am.” You winked as you threw your arm over his shoulder as you leaned over him to catch the eye of the kid with the two toned hair. “You belong to him right?” “I don’t belong to him, I’m his son Shoto.” He corrected you and you nodded. “Cool, you wanna see something cooler.” You smirked as you looked over at Endeavour talking heatedly with Mirko while pointing to you.”What are you talking about?” “Watch.” You prompted as a perfect copy of yourself sidled up next to Endeavour, you all watched as it leaned down to whisper into his ear. Endeavour seemed to leap 30 feet into the air as he whirled around to find you still standing with his son, now holding your stomach as you laughed. “Why is he afraid of you?” Shoto asked. “Honestly not a clue,” You answered waving your hand and causing the clone to separate into the bugs that made it up as they all dispersed and disappeared out of the building. “But it’s fun to mess around with.” “This what you spend your day doing, messing with people?” The blonde asked. “Who are you again?” You asked. “What’s it to you?” He asked. “Bakugo.” You smirked. “How-” “You don’t remember me from your placement with Best Jeanist?” You asked. “Huh!? I don’t know you!” He yelled. “Hey (Y/N) stop bothering the kids, you’ve had your fun!” Mirko called over and you shrugged. “Alright! I hope finding out your father’s weakness was useful, Shoto, let me know if you ever want to use it.” “What did you say to him!?” Endeavour asked as you got closer and you smiled. “Nothing that you need to worry about.” You answered as you turned to leave. “You cause so much trouble, are you sure you're a hero?” Mirko asked, taking your hand and leading you down the road. “I have never once called myself a hero, I’m an antihero at best.” You winked, she just rolled her eyes and continued leading you away from Endeavour’s agency.

Aizawa

🐛 People honestly don’t know how you ended up together, you just don’t seem to fit, that is until they meet his best friend. Aizawa is like a child minder for the two of you when you were together however he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t enjoy being around the two of you. 🐛 In terms of hero work, you were both good at what you did and when you were together you had a 100% success rate, everyone and everything was afraid of you. 🐛 He likes to keep you away from the kids because they’re a handful without your influence and you would definitely only make it worse. 🐛 You are a formidable team when he’s in the mood to cause trouble with you, that being said he’s also the only one that can stop you from getting up to mischief when you are being particularly conniving.

You should not be doing this, you really shouldn’t, given the reason that all the kids were moved to these dorms on campus, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity when most people hardly knew who you were. That was why you were skulking around the dorms at 2am making as much noise as possible to wake the kids.

“Did you hear that?” You heard one of the girls ask, you zipped down the hall allowing them to catch sight of your hero suit glowing in the dark as they did. “Woah what was that!?” Another female voice asked, you giggled to yourself picked up a ball that they seemed to have left on the floor and rolled it out into the centre of the hallway, there was a piercing scream that came from one of the girls and then a shout from even further down the hall. “What the hell are you all screaming about, it’s late go to bed dammit!” a male yelled this time. “Are you girls okay?” Another softer male voice asked. “I think there might be someone downstairs.” One of the female voices from before answered, that was when you decided to fling yourself towards the stairs hopping the bannister and landing soundlessly before making your way over to the sofa where you lounged over the seat waiting for them to come down the stairs. “What are you all doing up?” That voice you knew, Aizawa. “There’s something downstairs.” One of them answered. “Wait up here.” He ordered as you heard him walking towards the stairs, it was only a second later that you heard him “what are you doing?” “Relaxing on the sofa.” You answered. “And scaring the crap out of the kids?” He asked. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You faked a confused frown and he rolled his eyes. “Up, come on, funs over time for bed.” He ordered, putting his hand out to you. “Aww, you're so boring.” You mumbled taking it. “Yes and you are causing a little too much excitement on our time off.” He mumbled as the kids gathered at the top of the steps. “Nothing to be afraid of, just a hero checking the perimeter.” You winked, they all seemed to ease up noticing that Aizawa was holding your hand instead of trying to kill you. “You extras ruined my sleep for this!?” One of them yelled as they all started to disperse. “You're dealing with them in the morning; they're especially cranky when they haven’t had enough sleep.” He mumbled. “I don’t know if you want that.” You smirked as he led you towards his room in the dorms. “We’ll see tomorrow.” He answered, closing the door.

Request Here!!

[xamiipholia]

okay y'all seemed to like the last one so here's a few more Horizon 3 thoughts:

Aloy won’t die. It would completely upend the series’ themes and just be really nihilistic.

Since Nemesis is a gestalt entity I think it’s a safe bet that we’ll see Sam Witwer, Carrie-Anne Moss, etc again. I’m curious how they’re going to do it because at least structurally, it’s basically a reaper. Maybe it’ll use different Avatars when communicating like the Leviathan in ME3. 

It's gonna take some work to make a flashback/dream/vision not contrived but I would love to see Varl and Rost again. I think we deserve that.

Minerva is gonna have its work cut out for it blocking access to both the dormant Faro Swarm and the ZD terraforming system. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if Nemesis has some sort of corruption function that becomes the equivalent of the corruption in HZD. It would be a really fun tech showcase if GG uses Zenith nanotech for machine corruption and leans into mechanical body horror.

If we’re going to Ban-Ur I really really hope they do the work to make the Banuk less problematic and more fleshed out as a culture. A quasi-Spartan society absolutely would not survive in an extreme environment, *especially* without megafauna to hunt. The Banuk characters are lovely and well-written; they deserve a society as well thought out as the Utaru or Carja. I’m honestly fine if there’s retcons or revamps to the cultural lore because the whole “outsider barges in and becomes chief” is rooted in racist, colonial tropes and we just don’t really need that imo.

The most recent footage of Death Stranding 2 (also running on Decima) has me SO excited for the visuals. GG’s gonna knock it out. The facial rendering and animation that Kojima Productions are doing looks industry-peak and I’m sure GG’s gonna match that. Aloy’s Gay Panic™️ scene on the beach in HBS is already top-tier nonverbal storytelling through animation. Digital Foundry actually just posted a really cool tech breakdown of the current Decima engine. I’m especially excited about the environmental stuff. The ocean simulations in HFW are already incredible and I hope they increase verticality in the world. I can’t wait to see the Sacred Lands in current gen graphics. 

I really love Kotallo’s DIY arm and it’s so so important to his development but Beta and Gaia now have access to Zenith nanotech, maybe give your buddy a sick upgrade hmm?

Speaking of, I can’t wait to see Beta come into her own. She’s one of the best parts of HFW and Aloy’s character absolutely shines in a sibling dynamic. 

I wouldn’t get your hopes up for a romance mechanic. Everyone’s feelings on that aside, it would be really odd from a game development perspective to just overhaul part of how the narrative develops Aloy’s character in the last act of the story. Yeah, there are flashpoints but I would argue that the presence of choice in Horizon is smoke and mirrors- cosmetic at best. Kentucky Route Zero (which you should play) does something similar where the player is given a certain amount of control over the substance of individual conversations and scenarios and it does absolutely nothing to alter the plot, by design. I think it’s the same here - this isn’t really a choice-based RPG, the flashpoints don’t really affect anything plot-wise or for Aloy’s character development. Olin is still out of the story, Nil lives, Regalla still dies one way or another. Aloy’s character development is pretty firmly on rails (think Jin Sakai, not Shepard - you get to guide some momentary character reactions but that’s it). I don’t think HBS is a testing ground either - If they were gonna introduce a romance mechanic I think they’d just do it, and not spend two years making a direct continuation of HFW’s main quest and establishing a specific romance hard-baked into the plot, complete with multiple leitmotifs for the character relationship (which is something they haven’t done before afaik) just to introduce a side quest mechanic coming in 5 years. I genuinely can’t think of any game or dev that has beta tested a major alteration to upcoming game mechanics that way - it doesn’t really make any sense in terms of developer resources, and these games are extremely time-consuming to make. I know this is a thing a bunch of people want and I can totally empathize with that! I just think it’s probably not on the table. 

I would bet money the series will bookend itself and the epilogue will involve a) the naming of Zo and Varl’s kid and b) Lis’ pendant. 

Mostly I'm just looking forward to being surprised. One of my favorite things that Horizon does is use carefully established elements in the world to pull the plot in unexpected directions and keeping the world grounded while they lean into speculative science fiction. I can't wait to see what Guerrilla is cooking up

[hawkflame999]

Ninjago headcanon #1-5

#1:

AU where the three descendants of FSM actually inherit Dragon-Oni features

Garmadon, Wu, and Lloyd being part oni, CAN shapeshift and usually use this to hide their true forms, instead shifting to their human ones, unless it's only friends and family around. (or if the circumstances demand it)

Garmadon’s “true form” looks like how he usually does, except he has huge gold dragon wings coming out from his back shoulder area, ringed with black because of his oni blood, that he actually can fly with. He has a gold tail similar to a Night Fury's, with the tailfins being black. He also has black oni horns with a swirl of gold and dark gold dragon ears. His eyes are purple both because of his element and his Oni blood and they glow when he allows them to. His teeth are sharp, too. His hands are clawish (Like his hands look normal but they have all the claw abilities and all). He has some gold-tipped black spikes like a night fury’s coming out of his back.

When Garmadon was in that form where he had the red eyes and all, his wings, tails, spikes, horns, and such were all black.

Wu’s “true form”  looks like how he usually does, except he has huge gold dragon wings coming out from his back shoulder area, that he actually can fly with. He has a gold tail similar to a Night Fury's with the tailfins being gold. He also has white-gold slanted-back dragon horns, with a swirl of black because of his oni blood, and dark gold dragon ears. His eyes are golden both because of his element and his Dragon blood and will glow if he allows it. His teeth are sharp, and his hands are claw-ish (Like his hands look normal but they have all the claw abilities and all) and he also has some gold-tipped black spikes like a Night Fury’s coming out of his back. 

Lloyd didn’t even realize he was shapeshifted during the years at Darkly’s Boarding school. When he began staying with the ninja, his uncle explained about being Dragoni (dragon-oni-sometimes- part-human hybrid) and taught him how to return to his true form and shapeshift, and how to fly. Lloyd didn’t need to learn Dragoni-tongue, he already knew it instinctively. 

Lloyd’s “true form” looks like how he usually does, except he has gold dragon wings, coming out from his back-and-shoulder area, ringed with green, that he actually can fly with. Like his uncle, He has a gold tail similar to a night fury's, with the tailfins being gold but with green at the tips except for the very tips of the fins being gold again. He also has gold horns, with a swirl of black because of his oni blood, with more black than his uncle but less than his father, slanted back like a dragon’s but not as much as his uncle, and dark gold dragon ears. His teeth are sharp, his hands are claw-ish (Like his hands look normal but they have all the claw abilities and all) and he also has some green-tipped gold spikes like Night Fury’s coming out of his back. His green eyes glow when he allows them to. The green-and-gold scales were able to glow after the Final Battle, except for his eyes, which were able to glow from the start.

#2:

AU where Morro gets turned back into a human in DotD and proceeds to take over as the oldest sibling for the rest of the series. (after the others begin to trust him of course)

“Jay Gordon Walker are you even trying to not have that thing explode!?!?”

“Kai Smith, how many times will I tell you to stop setting your room on fire.”

“All I’m asking for is one freaking patrol where you don’t say a word you shouldn’t even know, Nya.”

“Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon Spinjitzu. For the last time, Why were you up at  3:00 AM.”

“Zane you’re fine. You have common sense.”

“COLE HOW DID YOU GET ON THE ROOF-”

#3:

The ninjas’ eyes’ reflect their elements. And when the ninja unlock their true potential, their control over their eyes comes. 

Zane’s are ice blue, Jay’s are electric blue, Cole’s eyes are dark brown, almost black though sometimes the same yellow-orange that came when he went Spinjitzu Burst, while Kai’s are fire-colored. Nya’s are teal but a bit greener, as in sea colored. Lloyd’s are green. Morro’s were gray. Wu’s are gold both because of his element and his Dragon blood. and Garmadon’s are purple, both because of his element and his Oni blood. Their eyes will glow if they allow them to.

They can reverse the effect and make their eyes dark, the way most people’s eyes are- but they mostly do it in public so it’s harder for their identities to be found out.  

The shade of the color depends on their emotional state. When they are sad or talking about a “You don’t want to know” subject, or such, the shade of color in their eyes will get darker. If they’re in a good mood, they’ll get brighter. Sometimes it’s the opposite. (Cole’s turn light orange sometimes- he loves creeping his father out that way) 

#4:

When Lloyd was little and still at Darkly’s, one of the older kids, Tatheron, trapped him in an unused room. There they beat him up and hurt him seriously with a needle. As a result, Lloyd has trypanophobia- extreme fear of needles. 

The other ninja found out about it sometime when he was still a kid, when he got a gash on his arm. Wu said it needed to be stitched and Lloyd proceeded to panic, even ran off in fear. After being forced to catch him and bring him back to the Bounty, Lloyd tearfully confessed what happened  to the ninja after his Uncle Wu calmed him down, and the ninja + Wu ended up waiting till he fell asleep to do the stitches.

After that, Tatheron may or may not have come home one day with a broken nose. 

#5: 

At first Lloyd was terrified of the ninja, and they didn’t realize this at first. They only knew that they’d barely see him while on the Bounty. 

Then one day they found him hiding inside a big vase and realized that for some reason he hid from everyone in general 24-7. 

They found out that the kid’s at Darkly’s were hurt for even little stuff like being slow to answer. And that Lloyd had grown up thinking that everyone would hurt him. And that it was gonna take a while to gain his trust.

[redsparko]

Hopefully this reaches the right audience.

I’d like to talk about Maya Sokolov and her writing and the analysis of what Miss Rina Kent could’ve done with her character and her story. I know Rina said in one of her Insta stories that for sure Remi, Maya, Vaughn, and Gareth were not getting stories. I can be fine with Remi and Vaughn not getting stories (Remi not so much but I can live) while Maya and Gareth I can feel some potential with.

And I get it from Rina’s POV, miss girl has written like 35 books within 3-4 years. And if she feels no passion or connection with certain characters then she won’t write it. I understand and agree with that completely.

It doesn’t mean I won’t have any ideas about it yeah? Even if it’s not canon that’s what makes it fun.

Anyway back to the point, Maya Sokolov and her character

She falls under the lines of the Queen Bee, diva, bitch. Something like Silver, Nicole, and Reina. I absolutely love those three. Personally, Silver should’ve gotten the trilogy, Reina was done dirty lowkey, and Nicole’s story (Empire of Hate) left me with wanting more groveling. But out of the three I found I relate to Nicole more.

It’s the inferiority complex. I love that shit, I have it too, and I eat it up. And that’s clearly scene in Maya too. In the end of GOR it’s referenced/implied/canon that Maya was jealous of Mia and made a monkey’s paw type wish that came true.

There’s something so raw and sad and powerful in that that can and should be shown in Maya’s character (speaking from personal experience) feeling something so negative that it results in an act of hurting another person you REALLY care about because it comes from a place of deep sadness and insecurity.

Maya can act like the biggest girl boss and look at everyone like they’re the dirt beneath her feet (literal quote from GOR) but that does not disguise the fact she can only act like that because no one else will ever hate her more than how she hates herself.

And as readers we can really see it, and even theorize it from in between the lines. In GOF we read about Nikolai’s thoughts about the twins.

There are people saying that GOR ruined the relationship and wished it never happened. I can’t say the execution of it was done well but I can’t say it was a total trash fire either. It’s a 50/50 depending because there are good things I absolutely loved and things that could’ve been improved.

But mostly people are saying that the relationship between Maya and Mia was sabotaged and it would’ve been better if it never happened. I disagree, I prayed for times like this to come—kidding, but the layers of anger and frustration and love in the relationship between them makes the relationship deeper. But we never get to see that in its completion.

Think of Landon and Brandon in GOF. We love them so much because behind that ire and blockage from both sides they came through that and love prevailed. This is why I stand by Rina Kent MALE friendships/relationships. They’re much more complex and thought out than the female friendships which come off as somewhat shallow. I’ll make another rant abt that later.

What I wish was done better was mentioning the difference in Maya, Niko and Mia’s relationship. It’s clear that Niko likes Maya less than Mia. And Maya feels less than Mia because she’s seen that Mia is favored. It’s not Niko’s fault but it’s like an unconscious thing, he’s just closer with her because he sees that he is similar to Mia. It’s a common and natural thing, you’re just closer to people you feel like you can relate with. That checks out.

I feel like even both of Maya’s siblings only see her for what she pushes herself out to be, a shadow diva who sees herself as superior (obviously hiding an inferiority complex). They don’t stop to acknowledge that maybe she’s compensating for something? Especially Nikolai, in that quote saying that he and Mia would fuck up each other’s demons but what abt Maya? You can’t be close to her because she doesn’t have flaws or negative thoughts or demons either?

This feels less like a “it’s Nikolai’s personality” issue and more like a “Rina Kent wrote Maya to be nothing more than her character archetype”

Other than that, I also wanna mention Maya’s relationship with Ilya and how it could enhance her character and dynamics.

Ilya is down to earth, not egotistical like Landon, or notoriously violent or volatile like Nikolai, nor with the high status like Jeremy. He’s a perfect match for Maya.

It’s mentioned by GOR from Mia’s POV that Maya wants someone high status with lots of money (I agree, get it girl slay) but Ilya is not those things. He’s just a bodyguard and the money in comparison isn’t that good. But he can see Maya for who she truly is, someone who is hurt on the inside, insecure and needing some help.

It’s not what she wants but it’s what she needs. She needs someone who won’t isn’t already existing in the circle who prefers Mia to her.

Although I do wanna say that I love the angst in early chapters if Maya felt some jealousy and sadness from believing that Ilya prefers Mia to her (seeing as how Ilya doesn’t regard Maya with the same reverence as other boys do) and he’s actually friendly to Mia while he’s bitchier to Maya. It’s all part of the angst. But endgame wise he would choose Maya cause he sees right through her and is more interested in the true part of her that’s vulnerable and scared to love in fear that the one she loves will love Mia more.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Leona!! There’s my cute baby brother. It’s so good to see you.” Farena smiles as bright as the sun, it’s blinding. He carries Cheka in his arms, and Cheka waves and squeals. “Ojitan, we came to see you!!” “That’s right, you haven’t visited home in so long so we decided to come to you instead. How’ve you been, Leona? How is school? Have you made new friends? Anything fun happen recently?”

While writing this interaction, I tried to keep the dynamic of Mufasa and Scar and Simba and Scar in mind. The brothers themselves were often in opposition, but Scar often said phrases which could be easily misconstrued as playful or caring in the eyes of a child like Simba. I wanted to get similar vibes down for Leona interacting with Falena and Cheka!

Not me making Falena basically drop an Uncle Iroh line--

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The second Falena and Cheka paraded into his room, Leona bolted up from the bed. Every hair on his tail stood on end, his eardrums ringing, as his senses rushed to process the nightmare playing out before him: his brother and nephew announcing their arrival. All sunshine, and too much of it.

Leona burrowed back under his blankets and buried his face in a pillow. It’s just a bad dream, he told himself. They’ll go away if you ignore them for long enough.

“Leona! Are you still taking a cat nap? Rise and shine, baby bro!!” He felt a hand on his back. Meant to be encouraging, he presumed.

“Who exactly’s your ‘baby bro’ here?” Leona grumbled, wrapping the covers even more tightly around himself. He despised it—the reminder of being second born, and how Falena said it with such ignorant glee.

There was a soft laugh, and the hand on his back retreated. “Old habits die hard. I’m sorry, I know you’re a man now—but to me, you’ve always been my precious younger brother. Please, won’t you see us?”

A mass came upon his mattress, excited bouncing causing the springs to creak. “Wake up, Ojitan!! It’s time to get up and play with me and Papa!! You promised to show me how to play magift, remember?”

Dread immediately set into Leona. If he didn’t move soon, Cheka would be jumping on his belly instead of on his bed.

Defeated, Leona irritably dragged himself up, wearing his blanket like it was a cloak. It fell low, hooding messy bangs and shading his eyes. Bright green and discerning against the shadows.

“Ojitan’s up!! I did it, Papa, I did it!!” Cheka cheered. He spun in a circle, pumping his tiny fists.

His father scooped him up with a hearty laugh. “Atta’ boy! You got your uncle good!”

“If you’ll pardon the interruption to your merriment,” Leona cut in with a drawl, “to what do I owe this pleasure? It’s not every day when the King of the Sunset Savanna deigns to walk among the masses.”

Falena’s cheer faltered. His sibling’s biting sarcasm cut deep, even after all these years of growing accustomed to it. “You don’t need to be so formal with me, Leona,” he advised patiently. “We’re family.”

“Fine.” Leona crossed his arms. He didn’t speak the counter that was on his mind: but family doesn’t have to like each other. “Where are your bodyguards? It’s dangerous for high profile people to roam the campus unattended, especially today, when the NRC gates are open to outsiders.”

“We have our ways of slipping away from them. Don’t we, champ?” Falena ruffled his son’s hair, and Cheka beamed a little too proudly.

… So that’s where the furball learned it from. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

“A king and a prince ditching their royal babysitters in favor of singing and dancing the day away… The people would be simply beside themselves if they knew,” Leona simpered. (A smirk tugged at the corner of hjs mouth at the thought of the old coot Kifaji’s panic at losing sight of his sovereign.)

“No one in the world would rather tend to royal duties than spend time with his family. I certainly wouldn’t.”

Leona scowled.

“Ojitan looks kinda scary.“

“He’s just making a funny face at you,” Falena reassured his son.

“Oooh, I get it!! I can make a funny face too!! Watch me!!” Hooking his index fingers, Cheka pried the sides of his mouth and wiggled his tongue. “Blegh!!”

“Real charming there, kid,” Leona said dryly.

“Thanks!!” The reply was earnest, not understanding one bit of the edge to Leona’s voice.

Falena smiled warmly at his son. "… Cheka, I have an idea. Why don’t you run along and prepare the magift equipment to play a round? You can get some help and form teams by asking the nice young men around Savanaclaw.”

“That sounds really fun!! But Papa… what about you and Ojitan?”

Falena gently set Cheka down. A hand found its way into the lion cub’s mane, ruffling it once more. “Your uncle and I will be out in a moment to join you. We need to talk about something important first.”

It was good enough of an answer for Cheka.

“Okay!! I’ll do a good job, promise!! We’ll have the most funnest magift game ever!”

“That’s my boy.”

Cheka took of racing out and down the hallway. His eager, high-pitched voice carries through the wide open spaces. Inquiries directed at passing students, asking if they wanted to play, or if they knew where the right gear was.

Falena waited for the noise to subside—for Cheka for be out of earshot—before he met Leona’s gaze again. His younger brother’s expression was sullen, gleaming eyes almost sunken into the darkness of his blanket hood.

“So kind of you to grant me a private audience, your majesty.”

Falena did not back away. He glanced at the unoccupied space on Leona’s bed.

“May I?”

“By all means. It’s not like you didn’t already barge in unannounced. What’s the use in denying you a seat?”

“… Thank you.”

Falena sat gingerly for a man of his size, careful to not disturb his brother. The bed frame creaked, now bearing the weight of two fully grown Kingscholars. A shared family legacy between them.

“… I know if was rude of us to surprise you like that. I apologize. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see how you’d been doing at school.”

“A text or a call would have been more than enough.”

“Ah, but then you’d leave it on read or pretend the signal was bad and you were breaking up.”

Leona stared incredulously at his brother. Falena grinned like a cat that had gotten to the cream.

“I know most of your tricks by now.”

“Oh, good. I’ll have to brainstorm new ones to outwit you.”

“A text or a call wouldn’t have been enough anyway. I wanted to see the school that changed you for myself.” Falena gestured around them, at the blue sky waiting beyond the window. “And, of course, I wanted to see my changed brother for myself as well.”

“You’re mistaken. I haven’t changed at all. I’m still as miserable of a wretch as I ever was.”

“I beg to differ. You visited home for the first time in forever on winter break. You even brought some friends with you to Catch the Tail.”

“Whatever it takes to placate you and Kifaji,” Leona snorted.

“I think you’re deflecting. Big brothers know these kinds of things. It’s like my secret sense.” Placing his hands on the bed, Falena tilted his head back. His eyes were on the ceiling, but his words were directed at Leona. “You always avoided coming home before. Never quite liked it. Now you’re making a little more of an effort of it, even if it’s difficult for you.”

“Whatever would give you that impression, brother dearest?”

“Come on, Leona. I don’t have bugs for brains. I can tell when you’re uncomfortable or unhappy, or when you don’t want to do something. You’ve always been the stubborn type.”

Leona cursed internally. The palace servants would have called it the king’s sensitivity—but to the younger brother, it was nothing more than an annoyance.

Falena chuckled, elbowing Leona. “Something happened at school recently, didn’t it? Something that made you reconsider.”

Leona held his tongue. There was so much to tell, and none of it he wanted to be told.

I hurt other students to get a chance to prove myself. I plotted a stampede to take out the leader of a rival dorm. I Overblotted.

I conspired with fresh meat to infiltrate and steal. I dusted an octopunk’s contracts. I put together a stage.

I got hauled off to a secret underwater research facility and experimented on. I fought ancient Phantoms. And I… thought about the past, the future... and my role in it.

I survived all of that. I’m still here.

“A lot of things have happened,” Leona said vaguely. “There’s nothing for you to get your tail in a twist over. School's uneventful. It’s just me and my good chums livin’ it up.”

"Chums?" Falena's face brightened considerably. "Aw, so you have made friends after all! I'm so proud of you for finally opening up, Leona!"

He recoiled with disgust. "Hah?! Don't give me that 'power of friendship' bull crap, it sounds like something the Daikon Radish Sprout would quote from one of the shows he obsesses over."

"Don't be shy!! You've even got cute little nicknames for your buddies! I bet you stay up late into the night to talk about your hopes and dreams too."

"Hardly."

Falena laughed at the automatic, snappy response. Only he, the sunlight to Leona's shadows, could. "You're doing just fine. I'm glad."

"You're relieved that I won't disgrace the royal family."

Falena shook his head, letting red locks fall over his shoulders. "I was never angry or upset with you. I was sad because I was afraid you had lost your way in the dark. But you managed to find your way to the light again with the help of your friends. That's what I'm glad about."

Ever the brother's keeper, like a gnat to a wildebeest.

"Hmph. Despite what you say, you've yet to get out of my fur."

"As I've said, old habits die hard." Falena attempted at a chuckle, but it came out awkwardly. "... Say, Leona. Have you given some thought into what you'll do for your internship next year? Then there's your graduation...

"Things are changing so fast. It feels like just yesterday when father was still well, and we were still cubs wrestling in the savanna. Kifaji would tell us off, but we'd conspire to sneak off to explore the Elephant Graveyard anyway. You'd always beat me at chess, and Kifaji would beat you at your game. We'd dare each other to eat bugs from a pile, trying to find the one that tastes like chicken first.

"Still children, not yet king and prince, not yet shouldering the weight of our adult responsibilities. Now the older we get, the more and more we seem to drift apart, and the worse off father becomes."

"You're blabbering," Leona sighed, lowering the covers he had been cocooned in. His chocolate mane and lion ears made themselves known. "What's the point in reminiscing? We can never return to those days. Your eyes should be set on a future littered with prizes. You'll never seize them if you continue to fixate on the past."

"You're right." Falena smiled, looking properly at Leona still nestled in his sheets--but slowly inching out of them. "I've said this before, and I'll say it again. You're an intelligent young man, with a good head on your shoulders. You have skills and strengths that I could never dream of having."

"You're going to start on another one of your cooperation spiels, aren't you." Leona said it as a statement, not as a question.

"I hope you don't see it that way. No, I... I'd like to join hands with you again, brother." Falena offered an open hand, his entire being shining with hope. "Like we did in the past, this time for the future. Together, I firmly believe we can usher in a new era of peace and prosperity for the Sunset Savanna."

"What..."

Leona stared at the waiting hand like it was a bear trap with a tasty morsel. If he reached, those steel jaws would clamp around him, hurting him once more.

"What makes you think I'll accept the same speech you've thrown at me for years and years? It's the same song and dance."

"I know you, Leona. And I know that you must have had a change of heart, however small it may be. Here, at Night Raven College, you've become different."

Falena's fingers curled, and the hand retracted back to his lap. "You don't need to give me your answer now. Please, just consider it seriously. That would be enough for me."

"As always, you're endlessly optimistic."

"We balance each other out."

The sun had risen high in the sky, crowning another day. A fresh wave of heat pervaded the room.

Leona's blanket slipped to his waist, the material pooling at his legs. He emerged from the covers like a lion from its den.

"How fortunate," Leona purred, "killing two birds with one stone. A diplomatic meeting and a courtesy call rolled into one."

If only you were usually this efficient with handling your duties.

From down the hallway came the tmp, tmp tmp of footsteps. They grew progressively louder by the second, like a cheer swelling into an uproar. People coming closer, a crowd gathering.

A new game about to start.

“But unfortunately for you, my most exalted elder brother Falena…”

Leona stood at last, casting off his blanket in one glorious motion. It fluttered to the ground, no longer needed to shelter the beastman from the world--nor the world from him.

“I don’t play by your rules," Leona announced, his lips pulled back into a cocksure smirk.

BAM!!

At that moment, an out-of-breath Cheka came sprinting into the room, thrusting the door open. He was followed by a stampede of footsteps, hoots, and hollers--a whole pack of Savanaclaw students wielding brooms and a golden frisbee.

Through rosy cheeks, the cub declared, "Papa!! Ojitan!! We're ready!"

Chanting students echoed his sentiment.

"Perfect timing, furball." Leona languidly stepped off of his mattress, hands in his pockets. He was a king descending from his throne to be among his people.

He cast a glance at Falena, still seated on the bed, and felt his smirk widen. "I'm doing things my own way... and that includes wiping the floor with you in magical shift. Isn't that right, boys?"

The group broke out into rapturous barking. Stomping, clapping.

"Yeeeeah!! Let's body him, Leona-san!!"

"You could totally take him, dorm leader!!"

"Leona-senpai, fight, fight, fight!"

Oblivious Cheka, at the head of the group of absurdly burly young men, threw his arms up and squealed. "Everyone's so excited to play together!"

"Haha, you have such an enthusiastic group of supporters, Leona." Falena rose from the bed himself and turned to his brother. Sun and shadow, staring at each other in the face. "I would be honored to play a match with you. How about you and Savanaclaw on one team, and myself and the royal procession on the other team? We could ring up Kifaji to referee."

"What about me, Papa? What can I do?"

"Hmm... well, it'd be dangerous for a young one like you to play against older kids and adults. Maybe you could fetch water for the players?"

"Awww..." Cheka's ears flattened, his tail hanging in dismay. "But bringing water's not playing."

"Your dad's right, furball. Listen to him." Leona groaned, nudging the child. "You don't want to get caught up in the crossfires."

"Huh? Crossfires? There's no fire though."

"Oh, there is."

Leona's eyes, an immaculate shade of emerald circled by shadows, glinted with newfound promise and vigor.

This time, I'm settling the score... by my own rules.