#Impound Lot

[thecittiverse]

Lemon of Troy - Frinktober 2024 - Day 28

"Now if you'll excuse me, all this talk has made me hungry." Frinktober 2024 Day 28: Shelbyville

Shelby's dad has the Springfield Lemon Tree secured in his impound lot, so he celebrates with a refreshing lemon in "Lemon of Troy." See the whole Frinktober 2024 prompt list here.

[odlaw]

the scariest road ive ever been on is lower lower wacker drive (secret third level of underground road directly below lower wacker drive which is an underground road directly below wacker drive which is a normal city level street) which i ended up in bc the gps told us to go down there for some reason and then promptly stopped working. because you are two levels under downtown chicago so no service gets down there. and theres not a lot of signs so it feels like youre gonna die down there and never see the sun ever again.

[throwaninkpot]

If I had the power to do one omnipotent thing, I would erase the phrase "lonely god" from existence.

[insomtiny]

omg my sister found her jeep we all thought it was GONE

[taraxippos]

[foone]

What does BDSM look like in the cars universe?

Like, I don't think they'd necessarily be into, like, rope bondage, because cars don't have the same range of motion as humans.

You could maybe do things like take their wheels off, but does that end up being like a doctor kink too? Like, mechanics are car doctors, right?

Do you use one of those folding sun-visor things as a blindfold?

What's the car equivalent to a leash. A tow truck? A hitch? Maybe.

Can you whip a car? Maybe you use some of those rubber hammers, like "kneel*, slave, and receive your 5 dents from your mistress! Count them"

Suspension bondage I guess is doable, you just need one of these:

Which again is probably like a medical kink to cars. It's like a putting a human on a doctor's examination bed with stirrups.

I'm just wondering if there's BDSM in the cars universe without it getting mechanic-kink. It seems an easy trap to fall in.

How do you gag a car? Take out their radiator? Drain the fluid? Or maybe the grille? What about, like, Teslas that don't have grilles? (Are there teslas in the carverse?) are they mute?

Where do cars hear from? Like, if you wanted to do sensory deprivation on a car, where do you put the earbuds? It's the side mirrors, isn't it. They're probably equivalent anatomical features.

I don't think you can do wax play to a car, because that's just a fancy car wash.

Bondo and one of those dent-hammer things is probably involved in Car BDSM. A welder and angle grinder for the extreme stuff. Speaking of angle grinder, is booting a car like putting them in handcuffs?

Instead of a cage, do you put your Puppy!car in a garage? Do you role play that she's at the mean impound lot and has to do you a favor to get released?

I have so many questions. I'm tempted to go look on ao3 to see if fans have come up with answers. But at the same time, I don't want to.

* don't ask how cars kneel

[croc-odette]

i think it's fun in its own way but live action yusuke mostly sulking quietly versus original yusuke screaming at anyone for any reason at all

[acaibcwl]

photoshoot tension

cw; divorced!jensen a. x personal assistant!reader—afab!reader, smut, slight mutual pinning, tension, reader imagines sex w jensen before it happens, arguing, drunk makeup sex, unprotected sex (wrap ‘fore u tap), oral (m! recipient), maybe breeeding kink, age gap (jensen is obviously in his fourties, reader is in their twenties), probably wrote the getting drunk wrong because I’ve never drank before so erm help, morning after.

author’s note; so ik he’s married but what’s better than if he was freshly divorced so uhm yeah, i actually love his wife so i hope they never get divorced but it’s the thought that counts </3

JENSEN under the white flashing lights just stirred up every emotion in you. but he’s just divorced—it’s a clean slate for him. and you can’t jump onto him as soon as it happens. though nobodies stopping you from making up scenarios of whatever you wanted.

to sex in an motel to his dressing room. their were a lot of places. but oh, scrub those thoughts away. quickly.

after the photoshoot, jensen had disappeared to his dressing room. your heart pounded in your chest, all the way to your ribs. you knocked on the door, his gruff reply telling you to come in. you slowly opened the door as you slipped in the room. “so tomorrow you have a day off—but sunday you have another photoshoot,” you rambled off. you weren’t really focusing on him (in fear the impounding thoughts of an inappropriate relationship with you and him would start back up).

“slow down.” jensen let out a soft huff. you had a strange habit to ramble off about plans, it gave you a unique character. but it could also be extremely annoying. that’s what jensen liked about you. it’s why he kept you around to begin with, well, whenever most people would go home. you’d stay. and he wouldn’t say anything “cancel sunday.” “but—” “cancel sunday, okay?” he stared at you sternly. he understood it was nudging towards valentine’s day, yeah—he knew. he just needed a break from all the chaos.

your breath hitched in frustration whenever you had to take the pen and cross out sunday. “you really shouldn’t cancel this photoshoot.” you muttered in yet again, more annoyance.

jensen rolled his eyes, “it’s fine.” you cut your eyes up at him, finally looking away from the calendar.

“no it’s not. it’s coming closer to valentine’s day and you need to give your fans something—i know you’ve been going through a divorce and all, but life sucks. you can’t cancel, it took me months to get the photoshoot booked.” you said, your annoyance rising. you weren’t sure if you meant it or not. but it was a ‘in the moment’ spur. that’s what made jensen upset. he wasn’t feeling very valentiney the month. out of all the months, he had to get divorced finalized in february.

he rolled his eyes, “well once you go through a divorce in february, you won’t be in the mood for cupid photoshoots.” he shoved off the chair he was sitting in, brushing past you. you let out a scoff as he left, obviously leaving. so in time being, the both of you were at an impasse, a deadlock. though neither of you liked that. not at all. not one bit. there were tensions left unsaid, more than just argument tension. built up, sexual, passion tension.

“jensen, you can’t leave without talking to me!” you huffed in annoyance. he very well could. he was a grown man. though his schedule was handled by a person who was half his age. he ran his fingers through his hair as he walked away. only stopping to cut an eye at you.

ՙ ૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა .

it was god knows what time, but you found jensen at a local bar, seemingly avoiding paparazzi. you took a seat beside him, muttering a soft apology. he gave you a court nod. he ordered for the bartender to bring out yet another beer for the ‘pretty girl’ quote his words. it was a good idea. not one bit. but you couldn’t just waste the beer. that’s, that’s not good for the environment.

yeah, not good for the environment at all. but the one thing you didn’t do was spewl out an apology to him. your ego was apparently a little to big to apologize. you brought the glass to your lips, the foam from the beer collection on your upper lip. almost giving you a better mustache than jensen. jensen couldn’t help but let out a little snort, swiping his thumb across your upper lip, without warning. your breath hitched softly before pulling away from his thumb. “thanks. for the uhm beer.” you muttered, only making jensen grin deviously.

shy thing you were when it came to physical contact. “your welcome angel.” jensen whispered hoarsely as he brought his glass to his lips. “so, what’ve you been doing?” he asked you. their wasn’t much of a conversation to have with your personal assistant whenever they spent the whole day around you. so he knows what you’ve been doing. keeping him in line.

“oh nothin’ much” you slurred. “jus’ gettin’ li’l drunk now.” jensen cracked a smile, his hand finding the small of your back. it was a subtle movement, but an intimate one, at that. the soft smile from your lips almost—almost dropped into a derpy little grin. a drunk grin.

“oh yeah?” he mused with a grin a he took a gulp from his glass. “hope that works well for you.” you were definitely a little buzzed at this point, the way you were being so open to him is something you’d never do if you were fully sober. you shot a soft smile before going back to your drinking. from what he could tell, you were a lightweight, “don’t drink to much, ya need to be in the right mind to leave, don’tcha?”

“yeah.” you huffed, “but ‘t’s jus’ to good to leave unattended.” jensen much rather hang out with his personal assistant drunk than sober. god, sometimes you were a complete headache. he sent a soft smile your way as you kept drinking. though it was a few moments later, you were snagging your keys off the bar.

“leavin’ me so soon sweetheart?” he cocked his head at you. you were to fun to leave, “at least let me get you an uber, better yet, let me take you home.” you nodded, slapping your keys in his hand. you got up, and he followed after. you looked like an absolute angel drunk, especially under the bars flashing sign. but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. “now, which one is your car.”

you waved your finger in his face before landing it on a pretty black suv. “that one.” he placed his hand on your back, listening to your drunken rambling. again, total drunk angel. he unlocked the car, opening the passenger door for you. he stood behind you, making sure you didn’t fall onto your ass. jensen propped himself against the seat, reaching across to buckle you up. when he pulled away, your face had morphed into a little grin, and you burst out into little giggles. like a schoolgirl. it was adorable, really it was.

jensen walked around to the driver side. as he climbed into the car, turning the car on—it tumbled to life. you had slumped in your seat, getting a little shut eye time. when he drove to your house, the lights from the city’s lamp lights steady and slowly flashed by, jensen squinting every so slightly under the surprise of each light. he let out a soft breath, his gaze going over to you every so often.

he pulled into a place he new best; a motel. he wasn’t completely sure where you lived, nor did he want to take you to his place and have you gasp awake in fear that you got kidnapped. jensen turned the car off, getting out and walking to your side.

jensen tugged your body out the car. when he shut the door, you opened your eyes. “put me down,” you huffed drunkenly. though he wasn’t one to deny any one of anything, so he slowly placed you on your feet. you pressed yourself against him when you almost fell, staring up at him. it felt like a romance movie. but you were both a little buzzed. at least you were now a little bit buzzed from the effects of the drinking. jensen held you against his body, hands going to your hips.

he guided you inside, where he immediately walked to the clerk at the front desk. “hi. can i get a room, for me ‘n the pretty angel?” jensen said smoothly. the clerk looked up—not at all amused, not phased by jensen’s flirty behavior. she didn’t even take a double look at him, not noticing that he was literally -jensen-freaking-ackles.

he grabbed the keys from the clerk and guided you down to the room of the number on the key. jensen guided you in the room, and before the door was even shut, you were pressing your lips on his. “hey,” he let out soft breath, as he held your shoulders, pushing you away. “your drunk.” jensen brushed your hair with his fingers, guiding you to your bed.

you looked at him with puppy dog eyes, “please?” you let out a soft whine. he didn’t want to deny you. like, just look at that face. he let out a huff as he grabbed your hips, pulling you on top of him. you slowly grinded your clothed hip on his—immediately drawing a reaction from him from the motion. he shouldn’t have been doing this. maybe the beer was clouding his judgment. but, god damn did it feel good. “shit—careful” he said, grabbing a hold of your waist to stop you. jensen’s breath was warm—and already panting. he slowly lifted your hips to tug your pants down. he pulled them off your ankles, tossing them onto the floor. jensen ran his fingers along the pattern of your white floral lace. he pulled them off your body, carefully as they guided down your freshly shaved legs. his breath shuddered at the sight of your bare cunt on view to him. he sat up to guide your shirt off your body. and with years of practicing, used one hand to fall back to your bra clip—and unclipped it.

your breathing picked up as you fell to jensen’s pants, you pulled the button through the hole, pushing his pants down. following his boxers. as you pushed the items off him, you followed. you stopped at his cock—kissing it to life. your breath wavered at the sight of it as it sprung to life. you wrapped your hands around the base, licking the tip. testing the waters before you sunk your head around his erected member. you bobbed your head up and down on his member.

jensen’s hand came to make a makeshift ponytail out of your hair—guiding you up and down. jensen let out a noise slip through his lip, almost whimeper-y like, but a moan. you let out a muted gag, your hands falling away from the base of his member. “fu—mmh—ck!” you cried out. tears built up at your waterline. not in pain, but pleasure. he pulled your head up when he neared release.

“wanna do it in you—” jensen breathed breathlessly, “need’ya to be full of my come.”

you nodded softly. “m’kay.” you huffed out breathlessly—pulling yourself up. you sunk down onto his memeber, your head lolling backwards. letting out a soft moan. jensen held your hips in a vise as he guided you up and down on him, one of his hands shifting to rub your cunt in slow, soft circles. you walls clenched around him, the bed hit the wall ever so often. “jensen—ah—to big!”

jensen hummed, pulling your hair gently. “but your doin’ so good my angel.” he placed his hand back on your hip as the bounces started getting sloppy. “not to sloppy.” he drew his hand away from your cunt going to brush the hair out of your face. the way your face scrunched up—jensen let out soft grunts that were lower than your moans. with your head lolled back, mouth open, it tempted jensen. his thumb seemed towards your mouth. your moans got cut off by a gagging noise. his thumb had worked it’s way into your mouth. you bit down on his finger—but not to hardly.

jensen grinned when he felt you bit down “don’t hurt me angel.” he muttered softly.

the rain started up outside, it pitter-y patter-yied against the window and roof. the bed springs constantly screamed in protest under the movement. muffled noises of people talking came from the other rooms—and likewise, they heard the commotion located in three thirty-seven. occasionally a grumpy man would bang against the wall for the two of you to stop, but it never deterred the either of you.

with each bounce, with each muffled moan, with each grunt—both you and jensen neared closer to release. your walls clenched around him like clockwork. “come. come on my cock—c’mon.” he hummed, his hand on your hip, burning intentions into your skin, the same thumb rubbing circles on your hips. his other hand still in your mouth. and almost—in synch, like the command of you coming struck something in the both of you. jensen painted your gummy pink walls white, and your came around his cock.

you collapsed beside him, his limp member slipping out of you as you shifted off him. you kissed his chest sleepily. slowly falling asleep his seed warmed you right up. you closed your eyes—and fell asleep. but not jensen. he pulled you into his arms. and maybe he was regretting it. regretting it so terribly; you where his personal assistance. although guilt would have to wait til later—maybe at twelve pm tomorrow. but now, you two slept. you slept off the soreness of the sex.

when you woke up, the outside world was unaware of what had happened that night. completely unware that a freshly divorce actor had got it off with his personal assistant. the sun fought against the fog as it poured through the curtain, and jensen was in the shower.

you walked to the bathroom, opening the door. with a sleepy voice, you asked “got room for one more.” jensen pulled the curtain back, inviting you under the shower hose with him. the water acting a soothing mechanism. jensen used the motel soap—and a motel rag to clean your body off. you looked up at him with a soft—almost devious smile as you whispered a soft “thank you.” and maybe that was for last night—and maybe that was for him washing you. it was really to be interpreted anyway he preferred.

in a shaky breath, he whispered back an audible “your welcome” as he stared down your soapy body. jensen pressed his lips against yours, the rag dropping to the bathroom floor. when you pulled away, you both had a smile on your face. though the neither of you knew what this meant to your relationship. was it going to happen again? meant to be? or just a drunken mistake? you didn’t know. jensen didn’t know. but it sure as hell had some remarkable sex in it.

[dadvans]

naive melody redux. [bucktommy]

“Your hands are shaking,” Evan says.

Tommy looks down. It’s the slightest tremor. He has no fucking clue how Evan noticed, eyes half swollen shut from crying, tears still flowing freely, mixing with snot every fruitless time he wipes at his face.

“Yeah.” He gulps, swallows. Looks back up at Evan. “I—“

And that’s where the words stop.

Evan nods and folds in on himself again.

The thing is: Tommy is sad, devastated even. Bobby had been the first person in a long time to come along and find that one last fire burning inside him and coax it back to life. Bobby had believed in him, was the guy to give him the chance he’d needed to live the kind of life he never believed he deserved on his own. But he’s long burned out his ability to cry from grief. He hasn’t done that in a long time. Cried when he’s angry? Sure. Cried at Pixar movies? Absolutely, and fuck all the way off if you ask him to watch a movie where the dog dies, because that’s an embarrassingly sure thing. But he doesn’t cry in a meaningful way, ever.

But Tommy looks at Evan and he’s fucking terrified. So, his hands are shaking.

“When they clear us,” he tries again, voice steadier than the rest of him, “let me take you home.”

“Tommy, I, I really don’t think—“ Evan’s voice is gummy, throat thick, and it almost sounds like he wants to laugh or desperately pick a fight that’s already left him. Fair.

“For my peace of mind, please,” Tommy continues, every bit as desperate as he feels, before trying to reel it back in, soft and neutral. “I don’t even have to be there in any real way, I won’t say a word, I’ll sleep on your”—shitty fucking, he does not say—“couch, just. I need to know you made it through the night.”

Evan sniffs and tries to hide another sluggish run of tears by tucking his face into the crook of his arm.

“Maddie’s going to be with Howie in the hospital. Athena—she’s going to be the last one out, and then she has the ugly business no one ever wants to deal with when the person they love the most dies. Maybe you’d rather stay with Hen and Karen, their family, or Ravi. That’s fine. But, Evan. I can’t let you be alone.”

Evan exhales ragged and wet, raw with grief in a way Tommy has been jealous of in the past, because in every other time that mattered, it would have meant Evan seeing all of him. Could have made the difference, maybe, Evan knowing the ugly parts of him early enough. It’s a thought he doesn’t have now, will realize never had broken the thick, in-the-moment surface fear, later.

“Okay,” Evan says, and Tommy feels a part of him steady. “You’re right. Okay.”

x

Getting back to Evan’s is a hassle and a half, between an impounded truck and a stolen helicopter. Tommy lets Evan sign for his keys and pay for the release, but drives them back to Eddie’s old house.

Someone should call Eddie, he thinks, suddenly. He may still have irrational thoughts about Eddie having some purchase on Evan, but he would trust Eddie with Evan’s grief. He knows Eddie has the kind of strength that could keep Evan safe, were Eddie here. That they would have each other, might prefer it even.

He parks in the driveway. The drive was silent, just the sound of the early morning cross-sections of highways and roads in the uneasy, liminal hour where Los Angeles isn’t quite awake but still not quite asleep. He steadies his grip on the lower curve of the steering wheel and concentrates on the leather, parked waiting for Evan to move, say anything, even.

“I don’t know what to do,” Evan says, finally.

“Okay.”

“If you weren’t here— I don’t know what I would do.”

Oh. “Then I’m glad I’m here.”

Evan gets out of the truck. Tommy waits two beats, then joins him. Follows him to the door and hands over the keys so Evan can let them both inside.

Evan flips on the lights in a way he was too careless, too out of his mind—and Tommy stops that train of thought—to do, the last time they both stumbled into this house. The place is a little more put together, a lot more unpacked, but still wanting in the way nothing is fully put away and there are broken down boxes stacked against walls, painters tape half-rolled to line the trim of two walls in anticipation of a fresh coat before being half-heartedly forgotten, the entire roll still attached and laying on the floor with a little dust on top. Tommy does not think of all the other versions of them being here together again, the teasing things he would say to make Evan smile, what he would comment on first in an attempt to make Evan feel known, seen, unconsciously and openly loved.

“You should shower,” he says instead.

“I’m so tired,” Evan replies, just standing there.

The thing is: Evan doesn’t look aimless. He looks like he’s resisting certain directions. I can’t let you be alone, Tommy had said. I don’t know what I would do, Evan had said, and Tommy feels haunted by both.

“Shower, I promise,” Tommy says, trying to navigate them both around it. He guides Evan by the shoulders to where he remembers the bathroom is, both from the times he spent here with Eddie and the last, late night he’d had with Evan, where he’d half-drunk and smugly rolled a condom off his dick in the dark and threw it in the trash and took the longest, happiest piss of his life thinking about the guy threatening him with “round two” ten feet away on a bare mattress.

Evan likes his showers hot, Tommy remembers. Tommy does not. But, he remembers, the rare moments where he has. Those moments overseas in the ugly beginning of the millennium when he first learned how to lose people, the showers when he was deployed were always either boiling hot or ice cold with zero in-between, and he treasured the way both convinced him he could skin himself raw.

He gets Evan in the shower, extra hot. Evan says nothing of the temperature, just stands underneath it like it will bleach him clean, and Tommy hopes Evan never gets to the point where he lets it. He climbs in after. They’re both naked, obviously, and really need the wash, but Tommy can’t think of even a terrible one-night stand with a mutual shower so sexless. He scrubs Evan down thoroughly, then himself. He rinses a washcloth under the spray and then uses it to wipe at Evan’s face, the way his mom used to when he was little, sweeping, clinical motions, right-to-left, left-to-right, Mr. Miyagi wax-on, wax-off style. Right hand sweeping under Evan’s raw nose, left hand pushing back Evan’s wet curls, fingers tracing down the midline of his skull just to make sure he’s still real and alive.

Tommy’s fine with just swapping places for a quick rinse of his own as long as he gets to borrow Evan’s deodorant. He sweeps Evan up in a fresh towel that was thankfully folded away into the built-in shelf after.

“I know you hate going to sleep with wet hair,” he says, a little helpless, brushing down Evan’s shoulder blades with the thing while he, himself, drips an obnoxious amount on the designer bathmat he used to make fun of back when Evan lived at the loft.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” Evan replies. Sleep means you wake up to a new day, the first day when someone is dead the way they weren't the day before, Tommy remembers. He doesn't say anything, works the towel around to Evan's chest, hears his own knees crack crouching to get at Evan’s thighs and calves in a way that doesn’t feel sexual, only too aware of how Evan's always complained when he's soaked through sweats, jeans, blankets—anything, really, that gets damp when he’s too impatient coming out of the shower. “I don’t think I can.”

“That’s okay, too. You want to put on a movie? TV show, podcast? You can relax on your”—awful, nightmare—“couch, too.”

Tommy stands back up, towel with him, wrapping around Evan’s shoulders and sweeping down the meat of his biceps.

“It doesn’t feel like it now, because I know from experience, uh, nothing feels possible in times like these,” he tries, determinedly not staring Evan in the face.

Nearly a year ago Evan had been so wrecked by Bobby’s heart attack, called him the dad I never had. Had let Tommy fuck him for the first time, slow and intimate in a way that had previously sent Tommy running for the hills with other guys, but Evan had said, please, I just need to feel something, something good, and Tommy had wanted to be so badly something good for him. Still does, most days.

His hands shake on Evan's shoulders now, but he keeps talking, says, “But you’re going to crash the second something gives. Put on something clean. Get comfy. Your back will thank you.”

Buck stares up at him, just the slightest amount. Sea-blue eyes, deceptively deep, red-rimmed in a way that makes Tommy’s own hurt.

“Could you hold me? Just my weight, even, it doesn’t have to be— you were right, I’m worried the second I’m left to my own devices, I’ll split into a thousand pieces, whatever that means,” he admits, and then does the unthinkable thing, leaning face first with his forehead resting against Tommy’s wet clavicle, his mouth breathing weak and hitched against Tommy’s chest.

“Of course,” Tommy says. In any way. In every way. Whatever you need. As long as you want.

+ Addtl thoughts:

Before I go crazy and disappear back into the adulthood ether! Was thinking thoughts of Tommy enjoying something as a kid, maybe he had a soft caramel once that he snuck and no one was around, and he was able to savor it, he let it sit in his mouth for a long time and let it melt thick and sweet on his tongue, like a little secret he had with himself. And that's how he thinks of taking care of Buck when they're together, he makes avocado toast, he makes brunch, he LOVES taking care of Buck, it's this self-indulgent stupid thing he does for himself, allowing himself to DOTE and to CARE and to be vulnerable in this way that might come across as maternal that he's prevented himself as acting on for so long. He wants to love Buck so badly! But he also wants to love Buck via AFFECTION, wants to SHOW Buck he's loved, and that's so compatible with meeting Buck's needs of feeling like he's never enough, he's been told plenty of times that he's loved, worthy of love, but he's not important enough to care about or see that love realized.

Think about the one person Buck has ever felt has truly loved him, cared for him, despite everything, the father he's never had, dying and telling him he loved him, then telling him to leave. Buck is always left, in the end, being told he is worthy of love, but is never enough for anyone to stay.

Think about Tommy wanting to be enough for Buck, loving life with Buck so much that Buck realizes he wants to stay. Think about Tommy, for the first time, Buck feel like he's worth it.

[feralfens]

update: the city stole my car but i can get it out of the impound lot but the line is long but im almost there

my car has been towed to an unknown location i am going to be very late to work [i called and told one of the managers what was up so they know so its f i n e] and i gotta pay the rest of my rent. im not outwardly having a breakdown so like its fine its cool im sitting in a local comic book store mildly panicking

[81pastrys]

At a Loss

Summary— Lando loses his wife in a freak accident and Lila doesn’t understand where she went

Warnings— SAD ; death ; funeral ; car accident ; drunk driver ; hospital ; life support mentioned ; this is really sad ; Lila not understanding death

A/N— I will be apologizing here but I don’t expect forgiveness for this deranged piece…

Dad Lando List

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

No request, just my own deranged mind

It’s been nearly a year since his wife died suddenly. She was literally driving home from the grocery store, 5 minutes away from her house, when a drunk driver hit the drivers side of her car. Lila was with Lando at the house, a small grocery trip ended in a funeral. When his wife hadn’t come home for hours, he tried calling, texting, but nothing.

It was when a police officer knocked on his door with the information that she was in the hospital and not doing good that it all came hurdling down on him. He called her mum first and told her what he was told and they rushed to the hospital.

Their mums in the waiting room, Lando handed Lila to his mum as to not scare her from all the machines his wife was on. He held her hand as she took her last breath. Crying into her hand as the machines flatlined. He signed all the paperwork and got all her things that were still in tact.

He saw her car at the impound lot and broke down again. Her car mangled, the same car he bought her as an anniversary gift 3 years prior, the one she dreamed of having. Cisca had kept Lila the few days after, allowing Lando time to grieve and settle everything.

Him and Lila went to the funeral, front row, on display. Lila had no clue what was going on. The 2 year old confused on why everyone was crying and wearing the same color. She also wondered why there were so many beautiful flowers around a box.

Lando opted for a close casket funeral, for Lila’s sake. The picture of her mum on the big board didn’t help though. “Mama!” She said and pointed to it. Lando burst into tears again and Lila was confused.

The media went silent on Lando’s behalf while he took the next few races off. The drivers banding together to help him in anyway possible. Other drivers with daughters bringing them for play dates.

When racing resumed, Lando had no choice but to bring Lila along. It was hard at first, but she napped a lot. The other drivers bringing their daughters and wives when they could, allowing Lando to not have to worry.

Now during the break, she was inconsolable and Lando didn’t know why. Lila was screaming and crying, her tears nonstop flowing as Lando tried calming her down. She hiccuped from crying so hard and drenched her shirt with tears.

He took her shirt off and she was left in just a diaper. She didn’t want his touch, swatting him away while he kneeled. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked again, her crying drowning out what she kept yelling at him. She whined at him.

He was at a loss of why she was so upset, not letting him hold her and comfort the cries. “Mama!!” He finally understood her words and it pulled at his heart, now trying not to cry himself.

He hated how cruel the world was, taking his wife away so suddenly. Lila didn’t understand death, thinking her mum just left them. Lando hung his head and stood up. He didn’t know what to say or do anymore. She wants someone she can’t have.

He barely had time to grieve, taking care of Lila was his main priority and he didn’t want her to see him upset. It’s clear to him now that she didn’t have time to grieve either. Lila sat on the cold wooden floor, holding her pacifier as she screamed for her mum.

“I miss her too Lila.” He said to her. She paused crying and breathed in short breaths. He offered to hold her and she mocked his movement, also wanting to be held. He held her close to his chest as her tears were silently still falling. “Mama still loves you, sweetheart, she’s just not here to say it.” He whispered.

He looked up and tried to hold back the inevitable tears. His voice cracking as he cooed to Lila. “Mamas gone?” Lila asked, her little voice breaking Lando’s heart. He let the tears fall.

He had texted his mum in the middle of Lila’s screaming fit and she told him she was on her way. When the front door opened, the sight she saw was gut wrenching. Lando swaying an upset Lila while he himself was upset.

“My babies.” Cisca murmured. She wrapped her arms around them and told Lando how much of a good dad he was. “It’s not your fault baby, there was nothing else we could’ve done.” She cooed. He knew his wife’s death was not his fault, but it weighed on him as if it was.

“Mimi, where’s mama.” Lila sniffled. Cisca looked to Lila and back to Lando. Realizing why they were both upset, Lila wanted her mum and Lando couldn’t help her.

“Oh baby, mamas in a better place.” Cisca smiled, holding back her own tears. “How about we get you down for bed, yeah?” Lila nodded and Cisca took the little girl to bed. Lando sat down at his kitchen counter and cried.

… can I say that I kissed the brick before throwing it? Or cleaned the knife before stabbing? 😭

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia @chertik-007vvv

[niiwa-angel]

I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the Transformers Fandom so I'm going to make it everyone's problem. Imagine humans have weird but casual interactions with the Transformers.

You're a garage owner going about your day when this giant fucking robot knocks on your roof and asks if you sell tires. Apparently, there was a top secret battle between the military/Autobots and the Decepticons a few miles away and this dude got one of his tires blown out. They have more back at base but having a ruined tire is really uncomfortable so he's wondering if you have a possible replacement. And like, you do and these guys have saved the planet a few times so sure, you fetch a tire and replace his broken one while sweating balls because you do not want to upset this thing. Once you're done he just nods and thanks you and fucks off. You're a little jaded that he didn't pay but 1. He definitely doesn't have human currency and 2. He's saved your planet a few times so you can probably eat the cost of a tire.

And then the fucker turns up a few weeks later with a chunk of gold that he found in a mountain like Hey! This is valuable to humans right? And he gives you that, which is waaaayyy more than the cost of one tire but you don't know how to break a chunk of gold and he's driving off before you can ask if he wants change. That's just life sometimes.

~~~

Or! Imagine some poor impound worker freaking the fuck out when one of their impounded cars just turns into a robot, breaks off the boot, and is really pissed off about how they wound up there. And that poor fucker has to be the one to explain no overnight parking to an alien robot that is VERY upset about being dragged here. They're stomping off before the worker can explain to them that they also have to pay a fine which is probably for the best because how the fuck are you supposed to explain that?

Meanwhile, the robot is stomping off down the street muttering about how you can't even recharge on this Primus forsaken planet without some human bothering you about it. And what's the point of all those parking lots of you can't park there?

~~~

The Transformers being Awkward about human interaction and taking a lot from what they see, even if it's wrong. Bumblebee, Mirage, Jazz, and Arcee are flipping civilians the bird pretty indiscriminately while in town, which is really confusing. So when one of the military guys walks by, it gets pointed out and they explain that when they're in their car mode driving to missions, they often get flipped off by other drivers who are annoyed that they're driving so recklessly. But! They don't realize it's an insult they just think it's a greeting so they have to have a debriefing about it later. They apologize for the insult.

~~~

Everyone thought Bumblebee was the family friendly robot because he usually kept a civil tongue. But that was exclusively because what he had access too on public radio was pretty clean. With the widespread use of podcasts and streaming services, he actually curses like a sailor and it's freaky.

~~~

Somebody has one of those lawn mowing Roombas that's out doing it's fucking job when Starscream sees it from above and comes down to try and talk to it, see if it's a Decepticon. Even when he figures out it's not, he takes it anyway because it has blades so that might be useful. Meanwhile, poor dude is just in their fucking house watching their lawnmower get kidnapped without being able to do anything about it. Except call the hotline which leads to a very weird conversation.

"hey uh, so this isn't an emergency but a Decepticon just stole my lawn mower. Not sure if you can do anything about that."

"ah yes. Sorry sir, they sometimes do that. We'll try and send a replacement, what's the model?"

And then a few weeks later Optimus Prime shows up with an exact model of the one that was stolen, apologies for the inconvenience, and drives away. However, the Autobots are also fascinated by your lawnmower and so occasionally your yard is invaded by an alien robot that watches enthralled as your lawn is mowed.

~~~

Living in a cold area prevents you from seeing either Autobots or Decepticons in the winter time because it doesn't snow on Cybertron and they really don't fucking like it. Their best way of dealing with snow is to hide out in their heated lairs and just ride it out, they aren't going out in that shit.

~~~

They also hate hail so sometimes they'll hide under overpasses with bikers. It's a weird sight, a group of bikers and Mirage just hanging out under an overpass, shooting the shit, waiting for the weather to clear up.

~~~

Living near an American military base means sometimes you see the Autobots out and about. They get leave too and they like to explore. Favourite places to frequent include drive in theaters, parks, especially if they have animals, sports arenas (they can climb up on the roof and look in), and scrap yards.

~~~

Cybertronians can eat metal (we saw the robot dinosaur try eating cars in one of the Bayverse movies so I like to think all of them can do it.) so it's a frequent snack for them. They've figured out not to eat things that belong to humans but they consider the scrap yards to be fair game. If you see a giant robot ripping apart old cars to take some parts just leave it be, they're getting snacks.

If you see Rachet yelling at that same robot later, it's because processed earth metal is basically junk food and eating too much of it makes them sick. That does not stop them.

~~~

After a battle the local carwashes are pretty well filled with Autobots trying to wash the mud and gunk off themselves because apparently they can't get into the transport ships that dirty. The locals aren't sure if that's a military rule or a rule Optimus Prime implemented but it's sure fun to speculate.

[flashhwing]

it can never just be a normal thing with me they always have to do something ridiculous with my car

so they repaved the road my car was on and instead of like towing it like a normal thing i guess they took it and just parked it somewhere else????? but have no record of where exactly it's parked????? just within a 5-block radius??? hello???????? i almost wish it were just towed why do i have to go on a scavenger hunt to find my fucking car