#and this book managed to activate both of them

[alinathinkstoomuch]

BATHROOM BREAK

pairing: derek morgan x reader summary: post-case unwinding usually involves derek on his knees, right?? based on this request. warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, oral (f receiving) derek is a munch. that's literally it. bau’s no.1 pussy eater! word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Technically, the team was still on call. After wrapping up a case in Jamaica, you weren’t set to leave until the morning, though it would be very unlike you and Derek not to explore the area (code for all the clubs and bars you could squeeze into the next twelve hours) before heading home.

Your relationship with him was hard to put a label on. You weren’t dating, not really, but on more than one occasion, you’d ended up a little too close for what was considered normal between friends and coworkers.

So tonight, you were grateful to not have an audience and to be spared the endless stream of comments from Reid and Emily about how the activity you and Derek both referred to as ‘dancing’ was, according to them, not dancing at all. Emily had once called it ‘straight-up humping,’ and Spencer, in his usual fashion, had described it as a form of foreplay, though he somehow managed to make it sound deeply unsexy with science.

The bass was pounding so hard it felt like it was shaking your whole chest, and the cocktails had done just enough to take the edge off the past four brutal days. You finally felt loose, like you could actually enjoy the balmy night without your brain dragging you back through the profile to scrutinise every single step you took.

Derek’s hands were on your hips, a place they were all too familiar with. It started out as a subtle touch when he was walking past you in a tight space—an accident, something he’d almost thrown his hands off in embarrassment over. But when you barely reacted and brushed it off with a comment about how it was the most contact you’d had, he hadn’t stopped. And so now, when the two of you went out, your hips were his favourite place to rest his warm hands on, and it was quickly becoming your favourite weight to feel.

"You keep dancin’ like that," Derek said, his words tumbling out of a wide grin you could feel without even looking, "you’re gonna have the whole place thinking we didn’t book separate rooms."

You lifted his hands from your hips, just so you could turn around, ass all up in his crotch. “Did we?”

“We did. Doesn’t mean we gotta stay in ‘em.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to stay out here either,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, looking up at him through your lashes.

His hand slid back to your waist, thumb moving slowly against the fabric of your skirt. “You tryna call it a night already?” 

“Not a night. Just…a change of scenery.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, stepping back and slipping your hand into his, tugging him through the crowd towards where you vaguely recalled the bathrooms were.

Derek let you lead, taking the time to admire the view of your plump thighs, the way they filled out that skirt with every step. And the tan line that marked your skin on the back of your shoulder, still there from when you wore a vest to a crime scene. He had a complicated relationship with religion, but if he ever got the chance, he’d want to meet the God that made you.

He followed with a smirk as you weaved through groups and pairs of people, not bothering to check if there was a queue before you pushed straight into the bathroom, holding the door open for him like this moment was exactly the one you were waiting for. 

As soon as he stepped through the door and clicked the lock in place, you were all over him. Hands snaking around his neck, tugging him to you until the back of your thighs met the counter. He only pulled back to lift you onto it, watching as your skirt rolled up your thighs, your panties on full display just for him.

“I like these,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Red. Fitting.”

“Mm,” you hummed, trailing your finger under his chin to tilt his face back up to yours, “you can take them off too.”

“Oh, I plan to.” His mouth was on yours again, hands on your thighs, thumbs toying with the lace no longer hidden beneath your skirt. The heat was already enough to make you sweat, but the feeling of finally getting what had kept you up several nights in a row had you parched.

“Can you stand for me, baby?”

You nodded and hopped off, his fingers already slipping under the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down. “Been dying to know what you taste like,” he murmured just as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows, watching him drop to his knees, hands trailing up your legs. 

He kissed the inside of your thigh, then again, just shy of where the evidence of how badly you wanted him was glistening in the light. His hands gripped the backs of your legs, pulling you closer as he went. 

“You smell so fucking sweet. Been driving me crazy all week.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of you, half-stangled. “It’s probably the sunscreen. I’ve been layering that shit on like it's—oh.” Your voice caught mid-sentence the moment you felt his mouth on you.

One hand scrambled for the counter and the other reached for his shoulder, fingers digging in. You felt his tongue drag through your pussy causing you to curse and twitch into him. And when he began working over your clit your mind went blank, no thoughts filtering in or out…just his tongue. 

And it felt good. So damn good. Nothing like you’d ever felt before. Sure, there were other times you’d found yourself in this situation, but it usually ended with you pushing their mouth away because they didn’t seem to know what they were doing. But Derek Morgan was eating your pussy like he was on death row, and you never wanted it to end.

In fact, there was one thought in your brain—how the hell were you supposed to move on from this? How were you meant to say good morning to that wicked mouth, or watch it wrap around a coffee mug without dying a little inside?

He tapped your thigh, mumbling a rough, “Over my shoulder, baby,” into your soaked heat, and you’d always been very good at following instructions. You lifted one of your legs over, granting him the access he wanted. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “H-how do you do that?” 

He pulled back briefly, mouth slick. “Do what?”

You whimpered, completely dishevelled. “That. That.”

“This?” he asked before sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yes—that. Mmhm. Exactly that.”

He hummed against you, the vibration knocking you closer to your orgasm. You clenched around nothing, hips rocking into his mouth just to feel him go deeper. If anyone was waiting outside the door, not even the music would be enough to masquerade the wet, lewd sounds echoing from inside.

Did you care? No. Not even a little. You were too busy holding onto the edge of the counter like it owed you money, one leg still hooked over his shoulder, thinking about all the ways you were going to repay the favour the second you got back to the hotel.

Your mouth fell open, no real words coming out, just a string of moans that got increasingly desperate the closer you got. “Oh my God, Derek.”

And then your thighs were squeezing around his head, all that pent-up tension releasing in seconds. You think you might have blacked out for a moment? Hard to say. You’d probably have to consult the mirror behind you for answers, but your head was too busy lolling back like someone had unplugged you.

Eventually—eventually—he pulled back. You let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, blinking back into consciousness. 

“You good?” he asked, breath a little ragged.

“So incredibly good,” you managed, still half-dazed, just as he gently placed your leg back down. “Now do you want me on my knees here or back at the hotel?”

join my taglist here 💌

please fill out the form if you'd like to be tagged for specific readers or send me a dm if you'd like to be removed from the list!

[rauspberries]

ALPHABET SOUP!

lessons in chemistry series.

summary: you feel like you've been fighting all of your life to keep your head above water, with school being the only place you thrive. steve harrington has had everything handed to him on a silver platter, including a full-ride basketball scholarship and a threat to your valedictorian spot. normally, you'd avoid him like the flu, but when he offers you money to tutor him in chemistry, you just can't refuse his offer. tags: afab reader, college & modern au, grumpy!reader x sunshine!steve, trust fund baby!steve x financially struggling!reader, r & steve are both education majors, r works at a bar, mentions of alcohol, r judges a book by a cover & dislikes steve, steve is lwk already obsessed with r, steve has dyslexia & dyscalculia word count: 5.0k

Water droplets paint the glass of the windows, the gloomy day outside perfectly adding to your exhaustion. After a considerate amount of time studying and an eight-hour late shift at the bar, your eyelids felt like lead, your head heavy and cloudy. The last place you want to be at eight in the morning is in this plain-walled building, surrounded by people you either didn’t know or didn’t care much about, listening to someone drone on and on about a topic that you’d just reteach yourself in your apartment later.

Don’t get it wrong, you didn’t hate college in a general aspect. For you, school has always been a place to thrive. Good grades seemed to come easy to you as long as you put in effort and taking notes was more of a hobby than a necessity. The only part you hated was the early wake-ups and the people you were forced to surround yourself with.

Your eight AM chemistry class was very high on your list of hated college classes. Too early in the morning, too bright of a classroom, too many students that were too chatty for any night owl. Worst of all, there was Steve Harrington.

You knew Steve solely by being in his orbit. Basketball player with a full-ride scholarship, a shiny BMW and rich parents. Perfect hair, perfect face, perfect clothes, perfect grades. It was alarming how well he managed to keep his almost-valedictorian (after you, of course) status despite his extremely active social life. No matter where you went, or how far you tried to stray from it, someone had something to say about him, whether it be actual fact, fawning or simple rumors.

Yeah, he hooked up with so-and-so at so-and-so’s party last week. I’m pretty sure she’s still waiting for a call back.

Did you see his ass in those shorts during his last game? Not as good as him in that one pair of jeans, but still phenomenal.

I’m pretty sure his parents own houses all throughout the country. A house for every seasonal vacation. Think he takes people there?

The existence of Steve was infuriating. Never had to work for anything, never seemed to try very hard, yet the two of you were constantly at each other’s necks when it came to best in their class. It didn’t help that the professor seemed to adore him, laughing at the small jokes he threw her way when he was leaving class and congratulating him on every single good grade he received. Her intense focus on Harrington had you wondering if she was a cougar looking for a young college boy to frolic alongside.

Steve sat in front of you in class, which you took as an opportunity to constantly lean over his shoulder to glance at his scores whenever he pulled them up on his laptop. Every time that his grade was higher than yours, you cursed. Every time you had gotten better grades than him, you celebrated. Sometimes, he even raised his computer, as if he had sensed the distaste radiating from you and wanted to rub it in your face.

Infuriating. 

You were jolted back to reality by the sound of a clap, blinking your blurry eyes and glancing around in bewilderment. As soon as the professor waved her hands and dismissed the class, you stood out of your seat, shoving your notebook into your backpack and throwing it quickly over your shoulder. To keep your time in this classroom as brief as possible, you had claimed the seat closest to the door, ensuring the quickest exit and not getting stuck behind a crowd of young adults clogging up the thin aisle between the rows of seats.

You can practically taste freedom when you’re suddenly stopped by a hand on the crook of your elbow and the sound of your name, turning around so fast you swore you heard a muscle in your neck snap.

“Hello.” Steve greets the minute you glance at him, leaning his shoulder against the doorway of the classroom. He’s effectively blocking one of the two doors that were open for the students to leave, although he doesn’t seem to mind, all of his focus on you. He doesn’t say anything else other than the greeting, a stupid grin on his face and a strand of perfect hair falling over his forehead.

Brow furrowing and lips pursing in annoyance, you cross your arms over your chest, watching his puppy eyes flicker down to them before he glances back at your face. “What do you want, Harrington?”

With a dramatic mix between a sigh and a groan and one step back, he raises a hand to run it through his hair, pushing it back and doing nothing to tame the stubborn stray lock. “Hello, yes, I am having a good day, thank you.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you deadpan. It’s too early in the morning to play games, especially with the late shift you had worked the night before, leaving irritation to prickle at your skin and your eyes to stay half-lidded as they stopped him with a harsh glare.

He lets out a soft hmph of discontent, obviously having expected this conversation to have gone a totally different way. He stares at you silently until you give up, turning around and walking away from him without a goodbye. 

Unfortunately, Steve doesn’t give up. He's on your heels as soon as you move, the front of his shoulder brushing against the back of yours as he walks alongside you, skillfully dodging everyone that was on the other side of him. “Okay, okay. Here’s the deal.” 

His fingers brush against your bicep in another attempt to stop you from moving, guiding you into a much-emptier hallway and standing in front of you. “I need help.”

“I’m not a therapist,” you quip.

“Be nice,” he whines.

“No. Continue before I walk away.”

“Okay,” he groans again. You mentally note to insult him for sounding like a zombie and a petulant child. “I need a tutor.” 

Right as your mouth opens to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, he’s speaking again – quickly, as if he’s afraid a single bout of silence will send you running. “We both know that you and I are in the running for valedictorian. I have no intent of taking that from you. Maybe.” In what he means to be charming, he winks before continuing. “But the only class I can’t seem to fully grasp is chemistry. I’m assuming that someone as smart as you is doing amazing in that class. Which means I want you to tutor me.”

“You don’t get everything you want, Harrington,” you remind him chidingly, leaning to press your back against the wall behind you. Your feet ache way too much to stand straight any longer. “I’m too busy to worry about your grades alongside mine. Some of us have things to do other than party. There’s over a handful of people who’d be willing to tutor you and one of them is not me.”

Steve’s brow furrows, evidence of his disappointment written all over his face, eyes softening in a pout. “C’mon. I don’t want anybody else to tutor me.” It’s his turn to cross his arms over his chest, jean-clad hip pushing out into what he thinks is a defiant stance. “What’s your price?”

That pulls a bark of a laugh out of your lips, head shaking. “Nothing.”

“You’ll do it?” He perks up foolishly, arms falling to his side. 

“No.” You swear you can hear his hope shatter. Good.

There’s a soft slap as one hand perches on his hip, the other rubbing at his face. “You are so goddamn stubborn.” It comes out as a growl of annoyance, although when his eyes find you, his gaze isn’t anything but pleading. “Please. I’ll pay you. Fifty an hour.”

“I could make more than that standing on a corner,” you deadpan. Fifty an hour overall does sound tempting, especially since that’d allow you to lower your amount of shifts at the bar and maybe actually give you a day off, but he can’t know that. It’s insufferable Steve Harrington staring down at you, only a few inches taller than you are and yet attempting to loom.

Another sound of pique grumbled in his throat. “A hundred.”

Now, you’re just messing with him, raising your hand to flex your finger and point at the sky, asking for more. You don’t expect anyone to want to pay more than a hundred dollars an hour for tutoring, especially for something as simple as chemistry and not as intense as the SAT. But Steve isn’t just anyone and it’s obvious that he’s desperate.

“Fine. Three hundred. But I’m not going above that.” Steve’s arms cross over his chest again, a divet forming on his forearms as he clenches in fingers in slight annoyance, brown eyes glaring. “At that point, I can pay someone to take all my tests for me.”

You don’t even attempt to make fun of him, or to spit back a snide comment. Your lips are parted in shock at the idea of someone having so much money that they could spend that much money on tutoring. He catches your shock, a radiant smile pulling on his lips as he reaches into his back pocket.

Quickly, Steve steps forward, sliding a piece of paper between the cover and first page of the notebook in your arms. “My number’s there. Text me and we can choose a time and place, yeah?” With a wink that makes you want to rip his eye out and a very dramatic spin, he slides out of the hallway he had pulled you in, disappearing into the sea of students.

You don’t text Steve.

Surprisingly, it’s not because you don’t want to. After weighing your intense dislike for Steve against the amount of money he was offering, you wouldn’t be able to say no to his offer without feeling the hole in your pocket burn just a bit brighter and bigger. You had kept telling yourself that as soon as you had a free moment, you should text him, nonchalant and easy, telling him to meet you in the library at some point. 

But you never had a free moment.

Between attending classes, homework, studying and picking up shifts at the bar, the only breaks you had were to shovel food into your mouth just to keep you alive or to sleep like the dead for a couple of hours before you did it all over again. One day turned into two, then three, until you had ignored Steve for an entire week, his phone number abandoned on your cluttered nightstand. 

The thought of texting him has completely left your mind as you flounce behind the bar, grabbing bottles and ignoring the stick of your non-slip shoes against the liquor-covered ground. It’s a busy Wednesday night due to the small band performing on the half-moon stage in the corner, college kids and young adults that peaked in college ordering more than alcohol than they’ll be able to drink before they’re sent home in a cab. Smoke fills the air from puffs of nicotine and loud voices are everywhere.

You’re leaning across the bar to catch some frat boys’ order when you see him. Steve Harrington strolls into the bar like he owns the place, a dark green sweater stretched across his chest, too tight on his biceps and yet rolled at the bottom near the waistband of his mid-wash jeans. Despite being dressed casually, it's like there’s a spotlight on him, your focus trained. 

He’s never been here before. The college kids that usually came into the bar were seniors, out of your grade, or had no idea who you were. Very rarely was there a recognizable face, or at least one that you cared about seeing you. 

But this bar isn’t a level playing field between you and Steve. It’s hours into your double shift, sweat sticking all of the unmanageable baby hairs that snuck out of your ponytail to the nape of your neck and forehead. Your black shirt doesn’t show any stains and yet is damp in spots, clinging to your skin, with the scent of your perfume completely encumbered by the smell of copious amounts of alcohol. The cut-off jean shorts that were once fitting on your waist and ass have become slightly baggy as you lost weight, hanging low on your hips, fraying at the bottom so that strings brushed against your legs every time you walked.

You looked a mess and he looked like the world never touched him. The unstoppable Steve Harrington.

Nodding at whatever Chad, Brad and Matt (at least, that’s what you assumed their names were) said without catching a lick of their orders, you turn and head directly towards the end of the bar. The employee’s-only door is right there, your exit, your escape, when there’s suddenly a thud as Steve smacks his palms against the bar and leans towards you. 

“You have been ignoring me,” he accuses. An index finger raises to jab in your direction reproachfully.

Your response is a scoff, shoulders raising defensively. “I have not.”

Steve’s elbows hit the bar as he slants the entire top half of his body over the dark wood, no doubt getting his sweater sticky. “Then what do you call not texting me, huh? Or leaving class before I can talk to you?”

He’s right. There was no doubt that you had completely forgotten to text him, especially when you could’ve easily done it right after he had given you the piece of paper. But your stubborn streak always won out over your common sense. “I call it being busy, Harrington. God, you’re clingy.”

“Uh-uh. Don’t turn this on me.” He sounds like a child and looks like one, too, with his wrinkled nose and furrowed brow. A full pout is unfolding on his features and you’d laugh if you weren’t so exhausted and growing irritated. “You’re ignoring me. You said yes and then you made me wait a week. A week! Who does that? You cruel, cruel woman.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. It bubbles in your lungs until it hurts, head falling back and air rushing across the exposed, sweat-slicked skin of your neck. It’s not a pretty laugh, not contained. It’s bordering on being described as a cackle, high-pitched and loud.

When your eyes catch onto Steve’s face again, you can see the pink on the tips of his ears, lips parted in shock. As your laugh ceases into small giggles, you shake your head at him and his incessant need to stare at you like you sprouted four heads. “What, Harrington?”

“I didn’t know you could do that.” His lips smack together before he’s gaping again, puppy eyes wide.

Your hand lays flat on your stomach, willing the cramp to settle itself as you fix him with a confused look. “Do what?”

Steve snorts, finally leaning back to slide onto the barstool next to him. “Laugh. Have a good time.” The toe of his shoes hooks into the bar at the bottom so that he can lean back, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Oh, fuck you,” is your response, although it’s lacking any malice. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been sure for a while that you were still able to have fun. The most fun you got was playing some horribly-plotted procedural drama in the background while you worked on homework. You couldn’t remember the last time you picked up a book, much less read it, or took a walk just to take a walk. 

It’s his turn to laugh, showing off a pretty smile with too much top teeth, a curve of a wrinkle forming near the base of his nose and crow’s feet near the corners of his eyes. Despite his obvious mirth, he doesn’t try to speak again, filling the space between you with shouts of drunkards and the clinking of glasses.

You let out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing as you allow yourself to look at him for just a moment. Because while you knew Steve was handsome, had heard all about it from eavesdropping, it was different when it was staring you right in the face. The darker spots decorating his throat and jaw, the indent above his left eyebrow when he pursed his lips in confusion, the way his hair curled at the ends despite no evidence of him being curly-haired. For a split second, you allow yourself to consider him pretty. But for just a moment. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text. I got too busy with school and work and I forgot.” Your hands raise to gesture around you at the bustling crowd as your eyes stay fixed on him, watching his confused face turn into a very faded smirk.

Steve reaches out to grab a wadded-up straw wrapper from the bar, rolling it between his index finger and thumb nonchalantly. “Didn’t know you were capable of that, either,” he teases, just to laugh and take it back when your eyes turn steely. “Kidding! Kidding.” A pause. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

You’re never free. It’s a common fact. But you could always count tutoring as studying, especially since you had a chemistry quiz coming up. You take a few beats of silence to answer, watching him scoot forward in his stool to get closer to you out of the corner of your eye. Then, you nod, gaze finally landing on him just as his shoulders relax in relief. “I guess I can take some time out of my busy day.”

“You won’t regret it.” He’s fucking beaming, lips pulled back into a big large grin. 

“I’m sure I will,” you chirp back bittersweetly.

In the few moments you’ve taken to speak to Steve, you’ve forgotten where you are, even with the bitter stench of liquor clouding your senses and the placebo effect of being around drunk people. You’re brought back to reality by the call of your name, head turning to glance at one of your fellow bartenders just as he waves you over to help.

Your mouth opens to bid Steve goodbye, only to shut when he speaks first. “Can I get a rum and coke?” He asks, voice too sweet to not have any hidden meaning, filled with mischief and cheer. 

Fixing him with a concerned look, you nod before turning and starting to make his drink. He sits at the end of the bar even as you walk to the other side to start tending to a birthday girl and her drunk friends. He’s there, eyes burning into your skin as you gracefully go from one customer to another. 

And then, at the end of the night after you’ve already locked up and everyone’s gone home, he walks you home with his hands shoved into the back pockets of his jeans. He talks your ear off like you’ve been friends for years, regardless of you being silent and only interrupting him to reply with something snarky. 

The annoyingly unshakeable Steve Harrington, who walks you to the threshold of your door before pulling his car keys out of his front pocket, turning and heading back the exact same way you had both just walked.

Unlike the majority of your days, Thursday moves slowly. Classes take twice as long to finish, the words on your homework turn blurry as you stare at them in boredom, your mile-long walk home seems to be never ending. 

By the time the sun sets over the horizon and the majority of things you needed to get done that day have all come and gone, nothing but dread sits in your guts. The night before with Steve had been fun, even if it tasted like bile to admit it, but it wasn’t going to happen again. You were in this situation for one reason, and one reason only – the paycheck at the end. Then, you and Steve would live your separate lives again. You, in the background. Steve, underneath the spotlight. 

Stepping into the library, you pull your backpack up a bit higher on your back as you head directly for a study room. Once inside, you lay out everything you may need. Pens, markers, pencils, textbooks, the homework the both of you had been assigned that morning open on your computer. It’s almost meticulously laid out, as if you were trying to prove that you were studious enough to be capable of this, as if your high grades and obvious determination were not enough. 

Steve strolls into the room four minutes after the time you had set to meet, backpack hanging loosely off of a singular shoulder as he apologizes for being late, rattling about how he had trouble with the time. 

It’s almost comical, the difference between the two of you. Your neatly organized bag, with your laptop, then your books, then your notebooks, then your charger, zipped and tucked into a corner. Steve’s bag, hanging open with loose, wrinkled pages peaking out, which he tosses on the floor as he flops into a chair. 

Your attention is only fully captured when he sets a coffee cup on the desk, three fingers prodding it closer to where you stand, hunched over the table. “What’s that?” You ask skeptically, looking up through your eyelashes at him.

“Coffee. Just how you like it, not poisoned. Figured you’d need it, since you didn’t get much sleep last night.” A shoulder raises in a lazy shrug, trying to act nonchalant despite the way he watched you take a sip. Surprisingly, he had gotten your order exactly right. He must note your surprise because he speaks again, words coming out rushed. “I took a picture of your coffee cup tag today when you turned to unpack your bag.”

Sweet, yes, but also notably creepy. “Jesus Christ, stalker,” you grumble beneath your breath. 

“You’re welcome,” he sings in response. Leaning down, he yanks his expensive laptop out of his bag before letting it flop back onto the floor, peeling open the top as he sets it down on the desk. There’s a brief silence as you both finish setting up, interrupted by a clearing of his throat. “Okay. What’re we doing?”

“Chemistry,” you deadpan. A slow grin pulls on your lips as you watch the mock annoyance blossom on his face, head shaking with a quiet chuckle. “We’re just gonna do the homework she assigned this morning. I can re-explain anything you need help with. It’s just stoichiometry, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement as he stares at the assignment, full eyebrows knitting together. Rather than comfortably, a slightly awkward silence falls over you as his focus continues to shift from the computer screen to your face, as if he’s expecting you to say something. “Can I help you?”

Steve squirms in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. “I already don’t get it,” he mumbles. “I didn’t get a single thing she said up there. It was all just a bunch of letters and numbers.” His lips purse, as if holding in more words, brown eyes looking at you expectantly.

Letting out a huff, you cross your arms over your chest. “Well, maybe you should focus a bit harder on the screen than what my coffee order is.”

“It’s not that,” he argues. His eyes narrow defiantly, real annoyance manifesting there. Something’s struck a nerve, although you’re not sure where exactly you’ve pushed the line, especially when the last few days had made it seem like there wasn’t one.

But it’s written all over his face, the secret he keeps. Curve of his brow, pouted top lip, frustrated eyes. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Harrington?” You ask, standing up straight and shoving your hands into your front pockets. “Because I can’t help you if you aren’t clear and honest with me.”

With a heavy sigh, he flops back against the chair, butt scooting forward as his legs stretch out beneath the table. It’s a few heartbeats before he finally takes an intake of breath, gaze moving from the floor to the ceiling and then back to you. His mouth shuts and then opens, tongue running against his bottom teeth. “I don’t get these things like other people do. Math has never been easy, not even addition, subtraction. So, this? Not easy. Not fun.”

You stare at him for a moment, arms crossing over your chest before it finally all connects in your brain. Your lips roll into your mouth before you glance at the whiteboard behind you, gesturing to it. “Is it easier if I… draw it out?”

The tips of his ears turn pink, palm pressing into his closed fist to crack his knuckles. Then, subtly, he nods. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

Nodding, you turn around, grabbing the Expo marker from the small ledge at the bottom of the board. Taking a quick glance at the problem on the laptop, you copy it onto the board before starting to draw it out. Circles for each mole, labeled with a symbol rather than a letter. It takes you longer than it would’ve to just solve it yourself, but you’re now determined to find a way to make it make sense to him. 

His focus burns into your skin as you stay turned towards the board, heat curling in every spot his gaze touched. You’re able to shake it off until it’s all laid out in a messy scrawl of black marker, turning back to face him and explain what you had laid out.

It’s extremely late by the time the both of you decide to call it quits, the library emptied out hours ago. You’ve walked Steve through balancing chemical equations for what seems like a million times, finger pushing into the whiteboard and faded charcoal streaks staining the white of the board. The both of you only agree to tap out for the day once the worksheet is completed, both of you exhausted from lack of sleep and too much brain power used. 

He insists on driving you home, especially with how dark it is outside. When you explain that you only live a block away and walking in the cool air of the night is soothing, he responds by matching your stride as you head towards home. 

For a moment, you don’t speak. You want to think he’s not talking because of his exhaustion, or because you’ve spent the last four hours constantly chatting, but you know better. Embarrassment washes over him in waves, radiating over to you. “When did you find out?”

Steve’s face contorts in confusion for only a brief moment before he finally registers what you mean, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “When I was younger, my parents just thought I was dumb. Not that they’d say it like that. It was always hidden sweetly. Stevie just needs some extra help sometimes,” he mocks in a higher-pitched tone, complete with a rolling of his eyes. “When I was a teenager, I heard about it from a guidance counselor while talking about college admissions and scheduled myself to see an educational psychologist without them noticing.”

“And it was a relief,” he admits. “I always just thought I was stupid, that cheating on homework and tests would be the only way I’d pass anything. But then I got the accommodations, the extra help I needed, and everything got easier.”

You nod, not wanting to pry too much into the subject in case he closed up. “Why don’t you use the accommodations now?” You question, head tilting as you look up at him.

He shrugs, right foot kicking a bit harder at the concrete as he walks. “I guess I didn’t want anyone knowing. Everyone sees me as this person that everything comes easy to, and sometimes it’s just easier to fit that, I guess.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest, gravitating a bit closer to him until your elbows brush as you walk side-by-side. “God, I feel like an ass,” you breathe out, eyes staring straight ahead at the streetlight-lit streets. 

Steve’s head whips to look over at you, looking stricken by your words. “What do you mean?”

The look on his face breaks out another laugh, head shaking. “You don’t want to know the names I’ve called you in my mind. For being so good at school, for being able to go to parties, to be the star of the show and not visibly struggle like I have been. I’m the fucking person people are speaking to when they say don’t judge a book by its cover.” Then, sheepishly, to lighten the mood a bit more, you glance up at him. “Sorry for being an ass to you in my head.”

“And aloud,” he quips, although it's obvious he doesn’t mean it by the grin that spreads on his lips and the chuckle that splits it apart. “I forgive you. But I am taking it as a challenge.”

“A challenge for what?” You snort.

“To make you like me.” He beams, eyes glancing up at the sparse speckle of stars in the sky. Shaking your head, you curl your arms around yourself, shoes scuffing against the ground. “I already like you, Harrington.”

Without warning, Steve’s arm wraps around you, a warm palm on your hip to pull you closer to his side and away from the drunk frat guy stumbling on the grass and sidewalk. The touch is gone as quick as its there, leaving you frazzled as you stare up at his smirking face. “I meant to make you like me enough to say my first name.”

“Not happening.”

He doesn’t have time to answer before you’re at the bottom of the stairs leading to your apartment, his body turning towards you to say goodbye. Slender fingers reach out to adjust the flimsy collar of your jacket before his hand returns to being tucked inside of his pocket. “Thank you for today. Really.” And, to your surprise, he seems genuinely sincere. Laying your hand on his bicep, you give him a soft squeeze and smile before stepping back towards the entrance of your apartment. “Same time next week?”

Two of his fingers raise to his forehead to give you a small salute, grinning as he watches you put the key in the door and slip inside.

[javaelemental]

Re: Murderbot

A couple of days ago I picked up the first Murderbot book (All Systems Red), largely because the TV trailer for the show had looked good and my tumblr dashboard was jam-packed full of people professing their love for the books.

Later, as the show started airing, my tumblr dashboard filled up with people loving the show.

Finally, I hit a night where watching shitty TV didn't sound like much fun, so I snagged the book and chewed through it in a few hours. (It's a short novella and I'm a fast reader.)

The book was delightful. I'm definitely going to read the rest of them so no spoilers, plz.

Today, since I had a day off, I watched the show, and it is also delightful.

They changed a lot of things from the book as far as plot goes. I mean, the basic plot seems to be the same, but there's been a lot added and a lot skipped over. I expect that's due to the extremely internal nature of the novella. A lot of what goes on in the book is basically Murderbot's internal narration, just it telling you what's going on. Not a lot of detail on, for example, action scenes. Also not a lot about what the human crew is actually up to, since Murderbot kind of ignores them as much as it can and also finds the majority of their activity boring and/or useless.

A few thoughts:

They made Murderbot's crew seem extremely hippy-ish in all the worst, most stereotypical ways. On one hand, I don't love that. They didn't seem this useless in the book. On the other hand, having lived in Oregon for fifteen years, I've met each and every one of these characters personally and in real life and they all act exactly like that. It was both annoying and hilarious.

Particularly so when Labeebee or whatever her name was showed up. Like, absolutely everyone should have seen how that was going to go, and yet not one single crew member did and for as much time as I spent muttering at the TV screen "She's a bad guy how can you not TELL that," those folks I know from Oregon would also have been this irritatingly naive and oblivious.

I like the expanded look into corporate life. You didn't see much of that in the first book. (I assume it starts getting mentioned in later books.)

They cut back more than a bit on mentioning how crappy all of the corporation's products are, which I kind of didn't like. A big reason why Murderbot manages as much as he does and why so much of the obvious fuckery gets missed until later is because the corporation's products are such hot garbage. Like, they do mention it, but it the books it's a fairly big plot device.

Anyway, I'm very much looking forward to the rest of the books, and the rest of the show. If you've been hearing a lot about it and haven't checked it out yet, do so. It's a lot of fun.

[steampunk483]

this week's mood: working on making the ultimate resource on mando'a and mandalorian culture because I got fed up with all the errors in cuun joha

[aroaessidhe]

2025 reads / storygraph

Something Extraordinary

historical platonic-romcom

an aromantic woman tired of feeling unworthy when the people closest to her leave her behind for romance, and a gay man in unrequited love who is planning on giving up and marrying a woman in misery and drunkenness

she kidnaps him the day before the marriage to stop him ruining his life, suggesting that they get platonically married instead - and on the ridiculous journey to scotland to elope, they have to convince each other if it’s what is best for them, and what they want out of life/love/and friendship

[copperbadge]

I'm getting depressingly good at identifying the formula for Pop Academic Books About ADHD.

Regardless of their philosophy it pretty much goes like this:

1. Emotionally sensitive essay about the struggle of ADHD and the author's personal experience with it as both a person with ADHD and a healthcare professional.

2. Either during or directly following this, a lightly explicated catalogue of symptoms, illustrated by anecdotes from patient case studies. Optional: frequent, heavy use of metaphor to explain ADHD-driven behavior.

3. Several chapters follow, each dedicated to a symptom; these have a mini-formula of their own. They open with a patient case study, discuss the highly relatable aspects of the specific symptom or behavior, then offer some lightweight examples of a treatment for the symptom, usually accompanied by follow up results from the earlier case studies.

4. Somewhere around halfway-to-two-thirds through the book, the author introduces the more in-depth explication of the treatment system (often their own homebrew) they are advocating. These are generally both personally-driven (as opposed to suggested cultural changes, which makes sense given these books' target audience, more on this later) and composed of an elaborate system of either behavior alteration or mental reframing. Whether this system is actually implementable by the average reader varies wildly.

5. A brief optional section on how to make use of ADHD as a tool (usually referring to ADHD or some of its symptoms as a superpower at least once). Sometimes this section restates the importance of using the systems from part 4 to harness that superpower. Frequently, if present, it feels like an afterthought.

6. Summation and list of further resources, often including other books which follow this formula.

I know I'm being a little sarcastic, but realistically there's nothing inherently wrong about the formula, like in itself it's not a red flag. It's just hilariously recognizable once you've noticed it.

It makes sense that these books advocate for the Reader With ADHD undertaking personal responsibility for their treatment, since these are in the tradition of self-help publishing. They're aimed at people who are already interested in doing their own research on their disability and possible ways to handle it. It's not really fair to ask them to be policy manuals, but I do find it interesting that even books which advocate stuff like volunteering (for whatever reason, usually to do with socialization issues and isolation, often DBT-adjacent) never suggest disability activism either generally or with an ADHD-specific bent.

None of these books suggest that perhaps life with ADHD could be made easier with increased accommodations or ease of medication access, and that it might be in a person's best interest to engage in political advocacy surrounding these and other disability-related issues. Or that activism related to ADHD might help to give someone with ADHD a stronger sense of ownership of their unique neurology. Or that if you have ADHD the idea of activism or even medical self-advocacy is crushingly stressful, and ways that stress might be dealt with.

It does make me want to write one of my own. "The Deviant Chaos Guide To Being A Miscreant With ADHD". Includes chapters on how to get an actual accurate assessment, tips for managing a prescription for a controlled substance, medical and psychiatric self-advocacy for people who are conditioned against confrontation, When To Lie About Being Neurodivergent, policy suggestions for ADHD-related legislation, tips for activism while executively dysfunked, and to close the book a biting satire of the pop media idea of self-care. ("Feeling sad? Make yourself a nice pot of chicken soup from scratch and you'll feel better in no time. Stay tuned after this rambling personal essay for the most mediocre chicken soup recipe you've ever seen!" "Have you considered planning and executing an overly elaborate criminal heist as a way to meet people and stay busy?")

Every case study or personal anecdote in the book will have a different name and demographics attached but will also make it obvious that they are all really just me, in the prose equivalent of a cheap wig, writing about my life. "Kelly, age seven, says she struggles to stay organized using the systems neurotypical children might find easy. I had to design my own accounting spreadsheet in order to make sure I always have enough in checking to cover the mortgage, she told me, fidgeting with the pop socket on her smartphone."

I feel a little bad making fun, because these books are often the best resource people can get (in itself concerning). It's like how despite my dislike of AA, I don't dunk on it in public because I don't want to offer people an excuse not to seek help. It feels like punching down to criticize these books, even though it's a swing at an industry that is mainly, it seems, here to profit from me. But one does get tired of skimming the hype for the real content only to find the real content isn't that useful either.

Les (not his real name) was diagnosed at the age of 236. Charming, well-read, and wealthy, he still spent much of his afterlife feeling deeply inadequate about his perceived shortcomings. "Vampire culture doesn't really acknowledge ADHD as a condition," he says. "My sire wouldn't understand, even though he probably has it as well. You should see the number of coffins containing the soil of his homeland that he's left lying forgotten all over Europe." A late diagnosis validated his feelings of difference, but on its own can't help when he hyperfocuses on seducing mortals who cross his path and forgets to get home before sunrise. "I have stock in sunburn gel companies," he jokes.

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

@shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff

[icecream4starscream]

Spoiler Warning for Transformers One. Please go see the film, it's great.

Something occurred to me when rewatching Elita-1's firing scene:

Right off the bat, she's presented as an absolute unit in the mines. We see her being a very by-the-book character. She's incredibly competent, strong, serious, focused, and an effective leader.

Maybe a little too effective.

We learn that Sentinel goes out of his way to personally take care of any "anomalies" in his system and does so in a way where the blame always gets shifted away from him.

It's why he personally went to see Pax and D-16 after the Iacon 5000 race. He makes himself out to be the open-minded, compassionate leader he's been parading as.

When Darkwing throws Orion and D-16 into sub-level 50, neither bot suspects Sentinel for their demotion. In fact, they beg Darkwing to talk to Sentinel so he can sort out the "misunderstanding".

It's later confirmed that Sentinel never had any intention of talking with Orion or D-16 after their first meeting. When Orion reunites with his fellow miners later in the film, they mention that Sentinel put out a statement saying that they both died from "racing injuries".

Sentinel might've not even openly ordered Darkwing to dispose of them. Darkwing might've been manipulated into thinking everyone was mocking him for losing the race (thanks to lowly miners) making him want to get rid of them.

Subconsciously manipulating someone like Darkwing would've been easy for Sentinel.

Sentinel clearly does not tolerate anyone rising above the station he imposes on them.

So what does this have to do with Elita-1 being fired?

We see her rigidly following the rules, meeting all quotas, running a tight and efficient crew. She's doing her job as a miner, a role unknowingly forced upon her by Sentinel, perfectly.

Shouldn't Sentinel be happy about that?

Well sure...

If Elita wasn't actively trying to get promoted.

We don't get a lot of information about how promotion works in TFOne's mining system, but we do know that in other iterations of pre-war Cybertron, one of the only ways miners could rise out of the mines was by participating in ridiculously difficult gladiatorial fights in Kaon's pits.

In other iterations, this was how D-16/Megatron was able to escape his station and how he grew to be so strong.

So basically, whatever version you look at, the miners are told "if you work really, reeeeally hard, and do your job perfectly, and don't die in the process (which, odds are, you will) you might, MIGHT get a chance to get out of the caste you were born into."

It's BS.

It's an impossible feat. No one is actually supposed to be able to achieve that goal, but it's the metaphorical carrot dangling in front of the work mules so they don't notice the ever-tightening rope around their necks.

But every so often there's someone extraordinary, like Elita, who actually manages to meet this impossible standard and with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to deny this coveted promotion.

So what can Sentinel do about bots like Elita-1?

Simple.

Wait for a screw-up.

It must happen eventually.

A member of Elita's team, Orion Pax, in clear violation of evacuation protocol, goes back into the mines to save Jazz from getting crushed to death.

Despite managing to escape, the closing mine causes a tunnel support to be flung into nearby machinery (which doesn't look critical and could probably be easily fixed).

Then, right the heck outta nowhere, Darkwing drops in, SECONDS AFTER THE INCIDENT JUST HAPPENED, and immediately fires Elita.

No "What happened?" or "Who's responsible?" or "The supervisor wants to see you", he just pops into the scene and demotes Elita, arguably one of the best workers in the mine, to a bottom-tier waste management position.

As if he'd been on standby, actively waiting for a reason to fire her.

"But Elita herself wasn't the one who screwed up!"

Doesn't matter.

"But she told them to follow protocol!"

Doesn't matter.

"But Orion admitted he was the one at fault!"

Doesn't matter.

"But a bot was saved! Jazz would've died!"

Does. Not. MATTER.

Her firing is presented as the typical "one character says thing won't happen then thing immediately happens" joke, but given how so much thought went into so much of TFOne's background details, I can't help but wonder if this was a hint to how broken the system was and how it was always rigged in a way that ensures the miners will never get out.

Not to mention, once Orion, D-16, and Jazz safely escape, she chews Orion out by saying, "If I get fired for this..." meaning this abrupt, out-of-nowhere, baseless firing is absolutely typical.

That's what makes Elita's "I'm better than you" speech to Orion that much more meaningful, because in many ways, she is better than him.

She's a better worker, better fighter, better at completing the task at hand, better at making sure things run smoothly. She is, ironically enough, an efficient and perfectly-running machine.

But had Orion not dragged Elita to the surface, she probably would've spent her whole life obediently following the rules, never questioning why things were the way they were. She was so focused on rising up within the system that she could never look beyond it.

Elita might be the cog by which other cogs turn.

But Orion is the spark that shows them a better way.

That's why he was given the Matrix.

[mixingandmelting]

Secretly Admiring You Artistically

Summary: How he's expressing that you're in his mind through art

a/n: based on scenes in the comics as civilians

Dick: Doodles

He’s dying. Actively decaying in real-time. Why he brought back the notepad from his day job as an officer home or why Haley pulled it out from his bag and gave it to you, he has no idea. To make matters worse, he’s crouching on the ground with both hands covering his very-much burning face as you stand in front of him silently, flipping through each page that’s filled with doodles of you rather than work notes he should’ve been taking for the cases he’s working on.

 It isn’t an exaggeration to say his world revolves around you. He’s not ashamed or has any problem expressing how much of a simp he is for you whether it’s to you or everyone both verbally and physically, 24/7. Seriously, he can’t go a day without getting a kiss from you or telling you how much he loves you, no matter the situation. He’s constantly stuck to your side, always smiling from how you showered him with affection back, spoiling him silly to the point he’s thinking he’s the luckiest man in the world. But artistically? He drew a stick figure once during a game of Scribble. Tim was for sure that it was a basketball hanging on a fishing pole. Bruce had told him he can help him get enrolled for art classes. 

“So, did the sarge or corporal see any of this yet?”

“No…,” He manages to wheeze out. He needs the ground to swallow him up right now. He still can’t believe this is how his (poorly and very much terribly drawn) doodles of you are discovered and exposed to you of all people. When he hears the notepad being closed shut, he musters all the strength in his mind and body. “...Can I please have my notepad back now?” He knows the answer. And he knows what’s about to happen next. But maybe today he’ll be lucky he’ll get it back- 

“Nope.” The way you pop the “p” at the end of the word - of course you wouldn’t. He doesn’t even need to look at you to know the type of grin you have on your face.

With that, he gets up and yells your name as he gets up to chase after your running form. Sure, he’s dreading what exactly you might do with the doodles but his heart is filled with adoration from how he still managed to give you happiness from them. You are the most lovable person in the world to him - he can’t wait to kiss the ever living lights out of you when he gets you.

Jason: Poetry

Oh. Well. This is embarrassing.  He rubs the back of his neck, face completely dyed red. You snuggling your face into the crook of his neck while embracing his biceps is fine. In fact, he loves waking up to see you sleeping peacefully next to him. His heart always swells with affection from how you feel so warm and right in his arms while being reminded how you genuinely enjoyed and appreciate him and his presence.  The problem was the book lying open on the coffee table next to him. The book filled with romantic poems that he placed on his face after deciding to take a power nap which ended up as a snooze session.

He had been reading each poem, using a sticky note and red pen (because he’s not a heathen to ruin such beautiful and sacred text) to mark which parts or lines reminded him of you the most. Each sticky note had arrows drawn with whatever note he’d make about you, placed on the long-edge of the pages. It was obvious you had found out the contents of the book before joining him on the sofa as you had done the same, only your sticky notes were sticking out from the shorter-edge. 

“Jason… What’s wrong?” He quickly turns his head away, covering the lower half of his face. The fact you aren’t even letting go when you usually would makes things worse, your grip tightening instead of getting loose. He doesn’t turn around to know the expression you’re making, feeling you nuzzle into his side.

“...Are you telling Roy or the others about this?” 

“What? Hell no. This is only for you and me- why would I want to share it?”

With that, he topples over you and wraps himself around you like a giant, warm teddy bear. On top of relief, he’s filled with childish glee from getting to share something that’ll only be meant between you and him. It gets a chuckle from him when you laugh at how ticklish he makes you as he snuggles into you, eventually making you two fall asleep in each other’s embrace with smiles on your faces.

Tim: Photography

He’s pacing in circles in his room. Then he’s flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. Pacing in the room. And again, screaming into his pillow. He’s been repeating this exact pattern for ten minutes straight now after finding the photo album on his desk. How Stephanie found out about them or why she showed them to you when you stopped by while he was out, he doesn’t know nor want to know. But he’s pretty sure  that he's doomed. Best case scenario is break up. Worst case scenario is you choosing to never see him again because you found him creepy. 

But, it’s not his fault, okay? He’s really down bad for you. Even when he’s dating you, he keeps finding himself falling for you deeper and deeper to the point he doesn't want to miss a single moment whenever he’s with you. So, every time the two of you went on dates or plainly hung out, he’d take pictures of you. You standing on a hill during a sunset, looking outside with the window down in his car, laughing in front of a bonfire with a marshmallow on a stick in your hands. He can’t imagine life without you. He needs to be with you even if it’s in a photo. 

Finally, he  gets back up and dejectedly drags his feet to the desk. Might as well put the album away before more people find out about it. Or so he thought when he suddenly freezes at the sight of a note sitting on top of it. There’s only a single sentence in your hand writing, making him do what it says. Having memorized the order of the photos in each album, he immediately finds a photo of him laughing while sitting on top of the hood of his car. It sits adjacent to a photo of you doing the same, making it look like the two of you were laughing while looking at each other. Heart skipping a beat with tears threatening to spill, he doesn’t look away when he grabs his phone and dials your number. 

“So? Are we hanging out tonight?” 

“No, we’re doing more than that. We’re going to go all out, my treat.” 

The way you chuckle does so many wonders to him. With that, he rushes to get ready. Even if he can’t give you the whole world now, he plans on making tonight the best night of your life since there’s no other way for him to express how much he loves you when words can’t cover half of them.

Duke: Notes

He’s an idiot. That’s what he mentally screams to himself when he drops the pile of handwritten notes right in front of you. Not once had he ever mentioned that he had collected all the notes you wrote to him including the ones back before the two of you even got together. All of them were written as your way to cheer him on, secretly giving them to him in every way you possibly can. It’s as if nothing could stop you from passing him a note, whether it’s during class, passing in the hallways, eating lunch, or slipping them in his school bag. There were even times you managed to place them in his textbooks, right where the assigned reading starts.

All those notes you passed to him, he found solace. He feels that he’s being mentally and emotionally supported unconditionally, no matter the circumstances . You don’t know how he cherishes the smiley faces you draw on them or the words you write. Each and every note he treats like they are a piece of you. It led him to keep a few in his pocket, pulling one and reading it to get the extra boost he needs to get through whatever he’s doing even if it’s homework or patrolling the city. 

Now here he was, caught red handed. He’s so nervous and on the verge of a mental breakdown, fearing that you might think he’s strange. Immediately he starts to ramble, spewing every excuse in the book while watching you pick the notes that dropped from his pocket off the ground. 

“They were growing into a pile inside my bag, so I was kind of in the middle of-”

“Do they work?”

He stops and blinks at you. What do you mean they work? There’s a light blush coloring your cheeks, your hands gently straightening each note to stop them from wrinkling and getting damaged further. 

“Are they making you happy?”  Oh. Oh. He pulls you into a strong hug, hoping his actions convey how he feels about you. It’s not the notes that’s making him happy- it’s you and your efforts to make sure he is that makes him the happiest man in the world.

Damian: Sketching

No. Just no. He’s so embarrassed that he can’t muster a single word right now. You were teasing him a minute ago about how he must have sketches of you when he refused to show you his notepad he carries around. Little did you know and much to his horror, you were completely right and that exactly was the reason why he didn’t want to show it to you. In fact, he had been finishing another sketch of you before your so-called attempt to sneak up on him. You being you, you kept probing him into showing his sketches and with him being so flustered, he ended up getting the notepad snatched out of his hand leading to the current situation where both of you are standing with the biggest blush to be seen from mankind. 

It’s not two sketches he’s drawn too. There’s a whole comic strip he drew in there featuring one of his favorite moments he had with you on top of all the other sketches, some being portraits, some being a compilation of various expressions you make on a daily basis. The way he’s constantly stuck about you has gotten to where Jon had gotten smug at guessing what he was thinking of when Jon found him suddenly grinning to himself. That day, the two of them got grounded by their parents once Damian started to threaten Superboy by getting kryptonite out and the other shot lasers out of his eyes as self defense. 

“They’re so beautiful.” Your muttering snaps him back to reality.

Not wasting a second, he grabs his notepad back. Pride damaged and completely panicked by showing a pathetic side to himself to you, he tries to go somewhere, anywhere, away from you. Only to stop when you grab his wrist. 

“Damian, you're absolutely talented.” 

He mentally groans. He hates how you’re sincere and genuine in these moments. You don’t know how much he treasures you because of this - being open, honest, and accepting of his every being. Worse is you not being aware or truly choosing your battles - it’s how you are; it’s part of your nature. Accepting his loss, he sits back down. He refuses to admit how affected he is by the way you smile with excitement when you pick up his sign. Letting his shoulder brush against yours, the two of you go through his drawings with you commenting on each one while he snarks back though it’s softer and filled with fondness.

[understrangeforbiddenskies]

with you, there's no pretending

ellie williams x fem reader

↣ LOSER ELLIE LOSER ELLIE LOSER ELLIE cus there is not enough representation

*+:｡.｡ warnings / kissing, so much fluff, some angst, joel mention, smoking weed, SLIGHT nsfw but it's really just a makeout

𝄞  juna - clairo

author's note: ellie was the reason i accepted i like women so this is a trip down memory lane (sorry if it isn't accurate i haven't properly read an ellie fic since i was 15 </3)

+ probably stuttered like crazy when she first met you. just imagine it, her cheeks pink, an uncontrollable smile plastered on her face, and all she could say was "i am ellie" as she stuck her hand out in a poor attempt to shake yours.

+ you had to ask her out. it was during a particularly boring patrol which mainly consisted of you and ellie exploring random abandoned stores. she started rambling about some space book she found until you blurted out "do you wanna go on a date?". safe to say she was speechless (still managed to say yes of course).

+ your first kiss with ellie was so sweet. it was after one of the many movie nights you two had. at this point you were both yawning, almost falling asleep in eachothers arms until you tilted your head up, looking her in the eyes for a moment. she couldn't stop smiling when you finally pressed your lips against hers.

+ you said i love you first. no way in HELL did ellie get the courage to say it first. once you had said it to her she said it back immediately, a wide grin plastered on her face as she tackled you into a hug. now, she says it all the time - especially during the most random moments like after you successfully shoot a clicker.

+ would ramble about her comics to you in great detail every time you came over. it would consistent of her sitting cross legged on the bed, arms flailing, voice getting slightly louder as she explained everything that happened. you'd get confused half way through but do your best to pay attention.

+ if you’re also into comics, space, dinosaurs, or whatever, ellie would love it so much. one of her favourite activities would be talking about one of those topics for hours on end with you. has this sometimes lead to arguments? yes. did you both stop and realise what you were arguing about before bursting into laughter? also yes!

+ ellie has definitely drawn you before. in fact, she probably found a whole new journal so she could dedicate it to drawings of you. one time you came to her place just before she got back from patrol and noticed the journal was open; she was in the middle of writing a poem about you.

+ matching bracelets!!!!!! you found some string and some beads the kids left over from arts and crafts so you snagged them before anyone else could. you spent your evening picking the perfect beads for ellie's bracelet, with the one in the middle being the colour of your eyes. she wears it absolutely EVERYWHERE.

+ if you don't already play, she would try her best to teach you how to play guitar. she's a horrible teacher and you both know this, but it gives you another excuse to hang out and be as close together as possible.

+ she’s the type of person to finish your sentences for you. it get a little annoying sometimes but it’s also really cute so you just put up with it at this point. plus you think it’s sweet that she knows you so well.

+ you and ellie got high together so many times before. but that was usually with dina and jesse. this time, you two were alone, sat on her bed. you knew ellie rambled a lot when she was high. as much as you love hearing her voice, you could not stop thinking about kissing her. so you did. you grabbed her face in your hands, shutting her up with a hard kiss, slowly getting on top of her.

+ despite ellie being a massive loser, she can be pretty protective (and get jealous pretty easily). she'll get jealous over the silliest of things. this one time you were sat beside dina, your arm draped over her shoulder as you talked to one another. jesse, who was sat across from the both of you, had to nudge ellie's shoulder to stop her from glaring staring at you.

+ if you were having a rough day or just felt upset for whatever reason, ellie would feel slightly awkward. she wouldn't really know what to do other than hug you or crack a joke here and there. usually it works and she gets you smiling again within no time.

+ ellie would open up to you about joel. it would mainly be her complaining or talking about “that weird look he gave her before she went on patrol”. at other times, however, when it was just the two of you laying in each others arms late at night, she would tell you about what joel was like before jackson. what joel was like before ellie shut him out.

+ adding on to that, we know that ellie isn't one to talk about her feelings often, or even at all. if you two got into an argument or she was just being really mean to you one day, you probably won't get a verbal explanation. ellie would feel really guilty and write up an apology/explanation letter, slipping it into your mailbox, along with a sketch of you.

bonus modern!au headcanons:

+ ellie would most likely wear glasses. she’s the type of person to game until her eyes are red (me too). joel noticed she was squinting at him during a conversation and forced her to go to the “eye guys” as ellie called them. yeah her eyesight sucks.

+ i know everyone and their mothers say ellie would study physics/anything spacey but what about art student!ellie… we know she’s really talented and clearly enjoys art. i would like to imagine you’d be her muse.

+ (you definitely cracked a “paint me like one of your french girls” joke when she asked to draw you)

+ your first date with ellie would either be at a cafe or a museum. or both. oh and best believe it’s a dinosaur museum (only because you begged her to go to one). overall, it’s cute and filled with big smiles and some really shy hand holding.

+ okay this is really random but i think ellie would LOVE dr pepper. she's basically addicted to it. every study session, you show up with a dr pepper and she thanks you by plastering kisses all over your face.

+ has, and will continue to, steal your lip balms. she never buys her own because she claims they are a "waste of money" and "yours are always better anyway". the taste of your lip balm always reminds her of you when you're gone, it's perfect.

[coffeedragonart]

🍁🍂🍁

On Leaf Drakes, from the journal of Elena Hewett, research assistant at the Stagwick Institute (drake studies):

Leaf Drake observational study, day 1 (Summer’s End)

What a strange day! The weather has been quite windy, and today some leaf drakes were blown into the Institute gardens! There are already some floral drake species living in the gardens, but this is the first time we’ve seen leaf drakes. Like most garden drakes, they aren’t built for long distance flight, so they rely on catching wind currents to migrate and take up in a new area.

This species hasn’t been widely studied yet, so I’ve got some of the other assistants on board to observe them and hopefully expand our knowledge about these creatures.

Day 2

They seem to be planning to stay, and have claimed the big tree in the west side of the gardens. I’ve managed to book the use of one of the empty offices on that side, as it has a large window with a good view of the big tree.

From initial observations, there are five individuals in the group. They are quite social, and I have yet to see one go about by itself.

Week 1 (Autumn)

It has only been a few days, but they have really settled in. While still, they can be quite hard to spot as they really blend into the leaves, but they spend a lot of the day quite active.

They share a similar diet to the floral drakes in the garden, mostly insects and fruits, as well as absorbing magic from the environment and the aether-nectar in the garden feeders. But they are far more active hunters than the floral drakes.

From the window, I’ve been able to watch them hunting insects and even using cooperative tactics to hunt birds. They are quite small, and I would have thought that even the sparrows might have been a bit much for them as they are close in size.

The gardens are a popular spot for both students and institute staff to take their lunch, or just relax a few minutes in their downtime. The floral drake residents are quite shy, and generally either hide or watch from a safe distance, but the leaf drakes are far bolder.

They have no hesitation about coming to get a closer look at folk, even trying to beg food from them. However, they are a little territorial about their tree.

Week 3

Students and staff have been advised against eating near the big tree in the west gardens. No one has been seriously harmed, but after a few instances of people being harassed for their food, it was deemed necessary to cordon off that section of the garden. Their teeth and claws are quite effective, despite their small size.

There seems to be one drake in particular who instigates these ‘attacks’, and the others follow its lead. It is a little bit larger than the others, and has a rather striking dark band across the eyes.

Due to the interest in this field, we have been able to gain the support of the Institute to make this an offical study into the habits of leafdrakes. With that, we will have access to some extra resources to put towards their care, as well as make it harder for the gardeners to remove them for being a nuisance.

Week 4

Even as Autumn sets in, we are still having a few last warm days.

Our little office was quite stuffy today, so we opened a window to try and get some cool air or a breeze in.

I was soon interrupted in my work, by a pair of drakes alighting on the windowsill. We’ve seen them resting on the sill before, but have never been quite sure if they were looking in or just admiring their reflections. Up close, they are curiously birdlike in their movements, adjusting their wings and tilting their heads this way and that.

They were almost identical, with only slight differences in colouring and wing shape, like the leaves on the tree. One was the ringleader, quite a bit larger than the other, with the dark face band. The smaller one had the same facial marking, but far less stark. They sat and watched for only a few minutes, but leapt away when a door was slammed elsewhere in the building.

It was enough for me to correct and add a few more details to the sketch I’d been working on.

Week 6

After a few weeks of observation, it seems like only the one drake is growing, the rest of the flock have maintained their same size. After a meeting with the other assistants, we think that the study would benefit from being able to more closely track the ringleader.

We know that many of the Greater Drake species can continue growing throughout their lives, reaching immense sizes, but this trait has never been seen in any Garden Drake species, who remain small.

Week 6.2

It took some planning but we were able to capture the ringleader for a closer look.

A container trap was baited with aether-nectar and laced with a light sleep spell, and it didn’t take long for the drake’s greed to get the better of it. There was always the chance of trapping the wrong one, but like in a lot of pack dynamics, the ‘leader’ usually gets at the food first.

With testing, we found the drake is female. She is a healthy weight, and measures about 30cm from nose to tail-tip, we’ve estimated the others to be around 15-20cm. A small band has been attached to her leg to more easily identify her, enchanted so it will grow with her as needed. She woke up while we were attaching it, and my thumb bears the bloody mark of her displeasure, though she didn’t seem too put out once she was able to sit for a spell without being handled. She watched from the top corner of a cabinet while we finished the paperwork, and then we were able to let her back out into the garden.

I’ve nicknamed her Gertie.

Week 9

As the weather grows cooler, they are showing no signs of slowing down, but as the insects retreat, they have been more actively chasing the birds. Gertie appeared at the window, clutching a feather in her teeth, even as I was reading a note left regarding messenger birds going missing.

I would have thought them too large for the drakes, but Gertie has grown again, almost twice as long as the others.

I’m sure she can understand at least a little of what I say, and seems to be following our conversations. She doesn’t like being handled, but has learned ‘hold still’ and will pause and stretch out to let me measure her (as long as a treat is provided and the measuring doesn’t take too long).

Week 10

It seems like Gertie has some level of influence over the mood of the rest of the colony, almost like a hive. While she’s calm, the rest are calm and happy to sit near and watch. But when she startles..

Today, poor Rolf had the misfortune of tripping over one of the garden benches while I was working with Gertie. I think he was trying to see into one of the tree hollows. The bench rocked back and thumped down with a loud THUNK, and the colony took to the air in an angry cloud of claws and teeth.

We fled the gardens in haste, and were able to retreat into a toolshed until they settled. I got out with only a few scratches, but Rolf needed taking to the medic building. I’m sure he’ll look quite fetching in an eyepatch.

It took several days before the gardens were safe to re-enter.

Later that day, I received word that Rolf has quit. Understandably, no-one expects to lose an eye from a research job.

Week 12

An official complaint has been made regarding the missing birds. There isn’t a lot to be done, but I’ve reached out to enchanting to see if they can write a ward to divert the birds away from the air above the gardens.

One of the other assistants donned the protective gear to climb into the tree to inspect the hollows the drakes nest in. He returned, with a number of drakes clinging to his headgear, and three slightly chewed scroll cases. He noted that there are several more drakes in residence than we thought, though no evidence of eggs or breeding has been found.

The messages were quietly delivered (with apologies) and the matter dropped.

Week 13 (Autumn’s End)

The west gardens are severely overgrown. The gardeners have refused to go in at all since Gertie’s last grown spurt. She is now the size of a large cat, several times larger than the others.

Gertie still blends quite well into the trees, but has also started using the brambles and long grass to ambush rabbits and squirrels. As well as any passing ankles. I suspect it was one such ambush that drove the gardeners away.

Week 14 (Winter)

The floral drakes in the gardens have hidden themselves away to wait out the cold weather. The leaf drakes are a little hardier, but we’ve seen signs that they may be preparing to do the same, and have increased efforts to gather nesting materials. They have been spotted flying back and forth with all sorts of things in their claws, including feathers and shed fur, to small pebbles, coins, beads, even a few small aether-crystals. I didn’t get a good look, but I thought I saw one fly by with a pair of spectacles that I’m sure weren’t willingly donated.

Gertie still emerges when we go out, though a little more reluctantly. The area is too overgrown with brambles to get a good look, but I think they have dug out a space at the base of the tree to cozy up in. I doubt Gertie would fit into the tree hollow the colony were using previously, she is quite large now.

Week 15

At last measure, Gertie was just over four feet long. Her wings are a bit smaller in proportion and we don’t see her fly quite as much. However her hide is quite a bit tougher, starting to resemble pinecone scales in some spots. She still has her distinctive facial markings, though without the tag, I wouldn’t have recognised her.

There are concerns of what she will eat as she continues to grow, the gardens can only support so much, even with the feeders stocked. It has been a few days since we’ve seen her, or any of them, so I think they must be hibernating. If they sleep away the winter, that will give us time to sort out something with one of the local farms to get meat delivered.

Week 20

Our efforts have stalled over Winter, as barely a scale has been seen since the snows arrived. On one warmer day, some of the little ones were spotted, clinging to the bare branches to take in a few rays of sun, if only for a short while. There was no sign of Gertie.

If one good thing is come from a slow winter, we have been able to get a better look at the tree itself. Since the drakes have moved in, the big tree has also grown faster than it would otherwise. Its branches are thicker and healthier, and other trees nearby are showing similar flourishing. This is not unheard of, similar effects have been seen in plants occupied by floral drakes, so it tracks that trees could be similarly affected.

The ground around the base of the tree bulges, the roots that can be seen above the snow are dense and knotted. It forms quite the hill when the snows come down. I look forward to seeing the drakes emerge again come spring.

Week 24 (Winter’s End)

Not long to go, surely. No fresh snow for a week or two, so what’s there is starting to melt away. There are more sunny days, if still chilly. The tree is starting to show signs of reviving, there are hints of new growth and fresh leaves starting to bud, earlier than usual.

Week 28 (Spring)

The drakes returned with the leaves! The little ones at least, we still haven’t seen any signs of Gertie. There are quite a few of them, at least a full dozen now, but they move so fast they are hard to count. We still haven’t found any evidence of eggs, but it is possible they came from outside before the freeze.

As the trees fill out with leaves again, the west gardens are far wilder now. The branches reach overhead, almost touching in some places. The drakes flit in and out of the sunlight coming through the leaves. We have been able to clear most of the path, but the spaces between the trees are still full of brambles and shrubs.

Week 32

Something large has been spotted moving through the trees, though it is hard to get a good look. I suspect Gertie has continued to grow through her hibernation.

Through the deal made with one of the farms, we’ve been able to start leaving out chunks of meat, and they seem to be well received.

From the toothmarks in the bones left behind, we estimate that Gertie must be at least the size of a pony.

Week 33

Today, on the first properly warm day we’ve had in a while, I’ve finally been able to get a good look at Gertie since her hibernation. I was taking a break, to be out in the fresh air and away from the office for a bit. I’d stopped at one of the newly reclaimed benches, and only closed my eyes for a moment to rest. It only felt like a minute before I was woken by a huff of air on my face.

She is indeed the size of a pony, plus her tail. Tall enough to look me in the face.

Her body is thicker now, hide resembling thick tree bark. Her wings are much smaller in proportion, just ornamental now.

The little ones follow her, stopping to cling to her back and head, but she doesn’t seem bothered by them. They peered around her to chirp at me as I regained my composure.

Lately I’ve taken to keeping aether-candies in my pockets to offer the drakes on my walks, I’m glad I still had some on me as I was inspected. Gertie accepted the treat happily, rumbling deep in her chest. She rumbled and chirped back to me when I spoke to her.

It was a pleasant moment, she sat with me for a while, long enough to get a sketch of her lounging in the sun.

Week 40

Recently, we have been receiving reports of leaf drake sightings from outside the Institute, from other locations around the city. I can only speculate that something about Gertie’s growth is drawing them to the city.

Long have we pondered the origins of the Greater Forest Drakes, as they seem to just appear out of nowhere, with no documented nests or hatchlings, or even sightings of more than one in an area. But I have little doubt that this is what Gertie has grown up into. I still have questions about how the change occured, or why it was just her out of the group as at the start, there was little to differentiate her from the others.

This is still quite the discovery, and I look forward to publishing an official work with our findings. It could well be the start of further studies into the links between drake species, the garden and greater drakes, and maybe even how they relate to true dragons.

After updating the Institute heads on the progression of the study, they are overall happy with the discovery, but were asking some pointed questions on what we plan to now do with the Greater Drake that has taken up residence. She could well continue growing. I pointed out that we may have gotten off lightly, if Gertie had grown into a Greater Rock Drake or a Hooded Drake, things could have turned out very differently. They did not see the humour in that.

Gertie seems to be quite comfortable in the gardens, the other drake species do not seem bothered by her at all, and she shows no inclination to leave. She could well continue growing, but for now she seems to have slowed down at least.

She continues to develop her understanding of language and appears to follow along with a conversation, even if she lacks the ability to respond yet. A lot of the literature on Greater Drakes suggests that this may well come with time, but it might be something for my children or grandchildren to look forward to.

[audhd-space]

Alt Text / Image Description below

To do or not to do?

Pacing and Activity Decision Chart*

A. Will it cause so much pain or fatigue that I can't function for days?

If NO then :

B. Given current symptoms will I be able to complete the task?

(If you answer YES to question B go to D, if NO then go to C)

If YES then :

C. Can I make it manageable by:

Splitting the task into smaller sections?

OR

Using an adaptation or aid to make it easier?

OR

Asking for help with challenging parts of the activity?

(If you answer YES to C go straight to D)

D. Is there enough recovery time between now and when I next need to function?

If you answer YES/PROBABLY to D then LET'S DO

THIS THING!

If you answer NO to both question C and D then:

Best not. It's OK for an emergency, but not for routine tasks.

Disclaimer:

*A simplified version, The full version would fill a book. Process varies between individuals.

**Most activity can aggravate symptoms, so it's not about avoiding pain and fatigue, but trying to keep them manageable. Trial and error is required to find this level and it can change over time.

StickmanCommunications.co.uk (HMSA)

[luludeluluramblings]

A meme for feral basis if I may:

*babies first kidnapping*

Criminals: "We have you're daughter now give us 12 million or she dies."

Bruce: *sweats* "WhIcH dAuGhTeR!?

Criminal 1: *describes feral mc whose actively biting through her restraints*

Bruce: Good luck! *laughs and hangs up*

Criminal 1: What the?! dang kid your dad must hate-

*notices they're gone*

Criminal 2: Where I'd she go?!

*They hear feral laughter from everywhere*

Criminal 3: She's in the walls. SHES IN THE WALLS!!

Mc: *Appears behind them like the undertaker* Boo!

Criminals: *horrified screams*

Actually this is baby's third kidnapping.

The first kidnapping Feral!Reader was on their best behavior. They had just moved to Gotham and the whole family had been pounding into their head that they needed to behave and show some decorum.

So Feral!Reader managed to keep all intrusive thoughts under control that one incident.

Bruce (and the rest of the family) freaked the fuck out. Their little abomination was kidnapped for ransom. They're monstrosity had some thugs holding a gun to their head.

Of course, Feral!Reader doesn't flinch or anything. They stay very mindful and demure.

After the whole incident, Feral!Reader does get grazed with a stray bullet. But, they were so excited that they did such a good job even if Bruce was in cardiac arrest from the possible close call.

Bruce makes the decision then and there that Feral!Reader is allowed to go ape shit ONLY when kidnapped.

Which leads us to the second kidnapping. Well, attempted. The idiots tried to kidnap Feral!Reader from a gala. High society has given Bruce so much space since.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

*Goons break into Gala to hold everyone hostage and steal shit*

*Villain of the week monologging *

*Bat Fam hidden in various locations around the Gala with com-links*

Bruce *hidding in a closet* : Who's on patrol tonight?

Barbara *in the BatCave* : Jason, but he's twenty minutes away.

Damian *Under one of the tables* : We can take them.

Stephanie *By the dessert table* : Not if we want people to ask questions.

Duke *back at the manor* : I can maybe swing it in fifteen if I use the Bat mobile.

Damian: Now who wants to drive it?

Tim *stuck with a group of investors getting their luxury watches stolen* : Shut up you two.

Jason *Driving on his motorcycle* : I'm on my way. Cass can be my backup.

Bruce: Good, we can manage until-

Dick *at a random table* : Feral!Reader vanished on me!

Stephanie: How did you lose them?!

Bruce: Does anyone have visual on them?

Damien: No, but I have a bad feeling.

Barbara: I'm pulling up security footage of the venue.

Jason: I'm booking it.

Duke: I'm heading to the Cave to suit up.

Tim: Wait, I think I saw them. Their by the buffet table.

*Feral!Reader ginning manically while they steal the fuel pots from the food warmers.*

Tim: Oh, that's not good.

Bruce: What's not good?

Tim: Babs, get the fire department on speed dial.

*Feral!Reader manged make a pipe bomb with a few things they found. Then used some random fabric they ripped from their clothing hog tie the villain and their goons.*

Villain: You little bitch!

Feral!Reader: Don't call bitch or you ain't gonna like what I do to you!

Villian: Do your worst, bitch!

Feral!Reader: Bet.

*Feral!Reader proceeds to procure a bottle of maple syrup and a fire ant farm before shoving both objects down the villains pants.*

Feral!Reader: My cousin once said that this was a good hack to make your dick bigger.

*Villain screaming.*

*Goons screaming cause the ants are getting on them too.*

*Gotham elite looking in horror.*

Bruce: ...

Bruce: Well, I'm sure this was just a one time incident.

*It was not.*

Tim: Someone needs to check on that cousin…

[alienzil]

Okay so I saw this post and you know the types of fics where adult Danny moves to Gotham and winds up emotionally adopting one or more of bat kids or accidentally coparenting with Bruce (with or without a relationship between them)? I had the thought, what if Danny parented the bat kids but he started doing it out of spite?

Like, Danny moves to Gotham and runs into Batman and Robin one night while out for a late night flight and drops down to the rooftop to say hi.

Bruce sees this 5'6" twink that looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and is so obviously new in town and thinks Gotham is going to eat him alive, he needs to leave before he gets killed.

Batman: Looming menacingly and in his deepest scariest Batman voice, "Leave. Metas aren't allowed in Gotham."

Danny: Offend! Excuse?! Who does this guy think he is?! 😡 Danny was trying to be polite here! "First of all, I'm not a meta. Second of all, rude much?!"

Batman: Does scariest bat glare. "Leave." Swoops off into the night.

Robin (Damian): "My father is correct. You should leave the city for your own safety."

Danny sees this tiny vigilante child with fierce expression and a sword and is just like awww, so cute! 😍 Then he noticed Robin had a small cut on his arm and his inner gremlin activates. If the rude flying furry can't take care of his own kid properly, Danny will do it better!

He bandages up Damian's arm, gives him a cookie and teaches him a neat sword trick before sending him on his way with a hug telling him he needs his sleep.

Danny goes out of his way to run into the bat kids and be the absolute best dad.

He takes Nightwing flying and throws him in the air so Nightwing can do all the fanciest acrobatic tricks.

He tracks down Red Hood and starts a book club with him (Danny may or may not have used his connection with Ghost Writer to get ahold of some rare books).

He eats waffles with Spoiler and trys out weird topping combinations that make them both make faces and laugh.

He makes new gadgets for Red Robin but carefully breaks them just a little bit and takes them to the teen so they can fix them together (it's enrichment!). He always insists RR keep them as a reward.

He follows Signal around during the day invisibly, making faces and doing tricks only Signal can see (he made him laugh in front of the police at a crime scene twice!).

All of the kids get his attention and love and Danny smugly thinks how Batman must be absolutely seething about his kids bonding with Danny and Batman missing out on all of it.

Danny started it out of spite but he does wind up genuinely loving the bat kids.

Batman definetly hates it when the kids are bonding with Danny and is extremely jealous (sulky Batman brooding in his cave about it).

Bruce's repeated attempts to intimidate Danny into leaving Gotham don't work and him telling his kids to stay away from Danny had zero effect (the terrible children don't listen to him at all).

So Bruce starts spending more time with the kids to compete against Danny. The bat kids love it and (little gremlins that they are) use the two of them against each other constantly.

Bruce:"Sorry Tim, I can't make it to your photography exhibit this weekend, there's a meeting with the Justice League."

Tim:"Oh that's fine... I'll just ask Danny to come." 😏

Bruce: Narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, "Actually, the Justice League needs to have contingencies in place to manage without my input. This would be a good time to test their capabilities. I'll skip the meeting and come to your exhibit."

With both of them competing to spend more time with the kids it leads to the two of them spending time with each other to be around the kids more.

After Damian catches a terrible flu bug, Danny spends an entire weekend at the manor babying him. This is when Bruce finds out Danny has known their secret identities for months and tries to get mad about it but Alfred puts his foot down, raises a judgmental eyebrow in Bruce's direction that puts a stop to that nonsense and sets up Danny with his own room in the family wing.

Eventually, Danny gets to the point where he spends most of his nights at the manor and he and Bruce consult each other on all major household decisions.

The whole family is at the manor one morning including Danny. Bruce has a meeting at WE and he and Danny are absently discussing their plans for the day at the breakfast table.

Bruce: " The meeting should take most of the morning and then I have paperwork this afternoon and a scheduled walk through on one of the new engineering projects. I probably won't be done by the time school let's out. Can you pick up Damian today?"

Danny: "That shouldn't be a problem. Would you mind swinging by the bookstore on the way home and getting my preorder? Jay and I just finished rereading the first book and we were wanting to start the second tonight before you all go on patrol. I'd rather not try to make it to the bookstore in school rush hour traffic"

Bruce: "Sure."

Stephanie watches Danny reach out and absently straighten Bruce's tie as they both get up to leave. Bruce grabs Danny's coffee thermos and hands it to him while they walk out the door.

Stephanie: "Sooo, bets on how long until they realize they're basically married?"

[boltwrites]

Thinking about you and Logan both working at Xavier's and how you'd start to notice all his weird little quirks:

You don't think you've ever seen this man in pants that aren't form-fitting in some way. He's got the black leather for the X-Men suit, bootcut denim for daily wear. And that's all fine and dandy, but one time you snuck downstairs in the middle of the night (stayed up way too late reading a book you got super into) and found him in the kitchen. In jeans. At 2 AM. Did he... sleep in that?

You don't even want to ask about the hair. Scott swears he's seen cans of hairspray in his trash (why were you looking, Scott?) but Rogue is absolutely convinced he just has weird cowlicks. You are undecided.

It's undeniable that Logan actively tries to seem cool, though. You've caught slips in his gruff and sarcastic facade. Namely, the time he was working on fixing Scott's bike, meanwhile humming along to Britney Spears. He definitely didn't think you'd be able to tell through his Walkman, but you'd recognize that melody anywhere.

Oh, and even though he acted like he hated working with the kids? You knew that was a lie too. He wasn't a teacher, per say, but he definitely spent a lot of time helping kids out sparring, or listening to them complain about the other teachers. And you'd caught, on more than one occasion, gifts the kids had given him on his person. There was a bead lizards on his set of keys, and while the bracelets were braided in muted, neutral colors, you recognized the intricate knots of those friendship bracelets. He was a softie.

But by far the strangest was the time he'd missed a meeting and you'd somehow been assigned to drag him out of bed. When he hadn't answered the door, you'd decided to just barge in, irritated at having to wake a grown man in the first place.

But Logan didn't sleep like a normal man, was the thing. Your own standard bed at the mansion came with four pillows, a top sheet, a blanket, and a duvet. Meanwhile Logan's bed looked more like a nest than anything else. There were pillows spilling onto the floor, blankets twisted around each other, at least two comforters - and Logan, curled up in the middle of it all in the smallest ball he could manage, snoring lightly.

[latteodyssey]

Stay-at-home Dates | Batboys x Reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

masterlist

Bruce Wayne One thing about Bruce: He is a tired man, he’s days are exhausting, to say the least. With managing Wayne Enterprises to being Gotham’s dark knight — he rarely has time to relax, so when he gets the rare opportunity to be home with you, his first instinct is to rest. He’s a fan of old-school romance, and a candlelit dinner or a cozy fondue night is his idea of the perfect evening.

Dick Grayson Dick loves the intimacy of cooking together and enjoys indoor picnics. The quiet moments shared over food make for some of his best memories. He’s also all about living room karaoke, turning a simple night in into an impromptu concert.

Jason Todd You and Jason started a mini book club, just for the two of you. With you in his life, he also discovered a love for pampering himself—something he never allowed himself to do before, hiding behind tough exteriors and emotional walls. Now, you’ve dedicated entire days to treating him with the love he deserves: think robes, scented candles, face masks, foot massages, and bubble baths.

Tim Drake Tim is also a fan of naps, especially when he can curl up next to you. When he’s awake, he enjoys when the both of you watch random documentaries together. He’s also into building complex Lego sets with you, he created a collection of all the ones you finish together, and it’s become one of your favorite bonding activities.

Damian Wayne Pottery nights have become a staple in you and Damian’s date nights, and he’s (not surprisingly) skilled at it. He keeps the pieces you both create, even using them in his daily life. You often catch him sipping from a mug you made him, even if it’s a little lopsided. Painting nights have also found a soft spot in his heart—they’re a quiet way for him to enjoy his day with you.

Duke Thomas Duke is all about board and card games for a cozy night in. He also secretly loves your reality and drama TV marathons, accompanied by lots of snacks. At first, he pretended to be uninterested in it due to it being drama-filled, but now it’s your shared guilty pleasure, and he’ll get genuinely upset if you watch an episode without him.