#he looks so much cool in your style op

[jamminvroomvroom]

Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼

I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)

I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."

late night talking.

op x fem norris!reader

in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…

hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍

songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit

4.1k words

sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.

that’s what you do, oscar and you.

you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.

you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.

rinse, repeat.

you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.

lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.

and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.

-

“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.

he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.

it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.

“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.

“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.

you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.

“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.

“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.

oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.

“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.

“more careful?”

you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.

“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.

“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”

“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.

you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.

-

“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.

he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.

“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.

“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.

“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.

you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.

“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”

“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.

a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.

it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.

-

somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago

“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.

“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.

“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.

“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.

you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.

“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.

“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.

“agreed.” he breathes.

“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.

“always.”

-

always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.

you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.

you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.

“lando, are you okay?”

will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.

your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.

that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.

and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.

but you stand there alone.

just like always.

-

somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago

“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.

you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.

the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.

“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.

he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.

“brown?” he questions teasingly.

“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.

“why?”

“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.

“you flirting with me?”

“you bet i am.”

you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.

-

the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.

he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.

“you just stood there.” you croak.

“love, i-“

“don’t call me that. please.”

hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.

“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.

you nod feebly.

“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”

“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.

“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“

“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.

“i can fix this, i will.”

“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.

“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.

“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”

“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately

“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.

you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.

“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”

“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.

“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”

“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.

oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.

“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.

the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.

“i love you, osc.” you whisper.

he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.

“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.

“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.

he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.

“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.

“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.

he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.

“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.

“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.

“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.

your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.

“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.

you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.

“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.

it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.

“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.

oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.

“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.

-

“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”

you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.

“what?”

“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.

“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.

“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.

“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“

“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.

“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”

-

“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.

“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.

you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.

“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”

“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.

“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.

“promise, i promise, i love you.”

you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.

“i know.”

“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.

“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.

he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.

“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.

“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.

“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.

his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.

“there’s something we gotta do.”

-

you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.

still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.

ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.

“oscar, what-“

“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.

oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.

your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.

“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.

“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.

lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.

but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.

“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.

“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.

“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.

“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.

“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.

“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.

all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.

“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”

jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.

“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.

“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.

“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.

“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.

you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.

-

you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.

you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.

when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.

you and oscar, you’re built to last.

-

“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.

it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.

the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.

“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.

“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.

“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.

yeah. duh. come on, man.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.

lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.

you’re gonna be okay.

-

hehe

-

taglist

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[bruciemilf]

ope don't mind me i'm just gonna-- *sets this down next to your constantine post*

The batkids have all fallen in line like Thomas is their superior officer and they've all basically decided Dick is getting thrown on the pyre (because cop) when Jason slowly raises his hand like he's back in school.

Jason, who lives for chaos, putting on the Sad Orphan Eyes that Dick taught all of them how to do, saying "Abuelo, you know I died? The clown who killed me is still alive."

All the other kids jump in with "oh he's right nonno" etc etc "don't worry bambini your nonno will take care of it" etc etc

(and while Thomas and Martha aren't exactly thrilled Jason is a crime lord, he's so much better at it than fucking Carmine. So the boy is ambitious! There are worse things to be. Thomas then slips Jason a fiver when Bruce isn't looking like grandparents do)

((also also the kids calling martha and thomas grandma/grandpa in whatever other language they grew up speaking))

just thinking that thomas highkey loves being a grandparent. absolutely considers it a promotion. softest pushover of a man but also the scary dog privilege for all of his grandchildren

NONNO THATS SO ADORABLE IM GONNA CRY— ok. But you know what? Pepa and Felix from Encanto dynamic between Martha, Thomas and Alfred.

Alfred trying to tell their grandkids about the epic love story between them, and Thomas keeps on interjecting with wildly inaccurate information (he wants Damian to find him as cool as possible)

Martha, with moscow in her voice, “You’re telling the story or is he?”

“I’m sorry amore go on ^^”

Bruce gags in the background like the world’s firstborn hypocrite.

But also, southern Thomas Wayne,,, wears the fringe styled boots with gemstones on them and sparkly jacket and talks like a honey pie, but has a glare that can silence a whole table if needed be.

He’s extremely sad about Destiny’s Child breaking up, (Dick had to deliver the news, which was a whole other experience) but BEYONCÉ HAS A COUNTRY ALBUM YOU SAY?? Sign him the FUCK up.

Bruce, under his breath: no one listens to country,,,

Thomas: oh shut i. You know, your mama and I made YOU on the dinner table with Love is a Butterfly playing in the background—-

Jason: rapidly spits his food out

[batsycline69]

Head Above Ground, Feet in the Grave

Summary: You get a tattoo from Jason and realize your first impression may not have been spot on

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 5,576

Warnings: needles, profanity, canon-typical violence, reader has tattoos but is otherwise not described, jason doesn’t know how to flirt.

NEXT

“So. Whatcha reading?” he asks over the buzz of his needle gun. Your confused look is enough get him talking again. “Saw you with a book out front.”

As soon as he stepped out into the front thirty-five minutes after your appointment was supposed to begin, as peeved as you were, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. One of his broad shoulders leaned into the wall, his thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. Dark curls with a patch of white at the front.

“Oh, it’s Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier,” you reply, a little surprised the guy built like a brick shithouse was asking about your reading. Then again, he’s probably just trying to make conversation.

Jason just nods.

Maybe he isn’t trying to make conversation.

The bad news is, up close, he’s even more handsome. Now you can see the little scar that angles through his eyebrow and another that curves up along his cheek. His eyes are intense as he works, his absurdly large hand has a firm grip on your forearm, guiding you as he works. He smells like cigarettes, but only just, and what you can assume is the lingering smell of the timeworn leather jacket sprawled across the chair in the corner. And all of this is bad news because this guy is obviously bad news. How can he not be, right?

It’s just this feeling, one that you couldn’t shake as soon as he sauntered towards you, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering on his worn black t-shirt. Like he’s too cool for you. Even as he’s permanently etching a skeletal bird into your arm, there’s this air about him you can’t quite place.

Before he led you back to his station, you were so certain there was going to be some sort of bikini-clad model plastered to the wall. But yet, the space is surprisingly empty. There’s a little corkboard leaning against a small table with old designs thumb-tacked to the board and not much else.

“How long have you been working here?” you ask.

Despite asking, you already kind of know the answer.

You’ve been following the shop’s Instagram for a while now. You remember the post introducing Jason, the carousel of photos demonstrating his work. Not that you’d tell him right now, but you had fallen in love with his style as soon as you saw it. The sure, thick lines. The moody shading. Bones and knives and bugs. He had no Instagram of his own for his work that you could find; only the posts in the shop with the caption ‘by Jay.’

“Couple months,” Jason replies. “I was traveling around for a while before. This is the first steady place I’ve worked.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool. Where were you before?” you ask. It’s small talk, and you hate it, but the lack of conversation is uncomfortable in a way that usually isn’t the case. Silence doesn’t bother you. His silence does.

You wonder if his home lacks as much personality as his station. You imagine his apartment is the kind with the mattress sitting on the floor, TV on top of a folding table, and a refrigerator full of cheap beer. Something that doesn’t feel completely moved into.

He gives a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “All around,” he replies.

Even small talk seems to be off the table.

You give a curt nod of your head. A couple minutes pass, and you can’t take it anymore. “Sorry, you mind if I grab my book real fast?”

Jason nods in return, pulling the gun away. “Go for it.”

God, you feel him watching you as you slip off the table, heading towards your bag on the little couch in the corner. Why is he watching? Why is this so awkward? Is it you? Is this guy just that standoffish? You pull out your worn bookand get back into position on the table.

“You good?” he asks, his intense eyes still trained on you.

“Yeah, all good,” you say, holding the book open with one hand as the buzzing starts back up again.

This is pathetic.

Jason has spent the last few years spending his time around the worst of the worst. He’s been with assassins, arms dealers, and soldiers so bad, even the U.S. Military didn’t want them, and yet, he’s fumbling just because someone cute is reading classic literature.

Fuck.

He’s supposed to be better than this. Ever since he got back into Gotham two months ago, he’s been making deals with the worst of the worst—as far as drug dealers go—without breaking a sweat, and yet holding a conversation with you turns him into Mr. Darcy. He’s blowing it, and he cares that he’s blowing it.

At least everyone thinks he’s dead. If this had gotten out to anyone, he’d die again.

It’s been five years since he was resurrected. A couple of weeks have passed since he flew back into Gotham with another one of Talia’s connections, this time intending to stay for good. He found a little tattoo shop near Crime Alley. Close enough to keep tabs on everything, but not so close that he’d be crossing paths with Batman regularly. The last thing he needs is to run into Bruce while trying to come up on top of Gotham’s underworld. Not until everything was ready.

That’s his world. Swept off the street and recruited for a war that wasn’t even his, not really. That’s just what he was sold: security to a kid fending for himself.

Bruce may have believed he had something to show Jason about Gotham, but this city raised him more than anything. Without a stable place to call home, the city’s streets were the substitute. What more did Bruce have to teach him when Jason had already huddled for warmth in these alleys? Ran from cops, knew all the hiding spots. What did Bruce have to offer when Jason already saught comfort in a place where comfort died? In a place where hope was trying to grow on salted earth. A place so haunted, it’s more ghost than city.

Jason was made for Gotham.

After he died, Gotham fell to ruins in the greatest earthquake she’s ever seen. An anomaly. The world wanted to watch Gotham burn, abandon the city and everyone remaining inside it. Leave her buried in the fate the world deemed appropriate for a city so infected that everyone around suffered.

He knows what it means to come back again, maybe when staying gone was what should have been done.

While he learned how to kill, he learned how to tattoo. Bruce always went on about the importance of keeping their identities safe; he chose his playboy routine, and Jason chose this.

It started before Bruce even took him in. One of the older kids he used to sell stolen car parts to gave him a stick ‘n poke in the back of his dad’s auto shop. It’d only been a few weeks after his mom died. Bruce saw it within a few days of living at the manor. He didn’t comment, but Jason saw the scowl when Bruce saw the shitty skull on his ankle. He didn’t approve, and that made his chosen path all the sweeter.

In London, the guys he was staying with tattooed each other to pass the time. That’s how it all really started. He watched their hands as they worked, watched the way the ink shot into the skin. He gave his first tattoo in the seedy back room of some haunt for scumbags. He had yet to feel at home within his body again, like it was just on loan. Like his reanimation was contingent on something that could be taken away at any time.

But he kept living. And he picked up tattooing fairly quickly. He gave plenty of shitty tattoos to men whose lives ran off of fucking over innocent people. Some of them wouldn’t even live to regret his uneven lines. A good number of them, Jason watched die.

None of that, however, negates the fact that he still can’t have a conversation with you.

Every so often, he spares a glance at you as you read. You’re holding the book with one hand, awkwardly turning the page with your pinky in a way that he knows won’t last long. He’s trying to rack his brain for something, anything, to talk to you about once you need a break from your position.

When his moment finally comes, he clears his throat.

“You ever read any Virginia Woolf?” he asks.

He’s going to spoil his whole ‘asshole tattoo artist’ persona because he’s not supposed to be reading tragic modernist writers, but he can’t bring himself to fall into his usual routine. He wants to hide behind the metaphorical mask he wears when he’s not wearing his literal mask, but he just fucking can’t with you.

He doesn’t know you. You’re just someone who booked with him a few months ago. You’re a civilian, and he is supposed to be getting ready for his Gotham takeover. Now isn’t the time. He’s got work to do.

Unsurprisingly, you seem caught off guard by his question when you look up from your book. You try to regain your composure. You seem like someone who wants to be polite like that. Jason’s eyes land on your finger as it slips into your book to hold your place.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’ve read a couple of hers.”

Jason gives a single nod of his head. He breathes as if steadying his aim to shoot. “I’m reading Mrs. Dalloway right now,” he says.

If you were someone he had to threaten, it would be going better than this. He could get you to tell him all of your secrets in under a minute no problem. But he doesn’t actually have to know how to do any of this to know that’s the wrong way to go about it. Besides, how could he forgive himself if he brought you into Red Hood’s world? You don’t belong there.

“Are you much of a reader then?” you ask.

Jason recognizes it for what it is. You’re holding out a hand, practically guiding him into a conversation just like you’ve tried so many times. You notice he’s trying too.

His lip quirks up a bit at the corner. “Yeah, I am. But don’t tell anyone. If they figure out I’m not an idiot, they may ask me to help out more.”

You graciously laugh at his joke.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft, like your skin. He’s tried to not think about it, but he has noticed. He knows you’re going to take good care of the bird carcass he’s tattooing.

When you reached out and told him what you wanted, he knew he couldn’t possibly turn the idea down. He did always have a fucked up sense of humor.

You’ll never know what makes this funny. He can’t do that to you. Maybe you can know Jason the tattoo artist, but you can’t know Red Hood.

Jason looks at you with a softness you miss when you glance away for a minute. “I’ve got a Metamorphosis tattoo over here,” he says, briefly raising the arm holding yours down.

You turn your head, trying to get a look of his Kafka tattoo, and Jason feels a little bit of warmth growing in his chest, even if he desperately wishes he didn’t. He’s getting way ahead of himself like a kid. It’s going to hurt that much more when you realize all the reasons you shouldn’t get involved with him. He shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. He shouldn’t be getting distracted. This job isn’t for him to make connections with avid readers; he’s here to know what’s happening and when.

For all he knows, you could be a spy, aware of the moves he’s trying to make. Could work for the Penguin. But he’s aware that’s a Bruce level paranoid thought, and he’s not proud to admit that. His ties to Bruce are supposed to be severed forever.

Two hours pass far less painfully than you were expecting. Not in the literal sense, because your arm has started to get sore, but in the sense that you and Jason are finally actually talking, more or less. You take a break, trying to get the blood flow back into your arm from being at an angle for so long.

Your stomach started rumbling half an hour ago, and now you’re scrolling through your phone, chatting with Jason on what you should order. He says by the time food would get here, he’d likely be finished up.

Jason’s already told you he doesn’t do a lot of delivery. He says it’s because things are always fresher at the restaurant.

After the last couple of hours spent talking literature, you know your first impression of him was wrong—there’s a joke about books and their covers somewhere in there—but be that as it may, you still haven’t quite figured him as the sort of guy that’s going to be overly snobby about food.

He says he cooks, and you believe him, more because you like to indulge in the thought of him knowing his way around a kitchen. You also just want to believe it for the sake of justifying the crush you feel creeping in every time he shifts your arm.

You’re not going to hold your breath hoping he opens up to you, but you can tell he’s someone with a story. Someone with history. And that’s something you can respect, because you’ve got your own past you’d rather not shell out just because your tattoo artist is hot. That doesn’t stop your mind from wandering though, trying to fill in the blanks.

Maybe he did some sort of stint in the military. That’s your first guess, at least. You didn’t get any more information on the tattoos he’d done ‘all over,’ and he doesn’t talk about it anymore, so you can’t really figure out anything more than that. You also consider the fact that it’s Gotham, and shit just happens. It’s not your right to meddle in whatever tragedy this city has doled out for him.

“One of the apprentices orders delivery here a lot,” Jason says, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s not helpful, nor does it answer my question,” you say. “Even if you don’t get things delivered, you still have to know what’s good around here, right? You’re not bringing a little brown bag lunch to work every day.”

“And what if I do?” Jason asks. His voice is low, almost like he’s daring you. The features on his handsome face are serious, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes that hints he’s teasing you. And damn those eyes. You’re thankful he’s been spending the majority of your appointment staring down at your arm, because you’re not sure you’d survive two hours of looking at him, seeing where the thin ring of blue around his iris before it bleeds into vivid green.

You laugh. “Then I’d admire your dedication.”

You think he’s mostly being difficult because you offered to buy him food, a perfectly normal thing to do. But explaining to him that you’ve offered to everyone you’ve gotten a tattoo from doesn’t seem to change his mind. He’s stubborn, that much you can tell.

As you continue to scroll your phone, silence settles between the two of you. The silence doesn’t feel so oppressive this time, not weighted by awkwardness and uncertainty. Now it feels like a surrender. Neither of you bring up the beginning of the appointment. Not how he was late, not the tension that seemed to linger between the two of you, not how convinced you were that he actually hated the fact that you were sitting in his session.

“The fries at Wally’s are the best in Gotham.”

His voice comes from behind you, and you jump, turning over your shoulder quickly. He’s peering over your shoulder, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone. You hadn’t even heard him get up from his stool. Last you’d looked his way, he was sitting across from you.

You spit out a curse. “When did you get back there?” you ask, clutching your chest with overdramatic flair.

“What, you didn’t see me get up?” he asks.

You scoff. “No, I didn’t see you get up. What are you, some kind of fucking ghost?”

And Jason laughs.

At the best of the times, you consider yourself a relatively dignified individual. Maybe it’s a bit of flattery, but regardless, that’s what you’d like to believe. And yet, there’s something so incredibly rare about the sound of Jason’s laughter, something that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. It’s like hearing something long forgotten. Like catching the song of a bird long thought extinct. This isn’t the playful scoff of laughter like when you’d said maybe Northanger Abbey was your favorite Jane Austen book, and he’d said you seemed more like an Elizabeth Bennett than a Catherine Morland; this seems like something secret. Something reserved.

Even if the sound makes your stomach flip, your foul language hardly seems funny enough to warrant such a laugh. Your silly off-handed joke doesn’t seem worthy of the burst of laughter that bubbles up from his wide chest.

“I think the hunger’s getting to you,” Jason replies finally when the laughter settles. He nudges his head back towards your phone to get back on topic. “Wally’s is good.”

You have to yank yourself from your thoughts and will yourself to nod. “Yeah, okay,” you say, feeling like such a loser for the way a single laugh could knock you off your track so quickly. You go back to scrolling through the menu to give yourself something other than gawk at him. “So fries. What else is good?” you ask, not daring to raise your eyes.

Jason crosses back over to his stool and sits. Your face gets hot as you feel self-consciousness creep up thinking maybe you’d been obvious, worried you’ll scare him off. But before you know it, he’s naming off his favorite things. And yeah, maybe you bought more than you alone could eat, and maybe you got the burger he spent a few minutes gushing about. If he doesn’t want it now, he can save it for later.

But nearly an hour later, you have a whole spread of junk food in Jason’s station and a finished bird skeleton plastic wrapped on your arm. Jason rolls his eyes at your generosity, and you threaten to eat everything you bought all by yourself, but he eats the burger and steals the fries you jokingly told him to keep his hands off of.

“So can I ask why you were so late?” you ask.

You’re toeing your boundaries. Maybe you’re intentionally trying to press your luck. Part of you knows you maybe shouldn’t ask. But you do it anyway.

Jason looks up from his burger, wiping a small smear of ketchup off his lip. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” He smirks when he sees you quirk your eyebrow. He was thirty-five minutes late; of course you already think he’s an asshole. At least he’s a good sport about it. “I was out smoking.”

“Mm,” you say with a mockingly serious nod of your head. “Leaning up against a wall, cigarette in one hand, Mrs. Dalloway in the other. I guess you must be so cool I have to immediately forgive you,” you say sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

You smirk and go back to eating your food, unaware of Jason’s subtle gaze your way now that your attention has been diverted.

Jason’s used to a somewhat infrequent eating schedule, otherwise known as he rolls out of bed half an hour before he’s supposed to be at the shop, which doesn’t give him much time to eat. And by the time he’s done with his shift, he’s usually starved. He tries to eat an hour before kicking anyone’s ass so he doesn’t cramp up, so that involves him cramming whatever leftovers he has in the fridge into his mouth the second he gets back to his apartment. Then, he goes back out to work.

He’s become somewhat of a late night chef, putting together whatever he can make as quickly and easily as possible. The sort of skills he’d picked up when he was all on his own, trying to keep himself fed from whatever was available, doing whatever he could to make the best of a bad situation. Shoplifting butter and pasta, crushing up old Corn Flakes in a bag with a hammer to put on top. It was something his mom had done. Something he didn’t want to give up.

For the past two hours, he’s been hoping you’ll say something stupid, like how cool you think Batman is.Instead, he finds you kind in a way he doesn’t really see that often. You tolerate his shit to a certain point, and you push back when he goes too far.

People are scared of Jason, hood on or not. And they should be. They see his scars, his tattoos, his sheer size, and they cross the street. They turn their eyes as he buys bread at the grocery store. They can see him for what he is. But for some reason, you don’t. At least not now.

He’s mapping out his plan of how to take over the city, and you’re giving him shit for being late to an appointment for a job he only has for information. The fact that he met you is just a blip in the greater scheme of things, and yet that’s going to be what he walks away from today thinking about.

A guy came into the shop earlier. A local dealer. Jason played cool, pretended he didn’t have an idea who the guy was. This lowlife didn’t need to know Jason already knew where he picked up his supplies. He’d asked if the guy had any plans for the day, as if Jason didn’t already know about a shipment coming in late tonight. Jason’s plans for the evening had been clear. All he had to do was get through one more appointment.

Except that appointment had been yours.

The shop is closed now. A few stations away, one of Jason’s coworkers is still working. In the lull as you both eat, the faint buzzing of the needle and music playing from the speakers up front. Even if Jason wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s comfortable with you, there’s something of a surrender in the time you spend together.

You don’t know the things he’s going to do once you leave, and you wouldn’t assume them of him. What are you seeing in him because it’s sure as shit not something he’s ever seen himself.

At some point, Jason knows he’s going to fuck it all up. You’ll probably get ready to leave, and he’ll say something as you walk out the door that will make you question all of this. Make you second guess this good opinion of him you’ve managed to come up with. It’ll be for your own good.

His eyes drift over to your arm, your bicep still wrapped up in plastic. He can still feel the warmth of your skin lingering on his palm.

For so long, he’d been used to the dull cold of the apartment he squatted in, frigid air seeping in through neglected walls. As hard as he tries not to, he remembers arriving at Wayne Manor for the first time. He’d forgotten home could be so warm.

The warmth of your arm felt like that.

Since coming back in Gotham, he’d given plenty of tattoos, touched plenty of arms. Body heat is body heat, except when it’s yours.

“Where do you go from here?” Jason asks, looking up from his burger.

You shrug your shoulders. “Home, probably. Gonna get that good post-tattoo sleep.”

It’s cold out. You’re bundled up in your coat, aware of the tenderness of your arm where the fabric brushes up against the flesh.

You’re walking towards your train stop. The sounds of sirens echo somewhere in the distance. Purple light filters out through the blinds of one of the apartments you pass, loud bass temporarily overpowering the distant wail of emergency vehicles for a moment as you walk by, until it fizzles back out into quiet. As the music fades, you hear the sound of a couple arguing from an apartment somewhere up above you.

Across from the stairs up to the station is a bar, patrons hanging around outside smoking cigarettes and laughing. You can feel a huddle of men watching you as you move, but you don’t glance their way, just make your way up the stairs.

Yellow-tinged lights line the station, a lamp every fifteen feet or so. From what you can see in the beams of light weakly dispersing from the streetlamps, you’re alone. You find a spot under a nice shelter, though nice is relative considering the lingering smell of piss and obscene graffiti on the walls, but it’s not out in the open where anyone stumbling onto the stop will find you.

The light above you flickers sporadically. You wish there was somewhere else you could wait.

Jason hadn’t seemed thrilled that you were going out to wait for the train all on your own, but you assured him, somewhat indignant, you could handle yourself.

“You sat really well,” he’d said, and you couldn’t help but entertain the idea of inviting him along on the train with you, but you were not going to stoop to that level.

The sounds of approaching footsteps reminds you to keep your focus. You can kick your feet about Jason once you get back to your apartment.

Three guys stumble up the stairs. And just your fucking luck, you’re pretty sure they’re the guys from outside the bar. They’re laughing, and their voices carry from the opposite side of the tracks. You hope they’re going northbound, that they’ll have no reason to cross the tracks. You keep your eyes fixed away from them, down the tracks, now feeling even more impatient for the arrival your train, hoping somehow it will turn you invisible.

But their boisterous conversation suddenly turns much quieter.

Your shoulders tense, and as subtly as you can, you try to slip your hand into your bag for your pepper spray. Blindly, you feel around, trying to move as little as possible so as to not draw any more attention to yourself, because you have no doubts you’re the reason their conversation has become so hushed. If this doesn’t end horribly, you’ll have to try to remember to clear out all of the junk you have stashed away.

One of the men laughs, and then their conversation stops all together.

Your fingers curl around the tube of spray in your purse.

Without looking, you know they’re moving towards you now. Their shuffled, stumbling footsteps are growing louder. They’re drunk and not looking for their night to be over just yet. Unfortunately, you just happened to be in their way while they were looking for the next phase of the evening.

“Hey!” one yells.

You don’t acknowledge him. Maybe they’ll be drunk enough to think you genuinely can’t hear them and give up. It’s wishful thinking, but what does that matter?

Now you’re regretting pretending you were so tough for Jason because these guys sure as shit wouldn’t even give you a second glance if you were standing next to him.

They’ve crossed the tracks now, and there’s still no sign of train headlights. Your grip on the pepper spray tightens, not wanting it to slip now that your heart is starting to race.

“Hey! You!”

You don’t look.

One of them grabs your arm and tugs you out from the shelter. You wince at the contact against the fresh tattoo. “We’re talking to you,” he laughs.

You’re about to use your pepper spray when it clatters to the ground.

All three men look down at it.

“What’s this?” the second man says, bending down and picking it up.

But before any of them can say anything else, a figure just outside of the ring of light the four of you are standing under. You can’t make out any details about him besides the sheer size of him.

“Walk away while you still can,” he growls. The sound of his voice isn’t quite right. It sounds distorted. Your skin prickles with nerves from the sound of it.

The man who picked up your pepper spray turns it towards the figure, threatening to spray.

The figure just chuckles. It sounds cold, metallic. The sound of a gun cocking follows as the figure steps just into the light. The pepper spray wouldn’t do the man any good.

A man wearing a red helmet walks into sight, gun trained on the man holding my arm, but his grip drops instantaneously as he knocks through his other two friends to run, but the other two follow behind almost immediately.

And that leaves you and the guy in the helmet alone.

Gotham has its fill of guys in mask, and sure, there seems to be a new one popping up all the time, but you don’t know this one.

You look up at him, eyes wide with fright. The second the men are gone, he puts the gun back in one of the holsters on his thick thighs, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has them. You don’t know who this guy is, who he works with, whether he’s any better than that group of men or just more armed.

“You alright?” he asks when you don’t say anything. He has a voice modifier, you realize now, though you piece that together slowly.

After a beat, you nod your head. Your hand curls over your throbbing arm. You don’t like that you can’t see where he’s looking. Just two unblinking white voids where his eyes must be. “Yeah,” you breathe. Your eyes fall on your pepper spray. The man holding it must have dropped it when he ran.

When it’s clear you’re not moving to pick it up, the man bends down and grabs it. He holds out a gloved hand, offering it back to you.

Your trembling hand raises and you take it from him, offering a barely audible thanks as you slip it back into your bag.

He nods.

There’s still no sign of a train, and he’s not moving.

“I can give you a ride someplace. If you want.”

Don’t take rides from strangers. You’d heard it just as much as anyone, and the man standing before you is the definition of a stranger. You can’t even see his face; you have no idea who he is beneath that helmet. The one thing you do know is he has a gun, and he’s built like a fridge.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he adds, but his modulated reassurances don’t ease your concern. He senses your hesitation and takes a step back. “Do you want me to leave?”

A few more seconds pass as you consider the question. What if those guys come back? What if some other group comes along? But is giving your home address to the guy with a gun a better idea? And would him standing beside you as you wait for your train make you feel any safer? Could you so willingly accept he wasn’t going to just wait for the moment your guard is down to do something, just the way this city works?

Finally, you shake your head. Neither decision seems like the right one to make. But he did help you. Now you just have to hope to god he’s not going to take advantage of your vulnerability.

You want to ask if he’s one of Batman’s friends, but you don’t find the words.

Instead, you two fall into a silence. For you, it’s tense. You wonder if he feels the same, or if this is just a regular night for him. He stands near you but keeps his distance, like he’s aware how intimidating he could be.

The train is so late. There must be some hold up. One of Gotham’s usuals causing a delay in public transit. Go fucking figure.

“Are you new?” you ask finally. If the train never comes, you might end up taking him up on his offer for a ride, so you may as well try and figure something out about him. Any sort of indication of if you can trust him or not.

There’s another distorted chuckle, though somehow, this one seems less malicious than earlier when threatened with your pepper spray. “You could say that.”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you don’t.

Silence settles between you again. You can see the lights of the train in the distance. You’re hoping that nothing happens on the train. All you want is to crash into your bed.

The man in the red helmet stands beside you, not pushing any further to make conversation. He waits with you. As it screeches to a halt in front of you, you turn to thank him, but you notice he’s already gone.

NEXT

[lotus-pear]

ok i'm an entire month late but here are the results of this competition at last!! i would like to preface this by saying a big thank you to everyone who participated as this was my first time doing smt like this! i'm so glad it was met w so much participation and unique entries, and i genuinely cannot express enough gratitude for the ppl who submitted their version. seeing everyone's individual posts w the diverse amount of art styles and mediums was so cool and i loved each post sm!! so thank you for participating and for your support!! it really does mean the world to me!!

with that, without further ado, let me announce our winners...

FIRST PLACE: @latapadraws

I WAS ABSOLUTEY BLOWN AWAY BY NOT ONLY THE COMPOSITION BUT THE LIGHTING OF THIS PIECE. REALLY. MY JAW IS STILL ON THE FLOOR LOOKING AT IT. the warm golden and red glow like evening rays of sun is so gorgeous not to mention dazai's musing expression. hes soo beautiful in your style op he looks like he was carved from marble. so elegant and sharp.

SECOND PLACE: @thornedarrow, specifically @velaversal

bea oh my god i still get heart eyes whenever i see this. the fuchsia is so gorgeous it looks like whorls of fire and the marble effect of the background is so ethereal. the color palette and rendering in general just astounds me, i feel like i'm on another plane of existence looking at this.

THIRD PLACE: @kokoasci

koko!!!!! i'm always enamored by translucent feel of your pieces and it always looks like rose-tinted glass, i always want to break off a piece and let it melt on my tongue bc it looks so sweet and sugary. said this in the tags but the background also was incredible and dazai kind of reminded me of the mad hatter!! the coy expression, the dramatic pose, the whimsical pastel color palette, the tea spilling from the porcelain cups...100/10 for mood and storytelling

FOURTH PLACE: @sableeira

SABLEEEE OH MY GOD......LIKE WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN.......THIS WAS SUCH AN OUT OF BOX WAY TO LOOK AT THE OG PIECE.....AN ENTHRALLING INTERPRETATION. dazai being haunted by his former self, conveyed through the earthy color palette and dramatic lighting that ties the entire piece together. literally was blown away by how unique this entry was, absolutey incredible

FIFTH PLACE: @shrimpkini

shrimp i'm being so honest rn i want this as a poster and i want it hung on my wall bc my heart still stops every time i look at it. the hard light that casts dazai's entire face into shadow which highlights the red of his eye makes me rattle the bars of my cage every single time, not to mention the rimlight on his entire frame basking the piece is an eerie glow. phenomenal play of lighting. i'm swept off my feet.

[isekai-crow]

Mashle Ending Cars

My Beetle is a massively certified mechanic in Japan who is a bit of a motorcycle fanatic. (I cannot emphasize how much I am understating the term FANATIC here.)

So naturally since I know nothing about cars and they're tangentially related to motorcycles, I asked him to tell me the names of all the cars in the ending, and he did well.

Mash - Nissan Fair Lady's Z 2008 model - He was able to get this one immediately and was like, "Anyone who knows their cars would know this immediately."

Lance - Beetle thought it was a Mazda RX-8 but it might be an import model - We guessed a Ferrari, but a lot of them have different headlight shapes.

Dot - Jeep Wrangler. Thats it. No numbers for you lmao

Finn - Morgan Plus 4 (had to google this one because too many similar looking classic cars and this STILL doesn't look exactly right.)

Rayne - Rolls Royce Phantom III baybee

I LOVE THAT THE AMES BROS HAVE CLASSIC OLDIE CARS. THEY'RE SO STYLISH. We already know that Finn is the only one in the main group with any sense of style and THIS JUST PROVES IT. I wanna go for a spin with him.

(Also classic cars as SO. FUCKING. EXPENSIVE. to own in Japan. The older your car is the more you pay in taxes. Which I wonder if it means anything here...)

Draco Malfoy Ryoh Grantz- Mercedes-Benz Vision Gran Turismo or one of the other versions. This also took a bit of googling cause he could only pin the Brand Name and not the car itself cause it's too new.

Harry Potter Orter Madl- Ashton Martin Vanquisher (THE NAMING SENSE. DID THEY PICK THIS CAR SOLELY FOR THE NAME VANQUISHER???)

Carpaccio - Porche Boxster - He picked up on the headlights immediately because we had a low budget Porche at one point, inherited from his brother.

Margarette Macaron - BMW r100 - This was of course the fastest on he pinned and AHHH MY BELOVED MARGARETTE they're so cool for riding a motorcycle.

Also.

The Mash's dads on a driving date.

Love that for them. So sweet.

And fucking of course this is a euphamism for magic and MASH IS THE ONLY ONE WITHOUT A DRIVER'S LICENSE SO HE'S PUSHING THE CAR.

AND THAT CAR IS IN PARK AND/OR HAS THE BREAKS ON because of course it fucking does why am I surprised lmao

This song is a banger too. When I get around to it, I wanna do a break down of the lyrics to this and other OPs and EDs.

[phantomrose96]

Welcome to Renting in a Big City!!! Come with me! Let me walk you through your options!

First I cannot recommend enough one of these new-construction luxury apartment complexes! The amenities are killer and the maintenance is lightning-fast. Your apartment? This rectangular box with three interior walls. We don't like the term "studio" as much as "open concept." It's 400 sqft and the rent will increase 12% year over year (or maybe 30% 😉) once we start attracting all the rich people we want, and also if you attempt to move out at any moment that's not the exact end of your lease (with 60 days notice to not renew) then we'll charge you a 2-months-rent lease breaking fee.

Okay not your style? Don't worry we've got plenty of options in cozy residential areas within the city! Like this apartment! The building was built 150 years ago and the landlord is an 80 year old man who lives 7 states away and insists you mail him your rent every month since technology scares him. Need something fixed? No worries your landlord has great connections to a guy who knows a guy who has a son who's held a hammer once. He's very busy though so please give him 2 or 3 months to respond to anything. The ants were here first and they have squatters rights now so no you can't call maintenance about that.

Oh sorry I wasn't listening--both of those options are 2.5x your budget? No worries no worries I've got plenty of stuff in your price range. THIS beautiful place is only 40 minutes outside the city (2.5 hours in traffic, which is always). It's a modern-concept renovated shed and your neighborhood is the sad industrial remains of concrete and shattered dreams. The broker's fee for this is 5x rent. The construction outside your bedroom window has been going for 5 years, but it MIGHT be finished tomorrow? That's what we told the guy 5 years ago. (We do already have 7 applications for this place, so please decide quickly.)

Okay okay okay, I see the look on your face, not your style. You're a roommate kinda guy, yeah? Of course you are. Everyone is! (Not by choice.) Plenty of opportunities on Facebook and Craigslist to fill in a roommate slot! Just keep clear of rookie mistakes and you'll be golden. Rookie mistake #1: falling for a malicious scam which will take first last and security from you before vanishing into the night. Easy mistake. The best way to avoid it is to don't do it. Stay suspicious of any place pressuring you to make a decision quickly, which is all of them, including the legit places! Rookie mistake #2: signing in to the most batshit abusive and unstable roommate situation you've seen in your life, which the guy you're taking the lease over from was selling his soul to escape. You'll be WISHING you had the ant roommates then haha. We have fun here.

Man you're not looking excited :( that's bumming me out. Okay okay, something a little outside the box? You can get a room for SUPER cheap in this mansion right at the heart of the city, you just kinda need to join the cult that's living there. You can--oh wait what? Oh man, turns out the cult is selling the building :( yeah sounds like they're on hard financial times because they're the cult Shinzo Abe was assassinated over :( real sad. We DO still have a cool Mormon co-op if you--

[raepliica]

I saw the previous ask and it made me want to say that I also love how you depict polygun as trans.

I'm a trans guy but I haven't transitioned at all, and I don't know if I will. So it makes me very happy to see Vash looking slightly more androgynous (even if he's further along in transition than me).

With Wolfwood, I love how he's hairy and beefy and everything. Trans men deserve to be depicted that way too! It's inspiring. Always a delight to see.

I love how Meryl is a smaller, petite trans woman while Milly is tall and buff and slightly hairy. But they are both just as much of women. There's affection in how they're drawn. Love them so much.

It just makes me happy to see you depicting a small range of how different people can all be trans. :] <3 That aside, you have cozy and warm lineart. Your art style feels homey. Sorry for the ramble in your inbox.

T4T4T4T POLYGUN<3<3<3 AND YES beefy hairy ww is so real🤝🤝

the way i draw polygun is rlly just me projecting a lot asjkdjhk orz it brings me a lot of joy to see my depiction of them being appreciated💖

and ive been also wanting to draw them pre-op bc i think thats cool and comforting too🤸🤸 all of them are already so gender in the manga!!!!! im just adding my own touch to it muehehehe

[animehouse-moe]

Spy x Family OP3: Kura Kura

Okay, there's a lot of stuff that I'm unfamiliar with in terms of proper names and terms with this opening, but it's just so damn cool that I have to talk about it. Building on the styles of the first two openings, it brings a sense of familiarity that's completely outshone by the incredibly creative approach that OP3 brings with it.

Yes, it's the best Spy x Family opening even though the new season isn't out yet. That's what Masaaki Yuasa gets you (go check out the Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken OP)

Alright so first off, the opening cut of our characters. I love everything about it. The energy, the perspective, the color design. It's all super great, and the icing on the cake is the punchy animation that accentuates and exaggerates the movements of the characters.

Also, the music really is just a perfect match. I'm not a big Ado fan myself, but this is just an impeccable choice.

Anyways, right away the opening sets the tone for the very unique approach to animation. Quite smooth, but very snappy at times, if I were to explain it. I'm not doing a frame by frame to check or anything, but they're certainly hanging on quite a few sequences before squeezing others in or making large movements between frames. Just look at how each of the characters joins the sequence, there's actually a good deal of movement hidden in the appearance.

Though I think my favorite part from this sequence is the simplicity in wiping the characters when a new one appears. Given the style of movement and the "blink and you'll miss it" speed of it, it brings the addition to the viewer's attention and immediately while adding a good deal of unique feel.

And then there's this follow up piece. There's not much to it in terms of importance or anything but I love it. It's an extension of the dot matrix background and using it to place color on top of a dull background is very fun (also the rainbow at the top).

I think one of the things that felt absent from both prior OPs was a sense of "wow factor" in how they displayed Yor (and Loid). OP2 brings us a Yor assassin cut, but it feels more pretty and fleeting than exciting and energetic, as expected given the tone of it. Anyways, I'm very happy to see them able to explore the energy of each in this opening.

Also, the way that Yor's spike wipes the frame to introduce Loid? I love it. It's such a chaotic opening that you can easily miss simple things like transitions that can get lost in all the information. Another side note, I really like that Loid only appears when he fires his gun. Just a fun little trick that falls into place alongside other examples of wiping the frame in the opening.

Of course, Anya (and bond) gets their own splash cut like this. Really like how it places Anya on her own stage as it steps away from the style used for Loid and Yor and uses "environment" (read: speech bubbles) to convey her ability and its cons. And another very interesting detail (there's no end to them)! The use that dot matrix style to swap Anya and Bond out between each other. Super easy to miss, but it's there as one of those transitions that you can easily miss.

Wiping the frame, I can't think of a better name for it but it's something that's well loved with the direction of this OP. Just following these cuts we get another of our fearless family, but we see a different trick used. Also, really love the idea of it being framed as circus that Anya runs, so accurate to children and especially Anya.

Anyways, the idea is actually a lack of animation. Crazy, but given the style of animation through these cuts with the focus on snappy and exaggerated movements, it fits right in and looks really interesting. Furthermore (yes, there's still more), the use of visual sound effects (which say: 'Kankakeinai', most likely meant to be 'Kankeinai' as that's what's said by Ado at this point in the song.) is a great way to bridge the gap from Anya's previous cut to this one.

Oh, I should have mentioned it, but that same text-usage matching the song appears in the previous Anya and Bond cuts too.

Alright, next cut but also one (a little) further down the line: water animation. Lovely stuff. It's not realistic like what you'd see in the ending for My One-Hit Kill Sister, but has a lot of heart in it nonetheless, aiming to blend with the OP rather than make a statement about its quality.

Man, I almost forgot that there's a sequence in reverse in the OP. It's just that crazy. I've shown enough gifs of stuff so I'll spare the trouble (and save it for later) by just sharing a still. It's well animated, obviously, but aside from it being in reverse, there's just one detail to make note of: the dot matrix. It appears as an airplane for just a split second as a way to begin dissolving it from the frame (though it can be hard to make out because Tumblr compression). A very sneaky and subtle way to continue on with the direction established from the start.

There's lots of tricks in this OP, isn't there? I suppose it's rather similar to the Anya circus one, but slightly different. Keeping in line with the near impossibly hectic style of animation in the opening, we see frame-by-frame cuts alongside some of the best animated sequences. It helps keep that balance, you know? Where we give up on sharpness with some of the faster and more fluid movements, we make up with via these rougher ones.

Also, would it really be Masaaki Yuasa without some freakishly well animated cuts? Animating cars can already be a challenge in the first place, but not only do we see one heavily featured here, we see it spinning around wildly with characters in it. It's a crazy feat that only madmen like Masaaki would attempt.

Anyways, don't you dare underestimate Yuasa's insanity. He made people animate a reflection in a teapot. For like a 3 second cut. No, really, he did. Look at this ridiculously pointless detail.

Okay okay, it's time to wind down a little bit. The wonderfully creative perspective of the OP. It's mostly the cars, but on the more simple sub-to-plane cut it's featured in a more subtle sense just to add something to it, you know? Just to give viewers something a little more interesting to look at.

Alright, last cut I promise. I was very surprised, and equally impressed, to see this skydive sequence as a single cut. I thought for sure it was going to be split, but keeping it in one piece was a great decision.

And that's all I think I will chat about, because if I don't call it quits somewhere I'll never stop. Seriously, that's just how full and dense this opening is. For instance, just look at the bottom left image from the gallery above, Anya's drinking tea all fancy like. Crazy little detail that you wouldn't see unless you paused the opening. And this is full of that kind of stuff alongside the incredible and distinct direction and style of Yuasa. It's a gold mine of creativity and expression that only the man himself would be able to pull off, and I love it. Best Spy x Family opening and another to add to the list of incredible OPs this year.

[mdhwrites]

I used to be excited abt Luz joining all tracks but in the end it turned out to be pointless

I get that she's a magicless human but she could've still made more potions or used a crystal ball to perform oracle magic like she did in The First Day, or maybe used an instrument for bard magic but she never did any of that. Hell the show could've even gotten her to figure out glyph combos relating to different coven magic but it never did that either

Even after she gets Stringbean/titan powers the only magic she uses are basic ass glyphs and energy blasts

The only "coven magic" she DOES use are plant glyphs and the invisibility glyph combo which ig could technically count as illusion magic

imo Luz joining all tracks only served to add to the show's whole "LuZ gEtS eVeRyThInG sHe WaNtS" shtick

So this actually just gets into the fact that Luz always just gets more magic rather than learns about magic. This is because the show doesn't see becoming a witch as learning a culture, refining your craft or how you use your magic. It is simply a question of IF you have magic. The more magic you have, the more witch you are.

It's even in the third episode. Willow is weak at magic so she is only half a witch. Eda is the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles not because she appears to use her magic in interesting or unique ways no one else does (the interesting spell she ever casts is the Hooty summoning) but because she just has a lot of magic. HELL! This is reinforced in S1 with Hooty's Moving Hassle. The ritual can be done by anyone, even fucked up like in Luz's case, and what matters is not how you did it or how good you are at rituals but simply the magic that is inherently within you.

It is the EPITOME of a boring magic system where power is EVERYTHING. This is why the only utility spells in the ENTIRE SHOW are Feather Fall, one of the most useful utility spells in all of D&D, and invisibility, one of the most powerful spells in all of magic arguably. Oh, and of course, teleportation. Mind you... All of these are just convenient narratively instead of interesting. Need a break in a fight? Invisibility. Want to potentially throw your MC off a cliff where they can't be followed? Feather Fall (though actually shout outs to the fact that Feather Fall may as well not exist in the show. I actually like that Luz has a spell that's effectively just because she figured out a spell rather than being OP.) Need to get from one place to another quickly? Why do you think like half the covens have teleportation magic?

But otherwise it's A: How hard can I hit X? or B: How big can I make X? Usually both. Those are your measures for not only how good a spell is but how worthwhile the caster is.

These are the same sorts of people who don't understand that "Just Fireball" is a meme.

So with ALL of that preamble: What the fuck was the show supposed to do with Luz wanting to learn lots of different styles of magic? Half of these covens are never represented in the main cast. Beast Keeping, Healing, Oracle, Construction and Bard are just... Not a thing. And no, Raine doesn't count because Raine is barely in the show and Bard magic as shown by them is whatever the fuck you want. Admittedly, it is still more of a showing than pillars and power glyphs for construction or sir not appearing for Healing. They aren't shown though because they all require actual, you know, thought? Interesting situations that can't be solved by punching? Or they're redundant. Vines and construction pylons are pretty damn similar, without getting into how much abomination goo is used to also just be more vines.

This is also why Luz's spells stay so basic and showing off her/the glyph's power is just a matter of how big it is. The biggest energy blast we see in the ENTIRE SHOW that is a spell... Is when Gus hesitantly uses a fire glyph. But look how cool it is! And how he's a super witch for it! Where the fuck are those for Luz who at least uses them with confidence and experience. But that's the easy way to show she's strong. She just has big magic. She practically takes out the Selkidamus by herself. She just needs help dragging it back on the ship. Why despite no training and the shortening not having happened yet?

Shrug.

This is part of why TOH's best episodes... Aren't adventure episodes. When they're just tackling slice of life stuff, it doesn't have to pretend to care about its magic. Characters can just mostly ignore it until the action set piece. Grom is just like that where the magic isn't as important as the emotions and it's not treated that way. People LOVE the Lumity stuff in Looking Glass Ruins because despite promising a forbidden library, it is the most boring library ever to exist... But the emotions are cute and good.

And mind you, as someone who says characters are the most important element, this shouldn't be problem. Your emotions should come first but... How often do you get a Grom where the magic is actually a part of the emotions and how much more often do you get an Eclipse Lake where the magic is just a McGuffin and then an action set piece that is divorced from the emotions of the rest of the episode? Especially since no one ever fucking talks during combat.

And this ESPECIALLY true for Luz. Literally two base glyphs are gotten randomly, not even as a payoff for some emotional element to the show, and ALL of her combo glyphs are just given to her. (Shout out btw to having half her glyphs be unearned BEFORE even S1 is done. *eye twitch* ) The only two glyphs that she gains in any sort of emotional way are A: NOMINALLY the light glyph is given to Luz as a reward for listening to King as otherwise she wouldn't have checked her phone. It's just a shame that the lesson there is "Treat your roommate as a person and not entertainment." B: The ice glyph is a reward for BAD BEHAVIOR. She straight would not have gotten it if not for having stolen the wand and gotten over half the people there potentially killed. GOOD JOB LUZ!

Otherwise, her glyphs are just a gift. Her way of being able to cast magic. After the light glyph, they aren't even that big of a deal to her and why not? She can cast magic. She is a witch. And that happens in episode FOUR. At that point, Hexside isn't about learning to become a witch. It's just getting to spend all day studying the one subject she cares about: Magic. What does she actually want to do with magic? Her personal goals in life? Why would those matter when she can just be MAGIC!?

This is part of why the ending for Luz sucks so much. Instead of, I dunno, something actually thematically appropriate and shows how much they've grown like becoming a therapist for kids when you yourself had lots of toxic mental habits as a kid or a herpetologist because you learned to appreciate the weird and gross in life, especially Amphibians, you can just... BE MAGIC! Learn everything. Get fifteen doctorates and sit on your ass.

Because what is important to being 'your own witch' is not what you do with your magic, it is just how much you have, at least according to TOH. How in the world you define your character's arc with their fundamental element, in how they learn from their mentor, with that mindset, I don't know. I don't think TOH did either.

But hey, it looks real cool when she is given ALL the magic in the finale and that makes up for it, right? sigh

======+++++======

I did delete a section on Illusion magic btw. I decided deliberating how little it is used, especially in a way that isn't just focused on fixing a combat problem like the rest of these (which is about all of three times, at least on purpose), just wasn't useful. Besides, I've talked in the past about how TOH's illusion magic just mostly sucks because illusion magic requires creativity and that is the last thing the magic in TOH is.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[peggy-uwu]

ok liveblogging watching the new episode because I'm insane

omf omg omg

this doesn't feel real

HES SO CUTE

omg what is this opening

OMG???

it has the old season vibes right at the beginning

the imagery??!?????

SEBASTIAN THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

I'm vibing with this op so much it's so fucking metal

giant fire monster??? please don't go off plot omg I'm worried now

ok the moon skull was cool

BISCUIT MY SHOUJO BABY GIRLIE I LOVE YOU

of course he's almost late

"first impressions are crucial, I must focus" *immediately fucks it up*

Redmond the beautiful woman that you are

REMOND RHE BEAUTIDUL WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

violet the beautiful woman that you are

REDMONSDDDD

waaaaaaah McMillan I love you

McMillan you're so cute 😭😭😭

"BOY UP" 💀💀💀

my poor son

GOSDDDDDDSDDDDDDDDD FUXK SEBASTIAN YOURE SO HOOOOOTTTT

let's take ibuprofen together ass pose

ciel is so sick of him already I love it

HES SO SICK OF HIM

omg stfu ur not funny

oooooh the windows are prettyyyy

Redmond the beauti-

violet my beautiful princess

fuck you zombie bitch die sooner

fucking power rangers ass lineup

LMAO GET FUCKED IDIOT

robot ass movements get away from my son

VIPLET MY PRWRTY PRINCESS

ohhhhhh I missed the title cards 🥹🥹

"drudges" remember what they took from you

ciels "target acquired" ass look when McMillan mentions the tea party ajbsksbdidj

McMillan the puppy that you are

what the fuck is wrong with these students omg

also why are the all either blonde or brunet and sitting next to eachother in pairs of 2

"are we little girls in cliques?" I mean if the dress fits 💀💀💀

stay away from the emo kids 📝📝📝

cheerio GOD

THE POSE AKNSNDKD

oooooooooh the eye is so pretty

OOOOOOOOOOOH SEBASTIAN IS SO PRETTY

I love love love that they feminized him it does wonders for my little lesbian heart

his eyes are so pretty ooooouggh

🦋🦋🦋 <- in my tummy

godddd he's so pretty in the dress

WHAT IS ERONG WITH THESE STIFENTS

DOTN GO NEAR THE GOTH KIDS 📝📝📝📝📝

CHESLOOOOOOCKKKKKKKKKK

cheslock I am in deep romantic love with you

my poor boy he's been jumped like 3 times and it's his second day

make that 4

Sebastian's smug ass fuckin smile I love that he always finds ways to get in ciels way by doing EXACTLY what he's told

ciel I'm gonna kill you what the fuck is that pose

"senpai" I'm dead 💀💀💀

"kawaii boya" 😭😭😭😭😭

but fuck the queen fr like why don't you just fucking walk down there yourself and ask

fuck ur cousin lady

wait don't she's a royal she might actually 💀💀

godddd Sebastian's do prettyyyy

ciel is also really pretty my baby princess I love you

Sebastian's eyelashes go hardf

.THEHAIR SRTIP FALLING

ooooh ending time

ohhhhh the windows for the p4 are so pretty!!!!!

oh the style is different it's so lovely

FALLING FROM THE FUCKING SKY??????

romance is real

ohhhh pretty sky

SWBASTIAN FLYING WITH HIM ROMANCE IS REAL??????

oh god oh god oh god I was going to post this to main but it has to go sideblog now

actually fuckit

it goes main anyways

falling through the sky in the sunset together be so fucking fr with me

ohhhhhh the ed is so pretty gofdd

[thatmaxcontent]

FnF sona, because I kinda fell in love with the game again :) and I like the funky style and self-inserting

OC/SONA INFO BELOW!! :D [All of this is PURE FANON AND SELF-INSERT, NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CANON!!!]

Maxwell is 18, AFAB Genderfluid with a STRONG male lean, he/him, Panromantic Asexual. He loves Goth, Metal, Pop, Hyperpop and Indie music the most, but overall listens to everything from Pop to Jazz. The hypothetical songs would each be a different style of Metal-inspired music mixed with another genre (in order, Indie/Metal, Pop/Metal, Goth/Metal, Hyperpop/Metal.) I had a hypothetical fifth song named "Godlike", that would've been like Gospel/Metal, but instead of holy Gospel worship it'd just be boss music /hj.

Maxwell has an undying love for all things Alien (particularly the emoji), and his male identity doesn't stop him from expressing himself however he wants. He's chubby and thick, usually covering up with styled baggy clothes.

He's good friends with BF and GF (also acquainted with Pico and his buds), the blue-haired peeps met three years ago when they were at a burger truck and there was only one burger left. Pico, who was BF'S, well, boyfriend back then kind of stood back facepalming as BF and Maxwell started rap battling for a burger. It devolved to them beep bopping one anothers spines so hard they fell to the ground bleeding and they watched as a little girl hopped over and bought the burger, feeding it to a nearby duck who morphed into a muscle duck after they ate the burger. The muscle duck and little girl took flight together while Maxwell, BF and Pico all looked at the scene. Pico was confused, meanwhile the blue duo were crying over the steroid burger.

Eventually the two got up and the trio made their way to a bench, where BF and Maxwell already forgot what happened and they shook hands only to bump their heads together thanks to being so dizzy from blood loss. Pico laughed at them and then lost his shit as they actually fainted and almost bled to death on the ground. When they woke up five minutes later they had a rap battle, exchanged numbers and waved each other goodbye for now. Pico had to carry boyfriend to his shitty ass apartment, meanwhile Maxwell crawled to his like an overgrown spider with scoliosis.

They met up every now and then, though they mostly ran into one another. Whenever they hung out, up until Pico and BF broke up, they'd do dumb shit that only amplified if Darnell and Nene pushed their asses along no matter how much Pico tried to beat the shit out of them not to come. Darnell taught Maxwell to spray-paint in exchange of Maxwell teaching him to do art with a pencil, because conveniently they had no fucking idea how to do what the other was a master at. Nene and Maxwell VERY OFTEN overshared on girl body problems and made the others throw up their tacos on the park grass.

When Pico and BF broke up Maxwell gave them both some space, and overall the hangouts pretty much disappeared. Some time after Maxwell hit BF up again, and they went ahead to get milkshakes or some shit when BF shared some tea.

"BEP BOP BOP"

"Bitch, no way, got your eye on someone new?? WHOMST, I MUST KNOW!"

"Bap BI BOP bop BAAAAP"

"DUDE, THAT IS SO COOL!!! Hold on how the fuck did you score a demon?"

"Bapip boop bi bap ba bop op boop"

"You're right, less questioning, MORE CELEBRATING, HELL YEAH HOMIE!!!"

From there Maxwell got to know GF, and also the extent of BF's and GF's dumbass energy (then again, he himself isn't much better). He still kept in contact with Pico and the gang, but overall he just vibes.

Maxwell is an enjoyer of singing/rapping, but he works as a baker part-time. He lives in a shitty apartment of his own, and hyperfixates an unhealthy amount on his own fantastical projects. They make his brains mush and make him go bepeboop.

I love him very dearly :)

[spectorcsm]

AvA6 EP1 SPOILERS

Alright peeps I'm joining in this chaos and you should all fear me This post has no plan or path this is just a ramble analysis of things I notice in the new episode so :D

EXPECT MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE WATCH THE EPISODE FIRST ^-^

Ok so like first off guys- maybe like- don't fire your glitch weapons in the middle of a crowded city?? This seems like a bad idea?? You guys are worse than the Avengers when it comes to collateral damage smh

Ok but Chosen stopping mid-chase to save that civilian by destroying the debris really goes to show how he's improved as a character, this guy went from destroying Alan's PC, to rampaging various sites with Dark, and now to this. Glad to see him as a proper hero now :D

I'm happy to see the ice powers coming back cuz after that one time he froze the Firefox I thought they just forgot about it lol

Chosen is Zeus now Also he just like creates a glacier 2 seconds later cool

Also quick shoutout to Alan's Desktop organization He has come a long way

I find it funny how much everyone focused on this clip in the trailer especially, like "Oh no does Orange get mad at Alan again?? Is this related to Vic???" and the reality of it is "lol wanna fight me guys?" "Sure sounds fun :D" Alan you have bamboozled us again

I find this moment rather interesting So after Alan pulls up the thingy and sends them all flying then crashing down, Red appears to be acting like they hurt their head and Yellow notices and crawls over to see if they're ok (Awwwijascsdhljw) but as soon as they do Red just punches em?? However then Yellow puts their hands up in a way almost to be like "whoa whoa it's just me" and then Red accepts the comfort. Idk I just find it interesting, like Red is still in fight-mode after the sparring match and doesn't quite register that it's Yellow touching them at first XD

Chosen: "COME ON DO IT, DO THE EYE THING" Orange: "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT IDK HOW TO DO THAT" Chosen: "YES YOU DO JUST DO IT, LIKE THIS:" Orange: "AAAAAAAAA" *Tries to do laser-eyes with every ounce of focus they have*

Red: "uhhh are they ok-" Green: "Maybe you should stop them?" Blue: "yeahhh maybe-" Yellow: "Hmm, yes. Interesting"

Chosen: "UGH FORGET IT YOU'RE COMING WITH ME" Sticknapping 101

Aight but like where did this guy (Btw I'll call him Striker cuz that name was going around and it's cool) get this stuff? Has their group attacked a Desktop before and managed to steal enough UI to make this guy OP? Cuz he uses a lot of really crazy stuff during this fight and I can't help but wonder what poor animator woke up just to find the entire UI on their software missing lol

I love how Chosen really just pulls the "Throw the kid in the pool to teach them how to swim" on Orange and his powers here lol Then to Chosen's surprise it does not work "Aw shoot the kid is drowning now I gotta save them smh"

YEAHHHH ART POWERS Ok but actually though I find it interesting how differently the Pencil tool works outside a Desktop, like usually Orange like speed-draws the whole entire thing but out here it's like Ah yes, line scribble = E e l I mean it actually kinda makes sense, in the 3D world it'd be really difficult to draw anything really so the Pen just changes function a bit based on the environment

Poor Green does not enjoy climbing it seems :(

This guy can forever one-up everything "Ok but have you beat up a shark with your bare hands and won?

Ok but this guy's style is just like tribal or primitive and it's honestly pretty cool I have no clue what to call them though so that's up to the rest of the fandom to decide ':D

Also someone else on a different site suggested the name "Warnman" for this guy cuz he looks like the typical hazard sign guy who's always showing the dreadful things that will happen if you don't obey the sign and I think the name fits so Warnman is honestly my favorite of these guys just cuz of how wacky they are lol

Also this guy has to be like Anime Stick or something I do not understand this dude at all but they're sick

Let it be known that Warnman is canonically 2D

Dude how much charge do those electro-bullets hold if that thing is STILL zapping Chosen This poor guy Also the way Striker fights throughout this whole scene is so cool

I find it interesting and I think Alan pointed out in the reaction video (really funny btw you should go watch that too) That Striker is totally just messing with them before that, like sure he probably has to be close to the target to use the Pause attack but I like to think he was enjoying the fight before that and is only just doing it now cuz he's bored lol

Aight so the Rocket Group is the one hunting Chosen I wanna know though- why Chosen specifically? Are they just after all Hollowheads with the powers or is it just Chosen they want? Maybe they're after all of them but Chosen is the only one with a super known presence? Also who are these guys?? They seem to be just some independent group but do they hold any sort of actual authority over Stick City? Man I have so many questions

How do you pause fire-? Does it still burn? I assume not cuz I think it woulda burned the guys bringing him by now Man that's wacky but cool Also another question here is like, is that white box a containment unit or some sort of display case? I'm thinking more along the lines of containment but like he's already paused and they left the door open I think??

Aight now we're getting to the theory-fuel Why are they studying all this UI? Where'd they get this UI? Why do all these sticks look exactly the same??? Like I get that it's just supposed to represent a large group of workers and stuff but they are all exactly the same shade-

A h a A h a a a . . . VICTIM???? VIC MY GUY WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?? LIKE I GET YOU'RE PROBABLY MAD AT ALAN LIKE KILLING YOU AND ALL BUT WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH CHOSEN AND EVERYONE?? I have many questions Also I am wondering if all the UI decor in his office is just art or what, are they trophies maybe? They probably had to get the UI for Striker's setup somewhere, did they raid Desktops before? Are those trophies from animators he's beaten? Man Idk but this is so interesting My final take on the episode: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA LET'S GOOO AvA 6 HYPEEE :D

[gaytotaldrama]

duncney week day 6: protectiveness

TD fangirls can be really, really annoying.

duncney song of the day: 'help me,' joni mitchell

also on my ao3!

The audience favorite for the cast of Total Drama is Owen, but, hey, Duncan's still pretty far up there. Of course, while Owen's popularity lies more typically with male viewers and young kids, a lot of Duncan's lies with the ladies. 

And can you blame them, really? No one else in the cast is cool enough to own piercings and a mohawk. He made it past the team merge in both seasons, placing no lower than fourth each time. And he's punk, which Courtney claims is a reason he's not attractive (but she is so, so lying). Naturally, the chicks (and a good amount of dudes, too) are gonna be all over him.

Still, though. As great as all the attention can be, they're really just trying to eat lunch at their usual outdoor café right now.

"OMG, he's even hotter in person!" one of the two girls exclaims, whipping out her phone for a photo op. "Did you get more piercings?! It looks like you got more piercings!!"

"Sorry, girls," he says casually, holding up a rock on sign for the camera. "Same amount of metal in my body as usual."

"Yes, and if you don't mind," sniffs Courtney irritably. "We're in the middle of a meal."

"Well, it's not like we're here for you," the second girl says loudly. "Does Duncan even want to be here right now? Or are you forcing him into dating you, as usual?"

"Excuse me?" Courtney launches to her feet, leaning in close enough to the second girl that her face reflects back in the girl's glasses. "I don't force him into anything! But at least I actually have a boyfriend, instead of going around trying to steal someone else's!"

"Whoa, whoa, all right," Duncan says, spreading his hands placatingly. "Let's all just take it down a notch, eh?"

Courtney snaps her glaring gaze to him. "Not. Helping."

The first girl snickers then, and mutters to her friend with a smirk on her face, "Psycho bitch."

Suddenly, it's not so funny anymore. Blood roaring in his ears, Duncan stands, delivering his retort before Courtney's even finished stewing about it. 

"No one," he says, jabbing a threatening finger at the two girls, glaring as violently as he can. "Calls Courtney a psycho bitch except for me."

One of them scoffs. "So you admit she's crazy? Why waste your time on her at all?" She grins, twisted. "Don't you think Gwen is so much more your style?"

"I think," says Duncan, steady as he can muster (so still at a respectable amount of venom). "That you should both leave."

An eye roll. "Fine, whatever. Can we get another selfie first?"

"Didn't you hear him?" Courtney snaps. "Piss off!"

They go, whispering to each other conspiratorially and throwing glances behind their shoulders.

"God, you're fucking amazing," Duncan tells her, shoulders beginning to loosen again. He scrubs a tired hand down his face. "What the fuck was even that."

When she doesn't respond, he looks up at her, quirking his eyebrow. "Uh, got something you want to share with the class, sweetheart?"

"You liked them fawning all over you! Don't deny it!" Courtney accuses.

Duncan rolls his eyes. "Come on, don't you kinda like the attention just a little bit sometimes? It's not like I was even remotely interested in either of them. As soon as they called you a bitch, it was a done deal. We told 'em to fuck off, and they did. Problem solved."

Courtney's eyes are at least a little less narrow now. "And you're not into Gwen, right?"

"Are you kidding me?" Duncan grins, shaking his head. "I'm offended you'd even ask, babe."

"...Ok." She deflates out of interrogation mode. "Sorry. I just get stressed out by all the...everything really easily."

"I get it." Duncan holds up his hand, flags down their waiter. "What do you say we take these to-go and finish them back at home?"

"Sounds good."

"You know," says Duncan, unable to stop himself from smiling. "You were so totally jealous back there."

To his delight, she pinkens almost instantly. "I was not. In your dreams."

"You're always in my dreams, Princess."

An even deeper flush. "You're so...Whatever. Let's get out of here." Her lips quirk up at the corners, twitching. "Besides. You'd lose it completely if another guy started flirting with me."

"Oh, is that what you think?" he asks her.

"That's what I know." The waiter returns the card, handing it to Courtney. "Thank you," she says. "You're always such a great waiter. Your arms and legs are so toned."

A grin spreads across the man's face. "Thank you, ma'am. You're very beautiful yourself."

Courtney giggles. The waiter leaves. 

"What the fuck," Duncan says through gritted teeth, hands bunched in the tablecloth. "Was that?"

Seriously. He could kill that guy right now, prison sentence be damned. 

But Courtney just smiles, the bitch, and says, "Simply a little social experiment. Let's go, hon."

[dawns-beauty]

hello-hello, I have come to shamelessly speak of my favourite modded follower... disclaimer for potentially bad taste 😅

I'm not sure why but I have quite a liking for followers built off of the vanilla system (i.e. no custom voice, complex ai and so on). maybe it's because I can flesh them out further the way I wish, similar to actual vanilla npc's. doubly-so since the majority of them don't have much of a backstory in their nexus pages...

anyway, about the specific guy I'm obsessed with... his name is Talerion, and he is a Thalmor. but wait! before you judge me, he is quite interesting! to my knowledge he's the only vanilla-style modded follower who uses the Altmer voice (so pretty...), with follower functionality thanks to RDO. also, he has a rather unconventional fighting style for an Altmer, forgoing magic in favour of dual wielding daggers (daedric ones, to boot! personally I tweak it so it's something less OP)

I am positively obsessed with him and he is practically my oc at this point with all of the backstory/lore I have made up for him. he will a quite important character in my planned fanfic, as an ally (and maybe more) of one of the main characters. also, I've drawn him quite a bit (examples here and here) and plan to make a replacer that makes his in-game look closer to how I draw him. (I probably cannot post it publicly tho bc of permission issues, mod author has not been active in a long time)

100% understand if he ain't your cup of tea but I consider him my-not-mine specialest little guy <3

Oh cool! I had heard of him, but I didn't realize he used a vanilla voice. I love your art! his ears poking out his hood 😭

I love when you can build on characters like that though, making your own stories about your special little guys is a cornerstone of the Elder Scrolls!!

[asmomyluv]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE can we get a crumb of mammon sfw and nsfw headcanons 🤲

Headcanons (MAMMON)

Of course you can! Mammon is one of my faves so strap in! And thank you so much for the compliment babes love youu

NSFW

Warnings: mention of tits I think that’s all!

Starting with SFW Mammon loves nicknames, I mean whoever someone says his name is usually negative so a nickname he can hear and know something good is coming you is loved and appreciated

Like if anyone else uses is he’s upset complaining about how it’s been tainted and now you need to say it on repeat

His music taste is definitely a mix between old school west coast rap and soft rock songs he probably only listens to music with you or in the car

Goldie? Yea he’s got little stickers he uses to decorate her and he probably keeps her in a dollhouse when he sleeps which makes it easy for lucifer to nab

He’s not above crying for attention, like real tears but you can always tell the diffrence from his being a baby tears and his sad tears

Speaking of Sad Mammon, he goes straight to you but he’s quieter almost waiting for you to start cheering him up

He gets a lot more ambitious with his schemes now that your around either hell impress you pulling it off or you’ll be there to help him get out of trouble win win in his eyes

He’s got an an amazing figure like lightly muscular with a six pack and a beautiful ass

He likes having stuff but he loves having your stuff Mammon has everything you’ve ever given him stored safely. From the tickets you asked him to hold on your first date to the rubber band you used to play in his hair

He doesn’t appreciate when you have anything to do that doesn’t involve him, not at all

He hates school but if someone offers to pay him to do their home work all of a sudden he’s a scholar honestly he could be an amazing businessman with his drive he just lacks the patience

Modeling is something he’s really confident in so he loves when you get to watch him and right after the cameras done he’s right next to you talking about how cool he is

I feel like when he learns about discrimination in the human world he becomes a little activist like “MC! Did you see what law they’re trying to pass now!”

Tbh his inner model comes out a lot he’ll just be sitting in a chair leaning back manspreading looking FINE AS FUCK.. ahem

He knows how your feeling he’s very in tune with his emotions and the emotions of others around him part of why he waits to open up is that he wants to understand you first

A crazy sleeper talking, moving, stretching all of it

We all know Mammon talks himself up to you hoping that both of you will believe it but he loves when you talk him up like it sends him through the three realms

He loves ur scent and will ask you to lay in his bed just so it’ll smell like you that night and if it doesn’t he’ll just keep you in there for a sleepover

Calls you at night to talk become he’s too nervous to ask you to come to his room or vice versa

He’d tottaly have dreads IDCIDC IDCCC dreadhead Mammon with gold jewelry should be cannon

Honestly he just loves praise from you

NSFW

He likes being degraded but only in bed and with lots of praise after

Choke him with his chain please and thank you

Oh and pull his hair he loves it

He likes pain if you can’t tell, but don’t hit his face that hurts his feelings

Jealous sex happens several times a week

2000% a switch and he’s good at going from dom to sub in one session

He’d take you to the top of his room to fuck you in one of his cars

He’d also love using his hands more than his mouth

His fingers are long and thin for his size, but they move so well

Silly little mammon would spell words out inside you and make you figure it out just because

Cumin on your body then licking it up to kiss you is his favorite passtime

He can fucking move his hips like he can pinpoint exactly where to get you clawing at his back

He’d want to prove he can pleasure you without anything added in and once he knows you know that he’s open to mixing it up

If you have nails he’s so into that like watching you run your hands up his chest and feeling your nails graze him gets him hard way too fast

Secretly he’s obsessed with the way you move, the smallest stuff like how you reach for things in-front of you and twist your body ever so slightly showing off your ass he’s way too into it

Toys, magic, potions anything you want drink a lactation potion and he’s on his knees mouth on ur tits

His dick is like big idk I feel like demon dicks are all different maybe I’ll do dick head cannons next💀

[thegeminisage]

well, it is star trek update time. last night we watched ds9's "whispers" and tng's "lower decks."

whispers (ds9):

this episode was really really really really good but it sent me into an absolute existential FIT

i don't usually like episodes where they string us along and don't give us enough clues to figure the thing out for ourselves. and that's what this did because really WHO could predict that. however the ending did gut punch me so i forgive them except i never want them to do that to me ever again

red herring with the coffee. he ordered it so many times i was sure there was something in his coffee

i feel so bad for the replicant. i feel SO BAD FOR HIM. also, did you know this is the only time in trek they use the word replicant

action hero obrien, even under false pretenses, was very very very good. he literally can kick ass and he's smart as hell too like he's so cool???

"tell keiko i love her" JESUS CHRIST. anyway!!!!!!!!

lower decks (tng):

this episode was ALSO pretty good...i really loved especially the dual poker games

i also love the waiter in ten forward who got to go to BOTH poker games, king, but where tf is guinan?? i miss her sm

riker is your worst nightmare. alexa play poker face

worf was also very good in this...he loves and supports his little guys so much. siskocore.

picard was as usual the devil incarnate. i cant believe he yelled at this girl just to see if she could take the pressure of a dangerous mission because he had RACIALLY PROFILED HER and then he, who has been tortured by cardassians, let an ensign SEVEN MONTHS INTO HER FIRST ASSIGNMENT do this covert ops shit. AND THEN SHE DIED!!!! i hope he feels bad forever

i liked her so much :( which i know is the point, but

i kind of wish that unlikable guy who was trying to suck up to riker had died instead because that would be a gut punch in a different way

ALSO NURSE OGAWA'S MAN RUNNING AROUND ON HER?? and then beverly is like oh thank god he proposed GIRL that doesn't mean you didn't see him talking to another woman! just bc you let picard do that shit does NOT mean you don't let alyssa know what you saw!!! smh

i'm still not looking forward to the show lower decks...the art style is so fucking ugly and reminds me so much of family guy, the unfunniest show ever to air on television. as in, even south park was funnier. but maybe if the plots are a little like this it will make it slightly easier to tolerate

EDITED TO ADD: i nearly forgot to mention, the vulcan this episode was CHANNELING mister leonard nimoy. i recognized so many of his little acting tics. absolutely delightful.

TONIGHT: ds9's "paradise" and tng's "thine own self" which i know has AMNESIA!!!!!! i've been in bed since i got home from work but i got out of it specifically for this reason. it better be good