#... about it. i was PISSED. i said 'well then how should i have said it?' i don't even remember his answer i just know i wanted to go...

[vanesycho]

Summary:A little warning to your boyfriend who is insecure about his face.

warning:smut, face riding, pussy eating

a/n: @ldh0000 hope you like it luv😔🫶🏻 really obsessed with him🙏🏻

wc:0,9k

"Baby, aren't you ready yet?" Chan spoke as he entered the room and looked at you doing your makeup in front of the mirror, you looked at him in the mirror and spoke "No, I'm sorry this is taking so long." Chan walked over to you and leaned over the mirror, fixed his hair "Wow, today I'm declaring myself the ugliest man in the world." You put down your makeup without reacting to his 'joke' and turned to him, saw that he's smiling at you "How many times do we have to talk about not saying things like that?" He looked at your furrowed eyebrows and chuckled, kissed your cheek "Oh, don't take it seriously honey. It was just a joke. I mean… when I look at myself, well… I'm just exaggerating a bit."

You rolled your eyes and talked more to yourself as you did your makeup "It pisses me off that you don't realize how good you really look. I can't understand all your insecurities." he folded his arms and continued to listen to you as the smile on his face grew "I wonder how you dare to call yourself ugly when your handsome face and amazing body drive me crazy. I could even sit on your face and praise you for hours just to prove how beautiful you are, stupid." He raised his eyebrows questioningly and let out a chuckle, then you realized what you said and turned your head to him and made him laugh.

"Okay I didn't expect this much, to be honest. But I can't say I didn't like it." he leaned towards you and spoke against your lips "Should we cancel today's plans? So you can sit on my face and I won't joke about my looks again." You licked your dry lips, the thought of it making you clench your legs together. "Promise?" He smiled and held out his hand. "I promise." You took his hand and stood up, watching Chan take off his shirt and lie down on the bed. You now realized you were holding your breath and let out a deep breath. Chan, who was looking down at you, bit his lower lip excitedly and patted his lap. "Take off your clothes and come here," he didn't even have to repeat.

Your panties were on the floor in a short while and you were now on his lap, he gripped your hips tightly and let out a deep groan as he pressed you against him. "You look so beautiful." You smiled at the compliment you received. "You should see yourself. God...I have the most beautiful boyfriend." He gave a shy smile and pressed you back against him. "Let me taste you, I can tell how wet you are even through my clothes, fuck." You lifted your hips and moved forward a little more, stopping when you got to his face, Chan placed his hands on your legs and gave your clit a small lick first. When this unexpected move made your hips move away from his face, Chan tightened his grip and made you sit down completely.

His tongue started licking your hole, as you felt his big nose, made you let out a loud moan at the same time. "C-chris..Y-yes- you're so good.." The compliment he received excited Chan instantly and he continued his tongue strokes. Your moans showed that he was doing a good job, and with the confidence that came from it, he took care of your entire pussy. You ran a hand through his hair, begging for more. “Ride my face baby, I know you want it. Make your boyfriend happy by giving him what he wants.” You started to move your hips slowly, Chan’s face was almost completely covered with your juices, you moaned in pleasure as he sent a muffled moan into your pussy. “Please- you’re so good yes keep going- f-fuck I’m so close.” Chan didn’t care if he was out of breath at that moment, he didn’t stop or slow down his movements, what mattered right now was for you to cum on his beautiful face and he wanted it right now. Your moans were now like tears, your hips roamed over his face, Chan’s tongue was enough to destroy your hole. First he licked it all over and then he guided it to your hole and pushed it inside, while he helped you ride his nose where it was right next to your clit. Your hips were still moving to your face, you let your clenched body relax as you finally came. The cum that was dripping from Chan’s chin started to run down his neck. He didn't let you get up, he wanted to clean up every bit of liquid himself.

When he finally loosened his grip on your legs you shifted to the side and looked at him, swallowed as you looked at his face that was still full of your juices. “Fuck, you’re beautiful even when you’re this messed up.” He laughed at your hypnotic tone and looked away from you for a moment. “Thank you baby. Ah..if that’s what I’m going to have to go through every time I’m insecure, I’m okay with that.” You laughed and punched him lightly in the chest. “No, you promised.” He caught the spot you hit and a laugh echoed through the room. Chan leaned in and kissed your head. “I know, I’ll keep my promise…If you sat on my face every time I wanted?” You nodded, he smiled at that. “Good. Come back now, I’m not done with you.”

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🍂🍁🎃

❤️ just some tooth rotting fluff involving Eddie and his not so secret admirer

🎃💌

Eddie was in hell. Who's idea was it to do this stupid shit again?

A banner hung from outside the school that proclaimed today was Boo Day 👻🎃 a day dedicated to your boo (partner) or someone you admired.

Who had came up with this monstrosity you ask? Why that was Miss O'Donnell. She had the idea to have the day before Halloween dedicated to love. Where she had even had an idea like that was anyone's guess but Eddie was pretty certain that the old bat had lost her mind.

Or teaching Eddie for three years had finally driven her crazy.

Everywhere he looked people were cooing over mystery cards that they had gotten from a secret admirer.

This was another thing he hated about this whole day, he had to suffer through Valentine's Day, now he has to go through this shit as well? Who the hell would send him a card like that?

He'd be slightly jealous if he didn't think this was load of bullshit.

He dodges excited students dressed up as ghosts and pumpkins, students who Miss O'Donnell had cajoled into delivering cards and gifts to people who had participated in the card and gift exchange.

Finally there is a hint of escape when he barges into the drama room and breathes a sigh of relief. Jesus h Christ that was a nightmare.

It takes Eddie a second to realise that he's not alone. His heart skips a beat when he realises you're with him.

🎃💌

You're settled on one of the desks with a serene smile on your face that disappears the moment you hear the door open.

Once you see it's just Eddie and no loved up couples looking for a place to make out, you feel yourself relaxing once more.

"Hey Eddie" the haggard look on his face morphs into a genuine smile, all cute dimples and big brown eyes lighting up.

He was so cute and you had the biggest crush on him and you had planned to tell him, today in fact but his loud proclamation that this day was all a bunch of bullshit made you chicken out of handing him the card you made.

You doubted he felt the same anyway, he probably had a crush on one of the cheerleaders or someone like that.

Even if he said he didn't conform to societal standards you still caught him checking out the cheerleaders once or twice. You weren't a cheerleader or popular or anything like that, you just did what you liked and right now that was occasionally joining in on a Hellfire campaign or drawing or writing, honestly anything creative was your thing.

"So do you not have a secret admirer you made a card for?" Eddie teases and you clam up, avoiding his eyes.

"Maybe it's not like he feels the same though" you murmur and notice that Eddie isn't smiling anymore, in fact he looks kinda pissed and a little sad.

"Right, so I guess it's some popular douchebag or something?" He mutters and you try to figure out why his mood has suddenly changed so dramatically.

Was he jealous of who you liked? Didn't he realise that it was him you were smitten by. Shit what if he didn't... Feeling brave you decide to tell him how you feel and hope that he feels the same way or at least things aren't awkward between you after it all.

"It's you. I made a card for you Eddie" shit you wish the ground would swallow you up. The waiting to know how he felt was horrendous, if he laughed in your face you're sure that you'd high tail it out of here.

Instead of laughing he's gawking at you and you're ready to leave and hope to forget this all but something in his expression stops you.

"Maybe I should thank Miss O'Donell after all then" he's grinning widely and looks thrilled. "Can I see the card sweetheart?" flustered you nod and hand him the card.

It has a hand drawn picture of a pumpkin patch and you wrote inside if you were a pumpkin I would pick you 🎃❤️

Cheesy yes but you thought it was cute. Now however you're second guessing that decision and mortification fills you. Shit. This was a bad idea.

The anxiety leaves you when Eddie looks up at you smiling, he hides his face with his hair and it's so adorable.

"Aww shucks sweetheart, that's so cute. Just so you know I feel the same about you, I like you a lot princess and I'm thinking that maybe I could take you on a date"

Beaming you kiss his cheek and nod. "Where were you thinking?" he holds up your card and points to the pumpkin.

"I'm thinking of visiting the Pumpkin patch in town" he suggests and the idea is so perfect that you can't help but giggling.

"Sounds perfect"

🎃❤️

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

It was another competion the entire family all shoving and pushing each other into the car to see more of Damian's art.

Tim is excited for Damian.

He knows what it's like, to stand there and have no one show up. To be there all by yourself for hours the only one to visit your booth being the art teacher.

Ms. Carrington who would ask questions and ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes before helping him pack everything up, sometimes even driving him home because of course neither his parents or Bruce could be bothered to pick him up.

He can't really help the envy that he can feel building in his chest mixing with a good chunk of repressed anger.

A elbow being jabbed into his ribs distracts him.

"Hey what's with the face? Perk up Boy-Loser it's Damian's night."

He turns to Steph the smile that he had been attempting to plaster on falling. It's such a stupid thing it's a nickname so what if it's demeaning, he gets called pretender or replacement by Jason what does it matter.

"Do you ever think it's kinda fucked up that not a single person in this family calls me anything that isn't an insult?" He snaps.

She looks shocked. How fucking dare he have an ounce of self esteem. Someone alert the Media Tim Drake isn't a dormat.

He turns away sliding into the crowd.

There's less then half an hour left before he can leave. Pratically throwing himself down in the empty hallway as far as he can get from this entire night.

"Baby bird and Timmy aren't insults? Or are they I can't seem to keep up with the kids these days."

He turns, of course. You might be able to run from Batman or lie to him, but you can never escape the grasp of Big Brother Nightwing.

"So your admitting that your old?" he joins the banter.

His muscles start to unclench another superpower only Dick Grayson seems to have.

"Never, something you want to talk about?"

Does he? No. Should he? Yah.

"Maybe I just don't want be insulted every day of my life. So weird who doesn't want to be reminded they suck?"

He can hear the whine, he can also hear that everything he just said isn't gonna matter. You don't take whiny little boys seriously. And that's what he is.

"Hmm you know I get called Dickhead or really a lot of just penis related jokes. Always hated them not that it really stops anyone."

He looks finally making eye contact with his big brother. Because he's right. How many times has he heard anyone in the family other than him and Damian call Dick anything nice. Never not once. Maybe Bruce but he can't really picture it.

"Also don't think I didn't notice how annoyed you are with Bruce about this entire night, which I don't blame you for. You know I love Damian kiddo, but yah Bruce is not winning a mug from me or you."

He doesn't really want to acknowledge any of that already exhausted and he will have to apologize to Steph and if he opens the box it will be a car ride from hell home.

"Luckily for you I have a car parked a block up we can escape get ice cream and have a nice sleepover in bludhaven."

He wants to so bad, he wants to throw himself at Dick who knows him so well, who followed him out here, who isn't blinking, the only adult who has ever not somehow fucked him over.

"What about Damian? He will be pissed at me for stealing you or something. He doesn't need another reason to stab me."

He turns to look back at the floor.

"Foolish Drake I will be coming with you Father is being insesently annoying and I much rather talk about art with someone who has a brain cell."

Both him and Dick whip around to see Damian standing there a slight blush on his face hesitation making the corner of mouth twitch. He sees Dick looking on unsure. He doesn't hesitate.

"Thank god I know a great place with that Vegan Cookie Dough you like. What you waiting for Big Bird? Let's go. "

Climbling to his feet he grabs Dick and Damian dragging them to the exit he hears Dick's confused muttering sharing a secret smile with Damian before ignoring it.

The night is finally looking up.

[kingkat12]

quickie (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, party sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, drunk-ish sex, Roman is shameless and drunk lol, alcohol mentions

summary: Roman can't keep his hands off you-- no matter where you are.

word count: 1,581

It was hard to fight Roman’s grip around me, especially since he towered heads above me— I knew it was a lost cause. 

However, I was pissed. Pissed about how he had behaved at tonight's party, and how he had managed to get so drunk that he was grabbing at me at every opportunity. “Rome,” I huffed, putting my hands on his chest to force some space between us after he had managed to get us both into the bathroom.

Roman, drunk off his ass, did his best to keep his balance. He swayed a little, looking down at me with those hungry eyes I knew too well; “What? I can’t touch my girl?”

“Not here!” When I was sure he wouldn’t fall onto the bathroom floor, I quickly ran over to the door to lock it properly. “We’re at Letha’s birthday party, can’t you keep yourself together?” Amid my annoyance, I scanned him; all dressed up in his white shirt, hair gelled back into a classic heartbreaker look. I couldn't deny it all made my heart beat faster.

Hiccuping, Roman blinked twice— he clearly saw no issue with having sex at his cousin’s party. “Why should I?” He stepped towards me, watching me press myself up against the door. “We haven’t been alone all week… Isn’t this just the perfect opportunity?”

I struggled to hold back a shiver. It was tempting, sure, but completely inappropriate. “I’m not having sex with you in a bathroom,” I mumbled, no longer meeting his strikingly green gaze. “Makes me feel cheap.”

“Cheap?” Roman’s arms snaked around me once more, his soft lips pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’re looking at it all wrong.”

I did my best to phase out the strong smell of brandy coming from my boyfriend— I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of him when he was drunk. “And how am I supposed to look at it, then?”

He hummed against my skin, his fingers tracing circles into the back of my short, red dress. “Think of it more like… I can’t wait another second to be with you,” Roman placed a kiss against my cheek, drawing forth a pink-ish blush. “I want to feel you around me despite where we are, isn't that a nice thought? I would want you even if we were at a fucking trash compound.”

I could only laugh— he probably didn’t catch how big of a turn-off that image actually was, especially in his drunk state. “That sounds unsanitary,”

Roman chuckled, leaving behind a wet mark against my jaw after kissing me there. I closed my eyes, letting my head loll back against the door as I relished in the feeling; I had certainly missed this. 

“I don’t care,” he eventually said, one hand trailing up to twist itself in the nape of my hair. With another tug, evoking a whimper, Roman kissed his way up to my ear, leaving me heaving for air— it reminded me that he could leave me breathless, no matter the situation. 

I had to swallow my pride, realizing that his little scheme was working. “Someone could— hear,” Unexpectedly, my hips bucked forward in the middle of my sentence as Roman pressed a ridiculously soft kiss against my ear. My hands gripped his shirt, panting. “And you’re— you’re drunk!”

Roman hummed, a sinister, low laugh escaping him. “Let…” His hands dropped, fingers dipping past the edge of my dress as he slowly pulled it up along my thighs. I shuddered, bringing his face into my hands as I watched his green eyes sparkle with lust. “Me…” The dress was now at my waist, Roman’s eyes hungry scouring my underwear. He didn’t spend a lot of time looking (he had always been more of a do-er, anyways) before he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my lower abdomen. My breath hitched as Roman bunched up my dress, digging his long digits into my waist as he licked a stripe up to my navel, listening to my whimpers as he held me back from squirming. “Fuck…” He came up shortly after, a satisfied smirk on display across his full lips as he pressed me flush against him, connecting us with a passionate, fiery kiss. As he pulled away, I realized how dizzy I was— and I was about to beg him to do it again, until he slowly turned me around to face the door. My eyes were wide as Roman’s last words were whispered against my ear; “… You.”

At this point, I was practically gelatin in his arms. I could only nod, struggling to breathe as Roman kissed down my exposed neck, now grinding the hardness of his cock up against my ass with a relieved sigh. “Is that a yes?” he whispered, gently driving his teeth into my shoulder.

I whimpered— I couldn’t fight it anymore. “Yeah,” 

“Oh, thank God,” Roman’s grip around me tightened, proceeding to press passionate nips and bites up my neck. “I’ve wanted you all night… All fucking night.”

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t remind me,”

Roman laughed, his hands taking in the softness of my skin against his rough ones before they traveled further down. “Now, now... Don’t get all sassy on me,” 

My eyes sprung wide open as his hands ghosted over my underwear, and I let out a wanton moan as his fingers brushed over my clit. “Sorry,” I tried, my apology quickly turning into a trail of profanities as he used two fingers to press down against me, rubbing me through my underwear as I leaned my forehead against the door in defeat. “Shit, shit—” 

Roman hummed into my shoulder, clearly happy with the results of his plot. “So, my girl likes to be touched now, hm?”

Fucker— he knew damn well. 

“Does she?” he teased, his tone only fueling the fire in my body. 

I could barely reply; my mind was dulled down by the feeling of Roman’s fingers rubbing tight, firm circles against my clit. 

He smirked, pressing several kisses against my shoulder. “Yes, she does,” 

Oh, Roman and his dirty mouth— I couldn’t take it. “We— We can’t be in here for too long,” I tried, panting into the wood of the door. “People will get, hah—suspicious.”

Thankfully, my boyfriend seemed to agree. “We’ll make it quick, then,” Roman wasted no time, a whine escaping my lips as his hands deserted the aching need between my legs. He hooked his fingers around my underwear, dragging it down and leaving it around my thighs before he reached for his zipper. 

“This is so stupid,” I mumbled, trying to catch my breath in the meantime. “I can’t believe we’re doing this—” My words came to a halt as Roman’s thick cock eased into me, and I let out a choked moan as I tried to support myself with the door. All my morals suddenly flew out the window; this felt too good to fight.

Roman suppressed his sigh of relief against my shoulder, quickly recovering from the wave of pleasure upon entering me. “Come again?” he teased, digging his fingers into my hips as he slowly stroked further into me with each thrust. 

My breath hitched, holding back a cry of rapture as I moved to meet every pump of his cock—I couldn’t believe how much I had missed this. “Rome,” I cried, placing one hand over his. “A-Aah—”

“Shh,” Roman pressed soft kisses against my neck, bucking into me. “Not so loud, baby… Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?”

Crap— I had to force myself to be aware of my surroundings. It suddenly hit me that we were fucking in Letha’s bathroom, and how we definitely didn’t want to be caught in here; no one would ever let me live that down. So I bit down on my bottom lip, letting my lids fall heavy over my eyes as Roman’s cock stroked into me, the angle allowing him to brush against my sweet spot over and over.

It didn’t take long before I started to feel on the brink of delirium—it certainly didn’t help my state when Roman reached around my body, rubbing my clit with the rhythm of his thrusts. I couldn’t help but turn a bit, reaching forward to tug his brown hair, a satisfaction building deep inside of me as I heard him suppress a moan against my shoulder. 

It didn’t take long before Roman’s lips came crashing against mine in a passionate kiss, which soon enough ended up with the both of us panting against one another, chasing our highs. 

“You feel—Fuck, you feel so, so—” Roman let out a grunt as my walls clenched around him, his green eyes rolling back just slightly. 

The sight of that alone nearly sent me over the edge, but it was the sweet kiss he pressed against my temples that did it for me. That, along with the continuous thrusts of Roman’s cock and the firm circles against my clit, made me cry out against the door. 

The physical motions of my orgasm gripped around Roman’s girth, drawing forth a moan as he spilled into me, the warmth of his cum almost instantaneously seeping out of me. 

As our panting filled the room, it dawned on me that I had done the exact opposite of what I had told myself tonight. With that realization, I couldn’t help but break our moment of rapture with a giggle—“We’re so doing this again,” 

Roman smiled as he leaned down, leaving a trail of eager kisses along my shoulder; “We so are,”

[coimbrabertone]

Closing the Doors is Bad for Indycar

Today, Indycar has announced its charter system.

On face value, I see the case for this being a good thing. The likes of Ganassi, Rahal, Coyne, Andretti, and Penske themselves have been in the sport for decades and I see this as a way of giving back to them. The teams that have been in Indycar and contributed to its great moments and iconic races deserve some sense of security and a financial safety net should they choose to cash out.

I mean, the fact that such historic names as Newman/Haas and Forsythe are completely gone from Indycar racing is pretty sad.

That part is good, however...the problem I have with the charter system is the numbers.

There will be 25 charters.

Of these, 22 charters will receive leader circle money.

Additionally, 27 grid slots will be the norm outside of the Indianapolis 500.

I disagree with every single one of these numbers. 25 charters is an arbitrary number and it has caused a 3-car limit to be instituted in Indycar, leading to Chip Ganassi Racing having to cut two cars and fire a whole bunch of people.

2024 Rookie of the Year Linus Lundqvist looks like he'll be out of a job for 2025.

2023 Rookie of the Year Marcus Armstrong is getting farmed out to Meyer Shank Racing, which will have a technical alliance with Ganassi for 2025.

Meanwhile Kyffin Simpson, who is 21st in points in the same team that won the championship with Alex Palou this year, is expected to take over the chartered CGR #8 because his father owns Ridgeline Lubricants which is a major sponsor of the team.

This is what the charter system is for? Getting people fired and ensuring a paydriver keeps his seat? Ridiculous.

And three of these charters not getting leader circle money...quite frankly this rule only exists because of Penske Entertainment being cheap and not wanting to spend more money than they already do. It makes absolutely zero sense to have chartered cars not getting leader circle money.

The purpose of the charters is to give back to the teams that have made Indycar what it is? Well, only giving money to the top twenty-two doesn't do that.

And twenty-seven grid slots at races outside of the Indianapolis 500...this part arguably pisses me off the most, because there is no reason for this rule.

Garage space at Mid-Ohio? There were thirty-six Craftsman Trucks at Mid-Ohio in the 2023 O'Reilly Auto Parts 150 last year, you can find a couple of extra pit stops.

Toronto has a weird pitlane ever since that hotel got built? Move it. Hell, a few years ago we had a pileup, and the pace car took the cars under the Princes Gate and onto a closed road over there, make that the pitlane! How cool would that be? Cars peeling off underneath a neoclassical arch to get into the pits.

You can make more than twenty-seven cars work.

Indycar just doesn't want to.

They want twenty-five charters and the two Prema cars for next year, that's it.

Furthermore, it sounds like the plan is to decrease that limit to twenty-five cars total, so every car left will be chartered.

This rule, along with the money for the top twenty-two, makes me think that the plan is for Prema to eventually force out and buy out a Dale Coyne or an Ed Carpenter Racing.

So much for protecting the owners, huh?

Thus, this rule isn't really about protecting the owners, it's about producing artificial exclusivity. The same kind of shit that Formula One has pulled to Andretti, and now the series that Andretti races in wants to do that as well. It's cynical, it's hypocritical, and it's not good for the sport.

Zak Brown of McLaren has said a lot of good things when it comes to Indycar's future, but one thing he said that really irritated me is that idea that quality is better than quantity when it comes to racing.

First of all, quality and quantity are not mutually exclusive here.

Second of all, quantity sure spiced up the show at Milwaukee with the amount of lapped cars that the leaders needed to negotiate, providing for constant drama and always giving chasing cars the opportunity to close in.

Third of all, Indycar is not Formula One, and it should not try to be Formula One.

Indycar is great because it races on so many disciplines: road courses, street circuits, short ovals, superspeedways, all of it. But another thing that makes Indycar great is how open it has been in comparison as well.

Formula One has limited teams to running two cars, Indycar has traditionally allowed teams to run as many cars as they want. Some teams ran one, some ran as many as five or six, and that's beautiful. It's given teams the flexibility to expand and add a car if they want to, meaning that it was always theoretically possible for a big team like Penske, Ganassi, or Andretti to pick up your favorite driver.

That's going away.

All the teams in 2025 will run either two or three cars, with the small teams generally running two and the big teams generally running three. That's not fun.

And with this charter system capped at twenty-five and more inclined to shrink rather than expand, it doesn't give any flexibility for the future.

Ed Carpenter Racing could sell tomorrow to the infinite money glitch that is the Saudi Public Investment Fund, and they'd still only have their two cars available, with limited options to ever acquire a third.

Limited options to ever climb to the level of Penske and Ganassi.

Thus, it only serves to reinforce the stale duopoly that has dominated modern Indycar.

I don't want to be negative about Indycar. I want to unconditionally love this sport, I want to be excited about seeing 235 mile per hour laps at Michigan, Pocono, and Fontana, I want to see drivers cutting through the streets of Surfers Paradise and Vancouver, I want to see a classic photo finish at a Chicagoland or a Kansas.

I want to see Arrow McLaren taking the fight to Penske and Ganassi, I want to see RLL get better and bounce back on the ovals, I want to see Andretti Global come to the Indianapolis 500 with an armada of five or six cars like they used to.

I want to see competition between chassis manufacturers and engine manufacturers, I want to see cars that look fast and innovative but can still bump and bang side-by-side or protect a driver in a high-speed crash. I want a series that doesn't tuck its tail and run away the moment football season starts.

Instead, Indycar wants to be aging cars that look like crap racing around street circuits in Dallas and Denver (for the third time) with one of Will Power, Josef Newgarden, Scott McLaughlin, Scott Dixon, or Alex Palou winning.

And you don't even get the benefit of running an ancient formula because of this arbitrary limit on the number of cars. There are 60-65 Dallara DW12s in current service amongst the teams, more if we count older chasses, show cars, and rebuilt tubs, so why on Earth are we insisting on only racing twenty-five of these goddamn things?!?

I could understand if there was a new car in limited quantities, but this car is old and there are a lot of them out there, so if we can't get a new car, at least, at least, let us experience the benefit of this 13-year-old car but running as many of them as possible every race weekend.

But we don't.

The series continues to make the most mediocre decisions possible while hoping that great racing can make us forget about all their mistakes.

That doesn't really work when you have an offseason from September to March full of your bad decisions.

In other news, MotoGP made me happy with a tense battle between Jorge Martin and Enea Bastianini in the closing stages of the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix at Misano ending with Bastianini barging his way through to take his second win of the season. While in F1, Lando Norris dominated at Singapore and even managed to lead the first lap from pole position.

Baby's first good race start...I'm so proud.

NASCAR at Bristol Night also happened, but uhh...yeah, the less said about that, the better.

[123-im-writing-lol]

A lesson learned

Word count: around 4.2k YAY :D

Tw: afab reader being referred to as “woman” “good girl” etc. Meandom!matt, soft!matt at the end, brattyvigilante!reader, pet names, impact play (spanking, pussy slapping), degradation, unprotected p in v, cumming inside, praise, forced submission?, reader has daddy issues, lowkey emotionally stunted reader, possibly autistic reader (this is me we’re talking about), daddy kink, subspace, aftercare <- none of the things listed is in order :/

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

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It was supposed to be a simple mission; sneak in, get the book, and sneak back out. It wasn’t supposed to be whatever the hell this is.

A shitshow, would probably be the best way to put it.

“Sneaking” back out became running and fighting for your life against who knows how many armed men were guarding the building.

You shouldn’t have gone in alone, but you wanted to prove him wrong. He always underestimates you, thinks you can’t handle stuff. You can handle stuff! He just won’t let you! Daredevil. Or rather your boyfriend, Matt Murdock. Says he just wants you to be safe, but he takes things too far! He practically babies you as if you aren’t a fully capable person. He isn’t the only one that’s been doing this vigilante stuff for years.

Tonight was just… a slip up. Your head wasn’t in the right place, no big deal! It’s not your fault his voice was in the back of your mind reminding you to wait for him, only further goading you into doing otherwise. You dont need to wait for him, you’ve got this.

But again, it turned out that you didn’t have this. Not when there’s a gun pointed at your head. If it wasn’t for Daredevil showing up and chucking his billy club at the guys head, knocking him unconscious, you’d be dead.

Your body visibly sags with relief when the assailant goes down, but your relief doesn’t last long when your gaze shifts to your savior. Shoulders taut, chest heaving, fists clenched… he’s pissed. It’s understandable, given the fact that you did exactly what he said not to do and almost ended up in an early grave.

Silence stretches between the two of you for longer than you were comfortable with, only the sound of your panting echoing in the dingy room can be heard. You weren’t sure if you should speak, wondering if it’d anger the man before you even more.

“…we should probably get outta here–“

“You didn’t listen.”

More silence.

“…what-?”

“You didn’t. Listen.” He repeats himself, slowly turning to face you. Normally the sight of him in his getup gets you going, but in this moment you can’t help but feel pity for any of the criminals that cross him. The broken lights overhead cast an eerie shadow around him, emphasizing the little horns on his head.

“…we don’t have time for this, we need to leave–“

It takes him a mere two seconds to cross the distance between you two, towering over you with his lips curled up in a snarl.

“You didn’t fucking listen to me. I told you to wait, to let me help you, and what do you do? You deliberately disobey me!”

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy. Despite his intimidating demeanor, his words cause a flicker of anger to rise within you. Who does he think he is?

“Disobey you?! Who are you, my father? I’m a grown woman, D!”

“I might as well be, given how you’re acting like a petulant child that doesn’t know how to do what she’s told!”

Clenching your jaw you shoot him the hardest glare you can muster. “You know what? Screw you.” Turning and making your way to the exit you fling the door open, intent on leaving him behind. If he wants to be an asshole then he can be an asshole, just not around you.

Immediately the autumn chill lingering in the night air nips at any exposed skin, causing goosebumps to break out across your body. You ignore the shiver that runs through you, starting the trek home.

Normally you and Matt would use this time to talk, flirting or bantering with each other before going your separate ways. But not tonight, you don’t even want to look at him.

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

Climbing in through your window you sigh heavily, ready for tonight to be over. The warm air of your apartment greets you like a hug, allowing you to relax just a little bit. You’ve just barely managed to take off your boots when you’re forced up against the closest wall. Your hands instinctively go to defend yourself, assuming someone’s here to hurt you, only for you to stop in your tracks when your eyes scan the familiar figure holding you there.

“Ugh-! What the hell?!”

His forearm presses firmly into your collar bones, rendering you unable to move. Before you can say anything more your lips are being smothered by his, the action catching you off guard.

“Mmph-!”

The kiss is rough and clumsy, teeth clashing and saliva smearing across your mouths. You’re usually not happy with unexpected kisses, even on a good day. You manage to roughly shove him back, putting some distance between you two.

“Get off of me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me? Take a wild fucking guess sweetheart.” He spits sarcastically, reaching up and yanking his helmet off before tossing it aside. He steps closer, finger pointed in your face. “I told you not to–“

Smacking his hand away, you cut him off. “Don’t lecture me–“ but just as you did to him, he doesn’t allow you to finish.

“Be quiet. For once in your goddamn life just listen to me.” His voice is firm, demanding even, enough to render you silent. Nostrils flaring, you stare up at him expectantly.

Seemingly satisfied by your cooperation, he continues. “…I told you not to go in there alone. I told you to wait for me. I told you to be smart. You almost died. Do you hear me? He was going to kill you, and if I hadn’t been there-“ He can’t bring himself to say the words, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth.

“Okay yeah, fine, you saved me and I was stupid for going in alone. Is that what you wanna hear?!”

“Ugh, it isn’t about what I want to hear! It’s about you doing exactly what I told you not to do and endangering yourself in the process!” He argues. You don’t respond, unsure of what to say. He is right… kind of, but it’s still his fault. Plus he doesn’t need to be so rude about it…

As if sensing he isn’t getting anywhere with you he straightens his posture, a blank look crossing his face. “…get undressed.”

…You’re absolutely baffled. Maybe you heard him wrong.

“…what-?”

“Get. Undressed.” He repeats, voice steady and leaving no room for argument. You know what he’s doing. He’s going to use sex to break you down, get you to agree with him, admit you’re wrong, but that isn’t gonna happen. You’re stubborn by nature, and when you’re frustrated it only increases tenfold.

Still… it’s been too long since you’ve slept together, and the idea of what he has in store is enough for a flicker of excitement to stir in your tummy. Okay, maybe you will have sex, but you won’t agree with him. In fact, you’re gonna make things harder for him.

With a newfound confidence you say those two words that have become a staple in the bedroom, the two words that always set the mood for what’s in store.

“…Make me.”

For a moment he doesn’t react, his sightless eyes staring in your general direction. He then nods, his demeanor calm and composed. A mere second later you’re being tossed over his shoulder, a startled gasp being ripped from your throat.

“Matt-! Put me down!” You demand, kicking your legs and pounding your fists against his back, your head beginning to spin from the awkward angle.

Smack!

You jolt, body frozen with shock as it registers the stinging sensation on the back of your thigh. It hurt. Hurt more than usual, enough to keep you quiet.

Matt’s no stranger to your less than obedient nature. He’s a patient man, using soft words and gentle caresses to ease you into being good. At least, that’s how it usually goes. Tonight’s different. He’s fed up, and he’s through with being patient.

He drops you onto your mattress, an undignified “oof!” getting knocked out of you. He then lowers himself to sit next to you, casually pulling you over his lap. Immediately sensing his intentions you begin to squirm, your face flushing. But his hold is firm, you’re not going anywhere.

You wouldn’t even be able to count on your hands the amount of times he’s had you pulled over his lap. It’s one of your shared favorites regarding bedroom fun. Though right now you know it’s going to be anything but.

The deep rumble of his voice causes you to stop squirming. “Here’s how this is going to work. You seem intent on being a disobedient brat, so I’m going to treat you like one. The more you struggle, the more I hurt you. Do you understand?”

Huffing indignantly, you decide not to respond… that is, until he lands a harsh slap to your bottom.

“I said, do you understand?” To your dismay, the thickness of your pants don’t do much to lessen the sting.

“Yes!” You snap, annoyance clear as day. That’s okay, Matt knows you’ll be a whining mess soon.

“Good girl.” Embarrassingly enough, the praise causes your heart to flutter, just as it always does. Despite being angry with you, and wanting to punish you, you’re still his baby at the end of the day.

Hands gripping the waistband of your bottoms as well as your underwear, he begins to shimmy them downward, just enough to expose your ass to him. Your face feels impossibly hot and he’s only just begun.

He begins to massage your asscheeks, squeezing the flesh in his large, calloused hands. “I tried to make this easier, you know. Told you to get naked for a reason. I was gonna bend you over my lap either way, but if you did as you were told you at least would’ve been more comfortable.” He states, a hint of condescension in his usually kind voice.

Of course. Shooting him a nasty side eye, you stay quiet. He’s dragging this out for a reason, trying to build up your anticipation. Safe to say it’s working. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you inhale a shaky breath through your nose and wait. And wait. And wait.

…smack!

The first hit has you inhaling sharply, fingers digging into the bedsheet. He’s not going to hold back. He doesn’t even bother to soothe the sting like he usually does, instead he begins to speak.

“…I care a lot about you. You know that, right?” When you don’t respond he lands another harsh smack.

“Agh-! Yes!”

“I’m glad, but I have to admit sweetheart, I’m a little confused. If you know how much I care about you, how much I love you, then why would you go and do a stupid thing like that, huh?”

Smack!

Ignoring your whimper, he continues. “The only thing I can come up with is that you don’t care. I mean, if you did care then you wouldn’t have risked your life when you didn’t need to. When you could’ve asked for my help. When you could’ve waited for me like the good girl I know you can be.” He lands three consecutive smacks to your sensitive skin, alternating between both cheeks. Fuck, you’re so turned on right now. You need him bad, and it’s obvious he needs you. You can feel his boner pressing into your side even through the thickness of his suit, proof of how much your pained cries affect him.

“Honestly angel, I’m disappointed…”

His words sting almost as much as your butt, really hitting you where it hurts. Maybe it’s the daddy issues, but you don’t like disappointing him, you like making him proud! Okay, so maybe it was selfish to do the mission alone…

His words combined with the way he’s gently massaging your skin have you debating if you should apologize. Your stomach is churning with a mix of guilt and a regret. What if you had died? It would’ve hurt him so much, especially given how many people he’s already lost…

Matt senses the slight shift in your mood, figuring you’re finally starting to understand what he’s trying to say. He can’t lose you.

But he’s still angry, and you still haven’t been taught a lesson, so you’re in for a rough night. “…you’re going to count every time I spank this pretty ass. You’re going to count, and you’re going to say you’re sorry.” He explains, as controlled as ever.

“And if I don’t?” You can’t help but snark, earning you a humorless chuckle.

“Then you aren’t going to cum.” The statement is followed by the crisp sound of his palm striking your bottom. Gritting your teeth, you try to ignore the pain blooming across your skin.

“One… sorry.”

He tsks. “Oh sweetheart, you can do better than that. If I didn’t know any better I’d say it sounds like you don’t mean it.”

“Yeah, that’s because I don’t.”

He smirks, confident in his next words. “That’s okay, you will soon enough...”

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

You end up counting to twenty, each hit landing harder than the last. By the end of it you’re sure your ass is on fire, tears streaming down your face and pitiful whimpers escaping you. If it weren’t for Matt’s firm grip on you, you surely would’ve fallen off of his lap with how much you were twitching.

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it baby?” Matt coos, thumb idly stroking your skin, enjoying the way he can feel the heat radiating off of your flesh. Shaking your head you mutter a pathetic “n-no!” having been worn down by your harsh punishment.

Matt hums thoughtfully, his fingers trailing down to prod at your opening. Your poor neglected pussy is dripping at this point, making a vulgar slick sound as he rubs up and down. His fingertips dip into your heat just enough to scoop out some more of your nectar, using it to rub slow circles against your clit.

“Ha-! Mmm…” You gasp, humming and eyes drooping as you finally get that pleasure you’ve been waiting for.

“Poor thing, need my cock so badly don’t you?” He coos.

You’re quick to nod your head, hope blossoming in your chest.

“Words.”

“Yes! Yes please!”

“Hmm…”

He’s careful in his movements, lifting you up off of him and standing, beginning to undo the zipper on his suit. Your eyes widen at the sight, quickly scrambling to lie on your back with your legs spread. It makes him chuckle.

“So eager, aren’t we?” He asks, pulling his dick out and giving it one long stroke. You can only manage to bite your lip and nod, said eagerness building. He steps closer, grabbing you by the thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. His member is resting between your pussy lips, providing you with some much needed stimulation as he slowly rolls his hips, grinding his head against your clit. You know better than to speak, not wanting to risk giving him another reason to deny you the dick that you crave so badly.

“Yeah, so fucking wet…” He whispers, seemingly to himself. “You like being punished that much?”

“Y-Yes…”

He pulls his hips back, his hand then coming down on your clit and sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Ha~!”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it!”

He clicks his tongue, teasing your entrance with the tip.

“I don’t quite believe you, bug…” Disappointment coats his words, causing tears of frustration to well in your eyes. He’s being so mean!

“Please! Please Matty! Want your dick so bad!” Angling your hips you try to pull him in, but your efforts prove fruitless.

“Yeah? You want this?”

You gasp as he pushes forward, sheathing a mere inch inside of you. Your walls flutter once again, desperate to pull him deeper.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you!”

“Tell me you’re gonna be a good girl.”

“I’m gonna be a good g-girl~!”

You cry out, finally getting what you want. He groans, nice and low as he pushes in, opening you up for him and only him.

“Fuck…”

A mere moment later he’s pulling out until only the tip is left inside, then slamming his hips against the back of your thighs as he refills you, tearing a moan from the depths of your chest.

It doesn’t take long for your bedroom to reek of sex, the sound of skin slapping and raunchy moans filling the air. Matt lowers himself on top of you, his lips by your ear.

“God, such a good pussy… so fucking tight…”

You can only cry out in response, sweat beginning to soak your overheated body.

“Just a stupid little girl, thinking she knows best…” He growls angrily, giving you a particularly harsh thrust. Your hands grip onto his back for support, nails digging into the fibers of his suit as he fucks you.

“Oh god! Matt! Matty! Please! It’s so good~!”

“Yeah? You like how I’m fucking you? I know you do. Can feel your greedy little cunt sucking me in, milking my cock.” He’s breathless at this point, the pleasure in his gut beginning to build just as it is in yours. Your needy whimpers and wanton moans turn him on endlessly, bringing him that much closer to the edge. But he won’t cum, not when his lesson isn’t over yet.

“You gonna cum? Yeah?”

He snickers when you nod, clearly desperate.

“Awww, too bad. You’re not gonna cum until I feel you deserve it.”

You go to rub your clit in retaliation but he’s fast, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mattress beside your head.

“Ah-ah-ah… I don’t think so. You try that again and you won’t be cumming for a week.” You know from past experiences that he’s serious. His thrusts stall, his shaft buried so deep you can feel him in your throat. “Tell you what, you tell me you’re sorry, you mean it, and I’ll let you cum. Does that sound fair?”

Your answer tumbles out of your mouth before you can even process it, hazy mind begging for that orgasm that’s being dangled before you. “Yes-! Yes!”

“Good, then I suggest you get to it, because I’m not gonna last much longer.” He goads, resuming his quick pace. As soon as his hand wraps itself around your throat you’re babbling.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry daddy! M’so sorry! Just wanted to make you proooud~!” Tears are streaming down your face at this point, the pleasure and guilt intertwining to form an addictive concoction.

“Aww, you wanted to make me proud?” He mocks, voice full of faux sympathy. Slowly rolling his hips, the head of his dick grinds against your cervix, rendering your mind gone. All you can focus on is him; the feeling of his hands on your body, the way his cock splits you in half, the grunts that resound in your ear…

Nodding, you whimper pitifully. “Yeah~!”

“But honey, why didn’t you just do what daddy said? You know daddy loves when you’re a good listener.” You can’t tell if the softness he’s showing you is genuine or not; if he’s making fun of you by cooing to you like you’re a child, or if he believes your words and is hoping to provide you some sense of comfort.

“Wanted to be a big girl! Wanted to be brave, and- and show you I could do it!”

He heaves a heavy sigh, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “I know sweet girl, I know…”

All of a sudden he doubles down, bracing his hands against the mattress as he pounds the life force out of you.

“Come on sweetie, cum for me. Cum for daddy.” The sudden shift in his tone has your heart aching, your throat sore from whimpering and whining as you cling to him even tighter.

Mouth agape, you’re unable to do anything other than obey. With a silent scream that knot in your tummy snaps, causing your pussy to flutter around his cock.

“Ohhhh that’s it, fuck, y’make me so proud baby… such a good girl…” He huffs, moaning lowly into your ear as his release quickly follows yours, painting the walls of your cunt with his seed.

He stays inside, giving you one more pump of his hips in hopes of stuffing his semen deeper, claiming you as his. The both of you twitch from the aftermath of your orgasms, panting heavily as you come down from your highs.

Eventually he pulls out, removing his daredevil suit and heading to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a wet washcloth and some lotion. Taking his time he gently cleans up the mess of your combined fluids in silence, smiling softly at the way you jolt and whimper at the sensitivity. Once you’re clean he rolls you over, carefully applying lotion to your sore bottom.

“…I really am sorry.” You whisper, swallowing nervously when you feel his hand pause. But you continue. “I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t careful, just wanted to prove I could do it.”

He sighs, setting the lotion aside and climbing into bed next to you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you’re fully capable of doing things on your own, you’re a strong girl.” He reaches down and begins to massage your scalp, a vulnerable look on his face. “Strong, and brave, and smart… I just want you to be safe. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

Instead of responding verbally you climb into his lap, hugging him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest and savoring the sound of your heartbeat. You’ve never been the best with words, with comforting people, so you hope your actions are able to make up for that.

“…my butt really hurts.”

A weak attempt at lightening the mood, but it works nonetheless. Matt chuckles, rubbing a hand up and down your back before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“I’m sorry, did I get too carried away?”

You think about it, wondering if he really did get carried away and you forgot to use your safe word, or if you’re just having confusing feelings post sex. You’ve always had difficulties with your emotions, and with noticing things until it’s too late.

“…I don’t think so. I probably should’ve said yellow, but I was too stuck in my head. I don’t think I do good with spankings unless you comfort me.” You explain earnestly.

Matt nods. “Good to know. Thank you for being honest. I should’ve checked in with you, I’m sorry about that.” Guilt laces his words, causing you to jump to assure him.

“It’s fine, I don’t really care.”

He sighs, recognizing the way you attempt to emotionally distance yourself in hopes of pleasing him. “Alright, but it would be fine if you did care too. You can get upset at me just like I can get upset at you… I still love you, and you still love me.” He softly reassures, taking on that borderline fatherly role you’re all too familiar with.

Internally hoping to avoid continuing the conversation regarding negative feelings, you decide to respond with:

“…I really liked when you called me a stupid little girl.”

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

Later that night you’re curled up against Matt’s chest, watching the slow rise and fall of it as he sleeps. Sleeping never came easy to you, so it isn’t uncommon that Matt would fall asleep first. Your eyes scan his features as best as they can in the dark; making out the outline of his nose, the subtle definition on his chest, the bump of his shoulder. He’s pretty… you love him… you feel bad. Darn it, you feel bad. Yes you apologized, but you could’ve sounded more sincere, he poured his heart out to you and you responded like a middle schooler would. You’re tempted to wake him up so you can apologize properly, promise him that you won’t do anything stupid that could risk your life again, promise to in fact be more careful from now on. But that might upset him more. He had a rough night, he must be really tired, and—

“Why’re you still awake sweetheart?”

The familiar sound of his raspy, sleep filled voice sends your heart skipping, a small gasp slipping from between your lips.

“-! Oh, I uh, I’m just… thinking.”

He hums thoughtfully. “…’bout what?”

You subconsciously snuggle closer to him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair on his broad chest. “…m’sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you already apologized–“

“But I’m really sorry!” You’re quick to cut him off, needing to get this off of your chest. “I shouldn’t have done it and then when you were talkin’ to me about it I didn’t know how to comfort you so I was sayin’ dumb stuff!”

He sighs at your ramble, reaching a hand up to rub at his sleepy eyes. “Angel it’s okay, I know you aren’t the best with stuff like that. I already forgave you.”

“…I promise to be more careful, and to listen better.”

Shaking his head affectionately, he kisses your forehead, knowing it’s best to just roll with it. “Thank you sweetie.”

“…you’re not mad?” You ask hesitantly, still feeling the need to get reassurance from him. You hate when he’s mad at you…

“No, no baby I promise, daddy’s not mad at you, it’s okay.” He soothes, knowing it’s exactly what you need to hear.

Authors note:

Hopefully tumblr doesn’t hide this fic 🙏 this was so hard guys, you have no idea. This is my longest fic yet and it was so annoying cause why is it so hard to keep writing instead of just ending it? Still, practice :p and yes I did end it shortly because I couldn’t take it anymore and I needed to post it :3

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

The grand race

Alright, first Mirage fic !! *Cracks knuckles* Lets do this. Word count:1K

Mirage lived for adventure even back on cybertron. He would always get up to antics which would have pissed off the prime leader back then. Now on earth, it was his personal playground, He would always toy around with the police in chases, Doing the best stunts he could do. But he always wanted to do more.

One day as he was cruising around the city, He parked nearby just to watch the city go by. He then saw two friends walk up to each other and have a quick chat before one said. "You still down for the race tonight ??"

"Yep, I also heard that they jackpoted the prize to a $1000" The other said enthusiastically.

"Woah..." That was all he needed when he started to zoom back to the makeshift HQ, You were busy helping Optimus and Bumblebee setting everything up when you heard the familiar revving.

"Hey y/n !!" He transformed and kneeled to your height, eager to tell you the news. "Guess what I heard today ?? Your gonna love it"

'What's up ??' You stopped what you were doing and gave him your full attention.

"I heard these guys in the city talking about a race that's happening tonight"

"Oh yeah, They do those almost every year now"

"Really ?? We should go !!"

But before you could give your answer, a familiar prime's voice boomed. "Absolutely not Mirage, We need to remain undercover and away from prying eyes, Drawing attention to yourself will only cause more damage then good" He said, bee whirred in laughter and soon the radio flicked to an audio of the Nelson Muntz... "HA HA !!"

"You must promise me to stay away from that race" Optimus said firmly.

"Yeah yeah sure, I'll stay very well away so far away... Dude don't leave me with these tightasses bro, We'd make a great team" Mirage whispered to you pleadingly.

"Mirage you heard what Optimus said, I'm not doing a race just so you can get kick out of it" You frowned to him.

"But what about for friendship ??" He said, making you raise an eyebrow in dissapointment.

"Ah or or or what about for cash ??"

You looked up at him. "How much are we talking ??"

"$1000, I can get that to you easy"

Now what you could do with $1000, ooooooh you could buy that new games console that just went on a market. You looked at Optimus who was helping Bee before back at Mirage.

"Ok, I'm in" You nodded.

So later in the night, the two of you went out. Heading to the start of the course where all the racer's would line up. You got out as you heard rap music playing on full blast, People catching up and taking selfies. You saw a dude with a clipboard standing nearby, Taking down the names of another person who arrived before you.

"Guess that's our ticket in" You closed the door and went up to him. "Hey, I wanna enter the race"

"Awesome, What car are we racing with ??"

"The Porsche behind me" You nodded to Mirage.

He nodded and took down your name as well. "Alright, your in kid"

"Thanks" You headed back to Mirage and got inside. "Ok remember, we need to make this look natural so nobody notices something's off ok ??" You reminded him of the rules.

"Don't worry, your boy's got this" Even in car form, you could tell Mirage had a huge smirk on his face.

You lined up, Eyeing the competition. some had modified cars ranging from old to new. They took this seriously.

"This'll be easy" Mirage chimed in, revving his engine as he got into place. "Relax"

You nodded as you gripped the steering wheel, Watching someone walk to the middle with the chequered flag, signalling the race was about to start. The contestants around you started to rev up their cars as the flag was raised, and then with the swish downwards, Tires skidded on the road and soon everyone was off.

"Come on Mirage !!" You cheered as you made pretend movements on the drivers seat.

"'scuse me 'scuse me'" He chuckled softly as he passed some contestants with breeze.

But some were proving to be a little bit of a challenge, like we said, some were modified specifically for this race. Mirage grumbled as he attempted to pass some of them. "Move over !!"

The driver in one car could only chuckle and pressed the nitro, picking up speed.

"Damn it !!" You pushed the pedal to the medal, and Mirage began to speed up, pushing a little more and sped past the guy, blowing dust in his face.

"WOOHOO !!!"

The first lap was done, Just gotta keep up the momentum. "Let's kick some aft !!" Mirage cheered.

You cleaned up the second lap, But on the third, one of the contestants began to kick it up a notch. Mirage was cruising along when he felt that he wasn't ahead anymore. "Huh ??"

You watched as one of the contestants sped past you, This car looked like it went through hell and back on the performance.

"Shit !! Come on we got this !!" You reminded.

Mirage was determined, as determined as ever to win this. He tried to speed up as best as he could, Tires burning every drift. The other driver wasn't giving up as well, Both of you pushing the pedal to the medal as the finish line was nearing. The crowd cheered as the two of you crossed, Mirage made a total stop. "Did we win ??"

"I'm not sure ??" You got out of the car, asking the racer. "Yo what's going on ??"

"Beats me" He shrugged.

Because it was such a close call, Some people had to review the footage on their phones just to see who touched the finish line first, You waited for almost 5 minutes before one nodded and shouted. "It was the Porsche !!" Making everyone cheer.

"YEAH !!" You were so goddamn happy, Mirage was so goddamn happy, Oh screw it you were both so goddamn happy.

Others watched as you showed off from mirage and as promised, you were awarded the $1000. You drove off soon after.

"Holy shit that was incredible !! Did you see the guys face !!??"

"Oh, he was so mad !!" Mirage was so happy. "We gotta do that again sometime.

"Maybe... Just maybe" You smirked. You made your debut, a race or two never hurt anyone.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[pedroshotwifey]

Ok, random idea for drabble:

Overprotective girldad! Frankie

He and the guys get together to size up/intimidate the guy coming by to pick up his daughter for a date. 😅

Okay I'm really kind of loving this idea 🤣

Think I had way too much fun with it!

W/C: 660

Overprotective girldad!Frankie (G)

They could be doing anything right now. Bowling, flying, fishing, hiking, shooting pool, drinking—well, you get the idea. They could be doing anything on this cool Friday night, but the former Delta Team boys are sitting around the island in Frankie’s cramped kitchen, waiting for his daughter’s date to show up. 

“Frankie,” Benny speaks up for the group. “You have got to give her some slack, dude.” 

The glare Frankie sends the younger man’s way makes the rest of the guys glad Benny said it first. Benny—being Benny—doesn’t get the hint. 

“I mean, c’mon, she’s nineteen.” He tosses another handful of peanuts into his mouth, continuing his risky  and unwanted opinion with a mouth full of food. “And a grown adult.” 

For the sake of his good friend, Frankie pretends not to hear and goes back to scoping out his front lawn through the living room window. He peers out the temporary crack he’s made in the blinds for another couple of minutes, and then suddenly jumps away. 

“Little shit’s finally here,” Frankie grumbles as he walks past the group, glancing at his watch. “Minute and a half late.” He marches to the front door. 

Knowing that’s their queue to follow, the men eye each other before sliding off the barstools and gathering around their paranoid friend. It would be comical to see Frankie so worked up over this kid if he weren’t so serious about it. He’s absolutely convinced that there is no boy out there good enough for his little girl, and there is not a breathing soul on this earth that could change his mind. 

So they huddle up in their most intimidating stance, Santi to the left of Frankie, Benny to the right, and Will behind and between Frankie and Ben. If for no other reason than to make sure Frankie doesn’t give off “Little Man Syndrome” energy all by himself, they puff their chests, stand tall, and put on stern faces. 

The poor kid doesn’t even get to knock before Frankie pulls the door open. One glance at the guys, and he looks about ready to piss his pants—which really only proves Frankie’s point. 

“M-Mr. Morales?” The kid squeaks, doing his damndest to only focus on Frankie, and holds his hand out to shake. “I’m Tyler, here to pick your daughter up for—” he stutters when Frankie raises a brow— “for our date.” 

Frankie stares for a second, and the kid—Tyler—just about breaks down. 

“I-I mean, not our date, but y-your daughter’s. O-obviously. And mine—me and your daughter, our date.” 

Santi glances at Will, who is already side-eyeing Santi. That look conveys exactly what they’re both thinking: someone should really put this guy out of his misery. Luckily, Charlotte appears at the top of the stairs at that exact moment. 

“Oh my god, Dad!” She bursts out. “Stop making Tyler feel weird!” 

And it’s like a switch is flipped in Frankie. He turns around, smile bright on his face for his daughter. None of the guys are phased—this is how these things usually go. 

“Of course I’m not, sweetheart! Tyler and I actually just finished up a great conversation.” He turns back to the boy, still cheery. “Isn’t that right, sport?” 

Tyler, who looks like he should probably drink some water, quickly nods. “Yes, absolutely,” he agrees. 

Charlotte scoffs, not totally buying it, and quickly hurries the rest of the way downstairs. Before she reaches the torture circle at the front doorway, Frankie smiles one last time at Tyler. 

“Hurt her, and see what happens,” he says, just loudly enough for the kid to hear, and in a tone that would sound joking to anybody else. 

A hug for his daughter and a (possibly too aggressive) pat on the shoulder for Tyler later, the kids are headed down the driveway, one a tad more stiff than the other. 

“Be back by nine,” Frankie calls after them. 

Will glances at the clock and sighs. It’s 8:12pm. 

[hms-no-fun]

i have an intense love/hate with godfeels because it is beautifully written but it also makes me viscerally uncomfortable. something something disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed probably. engaging with that discomfort teaches me more about myself and is definitely worth it for something like godfeels. any advice for constructively engaging with media that Pisses You Off, by no fault of the creator? what would you say to your haters in good-faith, if you could?

well, to be fair i have said plenty to my haters in good faith previously, but that was a very direct response. if you and i were having a polite conversation amongst the two of us, my first question would be "how far did you get?" godfeels has been going for six years now (!!!), and it's gone through many phases in that time. i'm at a point now in my life where if someone tells me gf2 didn't click with them, i'll probably nod and say "yeah it's rough around the edges, there's a lot of stuff i'd do differently today." the most vocal contingent of haters i've ever gotten were the handful of people who dipped at gf2.2 when june got superdrunk and accidentally murdered a bunch of people, assuming the story was going to be about how cool and based that decision was. anyone who's actually read gf2 to completion should find that misconception laughable. it also makes a difference if you finished gf2 and stopped there, or started 3.1 and fell off, or if you got through chapter 8 and fell off, or if you're currently reading Double Album. each of those is a slightly different conversation with its own pros and cons. whether or not i'd try to talk someone into continuing their read depends entirely on those questions (and also how self-confident i'm feeling in the moment).

i guess i would say to someone who is not enjoying godfeels that they should stop reading godfeels. it's an extremely heavy story that digs into a wide variety of traumatic subject matter. it is also deeply personal in a lot of ways, which is perhaps a weird fit for a Homestuck fanfiction. so i can understand someone from the wider fandom hearing about godfeels as "the June Egbert fic" being disappointed that it's not fluff. i've documented in the past how gf2 emerged out of my dissatisfaction with the image of "Hairclips June," whose transition exists off screen and whose acceptance by her friends is an obvious expectation. i kind of feel bad for how that shook out in the long term since, between the lengthy hiatus of hs2 and the broader strangulation of the post-canon movement during the pandemic, the canonical "Hairclips June" story (or at least "June Who Doesn't Suffer 100% Consequences" story) doesn't seem to exist. i don't mean literally canonical, i mean "seeped into the fandom's collective unconscious" canonical, like Detective Pony. there are plenty of fanworks that do a good or at least interesting job with June, but they're not *about* June in quite the same way godfeels is. it's entirely possible that such a thing DOES exist and IS popular (i freely admit to being out of touch with modern fanworks), but for better or worse godfeels still seems to be the thing that comes up most often-- and not always in a positive light.

for a while now i've been working on an "Author's Introduction" which on the surface is an attempt to contextualize the phases of godfeels for new readers, but in actuality is more of a history of/commentary on the post-2019 fandom and the so-called "Homestuck Renaissance." i see this as necessary because godfeels is an extension of that moment, in particular the loudly recuperative pro-Vriska boosters and their exquisitely galaxy-brained VrisRezi meta. then gf3.1 responded to the fandom backlash, chapter 8 responded to my experience watching every foundation of my post-transition life crumble during the pandemic, and then Double Album is an exploration of building yourself and community back up in the aftermath of tragedy.

it's not that this context is necessary to understand or appreciate godfeels, just that i think it helps put things in perspective. when i started gf1, i hadn't written fiction in nearly 7 years. today, the series is sitting just shy of the 500,000 word mark. at every step of the process, the quality and ambition of my writing has increased exponentially. there's a reason i've written Double Album as a jumping-on point for new readers-- besides being better in virtually every way that matters to me, it's also largely shorn free of the baggage that can make godfeels a hard sell for folks. whether or not it actually SUCCEEDS as a jumping on point is another conversation entirely.

so i guess all of that is to say, if we were having a private conversation just the two of us, i freely admit that godfeels is a wildly disjointed story on top of being extreme and often emotionally masochistic. i am proud of this work from start to finish, but it fundamentally is the process of its authorship in a way that a thoroughly drafted and edited novel simply isn't. i used to publish chapters the instant they felt done to me, with only minimal revisions. these days i let chapters bake a lot longer and put much more thought into how they fit into the larger whole. i kinda miss the old way but the new way results in much better work.

i'd be curious to hear what exactly it is that Pisses You Off about godfeels, and why you nevertheless feel it's a worthwhile reading experience. you ask me for advice on how to constructively engage with media that pisses you off, but i don't have any because in general i don't engage with media that pisses me off. i stopped reading fanworks after 2020 because everything that survived seemed to cater only to the sector of the fandom that harassed my friends out of their jobs and platforms. i found their interpretations/extensions of canon lacking, their tendency for straightforward fluff rather grating. i COULD have made that everyone else's problem, but what would be the point? i wasn't the target audience. i didn't enjoy the work, so i stopped reading it. i'd rather move on to media i enjoy than suffer through media i don't.

BUT. there's a fine line here, because it actually takes a lot to Piss Me Off. i don't really believe in rules or standards in art as Inviolable Laws Of Nature. my measure of whether something is good has a lot less to do with its inherent quality and a lot more to do with the balance between intention and execution. it rarely matters how amateur something is, if it meaningfully accomplishes the thing it set out to do then i'll probably like it (or at least respect it). i look for expressions of authenticity, moments where the artist and the medium are in perfect sync. there are plenty of critically praised pretty-looking movies and games with big production values that i don't particularly like. sometimes that's because they're a naked moneymaking enterprise disguised as art. sometimes it's a problem of too many cooks in the kitchen. and then sometimes an artist is just full of shit and doesn't really know what the hell they're talking about (i like to call these people "Californians"). mostly, i just embrace that art-making and art-viewing are inherently subjective experiences, and i find little value in numbered rating systems of any kind.

a lot of my favorite movies and albums underwhelmed me my first time through. they challenged me in a way that i at first interpreted as incompetence, but have come to see as brilliance. there's stuff i found alienating in high school and early 20s that i find deeply relatable in my 30s. as a film student i've had so many conversations with so many people who have wildly different takes on the same movie that i've completely given up on the idea that anyone is an objective arbiter of what's good and what isn't. the only real thing is if it works and if it works for you. i search for the best in everything, because at the end of the day i'm just here for the love of the game and i don't much enjoy hating things. for media to really Piss Me Off, to elicit a genuine I Hate You response, it has to be more than just, like, poorly edited or whatever. it has to embody a repulsive worldview, be a tool of jingoistic propaganda, or otherwise act as an extension of corporate greed and wealth extraction. these days i reserve my hatred for that which has connection to real Power and exerts a mass cultural Influence, or that otherwise blindly reproduces the same problems.

i think it's far easier to critically engage with work you don't like when you search for the things that work, rather than the things that don't. when it works, when it really clicks, you see what they were going for, and only with that perspective can you see why what doesn't work doesn't work. all i ever ask is for readers to take my stuff as it is, good and bad, and judge it on those terms. i find your use of "comforts the disturbed, disturbs the comfortable" funny and fitting. art that wants to be for everyone is art that cannot be for anyone. it is a perfectly round grey sphere that all who gaze upon it can agree "exists" and "succeeds at what it's trying to do." good art is imperfect, because it is the result of a perspective you may not share. i've never wanted to make art for the masses. i want to make the kinds of things that i wished existed when i was younger. there are a surprising number of people who feel that godfeels positively affected their lives, and i know that i have very little to do with that. godfeels is an object that exists in the world. i had ideas of what it was when i wrote it, but i can't control what anyone else sees no matter how much digital ink i spill trying to explain my original vision. if it truly comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable, then on some level i must have succeeded in what i was trying to do even if the path to getting there was spotty and rough.

i did the best i could at every stage of writing godfeels. i would do things differently today, but i also wouldn't be here at all if i'd done it differently back then. i try to extend this grace to other artists as much as possible, that we're all just figuring it out as we go along. but i also know that everyone goes to art for different things, and finds value in different aspects of its expression. really, all i ever want is to have a conversation about the object without the looming specter of Respectability Politics and Moral Hazards. it's when people start acting like godfeels is Dangerous, and that i'm dangerous by extension, that i start having opinions about where critics are fucking up. tell me what it does or fails to do. point at the text and show me you've read and comprehended it by citing your sources and arguing through the text instead of around it. absolutely fuck off with the moral hand-wringing about Transgender Representation and Glorifying Violence and Perpetuating Toxic Stereotypes. it's a fucking Homestuck fanfiction, for god's sake.

but anyway you're not doing that, so, good job! i'm glad you find the experience of reading godfeels illuminating even if it pisses you off. i hope you found this lengthy answer enlightening, and maybe a bit annoying also. consistency is key, or so they say

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Adorned by stars | Changing States

When he hits the I-70, Jeremiah slots George Michael’s Faith into his ’98 Accord and drives with the windows down. His mother would chide him for two reasons: a) he’s wasting fuel and b) it’s begun to storm. But he likes the way the wind shears through his hair like a nail breaking drywall and he likes the way spats of rain settle on his skin like constellations because on the road, he isn’t just a hand for someone else to hold, a body to handle, a man who looks at another man and fears how much of himself he’s lost in his reflection. No. On the road he is the sky, adorned by stars of his own making, relentless in his abundance, blinking in the absence of any other light.

A little Changing States aesthetic & excerpt!

i'm so normal about him i'm so normal i'm so normal i'm so-

[attractthecrows]

brooo i hate having Dreams That Piss You Off i woke up all pissed off at NOTHIIINNNNNGGGGG

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[alex-just-vibing]

what if i vaguepost (not that vaguely) about a random reddit post i saw about one of my favorite bands. what then

[seaofreverie]

So I wanted to apply to the second level of studies at the university where I did my bachelors degree after a year long break and it was lowkey my only plan for the forseeable future (2 more years of studying until I have to start thinking again about what in the actual fuck I want to be doing with my life). And today I learn that despite me passing the final exam one year ago with 100% points and them saying on their website that results from last year will be taken into account during this year's recruitation for the second level... it turns out that no, you have to pass the exam THIS year, and those start in about two weeks from now. I emailed them about this because they were giving me some contradicting information to put it mildly and they tell me that ooops, sorry about that, that thing on our website was outdated. So, you're saying that you have chosen war.

[larryrickard]

i had a dream that i made little cards that say "THEY!" on them that i handed out to people at work who got my pronouns wrong, immediately after they got it wrong. and in smaller text (or on the back) it said "i don't want an apology, i want you to do better" or "don't say you're sorry, DO BETTER" and ..... i kind of want to do it. maybe i'll get some moo cards made lmao

various scenarios included:

me slamming it down on a desk in front of them.

instead i had stickers, would slowly peel one off while they watched, and stick it on it on them.

handing out a quarter sheet piece of paper based on the 'i caught being good' tags we'd get in kindergarten which said 'i got caught misgendering hallie/my coworker'. it would have their name and date on it and a giant 🙁 face. i had them as a pad of paper and would hold up a finger to say 'wait a second', dramatically pull it out of my back pocket, take my pen out of another pocket, slowly fill it out in front of them, and hand it to them while staring them in the eyes.

getting a whiteboard for the outer side of my cubicle wall that said '[days] since i was misgendred' (with a bonus by saying 'last offender: [name]'

i also dreamt that i got into trouble for it because i was making people feel bad and was 'creating a hostile work environment'. i was just like.... okay and how do you think i feel? and my boss shut up real fuckin quick. dunno if that would be the case irl but if that does happen i can only dream.

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰