#Round engines forever baby

[suriel]

I am watching a show about a DC-4 and it is giving me extreme round-engine feels.

Perhaps one day I shall tell the story of how I crossed the Alps twice in this very craft:

Would anyone enjoy that?

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {10}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The heat of Qatar packs a punch and causes drama but nothing like what happens when the race ends. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, reader illness WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One

Round Eighteen - Qatar GP

“Goddamn this place is hot. I’m sweating my tits off.”

“Are you?” Lando chuckled. “‘cause they still look good to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his flirty wink and continued to try to fan yourself as you scanned your pass at the entrance. “Fuck, this has to be some crime, it’s inhumane to make us race in this heat. How the hell are you wearing a hoodie?”

“It’s comfortable.”

You couldn’t even fathom a response as you stared at Charles, but he just shrugged with a smile and said, “He’ll take it off for the ice bath.”

Your enthusiasm perked at the idea of both a shirtless Lando and submerging into the cold water. Except you knew you would be in your own motorhome where your ice bath was prepped, not able to enjoy the view in McLaren or Ferrari.

“Are you going to be okay in there, mon amour?” Charles asked as they stopped outside your destination. Neither of your boyfriends were happy with leaving you alone, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Lance all week and assumed his father was to thank for that. His son had been absolutely slated online after the video went viral, now he kept a low profile.

“I can handle the big baby,” you said with a nod, cursing the laws that stopped you from kissing them both. “Go, before I get us arrested.”

Lando’s lip curved up into a smirk. “Didn’t we give you enough attention this morning to last a few hours?”

“Non, mon cher,” Charles laughed. “Our sweet will never have enough.”

You hated how your blood began to rush faster from a few whispered words, and they continued to tease you as they went on their way.

“Remember to hydrate, Spitfire.”

You pressed the button on your steering console and nearly gagged as warm water filled your mouth. It was an effort to swallow but you forced the liquid down knowing you were losing much more from your body through sweat. Your suit was drenched and your eyes stung when even the balaclava couldn’t keep your forehead dry and the sweat ran into your eyes.

“I’m having words with Russell after the race, we can’t drive like this,” you complained again.

“I’m sure he will have a few drivers with the same issue. Sargeant is retiring from the race.”

You lapped the Williams car as it limped slowly into the pits but you couldn’t spare a thought for the rookie as your vision started to blur again. Shaking your head violently, you recovered your focus in time for turn one and throttled through it. Another lap down, too many more to go.

Your head was hazy, and your sight wasn’t much better. You were fairly sure it was muscle memory that kept the car on the track as you didn’t really remember the last few laps after your water ran dry. In all honesty you may not have realised the race was over if it wasn’t for Charles slowing down ahead of you. For a moment you thought you were gaining on him but you weren’t that lucky.

“What were the results?” you panted as you followed Charles on the warm down lap, running over the marbling and ignoring the system settings you didn’t have the energy to enter.

“Verstappen, Piastri, Norris, Russell, Leclerc, you. Nice job.”

“And Stroll?” The lap seemed to be going on forever as you took each turn at a snail's pace. You were hot and itching to get out of the seat that was most definitely burning your asscheeks.

“P11.”

You pulled into the pits and the engine stalled as you failed to disengage it properly. The failsafes clicked in and you fumbled for the harness as the need for fresh air almost suffocated you. Your mouth was too dry and the taste of metal coated your tongue. You didn’t even have the strength to climb over the halo and just slid down to the asphalt.

It took every ounce of will power to stand upright with the intention of making your way to Charles. But, as soon as you were upright it was as if all the blood drained from your brain and it was too heavy to hold up. You tried to take a step towards the ambulances that had arrived but when your foot lifted, the world tipped into darkness.

Lando searched the crowd as he stepped out onto the podium and waved proudly at his third podium in three races. He had seen Charles before being sequestered to the cool down room but hadn’t caught sight of you. Now he couldn’t find either as he scanned his team's area.

“Can you see them?” he asked Max beside him.

“No, but I saw Charles heading to her car before we left. Relax, she’s probably just chosen an ice bath over you.”

Lando snickered. “I won’t take it personally, I’m fucking cooking here.”

It was Jon who pulled him aside the instant his shoes hit the bottom step at the back of the podium. Lando knew something was wrong the moment he saw the worry etched on his PT’s face. “Max, you should come too,” Jon stated, his hand wringing together. “It’s your sister.”

Jon quickly recounted how you had collapsed from exhaustion trying to get to the ambulance in parc ferme. Charles had reached you first and then they had taken you straight to the medical centre, which was where Lando and Max were racing towards.

The medical centre was busier than either man had ever seen it and they passed Ocon and Sargeant looking a little worse for wear. Both looked up from their narrow cots in a curtained area but it was Logan who pointed to the door to a more private space.

“She’s in there,” he said softly. “They’re about to transfer her to the hospital. Sorry. Thin walls.”

“Appreciate it,” Lando nodded, skipping to catch up to Max as he pushed the door wide open.

“Zusje…”

Lando froze as he saw Charles sitting beside you, his hand holding yours carefully to avoid the IV that was pumping fluids back into you. Your race suit had been cut away and cooling blankets enveloped you as they worked to bring your core temperature back down into the safe range.

“I thought she fainted?” Lando murmured as he stepped closer and into the space Charles made between his legs, laws be damned. He placed his hand over yours, lacing his fingers between Charles as he sat on his knee.

“Her blood sugar was way down,” Charles said, his voice struggling to remain steady as he pointed to one of the bags connected to the IV. “Severe dehydration, hyperthermia. They are sending her to the hospital for monitoring, just waiting for the helicopter to arrive.”

“A helicopter,” Max frowned. “That’s not normal, right?”

“No,” Charles whispered before swallowing deeply and holding Lando tighter. “There’s something else that showed up in her blood test, mon cher.”

Lando twisted to see Charles as his voice broke. “What?”

Max circled the bed and reached for the papers that were still hanging from the machine that had since been turned off. “She’s pregnant too?”

Charles looked down and nodded, Lando’s spine stiffening at the news before he stood up and snatched the pictures from Max’s hands. His empty hands balled into fists and it was only your body in the bed that kept him from jumping over and tackling your boyfriends to the ground. “Which one of you klootzakken knocked her up?”

“It was an accident,” Charles said as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Lando’s waist. “The doctor thinks she’s about 12 weeks along, but he wants the maternity unit at the hospital to check them.”

“She’s been racing,” Lando murmured, still in a state of disbelief. “She could have crashed.”

“She didn’t know,” Max growled under his breath. “How could she not know?”

The doors opened and three heads turned to see the FIA Director walking in, his eyes taking in the scene. “Good, you are all here.”

Max turned his anger to the Director who had clearly been debriefed on the situation. “How could you let her race in her condition? She got randomly tested in Singapore.”

“We test for drugs, Mr Verstappen, not pregnancy. General health check ups fall on the teams, any further questions should be directed to Aston Martin.”

More footsteps came down the hall and a nurse came with the news that the helicopter had arrived. Charles bent down and kissed your forehead, your skin still too hot on his lips. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

Only family were allowed in the helicopter and there wasn’t enough space for everyone so Max ended up flying while Charles and Lando broke every speed limit on the road to reach the hospital. 

“She’s going to hate us,” Lando whispered into the silence that plagued the car. “Fuck, Charles, we’ve ruined her career.”

“Hey, shh, she’s not going to hate us,” he said, taking Lando‘s hand while praying he wasn’t lying. 

“Did you see it?” Lando asked, absentmindedly stroking the picture he still held. “A baby, Cha.”

“I didn’t believe them when the blood tests came back,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips before it dimmed. “I can’t help wishing she was awake to see it.” 

“Do you think…do you think it will be okay? The training, and racing…What if it hurt-”

“Don’t, Lando,” Charles cut him off with a shake of his head. “Don’t think like that, mon cher. Put your brave face on, for her. We’re here.”

Charles' hand slipped from Lando’s as they got out and it was a reflex to reach for each other when they met at the front of the car, except they couldn’t. Not there, not in public. The most they could allow was their shoulders to brush as they stormed inside the hospital and followed the signs to Maternity.

A dull thumping whomped around your head as you came back to consciousness and it took a while to realise the sound wasn’t inside your brain but from the helicopter you were a passenger in. Straps held you down on the gurney and you struggled against them before a hand gripped yours.

“You’re alright, zusje, calm down,” Max said through the headset that matched yours.

You looked around confused about how you had ended up in the back of a helicopter but it was the lack of two other people that worried you most. “Where’s Charles and Lando?”

“Don’t worry about those assholes, they’ll meet us at the hospital.”

You blanched at the acerbic tone and watched your brother's jaw clench with rage. A shiver broke across your skin despite still feeling like you were cooking from the inside out. “What happened?”

Max looked away and shook his head, refusing to explain further as the chopper started to descend. Mad at him, and mad in general, you pulled your hand away and found the buckle, unclipping yourself and reaching for the IV next.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Max, it’s just a little heatstroke.”

The nurse travelling with you had the same look on her face as what Max vocalised but she was more calm when she spoke. “You almost went into cardiac arrest, ma’am, and you are still at risk so please lay back on the cooling pads. We only want what’s best for you and the baby.”

Max winced and dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. Maybe you did have more than just a little bit of heatstroke because you were obviously delirious. With a laugh you fell back into the cold blankets. “Crazy,” you mumbled as the buckle was refastened across your chest. “Could’ve sworn she said baby.”

Click here for the next part NAV: Lights Out .

[tarjapearce]

Cast Away

Warning: ANGST, Emotional discomfort, mentions of miscarriage, controlled substance use, not a happy ending. So sorry for this in advance :<

"LYLA? you copy?" Jess spoke through the intercom as she stared at your holographic projection on her watch.

"Anomaly suspect identified, she's... buying tea?" Confusion was evident in the AI's voice as she pinpointed your exact location. "Huh, thought she was dangerous."

"We don't know that yet, she could ambush us at any-"

"She's coming your way!"

Jess' aracnid senses tingled as you approached, revving her motorbike she came straight at you, stopping a few meters away from your civilian looking self.

"We can do this the good way or the bad way" Her brown eyes narrowed but you just sighed and put your packaged drink down and held your hands up to her.

"L-Let's calm down, shall we?" You stepped closer but she just revved the engine again, suspicion rising and it made you stop walking. The hairs of your back stood as your senses tingled weakly, contrary to Jessica's.

"Please, I... just wanna talk, ok? I just wanna go home."

"LYLA" Jess spoke as the AI materialized and ran a scan through you.

"Her vitals are normal, heartbeats a bit wild, but no signs of unusual brain activity that dictates irregular behavior."

You glitched and slumped to the floor in pain. Then, you curled your knees closer and your arms around them to create a little space for you. Eyes seizing the woman in red , but stopped as her round belly came in sight. Your hands held tightly and soon your eyes tore themselves from her.

"Brain activity detected, serotonin levels just dropped." Lyla spoke through the intercomand Jess frowned again as you glitched once more with a whimper.

"She seems in distress, Jessica." Lyla kept speaking as the spider woman just looked at you, unsure on how to proceed. Anomalies were usually feisty, a menace, dangerous. But you, were the odd out. You just curled into a ball and sulked.

She exhaled tiredly and turned the motorbike off. Her tingling had stopped the moment Lyla gave a diagnose on your biometrics, but still kept her distance. She however, tapped some instructions before looking at you.

"I'll be there soon." Miguel spoke through her intercom. Jess' eyes were on you again and she crossed her arms above her belly, waiting.

"How far are you?" You broke the silence first.

"Six months to go."

You nodded giving her a weak smile.

"That's a beautiful baby bump."

"Thanks." she spoke curtly, but that didn't stop you from talking.

"Baby girl or boy?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but softened at the way your eyes looked at her grown belly. A sight she had seen before in her universe, a sight that only soon to be mothers gave her with awe, but yours were pained.

"I want it to be surprise."

You nodded as tears prickled the corner of your eyes.

"Universe 413 has the best supplements for pregnancy , or so I could... check." You spoke as you grabbed a small paper cup from the forgotten package and sipped it to warm yourself. The weather in universe 413 was cold, despite the blazing sun standing proud in the background.

"Might look into it. How did you end up here?"

"That's what I wanna know. I was about to meet my husband for a celebration... and I was just sucked in here. Fell on a pool, had to steal someone clothes and... Im just trying to warm up and go home." You rubbed your eyes to. prevent more tears to pile up.

"Ever since I got here I've been glitching nonstop and my powers are even more messed up. It's scary and confusing." 

"Wait, how long have you been here?"

"Just a couple of days, but it feels forever."

As you finished your tea a new portal opened up, revealing a tall figure materializing before you. You were immediately locked up in what it seemed a electric-crystal like, custom made jail.

"Wha-"

"Easy there... We're taking you home." Jess spoke as she hopped on her bike once more and disappeared in the portal before giving a last glance your way.

"I'll get it from here." The sudden male and familiar noise sent chills down your spine. Tears flooded your already glossed eyes as the masked figure stared at you. His hand clenched upon the first tear rolling down.

--------

In the blink of an eye you were already in a place that made so many memories to flood in, most of them bittersweet.

"Lyla, access to this area is denied temporarily." Miguel spoke, his back still facing you

"Gotcha." Just as the voice had appeared, it vanished. The glass like prison vanished, just as his mask. You knew that stance more than anyone else, but still, it was the least of places you wanted to be.

"How..." he tried, and cleared his throat, sighing silently. "How you ended up in another universe?"

"A portal sucked me in. It appeared out of nowhere. Let me go home." His back tensed at your words, finally he turned to face you, but his frown deepened upon watching you. Your scent was different. Everything about you was different. Your gentle eyes were gone, and so your usual amiable self.

"What did you do?" Glaring, you held your stare at him as your jaw clenched.

"Inhibitors"

His eyes widened in disbelief for a moment before going to the usual scowl he always carried.

"Inhibitors, of course" He mumbled before throwing a furniture for it to land on Spider byte's station. It was just him and you. You didn't flinch at the explosive outburst, rather, braced yourself with an exasperated sigh.

"Why would you ever do that?! " His voice laced with anger and a soft bit of concern, "You know what they do to us."

"I want a normal life." you seethed

He scoffed and shook his head.

"You well damn know that is not possible for people like us."

"But that never stopped you. Right?"

His jaw tensed as his fist clenched.

"Right, Miguel?" You glared at him though his back faced you.

"There we go... Por dios, eres un hipócrita* You think you can always just do a fucking mess and expect shit just fix itself over time."

"Shut up."

"No. Fuck you, and fuck you very much. What did you expected? A welcome? Mariachis and a whole fucking celebration since you were finally owing up the consequences for what you did?. You left me, Miguel."

Your voice couldn't help but crack on his name.

"You left me when I needed you the most!."

"I was scared!" He roared, his fangs poking out from his mouth but you pushed him away, anger surpassed your fear, truly not thinking a rational approach.

"You think I wasn't?! I had just lost our baby. Our kid..." Miguel's eyes softened in pain and looked at you, "I didn't get to meet them, I didn't get to experience what was to be a mother, I didn't get to hold them for fucks sake!" Your voice finally breaking, both angry and anguished.

"But you didn't care. You just wanted to be a father so bad that..." He tried to reach for your hand, but slapped it away, rejecting him instantly as your eyes settled in the screen behind him, replaying the memories of himself with his daughter from another universe.

"You went to another fucking dimension to play house with someone else's family as I was trying to hold it all together over here! Cleaning up your mess! And guess what? It was never enough for you. I was never enough for you." Your voice had raised, yet it was crumbling as the knot in your throat grew tighter.

"That's not-" He growled but sighed

"I lost her too. And when I came back, everything was gone. Incluyéndote."

"You really though that I would wait for you after you ran away? You can't have or do both things. A person can only do so much, yet you made me feel so worthless."

"Your miscarriage was a cannon event. It was meant to happen. That's why I... ran away. I couldn't..." His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"And you never told me?"

"I fucking didn't know, coño. You think I'd sit there and wait for shit to happen!?" He gestured as he spoke, "I could've risked everything to save our kid, but I knew about it too late! But I know that saying sorry won't change anything."

You held your breath and sat on a chair. Rubbing your face in frustration. But the feeling of his hand was almost electric as he took your hand to admire the pretty ring that adorned your finger.

He let your hand go.

" How long you've been married?"

"Five years." His frame slumped slightly

"Is he the reason you're killing your powers with inhibitors?"

"Yes and no. They hide your... tingling presence from others, ."

"That's why I never found you."

"I didn't want to be found. But now that you did-"

"He knows, right? About your-"

"He does. And he doesn't care."

"Why taking them, then?"

"Can't get pregnant if my blood levels show high toxicity thanks to the spider DNA. I... We, uh, we want a family."

He closed his eyes as he processed your words. He could picture you with a round belly, the weirdest cravings at the weirdest hours, just like the first months you had shared together. And now he had to watch all what his heart once desired, through the eyes of someone else.

"Just let me go, Miguel. I need to go back home."

"To him, you'd mean."

"Yes."

"LYLA" His voice echoed through the room as the AI appeared, her face was evidently on distress, as if she had heard everything but not on purpose.

"Yes?"

" Scort her out, tell Jess to take her home."

"Right away."

You stood and exhaled deeply.

"You'll be a great mother" His voice stopped you. It was soft yet, the resentment behind it, wasn't concealed as good as he thought.

"Thanks. You... seemed a wonderful dad."  He looked your way, the frowning face so ever present, but it melted for a second .

"If you ever need-"

"We'll be fine. I've got this." His eyes seized you one final time, before casting them away from your form, and focused on the screens behind him. The AI guiding you through the building, neither of you looking back.

----------

Sorry if this feels odd or weird. I felt the urge to contribute to the bandwagon of our beloved Miguel ❤️✨

___

Por dios, eres un hipócrita*  - My God you are such a hypocrite.

Incluyéndote*- Including you.

coño* - Latin American Spanish slang for "Fuck"

[impala-dreamer]

Sweet Little Lies

A Supernatural Story

~ It’s funny how one little white lie can spiral so out of control that the beginning seems eons ago and the end is nowhere in sight.~

Dean Winchester, OFC Eddie, OMC Leslie, Sam Winchester and others

8,517 Words

Warnings: Show Level Angst and Violence, Blood, Major Character Death, Some Funnies

A/N: This is written for @jacklesversebingo My prompt was "A white lie that spirals out of control" and boy did it. I do hope that you enjoy. This took me forever to write and I really love how it turned out. Thanks for reading!

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

With a worried sigh, Dean grabbed the Impala keys off of the little round kitchenette table and his green canvas jacket from the chair. In a rush to leave, he nearly toppled the chair, but it found its footing on the dingy orange carpet. 

“Be back later,” he groaned, clearly annoyed and slightly confused.

Sam shook his head from the bathroom doorway. He leaned against the door jab as he finished drying his hands with the slightly gray hand towel. The motel was beyond old, and suspiciously filthy, as if a maid hadn’t stepped foot inside in the past two decades. 

“You’re really going?” 

Dean huffed as he paused just half a step from the door. “What choice have I got, Sam?” 

“You could not go,” Sam offered with a hint of snobbery that Dean did not appreciate. “You know it’s a trap, right?” 

Dean spun on his heel and pursed his lips into a tight line. “Yeah, I know it’s a damned trap! Of course it is! But I gotta go.” 

Sam sighed heavily, his massive frame sinking just enough to drive his point home. “Dean-”

He tossed his hand up and waved Sam away. “I gotta go, Sam. Someone could die.” 

“I know.” Sam cleared his throat. “You want me to go with-” 

“No.”  Dean turned back to the door and fingered his keys, easily pulling out the one that fit his Baby. “I’ll call ya if I run into trouble.” 

The sun was fading and golden light struck his face when he opened the door. The air was cool; a fresh early spring breeze made him take a breath as he stepped out. 

Sam clicked his tongue and shot one last jab under his breath: “When you run into trouble…”

The demon’s phone call had chilled Dean’s blood and confused the shit out of him all at once. He racked his brain, combing back through the last year, trying to find a clue as to what the bastard was talking about, and consistently came up empty. 

Clearly, it was a trap. Sam wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already know. Hell, demons had been playing this game for the last twenty years it seemed, always trying to lure him into some abandoned warehouse with broken windows and bare, hanging light bulbs that blinked as they swayed. It was always cold in those big spaces, and something, no matter the weather, was dripping from the roof. And always, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, Dean stepped in the puddle and got plinked in the forehead with a droplet of whatever the hell was dripping. It was getting old, frankly, but he had to go. 

Engine roaring, Dean pushed the Impala to eighty and wove through the dense traffic on the highway.

Even if the hell-spawn was making the whole thing up and he was walking into an ambush, he had to go. On the off chance there was someone in danger, someone who- No. It was impossible, he was 99.999% sure that it was impossible, but he couldn’t take that chance. 

That’s just who he was: an idiot hero who couldn’t risk an innocent’s life. 

Besides, he had to find out what the hell was going on. 

Two hours later, he was there. He pulled up beside the giant, abandoned warehouse and sighed as the headlamps gleaned off of dusty, broken windows. 

“Great. A warehouse.” 

He cut the engine and checked his gun. Loaded. 

He pulled the Angel Blade from his jacket. Armed. 

He popped his collar against the cold night. Ready.

“Let’s do this.” 

The front door was ajar so he walked in without a problem. His gun was raised; the safety was off. He squinted into the dark lobby and walked past a few empty offices before finding his way. 

Two giant doors stood before him, locked with a flimsy bolt and framed in flickering yellow light as if light bulbs were swinging from half-frayed wires on the other side. 

Dean took a breath and lifted his right foot, kicking the portal open. 

The doors swung and crashed against their respective walls with a loud clang of metal on metal.

“Hey Lucy,” Dean shouted as he made his entrance, “I’m home!” 

To say that Dean was shocked by what he saw would have been a lie. He was totally and completely unsurprised to see a giant, empty room with broken windows lining the top of each wall, and rusty metal beams decorating the ceiling. There was even the standard line of unshaded hanging light fixtures that were moving in some breeze blowing in from a hole in the roof that was also - 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, slapping a drop of icy water from his face. 

The demon who, presumably Dean had spoken with on the phone, stood in the middle of the warehouse, his pale face beaming with a sinister grin. He was slight and lanky, with a mop of ginger hair atop his cotton swab shaped head. He wore a navy suit that was a size too big and a striped tie that made it look as if the entire ensemble had come prepackaged together from a department store. Dean wasn’t judging- he’d been there many times too.

Standing behind the ginger-demon were two others; their black eyes shining with an intimidating sheen as an air of cockiness pulsed off of them in waves. Dean almost laughed, but he held it in, giving them a bit of dignity. At least their suits fit, he thought.

And, finally, positioned between them and tied to a rusty metal folding chair, head covered in a black velvet sack, was the woman Dean had been charged to save. He squinted at her from afar, accessing his whiskey-addled memory, but without seeing her face, there was no way to figure out who it was. Her clothes were normal- nothing out of the ordinary or distinctive that he could see besides a silver charm bracelet on her left wrist. Otherwise, she was just another body tied to a chair. Light Jeans, black boots, and a dark blue sweater. That’s all he could see. 

The main fiend finally spoke up, his hands moving with dramatic flair as he greeted the famed hunter. “Dean Winchester! We meet again!”

More confused than ever, Dean’s squint moved from the damsel to the demon. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to figure out who the hell you are.” He took a slow step forward and pointed his gun sideways in a way that made him look like the bad-ass, no-nonsense cop from a thousand 80s movies. “I know I don’t have the best memory, but I think I’d remember a skinny little fuck like you.” 

The demon took offense, standing up straight and frowning as his cohorts chuckled in the background. 

“I fucking knew it,” the bald demon on the right sniggered. 

“Shut up, Karl!” The ginger hissed over his shoulder. After a breath, he turned back to Dean who was struggling to hold back a laugh. “You know me,” he insisted, gesturing to himself. “I am Leslie Wintermillt! Crossroad Demon Extraordinaire!”

Dean smacked his lips and lowered his gun. He looked away, comedically pretending to remember, but his mind was blank. “Oh, yeah… You were at that place doing the thing. Yeah, yeah.” With an eye roll, he lifted his weapon again and cleared his throat. “How ‘bout you let the lady go and we can all go home and get on with our lives, OK?” 

Karl and the nameless demon laughed again, clearly amused by the lack of respect Dean was showing their ringleader. 

Leslie grew more angered, his eyes slicking to pure black and his cheeks growing beet red. He clenched his fists and dragged a blade from his breast pocket. 

“You shouldn’t be so quick to insult people, Dean,” he warned, quickly spinning to stand behind his kidnapped victim. “Especially a being as powerful as I!” The blade pressed into the black velvet sack and the woman squirmed. She mumbled something; her scream clipped behind a gag. 

Dean held up his hands in a show of surrender. “Hey, hey. OK! No need to go playin’ with knives, now. Let’s all just calm down.” 

The bound woman screamed once more and began twisting against the ropes. She was tied at the ankles and her wrists were locked behind her back. She shook herself in an effort to break free, but all it did was annoy Leslie even more. 

“Fine,” he growled, pulling the blade away from her chin and addressing her with familiarity and ire. “You want to see your betrothed so badly? You want him to watch you bleed? I’m happy to oblige!” 

Before the words could fully sink into Dean’s head, he saw her face. 

The bag was pulled away and he was met with big blue eyes hidden behind rather pretty lashes. Her blonde hair was long and messy- half in a ponytail that had fallen from the crown of her head, the rest tugged free and frizzy from the velvet hood. Her face was pleasantly plump and rather pink from all the exertion, and her thin lips were parted by a thick piece of the same brown rope that tied her limbs to the chair.  

Dean had absolutely no idea who she was. 

She looked at him, begging for help with huge eyes and a stunted voice. 

Leslie grinned devilishly. “Well, Mr. Winchester, what say you? I’ve captured your fiance and your unborn son. I’ve won our little dance once and for all!” 

Dean sucked in a quick breath and held it, confused and pondering his next move. Obviously, he was going to save the woman, kill Leslie, and at least one of the other demons, but- the whole thing just wasn’t sitting right with him. 

He cleared his throat again, pushing away the feeling of being so utterly lost in his own scene. 

“Uh. I’m sorry. And no offense, but…” He looked from Leslie to the blue-eyed captive and cocked his head. “What the hell is going on?” 

The background demons whispered to each other, clearly mocking Leslie. 

“What do you mean?” Leslie asked, desperately clinging to the illusion of victory.

Dean gave his head a little scratch and locked eyes with the blonde. “Who is she?” 

Edith Rose Marshall fell into hunting in the usual way. She was not brought up in a family of skilled hunters, nor was she the legacy to a vast compendium of supernatural lore and knowledge. Truthfully, about ninety-five percent of active hunters aren’t either. No, Eddie- as her friends called her- was thrust into the world of ghost hunting and demon dodging at the tender age of sixteen when a werewolf attacked her and her high school sweetheart while the couple was parked up on VanHorn Cliff. The teens had snuck away for the evening, ready to consummate their love for the first time, in a place that most of the youngsters in Marchant Creek, Virginia knew all too well. 

As Jason mustered his nerve to finally reach the Holiest of Holies and unhook Eddie’s bra, a scratch upon the hood made them both jump. 

Instead of spending the next two and a half minutes slightly unimpressed and a little bit in pain, Edith Rose was treated to a world-class view of Jason’s still beating heart as it was ripped from his chest by a hairy, wolfish claw. 

Splattered in his blood, unable to breathe or utter a scream, Eddie stared at the monster as it sank its yellowed, hellish fangs into the dripping muscle. As it licked its paws clean, Eddie came back to herself and scrambled to open the passenger door; her shaking fingers fumbling over the handle. While she struggled, the beast rounded the front of the car and slammed its furry fist into the window. The glass shattered and Eddie’s scream rang out over the cliff. It grabbed at her long blonde hair, tugging out a clump from the roots. She swatted at the arm but wasn’t able to fight it off. 

The wolf pulled her from the car, dragging her over the jagged shards of tempered glass, leaving a bloody trail down her back and sides. She twisted and kicked; screamed and begged, but the monster was undeterred. Lifting its snout to the dark sky, it howled with an intensity that shook Eddie to the core. Eyes wide, jaw slack, she saw the creature fully for the first time and an entire world of impossible facts came slamming into her. 

The bright moon washed over the wolf, its human eyes, and its matted, bloody fur. Eddie held her breath as fangs lowered, reaching for her throat. 

Hot, metallic breath breezed over her cheek and Eddie screamed. With a surge of self-preservational strength, she shoved at the wolf and sent it stumbling back a few steps. Before it could steady itself and charge forward once more, a shot rang out and blood sprayed from the wolf’s chest. Coated in more blood, Eddie stood motionless, staring in shock as the beast fell, dead at her feet. 

Adrenaline and panic stormed through her veins and Eddie grabbed her head as a scream ripped through her soul. She fell to her knees, trembling as the prior moments flashed again and again, becoming more clear with each repetition of memory. 

“Hey! You’re OK.” 

A gruff voice called to her and Eddie opened her eyes to find a tall man with dark hair and a shadowed jaw towering over her. His clothes were old and filthy, his hazel eyes stern but kind. 

“You’re OK,” he said again, reaching a hand for her to take. 

Eddie swallowed down her boiling emotions and let him help her up. His hand was rough but warm and she blinked up at him, terrified and confused. 

“What. The hell. Was that!” 

The man laughed softly under his breath. “That, sweetheart, was a werewolf.” 

Her stomach flipped painfully. “A what!”

“A werewolf,” he said again, slowly letting her hand drop. He took a step back and gave the corpse a kick. “Don’t worry. He’s dead.” Turning away, he clicked the safety on his pistol and tucked it into the back of his waistband, hiding it just under his leather coat. “You’ll be fine.” 

Eddie floundered. She looked back at the car, at the torn body of her boyfriend and the broken glass stained with his blood. When she looked again at the wolf, she knew she was staring at the shattered pieces of the way she thought her life would turn out. 

The picket fence was gone; the cushy office job had vanished. Her two-point-five kids and yappy dog went up in an ethereal puff of smoke. 

Nothing would ever be the same. 

She watched as he walked away, heading towards the far side of the clearing. There, a giant boat of a black car was waiting; its hood shining in the moonlight. Eddie lost her grip on everything and collapsed to her knees in the bloody grass. She felt her chest tighten and every breath was short and pained. 

A car door squeaked open and she looked up to see the man arguing with a younger guy who had leapt up from the passenger seat. They spoke heatedly over the hood, the younger one gesturing towards Eddie and the crime scene. Close as they were, Eddie couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears, echoing like thunderous drumming inside a cave. The young man finally gave up and bowed his head respectfully, ceasing his protest. 

Without another word, he got back into the car and stared forward. He bit his tongue and his jaw clenched tight. He met Eddie’s hopeless gaze and sighed. 

The engine roared like a mother lion as the car disappeared down the hill and out of Eddie’s life. 

That was the first time she ever saw Dean Winchester. 

It was also the last. 

Well… sort of. 

The thing you have to remember about the Hunting Community is that it’s less of a community as it is a wildly random assortment of people around the continent that seek out the company of evil creatures over their warm-blooded compatriots. They’d rather spend a weekend covered in dust and monster muck than sit around at a baby shower or backyard barbeque making small talk and drinking imported lager. 

That being said- there are times when groups of American Bogeyman Slayers get together to shoot the shit or share information. They work together, mourn together, and occasionally share a barstool at an out-of-the-way safe house. There really is no way to predict who would show up or when, but one thing was certain- where there be hunters, there be booze. And where there be booze, there be hunter stories. 

Hunter stories aren’t just retellings of cases or anecdotes of happenings on the road. Oh, no. They are elaborate, extravagant, wildly inaccurate tales of bravery, heroics, and sometimes death that have been stretched and twisted around like taffy on a pulling machine. They rarely tell the whole story or every legitimate fact within. However, more often than not, they hold some grain of truth. 

The hunters that can weave such tales as to captivate a tavern full of peers are revered and spoken about for weeks after. Their stories travel to every corner of the country and sometimes beyond, becoming legends with the bards themselves. 

Those who cannot expound upon their adventures in a stylistic and mesmerizing way, tend to stick to the background at larger gatherings, lingering in the shadows and soaking up knowledge as it is passed around. 

Eddie had been hunting for years, but she wasn’t exactly great at it. Nor was she great at telling stories. If she could travel back to see her ancestors in ye olde country, she would find them hugging the barstools and shyly staring as the raconteur spun their yarns and sang epic tales of wonder. 

So, for the most part, Eddie went unnoticed. There were no stories circulating of the time she rescued a poodle from a witch who was about to skin it alive for some ritual to bring her sister good fortune. No rumors about how amazing she was at memorizing random facts about creatures that never actually came in handy, or how she could lasso a horse if it stood still long enough. 

Eddie Marshall was barely known to anyone, even in the circles she normally found herself in. To the others, she was just a sweet kid who was probably in over her head, and boy did it piss her off. 

Just once, she wanted to be the center of attention. She wanted to stand on the bar with a bottle in her hand and regale the tavern with poems of her Herculean strength and Captain America-like bravery. Just once. But she had nothing to talk about, no credibility whatsoever. 

One evening at a rundown roadhouse bar on the outskirts of Kalamazoo, Michigan, Eddie lost her mind a bit. 

She was sitting at the dark end of the bar, head in hand, beer warming next to her as she half listened to a couple of hunters yodel on about some demon that was running amuck in Kansas. She was barely paying attention until two words jumped out and smacked her in the face: Dean Winchester. 

Sure, over the years, she’d heard many, many stories about Dean and his brother Sam. They were basically celebrities in the underground world of vampire slayers; the real Buffys out there saving everyone else’s asses just about every other damned day. Most of the stories were fantastical and hard to believe. Sam had been possessed by Satan? Sure. Dean had died, gone to Hell, and come back in one piece? M’kay, right. Still, they couldn’t all be fictional. And even if they were, so what? It wasn’t like the Winchesters were hanging out in gross dusty bars chatting up other hunters. Hell, Eddie hadn’t even seen him once since that night back home when John Winchester saved her life and started her on the path to certain, heroic death. 

So, OK, tell some wild story about the Impala being equipped with rocket boosters and a grenade launcher in the trunk. Spin a tale about the time Sam was given the power of flight and temporarily knocked down the power grid in Las Vegas during his wedding. Who’s getting hurt? No one. Who’s getting some street cred? 

…Eddie didn’t even realize what she was doing before the lie came spilling out of her mouth.  

“I was there when Dean Winchester took down that twenty-strong vamp nest in Albany with a single blade and a flask full of holy water. It was epic.” 

The hunters across the bar turned and stared, seemingly impressed. The larger man with a beard down to his gut scratched his jaw and nodded her way. 

“Tell me more…”

Suddenly, Eddie had something she’d never had before: a spotlight. Having the ear of other hunters enlivened her and something inside snapped. She told a few more stories, vaguely hinting that she was friendly with the famed Winchesters and worked with them often. She pulled monster names out of the lore stored in her head; and plucked cities off of the map lodged in her brain. The more she spoke, the more she lied. The more she lied, the more heads turned her way, and soon, Eddie was surrounded by a group of inebriated but intrigued hunters. 

“You really take down a wraith in Cedar Knolls?” An older man with graying red hair tucked beneath a wool beanie leaned in, his beady eyes locked on Eddie’s face. “I got a friend down there. You know Jessie?”

She nodded thoughtfully as if trying to match a face to the random name. “Oh, sure- I think I crossed paths with him a few times.”

The man hummed curiously. “Jessie’s a broad.” 

Eddie coughed behind a laugh. “Oh! Yeah! Jessie!” She bit her tongue and righted the ship. “I was thinking of someone else. Anyway- the wraith came at Sam but Dean went right for it and…”

“Did you know that the Impala has a secret panel inside that holds pure silver bullets and crosses that were blessed by the Pope? I kicked it open by accident once when Dean and I were fumbling ‘round in the backseat if you know what I mean…”

“Dean once fell six stories off the roof of a hospital while chasing a snallygaster. Nasty lookin’ thing. He fell on his back, rolled, sprang up, and shot the thing in the chest with a freaking arrow. Killed it dead.” 

“Last October, Dean and I went to Battle Creek and took out an entire coven. Just knocked ‘em all dead. Town was so thankful, they paid for dinner for us at this fancy French restaurant. We got a little tipsy… and handsy…”

It was almost as if whatever she said was instantly believed, no matter how outrageous it seemed. After her third beer- purchased by someone else, by the way- she had to really keep track of what she was saying. Twice, she’d almost mentioned riding Dean while riding a unicorn but thought better of it. There were only so many things she could get away with, or so she thought. 

As the night wound down, Eddie was running out of tales to tell. Sometimes, the audience would ask follow-up questions, occasionally they’d laugh at her outlandish claims, but never did anyone call her bluff. The Life was so fantastical that there really was no way to say what was real and what was dream work.

She walked away from the bar in the twilight hour, feeling exhilarated by all the attention and only slightly guilty for fibbing. It really wasn’t that bad, she reckoned. After all, what damage could a few sweet little lies do?

To some, demons may seem like the ultimate evil. They are mysterious- slinking in the corners of the universe unseen until they decide to attack. They are powerful- able to inhabit the body of just about anyone they choose, flooding their host with charcoal smoke until they fill every inch, every cell, taking over and using the mortal as their unholy puppet. They are clever- often laying traps for their victims to fall into and ultimately sell their souls for the glory of whatever their darkest desire might be. They are murderous and wicked, terrifying and cunning. They haunt the shadows of life, biding their time until the moment is right, only to strike down their prey with all the power of Hell, damning their souls to an eternity of pure torment and the scorch of hellfire.

Sure, there are demons in the higher ranks that may fulfill this preconceived notion of how Satan’s Henchmen behave. But, more often than not, the demons that venture to the surface to reap souls for their higher-ups are little more than low-level fetchers, more akin to worker drones in skyrise office buildings than to anyone with any real power. They collect on contracts, set up hazard traps, and generally carry out whatever tasks have been handed down to them from on high. Or, rather, from below. 

Occasionally, a group will get together and take on something larger; plan a job that will not only net them a coveted prize, but help them gain favor, and therefore credibility, with their superiors. These plans could include such impossible tasks as kidnapping the President and forcing him to comply with Lucifer’s wishes, or sinking a battleship in neutral waters thus triggering the inevitable World War III. These plans never pan out, of course, but some of the smaller ones do. Things like infiltrating an entire sorority and causing a panic that leads to a rush of unexplained deaths, or trapping a well-known hunter and using them to massacre an entire congregation during Easter Morning service. 

These acts are greatly praised and their legends grow far and wide, often twisting and expanding in detail like a game of demonic telephone as it passes through the ranks. 

Those who recount the tales and pass them along like notes in a grade school classroom are usually awed by the stories and yearn to be the focus of such epic adventures themselves. However, those who spend all their time wishing, often fail to achieve, as their heads are clogged up with fantasies of their own glory and their feet never actually move.

The demon that can dream it, can do it. The demon that only dreams of dreaming of doing it, cannot. 

Originally from Tucson, Leslie was an unimportant man who had lived a rather pointless life that revolved around telemarketing schemes and large gambling debts. He was mostly harmless in person, but some of his ventures had resulted in the untimely demise of others, thus marking his soul for eternal torment in the fiery pits of eternal damnation. 

It hadn’t taken long for Leslie to worm his way off the rack and into the mailroom of 

Hell, slowly learning the ropes and advancing up the proverbial ladder. However, black eyes and slick words only got a body so far, and Leslie was stuck on Crossroads Duty, bargaining for souls and whistling at HellHounds. He was bored but unable to make a move, even laterally. As just another peon, he was disrespected by his bosses, ignored by his peers, and generally left to fade into the background. 

This, however, did not stop him from trying to sneak into the limelight and better his position in the afterlife. He took any opportunity to talk himself up, even going so far as to take credit for co-workers' achievements or ideas, and generally spinning webs of lies about how amazing he was. 

One night while chatting about himself at a little bar in Raleigh, he took a few more liberties than usual. Around a table full of pint glasses in various stages of emptiness, Leslie wove a tale that had even his closest friends, Karl and Phil, laughing at his claims. 

“There is no way you did that,” Phil said with a laugh that shook his shoulders and rocked the cheap wooden chair beneath him. “You’re so full of shit.” 

Leslie sneered and lifted his chin high as if Phil’s claim had offended him greatly. “How dare you! You don’t know what happened, you weren’t there!” 

Shaking his bald head, Karl leaned in. The stink of stale beer floated from his lips across the table and struck Leslie in the face. 

“You really trying to tell us that you kidnapped Dean Fucking Winchester and lived? No fucking way.” 

The liar pursed his lips and set his hands firmly on the table. He peered around quickly as if checking for prying eyes, and leaned in, whispering. “I did. I kicked his redneck ass all over the place, too. Left him with four broken ribs, a busted up nose, and a gash on his chest longer than his dick!” 

Phil choked on a sip of beer and covered his mouth with the back of his hairy hand. “How do you know how long his dick is?” 

Leslie slammed his palm down in annoyance. “I- that’s not the point!” Sitting up straight, he settled his shoulders and clicked his tongue, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. 

The thing about lying is, you have to make it believable and stay consistent. 

“Fine. I don’t know how long his dick is, but the cut was deep. He was bleeding all over himself and his thrift store flannel.” Leslie paused and watched their eyes glaze over with a tiny flicker of belief. He almost had them. “I would have killed him,” he went on, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “But that stupid angel showed up and ruined everything. I barely got away. He tried to smite me but I fought him off. Still got a little singed by his Grace, but I’m fine, thank you for asking.” 

The demons across the table held their breaths and their tongues for a long moment. They stared at Leslie and then looked at each other, seemingly absorbing all the information. 

Leslie, proud of himself for convincing them, sat back and crossed his arms smugly over his suited chest. 

“So, there you have it,” Leslie ended, waiting for applause or a congratulatory clamp on the shoulder.

Neither were offered. 

Instead, the duo laughed in his face. Loud, grandiose laughs that drew the attention of half of the room. Two dozen sets of eyes turned their way and Leslie felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and hatred. 

“There is no way you’d get away if that asshole angel tried to smite you. He’s taken down the best of the best. Are you kidding?” Karl screeched with amusement. 

Phil laughed so hard he started coughing. “You’re a pissy little liar, you are! No way, no how did that ever happen? I’ll bet you’ve never even seen Dean Winchester!”

Leslie seethed. 

Karl smacked his leg and added: “Never even been in the same state as him!”

Phil cackled. “Or continent!”

“Planet!”

Back and forth they went until there was no geography left to name, no corner of the Milky Way left unaccounted for.

Leslie let the flame of injustice broil his already charred heart. It was one thing to be ignored or tossed aside, but to be mocked- it was too much for the demon to bear. 

“I’ll show you,” he warned, teeth gnashing behind his thin lips.

“Sure you will, Leslie,” Karl teased. “Just call up old Deano and have him stop by since you’re such good friends.” 

“We are not friends! We are-” Leslie’s fists closed at his sides and he stood up, unsure if he wanted to run away crying or throw a punch. While they probably expected the former, he knew he’d never get away with the latter. 

He turned and slunk off to lean on the bar, dejected and annoyed with himself. If only he could hatch a plan, actually get some face-time with the famed hunter, maybe, just maybe he’d be taken seriously for once. If only he could figure out how to lure that filthy, annoying, demon-slaying De-

“Dean Winchester! I knew that was you!” 

The famous name shot out from over the throng of drunken voices and blaring 90s hip-hop, striking Leslie in the gut. His head snapped to the left and he found a short blonde thing clad in denim and a baggy navy sweater, perched on the edge of a stool. The speaker, a tall brunette with all the curves of a toothpick, was stumbling into the next seat, a mostly empty bottle of Bud Light in her grasp. 

She was in awe of the blonde, practically star-struck, and Leslie zoned in on the strange encounter. 

“You’re his girl, ain’t you?” 

The blonde shrugged. “Yeah… I mean, we don’t have an official title or anything but-” 

“No. Way.” The brunette held up her hand and leaned in. “I knew it. Tell me everything! As soon as I saw you, I said, that’s Eddie, I said. I said that to Jimmy- Where’d he go? I said, I’ve heard all about her. She’s the chick keeps hookin’ up with that sexy Winchester. Oh, I’ve heard all about you!” 

Eddie’s shoulders curled inwards as if she were shy. 

Leslie’s focus sharpened. Dean Winchester’s girl? His luck must be turning. 

“That’s so sweet, um-” 

“Jennifer,” the woman said, running a hand through her teased hair. “You call me Jen. All my friends do. We’re best friends now.” A drunken burp ended her yapping, but only just. 

“OK,” Eddie said with a smile. “Jen. Nice to meet you.”

Jen finished her beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the bar. “Yo!” She sat up and leaned over onto the counter, snapping at the bartender. “Another one!” Pausing, she looked at Eddie and then gasped. “Sorry, hun… And one for my friend!” 

Eddie shook her head. “Oh, no thanks, I-” 

Jen’s jaw dropped and she leaned back to look Eddie over, her hazel eyes darting to the woman’s stomach. “Oh. My. God. Are you pregnant?” 

“I, um…” All Eddie had meant was that she wasn’t planning on staying much longer. Jen was very over the top and kind of irritating, so she hadn’t wanted another beer. But, if Jen was going to assume things, who was Eddie to deny her fan a little more excitement by being in on a huge secret? 

Eddie smiled and lay a hand over her tummy. “Yeah. But, don’t tell anyone! We haven’t even told Sam yet!” 

Leslie’s eyes grew huge and he scooted a little closer. “Well, goddamn…” It had to be a sign. There was no way this wasn’t meant for him. Right place, right time. 

Jen lost her drunken mind. “Holy shit! This is amazing! Oh my god! When? What? Tell me everything!” 

Eddie laughed gently and shrugged. “Um… I’m like… three- no four- months now. And we’re hoping for a boy. I mean, Dean kinda wants a girl, but I think all those little flannel shirts and jeans on a boy would just be the cutest! But yeah… we’re so excited.” 

Leslie echoed her excitement. His thoughts were racing faster than his heart, concocting the perfect setup to get Dean Winchester in his grasp and make stupid Karl and Phil look like assholes. His time had finally come. 

Jen sighed happily and patted Eddie’s stomach without asking. “A little Winchester. Just perfect.”

Eddie was beaming, but not from hormones. She was in her glory, finally about to become a legend in the hunting community. 

“I can’t wait to tell everyone. After the wedding, we’ll- oh! Oops…” 

Jen squealed. “You’re engaged!”

Eddie nodded and spent the rest of the night layering lie upon lie. 

It’s funny how one little white lie can spiral so out of control that the beginning seems eons ago and the end is nowhere in sight. 

Leslie waited patiently, gathering all of the information that he could. Finally, he slipped away and let the boys in on his plan. 

When the bar closed and the moon was high, three demons cornered a lone hunter in a dark alley. She bit back her scream, channeling her panic into her blade. Black eyes gleamed in the dim light of the flickering street lamp; Eddie’s Latin recitation echoed down the vacant path. 

Metal flew through the air. Punches landed on yielding flesh. Arms fit around her like steel ropes. 

Eddie saw the bricks spinning as her eyes unfocused. Her head was throbbing and the darkness was winning. She saw a flash of golden-red hair before the bag was lowered and her world went dark. 

Once she woke up, Eddie wouldn’t shut up. 

Twice, Leslie had threatened her with the painful removal of her tongue with a pair of dull safety scissors, but even then, she wouldn’t be still. She thrashed and kicked, spat, and yelled. As far as hostages went, she was the worst. Not that he’d taken another before, but he could imagine. 

The gag finally shut her up.

Phil and Karl hung around in the background, observing Leslie as he put his plan into motion. 

Step One- Kidnap Dean Winchester’s pregnant fiance. 

Step Two- Call Dean Winchester and get him to show up, thus sacrificing his life for hers. 

Step One(B)- Get Dean Winchester’s phone number. 

Step Three- Kill him. Kill her. Reap all the rewards of fame and fortune that could be bestowed upon him by the King of Hell!

So far, he was stuck on Step Two. It had taken three calls before he’d gotten the right phone number and on the first try, no one had picked up. It wasn’t as if he could leave a voicemail with such important information, so he tried again. 

The second time, Dean picked up and Leslie was in such shock that he almost hung up on him. 

Finally, after much deep breathing, Leslie had convinced Dean to meet him and save Eddie’s life. 

“We will be waiting, Mr. Winchester…” 

Eddie bit hard into the rope between her lips and screamed. She twisted as best she could against her bindings and rocked the chair back and forth. 

Leslie had no choice but to make her stop, and thus, pulled the gag out. 

“What!” 

She spat out a mouthful of saliva and frayed rope bits. “You can’t do this!” 

The demon gave his cohorts an ambushed look and laughed. “Oh, really? Because it seems like I already have.” 

Eddie groaned. “No, you don’t understand,” she went on, begging for her life. “IT won’t work. He won’t come.” 

Karl’s ears perked up, but Leslie moved around to the other side of his victim, blocking her from view. He leaned close. 

“What are you talking about?” 

She grit her teeth and set the truth free. “He won’t come because he has no idea who I am.” 

If demon blood could run cold, Leslie’s would have. He balked. 

“W-what? No. You’re carrying his child! Don’t insult me with your lies. They won’t save you.” 

Eddie hissed. “He won’t either! I don’t know him. I saw him once when I was a kid, but we didn’t even meet then. It was like in passing. I’ve… I… I made it all up, OK?” 

“Why would you do that!” Leslie yelled in a whisper, leaning closer still. 

“I don’t know!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warned. 

Eddie whispered harshly. “I don’t know, OK? I just… it just happened. I started talking about hanging out with him and one thing led to the next and-” 

“And now you’re pregnant with his child and engaged to be married!” 

She sighed. “Yeah. But no. None of that is true. It’s all just… lies.” 

Leslie closed his eyes, processing everything. He’d lied again and again which had led him to this spot, trying to prove himself to his friends, all in the name of attention. 

And now, it seemed, so had his captive. 

He was screwed. 

“There a problem, buddy?” Karl called to him from across the warehouse, his smile smug, his eyes curious. 

Leslie straightened up and adjusted his striped tie. “No! Not a thing. Everything’s going to plan!” 

Quickly, he grabbed the rope around Eddie’s neck and lifted it to her lips. 

“Oh, please don’t,” she asked, looking up with pathetic eyes. “It’s so uncomf-”

The velvet bag slid down next and all they could do was wait. 

Dean gave his head a little scratch and locked eyes with the blonde. “Who is she?” 

Eddie’s heart sank. Even though it was a stupid thought, she’d imagined that somehow, some way, he’d heard of her. Maybe the Slayer Telegraph had made its way to Kansas and tickled his ears. As he stared at her, she was sure it had missed the connection. 

Dean was more handsome than she remembered, but not as much as she’d conjured up. He looked tired and badly needed a shave. There was a faint line of an old cut on the bridge of his nose and his jaw was bruised. Still, she thought, he was pretty hot. She wondered sadly how she looked and hoped that her hair wasn’t too much of a mess. 

Leslie cleared his throat and tried to ignore the movements behind him. Karl and Phil were moving in, ready to attack- him or Dean- he couldn’t tell. 

He was in trouble. 

“Uh- What do you mean! Are you going to disavow knowledge of your lovely bride-to-be and the life within? Are you so cruel as to toss her to the wind and leave your offspring to die fatherless in a ditch on the side of the ro-”

“OK, shut up!” Dean roared, taking aim in earnest. He set his stance, boots shoulder width apart, and squared his shoulders. His expression melted from shock and confusion to one of pure focus. It didn’t really matter who she was- she needed help, and he could be it. “Let’s just… do this.” 

Leslie moved to protest just as the first shot rang out. 

It was loud and Eddie cringed, terrified to be trapped in the middle of a gunfight. 

Karl shot back, missing Dean by about a mile and a half. He shattered the window to the left of the door and Dean laughed. 

“Nice shot.” He countered and hit the demon in the shoulder, knocking him over. “Winchester, one; demon, zero.”

Phil took up Karl’s place and shot back. Three consecutive blasts from his pistol made Dean duck and spin away - Phil was a much better marksman than his bald friend.

While they exchanged bullets and quips, Leslie did the only thing he could think of: he bargained for his life. 

Quickly, he untied Eddie’s legs and sliced through the rope binding her wrists. He lowered the gag for greater effect and Dean froze when she screamed his name. 

A bullet nearly clipped his ear, but Dean’s focus had shifted to Eddie. Without looking, he shot at Phil and the demon fell, clutching his gut. The wounds wouldn’t kill them, but they sure as hell would feel the pain. 

“Dean!” 

He wished to God that he recognized her. 

He still didn’t. 

Dean held his left hand up in surrender but kept the right aimed at the demon’s head. “Hey, now. Let’s all just take a breath.” 

Leslie held his blade to her jaw. She flinched when he pressed the sharp edge against her flesh, and a thin line of blood trickled down her throat.

She held her breath, afraid to move, afraid to do anything but stare at the man she’d invented a life with, the man of her impossible dreams. 

Dean pressed his tongue between his lips as he calculated his next move. One shot to the head would send the prick to the ground, but he could hit the girl. He could also piss off the demon and in turn get her throat slit. The situation called for a delicate maneuver for sure. 

He took a breath and lowered his gun. “Just let her go and you and I can talk.”

Leslie laughed and lowered the blade to her chest. “I don’t think so. The only thing standing between me and certain death is this lying pixie.” 

Eddie squirmed an inch and huffed, resenting the title but afraid to really move or backtalk the demon. 

Dean nodded. “You’re not wrong.” Reaching behind him, he stuck his pistol in the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a blade. The ruin-carved, serrated blade shone in the flickering light as he twirled it in his palm. “I’m gonna kill you. But you can do one good thing before you go.” 

The demon swallowed hard and dropped his hand to her stomach. The tip of the knife dug gently into her side. A small pool of wetness darkened her sweater. 

“Really?” he asked. “What’s that?” 

Dean took a step. “You can let her go.” He took another. “You can drop that knife and surrender. Save her life.” A third step had him less than a dozen feet away. He stared at Eddie and nodded subtly. She’d be OK, she just had to trust him. “Come on, man. Save her life.” 

Leslie laughed. “And why would I do that?”

“Because…” Dean paused, his words failing him. He clicked his tongue and then shrugged. “Well… I don’t really have a good answer, and you’re gonna die anyway, so I’m just asking you nicely. Let the girl go.” 

There was a moment of utter silence. 

A hard, terrifying silence in which Eddie could hear nothing but the painful thrumming of her heart as it reached its quickest pace. The warehouse faded around her and the men who held her life between them became sharp shadows that moved in through the sludge of the air like beasts stuck in quicksand. 

She saw the outfield demons attack with guns blazing and fists flying. 

She saw Dean dodge their bullets and lunge forward. He hit the ground and rolled closer, springing to his feet like a gymnast. 

She saw Leslie’s arm raise; heard his warning like a mumbled groan in her pounding head. 

She felt the push of steel into her side; tasted the tidal wave of blood as it struck her tongue. 

Dean’s voice cut through the ringing in her ears but it was hard to pay attention, hard to pick his words out and make sense of anything. 

She watched as he swung around, roaring like a lion defending his territory from enemy attack. He jabbed his knife into Karl’s temple and sparks burst from the demon’s mouth and eyes. 

Eddie laughed gently. It always amused her the way demons lit up when they died. It made their heads look like jack-o-lanterns. A cough overtook her and blood spilled down her chin, hot and wet- self-made lava. She wondered if she looked like a Halloween horror too. 

Dean shouted at her, waving a hand her way. “Just hold on!” 

He seemed so sweet. Why he would care about her at all was beyond her grasp at the moment, but she was grateful. Maybe all the stories about him were true. He was brave, that was for sure, and strong, and so- 

Dean stabbed Phil in the heart and fireworks danced from his open mouth. 

The knife twisted inside of her and Leslie’s horrible laugh echoed through the giant room. 

“Too late, Winchester!” he yelled, catching Dean’s attention once more. “She’s dead.” 

Eddie laughed. She wasn’t dead. Her knees hit the ground. It was hard and cold; pain spread up through her bones and she groaned loudly. The blood was thick in her mouth and her eyes were heavy. 

Dean rushed towards her and looked down with a pained expression. 

She smiled. “I’m OK,” she tried to say, but all he heard was a gasping gurgle. 

Her shoulder hit the floor, but this time, she couldn’t feel anything. It should have hurt, the way her bone collided with the concrete, but her whole side was numb. She shivered at the chill seeping up from the ground and wondered why she could still feel the cold if not the pain. 

She heard Leslie scream something and Dean yelled back. She heard shoes behind her and watched as Dean threw his blade, aiming like an archer with an arrow. Leslie let out a surprised grunt and Eddie heard the shimmer of demonic pyrotechnics as he hit the ground far behind her. 

Eddie rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. Pieces of roof were missing and she could see the sky above. Maybe there were stars out, but she couldn’t see any from where she was, and besides, her eyes weren’t working so well suddenly.

“Hey! Hey…” 

Dean slid down beside her and carefully scooped Eddie’s head into his lap. He wiped at her chin with the sleeve of his canvas jacket, clearing away a mess of blood. “Hey, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be OK, you hear me?” 

She knew he was lying. She was dying, quickly. 

Eddie smiled. “Liar.” 

A darkness washed over his handsome face and Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the constellations of faint freckles that covered his cheeks and nose. They were more beautiful than any stars that were out that night, more perfect. 

Dean pressed a palm to her stomach and Eddie let out a pitiful cry. Searing pain spread through her and she focused on his hand. He was big and strong and she was amazed that he was really there. He was really, truly there. He was solid and whole. His heart was beating and his brow was pebbled with sweat. His eyes were so green, so impossibly green-

Eddie’s eyes rolled and Dean shook her gently, bringing her back. 

“Hey, come on now-” He leaned in close and smiled a hopeful smile. “You gotta stay with me, OK? I need you to explain to me what the hell just happened. I need you.” 

She laughed and it hurt. Not because the pain was bad, but because he’d never find out what exactly had happened. He’d never hear her story, never know it that she was the girl his father had saved on that overlook years ago. The girl he had fought with his dad over. The girl who had lied about him again and again. The girl who deserved to die bloody and cold in his arms in some godforsaken warehouse in the middle of nowhere. 

He’d never know.

She couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t feel the blood pouring out of her and spilling over his hand. She looked up into his gorgeous face and smiled. 

Tears welled in his eyes. “Who are you?” 

She smiled. “I’m Eddie,” she whispered with her last breath.

Dean closed his eyes, and let a single tear escape down his stubbled cheek. “Hey, Eddie,” he said softly. “It was nice to meet you.” 

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[bangpop91]

I'll Meet You In Between

It's day 2 of @bucktommypositivityweek round 2! Today's prompt was scenes from a firetruck. This drabble takes place directly before Mayday. I hope you guys enjoy Day 2

Buck woke a groan fumbling with his phone to turn off his alarm before flopping back down into the bed not wanting to get up for the day. It hadn’t been that long ago that he looked forward to every shift. But these days the idea of getting out of the massive plush bed that also happened to feature a big muscular pilot with ridiculous bed head, and is like his own personal space heater. Buck wiggled closer into Tommy’s side burying his nose into Tommy’s armpit making his man grunt.

“Your face is like icicles,” Tommy groaned, adjusting himself so that they were face to face.

“It's not my fault your house is like a penguin habitat.” That startled a laugh out of Tommy while Buck grinned, pressing kisses against Tommy's stubble covered cheek. 

“You have a shift baby.” Tommy reminded him before capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

“So do you.” He replied in-between morning kisses, where if he played this right could lead to morning sex 

“I don't have to fight crosstown traffic.” Tommy countered sitting up scratching his scalp making his mess of curls even more out of control from where they curled frizzy and untamed on one side and flat against his scalp on the other. He looks so rumpled and soft, far from the cool guy exterior Tommy meticulously puts on like armor every morning. He's moved on to casually scratching an itch on his chest while checking the weather on his phone like he does every morning before he gets out of bed. He wants to live in this moment and it's domesticity forever, he knows that realistically it's too early to talk about living together, about forever. But he wants this to be the sight he wakes up to every morning. Tommy looks down at him, Buck still stubbornly burritoed under the blanket  with his face in Tommy's pillow.

“Bed head?” He asked, looking at him with a lopsided grin. It makes Buck laugh from his spot in bed watching Tommy go through his morning routine.

“Nicely tousled.” Tommy and him should not be laughing at what dorks they are being, but he loves that he and Tommy can be silly, and there is no pressure to be tough, or manly, or cool, they can just be themselves. 

“Alright Darlin, you do have to get up now.” Buck is feeling a little bratty and burrows further into his burrito of blankets and Tommy’s pillow like a petulant child. “Will you get up if I promise to shower with you?” Tommy teases leaned over Buck.

“I could be persuaded.” He responds and lets Tommy lure him from the bed with kisses. He does make it to work on time, he didn't have time to stop and get coffee on the way to work which is fine because Tommy had sent him on his way with a thermos of coffee, kisses, and a reminder to be safe.

It turns out to be one of the worst and craziest shifts he has ever worked. He knows Tommy's own shift has been just as hectic. And yet in the rare minutes of downtime that he had to check his phone there were messages from Tommy.

A picture of a black cat from the pet rescue site that Tommy likes scrolling through with the accompanying message.

❤️ Loml ❤️ : I love Salem almost as much as I love you.

Buck: Awe he’s beautiful. I love him.

❤️ Loml ❤️ : 🐝🐝🐝🐝

❤️ Loml ❤️ : Are you enjoying the bee-nado

Buck: look at you learning how to use emojis I’m so proud of my old man.

❤️ Loml ❤️ : Don't be a brat, Evan.

Tommy finds him in the aftermath of the plane crash. They are in-between the 118 and 217’s engines when Tommy pulls him in for a hug.

“How you holding up Darlin?” His voice is low and quiet in Buck’s ear.

“I wish today would just end already.” He mumbled clinging to the back of Tommy's flight suit. He doesn't want to let go of Tommy, because right now Tommy is the only thing holding him upright.

“Twelve more hours okay.” Tommy promised, “Just twelve more hours and we will have forty-eight hours together. We'll turn our phones off, catch up on Stylish Designs, and try that new chili recipe.” 

“Okay.” Evan nodded with a smile, Having something to keep him moving towards. An end goal for his shift. Tommy is called away, his chopper is ready, Tommy presses a quick kiss to his lips.

“I'll see you at home.” He says with a big, bright charming smile that makes him melt. He'll see Tommy at home.

[runariya]

Drive to Survive (JJK POV) • Chapter 3

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU fic rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: foul language, Jungkook is whipped, Jungkook is naive, Trish is a B as always, jealous Jungkook, sweaty Jungkook, yearning, heavy drinking, blacking out because of heavy drinking, Jungkook is the sweetest, confessions, word count: ~4.950

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

a/n 2: Please make sure to read the chapter in OC's POV before JK’s POV to have the best reading experience!

series masterlist

So, last night I had an epiphany. The ultimate, non-plus-ultra master plan for winning you over seemed to descend from the high heavens right into my genius brain just as I was about to fall asleep.

But.

I wouldn’t be the genius I am if I didn’t write it down immediately.

So, as I walk down the corridor on your floor, half an hour before our debrief, I keep reading the tiny post-it note over and over again, unable to resist internally applauding myself.

Step 1: Win ___ over 

Step 2: Tell ___ you love her 

Step 3: Kiss ___

Step 4: Marry ___ and make a lot of babies 

Truly and absolutely foolproof. 

Out of nowhere, Trish appears before me, and I quickly crumble the little note and tuck it away. Her shrill voice scratches at my eardrums as she greets me, “Hey!” 

“Trish, ‘sup.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, making sure not to lose the precious note.  

“Would you like to drink some coffee with me?” she asks, batting her fake eyelashes at me. I can’t seem to understand why women do that. They don’t even look natural at all. Ew. 

Just before I decline her offer, she adds, “I really would love to talk to you about Yoongi. I had a crush on him forever, and I know you know him more than I do.”  

Oh hell yes, I love playing Cupid! “Sure.”  

And that’s how I find myself at the kitchenette, not far from your office, imitating Yoongi’s attempt at flirting during the last Christmas party when he was drunk. I’m making my best impression, complete with exaggerated winks and slurred speech when you walk into the kitchen.  

The moment I see you, I’m struck silent by your presence. You look like an angel, beautiful and confident in your grace. But there’s a flicker of annoyance in your eyes, and I stand up straight, swallowing dryly. This is not good. That’s horrible.  

Cold sweat breaks out on my hands, neck, and temples as you greet us with a friendly and professional “Good morning.” Your distance stings to no limits.  

I move to the side to let you pass to the coffee machine, but as I glance briefly at Trish, her face thundering with a hostility I’ve never seen before, it dawns on me quickly—this stupid fucking snake just played me. I shake my head almost imperceptibly and scoff silently. How stupid could you be, Jungkook? You let yourself—and your plan—be sabotaged by another woman… no, SNAKE! Before it even started.  

Your cold voice snaps my eyes back to you, and there’s no trace of the prior annoyance visible. “We’ve been scheduled for the debrief half an hour ago. I’m free for the next twenty minutes until my next appointment. You know where to find me until then.”  

Wait, I’ve been late?! I didn’t know! And what’s in twenty minutes? “What’s in twenty minutes?”  

“I’m meeting with Joongki to optimise…” The rest of your sentence becomes white noise. Why did you schedule us back-to-back with me only having an hour with you? That’s not fair! You’re surely going to spend much more time with him!  

It all plays out rather quickly as you grab your coffee and leave me with Trish behind. I don’t miss how you still act friendly towards Trish, even though she’s a snake. As you round the corner, it hits me that I need to move, so I start walking with fast and heavy steps behind you. “Bye!” I wave half-heartedly over my shoulder to Trish, not bothering with her any longer.  

When we’re in your office, sitting facing each other, I can’t seem to care about the qualifying or the problem with the KERS. My professional self on autopilot while my true and only focus is on gauging if you’re as pissed as I am with Trish. If so, then why aren’t you showing it? Or are you angry with me because I yelled at you? Yes! I need to apologise regardless.  

“About the qualifying... I, uh, wanted to apologise. For my behaviour. I shouldn't have yelled at you or accused you of nepotism.”  

You wave a hand dismissively. “It's okay. It’s understandable to react emotionally, especially under the pressures of qualifying. We all have moments like that.”  

Thank God you’re not mad. Wait, did you just passively insult me? You never lost control over your emotions, so why did you say ‘we all’? You must still be mad at me. Is it because you’re interested in Joongki? Why aren’t you interested in me?! And why the fuck did you insult me if you’re not interested in me?  

Oh, your smile is so beautiful. “Apology accepted. Let's focus on moving forward and making sure we don't encounter similar issues again.”  

Apologise - check! 

Okay, so now to the real issue at hand. Joongki. My nemesis. Okay no, he’s cool. And married. But STILL. You’re surely not meeting him alone. There are multiple people involved with my car, bazillion engineers. 

"Wait, are you meeting Joongki alone?"

"Yes, I am. We need to go over some technical details. Why do you ask?"

Oh no, you’re raising your eyebrow. Oh no, you're suspicious. Play cool. Play cool. Play cool. How do I do that? Yes, just shrug. That’ll do. 

“Just curious. Is he... your type?"

Yeah, no. That's far from cool, Jungkook. Well done, idiot. 

My eyes can't help to briefly fall to your chest where you're folding your arms. But as quickly as they fall, I force them back up, knowing better than to dig my grave deeper than it is.  

"I'm here as a professional, Jungkook. If I were to have affairs left and right, I wouldn't have made it this far in my career. I think we both know that professionalism is key in this environment." 

Your eyes flicker with a hint of challenge I can't miss. How dare you insult me! Unfounded at that! I need to clear the air before you think I'm basically a hypothetical cheating idiot, but again, you beat me to it. Why can't you let me talk, woman? 

"Look, the point is, we're here to work. And I expect everyone, including myself, to act accordingly." You glance at your watch and I fear our time’s up. "I have to go. Joongki and I have a lot to cover."

Nooooo. Stay! Nooooo. Fucking Joongki! You gather your notes and stand, ready to leave, and I can't do shit about it. 

"Fine," I mutter, reluctantly standing up as well. "We'll talk later." 

You nod once, professional and composed. And I hate it! "Absolutely. Let's ensure we’re both getting ready for Singapore."

With that, you leave the office, your heels clicking against the floor, something I sure want to hear for the rest of my career. I can't help but watch you walk down the corridor while my thoughts run wild with everything that went wrong in the last hour. Unfolding the note with my precious master plan, I know I need to make sure to win you over, and the first step is to make sure Trish stays in her fucking lane. 

Last week was a success, if I do say so myself. You and I got closer. You've been laughing and giggling more and more at all the jokes and flirting I've been doing.  

It truly was a wonderful week, and working with you is something I never want to miss out on. You're competent beyond words, and I admire how hardworking and dedicated you are. You'd make a great mother, too. I'm sure you would be, and so much more.  

It's hard for me to keep away from you, especially during those boring meetings we have to attend every day. I get that it’s all new for you and you want to pay attention, but can't you spare a little bit of it for me? For now, I'm happy you let me bump my knee softly into yours. That's enough for me, really. As are the light brushes of your fingers against mine whenever you hand me your tablet with the data you want to discuss after the simulations or meetings.  

I'm positive that step 1 will be checked off soon. I can just feel it. I sent Trish Yoongi’s number, so I think she got the message. Since the kitchen incident, she hasn’t overstepped any of my boundaries during our training sessions. I’m sure she knows it was her first strike.  

Like now, as she lets me do another set of reps even though my biceps are killing me. What definitely crosses the line, though, is when she abruptly steps closer and leans in. I frown up at her through the mirror, but she keeps staring angrily at the gym entrance. When I follow her gaze, I see you standing there in all your beauty, and I have to remember to keep breathing evenly. You’re clearly searching for someone, and when your eyes land on me, not realising I can see you in the mirror, I feel like I’ve won the lottery.

Your cute little mouth falls open, and I see your precious eyes widen even from this distance as you gulp. Hell yes, that’s the reaction I want from you. I’m euphoric that there’s finally some proof you think I’m your type after all. Wooooooop!

Let me just grunt a little louder…

And yep, you finally catch my eyes through the mirror. Gotcha! Because you’re such a cute, flustered mess, I want to make it just a little worse by winking at you. I could keep going with the reps for days if it means you’re watching me like this.

As you walk toward us, I lower the dumbbells and grab my towel to dab around my face. It’s enough movement to make Trish step back.

“Toto has scheduled an extraordinary meeting regarding a rival driver in half an hour. He sent me to inform you,” you say, keeping your voice steady and authoritative as if I didn’t catch you drooling over me a second ago.

I’m not letting you off the hook so easily this time. “Caught you staring, huh? Enjoy the view?”

“I’m here to deliver a message, not to ogle.” But you sure did, babe. “Make sure you’re there on time.”

You don’t even give me time to respond before you turn and walk out of the gym.

“If you keep acting like that around my colleagues, you’re fired,” I state matter-of-factly, not even looking in Trish’s direction. Strike number 2, snake.

I’m sure you care. You have to after what you said to me during the emergency meeting. Step 1 isn’t completed yet, I know that. It was more than obvious when you stormed out of the meeting room before I could tell you how much I appreciate you being by my side and believing in me. But that’s okay because good things take time.

So why does it feel like Step 1 isn’t even on the paper during Saturday’s qualifying when you’re so friendly with Tae? It’s like the euphoric echo of my thoughts that you care is now mocking me.

Why is he so thrilled to see you? And you even hugged him! You never hug me, and we’re colleagues. Okay, that sounds wrong, but where do you know him from? I have to know. 

“Where do you two know each other from?”

Taehyung chuckles lightly before responding, “Miss Genius and I shared some classes, and she used to come by the racing club one time when I needed help.” His playful nudge at your shoulder elicits a laugh from you, and I think I might cry.

This really can’t be happening now. If you’re into him, then I stand no chance. Did he just say racing club? I was a driver there! I would have known if you were there! I would have never missed that!

“I don’t remember you being at the club.”

“Ah, that must have been around the time you were out with that illness.”

You. Little. Shit. 

He knows I’ve had a crush on you forever! He knew! And still, he didn’t tell me! I would have come regardless of whether I was sick or not. I would have come even if I was lying on my deathbed. He did it on purpose.

He’s trying to steer the conversation away from his clear betrayal. Oh hell no, we’re not doing this.

That girl is mine, thank you very much.

As I take your arm and guide you away from this…this…jerk, I realise that you were talking about your role. It would have been nice to hear that. I love when you talk about yourself. Oh god, I’ve dug my grave even deeper nby overreacting like a psycho. I need to apologise right away before you think I’m mad at you. Make it clear that it’s because of Tae and myself.

Just as I’m about to open my mouth, Toto strides briskly past, his voice cutting through the bustling paddock, “Get ready for qualifying, everyone!”

Shit. “Shit.”

I’ll talk to you later, after the race. Buy you flowers and apologise. 

But the race is all wrong, Mingyu distracts me and you’re gone from the paddock before I have a chance to talk to you again. 

So, Plan B, it is. Redeem myself by going out with you and at the same time learn what’s up with Mingyu. Again, another master plan. 

Oh, how our kids will be beautiful and intelligent. 

I've dressed nicely, and I feel good, so why am I this nervous? I've been pacing the hallway before your hotel room for ten minutes by now. Again and again a fraction of a second away from knocking before chickening out and walking away. 

It's the third time I've done this by now. I stop some distance away with a sigh, running a frustrated hand through my hair while my heart’s racing uncontrollably. 

What if you say no? What if Tae is there? No, he wouldn't be, right? 

Mustering all my courage, I walk with fast steps towards your door, giving myself no time to rethink it again, and finally knock. 

When you open, my heart melts to the floor into a puddle bigger than any sea in the world. 

You're the cutest woman in PJs and a face mask I have ever seen. Like literally the most beautiful woman, even when lounging. It’s unfair to be this intelligent and cute, leaving everyone else in your shadows.   You, as this little swamp monster, still hold my heart in your palms without knowing. 

“What do you want?” Your voice snaps me out of my daydream. 

“We’re going out.”

“I’ve got work to do,” you clearly bullshit me with this. 

“Work is over for tonight,” I step past you, and it's remarkable how small you are. So tiny in comparison with me. I know you were always shorter than me, even back then when you still didn't wear heels. But I've grown since then, and I thought you did too. “Were you always this small?”

“I’m not that small.”

YOU POUT! My heart sings like a musical aria of an opera. I just need to convince you to come with me. 

“Mingyu is hosting a party tonight. We’re going to attend it, and you’re going to get close to him and figure him out. The ultimate masterplan.”

You stare at me incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

Hey, that's not nice…why aren't you as nice to me as you are to others? 

“I’m not going. Why isn’t Trish doing this?”

Huh? Trish? There is no way I would ask her for anything related to my private life. “Why would she? And of course you’re going with me.”

You groan, looking at the cream-coloured ceiling, massaging your neck. “Jungkook, please. I don’t even have any clothes for a night out.”

“That’s an excuse. You’re coming. Now, let’s see what you have in your closet.”

If you're not getting ready yourself, perhaps you need a little push from me. Your closet is full of clothes even though we're only staying in Singapore for a handful of days. All dresses, in various colours, but black seems to overpower it all. The fabrics feel so nice in my palms, and I wonder why men’s clothing can't be as smooth. 

“Stop! Hey! Hands off my clothes! Jungkook!”

I stop so I can look at your face. You’re clearly stressed with your new role. I’m sure it’ll be good for you if you would just spend one night out. Laughing and relaxing a little bit. Perhaps if I bring you to laugh with something stupid, it’ll help convince you more. “You’re not going to go out like this. What’s that you have on your face?”

“It’s a face mask,” you say, exasperated. 

Let’s just touch it and make a scene, hm? Perhaps you're losing up then. “Ew, I got it on my finger. Make it go away! Oh my god, make it go away!”

You grab a tissue from the sideboard nearby and halt my hand. Your touch causes this fuzzy feeling in my stomach, which I can't get enough of and you're so close, your scent engulfs me in an instant. 

“You’re unbelievable. Unbelievable and insufferable,” you mutter under your breath, carefully wiping the mask off.

Yes. Yes, I’m unbelievably insufferable in love with you, babe. 

When you look up, locking your vibrant, sparkling eyes with mine, I can't help but let my thoughts run wild. The future I desire with you by my side, how the plan works, how I get to take care of you, say I love you whenever I want, just having you by my side. It suffocates and equally revives me. You're so close, just a breath away. And I wish I could kiss you stupid, shower you in the love and admiration you deserve. Your smooth skin peeking out of the mask, your pretty moist lips, your thick eyelashes. You're an angel sent to Earth to show us mortals what a fraction of divinity is. 

But you abruptly pull away when something behind us makes a noise. Whatever it was is now at the top of my nemesis list, but when you subtly shake your head, it’s like a knife to my heart, so I turn around and continue my search for a fitting dress for you. 

Pretending as if the times you pulled away from me didn't hurt me. 

When you disappear behind the door of the ensuite to get ready, I sit down on the side of your bed that didn't fall victim to all the work you did before I took you by surprise with my visit. 

A packet of Haribo gummy bears immediately catches my eye, and I pick it up, turning it from one side to the other. There’s only so much of the red ones left, my favourites, and I pick each one out. 

You probably like the red ones the most, too, as there’s not much left of them. So I put them back, picking out the white ones everyone hates and start eventually snacking on them. 

With my elbow, I push your laptop to the side and let my head fall onto your plush pillow, feet dangling over the edge of the bed’s side. Your scent encases me from all sides, overwhelming my senses. I've never met someone who smells as divine as you do, and I can't help but wonder how you do it. I roll onto my stomach, cheek now resting squished against the pillow so I can snack on the gummy bears and enjoy your scent to the fullest. 

I don't know how much time passes, as I'm too caught up in fantasies with you as the main character, but when you emerge from the bathroom, I know that reality can be so much more beautiful than any fantasy I could come up with. 

As we arrive at the party, we head straight for the bar to grab some drinks and scope out the place. We chat about ourselves, our childhoods, likes and dislikes, and I’m over the moon that you’re letting me in. You trust me enough to share the little and big things that make you who you are.

Your smile and laugh are the prettiest I’ve ever seen, and I feel blessed to be the recipient.

“No way you never went to parties!” You laugh right in my face. The joy that radiates from you is a sight I’d fight to keep on your face.

“I was never a party person. What’s the point anyway?”

“Jungkook, you really can’t tell me you’re not the type to go partying every chance you get.”

Ouch. Why don’t you believe me? Is my reputation that bad?

“But I’m telling you the truth! Look around!” I gesture to the people around us—the women in dresses so tiny and tight you could practically see their organs, the men more shallow than a baking sheet. “Why would I want to surround myself with these people?”

You frown up at me, taking another sip through your straw as you glance at the crowd. “Yeah… I know what you mean. But…” Your stunning eyes lock with mine again. “I never thought you wouldn’t like that.”

Ouch again. I sigh, not knowing how else to show you who I really am except by being honest.

“Now you know I’d rather spend the night somewhere else than be surrounded by people I can’t stand.”

My laugh makes your lips twitch around the straw, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you challenge me, “So you don’t like me?”

As if.

“Au contraire.”

The blush that creeps up your cheeks is phenomenal, causing my lips to stretch into the biggest smile possible—one that hurts my cheeks, but I couldn’t care less.

“Shall we start your ‘master plan’?” You turn your gaze over your shoulder, looking at Mingyu, who’s just sat down on a couch at the other end of the terrace. When you look back at me, there’s uneasiness in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, let’s just get it over with, hm?” You turn, taking a step toward Mingyu, but I stop you by holding your arm.

When our eyes meet, there’s clear fear in your irises, and I know I can’t let you go like this.

“___, talk to me. You don’t have to do this. We can leave right now if you want.”

The sigh that escapes you weighs a ton. You again come closer, causing me to let you go, but you refuse to look at me when you ask, your voice small and unsure, “What if it doesn’t work, Jungkook? What if he turns me away or something?”

You can’t be serious. You can’t be insecure when you look like this.

“Hey, listen. First, he’ll never turn you away. No one here would turn you away. And second, if it doesn’t work, that’s fine. Don’t pressure yourself with expectations no one’s set for you.”

You don’t seem convinced, so I gently guide your face with my fingers to look at me. “I’m right here. I’ll be watching over you. If anything goes wrong or I sense you’re not comfortable in the slightest, I’ll get you out of it. We can go now if you like. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

I can’t breathe; the smile appearing on your alluring lips sucker-punches my guts.

“Thank you,” you husk, and I wish we were alone. “Here goes nothing.”

And then you’re walking toward him. The sight tears me apart from the inside out, and I know that I never want to see you walk away from me, away to another man.

Half an hour later, I’m ready to burn this place to the ground. 

Not because women approach me. No, I just rejected them without much of a thought. 

“I’m taken.” 

“Off the market.” 

“Not interested.”

And watching you flirt with MiNgYu~ is bad enough, but seeing you touch him, practically sitting on his lap, and him touching you back is unbearable. 

I’ve seen enough. 

Not caring if I cut off anyone in my path, I march toward you. I should have stopped this a long time ago, before you got this drunk. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to take her. Now.” BACK OFF, MOTHERFUCKER. 

I help you up immediately, and I would lie if I said it doesn’t surprise me how you're clinging to me. I like it, though. 

As we head to the elevators, you suddenly start giggling. But your next words nearly make me stumble over my own feet.

“Jungkook, you’re so hot. Did you know that?”

Oh God, she thinks I’m hot! I can check off the first step! I try with all my might not to grin like a lovesick idiot, and I think you don’t notice how much your words affect me.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“No, I’m serious. You’re like really, really, super hot. And so funny.”

My heart stops. It halts and ceases and just quits. Your words are a fucking jackpot. 

I’m unprepared when you suddenly stop and look up at me with the most serious expression a drunk woman has ever given me. Though the hiccup betrays you and I want to laugh, there’s no time when you fall to your knees amid the crowd, saying, “Let me feel your thigh.”

What the fuck woman?! Get up! Shit! I need to pull you up immediately.

“This is not the time for that.”

“No, you don’t understand. Jungkook, let me feel—”

“NOT THE TIME, ___!”

Enough is enough. I hook my arm under yours and pull you to the elevator, and while we descend to the ground floor, you giggle non-stop.

We don’t get too far after we start walking toward the hotel, and I know you’ll never make it back there drunk in your heels.

With one swift movement, I pick you up on my back, causing you to let out a cute little scream. “Hold on tight.” I pat your thigh through your dress, and you oblige right away, wrapping your legs around my waist and hugging my neck.

It’s after the first turn when you let your head fall onto my shoulder, your lips and breath brushing against my skin. You inhale deeply, making me shiver. 

“You smell so good,” you say dreamily. 

Take that MiNgYu~

“Thank you,” I manage to say, trying to even out my breathing and heartbeat. 

“Is there any flaw in you? Like, you’re super talented and tall and big with all these muscles, and your face is like sculpted by God himself. And now you smell soooo good.” 

I’m burning up inside. I feel the blush on my cheeks, and I think I might faint. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. There’s no way.

“Oh, and you’re kind, and I feel safe with you.” 

“Well, I—”

“But I don’t like that you’re with Trish and now carry me.”

What?...like for real now. What?!

“I’m not with her. Why would I be? I really don’t know where…”

But there’s no need to explain myself further; you’re asleep by the time we reach your room. I sigh, shaking my head, wondering why you’d think I’d be into her when I only have eyes for you.

I carefully steady you against the wall as I search your bag for your room card. After I gently lay you on the bed, I head to your en-suite to search for makeup wipes.

When I come back, you’re still in a deep slumber, so I take off your shoes and wipe your feet down quickly, tugging you in. Sitting down beside you, I can’t help but trace your features. Taking another wipe out of the package, I carefully try to remove the makeup from your face, avoiding your eyes entirely. I’m too scared I might hurt you by accident.

As I finish, I fold the used wipe to throw it away, but it’s nearly clean, with just a little pink on it. Weird…

I take another one and wipe with a little more force than before. But again, it’s void of makeup.

Frowning at the wipe, I think there must be something wrong. Or did I do something wrong? It can’t be this difficult to do. My gaze switches between your face and the wipe in my hand until I notice there’s still some lipstick on your lips. This time there’s again a faint pink on the wipe.

Huh…interesting. I lean in, inches away from your face. Your skin is, in fact, clean, and it fascinates me how it’s this flawless. When your breath, tinged with alcohol, hits me, I regret not taking better care of you and hope you’re not mad at me when you wake up.

You look so peaceful, and I wish I could watch you the whole night as you sleep, never wanting this night to end.

“I’m really in love with you, ___. I’ve been for years.” It’s so lame to confess to you while you’re unconscious, and I rub my hands over my face, not knowing what to do with myself. Everything seems to go wrong. “If you don’t want me, it’s fine. But if there’s the tiniest chance for us…then let me show you that it’ll be worth it.”

With that, I stand up, making sure you’re neatly tucked in.

“Good night, princess.” 

It’s not much later, when I fall asleep with the post-it note in my hand.

series masterlist • JK 3

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! what was your favourite part of this chapter?

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife, @alessioayla, @darkeneddiary , @dumbheadblog

[barris-events]

temperature play, e.g. the external use of vaseline camphor ice

You go to my head and you linger like a haunting refrain And I find you spinning 'round in my brain Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne You go to my head like a sip of sparkling Burgundy brew And I find the very mention of you Like the kicker in a julep or two The thrill of the thought that you might give a thought to my plea Cast a spell over me You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise Like a summer with a thousand Julys You intoxicate my soul with your eyes (You Go to My Head, J. Fred Coots & Haven Gillespie, 1938, listen)

sampling the sauce they're making leads to finger sucking

“Once you put your hand in the flame/You can never be the same/There’s a certain satisfaction/In a little bit of pain” (Erotica, Madonna)

“You came, I think?/Because the marble made my cheeks look pink” (Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings, Father John Misty)

too much festive cheer at the Christmas party leads to the time honoured tradition of the pub toilet hook up

You're a sweet little headache But you are lots of fun I've a good mind to spank you Then thank you for all you've done You're a sweet little headache Full of quaint little schemes But when I should forget you I let you disturb my dreams I thought I could hold my own with you But you've got me all perplexed For here am I alone with you What are you going to do next? You're a sweet little headache If you keep on that way But a sweet little heartache You'll turn out to be some day (1938, listen)

"Afterglow, huh? Maybe for you, for me it's post-workout"

Richard gives Thomas a gift that is also definitely a gift for himself. Thomas teases him, Richard... retaliates

in front of a mirror

“I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking/I get filthy when that liquor get into me/I’ve been thinking, I’ve been thinking/Why can’t I keep my fingers off it, baby?” (Drunk In Love, Beyoncé)

situational engineering (the conscious or unconscious manufacture of events that give an emotional and/or sexual pay-off which can't be otherwise achieved)

London season footman Thomas/footman Richard

accidental kink discovery

against a wall

one or both still clothed

omegaverse AU

A very precious love Is what you are to me A stairway to a star A night in Shangri-La Of ecstasy Lanterns of gold Lanterns of blue Twinkle in the shadows While I dance with you An echo in the wind, across the summer lake Is saying you should know That lanterns lose their glow And hearts can break So hold me close, my darling Then kiss me tenderly And give your precious love Your very precious love to me (Sammy Fain & Paul Francis Webster, 1957)

pillow biting

slow and/or prolonged

“Relax don’t do it/When you want to suck to it/Relax don’t do it/When you want to come” (Relax, Frankie Goes To Hollywood)

staking a gentle claim

begging or pleading

competence kink

edging or overstimming

pampering

indulging in a spot of dancing becomes indulging in something else

vintage photo (links to a tumblr. Don't open at work!)

the little doors between the servants' rooms in case of fire:

Please use these prompts in whatever way inspires you. If you like, you can find the Nice prompts here and here. Happy creating! 🌲❤️✨🌶🌲

[burins]

i was doing comics livetweets on twitter but that seems... dangerous given the longevity of that site so i'm going to bring them over here so that in six months when i go "what comic was that in" i can find it. i'm breaking my "no new 52" rule to read greg pak's action comics run bc i've heard it's good! i already read the first tpb but it was on my desk shift so i emailed panels to myself. Country Kids Make Do!

AC (2011) #25: clark is so so charming in this run! he also breaks martha's finger AS A BABY which is a bold move on a writing level. if i found a baby in a cornfield and it broke my finger i might consider leaving that baby at the nearest hospital even if it was as adorable and round-cheeked as clark is here. ma kent is obviously made of sterner stuff than I.

CUTE!

now that we've gotten the backstory out of the way it's time for clark to fight the wind. literally. he tries to reverse a hurricane.

frankly i also find this charming! this is such a young thing to do. i also thought i was god's answer to every problem when i was 20. fortunately i did not have superhuman powers so i never accidentally tossed a whale in the air.

the art in these next few issues is Pretty Rough in the face department. aaron kuder does some rly lovely backgrounds and landscapes and action scenes and then you get a close up and we have some real adult animation ass mouths. it's still not as bad as this though!

AC 26: after clark fights the wind we have a charming moment where we learn that jimmy thinks clark plays a lot of sudoku bc he's always on his phone looking at Metropolis Nextdoor and trying to find crimes. clark have you ever considered going on normal gossip?

jokes aside these panels make me pretty emo about the intrinsic horror of being clark kent. you can hear every bad thing that happens, all of the time, and you also have the power and the will to stop it, or at least to try to. and that's your whole life forever!! woof!!!!

smash cut to the rainforest, where lana lang, electrical engineer, is busy excavating deep under the earth for geothermal energy. now i myself am not an electrical engineer but i don't think this is usually how that works. it's also been years since i took envi or geos classes but i do think that if you disturb forest soils in one of the most delicate and biodiverse areas on earth. this might be a problem. it's fine though bc lana lang is a hashtag girlboss and grabs a gun the first chance she gets.

clark shows up to fight the monster that of course appears, and immediately gets shook like a chew toy. delightful. he makes friends with the monster (also delightful!) and immediately gets stabbed by a ghost soldier (literally that is this character's name.)

AC 27: next issue we learn that clark has adopted the monster, who is actually a child. very very cute. in an alternate universe i think this kid becomes his robin and he and bruce meet up earlier to exchange parenting tips for underqualified 20somethings who accidentally ended up with very rambunctious wards.

clark's exasperation about lana's total inability to use his superhero name is deeply relatable. also clark what else did you pretend to throw into the sun and not actually throw into the sun

AC 28: we go underground and learn about an ancient secret society. i'm skimming this plot. lana is very excited about sustainable energy.

i had to look at this face so you do too!

i REALLY do not know how i feel about leonard sawyer, mahican nation, ghost soldier for (I think?) the US government! especially bc in about ten pages he is gonna literally stab clark in the back. hm!!!!

AC 29:

that's my special guy--

we get some more fighting... clark loses his newly adopted son who is actually a secret prince of underground. hey do we ever hear about the underground civilization again? here i was setting my fic in space so i could write aliens, like a chump. i guess i will find out when i read the next volume!

overall i'm enjoying this run, it's making me feel the clark kent emotion TM. god i do hope we get a new artist soon. sorry mr kuder but i need you to learn how mouths work (eta i looked this up and it's kuder most of the way through this run. sigh. i will simply zoom out a little on hoopla.)

[everygame]

Battle City (NES)

Developed/Published by: Namco Released: 9/9/1985 Completed: 20/11/2022 Completion: Beat all 35 unique levels. Version Played: Switch Online Trophies / Achievements: n/a

[Apologies for interrupting, but before we get to the article I’d like to mention that you can pre-order a copy of exp. 2600, my brand new zine, right now and get more of–and help support–writing like what you’re about to read.]

There are iconic NES games–Super Mario Bros. and that. And then there are iconic NES pirate cart games. Battle City is the latter. 

I have a funny history with NES piracy, actually. As most people know, the NES wasn’t really a thing in the UK for most people (I certainly didn’t know anyone with one as a child) and by the time I reached the age where my family were spending more time in Malaysia, I was already an avowed PC gamer. So even though I have so many memories of department stores with rows of pirate carts and knock off Famicoms… I wasn’t interested at all, and instead filled my boots with copied floppies (seeking out the stalls with the best reproductions of manuals and that sort of thing.)

In some respects, I regret this–so much of the video game culture of South East Asia in the 90s seems to be lost forever (see tweets) and now all I really have is snatches of memories–usually a gaggle of kids crowded round a pirate cart version of Street Fighter II in a Jaya Jusco–but I also know that games like Battle City squandered the chance to get me lugging a Malaysian famiclone home with a couple of 150-in-1 carts.

Let’s remember here I’m not yet a teenager and I’ve just discovered the glory of things like Wolfenstein 3D’s vibrant ultraviolence and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis’ cinematic narrative. And while in Malaysia I’m putting the exchange-rate equivalent of pennies into big fancy sit down/ride cabinets of the likes of Suzuka 8 Hours or Rad Mobile. So when an uncle digs out a faimclone and a pirate cart and you boot it up to find you can play 30 versions of the dustiest-ass tank game for babies you’d ever seen…

(And what was the deal with every single pirate cart massively over-inflating the number of games anyway? Was anyone fooled when they selected “Fancy Excitebike” in the list and just got Excitebike again??? I have one of those snatches of memory of standing in a wee store with my dad, him saying “you can get another game for the house!” and me, unable to tell which cart offered any value at all–after all, 80 of the games would probably be the same ones on the cart we already had–going home empty handed! Empty handed! When do kids ever do that???)

Anyway. When I think of pirate carts, I think of Battle City. Maybe it isn’t iconic to everyone, maybe it’s only iconic to me because it was on the cart I had for one summer at least… but it’s such a pirate cart game that it almost feels weird to play it in an “official” way.

And I suppose, this many years later, it’s kind of weird that I put a bunch of time into it?

I’ll say this. It’s not surprising that at the time I gave it short shrift. It’s got horrible sound (a constant buzzing of engines) and feels extremely simplistic and limiting as you awkwardly move your tank around sans diagonals. It was, after all, based on a game from 1980 with a bit of a graphical touch-up–contemporary with the timeless Pac-Man, sure, but this ain’t Pac-Man. I’ll admit the tank movement feels better than I remember it (smooth, and perfect speed) but the game sort of doesn’t really feel like anything.

Look at it this way. The game has you as a tank trying to defend one poorly walled-in base, always at the bottom center of the screen, from being shot by enemy tanks. There’s some terrain, but it’s mostly brick walls that can be shot through. Enemies spawn from the same three spawn points at the top of the level, and there’s some variation between them (some fast tanks, some tanks that take a bunch of hits). None of the enemies have any real AI–they don’t seek you, or really seek the base, either. Sometimes there are power-ups; you can improve your gun to destroy steel walls; there’s an occasional smart bomb or time-stop which are must-grabs. Shoot 20 tanks to get to the next level.

It’s, you know… fine. It’s an alright game design. But when you actually sit down and play it, the game very quickly devolves into getting your tank as far up the screen as you can manage where you are able to shoot clearly to both the left and right boundaries without being shot from a tank spawning above, and then just… firing constantly left or right based on which side tanks are traveling down from most urgently.

There are a few levels where this is not simple to do (a total bastard of a level mostly with tree coverage, making tanks near-impossible to see) and you can’t consider this tactic a total slam dunk because if a tank does slip past, they’ll often destroy your base before you can get to them, leading to an instant game over (no matter how many lives you have!) which can be infuriating. But it’s not like there’s better tactics; on a level by level basis you’ll do your best to shoot your enemies straight paths to your base, so you kind of just have to accept the variance.

In the cold light of 2022, Battle City is… a half-hour or so of near-mindless blasting that you wish had any sort of twist, or spark, or even particularly interesting level design, to make it a charming bit of classic arcade action worth score attacking.

In the early 90s it’s a dusty-ass tank game for babies that is indirectly responsible for the total lack of preservation of south-east Asian game culture history. Probably.

Will I ever play it again? Nope but I’ve got 1991’s Tank Force waiting to be played which is a baffling (and obscure) sequel that’s maybe brilliant. I mean who knows.

Final Thought: One of the most annoying things about Battle City of course is when you’re shot from the side by a tank that’s turned on a dime before you could notice, and I have to admit I’d be interested to play this exact game but with real, slow-ass tank turning. Would it be better? Would it actually be even more annoying? I’m kind of imagining these situations where you watch your tank turn, watching another tank turn, thinking “oh god, I hope I get this shot off” like you’re actually in the tank, feeling it slowly spin around… [“That’s why tanks have turrets though. So they can shoot in different directions more quickly”--Ed.] Shut up!

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month. Supporters receive an automatic 35% discount off physical zines, like exp. 2600, which you can order now.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

AAAAAAANNNND HERE'S MY THIRD OC, MY VERY BEST BABY BOY, PULSAR!

(other ocs are in this post right here)

I've been putting off his reference design forever because of stuff, so I'm very excited to introduce him.

Some quick facts off the top of my head cuz I never made an actual doc about him:

He's a wifi router from the company Bloo and Loop Doup come from. Don't ask why the wifi router was designed to be sentient, no one really knows...

It was made juuuuust before the merger as one of the conditions of acceptance. He was reqiured to be one of the pizzaplex models taken in, and Fazco couldn't do his repairs or get his blueprints. Strange, right?

He's essentially connected to the entire networking of the plex (y'know, because he's the embodiment of the system). If something's going on, he knows about it.

It can only speak through prerecorded messages, but has spent enough time around the other models to have figured out the picture signing as well. He only knows so much, though.

He and Bloo get along pretty well, but they don't see each other often.

It's a serious prankster. Pulsar is pretty fair with its power, but not when it comes to rude patrons and staff. He'll totally mess with your wifi or pretend to give you a virus if he thinks you deserve it.

It stays away from Vanessa.

Most people disregard him, so he's essentially free to do whatever he wants.

His antennae start flashing or beeping if he's trying to call attention, or if he's lost his temper.

The lil beams under it are actually magnetically attached (again, don't ask how, it just is, I'm no engineer) and can extend and compress (not the right word but hush) depending on the situation and its mood.

HATES working with staff.

Gets along with Moon pretty well, both of them don't say much and do security rounds on the rare occurrence that they meet up.

Can't really leave his designated area.

It also has access to information about the animatronics and their whereabouts at any given time! Neat, right?

Because of its access to the animatronic database, it can check for repairs, battery level, or viruses. It can also force them to enter a safety mode or return to the database, mostly via insistent pop-ups. He's never actually used this function though, at least not to his knowledge.

He doesn't like rabbits anymore.

And I think that's all I've got for now about our lil guy! I'll add more later if I think of something.

[cre0n]

WASP -Tennessee Yella

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iqm3eo4nDUE

"12, 12, 12, 12, one, two. This is a representation of the mountain drives, endless gravel driveways, luxury cabins and wasp hideaways. Nobody else but the liquidity streams themselves. That state of minding the minds' well. Yeah gorgeous, Eye even loved you in Hell"

Breathing through the gills of amnionic Writing 3-Peat classics and a Masterpiece It was written on her walls if she got any Forged in platonic engines of unreal peace Who gotcha own beats. Yeah? Who got beef? Nothing but the macking and love for the lovers Jealous ass #### ##### punks can't touch us Keep the cornmeal in her pantry if she raised right We having turkey necks on slave night (12) Back in contention never lost my straddle Side halts up and plummets new rattles Creates babies like Jack in the platform battles As lovely as you and new fabric, paddles (12) Pedals, metal Stainless treble

"Man listen, y’all cats in here should have already beat me to the punch on this "vibe". The greatest , don't matter if we all ONE. Nobility says different while remaining indifferent. The center column and avalanche the whole game off slaloms...... Salamu alaykum"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xb_GXGiN7tU

P-H the runoff not one harvest use Pure Masonry burp the jar leveraged Magic, let her cure Influenza running it's course, Rene got me rocked Big C Big D energy Triple 7's Bloodclot Who the fuck is this? What you want from Me? It's Souf Kak all day every day my destiny ATL my hoe Bitch used to be my manager, my wife though But Cre ain't fucking round Yo'................ (Yo) Get sacrificed blown on Halloween and shit My children is who these folks be dealing with Kids get corrected baby Goats, Baphomet bitch Weeks 5-8 of flower nutrients are rejected Over feeding pigs, where your chain? Not respected

"Make my music sound like Gaawwd talking young nigga. You see your uncle over there? Go tell em' his momma ain't shit. The Elephant has entered it. Cold as a rink puck when my point center it. Rack and pinion featuring the control arms. Kelp in these tomatoes, performing like Juilliard."

A year later screen saver, dragon armor now and later Ego's look like Creon and niggas know Eye'm the Man though Eye can shoulder lean and gives a fuck 'bout a sample "Da Man" though invested in this bearish channel Head and shoulders trample, Taurus 4-21 Emmanuel Volleyball thighs, new bae is a doctor and she so fine Never mind Eye lost her P-T weeks ago from J-C True Story Nobody got the hint or the rent They reading for Egyptian shit Reap quantum hips, kissed with platinum lips Fingertips dipped with lithium strips Patched Xeon as a border Cre been a Hova, carried my next gen twice over This highway Bae stretches to primordial waters The charters Eye've drawn up and granted Enlil's folks can't stand it Got-damnit Making pace at my Isle's Corners, for Tanner and Connor Correspondence always starts "In your grace, we come with honor."

"Well damn forever...... let's just get back to the love making bruh......"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwgOquaaZG0

Foaming at the mouth in the Moonlight Powered by a H-D sunrise........... "Daisy's, Chariots, Wild Dragon Fruit" Eye employed vagina that paid other coochie Then they all talked shit six digits mad sue me With you babe, it's endless samples Flawed trajectory send it to the playlist, new channels Channeling a Goddess of the gawk The game ball goes to her hermit with his chalk

"Shit buddy if Eye'm gonna be me then why not. All eyes when this does down in our Grand Canyon. Nitrogen for Cobb County. Gwinnett is always a bet. You kept it what? Hardly. Creon came from Hilman, for real. Creon came from the trap, for real. Now it's the center column, Kundalini problems that become serpents burning with the urchins."

Nigga like pulling up carpet with an art-kit

Trichomes opaque hit of Auburn, market

Spiritual reserve with the moxie of a Fed

What you lie with making your bed, oversaid

Overstood from our underworld, mass tribunals

Ego funerals, Underwriters of living trust

Over the rainbow, his Tin man’s rust

What your bitch ass ‘cordial’ sheep movement, kudos

My daddy once told me Eye couldn’t listen to Biggie

Eye got bigger said he was broke, my shadow self is shitty

Upstate made you see a different View

Rebel Co. 4 Life... (finish the rest)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGLbZZjygqA

Bobby in Tuscaloosa

Headed to Mississippi

Pancake 30 Deep

Tennessee nest drippy

Publishing Creon is Jordan Know thyself so important Hodl the new hoarding Trust me my source is foreign Hair done make-up all that Eye just wanna suck on your neck Lined up 3-Point ball racks #-#-#-# Fall back Fuck your producer and his tracks Better show Love, where your heart at? Dashing out ain't wise jack Bring the Wombman back to her infancy In the glory days we made peace And made babies with big sticks Naw chick Eye got a 90's vibe Fuck you mean? Eye am the Prize Ain't falling for no spoiled acts Self-vacay photos void of macks Them girl's trips wasn't all that Stop faking shit you lonely brats If Eye had a little girl she'd get attention (spoiled) Gotta do your history on this lineage pimpin' Bases covered, nothing missing Except you and you bullshittin' (HA) Bobby on I-20, headed to Caledonia Another contractor folder The office on Peachtree Dot Gov is beneath me Showing up in the flesh where he from cuz? HELL, now bail and grab a ref Ain’t no rules when schooling is abused They want 'passport ready' You buying land over there fool??? Six digits without the label hitting Seven off moods Eye save bread from not buying cable, how rude (Roku)

.....*Vibes, *Universe, *Energy, *Toxic, *Lashes, *Independent, *Passports, *STOP IT.......

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBDMO5zrU5I

CREON: Play me something from Tennessee my Ego would get on... why not CRE: Gotcha... Humans...

HOOK:

1.

Let me play with your hair While Eye kick off a War Fucked around with Billy Carson Cause' I got tired of being poor My corporation built off partnerships, with AJ Simmons Breonca fearless seeing hives, producing nectar spirits On that '94 suicide route, rectangle pizza Stab you with a lunchroom fork, you dare tell a teacher Eye am the shit, Eye am a Boss Eye am Loved, Now what it Cost? Put my life on the moneyline, didn't get no receipts Rebel Co. Deep, Creon Solo, and still no beef Chairman of the Galactic Federation, be the Lord She say she reads my Classics for fun, sometimes she get's bored (Bitch) You in Atlanta? Take your shoes off, when y’all come through that door

HOOK:

2.

  12 years ON and guess what Eye'm still ON Found endless talent kept the balance, off a mothafuckin phone And that's before phones were ON Retina scan unknown Don't smoke no bullshit in my Home Chandon Rozay a Bel-Air too, while turning Netflix on Let me play with your Melanin While kicking off Armageddon Humble power still checking You checking up on this macking? Young hot babe celebrities This publishing is immaculate Flowing like some ejaculate The black fist be backing it Well over six the first season, yo my business is happening It feels like Memphis back in 2000 Every stream cracking Of course when it drops the kitchen Motion steps grease listens The prize, the main and best believe all the fixings (Who?) ............

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrar7FoJjKw

"When Eye don't even have to do it. Eye can just write this and let the rest ride. You already know the gravity. Enjoy."

CAROLINA. REAL. ESTATE. OVER. NIGGAS.

-CREON

[ausetkmt]

Boycotting Adidas and Gap in the Name of Kanye West Is Misguided

Kanye West has a new pronouncement: He is done with corporate America.

“It’s time for me to go it alone,” Ye explained in an interview with Bloomberg that was published Monday. “It’s fine. I made the companies money. The companies made me money. We created ideas that will change apparel forever. Like the round jacket, the foam runner, the slides that have changed the shoe industry. Now it’s time for Ye to make the new industry. No more companies standing in between me and the audience.”

Off

English

West is referring to Adidas—with whom he has an arrangement to produce his sneakers that expires in 2026—and Gap Inc., which is under contract to produce his apparel until 2030.

"They my new baby mamas,” the rapper now legally known as Ye added. “I guess we’re just going to have to co-parent those 350s.”

In recent months, West has called Adidas out for allegedly “blatantly copying” his designs—notably with the AdiFOM Q and the Adilette 22. As for the Gap, the rap game’s David Koresh claims the clothing company was copying looks from his Yeezy Gap Engineered by Balenciaga line.

“No one should be held in that position where people can steal from them and say we’re just paying you to shut up,” West explained to the outlet. “That destroys innovation. That destroys creativity. That’s what destroyed Nikola Tesla.” I don’t think that’s quite what led to Tesla’s demise, but Yeezus also complained about being left out of business meetings. He posted screengrabs of text exchanges with various executives on Instagram.

G/O Media may get a commission

Rich people fight all of the time about money. Why are some of us pretending this is some kind of civil rights issue worthy of a boycott?

Last week, Sean Combs, who I still prefer to call Puffy, wrote on Instagram: “Since the era of Run-DMC, @Adidas has always used Hip Hop to build its brand and make billions off of our culture. BUT WE ARE MORE THAN JUST CONSUMERS NOW, WE’RE THE OWNERS. @KanyeWest and YEEZY are the reason Adidas is relevant to culture. WE KNOW OUR VALUE!”

The post was accompanied by a screenshot of an apparent text exchange with our distressed fashion king/doll. “I’m done wearing Adidas products until they make this right!! We have to support each other!! Everybody repost this please!!” Puff added.

Separately, Swizz Beatz wrote: “I usually mind my business but this is DEAD WRONG! If we let them do this to @kanyewest it will happen to us also! This man created this groundbreaking innovation and it should be respected as a creative !”

“YE is only asking for his work to be respected and not stolen that’s not crazy to me !! We not buying these !!!!!!!!!!!!” he continued. “@adidas you’re supposed to be original do the correct thing please !!!”

Of all the issues to bring attention to, this ain’t it.

Once again, Ye is painting a picture of persecution when the reality is that he has been lobbying these corporate giants to give him billions of dollars and carte blanche to “create.”

Details of West’s contract are unknown, but Bloomberg reported that Yeezy made $191 million in royalties from the Adidas partnership in 2020.

Kanye made a choice to sign a contract with those enormous brands. It presumably allowed them to do whatever they want—including taking some of his creative direction and applying it elsewhere within the product line. They want to make money and since his affiliation alone arguably saved the brand, they’re going to target the customer as much as possible.

As I recall, after complaining about the major fashion houses ignoring him, he was happy to sign with them.

In an interview with Angie Martinez in 2014, he announced his deal with Adidas and said, “I’m going to be the 2Pac of product.” I still don’t know what that means, but he tried to do it on his own then without as much success. Then he retooled, used other people’s money and infrastructure, and now has an estimated worth of more than $1 billion.

And he seems to know that. Regardless of what he said this week, last week he suggested an interest in partnering with Authentic Brands Group, whose roster of brands includes Forever 21, Barneys New York, JCPenney, and Reebok. Ye also told Bloomberg he’s working with former Adidas executive Eric Liedtke, who now operates the plant-based clothing label Unless Collective, to help establish his empire.

Good for him, but I’m not sure starting a corporation is the best way to cut ties with corporate America.

By now, Kanye has an established pattern where in the event of a perceived transgression, he uses his Instagram page to malign people with insults and accusations—and then deletes everything. If anyone knows this, it’s his estranged wife and her now-ex-boyfriend. If he can go at the mother of his kids like that, close business partners are certainly not safe. I’m less inclined to treat major corporations as individuals, but there is something very Trumpian about his approach. He has a built in audience/cult that will fall for it, but this comes across as the frustrations of a manipulative micromanager who probably slowed down production (see his perpetually delayed and disjointed album releases).

Sidebar: I love how he ignores all of the times he’s been accused of copying.

Once again, Ye is painting a picture of persecution when the reality is that he has been lobbying these corporate giants to give him billions of dollars and carte blanche to “create.” He got what he wanted and they got what they paid for.

I don’t back Trump supporters with their boycotts—he shouldn’t have signed that contract if he wasn’t cool with the terms. If anything, all of these complaints have made me want to buy Adidas even more, just to spite him. Unless Beyoncé tells me something bad about the company, I’ll pass on the boycott.

I understand Puffy and Swizz want to support their fellow rich friend, but this feels like civil rights-themed hustle with beats. Sorry, not sorry, and thanks but no thanks.

Update: Kanye has since severed his relationship with Gap, announcing on Thursday (9/15) that he’s terminating his partnership with the Gap because of “substantial noncompliance.”

In a statement, his lawyer Nicholas Gravante said West was left with “no choice but to terminate their collaboration” because the retailer allegedly breached their partnership by not opening branded Yeezy stores and distributing his apparel as originally planned.

“Gap’s substantial noncompliance with its contractual obligations has been costly,” Gravante wrote. “Ye will now promptly move forward to make up for lost time by opening Yeezy retail stores.”

Let that be a lesson to all: Rich people will always be fine so long as they complain to their lawyers rather than IG.

[jamietukpahwriting]

It was at this point that the parlormaid, round-eyed with wonder, announced Cyril Proom. Proom had come to the front door, a gesture which had brought beads of perspiration out on his forehead, and the maid had nearly fainted. Not because she had expected him to come by the back door either. She had simply expected him to be forever at Mersham; immaculate, planted, there. Rabinovitch looked up—and was at once attacked by a deep, an almost ungovernable lust. Hannah was a good housekeeper. The Towers ran well, the food was excellent, the rooms clean and cared for. But Hanna, sensibly knowing her limitations, stuck to women servans, and these she treated in the traditions that prevailed in the village homesteads of her youth. In the servants’ quarters of The Towers nothing was secret, nothing, felt Leo Rabinovitch, was spared. The Rabinovitches’ maids got the shingles and the piles and were nursed by Hannah. They were crossed in love and their sobs floated up to the study where Rabinovitch was trying to read his company reports. They dreamed about nesting crows and royal babies and fire engines and told him so while serving breakfast. They walked in their sleep, their aunts fell off bicycles, poltergeists infested their cousins’ cottages—and every disaster, minutely chronicled, reverberated through the rooms and corridors of his house. But if Proom had come to offer his services… If Poom were to take over the running of The Towers… Leo’s eyes momentarily closed and a series of dizzying vignettes flashed through his mind. Himself sitting at dinner while a totally silent footman, an English footman, inscrutable and powdered, approached with the lebernockerl and sauerkraut. Himself arriving after a day in the city, handing his hat and coat to Proom himself and receiving only a pleasant: “I trust you had a successful day, sir?” But as he looked at Proom, standing respectfully before him in his unaccustomed lounge suit, Leo knew that all this could not—should not, even—be. For Proom belonged to Mersham. Proom was Mersham.

—A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson

[blondrichclosetwitch]

But her friend is nowhere to be seen, and she's hooked to the silver screen, but the film is a saddening bore for she's lived it ten times or more

“ …cause I wrote it ten times or more.”

I hate to inform you but I have my own fucking plan

I went home with the waitress, just like I always do

Send lawyers, guns and money

The shit has hit the fan

Lately, I've not slept a wink since this half-pint imitation put me on the blink

“I don’t know if you’ve seen that film, or remember seeing it, but I’ll tell you……..I had a good time.”

I'm not sleeping

There's something about you, girl, that makes me sweat

I can't talk about anything else instead of you

I'm trying to

You better catch me or I'll kill you

And why can't you look me in the face?

But I shouldn't put any questions to you that I don't really want the answers to

Finders, keepers, when you creep inside my mind it's madness

Y'all want us dead

just 'cause the skin is the black type (ah)

I'm tapped in the matrix, I'm back and they hate it

we the master of the path that we blazin', you dig

engine, I'm fishtailin' on some sloppy shit (skrrt)

Internet bringin' old lyrics up, like I hide the shit

Free 'em, don't fuck with the law like, damn, Gina

So calm the fuck down before we duck rounds and fireballs that make your family have to duck the fuck down

We frontline, we got the molotov that we can chuck now

'Cause anytime we movin' up, it's like a "What the fuck now?"

They playin' games, we strappin' up, we cock and aim

We aim to shoot, we shoot to claim what we need

We done with pain and the grievin, but put this plastic on first, 'cause shit is hittin' the fan, Scott

I want you so bad, Babe

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad

Don't look at the carpet, I drew something awful on it. Can’t you see?

“No touch!”

I'll never touch you

Bring your alibis*

We are programmed to receive*

It’s not easy for me to talk about

You should've known better than to have let her get you under her spell of the weather

I got you where I want you, you're deader than ever and falling for forever

I'm playing head games with you

If you should ask, then maybe they’d tell me what I would say

Let it go

Because of you I need to rest, oh yes*

Because it's you that sets the test

And the road is coming to its end

Now the damned have no time to make amends

Neptune City

…and no one will help us

Oh, watch out, watch out I'm cheating on you

My hands are red

My hands are red from sealing your red lips

Neptune City (if you have three planets in pisces, this is your jam)

You starve and near exhaust me

Stalked in the forest, too close to hide

“I said that lie already.”

By blood we're bound

Honestly I kinda always trance out on the married song, so I dunno

Don't ask me what I think of you

Might not give the answer that you want me to

Lauren: There's a voice I always trust; it’s friendly helping hand tells me leave, I must

“Baby, forgive me.”

And the world's got me dizzy again

You'd think after 22, I'd be used to the spin

And it only feels worse when I stay in one place

So I'm always pacing around or walking away

But it all boils down to one quotable phrase

“If you love something give it away”

You may be offended and you may be afraid, but don't walk away, don't walk away

It's four o'clock, it's got to stop

Tell him, "Take no more"

Apologies to future me's and you's

I'm not gonna end up a nervous wreck like the people I know who are nervous wrecks

Though I'm not gonna name names

(Yours was an exception)

We gotta go back

You know I love your art

The ocean washed over your grave

And when the mirror breaks I wouldn't miss it for the world

Call it blackstar, call it painstar

Or stare into the face of whatever it is that's facing you

Did they tell you...

Did they tell me...

What happened to you?

(It'll take some time

But somewhere down the line

We won't be)

Love never fails

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast-

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres-

You set me free, I set you free

(Life is sad and so is love)

Worth noting not the news is :51, starting to track that number: a fortune teller, a sea bird feather

(Also worth noting that when I asked Steel in 2020 if the Tarot Reader had anything to do with his death, he told me to hit shuffle and not the news started to play. I still remember the gasp coming out of my mouth. That was probably the beginning of clarity.)

4:59 pink rabbits which is so fucking loaded I can’t even

Years in the makin, and don't y'all mistake it

You know careers take off, just gotta be patient

Most of y'all gon' squeal

Most of y'all just envy, but jealousy get you killed

Most of y'all throw rocks and try to hide your hand

Because it's all in your eyes, most of y'all tell lies

Something happens when everybody finds out

You don't know me, -, I done changed

Now I am older, I'm getting so much bolder with my head up high(I was half a second late)

I'm stalkin' and walkin' you're my movie star

What you think of this idea:

You and me and no-one else

Your friends at work will disappear

And that guy you're with he was never there

Every night rewind the dream

Tv static sex in flame

Its comin' down real fast in my mind I will not live without you you you

(This playlist has been going since 10:58 am)

Oh, William

If you have to go, I will get by

I will follow you and see you on the Other Side

(might as well add that when this would play in 2017, it would accompany a scene of fake Stella convincing Psychic Jakk to kill himself (to join her on the other side), so it’s not my favorite memory)

I fear the whole world is starting to believe you

[racingliners]

F1 Re-Watch 2013: Round 8 - Great Britain

I race I did watch live at the time... but had to watch a recording of it bc I fell asleep as I'd gotten back from a school trip the day before.

Anyway, my main memory of this race is all the very bad and very dramatic tyre failures which... big yikes. Seb also retired with some kind of mechanical failure which meant that Rosberg won. But apart from that I don't remember much else, so let's get into it and hope it's not completely awful 😵‍💫

Ah Silverstone, my forever beloved 💚

Okay starting grid: Merc 1-2 with Lewis on pole (spoiler alert: he's one of the drivers who has a tyre blowout :(), Seb P3, Dan P5 holy shit, Jenson P10 and Jev P12.

Helmet watch: I can't quite tell but it looks like Seb has pictures of all the RBR team on his helmet which is adorable

[Formation Lap]: Mediums and Hards are the tyres for this race.

cut to the stampede of mechanics and engineers trying to get back to the garages.

[Start/Lap 1]: Lewis shooting off at the start and Seb taking P2, I LOVE THIS SONG

Grosjean going round the outside of the of the McLaren's at Luffield holy shit dude

Jenson up to P9 🥰

or not Fernando just got past him :(

[Lap 2]: Lewis with an 8 tenths lead already, that's why they named the start-finish straight after him

[Lap 3]: aaaaand Lewis fastest lap.

Meanwhile Sutil is in P4. Team Silverstone once again be Team Silverstone-ing, at Silverstone

[Lap 5]: Lewis up to 2 seconds ahead of Seb, he's goating folks

The way that I know the tyre failures are coming but I have no idea on which laps they happen, it's like a really aggressive jack in the box.

(iirc Lewis, Jev and Checo were the affected drivers)

[Lap 6]: So yeah I'm just going to enjoy the Sewis 1-2 while it lasts 😭

[Lap 7]: Not Jenson complaining of his tyres overheating already, he's on the hards 😭😭😭

And Perez just got past him

and cut to Webber's busted front wing, man announced his retirement that weekend and someone decided to beat him up at the start as a send off

[Lap 8]: Seb fastest lap 🥰

ah shit there's Lewis' delaminated left rear tyre 😭😭😭

Cut to a v disappointed looking Ross Brawn

I know it's been ten years, but you can meet my fists Pirelli

The fact it happened down the Wellington straight too like.... big fucking yikes man

[Lap 9]: Anyway he's made it into the pits and is back out on track, although in plum last :(

[Lap 10]: So Seb's now P1 with Rosberg P2 and Sutil P3.

Oh jeez it was Massa that was the second left rear failure

[Lap 11]: cut to someone from Pirelli watching Massa's stop in the pit lane dbuhsfubh

[Lap 12]: Unsurprisingly, a load of cars have made their first stops

And a Grosjean fastest lap, because why not

"There's two men trying to stop Sebastian Vettel running away with the championship, and they're not doing a very good job of it" okay Brundle I will give you that one right.

[Lap 13]: Rosberg makes his first stop for hards.

[Lap 14]: and Seb makes his first stop, also for hards

The fact that Sutil is in P3, Team Silverstone baby!!!

[Lap 15]: Jev with tyre failure number 3 😭

The thing literally just exploded as we went through Stowe like... Pirelli I am in your walls

This race is legit the reason why I get anxiety every time I see one tyre failure bc my mind instantly goes back to the mess that was this race

[Lap 16]: And Safety Car. Likely for all the debris.

And honestly this race still pisses me off bc all the drivers were told to stay off the kerbs, but maybe Pirelli should have made better tyres in the first place

[Lap 17]: Adrian Newey with his head in his hands, a colossal mood

Anyway, soapbox away for now. Lewis is up into P14.

[Lap 18]: oooh internal SC cam. Bernd Maylander my forever Driver of the Day.

Cut to another Pirelli man in the Merc garage 👁️👄👁️

the TV director had a lot of fun with that, I can imagine

[Lap 19]: And also big shoutout to the marshals at the time for picking up all the little bits of debris in such record time.

"It's been a bit busy the past few laps" NO SHIT ROCKY

[Lap 20]: and a lap later he's calling out Seb for his fuel usage 😭

I can very easily see why I only remember the tyre failures from this race bc the replays of all the incidents are not fun

oh damn they even sent the track sweepers onto the circuit to clean up the mess

[Lap 21]: SC in this lap

stresssssss

(not bc I fear Seb losing the lead, bc I fear more carnage)

and off Seb goes!

casually just leaving Rosberg for dust

[Lap 22]: oh damn Perez got Webber on the outside of Abbey

...and Webber gets the place back

cut to Lewis driving on the kerbs at Maggots and Becketts, is2g

worth noting that not single driver has listened to their engineers when it comes to avoiding the kerbs. They are all menaces to society.

[Lap 24]: But he did get past Gutierrez going into Copse so... that was sexy I'll allow it

[Lap 27]: Somehow, Sutil is still in P3

the absolute scenes of it all

Seb's gap over Rosberg up to 3.3 seconds, that's my boy!!!

[Lap 28]: Dan passes Grosjean for P6!!

Another piece of debris on the track oh my fucking god

this race is almost causing me physical pain, maybe I had a point when I passed out watching this at the time

Okay apparently Gutierrez just trashed one of the break marker boards everyone's tyres are thankfully fine

[Lap 30]: Alonso makes his second (?) stop

[Lap 31]: oh shit Rosberg is 1.5 seconds faster than Seb???

don't tell me the DNF is coming sooner rather than later

I mean, I know it's coming, but still. This race has been too much.

[Lap 32]: Lewis up to P9... because of cars ahead making stops :(

It's okay bud you win the race a year later and do very iconic things you're all good

[Lap 35]: Rosberg pits again, I have lost track of the number of stops everyone's done ngl

At this point I just want everyone (excluding Seb's incoming DNF) to make it to the end of the race with all four tyres on their cars 😭

[Lap 36]: And Seb pits

while Webber got past Alonso for P4

[Lap 37]: Jenson up into P11

And Lewis into the pits again, he comes out in P11 so he could still get some points

okay this battle with Di Resta is actually really good, annoying that Lewis is down in P12 though

[Lap 38]: aaaaand he takes back P11 going through turn 4 *chef's kiss*

[Lap 39]: pls don't cut to a dejected Jev I am very emotionally fragile bc of this dumb race

[Lap 41]: *Lewis back into the points klaxon*

and there's Seb going slowly 😭

[Lap 42]: sounds like a gearbox failure

and Safety Car bc his car stopped on the main straight

p a i n

I have been personally victimised by the British Grand Prix of 2013

on the plus side at least Seb didn't have a long run to get back to the RBR garage 🥲

[Lap 43]: And Rosberg and Webber make their third (?) stops

[Lap 44]: Cut to Vivian, with some very on brand Petronas teal nail polish.

Okay so mainly recapping the running order for myself bc there has been too much going on: Rosberg leads from Raikkonen, Sutil, Dan, Webber, Perez, Jenson, Alonso, Lewis and Grosjean make up the top 10.

This has been a Motor Race™️

[Lap 45]: And off Nico goes!

[Lap 46]: Webber and Lewis both up a place at the restart

as is Fernando

jesus fucking christ there goes Perez's tyre

Pirelli you owe me emotional damages

[Lap 47]: Meanwhile Webber just shot up into P3

and Lewis is into P7!

[Lap 48]: or make that P6

worth noting that Lotus didn't pit Raikkonen under the SC, as Webber takes P2 going through Copse.

[Lap 49]: Lewis into P5!!!!!

this race has legit been batshit insane

[Lap 50]: Rosberg fastest lap, he has a 1.4 second lead over Webber

I should add we have three laps left

And Alonso takes P3

[Lap 51]: aaand Webber fastest lap

love me some fastest lap ping pong

Lewis P4!!!!!!!!!!

He had pole, dropped to last after his tyre failure, and goated his way back to P4. That's they they named the start-finish straight after him folks

[Lap 52]: Last lap. I am exhausted.

Rosberg has a 9 tenths lead so he's good

[Finish]: And Monaco Man wins the British GP!!!

Webber P2, Alonso P3, Lewis P4, Raikkonen P5, Massa P6, Sutil P7, Dan P8, Di Resta P9 and Hulkenberg P10.

My god, those last 10-ish laps combined with everything that happened beforehand... I need a lie down. Pirelli will be meeting my fists and paying my emotional damages even though it's been 10 years since the race.

Next race - Germany!

[laresearchette]

Sunday, January 15, 2022 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: MAYOR OF KINGSTOWN (Paramount +) THE LAST OF US (HBO Canada) 9:00pm YOUR HONOR (Crave)  9:00pm MILF MANOR (TLC Canada) 10:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: 28TH CRITICS CHOICE AWARDS (CW Feed) THE WAY HOME (Premiering on January 22 on W Network at 8:00pm) BURNED BY LOVE (TBD - Lifetime Canada)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA ALL THINGS VALENTINE A DASH OF LOVE DATE WITH LOVE LOVE, ONCE AND ALWAYS     THE PERFECT BRIDE THE STORY OF US

CRAVE TV THE LAST OF US (Season 1, Episode 1)

NETFLIX CANADA SHIVA BABY

GRAND SLAM OF CURLING (SN1) 1:00pm: Canadian Open - Men’s Final (SN/SN360) 6:00pm: Canadian Open - Women's Final

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN4/TSN5) 1:00pm: Dolphins vs. Bills (TSN4) 4:30pm: Giants vs. Vikings (TSN4) 8:15pm: Ravens vs. Bengals

NBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 3:30pm: Warriors vs. Bulls (SN1) 6:00pm: Thunder vs. Nets (SN1) 9:30pm: 76ers vs. Lakers

NHL HOCKEY (SNPacific) 5:00pm: Canucks vs. Hurricanes (TSN2) 5:00pm: Habs vs. Rangers (TSN3) 7:00pm: Coyotes vs. Jets

AUSTRALIAN OPEN TENNIS (TSN) 7:00pm: Early Round Coverage Day #1 (TSN) 11:00pm: Early Round Coverage Day #1

HEARTLAND (CBC) 7:00pm: A surprise visitor causes Amy to see Finn differently. A weekend trip to the cabin has Jack struggling with his past while Katie finally opens up. Lou and Peter’s dinner party doesn’t go as planned. Are they serving HORSE?

DOUG AND THE SLUGS AND ME (CBC) 8:00pm::  A POV documentary about a filmmaker uncovering the story of her best friend’s dad, the lead singer of Doug and the Slugs.

HOW TO FIND FOREVER (City TV) 8:00pm: Marley is great at organizing other people's engagements but unlucky with love. However, the man who could jeopardize her latest project may also be Mr. Right.

WALKER INDEPENDENCE (W Network) 9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE)

IRREVERENT (Showcase) 9:00pm: Mack tracks down the real reverend to recover his stolen money, but he must officiate a full Christian wedding without anyone noticing that he's a complete fraud.

THE END IS NYE (Nat Geo Canada) 9:00pm:  The largest supervolcano eruption in modern history threatens to ignite the globe; Bill explores the origin of volcanoes, how to survive their wrath and even ways to harness their boundless underground energy.

UNEARTHED: SEVEN WONDERS (Cottage Life) 9:00pm:  Seven wonders of ancient Egypt are home to mysteries still unsolved thousands of years after their construction, and today, investigators use cutting-edge technology and forensic analysis to reveal new secrets of these colossal engineering marvels.

MEETING THE BEATLES IN INDIA (Super Channel Fuse) 9:30pm:  In 1968 the Beatles travel to Rishikesh, India, to study transcendental meditation with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

BROTHER VS. BROTHER: NO RULES (HGTV Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Two brothers go against each other as they each mentor home improvement experts for a prize.

THE CURSE OF OAK ISLAND (History Canada) 10:00pm: The team's high hopes of finding the fabled treasure are intensified when it procures what could be the final piece of the puzzle.

THE TERRITORY (Nat Geo Canada) 10:00pm:  When a network of Brazilian farmers seizes a protected area of the Amazon rainforest, a young Indigenous leader and his mentor must fight back in defense of the land and an uncontacted group living deep within the forest.