#but i decided to keep it brief this time…

[ofbatsandballads]

i love you, i’m sorry

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: injured character, explicit descriptions of wounds, brief mention of reader having a panic attack, emotional angst, bad dad Bruce implied

a/n: i just feel like jason showing up half dead at your door would be a massive turning point in your relationship, y’know? can be read as a successor to this or as a standalone.

divider credit: saradika

When Red Hood comes to you, he’s almost always hurt. You’ve learned to keep a first aid kit that would make any hospital jealous and with no formal training you’ve picked up skills that rival that of an army medic. Over the last year, you’ve seen gashes, bruises, concussions, even a dislocated shoulder.

You have never seen anything like this.

You spot him the second you walk through your front door. He’s slumped against the wall just below your window. His armor has gashes in it and blood steadily drips from the tears. There’s more blood dripping down his chest, making the red bat symbol look like it’s melting. More concerning than anything else is the helmet. It’s broken. There’s a huge chunk of it missing on the left side of his head. You can see the red domino mask underneath, the battered skin that’s already coloring the initial red-purple of a black eye, and the blood flowing from a nasty looking cut on his eyebrow.

You freeze. A bolt of panic shoots from your head to your toes. No, not panic. Fear. Pure, undiluted fear. Because he looks like he’s dying. The thought startles you out of your haze and you slam your front door shut, locking the five different locks he’d insisted on installing around three months into your partnership. You run to him. You don’t know what to do. All you know is you need to get to him.

You drop to your knees and place your hands on either side of his head. For the first time, your right hand meets skin instead of cool metal. Maybe another time you’d savor that, but your hand is slick with his blood the second you make contact.

“Red?” you call, voice frantic.

You repeat the nickname over and over, fear rising into your throat when he makes no acknowledgment of you, when there’s no sign of life. You continue to call for him, begin gently shaking his shoulder. Finally, the white lens of the domino mask narrows and expands. A blink. He’s alive.

“Hey.”

His voice is broken, weak, filled with pain. He’s hurt in a way you’ve never seen him hurt. Underneath the fear you feel a surge of anger. Whoever did this to him…you want their head on a pike.

“Hi…hi,” you greet him shakily.

You’re lost. He’s in such bad shape you don’t know where to begin. You decide to look at the wounds on his torso first. There’s many, but the blood that leaks from them is the bright red of surface wounds. Most of the blood he’s drenched in comes from a brutal gash situated just between his helmet and his body armor. It’s a tiny sliver of skin, maybe an inch of exposure, but it’s raggedly cut open.

Whoever hurt him had aimed just right to target the inconspicuous vulnerability. The rage flares again before it’s swallowed up by fear. You press your hand against the wound to stem the flow of thick, dark blood. Your heart breaks at the groan of pain he lets out.

Finally, you look at his head. This is the first time you’ve seen any part of his face. You’ve longed to know who your nighttime companion is, who your friend is. You never wanted to see him like this. The eyebrow cut is long, a slice from just above his eyelid to the middle of his forehead. Bruises cover his brow bone, his cheekbone, his forehead. Every bit of exposed skin looks battered. It clicks in your brain in one horrifying instant.

His wounds aren’t from a shootout or a tussle with a criminal gone south. He’s been beaten. Badly. And there’s only one person who you can think of that would be capable of harming him like this. You pull your curtains shut and say a prayer to whoever’s listening that the World’s Greatest Detective isn’t still hunting him.

“Red? I need to get you to the bathroom, okay?” you ask, the cracking in your voice betraying any sense of strength you were trying to convey.

He doesn’t respond and you feel fear shoot through you again. Then his arm wraps around your waist and you breathe a sigh of relief. You can’t lift him to his feet, nor could you support his weight if you managed it. You realize you’re going to have to crawl to your bathroom.

The process is slow and awkward. Red Hood lifts himself off the wall, slumping forward toward you. You pull his arm over your shoulder, and even with both of you on the ground his weight is heavy against you. You keep one arm wrapped around his waist, the other slowly helping to drag the both of you towards your bathroom.

Your muscles are burning and your arms are shaky when you finally make it. With his help, you manage one last burst of strength to get him into your bathtub. You think that that’s the last bit of help you’ll get from him tonight when he goes limp against the tub wall.

You feel a sudden wave of anxiety come over you. You’re going to need to get his clothes off. Worse, you need the helmet off. You feel wrong even thinking about it. Once when he’d had a bad concussion, you’d woken him every hour on the hour with your eyes closed so as not to see his face.

“Red…I know you’re not going to like this, but I have to take off your helmet, okay? I need to see if there’s any other wounds under there,” you say carefully, slowly, like trying to comfort a wounded animal ready to bite.

You feel his shoulders stiffen under your hands. You wait for him to tell you no, to fight you on it like he has every time before. Instead he gives a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. It makes you feel even worse. You had hoped that if he ever revealed himself to you it would be because he trusted you, not out of necessity.

His hands reach up to push on the undersides of the helmet and you hear the distinct click of it unlatching. He weakly pushes it off his head and drops it on the bathroom floor. It’s more of him than you’ve ever seen and you try not to look too long. But then his hands are up by his face again and you can’t stop the look of shock that creeps on your face as he willingly pulls the domino mask off.

For the first time, you see his eyes. They’re a beautiful seafoam green. You feel your breath catch in your throat. You already felt a fondness in your chest for the man that keeps you safe. He scoffed when you told him that for the first time. Made some snide comment about if you were aware of the fact that he kills people. You just remained steadfast, told him that he protected good people, innocent people. You told him that he was good.

You never doubted the phrase, but now you know firsthand how true it rings. Eyes are the window to the soul. Now there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s good. And no doubt that you care for him deeply. He lets out one shaky breath that pulls you from your trance. He looks a little nervous, a little vulnerable. You suppose he is, so you keep moving.

“Lean forward for me, just a little? I need to see the back of your head,” you murmur.

He obeys, a slight hiss leaving him at having to crane his neck. You’ve got your hand pressed against the cut under his jaw and you feel blood gush as he tilts his head down. Your other hand gently combs through his hair as you look for gashes or bumps. Thankfully you find none, though you suspect he might be concussed.

“I’m gonna patch you up now, but I need to get all this off. Is that okay?” you ask.

He looks extremely put out by the idea of being undressed. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable. After all, you don’t know how thrilled you’d be if you had to strip down in front of him. You think you could stitch him up through the tattered gear, but then he’d need to shower. He can’t even stand by himself right now. He realizes it too. He gives one jerky nod, his sea green eyes staring right through you.

You pull the easiest stuff off first. His boots, socks, and holsters lay abandoned on your bathroom floor next to your small waste bin. You move on to his body armor. He has to help you but you get it off without causing him too much pain. His tactical pants are next. Belt, button, zipper. Simple. You pull them off and add them to the pile of bloodied gear.

Now that he’s undressed you see that your lightbulb moment was correct. Bruises are starting to color across his body, a memento of blunt force. You fix what you can. It’s easy to stitch the little cuts on his torso, slightly harder to close the neck gash. Soon he’s all patched up, the blood beginning to dry on his skin in that uniquely gross sticky-crusty mix.

“Can I—I mean, would it be okay if I ran you a bath?” you ask quietly.

He looks wide eyed at you. You tell him that it’s fine if not, that you can figure something else out. It’s important to you to be careful of his boundaries, always respecting what he was willing to give. Perhaps that’s why he finally gives a slow nod of consent. His final item of clothing comes off and you add his boxers to the literal laundry list of clothing on your floor.

You start running his bath, leaving to grab a washcloth and toss his bloodstained clothing in the washer while the tub fills. As you're setting the cycle to run, your mind flashes with muddled, disjointed thoughts.

Thoughts about pain and sacrifice and betrayal and trust. The Batman did this to him. The Batman also helped him take down a Falcone drug ring three weeks ago. The man in your bathtub was Robin, a bright light in a city so dark that it snuffs any glimmer of hope that shines through. The man in your bathtub is Red Hood, a scourge to the ilk of Gotham with so much blood on his hands that he’s drowning in it. It’s all so much. Then you wonder if anyone has ever extended their hand to him and never curled it into a fist later on. And it hits you hard and soft all at once: you’re in this forever now. You won’t leave him. You love him.

It’s ridiculous. You love this man whose face you had never seen until tonight, whose name you don’t know. But you know that he loves classic literature after the night that he’d browsed your bookshelf after you wrapped his sprained wrist. You know that he has a fondness for chocolate chip cookies after the night he crawled through your window while you were baking a batch. You know he’s kind after the night he came by just to check on you, only to find you having a panic attack on your bathroom floor. You know he’s gentle after he picked you up off the ground and carried you to your bed, after he put your hand to his chest and made you breathe in time with him, after he held you until you fell asleep. And what was a name or a face compared to a heart and soul?

You swallow down the confession you’ve made to yourself and head back to the bathroom because right now it doesn’t matter. He needs help; you can worry about your being in love with him later. The tub is just about full when you get back and you turn the knobs shut. You dip the washcloth beneath the warm water and grab your bottle of soap off the ledge.

“This is all I’ve got, so you may just have to deal with smelling like me for the night,” you say, attempting to crack a joke.

“Well, y’smell nice, so ‘m okay with that,” he mumbles, Gotham accent thicker than you’ve ever heard it.

You can’t see yourself, but you’re pretty sure your face is as red as his helmet. You busy yourself by squeezing an unnecessary amount of soap into the cloth, scrubbing it until it’s more suds than fabric. You begin slowly, making sure his watchful eyes can see every move as you bring the cloth to his neck. You wash the blood and sweat off him gently, careful not to go near the stitched up gash.

“Can you raise your arms for me, Red?” you ask quietly as you run the cloth over his shoulders

“Jason.”

Your head snaps to face him and you feel like someone’s just slapped you.

“My name’s Jason.”

He whispers it like it’s a confession. You smile at him, soft and warm.

“Okay, Jason. Can you lift your arms?”

You spend the better part of an hour bathing him. Once all the blood, sweat, and grime is gone, you give him a towel fresh from the dryer to wrap himself in and leave him to dry off. You give him a thick red hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants you’d bought for him after the concussion incident. You still feel bad about him having to sleep in his gear that night.

You turn your favorite classical music playlist on low volume and the two of you sit comfortably in silence on your couch. You’re reading an Agatha Christie novel and Jason is resting with his eyes closed, no doubt nursing the migraine you gave him some Tylenol for. You think that maybe he dozes off a couple times when his breathing goes even and deep.

You take the time to memorize details of him, uncertain if you’ll ever get the blessing of seeing him as he is again. He’s got inky dark hair that’s on the longer side of short. There’s a stark white tuft in the front that stays neatly curled to itself, not a single hair slipping into the night black mess of waves and curls. His hooked nose and strong jawline give him a striking, rugged handsomeness. Scars litter his face. Some are barely there little white lines, while others are thicker and jagged at the edges.

Scars cover the rest of his body too. Every bit of skin you saw while bathing him has some form of scarring. You recognized healed slashes from knives or glass, thick circles with rough edges from bullet wounds. The one that took you by surprise is the largest of them. It’s red and raised in the shape of a Y, the two forks extending from the edges of his collarbones and meeting in the middle to carve straight down, taking a little curve around his belly button before disappearing into the dark trail of curls that leads to his pelvis. You’ve seen enough NCIS to know what it is: an autopsy scar.

You can’t even begin to fathom how he got an autopsy scar. You quickly remind yourself that it’s none of your business and push the sharp ache in your chest down, down, down. Your mind is still a hazy mess, a deluge of thoughts that leave a faint numbness and sorrow in their wake. You feel so deeply for this man that lies quietly on your couch. You wish you could protect him, as ridiculous as the idea sounds. You don’t even realize you’ve lost yourself to your thoughts until his sweet voice pulls you out.

“You’re in your head again,” he says quietly.

You turn your head to him slowly, still in a daze.

“Sorry, just thinking,” you reply, giving him a strained smile.

Anxiety washes over his face. He pushes himself forward, elbows on his knees like he’s trying to take up less space.

“I’ll get goin’ soon. ‘M sure I’ve wasted enough of your time,” he murmurs.

“Please stay here tonight.”

You spit it out without thinking. The last thing you want is him to think you were spacing out because you didn’t want him here or because he was an inconvenience.

“What?” he asks blankly.

His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks an odd mix of dumbfounded and agitated.

“Please stay. I don’t want you heading back out there tonight. Please, just stay here where you’re safe,” you whisper.

It’s a quiet request, but a desperate one. You need him to stay. You need to know he’ll be safe, that he’ll make it through the night.

“I…” he trails off uncertainly.

“You don’t hafta take care of me, y’know?” he finally spits out, “I’m not somethin’ you can fix.”

You bristle. Is that what he thinks of you? Even after all these months? That he’s some fixer upper to you? Some pet project?

“I’m not trying to fix you, Jason,” you say firmly.

His name is new in your mouth, but it feels natural even in the midst of your frustration.

“Good, ‘cause I can take care of myself. Been doin’ it for years now,” he bites.

Okay, now you’re starting to get a little annoyed. He’s done this a couple of times over the past year. Pushing you away when you just want to help him, just want to make sure he’s okay. And that’s fine. You can handle that most times. But not tonight. Not when you’ve just coaxed him back to life, not when you felt like you were so close to losing him.

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore!” you snap.

You see him tense at your harsh tone and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm your storming emotions.

“I…I’m not doing this because I’m trying to fix you. I’m doing this because you’re a human being. That first night…I’m sure you could’ve handled it yourself once you woke up. But I couldn’t leave you alone, hurting. Not then, not now,” you begin, leveling him with a stare so fierce that it holds him in place.

He goes to open his mouth, no doubt to argue, and you hold up a finger to quiet him.

“And I have no illusions that you won’t come back hurting again. None. I know you will. I know we’ll keep doing this over and over and over again. And I don’t care. I’m not leaving you alone. I won’t do it. So push all you want, but I refuse to be anything less than someone you can count on.”

Silence. The weight of your words is heavy in the air. You’re expecting him to leave. Even with his clothes still in your washing machine. You’re sure if he wanted to go, he’d just unplug the thing from the wall and throw his damp gear back on. You brace yourself for it. A small part of you even feels the pang of heartache at the thought that he might never come back.

You’re not expecting him to surge forward and thread his fingers into your hair to pull you into a kiss. You’re not expecting the burning intensity you feel him pour into it. You’re not expecting the warmth of his scarred mouth pressing against your soft lips. You’re not expecting how easy it is to kiss him back, as natural and simple as breathing.

He pulls away all too quickly. Doubt flashes in those sea green eyes and his entire body recoils back from you. You don’t let him run far, fingers curling in his night black mess of hair. You pull him back to you, his forehead resting against yours even as his body is strung tight as a bowstring.

“Well now I can’t let you go,” you whisper.

“I shouldn’ta done that,” he mutters shakily.

“You should do it again.”

You have no idea where the sudden burst of confidence has come from. It’s so very unlike you, you who are normally so passive, so calm and docile. But it seems to bring Jason to his knees because a desperate noise sounds from deep in his chest and his big, warm hands come up to cradle your face as he slots your mouths together again. You sigh his name against his lips when he pulls you closer and then he’s pushing you away. With no effort at all, he picks you up and gently shoves you to the other side of your sofa. He rises too quickly and sways on his feet.

“I can’t–I can’t do this. I won’t do this to you,” he rushes out as he staggers toward your window.

You’re bolting in front of it before you can even think.

“You’re not doing anything to me. You’ve already told me the risks of being associated with you. I’m okay with them. I want this. I want you,” you tell him, and you’re so earnest that it leaves no room for doubt.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for. You can’t just show me a little kindness and fix me up to love you right,” Jason insists.

You should be mad again, but this time his statement lacks all the bite that it held before. Instead, you can hear the self-loathing in his voice, recognize the burn of it from the countless nights you two have sat on your floor debating whether he’s a hero or a necessary evil. And that just won’t do. You cradle his face and angle his head down to lock eyes, anchoring him in place.

“All I want is you, just as you are, come what may.”

There’s a shine to his pretty eyes, soft silver pools in the pale moonlight of the Gotham night. He shakes his head.

“Can’t make me somethin’ I‘m not,” he says, “‘m not made for this.”

And, oh, how your heart aches for this beautiful man. He’s so convinced that he’s violence incarnate, nothing but blood and gunpowder.

“We decide what we’re made for, what we want to be made for. What do you want, Jason?” you ask him softly.

Your hands are so gentle combing through his hair, thumb stroking his cheekbone sweetly. He flinches at the contact and you go to pull away, but he leans into your touch once he recognizes it won’t hurt him.

“I…don’t deserve it,” he whispers.

There’s something unspoken there. Something buried deep down in his chest. It aches to get out. He wants to scream it but the walls he’s built brick by brick around himself muffle the noise. I don’t deserve it, but I want it. He doesn’t have to say it, though. You understand loud and clear. And that alone is comfort to him, that he doesn’t have to say the quiet part out loud, that you just know him. No one has known him in years.

“This isn’t something you have to earn. And even if your answer truly is no, I’ll still be here in any way you want me to be.”

That’s what breaks him. Because it has only ever been something he’s had to earn. He had to earn it from his mother; earned it with cans of stolen soup heated in a rusted pot when Catherine was lost in the fog of her addiction, earned it with each spoonful he held to her mouth. He had to earn it from Bruce; earned it with every case solved, with every batarang that landed home in a bullseye, with every civilian saved. He had to earn it from Talia; earned it with every hit and kick, every blade mastered, every life taken. He’s had to earn love, earn affection, earn open hands instead of curled fists all his life. And you’re here offering up your love for free. You’re not even asking for him to love you back.

So as his defenses scream at him to tell you a thousand words that would cut you to ribbons–I don’t want you at all, go find another soul to save, you’re wasting your time–his heart hammers, demanding he be honest for once. He takes one shuddering breath before he whispers two words that change the trajectory of his life.

“…I’ll stay.”

And he does. He lets you nurse him back to health with water and painkillers. He lets you read to him after he sheepishly asks what your book is about. He lets you sit closer to him, shoulders and knees brushing under the soft blanket you’ve tossed over both of you. He even lets you guide him to your room, lets himself fall asleep tucked under your covers with your pinkies interlocked. It’s the first night that Jason Todd spends in your bed. It will hardly be the last.

[tealvenetianmask]

Visual Parallels: The Full Moon and Mastermind

It's mad scientist mode time ya'll.

The visual references to other episodes in Mastermind are wild. People have already beautifully pointed out how the duet sequence references Blitz's "Truth Seekers" hallucination and "Just Look My Way," and makes the two inner worlds mesh.

"The Full Moon" is also heavily referenced. I first noticed it in this shot of Stolas . . .

Which is repeated quite similarly a few times in the trial scene, and looks a lot like . . .

The camera angle (if there were a camera) is pretty much identical.

This made me realize that the whole sequence (the duet and Blitz getting pulled away afterward) has them positioned with Blitz facing Stolas and Stolas's back to Blitz, with a similar distance between them to what we see in "The Full Moon."

And as I rewatched both, I saw more and more.

An attempt by Blitz to touch Stolas, and Stolas not turning around, having already decided his course of action.

(Is anyone noticing a similar color palate yet?)

And a forced exit, based on a decision that Stolas makes:

So this very well might show that Stolas is holding a lot of the power in their relationship. But also, the similar elements in these scenes aren't identical- they simply rhyme.

There are some interesting differences with Blitz's physical expressions of desperation. Even though he's set away from Stolas against a bright red background when he's expressing himself in both.

In "The Full Moon," well . . .

He's guarded. His hands spend a lot of their time in fists. He's moving toward Stolas but not giving all of himself until it's too late.

But in "Mastermind . . .

It's like he's drawn by a magnet to Stolas while being forcibly pulled away. He's fighting the forces that would keep them apart, that would harm Stolas. He's fighting with everything he has. His hands are open the whole time he's fighting. The walls are gone.

Doors are also interesting in their contrast.

In "The Full Moon," we see Blitz bursting into the room like this:

In "Mastermind," the door behind Stolas serves as Blitz's exit point, but the camera angle, again, is very similar . . .

I don't know what to make of this one, honestly, except that these moments seem to reverse each other. I think there COULD be symbolism here (barriers and who creates them), but I'm not sure there's enough evidence that it's intentional like the others.

Now for a few key things "Mastermind" has that "The Full Moon" needed. Our boys weren't ready yet, but now they are.

Obviously the duet . . . but did you notice that their movements synchronize too? They're not looking at each other, but literally and figuratively, they're in tune.

2. Eye contact. FUCKING EYE CONTACT. It's so brief you could miss it.

There's recognition there. They each see that the other feels the same way.

Even though Stolas never turns around, and still has A LOT to learn about Blitz, they meet at the core of the matter. "Harriet, don't get on that train. It's going to London, and I CANNOT BE WITHOUT YOU."

[kirbyluvr63]

need f1 fanfic recs

im SO fucking glad you asked!

im gonna give you some of my favs here and youll kinda notice a pattern, i guess! im about to expose my whole psyche in front of you.

first, one of my favorite ships is maxiel! but i particularly love anything that explores daniel's character specifically, so my first rec is an entry on Daniel Ricciardo's Internalized Homophobia Fic Fest!

heart's a mess by nunnit - just a great character study of internalized homophobia and trying to no-homo your way out of your own life until you lose the one guy you really loved. warning: there's a bittersweet ending! ships: Jenson Button/Daniel Ricciardo; Cyril Abiteboul/Daniel Ricciardo; Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen; Daniel Ricciardo/Blake Friend; Daniel Ricciardo/OMC

Montreal Bounds by ellipsis99 - this one has a happy ending! daniel's in a complicated relationship with a guy who has a girlfriend and max makes him reconsider a bunch of stuff. ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen; Daniel Ricciardo/Scotty James; (brief Max Verstappen/Pierre Gasly)

pale green things by yekoc - historical fiction set during the tulip fever where jos is a rich tulip trader that commissions daniel to paint a portrait of max for his fiancee. yekoc is a GREAT author, i recommend anything by them! ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

glory, from a high rise by yekoc - speaking of, another BANGER from yekoc. daniel works at a bar and max is a neurotic alcoholic office worker who's also horny as all hell. there's some commitment issues involved as well. it's perfect. ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

honorable mentions:

a body wishes to be held and held by CamilleDuDemon

All We Knew of Home by LoveLeah

mon voisin by kitversuskat

now, my second favorite ship, my actual favorite drivers on the grid and the ones i cheer for: galex! <3

table in the back by crescenteluce - if you love miscommunication you'll love this one, the dialogue is so precise like you can clearly see how one would misinterpret what the other is saying and at the same time you get why the other person didn't even realize a misunderstanding happened aaaaaaarrrrgghhhh it's a bit infuriating too but so so good. ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

footnote in someone else's happiness by finedae - in this one george and alex kind of have a fucked up relationship... they break up so george can date women and fit in the box expected of him, but stays in touch with alex and alex has to, as the author put it themselves, keep things real. ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by prettyrotten - this ones also crazy good and revolves around miscommunication.. i guess this is my favorite trope for them for some reason. george humiliates himself to keep his relationship with alex who just decides how george feels and makes things shitty for everyone. must warn you that i almost cried with this one, very angsty, but with a happy ending! ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

honorable mentions:

take care of you (take care of me) by ginnydear

Strike a Pose by amphibiangeorgerussell

carry you home (orphan work)

another ship that i adore is charlos! their dynamic is very interesting to me... between them and between ferrari and also i just like carlos and want to study him under a microscope. can't wait to find out how his chemistry will play out with alex once they're teammates tbh

In for a penny, in for a pound by chiliconcarlos - this one's the quintessential charlos fic; a required reading, if you will. charles gets drunk and hires an escort to accompany him at a wedding so he doesn't show up alone in front of his ex. he thinks he hired a female escort, but then carlos shows up and... the rest is history. just a very very good fic. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

the same as all those men by almondmilkk - idk about you but i'm obsessed with cowboys and this is THE cowboy au... carlos has a lot of repressed feelings and internalized homophobia and charles just doesn't give a fuck anymore, it's glorious. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) by choripan - if you like catholic guilt, this one's for you! there's a lot of religious imagery in this one and it's just... chef's kiss. charles and carlos meet at an abandoned church while on vacation at mallorca with their respective families. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

honorable mentions:

semiotic study by linearity

says he's gonna teach me just what fast is by foggystars

can't sleep 'til I feel your touch by chiliconcarlos

and now.... for my most deranged ship: george and lance. "WTF??" you may ask, and i say "don't knock it till you try it!" think of it this way: george is stuck up and hates himself a little and lance is just there and doesn't give a fuck and is the pillowest of princesses. unfortunately few see the vision so there isn't much, but i can't recommend enough Lesson Learned by bottomtxt who's also one of my favorite fanartist here on tumblr and the one who opened my eyes to this AMAZING ship dynamic! finger trap by rivalism is my other recommendation for this criminally underrated ship!

and this is it! i hope you'll enjoy it

ps.: sorry for taking a while but as you can see i was taking this very seriously and i had some college stuff to get done at the same time etc etc... feel free to keep talking to be about it, tho :)

[lovemesomeagnst]

So for your Carmen Stan au how did Ford find out about Stan being brainwashed?

Okay so this ends up being different than in CS BECAUSE we have the added character of Alex, who’s their nephew so when the whole brainwashing and kidnapping thing happens Team Red would obviously be the first to know.

Ford and Fiddleford would realise something was amiss and are actually concerned for a while since Stan suddenly disappeared off grid and stopped appearing for his capers and all. At this stage I think they’ve both come to an agreement that Stan’s intentions were good (much like how Jules and Chase had believed in Carmen near the end) so the sudden inactivity from Stan was already alarming. Ford tries to rationalise to himself that Stan’s probably busy even though his gut screams at him that something is wrong.

It kinda sucks for him since he doesn’t have a proper way to contact Stan and they only ever see each other if Stan reaches out first or if they run into each other during one of his capers. Stan also hasn’t been checking in on Tate or Fiddleford like he liked to do sometimes so that was another thing. Hence the long silence brings Ford some anxiety. It wasn’t the first time he lost sight of Stan (happens all the time due to the secrecy but Ford at least has tabs based on report sightings of Stan from around the world) but it’s been like…ages and now that they were kinda on even/good terms Ford feels like something is wrong but he doesn’t know what.

When Stan finally resurfaces, Ford and Fiddleford are relieved only to be bewildered when Stan steals and doesn’t return the items to Fiddleford or like authorities. They find the behaviour suspicious but they could never get close enough to confront him, which was another red flag since Stan always interacts with them even on his missions (like a simple greeting or banter or teasing). So Stan avoiding them AND taking things but not returning them like his usual routine is very very weird.

Ford stresses over this change for a long time. He has no idea why his brother suddenly seems to change ways and change sides apparently. Stan not acknowledging him and actively avoiding him (cause Stan just thinks of Ford and Fidds as authorities after him now) hurts Ford because he has no idea why he’s being ignored either when they were on good terms already.

Ford eventually finds out from Alex. The poor boy had been stressed out of his mind in a dilemma on whether he should tell the rest of the family or just keep it to Team Red. Like I mentioned in a previous post here, he faces constant dilemmas regarding keeping Stan’s business away from the rest of the family, or to involve them as help. Eventually the whole brainwashing situation gets hopelessly bad and stressful and after discussion with Carla and the rest of Team Red, Alex believed his dad and uncle Ford deserves to know what’s actually going on.

Alex calls for a family meeting and Ford visits Shermie’s place and both brothers are shocked at what Alex reveals to them. This is also how Shermie finds out that Alex is Stan’s hacker and Ford is stunned that the entire time he comes over to rant about Stan, Alex had been part of it from the start. There’s a brief moment of Ford calling Alex out for being the reason Stan was able to escape his capture a couple times and it’s a bit hilarious. Shermie and Ford are obviously super caught off guard by the revelation that Alex was helping Stan the entire time and had somehow kept quiet over it for ages but then the seriousness of the situation finally settles in and both brothers are horrified.

Ford is absolutely grief stricken that his brother’s mind was brainwashed before he goes completely furious because how dare some evil organisation (that they’re just learning about now because Alex and Team Red decided it was time to tell the family everything) try to use his brother and mess with his mind. He immediately demands more information from Team Red so he can find a way to help.

When he gets back and meets with Fiddleford again he explains everything as Fiddleford is devastated. They both actually meet up with Team Red in this au cause Alex kinda has to let them (Shermie demanded him to do so) and also Ford wouldn’t take no for an answer, saying that Stan is his twin and he has rights to help in fixing the problem and saving his brother. Ford finding out about the situation definitely puts him on edge because his brother is hurt and not in his right mind and Ford wants to help but he has no idea where to start and he feels something akin to grief and fury creep up his throat.

They eventually learn how Stan got brainwashed (the use of the memory gun) and Ford actually gets mad at Fiddleford for a short while (mainly due to high tensions and emotions running on high from everything) and blames him for the creation of such a device before immediately regretting his words and apologising dw. Ford secretly fears that Stan’s mind can’t be restored back to normal but he buries it deep down and hyperfixates on helping Team Red find a solution to the problem, even bringing it up with ACME to get their resources and help.

He eventually helps in building the device to bring back Stan to his right state of mind but there’s definitely a lot of complicated emotions in the process. Mainly Ford having to grapple with losing his brother and desperately trying to fix him and bring him back cause ngl they’ve finally reached an understanding and he’d die before he let some stupid evil organisation rob him of a proper chance to actually sit down and talk with his brother (since they haven’t rlly actually had a long deep convo and mainly just run into each other for their missions).

[radioiaci]

It is an unfortunate thing that Alastor knows he has to lie. His intent and what may actually occur are two different things. If Lilith pulls his number, he has to go. Regardless of what he wants and what Vox wants. But how can he say that? How can he be honest in the face of what he knows to be a distinct desperation?

He cannot.

But his hands come up to cradle Vox's face in them - all sharp points and yet the touch is disarmingly soft. A precursor to the reassurance he knows he has to provide if it means keeping the other rooted in a place where he will not dissolve in panic or depression. Though he knows he may not be able to avoid that entirely.

Alastor will try.

"So long as the world continues to revolve, I will be with you," Alastor says, hoping that it is enough. It does not feel like it is. And he certainly cannot say anything about love - he does not know what that is like (or believes that he does not). There is no confidence in that line of dialogue. He will be sniffed out far more easily if he tries to lie about that. But what he knows is that his name is distinctly carved on Vox's core - and Alastor may not know love, but he does not what it means to belong to someone or something. And Vox belongs to him.

That will not change.

"The reassessment of paranoid assumptions could help, yes," he replies to the other's offer to him in turn. But he hesitates at the mention of expectation - it is always such a heavy word that he does not know what to do with. And Alastor looks far more uncertain when asked to define what that means, his gaze diverting for a few brief moments before he says anything at all.

"I will tell you. When it comes to that."

He cannot summon up the articulation just then. The way that Vox has phrased it makes him feel inadequate. Alastor falls silent as a result, though he does not pull himself away from the other's proximity, preferring to fixate on Vox's feelings and thoughts for the time being. He himself is a much more difficult puzzle to parse, even for himself.

"...Tell me your feelings on what you now have to decide," he instructs. About this... pregnancy.

The formality and slip into a script is so natural. Vox doesn't even feel it anymore. He hasn't for a very long time. Always acting whether or not any cameras were present. And they always were because he had to have a record. Had to see everything. Be everywhere. He's split himself up so many times. Spread himself so thin. Is it any wonder the cracks are starting show under the weight of this revelation.

Pulled out the beginnings of his dissociative line of thinking by his lover's voice. Quite literally helping ground him. As much as he'd like to disappear after all the shame and fear.

With the door closed and them sealed properly away from the rest of the world Vox wraps his arms around the other and searches his face once more. "Say again that you won't leave, please. It helps to hear it. Reinforces the truth against my own delusional worries."

Tell me you love me.

Vox allows his eyes to close. All of them. Even the thousands spliced elsewhere. Though he's not hooked directly into his network it helps to severe the connection more deliberately. To distance himself. Perhaps he'd be less flighty and like a frayed wire if he was more intact.

"If I start to static or glitch, shake or pinch me. Talk me back. Don't let me leave or get lost. I don't do that on purpose I swear, happened when I was human too." He'd just fade off into his own mind. Could take seconds or hours. Like a lost signal without input. Drifting.

"I am sorry. I... s-shouldn't have tried to ru-un. I just couldn't handle losing you again because of this. I panicked. I know it's weak. I'll do better." More purposeful. Determined. Less pitying. Sincerely despising his own awful hang ups. Wishing that he were stronger and less affected. Trying not to linger on it least his wallowing be even more humiliating.

"This helps too. Just talking. Having you close. But then I always enjoy that."

Easing up more and more as he filters air in and out through his vents. Causing the air around them to warm up as he tries to literally cool off. Managing a tired sounding laugh. The tears have let up. Rather than an outpouring of bottled up emotions they merely twinkle in the corners of his eyes. "I appreciate your patience and how much you're willing to tolerate. Most wouldn't bother."

He loosely wraps an arm around the redhead's waist. Lowers his head to rest on his shoulder with what can pass as a nuzzle. "And what can I do for you? To not... To not overwhelm or stress you out as well? You don't like to feel chained by expectations or forced to accept accountability for what you haven't done, I understand and agree with that. What else? I should probably avoid making paranoid assumptions for a start."

[amndees]

Can u tell me more Abt ur OC? Like lore or fun facts or if u have a colored drawing of them to see their color palette ? (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) No pressure tho !

hi yes i would love to! thank you for asking!!!

here’s a colored version of the drawing had in my original post ab this ^^

they are actually a very powerful psychic with only one ability, to be able to block out and not be affected by other psychics abilities. so when saiki does his whole mind control / gene alteration thing on the entire population they r just like ?????? bc they r not affected

they aren’t really aware of this power though, just knew they could tell when weird things happened that people around them either ignored or found normal. it was only found out once aiura transfers to saiki’s school and they could see their power since she’s able to see people’s aura (and their aura is visible even in saiki’s bc it works like a barrier or shield)

I’ve taken to calling them Une (like immune, for their ability) but if i come up with something better i might change it. their hair is actually dark brown and they dye it a purple-blue color. i imagine they were upset as a kid when everyone’s hair started changing to cool colors and theirs stayed the same lol

for some backstory, not power related—

une used to stay with their auntie while their parents traveled for their jobs. after the first time saiki started a time loop they caught on pretty quickly since things that already happened were being repeated (the sense of deja vu was to strong). people were starting to think they were crazy since they kept insisting that this already happened LAST YEAR.

une’s family felt like they needed a change of scenery so they moved to their other aunt’s new house and now live with her and their cousin.

now here’s the family tree i made so it’s easier to understand! they're actually related to yuuta so they are neighbors with saiki,,,

since they have a lot of free time bc they take online advanced classes, they decided picking up a part time job at a nearby coffee shop would be a good idea

saiki actually meets them at the coffee shop first and is kind of weirded out since he can’t read their mind but also. he has priorities (his sweet treats) and prob thinks its just another nendou situation. he does investigate it more when he realizes they r actually his neighbor…

i have more ideas but this is getting long so that is it for now ^^!!

[introcoryo]

botany major!katniss, who isn’t so good with her words, so she gifts you flowers that correlate with what she’s feeling. you walk hand in hand through the woods as she points out different plants, rambling on about how to recognize various species and their distribution patterns.

fine arts major!peeta, working tirelessly at his family’s bakery, making personalized latte art which leaves him with huge tips at the end of the day. all of his peers recognize you as the inspiration for all of his assignments, your features taking up every bit of his sketchbook.

mechanical engineering major!gale, his schedule so full and busy but always making time to see you daily. you’re always the first to hear about how he did on a particular exam, cuddled up as you watch nature documentaries.

aquatic biology major!finnick, known around campus as the university heartthrob. he spends most of his free time at the docks or the beach, feet always bare and buried underwater, occasionally splashing you playfully. suntanning and writing your initials in the sand is how your dates usually go.

athletic training major!johanna, who caresses your sleeping features and plants a small kiss on your forehead before leaving for her morning run. she teasingly flexes her muscles while you’re applying kinesiology tape on her body.

[lightkrets312]

to the people who write summaries and wikis with thorough breakdowns of all the lore and media for a series that breaks it up into 20 different formats: you are doing fantastic work, may it remain intact and accessible well into the future, I owe you my life

to the people that decide splitting your series into 20 different media formats with critical lore in most/all of them is a good idea:

ARCHIVE YOUR SHIT IMMEDIATELY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING.

[familiarlyfrigid]

Chapter 2 is posted!

Click the ao3 link or read below:

ㅤ Alastor woke up in his room, blinking in confusion as he registered where he was, because he remembered falling asleep on the sofa. Lucifer had been sitting on the other end, and he vaguely remembered talking to him. No one else was around, so did that mean that… Lucifer carried him to bed? He sat up and rubbed his head as a surge of pain reminded him that he still felt terrible. His head hurt, his throat hurt, his body ached, and his mind was foggy, though it wasn’t as bad as it had been the previous night.

He also remembered having some strange dreams—letting Lucifer pet his ears, leaning his head on the King’s shoulder, cuddling with him so closely as if he was holding Alastor tight to protect him from harm. He shivered, though it wasn’t out of repulsion towards the thought, and pulled a blanket around himself, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to stay in bed for a few more minutes. While he wasn’t entirely against the idea of being more affectionate towards Lucifer, physical touch wasn’t really his way of showing endearment. Besides, Alastor was a very private person—he couldn’t get too friendly without inviting questions that he didn’t want to answer. He told himself that he just wasn’t thinking straight. His feverish dreams didn’t mean anything.

It was just a dream, right?

He took a deep, rattling breath, which he regretted as he started coughing. He sat at the edge of the bed, slowly standing up and preparing himself for the wave of dizziness he knew was coming. He managed to get dressed, but that was all he had the energy for. Running his hands through his messy hair in an attempt to straighten it, he looked at himself in the mirror and made himself look as presentable as he could, forcing his ears to point up and making his toothy grin almost look real. As tempting as it was to stay in bed all day, it would be awfully boring, so he headed downstairs to the kitchen. The walk was much longer than usual—actually, he normally just teleported instead. He cursed the constant fatigue that weighed him down as he forced his legs to carry him.

Alastor forced himself to eat a little and take some medicine, which prevented Charlie from fussing over him too much. Most of the others had already been up for a few hours. Not Lucifer, though; he was just coming downstairs to get some coffee. He didn’t say anything to Alastor. In fact, the King almost seemed to be avoiding him, only briefing telling Charlie once again that she shouldn’t worry about the sick demon. Maybe he felt awkward about last night, too?

Alastor soon moved to the parlor and sat in his armchair, wondering what to do with his time. There was no way Charlie would let him get any work done, though he didn’t really feel like trying in the first place. Everyone got to busying themselves for the day, leaving him by himself until Lucifer came over and leaned against the side of the chair. “So, how are you doing? Are you sure you should be up and about?”

He huffed as his ears drooped, and Lucifer couldn’t help but think that he looked cute that way. Static crackled in the air, mirroring the painful buzzing in his head. “Do you really expect me to stay in bed all day? The least I can do is keep tabs on everyone while I rest.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pressure pounding behind his eyes, and groaned, “My head is still killing me…”

“Do you want me to scratch behind your ears again?” the other asked with a playful smile.

Again? Alastor’s eyes widened, his thoughts slowly untangling as the veil clouding his memory started to lift. “What?”

His expression grew a little more sheepish, like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “You said it helped last night.”

Oh, he didn’t imagine it. The memory was beginning to come back to him now—he actually did fall asleep with Lucifer practically cradling him in his wings, out in the open where anyone could have seen them. His flushed face went an even brighter red, and the room suddenly felt too hot. “No one else saw us, correct?”

“Everyone else was asleep. I woke up at some point in the morning and brought you to your room before anyone saw.”

“Good,” he said with a sniffle, his voice ragged and stuffy. He gazed up at the other man, who was looking at him expectantly, a shameless smile across his face.

“Well? You haven’t answered my question.”

Alastor glanced across the room to the bar, where Husk and Angel Dust were talking. They seemed too engrossed in their conversation to run the risk of disrupting him. Was he really doing this? Letting himself be so dependent on someone for comfort as soon as he was in a vulnerable state? He could always deny it later on, he thought, say that he was still a little delirious and that none of it meant anything. He’d just lie his way out of admitting that Lucifer made him feel comfortable. Deciding that they were alone enough, he sighed, “You may touch my ears.”

Lucifer moved over to the sofa and sat down. “Come and lay down.”

He got up and sat at the other end, then stretched out across the entire length of the sofa. His feet dangled over the edge of the armrest, his head in the Devil’s lap. He felt hands move through his hair, pointed nails gently scratching at his scalp. It was strange, the way he only allowed certain people to touch him like this. Maybe it was some animalistic instinct he was allowing himself to give in to. Lucifer ran his hand over the length of the demon’s ears in slow, relaxing motions. His other hand brushed over Alastor’s forehead—still slightly warmer than normal. All of the sinner’s apprehension slowly melted away, lost to the soothing touch and persistent fatigue pulling him away from his thoughts. The white noise in his mind started to quiet down as he relaxed. He supposed that he could allow himself to lay there for a little while, even if it meant being ridiculed later by the others, and closed his eyes with a genuine smile.

I crave cute caretaking fics, so I’m writing one. This one can be interpreted as platonic or romantic radioapple!

Chapter 2 will come… eventually.

ㅤ Sitting on the sofa in the hotel’s lobby, Lucifer was only partially paying attention to what was on the TV. He soon found himself leaning against the armrest and closing his eyes, gradually drifting to sleep. It was late—a little after one in the morning—and the hotel was unnaturally quiet. Everyone else was asleep—except for Alastor, who was laying on the other end of the sofa and was evidently awake, stretching his legs out and shoving one hoof into Lucifer’s side in the process. He shifted, then pulled the blanket draped over him tighter around himself and curled up in the exact same position he was in before. He’d been repeating that same routine all night.

Lucifer was annoyed at being woken up, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at the poor deer. He knew he had to feel like shit to be so restless when he’d been so tired during the day. He had denied being sick for most of the day, even though it was obvious from the sound of his voice and the look of exhaustion behind his forced smile. His energy eventually ran out, much to his chagrin, and he’d been lying on the couch since that evening. His ears were flopped to the sides, his cheeks and nose were flushed red, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual. Lucifer offered to look after him for the night, telling Charlie that he didn’t want her worrying about him. While that was true, it wasn’t the real reason he was so insistent. He wanted to be the one to care for Alastor and spend some time with him, but he didn’t want to outright say it. Everyone knew that the two were getting along, but they weren’t very open about just how much time they’d been spending together.

Alastor sat up a little, supporting himself with one arm, and started coughing harshly into his fist. It left his breathing ragged and faintly rattling in his chest as he blearily opened his eyes. He squinted at the TV for a moment before shielding his eyes with a static-filled groan. “Why are you watching this?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and his words slightly slurred.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought some background noise would help.”

“There are better sources of background noise, you know,” he said, sounding only half awake. He closed his eyes, keeping them covered by his hand. “Turn that off. It’s too bright.”

Lucifer sat up and reached for the remote, switching the TV off. He looked at Alastor, who shifted to be sitting up with his arms wrapped around his knees and was shivering, and furrowed his brow. He really should’ve gone to bed a long time ago. “Do you want me to take you to your room?” Surely his bed was more comfortable than the couch, yet he shook his head in response. Instead, he slid closer to the King and leaned his head against his shoulder. Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise, a flutter of excitement in his chest at just how close he was. Alastor never initiated any sort of physical affection and, as far as he knew, wasn’t comfortable enough around him to allow for much physical contact between them. He wasn’t sure whether he should be glad that the sinner wanted to be so close to him, or worried because that was so unlike him. Either way, he seemed to relax a little, and letting him rest was the most important thing right then.

He decided to push his luck a little further, and raised a hand to gently run his fingers through the other man’s hair. He watched Alastor’s reaction carefully, ready to back off if he showed any signs of discomfort. But he didn’t. He simply closed his eyes and nestled his head against the Devil’s neck, overly-warm body slumped against his. His hair was soft, albeit tangled and slightly damp with sweat. The hand in his hair moved to one of his large, fluffy ears, slowly stroking his crimson fur. He made no attempt to move, letting his ears be petted and his head gently scratched, like the others did to Keekee. After a few minutes, the deer demon opened his eyes. There was a buzz of static in the air as he lifted his head, then suddenly sneezed, one of his ears swatting Lucifer in the face as they flicked back against his head. Alastor sniffled, then leaned against him again with a groan.

“Watch where you aim those things,” he said with no actual malice in his voice, flicking the tip of one ear. He pushed the shivering demon off of himself, keeping one hand on his shoulder to steady him because it seemed like he was barely awake. Since he decided that he was not leaving the couch, he was at least going to make himself comfortable. With a wave of his hand, Lucifer’s clothes were swapped with pajamas. Sanguine feathers spread at his sides as one pair of wings sprouted from his back. He laid down, then guided Alastor to lay with his head resting on his chest. His wings wrapped around the other, draping over the blanket that was already covering him.

Lucifer went back to stroking him behind the ears with an amused smile. A powerful Overlord like him, being treated like a harmless pet. “I never would’ve thought that you could be so clingy. You like being scratched behind the ears?” It felt a little wrong of him to enjoy this so much, but when would he get a chance to be this affectionate with him again?

“It distracts me from this headache…” he slurred out, coughing a few times. His voice sounded like it was coming from a cheap, malfunctioning speaker.

“Does cuddling with me help, too?”

There was a short pause. “Yes.” The admittance was so casual that Lucifer couldn’t help but chuckle. There was no way he would ever confess something like that if he wasn’t so out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Alastor fully knew what he was saying.

“I think you’re just delirious.”

“Maybe…” His voice trailed off like he was starting to fall asleep, so Lucifer stayed quiet. He laid awake for a while, listening to the sinner’s static-filled breathing and intermittent coughing. Then, he slowly drifted to sleep as well, his wings still comfortingly wrapped around the other.

[aspiringnexu]

Saw a post a while ago that mentioned a debate among Star Wars fans and Star Trek fans about the typical who-would-win between a Borg Cube and the Death Star.

I'll leave them to that debate because who-would-win is highly dependent on the plot anyway and that kind of debate only leads to arguments (plus I find it incredibly boring, I'd much rather debate things like the similarities and disparities between human cultures in the two universes, one with and one without Earth, that would be interesting). But what did catch my eye was a mini-debate later on with people discussing whether or not said Cube would detect the Death Star approaching, the argument being that the modes of travel in the two different universes (namely warp and hyperspace) are so different that the Cube wouldn't be able to detect the Death Star until it reverted to real space.

Which reminded me how much I love that the two travel systems are so similar and yet so different.

I won't be able to get too technical, I'm sure some fans know the exact ins and outs of both kinds of space traversal, but the fundamental difference is how the ships attain FTL, or Faster Than Light. Because otherwise space travel takes FOREVER.

In Star Trek they use impulse engines to putter about for more precision maneuvering but use warp engines to achieve FTL, the warp engines 'warping' space by making a subspace bubble around the ship and therefore insulating it from the extreme pressures of breaking normal physics. As you do.

In Star Wars they use sublight engines for the usual puttering and maneuvering but instead they rely on the hyperdrive to achieve FTL which punts the ship into hyperspace, basically a parallel dimension where ships can achieve FTL without undue stress to the ship itself.

In both cases ships can be pulled out of their warp bubbles or their hyperspace streams due to factors in normal space. In Star Wars, for example, there exist Interdictor class ships which produce massive gravity wells, similar to those of moons or any other significant cosmic body which forces ships to drop out of hyperspace in order to avoid crashing into said body. (This also makes jumping into hyperspace too close to a planetary body incredibly risky. Not impossible, mind, but there is a reason planetary governments have a minimum distance allocated for incoming and outgoing ships.) Star Wars also makes a big deal out of Hyperspace Lanes (there was an entire war fought over them at one point) which are routes that have been confirmed to be empty of any cosmic phenomena discounting the occasional asteroid that wanders in. They're used as major shipping lanes and commercial passenger transports as a result. You can, of course, elect not to use the routes but you run the risk of encountering surprises even with a navicomputer.

In Star Trek the same rules seem to apply with various cosmic phenomena able to disrupt the warp drive and pull the ship out of warp, whether it be extreme gravimetric distortions that require precision piloting to avoid or nebula too thick for the engines to filter or, really, the list goes on. Could be anything from a nebula to the glowing green hand of a supposed Greek god stopping you from going to warp.

But regardless of the actual metrics of the two kinds of space travel, I find the idea that neither ship would be expecting the other to just appear incredibly amusing.

Neither universe would have any experience with a ship that travels in a space bubble or a ship that just casually drops in from another dimension and really why focus on inter-fandom discourse when you can focus on the incidental comedy?

[sophieswundergarten]

@nobody33333333, I finally did it!!!

Alrighty, it has taken me ages to get around to finishing all of this, because of unfortunately unavoidable things, but I am done with the semester now and so ready to spew all of my thoughts on the unsuspecting audience of poor people who follow me.

So, without further ado, I present:

Sophie's Unhinged and Excessively Hyperactive Word-Vomit "Review" of Chapter 11 of S.O.S.

Ooooh, Curtain’s evil villain motivations for tipping the boys off balance is so sinister. It’s interesting, because he is using the same tactics he used on/around Nicholas when they were children. Just. The narrative parallels.

Garrison!!

She’s so funny. Even with all she’s been through, she sees right through Curtain to his theater kid core.

(It’s still really sad, though, because she doesn’t get why he’s trying to get her opinion and he keeps forcing her)

“For someone who was fine bypassing ethical standards to rush their timeline, Curtain still put a ridiculous amount of effort into aesthetics. Not that any of this would matter if his new messengers didn’t adapt to The Whisperer.” It just hits so hard, for some reason. Maybe because you can really understand the difference of perspective between her and Curtain.

Oh!! “psychics or telepaths”, we’re getting somewhere!

It makes a lot of sense that the Whisperer tech would pick that kind of thing up!! That’s so clever, and very much something Garrison would take into account. You are so good at putting these little details into it that give the story so much more dimension and open up a lot more paths for the characters to take.

Lindsey!!! Lindsey gets a part and can do things!! I’m so excited for her :) 

Aaaaand she’s got a crush on Isaac. I can’t believe you’ve gotten me extremely invested in this as soon as I got to that line. She’s so sweet, though! I’m excited to see more of her.

And you can tell Garrison is trying to be nice, even though she’s having a breakdown fifty percent of the time and doesn’t really want to deal with teenagers.

It cracks me up that they made a full model of Reynie. Why. Just, why. Did he leave some of his clothes behind? I feel like it would have been better to make one of Kate. You can’t tell me they looked at Madge and went “Yes. I am certain that Reynie, our resident soft-hearted child who’d probably cry if he saw this bird eat a live mouse, he is the one who will be most in-tune with this child. Not Kate, no. There’s no way that the girl who was raised by a circus would be the one who will volunteer to handle the actual falcon we’re about to send to them”

I’m so proud of Number Two for breaking Madge out of a terrible zoo. 10/10 No Comments, one of the best plot points I’ve seen.

Also, this Madge perspective is so cool! Omniscient narrators don’t always remember that they can do anything, but this was a fantastic usage of it.

She’s trying so hard. Madge has made no mistakes ever she’s beautiful.

MISS PERUMAL YEAH

““Oh, Hello.” replied Nicholas awkwardly, hoping that this woman, who clearly cared about Reynie, wouldn’t notice the newly destroyed dummy that happened to be wearing one of his sweater vests.” Ajasdjgadskjl What even. He’s so silly, but that is certainly not a situation you want to be in with Miss Perumal.

I’ve said it before, but the little descriptions and dialogue tags you add to the lines from the show are so good!!! Just tiny things, like calling her “the woman” and then immediately switching to “Dipika” when she introduces herself make it so incredibly amazing. You don’t have to worry at all about it being “boring” or “redundant” because people have already seen the show.

And now we’re sad again because of Milligan. I love him but he is so full of melancholy right now :( 

I love how you’ve been incorporating Mr. Benedict’s tendency to just adopt every single child into Curtain’s character. He may not be going about it properly, or for the right reasons, but he’s just as inclined to take in (abduct) children as his brother.

Isaac cameo!!

The details in how you explain all of the tech, from the Whisperer to the Waiting Room, is ingenious and thrilling to read and I am loving it!!

It just repeats people’s thoughts!! It’s not really like an AI, more of an echo chamber that can project into people’s minds, that is so neat!

Of course, Reynie is able to distance himself by thinking about Miss Perumal, that is such a good paragraph.

And the Curtain/Nicholas parallels are back again!! He’s such a contradiction; He misses his brother and wants him back, but he also can’t stand when things remind him of Nicholas. Oh boy this man needs so much therapy goodness gracious.

Good job, Reynie for being cautious!!

Oh. Oh no this is one of my least favourite bits it’s just so awkward aaahhhhhhh

“The first thing Number Two had done was quickly search Miss. Perumal’s bags for weapons, which was fine with Dipika, since she knew that Number Two wouldn’t find anything (no one ever did).” This is why she’s one of the best characters ever. I did really like the book version, of course, but I also love the way they changed her into Pink Biker Vigilante Mom.

AAAHHHH YOUR WAY OF DESCRIBING HER THOUGHTS IS SO COOL. “Dipika Perumal had met people who wanted to hurt children. She had met people who hated children, who even enjoyed hurting them. She knew what that looked like in a person, you could see it in their faces. And she could see that Mr. Benedict and his companions were not those people. But just because they didn’t enjoy hurting children didn’t mean they wouldn’t use them, and it didn’t mean they weren’t up to anything nefarious.” YES. OH MY WORD SO GOOD.

Also Mr. Benedict being like “Yes, if I tell this lady that my recently discovered twin brother is behind all of this, it will definitely give me credibility. This is the best option”

There’s something about Number Two fixating on the food as a way to enter the conversation/be sure that if something goes wrong she’ll be there that rings very true to me. She anxious about this, and she wants to protect Mr. Benedict and exert some kind of control because she couldn’t keep the house from being broken into and now they’re in the woods and she can’t keep Rhonda from wanting to quit and she couldn’t keep Miss Perumal from finding them and the only thing she can control right now is the stuff she makes with her own hands and she’s scared that she’s falling behind because of all her failures and you can feel that she just needs to do something. You do a good job of portraying that.

CAN YOU PLEASE STOP MAKING ME CRY OVER THESE CHARACTERS????? FOR FIVE SECONDS???? OH MY WORD

And poor Sticky is ashamed of admitting that he’s afraid of not being wanted, like he thinks he isn’t even worth being upset about how he’s been treated.

It’s been kind of intriguing to see Curtain’s feelings about Reynie and Sticky slowly switch.

And now we’re back to Mr. Benedict’s questionable attempts to explain himself. Why on earth would she need background for the information you just dropped on her about your brother? That certainly wasn’t something to be expected.

AKJFshad;asdfg Number Two just casually going “He’s narcoleptic, it’s fine. Please continue to enjoy your food” and the way you write Miss Perumal’s reaction!! She’s so baffled but she adapts, as she does.

Oh goodness, she thinks he’s crazy. I feel so bad for him because he’s had such awful experiences with that, but also from her perspective it’s totally justified.

I love how she initially was trying to be nice and not trigger him but immediately forgoes this to yell at him about sending children into an underground secret tunnel.

HILDEGARD

NO, OH, HILDEGARD. Sad :( 

“Garrison tried to believe that it was for the best. The helpers were happy at the Institute, which was more than she could say for herself.” Please, I will bake you muffins if you stop destroying me like this :((((

AND SHE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS THAT SHE’S HURT PEOPLE (And herself) IN THE PAST. BUT SHE CAN’T REMEMBER.

Oh my. He feels so guilty about how they might have hurt Milligan. And he’s so alone in that.

AND SHE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS THAT SHE’S HURT PEOPLE (And herself) IN THE PAST. BUT SHE CAN’T REMEMBER.

Oh my. He feels so guilty about how they might have hurt Milligan. And he’s so alone in that.

She knows!! She sees the button and that whole paragraph looking into how she feels about the situation and how she fought Curtain to avoid brainsweeping the children is bone-chilling I don’t know how you managed to make us feel that way when I know what’s going to happen it’s nuts how good at this you are.

Their decaying dynamic is driving me up a wall. She doesn’t get why Curtain cares about her, but she’s using it to her advantage, all the while Curtain’s still manipulating her, but he’s trying to do it in the least malicious way possible. (And he’s failing)

“the shock of Curtain realizing the situation she was imagining. A world where they were actually held accountable for what they were doing.”

Garrison’s little dive into Curtain’s weird delusions is very interesting. He really is unsettling, because he isn’t some mastermind who spends all his time distracting people from his real intentions, he’s spending just as much time trying to convince himself of what he’s telling others that he can’t see clearly anymore.

I really appreciate how you give Miss Perumal her own opinions and personality, but you keep her thoughts directed at Reynie. That’s a tough balance.

The narrative tension in the details of how Dipika leaves thinking that Mr. B and Co aren’t intentionally hurting people, but should be stopped nonetheless, and she doesn’t see how badly she’s shaken him is so good!!

More Perumal backstory!!!

SQ!!!!

Oh, this is one of my favourite scenes in the show, just for the lines and the mirror shots and everything, I’m so excited to see your take

Aw yeah, this is brilliant.

Let him go to college!!!! Let him do the things!! Let him do his art!!!

He wants his dad to be proud!! He’s trying so hard to frame it positively, but Curtain’s a wacko and he isn’t going to let him :( 

Let him have his confidence!! He could so definitely do it, I’m so sad :(

Garrison: “Hmm, I’m going to have a look at my readings, so I can maybe hypothesise about how I could possibly find the child” The Readings: “She was in your lab, you weirdo”

Wait. WHAT????? WHAT IS THIS, BODS????? EXCUSE ME???? I MEAN, I KNOW THIS FIC IS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT BUT WHAT????? I DIDN’T EXPECT THAT TO COME OUT OF NOWHERE AND HIT ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS

Please don’t go and put your liver in jeopardy again, Doc. I don’t think anyone can take much more of that.

AJKSFhakjsgh You always manage to come swinging out of the blue with your chapter conclusions. Goodness. I think I need to go sit down, but I still have another chapter to read and I don’t know if I can wait!!

[eccentrickleptomaniac]

i still think about countryhumans btw its mostly just worldbuilding shit now. i love worldbuilding

[couldbebetterforsure]

I know Engage is almost upon us but thanks to you being gone for so long we never got to hear your thoughts on 3H! So……….character rankings👀👀👀👀👀👀 thoughts on the game itself👀👀👀👀👀

My dear Anon, I'm so sorry I took so long to answer this ask, especially since Engage is released now! But yeah, it's a shame I never did get a chance to state my thoughts on 3H so I might as well get into here! Better late than never, right? Also, I'm actually kinda glad I'm only getting to it now, since I feel like I've had a good amount of time to really get my thoughts together. Certain opinions I have are pretty different compared to what I would've said had you asked me my thoughts a few weeks after release or even within the first year I was part of the fandom! Also, for the sake of trying not to let this post show up in certain character tags, I’m gonna try to avoid name dropping characters.

Overall Thoughts

Despite all the discourse and nonsense of the past few years, I really did enjoy my time in Fodlan! I got the game on day one and I’ve logged several hundred hours into it! I have two completed save files for each of the four routes, one no recruit run and one recruit everyone run. I recently started up a meme run for the Blue Lions where I’m gonna have everyone specialize in weaknesses only/whatever their stats mesh the worst with. For my own sanity I’m just gonna stick with the Lions and the Church folk only for this run or I’ll drive myself nuts trying to work on this with everybody! But maybe I’ll do separate meme runs for the other routes in the future? Anyways, back to the point. I think the story was overall enjoyable but I felt like there was too much left unsaid or left “up to interpretation” instead of stated outright, which ended up fueling a fair amount of discourse to this very day. And that did sour my overall experience. But I enjoyed a fair number of the characters. Though I think I’ve made it clear by now I’m a Blue Lions fan so they’re my babies! Hopes was similar in that I had a fun time and, this is coming from someone who DOES like our dear mercenary friend Billy, I think I enjoyed how our Hopes mercenary friend was handled better (at least character wise, plot wise it could’ve been better). I don’t know, I just don’t think Billy was used well as a “silent protagonist”, and personally I don’t think silent protagonists work well in Fire Emblem games. My only big issue with Hopes is the weird choices they made when it comes to portraying certain characters or how far they wanted to go just to make certain other characters look good or innocent or whatever.

Gameplay Thoughts

I’m a character girl first so gameplay isn’t really what I care much about but I do still have some thoughts. I really like that you can make any unit into almost any class! Sucks they still have some gender locked classes though, but it’s super fun to try out new things. And, like I brought up earlier, it makes for some great meme/challenge runs! I have mixed feelings on the exploring the monastery section in that it felt like too much and too little at once. Too much in that there’s a ton of space to explore but too little in that I feel like much of that space doesn’t really get used so I just feel like I’m walking around for no real reason. And in my no recruit runs I really got hit post timeskip with how EMPTY it was. I also felt like the calendar mechanic seemed kinda...pointless? Well, I guess more that it didn’t seem to work well. Gambits and battling the monsters was fun enough. For Hopes specifically, it was my first dip into a Warriors style game since the other FEW game didn’t get my attention, and I really had a ton of fun with it! It’s fun trying out everyone’s different fighting styles and getting used to them. Plus there’s something weirdly relaxing about just running around kicking the asses of crowds of mooks. Though I felt like support grinding was even more tedious in Hopes than in 3H...

Route Related Thoughts

I felt that AM and AG were the strongest written routes of 3H and Hopes respectively. While I do have certain issues with both (particularly a certain endgame decision in the AG route), I think focusing on the characters most and making the lore take a backseat made everything far more powerful and enjoyable. These routes take the most after classic Fire Emblem stories but I don’t see it as a bad thing at all! I liked that each of the Lions were interesting takes on classic Fire Emblem tropes. The growth of our complex and sympathetic leader, the interesting deconstruction and reconstruction of classic Fire Emblem stories and characters, and possibly the best use of Billy in the story really made AM work well! As for AG, it’s much of the same, but with the added bonus of having the other Lions taking more active roles in the plot. Plus I really enjoyed the chemistry between a certain Savior King and purple haired mercenary, which much like with Billy, really worked well with the story by making me connect with the bond between characters first.

VW is a route I consider kinda okay. As someone who usually enjoys lore stuff, I just found this route boring. It didn’t help that I felt a lot of the story beats seemed tacked on. Especially the end boss. Honestly the only saving grace for this route for me was that I found the Deer as characters, especially their charismatic leader, to be really likable! On the other hand we have GW. I’ve seen numerous people put their thoughts in on why this route fails and personally that is my own opinion too. It has a pretty interesting start but then decides to take both the story and the characters in such bizarre and frankly just plain stupid directions that I couldn’t wait to finish the route out of pure frustration. It also turned the main lord from someone who I really liked in 3H to someone who I couldn’t STAND in Hopes. It’s a miracle it didn’t permanently negatively impact my view of the guy.

CF was....well I’ll definitely try to limit my thoughts here for my own sake. But basically I found I enjoyed it most when I decided to turn my brain off and just entertained myself with all the different angst options it offers. But yeah, it’s a route where sometimes I just didn’t know what sort of tone they wanted to go for or how they wanted me to take certain moments. It didn’t help that sometimes the mood would change so suddenly I was left just being like “huh????” CF came across as a route where there were several ideas that could’ve been interesting or certain plot points that you’d think would be tackled as it’d make the most sense right? But those moments are either not used to their full potential or passed over with no rhyme or reason. The less I say about the route’s center of controversy leader, the better but I originally found her enjoyable in theory rather in practice as a result of said missed potential, but nowadays I can’t stand her much. But that’s mostly thanks to a very frustrating (to put it politely) portion of her fanbase. SB was pretty much more of the same so my thoughts on CF apply here too. One thing I will say is that the finale made me actually laugh out loud. If someone had told me how SB route ended before I played it myself, I’d take it for a silly meme you’d usually find in fandoms. But nope, that’s actually how the writers chose to have it end...Incredible...

I can’t believe I almost forgot SS....But that basically is the issue isn’t it. I think SS as a route suffers from not having a certain Archbishop take the lord role over. And it doesn’t help that it and VW share the majority of story beats. I heard some mention the SS’s final boss and VW’s should be swapped and personally? With a few other story changes I agree that it’s probably work much better that way! Sorry this paragraph is so short compared to what I said for the other routes but I don’t really have many thoughts on SS compared to the others. I think it does it’s job fine enough and, while I don’t care for how it did it’s final boss, I at least enjoyed it better than VW’s.

Character Ranking

I found a tier list that included 3H and Hopes characters so I didn't have to make two separate ones, so here's my character rankings! I feel like they're basically self explanatory but if you have any questions about any of my rankings, just ask and I'll be happy to explain! Also you'll notice a couple of characters I used both the 3H and the Hopes version of in the list. That was only for major characters for who my opinion was DRASTICALLY different for one game versus the other. Otherwise these rankings match my opinion of the character as a result of both games (but primarily 3H to be honest)!

[lov3islikeastar]

.

[screampied]

RIDIN' DIRTY ?!

⋆˚. sum. you never realized how hot your local mechanic was until he had you arched and bent over your hood. spoiler fucking alert, you end up getting a different kind of pipe that’s of course free of charge just for you.

warnings. fem! reader, mechanic toji, unprotected, degradation, oral (f! receiving), spıt, breēding, shotgunning, fuckıng you on the hood, praise, manhandling, pússywhipped toji, size kink, biting, brief fıngering, petnames.

wc. 5.3k

an. ty kali for beta'ing some x

“she’s all done, ma’am,” your mechanic toji murmurs in a gruff voice, yanking back your stick shift before putting it in park. he drove it near the garage of his auto shop, a rounded plump cigarette sticking from the corner of his mouth. with a yawn departing from his lips, he eyes you up and down for a bit before removing his seatbelt. stepping out, he then towers over you by many, many staggering inches. his silhouette alone was intimidating, and you shift your dilated irises away once he cocks his head to your level. “still in pretty good shape. y’er model ain’t that old ‘n i think you should visit every few weeks.”

compressing your thighs together, you bury your purse underneath the pit of your arm. “oh, okay thank you sir,” and as he’s standing—you then take a good glimpse at the man in front of you. he’s handsome, sweaty, and covered in nothing but a slick sheet of grease. the more you gawk, the more you could see a bit of curly chest hair poke out against his skin. his broad chest, his perky pink nipples that poked-

“heh, darlin’ ya don’t gotta be so formal, y’know,” and your eyes darted toward his work cap that was slightly twisted. god, he was so attractive. he inches toward you closer, watching you struggle to keep composure before you think he’s gonna kiss you. so what do you do, you close your eyes. you close your fucking eyes, thinking he was gonna kiss you but instead, he places a hand on the hood of your car. “oh? silly girl, were you expectin’ something?”

“n- no.”

yeah, you were.

it was late at night, midnight, and everyone had clocked out for the day.

everyone except toji. he was a workaholic. you needed a last minute oil change and he was the only available one near by. he was about to close but made an exception. the auto shop has a cooling air surrounding the inside of the garage before you swallow. you can hear your saliva trail its way down your throat as you finally meet direct eye contact with the older man. “cute,” toji murmurs, and he’s not even touching you. he’s not even touching you but it felt like it. despite his teasing, you get hit face first with a strong waft of his scent. his cologne, you knew the exact type he was wearing. cheap, but long lasting against anyone’s nostrils who takes a first whiff. “it’s been a while since y’er last oil change though, i’d be lyin’ if i said i didn’t miss ya.”

with a quirk of a brow, you murmur up at him, deciding why not to play along. you knew he was most likely teasing but still. “you missed … me?”

“sure,” toji removes his baseball cap, fanning it against the sweat glistening off his bulging muscles that poke through his perfectly sculpted body. he was so fit, you couldn’t help but openly leer at his broad, intense figure. with a sly smile, he leans against your car before humming, taking another hit of his cigar. “not too many pretty faces show up ‘round here. besides, i didn’t forget about our little moment last time.”

your breath gets caught in the back of your throat.

he remembered,

he remembered the little incident the two of you shared. when you came for your last oil change and a battery repair, you also ended up sharing a kiss with toji. it was nothing more, nothing less.

but it was hot, having his tongue shoved down your throat with his big rough hands roaming along the sides of your body. being so pressed up against him, you felt yourself longing for more. in your city, toji was the best mechanic for miles. he we well known, quick, precise, and quite flirty.

you brought out the worst in him that day, and it annoyed you how the steamy, sultry kiss got interrupted by his boss. shiu … something, rich raven hair mirroring the same color as his worker.

“oh y- yeah.” you sheepishly mumble, feeling the tension through the air run thick. you loathed desperately how whenever you were around toji, your stammer would make an appearance. you hated it, it was so embarrassing and he ate it up everytime. toji’s sly gaze lowers and he titters at the cute pullover and skirt you wore before your own eyes trail toward his lips.

his lips,

they were naturally crooked — pink, and that damn slanted scar that remained to slash against the right side of his mouth. you peeped a bit of a growing stubble, but nevertheless he was always well trimmed. toji flashed a grin before he got way close to you. kneeling his head down, he whispers toward you. “oh y- yeah,” he mocks your trembling tone, and he was so close that his musk, his body heat radiates off you completely. “somethin’ tellin’ me you came here for more than just an oil change, that right, baby?”

your heart’s pulsing intensifies at his cunning words. always cutting straight to the chase. he’s so up close, his cologne’s just clogging up your nose by now before your thighs squeeze themselves shut. “yes.”

“yes what, darlin’?” and there’s a hint of jibe in his voice. the moment he grabs your chin gently, you’re ready to lose it right there. toji’s wearing mechanic gloves, the soft padded leather pulling down on your bottom lip playfully. with a coy head tilt, he purses your lips a bit more open. “ah, c’mon. use those pretty words, tell me what ya want.”

your legs, the crevices between them were already starting to slick with moisture.

oh, this couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing. as you meet his jade green eyes, you reply with a tone that comes out far more needy than you originally intended. “i want .. i want you, toji.”

there’s a frisky, playful glint in his eye—as well as the tiny crinkle forming at each twist of his facial expressions. “yeah you do,” and his words were pitched deep, so deep that the timbre lingering underneath his tone sends your spine shivers. “more than a kiss? i’ll hafta charge ya extra, heh.”

still . . it was humor in his voice, you knew he was joking but the heat purring between your thighs only grew. your body was screaming at you, it’s been a while since your last time anyway, the last time you’ve been touched. 

with a nod, murmuring out a faint little, “more than a kiss, ‘toj,” he snickers, closing the awkward distance between you two finally.

the moment his lips crash against yours, everything feels hot. scorching hot — similar to the sahara, his tongue being the water you needed to cool down. the leftover smoke and booze that lingered on his tongue was strong, the second it glided against your buds it tasted stronger. you could feel his smirk creeping against his lips before with two hands, he lifts you up, propping you to sit on the hood of your car. 

it was madly aggressive - teeth clashing, tongues twisting, one taste again and he was addicted.

he made sure to take out his cigarette before hand, squeezing it against his fingers as he’s gradually grinding his hips by you. it’s slow, you could feel his raging boner prod right through his work pants.

it was hard to miss, you couldn’t help but give him a few nosy peeks which he was working on your car to see if he was a packer and he definitely was.

sticky strands of his hair tickle against your forehead as he’s rutting right in you. a free hand makes its way onto your left thigh, slowly dancing his fingers amongst your skin. the moment your legs entrap his slim waist, locking around his torso, he grunts. both lashes were close to touching, breaths were becoming heavy, and you felt his tongue curl around yours. toji was a sloppy yet passionate kisser, and yet— he wanted his tongue to work in other ways. 

and it did, 

your jaw drops open as you’re laid flat on your back, staring at the man with his face shoved deep between your thighs. toji sprawls open your legs, delving his long tongue inside of your slick entrance to get a sweet taste.

gradually, his tongue dips all around your cunt, creating a little swirl before he feels your body twitch in rapture.

“t- tojiiii,” you whine, feeling a bit paranoid at how anyone could just see the two of you.

sure, you were both in a securely locked garage ( at least you hoped ) —but, anyone could just walk in. walk in and see you having your pussy being devoured by one of the most top known mechanics in the city. if you’d have given a rating on his pussy eating skills, it’d be five stars without question. 

he was always so nasty with it— occasionally, with his now bare fingers from removing his gloves, he slides a thumb down your slick.

“look at her, she’s fuckin’ sloppy,” he whispers against your cunt — his warm breath brushes near your folds and you whimper. your voice echoes raw out your throat, ringing through the spacey walls of his garage. this was far better than just an oil change, you were thinking. so so better,

as toji’s still swiping a tongue against your entrance in a circular rotation—nose deep, speaking of nose, it starts to rummage its way against your nub. you gag out a gasp, nearly choking from how out of breath you were with your legs shaking tremendously. with your teeth shattering, he nibbles against your clit, staring you dead in the eyes. “mmf, ‘s fuckin’ good. how generous of you though,” he coos in a gruff tone, easing a single digit inside of your slippery core. “haven’t ate all day ‘n this meal ‘s just what i needed darlin, heh.”

toji’s charisma was simply unmatched.

it was something about him being face first between your legs that made him ten times more attractive.

his hair, it was a bit lengthy but not too much. he grew it out the last time you saw him. a bit of a wolf cut but was neatly trimmed toward his shoulders. it’s rough and unkempt, dark black bangs still running down his eyes. every few seconds, he’s got to whip his head back in vex so his vision isn’t occluded. 

“hnnggh, right there toji. pleaseplease.” you babble out in desperate cries, swallowing your own pathetic pity before savoring the honeyed taste.

a whimper rips out of your throat to where it sounds similar to a gargle. his tongue knows just the right spots to reach. your clitoral hood, he loved to suck on it until that cute scream snatches from your esophagus.

“never tasted a girl so sweet ‘n all my years,” he groans, a single finger still shoved inside. it’s stretching you out more and your back arches against the warm hood of your vehicle.

from side to side,

his head moves and shifts and shakes and you’re about to lose it. in fact, you were already losing it, feeling your legs turn into complete mush. jello even, they felt nonexistent thanks to his sloppy tongue.

whilst he’s buried right between your thighs, the mechanic’s got the smuggest grin that you just wanted to wipe right off his face. 

toji’s so pent up and aroused—he works a regular six to twelve hour shift, it was almost the same situation for you. he can’t remember the last time he’s been … active, albeit he was exhausted. and yet it seemed as if your precious, slick cunt gave him all the needed battery to fuel his energy right back up.

a husky growl vibrates against your pussy and you whine as a hand combs its way into his hair. in the process, your fingers tangle against his strands. your digits - all five of them stroke through his scalp before giving it a brief tug. 

“kinky ‘lil slut, huh,” he grunts, head yanking forward towards your thighs. toji hated the fact that it turned him on. a lot, so much so that his dick twitches in his wrangler rigg jeans. as he’s got you still laid against your parked car, he slurps against your cunt - feeling you pulse right into his mouth. “there’s that cute heartbeat, she wants so much fuckin’ attention today.”

“t- toji, ‘m gonna cum,” you moan, his low words only pushing you further to the edge. barred big hands cling against both sides of your thighs. no longer having a finger inside, he firmly grabs your leg.

you’re quavering,

seeing nothing but splotches of snowy white as he’s slurping up your cunt like a hot dish of pasta. “c- cum, fuck ‘m gonna cum, y- your tongue ‘s goodddd.”

with a low hoarsely chortle, he hums. “careful, doll. cum ‘n i’ll have to add a bit of tax to your bill. plus an extra fee for heh, grease.”

you stare at him with a cute confused expression and he snickers. “aw, ‘m joking, don’t gimme that look,” and with warm lips pressing against your cunt, you mewl out a desperate, shrilling whine.

as the seconds go on, you’re steadily being brung to the teetering orgasmic edge. with your hips bucking against his face, he’s grabbing ahold of waist with his tongue exploring the inner caves of your delicious cunt.

your nub, he continues to flick against it, making your body jerk back against the unmoving vehicle. you whimper and whimper before he shoots you a teasing smile, whistling against your folds. “use those words, darlin’. use ‘em ‘n tell me what you want, yeah.”

“wanna cum- wanna c-cum,” you breathe, feeling the shiver in your jaw. even still, you’re wisping fingers into his strands, gripping it tightly before you’re grinding your cunt against his face.

a snail-like trail of your own clear slick runs down his chin. oh, with the way he slowly pulls his head up to smirk at you, you just wanted to kiss him again. your body’s hanging onto its last and final hinges before you’re spasming, feeling him swat a palm against your pussy thrice. “ngh, toji. wanna cum. please, need it. n- need to cum.”

“i’d beg to differ,” he groans, reaching for the hem of his pants - pulling the heavy piece of clothing down. his dick alone had a bit of weight to it and with murky-like irises, you gawk openly.

with a hand going inside of his pants, he lets off a guttural groan, starting to stroke himself off. a few solid pumps and he’s already sucking his teeth at the almost unbearable friction.

“fuck, y- you don’t ‘need’ shit, little girl,” and he’s multitasking. one hand focusing on your thigh and another on his cock. he’s so hard, he’s so fucking hard and the moving you’re doing against his body - the grinding, it doesn’t make it any better. with a mean slap, he spanks your cunt again before spitting near your folds. “you need it, you need ‘ta cum. right darlin’?”

“y- yes,” you hiccup, white noise deafening your ears continuously. the loooooong, sleazy slurps of his tongue makes you rock more into his mouth, nearly pulling out his strands with your rough, hard grip.

the more you tug and pull against his hair, the more it turns him on. his cock throbs whilst a long vein runs through the very side of his shaft. the center of toji’s thumb brushes against his peeling brief foreskin. “need, i need to cum. please.” you correct yourself, in hopes that he’d let you succumb to your nirvana-filled release.

as your fingers continue to fish through his hair, gathering a nice hold, he starts to make out with your folds. the squelches, they were singing out a cacophony of sloppy sounds. you’re sopping wet so good for him to where your cunt’s just voluntarily cascading on his mouth—cascading down his chin.

with ease, you even drench his stubble with your slick - happily. “go ‘head girl,” he grunts, gazing hungrily at the concoction of strings departing. cobwebs of his saliva mixing along with strings of your slick makes him groan. what a mess. a mess and you were the biggest one possible.

once you come undone, everything’s so hazy. your legs jitter in exhilaration, moaning loudly from the intense palpitation. he licks you clean, lapping up your flavorful juices with his tongue before feeling a few spurts of his own cum paint against his palm. “f- fuck, pretty,” he grunts, each stroke against his hard cock making him grind his teeth together. his jaw tightens, realizing he’d just came with you - all from eating you out. you were shaking still, your climax making your vision turn into a rainbow of color. your eyelids, all you saw was a plethora of colorful tints, slowly jerking your hips forward until you couldn’t anymore. as you move, he guides you to ride out your orgasm, ride it out all on his face. “thaaaat’s it, gimme all of y’er taste, mhm.”

it lasts for seconds, seconds that felt like long, never ending hours. with a sweet elongated battle cry of your own that’s in reality replaced with an ear shattering orgasm, you slump back against your vehicle. 

“such a good girl,” he murmurs, getting up and it’s a concise soreness in his thighs from bending down for that duration of a time. inhaling a breath of fresh air, he inches toward your face. “heh, you look so dumb,” he teases at your state. indeed you were, his tongue had you feral and craving for more. you were still throbbing, his body heat closing the remaining spacey inches between you both before he grabs your chin. “want a taste, do ya?”

“y- yes,” you nod, your own breathing betraying you with how you struggle to maintain easy, singlular breaths.

toji pops his cigarette back into his mouth before taking a long, deep inhale. the smoke burns, and he aligns his dick up against your drooling slit. he didn’t have to do much moving, the skirt you wore made it easy for him to lift the thin piece of fabric up for access. you glance down, and he was so big.

veiny, a heavy fat cock with an even heavier fat base. as the end of the lit cigarette sticks between his teeth, his brows contorts into a furrow. 

toji coos quietly, the mushroom-tip of his dick sweltering inside against your warm heated core. “open wide, babygirl,” he huffs, a thumb peeling down your lip once more. his eye contact had your pussy twitching profusely. it was so intimate, you felt the arising tension reach its peak. not even hesitating, you part your lips open, leaving your mouth open ajar for him. “good. nice ‘n wide for toji,” he refers to himself and you watch with doe eyes as he blows an airy puff of smoke right into your mouth. tepid lips hover against your own, and he’s so close that he can almost smell your longing arousal. you moan at the feeling of his tip easing its way into your cunt, creating squelchy sloshing sounds of acceptance. “there we go baby, nice ‘n easy.” he whispers, and toji finally kisses you. 

you moan, feeling his dick breeze its way into your sopping cunt, the stretch already presenting itself toward your walls. it’s a tight stretch and you moan, throbbing from the way you’re opening up for him. as the friction sets against your twitching muscle, you whine, running your tongue down his to taste the brewing variations of saliva and smoke into your mouth. it’s so sloppy, his tongue game was just improperly risqué. 

fithly, coarse..

with your ass sitting directly on the cool running hood of your vehicle, he’s continuing to drive his dick straight into you.

you moan as his lips attack against yours, savoring your candied flavor. it was something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. toji’s body - it was broad and big. as he towers over your frame, he starts to thrust a bit forward.

“ughh,” he bites down on your lip, dark mean eyes meeting yours as he then opens them.

the stretch had you gasping for air once his lips shortly break away. already, you missed them. he sees the pout and he chuckles before his head tosses itself back. as his lips pull away, strands of spit abruptly leave, saying its goodbyes to each mouth. “so fuckin’ — shit.” he swears, so lost in your swallowing walls that he forgets his initial sentence. 

already, his eyes were starting to flicker back.

rolling back,

it was sexy to witness, especially up close. toji’s cock dives into your cunt further and further before finally, he bottoms out. once he’s reached the hilt - the very hilt, you whine, throwing your arms over his tense shoulders carelessly.

“fuck me, f- fuck me, toji. please.” you stammer out in pathetic babbles, the repetitive twitch in your pussy making him all the more harder. your pleas almost fall on deaf ears before you feel the veins pulse down his cock. it spasms inside you and if you weren’t as wet before, you were certainly wet now.

he’s just so hard, your walls grip and envelope around his length as you bite on his shoulder. 

“didn’t know we’re on bitin’ terms now, heh,” he attempts to joke, one hand gently squeezing onto your waist. his touch, you never failed to lean into his touch. with a needy gasp, his hefty dick tucks its way into the insides of your cunt. your goopy walls squelch and squelch, shrieking out a lewd harmony of wails. you’re so wet - already, his base starts to get painted from your slick. you moan, licking a stripe near the crook up neck. he snickers, feeling the moisture of your tongue collide against his skin. “jus’ so fuckin’ hot,” he gruffs, staring at your already fucked dumb expression. “mhm, such a nasty girl. havin’ me fuck ya on y’er car.”

he’s stretching you out so good, its as if your cunt was a gymnast — easily bending and breaking, stretching in and out. toji’s dick was fat - the foreskin that’s glued against his tip stimulates the insides of your wet core. you whine once more, clinging onto his beefy body as he’s fucking you on the hood.

pitiful babbles of mercy whisper in his ears, your ankles and heels brushing alongside the red lines of his back. toji was sweating a lot more from the constant moving — you, your body jolting up against your car and his sharp, deadly hits going in and out of you. each piston has you weak, stupid even.

despite his mechanic scented musk with a sprinkle of inexpensive cologne, it was still alluring to you. you throbbed as he continued to jerk his hips against the same spot. your toes, all five of them on both feet curl in awe before you start to spasm.

“y- yes, please. right there, right there tojiiii.” and you probably sounded so pathetic but you could care less. your face was all scrunched up and twisting in blissful pleasure as he’s plunging into you at full force. his rhythm, his pace . . it was ruthless. 

safe to say, you were addicted.

cock drunk, easy - just like that. with a secure grip still on your hip, he’s reeling you back with such ease. strands of saliva starts to pour out from the side corners of your mouth and he slyly smiles. “oh, you just wanna be a messy customer today, huh. such a mess,” and with a flick of his thumb, he swipes your spit clean. he does this only to pop the same finger into his mouth, relishing in your glacé, syrupy taste. “so sweet, ‘m gonna need more though.”

your knees embarrassingly buckle. your weeping cunt sobs for more and more as his mean, degrading thrusts is just leaving you utterly dumbfounded. your mouth was open, tiny little pants of air escaping out into the form of a mere croak. toji’s weighty dick thoroughly plummets into your insides with all of his might to where you’re already visibly stupid.

each mocking thrust makes your stomach churn. he’s so deep, his tip located in every area. you’re stretched, worn thin, and the minute his cockhead greets your cervix with a french kiss, you shriek sweetly.

“oh my g- goddd, there please, toji, tojiiii,” and you were just babbling out anything at this point.

it was adorable, every few seconds, the mechanic had to swipe the back of his hand against his forehead. the remaining few droplets of perspiration that resided underneath his bangs was a lot. as beads of sweat race down his face, sable irises meeting your dumbed down state and you moan, nails now clawing into his shoulders. “f- fuck, ‘s good. ‘s fuckin’ big.”

“big just for you, baby,” he groans against your ear - the fat of his balls mashing against your entrance making you dizzy. you’re about to break again, the smell in the air was almost potent.

with his cologne, the mixture of his sweat, and the burning hot gas fumes of your car, you felt like you were floating. your cunt was being stuffed with delirious inches of cock and you wouldn’t have it any other way. toji grabs your chin, pressing a wet kiss against your mouth before his tempo accelerates. “shittt, grippin’ on me so good, ‘m gonna cum, darlin’.”

at his throaty words, you meet his eyes before burying your face into his neck for about the nth time again. the only words he could hear you whine into his neck was, “inside, inside me, ‘toj.”

“so y’er a creampieee kinda girl,” he sneers in amusement - watching as you’re slowly being taken to your inevitable rapturous rapture.

you’re whimpering, taking in each of his deep, pivotal strokes. toji brings his hands toward your waistline, skimming his fingertips against the curvature before nibbling on your earlobe. “careful, sweets... ‘s gonna be a nice big load. can ya be a good girl ‘n take that much? don’t wanna give ya too much of a full, heh.”

if it wasn’t for his puns — you’d smack him, but you were too cock drunk to think, let alone comprehend. 

“i can take it,” you nod desperately, a cute tremor in your voice as you’re making haste with your own hips against his. everything’s so sharp. “fuck, f- fuck me, right there.”

toji found it cute how repetitive your sweet nothings were - the same endless chatter flowing past your lips. “yeahhh.” he jibes, although his words were in the form of a question. you grab against his wrist while your slippery soaked cunt braces for the parching, hot fill.

three thrusts, 

three slow deep thrusts and he was at his peak. leisurely, as toji’s cock deeply into the pits of you, almost reaching your tummy - you feel a few hot spurts shoot into you raw. toji groans, his voice echoing through the garage. he was whipped. your expression was so cute, hooded droopy eyes and an abashed little grin.

his swollen fat tip was downright rude with the way it scrapes against your pussy, thrashing all inside as if it knows the place.

it’s so much, colossal big hands of his grab onto your thigh, and he leans in to gently pierce his teeth into your skin. sucking against your tender flesh, like honey—like nectar, he grunts his own gruff climax into your shoulder. 

his voice was low - his adam’s apple bobs at his actions, feeling an unforeseeable wave crash over him at once. it’s intense and he’s just eating up your delicious fervor that was right in front of him.

“t- toji,” you breathe, your arms still slung over his shoulders. easily, he’s jerking away from attentions.

toji wasn’t fully thrusting anymore, but he still had a decent pace of pumps. his fresh, warm cum emits into your cunt like how a volcano erupts. gushing into you, it’s hot and thick like lava, warm and sticky like magma.

you were chasing your breaths but failed to surpass them in the fictitious lewd race. it’s so hot inside, you were almost positive a few slimy spurts of toji’s cum exudes up on the hood of your car. you’ve never felt so full, his chest heaves and yours deflates in harmony. 

with both bodies were in sync and casual harmony, he grunts before leaning in to kiss you. his now flaccid dick was just idly inside of your swollen, greedy cunt. throbbing even still, you rub the backs of your ankles behind his slim waist before tilting your head back. the kiss was far more passionate this time.

if you knew mechanics fucked this good, maybe, just maybe you’d come for an oil change more often.

except, toji didn’t just add the new oil into the engine of your car, he added his own new oil into your sopping, drenched cunt. 

“fuck, baby,” he groans, feverish breaths titillating against the inner areas of your neck.

you pulse from any movement he makes, clinging onto him tightly like a koala. he has a flashy half girn, slowly pulling out his dick to see the mess. your cunt was overflowed to the max - so much cum, so so much. 

toji licks his lips, the tip of it grazing against his fleshed scar as he peers at your pussy’s opening. the way your entrance slowly spitting out his thick, velvety ropes of cum due to its fullness makes him grunt.

inside, it was lukewarm—oozing out of your entrance before you lean back against your hood. “mhm, ‘s still pourin’ out. guess i was so pent up from today, barely had any time to jerk off.”

“i didn’t have to know that.” you huff at his teasing, trying to catch your breaths. your full lungs felt like they were about to collapse. 

toji helps you off your car - although, he wanted more and so did you. surprisingly, he even cleans the hood off for you. as you’re back on your feet, sore and all, he asks for your number. “you’re gonna ask me out or something?”

“maybe, hold still darlin,” and your interest peaked, wondering why he wanted you to be still.

you turn, heaving a bit of shifting before toji bends down. you shudder a bit, feeling what feels like a cold marker starting to drag and scrape down against the right cheek of your ass. you could hear low, raspy laughter as he’s writing on your rear. with a pout, you wait as he’s continuing to write what you assume to be his number onto your skin with a sharpie.

the smell smolders against your nose quickly before he finishes, popping the black cap into his mouth. “there, call me after the hours of,” and he pauses, glancing at his watch. “hm, eleven pm.”

“thank you….” you murmur, that simple action making you throb again before your eye twitches. you make your way towards your car and then you feel a breeze through your legs. eyes widening, you turn towards the mechanic. “um- my panties? i kind of need them.”

with a sly grin, he pulls his work jeans back up before humming. “um, you kind of don’t,” he mocks your sentence, and you almost moan at the feeling of his hand squeezing your ass. toji then spanks it, the sharpie marker of his number imprinted on your skin slightly smearing against his palm.

“darlin, consider y’er panties as payment. ‘s on the house,” and you gulp, meeting his viridescent, green eyes. he looked hungry for more - that natural smirk compressing against his lips never once fading. toji brushes a thumb against your cheek before leaning against your car. “come back anytime for a fill.”

he hums cheekily at you through the mirror, closing your car door once you get in, starting the ignition. with your panties in hand, he shoots you a nod. “i’ll make it extra creamy next time. no charge, baby.”

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)