#instead of someone just making a helmet that looks less stupid? why is this the worst future. i know why but for fuck's sake.

[unpretty]

the first guy to sell some kind of daft punk helmet you can stick your dumbass vr goggles inside of to hide your shame and distribute the weight is going to make so much fucking money

[dc-posting]

Young Tim who makes kandi/friendship bracelets for Robin and Batman (mostly Robin, he just doesn’t want Batman to feel left out) and leaves them in the Bats’ most common brooding/surveillance spots.

He does this for years, perfecting his craft. He makes bracelets with multiple chains, his beads get higher quality, his finishings improve (he learns that gluing the knot and trimming down the string is better than just tying it off and cutting it down.) and he loves to make bracelets for the two Robins, and for Nightwing, when Robin I eventually becomes his own hero.

When Jason dies, Tim sneaks over to leave kandi at his grave, nothing that would incriminate him as Robin, just things Tim thinks he would like. Kandi strung in his favourite colours, a cuff with a quote from his favourite book, intricate designs woven with pieces of Tim’s heart and his sorrow for his favourite Robin, his hero.

They’re cleared away often, but Tim replaces them with new kandi diligently.

He also turns Robin II’s favourite gargoyle into a mini shrine, bracelets and kandi chains decorating the stone high above Gotham’s streets, dedicated to his hero.

When Jason arrives to the tower, ready to break his replacement’s wings, he instead finds a sixteen year old boy sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes of beads. He has a tray in front of him, a design laid out that he is carefully transferring one by one onto the elastic string.

“Stupid Bruce clearing the stupid grave.” He mutters angrily, tying off the bracelet. “Have to replace these every other week.” He adds a dollop of glue, ties the string again, adds another bit of glue, and then sets the piece down to dry. Jason watches as he carefully manoeuvres the glued knot to rest in one of the beads, ensuring that’s its secured to itself as well as to the bead.

He would be impressed by the attention to detail if he wasn’t currently processing that Tim fucking Drake is Robin’s stalker.

He thinks back to his room at the manor, at least fifty bracelets for Robin II found on rooftops (and once, on the passenger seat of the Batmobile. God, the look on Bruce’s face.) stored securely in a plastic box at the very back of his closet. His most prized possessions. He knows Dick has one just like it.

Whatever plans for revenge being enacted through the vessel of his replacement are immediately scrapped.

“Those for me?” He asks, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms.

Tim whips around, beads clattering off the bracelet he was carefully stringing together.

“Not unless you’re my neighbour’s dead son.” He shoots back, tone aiming for joking, scrambling for his staff. Play cool, play cool.

Jason barely thinks for a moment before he removes his helmet. He peels off the domino mask, wincing as it pulls slightly.

“Uh…” Tim stalls, staff at the ready.

“You left me bracelets, all around Gotham. For years. For Nightwing too, and the Bat.” Jason tilts his head. “You said those were for your dead neighbour. You make them for me out of the mask too?” Tim nods wordlessly, stepping aside so that Jason can rifle through the pile of bracelets waiting for their glue to fully dry.

He finally finds his words as Jason starts trying on various pieces.

“I started leaving them after you- after everything. At your… grave. B and A clear them away every few weeks, I don’t know if they keep them, but I replace them.” He sounds unsure, Jason thinks that’s reasonable.

“You don’t even know me.” He says, he knows why someone would leave gifts for Robin, but Jason Todd? No way.

“You were my hero. You are my hero.” Tim responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Guess we gotta break into the manor and see where he’s hiding those bracelets then, eh?” Jason pushes through the warm feeling in his chest. He doesn’t have time to analyse that now.

“Only if you agree to let me run tests in the cave.” Tim still holds his staff in an iron grip.

Jason would expect nothing less from his Robin.

It’s only a small price to pay for those kandi after all.

[garden0fyves]

thinking about... comforting d1 athlete!toji after he gets injured on a bad play.

(set earlier on in their relationship!)

you watched it happen live and it unfortunately took everything in you not to panic and go out onto the field. your heart hammered in your chest when toji didn't get up after taking a hit to the shoulder. instead, he grasped his shoulder with his free hand before using that same hand to hit his helmet. toji isn't one to go down on a play and stay down, but the sickening pop! of his shoulder was unmistakable even for him.

toji couldn't feel the pain yet, but by the way his shoulder rested in his pads he knew something was wrong. he'd grabbed at his shoulder to find out himself, but when he felt nothing he'd resorted to hitting his helmet. he hated injuries. he hated them because he was here to play his sport, if he couldn't do that without getting injured by a stupid fucking tackle then what good was he? anger and embarrassment fight for dominance in his chest as he lays on the field, but somehow shame beats them both. shame that you had to see this. shame that he'd gone down because of something so stupid.

everything between being taken off the field and reaching the athletic training room is blurry to toji. he doesn't truly clock in until he feels your soft hand cup his cheek. "you okay?" he scoffs at the question, glancing up at you with tired eyes. you silently note how dull his eyes look, how he looks hopeless before his recovery even begins. "i'm out for a fucking month and a half and they've got naoya taking my spot. i'm peachy fucking keen, sweetheart." his tone is rude and his words frustrated, but none of it is taken personally. you only hum, scratching your manicured nails through his scalp as he speaks.

"you dislocated your shoulder baby, it's not the end of the world." your fingers slide from his hair to gently brush against the sling they've settled his beefy arm into. "it could've been worse. didn't shiu break his nose last year after someone grabbed his face mask and they both went down? he was done for the season because of how late it was." toji doesn't want to be babied. you know this and learned the hard way after a rough loss. he wants realistic. he wants to just know why and how it'll all be fine. "we're still early in the season. this is only, what? game two out of twelve? you're missing four games at max because of bye week, baby. six weeks is procedure but you're going to get better quicker than that. you know that."

toji scoffs again, this time rolling his eyes for further emphasis of his failure to see your point. "still four fuckin' games i'm missing. four games less in my season. four games naoya’s playin’." he clenches his fist against his sweatpants. the material curls under his hand awkwardly, forcing your eyes downward to where his hand rests. "okay, and you've got nothing to worry about. your cousin fucking sucks. he got into this school for football because his parents are donors. this is raw passion and talent, toji. they know how good you are, you won't be any less valuable because you're human."

you won’t admit it, but given the amount of time you’ve been friends with toji and now dating him, you’ve taken the time to understand american football. it makes you feel closer to him, in a sense. you understand his pain just a little bit better by doing your research. “your coaches may hate your attitude but they value you, toji. this is the first of many inevitable injuries. it’s a matter of what you’re going to do. stop cryin’ and follow your treatment plan.” your nose scrunches at the thought of your boyfriend moping about his injury. you want the hard-working man that’s grinded for everything he has now. you know this isn’t moping, rather anger at his current circumstance. but knowing the toji you know—the one you were friends with and are falling in love with—he’s too resilient to fall into this spiral he wants to fall into so desperately.

this is oddly very hot to toji. he hasn't been injured since the two of you got together, and the two of you talk about football very loosely. he's never heard you talk about his sport and his career so intensely and for some reason it makes you more attractive. "look at you." his lips curl into that smug smile that you 'hate' oh so much. "you learnin' ball for me, pretty girl?” it’s cute, the way you turn away from him in clear bashfulness. you’re so fucking cute, man. “i’m just…” you heave a soft sigh. “i know this means a lot to you, so i’m trying.” and for some reason toji’s heart clenches. he’s used to being hated. to being mistreated by his family, barely claimed by his own cousin. then here came you. learning how his sport works just to feel closer to him. just because it means a lot to him. he can’t fuck this up.

“you’re doing just fine, sweetheart.” he doesn’t know how to thank you properly, but the way you smile down at him tells him that was enough. your hand falls from his shoulder to grasp the one previously clenching the cotton of his sweatpants. you slide onto the training table next to him, feet dangling off the side. “i know i am. you know, smart pretty girl? ‘s my whole thing.” your eyes are bright as you tease him. you gently bump into his uninjured shoulder, giggling when he lets out a breath you take as a laugh. “i meant what i said, toji. i’ll help you with your protocol if i have to.” you squeeze his hand, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “i don’t know what you’ve been through that makes you so angry at your circumstances. but, until you’re ready to tell me i’ll be here at every twist and turn. i told you when we first got together that it wouldn’t matter to me if you didn’t go pro, because it doesn’t. i just want you to be happy. and healthy.”

toji’s silent following your words. for once in his life he doesn’t know what to say. there’s no snarky reply or harsh retort begging to be freed from his tongue. he just stares at you. the way he can tell you’re serious. the love that shines in your eyes. he wants to tell you he loves you, but that voice in the back of his mind says this is temporary. toji watches the cogs in your brain turn, until finally you press the lightest of kisses to his lips. “okay.” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours before you can pull away. “okay?” you repeat once, just for reassurance. “okay.”

[softforbuck]

pairing: f!reader x john walker (post-thunderbolts*)

rating: nsfw

word count: 4,769

summary: you sneak into the avengerz tower. walker finds you. after some… complications, you fuck. enemies to lovers.

warnings: smut. walker calls reader a whore but it’s sexy.

notes: you might notice that i don’t love him. but he’s hot. what can i say?🤷‍♀️ cross-posted on ao3. requests are open! use my ask (anonymous option available!), dms or comments to request <3

"Who the hell are you?" You whirl around upon hearing your person being questioned. An innocent smile appears on your lips before you quickly pull your mask back down over your mouth. No way in hell are you going to let John Walker out of all people figure out your real identity. You'd prefer Bucky. Or Yelena. A proper... well, not superhero. But, you know, not a Captain America rip-off. "No one." 

You close the lid of the ice cream tub you were just wharfing down out of utter frustration of being broken up with by your partner. Not like they'd deserve the wonderful human being that is you, but still. Being dumped hurts. 

Walker takes a deep breath as he figures out who you are. Or, rather, whom he knows you as. One of the most annoying vigilantes of this town. You never steal anything, per sé, but cause a ruckus that him and his friends have to clean up afterwards. You've caused some grey hairs on his otherwise pretty luscious head of hair. 

He looks better like this, you notice, without that stupid helmet... beret... thing. Walker's still wearing his uniform though, not that you'd complain. The muted red and blue, the dirty white. It makes him look good. Not as good as Steve fucking Rogers - may he enjoy his retirement -, you tell yourself, but hot as hell nonetheless. This realisation is your cue to leave.

"Anyway, guess I gotta go. Nice chatting with ya, Johnnie." You turn to leave the way you came: Through the vents. To your surprise you'd found some stuff there before, like someone was actually living in there, but you paid it little mind. Instead you eavesdropped on Bob singing in the shower and Alexei beating Bucky at some weird old-school game you weren't able to understand after getting stuck and watching them for about an eternity. 

Before you actually get there, you feel a couple of rough fingers wrap around your upper arm in not necessarily the kindest manner. "Not so fast, young lady." Your shoulders slump, your head leans forward in defeat. Of course he wouldn't just let you go. 

"You want me to pay for the ice cream?" You reach for your wallet that is hidden in one of your boots, more or less leaning on Walker as to not fall over, but of course he misinterprets your action as a threatening one and in an instance you find yourself pressed against the wall. You gasp in feigned surprise. 

Walker's holds is pretty damn strong, having your arms crossed behind your back, forcing them to stay that way with just one hand. The other supports him against the wall, allowing him to lean in close. Actually, this is pretty fun. He smells kinda good. 

No. No, you tell yourself and ball your hands to fists. "Let me go, Walker," you growl, baring your teeth. You hear him chuckle. You hear him fucking chuckle. 

"Why would I?," he asks, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, his chest pressing lightly against your back, making you feel his weight, his presence. "Let me get this straight: You're a vigilante, wanted by the police, a fucking nuisance to my team and me, and to top it all off, you break into our home. Yet you demand me to let you go?"

You nod. "Yes, that is exactly it," you confirm, a little yet very confident smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Believe me. It'll make it easier for both, you and I," you insist. Pushing your cheek against the wall, you look behind your shoulder, right at him. He's close. John is so, so close to you.

His eyes have fixated you, they focus alternately on your right, then your left eye. Then your lips - or, well the part of your mask where your lips would be. Just for the tiniest fraction of a second, yet you catch it. And he catches you catching it. Seemingly, he does not like it, as his grip on your arms becomes harder. 

Seems like you are stuck. Both of you, though, since he makes no effort to call any of his teammates or actually make you immobile other than just holding you in place. Maybe he's just thinking about what to do next but you severely doubt he's able to do that. 

Then, you suddenly hear the sliding door to the kitchen open and feel Walker's hold on you loosen. Just a little, but enough for you to push yourself off the wall and use the momentum to pull your arms free and turn around.

John's surprised to find himself lying on the floor a second later; you've overpowered him, made him fall down onto his back. And now you're kneeling on top of him, your hips lightly pressed into his as you duck down as to not be seen behind the kitchen isle. You don't need another Avenger finding you. 

You feel Walker's hands move to your hips, try to lift you off but you hiss into his ear, "don't you fucking dare."

After the lights are turned on, you hear heavy footsteps on the ground, a certain gait you know comes from one of that person's sides being heavier because of a certain vibranium arm. Your hand his pressed to the mouth of the man under you, your hand placed next to his head and your own breathing slow, quiet.

John hasn't moved his hands away from your hips. In fact, he is rather enjoying all of this. He hates you, of course, but he doesn't mind how fiery you are. Banter with you is fun, fighting against you is fun. And you're hot. That's just the way it is and certainly not his fault.

Bucky, still oblivious to the two of you lying on the floor - though he has noticed and wondered about the tub of ice cream -, opens one of the many cupboards for a late night snack. The only cereal in this building are the Avengers Weetabix. Alexei throws out any other box and only buys these ones, of course. Either way, that's what Bucky will be having tonight. 

You notice a wee bit too late that the place where you've found a spoon literally twenty minutes earlier is on the side of the kitchen isle where you and your mortal enemy are having a cuddle. Before you can do anything about it, Bucky's already taken the corner. And then pauses.

A slow blink while he holds his cereal and milk filled bowl in his metal hand, as he seemingly analyses the situation. Then he grins. Chuckles, even. 

"Looking strong, John!"

Bucky opens the drawer, gets out a spoon, and winks at you. Walker's ego has surely taken a hit, no matter how John's gotten himself in this situation, and Bucky's not mad at the break-in whatsoever. He's simply visibly amused. 

Walker isn't. He lays the back of his head onto the marble floor as he sighs in defeat. This is fucking embarrassing. Super strength isn't even one of your superpowers. 

"Don't break him too bad, yea? I fear his ego can only take so many hits." With that, Bucky makes his way out of the kitchen. He leaves the light on, which will come in somewhat handy later.

You let a few more moments pass by before you try to lift yourself off Walker and finally leave the way you came. But John's hands on your hips make it impossible to do so. "What the fuck?" You look down at him, brows knit together tightly. 

The grin plastered across his face is nasty. Seems like he's gotten himself together and now you're the one in trouble yet again. A little noise leaves your lips as you feel yourself pressed into the floor a moment later, with him kneeling on top of you now. Different from him, you're not facing the other, but actually have your cheek squished against the floor, just like a few moments earlier when you had found your cheek pressed against the wall. 

Walker was a pest. Fucking annoying too, yet you - again - find yourself not particularly minding the close proximity. You could've really cursed yourself out for that. The two of you hated each other's guts, yet you weren't the only one doubting that.

When he had you pushed against the wall,  John had already very much questioned his morale. Then when you sat atop of him, it had only gotten worse. The pent-up frustration against you from all the more or less lost fights was turning into a very different kind of frustration. 

"You with someone?" Why the fuck would he ask that? You grunt in reply and squirm underneath him. "What does that matter to you, asshole?!," you hiss, moving your butt up to try and somehow get him off of you. All that does is make your ass push against his dick. This, in turn, lets a wave of heat wash through not only him but you as well. Fuck. 

A grin appears on the dirty blond's lips as he leans in close. His body presses more tightly against yours, his firm chest, once again, flush against your back. "Because," he begins, "if you're not with someone, I might not take your freedom but rather something else."

Ew, corny. Yet honestly? Kinda hot. And with the weird feelings swirling within you, it wouldn't be that bad nor weird to sleep with him, would it? Especially considering that you really have no one and can only hope to ever get lucky again. This Walmart version of Captain America has to have some stamina and knowledge, too, no? Doesn't he have a kid? 

"Well, what about you? Gotten back together with the mom of your kid yet?," you ask, half-knowingly, half-unknowingly rubbing some salt in an old wound that has never really healed. 

You immediately feel the consequences of your own actions. The air is pressed from your lungs as John pushes his elbow into the centre of your back, you wince in pain. "Okay, okay. One step too far, sorry!" You're not able to because he's holding onto your wrists with one of his big and strong, rough hands, but otherwise you would've have laid your hands next to your head defensively. 

"You better be sorry," he grunts, before lifting his elbow off your back. Next, he does something way worse though:

Walker leans forward. "If you want me to fuck you, you better let me see your face." You feel your mask being pulled off your face. Shit. Fuck. Shit shit fuck. "Pretty enough to look at," is all he says, with a certain teasing tone.

He actually finds you incredibly gorgeous but is hardly ready to admit that to himself. Not yet at least. Maybe once you've fucked each other's brains out, it'll be different though.

"You're such a fucking freak!" The new Avenger only chuckles. "Really? I think it would've been way freakier to fuck a woman who's wearing a mask. Wouldn't you agree?" 

He adjusts his position. You wonder whether he purposely rubs himself all against your ass, letting you really feel him. And damn, the more he does that, the more you realise that rip-off captain America is packing. 

It makes you nervous. Did you even really agree to this? Do you even really want this? 

John seems to realise the exact same thing, as is proven by him leaning forwards again. Without your mask, you can feel his hot breath fanning against your ear, hitting the side of your face as well. He smells like he's brushed his teeth before coming to the kitchen. You wonder why he's still wearing his suit when he's seemingly gotten ready for bed. Is he that much of a fanatic? 

"You haven't given me your reply yet. Do you want this or not?" Both of you know that this is most certainly not your only option to not be locked up. You could very, very easily slip away from him if you only wanted to. But that's the thing: You don't want to slip away. You want this. 

"Yes." The word slips from your lips in a way that almost makes it seem pathetic, which he quite obviously likes. The chuckle against your ear is mean, teasing: "Whore."

He's just as much of a whore as you are. But you know better than to tell him that, considering he's got the upper hand and all.

Even now that you've in a way shown him that you won't just up and run away, he still doesn't loosen his grasp around your wrists - "How are you gonna do anything like this?" A valid question. His other hand is holding him up, keeping him from resting his entire weight on you. And he's heavy. The super soldier serum might've not bulked him up quite like Steve Rogers's did, but he's still rather muscly. And also taller than you.

"Shut up, I'm thinking." How the hell did this guy get you to want to sleep with him? Your forehead hits the floor with a soft thud. You can't believe he's gotten you wet and himself hard from your prior endeavour and now he can't even figure out how to fuck you. How has this man managed to get someone pregnant?

You're just about to suggest you do it the old-fashioned way, go up to his room and do it in his bed when you hear heavy fabric moving. Then you feel his gun belt wrap around your wrists. Well, you didn't expect that. 

Experimentally, you try to free your wrists; you can't. This makes you gulp. Walker has never before gotten so close to actually tying you up, turning you in. He hasn't tricked you, has he?

He hasn't. Because the next thing you feel is his fingers in your hair, lifting up your head by it. The subtle pain is a nice sensation, one that forces a tiny little gasp from your lips. You'd expected him to be rougher, though. 

Either way, he uses this chance to actually have a proper look at your face now. The corner of his lips is pulled into a smirk. "What're you hiding this pretty face for?" Your gaze flickers to your discarded mask. "Don't want to distract you when you're supposed to be catching me, not gawking at me like you're doing right now," you reply as nonchalantly as possible when in reality, his intense gaze, his lustfilled eyes are making you nervous.

Your witty remark makes him roll his blue eyes. His hand travels from your hair to your jaw, squeezes your cheeks. John's silent. You can only guess what he's thinking. One of your most up there guesses is that he's thinking about a horse on a field as to not cum immediately. That's cause he's pretty damn hard.

How could ne not be? He's got a sexy lady under him, his hips pressing into hers and every movement makes him rub his dick against her soft, perfect ass. He wants to ravish you. 

But you seem like you need a little more foreplay, considering you're showing no signs of arousal. How wrong he is. All this is turning you on more than you'd ever admit, even with a gun to your head. 

You'll take it though, wonder what Walker is up to when he lets go of your face and sits up instead, on the backs of your thighs, to be precise. Then you feel his rough fingertips slip under the lower hem of your shirt and take ahold of your the waistband of your spandex pants. 

Shit's getting real. You take a deep breath and when you breathe out, you feel him pull the fabric down over your arse. 

John chuckles at the sight. "Really?" His ring finger wraps around the elastic of your panties, pulls it away from your body and lets it snap back against your skin. "You're wearing a thong to break into Avengers Tower?" Like he isn't totally getting off on it. He can feel his boner throbbing in his trousers, and he's salivating like a fucking dog. You look delicious.

"No, actually-!" You're interrupted when he pulls at your panties once more and rips them this time. You hear what you're pretty sure is the noise of him stuffing the fabric into his pocket. Pervert. 

A dissatisfied little noise leaves your lips. Not because he got you half-naked while he's still wearing all of his clothes minus his belt, but because he ripped one of your favourite pairs. "You're gonna replace that," you demand, which only makes John laugh. He figures he's going to rip a few more pairs of your panties if your reaction's always this sweet.

"Sorry, what were you gonna say? Why are you wearing thongs?" He really just brushed over the matter like pretty underwear isn't expensive. Asshole. You clear your throat, then choke on your spit when you feel Walker spread your cheeks. Curious one, isn't he?

This is nothing that hadn't happened before - except it is -, so you compose yourself. "I was going over to my boyf-... ex's place." You don't think he's actually listening. "I had a really, really nice evening planned for us. It'S our anniversary, you know? So I wanted to cook with him, play some games, cuddle, watch a movie, and then, well, sleep with him." Your voice sounds genuinely frustrated, sad, even, so Walker actually stops his admiring your ass and pussy. 

What is he supposed to say though? His blue eyes focus the half of your face that he can see, the other is laying on the floor after all. "You trust me to make you forget about the bastard for the night?" That's definitely not what you expected to hear. You rather figured he'd make fun of your for being broken up with but this almost seems like some form of empathy or sympathy or something along those lines. Which is nice. Really. It is nice. 

But you hate him. You have to remind yourself that you do. Can't mix work with private stuff, after all. 

All you manage is a little nod, which makes him almost scowl. "Do you want me to fuck you?," he becomes clearer and very vocal about wanting your consent and goddamn is that sexy. You feel heat and wetness pooling between your legs. 

"Yes." You can practically hear his satisfied smirk as he repeats his words from before: "Whore."

You're happy to live up to that title, wiggling your hips to direct his attention back to where it is required. He's happy to comply, of course. 

Walker scooches back a little further to grab your thighs hand push them under your body slightly, spreading them in the process and lifting your pelvis to give him access. You expect for his cock in your coose but that's not what happens. You don't hear him pulling down his pants, freeing his dick. Instead, you feel his hands wander to the back of your thighs once again, thumbs brushing softly over your inner thighs and travelling further and further up. 

You can't help it, a wanton whimper makes its way past your lips, your hands ball to fists in anticipation. You want him to touch you. So, so badly. 

"Don't be so impatient," the dirty blond hums teasingly, like he isn't getting impatient as well. It's starting to hurt but for some reason he wants to make you feel good first. And it's not because you were dumped today, he would've wanted to do this anyway. 

Maybe it's because your relationship has always been filled with teasing, never giving the other what they wanted. Do you even want his dick? Taking into account how surprisingly wet the anticipation has gotten you: probably. 

"It's like a fountain down here," he comments and final-fucking-ly brushes over where you need him most with the tips of his thumbs. Only barely though, only your swollen lips.

"Walker, I hate you," you grunt, squirming in his grasp. Wanting more. Needing more. 

You hear him laugh behind your, feel his thumbs drop from your pussy and rest against your thighs again instead. "Well, if you hate me..." And then his hands drop from your sensitive thighs as well. Squinting, you adjust your position until you can look back at him. 

His eyes are filled with lust, half-lidded as they seem undecided whether they want to focus on your eyes - your lips that are slightly swollen from you chewing on them - or on your pussy that is oozing its juices for him.

He settles on your cunt into which you feel his tongue dive barely a second later. You hum in enjoyment, press back against it and rest your cheeks against the marble floor. This is good. He really is surprisingly good at this. You would've expected the wannabe Captain America to be a selfish lover who cuts after barely two minutes and then leaves his woman dissatisfied.

Oh, how very wrong you were. 

Maybe it is because you're mad at your ex but John might even be better than them. An awful realisation, I know.

It's just that he doesn't only use his tongue, he also doesn't stick to the same pattern. His fingers are involved, two spreading your folds, a thumb applying pressure to your clit, and another digit curling against your g-spot while his tongue works fucking wonders. 

God fucking dammit. Who would've thought? 

"John." First time you didn't use his first name condescendingly. You can feel him smirk against your sensitive pussy. Your fingernails dig into your palms as little tears of pleasure spring to your eyes. 

You're certainly not the only one enjoying their time though. Walker could drown in you. You taste, smell, and feel divine. His focus long since hasn't solely been your pleasure but he has found his own in your desperate moans, pathetic pleas. But especially in the way you uncontrollably rock yourself back against his mouth and fingers. He knows you're close and he is not ging to stop until you cum. He has long since disregarded the slight ache in his jaw from not having done this in, well, quite a while. You're his first ever since the mother of his son has broken up with him. Honestly, he wouldn't want it any other way.

With every stroke of his tongue, every curl of his finger, every moment of harder pressure from his tongue, you feel yourself tripping closer to the edge. You can feel something coil within you, you can feel the noises from behind you becoming louder from how incredibly wet Walker's gotten you. You can tell he's enjoying himself, happily slurping every ounce you're giving him, relishing in the beauty that is your cunt. 

It gets you off. The man you hate so much, the man who hates you just as much - your mortal enemy -, eating you out like there's no tomorrow. 

Suddenly, without another warning, you cum. You don't even try to hide the moan that slips past your lips. You just allow it to be heard by him. Your thighs are shaking, your eyes are squeezed shut. Heat is rushing through you. And John still isn't stopping lapping at your red and swollen cunt. No way in hell is he letting one single drop go to waste.

He finally decides he's done and sits back on his heels, takes in the aftermath, the mess he has turned you into. And damn are you a hot mess.

“Still hate me?,” he asks with that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Shut up.” You're breathless, but manage to punish him with a look that could kill. “I didn’t hear an answer.”

You're defeated. 

And still pretty fucking aroused. 

Luckily, John has a remedy for it: His cock.

Gently, he makes you lay back down properly on your stomach again before taking care of getting rid of his pants. Well, not entirely. He just barely pushed them and his underpants down enough to allow his dick free. But that's all he and you need. 

Out of half-lidded, lust-dazed yes, you look back at him and his... at least six inches. 

The view is fucking hot. You're thankful for Bucky having left on the lights. You can see him in all his glory, but also the colours of his uniform, the way his hair is slightly tousled, the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. Walker's hand wraps around his dick to give it a few pumps like he isn't already rock hard and leaking pre-cum. His thumb brushes over his tip, spreads it for some lubrication, as he seems to realise: protection. You may be a bae, but he certainly doesn't want to get you pregnant.

"Can't get pregnant," you say. And he trusts you. 

John fills you to the hilt with one singles thrust and makes you yelp his name in pleasure-pain. "Oh lord!"

He feels so so good. 

And you also feel so so good. Walker's eyes squeeze shut a moment as he finds a proper position. Prone Bone is a tiny bit difficult, he finds, but offers such wonderfully deep thrust, he doesn't even mind the effort he has to put into thrusting.

This also allows him to get really fucking close to you, put his weight onto you, and allow you to feel his breath against your ear. 

Quickly, he finds a rhythm that is pleasurable to him and also to you. At least he assumes sp from your moans and whimpers that seem even more intense than when he'd eaten you out. With every finished thrust, he grinds against your ass, really makes you feel him, and its driving you nuts.

"Hey, baby, eyes on me," he demands suddenly. John's voice is a low growl, a tone that allows no disobeying. So you open your eyes you've previously screwed shut to really really feel the pleasure.

You've never seen a man this horny for you. The eye contact he forces upon you is intense, a little crazy, but so hot. It makes you clench around him, which in turn makes him moan. His rhythm after isn't quite so rhythmic anymore.

You can hardly blame him. He has been holding on for so long. It's respectable he hasn't cummed yet, actually. Still, he's keen on giving you even more before he does. 

One rough hand of his holds onto your hair close to the back of your head, ensuring you don't break eye contact, while the other holds him up and you down. Your hips are going to be bruised from being pushed into the floor tomorrow, but you don't mind whatsoever. It'll be a nice reminder. Perhaps something you'll be able to tease him for.

With every thrust, John can see your eyes becoming more glossy, glazed over with an insane amount of pleasure no one has given you before. And you can see his restraint, his holding on slip.

You can feel him pulse, throb within you. His chest vibrates against your back with every growl, every grunt, every occasional moan that he seems too embarrassed to let out. 

He moans your name, buries his face in the crook of your neck when it seems to get too much. His hips snap against yours. The room is filled with the noise of skin slapping against skin, your moans and whimpers and his muffled noises. It smells like sex, the air is stuffy.

It's like both of you are high on the other. John is inhaling the smell of you, you are getting drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock filling you out so irregularly. 

"Please, John, please make me cum!," you beg - and that drives him over the edge. You calling him John, the pathetic tone to your voice, your begging, the way you're squeezing him. 

You can feel him fill you up, the thought and feeling of it, his thrusts that have become lazy but still so powerful make you orgasm a second time, exhausting you like no fight against him has before. 

He stays within you for a while after both of your orgasms have subsided, still pushing your hips into the ground, still having his fingers wrapped into your hair. 

"I could do this again...," he says, finding a particularly sensitive spot on your neck with his lips. Your eyes widen but it's too late, he has marked you. How utterly embarrassing. Yet you don't regret sleeping with him. Not at all.

[helsex]

short exhels thing i wrote, im not gonna go anywhere with it really and it stands alone well enough i think so i wanted it to see the light of day! i barely ever write so I'm pretty happy with this little thing

-

Helsknight’s touch was hot. Ex still remembered how her fingers wrapped around their neck had seared. Had burnt. Calloused and strong, immovable.

He wasn't touching them now though.

Instead her eyes burned into them from across the table. 

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. Like the time Evil X had lost their helmet for a week and stubbornly refused to ask for help. For a full week the overworld air had contaminated and weighed down their lungs. 

Breathing hadn’t felt like breathing then. 

Breathing didn’t feel like breathing now. 

“Why are we here Ex.” Helsknight’s voice was flat, it was less a question and more a way of saying we shouldn’t be here.

Ex hunched over, elbows on the tabletop, face in their hands and fingers rubbing their forehead. 

Maybe this had been a mistake, they had no idea what to say.

They swallowed, moving their hands from their face and fidgeting with their nails, “I wanted…I wanted to talk.” they said slowly.

Small amounts of smoke puffed from Hels’ nose as she exhaled in annoyance.

“What’s there left to say?” he stared down at his own hands and there was a tremor when she spoke. She remembered how his touch had burnt too, “And why here? I…”

Her voice trailed off abruptly. Of course it was obvious why here, Ex would never want to step foot in his home again, and they surely would never welcome her back into theirs. This was stupid. This was pointless.

But maybe this was the punishment he deserved. This purgatory. Being so close to what he desired and yet unable to reach out and have it.

“Stop being an idiot about this,” Ex snapped suddenly, drawing Hels to attention. Now this was the Ex she remembered.

“I know how you look when you’re doing your whole drowning in guilt schtick. Stop it.” they continued, “guilt doesn't change anything.”

“What does it matter,” Hels shot back, “I’m not in your life anymore why do you care what I decide to feel.”

“Do you miss me?”

The question caught Hels off guard. Of course he missed them. She missed their warmth against her chest, he missed their fingers in his hair, she missed them like you miss air when someone is holding your head under water.

“I miss you.” Ex hadn’t waited for a response, her answer was plastered all over his face so they pushed on, “I…want you. But we can’t be the same as before.”

Hels struggled to find her words. They were right it couldn’t be like before, he couldn’t - he wouldn’t - do that to them again. But why would they give her that chance. Why would they ever put themself in arms length of Hels again. 

In this moment she felt so very vulnerable. Ex must feel even worse - they had laid everything out plain and simple, no sarcasm, nothing to shield them.

“You can’t possibly want me. Not after what happened.” he said gruffly at last, avoiding their gaze, “You just…can’t.”

Ex narrowed their eyes, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do Helsknight. I’ve thought about this…a lot, it’s my decision to make,” they let out a long sigh, “and the reason we’re here, the reason I asked you here, is I want to know what your decision will be.”

For the first time since this conversation started Hels made eye contact with Evil X.

“I want you.”

[ranhaitanisgf]

May I request Ran with “enemies/rivals to lovers” where Ran accidentally hurts reader (with his words), he goes too far. Usually they tease and make fun of each other but this really hurt y/n, maybe it was one of her insecurities. Anyways, he makes it up too her by taking her “star gazing” and apologizing to her. Thanks!!!!!!!!

— ran haitani // enemies to lovers // stargazing

☆ ˎˊ˗ did i go overboard. well yes. but i chose this one in honor of changing my username ! im in love w this man ur honor. srsly tho i loveee writing the silly little banter with the ran fics its actually so fun :D hope yall enjoyyyy xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader implied

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 2.0k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

you’re not exactly sure what’s going on right now. 

one moment, you were lazing around your apartment, watching a drama and eating all the junk food you could see, and the next moment you were slung over ran haitani’s shoulder. 

what?

if you’d known that answering the door would have resulted in this, you would have just ignored it. 

“you stupid motherfucker!! let me down right now!!” you yelled, wiggling around trying to escape. ran’s grip around you was iron tight, making it next to impossible to try and get out. “can you just leave me the hell alone?! i was watching my drama!!” 

“nope.” 

“god, you’re such a douchebag sometimes.” you sighed, feeling defeated. there was probably no way you were going to escape back to your apartment if you hadn’t by this point, so you gave up. “what do you even want from me?? i thought you said you don’t like to talk to girls who are nerds ‘cause they freak you out or something.” 

“...”

“are you even going to tell me where we’re going??” 

“...”

“ran haitani!! answer me!!” ran said nothing once again, completely ignoring you as he exited your apartment building. as he kept walking, you heard the faint rumble of an engine, the rumble getting louder as he kept walking. 

finally, his grip loosened around you, though you were a bit caught off guard by how gently he let you down from his shoulder. his hands held you steady by your waist as you stumbled a bit, feeling a bit dizzy from being upside down. 

“ran, seriously, what’re you doing…?” you muttered, brushing his hands off from you. “it’s like 9pm! why are you here?!” 

“get on.” 

“what?” you got no response, instead watching as he settled himself in the front seat of his motorcycle, which you now realized was the cause of the rumbling sound. 

“are you going to get on?” ran asked, turning his head a bit to look at you. you think that your big mistake here was looking him in his eyes; when you saw the emotion and turmoil swirling in his hazy purple irises, you couldn’t help but to oblige. 

“fine, but only ‘cause you’re acting weird. if someone breaks into my apartment, you have to pay for everything since i know you didn’t lock the door.” you muttered, getting on the back seat of his motorcycle. 

you waited for the bike to revv up and for him to start driving, but he paused for a moment, seeming to be thinking. after a moment, he turned around and reached behind you, searching for something in the back compartment. that same cool expression was on his face, making you feel a bit dumb for feeling so flustered at the sudden lack of space between the two of you. for crying out loud, his face was right next to yours! how was he so calm? 

you couldn’t help but notice that he had foregone his usual braids, instead leaving his hair down. the way that his hair framed his face now covered the sharpness of some of his facial features, making him seem a lot less intimidating and more soft than he normally was. 

he let out a small hum when he found what he was looking for, leaning back from you holding a helmet in his hands. he gently put it on your head, looking at you for a moment longer than was probably necessary before turning back around, his back to you. 

what the hell…

as ran started drive off, you realized that there was a con to him having his hair down; as he started to speed up, his hair whipped right in your face, making you sputter as you tried to avoid it. 

“if it’s bothering you, come closer.” you heard him say. you had no idea what kind of face he was making right now, though it was probably the same cool and collected expression as always. what did he even mean by that? does he know how suggestive he sounds? 

as much as you didn’t like him, you also didn’t like having his hair continuously assaulting your face, so you scooted a bit closer to him. as he said, it was a little bit better, though his hair was still getting in your face. 

you were finally given a break at the next stoplight, giving you a moment to take in the cool night’s air. despite the strange circumstances, you had to admit that being on a motorcycle always gave you a sense of comfort in some kind of way. you enjoyed feeling the wind on your face and seeing everything passing by; it made it seem like nothing else in the world mattered except for that moment. 

suddenly, you felt yourself being pushed forward a whole lot more than was considered ‘friendly’. your chest made contact with ran’s back, your head awkwardly propped near his shoulder. looking to the side, you realized that ran had hooked his arm around your back and had pushed you forward, which you found to be somewhat of a feat considering the distance between the two of you, (you supposed he had his lanky arms and stature to thank for that). 

“hey! what the hell was that?!” 

“just helpin’ you out, doll.” 

“whatever.” 

despite the flippant way you muttered the word, you could feel the nervousness all bundled up inside you, twisting your stomach into knots. you weren’t sure what to even think at this point; what was he even trying to do here? last time you’d seen him…

“you freak me out when you talk like that; you’re really gonna be single forever if you keep acting like that.” 

so what the hell was he doing now? why was he suddenly acting like nothing had happened? 

although your thoughts were troubled by his strange behavior, you felt a bit awkward just leaning against him like a noodle, so you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping your grip loose. there were no words exchanged between the two of you for the rest of the drive, which gave you plenty of time to try and decipher his odd behavior. 

you weren’t sure how much time passed before ran pulled over to the side of the road, slowing down and coming to a stop. your arms unwrapped themselves from around his waist and you leaned back, looking around. 

he had brought you to a quiet part of the sumida river, the land around you slowly dipping until it met with the edges of the river. looking around, you couldn’t see any part of tokyo or any city buildings closeby, making you wonder just how far away he had taken you. 

“hey, where are we right now?” you asked, getting off of his bike and stretching a bit. “it feels like we came kind of a long way.” 

“i just followed the river for a bit. we aren’t too far from tokyo.” ran answered, flipping the kickstand down as he got off his bike. he pocketed his keys and slipped his fingers through his hair, fixing it a bit after the wind messed it up a bit. 

“so, are you going to tell me why we’re here?” 

“come on.” ran walked in front of you, walking down the steep grassy hill towards the river. you reluctantly followed, jogging a bit to catch up with his long strides. 

“y’know, with the cryptic way you’re acting, i could think that you brought me here to murder me or something.” 

“...” 

“uh, ran? you’re not actually gonna murder me, right?” 

“no.” 

“okay, right.” the two of you reached the bottom of the hill, standing there for a moment before ran laid down. you were unsure of what exactly was going on, but you laid down next to him, getting a bit worried. 

“hey…did something happen? is everything alright?” you were facing the sky that was littered with stars, but you could tell that ran was taking a moment to think before saying something. 

“you could say that.” 

“huh? what-?” 

“you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” 

“...” now you were the one who was silent, unsure of how to respond to his question. he was right; you had been avoiding him. it wasn’t his fault that you had gotten butthurt over what was supposed to be a joke, but you hadn’t been able to help your feelings. the two of you joked and insulted each other all the time, so why was it that you were so hurt over that one comment? 

you already knew why, but you weren’t going to tell him, not in a million years. 

“you know i didn’t mean it.”

“i don’t know, maybe you did.” you answered flatly. “i don’t know why you even hang out with me. i’m always wondering if you’re gonna just up and leave one day and never talk to me again.” 

“i wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“you can’t say it’s not outside of your character though, can you? you’ve done that to other people, no?” 

“it’s different with you.” you laughed coldly at that, choosing to ignore it. 

“why are you even bringing this up right now? why come all the way here to talk about this when we could have just talked outside of my apartment?” you peered over at ran, feeling a bit infuriated to see the same damn expression on his face as always. 

“am i not allowed to do something to try and apologize?” he asked, suddenly sitting up and looking towards you. “you’re right that i’ve done that to other people, but you’re not other people. you…” for the first time, you saw his face screw up in frustration, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pressed together. “fuck…you’re just different, okay? i felt like shit after i said that crap, and i felt even more shitty when you started avoiding me. so-” he took a breath, his face going back to his usual calm expression. “-i’m sorry.” 

what. just. happened.

for a longer time than you would care to admit, you laid there staring at him with your mouth wide open, wondering if you were in the real world. to be fair, how were you supposed to believe this was real? the ran haitani, apologizing? to you? 

“you…you’re not fucking with me, right?” you questioned, sitting up slowly. 

“...no.” ran murmured, his gaze fixed on the river in front of you. “i can take you back home now, if you want.” 

“no!” ran quirked an eyebrow at you at your sudden response, his violet gaze turning to you. “i mean, uh, it’s fine. i like it here.” ran smirked a bit at your explanation, laying back down. 

“y’know doll, if i didn’t know any better, i would say that you’re nervous right now. why’re you nervous, hm?” the teasing lilt to his words made your cheeks feel warm, making you lay back down to avoid his gaze. 

“you think i’m nervous? i’m not nervous, i don’t know what you’re talking…about…” your words tapered off as ran moved closer to you, his arm slipping under your frame and pulling you against him. he tucked your head under his chin, his arm moving to rest around your waist. 

“hm, i guess you’re not nervous then. what a shame. you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous~” the close proximity allowed you to feel the vibrations of his voice rumbling through his chest as he spoke, making your heartbeat speed up exponentially. 

“what…what do you think you’re-?”

“shh, look at the stars. that’s why i brought you here.” for some reason, his words immediately shut you up, your emotions being too extreme to say anything snarky back. all you knew at that moment was ran; his voice and the teasing tone he always has, his hair that’s splayed all around him making it seem like he’s an angel, his lazy purple eyes that are looking at you right now despite him saying to look at the sky. 

“you-”

“shh.”

you supposed that you could just look at the stars for now.

[lensman-arms-race]

Skibidi Toilet episode 78

Holy shit, Boom cooked! How was that fourteen minutes? It felt like three!

I did like getting the whole episode in one go instead of in parts. I hope Boom does it this way from now on (maybe with the odd non-canon silly short here and there to tide us over).

I expect a big part of why it took so long was from sorting out the lawsuit with Next Level! And... we've heard several times 'the episodes will take less time to make', and then that didn't happen. I think what happens is that Boom pushes himself to try something new, it takes ages for him to work it out, then he says 'okay, I know how to do that now, I can churn that out quickly!' And then, instead of only using the techniques he's already mastered, he pushes himself to try something else new, and the cycle repeats. Maybe it'll go faster if he keeps Deer from Ohio on permanently!

Naturally, spoilers abound.

Toilet-Cam 2.0! :D

Notice how the Skibidi is working on the cyan side and the Camera is working on the amber side (the colours of each other's factions)!

(I don't like the helmet, though. An asset made for a round-headed human looks stupid on a rectangular-headed creature.)

It'll be interesting to see what this thing does. The first Toilet-Cam was made to infiltrate the Skibs, but now that they're working on the same side (at least for now), what can it do with a toilet body that it couldn't do with an Alliance strider body?

Notice this geezer with a missile launcher. I hope we get to see him use it - he looks like a grizzled old grandpa-type character who'll probably say something badass.

I took this screengrab for the cute Soundkind (who is possibly echolocating! They're making cute woob sounds), but what is that on the bed in the background?

Looks like a naked melted guy. Is this a Half-Life asset?

Cutesy reference to Steak the YouTuber. :D (That's not me reaching - Boom did send Steak this scene as a leak and joked that it was a reference.)

...Where did that meat come from? I don't think we've seen normal animals in Skibidi Toilet ever! (The Skibidi kitty does not count as a 'normal' animal.)

The Cams get a transmission error and this one taps its head to perform percussive maintenance. That's adorable!

Not that it really matters either way, but who sent this? I'm guessing it's the TVs because of the purple. If it was the Secret Agent, we'd expect it to be green because he's done that to Cameras before.

Holy shit - I think this is the first on-screen human death that wasn't in a goofy fashion. (The humans who were killed near the church died just off-screen.) Piranha Judge Dredd bites this poor lady's head off!

I only noticed this because someone on Reddit pointed it out: you can see the lady's eyeball embedded in Piranha-guy's teeth.

Is this guy a young Astro like the Juggernaut puppy? Are all baby Astros fucking ugly and they turn more human-like as they grow older?

...Do Astros take on the physical appearance of whatever species they devour the most?

I'm not sure what's going on here. Duchess coughs/spits into her hand - what is she doing? She appears, has a munch on the dead lady and comments on how raw the meat is, then gets shot at by POV. What provokes her to spit into her hand right now?

I suppose it's too much to hope that the human lady ingested something that's poisonous to Astros and now it's affecting Duchess, bwoo ha ha.

There were unionized group of researchers in Eastern Europe. Their status is unknown. You need to rescue and deliver the survivors.

Who's this referring to? I assume it's a group of humans we haven't met yet. Could it be where the Secret Agent worked before he became the Administrator of Alpha Hills? And holy crap - we're about to get our first Skibidi POV episode!

A tiny interaction, but an informative one. Buzzsaw (now equipped with the portable POV camera) gives a thumbs-up to Tri-Cam, who doesn't return it (with a slight head-shake no). Buzz is happily going along with the truce for now (in fact, it was his squad-mate Rambo who initiated it!), but Tri-Cam isn't happy about it.

What a huge size difference between Tri-Cam and the two newer soldier Cams! I think the first techfolk built by humans were more or less human-sized because they were supposed to be able to work in the same spaces as us, but now that human civilisation has collapsed that's no longer important. The techfolk are free to design their shells to meet their needs.

Sabre's moobs are absolutely getting bigger over time, aren't they? Either that or he's bad at reading washing instructions and keeps shrinking his clothes.

I wonder if the scarf-wearing TV is inspired by any fan-made characters? Giving TVs scarves seems to be a popular design choice!

I saw someone on Reddit suggest these are the first three TVs we see. The first two normal TVs we 'officially' see go ;) and c: - and although Sabre doesn't officially appear until much later, there is a purple-screened TV visible in some background scenes as far back as episode 30-something. That could well be Sabre!

The TVs teleport away - now we know they haven't stopped using the teleportation network altogether.

Firstly: Polycephaly, my beloved! Swoon!

Secondly: "Hugs?" - has Boom seen Drakk's Buzzsaw x Polycephaly fics??! 👀

I reckon he's at least looked at fanfics in aggregate (or had someone compile the info for him) just to get an idea of what characters and pairings are most popular.

If I go on AO3 and have it show me Skibidi Toilet fics and exclude crossovers and fics under 1000 words (because those are more likely to be stupid joke fics), I get 271 results. That means that the currently 18 Buzz x Poly fics are a not insignificant chunk of them!

I laughed like a twat. When the figurines for Polycephaly and Buzzsaw come out, they need to be made so that Buzz's hand fits Poly's crotch.

You can't tell from the still image, but Polycephaly makes a very subtle jolt and Buzz very slightly caresses with his thumb. Yes, it's funny, but it's also so delightful how Boom puts so many tiny details into his animations.

...Missed opportunity for Buzz to say 'Now I know why they call you Polycephaly'.

God, I wish that were me.

(I wish Polycephaly didn't tuck his tie into his trousers; it's not a good look. My boy needs a cummerbund or something.)

But then!

Big lore drop incoming that made my brainworms squeal.

We travel through the void... and Polycephaly speaks forwards.

Do you possess even dimliest concept of what this place is?

Is it future? Or is it past?

Is this the moment G-Toilet crashed to Earth?

Maybe Titan TV said 'you can't kill the dead' because TVs perceive time in reverse. From their point of view, they start off dead. 👀

Presumably we're really seeing these scenes in the void - if they were just Buzzsaw's hallucinations, the portable camera wouldn't be able to pick those up.

What resides in the corners of this darkness and what happens when outside entity stays there for too long? One of us has the answer.

Ohhh my goodness, oh my goodness, this makes my tits erect. The Void as a spoopy domain is a concept I use in my fics, and I'm not the only one to think it. I reckon either Boom reads fanfic, or we fic-writers have very similar ideas to Boom on what TVs and the Void should do. Both of which are very gratifying!

Jeffrey wouldn't mind some company.

Banging my head on the wall. Eating my own hands. Biting pieces off the wall and eating my teeth. /positive

Jeffrey. My beloved.

Twisted abomination of a TV that resides in the corners of this darkness. Who stayed there too long. Oh my goodness. The lore. The implications.

(I even had a somewhat similar idea for an OC, but it was in RP only so Boom couldn't possibly have seen it. That means we really do have similar ideas about TVs. Oh wow.)

Can Jeffrey leave the void? Does he want to? Is it his prison, or his home? Was he a prototype for Polycephaly? The first TV to discover and attempt teleportation? So many juicy possibilities!

I wonder if Boom did that so he could see what fics would emerge as a result?

Also lmao at the mood whiplash from ball-grab to eldritch fuckery. (Was Buzz holding onto Poly's robot knackers during that whole monologue?)

Lord help me, I'm gonna fuckin' kill.

Oh, Buzz has two hands now? Guess the saw bit is detachable.

Buzz's swords slice off Astro heads with ease - hopefully the Skibs share these upgrades with the Alliance.

The sword bit on Polycephaly's back is actually a sword!

No prisoners, Bozo.

Buzz performs his second on-screen war crime. (Killing an enemy who's surrendered - the first one was killing a medic.)

Rest in shit.

Brilliant line. And one I'm surprised I've never heard before.

Oh, there's the saw. And yes, he does do with it just what it looks as though he's about to do.

(That is a weird sentence. English is weird.)

Probably a war crime, but the Geneva Convention likely doesn't protect alien invaders.

It's pretty funny the juxtaposition between how brutal the actual Skibidi Toilet canon is, compared to the funny little toys that you can buy in toy shops next to the Pokemon plushies and Five Fortnights at Poppy's or whatever kids like these days.

Wow, even in the post-apocalypse YouTube rebuilt their building after G-Toilet flattened it! :D

So who's the purple streak?

Him! The he! My beloved boy!

"You're screwed." [unscrews]

Genius bit of subtitling. :D

The Detainer claws are growing on me a bit. I still prefer those cuddly stems, though. Also Polycephaly needs his poly of cephalus.

Tiny bit of character building: Buzz says "Nice job, friend" and Poly replies "Watch yo back, dumbass." Polycephaly says 'watch your back' instead of 'shut the fuck up' or similar. (Well, I assume it's true to the subs; I haven't bothered playing it backwards to find out.)

Larry shows us he's not just a pretty face. (Is he called that because of the phrase 'happy as Larry'?)

...Wow! Can all the TVs detach and fly their heads now?

Bwoo ha ha! Yesmate!

Buzzsaw helpfully takes Larry's body with him. It's funny how it stays rigid instead of ragdolling. :D (Also, Larry has now touched Polycephaly's balls by proxy.)

Poor Buzzsaw gets left behind on the battlefield because he takes action to stop a cloaked Astro from hijacking Polycephaly's teleport. The text 'spy detected' was presumably rendered by the portable camera - is it relaying its HUD to Buzz's shades? Or is Buzz just very good at spotting things? He is a former human, after all, and we're very good at noticing patterns and deviations!

Larry's head is still in the field piloting the dead Astro, so presumably Larry's headless body will arrive back at base. I'd like to think that people put things in the neckhole and take silly selfies with it. Maybe incompetent workers get berated with 'Larry is more productive than you' (because he just sits there and doesn't break anything).

Maybe Larry eventually makes his way back to base and finds his body being used as a vase.

Larry (still piloting the Astro shell) doesn't seem to notice Buzz or be inclined to help him. Larry is now a Chekhov's Gun for sure. Is Larry on a mission to retrieve Titan TV's shoulder-screen that got left behind at the fight with Juggernaut? Something has to happen with that screen! Boom made a conscious decision to have it fall off intact instead of being obviously damaged beyond repair.

Luckily for Buzz, the Soundkind have been cooking!

Notice the silly guy jumping.

...I'm really baffled by how many people seem to think this was Titan Speakerman. The scale is clearly all wrong, there's no core, and the silhouette is too different for it to read as the same character.

At first I thought this was just a large speakerman and they're now all this tanked up, but it seems this is an elite unit! Boom said their name is Executor - I suspect Boom was going for 'Executioner' but English isn't his first language.

Boom also called Executor a 'semi-Titan'. Maybe we'll start seeing these giant elites in the other factions too? (Though Polycephaly arguably could count as the TVs' semi-Titan.)

Well, now we know why the episode took so long. It probably took 3 months just to render all these bloody particles!

She! The her! Oh my fucking goodness!

The shorts version of this scene had Everybody Wants to Rule the World, which was some welcome nostalgia but I prefer the soundtrack in the full version. It needs the gnarly synthwave.

The crosses are a certainly a choice of imagery. They're the wrong way around to be a reference to cross-guard lightsabres. (Are they an Evangelion reference? I've never seen that but I've heard it has lots of cruciform imagery because the makers thought it looked cool.)

There's an exciting moment of character development when Speaker Matriarch throws Buzz's sword back to him. It wasn't that long ago they were on opposite sides, and the Matriarch watched her comrade Dark Speakerman die at the hands of Buzz's comrade. And yet she's willing to fight alongside him for now.

If this is how juiced up the Executor and the Matriarch are, how fucking overpowered is the Titan going to be?

No more hiding.

[ghostinthez0nes]

Kobra Kid Headcanons lets go

Likes tight clothing, makes him feel more secure and safe.

Will teach you karate if you bribe him enough, but it takes a’lot of bribing.

Doesn’t really care about gender or pronouns, but likes xe/xer pronouns because they sound cool.

Touch his hair and he’ll bite your hand.

Motorbike stunts for days.

A short fuse but a master at keeping cool. When he’s really pissed tho someone will get their teeth knocked in.

Doesn’t admit it but relies heavily on Party to keep his head above water.

Prefers driving around at night when it’s quieter and less bright.

Loves sweet and spicy food, bonus points if its both.

Becomes aggressive when overwhelmed and scared.

Loves sunrises. He will sometimes stay up all night just so he can watch the sun come up early in the morning.

Party helped make his helmet, they’re to thank for the paint job.

Keeps a little dino keychain in his pocket at all times.

Has horrible tan lines from wearing his sunglasses too long in the sun.

Flappy hands and stompy feet when excited.

Light sensitive, thus the sunglasses. Wears them indoors and at night too.

The most anxious around injuries, he doesn’t like blood.

Snorts when he laughs.

Loves the desert and the freedom that comes with it.

Has a very keen sense of smell and is very good at figuring out where the smell is coming from.

Knows sign language and uses it instead of speaking to communicate sometimes.

Absolutely HATES powerpup but forces himself to eat it if theres nothing else even if it makes him sick. Party tries really hard to look for other kinds of food when going on supply runs so his poor brother can eat.

Chews on the straps of his leather gloves when anxious.

Really likes bubbles.

Sleeps in his jacket for security.

A troublemaker with Ghoul and always finds ways to pull off stupid shit with him.

Likes Michael Bay movies.

Hardly ever cries, but when he does it’s cathartic. The others need to intervene because he chokes up while he’s heaving.

Prefers comics over books, he likes looking at pictures better.

Only the girl is allowed to doodle on his bike, if the others try he will deck them.

Most terrified of being captured by Bli, he doesn’t ever want to go back to the city.

Can play the harmonica really well.

Loves old and broken technology because he thinks its cool and likes to fix things.

Teaches the others to read, especially Jet and Ghoul. Ghoul can read but has dyslexia, Jet never really learned how to read properly at all.

Will try to pet any reptile he sees, even if its venomous or poisonous.

Can sleep sitting up, the others sometimes need to do a double take and check if he’s awake or not since he always wears sunglasses.

Obsessed with VHS tapes and has a collection of them with god knows what on them.

Freezes when panicking, will stay in shock at something until someone needs to move him.

Likes close range combat so he can show off his karate skills.

Instead of cussing in an argument he’ll just look at someone like they’re stupid.

Makes action figures for the girl out of spare parts, responsible for all of her robot toys.

Takes AGES to do his hair, hence why he wants no one to touch it.

If he’s not in his room at night, he’s on the diner roof watching the stars.

When the girl was a toddler, she would call him Kobi instead of Kobra.

Has a wide vocabulary due to being educated in the city, but refuses to use it.

Lost a tooth after an accident on the crash track, he gave it to Ghoul who turned it into a pendant.

[petrichor-edje]

My dad just had me watch The Abyss and I have many thoughts (both my dad and I are somewhat experienced rec divers (70+ dives)) and I really enjoyed this movie although my mom did accuse us of being divers who liked to watch stories about horrible things happening underwater and made fun of us

Anyway thoughts below

- very first shot of Lindsey, we see her stiletto touch down on the deck of this ship with perfect balance good for her

-mustache navy man so afraid to admit a woman knows more then him that he hides symptoms what could go wrong

- the entire exploring the downed sub sequence my dad and I are arguing about wether or not they are using a line for navigation because we can’t see it

- finally spot the line they are using and I’ve never dove a line before but I know enough to know they are doing it poorly

-also why does it look like a fancy curtain pull no wonder it broke

- alien thingie shows up and all the equipment loses power(?) or malfunctions and this means the sub crashed because of one of them

- if the guy who fucked up his mix didn’t get hurt in the initial convulsions he’s probably going to be fine

- there’s a storm coming and the navy guys fucked off to fuck around with nukes fuck them seven people died because you wanted to play with a bomb (6ppl on rig +guy in crane)

-this situation would be less stressful if someone turned off that goddamn music

-“raise your hand if you think that was a Russian water tentacle” single best line in the film

- Lindsey should have been allowed to slap him in the face

- man with psychosis has gun and nuke all signs point downhill

-the plan is to nuke the aliens genuinely can’t tell if he’s delusional and expects them to survive this or if he just doesn’t care anymore

- SUBMARINE FIGHT!!!

- if they had normal regulators instead of those stupid full face helmets they could have buddy breathed back to the rig just fine

- Lindsey I know your plan involves drowning but you coulda swam halfway back with the time you spent underwater kissing jfc

- fun fact apparently a guy survived for like forty minutes in a similar condition to what happened to Lindsey and came back fine

- I am so fucking mad with the scene where they are trying to revive her they try for like thirty seconds and give up and nobody was doing compressions for the first part of the scene and then THEy TaKe thE OXyGEN OUT??? When they think she’s dead??? It’s been like thirty seconds and there is no reason to take it out? Even if she’s dead there’s no way it could make the situation worse and if she’s alive it’s kinda fucking important?????

- then there’s that tender conversation and all I can think about is where they got dry clothes from because you know everything on that rig is now damp and salty and also curly hair is a bitch to dry

- now bud is going down in the liquid gear which has made it’s reappearance after being mentioned once an hour ago

- the worst part about the whole descending sequence is that there’s not even anything to be mad about because it’s a terrible idea but there is literally nothing else that can be done there is no better option

- I do love the bit with the colored wires tho because it is seriously hard to differentiate color at depth and it was super relatable

- but he literally just guessed because at this point why the fuck not 50/50

- and then he’s dying and I’m crying and it’s very sad but it’s also okay because he did what he needed to do to give everyone else a chance and he’s made his peace with that but somehow that’s the saddest part

- and then alien

- I love the aliens stupid little blinky eyes so cute when they blink

-was worried that at the very end when the alien ship brought them up and I saw the hatch to the rig open that that were going to just explode because of the pressure differential

- glad that didn’t happen must have been alien magic *shrugs*

[from-a-reckless-writer]

because, i think it's stupid that lena wouldn't have a back-up plan after alex took the device from her...

“Hey, Alex,” Lena calls, jogging to where Alex was putting her jacket on. Everyone was already gearing up to go home and she’s been thinking about this for the past hour. 

So, Lena shoots her shot.

“Yeah?” Alex turns to her, motor helmet in hand and already clad in her leather jacket.

“I was wondering if I can bring home the tracker? I know it’s a long shot but I was thinking maybe if I get another look at it, I can reverse engineer some of its properties and try to come up with a another way to get Kara back, I know Nia’s already doing the time-travel the but it can’t hurt to-”

Alex mercifully puts a stop to her rambling and puts a hand on her arm to stop her nervous fidgeting.

“I left it on top of the workstation.” She smiles in reassurance. “Of course you can take another look at it. Anything to help Kara.”

Lena lets out a relieved sigh. After everything that’s happened today she’s still a bit wary of stepping on anybody’s toes. That showdown with Alex was really something not to mention that talk after.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.”

“Alright. Good night.”

She sprints to the lab--which looks like more of an awkward gallop in her high heels--and snatches the tube-like device from the table.

She doesn’t even realize she’s hitching an elevator ride with Nia and Brainy—too caught up with planning out what to do with the device—till Nia speaks up, “Hey, that wasn’t bad for a first day.”

Lena looks up from the device in her hands, meeting Nia’s eyes.

“What’d I tell you, Nia Nal? Lena has always been extraordinary,” Brainy states, pressing for the ground floor.

“T-thank you,” she says, voice shaky and shy, but who can blame her? She isn’t used to this kind of appreciation. She still can’t believe they’ve accepted her like this, even though she very nearly ruined the whole mission by choosing Kara above everything else. 

It was a good thing Alex was there to call the shots.

Nia gives her a small smile before slowly closing her eyes and resting her head against Brainy’s shoulder.

They say their goodbye’s at the door and then Lena’s speeding her way to her apartment.

***

The device worked with Kara’s DNA before it got recalibrated, if, and that’s a big if, Lena thinks.

If she can extract Kara’s DNA, replace the core of the device, and input it in, then she can recreate the same tech she did earlier.

She already knows she’s not going to get any sleep tonight.

She pulls up in front of her building and heads straight for her penthouse.

Kara hasn’t been here for a year, what with their falling out and everything that’s happened with Lex. They didn’t even have a chance for one last movie night before Kara disappeared.

Her eyes start to sting with unshed tears at the thought, but knowing the work she has to do tonight, she quickly pushes it down.

Despite Kara not having visited her home recently, Lena knows there are many traces of her in this place. Namely, the lavender hairbrush living in her second bathroom drawer, the one she didn’t have the heart to throw away even during their fight.

She quickly makes for her bathroom, throws open the drawers, grabs the brush and puts it in a clean zip-lock, one she pulled from the kitchen.

She didn’t even bother changing clothes.

She was too busy outlining tonight’s lab work in her head to bother with something as trivial as changing clothes.

There are more important things to do, like busting inside the LuthorCorp tower, and down to what used to be her private lab. Lex hasn’t changed security. This, she knows. Therefore, she also knows that Mr. Johnson still works the night shifts and if she plays her cards right, she can sway him to open the door for her and keep it discreet.

Of course, you must be wondering why doesn’t she just use her private lab at home, instead? The reason being, her private lab is strictly an engineering and physics lab. What she needs right now, is enzymatic reagents and buffers; a gel electrophoresis machine and a PCR machine.

All of which can be found in LuthorCorp’s cutting-edge Biochemistry laboratory.

***

Turns out, she was right.

Mr. Johnson still does the nightshift and he was only a tad bit surprised to see her there. Already used to Lena staying holed up all night long, in her lab in the past.

He tells her he’s on her side despite the bad news about the Luthor Children’s Hospital, tells her that most of them here dearly misses Miss Luthor and hopes that Lex as CEO is only a temporary thing. He also tells her thank you again for the thousandth time for Lena saving his daughter’s life. Lena smiles warmly and asks if he can keep this visit under wraps if he doesn’t mind, to which he immediately agrees. Lena fights the urge to let out another sigh of relief.

See, Lex? It pays to treat people kindly.

It’s 11 pm when Lena reaches the labs. It was already dark, save for the lights of the big freezers. She knows there’ll be footage of her little excursion here but that’s an easy enough problem to solve when you have a Twelfth-Level intellect as back-up.

When she said she isn’t going to sleep tonight, she really genuinely means she isn’t going to sleep tonight.

See, it’s already 11 and she needs at least an hour to sterilize all equipment, another hour to sift through the clump of hair in the brush and look for an intact hair shaft. Then, she estimates 2 hours for extracting the DNA from the hair shaft using enzymes and she knows all too well how long a time it takes for a pipette to find the right fit during electrophoresis, not to mention the PCR machine can take 2-4 hours.

And even then, Lena still has to test the device, link it to her transmatter portal in order to open a portal once she gets Kara’s coordinates and after all that she isn’t really sure if this is going to be effective.

She has half a mind to call Brainy here and run her through all the probabilities.

But she knows this is something she needs to do alone.

***

It’s been so long since she’s had to do anything with physiology that she has to spend at least 30 minutes reading up the lab manual.

Extracting cattle DNA like she did back in college was an easy enough task with someone with the brains as hers, but a Kryptonian’s?

Lena had to do some extra calculations on what temperature to set and how much solution to use to get through Kara’s hair of steel.

In the end, she figured it out and soon enough the hum of the PCR machine becomes her only companion. It took a while to denature Kara’s DNA, she had to double the amount of Taq polymerase before actually getting it to the PCR machine.

It’s 4 am now, and she only has two hours before the LuthorCorp employees show up; two hours before her brother pulls up.

Thank God, for state of the art PCR machines that get things done in under an hour.

***

She’s been actively avoiding thinking of Kara throughout all of this.

But now, she’s home and in her private lab with Kara’s DNA strands in vials inside the LuthorCorp sterile container.

If she pulls this off, if this works, Kara would be home.

She won’t have to talk to holograms anymore, she won’t have to dream about bloody capes, she won’t have to feel incomplete anymore. Kara would be home. She can bring Kara home.

With a newfound determination, she sets on recalibrating the device. She takes out a vial of Kara’s DNA; gloved hands carefully inserting it unto the core of the device.

Now, onto the second part; linking her transmatter portal to open up at the exact coordinates the tracker points.

The whole process took her at least two hours. By the time she trudges to her bedroom to test the device, the sun was already peeking up from the horizon.

She opts to do it in her bedroom, granted that her physics lab was nothing more but the size of two small rooms mashed together. Her bedroom was more spacious and in the event that Kara needs to lie down, her bed would only be three steps away.

The device feels heavy in Lena’s hand, it actually feels alive. Lena supposes, it is. 

It does have Kara’s DNA in it after all.

She feels like this is one of those moments where it will be ingrained in your brain for forever. That small in-between in the middle of the Before and After. The realization of how important this moment is clears up her mind.

So, with sweaty hands she raises the device, clicks something on her wristwatch, watches as the tube fills with a blue hue getting brighter and brighter, till a streak of blue-white light beams out from the device and from a single point starts to form the beginnings of a portal.

Lena’s seen one too many portal openings for a lifetime to know in the next instant that this is it, it works.

She fucking did it.

***

A gust of ice cold air is the first thing that hits Lena once the portal fully opens.

The next was the sight of Supergirl. Kara. She was slumped against a boulder; cape tattered, hair dirty and face begrimed. She looked tired, exhausted, and in those first few seconds, Kara had her eyes closed.

Before it hits Lena all at once, Kara’s right there! She’s right there! She found Kara! Kara is right there, just three steps away—

“KARA!” She shouts, runs to the portal and into the Phantom Zone.

Kara jerks at the call of her name, squints her eyes at the bright blue portal before she realizes a figure is barreling straight for her, screaming her name.

A figure she knows all too well, a voice she knows all too well.

Before she knows it Lena’s crashing unto her place on the ground, two arms wrapping at Kara’s neck, sobbing, “It worked! Oh, God, it worked, I found you! I found you, I found you-”

All Kara could do was mutter a Lena in response, still suspended in disbelief.

Lena pulls back to touch her face and Kara finally takes a good look at her. Lena knows her hair was a far cry from her prim ponytails, she’s been tugging at it since midnight, her face was blotchy with tears and her eyes must’ve screamed exhaustion. But she couldn’t care less about her appearance, because Kara was here, she found Kara.

Kara was here and she’s crying too, also bringing a hand to Lena’s face and wiping at her tears.

They were crying and smiling and sobbing in each other’s arms.

“You found me.”

Lena leans in to Kara’s touch, both hands cradling Kara’s hand on her cheek, smiles in between sniffles and nods.

“I did, Kara I did. I found you. I'll always find you.”

“Take me home, Lena.”

***

Alex picks up on the third ring.

“Lena?” she answers, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I found her, Alex, I found her, she’s home.”

“What? Who? Lena what-”

“Kara. Kara’s home, Alex.”

The next thing Lena hears were sobs. She passes the phone to Kara, who was still in her filthy supersuit, sitting on the edge of Lena’s queen bed probably making it dirty beyond saving but Lena cannot find in her to care.

“Hi, Alex.”

She exits the room to give the Danvers sisters some privacy and also to prepare Kara a shower, grabs a couple of Kara’s clothes from when they still had sleepovers and left it in the bathroom counter.

By the time she comes back again, Kara’s put the phone down, still sitting on the bed and fiddling with her thumbs. Kara looked small like this and there’s nothing more Lena wants to do than to embrace her.

So, she does.

“Hi,” Kara says, as she holds Lena close, Lena straddling her lap, foreheads pressed together.

“Hi back,” she whispers, smile in her voice, Kara’s blue eyes were filled with exhaustion but still beaming bright just for her. “Would you like to take a shower? I’ve prepared the bath for you.”

Kara nods, refusing to pull away, “Okay, okay, great,” she mutters even though the both of them make no move to pull away from each other, choosing to remain in this quiet existence of overwhelming love for each other’s presence, instead.

There’s still so much to say and so much to do, but all of that can wait, everything can wait, there’s no rush.

Her hero is finally home after all.

***

When she opens the door, Alex crashes into her with an embrace so tight, Lena had trouble breathing. Kelly closes the door for them, they drove here still in pajamas Lena notices, as Kelly gives her a smile from over Alex’s shoulder.

“Where is she?” Alex gasps out, tears springing from her eyes at the sight of Kara’s supersuit on the floor, right next to her grimy red boots. Concrete proof that her sister really is home, that Lena really did the impossible.

“In the shower,” Lena murmurs, giving Kelly a cup of tea as Alex paces in anticipation, Lena was half-afraid she’d wear a hole in her hardwood floors.

“H-how?” Alex asks, too emotional to let out a full sentence.

“Well,” Lena begins, and takes them through the entire process of what she had done the night before, how she didn’t sleep, how she kind of needs Brainy to scrub clean the LuthorCorp surveillance system, how she replicated Kara’s DNA as substitute for the life force in that crystal, how the portal had opened in her bedroom.

Alex took all of this in with quiet tears streaming down her face and Kelly’s hand tight in hers.

“Thank you, Lena. Thank you.”

***

The sight of the Danvers sisters reuniting was something that would make even a grown man weep.

Alex collides into Kara, before she even gets the chance to say her name.

“Rao, Alex, I missed you.”

Alex couldn’t respond to hearing her sister’s voice again for the first time, so she just sobs into the embrace.

Lena has to wipe away a stray tear or two before turning around, feeling like this moment was something too precious to intrude on.

This moment belonged to Kara and Alex, not her.

Kelly did the same and asked Lena if it would be okay to use her kitchen, she wanted to fix Kara her first breakfast.

***

“Are you sure you’d rather stay the night here?” Lena murmurs unto the crown of Kara’s head.

They were both laid in Lena’s bed, she doesn’t why she asked, when the both of them are already in pajamas and are two seconds away from slumber still Lena can’t help but ask.

Surely, Kara would want to spend her first night back in her own bed rather than here, right?

“M’sure, I’m right where I want to be,” Kara says around a yawn, pressing close to Lena, and nuzzling into her neck. She was clearly wearied, which was totally understandable, hell the both of them were. Lena’s been up for 24 hours. She’s amazed her body hasn’t knocked her out yet.

After that emotional morning, Alex insisted Kara be checked in The Tower. And so they did, everything was fine with her vitals, though they all still insisted she stay a couple of hours under the sunlamps. All of them knows, there was no sunlight in the Phantom Zone.

Nia, Brainy and M’gann all had teary reunions with Kara. Although, Nia’s was the most amusing one, “I’m sorry, in advance,” she said between sniffles, “But I just couldn’t think of anything and- and- Andrea was grilling me so I just said you were with Cat,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay, Nia,” Kara laughs, “We’ll work on it together,” she promises.

Seeing Kara back with everyone, seeing her in her pastel clothes, seeing her without her glasses; laughing and soft and safe has Lena crying quietly again at the memory.

“Hey? Why are you crying? This is a happy day, remember? I’m home. You brought me home. No more crying, okay?” Kara tells her from her place in the bed.

“I know.” Lena quickly wipes a tear, “I’m sorry, I’m just happy. So, so happy.”

She is. She really, really is. Especially right now, finally laying in bed with Kara after a long two weeks of lonely nights.

Kara requested to be held tonight, asking Lena shyly, “C-can you hold me? For tonight? Please?”

Lena was powerless and now here they were.

“For the record,” Lena says, “I’m right where I want to be, too.”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him. 

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward. 

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries. 

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed. 

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.” 

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her. 

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not. 

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty. 

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children. 

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age. 

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?” 

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket. 

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up. 

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face. 

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life. 

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N. 

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

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.  Let me know what you think!

[nightingaelic]

New Vegas companions reacting to the courier being mildly deaf?

Upon first meeting the courier, most assumed they were shy. They didn't make eye contact often, they just stared intensely at your mouth, as if trying to physically catch the words that were said. They naturally talked with their hands when they answered questions, but their movements were too animated to be merely emphasis. Most curiously, they avoided talking to anyone who covered their head with a helmet, head wrap or bandanna, and if they absolutely had to, they constantly asked the person in question to repeat themselves. If they were lucky, the confused individual would write down what they were trying to say. If they weren't, the conversation ended prematurely and the courier's face held a look of utter frustration and disappointment for hours.

It wasn't until the third or fourth time the courier ran afoul of a New Vegas Strip Securitron that told them to get out its way that their companion pulled them aside.

Arcade Gannon: "You can't hear them, can you?" Arcade asked, pulling them back from the street where the contingent of House's robots was rolling by.

"I... a little bit," the courier protested, putting a hand to their left ear. "Mostly out of this side. It's been ringing a lot lately, though, and normally I can compensate by just watching their mouth, but with robots..."

Arcade nodded. "You can't lip-read a bot. Sure. Why haven't you gone to the Followers yet?"

"For what?"

"An implant." Arcade furrowed his brow. "Dr. Usanagi has to have something in stock, or she could call in some favors out west and get one sent here."

The courier's hand moved upward again, to the scar that graced their hairline. "I don't think..."

Arcade's eyes widened. "Oh. Sorry. Yeah, that might make things... difficult."

Craig Boone: "Keep your eyes up," Boone said gruffly, after the courier picked themselves up from where the Securitron had tossed them after they failed to move quickly enough.

"I can't have my eyes on everything and everyone inside the Strip," the courier grumbled. "It's not my fault. There's enough people here today to drown out the feel of robot wheels on asphalt. And where were you, spotter?"

Boone softened, but less than an inch. "It might not be your fault, but it won't matter if the thing you miss is the thing that does you and your partner in. Don't lose track of House's muscle when you're in New Vegas."

"I wish they had muscles," the courier groaned. "Specifically facial muscles. It'd make things a whole lot easier."

"Let's do our business and get out of town quickly," Boone answered, giving everyone in the near vicinity a look of distrust. "Too many people means too many opportunities to miss something important."

Lily Bowen: "Is your hearing going, dearie?" Lily asked, clearly concerned at the prospect. "Grandma was lucky enough to keep hers, but plenty of her friends' hearing started to go after turning 60."

"I'm fine," the courier insisted, brushing their coat off. "It's nothing I can't handle or work around."

Lily thought for a minute as they removed the rest of the dust from their outfit. "You know, pumpkin, it's okay to need help sometimes."

The courier gave her a sour look. "Not in the Mojave, it's not."

"Even in the Mojave," Lily chided. "Some people are big and strong, like Grandma. Others are small and sneaky. Some people can't see, or can't walk, and some people can't eat or drink or go to the bathroom without help. Some people can't hear."

"Lily..."

"Listen to your grandma." Lily patted their head. "Some people need help, and they deserve it. Let Grandma help you watch out for robots, next time."

The courier sighed and looked up at her sadly. "Okay. But... you should think about taking your own advice, Lily."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Earth to Courier Six," Raul said with a chuckle. "Mr. House's minions don't have time to scoop you onto the sidewalk every time they roll through, you know."

The courier rolled their eyes and retrieved their pack from where it had fallen. "Chingate. And I don't have time to move out of the way whenever they need to break up a fight in Gomorrah."

Raul examined his fingers with mock interest. "Shame they don't speak the bridge talk you do. I don't know if their pequeñas garras could manage it, though."

The courier's eyes widened, and a smile grew beneath them. "Bridge talk? Never heard it called that, before."

"Eh, lingua franca, common-speak, whatever it's going by now." Raul waved his hand, then shot out a few quick signs: "man," "woman," "eat". "Don't know much of it myself, but I know it when I see it. Used to belong to the Plains tribes alone, and now it's everywhere."

"Everywhere except the Mojave." The courier made a face. "Why is that?"

Raul shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe they all got sick of being tossed around by robots, too."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass let go of the courier briefly to bang a fist on the side of the nearest departing Securitron. "Assholes! House can afford to be late!"

She grabbed the courier again and ducked behind a pack of tourists before the Securitron could pinpoint her. "Six, you have to stick by me," she insisted. "I know you're only firing on one cylinder in the sound department."

"I am fine," the courier insisted, wiggling out of her grasp.

"You are not." Cass seized them again. "I've known plenty of NCR vets who were discharged with heads full of nightmares, missing limbs and a lifelong case of tinnitus or no hearing at all. By my guess, you're somewhere in the middle of those last two, and I'll be damned if you get done in by a robotic security team after you had the gall to crawl out of your own grave and kick the leader of the Chairmen's ass."

"Well what do you want me to do, Cass?" the courier protested, their hands flying with the emotion. "No one here understands. Everyone else in the Mojave with hearing problems is too poor to wander around the Strip, or too dead to care!"

Instead of responding, Cass watched their fingers, making shapes. Shapes she'd seen before. Something clicked, and she reached out to grab their hands. "Plains talk," she said breathlessly.

"What?"

"Plains talk!" Cass was grinning. "My mom knew it. God, I'm stupid."

Veronica Santangelo: Rather than chastise the courier, Veronica watched them pick themselves up and make a series of angry motions with their hands toward the departing robots.

"You're talking," she said with wonder, when they finally turned back to her.

"Huh?"

"With your hands." Veronica imitated the last sign they'd made. "What does it mean?"

The courier blushed. "Um. Maybe don't make that sign in public, unless you're really, really angry at someone."

"Starting with swear words, as you always should when learning a new language," Veronica replied brightly. "Why don't you just use the sign language more?"

"Because, Veronica, people here don't speak it." The courier sighed. "You get English, Spanish, some tribal languages, but I've only met two people who knew the signs I know. I'm still not sure where it comes from. After I woke up in Doc Mitchell's office, I thought I was crazy for a bit. Like I had this whole, made-up language in my head that no one else could speak."

Veronica put a hand on their shoulder and squeezed it. "Teach me. We'll speak it together."

ED-E: ED-E had learned early on that beeping was no use with the courier, so it did the next best thing it could and gently bounced its dome off their shoulder and arms, tilting its speaker toward them with concern.

The courier, eyes brimming with tears, grabbed the eyebot in both hands and pressed their forehead to it, as if holding the face of a loved one. "I wish I wasn't like this," they muttered.

ED-E held still until their pain had subsided, and it floated close behind them when they arose and moved on.

Rex: Rex barked his anger at the departing Securitrons, then turned to look up at the courier and whine.

They ruffled the fur on his neck and crouched down to put their arms around him. "It's okay, buddy. You can't warn me every time someone big comes up behind me. Thanks for watching my back."

[citrinesparkles]

cat.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,388 words. notes: this is part one of i don't even know how many and i cannot believe how wildly out of hand this got. this was a 500 word idea and it's gonna be at least three parts someone help (thanks to @angelz-dust for being so patient with me and encouraging on this!!! would never have made it out of the drafts without you <3) warnings: danger to kids, mention of a couple arguing, animal illness (spoiler alert: it'll be fine i Promise), a little (lot) different than my usual edit: part two here!

"let me be perfectly clear: if you even think about showing back up here, i will know, and i will make your life a living hell until i finally put you out of your misery. understood?"

"yes! yeah man i get it. understood."

"then i'd get going, if i were you." the man scrambled to his feet and bolted off across the playground, leaving jason to shout after him. "and warn any buddies you might have, too!"

he picked up the discarded knife and pocketed it. he then turned around slowly, hands visibly empty in a careful attempt not to scare the two kids behind him- well, careful not to make it worse, anyway. they, understandably, seemed a little shaken already.

"are you both alright?" he asked softly, slouching just a little to seem as harmless as possible.

probably would have been easier if they hadn't just watched him threaten someone.

the older kid- probably fifteen, if jason had to place a bet- nodded silently before glancing back at the little girl he was still hovering in front of protectively, who was just... staring.

she couldn't have been older than six.

"jazz?" the boy asked, voice tight. "are you hurt?"

he was ignored. "are you superman?"

the question, innocent and earnest and a little timid, made jason laugh. "not quite, kiddo."

she tilted her head like a curious puppy, furrowing her brow. "why are you wearing a jacket?"

jason glanced up at the boy, who seemed comforted by her mini interrogation. good.

talking was a good sign, too, so jason crouched down to meet her at eye level.

"because it gets cold out here!" he said, raising his hands up with a small wiggle of his fingers. "gloves, too."

"well, duh," jazz said with a giggle- a win, jason thought. "no fingerprints."

he nodded. "also helpful."

"and the hat to hide your face!" she said proudly, stepping forward a little to point at his helmet.

"wow, you've got the whole thing figured out, huh?"

"mhm! my friend ricky loves batman and his friends. he talks about batman and nightwing and spoiler and robin and red robin and red hood and batgirl all the time! they hide their faces like you, ricky thinks it's because of bad guys."

"they're kinda cool, huh?"

"nightwing's my favorite," she said firmly, as though it was something she had considered at great length and was fully prepared to defend.

"not red hood?" jason smacked a hand to his chest in mock hurt, shifting back dramatically. "i'm crushed, truly."

"no, ricky says red hood used to be an alien, but then got bored and now he annoys batman for fun instead. that sounds mean."

...well, okay, maybe he did annoy the big guy for fun a little. "that's an interesting theory, all right."

"ricky's got all kinds of theories. he thinks batman's a robot-" jason snorted- "and that nightwing was like pinochle."

"you mean pinocchio," the boy corrected quietly. "pinochle's what gramma plays."

"pinocchio!" she exlaimed, with a "ch" sound in the middle that made jason smile. "a doll that got turned human. that's how he does all the flips and stuff, he's got magic."

"hm, ricky seems like an interesting guy," jason said thoughtfully, making a big show of rubbing the chin of his helmet. "what do y-"

he was cut off by a loud, insistent meow, and jazz gasping even louder before taking off to the bushes.

"w- hey, don't rush off like that!" he said, shooting up off the ground as the boy sighed.

"there's this cat that she's been taking care of," he explained quietly. "the thing's got attitude for days but i think it's sick or something. jasmine's been bringing it little bits of tuna and chicken, but it's not like we can get it to a vet."

jason hummed. "why do you think it's sick?"

"it's thin, with its eyes all watery and sunk."

"might just be malnourished," he muttered.

"she's been trying to find it a home, y'know."

there was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge quality to the kid's voice that did not go unnoticed.

on one hand, it was good to hear something other than fear from him, but on the other... "what part of the tactical armor makes you think i'm an option?"

"the part where you just stuck around to check on us instead of running after that guy."

okay. maybe the quiet thing hadn't been so bad. the cocky 'amateur psychologist' thing was a little grating.

"you the real red hood?" the kid asked suddenly, shaking jason from his internal grumbling.

"what do you think?"

"i think you just saved our lives, and i wanna know who i'm thanking."

jason turned to him with a flourish. "red hood, baby saver extraordinaire. at your service."

"baby- dude, i'm seventeen!"

okay, so he would have lost his bet. "noted. still a baby, trust me."

"what are you under there, twenty something? whatever, grandpa."

jason chuckled, turning back to watch jasmine pet a small cat under one of the yellow lights littering the park. "you did well, looking out for her with that guy. you got a name?"

he scoffed. "would've been better if i'd kicked him between the legs right when he opened his mouth, instead of letting him get started on the whole 'what're you kids doing out so late?' bit," he muttered darkly, pausing for a moment before answering. "my name's jordan."

"well, jordan, what are you guys doing out so late?"

"mom works nights, and the neighbors were fighting. it was loud enough to wake jazz up, and it wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hear. i figured a trip to see her cat would be less awful than hearing them call each other things i wouldn't even call my friends." the breeze picked up, rustling the trees and catching on jason's jacket. "and then the asshole with the knife decided to make a bad night worse."

"is jazz your sister?"

"yeah, she's a good kid," jordan said, fond and warm. "sorry about the whole ricky thing, though. he's obsessed with those vigilante conspiracy videos and tells her all about them at school."

"no, no, it's fine. i can't wait to tell wing about his new origin story, he'll love that."

jasmine suddenly came bounding back towards them, grabbing their hands and yanking them to follow her. "c'mon, you need to meet cat!"

"you call it cat?"

jordan bristled subtly. "is there a problem with that, red?"

"no, no, it's an appropriate name. just making sure." jason waved his spare hand at his head. "helmet makes me hear things sometimes."

jordan opened his mouth, but his sister plowed right over whatever he was going to say, pulling on jason's hand again. "cat, meet... what's your name?"

"red hood."

"you can't be red hood!" she whirled around, indignantly putting her hands on her hips. "there's already a red hood in gotham. besides, you're not even wearing a hood, so it doesn't fit anyway."

jason turned his head to jordan, who was smiling- a good sign, but probably a bad omen for whatever he was about to say. "she's right, man. it's not a hood."

"tough crowd," jason muttered. "uh... then you can call me, uh-"

"bucket!" jasmine suggested happily, tapping his helmet. "because this looks like a bucket."

if there was one thing vigilantism had taught him, it was that sometimes you actually do need to pick your battles. this...

this was not worth fighting.

"sure, fine, whatever. hi, cat, i'm red bucket." he turned away from the kids- both of whom looked entirely too happy about the whole 'bucket' thing, he thought- and crouched down to finally look at the cat.

it did look a little sick, actually.

it was gray, and thin, and-

and now it was headbutting his knee like it was trying to push him over.

"cat likes you!" jazz cheered.

"sure does," jordan said pointedly. "isn't that interesting?"

jason opened his mouth, but his snarky comment died in his throat when the cat settled down right in front of him and blinked slowly up at him with a sweet tilt to its head.

...shit.

just- shit.

he sighed, standing up and looking back to jordan and his stupid, entirely-too-pleased-with-himself grin. "so, jazz," jason grumbled reluctantly, "where does cat live?"

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Seek a Little Strange and Unusual

Fandom: Psychonauts Pairing: None Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Chloe Barge Summary: One day at the grocery store, Loboto overhears two parents discussing their...problem child. It's a very familiar sounding conversation. He may not understand why, but he won't let history repeat itself. Chloe isn't particularly fond of her human caretakers. The dentist who smuggled her out of the store is strange...but so is she. And he, at least, understands the importance of space helmets on alien planets.

[don’t make tumblr funnyposts about headcanons guys because you WILL become attached to them]

Cucumbers, lighter fluid, toothpaste, apple sauce, quick rise yeast, mineral oil...

Almost everything! All that was left was condiments. Except...had he written ketchup, or catsup? Did it matter? Of course it mattered, they were totally different things! Weren't they? Well, they had different names.

Lobot stared between the bottle of catsup and the scribbled list, trying to read his own handwriting.

"No, no! Put it down--Chloe put that down right now." 

Ooooh, drama! He loved drama. Loboto poked his head around the corner of the aisle in time to see a small child standing on their tiptoes, arms outstretched to the cereal boxes on the upper shelf. A brightly colored box of sugar pretending to be a nutritious breakfast was wrapped in a purple glow and descending, slowly. 

A woman materialized next to the girl. Her face was tight with anger and she snatched the box out of the air. Shoving it back on the shelf she hissed "What did I tell you? How many times do I have to say it, Chloe! Don't do that! Especially not in public! And I told you take that stupid helmet off when we're in the store!"

The child's response was unintelligible, muffled by the space helmet they were indeed wearing. He wondered what the big deal was. It wasn't the 1940's; nobody cared if you wore a hat in public anymore. Just look at him! He was wearing his showercap and no one had said a word! They just left the aisle as soon as they saw him.

“Take it off, now!” 

A man appeared and grabbed the woman's arm.

"Keep your voice down, people are going to come see what the fuss is."

The woman rounded on him, her expression one of frantic desperation. 

"I can't do this anymore."

I just don’t care anymore.

"I can't deal with this, the helmet and the moving things around--!"

He’s a monster!

"I know, I know--"

Soon we’ll be free of this devil child.

"I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this! If I have to deal with one more dismantled radio, one more time trying to get her to take it off for company, one more bent spoon--"

Every! Spoon! Bent!

"I've been asking around, and Johnson knows someone who can do a procedure that’ll fix her--"

They all agree on the diagnosis and what must be done.

He felt strange. Cold and hot and angry and...sad. The child didn't seem to notice the conversation. She was trying to float the cereal box back down again. She probably didn't understand what it all meant. She was young. Very young.

Younger than he had been.

He hadn't understood either, until it was too late.

The humans were arguing again. They were always arguing these days. Arguing about such petty problems, when they could be focusing on the whole galaxy around them. She ignored them. It wasn't like they listened to her anyway. How many times had she explained to the woman why she needed to wear the helmet whenever she left the hermetic seal of her room? It never mattered. 

The box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs landed gently in her hands. Excellent. She would slide it into the cart under the frozen peas. By the time they got to the cash register, the woman would be bound by social convention to make the purchase, or risk making a scene in front of the cashier.

Chloe still hadn't figured out what making a scene meant. The term was definitely in regards to public behavior, but was applied to anything from yelling in public to silent refusal to remove her helmet. Human rules were so strange and arbitrary.

The boxes in front of her rustled. Chloe tilted her head to one side. Odd. Sometimes things around her moved on their own, but usually she got that strange tingle in the back of her head when they did. She wasn't feeling it now.

The boxes of cereal parted, excess tumbling off the ends of the shelves. Two small lights gleamed in the newly made gap. One red, one green.

A metal claw shot out, grabbed Chloe by the shirt, and hauled her through.

She had half been expecting to be pulled into another dimension, but instead she was just in the next aisle. There was no time to feel disappointed before she was dumped unceremoniously in a grocery cart. Someone loomed over her, but Chloe only got the impression of blue skin and flowers before the stranger scooped up half a shelf's worth of bags of macaroni and dumped them on top of her.

It didn't hurt. She could breathe fine with her helmet protecting her face--see, she wanted to say, I told you I needed it--but she couldn't move very much. The cart rattled and bumped, one wheel squeaking obnoxiously. They paused briefly, and Chloe considered shouting for help, but didn't. She wanted to see where this was going.

So she stayed quiet and still, holding the box of cereal to her chest as a cheerful voice cried "No need to do your beeping scans! I know what I bought! Keep the change!"

Then they were off again. The sounds around her changed as they left the store and rattle bumped their way through the parking lot. She heard a trunk open up, and decided now was a good time to figure out what was going on. She had no interest in riding with the groceries.

Chloe made the purple glow around her hands and pushed until the groceries around her lifted enough for her to move. She popped out from beneath the macaroni like a beach ball being released underwater.

The stranger was. Strange. Very tall. The lights Chloe had seen were his eyes--or rather, small tubes where his eyes should be. They twitched and turned independently of each other. He was smiling at her, and his smile seemed to stretch much, much further than most human smiles.

He was wearing a labcoat and a shower cap.

"Hello!" he said. "I'm going to kidnap you and raise you as my own so your parents can't stick an icepick in your brain to take away your psychic powers!" He tapped his chin, brow furrowing. One of his arms was made of metal, and ended in three claws. "Although I already did that first part, so...I have kidnapped you and am going to raise you as my own so that your parents can't stick an icepick in your brain to take away your psychic powers!"

Chloe considered this with some alarm. She didn't know what an icepick was, but she was sure she didn't want anything stuck in her brain. Psychic powers? Ah. That would explain the purple glow. Her caretakers had been very frustrated by it. But could she believe that they would stick things in her brain just so they could be less frustrated?

Yes. She could believe.

Her chest hurt. The macaroni was heavier than she first thought.

"Will you let me wear my helmet?" she asked.

"Of course!" He patted his showercap. "Headwear is a very important personal choice!

Chloe thought some more.

"This is acceptable," she said, and lifted her arms. The stranger stared at her. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

"What are you doing."

"You need to lift me up."

The stranger stuck his hands under her armpits and did so, holding his arms fully extended out in front of him. She dangled in the air, up, up, so high up, higher than she'd ever managed on a swing, and without the heavy weight of rope and swing seat to remind her she was pinned to this mudball planet. She felt weightless, floating, a dizzyingly wonderful feeling.

They stayed like that for several moments.

"Is this what parenting is?" the stranger asked. "It's a lot easier than they made it sound."

Chloe was so high up, her vision extended over the sea of cars, and she spotted her caretakers--former caretakers--rushing out of the grocery store, looking around wildly.

"Put me down," she said. She would have liked to stay up there for longer. For hours. Maybe she could get him to do it again later. The man used to do it all the time, before the arguing started. The stranger set her feet on the pavement, and began to toss the cart's contents into the trunk without any care for fragility. He did not seem particularly rushed or concerned, for all that he said he was kidnapping her. And wasn't kidnapping illegal?

The car was nothing like the sleek blue sedan her parents drove. The man washed it obsessively, and acted as if you had removed an organ if you so much as borrowed a single sparkplug, even if the project was important.

Not only did this car look as if it hadn't been washed, ever, it also looked like it might dissolve if you tried. It was mostly rust held together by duct tape. The car was decorated in strange patterns picked out by objects hot glued to the sides: rubber ducks, dice, plastic flowers, and many, many teeth. From the looks of it, mostly Odocoileus virginianus and Procyon lotor, although she had to wonder about some of the molars.  

"Chloe!" someone shouted. "Chloe, where are you!"

Chloe opened the door of the car and climbed inside. There was a moldy grey blanket on the car seat. She unfolded it and draped it over herself. It smelled like seaweed and toothpaste. She tried to look as much like a non-child lump as she could.

The trunk closed. Through the thin blanket she saw the shadow of the stranger--her new caretaker--lean over her. He wound all three seatbelts across her, pinning her to the seat.

"Safety first!" he said.

The car's engine whined and groaned and the calls got closer. They wouldn't be able to see her under the blanket. She was hidden. It was safe.

All the same, she felt a rush of relief when the engine finally growled to life. The car shot backwards and then came to an abrupt halt with a crash and the tinkle of glass. The seatbelts held her so fast Chloe didn't even move.

"Whoopsie!" the man said. The car lurched forwards and came to another abrupt halt with another crash. "Sorry!" Forward. Smash. "Oopsie daisy!" Back. Crash. "Almost got it!"

This time when the car sped forward, it did not stop, although Chloe did hear a scream and a bump as they turned a sharp corner.

"There we go!"

Chloe waited a few more minutes before working her arms free and pulling the blanket down from over her helmet. The car was zipping down the road, swerving violently between the other cars. In the space of three minutes they shot through two red lights. Her new caretaker was humming an offkey ditty to himself, as if he was taking a casual stroll through the park.

"Who are you?" Chloe asked.

"I am Dr Calligosto Loboto! The greatest dentist in the world!" He threw out an arm dramatically and his claws punctured the roof of the car. She could see many similar holes clustered in the same area.

"My name is Chloe. I hail from the planet Cygnus A."

"Ooooh, you're an alien! That explains the helmet! You better keep that thing on, I don't want you suffocating in our atmosphere!"

Chloe couldn't name the feeling in her chest, except that it was a good one.

"That's what I kept telling them! Just because I can breathe your air doesn't mean it doesn't have a detrimental effect on my lungs!"

"Of course!" the doctor said, genuinely annoyed. "That's Alien 101! Boy, your parents are weird."

"They aren't my parents," Chloe said, firmly. "They're my human caretakers. They were looking after me while I'm on the planet. Someday my real parents will return for me, and take me back to the home planet."

"Makes sense to me! I wonder if that makes this less of a felony."

[bluerose5]

Honesty is Key

Pairing: Scott Ryder/Jaal Ama Darav

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,487

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Pre-Relationship, Slight Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Loyalty Mission, Post-Jaal Ama Darav: Flesh and Blood, Emotional Hurt and Comfort

Scott couldn't take it.

He had been so close to losing him. His stomach churned at the thought alone. His hands shook, yet no amount of deep breaths or calming thoughts helped soothe his nerves.

Adrenaline coursed through him, showing no sign of letting up.

Scott had barely stepped foot on the Tempest before he was already rushing off to the bathrooms in quick, long strides. The others called out to him, but he ignored them. Their words were garbled, unintelligible. It was like listening to someone from underwater.

Thankfully, no one was in the restroom.

Using the codes that Kallo had given him, he overrode the Tempest's protocols and locked the doors behind him. Bile started to rise in the back of his throat, leaving a bitter taste that lingered on the back of his tongue.

Taking his helmet off, Scott tossed it aside. It hit the floor and cracked, but he couldn't find it in himself to care right now.

He had been so close to losing him.

Both of his knees buckled, and Scott barely had enough time to brace himself against the sink before they collapsed entirely. Running shaky fingers through his hair, he glanced up and met his eyes in the mirror. They were red, swollen, and puffy. Tears had started to stream down his cheeks without Scott even noticing.

His face was as pale as a ghost, and his stomach continued to churn until finally he gagged.

All he could see was that bullet slicing through Jaal's cheek, over and over again. If the shot had been aimed slightly more to Akksul's right, then he—

Before Scott could even finish that thought, he was stumbling through the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and his stomach heaved.

By the time his stomach was empty, his throat burned, and his vision blurred.

He couldn't stop trembling from head to toe, feeling as if he was coming apart at the seams.

"Pathfinder," SAM said through their private channel, "your vitals are consistent with those associated with extreme distress. Should I alert Dr. T'Perro?"

"I—" Scott managed to scrape himself off the floor, careful of the shards scattered around from his helmet's shattered facepiece. "No, I'll be fine."

Eventually.

Scott rinsed his mouth out at the sink, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Cleaning up as much as he could, Scott figured he could come back later and finish up.

Of course, the second he stepped out the door, he bumped into Jaal's chest.

Well, that dashed any hopes he had of making a quick escape to his quarters. Not that he should have expected any different. Jaal wasn't the type to avoid an issue when he could confront it instead.

At the sight of Scott's blotchy, tear-stained face, Jaal frowned.

"You are upset," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit."

It took Scott a whole minute to realize that he had said that aloud instead of keeping it to himself. Jaal blinked owlishly at him in shock, but Scott averted his gaze, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, face flushed with warmth compared to mere moments prior.

Jaal regarded him in confusion.

"Why are you apologizing for speaking your mind?" he asked, utterly baffled.

Right. The angara value openness and honesty.

Scott could work with that.

Hopefully.

"Mind joining me in my quarters?" Scott asked, eyeing the empty corridor with suspicion. Knowing his crew, he might not have them in his direct line of sight at the moment, but that didn't mean that they weren't listening in somehow. Call him paranoid, but Scott wasn't taking any chances. "I want to talk about what just happened out there."

At that, Jaal shifted uncertainly, wringing his hands together.

"Okay," he whispered, "but are you certain that we have to have this discussion alone?"

Scott narrowed his eyes at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"I would prefer to be alone, yes."

"You're upset with me," Jaal noted, but was he right?

Yes, no, maybe. Scott didn't know, but he wasn't going to have this conversation out in the open.

"Come on," Scott grumbled, dragging Jaal into his quarters alongside him. Once they were inside, Scott sealed the doors. "In you go."

"Scott—"

"Not. A. Word." Jaal snapped his mouth shut, and Scott jabbed a finger into his chest. "You are so—" Reckless, stupid, careless... There was so much he wanted to say, but it was near impossible to settle on one word alone. "—infuriating!"

It was nowhere near enough, but it would have to do for the moment.

Without thinking, Scott kicked at a nearby box. He didn't notice until it was too late that his body was thrumming with biotic energy, his frame enveloped in a bluish light. He sent the box flying into a nearby wall, where it shattered into little pieces.

Scott watched it fall apart, but he didn't feel much satisfaction from the act. Instead, he felt numb. Numb and drained.

Turning back to Jaal, Scott let his biotics fizzle out.

His face crumpled.

"I could have lost you," Scott whispered distantly, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I almost lost you."

Repeating it didn't help any. Reality refused to set in entirely. He still struggled to comprehend everything that happened at the Forge.

In the blink of an eye, Jaal had Scott wrapped up in his arms. Scott choked on a sob, burying his face into the crook of Jaal's neck.

He took a deep breath, Jaal's sweet, warm scent a constant reminder that he was still there. That he was alive.

"I don't have many people left that I care about," Scott whispered, finally giving voice to those feelings that had been bottled up for so long. "My mom and dad are both gone. There's no telling when Sara will wake up." He swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat. "You and the crew... You're all that I have left. My friends, my family, my colleagues."

He pulled away, just enough to stare pointedly into Jaal's bright blue eyes.

"And so much more," he breathed.

Carefully, he traced his fingers along the underside of Jaal's latest wound. At first, he flinched, but Jaal grabbed Scott’s hand and held it there before he could pull away.

If anything, he leaned even further into his touch, and Scott melted.

"I'm sorry to make you worry so," Jaal said, "but I'm grateful that you trusted me enough to refrain from bringing harm to Akksul. I know that it had to be a difficult decision, but acting against him would have only strengthened the Roekaar's cause. You did the right thing."

"Perhaps," Scott grunted, "but that doesn't make me feel any less like shit."

Jaal chuckled.

Tightening his arms around him, his rofjinn draped over Scott’s shoulders like a warm blanket, safe and secure.

Scott snuggled in close.

"Doing the right thing won't always feel fulfilling," Jaal said, "but thank you. Not only for that."

Scott furrowed his brow.

"What else do you have to thank me for?"

Jaal beamed.

Truth be told, he had no right to look that happy, not when Scott was mad at him. Sort of.

"For being honest with me." He shrugged. "I've noticed that you've been opening up more and more lately, at least compared to when we first met. It means a lot."

"Well, uh..." Scott trailed off, clearing his throat. "No problem. My family were never really the touchy-feely types. It's definitely new territory for me."

"Yet you take to it so well. Even when you're enraged, you're radiant."

Scott sputtered, then unraveled himself from Jaal's embrace, keeping a hold on his hand.

"Alright, on that note, it's time to go."

As he pulled Jaal along, Jaal grumbled in protest.

"Hey!" They exited the room together. "Where are we going?"

"To have Lexi properly clean and disinfect your wound before I kiss you, and neither of us want that." Before Jaal could get too hurt by that statement, Scott clarified. "Not until I've showered and brushed my teeth, at least. I'm a mess."

"Oh!" Understanding dawned on Jaal, but he decided to take a risk. "And after that? Will you kiss me then?"

Of course, about half the crew decided then —of all times— to emerge from the Crew Quarters, all of them stopping short when they heard Jaal's exclamation.

They tossed Scott teasing glances.

"Yeah, Scott," Vetra called out, "when are you going to give Jaal a kiss?"

"It would be rude not to," Peebee said.

With his cheeks lit aflame, Scott gaped like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled for words.

Why did he suddenly feel like it should be against the rules to bully the Pathfinder?!

Eventually, he said, "I should go."

And he hurried back to his quarters, tripping on his feet as their laughter chased him off.

[cazzyvintage]

Born to be wild - Chapter 4

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren’t prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: To make up for the lack of Niki last chapter, I'm hoping to get these chapters out more regularly!

Warnings: Swearing

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You twirled your spanner in your hand, feeling the harsh metal catch on your skin as it grazed over it. You were eyeing up the car before you, determining all the ways you might improve the machine to your liking. You wore your blue jumpsuit which had already obtained oil stains without even getting near the car yet. Today the garage was empty, most of the crew having the common sense to take a day off unlike you. You knew from driving it that the car needed to be improved and instead of telling your team and risking offending them, you took matters into your own hands. Plus you were just itching to get your hands dirty.

You climbed down onto your knees and then onto your back, pushing yourself under the car to observe the underside. The thing needed a clean, rust and grime underneath it making you grimace but at the moment that wasn’t what you were focused on. You started to loosen a few of the screws in order to access some of the wiring. If you were able to get to the inner part of the engine, you might be able to rewire some of the boosters improving your speed.

As you got to work you were humming to yourself a tune you had heard on the radio this morning and so you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching you. As the top half of your body was under the car, you didn’t notice the man approaching and then leaning on the wall beside you, observing your movements.

“You’re just wrecking the engine.”

A groan left your lips as you heard that Austrian accent ring out across the room, sending a wave of irritation straight through your body. Of course, if anyone would be here during the off day, it would be Niki Lauda and seemingly he was still pissed about the other day and had come over deliberately to test your patience even further.

You grasped a hold of the panelling and thrusted yourself out from under the car to glare up Niki who was looking down at you.

“You really have nothing better to do than come and ruin my day?” you spat out to him.

Niki tilted his head as he observed you, his eyes narrowing for a moment in a way that always made you feel self-conscious as you wanted to know what he was thinking about you.

“I am merely doing you a favour and correcting your mistakes,” he finally revealed, raising his voice in a light hearted manner though you knew it was really cover for his mocking tone. Knowing this, in response you snort, shaking your head at the man as your lips twitch into a smirk.

“Yeah right, like I’d believe that.”

“You don’t trust the word of one of the best drivers?” he asked, his lips dipping down into a frown.

You placed your hands down on the concrete floor and steadily pushed yourself up to your feet so Niki was no longer standing over you, instead you stood face to face with the man.

“I don’t trust the fact that an asshole would want to help me at all, especially with how rude you were to me previously.”

“I was justified in my actions. You made a stupid move,” he stated as if it was obvious.

You groaned again in amazement, throwing up your hands, shaking your head as you spun away from him for a moment, not wanting to even look at him but the pressure to get the last word made you turn back around.

“There it is again, your arrogance is astounding.”

“I am merely stating what happened, I can’t help the fact that you can’t accept the truth.”

“You speak about accepting the truth.” Niki scoffed, looking away in thought, looking perplexed by the mere idea of it. His angry eyes quickly snapped back to your own though when you say the next words. “You can’t accept that there are better drivers than you.”

“What, like you?”

“I could beat you in a race!” you exclaimed without thinking. All you could feel was the anger towards Niki creeping up in your veins again, making you be irrational.

“You didn’t last time.”

“Yeah well, why don’t we test it out again? Just me and you on the track.”

Niki rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his body. “Why would I waste the tires, fuel and risk my life for a petty race?”

“Fine if you want to be a pussy and back out of it...”

You turned your back to Niki to polish the front of the car but you knew that the remark would make him frown at you, his ego damaged. You could feel his eyes burn into your back, his gaze apparently unwavering until after a few minutes of thoughts racing through his mind he came to a decision.

“Fine, if you really want me to prove to you again that I am the better driver,” he states as he quickly turns and walks out of the garage. You run after him to shout out and get the last word,

“You’ll be eating my ass!”

He turned around again at you, briefly a smirk appearing on his thin lips.

“We’ll see.” he shouts back and then saunters into his garage, once again taking the last word.

You weren’t prepared to take the car out and you knew the team would not be happy with you for doing so but Niki made you so mad you had no control over your own decisions. You were irrational and hot-headed around him and now that led to you driving the car out onto the track and waiting for Niki to pull the car up beside you.

Niki sent you one last sarcastic look with a raised eyebrow through his helmet. Driving over to the starting line, the two of you agreed on a count down. When ready the two of you started to count down from three and as you both hit zero, the two of you shot forward, speeding side by side as you started the race along the straight line of the first part of the track.

Soon however the two of you reached the first turn of the track. Niki once again took the underside and pushed forward on the accelerator he took the lead. As he turned the corner he slammed the break making the car drift as he made a sharp turn, quickly getting around the corner. He ensured the car took up most of the track however to make sure you wouldn’t try and get past him again like last time.

You quickly pushed around the corner as well but you weren’t able to pull off as sharp of a move, therefore not being as quick as him and subsequently finding yourself stuck behind him. Pushing down on the clutch and turning the wheel, you were able to reach back up to Niki’s side, who had been driving at a leisurely pace, his arrogance already believing he would stay in front. So when he saw your car drive past his left side, his head quickly snapped to you in surprise and then back to the road, clutching the gear tighter.

He caught up to you again, and this time he started to drift slowly left cutting you off the track. You instantly had to pump the brakes to slow down and avoid a potential collision as he pushed over. It was a dirty move on his part, from someone who was mad at you for less and the thought of it had you fuming.

Once again you pushed forward in the car, attempting to catch up with Niki but he was able to push the car further, keeping the distance between the two of you. Another turn came up and Niki was able to make a smoother and more closed in turn whereas you had to go wide which cost you a few more seconds of time.

Still putting everything you got in the car, you slammed the accelerator and rushed forward again to get side by side with Niki as the two of you turned another corner together. Now it was the final straight strip of track and the two of you were neck in neck. Both of you were pushing on the accelerator trying to get the car to go faster, however, Niki had obviously worked on his car improving it’s speed as he shot forward and past the finish line first.

He pulled up ahead of you as you slowed down and stopped on the track, hitting your head against the steering wheel to let out your frustration. You had been so certain you could beat Niki and yet once again he won against you and you knew he would be holding it against you. As you looked up now you could see the very man had taken off his helmet and was strutting towards you with a very self-serving smirk.

You knew you couldn’t hide away from it, that would just be cowardly and something he certainly wouldn’t forget so instead, you gathered the strength to pull yourself out of the car, yanking your helmet off and turning to Niki.

“I told you-” he began and instantly made you roll your eyes.

“Yes, go on and brag about it. I know you will be for the rest of the year.”

Niki chuckled and looked away for a moment, flicking his tongue over his lip then glancing back at you.

“I don’t need to brag, you will always remember how I beat you fair and square today.”

“You’re such an asshole” you murmur, starting to turn away from the man but still he continued to talk to you.

“Can you think of any other insult apart from an asshole?”

You shot back around to him, your eyes glaring.

“Yes, motherfucker, wanker, jerk, twat, pain in my ass,” you paused for a second, “Rat.”

Niki just crossed his arms, his eyes gazing over you as his tongue flickers out again. “Not creative enough, James already calls me all of those.”

“Are you just determined to criticize everything I do?”

“You’re angry, that’s good. Use your anger to focus your driving.”

“Why would you want to help me?”

“I don’t, the worse you are the better for me. However, if your driving improves, you are less likely to cause an accident next time.”

Heat flared up inside of you realising his alter motives but before you could shout any words at him, he had already turned around and was walking away from you without looking back once.

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