#i swore i was just going to read that one arc but

[theofficialuriel]

How’d you get to reading the orv novel?

I started reading the webtoon for a few weeks, but I was left at a cliffhanger (the episode where kdj and yjh reunite and Joonghyuk pulls out his sword at the last panel), so curiosity took over me and I opened up the novel

[nevadancitizen]

-> HURTING, LONGING, LOVING – DANCING TO DISCO MUSIC

synopsis: you wake up and have no memory of simon. you can only hope to find him among your fractured memories and the scattered lights of a disco ball.

word count: 2.3k

characters: simon "ghost" riley, amnesiac! gn! reader

trigger warnings: transient global (aka temporary) amnesia, mentions of canon-typical violence/interrogation

notes: heavily inspired by disco elysium and part one of @roosterr 's amnesia series. go give it a read if you haven't already (＊๑˘◡˘)

Nothing surrounds you. Only warm, primordial blackness – the pond you learn about in Biology 101, the one where everything and everyone comes from. You don’t know this, of course, because you’re curled up in it, your mind fermenting in it. You’re no larger than a grain of yeast. You don’t have to do anything anymore. Ever. Never, ever.

But you’re growing. Gram upon gram of yeast, slowly morphing into meat. Muscles and bones and organs and a beating pig heart, decaying as soon as they grow. Soon you’ll need to do things. There’s a faint tickle of an idea. Soldiers. Battlefields. IEDs and tanks. You don’t know what to do with this information.

Somewhere within the idea – a sensation! Pain. Arcing, shooting pain, lightning through every new nerve in your new body. The limbed and headed machine of pain and barely-dignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

It wants someone. You want someone. A blurred-out face, someone you’re kneeling at the feet at. A ghost of a man. So lost he doesn’t even know what his face looks like. 

“I swore I wouldn’t let you go,” your barely-formed mouth mumbles. Your teeth are hot, melted-together plastic and your tongue is jet-fuel-fired rebar. 

Look up. No. You were just talking to yourself. That’s all you ever do. Even in this primordial pool. And the act is wearing thin, the spots of the disco ball fade around you…

The warm blackness is instantly replaced with a cold, artificial light. You bring your hand up to block it – since when have you had these? Gangly things with a red wire further down in… your elbow. That’s not a wire – that’s a tube. Of blood? Your blood. You have blood.

You remember now. You were born with hands and elbows, knees, feet, organs and fat and a copious amount of blood. A collarbone you’ve broken more than once. A body that was molded in the crucible of battle.

And holy shit does that body hurt. That hindbrain wasn’t exaggerating when it said that you are a being of suffering. 

A dull throbbing is behind your eyes as they rove around the room. They land on a button neatly labeled Call Nurse. You press it and wait.

Everything after that is a blur. Nurses, doctors, “Follow my finger with your eyes, but don’t move your head,” poking and prodding with various instruments, “Tilt your head back so I can feel your neck,” blue latex gloves, “How much do you remember?”, bright lights in your eyes.

One nurse checks the dressings on your forehead. It’s just above your temple. His hands are rubbery and unfeeling as he re-dresses it. A trickle of cold liquid dribbling down from an alcohol swab. Bandages press against your skin. “What’s your name and date of birth?”, “Can you name the members of the task force you’re a part of?”

A man cuts through the blur as he comes thundering through the door. A balaclava with a skull pattern. Three men are behind him, hanging in the doorframe, out of the way. But the man moves quickly towards you, standing on the edge of the crowd of medical professionals, pacing back and forth, eyes on you, like how a sheepdog circles its sheep. Longing, waiting. Held back by an invisible leash of respect.

After a while, most of the personnel disperse, leaving you with a transient global amnesia diagnosis, a nurse, and the men. But even then, they leave after casting a glance at the sheepdog.

He moves closer, then stares at you for a while. He’s expecting something. His brown eyes are like sodium lights. A small trickle of streets and the sky. In your mind, you know he’s the place to be. You’re still alive while he’s around. 

Yeah. He’s groovy. You want to disco with him. He is disco. But somewhere, a deep unaccessed area of your mind is saying, “You don’t want to disco like this. Not really. Not in the deepest part of your soul, where blond eyelashes only make you sad.”

Wait – come on, what are you talking about? Sad blond eyelashes? Blond eyelashes are fun!

“Why do I hurt all of a sudden?”

“Hey, it’s alright, darl.” He kneels by your bed and takes your hand in both of his. They’re warm, rough, calloused in places you thought couldn’t be calloused. “It’s me, it’s Simon.”

“What?” You pull your hand away from his. “I don’t know a Simon.”

Simon scoffs, but it’s more of an exhale of disbelief. “Don’t you remember me?”

“No.” You narrow your eyes. “Should I?”

Simon crumbles before you. His sodium streetlight eyes go out with an explosion of guilt – the bulbs pop with a fizzy sound. He looks like he should be groveling at the feet of a feudal lord, providing excessive evidence of his crimes, or throwing a cat-of-nine-tails over his shoulder and ripping the flesh from his own back. Whatever made him this way – you can be damn sure it was your fault. Those three simple words, instead of “I love you,” are “No. Should I?” 

“It’s me.” Simon’s voice cracks as he speaks. Tears flood his waterline. He takes off his mask, revealing his pale face and dyed-blond hair. “It’s your Simon.”

“Simon,” you say softly. You look at him and hurt. A hole in your still-beating pig heart. Blood spills out from where the bullet went in. 

“No. Nothing.” You look down at his hand. It’s palm-up, splayed out where you let go of it. It curls up into a fist, then Simon pulls it into his lap.

He says nothing. Just stares at you like you’re familiar yet somehow unknown. 

You don’t know what to say. You just can’t conjure up any thoughts as you stare back. The morphine can’t be the cause of your dumbness. And it certainly isn’t the new modafinil that was just introduced to your system. 

You search his eyes and feel, above all things, lost. Lonely in a hospital full of people. 

Simon pulls away. His breathing is heavy and labored. A single tear slips down his scarred cheek. He doesn’t look like he’s one to cry. The tear leaves a trail of wet that looks like a new scar.

He tugs his balaclava back on and shuffles out, casting one last longing glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

That’s where it is. He is disco. He’s stumbling through the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

You’re stuck in the hospital for a week for physical therapy and observation. Simon visits intermittently. He brings things to jog your memory – men that are part of Task Force 141, small snow globes from where you and he have apparently been deployed. Some of them work. But none of them bring back any memory of your apparent relationship with Simon – your boyfriend.

Today he comes in with a small device. It’s not a phone, but resembles it. A small wire comes from the amp and ends in a small circle of plastic.

You point at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a contact microphone.” Simon settles in the chair that’s set up by your bed. He points at the blocky part of it. “This part holds the recording. You can play it back if needed.”

“Are you going to play it back?” You ask.

“No,” Simon says. “This one is blank.”

You take it from Simon’s hand and turn it over, looking at it. Examining. “Then why are you showing me this?”

“You are…” Simon sighs, trying to find the words. “You were a profoundly talented interrogator. You used contact microphones to record the interrogation, the confessions, the works. There’s a specified interrogation chamber underground. Contact microphones pick up the noise better down there.”

You continue looking it over. Fiddling with the wire. Running your thumb over the mesh of the microphone.

“Anything?” Simon says.

You close your eyes and think. Contact microphone… violence, blood. There’s a welding torch in there somewhere. The smell of bubbling flesh and burning hair. Cauterization without anesthesia. It was that way on purpose.

You open your eyes and look at Simon. “Interrogation.”

“Obviously.” Simon huffs out a laugh. It sounds forced. “I told you that.”

“Yes.” You sigh, looking down at the contact microphone. You try to think more. Contact… physical contact. Your fist making contact. Something hard. Solid bone breaking under your hands. 

But also… something soft. Something that smells good. Smells homey. A black hoodie with some cheesy skull pattern on it. Actually, a closet full of black and grey clothes. A monotone voice to match a monotone closet.

The clothes smell faintly of cigarettes. A carton that’s mostly empty. They taste better than regular cigarettes – they’re some European brand. 

“Do…” You look up at Simon. “Do you smoke?”

“Why?” Simon asks. “Do I smell like cigs?”

“No. Just…” 

You close your eyes and try to remember more. The carton is a brown-orange color. The back is plastered with warnings about nicotine being an addictive chemical. No filters. A smooth, walnut-esque finish.

“Revaality,” you finally say and look up at Simon. 

“Yes! Yes.” Simon takes your hand instinctively, excitedly. He smiles. Like crying, it doesn’t really fit him, but you’re glad he’s smiling anyway. “That’s the brand I smoke. I smoke Revaality.”

He takes your face in his hand and guides you to look at him. His sodium light eyes are bright once again. “Anything else? Lovie, please…”

You cringe away from his touch. Again, Simon is punched in the fucking face when he remembers that you don’t know him. Not like that. 

Simon pulls his hands away. “Shit. I…”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “I know.”

I know you know a different version of me. The thought lingers, loud and unsaid. Simon, you’re a man with a lot of past, but little present, and almost no future. I’m sorry we only live in your memories, because I don’t even have those.

“I’m trying.” You look down at the contact microphone. “Believe me, I’m trying.”

“I believe you,” Simon says. “It’s just… it’s hard.”

Silence for a while. The artificial lights above you buzz and cast harsh shadows on Simon’s face. He looks… tired. 

“I still love you,” he says quietly. Almost a whisper. “I… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He rests a hand on the railing of your hospital bed. “I’m not the best. I drink. I smoke. I have a laundry list of mental issues and types of trauma. So much it’s not even funny.”

“But you…” he sighs. “You fell in love with me anyway.”

You look up at him. He’s crying again. A pang of empathy in your heart. You don’t know why, but you don’t want to see him cry. The tears that cut through the dirt on his face are unbefitting. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is a mirror of Simon’s. Soft and wavering. “I want to remember. I don’t even know what happened to me. The doctors always dance around it when I ask.”

Simon bunches the end of his sleeve up in his hand and wipes away his tears. “You were a fucking idiot. That’s what happened.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“Not in a bad way.” Simon lets go of his sleeve and rests his hand on the railing of your bed again. “You love too much and too hard. You saved me.”

“It… the building…” He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his waterline to clear of tears. “The building was coming down. We thought we were out of danger close. But there was a piece of rebar that…”

Simon looks down at his lap. He’s ashamed. “It was supposed to hit me. I was supposed to die. I’m used to it. I’m used to close calls and blood transfusions.”

“But I’m not used to…” He glances up at you through his eyelashes. His long, blond eyelashes. “People I care about being hurt. Or people caring about me in general.”

“Simon.” You reach out and lay your hand over his where it rests on the railing. He holds his breath like he’s afraid.

A pause. You want to be sure of your words before you speak. 

“I’m going to try my damndest to remember,” you say. “Even if I don’t remember everything, I – I want to try to learn to care about you again. Because, based on our limited interactions, I know you’re a good man. Even if you drink and even if you smoke and even if you have a laundry list of mental issues and an assortment of trauma.”

Simon slowly brings his other hand and rests it on top of yours. His callouses brush against your knuckles. Abrasive yet comforting in a way you barely remember. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Really, truly. Thank you.”

And, in this moment, Simon finally has some sense of control in an ever-turbulent world. The world that tried to take his one and only love. The world that has taken his one and only love and is only now feeding him droplets of what he knows – what he once knew. He must exercise this control carefully, lest he lose you again. 

In the sky, there are no dogfights and no silverplate bombers. Only stars and the rabbit curled up on the moon and a singular winking comet. God is in Heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Somewhere, the spots from a disco ball freckle the dance floor once again.

[chuluoyi]

A suggestion: a drunk Satoru! Maybe in the middle of his slurring he delulu seeing Suguru, the rest is up to you! <3

wasted

- gojo satoru x reader

your boyfriend is a very uncooperative drunk, and chaos (read: innuendo) caused by it ensues.

genre/warnings: a crack fic, takes place during gojo's past arc because i just love that setting so much, slight profanity, mildly suggestive

notes: okay nonnie, i have some ideas regarding this *wink*

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Gojo Satoru is straight up a bad drunk. He even said so himself, and everyone could attest to that.

So why did you let him drink at this godforsaken bar?

"Shokooo!" Satoru flailed his glass, wobbling on his feet. He sounded so unhinged that made the people next table gave him stink eyes. "Give me anoth-er! Anotheeeer!"

"Hells," Shoko winced at the sight, her hands moving the beer bottle away from his reach. "No, you're positively wasted."

You plucked the glass out of his hands. "Cut it out, Gojo. You're making a scene!"

"Anooo—" he hiccupped, his weight dangerously leaning on you in an attempt to get his glass back as well as forcing Shoko to grant him another cup. "—theerrr! Anotherrr! Shokooo! C'mon!"

"Do something about him! Or else we're going to be stuck here."

"I'm trying!"

This whole night was a total mishap. None of you are of age, and therefore neither of you should have gone out for drinks by falsifying your IDs. Shoko initially just invited you and Nanami, until the latter promptly declined when Satoru sprung out of nowhere and declared himself going.

He whipped his head so suddenly when the bell in the entrance of the bar jingled. A customer walked in, and he was a total stranger—neither you or Shoko recognized him.

“Oh my… isn’t that…”

But Satoru, teary-eyed in his drunken haze, seemed to see far beyond you did. "...Suguru? Suguruuuu!"

"Oh God, no!" You kept your hands on his waist tightly as he almost leapt out to barrel towards the poor stranger. "Shoko! Help!"

"Gojo, you shithead! He is not! Stop it!"

"But he is! Suguruuuu~!"

And so his thrashing and the ruckus he caused got the three of you kicked out of the bar. Shoko immediately washed her hands off him by saying that she was hopping to the next bar and left you struggling to keep your balance, with Satoru heavily leaning on you as the two of you trek across the road to Jujutsu High compound.

"Gojo—don't do that! Keep walking!"

"Mmmmm~" he slurred, swaying to the left and right as he pleased and you swore, one more time and you would fling him to the asphalt. "Why Gojo? It's Satoru! Sa-to-ru!"

"Come on you ass, we need to go back!" you hissed.

"Say my name first!"

And when he deliberately swayed dangerously to the side, you really let him go—and then he hit the sidewalk.

You wanted to scream. Satoru merely burst into a fit of giggles though.

Somehow, you managed to get him back. But this whole disaster didn't end there as right after you unlocked his door, he suddenly pushed his whole weight on you, making you bump into the counter.

"It hurts! Satoru, you idiot!" You scowled, rubbing your stinging shoulder—it would probably leave a nasty bruise. And it caught his attention. Satoru turned to you, his sparkly eyes boring right into yours.

"You're pwetty," he jabbed a finger at your face, slurring. You flinched at how close his finger to your eye socket was.

"Thank you." You swat his finger away, not in favor of the possibility of being blind tonight. "Now we must get you to the bed. Come—"

You apparently didn't know that alcohol could mess his system so much that it came as a total surprise when he crashed his lips onto yours without warning. "Mmfh!"

Satoru grabbed the back of your head and entangled his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. It was searing, his tongue attacking your mouth and sometimes bit your lips and he was so good—

He then led you to his bed, and tore your shirt open, his deft hands caressing and fondling everything your body had to offer, and for a moment even you felt drunk too. It was intoxicating how quickly he rendered you putty, how the blue in his eyes darkened with desire, and it was all for you—

"Sweetheart," he whispered in a low, scratchy voice. "Now, open up for me, yeah?"

You barely caught the meaning of his words when a finger inside you made you see stars. Your eyes widened, and your moans were muffled when he shoved his mouth again against yours. It was dizzying, and you felt lost in his arms, as he kept twisting his finger inside.

This certainly wasn't what you imagined it was going to be. You two were a couple, and couples fuck. But this... you had half a mind to push him away, and you were really going to, when he suddenly pulled away from the kiss, gazing at you with half-lidded, unfocusing eyes and sloppy grin.

"... really... you are..."

And to your horror, he suddenly collapsed, his full weight squashing you.

You blinked in disbelief. What just happened? You felt like a starfish pinned under a rock.

And all you could fathom now was that this grown-ass man child had left you aroused and wet down there.

When Satoru woke up the next morning, he was in a shocking amount of hangover. There was this dull ache in the back of his head and forefront of his temples, and he felt nauseous. He braced himself against the headboard, willing it to pass.

He had been drinking. He took a mental note not to ever drink again. He always feels so miserable afterwards. What possessed him to go for it last night? Darn him and his impulsivity.

He remembered thinking the world had became such a happy place. He remembered seeing Suguru and thinking he had come to give him a hug. He remembered you sulking against him, and you looked so freaking cute that he couldn't help but pounce on you altogether.

And that's where his memory blanked out. What happened afterwards?

Then he realized that you were beside him on this very bed. He looked at you, who had barely cocooned yourself in the blanket. Your hair was in disarray, a few buttons of your shirt loosened—missing, even? And is that what he thinks it is on your neck?

Did he bite you so hard that you bled?

Dread pooled at his gut at the possibility of what he had done.

"Hey," he muttered, shaking you, in a state of half-panic. "Hey—wake up, please."

You whined at the rude awakening, cracking one eye open. "Satoru..." your voice was still thick with sleep and a deep frown creased on your face. "...what is it?"

And Satoru shuddered. The way his name rolled from your lips so languidly seemed to ignite something feral within him, but he ignored it.

"Hey, uh—are you... are you okay?"

"Huh?" you shot him an annoyed grunt. "It's still early, Satoru. Please, I need sleep. I'm tired after the shit you pulled on me last night."

"What shit?" he tried to sound unconcerned with the way you referred it, but he still gulped.

"...you don't remember?"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Gods..." now you were frustrated. You buried your face in the pillow. "You put me through hell, Satoru. And not to mention—"

"Did I force myself on you?" he asked with a lower tone. "If I did, I'm... sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Hu—what?"

Satoru felt another wave of nausea at his gut, and he tried to suppress it. "I didn't mean to wreck you. I know I'm lousy, but that definitely wasn't what I planned."

Confusion was palpable on your face, even though you were still half-asleep. "Sure... it's okay..."

"I..." Satoru was at a loss of words. You were all but confirming that he did rail you in the worst way. He wasn't exactly the type who would make the first time memorable or such, but he certainly didn't want it to be a forceful act on a spur of a drunken night. What could he say to that?

"Satoru? You don't seem well," you furrowed your brows, noticing how restless and pale he was. "Are you having hangover? Do you want some water?"

He wanted to kick himself as his sanity eaten away by the sheer guilt and shame. He pressed both hands to cover his face. "I'm so uncool..."

"Finally you're realizing it. Would be better if you do it during the day and not—" You checked your phone. "—at freaking five in the morning. But seriously, are you doing okay? You drank quite a lot last night."

No, he wasn't. The urge to puke was still there and his head was still pounding.

"What's gotten into you?" now worry was present in your tone. "Satoru, please. You're acting strange. It's still to early for whatever it is that you're plotting. Just tell me if you're not feeling well."

He stayed quiet for a while, trying to remember to what extend the damage he had done. But you seemed to translate it as him not feeling well as you let out a sigh and begrudgingly sat up to get him a glass of water. Poor you, he thought. Should he take an advantage of you fully and unashamedly just like he usually did?

You handed him the glass. "Here, drink this." He took it, but just stared at it. His crestfallen expression made you twitch in irritation. "Drink already. What are you thinking anyway?"

"Don't you... resent me?" Satoru mumbled with resignation, finally having the courage to look at you.

"For what? Last night?"

"What else? Why are you still worrying about me?"

"That's..." you faltered, bewildered. "You feel that bad about it? Satoru, you were a pain but it's your everyday thing already so be grateful that I'm not holding it against you."

"Everyday thing?" he asked incredulously. "Hey, it's—that's not something I do everyday!"

"It sure is! You are always whining, being dramatic and causing trouble!"

"Hey, but it's not about that! I'm talking about how I almost did you with violence!"

"Do... me?"

"That!" he pointed at your bruised neck, then looked away with guilt. "I... don't know how it escalated to that, but I'm truly sorry."

You reached to the bruise, somewhere between your neck and shoulder, and winced a bit. "Ah this. You pushed me and I crashed into that cupboard."

"Oh?" Satoru blinked in surprise. "And that, your shirt? Your missing buttons?"

"You tore it, but then you fell on me, you idiot."

"So... I didn't rape you?"

Your face immediately burst into the shades of red. You scrunched up your face in exasperation. "I'll blast you if you did it without my consent, Gojo Satoru. But thankfully no."

A whole load of self-blame dissipated from him and he almost laughed had the urge to throw up not this overwhelming.

"Apparently you're decent enough to think if you've wronged me. It's a surprise," you mused with a smug grin.

"Of course I am!" he scowled. But suddenly his queasiness shot up, and his vision blurred. And what came next was the contents of his stomach.

"Satoru! What the hell!? Don't vomit on me!"

Epilogue

"And that's what happened," you explained with contempt. Satoru puckered his lips in indignation, meanwhile Shoko threw her head back, wheezing in a fit of laughter.

"Gojo, you're such a baby," she cackled with satisfaction. "Losing against mere alcohol. Not the strongest, after all, huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "I hope your liver rots from drinking and smoking so much."

[blues-valentine]

Dune Spoilers:

I like the Dune book series - it’s one of the first sci fic books I ever read and we all know they're the blueprint. And Deni's movies are a visual masterpiece. With that being said, I have some issues with the movies because of their use of Arab culture to build their world while most of their cast and staff isn’t even middle eastern. But I don’t feel I have the authority to talk about it so I’ll refer to some posts. (x x x)

But with a lot of criticism I disagree with the takes about the movie showing us a "white savior trope" and I don’t want to yell that media literacy is death when it comes to analyzing entertainment but yes because Paul Atreides is being portrayed as a cautionary tale since the very first introduction to Dune in the movies. Chani starts the movie explaining Arraki’s story about being invaded and under the ex rule of an imperial house and asks the following question: “Who’ll our next oppressors be?” while cutting directly to Paul and starting his journey. Paul isn’t being shown as the white savior that will free the Fremen from the imperial rule and get them the paradise they see in the prophecy. He quickly becomes a power hungry leader with a god complex and I think Dune: Part Two heavily showcases this transition. Paul spends a lot of time denying what he could be and when he has the ability to see he can win and rule the world - his greed takes over.

Paul’s ascent to power in the 3rd act isn’t even being portrayed as a good thing — it’s supposed to be dark and full of warnings about the tyrant he’ll become. It’s there in his scary speech and Chani’s face. Both Paul and Jessica are being shown as manipulative people that are leading the Fremen into false hopes and religious fanaticism. Paul knew from the very start that the Bere Gesserit were planting ideas on the Fremen about him being the one - and he knew he needed to convince the remaining doubtful people of the prophecy if he wanted them on his side for his revenge. He was using the Fremen for his vengeance agaisnt the emperor. And he might’ve fallen in love with Chani and genuinely believe his place is at Arrakis' but he quickly transforms into the Messiah that plays into people’s false worship. He knows the easiest way to control the Fremen is by playing into the prophecy.

Paul’s Atraides isn’t about a hero’s journey but mostly the journey of an anti hero. We are not supposed to think he is the good guy. In the books there’s this important quote from Frank Herbert’s himself: “No more terrible disaster could befall your people than for them to fall into the hands of a hero.” because Paul isn’t there to save them from colonialism just replacing their old oppressors (Harkonnen) with him.

And I was pleasantly surprised with the changes in Chani’s character by her having more agency by being a freedom fighter and the only one seeing the wrongs in the increasing fanaticism towards Paul and the dangers this means for her people instead of playing the passive girlfriend that sticks by his side despite him becoming everything he swore won't be like in the books. And I really hope they change some parts of her arc in the last movie and she goes against him. Or at the very least have her still present a strong opposition to his world view. It would turn their relationship more interesting than her spending 12 years as his concubine wanting to bear him children and dying for it. I think Denis seems to be planning a better way to portray the women in the last movie and I can't wait to see what he does with them.

I just feel like people will get to Dune: Messiah and be so confused as if Paul going into a dark path and becoming Arraki's next oppressor wasn't pretty much there all along.

[notyourprof]

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 – Notes/Summary

When Em @powerful-owl first put out her call for primers (what feels like a hundred years ago now), I swore I had just recently listened to a description of what a race weekend was like for drivers on one of my podcasts, almost certainly F1 Explains. I listened back to the two episodes I thought it might be on, and figured I’d go ahead and take and share some notes on everything, in case there is some useful info in there for others. It turns out I had mis-remembered, because the discussion was about what a race weekend is like for media folks, not drivers, but I think it’s still useful because it does give information about what the drivers’ media obligations are.

In general, I highly recommend the F1 Explains podcast (previously called Formula Why), especially to new F1 fans who want to learn more details about the sport. Katie Osborne and Christian Hewgill co-host it, and on most episodes they pick a single topic (e.g. racing in the rain, street circuits, driver training regimens, etc.) and do a deep dive with a few different experts. But they also do semi-regular “quick-fire” episodes where they cover a bunch of questions that maybe don’t need a full episode to answer. Former Aston Martin strategist and current F1 + Sky Sports strategy analyst Bernie (Bernadette) Collins is a regular guest expert on the quick-fire episodes. (She’s also a regular in MY HEART, because she is amazing and wonderful and has the best Irish accent.) There are a few other rotating experts as well, usually from the F1/Sky Sports family.

Anyways, here is my write-up of the answer to the question about what a race weekend is like for media, which was on the episode from 9 November 2023:

Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers? A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

So feel free to use this information when writing fic, but also remember that you don’t have to have all of your facts absolutely perfectly correct! It’s called fiction for a reason!

There were a lot of other interesting questions and answers in the episode, which I also took notes on, and I will put those below the cut. (Read on to find out which driver has Strong Feelings about the roundabouts near Milton Keynes, and which world champions have accidentally pulled into the wrong pit boxes before, LOL.)

Is this the kind of thing that is interesting and useful? I have a summary written up already for the 2 November 2023 episode, because I thought the "what is race weekend like" question might be in that one, but this is already super long. Should I post the notes on that episode in a different post? I can do notes/summaries for other episodes if that's something people are interested in, but I have a bad history of spending a lot of time documenting things in fandom that no one else ever uses or looks at, so I'm trying to...better allocate my limited spare time.

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 Quick-fire questions with Bernie Collins & Lawrence Barretto

First, a sidenote: Daniel Ricciardo once did a shoey from one of Lawrence Baretto’s shoes. Daniel signed it and Lawrence has it on desk now.

Q: What construction and logistics have to go into a new street circuit, and how to teams prepare for a brand new track?

A: The streets used for the race track have to be re-laid with new tarmac, there has to be coordination with street opening and closing, hotels and other businesses around the circuit, etc. There is a full episode on racetrack design. To prepare for a new track, teams look closely at historical weather data (including temperatures and wind). They’ll load 2D and sometimes 3D scans of the track into their simulators, although often there isn’t full information yet because the final track hasn’t been finished. Lots of simulations and calculations in an attempt to get as much data as they can in advance. There’s also a full episode about how simulators work.

Q: How important is the engine manufacturer? Are they a glorified sponsor that provides an F1-approved generic engine or are there real technical differences between the engines from different suppliers?

A: There are differences between power units from different manufacturers. It also gives them a chance to really stretch themselves and bring in expertise from all around the company (e.g. if they also manufacture jet engines) and to hopefully get some good PR that will lead to more people buying their street cars. In 2023 for the first time, each engine manufacturer showed their engine off to the press to show the differences between each unit. 2023 engine manufacturers were Ferrari, Renault, Mercedes, and Honda. In 2026, Ford and Audi will join as new manufacturers.

Q: Why do drivers and engineers do track walks? Do all teams and drivers do this?

A: Not all drivers do it, some of them will do a run or go out on a scooter. Reasons to do it include looking for changes from last year (new bumps, changes to gravel or curbs (kerbs), etc.) as well as having a bit of uninterrupted time for drivers and their race engineers to talk to each other. Also can be helpful to the commentators/presenters. Helps everyone build/remember their muscle memory of the track if they’ve been there before.

Q: Is F1 using AI? Could it be used for race strategy?

A: Yes, most teams are already doing machine learning in calculations and simulations, but for now human input is still required (and probably always will be).

(Repeating this here because this is where it was in the episode) Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers?

A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

Q: How much interaction is there between broadcasting teams from different countries?

A: A lot. They all see each other regularly so they get to know each other, and they often chat amongst themselves to communicate about what drivers have said to their home broadcasters, because they usually give longer/more detailed answers when they’re speaking in their native language.

Q: How does breaking news get shared with everyone?

A: Press releases used to be printed out on paper and handed out in the Media Center. Now each F1 team has a WhatsApp group specifically for media so they send info that way (e.g. about driver availability for interviews or problems with the cars) in addition to email and social media.

Q: Is there a dedicated space for journalists to write up their race reports?

A: Yes, it’s called the Media Center, there are desks, TV screens, food, and drinks (especially coffee!). The press conference room is in the Media Center as well, adjacent to the work area where journalists can sit and write.

Q: Has Bernie ever had a debrief delayed [when she was a team strategist] due to media interviews running long?

A: Many of the debriefs have been delayed by drivers, and blaming it on the media is an easy out when maybe it was actually the driver who stopped to get a coffee or whatever. Each F1 driver has their own press officer who helps them meet all of their press responsibilities. Often the drivers will talk longer than they are supposed to; Alex Albon and Oscar Piastri are specifically named as drivers who are very good at going off on tangents and talking to the media for too long. One time, Alex spent a good amount of time ranting about the roundabouts in Milton Keynes near the Red Bull factory is based.

Q: How is the order of the garages in the pit lane decided? Are there advantages to being in certain positions and does it play into race strategy?

A: At most tracks, the garages are in order based on how the teams finished in the constructor’s championship the previous year, so over a given season, the garages on either side of your teams don’t change. Sometimes the previous champions are right at the pit lane entry, sometimes near the exit, that depends on the track. If you’re right at the entry, it’s easier to come in and pit (i.e. there aren’t any other team’s mechanics in your way), but more difficult to get back out on track. Near the pit exit, the opposite is true (harder to get in, easier to get out). Depending on the track, it can be helpful to be right near the pit exit (e.g. if you want to get right out on track with clear air in front of you, Bernie mentions Monaco) or further back (e.g. if it’s better to have some other cars go first in qualifying, Bernie mentions Monza). The only exception to the rule of “garages are in order of last year’s championship standings” is Silverstone, where the pit lane is at about the same height as the track in the middle but at either end the pit lane is lower than the track so visibility is impaired. Because of this, the garages in the center (with a good view of the track) are considered most desirable and are thus taken by the top teams.

Christian Hewgill points out how surprising/impressive it is that drivers don’t pull into the wrong pit box more often. For example, at the 2011 Chinese Grand Prix, Jenson Button accidentally parked in the wrong garage and it cost him the lead in the race to Sebastian Vettel. Bernie points out that teams have done a lot of things to help drivers get to the correct pit lanes. It often happens when drivers switch teams (e.g. Lewis Hamilton once went into the McLaren pit when he had just moved to Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel went to the Ferrari pit once after he had switched to Aston Martin).

Q: What is parc fermé? What are the restrictions? How are they enforced?

A: Parc fermé is a period of time in which teams are not allowed to touch their cars or make any changes related to performance, however they can make changes related to safety. It promotes sustainability and rewards teams that do well in practice figuring out what works best for that track. During sprint weekends, teams only have one practice before the cars go into parc fermé, which makes it particularly difficult to adjust the cars to the track. Cars do often get taken apart and reassembled while in parc fermé to check components, clean things, etc., but the F1/FIA scrutineers will put stickers on the car parts to make sure the same parts are used when reassembling the car.

Q: What is an anti-stall? How is it different from a regular stall?

A: (Note that I am basically quoting Bernie verbatim here because I’ve never driven a manual/stick-shift car and don’t understand the details of how they work!) An anti-stall is very similar to a normal stall, but F1 have come up with clever ways to make sure the car engines don’t actually stall. In a regular manual car, if you were to let the clutch out too much or not give it enough throttle and the car stalled, the engine would cut out. At the starting grid, the driver might do the same thing (e.g. not give it enough throttle) and the car might stall, but the engine doesn’t actually cut out. (Another note: it’s not explicitly stated, but I think this is a safety thing so that even if the car stalls and doesn’t get a super fast start, the driver will be able to accelerate pretty quickly after, instead of sitting on the grid unable to move while the cars behind start crashing into the stalled car.)

Q: Why do F1 teams change names?

A: OK I started writing this in a way that makes sense beyond the short answers given on the podcast, but it really needs to be a separate post. The short answer to “why do teams change names?” is money. (Shocker!) 

Sometimes a team that also makes something else wants to promote one of their brands, e.g. Renault rebranding to Alpine, which is Renault’s sports car brand, or Toro Rosso rebranding to AlphaTauri, which is Red Bull’s clothing line. 

Sometimes a team will have a sponsor who pays enough money to be a title sponsor, e.g. Oracle Red Bull Racing or the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team, where Oracle and Petronas are completely separate companies that pay a lot of money in addition to providing relevant expertise to their teams. 

(In the other post, I’ll get into Sauber/Alfa Romeo/Stake/Kick, don’t worry. 😂)

Q: How is the number of laps in a Grand Prix determined?

A: The number of laps for a given circuit is however many laps are needed to get to a 305 km (~190 mi) race distance. The exception is Monaco where the distance is 260 km (~162 mi).

[pennylanewrites]

sur le fil [levi ackerman x f!reader]

chapter 1: la vie en rose

moving to paris, you get to meet a set of interesting neighbours; one talkative, bubbly, exciting and kind. one reserved, serious and tortured. the first will be your guide through life in paris; the latter, you soon find out is your colleague.

a/n: reader, hange, moblit and petra are 24-25 years old. erwin and levi are both 28 in this fic. erwin gets introduced soon so dw heheh

masterpost | next

packing up your whole life and moving to paris was sort of on a whim. you really only realized it when you were on the plane, and you could spot the eiffel tower, the arc de triomphe, the notre dame. oh, you were going to have so much fun.

it wasn't hard to find your new home -after taking a taxi and two buses from the airport. you had booked a room from an old lady living in a haussmannian building. three rooms were already occupied, and a kitchen, common room, library and terrace were included in the low price of 250€ per month. you assumed that the old lady simply wanted company; it wasn't easy to find something that cheap, right in the heart of paris.

"madame dubois, so nice to meet you!" you greeted the lady rushing out of the building with a handshake, but she opted for a hug and a kiss on each cheek instead. how european.

"call me paulette, darling, please." paulette was pushing 70, tall, slim and stylish. she held a slim cigarette between fingers decorated with gold rings; she wore a long linen shirt over matching pants and ballerina shoes. very french, you thought, as you followed her inside.

as you stepped inside, you were greeted by high ceilings, ornate moldings, and large windows that allow an abundance of natural light to fill the rooms. the kitchen, located at the heart of the house, had marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and custom-made sage-coloured cabinets. you could tell you would have a lot of fun in this kitchen. as you left the room, you noticed a wide selection of teas, a whole countertop in fact, dedicated to them. adjacent to the kitchen was the common room, knick-knacks and books filling every surface and empty corner. The baby-blue coloured room was adorned with plush beige and off-white furniture, intricate chandeliers, and a majestic fireplace, creating a cozy and sophisticated atmosphere. the library, opposite to the living room, housed an extensive collection of books, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that exuded an air of intellectual refinement. a cozy reading nook by the window invited you to spend many afternoons with a cup of coffee and your nose in a book.

"your room is on the first floor, along with two more. then there’s mine and one more on the third, and of course the terrace, that you’re free to use whenever.” you were admiring the paintings on the walls as paulette guided you to the first floor and to the second door on the left. you wondered who the other two rooms were occupied from, but you guessed you would find out soon.

paulette unlocked the white door and handed you the key. you entered into a mainly beige and lavender-coloured room, small but efficient; the boxes you had packed were sitting in front of the bed, arriving just before you. a double bed with two nightstands stood in the middle, a large wooden dresser on the side, with intricate golden details. two wicker sitting chairs by the window and an empty desk and small bookcase. paulette was showing you the bathroom, but you were too busy admiring the notre dame from your dusty window. despite it being half-burnt, it remained beautiful.

“my room is on the top floor to the right. anything you want, i’m just a knock away.”

“thank you. you said something about other people leaving here?”

“oh, yes! moblit lives on the third floor, he’s a nice and quiet guy. zoe lives right across from you, she’s a little feisty, i guess.”

“and next door?”

you swore paulette’s face dropped when you asked.

“oh, that would be levi, my nephew. he’s a bit…reserved.” was all paulette said about your mysterious neighbour before leaving you to unpack.

you fell on the bouncy mattress and let out a content sigh. the ceiling above you had a cracked lavender and lilac tapestry with golden swirls. the walls matched it perfectly, and the curtains, though faded, were a beige to match the wood of the furniture.

why unpack now? the sun was setting and a deep purple hue played on your stretched legs. you grabbed your purse and headed for the terrace, but your journey was cut short by a loud screech.

“levi, give me my key!”

“i don’t have your key, you lost it, you idiot.” the manly voice came from next door, you noticed. you decided to step out carefully.

a tall woman turned to look at you through round glasses.

“bonsoir! we didn’t know you were coming tonight!”

“hi! zoe, right? i’m y/n.” you took a few steps back when the brunette attacked you with a warm, tight hug.

“pleasure! are you heading for the terrace? that’s the first thing i did when i came here too.”

“seems like a cozy place for a cigarette.”

“you read my mind.” she turned to your other neighbour’s door again. “levi, sors de ta chambre!” come out of your room, your high school french classes came to your rescue.

as you waited for the mysterious neighbour, you inspected zoe. her rich, chocolate-brown hair cascading down her shoulders, framed her face and round golden glasses. she wore a flowing, forest green and brown maxi dress with intricate patterns that catch the eye. completing her ensemble, she adorned herself with eclectic accessories. a collection of beaded bracelets adorned her wrists, each one telling a story of its own. around her neck hung two pendants, a round blue evil eye, and a wooden symbol of piece. her ears were filled with gold studs and the picture ended with pink delicate feather-shaped earrings, whispering a hint of whimsy.

“hange, i just came home. what could you possibly-”

“we have a new neighbour, levi. remember?” zoe motioned at you with her head and a smile, obviously not caring that she was interrupting the man’s personal time.

“okay?”

wow. rude.

“so, you should come to the terrace for a smoke. maintenant.” now.

you expected the man to slam the door in her face, but he stepped back in to grab his jacket, and came back out.

levi stood at average height, with sleek black hair reaching his nape, a fresh undercut showing underneath and a few strands shaping his face and accentuating his piercing gray eyes. he was wearing a fitted maroon t-shirt and dark gray jeans, the look finishing with all black vans and the black leather jacket in his hand. you noticed a tattoo hiding under the sleeve of his shirt. interesting.

“hi, i’m y/n. it's so nice to-”

“levi. pleasure.”

“for fuck’s sake.”

“what? i said pleasure.”

"okay,sure. go make us some tea. y/n, how do you drink yours?" you looked between the pair. why did it feel like they were about to judge whatever you said next?

"oh, i don't really like..." you trailed off because levi had only rolled his eyes at you before storming down the stairs, mumbling in french. you followed zoe to the top floor. a pair of white french doors opened to a spacious terrace, with a set of wicker couches, cozy floor pillows and a tarp-covered bar. all kinds of flowers filled the corners and a vegetable garden took up most of the space on the left.

"you'll have to forgive levi. he's a bit..."

"uptight?" zoe snorted at your comment, and you had a feeling she agreed.

"passionate about tea. he's going to bring you a cup anyway. levi has a recipe for every kind of person, and he's certain he can make everyone like it."

you took out a pack of marlboro golds and offered one to zoe. she politely declined, opening a leather pocket of tobacco to roll her own cigarette.

"so, what brings you to paris?"

i had to run away from everything and everyone in my life.

"oh, it was just time for a change. i had enough money saved up, so i thought why not?" zoe lied down on the couch opposite you and nodded in acknowledgement. "what about you? have you lived here long?"

"levi and i were born and raised in lyon. we moved here around seven years ago, for college."

"what did you study?"

architecture.

"the plan was liberal arts, but i changed to architecture my second year."

bingo.

"i never finished college. i was a history and archaeology major, but it never really...spoke to me, you know?" you put the cigarette out on the clay ashtray on the table, "so, i attended a few barista and bartending seminars, and i actually fell in love with it."

"you don't say...have you got a job yet? i'm pretty sure the café down the street is looking for someone." you could faintly see the shop zoe was talking about in the distance.

"oh, i already found something nearby. i'm starting tomorrow."

"thats brilliant, i'll have to-oh, levi, you're here!" levi stepped out to the terrace, skillfully holding up a tray with three cups. he placed an intricate one in front of you; it was a midnight purple, square mug with engraved golden stars and constellations all over. you held the steaming mug and smiled gratefully at levi. you could smell raspberry, apple and-

"tell her what it is!" zoe jumped up and down excitedly, spilling some of the hot liquid on her dress and phone. "putain." she exclaimed and wiped her phone screen on the couch pillow.

"it's black tea with raspberry syrup, apple, lemon and rhubarb."

"excellent choice of a cup too." zoe poked his side with her elbow. "what's mine, shortie?"

"it's piss." you snorted into your cup, blowing some of the liquid on your lap. you hissed and wiped it away quickly, looking up at the bickering pair.

you brought the cup to your lips, tasting it carefully. you almost winced; it was the sourest tea imaginable, and if not for the syrup, it would be bitter too. you had to admit, you got used to it after a couple of sips, and you liked it enough to keep drinking.

"did levi magically change your opinion on tea?"

"this is really nice," you looked up at levi. his gray eyes didn't leave yours as he took a sip of his own tea, "but i'm a coffee person. sorry." you smiled softly.

"if you like bean water, sure." he scoffed.

"as opposed to leaf water?" you retorted.

why the fuck is he holding the cup like that? show-off.

zoe looked between the two of you, grinning. the comfortable silence was cut short by two message notifications. you and levi took your phones out at the same time.

-you have been added to Le Café Belle Époque’s group chat

-unknown number has been added to Le Café Belle Époque’s group chat

you and levi slowly looked up at each other.

“you’re the new barista?” he scoffed.

“you…work there too?” you looked at the members of the group chat. indeed, a picture of levi sat by an unsaved number on your phone. zoe peeked over levi’s shoulder to look at his texts.

"aha! this is very exciting, n'est-ce pas?"

you had seven different words in mind to describe this, and exciting was not one of them.

waking up in your new bed, in your little room in the heart of paris, felt like waking up in a disney movie. birds were chirping outside of your window, and a few stray sunrays hit the wooden floor. with a stretch of your arms and a yawn, you looked around at the sea of boxes and suitcases. you really needed to unpack.

after searching for your summer clothes, you finally opted for a pair of white jean shorts, a flowy muted-olive shirt with thin straps and your favorite brown sandals, that strapped around your feet and ankles. you brushed your teeth and hair, and placed mascara on your eyelashes carefully. a warm-toned lipstick finished your look, and you started your voyage to the kitchen with a box in your hands.

damn you paris, with your steep staircases, you tried looking over the box to watch your step, but it was impossible.

"woah, let me help with that." you were met with a pair of dark brown eyes behind rectange glasses.

"thanks." you accepted the offer and walked behind the strange man.

"where are we heading?"

"kitchen."

the man finally set the box down on the round kitchen table, slapping the top of it.

"moblit berner. it's nice to meet you, y/n."

"how did you...?" you shook his hand with furrowed brows. moblit was wearing a well-pressed, tailored navy blue suit, a light blue dress shirt underneath and leather oxfords.

"zoe told me all about you last night. i apologize for the late introduction, but i came home after midnight." he watched as you took a polished red, vintage looking espresso machine out, placing it on the counter right by the outlet. "retro. does, uh, does levi know about the new addition to the kitchen?" moblit laughed awkwardly. you unrolled the cups you had wrapped in paper in your box and gave them a quick rinse, before setting them on top of the machine.

"i couldn't care less. paulette told me i can keep this here." you shrugged and filled the water tank. "want some coffee?"

"yes, please. the only drinks in this house all these years have been tea and alcohol." you pressed ground-up espresso in the group, and waited for the machine to warm up.

"what kind of coffee?"

"surprise me. i like it sweet, with a lot of milk. there's some almond milk in the fridge, so please use that." moblit sat down and lit a cigarette. you inspected levi's selection of syrups, powders and leaves.

"you don't think he'll mind, do you?" you held up a bottle of lavender syrup.

"it will be our little secret. better safe than sorry." you nodded and poured the syrup in the milk, frothing it while the espresso poured into a cup.

"so, where do you work, moblit?"

"i'm a reporter for libération, a news-"

"left-leaning newspaper, i know. i loved that piece on macron, the one comparing the marches to the french revolution?" you placed the cup in front of moblit, who accepted with a grateful smile.

"i wrote that one."

"of course! i thought your name sounded familiar." you chuckled and turned to make your own iced coffee.

"will we be seeing you at the café tonight?"

“i don’t know if i’m working a full shift yet. i’m only going to meet the managers and get an idea of the bar.”

“well, you’ve met one of them already.”

“levi’s a manager?” you rolled your eyes and sipped on your coffee.

“assistant. but he basically runs the place, he’s in charge of the menu, prices, schedule…” moblit grinned. “except for the new hires.”

“guess that’s why he was so surprised yesterday.”

“surprised is an understatement.”

“huh? wait, what did he say?” your eyebrow perked up. moblit just shook his head and got up to leave.

“thanks for the coffee, y/n. see you tonight!” defeated, you sat back on your chair. you slid it closer to the window and opened it wide. a warm breeze hit your face, and you smiled contently.

the rest of your day was spent unpacking, finding a space for every one of your knick-knacks and clutter. you managed to fit all of your books on the three shelves, finishing the image with some fairy lights hanging over them. most of your clothes fit in the dresser, but the rest were left in the suitcase. you really needed to buy some storage boxes soon.

it was now 2:30 in the afternoon, and after taking a warm shower, you desperately needed to eat. you sat on your bed, a towel wrapped around your hair, and pulled your phone out to search for a place to eat.

knock knock.

“come in.” you yelled out and looked behind your phone. zoe came in, looking around your room. she looked different; a tight bun sat at the bottom of her head and a classy white pantsuit hugged her body, before flaring down her calves.

“wow, nicely done. it took me two years to unpack when i got here…hey, what time do you leave for work?”

“i have to be there at six.”

“great! want to grab a bite with me? i’ll even throw in a little tour of our neighbourhood if you make me some coffee later.”

“deal.”

zoe brought you to a small, family owned restaurant cornering a main street. you watched as people walked, playing a guessing game of who was coming back from work, who was late for lunch, who had just had a fight with their partner. people-watching was a favourite of yours. it made you remember you weren’t alone in the world, that other people too had issues and feelings.

“do you eat meat, y/n? they make killer steaks here.”

“oh, i love a good steak.”

“excellent! how about i order for you?”

“yes, please.”

the waiter came to the table soon after, leaving a complimentary basket of warm bread and a butter spread.

“we’ll have two of your bavette à l’échalote, a portion of fries for the table and…two glasses of malbec please.” zoe handed the menu to the waiter and quickly attacked the bread.

“this is my favourite restaurant. it has been in the renard family for almost a century, and their recipes are practically unchanged. now, if you kindly look up, you will see my office on the top floor. i have a kicking view of the notre dame, which is…five minutes from here.” she pointed down the main road. you listened as she explained the secrets of the neighbourhood, the quirky owner of the office building, the drama between the two restaurants opposite each other.

you were so hungry when the dishes finally arrived in front of you, but you let hange do a demonstration of the dish.

“so, skirt steak. they cut it up in pieces so you can pour the sauce between them,” she spooned the golden, buttery sauce over your steak, “and i like to add it to the roasted vegetables too.” she poured the rest of it over the vegetables on the side. “and the rest you use to dip your fries!” she said excitedly, leaving the dip bowl next to the warm salted fries.

“bon appétit.” you raised the glass of red wine, clinking it with zoe’s.

after the delightful lunch, you leaned back on your chair, full and ready to go. you and zoe smoked two cigarettes each over one more glass of wine, before leaving for the café.

“are you nervous?”

“not really, i’ve done this too many times.”

“i would be. levi hates training new people.”

“good thing i don’t need training then.” you giggled and entered the café. a warm smell of cinnamon hit you, and the jazz music created a warm atmosphere around vintage furniture, a sleek dark blue bar with a marble top and the alcohol selection of your dreams.

“you’re late.” levi appeared behind the counter, startling you. you checked the clock on your phone.

“i’m 15 minutes early.”

“that’s still 5 minutes late.” he crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at you. “are you coming in here or what?”

you sighed and walked around the counter. the first thing you did was wash your hands thoroughly. levi appreciated that, but only gave a nod of approval as he walked you through the bar.

“you will be on evening shift for the time being, so here’s the old drinks menu. you’re free to change everything, except for the classic cocktails.”

“great! the last bar i was working, i experimented with tea-based cocktails, so i would like to add that. am i okay to stay after closing and use the bar for practice?”

“tea-based!” zoe exclaimed. you had almost forgotten she was there.

“tea-based.” levi repeated and you had a feeling he would explode then and there.

“ha! his eye is twitching! good one, y/n.”

“anyway, i’m adding that. i also want to make some additions to the coffee menu.” you looked over to the tea corner. “can i use the powders and syrups?”

“you’re going to add flowers and fruit in coffee?”

“is there a problem?” you didn’t even turn around to look at levi. instead, you took a pen and paper and noted down changes for the coffee menu.

“anyway. you can check the prices here, since it’s still the start. the waitresses will help you with anything else, so…”

“so?”

“show me what you got, rookie.” levi leaned back on the counter, with a challenging grin. rookie my ass, who does this guy think he is?

“ooh, ooh! make me an iced coffee, and use like, all the syrups you can.” zoe slammed her hand on the counter.

“you got it.” you prepared two shots of espresso. while that was pouring, you took a shaker, pouring coconut milk, a tablespoon of elderflower syrup and one of vanilla syrup over ice. you shook it around masterfully, making a show for zoe and levi. when the espresso was done, you mixed in a teaspoon of sugar. taking a tall glass, you filled it to the middle with ice and added the milk mixture. you poured the espresso over it, mixing it with a tall spoon carefully.

“whipped cream?” you asked and levi pointed at the fridge under the sink. you spotted a bowl of edible flowers and grabbed it as well. you placed a coaster in front of hange and the glass, spooning some of the handmade cream on top. you took the pinching tool and added three small flowers over the cream.

“et voilà!”

zoe clapped excitedly, accepting the long straw you handed her. she took a big sip, closing her eyes in delight.

“y/n, this is the best thing that has ever been in my mouth.” she wiggled around on the stool.

“i feel offended.” moblit appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around zoe and leaving a kiss on her temple.

huh, i guess they’re dating, you thought.

the café wasn’t really busy, so you spent the next hour making different coffees and teas, for levi to ensure you know what you’re doing. zoe had insisted to drink all of them, so you wouldn’t have to throw them away.

“hange, you’ll spend a week in the toilet if you drink all of those.” levi tried taking the cups away, but zoe guarded them in front of her.

“the toilet happens to be my happy place. maybe i want to stay there for a week.” she made sure to drink a sip from all of them, just to spite levi.

“if you cleaned once in a while, it would be a safe place too.” you chuckled at levi’s remark.

a wave of customers rushed in, and the waiters sent order after order. it was a hectic hour and a half, but by nine o’clock, you had time to clean up the machine and your counter.

“okay, welcome to the team, i guess.” levi shoved a golden name tag and a black half-apron in your arms.

“wow, warm welcome.”

“watch it.” levi grabbed his stuff and walked around the bar. he turned to zoe. “i have to pick petra up from work, do you guys want to do something later?”

“just come back here! we can all try the new cocktail menu.” hange pushed him to the door before he could decline and came back to the bar.

“can i take these away now?” you pointed at the sea of cups and glasses in front of her.

“please do. i feel like i’m going to explode.”

“you really like to get on his nerves, don’t you?” you laughed as she nodded furiously.

“zoe has to make levi have a nervous breakdown at least once a week.” moblit commented. after everything was cleaned, you could finally calm down and work on the cocktail menu. you spotted a small blackboard sitting behind the fridge. you grabbed it and the packet of chalks and handed it to moblit.

“you look like you have nice handwriting. please write these names down for me.”

“what’s in it for me?”

“pick one and i’ll make it for you. on the house.” you grinned as moblit wrote the menu down. zoe made sure to include a few doodles of flowers and a smiley face before setting it on top of the bar, where everyone could spot it.

it was midnight when you had to cut zoe off alcohol and levi walked in, hand in hand with a petite brunette. the girl had a sleek bob with short bangs, and wore a silk pink dress that hugged her waist and thighs. an oversized brown leather jacket, a pink leather crossbody bag and brown combat boots finished the look. her makeup was the perfect mix of edgy and sweet, with a smoky eye, red cheeks and a nude lipstick. the girl greeted zoe with a hug, wincing when the strong smell of gin hit her.

“control your woman, moblit.” she joked and kissed both his cheeks before sitting down. levi took her jacket along with his and handed them to you to place behind the counter. “so, you’re y/n. a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. i’m petra.”

“pleasure.” you smiled as you served two drinks on the sidebar.

“see, she looks just fine.” levi rolled his eyes at the girl. “levi was under the impression that you would crack under the pressure and run off.”

“levi should know that i have been doing this for four years. i’m not that easy to crack.” you placed two coasters and two glasses of water in front of them.

“what are you having?”

“i want…to try one of those famous cocktails.” she pointed at the blackboard.

“famous?” you furrowed your brows.

“oh, levi talked my ear off for hours about them. you’ll have to forgive him. his old age won’t let him accept change and evolution.” she kissed his cheek after the comment, but he only sighed. “anyway, i’ll have the earl grey martini. amour?” she turned to levi, who barely looked at her.

“whiskey sour.”

“one chamomile whiskey sour coming up!”

“i said, whiskey sour.” zoe, moblit and petra were stuck looking between the two of you. you guessed levi wasn’t known for his temper. but, oh, you wanted to crack him so bad. it was so satisfying seeing his neck and ears turn red with annoyance.

“i heard you.” you hummed as you made the brunette’s cocktail in a dainty martini glass.

“so, make that.”

“but i already steeped the chamomile. it would be a waste of perfect tea.” you pouted as you poured the tea over ice. you flipped a short glass over and placed it on the bartop. a strainer on top, you poured the contents in, sliding it to the ravenette.

“just try it, cheri.”

levi brought the glass to his lips in the same stupid way he held onto that cup of tea yesterday. his gray piercing eyes never left yours, and you grinned when his expression fell. he liked it. the fucker liked it, because he took another, full sip, before sliding the glass back to you.

"i asked for a whiskey sour.” this was revenge because you didn’t like his stupid tea. you mumbled something he couldn’t hear over the music, as you made a new cocktail for him.

despite levi's eyes burning holes in you for what felt like hours, the night was going well. you got to know petra and moblit better, work was flowing nicely and a full jar of tips sat on the counter. guess people liked the new, not grumpy, bartender.

taglist: @belovedackerman @bibemiiu @thisisketchy @ch-4-s-3 @kingfleury

[viennacherries]

Oh oh, I have- well, not really a request, more so a prompt if it strikes any inspiration! No pressure!

I'm a sucker for wizards, so it should come as no surprise that I adore Rolan and Gale. My first Tav was also a wizard, big surprise. I love the scene in the game where Gale teaches you magic and if you're a wizard you can basically be a show off. But- imagine Rolan being ever so kind and offering to give you a quick lesson. The catch is, he doesn't know you're a wizard for some reason... so he's really showing off and making a big deal about the movements and pronunciation for the spell, and at first you're playing dumb. "Oh, like this?" *does everything wrong*.

Rolan walks you through the steps again, and this time you are like "oh, I see! Like this?" and proceed to do the spell perfectly AND with a little bit of flare. Rolan wants to curse because how the hell did you catch on so quick!!! Whether or not you reveal you're a wizard, I'll leave up to your imagination. 😂

I just finished Kiss The Cook and oh my lord I was GIDDY upon realizing Rolan was gonna propose. I yelled so loudly. 10/10. I loved it.

sorry for taking a while with this one! wanted to wait until i was properly inspired so i could do it justice cos i think it's so funny and cute. so much room for shenanigans.

i might continue this one and turn it into something multi-chaptered if people like it? maybe some freaking wizard on wizard smut later on? 👀

for now tho it's just cute and wholesome, i had a lot of fun with this. enjoy!!

SFW

read it on ao3 here

~~~

"Like this?"

Bless him. Rolan is trying to be patient but you can see the mounting frustration on his face every time you mess up a movement.

"Not quite. That one was close, though. It's more like this."

He turns to face you, brings his hands up and around in elegant, practiced arcs before clasping them together and forcing them outwards towards you. A brilliant burst of purple light flows forward, soft around the edges and pulsating with weave. You can feel it emanate from it, calling to you.

You're not quite sure how Rolan managed to never learn that you're a wizard, though you suppose the only times he really saw you fight were when you were defending him in the shadow-cursed lands and when you defeated Lorroakan. Admittedly, he had other things on his mind. He probably just wasn't paying attention.

Regardless, now you're standing in a large open room underneath the Sundries, where Rolan is insisting on teaching you magic. You're not blind; you know he's doing it because he has feelings for you. You would have put him out of his misery and told him you have feelings for him too, but it's rather cute when he tries to impress you.

Like now, for instance.

Every demonstration is slightly exaggerated. His posture is tighter and more disciplined than is strictly necessary, and with every somatic shape he creates he adds enticing flourishes, his fingers curling and pointing invitingly. He's putting on a lovely show for you.

Which is why you'd decided to just... Go along with it.

Is it very polite? Absolutely not. Is he going to be incredibly embarrassed when he realises the truth? Absolutely. But how are you supposed to resist when he looks so delicious like this? His tongue flicks out to brush over his lips to wet them every time he utters the incantation in demonstration, and a few stray strands of hair twist and curl in the air from the weight of the weave in the atmosphere. He looks regal, practicing his craft. Your shared craft.

You swore off dating other wizards when you were at university. Men were insufferable at the best of times, let alone wizard men who thought they were Mystra's gift to spellcraft. You'd made a promise to yourself, after one unsuccessful date of many, with a man who started trying to explain how cantrips worked to you, that you would only date non magic-users.

Gale had been quite disappointed to find that out, bless his heart.

But Rolan. There's just something about him, which is weird.

It's mostly weird because when you met him you absolutely despised him. He demonstrated all of the worst qualities you'd come to expect from your peers during your education; arrogance, self-importance, pride, vanity, etcetera, etcetera. You distinctly remember sharing a look with Karlach as you walked away from him and his siblings, both of you pulling a face of utter disdain.

He'd changed though, over the course of the journey. After his siblings being kidnapped, his apprenticeship souring, he'd become incredibly grounded. Besides, his arrogance actually wasn't completely misplaced. He's incredibly gifted with his manipulation of the weave. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

In the aftermath of the Absolute's invasion you've spent a lot of time with him, and you've decided he looks rather beautiful when he casts. His brow furrows in concentration and his eyes gleam with a determination that's easy to get caught up in.

And his hands. You stare at his hands a lot.

"Do you want to try again, or are you just planning on standing there all day?"

His words bring you back to the present. Ah, yes. Magic lesson.

It's probably time to end the charade, really. You definitely can't keep this up forever. It's actually rather difficult to keep doing spells wrong when you've been trained so thoroughly on how to do them right.

By the Gods, though, you're going to have some fun with it. You took a couple of acting classes in your second year, at a local bard college, so you're determined to sell it.

You make a big show of taking a deep breath in, shaking your hands out as if you're trying to dispel nervous energy. Rolling your neck around it makes a large crack, and you lace your fingers together and stretch your arms out in front of you to crunch your knuckles. He watches you eagerly, ready to appraise your efforts, and you can't help the upward tick at the corner of your mouth.

The movements are second nature, really. You twirl your hands into elegant shapes as you raise your arms, and twist them around you in a circular motion; a grand emulation of Rolan's earlier demonstration. As you surge your hands forwards, a bright burst of light surges forwards, bathing the pair of you in a velour glow.

Rolan's face is absolutely priceless. You have to physically swallow down the laugh that threatens to bubble up within you.

"... Like that?" The mirth in your voice, however, is more difficult to disguise.

Rolan just stands, staring at you. His mouth is agape, and he's gradually turning a rather beckoning shade of crimson. The laugh you've been holding back bubbles out of you, and you fold over yourself and brace your hands on your knees as you cackle.

"I... You..." His difficulty forming his words only makes it more entertaining, and you clutch at your stomach as the hilarity of the situation rolls over you. You manage to steel your breathing and calm your laughter, and glance back up at him, but he's still got that incredulous look on his face with his mouth hung open, and it sends you back into hysterics.

"You... You're a wizard?! Why did... Why didn't you..." He trips over every half-thought word, trying to come to terms with the fact that he's been completely blindsided and utterly bamboozled. You calm your laughter and straighten up, a light chuckle spilling from you.

"Yes, Rolan, I'm a wizard. I'm sorry for teasing, I just couldn't resist."

His face is so red he could be mistaken for a gith's dragon.

"I don't... How did I not..." He evidently is still struggling with stringing coherent thoughts together, but you know what he's trying to say. You shrug in response, a smile plastered on your face.

"I don't know, to be honest. I killed at least two of the shadow-creatures that were after you with Magic Missile, and I don't think I could survive without Mage Hands. I'm too short to reach any of the shelves in the library."

"Well." He huffs. "... I could get you a step-stool, if you like."

You can't help throwing your head back at that and laughing openly, "it's fine, really. I manage just fine."

"Why didn't you tell me? I've been stood here like an imbicile, making a big glim show trying to-" He cuts himself off, and the flush that had just began to subside comes back in full force. "I mean- I was-"

"Trying to impress me?" You can't be blamed for teasing him more, surely? When he looks so utterly delectable with that blush over his cheeks? "Don't worry, sweetheart," you drawl out the syllables of the pet name and throw him a wink, "consider me impressed."

As you turn to leave you hear the way his breath catches as he breaths in, and he chokes and splutters on the air. You barely contain your laugh as you begin ascending the stairs back to the main hallway.

Rolan stands behind you, staring at your back as you depart; face burning and tail flicking in wild arcs behind him.

[holylulusworld]

Brother's keeper (1)

Summary: She would do anything to protect her brother.

Pairing: Royal!Tony Stark x Princess!Reader

Warnings: mentions of marriage, love-hate relationship, feisty/bratty reader, enemies to lovers, arguments, royal au, dystopian au, banter, sexual tension, betrayal (not Tony)

This series takes place in the Two kings (Arc1) & Not a queen (Arc 2) universe, at the same time. I recommend reading these stories first to understand this universe better.

You can find all arcs here: Of Kings and Queens Arcs

Brother’s keeper masterlist

<<Brother’s keeper - Prologue

AN: Square filled for Navy and Roo’s slumber party presents bingo @the-slumberparty: Arranged Marriage

“You can’t be serious, brother!” You throw your hands up. You can’t believe it was your brother letting the truth slip. “How can you tell Tony Stark out of all people that you are my twin, not our elder brother? We swore on Mother’s grave that we would never tell a soul that our elder brother died after we were born. It was perfect.”

“I had enough of being the second son, the man walking in your shadow. First, our brother was the one who was meant to ascend the throne, and after he died, father wanted you to reign,” your brother bites back. “I knew Stark would use the information to get you.”

“I never wanted to reign, brother! You know that!” You shake your head. “Stark forces my hand in marriage because of your foolish mistake. I got no other choice than marrying a man I despise!”

“Can you for once not be selfish! Stark is a strong ally. If you marry him, you’ll be queen one day, and I can ascend the throne, just like I always wanted.”

You gape at your brother. It’s no secret that he changed after your mother’s death. Always staring at the throne like he’s about to claim it any time.

He dares to call you selfish after he made sure you must marry a man you hate. All your life you kept his secret and took care of him. You were the one protecting your younger brother, only for him to stab you in the back.

You cup his face with both hands to look at him but find no regret in his eyes.

“Oh brother, what have you done,” you hold back the tears as you whisper in his ear. “If only you would’ve waited a few weeks longer. Father wanted to announce his resignation. The throne would’ve been yours in less than a year.

You kiss his cheek, lips lingering for a moment. Closing your eyes, you silently say goodbye to the brother you used to know. It’s there and then that you decide to not play his protector any longer.  

“I’m going to marry Stark. Not because you want me to, but to get away as far as possible from you.”

You step away, tears in your eyes as you look at your brother, and a stranger looks back at you.

“I’ll be gone soon enough, brother. I hope the throne was worth betraying me,” you bitterly say. “I guess Tony Stark was not the worst man I ever met after all. At least he doesn’t pretend to be a better man than he is.”

Holding your head high you walk away. Your heart is heavy but hope blooms in your chest.

Maybe if you stop being your brother’s keeper, you’ll find a new meaning in life.

“Courting? You want me to court you?” Tony hiccups as you only smirk darkly in return. “We have a deal, Colibri.”

“The deal is still on,” you coo. “But I’m a princess and deserve better treatment. What will people think about me if I’m not courted properly?”

You enjoy the struggle on Tony’s face. He’s used to always getting his will, but you won’t have it.

“What do you want me to do?” He grumbles. “I won’t let you order me around, woman!”

“I want flowers, jewelry, and a caring fiancé. Maybe we can take long walks, and show everyone how much we are in love,” he chuckles at your words. “Don’t believe for one minute that I’ll allow you to stray. If you stick your dick in some other bitch’s pussy, I’ll castrate you.”

“Aw, she’s jealous,” he grabs your hand to lead you along the endless hallways at the castle. “Believe me. I don’t have time for another woman with you around. I need to keep a close eye on you, Colibri.”

“Did you know that my brother was plotting against me?” You question while walking next to him. “I protected him all my life. How can he do this to me?”

“You know.” Tony sighs deeply. He wanted to make you believe he's the villain in your story.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not stupid, Stark,” you snap at Tony. “I was foolish enough to believe that men can be trusted. I was wrong. My father denied me the throne, and my younger brother betrayed me in the worst way possible.”

“Why do you still keep your word?” Tony stops walking to look at you. “Y/N?”

You exhale sharply. “He’s still my brother, and I need to keep him safe. I think it’s for the better that I leave my kingdom. He would’ve only ever felt like second best with me around. And giving you hell for the rest of your life is a challenging task.”

He smirks. “It’s an honor to be part of your plans, darling. We will make a perfect pair.” Tony grabs your hand to bring it to his lips. “I bet we will have a hell of a wedding night.”

You snort. “As if I’ll let your pest-infested dick get anywhere near me, my prince. It will be only you and your hand during our wedding night.”

“Oh, Colibri,” he purrs and cups your face. “I will use my hand to make you lose your mind. I bet,” he licks his lips, “you’ll cum with only one of my fingers inside of you…”

Part 2

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - January Podfic

New this year, I’ll be sharing a list of podfic I listened to throughout the previous month on the last day of the month. I’m a few days late this month, but here’s the fic I loved to listen to this month. 

[Podfic] Nor An Evil Tongue Bewitch by M_Samro 

The thing about kisses is that they always come at the end of the story.

Steve's life has had an awful lot of endings.

I wish I could explain the way I love this fic, how lyrical and lovely it is?? M_Samro does an amazing job with the podfic, highly recommend.

[Podfic] The Sound Silence Makes by seleneaurora

“We need exactly what we don’t have,” Tony observed, annoyed and tired. He started to giggle and couldn’t stop himself. “Power.”

He cast a glance back at the door, sealed shut behind him, and he didn’t foresee the cavalry charging through anytime soon with a generator and a bomb kit. Tony took a deep breath and asked, “How much reserve power does the suit have, J?”

“The suit is currently running on the arc reactor, sir. You have approximately one hour of power remaining before the reactor reaches critical levels.”

Team dynamics are everything, and the way that Tony is just--his usual self-sacrificial idiot self is perfection.

[Podfic] In All the World by kalakirya

In a world where Sentinels, people with five heightened senses, bond mentally and spiritually with Guides, people gifted with empathetic powers, Tony Stark has spent thirty-three years overwhelmed by the emotions of those around him and running from his own. Sentinel Steve Rogers wakes up sixty years out of his own time and struggles to deal with the massive amount of new sensory input while trying to find his footing in a New York very different from the one he knew. When they finally find each other, how will their bond change them?

I've never watched the media Sentinel AUs are based off of, but I adore them, and this one is excellent, and the podfic is just--perfect.

Hide Your Love Away, by Sineala, (podfic) by cookiemom6067 

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

SOULMATE AU. One of my favorites, which is saying something. The narration for @sineala work is amazing.

[podfic] Degrees of Separation by plingo_kat, reena_jenkins

Oh god, what if Jarvis infected Dummy with, with emotions. Jesus Christ.

I honestly expected this to be fluffier than it was. And somehow I haven't actually read the fic? Which startled me. Oops.

[Podfic] Scars and Stitches by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart)

When Tony shows up to SHIELD to be fitted with the Iron Man armor, Steve, the original Iron Man, is there to help him out.

I have a huge soft spot for Bullet Points and this fic is just--so good. Iron Man Steve is so dear to me.

[Podfic] Straight on till Morning by Sineala by M_Samro

This is a podfic for the amazing masterpiece that is Sineala's "Straight on till Morning" which is summarized thusly:

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive.

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

I'm gonna be honest. This is one of my favorite fics ever. Not just in the Stevetony fandom, like. Ever. As a fic, it's practically perfect (which is a feat considering my adoration for Star Trek) and the podfic somehow makes it even BETTER. The narration and production M_Samro brings to it is truly amazing, and I always cry through certain parts of the podfic. I chattered about the podfic on Twitter while I listened and the outpouring of love for this fic and podfic made me ridiculously happy.

[anxiouspineapple99]

The Best Cake on Coruscant

Summary: Reader has a complicated living situation that affects her love life, until Fives comes along

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Fluffiness, mentions of parent death and drug use, we also gettin a little hot n heavy 🥵 suggestive up in this one. Mostly fluff though.

A/N: this one came to me and I decided to work on it while taking a break from my TechxOC fic. I am ALMOST done with chapters 2 and 3 of that one but the Internet has decided to hurt my feelings with the S2 finale all over again so it’s hard for me to write for him right now. Also this is the closest to smut I will ever write. I have no moral objections to smut, I quite enjoy reading it. I just can’t write it lol.

**************************

You had never envisioned yourself being a young single parent, let alone a young single parent to your little sister. Your mother had you young, just a teen. It was hard, your mother had a spice addiction which meant you spent most of your life poor. You never knew your father, you found out when you left home at 16 that he’d died in a drug deal gone wrong. You swore up and down you’d do better. You went to school, started a career, and established roots of your own. You didn’t even know your mother had another child until 5 years after your left home. Authorities showed up at your doorstep with the little one telling you your mother had died. You agreed to take her in. You wanted to give her the life you didn’t get. That was a year ago. A few months ago your best friend gifted you a matching necklace set, one that was a small heart that said “mom” for you and one that was just a heart for your sister. When you argued that you’re not, in fact, a mom she said it was going to be a litmus test to determine whether a man was worth your time. Boy was she ever right. When you’d meet a guy and exchange information you never told him about your living situation. You’d save that for the first date. You’d show up in the necklace. So far 100 percent of the time they’d freak out and you’d never hear from them again. It always started the same:

“Wait, does your necklace say mom? You have a kid?”

“Kind of, she’s my sister. Our mom died so I care for her now.”

“Oh...”

From there if you were lucky you’d get a free meal and the guy would never speak to you again. Worst case scenario is you being left with a bill when he excused himself to the refresher. Sometimes they bailed before you could order, that wasn’t terrible because at least you didn’t waste more time or credits than necessary. You weren’t terribly bothered by it though. You had a great support system in your friends. You had a great job with Koensayr Manufacturing and a decent apartment. Sure you were lonely sometimes, but it could be worse. Needless to say, when the incredibly charming (and far more handsome than should have ever been allowed) ARC trooper you’d met a few nights prior spotted you in your favorite bakery you didn’t hold out hope that he’d be any different. You’d worn your necklace to work that day and of course that would be the day he’d happened upon you on your lunch break.

“Hey there beautiful! Fancy seeing you here!” His playful eyes sparkled as he approached you.

“Small planet! Fives right?” You smiled warmly, exhilarated by the sight of him.

“That’s me alright. I see I made an impression that night! What brings you here?” He winked and shot you the finger guns.

“On my lunch break. Also finger guns? Really?” You ribbed, rolling your eyes.

“Of course finger guns! They’re slick! You’re eating cake on your lunch break?” He joked in return pointing at the slice of cake on your plate.

“I’d rather you not judge my life choices, thank you. Besides, this is the best cake on Coruscant. I won’t judge the finger guns if you let me have the cake,” you playfully bantered in return.

“Okay okay, deal! I’m glad I ran into you again so soon. I had a lot of fun with you that night at 79s. I was hoping I’d get to see you again,” He gave you a wink and a cheeky smile. Your stomach twisted like a BTL-B Y-wing starfighter in a tailspin. Maker, he was so cute.

“Thanks, me too.” You intentionally fiddled with the necklace to bring his attention to it. Time for the litmus test to begin. He paused, noticing the movement of your hands on the necklace,“That’s really nice, what’s it say?”

“Ahh..it says mom,” you were suddenly hesitant. He was right, the night you’d met at 79’s was a lot of fun. The two of you talked, danced, laughed, and shared awful drinks until the bar closed down. Once you’d stumbled out the door, he called you a cab and with a chivalrous kiss on your hand he sent you home. You weren’t ready to be sorely disappointed but figured it was best to rip the bandage off now. You winced as you braced for what you thought was the inevitable response of shock, then fear, and then making a run for the door.

“Oh you have a littl’un?” His response was curious, not judgemental. It was sincere too, you could see it in his eyes. That was interesting. He won’t want to be romantically involved with you but at least he wasn’t a raging womprat about it.

“Kind of? She’s my little sister. Our mother died so now I take care of her.”

“Wow! That’s incredible! How old is she?” He pulled up the chair next to you, “May I?”

“She…ah…she’s three. And sure? My mom had me young and I left home as a teen. I actually only found out I had a sister last year when the authorities stopped at my apartment with her saying she had no one else.” Now you were stunned. He didn’t go running. The opposite actually, he sat down, started asking questions.

“You have just earned a whole new level of respect from me. You took in your vod, no questions asked even when you hadn’t met her. You have a picture of her?” He asked, now genuinely interested in an aspect of your life that, for the last few months sent men running for the sand dunes of Tatooine.

“N..no. I have a holophoto on my desk at work but nothing on me.”

“Too bad. Hope I get to meet her some time.” He gave you a charming grin and your head was spinning. No one had ever shown this much interest. Was he for real?

“Really?” You asked incredulously. You rested your chin in your hand and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“Why are you surprised?” His head tilted in confusion at the expression you were currently pulling.

“I’ve literally never had a man continue to show me interest after finding out about her, let alone show interest in her,” your emphatic confession caused a frown to cross his brow.

“Babe, those were no men. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow. I’ll show you how a true gentleman acts.” That statement threw you for a loop. There went the BTL-B Y-wing starfighter in your stomach again.

Your shoulders then slumped in disappointment, “I can’t. All my sitters are unavailable.”

“That’s okay. What about dinner at your place? I can meet the kid!” He countered with a burning enthusiasm so brilliant you couldn’t decline his offer. You gave him the address, questioning if this was the best idea. You didn’t know him, and you were letting him come into your home? Where your kid sister was. You decided to give all your friends a heads up. You even planned to reach out to one of them at some point during the visit to let them know how it was going and you were safe.

—————-

When you arrived home the following evening, you frantically dashed around your apartment cleaning. Your roommate was a three year old and that meant there were crumbs and toys and laundry everywhere. Your power clean was interrupted by a knock at the door. He was right on time. You slid the door open, armful of toys and a sheepish grin. He looked even more handsome than you thought was humanly possible. Standing there in his standard issue GAR fatigues, he held out a white box with a flower resting on top.

You huffed a loose lock of hair out of your face and took the box, “Sorry for the mess. What’s this?”

“Best cake on Coruscant, of course,” he chuckled sweetly. The sound of his laugh made you positively giddy. “I wasn’t sure if you liked flowers but I figured if I got both a cake and a flower I could win with at least one!” You felt your cheeks warm as you blushed a rosy pink. “That’s so thoughtful, thank you! Truth be told, I love both so you nailed it.” Fives pushed his chest out slightly, clearly proud of himself. “Where’s the kiddo? I have something for her too.” You stared in disbelief for a moment and then smiled, “You didn’t have to do that. She’s in her room, I’ll get her.”

Before you could take a single step, your sister came charging out of her room. She was wearing a crudely crafted paper clone trooper helmet, a craft project she’d done with your friend who watched her while you were at work. She was also waving two toy blasters in the air.

“STOP FIEF! I A TWOOPER! I SAVE MY SISSY!” she yelled as she charged at Fives. Without missing a beat, Fives threw his hands in the air in mock surrender, “Easy there trooper! I’m unarmed and I am no thief! Who trained you? Was it Rex? That looks like his chaotic blaster wielding.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh, “I am SO sorry, Fives.” He grinned from ear to ear, “She’s even cuter than I expected.” Then he knelt down to her level, “Hey little trooper, I have something for you.” Your sister stopped short, “A pwesent? For me!?” “Yep! But first the bucket’s gotta go. At least for a minute,” he said as he gingerly lifted the paper helmet off her head. He’d had one hand behind his back since coming inside and he finally brought what he’d been hiding into view; a clone trooper doll, “The next time I see you I’ll bring some of my kit paint and we can give his armor a custom paint job together. How does that sound?” She squealed as she threw her arms around his neck. Fives was visibly shocked but immediately embraced her back. You couldn’t quite read his expression as he hugged your tiny three year old menace. It was an amalgamation of contentment and melancholy. You watched as he squeezed her a little tighter and then picked her up. That did it, you were a puddle. He was patient and kind and seeing his interactions with your sister had completely won you over.

“What? Is this okay?” he asked, his voice laced with apprehension.

You jumped at his question, “What? Yes! Yes it’s very okay. Why?”

“You were staring,” he waggled his eyebrows comically.

Kriff. You were staring and he caught you.

“Well now it’s obvious that my animal magnetism has entirely beguiled you,” he continued.

��Anyway,” you laughed, “I hope you don’t mind takeaway. I didn’t have time to cook.”

“Anything is better than the slop we get in the mess but I brought cake! We don’t need takeaway.”

“We aren’t having cake for dinner.”

“Why not? You had cake for lunch yesterday.”

“Why you cheeky…” you chortled as you threw a throw pillow at him and he doubled over laughing. He sat down and placed the crude paper bucket back on the tot’s head. She climbed all over him laughing and telling him about her favorite games and toys. He listened and engaged with her as if at only three years old she was the most interesting person he’d ever met.

You quickly became lost in your thoughts as you watched them. This was nice. It was comfortable and easy. You loved how effortless conversation was with Fives. It was something you’d observed when you first met him. You still never anticipated this. It felt natural, like you’d known each other your entire lives. Additionally, seeing him playing on the floor with your sister left you feeling weak in the knees. You wanted to throw him on your sofa and kiss him until he was left breathless. Your ruminations were soon interrupted by the knock on the door. You retrieved the takeaway and tipped the delivery kid.

“Oi! Feral loth-cat!” You chaffed, “Dinner is here!”

“Hey, that's no way to talk to your precious sister.”

“I was talking to you, good sir.”

Fives put a hand over his heart and feigned offense, “You wound me! I may be feral but I am no loth-cat, thank you. What are we having anyway?”

“Noodle Bar. It’s the kid’s favorite.”

“She has good taste. Come on squirt! Let’s eat!” In a single smooth movement, Fives heaved the tot onto his shoulders as she squealed with delight. Her little fingers clutched his hair as he walked toward the table.

You couldn’t help but notice that this felt so domestic in the best way possible. You loved it. You knew that, at least for the foreseeable future it may not be possible to sustain. You recognized that Fives would still be shipped out to battle after battle. He would be stationed on other planets for extended periods of time. But after the war was done… would he want something like this? More than that, would he want something like this with you. You hoped so.

You glanced at the time, “Little lady has a pretty early bedtime. If you want to stay a little longer, we can watch a holofilm after she’s out. Unless you know, you have to get going.” “A holofilm sounds wonderful,” his voice smooth and almost seductive. The buzzing of your comlink jolted you back to reality, “Kriff! I’m sorry! I have to take this.” You hurried to your room and closed the door. Your friend’s panicked voice sharply reprimanded you, “You said you would contact me 30 minutes ago! What the stang happened? Are you safe? Do I need to come over?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! No. You don’t have to come. We are safe. He’s…he’s great. Really great. I’ll fill you in later but we are in the middle of dinner now.” You heard your friend chuckle and mutter something about having it bad. When you walked out of your room you noticed Fives staring at his plate forlornly. “So ahh..should I head out then?” He asked not meeting your gaze. You stopped, taken aback, “W-why would you go?” He stood up, still not meeting your eyes, “You know, that emergency you have to attend to.” He vaguely motioned to your comlink. Your eyes widened, “Wait! No no no! It wasn’t anything like that.” You marched to his side and grabbed his arm, “My friends just worry. They wanted me to check in just to tell them I’m okay. When I didn’t they panicked. Please don’t go. I want you to stay…we want you to stay.” He met your eyes and you were suddenly keenly aware of your rapidly pounding heart. If it wasn’t impossible you would have thought he could hear it too. A smile crept across his face and his shoulders relaxed. “We, huh? That true, squirt? You want me to stay too?” He asked, turning to the three year old in the seat next to his. She grinned ear to ear and with a mouth full of noodles exclaimed “Yes! I want Fives to stay!” You laughed, resting your forehead on his chest without thinking. “Alright, guess I have no other choice but to stay,” his voice rumbled softly as he brushed your hair tenderly.

—————

“Alright little miss. That plate is empty. You want more?”

“Nope. My tummy’s full.”

“Then it’s bedtime.”

“Nooooooo! I want to play with Fives more!”

“Hey squirt, I had a great time playing with you! Your sister is right, you need your beauty sleep. I promise I will be back soon,” he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and added, “You’re way more fun than my brothers anyway.”

“Okay…” she stood up from the table still tightly clutching her new clone trooper doll.

“She needs me to lay with her until she falls asleep. If you want you can pick the holofilm while I get her down.”

“Absolutely. Take your time. I have all night,” he purred.

You got her into her pajamas with as little resistance as a three year old can possibly give at bedtime. Once dressed she ran back to the sitting room. She wrapped her arms around Fives’ leg and whispered, “Good night Fives! I wuv you! Fank you for my twooper!”

“Love you too, Squirt. Sweet dreams,” he rumpled her hair affectionately and nudged her in the direction of her room.

Once you were confident she was sleeping soundly, you returned to the sitting room. Fives was comfortably reclined on the sofa with the lights dimmed.

“Hey,” your stomach twisted and you wrung your hands realizing you and Fives were properly alone for the first time. No kiddo, no bar patrons, no one. Just the two of you in your sitting room.

“Hey yourself. Come here,” he held out his hand and pulled you into his lap. Your heart did somersaults as a hot flush rose to your cheeks. He gently brushed your chin with a crooked index finger while holding your gaze, his eyes a beautiful burning amber. His other hand grazed your waist, drawing mindless circles on a patch of your exposed skin.

“Thank you, Fives. I’ve had a wonderful time.” Your hands rested on his chest and you could feel his heartbeat. His heart was racing nearly as fast as yours despite that cool and confident facade he had up.

“Good. Mission accomplished then. She’s a great kid. Anyone who doesn’t want to get to know her is missing out.”

“Yeah she’s pretty amazing.”

“So is her sister,” he crooned, running his fingers along your cheek. Your breath hitched, all words lost to you. You closed your eyes and smiled as his hand continued along your jaw, past your ear, tracing your hairline and grasping the back of your neck. He pulled you to him, his lips just a breath away from yours. You were positive he could feel your pulse pounding through your flushed skin now.

“Her sister is also beautiful, funny, kind, and completely bewitching,” he whispered against your lips.

“Fives…” you whined as his other hand roamed your thigh. You didn’t finish your thought as he pressed his lips to yours. He was passionate like a starving man having his first meal in ages. His hand on the back of your neck crept into your hair, gently tugging it using it as an opportunity to pull your head back just enough to trail light kisses down your cheek, jaw, and throat. You gasped when he lightly nipped your collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your breathing heavy and desperate. His touch set you aflame in a way you’d never known before. He brushed his lips along your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Your eyes are enchanting,” he whispered fervidly, “your smile haunts me. I’ve thought of you every day since the night we met at 79’s. I want to know you, all of you. Body and soul. I want all of you. I need all of you.” You flowed into him and breathed, “Want to skip the holofilm?” He pressed his forehead to your temple, sighing lasciviously, “Maker, please.” You stood and took him by the hand and began to guide him to your room. He stopped and grabbed the cake box. “What are you doing with that?” you giggled fiercely. He looked at you deviously, “I fully intend on having two desserts tonight. I’m convinced I will be having the best cake on Coruscant but I don’t think it’s the one I bought. I just want to compare to make sure.”

“Oh Maker, Fives. Get in my room now!” He leaned into you until you were nose to nose and purred, “My pleasure… and soon to be yours.” You grabbed his hand again and pulled him into your room, closing the door.

[darkcrowprincess]

(Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you)

*Luke lives, redemption arc au*

Luke is in the shower. Hiding out in Sally Jackson Blofis apartment with Percy Jackson. Waiting for the other seven to meet up somewhere near here. Percy is 19, Luke is 22.

Percy entering the steaming bathroom: Here I brought towels.

Luke in the shower, flirts sarcastically : Thanks sweetheart.

Percy turns red, angrily: Don't call me sweetheart, and hurry up. My mom cannot find you hiding out here.

Luke laughs: What afraid she'll get the wrong idea?

Percy deadpan: 😑 More like she'll kill you when she finds out your alive. I told her everything about you. And I mean everything. She feels sorry for you when I told her about your childhood and your mom. But she swore if she ever saw you, she'd kick your ass for everything you did to me.

Luke is silent for a moment, than says honestly: Not like I don't deserve it.

Percy sighs: Luke y-

Sally Jackson calling for Percy outside the bathroom. Footsteps approaching.

Sally Jackson: Percy have you seen my phone.

Percy panics: I can't talk mom I'm in the shower.

Sally Jackson's footsteps get closer. Percy completely panics and doesn't think. He hops into the shower with Luke, just as his mom opens the door. The phone is on the counter charging.

Percy has hopped into the shower, fully clothed with a naked and wet Luke. Luke turns around in surprise. Before he can speak Perch covers his mouth. Percy avoids looking at him by keeping his eyes to the ceiling. Luke makes wide playful eyes at him.

Sally Jackson unaware: Found it. Ok Percy will you be fine by yourself? Or do you want me to wait with you till your friends get here?

Percy face is blushing red, still not looking at Luke: I'm fine mom.

Sally Jackson:OK, I love you sweetheart.

Percy: Love you too mom.

Sally Jackson finally leaves, and Percy sighs in relief. He moves his hand away from Luke's mouth. He can't help but notice how nice his lips feel against his palm.

Luke smirks: Guess I'm not the only one who calls you sweetheart.

Percy in wet clothes and feeling ridiculous: Shut. Up.

Luke looks at Percy: Well are you going to get out or not? Or do you want to share a towel too.

Percy flustered: Y-yeah, of course.

As Percy is getting out Luke turns around and Percy gets an eye full of a golden lean muscle back with scars, and a hot butt. Percy turns fully into a sea tomato. But can't help but stare. One foot sticking out of the shower, and his body still half in. Luke turns around and catches Percy staring.

Luke full on smiling now: Like what you see? Not so bad for a dead guy.

Percy: Yes. I mean no. I mean sorry I'm getting out.

Luke's laugh follows Percy as he drips out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

Percy thinks to himself: *of course Luke would still be hot looking, what did you expect? But you're going to get a grip because you're not 12 years old with a stupid crush anymore, right?*

[ac-liveblogs]

Manshine City vs Bastard Munchen Part 2 "Oops I stopped Reading For Two Weeks" Edition

Last time: Nagi stood underneath Reo's window with a boombox and asked him to take him back. Reo, who swore he didn't need Nagi and was going to do this for HIMSELF, flings himself out the window.

I do like that Isagi is trying to master-mind the field 'oooh I can predict your every move!', theoretically Kaiser is doing the exact same thing, and they still fail to account for each other and completely fuck up their Pro Strats. I swear, Kaiser is just if the Isagi That Plays Soccer existed off the field as well as on it.

GOD Reo's inner monologue. "We split up once... we followed different paths..." ONE it's been like a month absolute tops TWO I maintain that Reo and Nagi exist in a totally different genre than the rest of the cast.

(Tbh I'm a little disappointed the Reo-Nagi drama seems to have resolved so easily, though there might still be tension outside of the field. I doubt Nagi's going to try and split up with Reo again at this point. Gotta wrap up these character arcs and move on, save the real meat for Episode Nagi in 4 years. Which is a shame, because given how batshit things were back in Blue Lock Reo absolutely Losing It was one of the things I was looking forward to most. What, he can't be too crazy in the insane soccer manga?)

Kaiser and Isagi, you two are my only hope... I need a murder attempt, c'mon...

I don't know enough about soccer to say if a two-stage volley is an 'insane, godly move' but I think a 5-stage anything has got to be pretty impressive. Who knew Nagi could be bothered to count that high. (I know Nagi didn't actually punt Isagi in the face but it sure looked like it, I was taken aback for a second.)

I love the way Nagi's 'ego' manifests on the pitch too, it's great. Gets really hyped up for a little bit of a game, gets super intense, trashtalks like a champ, I am a GOD routine, scores an absolutely insane fucking goal, goes 'yep that's all I wanted' and powers down mid-game. It's not over yet but he did what he came for! He's just like me forreal

"If not for the simple fact that Nagi doesn't know how to play this game, he would be unstoppable!!!" - Reo Mikage, probably

Agi... Reo... guys... chill

Chris' absolute lack of class is the funniest thing about him. This match is being televised, don't go calling your opponent a slut again.

Isagi "I have every tool I need to beat Kaiser except actually being better at this game than him!" Yoichi

Noa's just watching his team burn around him like "hmm. Excellent."

Chigiri throwing his hat into the 'dumb eye power' ring with a truly outstanding entry.

I know Kunigami is in this game, it just really doesn't feel like Kunigami is in this game. The match is losing track of Chigiri as well, I got a little surprised when he popped back up. I know the lack of synergy is on purpose due to the 'every man's either out for himself or the guy he's mentally ill about' aspect/'build your team around the striker' philosophy, but it does make the teams feel really uneven when the only characters that tend to matter are the Strikers + whoever's supporting them at the moment. It wasn't so bad when they were playing with limited teams, but right now half the teams feel like total space filler.

(The whole 'guaranteed shot' thing feels a bit... insulting to the concept of goalies/defense players too. I don't know much about soccer but it does feel like a major dick move LOL. To be fair, Gagamaru is not a goalie. Does Bastard Munchen not have a goalie better at goal-keeping than 'guy with hard head that doesn't play this role normally'.)

But yeah seriously Kunigami went to an ambiguous soccer torture camp to get his whole personality destroyed and for what. This? He doesn't even get to pretend to be the biggest threat on the field for even one game. Give that man a refund. Or at least some free therapy.

"go... the world's most random shot... even i don't know where it's going!!!" that is NOT impressive that's what i do every time I kick a ball. maybe i should be a pro soccer player. i could beat noel noa

Isagi has some nerve being shocked that Yukimiya is sabotaging him because ~they're on the same team~ yeah okay whatever dude and what was your end-goal here again

man, these matches just keep getting longer and longer despite the fact that they're aiming for way less goals...

[moiteneia]

The Myosotis Hope Hypothesis: just a theory or HC.

I´m still sad, so let´s talk about them. The federation already knew that the egg was dead. During the election arc we noticed that they collect candidate data daily and they collect tasks from eggs from the beginning. No doubt they knew how much suffering the forgotten egg was having. They knew how much hunger they could handle. They knew they were already dead. But why did they do it? Okay, maybe they didn't want to take care of them, the federation doesn't care about eggs and we know it. But why forget it? They were in an isolated adoption center, in the desert, alone. Desperate and hungry. If they was an egg ready to be adopted, why leave them there with no chance of survival? So... I have a hypothesis. It was on purpose. They were the egg of q!Cellbit. They know how much eggs can hurt the islanders and they've demonstrated thousands of times that they don't care how cruel they've shown q!Cellbit (my homie was tortured with a chainsaw!). So I think Cucurucho knows. He knows what q!Cellbit is doing again. He knows that q!Cellbit is not going to give up. It wouldn't be fair to punish Richarlyson's other parents, so... They did something crueler. A child they could never meet. A completely innocent child without any resources to survive. A child...Exactly like q!Cellbit. He was an abandoned child who was forced to fight in a war. He was arrested at the age of 16/18 after learning everything to survive. A child who never had a childhood and who today, as an adult, does everything to ensure that the eggs have any moment of rest and play, even if they are with flowers.

For q!Cellbit to read that little diary of a child he may never know was like reliving his own childhood. Abandoned and desperate for anyone who could love him, protect him. He swore that he would always protect those children! Where was he when that one died? That was his worst punishment. But perhaps his biggest lesson, he needed to move faster if he wanted no more children to go through that.

[bluef00t]

thoughts on the ironhide storyline?

Knights of the Golden Circle: the Atomic Robo arc so peak that it's singled out in the site preview blurb.

Well, I'm assuming you mean that, and there isn't an Ironhide RSA I missed. (I'd read it! I prefer the spinoff genre characters to the real-person teams, which may defeat the purpose of the title Real Science Adventures, but whatever.)

"Thoughts." That's vague. Well, I love the bonkers set-up. There are other arcs that can absolutely only be done once (Ghost of Station X, Savage Sword of Dr. Dinosaur, Vengeful Dead), but only this one has the quality of Brian + Scott leaning in like "Okay. We know. We swore that causality is sacred and there will be NO time shenanigans, and that's STILL true. But just this once we're going to bend our own rule slightly, because we really, really, really want our robot to get to be a cowboy. Thanks for understanding."

The art's fantastic. I'm glad this one made it under the wire for the era of pencil-lined Robo volumes because the subtle textures really complete the grungy dusty look. The colors, too. Robo's electric blue and vril's crystalline pink stand out like alien intrusions in the sepia-toned world. Mwah.

My first time reading, I felt like it was a cop-out on the stable time loop to make Ironhide real in his own right. But since then my opinion has reversed! It cultivates a real air of Old West legend for Robo to be preceded by whispers of a reputation so shrouded in mystery that he doesn't even know it. I now actually think it should've taken Robo until maybe his dozenth public superhuman feat to realize I May Be Contributing To The Legend Somewhat.

Robo's initial interest in Ironhide strikes me as a riff on kids latching onto representation in comics. Especially when characters "like you" are stereotyped or absent, so you imprint on someone who isn't supposed to be like you, but represents your personal experience way more. But I'm probably projecting there.

Paradoxically to my RSA opinions, I like historical cameos in Robo proper. Holliday + Reeves + Robo are a really fun trio. Helsie is a fine "final boss", but I'm glad more time was spent on Caldwell's gang to get our fill of saloon shootouts and train chases first.

As an aside—pulps have a tendency to pick a villain from an "anti-American" political group with little thought put toward their underlying ideologies. (Which is how you get "our blonde superhuman can out-punch the Nazi ubermensch, so there" and incoherent Soviet/Nazi team-ups.) I point this out to say that the writing in Robo is generally better than that. It may tiptoe around historical politics a little (Helsingard is a Nazi collaborator, the Knights used to be Confederates), but the pulpy cyborg plot keeps at least one throughline: these were people in the human trafficking business for power and profit. And of the legends of the old west, Bass Reeves would have some very strong convictions about that.

Honestly a weakness here is that the story gives you a lot of hints in place of explanations and just trusts you'll work it out. Like the FIFTEEN YEAR timeskip. I only NOW, writing this, realized that the dates on the wall (which make no sense as "where am I in history?" guesses) are probably reactor lifespan calculations.

It's a better problem to have than agonizing infodumps or actual plot holes, but in some cases I liked my initial assumptions better than the real answers! Like, I first thought he was using his own heart to power his gadgets, and that's what was killing him so fast. Would've been metal if true. (I guess he did rebuild himself to make that possible later.)

Well, even minus that. It's a tasty cowboy trope for the protagonist to know they're already dying (or I've just listened to Streets of Laredo too many times) and a great time travel trope for the ending to be a foregone conclusion and our protagonist to still fight like hell to the bitter end. Yesssss.

In a way, this is already how readers experience the historical stories, trying to piece together the cost for this preordained victory with scraps of historical knowledge and faith that it will all make sense eventually. But this time Robo's in on it, too.

[roguelov]

okay just had another thought (you like jujutsu kaisen too, right?)

so, whenever I'm obsessed with multiple fandoms at once, I usually intertwine the two in some way

so like, imagine young immortal y/n who's a jujutsu sorcerer?? maybe she's a teacher too (like gojo) and she teaches yuji and co. like combat or martial arts or something

I wonder what dream and hob would think of it, because on one hand it's her job and obviously it's important to her, but on the other hand it's incredibly dangerous

oh and maybe hob is a high school teacher (instead of a professor) so he and y/n bond over teaching high schoolers and everything that comes with it, good and bad??

(let's ignore the fact that for this y/n would have to be in Japan instead of England🤭)

I love jjk!!!! I was out on the front lines reading the shibuya arc as it was coming out (am I caught up now? No cuz the culling games was a tad confusing but I’m still in the know) but yessssss I love this 🥰

You being a jujutsu sorcerer would fit right on in with the chaos and unpredictability of Hob and Dream’s life. You fight curses? Sure! Makes sense to them and you guys bond over the craziness you have all experienced

You and Hob totally bond over your students! You gush about them and Hob can see how much you care. You swear one day you’ll introduce them to him and Dream. Hob will immediately take them under his wings and adore them (maybe Yuji a bit more but don’t tell the others). Megumi would be interested in learning about Dream and Hob, but mostly silently observes them. Nobara would talk off Hob and Dream’s ear, especially Dream where’s she’s asking if he could give her unlimited clothes or nice things. Also you swore to never introduce Gojo to Hob and Dream (that is chaos in the making)

You definitely come home sometimes all beat up and they immediately go into caretaker mode. Hob is ready to stitch you up, look over your bruises, and bandage you (centuries in wars and battles he definitely has picked up a few things). Meanwhile Dream is ready to go on a warpath, who dares harm his love? But you have to assure Dream that yes you’re fine and two the curse has already been exorcized

Hob and Dream have thought about possibly dissuading you from your job, but they see you love it so much and they bring themselves to tell you to stop

Can I also suggest sparring with Hob 🤭 because you have to keep up and Hob knows how to fight so lots of training together and maybe when placing bets on what you will get if you win

Dream also comforting you when you have nightmares of losing your students or any loved ones due to curses and he holds you tight assuring you how capable you are

Just these two knowing you are strong but also them supporting you when you need it

[jester-creates]

Full list of most of my ocs

ill just list important stuff about them (and maybe some bits on au versions of them.) Under read more cause this is going to be long. maybe a two parter. Feel free to ask about any of them

Oliver (known as Shifting Baker in the oc title ask game

I Have a few consistent traits for him. He is always on the range of Hard of Hearing to Deaf. He is always a shapeshifter(cause of which changes depending on the version). He is almost always transmasc, Biromantic and ace. He also always has naturally white hair. He loves baking

some versions of him (plus nicknames):

Playdo (Tma version of oliver)

he's almost fully a Stranger avatar after he got erased from memory after a very dumb wish. uses a hearing aid. has a boyfriend. Gets regular scam calls from the circus. (There's another au version of him where he got taken by the Circus)

Expo (Experiment au Oliver)

ditto hybrid after experimentation stuff. (au is partly inspired by Chained Wings by Vampirebadger) Fully Deaf, uses notepad or phone to mainly communicate, eventually learns sign. (i ended up shipping him with Nemona). Also loves to battle.

Change-o (pla pirate au version)

He's a Changeling here. with one level in rogue. shows up for at least one arc.

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Juliana (she was originally the sv female mc but i changed enough about her that she is an oc now. i never got a better name)(aka Chaotic One in the title ask game)

consistent traits for her:

Oliver's sister (whether biological or self appointed). also typically has white hair. She's a lesbian.

some versions of her(no nicknames yet):

Tma version

biological twin to Oliver. randomly noticed a person in old family photos that she swore was never there before and goes down a rabbit hole of finding more and more evidence of an entire sibling she forgot about

Experiment au version

Miraidon hybrid after unethical science in area zero. twin to Oliver as well but they don't find that out for a while. (ended up shipping her with penny)

pla pirate au version

She's a Goblin here and runs a scam with Oliver. Shows up in at least one arc in this au.

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Cassandra Achroma (aka the Victorian Biologist)

She is a Colress ancestor oc that I solely use in Experiment au. She does a lot in that au though. She's also Aroace (but very invested in her coworkers love life. It's free entertainment). She's also technically the cause of her own time loop.

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Brittle (aka The Ghost)

And then there's Brittle... She's dead.

She is also transfem and French. Her full name is Peanut Brittle. She named herself.

Experiment au version

She's a rotom after she dies due to science gone wrong. ends up haunting two of the scientists after that. ends up being caught by Juliana somehow

Pirate au version

Reborn (undead) human. lives with Scarlet. (may also be part of the scam Oliver and juliana are doing)

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Scarlet (Aka Feral Flower)

Became an oc after i made a joke character who is a floette that knows Bite and got attached to her. No matter what amount of class or refinery it eventually puts on, she is always itching for a fight and it's clear that it wants one. She's always heavily related to plants.

Experiment au version

Just a flabebe/floette/Florges that knows Bite. She gets better at not biting things as it gets older. It was caught by Juliana in a dark tera raid.

Pirate au version

A summer Eladrin (Feywild elf). She has levels in Barbarian and Druid. Always ready to fight. Lives with Brittle.

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Tees (aka The Singing Soldier)(originally my dnd pc)

It's a robot with sentience forced upon it. As well as a moustache. It likes the moustache though. It was not built for war or fighting, even though it ended up doing a lot of that, but instead to be a performance (like one of those guys who advertise war) and for moral support (its preprogrammed stuff was not that good at it, very superficial.) It speaks with a British accent. It is compulsed to follow any order given to it.

Tma version

This version of Tees was one of the automatons at that one version of the Unknowing in the 1700's. It gained sentience after the ritual collapsed, likely due to a bit of Slaughter shrapnel finding it's way into it. It starts wandering trying to fill the void of its purpose. All the while the Slaughter shrapnel begins to corrupt its alignment to the Stranger until so little of it is left that Tees begins to have an identity. It ends up fighting in a couple wars before being kidnapped by the Circus (cause it was part of that older Stranger ritual). Makes friends with an au version of Playdo who also got kidnapped for being a Stranger avatar in the wrong place and wrong time.

Original dnd character

Definitely not haunted and given sentience and magic due from its dead friends (who are definitely not an off-brand version of the Mechanisms). Made for moral support forced to babysit the rest of the party. Once scared off a Death God.

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Marcus Quillia (aka the Burned Detective)

One of my oldest ocs. A Private detective who was in a fire directly related to the death of his cousin/best friend. He then wants revenge against what took his cousin from him. He also got fire powers from that fire. He has black and white peppered hair after it.

Marked (ocverse) version

A private detective who tends to be hired by the police. He has a personal vendetta against the international thief known as Jester after an insane Rube Goldberg series of coincidences made it look like they were the ones who killed his cousin. (Actually due to a different oc I'm still formulating so not on this list yet) way too complicated to get into here. He gets a therapy dog after the fire.

he has the Mark of The Burned

Tma version

he was marked and attacked by a Desolation creature which sparked a hatred of Monsters (Fear creatures and avatars specifically). 1 step away from becoming full Hunt/desolation avatar, 1 or two especially cruel kills to throw away his humanity.

he is really good at his job though (thanks to that hunt alignment). he manages to find a person erased from memory years ago even after they changed their gender. (Juliana hired him to find Oliver). (he also later tries to kill oliver because he accidentally did a Stranger avatar thing in front of him.) (in the version where Oliver gets kidnapped, he does manage to help (by getting his killing monsters fix from other circus members)

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Jester (aka masked Jesters)(not my sona)

surprisingly i only use these guys in my ocverse.

They are a pretty famous thief, loving to rob things and maybe return things if they feel like it. Accidentally managed to get framed for murder during.

they have DID even if it's a bit magically different from standard. they have 4 personalities.

they have the Mark of The Masked. they have three masks that they can switch between for specific powers. this comes with a few drawbacks. each mask is only tied to one of the personalities and only functions when they put it fully on and its assigned personality is fronting and the only remotely responsible one is not tied to any of these masks.

I'll probably explain more in a different post.

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Arthur (Aka King Of Stories)

He's an amnesiac with a texan accent who woke up in a fantasy land (modded minecraft) and eventually finds a kid, whom he adopts(Sigyn <3). He ends up getting mainly involved with fire magic. he names most of the things he tames/adopts after the myths he remembers

he was a ex-soldier who later went into museum curation before he got isekai'd. he's wearing his uniform still but it's been through a lot and he's repaired it with magical thread.

He may or may not have committed necromancy and he may or may not be covering up the permanent scar with a mask he found while exploring. A father's love can bring them to some dark places.

he's also taken up sewing recently

Tma au version

He's still an ex-soldier turned museum curator here, but that changes when the Eyepocalyse comes around. He was one of those who didn't exactly feel Fear after an encounter so he can roam the domains, but of course the Eyepocalyse had to change that and gave him someone to Fear for. (Sigyn <3) She joins him as he roams the domains but now the creatures/domain people will notice them as they move. When they attack, they don't go for Arthur, they go for Sigyn instead.

He's a bit Desolation aligned so he can have fire powers. His main weapon he uses to attack is a axe/Labrys he stole from the museum he worked at when the eyepocalypse started.

He does end up fighting some avatars as he goes through domains

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Sigyn (<3) (aka young Witch)

She's an adaptation of a modded minecraft npc I got attached to.

She's a young witch/wixie (not human though) approximately a 7 year old, but still very knowledgeable about potions.

Arthur found her after he got a request from a paranoid cleric to see if someone was breaking into their church thing while they slept. Sigyn was actually doing so, to try to teach herself to read and to use the potion stand in the church.

She can fly using her broom.

TMA au version

Arthur finds her in a domain dedicated to the Corruption. She was the avatar in charge of it, a child giving adults poisonous potions they cant refuse, too young to really understand what she's doing to them or what's happening with the apocalypse. She ends up going with Arthur as he roams, looking for any safe haven in this apocalypse.

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Wilhelm von Wolfgang

He's a rich bastard (/affectionate). He is his country's greatest violator of labor laws but keeps getting out of it cause he's rich. I hate him. He's one of my favorite characters to write/play as. He cannot stand still without the aid of a cane. He's basically like if a werewolf was a capitalist in both forms. His view of people poorer than him oscillates between 'I can use them' and 'I never want to see them again'. He's neutral evil. He will skip any corner to make more money. I love him.

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Acheron Atropos

he's a goth king literally. I made him for a friend's (@/shattered-hue) ocverse where we made characters based based off of bugs and plants and Acheron was made from the Death's Head Moth, whose scientific name is where i pulled his name from.

(still working a bit on him)

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Sylvan (aka Traveling Librarian)

Sylvan becomes a Head Librarian of a Branch of an Infinite Library after they manage to survive to basically the end of his universe after one of the worst outcomes of 2020, which was all the Stars decided to poof due to multiverse reasons.

he occasionally visits other universes to just get Stories. As an Infinite Library always has room for more books.

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Virginia Berry(aka the Captain)

From my ocverse: Marked. She has a tattoo of a ship on her back that she can turn into an actual ship that she can control. She has the Mark of the Captain.

I got her name by putting together two of the more famous female pirates.

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[somehow unnamed as of yet](Aka Truth's artist)

from my ocverse. they have the ability to see a person's greatest secret drawn onto them. (as a general example, a person whose greatest secret is that they killed someone would would have blood drawn onto them). it can be very visually overstimulating for them at times. They ended up getting a (rather bad) job for the government, cause despite how old these "Marks" are they're still rather unknown.