#and again the car is important as it makes him aspirational

[hiv-live-laugh-love]

i was talking to a friend the other day abt revolutionary girl utena and we came to the conclusion that the cultural notion that the ability to financially spoil one's romantic partner is an essential part of being a good boyfriend/husband is probably a contributing factor in the grooming of teenage girls

[multifandomgirl08]

Stones To Throw At My Creator [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad! Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: He wasn't his father. He would never raise Nico like that.

Warning(s): Angst, Mention of past trauma caused by a parent, Jos Verstappen (just him, in the second half), Max and Jos have a verbal confrontation

A/N: Title from the song Bother by Stone Sour. This song was on one of my playlists and I couldn't help but think of Max while listening to it. I don't normally tackle heavy issues, but I couldn't get the idea of Max wanting to comment about his father's parenting now that he is going to be a parent (again). Totally me rambling but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

This part and the following part of Mini Verstappen are going to be heavy in terms of the subject. Luckily after the next part, it'll be the second to last time we hear about Jos in this series.

Words: 2k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It was one of the odd weekends that Max had off. Nico had a karting race that weekend, and Max made sure that he had been there given how many he had already missed.

“I only got fourth.” Nico blubbered, with his head slumped against his chest.

“You can’t win them all Nico.” Max insisted.

“But you win almost all of your races.” The little boy remarked.

While Max enjoyed winning when he was racing, he didn’t want Nico to feel like he had to strive to be amazing behind the wheel at such a young age. Nico was still learning and wasn’t going to be competing until he was older. He shouldn’t be thinking about winning races all the time. He was just a child.

“Yes I do, but there was a time when I didn’t. Winning isn’t everything. You need to focus on being a good driver first before winning anything. Especially when you have a team of people who are working alongside you.” He explained.

Nico knew how important the team was when Max was on the track, it was hundreds of people working to improve the car. It was never just Max at the end of the day. Max didn’t want to push Nico like his father had pushed him. There were times when Max felt he couldn’t handle the pressure his father was putting on him and he didn’t want Nico to ever feel like that.

Over the last year that Nico had been karting, Max had made his peace with it. This was what Nico wanted. So Max would support him even if he didn’t want his son to pursue being in motorsports.

After having spent so many years away from his father’s influence, with only his son and a nanny to take care of him for the first few years. It made Max think about the way that he was raised, how his father had conditioned him to have a very particular mentality when he was on the track and that was great when he was driving for Red Bull, but it wasn’t how he wanted to raise his son. He didn’t want his child to feel like he had to put aside the other things that he cared about for karting.

Nico would one day be his own person, he didn’t have to have the same aspirations that his father had for him growing up. He wanted Nico to enjoy karting while he was still young, he didn’t want to make it about winning for him. When he was older and decided that it was something that he wanted, then maybe… maybe he could be there to encourage Nico to pursue racing. He didn’t want to force it on him.

“But I like winning. It’s fun.” Nico muttered mostly to himself.

Max let out a deep breath.

He wanted to push Nico to do great when he was driving but he never wanted to take it to the extremes of his father.

He helped Nico pack up all of his things before going and meeting Y/N at the car.

“How about,” He offered up as they walked to the car. “We can work on you winning but when it’s not fun anymore I want you to tell me.”

He knew it wasn’t the perfect thing to offer up but it was better than what he had gone through growing up. He never wanted his son to resent him the way he did his father.

“Okay.” Nico nodded up at him. “Does that mean that we can fix the su…spen…sion? I think there is something wrong with it.”

Max couldn’t help but lightly smile.

“After dinner, we can go into the garage and take a look.” Max normally kept Nico out of the garage when he was working on Nico’s kart. He didn’t want his little fingers anywhere near it just in case something went wrong.

Max saw Y/N before she saw him. She was loading her bag into the back seat of the car while holding her growing belly. Baby Verstappen #2 was growing by the day.

When Y/N told him that she was pregnant he had been scared, he throught that he would have more time racing before they had kids together. Max hadn’t been around when Nico’s birth mother was pregnant with him, and he wanted to be able to experience all of it this time around. 

His wife had been at ease with the idea, telling him that there was nothing stopping them from giving Nico a sibling, he was already an amazing dad and adding another one to the family would only further prove that. He had believed her, and now that Y/N was pregnant he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

Max moved all of Nico’s karting things into the trunk of the car and closed it once everything was put away. He made his way to the front of the car, reaching for his wife’s waist.

"Hi, mijn leeuwin." He muttered.

"Hello." She replied before he pulled her in and kissed her letting his hand rest on the growing bump.

“Eww.” He heard from Nico.

Max pulled away long enough to laugh at his reaction. Although their son was used to all of the affection that he showed Y/N it was only recently that Nico started to find it gross.

Y/N carefully reached down and kissed Nico on the cheek.

“No, Mama,” Nico said after he squirmed away wiping off her kiss with the sleeve of his jacket. Nico was still as attached to Y/N as ever but there were little things that showed Max how quickly Nico was growing up.

They had just finished dinner, Max was clearing the table insisting that Y/N relax on the couch with Nico. He didn’t want her walking around more than usual.

There was a knock on the front door, they weren't expecting visitors.

“I’ll get it,” Max said abandoning the table for the door. It was a short walk, him then turning the lock of the door, and a small pull to see his father. Max froze where he stood. What was he doing here?

“Who’s at the door, baby.” He heard.

“No one, just someone who’s at the wrong house.” He said looking directly at his father. Max was quick to reach for his keys. He wasn’t going to invite his father inside. He didn’t want him here.

“Be right back.” Max hollered into the living room.

He pushed his father away from the front door before closing it behind him.

“What are you doing here?” He yelled in Dutch.

“Can’t I visit my family?” Jos had asked.

Max said nothing back to that. Jos knew that they had stopped being his family a long time ago.

“I don’t want you anywhere near my son.” Jos was trying to be civil, but Max didn’t want to be civil. He just wanted him gone from his life like he had been for the last 5 years.

“I’m his grandfather.”

“No, you’re the man that made me realize how I don’t want to raise my son.” He knew those words would cut deep, that was the intention. And he already has a grandfather in Christian, why would he need you? He wanted to add but didn’t.

Jos Verstappen wasn’t his father, they may share blood and a name but nothing else. He wanted nothing to do with him.

When Max was younger he never had to courage to stand up to his father, but after Nico came into his life he realized that he now needed to put Nico before him. After he started dating Y/N, got married, and found out that she was pregnant it made him aware that one day he would see his father and would need to stand up to him and tell him how he felt after all those years.

“What about my other grandchild?”

Max closed his eyes at those words. He never wanted him to know that Y/N was pregnant.

“You didn’t think I would find out?” Jos half questioned.

“I knew that you would eventually find out. I just never expected you to show up at my home with my family here.”

“I’m your family.”

“How can you claim to be my family when you tried to keep my son from me?” Jos never wanted him to know that he had a son. It wasn’t in his plans to make him a champion. Even if Nico wasn’t in his life, he knew he would eventually achieve that goal despite Jos always telling him that he would amount to nothing.

Becoming world Champion meant so much more given that he got to share those dreams with Nico.

“I did it for you, for your career.”

His career? That was his reason. Almost getting frostbite on his fingers as a child, being punched in the face after a race, being left at a gas station in the middle of knowhere. Was that for his career? He could think of more incidents that Jos would claim were “for his career”.

Jos Verstappen’s coaching made him a great driver, but it would have made him a shitty parent in addition to being a horrible husband.

He never wanted to put Y/N through what his mother had to deal with.

“You can claim that it was for my career. But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want you near my family.” Max was tempted to bring up getting a restraining order. If he did, he knew right away that Jos would call him weak, spineless, even pathetic. Jos loved to chuck insults at just about anyone, including the man that he called son.

“Max?” He heard coming from the front door. He turned around to see Y/N standing there looking concerned.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“Nothing, liefde.” He quickly switched back to English. He didn’t want to alarm Y/N that anything was wrong even with the concern that was shown on her face. “Everything is fine.”

He was trying to be reassuring to her. Hoping that she could tell that he had everything handled and wanted her to go back inside so Nico wouldn’t be left alone in the house.

He could see that Y/N was looking past him to see who was standing there. Y/N never pressured him to talk about his father, even if she was curious about what had led them here.

“Please, go back inside.” He pleaded. He didn’t want her around Jos.

He saw her stand up straighter before making her way back into the house.

He turned back to Jos and saw he met his eyes he could see something in him shift.

“You’ve got a good wife, strong, understanding,” Jos said, and as the words left his mouth he wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile at having Jos be proud of something he chose that wasn’t racing or punch him for talking about Y/N. “Looks like my son has gotten at least one thing right.”

“I’m not your son.” He said. He finally got his father's approval, and now he was quick to realize that he didn’t want it. “Now, please leave. I won’t ask you again.”

Jos didn’t say anything back. He didn’t walk away either at first, but as they stood there Max rooted his feet into the concrete of the driveway. Jos nodded before walking away.

It was strange watching his father walk away. He finally saw that Max had grown up and was his own person. As his father disappeared into the distance, all he could feel was a weight slowly lifting off his shoulders. Almost like it was easier to breathe.

He let himself take some time before he made his way inside the house. As he walked back to the house, it was the first time he felt like he didn’t have to watch over his shoulder.

He opened the door to see Y/N standing there with Nico by her side. He opened his arms for them, wanting them close. He breathed in the scent of her hair, feeling the press of Nico into his other side. He was so grateful for the two of you.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra

[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 7!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F: it's all about you by @bussyslayer333 the four times jake knew that his girl was the one he was going to marry, and the one time he made her his wife.

F: next thing you know by @disturbedbeautywrites you and jake met at the hard deck. in the blink of an eye, you're happily married with children you adore.

F: one man's loss is another man's gain by @sebastianstangirl01 jake would never thank rooster for anything other than leading his wife to him.

F: dad's shirt by @stargazing15 you and your daughter get jake a shirt for father's day, though she's more excited to wear it than him.

F + A: oh deer by @wkndwlff jake loved you, that he was sure of. out of fear of ruining your friendship, he kept that a secret. when you're in a car accident and jake almost losing you, he had to let you know.

F: i think there's been a glitch by @folkloreslovechild jake can't help who he is when he's around you.

F + A: 5 times hangman got older + 1 time he got wiser, too by @folkloreslovechild jake had always loved you, he just never realised it.

F: jake and his sweet wife by @fireinmoonshot

F + A: always a bridesmaid by @sugarcoated-lame when the dagger squad arrived at rooster's wedding, he had given them a stern warning to stay away from his baby sister. of course, jake is never one to listen to what bradley bradshaw has to say.

F: and i know when i need it i can count on you by @carnationworld-writings jake will do anything to help alleviate some of his pregnant wife's pain

F + A: you again by @ereardon you and jake were once in love, till he decided that you needed to break up. years have passed and you've both achieved your aspirations. will this then make room for both of you to rekindle that lost flame?

F: apple pie and you and i by @honeyhenry jake realises how fortunate he is when he's surrounded by the people he loves most, his family.

F: reunions by @gigisimsonmars you and jake haven't been together long and a pregnancy scare creates uncertainty about your relationship.

F + A: beach day by @harvestleaves jake's main concern will always be his girl, even if it meant skipping out on showing rooster up at dogfight football.

S + A: stay by @sere-sins jake never spent the night, but you needed him. so he'll stay, even if it's just for today.

A: pink light by @sushiwriterhere jake seresin, in all his blonde haired glory, had you wrapped around his finger. you loved him like the earth loved the moon. he didn't.

A: past the texas line by @allbark-no-bite jake will do anything for you, there is no line he wouldn't cross.

F: let me walk you home by @fireinmoonshot jake thought that tonight was finally the night that he would make a move on you. much to his dismay, you were preoccupied the whole night. he settles on walking you home.

F + A: the worst best man by @youvebeenlivingfictional jake seresin was already an insufferable man. pit him as best man while you've the maid of honour for a wedding, you were sure to be on the verge of pulling your hair out.

F + A: hung the galaxy by @creativeashproductions the last time you stepped foot in the city of angels, you had become a runaway bride. this time, you’re happily together with a fiancé you love dearly.

F + A: would that i by @uselsshuman jake, the ever loving partner, will always be there to clean up your accidents, no matter how big or small.

F + A: the olive theory by @eternalsams on every person’s 24th birthday, they will receive an envelope detailing who their soulmate is. you’re disheartened when the contents of the letter doesn’t describe jake.

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F + A: i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse you are hopeful in getting your end of year bonus, only to find out a big chunk of it was going to the defence budget. it didn't help that you were dating a military man.

F + A: days like this by @sometimesanalice when you've had a terrible day, bradley is there to cheer you up

F: a little bit of courage by @callsignmeiga you and bradley have reached the point in your relationship where he's ready for you to meet his found family.

F: all of the girls you loved before by @wannabeschyulersister all of the girls rooster's loved before made him the one you've fallen for.

F + A: do you want me? by @ash5monster01 rooster assures you that he wants you as much as you want him.

F: sweet encounters + sweet tooth by @junkdrawerfics rooster's first time meeting you was with payback drunkenly stumbling into your bakery, screaming for your croissants.

F + A: bad idea by @sometimesanalice rooster sees the girl that had dumped him at the hard deck, flirting with someone who definitely did not deserve her.

F + A: just roommates by @risriswrites you and rooster were just roommates, till you weren't.

F + A: rescue me by @beccaanne814 bradley is left haunted by the events of the uranium mission and seeks comfort in the one person who can give it to him.

F + A: ruffling feathers by @helloheyhihowdyheya yours and rooster's feud didn't just exist in the air.

F + S: baby come close by @bradshawsweetheart you trust bradley with all your heart, deciding that you are ready to take your relationship to another level.

F + A: pick your battles 𖥻 by @intoanotherworld23 your relationship with bradley ended on a bad note, cruel words were spat and feelings were hurt. you're both called back to topgun for a suicide mission and tensions arise.

F: baby on my left, wife on my right by @popcornlover wanting to be carried from the car into the house, you and your daughter pretend to be asleep

F: stuck on you by @teowritesthings bradley gives you the sweetest morning surprise.

BOB 'ROBERT' FLOYD

F + A: my girl by @rlphunter phoenix sets you up on a date, not knowing that you are secretly dating her backseater.

F: fix it by @lovingperfectionsblog bob was not good with women. he also should have known better than to seek advice from womaniser, jake seresin.

F: you gift bob flowers by @peachystenbrough

F: wicked game by @icegirl03 you and bob slow dance in the living room

F: baby, i'm yours by @superhornetbaby bob dials up the endearment when he's drunk

MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA

F: 512 by @bonitanightmxres you've always thought that the guy living in apartment 512 was cute. you finally gather the courage to ask him out.

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 3. - Breeding / degrading.

Bud Cooper x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Breeding + degrading + age gap. (Early 20's + late 30's) (+18)

Important writers note. Since Suburbicon is set in 1959 you can guess it right, this is kinda misogynistic lol, there's a bit of dub-con with the breeding part.

Word count. 2k.

Summary. Bud is dying to make you a mommy.

Kinktober masterlist.

Bud was sweet, well, most of the time. You just weren't used to accepting the idea that sometimes he seemed to be obsessed with you.

Flowers, cards, expensive gifts. Having a boyfriend with a job was more fun than you thought, but at the same time, you had to deal with the burden of an older man with completely different aspirations from yours.

You loved him, and he undoubtedly loved you, but did you love him enough to set aside your life plans?

Attending college was a huge privilege, the idea of getting a job, your own apartment. You never saw yourself as a housewife, although you didn't judge those who made that choice; many of your girl friends were living a dream life that way.

And you weren't a fan of kids.

Oh, and weddings were too expensive to even consider.

Needless to say, it was the opposite of what Bud wanted for you. Well, for him. Or should you say, for the both of you, maybe?

"How was work?" Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed his lips. As usual, the only thing between you two was a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful sunflowers that matched the aesthetics of your room perfectly.

"They're considering me for a promotion." The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, making you laugh. "You should think about... you know, what we've talked about."

You pursed your lips, shaking your head afterward.

"No." You had lost count of how many times you had to repeat this. "I've already told you, love. No marriage, no engagement, no living together, and no kids until I finish college." You knew the dialogue by heart, and he probably did too.

He groaned, a little pout appearing on his lips.

"People talk," he whispered before kissing your lips again. Ah, you knew that by heart as well; it wasn't very difficult for him to distract you from the main topic.

Ever heard the popular saying "Small town, big hell"? Turns out, for the whole neighborhood, your relationship was more than scandalous. Bud already had a reputation due to his recent divorce, and you had managed to make it even worse with what everyone considered "progressive" ideas for the 50s.

You weren't married, everyone knew that, and you weren't in the process of getting married because every time you attended a boring neighborhood party, they always checked your hands and your partner's hands as a way to confirm that there was no ring yet. But still, you never hid the liberties of your relationship.

You spent whole nights at his apartment, the old lady from the house around the corner always spied on you when you left in the early hours or even in the mornings, with disheveled clothes, messy hair, and smeared lipstick all over your mouth.

The public displays of affection were on your part, although it was difficult for him to give in a little, he later understood that you did not have to be a prude in front of people, in fact, he started to enjoy the way in which people stopped to look. how you devoured his mouth against his car and how it brought moans from your throat because of the way his big hands squeezed your waist as if you were going to get away from him.

He loved your cherry flavored lip gloss and letting everyone know you were his.

"They've always talked." You lowered the bouquet of flowers, placing them on the dining table as his hands traveled the same path over and over, from your hips to your waist. "You know it's not what I want."

He sighed but gave you the same defeated smile as always.

"I know." He took just two steps closer until your body was against the table. "I've got the migraine of the century."

You chuckled. You already knew what that meant.

"And how could I solve that?"

With little effort, he sat you on the edge of the table, and your hands traveled down his chest, brushing his abdomen until they reached the edge of his pants. You tugged at the fabric until his hips were comfortably positioned between your legs.

“You know well what I want.” It was the last thing he whispered before his mouth was on yours, kissing you wetly and desperately.

It was no different than other times, you would never have guessed that Bud had a mission for that night.

While he was nibbling on your lower lip your hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, you were never going to get tired of admiring his body, muscles and tanned skin were the perfect combination, although this time he was so focused on your mouth that you couldn't move away to do it this time.

His fingers slowly lifted the hem of your mini skirt, the one that made older women look at you with disdain in the streets, the one that he loved so much. Bud only pulled away from your lips when he wanted to, looking down as his thumb brushed the center of your panties.

"Look at that." He whispered, applying more pressure with his thumb. “You're wet from just a couple of kisses."

You nibbled on your already swollen and red bottom lip, your eyes not leaving him for a single second.

“You are such a whore, you know that, sweetheart?” You whimpered as his thumb began to trace small circles over your still covered clit.

You felt how your little pussy throbbed around nothing. 'Whore' was a word that you knew was constantly floating around town to refer to you, it was fucking hot when your boyfriend used it before fucking your brains out.

You nodded slowly and bit back the urge to smile.

“So desperate.” You felt him teasing your hole with his middle finger, wetting your underwear even more as he pressed the fabric against the exact spot your slick ran from.

You sighed and your hands rested on the table for some support while you held your legs open for him. His gaze was still fixed on his hands against your puffy little pussy lips, marking the line between them with his fingers.

“People talk.” He repeated what he had said minutes before. “They talk about what a whore you are for letting yourself be fucked without being married to me.” You thrust your hips forward in desperation when his hand finally slipped under your underwear. You needed him.

“I know y-you love it.” You whispered with a breathy voice. “Letting everyone know I'm nothing but your slut.”

That was enough for him, you knew how to drive him crazy with a flutter of your eyelashes, even more so with a couple of words. He stopped touching you, and you were about to complain until you saw him unbuttoning his pants to give you what you really wanted.

It was your hand that delicately helped him position his cock between your legs. The head pressing against your hole after only pushing your underwear aside.

"This is what you want?" No matter how much he pressed he just didn't thrust into you, a few nights ago you had realized how much he liked to push you to your limit.

“Bud, p-please.”

"Sorry?" You saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the threat of a smile.

"Please please." You whispered, your pleading eyes boring into him.

"Please what?"

“Please fuck me, please, please.” You pushed your hip further to the edge of the table, not even with the pressure of your body you could make him continue. "I need it."

“Yeah? You do?” He cooed, a mocking pout on his face.

“I beg you.” You whimpered, your high pitched voice getting more demanding.

He clicked his tongue and in one thrust he buried himself in you, fulfilling your pleas in one expert movement.

“It doesn't matter h-how many…” He stammered as his fingers dug into your thighs. “How many damn times do I try to stretch you out.” He started with a slow rhythm, strong and deep, enough to use his own hands as a method to keep your body from sliding back on the table. “You are still so fucking thight, baby.”

Your hands traveled to your breasts, squeezing them over the fabric of your sweater, giving him a bit of a show before taking it off.

Ah yes, the fact that you didn't wear a bra was also something that attracted glances on the streets.

“Look at you, pretty girl.” He leaned enough so that he could bury his face between your breasts, licking his lips before beginning to place wet kisses on your soft skin. “Fuck, I want to marry you.”

His voice almost sounded pleading as your fingers ruffled his hair and pushed him even closer to you. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as his hips slammed into you again and again in a desperate rhythm.

“Please, please.” He whispered against your skin. “Please, marry me.” You were too cock drunk to think or speak clearly, you just nodded even though he couldn't see you.

It didn't take long for Bud to find that spot inside you, you moaned as loudly as you wanted, your back arching as if your body was begging to be as attached as it could be to his.

“Be my wife, baby.” You recognized well the way his voice broke, he was close.

He rested his chin on your chest and looked up. His eyes looked bigger from that position, it was stupidly adorable.

“P-Pull out.” You whispered between whimpers, your forehead resting against his.

Who were you trying to fool? You both loved each other so much it hurt.

He didn't obey you, his movements became more abrupt and you heard the table creak under your body along with the slap of your skin against his.

He was fucking you merciless.

“B-Bud.” You patted his cheek, trying to get his attention. “A-Ah, shit. P-Pull out.”

He dragged his hand up your thigh slowly until he reached between your legs, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit making you see stars.

“Bud!” You exclaimed loudly, your entire body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, y-yes, God, yes.”

“You are going to be such a pretty mommy.” His nose brushed against yours as he straightened his back, seeking to be at your height.

You wanted to refuse, you really wanted to tell him to stop but your body was at his mercy, begging for more.

Praying he wouldn't get out of you.

“You want me to pull out, sweetheart?” He took your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it and giving it a little tug before releasing it. “Tell me, do you want me to?”

Only moans came out of your mouth, shouting Bud's name and the word 'more' over and over again.

"I thought so." A delicate kiss on your lips. And another, and another, and another, and another. “You want my baby, don't you?”

You weren't thinking, you really weren't when you nodded.

A smile appeared on his face, accompanying his flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

It only took two more thrusts for you both to reach the limit, for the first time you felt the pleasure of being filled to the brim by him as your walls squeezed every last drop out of him. The warm liquid running down your thighs as your insides couldn't take any more.

“You are such an…” One more thrust silenced you, the way he pushed his spend deeper inside you. “Idiot.” You whispered, closing your eyes at the sensitivity of your body.

“You should start thinking about names.” His teasing smile made you want to punch him, but the soft, slow movement of his hips made you want to ask for more. “What do you say, love?” He pretended to pay attention to your babbling. “Yes, I think so too.”

He kissed your lips once, twice, three times.

“I'm not sure one is enough either.”

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk

Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3

ngl, i kinda liked this one lol

[repurpose-yourself]

Santa's Objectified Helpers 2 (1/7)

"Change is driven by those who get things done. These individuals can be from the highest corporate ladder to a neighbor building a tree house for their kids," a man's voice said with authority, though still calm and collected, "But, it's people like you who stunt aspirations and successes, though."

"Who the fuck do you think you are passing judgment on me?!" Eli yelled, his eyes blindfolded with arms and legs bound to a wooden chair, "Let me go!"

"Who am I? Oh, just a man who is always watching," the voice replied, "Checking lists and marking who is naughty and nice."

Eli thrashed about in his chair, "You're a fucking idiot! Who do you think you are?! Santa?!"

"Exactly," the voice responded immediately.

"And I'm supposed to believe this?" Eli shot back.

The man behind the commanding voice approached Eli and ripped the blindfold off, "I don't care what you believe. But what I will say is this. There is a young man by the name of Colt. You work with him. And don't play stupid, we both know you're well aware of this individual."

"So what?!" Eli fired off, looking at a man wearing boots, jeans and a flannel long sleeve, "You don't even look like Santa!"

"That's not important. What matters is Colt will finally receive the support he deserves from you," the man remarked, standing before Eli now, "I will see to it you're no longer capable of harassing this man."

"And what would that be?" Eli asked pointedly, "I won't willfully help that deadbeat loser. He's a fucking freeloader. You'll just have to kill me because I am not changing."

The man leaned into Eli, "Trust me, you'll wish for death when I am done with you. That freeloader works two jobs to care for his younger siblings, transitioning into a make-shift parent after their parents died in a car accident three years ago. You'll learn the meaning of giving and helping those less fortunate very quickly. I promise you that."

Before another word could be spoken, Eli's vision went dark...

***

"Merry early Christmas, Colt!" five people shouted as the young man walked through the backdoor of a business.

"Oh shit!" Colt said with a jump, before smiling, "What is all this?"

A woman stepped forward and handed Colt a box, "Colt, you're an inspiration to us all. We have watched you grow into a fine young man who is selfless and giving. Times are tough and, as people with our own families, we understand what you're going through. Since money is tight and everything you make is being poured into gifts for your younger siblings, we pulled some money together to get you a gift for Christmas."

"You guys! Awe, you didn't have to do this for me!" Colt said, taking the box, "Oh, this is heavy."

"We need to get back on the floor before the manager gets upset. So we'll leave you to open your gift in peace. Merry Christmas again, Colt!" the woman said, followed by the others wishing their holiday greetings towards Colt.

The young man watched his co-workers leave the backroom before sitting down at a table. Placing the present gently before him, Colt ripped the paper away and immediately saw the Jumpman symbol. His eyes widened now, as he pulled the lid off to see a sleek looking pair of Jordans.

"No fucking way!" Colt exclaimed, pulling the shoes out, "These are fucking mint!"

Eli jostled around a bit while Colt handled the new shoes and looked them over.

"Man, I have needed new shoes for a while. They must have seen me looking at this pair on my phone the other day," Colt said as he placed the shoes on the floor and wiped a few tears away from his eyes, "What great co-workers. And thankfully Eli isn't here to ruin it. What an asshole."

'Asshole?!' Eli thought, before noticing something was wildly off, 'I can't move... And why am I looking up at Colt's disgusting face from two holes on the floor?'

Suddenly Colt's right black socked foot hovered over one of the holes, "A full shift will break these in nicely."

A strong masculine smell accompanied the foot as it plowed into the hole. Eli screamed internally as five toes crashed into the individual, before shooting forward and bringing the rest of the young man's foot with them. Consumed in darkness, at least in one of the holes now, Eli gagged at the odor as Colt laced the hightop up.

'What the fuck is happening?! Get your disgusting foot off of me!' Eli yelled internally.

Colt's other foot hovered over the second opening and plunged inside the waiting shoe. Now covered by both feet and assaulted by the hard working man's smell, Eli wanted nothing more than to vomit. But no such actions took place or could even be conjured up. Colt shifted around slightly before standing up, unleashing excruciating pain across Eli's existence.

'Get off of me you fucking poor son of a bitch!' Eli wailed silently.

"Wow... These are comfortable! My feet literally sink into the insoles," Colt remarked, rocking back and forth on his feet, "These are great shoes."

Despite only hearing muffled things here and there, Eli heard one thing loud and clear, 'Insoles?'

Colt knelt down and grabbed his old shoes, applying substantial weight across the living insoles through the balls of his feet and toes.

'This can't be happening! I can't be insoles! This isn't possible! Help me!' the living insoles cried to itself, unable to communicate with the outside world.

Colt placed his old footwear in a locker and closed it, "I'll still hold onto these shoes for a while. I can use them for yard work."

Crying and begging for mercy, Eli simply supported Colt's size 13 feet and carried the young man wherever Colt needed to go. It was going to be a long 10 hour shift and an even longer existence beneath a man unaware of the life beneath his soles...

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 04

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Y/n is sitting at the desk inside the garage. It was a fairly quiet day and Leff was sitting in the office with his feet on the desk, talking on the phone to someone making new import deals. Sicky came busting through the door so hard, it hit the wall.

"I've fucking had it! I'm done babysitting this kid. He's been complaining nonstop all fucking day and I'm going to kill him." Sicky threw his hands up and Mike came in behind him shaking his head.

"Did you do all the drop offs?" Y/n looked at her watch and Sicky growled.

"No because princess over here has to stop every ten minutes to piss or get cigarettes or jerk off." Sicky looked back at him.

"I had to piss twice and it's not my fault these places are smoke free. This is fucking New York. That's stupid." Mike argued.

"I can't handle it Y/n. You take over or I'm going to skin the kid." Sicky lowered his voice so only Y/n could hear him knowing that threatening Leff's blood loud enough for him to hear would always be a no no. She stood up from the desk and chuckled.

"You remember this the next time I have to do a shipment at the bar." Y/n put a gun in her ankle holster and grabbed her jacket off the hook.

"Come on loverboy." Y/n grabbed the collar of Mike's leather jacket and he gave Sicky the finger.

"Do you care if I smoke in your car?" Mike asked hopeful.

"You can smoke in my car but to answer your question earlier, you can't smoke at client's establishments unless they offer you a smoke. It's disrespectful. These are business partners and when we enter their home turf, they have the advantage. We must show respect to keep business relations on the up and up." Y/n explained as Mike lit his cigarette.

"I fucking hate this job. Honestly, I almost wish Leff would have left me to figure my own shit out. At least that way I wouldn't be stuck being his little bitch delivery boy." He blew smoke out of the cracked window.

"What would you rather be doing?" Y/n asked honestly and Mike looked over at her to see if she was being serious.

"If I tell you, you can't laugh." Mike said making Y/n smile.

"If you say male stripper or rancher, I'm going to laugh." She warned making him chuckle.

"I want to be a musician. Start a band and get the hell out of here. The music scene in New York is dead unless you're a rapper or making a techno pop set in someone's basement rave." Mike explained.

"Musician? Do you play an instrument or are you a singer?" She asked. Mike could see she was genuinely interested in his answers and he tried to hide his blush.

"I play guitar but I definitely would need a singer. I'm not much of a vocalist." Mike took another puff from his cigarette and ashed it out the window.

"Well you could absolutely find a singer in New York but you'll want to go South if you want to get any sort of band off the ground. Everyone knows Texas is where aspiring musicians go." Y/n pulled up to a stop light and looked at him.

"What's your sound? Despite the cowboy look, the leather daddy that accompanies it gives hard rock or grungey alternative." Mike had to laugh out loud.

"Did you just call me a leather daddy?" He asked furrowing his brows.

"Shut up, don't act like you don't love when I give you pet names." She teased from behind the steering wheel. He noticed something he hadn't really noticed before. She had a tattoo on her neck behind her ear. When she smiled wide, he could see a little black rose etched into the skin.

"If only you would take me up on my offer to use them with less clothing and more privacy." Mike flirted making her shake her head at him, putting her hand out to take his cigarette and take a puff. He watched her suck the smoke into her mouth, let it out of her nose and back out again.

Every thing she did turned him on in the weirdest way.

"Get some furniture first and we'll revisit naked hangouts." She teased. Mike took that as a promise and motivation to get a couch.

"How do you know so much about the music scene in Texas?" Mike asked curiously.

"I used to work at a night club. A lot of guys would come through and tell me their life stories and dreams of making it big but what they don't realize is New York is more for performing arts. Classical musicians and acting are on the rise but places like Austin are where all the big music producers pick and choose people to throw together to make an album. Plus the food is superior." Mike kept his eyes on her.

"The night club...were you a-"

"Yes Mike, I used to be a dancer so if you have any stripper jokes, keep in mind that I'm currently behind the wheel and you aren't wearing a seat belt." She glanced over at him.

"I mean we're literally pushing drugs and weapons. I don't think being a stripper is some sort of classless gig. We're clearly doing a lot worse." He shook the duffel bag.

"You aren't wrong." Y/n pulled up to the drop location and put the car in park.

"Besides, Sicky said you own a bar now so that's cool." Mike added making her grin at him.

"You're talking to Sicky about me huh?" She teases and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up." He finished off his cigarette before getting out of the car and when Y/n handed him the duffel she held onto it.

"Hey, this shit is only as temporary as you want it to be. You want out, you have to find something that will get you out and keep you straight. All Leff needs is reassurance that you'll be able to take care of yourself. That's all he wants." She said sincerely.

"I'll keep that in mind while I'm peddling this cocaine to a biker gang." Mike said making Y/n scrunch her nose.

"Sicky's right, you're being a princess." Y/n teased making Mike take the bag from her and give her a mocking middle finger. She smiled giving him one back and watched his back as he knocked on the door. She moved her gun from her ankle holster to her lap and watched him carefully.

He didn't know it but Y/n was already willing to kill for him if she had to.

[karmautistic]

I WANNA TALK ABT ARATA FOR A BIT AND HIS CHARACTER

ARATA IS GOOD CHARACTER WRITING, U GUYS JUST HAVEN’T READ POWER OF UNITY AND/OR U DONT READ BETWEEN THE LINES (/HJ)

  BUT UHM I THINK.  It is important to start off by trying to understand where his actions came from. They fr don't justify it in any way, but it can be a fantastic point to start off for sympathy and still look forward to them becoming a better person (kinda like how Akito was hella out of line for punching Toya in the main story but u still feel bad knowing how much Bad Dogs means to him)

Arata seems to act so bitter because he is jealous that Akito and Toya still chase the same dream he has while being partners. This is not even up for debate, it's canonically implied. He doesn't even start to be cocky before Akito says "We're partners" and Toya notes that his demeanor seems to suddenly shift. I feel like it's pretty blatantly obvious that Arata can see himself in Akito,, A young kid who's shooting high, but feels confident as he still has his partner beside him for support. 

Arata doesn't have that anymore. He's clearly grieving the loss of his partner, even if he is still alive, he can't perform with Souma anymore because he was in a car accident. A lot of his actions in the first place seem to rise from bitter jealousy. Again, it doesn't justify his actions, but it explains them. He's had this dream for so much longer, worked so much harder, and now some other people are shooting for the same dream and getting close fast all because they're all still together with their closest partner. He thinks it's not fair to him that he had to have his chance ripped away all by circumstance, and half of it isn't even because he's jealous about the aspiration of surpassing RAD WEEKEND, He's jealous Akito still has someone he can call a partner and be with. In conclusion so far: Arata is GAY AS FUCK for Souma and basically Akitoya if instead of them supporting each other and reaching for their dreams, they had it ripped away from them in a swift instant.

Arata isn't jealous that his dream of surpassing RAD WEEKEND is being taken up by other people, he's jealous of the fact that Akito has someone to share that dream with. It wasn't Arata's dream, it was his and Souma's dream, and when he's out trying to surpass it, even with Souma in the hospital, he tells people he's doing it for a friend. He's desperately clinging onto the idea that it is still the shared dream even if Souma can not even participate.

Also this first screenshot adds to my point that his initial bitterness started from missing his partner. It's implied by the end of Stray Bad Dog that Arata and Akito are on mutual terms of rivalry, but one built out of respect and recognition for the other's skill. In this screenshot, he's mentioning how Akito genuinely looks forward to Akito performing again before briefly lamenting how it'd be better if his partner was here. (Souma is referred to with they/them pronouns of this entire event for some reason?? I'm assuming it's a translation error, but in my heart it just means Souma is he/they #slay)

ANYWAYS I think that since they're now in a mutual place of respect, their relationship turns to one of sort of like a mentor and apprentice. In Power of Unity, (which is yet to be released in EN,) Arata mentions that he lost to Taiga and afterwards, he told him how to improve... The words confuse him and he doesn't know what to do.

Turns out, VBS is trying to get a feel at what holding an event feels like so they decide to do one but need people. Arata asks to join and they hesitantly do. Throughout the event he's genuinely trying to help them hype people up under the guise of Taiga's words. He really needs to stop and understand the people in this town and who they are... He even goes as far as to offer to change his song in the lineup to make it sound better instead of being self-important, a total 180 from his initial personality in Stray Bad Dog. He ends up getting distracted because Souma has recently transferred into a hospital in town and he starts taking calls about it and ends up inviting Toya and Akito to come visit with him. It's then they start to have a mutual understanding even more so of their dreams and Akito says "We're doing this even together - We're teammates." 

Arata then asks if he or Toya understands Taiga's words and they both say they don't but will do anything to try and understand for him. Eventually at the end, they hold the event together and just end up doing their best to do so. Arata says he has every intention of just figuring things out and working hard towards his dream with no shortcuts, but he wants to get there the fastest route possible and he feels like that's possible if he and Akito support each other and share their ideas and OHHHHFUHFU FUCK I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OK? THEY'RE FAMILY NOW :((((((((( <3 THEY ARE A TEAM. 

Hell, I'd even go as far as to argue that Power of Unity is as much of an Arata-centered event as it is an Akito-centric event... maybe even moreso Arata.

I just need all Arata haters who say "I don't like him bc of how he treated Akito. It makes me mad." to read power of unity bc AKITO ISN'T EVEN MAD AT HOW ARATA TREATED HIM ANYMORE LET IT GO U GUYS, LET IT GO.  /LH

[gridgirldrabbles]

Hi bestie! Could you do firsts with max pls? 🥹❤️

First Meeting:

The first time you’d met Max you were surprised he’d even taken notice of you at all. Your friends had bought you a paddock pass for your birthday one year, but even with them all pooling together they could only afford one so you had to go by yourself. As much as you’d enjoyed your time in the paddock, you couldn’t deny that you were a bit lonely, hence why you were leaning up against the red bull hospitality building looking a bit lost. ‘Are you okay?’ Your snapped to the left, eyes widening when none other than Max Verstappen was stood there staring at you. ‘Yeah, I’m just a bit lonely, I’m here by myself.’ You felt a bit embarrassed to be telling him that, no one likes to admit they’re lonely, especially to one of the most famous racing drivers in the world. ‘You can come and keep me company for a bit if you want to.’ That was how you spent the rest of the afternoon either with Max or sat at the back of the garage, watching the free practice session. The two of you got along like two peas in a pod, exchanging numbers at the end of the day and Max asking if you wanted to accompany him again tomorrow.

First Date/Kiss:

Which is how you ended up on your first date! After spending the whole day with Max, cheering him on during qualifying and watching him get pole position, he’d asked if you wanted to get dinner with him that night. Of course it couldn’t be anything too late because he had to be up early for the race the next day, but you couldn’t say no to dinner with him no matter how casual it was. The moment that two of you were sat in the small restaurant in the middle of town you couldn’t stop laughing. Max knew how to keep you laughing and you could genuinely say it was the best date you’d ever been on. Because you’d only met the day before you had lots to talk about, from upbringings and aspirations to the way you take your tea in the morning. He insisted on paying the bill, even though you’d offered to split it, and then drove you back to your hotel. He knew that he probably shouldn’t come up to your room with you in case there were any cameras around, but he couldn’t resist leaning over the centre console in his car and capturing your lips with hips. He asked you to come and sit in the garage for the race tomorrow, to which you of course agreed, and the both of you couldn’t stop smiling as you texted each other throughout the evening.

First Time

It would probably happen after your fourth or fifth date, when max officially asked you to be his girlfriend. Because he was constantly travelling the world it was a bit difficult to do in person dates but he made the effort to come and see you as much as he could. Max knew that he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend after the date so he made sure that it was perfect. He wanted it to be more personal so he flew you out to Monaco to stay with him for a few days, and he was hoping you’d say yes or the next few days were going to be seriously awkward. Of course you said yes, you were virtually head over heels for he boy already. After the romantic date it was a natural progression to the bedroom, both of you unable to keep your hands off each other or your lips away from the other. Clothes were shed quickly and Max explored your body like it was the eighth wonder of the world. He was so gentle with you, pouring all of his love for you into his actions, making you come undone with his tongue, fingers and his cock. When you were on top he wouldn’t be able to look away from your gorgeous face and he would know that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with already.

First Race

Since racing was so important to Max it didn’t take long for you to come and watch one as an official couple. People had already seen you with Max because of how you met but it was still a shock when you walked into the paddock with your hands interlocked. He was never known for his PDA but he absolutely hated when he couldn’t hold your hand so he didn’t mind doing it in front of other people. You were there for the whole weekend, meeting his friends on the grid, Daniel was super excited to meet you as Max had been gushing about you to him for weeks already. He ended up having a great weekend, securing a grand chelem and made you promise that you’d come to as many races as you could because you were his good luck charm. He would absolutely try to spray you with champagne from the podium, and the picture taken of the two of you laughing and holding his trophy afterwards is now his lock screen.

First Home

Max would want to move in with you pretty quickly, it made sense for him because you already spent so much time together anyway, if you moved in it would mean you wouldn’t have to get a flight every two weeks. He’s never been known to do anything by halves so when he asked you to move in after six months you weren’t surprised. A lot of discussions would be had about your job, your family, but ultimately you knew you wanted to live with him too. He would comfort you after you said goodbye to your family and friends before making sure you got settled into your new environment by making you your favourite dinner. Over the next week he would try to introduce you to as many of his friends in the area as he could just so you wouldn’t be too lonely when he was gone for races. But to be honest, because you visited him so much when he was away you were away almost as much as he was.

[shortnonsense]

Old Shoes

by M. James

I was 10 at one point. Now I’m not. I hate that.

My mom says I’m just like her, so I guess it’s written in stone, but maybe there is room to be my own person. My sister is not like me. She seems to know the answers before the questions and doesn’t even care that some of us ask why. But such is the life of the 13-year old daughter of an engineer. Dad says he wanted 3.25 children; I think that’s meant to be an engineer joke, but usually I lose track of time when he says anything over eight words. I wake up suddenly an hour later and I don’t know where I’ve been.

What was I saying?

Oh. 3.25 kids. Yeah, that math didn’t work out, and I have a sister and two twin little monsters—I mean, brothers. Their names aren’t important. What is important is that I used to be 10.

My mom had aspirations once, I think, but now she seems to be happy to get through the day. I’ve seen the degrees and pictures of her PKD (aka pre-kid days), and she looked happier then. I know she loves us, and we make her happy also; it’s just that I don’t think she has spoken with her face lately to get on the same page with her heart.

When I was 10, it was just me and my sister, which meant is was mainly just me. My sister tends to live above us all. Now it’s all noise, and movement, and…where are my old shoes? I’ve been going through my closet for hours, and all I can think about was that I was 10 once. And that is when I went to the mall to buy shoes.

“Clara!” I heard my dad yell from downstairs, and most likely from the garage. I’m sure he’s been sitting in the car waiting on me. I guess I’ll be late again. But I really wanted to wear those old shoes to school today!

“Clara! Get in the car! You’ve had three tardies this month already, and I don’t want to have another meeting with your teacher!” yelled dad.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back.

“…then I told her to mind her own business, but she kept asking. I walked out and told her that I could do what I wanted, that she wasn’t even my real mom…” droned my friend/acquaintance that I’m required to listen to since we are lab partners in third period life science. Her name? Not really important, either. I mean—names just come and go, in the next class it will be another name, going on and on about something they know I don’t really care about, but have to act like I care about it because of all of this forced socializing. My mom says I’m an introvert. I think I just don’t like most people. And I think I just want to get this report done, but I’m the only one working.

“Class, take your seats. Open your text books to page 324. Anyone remember what we discussed yesterday?” shouts Mrs. Life Science Teacher, ending my suffering. Now for the “sit and try to listen to someone else” time. But really, I do like school. I just remember liking it more when I was 10. Now I feel like one of those little metal balls bouncing around inside one of the games they always show on retro shows about the 1980’s. I just bounce from one name to the next, smiling and nodding. Till 4 pm when I get to go back home, to my room, to my closet. Where are those old shoes?

The drive home is quiet. It is March and rainy, which means it’s that stretch of school between Spring Break and Summer with no days off, and everyone, including the teachers, are just trying to get to the end of the year without a major incident. Last year, that one boy got sick after his family trip to Mexico, and he spent several weeks in the hospital. We made cards. What was his name? I don’t remember. I do remember drawing a sun on the card I made him. I don’t know why we draw suns on cards, maybe they’re supposed to make people happy or something.

“BOOM!”

An explosion rocks the car, and I have no idea what is happening. The explosive noise jerks me out of my thoughts, and I find I am now gripping my sister’s hand tightly enough to make her squeal and rip here arm away.

“Hold on!” screams my mom in a way that makes me think she is really yelling at herself. Her usual, casual grip on the steering is now a stern 10 and 2. The car starts to weave and shake as the tire makes this loud throbbing sound. We all start to collectively realize the tire has blown as the car slows to a halt on the inside shoulder of a very busy Interstate 10. Jacksonville is busy at 4:30pm on a Tuesday, and we are no longer in the flow of busy parents trying to pick up their kids between work and soccer practice.

Time stops. Life was going at the speed of a school day, and then nothing. Cars blow by, making us shake with each passing. What now? This is certainly a first. Nothing ever interrupts the drive to and from school, except for that one time I forgot my backpack with my book report on the life of Alexander the Great. I got a C +. But now life has been interrupted. My mom is trying to get my dad on the phone while my sister starts quoting standard procedures for times of emergency.

“Yes, on the side of the road! We’re stuck out here, and I am not getting out of this car in this kind of traffic! We’re lucky we didn’t flip!” my mom blurts as she tries to get all the words out at once to my dad, who clearly has been interrupted from some important work meeting. “Okay, okay, you’re right, we’re fine. Yes, I’ll call our road-side assistance. Yes, we’ll sit tight.” Her words become slower as we all start to settle into the situation.

A few minutes later we all have our eyes locked on little blue and red converging dots that tell us exactly how soon our salvation will arrive. I’m starting to feel like maybe this is the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced. I have never been in this situation before, and it is so foreign to me. I have seen cars on the side of the road and have wondered what it would be like to be in such a helpless situation; now here we are, here I am. Helpless, dependent on the blue dot to get here as fast as possible. I wonder how in the world this person coming to our aide will even be able to get to us since the cars appear to be going 100 miles an hour, mere inches from my door! We, of course, have no idea what the damage might be to our gold 2010 Camry. It is going to be mine one day, my sister always jokes, because she plans to buy her own, much better car, but now…who knows. That noise makes me wonder if anything is left back there. I had no idea a tire popping could make such a noise.

Finally, an hour later, the dots finally become one, and the tow truck we saw zip by 15 minutes ago has finally swung back around is was slowly positioning itself on the shoulder to get even with our car. While waiting, Mom called several times to yell at several people. I think she really had to pee, and the call center couldn’t solve that particular problem. Turns out there were only two trucks in our part of Jacksonville today, and the other one is stuck in the middle of a 4-car pile up on the 95. Just our luck to blow a tire on Tommy’s day off. That is name of the driver of what would have been the third truck, the one who might have been able to get to us 30 minutes sooner. Which would have been a whole 30 minutes sooner to find out that our car doesn’t just need a new tire, it needs to be towed to the shop to fix the axle, our driver explains.

Tommy. That was a name that was important. Isn’t that odd. A name of someone not there was more important to me than all of those who were there, all the time, and never went away. Tommy was important because if he had been the one to stumble out of his rusted rig I might be that much closer to finding my old shoes. Now, this other guy, who smells like he lives in his tow truck, is trying to work out what the plan will be with my mom, who is getting more and more frustrated. She must really have to pee now.

One more call to Dad, more time waiting in the car, and soon it has been explained to my sister and I that we need to choose. Go with Mom and the Camry in the tow truck, or go with Dad in his car. Not like I get a vote, but it’s nice of Mom to phrase it like I do. As my sister argues the merits of her going with Dad, I watch the tow truck driver begin to hook up the Camry to this big crane-looking thing. Why can’t we just ride in the Camry like normal when it’s being towed? It doesn’t seem like it matter to me whether we ride in the car like normal or ride in the car while someone pulls us. Things like this didn’t ever happen when I was 10.

Jake. His name is Jake. Our driver. It says so on the little patch on his shirt. And just like that I am now aware of two important names. But Jake isn’t important like Tommy is. Jake is important because I cannot believe I am going to have to sit on his gross seat, in his gross truck, smelling his gross smells, all the way to wherever cars go to get fixed when they blow up on Interstate 10 after school on a Tuesday. I slide as close to Mom as I can. You’d think a vehicle that literally pulls other vehicles around would have a back seat, but this one barely even has a front seat! And what surface area that does exist is littered with Big Mac cartons and wrappers from what must be his favorite corner store snack.

My mom and I sit still in the cab of the truck while Jake finishes up. My dad picked up my sister 20 minutes ago and left us to die. That’s probably just me being dramatic. But that’s what it feels like. Why couldn’t we all go with my dad? Great question. But I guess 13-year old girls named Clara who used to be 10 don’t get those kinds of answers.

My mom busies herself on her phone, texting with friends about the ordeal, while I watch Jake in the rearview mirror. There is a radio, which is something. He has it on some station that primarily features people arguing about the recent blowout loss by the Jaguars. I was actually aware of this recent happening since I remember my dad yelling at the TV on Sunday, saying many of the same things these people are conveying. I myself am thoroughly disinterested in football, or sports, or most things people argue about with strangers.

I jump when the door opens and Jake hops in to sit next to me with much more athletic prowess than I would guess a man of his weight could accomplish.

“Hey there!” Jake says through an awkward grin. Something tells me he doesn’t get many 13-year old passengers.

“Hi,” I find myself whispering back, with what is most likely an equally awkward smile. I had been so wrapped up in my critique of Jake’s apparent lack of workplace cleanliness that I had lost track of his movement. I am not ready for this conversation, and now I am having it, and he is way closer than I expected. This middle seat must have been designed for three very small people, not one large man in his mid 50’s, one regular-sized mom, and one me.

“Pretty crazy, right?” Jake asked. “That tire of yours really messed up your back quarter panel. Your car may take a few weeks get it up and running again.”

“Huh,” I mutter, trying to find some similar personal experience that will make me able to in some way say something relevant to the point Jake is making. I fail. This is why we have phones. To give us something to stare at instead of doing whatever we have to do right now. But no, I have to wait another year till that magic age of 14 to have a phone. I guess in six months I’ll be responsible. Until then, It’s just me.

Jake cranks up the engine as we try to ease into the closest lane. Soon, we are up to speed, and I see that our destination has already been loaded into the GPS. To my relief we are in store for a fairly short drive. At least I thought. But at this point my mom states that if we do not stop for a bathroom, she will just have to go then and there. Which is not that worst thing you can hear from you mom while riding in a cramped, smelly tow truck, but It’s probably on the top 10. Top 5 even.

Five minutes later, we pull into a 7-11, where Mom grabs me out of the truck, and we both run to the bathroom. The trip back to the truck is much slower, and mom is evidently feeling much better. We climb back up into the truck, and Jake begins to ease the gas down as we drive back out onto the frontage road. He must have found time to grab another of his favorite snacks while we were in the girls’ room, and as he struggles with the wrapper, I hear him let out what I can only describe as sorrow. “Oh man, this does not look good,” he states, like we are both examining recent roadkill. He points to the GPS screen, and it dawns on me that our route, which was very much green, is now red, and red is bad. In the time it took for our little side trip, something must have changed on our path that turned our quick 20-minute drive into over an hour. Soon we find ourselves sitting in what might as well have been a five-mile long parking lot on the interstate. After several minutes of no movement, we all watch with horror as the time to our destination grows exponentially bigger and bigger. Sirens make themselves known in the distance, slowly gaining volume as they pass by us, rushing to whatever accident has caused all of this, and with that, Jake turns off the ignition. This, in my mind, is the same as holding up the white flag of surrender. Bottom line—I am now looking at over an hour of forced, awkward conversation with someone I never should have even met.

Did I say I don’t like people? Yes, I think I did. And my mom is no help, becoming more and more absorbed in some article she is reading that was posted on her favorite blog.

Jake sighs, looks in the mirror, then asks, “So, how old are you?”

“13,” I say.

“I used to be 13,” Jake states, like it is a revelation from God.

“I have these old shoes,” I say to Jake several minutes later. “I’ve been looking for them for days. They are my favorite shoes, even though I haven’t worn them in a while. I bought them when I was 10. I used to be 10.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this fact about my current state of being. But somehow my conversation with Jake is going differently than the back and forth banter I usually endure from classmates and my sister.

Jake goes on to describe what it was like to be 13, a young boy, being raised by a single mom in North Carolina. He moved to Florida when he was 30 and has bounced around from one job to the next ever since. Never being able to get back to that feeling of unfiltered opportunity like he had when he was 13.

It’s like he is searching for something that he has lost and can’t seem to find it. Now he’s 54, driving a tow truck around Jacksonville 6 days a week, is admittedly overweight, doesn’t have many friends, and often thinks about his life choices that have led him here. But mainly, he remembers that he used to be 13.

I used to be 10. “When I was 10,” I continue, “my dad took me to the mall one day, and I saw these shoes in the window of Macy’s, and I begged him for them. Eventually, he let me try them on, and after some more begging, I was walking out of the store with them wrapped up in this big, expensive-looking bag.”

“They sound nice,” Jake interjects. I know there is no way he can understand the feeling of buying new shoes as a young girl, but it is nice of him to try.

“The reason these particular shoes were such a big deal is that up till that point, every pair of shoes I ever wore had first been worn by my older sister.

“Ah!” Jake slips out, with comprehension that leaves me surprised. “Hand-me-downs, yes, those were common in my family. I was an only child, but with my mom being low on cash most of the time, I got my wardrobe out of a bag of clothes that was left on our doorstep by the family down the street that had two older boys, and they loved to point out the fact that I was always wearing clothes they were going to throw away.”

I let that statement linger a few minutes. We actually get to move forward about a quarter mile before yet another full stop. Another tow truck passes by to hopefully help clear the congestion several miles ahead.

“I wore those shoes every day for the whole school year,” I eventually say. “They were more than shoes, they were opportunity and freedom. They were truly mine, not something that was just mine now. Somehow, though, I lost track of them over the summer—I hardly ever wear actual shoes during the summer since it’s all flip flops and swimming. Then, when it was time to go back to school, there were more shoes in my closet, and I guess I just moved on. But now I’m 13, and I used to be 10, and I just want to find those old shoes.”

Jake looks at me for a while. My mom shifts positions, somehow able to tune out our conversation, aside from occasional comments about this traffic and how she had no idea it would take this long.

Finally, Jake’s eyes brighten, and he seems to have stumbled upon some kind of realization. “I’m sorry you can’t find your old shoes,” he says. “They sound very important to you. It is difficult growing up, leaving things behind, figuring out the new things.”

I look at him sideways, wondering how he jumped to that conclusion. I was talking about my shoes. I just want to find my old shoes. I wasn’t talking about growing up, or whatever.

Jake goes on. “I used to be 13, and the world fit inside my bedroom. One day I turned 14, then 15, then 16, and suddenly the world didn’t fit anymore. My world had gotten larger, but sometimes I’d think back on what it was like to be 13. I still do. Just like I think about what it was like to be 25 and 40. When I could run and not ache, or when I still had my mom, or when I still had dreams and goals. Now I look at the world rush by, as I sit on the side of the road. The only time I catch up to anyone is when they crash or break down. ‘Forced timeouts,’ I call them.”

He went on. “There are things, experiences, people even, that lock us into a time in our lives. It makes it easier to remember what it was like then after so much has changed. Our world moves on, but those things are locked in time. Like your old shoes.”

Jake pauses with that and lets his words drift through my mind. I was starting to think Jake was an important name for more reasons than I first assumed.

“I used to be 10,” I said, “and it was so much easier. Things made more sense to me, and now so much doesn’t. It was just me and my shoes. I just want to find them again.”

I wave goodbye to Jake as he pulls out of the repair shop parking lot. His is a name I will remember. My mom finishes speaking with the manager, working out the plan and cost of the repairs. It had taken so long for us to arrive that my dad is now able to swing by after finishing up at the office. My sister has been home for hours. I slide into the back seat next to a large garbage bag.

“Oh, just move that over, Honey. I forgot I still had that back there. I was supposed to drop it off at your cousin Ellie’s house last week,” explained Dad.

I stare at the bag as a thought begins to form. It is mixed with the story that Jake shared, the one about the bag of hand-me-downs he received from the people down the street from him. I untie the knot in the bag and peer inside. Just as I suspect, it is filled with clothes. My cousin is a few years younger than us, and since my younger brothers won’t be wearing my clothes, my parents often bag them up and drop them off for her to use. As I dig through the bag, I recognize shirts and dresses from years past. Some I remember liking, others I rarely wore.

Then my hand brushes against something hard under the stack of shorts. I have a rush of adrenaline as I reach in to grasp the item, pulling it into the light. “My old shoes!” I exclaim, apparently louder than intended, as my mom jumps at the sound.

“Yes, Honey, I put those in the giveaway bag months ago. You never wear them, and I don’t think they even fit you anymore,” explained Mom.

I hear her words, but they somehow don’t hit the mark she intends. Instead, I want to lash out, my anger stirred after such a difficult day. I am about to scream at her, tell her how she should never have thought to give away my favorite shoes, when something stops me.

I picture a 13-year old Jake, sitting in his room, playing. I used to be 10. I remember running to school in these shoes. I loved how I felt in them. They were mine, and the world made sense. But I’m not 10 anymore, just like Jake isn’t 13. Our worlds have grown, and for me 13 is scary, but it’s what I am. I need to stop looking for my old shoes, let someone else have them.

I slide them back in the bag and let it settle to the floorboard. “You’re right, I say to Mom. Ellie will love them. They are great shoes.”

After a few more minutes of driving, I ask, “Mom, can I go to a party next weekend? It’s a birthday party for my friend from Life Science class.”

“Probably,” says my mom. “What’s her name?” she asks.

“Shelby.”

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 11: Road Trip

Fandom: TTS (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Summary: When she first planned out their big cross-country roadtrip, Rapunzel knew there'd doubtless be hiccups along the way; life was like that. She didn't anticipate hitting the first before they left the driveway, though...

+++

Rapunzel flopped back on the sun-warmed lawn with a sigh, idly tracing wispy shapes in the cirrus overhead. She was an optimist by nature. Glasses were half full, every thunderhead had a silver lining, and even the most crotchety neighborhood grump could be won over with enough time and the right cupcakes (she would get through to Monty...eventually). Everything would *always* work out for the best. Which was fortunate, because-

“No *way* am I agreeing to that.”

“Yeah? Well no *way* am I taking my life in my hands and getting in a car with *you* behind the wheel.“

Because otherwise, she’d be worried.

Months of planning a cross country road trip, and she somehow hadn’t counted on Eugene and Cass going at it before they’d even left the driveway, butting heads over the all important question of who would drive the first leg of their trip.

“What, can’t stand the thrill of having a master behind the wheel?”

“More like I’d rather avoid the ‘thrill’ of speeding tickets and you nearly turning the car into an off-road vehicle at every literal turn.”

“Oh for the love of- that was one time! And that thing hardly counted as a ditch!”

“Enough of a ditch for me. Face it, Fitzherbert.” Cass crossed her arms smugly before Eugene could start on what exactly qualified as a ditch versus a very ambitious aspiring pothole. “Even your *girlfriend* doesn’t feel safe in a car you’re driving.”

Eugene scoffed, cocking a self-assured hand on his hip. “Shows how much *you* know. Tell our 'friendly' neighborhood Ice Demon, Blondie: I am a *fantastic* driver.”

Rapunzel blinked. “Uh.....” (not that she was taking sides, but she’d had drivers ed with Eugene his second time around).

Eugene gasped, knowing exactly what that very diplomatic “Uh...” meant coming from his girlfriend, and slammed an affronted hand to his chest. “Sunshine?!?”

Completely ignoring the theatrics, Cass dug into her pocket and whipped out a notepad. “We have an itinerary, Fotzherbert.” He stared unimpressed at the college-ruled sheets waving in his face. “And we need to stick to it if we want to hit all the places on Raps’ list.”

“I don’t mind if we skip-“ (honestly, Cass and her itineraries...).

“Which,” Cass continued undaunted. “We won’t do if you’re driving.”

“And what makes you so sure, Miss Can’t Make a Left Turn?”

Cass counted herself as the mature one (no matter how much Rapunzel tried to argue in her boyfriend’s favor), so she ignored that (Rapunzel too since, well, she’d also seen Cass drive). “Besides if you drive, even if we don’t get pulled over every five minutes, we’ll be getting off the freeway every ten miles for Lance’s ridiculous pet project!”

“Hey!” Lance looked up indignantly from where he was raiding the cooler (wait...wasn’t that supposed to be in the trunk?) “The Cross County McDonald’s tour is *not* ridiculous!”

(Again, not taking sides, but it quite honestly was)

“It’s the definition of ridiculous!” Cass rounded on him, oblivious to the face Eugene was pulling behind her back. “All McDonalds’ are the same *why* would anyone go out of their way to hit one in every city on our route?!?”

“And how do you know they’re the same?” Lance scoffed as he popped the tab on a Fanta. (Hmph, see if he let her get away with bad mouthing his scientific research...)

“Because that’s the whole point of a chain restaurant!!!”

“Then explain why the one the next town over has better Coke than ours, eh?”

“Better shakes too.”

“See?“ Cass snapped back to Eugene. “This is *exactly* why you’re not driving!”

“Ooh, hey, come to think of it Lance:” Unfazed by fury incarnate standing before him, Eugene shot an aggravating grin over Cass’s head at his friend. “Next town over has the better Starbucks too.”

You could *see* the lightbulb click on over Lance’s head as Cass slapped her palm across her face (how had she agreed to this...). “I can see it now:” He spread his arms theatrically, framing an imaginary billboard and nearly upending his can of soda in the process. “Cross Country McDonald’s *and* Starbucks tour!”

“Oh, *come on!* I am *not*-“

Rapunzel turned her attention back to the clouds with a sigh. She was an optimist. Things always worked out for the best, and this would too.

“We are *not* stopping for a macchiato on top of a Coke in every city! Do you have any idea how much caffeine tht would be?”

“So what I’m hearing is we *are* doing Lance’s McDonald’s thing?”

“I didn’t say that!!!”

Eventually. Maybe she’d just drive.

[poppletonink]

Review: The Do Over

★★★★☆ - 4 stars

"It won’t count tomorrow and it’ll be like I never said it, but on this Valentine’s Day, I fell in love with you."

Lynn Painter is the writer for the YA contemporary romance fans; for the hopeless romantics and Taylor Swift lovers. The Do Over, much like her debut novel Better Than The Movies, is rich in pop culture references and contains an excellent cast of characters.

It tells the tale of Emilie Hornby, a bookish overachiever with the perfect boyfriend, the perfect scholarship and the perfect life. However, it all falls apart in one disaster Valentine's Day involving a car crash with seemingly grumpy Nick, dashed hopes for the future and her cheating boyfriend Josh. After this hellish nightmare of a Valentine's Day, Emilie wakes up the next morning to have to undergo the same events again, and again, and again. Heavily inspired by the timeless classic Groundhog Day, Painter takes the reader by the hand on a fantastic tale of love, heartbreak and self discovery.

The main romance of the book is highly similar to Jess Mariano and Rory Gilmore from Gilmore Girls, often referred to as Literati by members of the fandom. Nick Stark is practically the carbon copy of Jess (and this comparison is even made within the book) with a grumpy exterior to those who don't know him well, a bookish disposition, a love for bands like Metallica and a heart of gold towards those he cares about. Emilie Hornby is also highly similar to Rory - a high achiever, an aspiring journalist, has divorced parents, is a book lover, someone who abides by using a planner and a girl with a rapid downfall. The similarities are eerie but also make this book even more brilliant for anyone on Team Jess!

Overall, The Do-Over is a perfect, lighthearted read filled with an adorable love story and a reminder of the importance of relationships with others (in all their forms) upon our very livelihoods. This Lynn Painter read will have you caught up in a flurry of drama and pages; I guarantee you won't be able to put it down.

[eenkleinleven]

cant wait to hear your thoughts about the play!! know i am living vicariously through you and i hope your emotional recovery is going well!

Oh, I won't ever be okay again. It was great. A woman in the audience had an episode of vasovagal syncope in the first hour of the play because of the blood. She almost staggered onto the stage and they had to pause to get her medical attention. Majd got to ask "is there a doctor in the audience?" And the luckiest man alive got to get up, and say "I am". I was so tickled by that. Is this not the sort of thing doctors aspire to do?

Because my brain is rotted like wooden support beams after a decade of flooding, I thought "he's certainly going to be comfortably situated in his Andy oats for the rest of the night".

Here's some other things that struck me, though.

In no particular order:

Ramsey Nasr does a great job of capturing the fact that Jude is sort of adorable. There were moments where I was caught off guard by it and thought to myself: "ah, that's cute." In the adoption scene, when he hugs Willem, he actually like... really wrapped himself around him. Like, a real leap of a hug.

The little kisses everyone gives Jude on his head! Oh, my heart!

Hans Kesting is so good at what he does. A terrifying presence on stage. Particularly as Dr. Traylor, but there is a palpable cruelty to the way he plays Caleb. Like a housecat batting around a baby bird.

Another thing: during the car scene, he tilted the light at each rotation to make sure everyone in the audience was momentarily blinded.

Oh, god! The Greene St scene with Caleb was a real shock! The whole room was bathed in this horrible (good horrible) white light. Even I felt a little exposed.

Another "oh, god" moment was during the moment with Caleb showing up at Greene St and forcing Jude to undress and Jude calls out to Ana and asks her to take his watch. Something about that made me sob.

There was a moment where Ana was watching--I believe--Willem and Jude having sex, if memory serves. And while, you know, I could say more important things about that, the only thing that came to mind was this:

JB was so... Flamboyant. Sort of this:

I noted that they changed his dialogue to deprive me of something I thought was funny which is that they made him Syrian, which makes sense! But White JB is funnier.

They had someone other than Steven van Watermeulen playing Harold. I'll say this: highly effective. Absolute law professor energy. The long strides, pacing around the stage, the tone of voice, the expressions! All perfect. I felt the urge to prepare myself to think about the commerce clause and standing, and if that doesn't speak to his performance, then what does?

The ending of the play really got to me, because Harold walks out into the audience and looks at the stage with us before it goes dark. I wept!

I may just be a sucker for string accompaniments, but they managed to make the air thick with tension at times.

When Jude cut himself and the screens would dissolve into a bright, hazy static, I found that really immersive.

The burning scene was an interesting one for the audience. When he lit the match, people *gasped*. To see that bright light flickering, almost imperceptible, from inside of the sink as Jude recites these rapid-fire free association memories, it is just *devastating*.

I might be a softie, but it really tugged at my heartstrings to see Jude crying. I really felt for him. All throughout, really, I often found that I could only think: it's difficult, isn't it? It's difficult to know what to do, and even harder to do it.

Certain instances of the blocking (i.e. where everyone is standing on a stage) were downright electric. Moments where, say, Jude, Harold, and Brother Luke would be standing like points on a diagonal line struck me as genius. The staging of past-present was just so neat. Lots of spatial triangulation.

I forgot that Ramsey Nasr was in the opera adaptation of Death in Venice (also ITA), so the clarity of tone in his singing was unexpected, and thus, all the more beautiful.

Oh, and one last thing: in the scene where Willem dies, there's this instant where Jude is hugging him, and as he pulls away, Jude held onto his cardigan for just long enough before letting go.

[hms-tardimpala]

Favorite characters of 2022

For posterity, here are the characters I (re)discovered in 2022 that really stuck with me. I hope I can do this for several years and see if I can find a trend or if my tastes evolve with time. (This post's purpose is mostly to study myself, ngl)

Homer Jackson - Ripper Street

All the characters in Ripper Street are worthy of this list, but I relate to Jackson particularly. He's a scruffy, alcoholic, genius, messy jack of all trades, a brilliant doctor and a broken human being. And he's bisexual, of course.

I liked him from the first second, but I really fell in love with him when this 19th-century doctor said "Oh by the way, there was semen in these men's rectums, but I didn't think it was important." and "I know big stevedores who would make you feel like a princess, Sergeant."

His story in the show is a beautiful, funny and tragic one I won't forget soon.

Fetch Phillips - The Fetch Phillips Archives

I relate to Fetch so much it's concerning. Guilt is one of the five emotions I have on speed dial, so... But it's also fascinating to see him grow and painstakingly become a better man. I love what Luke Arnold is doing with this character and the series.

I don't need to say much about him here because the Writers of Sunder City discord server is where I discuss him the most, but yeah, he makes the list this year.

Max - Black Sails

She makes me think of Connor Walsh from HTGAWM because he looked out for himself and his loved one above everything else and wasn't above lying and manipulating people to achieve his ends. And the people I watched HTGAWM with disliked him just like they disliked Max when we watched Black Sails. But they forget that, among a group of murderers, Connor was the innocent one (I haven't watched S6 yet, don't spoil). He didn't kill Sam. He didn't crush a district attorney under his car. He didn't have a homosexual man deported back to Pakistan. He was just the mean guy of the group, was used to cover up these murders again and again, and nobody cared when it destroyed him slowly because he was "the mean guy". And I've seen plenty of people treat Max the same way.

She's the kindest, most compassionate character on this show. She values human life and all she wants is safety and happiness for herself and the ones she loves. She is one the best-written female characters I've ever encountered in any type of media.

Long John Silver - Black Sails

I don't have words. I know him intimately. He's a complete mystery to me. He's burned into my mind. I'm not the same after watching this show.

An interesting thing is that I like all John Silvers so far. Tim Curry in the Muppets movie, Treasure Planet John Silver, book John Silver. But to me he will always have Luke Arnold's face, voice and body language. It's a character I won't stop thinking about for a long while. I might write a thesis on the character and his different incarnations someday, just to entertain myself.

Steve McGarrett - Hawaii Five-0

Hear me out.

(Look at how fucking sad he looks in that uniform I love it)

I know this show is mediocre on average, I know it's copaganda and the ethics of it are dystopian. It's so far from my political views you'd think I'm joking.

But I still love it.

And while Danny used to be my favorite character, I now relate to Steve more. My whole life, I've wanted to be a soldier. Because of my relationship with my father, because of my transness, and for other bullshit reasons. I have now given up on this aspiration because of health issues (and other stuff), with great regret. So when I see in a show a man like Steve, who didn't necessarily enlist for the right reasons, who exists through his usefulness to his community - his found family - and who shares my issues with showing emotion/letting people in, feeling worthy on one's own, and being terrified of being alone, when I see that man grow, find love and learn to open up and live his own life... Well I just turn off my critical mind a little and enjoy the ride. And it's fine. I just love this character 🤷

Notes:

Out of these five, at least three are queer (all of them if you count headcanons)

80% of them are cis men. I don't think it's for lack of encountering and liking characters of other genders, it's just what I liked this year

Boy, this hasn't been a great year reading-wise, on the whole (with a few stellar exceptions)

[jacksope-lives]

25. “…as a “yes,”

Lois and Clark (My Adventures With Superman)

Of course!

25. ...as a "yes"

It had never been easy to be Lois Lane. Sure, she made it look easy, but the reality was that being a brown girl with dreams of journalism in the big city wasn’t exactly a well-worn path, and more over it was an industry that was very hard to break into. That was why Lois had developed a thick skin and a lot of determination, you had to have it to get over the many rejections she had to deal with as she climbed the ranks of her career. And someway, somehow, she’d made it. She’d gotten a job at the premiere paper in the city.

A lot of people assumed that to do it, she’d had to shed the softer, more empathetic side of herself, but that wasn’t true. Lois believed that to be a journalist, to tell stories that weren’t your own, caring, was one of the most important things you could do. If you were a journalist who didn’t care, you were a voyeur. If you were a journalist that did, you were a hero. And in all the time that she’d lived in Metropolis, she’d never met anyone who cared as much as Clark Kent. It was kind of shocking.

He was constantly checking up on her, and being concerned for her safety, but that wasn’t all. If it had just been that he was concerned about her, she would have assumed he had a crush on her or something. But really he was like that about almost everyone. He seemed hyperfocused on making sure all of the people in his life were taken care of, and it was endearing. More than that, it was aspirational. Clark was the best guy Lois had ever met, and she figured if more people were like him, the world would be better.

“You know, it's funny, I haven’t even known you that long but… I really feel like I can talk to you about anything,” Lois explained as she and Clark walked along an empty stretch of Kansas road. They’d been out here covering a story, but their car had run out of gas some miles back. Since Clark knew the area, he of course said he’d go to the nearest gas station, but Lois had insisted she come along. Jimmy, not wanting to walk, had stayed with the truck.

“R-really?” Clark asked, sounding a bit nervous, before quickly adding something. “That good! I’m glad! I mean, you know, I want you to be able to tell me about whatever you want,” he said, though it all came out a bit jumbled. Lois simply giggled slightly at him, his mannerisms always being amusing, before turning to look at the sunset, how it highlighted the dirt roads and cornfields.

“I think Kansas is a bit underrated. It really is beautiful,” she said and Clark seemed to agree, as he stared at the sunset and a soft smile came on his face, his nerves seeming to melt away as he said something to her. He didn’t look her in the eyes still, as if he was better at talking to her when he didn’t have to see her.

“It's my happy place. Whenever I get confused or, scared or I… I feel like I don’t really know who I am, I know I can come back here. I can see mom and dad and I suddenly everything feels like it makes sense.” he said before catching sight of her looking at him awestruck and becoming nervous again. “I mean! I always know who I am, and I don’t ever get nervous or feel any of that stuff, because I’m just a normal guy!” he explained, and Lois suddenly felt like she understood Clark much better.

“Clark, it's totally normal to feel like that!” she insisted and Clark blushed, seeming surprised.

“I-it is?” he questioned, and she nodded.

“Absolutely! And…you don’t have to hide when you feel like that from me. You can just tell me the truth.” she explained and Clark blushed hard. Lois felt like she needed to say something. Clark looked so cute here in the sunset, and she wanted him to feel the way about her that she felt about him. “You can trust me with all of this stuff, okay? Do you trust me?” she asked, and it was as though she felt her heart beating so fast she thought it might explode.

Clark didn’t answer her question. Instead, he leaned in close to her and kissed her gently. Lois was surprised, but she also understood it perfectly. Clark did trust her, and would trust her with whatever was going on with him. Clark was a good kisser, he was gentle and soft but also so clearly romantic in his intention. When the kiss was broken, they looked at each other with a soft smile, looping their hands together as they continued their trek to the nearest gas station, together.

[cupcaketrickster]

au setting verse drop

{[ v.  an amalgamation waltz ]} ~~~~ bridgerton / regency :  the diamond of her season, viscountess lavorre, only child to the famed ruby of the sea, has a lot to prove, but is more than up for the task, determined to find her love match as well as marry well so to ensure the woman who raised her needs not worry for anything … and maybe spark some chaos on the way. ( will go by and be known by genevieve - confidants are the ones who know the nickname, jester ) 

{[ v. it’s all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view ]} ~~~ alt.brigerton / regency / medieval : same as above but jessie is a princess because it’s what she deserves.  ( will go by and be known by genevieve - confidants are the ones who know the nickname, jester )

{[ v. the sea is my song ]} ~~~~ mermaid : have you heard of the story that says that all of those who are merfolks are individuals who who have drowned? jester lavorre, the night after having to leave her mother’s home, decided to take a moment to take in everything, decided to take a late dip inside of the sea that had for so long been just out of reach. she did not know, though, that thus was intended to be her last moment. the waves turning on her, jester began to be pulled under reached out with what she thought to be her last breath to her god and the traveler responded with a trick, or what he thought would be a trick. before she could lose her last bit of oxygen, the fey turned her into a mermaid, giving her gills so that she could breath and shifted her feet into a tail so that she could push herself up again. upon surfacing, after some laughter, jester began to ask or him to turn her back, but the traveler, could not. the panic written on her face, then it all fades away-knowing that she could be chased for cheating death and might be heartbroken at the thought of never seeing her mother again, the false god decided to clear her mind of it all. give her a new start. she was just jester. no memory of anything that came before and, on the occasion when he could, her friend artagan would visit. all she had was the sea and the creatures there ( in particular, a green fish that frequented about her ). jester can be found watching the passing life dreaming about joining on land, thinking maybe that’s the lingering feeling that she’s missing, the longing to explore, longing for answers for questions that she doesn’t even have.

{[ v. on the nature of immortality ]} ~~~~ vampire : born to a traditional vampire family, was not turned. ( in a tradional modern, in a historical 1800′s-1900′s setting, or in a vampire academy setting - open to plotting / figuring out other vampire mediums ) 

{[ v. eyes closed and embracing ]} ~~~~ modern : i’ll do a separate post on this because it kinda varies from time and magic and such but basically she’s aspiring painter bouncing many hobbies and also, of important note, refuses to learn how to fucking drive ( a car. will happily illegally learn a motorcycle if someone will teach her ). 

{[ v.the dreams that stuff is made from  ]} ~~~~ feywild : having been pulled into the feywild by a creature attempting to lure in artagan, too late finally getting away, a young genevieve trapped vulnerable and alone, in time learning how to manipulate some of the magical chaos around her both for her own survival and entertainment ( think a mix of lost boy from peter pan and how artie was in campaign one - save for she is certainly not archfey, but she is adapted. she seeks to help sometimes and spark mischief with those who wander all the time - her memories are corroded and corrupted and a mess, barely remembering much of life before )

{[ v. invitation to voyage ]} ~~~~ pirate : jester grew up with her father instead of her mother and grew up on the sea. 

{[ v. is this real life? am i dreaming? ]} ~~~ cinderbrush : the fae. touched with the gift. just trying to get by, learn who she is, and make friends :) that’s all :) 

[words-and-threads]

I'm having problems with Act 1 of Baldur's Gate 3 again. Anyone who knows me IRL has already heard about the druids (one of our central tenets is hospitality, but our temporary leader as of 3 days ago says it's time to murder our guests so okay.) I have talked here about Withers' tomb and the irrationality of taking a break from your life or death mission to go into a crypt and fight a bunch of strangers who would have ignored you if you'd just moved on.

The thing is that the fine details of the story and characters are extremely good and wonderfully immersive. It's good roleplaying. Would your character forgive Astarion for trying to bite them? Would they encourage Gale's ambition? Would they value Wyll's heroic aspirations or call him a sucker? And then I hit a moment of nonsensical behavior and there's a ten-car pileup in my head. It's so jarring exactly because the flow of the plot is usually so smooth.

Tonight I'm losing sleep over the Githyanki. La'ezel from minute one is like "we have to find a creche right now let's go no waiting ignore the plot come on." And again, you have a time bomb in your head. You might have gone far enough in the plot to find out Halsin can't help you, something Liz already said and hey look she was right. And the patrol was nearby so the creche shouldn't be that far. The Mystery Voice tells you going into the creche is bad but the Mystery Voice might be the tadpole so...

Of course if you do that, not only do you likely lose some important NPCs, you'll probably die because the area is way too high level. And if you get into the creche you'll have the zaithisk sequence with a bunch of super high checks, and THEN La'ezel insists you go talk to the higher ups. Now, if you did not pass any of those high checks you don't know she's wrong about the machine. You might go along with the person who supposedly knows how this place works. Congratulations, I hope you're ready for a fight. You're railroaded from revealing the artifact to meeting Vlaakith to getting attacked by her priests and the entire place turning hostile. I mean I don't recall if it's possible to just...turn and walk out. If you can, that's really stupid.

This is Act 2 plot. Story-wise, it includes reveals that won't hit right until you know more. Gameplay-wise, it's not realistically playable until higher levels. But you're repeatedly pointed at it in the first few hours of the game and you can access it a quarter of the way through Act 1.

And I can see so painfully clearly how to fix this problem. Make the Creche inaccessible until Act 2 or the tail end of 1. Maybe you can't find the Gith patrol until then and Liz has no choice but to tag along with you until a new lead shows up. Maybe they're demanding some favour that requires going to (possibly clearing out) the goblin camp before they'll tell you where it is, leading you back to the rest of the plot and giving La'ezel a reason to help you, earning your trust so that when you can finally get there you might listen to her. Plot hooks are how a GM tells their players where to go. Giving the player a plot hook and then telling them not to follow it, then mulching them if they do, is just cruel.