#forgive my layout guys i was too tired to try-

[triona-tribblescore]

Had to run to draw this scene from @artwaterfall 's Husk Overlord fic "Casino Of Love" on A03 a little while ago, its literally so perfect PLEASE go check them and the fic out :D (I'll link in the replies)

Bonus scene:

[zachsgamejournal]

PLAYING: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

I've put nearly 30 hours into this...I think I'll just watch KOTOR 2 on YouTube...

Last we chatted, we found out the player character is actually the dark sith lord, Revan. But thanks to unethical brainwashing and my many good deeds, all the allies are like, "I know you're previously a psychotic mass murderer, but you've been pretty nice to me...so all's forgiven!' I look forward to reading or listening to some analysis of the ethics around this.

To think about it--Darth Vader is an interesting case of redemption, because he basically dies for his sins. Yes, in the end he does the right thing--but is it enough to forgive his past transgressions. Like, if you start a forest fire, and then save a family from the fire, but still thousands of people and animals die--are you a hero? If Darth Vader had survived, what life would he deserve to lead? What would he have to do to atone for his past? As a powerful Jedi, surely there is much good he could do...I don't know.

Revan is different. Revan didn't choose to be good. Revan was killed through brainwashing. I'm less concerned about who they used to be.

Anyway, so we've gone to Manaan. Despite being tired of this game and ready for it be over, I actually think this is a my favorite planet. Though it annoys the hell out of me. Manaan is a water world (apparently Earth was too at one point). It has a natural resource that's good for healing. But it has remained neutral in the war between Sith and Republic. So both factions have a presence on this world, by neither has attempted to conquer it for fear of screwing up the natural resource supply. But Siths are gonna Sith, so they have several conspiracies in play to gain the upper hand, which be bad for this world.

First things first, I hate the layout of my so-called favorite planet. I appreciated how Tatooine had a single hub, that was big enough to feel like a city, but small enough to fit within a single load screen. Manaan is not so--there's about 4-5 separate, interconnected to hubs. There layouts are all very similar but also different. So it's confusing--which T-shaped hub am I in right now? And each hub has 1 or 2 key mission givers or people, so you've gotta run around trying to remember who is where.

That's out of the way...

First thing I did was find out a Republic hero had been accused of murdering a Sith agent in a hotel room. It's annoying, but kinda fun, as you have to interrogate witnesses, collecting evidence, and maybe grease a few palms. Then there's a court scene where you present your case. If this were a whole game, it would be kinda fun--but seeing as I just wanted to be done with this game, I got a little annoyed. But ultimately--I had fun and thought it was pretty good.

Turns out the local youth have been missing. I need to get into the sith embassy to find out why. They won't let me. Some bounty hunter that only values violence spills the beans when I threaten him. Not because he's scared, but because he likes violence. I don't like this guy.

I also get a mission to investigate why the republic is hiring so many bounty hunters that then go missing. While looking into that, I'm let in on a secret. The republic have built a secret underwater facility to get the special resource. Apparently "moderate" locals realize if the Sith win, Manaan's sovereignty will be at risk. Aligning with the republic is the smartest move. But still... political grey.

Turns out something went wrong and they've been sending bounty hunters down there. Oh, but first, I have to earn some good will by breaking into the sith embassy and stealing back data from a downed satellite that belonged to the Republic. I'm given options to break in. I opt to interrogate a prison for their code. Mild threat of violence against their wife and I'm in. Remember, we're the noble good guys.

The code gets me in the front door. But we're immediately found out. Not sure why we bothered with sneaking in if we were just gonna kill everyone. So just like on the first world, I'm exploring a Sith base. Funny how often this happens. I realize old man jedi, Jolee, can stun droids...very helpful. I find the missing local youth and they think the sith are here to help. I have to prove the sith are bad. This entails walking across the hall, find a dying friend, and then saying as much to the survivors. It's enough.

I grab the data and I'm out. Then I get arrested. I have to prove my innocence. I have a defender but he's not sharing the important detail: the sith are evil. The sith conspiring to be evil gets me a pass on breaking and murdering. Now the republic is like, go check on our underwater base. How nice, that's where we suspect the ancient star map to be.

This area is kinda interesting. It's a zombie like scenario. When trying to harvest the resource a loud noise made all the locals go crazy and start killing everyone. The locals are fish-ppl. Turns out there's a mythic giant shark that no one has seen. But the harvesting machines disturbed it. I guess it wants to protect the ecosystem.

So I have to do some underwater walking, just like the space walk. It's slow moving. But I have a sonic weapon to kill sharks. I feel about killing them. I wish it just drove them away.

Turns out there's two ways to handle the shark, either poison it and save the equipment or destroy the equipment and hope that works. It does. I don't know if there's a consequence to destroying the equipment, but when I'm later interviewed by the local judges in my THIRD trial on this planet, they seem to appreciate the preservation of the shark and resources. Seems the whole planet's wildlife could have been wiped out.

Oh yeaj, and the star map was by the shark.

So the shark sensed a threat to the planet and so called upon all sea life, including the locals, to fight in its defense. Tho against their will. Interesting, but violent.

So now I have the star map. Time for the end game...I think. Hopefully it won't take much longer. I'm concerned about the final boss fight. Some accidental reading has led me to thinking it'll be tough...and I'm not very motivated for a tough fight.

So, I dont "love" the story. I appreciate the gameplay and dialogue choices, but the dialog is not written particularly well. There's an impatient anger behind it. Like the writer assumed gamers would get board with the story, so offered them harsh dialog choices to compensate.

I've watched several videos from someone claiming to be doing an analysis. He hates the story more than I could dream of. But he's calling out tropes and structure issues. He's not always over critical.

Oh well...

[burnedbyshoto]

Seven Days Late - Part Two

todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: angst, semi anti-Endeavor content

word count: 5,716 (it’s long yall, sorry)

A/N: ooookay! thank you for every like, reblog, and request after part one was posted! I wasn’t actually expecting to write a part two... but without further adieu: 

Part One

Seven Days Earlier

Shouto couldn’t sleep, he had been trying for hours, but he just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes closed. Instead, Shouto found his eyes staring at your sleeping form. Drool was appearing out of your mouth, and you sniffled way too much for someone asleep. But still, he smiled, you were beautiful.

He placed a hand on your cheek and almost laughed as you responded to his touch, even though you were asleep.

Shouto pushed back a lock of hair delicately and froze. 

Oh.

He was in in love with you.

Shouto has been in love with you for ages now, since the second year of high school, but this feeling right now. This unadulterated form of love that spread through him as he watched your sleeping form scared him shitless. He bolted up, his heart racing.

He knew that marriage was the next step in your guys’ relationship and that you had discussed being married, but the theoretical was so different from the realistic. No matter how much y/n had changed the way he observed love when it came to marriage the way it transpired between Endeavor and his mother was the only love within marriage he understood.

He knew that his parents were a special circumstance, one of the rare many, but still, he was scared that one day the two of you would parallel his parents. So he got out of bed and went to the bathroom. 

Splashing cold water on his face, Shouto stared up into his reflection and studied at his face. At this moment it haunted him.

He could see the terror and the abuse his father created on his left side, and the horror and depression of his mother on the right. Shouto needed to get out. Immediately.

Pausing, he cursed under his breath, today was his day off as it was yours too. Today’s plans consisted of a lunch date, followed by a dinner party with Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida. Still, he needed out, he needed to think.

Carefully going back into the room, Shouto grabbed his costume that hung on the door and returned to put it on. Finishing up, he went to the bed and sat down, turning on the lamp on the bedside to help him put on the final touches of his uniform, typically you never wake up to his lamp.

Today, he wasn’t so fortunate.

“Good morning, Shoucchan.” He heard you whisper, your voice groggy, and he stilled not having anticipated seeing you awake. Still, Shouto had been raised to be respectful, and with the love of his life speaking to him he managed a response.

“Morning.”

Shouto could hardly focused as you asked about why he was in costume, and he lied effortlessly. You then reminded him of the dinner party, and he mentally cursed. Why were his friends and significant other so social? But he nodded at the reminder turning to face you one more time. 

As he looked at your tired figure squinting at him, leaning onto your arm for support, he smiled but the worries of his lies made it hard to smile at the one he loved. Your eyes glistened the way they did when you locked eyes, and Shouto caved. Grasping your free hand gently in his own, he raised it to his lips and kissed it softly.

“Goodbye, y/n”

Shouto stood up and left after turning off the lights.

“I love you, Shoucchan.” You called after him.

“And I, you.”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Night One

Shouto found himself knocking on Midoriya’s apartment door that night. It was nearly midnight, but when he tried returning home he felt like he couldn’t face you with these newly uncovered feelings.

Was he supposed to propose to you? Get married? Eventually, turn out to be just like his father and hurt you emotionally and physically? He couldn’t even think about it.

Shouto also knew that he couldn’t just ignore these feelings or else he would quite literally act out because he never enjoyed lying--especially to you.

Was he supposed to break up with you? Shouto knew that if he did that sure you would hurt, but you were you. Unimaginably sweet, kind, beautiful, and amazing. Sure, you would hurt for a while, but hey, you would definitely find someone that would befit your needs better than he ever could, or at the very least would never turn out to be someone like his father.

So there Shouto stood, in his costume, knocking on his best friends apartment because he wanted to be somewhere where he wasn’t reminded of his home-life, or of you.

“Todoroki-kun?” Midoriya answered the door in an All Might sleeping shirt and matching bottoms. “W-What are you doing here so late? Y/l/n-chan was really worried about you not being there for dinner!”

“I know,” Shouto said softly, “I got her text, I, uh, can we talk for a bit, I’m not ready to go home.”

Midoriya looked at Shouto with wide eyes, looking panicked for the future of his friends' relationship as he quickly assumed the worst, “Y-Yeah, come in, guest slippers are the purple ones, I’ll get some tea for us going.”

Shouto walked into the apartment, switching out his shoes for his slippers and made his way over to the couch. Ever since moving in with you, Shouto discovered that the snugness of apartments really grew on it, it was comforting, soft, homey. However, even though the basic layout of Midoriya’s apartment was nearly identical to that of your’s, it just felt so wide and open. Not like home.

“Here you go,” Midoriya concentrated on the two mugs of hot tea in his hands, handing one over to Todoroki who took it with a thank you. “So, what’s wrong-”

“I’m in love with, y/n,” Todoroki states his eyes locked onto the tea.

“Oh, uh, I thought you two were already on that stage? C-Congrats?” Midoriya laughed awkwardly unsure of how to really take in his friends’ statement.

“No, we are, but it’s...” Todoroki paused, it was hard spilling out his guts to people, but he knew Midoriya was the only one that could help him right now, “I want to propose.”

Midoriya choked on his tea. “Oh shit, Todoroki-kun! That’s h-huge, congratulations!” Midoriya cheered, his eyes wide, smile large.

“I’m not going to though.”

“W-What?!”

“If I turn out to be like Endeavor to y/n, I would never forgive myself.”

“No, you would never be like--”

“I spent ten years of my life unknowingly acting precisely like him, how do you know that when it comes to marriage I won’t be like him until it’s too late?”

They stared at each other in a reserved stillness for a few minutes before Shouto shook his head, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Day Five

After three days sleeping on Midoriya’s couch, and fifty missed calls from you later, Shouto was leaving Sero’s apartment after staying there for one night. Having been yelled at by Bakugou about how much of a “fucking dumbass bitch” he was being during a meet up between Sero’s other friends really ruined the entire staying over the thing for him. Bakugou also relented that if Shouto for claiming he was in love with you but continued avoiding you better than the worst criminals, he was a fucking moron. Shouto sighed, he didn’t really have any other option of where to stay except with his family now.

Shouto walked up towards the stairs to a grand door and knocked on it twice.

Tensing, Shouto watched as the doors opened, and out popped Fuyumi’s head, her eyes immediately locking on him, and a stern eyebrow hiked, “Oh Shouto, you’re in some hot water, huh?”

While Shouto relaxed knowing that it was his sister who opened the door, meaning that Endeavor was probably not home, but tensed again because if that was how his caring older sister opened the door that means y/n and Fuyumi were still conversing.

“Yes, I know exactly what happened, and let me just tell you now: so does mom!”

Well shit...

Despite Fuyumi’s constant provocation Shouto managed to get his sister to stop prying for the night and just let him sleep.

Shouto stood in the doorway of his childhood and teenage room, his eyes swept over the vacantness of it all. His tatami was still perfectly placed in the far-middle of the room, with a light grey futon on top of it, a desk to the left of it, and the wardrobe to the right. Everything seemed perfect. Shouto forgot how big his room was. Hell, in comparison to your apartment, his room could fit your kitchen, living room, and bathroom in it just fine.

It really hit Shouto then, just how much he missed you. He wished he could just go over with an attested plan on what to do, Todoroki Shouto always had a plan, but he didn’t have one and it was making his head throb. Slipping into his old bed, he groaned, your stupid soft and comfortable mattress had grown on him and now his old bed was uncomfortable.

The buzzing of his phone alerted Shouto, and he glanced at it. It was another call from you, your contact picture was from the night of your first anniversary. You were smiling wide, mid-laugh as you ate an ice cream cone that would be snatched by a seagull seconds after the picture was taken. Shouto watched the screen go black as the call ended, he wasn’t going to pick up without a plan.

New Voicemail, the notification read. Being that it was your anniversary three days ago, Shouto caved, and unlocked his phone reading through your plentiful of texts, your worried texts, your texts that expressed love and hope, and the texts that spoke of your love and gratitude regarding him over the course of your three year relationship even if he was ignoring you. Exiting the text app, Shouto opened up his voicemails.

86 New Voicemails.

Putting it to his ear, Shouto listened to the first one.

‘Hi Shoucchan, you haven’t been home in two days, and I’m just... really worried love. If I had to guess, you’re at Midoriya’s right now! Okay, I didn’t guess he texted me that you’re there, but I hope I haven’t done anything to make you upset or irate! Come home soon, okay? Bye, I love you so much.’

Every voicemail ended up being like that in one shape or another, except each one passed with growing sadness in your voice, and it tightened Shouto’s throat thinking about it. He was hurting you, a lot, but he couldn’t call you back, not yet.

It was hurting him, Shouto wanted more than everything to go back to you. To slip back into your messy apartment, and climb into your mattress that was capable of swallowing someone whole with how soft it was. Shouto wanted you like no other, but as he lay there staring at the ceiling of his room, he realized that he couldn't go back without a plan, and he wasn't sure when that was going to come together.

Day Six

Shouto woke up and got ready for the day, it was his day off after all. Walking over to the dining room, he was met with Fuyumi staring at him with the same raised eyebrow, “Are you finally going to explain to me what’s wrong, Shouto? This isn’t like you!”

Shouto grabbed the bowl of white rice topped with an egg waiting for him before he nodded his head, better to get it over with. Shouto sat across from Fuyumi at the table, explaining to her what he had felt that morning he couldn’t sleep, explaining that he wanted to marry you, but most importantly he expressed his anxiety of becoming alike to Endeavor.

“Shouto...” Fuyumi whispered as Shouto wiped an angry tear away.

“Everyone keeps telling me that it won’t happen, but fuck, what happens if it does? What if I hurt y/n and all everyone can think is that they had been wrong all along!”

“No.”

“Y/n is the person I love most in this world, a-and I can’t just let her agree to marry me without her knowing that I can become exactly like him!”

“No!”

“On top of that, I wouldn’t even blame y/n for hating me at this moment, maybe all this avoiding will make it seem like I’m no longer in love so that their future will be happier than it would be with me.”

“NO!” Slamming her hands onto the table, Fuyumi screamed, her eyes filled with sympathy and tears for her little brother. “You won’t be like our father, Shouto! Not even a little bit! Are you kidding me? You think y/n would even let you bully and berate you as our father did to mom? No! If you want to propose Shouto, propose to y/n, it’s not just your worries! I’m sure y/n has plenty of insecurities of their own!”

Shouto froze, not sure how to react about how passionate his sister was being, but Fuyumi wasn’t done quite yet.

��You told me that you felt completely in love with y/n, and that scared you, it’s understandable! You, in particular, went through so much growing up, and you saw the worst of it all, but if this is pure love, true love, I won’t let you sit here and cry about it when you can be doing something about it! Talk to y/n, Shouto, I’m sure they’ll help carry you through every insecurity because marriage isn’t an easy thing! Just like relationships! But don’t you dare throw it away! You’ve never been this happy before, Shouto, please don’t give it up.” Fuyumi gasped for air as she fell over to the ground, her emotions draining her.

Shouto didn’t even move a muscle, his hair was in his face, concealing any emotion that could potentially leak out, and Fuyumi looked at her brother who finally looked at her. His eyes were flowing with tears, and her jaw dropped, “Will you come with me, to a jewelry store, I-I think I need an engagement ring?”

“O-Of course!”

Day Seven

Shouto was cleaning up his room, a bundle of dirty clothes in a bag, and a small velvet box in his hands, he was finally unhesitant to go home.

“Fuyumi, I’m going to head out now, I’ll let you know how it goes.” Shouto semi-shouted as he walked towards the front door ready to correct any and all damage he may have done.

Shouto looked into the hallway hearing the floor creak gently, and halted, his body stiffening as he stared at the one and only Flaming Hero: Endeavor.

“Shouto.” Endeavor greets, shifting to stand parallel to Shouto.

Shouto watches Endeavor emotionlessly, “Endeavor.” He returns the greeting.

They stare at each other for a long time, neither one daring to move or say anything. Shouto concentrates in on Endeavors eye-movements and shifts when he sees him fastening onto the engagement ring box in his hand.

“Is that a—“

“That’s none of your business, Endeavor.” Shouto interrupts, scowling as he shoves the box into his pocket, internally cursing on why he didn’t do that, to begin with.

“You’re proposing to y/h/n? Are you serious, Shouto?!”

Now typically, those words from a parent tended to be one of celebration and excitement, but the words that left Endeavors lips were only ones of objection and irritation.

“Yes, I am serious, just like my relationship with y/n is serious,” Shouto replies back, a scowl on his face.

“You’re really stupid if you think I’m going to let my prized possession marry some D-Class quirk, I won’t allow it.” Endeavor states, taking a few steps towards Shouto who only glared with higher ferocity and hatred as he neared. "Your quirks won't match up at all."

“Grow the fuck up, Endeavor, like hell I’m going to let a man who fucked over my mother have a say in my relationship.” Shouto just about hissed at Endeavor who suddenly had a mood change to bemusement.

“Oh, I see now.” Endeavor ‘tsked’ as he smirked, “You got scared, didn’t you.”

“Wha—“

“Y/h/n suddenly wasn’t working with my successor, and it made national news, hell reporters even came seeking me for answers.” Endeavor smirked slyly, his voice taking on a sing-song tone, “You’re afraid of turning into me, aren’t you? You don’t understand, and you won’t ever understand why I did what I did. I can live with my mistakes, but you? No, Shouto, you have Rei’s weak spirit so, of course, whenever you act like me you don’t even notice and better yet it consumes you.”

“That’s not—“

“True? But it is. You’re going to bring an undesired person into my family, and then you’re going to live in hatred of becoming me while never realizing that you’re acting as I once did. I think of it as irony, don’t you?”

Shouto could not bring himself to answer, his body trembling slightly as if he was once more a small child learning the cruel world of being a hero.

“You may surpass me, Shouto, but you’re still a failure. You’ve failed so many times when your relationship fails with y/h/n, I won’t even be surprised.” Endeavor snarked as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Shouto alone in the hallway his once confidence now destroyed.

Shouto walked slowly to the train station, he was going home to do something. Propose? Or break up?

Shouto boarded the train, his body feeling uncomfortably heavy as he took a seat, the train was empty, and he pulled out his phone. Everyone was telling him to propose, even Shouto was telling himself to propose, but Endeavors taunts rang out louder than any other voice in Shouto’s contemplation.

Riiing. Riiing. Rii— Shouto ended the call on his phone without even seeing who it wasn’t.

Trudging out of the train, Shouto walked down the familiar road to his apartment and took the stairwell up. Unlocking the door, he entered quietly, unsure of your status but hoping you weren’t asleep. Locking it behind him, he sees you on the table, knocked out, drool on your face, your typical sniffles, ...and the empty bottle of wine in front of you, fuck he wished you haven’t drunk the entire bottle in one seating. He paused again, touching your face gingerly and froze.

Shouto loved you more than anything, and at that moment placed the ring box in his back pocket and decided that because he loved you, he couldn’t be with you anymore. He was going to get it done with no excuses for disappearing and calling you by your last name, something you disliked him doing now.

Before Shouto could comprehend what was truly happening because of him, Shouto stood outside the apartment door locked out, silently sobbing as he heard the wine bottle being crushed on the door and the shriek that left your mouth. The engagement ring box burning his body while feeling heavier than anything he ever carried before. What was he supposed to do now?

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

To say you were a wreck was an oversimplification. You looked revolting, wept just about every three minutes, and just about shut down when the name Shouto or Todoroki was mentioned. It was six days after the fact that the two of you broke up and still it felt like hours ago.

“This is actually depressing,” Mina sighed as the girls of the old class 1-A had called for intervention after you cried on national TV, “Why is y/n crying so much? Boys can totally be replaced...”

“I can hear you.” You mumbled into your pillow under a pile of blankets, “I’m not even c-crying.”

“Well, at least she didn’t deny the entire, ‘boys can be replaced,’ huh? That means she agrees!” Hagakure remarked as she leaned against a wall for support.

A soft, muffled sob came from you again, and the girls found you shoving your face into multiple pillows for you to cry. “Okay, that’s is, get out of bed now, y/l/n-chan!” Mina ordered as she walked over to where you were wallowing in your misery. “Get up!”

Mina, assisted by Uraraka, managed to get you sitting up on the side of the bed. “We just want to help you feel better, y/l/n-chan, even if it’s temporary,” Yaoyorozu explained as she stepped forward taking your hand in hers. “Let’s go out for the day, it’ll be fun!”

“Please shower.” Tsuyu piped in.

You laughed or at least tried to, but it came out as a garbled sob. You nodded your head as you stood up, heading to the bathroom.

“I’ll go freeze some spoons, y/l/n gonna need them for those swollen eyes.”

“Oh, good idea, Jirou-chan.”

So, eventually, with the girls of class 1-A, you stood fully dressed in something cute and presentable, smelling fresh and clean, with makeup on to cover the fact you had been crying practically nonstop.

“Alrighty, let’s go!” They all cheered, and you smiled at them. It was a watery smile, but you wanted to feel better, too.

The rest of the day, you and the girls went out shopping, trying on every clothing item at every store but not buying anything, went to a Cat Cafe, and even went to buy some sweets. Damn was it a long day, but the girls succeeded in making sure you didn’t cry for the many hours you were out together.

“So, we can go back to your house and watch the Top Ten Fails: Pro-Hero Shouto Edition, or anything really, while eating ice cream,” Uraraka suggested as you finished up a macaroon, brushing the crumbs of the pastry onto the tiny plate it was served on.

“They have a top ten?!” Mina shrieked, “Why was I unaware of this?!”

You laughed slightly as Hagakure shoved Mina for being insensitive, but you shook your head as everyone stared at you, unsure of how you were gonna react. Crying in public from a well known Pro-Hero was going to stir some sort of attraction, although most people did tend not to intervene when they were outside of the costume.

“It’s alright, Mina, everyone, but I think I want to be alone again. If you ladies wish to come back over tomorrow night, that’s fine, I j-just,” You stuttered, your heart was racing again as the suppressed emotions of the day were bubbling to the surface, “I want to be alone.”

Slowly, the girls agreed and so you hugged them all goodbye and left on your own.

The train ride home sort of sucked as you leaned up against a metal pole, your eyes closed in the last-ditch effort to keep yourself from crying. Your phone in your back pocket rang, and you slipped it out, hoping that it wasn’t one of the girls or else you would cry.

New Text Message.

Unlocking the phone, you saw the notification belonged to Fuyumi.

‘Hi, y/l/n! would you like to meet up tomorrow? I would really like to talk!’

Your stomach twisted, Fuyumi was your favorite sibling Shouto had, and having to let her go was something that hurt a lot. There wouldn’t be any trouble if you just saw her one more time, right? Maybe then she would be able to give you some advice to help out, Fuyumi was just naturally gifted that way.

So you responded back, ‘yes, of course! I’d love to meet up, where at? I’m not working this week so I’m available whenever you are!’ and waited for a message back.

Exiting off the train, another message was sent from Fuyumi.

‘The Jasmine Tea House at about 15:00? They have delicious tea there!’

You smiled softly at that comment, those Todoroki’s were so traditional Japanese that it often made you surprised, and your thumbs sent back a response.

‘That sounds lovely. jasmine tea house at 15:00.’

‘Wonderful, see you then!’

You entered your apartment, closing the door behind you, and sank to the ground. It was nice hearing from Fuyumi, but god, she wasn’t the Todoroki you wanted to hear from today.

Slipping into your bed that night, you sighed as you shifted over onto Todoroki’s side of the bed and lay there with silent tears streaming down your face until you passed out.

The following morning you climbed out of bed, showered, did your hair, applied some makeup, and changed into some cute clothes. A high waisted, form-fitting pair of black jeans tucked in front of a light pink flowy shirt, it looked presentable to you. Checking the time it was 2:30 and so you grabbed your purse, phone, and keys and left the building and made your way over to this tea house.

You arrived at the tea house at precisely 2:55 and scanned the rather busy establishment for the iconic hairstyle that was Fuyumi’s, and you spotted her in a back booth, her eyes focused on a menu in her hands. Telling the hostess you found the other member of your party, you walked over to the back, greeting Fuyumi as you slipped into the booth.

“Oh, y/l/n-chan, it’s been too long!” Fuyumi sighed, a smile on her face. “How have you been?”

You laughed shortly, pausing to gather up the energy so you wouldn’t bawl in front of your ex’s sister. “I’m better than can be expected, uh, how’s teaching coming along! I heard you were up for some major promotion!”

Fuyumi waved her off, an embarrassed blush on her face, “Oh, well yes! I was to be named Principal!”

Your jaw dropped, that was tremendous, “Oh, congratulations!”

“No, no, I didn’t take the job.” Fuyumi dismissed the congratulatory comment, “I love working with the students too much to go do a desk job for a living.”

You smiled gently, “You Todoroki’s sure are something else, you’re a true hero.”

“Oh hush, I’m not seeking praise, it’s simply the truth!” Fuyumi giggled obviously a bit uncomfortable with the praise, another trait of the Todoroki children.

The two of you ordered a teapot of the tea of your choice when the waiter appeared, and you talked casually after what opinions you had on different things. When the teapots arrived, you thanked the staff member who brought them and placed them to the side after filling up the ornate teacup in front of you.

“So, I have to be honest,” Fuyumi drawled out as she took a sip of her tea, and you stilled knowing what was coming next, “I asked you to come here so I could learn what happened with Shouto? He just came back home that one night and well, it was just... unexpected? And he won’t tell me anything.”

You nodded your head, as you took a gulp of the scalding tea in an attempt to calm your emotions, “We, uh, broke up. He left for seven days, and came back intending on breaking up with me, which he did.”

Fuyumi gawked at the young hero in front of her, who was refusing to admit that the tea was too hot to drink and was just downing it. "He d-didn't ask you anything important?"

You shook your head, frowning slightly not remembering being asked to do anything but to go to bed.

“Ah, okay, well, let’s continue with our tea? I think we will both feel much better afterward.”

To be honest, it was actually really calming to be sitting with Fuyumi and just ranting, because she sat there and listened and gave back incredible advice. The back booth was a good choice because no one was really around to see you cry as you explained what happened with Shouto and how you didn’t see it coming until it was that final day. You admitted that you jumped to conclusions, that you really had no idea why he was gone, but that you had just gotten insecure that sweet Shouto felt guilty in breaking up with you.

After ranting about Shouto, the two of you carried out another conversation about current events and Fuyumi’s own personal life, and by the end of your gathering, you really felt better.

“I’m really sorry what my dumb baby brother put you through, y/l/n-chan, I really do hope we can remain friends!” Fuyumi stated as she hugged you tightly as you were now leaving the tea house.

“Haha, of course! You’re too great a friend to lose.” You agreed as you held onto the hug for a little while longer.

“Alrighty, see you next time, bye!” Fuyumi called out as she walked away waving. You waved back, feeling better then you had all week, and returned to your apartment.

You laid in your bed staring at your ceiling, thinking about the last seven days and sighed. It seemed that at least for today, you didn’t have any more tears left to cry. You stayed in the same position for what seemed like hours before you dozed off thinking about the man who you really wanted back in your life.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

You woke up to the rampant knocking on your door, looking over at the alarm clock, it was only 7:58 p.m., what a good nap. Groaning, you pushed yourself off your bed and glanced at your phone, the screen was shining with hundreds of missed texts and a handful of missed calls and voicemails.

What was going on...

Getting out of bed, you walked to the entrance and remembered inviting the girls over yesterday and swung it open, “Mina could you be any less... impatient....”

It wasn’t Mina or any of the girls in your class, but instead it was Shouto who’s hair was disheveled, and clothes that looked like they were wrinkled. Wrinkled clothes always bothered Shouto.

Millions of emotions flew between the two of you as you stared at each other, and your anger flared remembering the way he treated you seven days ago, so you grabbed the door ready to slam it in his face much comparable to what you did that night. “Wait, no, please y/n/n, please hear me out.” Shouto pleaded but you didn’t care as you closed the door between you two.

You pressed your forehead to the door panting as you tried to control your breathing, fuck did you want to forgive him but you guess that wasn’t happening considering you just slammed the door again.

“Fine, keep it closed, I know I deserve it! I just wanted to talk to you?”

“You have two minutes,” You whispered through the door hating the fact you wanted to listen.

“I wasn’t mad at you, or wanted to break up,” Shouto admitted and you felt a small thud on the door, you knew he put his head onto the door. “I was just scared.”

You scoffed, you see gonna need a lot more than being ‘just scared.’ “What did I do to make you scared?”

“Nothing!”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yeah, I did nothing and scared you away for seven days and got dumped.”

“No, okay, I see how you could think that, but I...”

“One minute.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“I already—“

“No, you don't, because I never felt this in love with you before.”

“Wow, okay.”

“Shit, that came out wrong, I just—it scared me just how much my love for you has grown... and I was scared. I know the next step for us is marriage, but I don’t want to fuck that up. A-And I have fucked it up, and I’m so sorry for that! I want to marry you, y/n, but I was stupid and insecure about turning out like Endeavor and I couldn’t do that to you and so I left.” Shouto groaned and you froze.

All your guy’s talk about marriage has always been a sensitive part because of Shouto’s past, and your longing to be married to him. And here he was confessing that he wanted to get married but he left you?

“Y/n?” Shouto’s voice cracked with emotion and you snapped back to reality.

You opened the door and saw Shouto with his head down, staring at his shoes, so unlike the confident man he is. “Then explain to me one thing, w-why did you let me break up with you.”

“I was weak,” Shouto confessed, finally looking up at you, “I let Endeavor get to me, and I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You shook your head as you grabbed his hand tentatively, “You could’ve said something, you know I would fight Endeavor for you.”

“I know, love, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Damnit, Shoucchan, do you realize how much hell you put me through?!”

He nodded his head, but you finally caved as you envelop him in a hug. “You dumbass.”

Shouto chuckles and plants his face in the crook of your neck. “I know.” He agrees.

“B-But,” You hesitated before bringing up what really was on your mind, “You’re ready for m-marriage?”

Shouto sighs, and pulls away, “There you go ruining plans for me, as usual.”

“W-WHAT?!”

Your heart burst and tears flowed down your face as you watched Shouto sink to his knee, pulling out a black silky velvet engagement box, “Y/l/n y/n, I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever put you through and am more importantly thankful for your forgiving and loving soul. I know I left when I shouldn’t have, but you’re the one for me, you’re the one I want and need. I should've done this the first time I felt this way, and so I’m sorry this is seven days late, but,” Shouto opened the box revealing a shiny engagement ring, “Will you marry me?”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Andddddd done :)

please someone teach me how to link the posts @.@

bonus!

The girls all walked up to your apartment, juggling an insane amount of movies, games, and food in their arms. “I got the door,” Jirou said, using her ear jack to knock on the door.

They stood waiting until you opened the door, and you appeared eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t look sad.

“Hi!” You greeted with a smile.

“You... look happy?” Uraraka mentioned smiling herself, not sure what to expect.

“Oh my god is that?!” Mina shrieked noticing the rock on your finger.

“Yes!” You nodded your head blushing.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

[polygamyff]

30. Part 3

I came home about four, I mean the hotel room of course but it was nice that I could see Maurice and spend that time with him. To hear him speak on how nervous he is, I can honestly see he is very nervous about it. He did that for me, I appreciate it. I mean Reign slept through it all, she didn’t wake up at all but it was sweet on how he wanted her there still, he did hold her and even then she was like I ain’t waking up for you. But I am glad she had a good sleep, she has a busy day today and I need her in a good mood but me, I just woke up. It’s like eleven, I am wondering who got Reign from my room, I didn’t wake up after my head hit this pillow so I am wondering who the hell got her for me. The bed in this hotel is fucking wonderful, I can’t even get out of bed at all. I have missed breakfast so this is not good, did anyone wake me at all. Placing my feet in the slides, I need to gather myself to be honest. Shuffling over to the curtains and pushed the curtains back. I breathed out, it’s so fucking breath taking. I am just speechless with the views, I wish Maurice was here with me though. So we can share this moment together but I guess not, I smiled staring at the ocean view. Opening the window, the little bit I can open, I mean they don’t let you open it fully of course. I can feel the warm breeze enter the room, now this is life. This is the life I would love to have forever, imagine it. This is Maurice’ life everyday, since he was born he has had luxury and he doesn’t know anything less but he is not stuck up with it at all. Now he is making sure his daughter has it, I am not sure if he would do it if it was just me on my own but I think he would. Walking away from the view, let me go and see who got Reign and if she is ok. This room has a whole ass living room, it’s luxury. Like everything is perfect, the marble flooring is at the right shine, not one bit of dirt. Dragging open the door, shuffling out of the room “you decided to leave your room?” my mother said, she has Reign over her lap “yes, I was tired. You’re doing tummy time with her, who took her from my room?” I questioned walking over to them “me, you didn’t wake up” letting out an oh “would you like breakfast?” I jumped a little, this butler was just there “can I?” I questioned “you can have anything madam” nodding my head, I guess if he is offering.

Is there anything this hotel can do bad, the breakfast is even beautiful “is she awake? Where is that bitch!” Leon spat, placing a piece of waffle in my mouth “I needed you and you was asleep, I went to scope out the place. Everything is so private and oh my god” Leon sat down next to me “so, I was lounging in the morning and there is these girls and some boys, about twenty in age, they ain’t old. I am sat there, soaking up the sun. I stopped my music, I was like I am going to be nosey so they started speaking. They are Maurice’ cousins in this hotel. They goes oh did you hear that he’s trying to breakaway from the family but my mom said he can’t, I mean at this point I took my shades off to look over but they caught so I came back here, I ain’t want no trouble” rolling my eyes “he was saying that last night, he knows people are against him” placing my fork down, my dad came back into the hotel “oh and I saw your dad but I ran by him” nodding my head “wait, last night? Was he here?” shaking my head “he called me and I went to see him, he took me to his hotel. I saw it” Leon gasped “you went to his hotel already!” Leon screamed out, I shushed him “you went there?” my dad perked up saying “uh yeah, he called me last night and he showed me the hotel” my mom cooed out “you know how sweet that is? Robyn, that is cute. Did he not stay here” my mother gushed “no his family are staying with the prince, at his house but he came here for me. But I went. He showed me some floor layout thing and he told me to read out the suite floor layout and I goes R R Suite and he said yes this is Robyn Reign suite and you will be staying, it is the most expensive room someone could be in, and honestly. I got choked up but I gathered myself, then he told me that the meeting room there is called Reign, like that is just unbelievable” I took in a deep breath “it’s just emotional, I am shocked but yeah” I chuckled “he’s a billionaire, he can make anything happen” waving my dad off as I flicked the tear away “I don’t want to hear you, I don’t want to hear your negativity dad, he didn’t need too but he did!” I spat “you didn’t let me finish, you just bark at me. Terry she does, you are trying to hold your family together and I get it. So like I was saying, Terry don’t give me that face. He can make anything happen and he’s gone out of his way to do this for us, let us use his jet. I am sorry” my dad apologised “I am not accepting it until you apologise to him because if you was on my jet and you hated me I would have kicked you off my jet mid-flight!” I spat getting up from the chair “oohh chile” Leon said “I ain’t forgiving that easy, no way. Don’t speak to me either” I don’t see why he was even trying to speak to me.

I have still yet to decide on what to wear to something so prestigious, I mean what the fuck does Forever 21 do compared these rich people, I already feel like shit now. I sighed out looking over at Reign asleep again, this child of mine is sleeping none stop. I am sat on the bed Indian style, with Reign laid out, she is at peace so I am too but right now Riegn is looking better than me for the day. My phone started ringing at the side of me, picking it up from the side. Answering Maurice’ call “I will be one minute, thanks. Hey Robyn” I miss him already “hey, you called me. It sounds busy there” it does sound like there is a lot of people around “yeah, just doing some prep work. I did get some sleep though. Thought I would let you know, the prince has butlers for every room, crazy right?” Dubai is a crazy place “so did they just wait outside your room? Or what?” that is crazy “pretty much, the home is beautiful though. How are you? Don’t be nervous” how did he even know “I am a little, are we you know..” I dragged out “what?” Maurice said “like you are still my boyfriend right?” I feel a little insecure, there will be many women there, his wife is there and then it’s me “I wasn’t the one that removed their ring, I don’t have one but I didn’t know we split? Did we?” he isn’t wrong “why you saying that?” poking my lips out “because you’re going to be in your element, women around. And I will be there watching, in the corner” I sound so butt hurt “don’t feel like that, you the one that took the ring off. There is really no reason to be that way, Robyn I love you. But I don’t have much time, where are you?” he is in a rush to get me off “in the hotel room thinking on what to wear” I am such a brat at times “go to your door, the hotel door” frowning, is he weird “why?” I questioned “don’t ask why, go. Hurry up too” looking at Reign asleep, I am sure she will be ok while I go to the door “Ok I am getting up” I was comfortable here.

“I will get it!” I shouted, someone is actually here “Leon, can you put Reign in the crib for me. She is on my bed” I don’t want her to be laid out on the bed and she wakes, she isn’t rolling onto her stomach just yet but you never know “I am getting the door now” I said down the phone “ok, good” dragging open the door and I froze seeing this white man “this is her, move out!” Nalah spat as she walked in with this man and a rack of clothes, another man walked in with a case “what is this?” I said down the the phone “I set up a stylist for you, Nalah helped. She will explain to you, but that is for you, I will see you there ok” I gasped “Maurice, seriously!?” letting the door close as I turned around “I need to go, have fun bye” he disconnected the call “well you look ready” Nalah said “so, oh hi everyone. So, this is Adam and this is Bryan and these are going to dress you, your mother. Pick whatever, Maurice is paying. I picked out a few things what you may like, anything you pick is yours. The jewellery too, anything just keep but they will be dressing you. I need to go, I can’t stay but Maurice wanted me to introduce them. Adam has just helped Maurice with his suit, and now your next. I would love to stay but I can’t, I can’t wait to see you tonight” Nalah shuffled to me, gave me an air kiss and breezed by me, I am in shock that Maurice has done this for me.

Staring at these two men just stare at me, I am so fucking awkward “so I am Maurice’ stylist for his events, I am Adam” I didn’t know that “really?” I said a little shocked “yes, I have been for five years now. He has a stylist just for his events and then he mentioned you, and said if I could and if I knew a make up artist and I do, this is Bryan. So where would you like us to set up?” I am in shock “erm, just in the living room, anywhere. Wow, I never knew he has a stylist? I mean a suit is a suit, right?” I don’t get it “no darling, it’s not. It’s a statement you need to make, from every stitch, every brand, every tie. The public will shred you apart to just put you back together. A suit is never just a suit, it’s a statement. He’s wearing Dolce and Gabbana suit, he is decided if to wear a scarf around his neck but I said for him to wear it, he is deciding on that” this guy has clearly shut me up on this “he said the lady I will meet will be pure beauty and guess what, he didn’t lie” I blushed, he said that about me “I look a mess, I mean I have no make up on, I don’t think so” I chuckled “but yet you look so pretty without it, I don’t want you to over do it with the make up. She don’t need it, and you have two options, subtle or make a statement?” such a simple question that is a hard question to answer “girl, you’re making a statement, that is what you are doing!” Leon spat as he walked into the room “statement it is” I am so nervous.

I have not seen myself in the mirror yet, Adam went to deal with my mom and Bryan has started on my make up “how did you meet such a prestigious man? In that kind of business anyways, was it at a party?” Bryan asked, I mean of course they are going to ask “I was at his cousin’ wedding, his cousin married my then friend and we met there, he really liked me. I on the other hand, I wasn’t thinking about him. Honestly I wasn’t” Bryan is laughing “I went back to work, got on with my life. He contacted me, and wanted to try this. I didn’t know who Maurice Davenport is, I knew of the hotel chain but I mean come on, who the hell is going to research that. I didn’t know he was married but I do now, and honestly it’s been hell since, I am sure you read” I know he must have “I did read some things but I wasn’t affected by it. People that work with him knew that he didn’t care for being married, since being around Nalah and him. He was pretty much single and you can see them together, he wasn’t into it. His father made that happen and you can tell. So when I read it and saw he got you pregnant, I goes to Nalah. I said he got her pregnant, he’s never gone out of his way to do that so I goes she has to be for keeps and look at this, for keeps” I breathed out smiling “you think? I am not liked to be honest, because of that I guess. I had his baby” Bryan pulled a face “he’s happy, who cares for the rest” he has a point.

My mouth fell open “you sure I ain’t going to be dragged out of this event in Dubai? I mean, you know? Y’all going to get me locked up, you sure?” staring at Adam “girl, no. Trust me” staring at myself in the mirror “you look delicious! Like you carry it off, Stella McCartney would be proud. Very proud” smiling a little, a Stella McCartney tuxedo jacket. The black velvet jacket is serving as a dress, with a deep plunging neckline revealing my bare cleavage underneath “that chest tattoo is everything too, you will be fine. You are about to make news headlines, oh my god. I can’t wait” shimmying to the side “this is why I said the make up to be minimum, your face makes a statement alone but your body is just it! The choker is Swarovski crystals” Adam said, Bryan started playing around with my bun “I am so proud, like wow. I have dressed Naomi before but this, you got to be striking deals after this. Remember me though” Adam said, looking at the mirror again, this is about to have the place talking “Robyn, I dressed Reign-” turning to my mom, she near dropped my daughter “woah, my child!” I said eye-balling her “wow, Robbie. I was not expecting this” I feel all shy now, to get this reaction.

Smiling at my sister as she walked back into the room, who would have thought that me, I got us in with the prince of Dubai, my dad didn’t make any of this happen, I did this all myself and look at this, sat in his home. It is a different experience but he is a good man, he has big visions for Dubai and I like him. To be waited on for every minute of the time I am here is a nice feeling “is she ok?” I asked Nalah “yeah, a little shocked but fine” smiling behind Nalah seeing the Dubai Prince “Maurice, my friend. This is Sheikh Mohammed” I do remember that they like to hug here “nice to finally meet you Maurice” hugging him “I been too busy, I appreciate how much you have welcomed me and my family here” stepping back “you are always welcome here, when is the next hotel?” I laughed “no, not another one yet but one day, another one” I need this to get over my first here “Maurice, you know here you can have many wives. No issues here, you good man. I have many wives so you did good” my sister snorted laughing and so did I “well I should move here, my sister did say the whole trouble I am having in America is meant nothing here and I forgot that it’s ok here, but you now in America they don’t agree. I am happy you appreciate that I got another girl” the Saudi Prince is funny “well here my friend you are ok, they both here yes? I see they are, I did not invite any of them in this home, women are stress” nodding my head “I understand, but they are ok. They don’t need to be together in a room, I don’t want that at all” placing my hand on his shoulder “see, women are stress. I have gift for your daughter, I will show you later but you did good my friend, you are not a bad man” I appreciate that they appreciate what I did, I should move here because they are accepting of it.

[motleyfuckingcruee]

Close As Strangers (Vince Neil x Reader)

Requested:

@antheasnow

Summary:

Vince calls you one night completely wasted. He ends up cheating on you and you hear it through the phone. Vince does everything in his power to make it up to you.

Warnings:

Fluff, language, angst

Song the title is based off of:

Close As Strangers

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ON A TAGLIST! OR GO TO MY BIO TO ADD YOURSELF TO ONE!

//

You throw your bag down on the floor once you get into the house that Vince bought not but four months earlier. He'd only gotten to spend a month in it and then he got sent back onto the road. You miss him a lot. Late night phone calls just aren't working for you anymore. You need him with you now. Holding you. Kissing you. Doing other things to you.

You miss his smile, his laugh, the way he knows how to treat you like a princess even when you're yelling and screaming. Things just aren't the same without him here.

Here recently, every time he calls he's wasted out of his mind or the boys are yelling "hi" at you as you try to talk. Man, you love those idiots, but they're so goddamn annoying. Mick would get them to shut up. Vince just seems distant, and you hate it.

You feel like you did something wrong. Maybe you're being too clingy? Maybe he found someone else? Maybe you weren't doing enough before he left?

So many questions with so little answers.

The phone starts ringing as soon as you sit your ass down on the couch.

"Goddamn it," You mumble.

Nevertheless, your heart beat picks up. You hope it's Vince. You've been missing his voice all day. You get up once again and head to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey baby!" Vince slurs. You can see a goofy grin on his face.

"Vince, how wasted are you?" You ask, tired of this.

"None! I'm perfectly fine."

"Vince," You groan.

"Calm down, babe. I'll be home in two weeks," He says.

You feel your mood shoot up. "Really?!" You nearly squeak.

"Yep! I'm coming home baby!" He laughs.

"That's awesome. Vinny, I mi-." You're cut off by the faint sound of a woman's voice. "Vincent who is that?"

It's like he doesn't even hear your question. "Not right now," He says to whoever's in the room.

"Vince-."

"I'm on the phone with my girlfriend," He says, sounding further away from the phone.

"Vince," You say louder.

His voice is muffled. You can't hear a word he's speaking.

Tears spring to your eyes as his soft moans drift through the phone. You hear the woman's voice again. Tears start rolling down your cheeks. You hang up the phone, standing there in shock. You knew something was wrong. Who knows how many times he's cheated on you now?

You feel numb and like you can't move. There's one thing you know for sure. . .you need to get out of this house.

You go upstairs to what used to be you and Vince's room. You pull down you suitcase and start putting your stuff in it as quickly as you can. There's no rush because he won't be home for two weeks, but you just want to get out of here.

An hour later you finish up. You look at the nightstand which has your favorite picture of you and Vince for your two year anniversary.

It has Vince holding you from behind, a huge smile on his lips and his face nuzzled in your neck. Your hands cover his. Your head is turned to look at him and a huge smile is on your lips as well. You both look in love. He's obviously not in love with you if he can cheat on you.

You glare at it. The anger starts coursing through your veins instead of overwhelming sadness. You grab the picture and throw it against the wall with an angry scream escaping your throat. The glass shatters on impact, making it glitter all over the floor.

Your eyes widen. You're not an angry person. You're very calm and don't let anything get to you. This has just sent you over the edge.

You go to start picking it up, but you realize something. He can pick it up his goddamn own. He caused you to feel like this. He can deal with the aftermath.

You pull your suitcase to the front door with bags hanging off your shoulders. You set them down and go back to the phone.you dial your best friend's number.

"Hello?" She answers.

"Hey, Chrissy," You say, trying to keep your voice level. "Would it be alright if I stayed with you for a while?"

"Of course!" She pauses. "Don't you live with Vince?"

"I'll explain later," You say lowly.

"Okay. The front door will be open," She says, not pushing you any further.

"Okay." You hang up the phone.

You go to the front door, picking up the bags you set down and the bag you threw down when you got home. You take one last glance around the house. You look at the pictures of you and Vince. You were so naive. You knew he was a ladies man the moment you laid eyes on him. You were just dumb enough to fall for it.

You walk out of the house, not looking back.

------

Two weeks later and you've finally gotten all your things from Vince's house. Just in time too 'cause you saw Nikki's car with all the boys in it not too far from the house. You really hope none of them recognized you.

You have to go into work today, so that's what you did. You manage a tattoo and piercing shop not too far from Chrissy's house.

You walk in. The smell of rubbing alcohol nearly burns your nose. You make everyone keep the supplies clean. You wouldn't want to get a tattoo that's infected because of the stupidity of the workers. You have no tattoos, which is odd since you work at a tattoo parlor.

You smile at Sebastian and Colin who are sitting at their chairs, ready to work. Sebastian doesn't have any tattoos either, but Colin on the other hand has sleeves.

You go into your office. A shit ton of paperwork is calling your name. You start on it, but you soon hear yelling from outside.

"You can't go in there, dude!" Colin says.

You furrow your eyebrows, but you soon realize who Colin was trying to keep out.

With a head full of teased blonde hair, Vince sits down in the chair in front of your desk.

"`What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, wanting him to leave immediately.

You hate yourself for this, but you still love him.

"Why's your stuff gone? Is that why you haven't been answering my calls?" He asks. He sounds like he's genuinely confused, but you know that's not the truth.

"I'm supposed to just stay with the guy that cheated on me?" Tears spring to your eyes. If you're not careful, you will have a breakdown.

"I didn't cheat on you," Vince says, laughing as if it's a joke.

"Yes you fucking did. You fucked her while I was still on the phone!"

His eyes widen as if his memory was finally coming back. "I was wasted, (Y/N). I had no clue what I was doing."

"How could you forget me when I was on the goddamn phone?" You ask.

"I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"How can you accidentally put your dick inside of someone?" You laugh bitterly.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I lo-."

"Don't you fucking say those three words. If you really did love me you wouldn't have been unfaithful," You say, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to see you again."

He doesn't say anything. He looks at you with sad eyes. He gets up and leaves without another word. Once the door shuts, you allow yourself to breakdown.

You let out all the tears you'd been holding in. Fucking hell.

------

Two weeks pass. Everywhere you go, Vince seems to be there. He'd beg you to go back to him. You wish that he'd just leave you alone. You want to forget him. At one point he even sent you a hundred roses to Chrissy's house. She told you to go back to you. She said it's obvious that he's still in love with you. You almost gave in. Almost.

You get back to Chrissy's place absolutely exhausted. You'd given so many piercings today along with a mountain of paperwork. You just wanted to sleep.

However, Chrissy left you a note on the coffee table.

Meet me down at the beach. We're going to have dinner on the sand tonight. -xx Chrissy

You sighed. Maybe that will help you de-stress. One can only hope. And with that, you go back out the house and to the beach.

Fifteen minutes later, and you arrive there. You get out, looking for Chrissy. Her black hair is hard to see, but you instantly spot the nearly neon shirt she's wearing.

She walks over to you, linking her arm through yours. She starts pulling you down the beach.

"So, what are we eating? I'm starving," You say, forcing a smile.

"You'll see it's a surprise," She grins.

You groan. "I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one."

She stops at a path that's covered with roses.

"You finally proposing to me?" You laugh, confused.

She laughs, pushing you to go down the path. You do so, looking around at the gorgeous layout.

You finally arrive at a canopy tent thing. You aren't sure what they're called. Standing i front of it is none other than Vince Neil. You cover your mouth with your hand. This is amazing.

"Vince," You breathe out.

He walks over and grabs both of your hands. "D'you like it?"

You nod, completely speechless. No one has ever done something like this for you before.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I was being an idiot. As soon as I realized you weren't going to come back, I felt like there was a piece of me missing. You're my other half. You're my girl. I love you so much. Seeing the way I hurt you, it killed me. I'm so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

You look into his eyes you can tell he means it. "Yes. I love you too."

He kisses you deeply. His hands rest on your hips as he pulls you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck. He smiles into the kiss, which makes you smile.

He pulls away. "Now that that's settled, let's eat. I'm starving!"

Tags:

All fics: @the--blackdahlia @sugar-content @sharon6713 @siliwanoel @charlyallise

Vince: @moon-beame

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 37-40

Chapter 37

So this chapter is very rapey and if you’re not comfy reading it I can safely say that it’s not crucial to the “plot” of the rest of the book at all and you can skip it if you wish. 

We’re back with Klaren, who’s being strangled by General Cortas because he’s mad that he’s constantly horny for her. She mind-controls him into letting her go and we find out that she’s been here for two years, where they forced her to send videos to the King of Xen Ptera to get him to surrender but she’s a rebel so she told him to keep fighting. 

During that time, she’s also been brainwashing General Cortas into “loving” her. And now that his mind has been completely fucked, it’s time for Klaren to also get fucked. 

No, really. This was apparently the “sacrifice” she was supposed to make. 

She was born to do this. Born to sacrifice herself. Her heart, to the king of Xen Ptera. Her daughter, unplanned, had been sacrificed, too.

Now, she would willingly give up her body to the cause.

[...]

They spent the rest of the night together, tangled in the sheets. 

Tangled in her lies.

Now, let me explain how this squicks me out, beyond the obvious. 

Are we supposed to feel ... bad? Feel sad that she’s doing this? Feel bad for her? Because so far, General Cortas/Cyprian has been painted and portrayed as a crusty antagonist who’s out to get out dear Andi and Dex, while every Klaren chapter has been all about how she’s sad and she has to sacrifice herself and how it’s her destiny and how she regrets she can’t stay with her family and all that jazz. We even get an emphasis on how she’s in love with her king and loves her daughter as well.

Like, I know in the end Cyprian dies (spoilers, but I talked about this in my review so) and Klaren only exists in flashbacks, so it’s not like we’re getting redemption arcs for either of them. 

But like, if this is supposed to make me uncomfortable and to be very muddled then I’m honestly impressed. But I doubt it? And I’m very unsettled by the fact that we spend so many chapters moping around with Klaren to sympathize with her and her plight, and I don’t understand why they chose to spend so much time on the backstories of two characters that are either dead or will die in the main timeline in the first place. 

Nexus better answer these questions or else it will just prove Shinsay wrote this because ... No, I don’t think Nexus can justify this, actually. I don’t get why this subplot exists.

SHINSAY WHY DID YOU WRITE THIS

Chapter 38

We’re back with Andi post-argument and she’s in the med bay with Gilly and Lira, and we get an actually pretty nice, quiet moment where the girls try to both care for Andi and give her space. If y’all had focused on this instead of the mind-rape and the mind-control (oh boy I bet these two will have shit to do with each other huh) and the reality TV drama and space wars you defo can’t write it would’ve been a much better and more fun book. 

Anyway, the other girls leave to eat and Andi chooses to remain with Valen and watch over him. Lira drops this on us:

“There’s a fissure in you. I can sense it even from here.” Lira loosed a gentle sigh before explaining her words. But when she did, they sunk like a rock into Andi’s gut. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose between forgiveness or hate. And you and I both know which one is harder to live with.”

I know this is in reference to Dex, considering how Andi’s been all quiet and weird after their argument, but honestly? Andi’s looking at Valen’s fucked body and my headcanon is that Lira is actually referring to Andi herself. Think about it. Lira knows what happened. Lira knows Andi still feels like it’s her fault Kalee died. 

And instead of it being another tired “forgiving is better for ur soul than hatred uwu” sentiment, when applied to Andi’s self-hatred, this would be a hard-hitting and genuinely insightful statement from Lira. 

Because self-hatred is harder to live with than self-forgiveness.

But this is Shinsay and I’d be surprised if they thought that far.

Anyway, Andi has yet another flashback to the crash and Kalee’s death and it’s all blood and metal and bla bla bla, we’ve seen this a billion times already. Then it turns out that Valen’s tests come back positive for “abnormalities,” and then he wakes up and is all like “kill meeeeeeeeee” and the chapter ends. 

Riveting. 

Chapter 39

We skip to some time later, I guess? Dex is shirtless and getting his nails painted by Gilly, which is fun. They discuss whether Valen is or isn’t a mutant, and we get this:

“Valen is no different than us,” Andi said to Dex, “and he’s not a mutant. And put on a damned shirt. This is a spaceship, not a pleasure palace.” 

“It used to be both.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, then winced as Andi ripped off one of his boots and launched it at his face.

Y’all really gonna talk about how much sex you used to have when there’s a literal 13-year-old right there in the room with you who’s listening and is a part of this conversation? 

Interesting choice there, Shinsay. Not even a little uncomfortable at all. Just these two adults talking about how they used to fuck while one of them is shirtless.

Andi thinks about how the Marauder used to be a man cave, and yes, that’s what the text says, and how it’s actually beautiful and modern and well-furnished now because they have genuine Adhiran cowhide couches. Then there’s more descriptions of the interior of the ship and I’m extremely bored and wondering why we needed to know the layout of the kitchen or what Alfie was wearing while in said kitchen (it’s a Kiss the Cook apron, btw). 

There’s a little argument about whether Valen is or isn’t a mutant due to his weird blood. It’s completely pointless. 

“Ah-hah!” Alfie’ s head emerged from the cooling unit, frost covering the tip of his oval chin. “I have discovered the source of the smell.” He held up a dripping hunk of green meat, then proceeded to march over to the small ejection site and blast it out into space.

... Right. 

So why do you people have a dedicated trash compartment again? 

All this waffling about brings nothing, as Alfie just cryptically says that Valen’s DNA seems to have changed and that they’ll have to do further tests once Valen’s back home.

Andi thinks about how Gilly does have a soul after all, because Gilly seems excited about having a mutant on board. This book has too many characters considering whether they or someone else they know has a soul or not. I think it’s Shinsay’s way of trying to be deep. 

Andi thinks about how cool her team is and how they got out of Lunamere without issue and how it’s gonna be nice to take a break. Then the ship starts crashing, I guess? 

We gotta throw more forced plot into the narrative because clearly these characters don’t actually have any goals of their own. 

Chapter 40

We’re back with Nor, who’s moping about her backstory and Zahn and Darai again. We find out through math that she’s 26? 

Anyway, remember the prison guard they were gonna test Zenith on? Yeah, she’s dead. Which does indeed confirm that they hadn’t tested it before then. Alrighty. I also don’t get why they test it on their own loyal citizens instead of, you know, the prisoners they have in Lunamere. It just makes so much sense to try to brainwash someone who already loves you into loving you more and risk them dying from this foreign chemical instead of trying to brainwash someone who hates your guts and who wouldn’t be a loss if they died anyway. 

IT JUST MAKES SO MUCH SENSE YOU GUYS. 

This time, they are testing it on prisoners, so maybe their “head scientist” (more like two-head scientist amirite fellas) learned their fiking lesson. Ok but then Aclisia says these prisoners are the “first participants in the study” which ... Yeah it doesn’t make sense and I’m pretty sure they’re not participants nor is this a study. 

Then Aclisia says this will be the “final batch.” So ... the Lunamere guard is not classified as a test subject nor a “participant,” and these guys are “participants” but will hopefully be the “first” but also “final” test subjects? 

You’d think having two heads would make for a better scientist.

You’d think having two heads would make for a better writer ...

One of the prisoners calls Nor a “scnav,” which does sound nastier than all the other dumbass curse words they scrapped, and Nor says that they’ll begin testing on that one. 

Aclisia says that “the weapon” is effective on any body part, as long as it comes in contact with the skin and can enter the blood stream. So ... Which one of those? Cuz having both makes no sense. The former sort of makes the other irrelevant. Also, what if an alien creature doesn’t have skin or blood? I guess it’s just universal. Even though they’ve only tested it on one alien species before ... and she died from it.

Flawless worldbuilding, lads. 

We find out that Zenith has the ability to “to enthrall a person or terrify them, depending on how strong their will was” which is ... dumb as hell even before combined with the fact that 1) they haven’t tested it on live subjects until now and 2) it apparently transcends species. And now you’re telling me it will also work differently on different individuals based on their “will?” How is that even quantifiable? And if it is, how did they define it? How did they define something so nebulous so closely, without ANY test subjects, to the point of making this silver goop able to tell apart who has a strong will and who doesn’t?

Whatever. Zenith seems to work and the prisoner now obeys Nor’s every whim.

He lowered his head in an attempt to bow, even with his hands tied.

You don’t need your hands to bow but go off.

The other prisoners get Zenith’d as well.

[Nor] turned to Darai and Zahn with a grin as solid as steel. “My soldiers, it’s time to darken the stars.”

And we got Zenith’d too, my lads.

[smoothshift]

Test drove several sport coupes in the 30k range this past weekend. Here are my impressions. via /r/cars

Test drove several sport coupes in the 30k range this past weekend. Here are my impressions.

I am in the market for a new car.  Looking for a sport coupe either new or slightly used in the 30k ballpark. I have always been a manual transmission guy, but I did the Porsche Driving Experience in Atlanta last fall and I was extremely impressed with the PDK gearbox.  So I have been focused on cars with dual clutch (very few options I can afford) or very good shiftable automatic transmissions like the ZF8 and A10.

2019 Camaro SS: This car looks really big, with huge wheels/tires/brakes. Yet somehow the interior feels very small and cramped. It doesn’t feel like a boat when driving it, but it doesn’t exactly feel nimble either.  It feels like you have a lot of grip primarily due to the giant tires, not the suspension if that makes sense. And people are not kidding when they say this thing has visibility problems!

I am not really a fan of the retro-style interior.  The 1SS looks decent in pictures, but looks low quality/cheap in person.  The 2SS interior with leather is nicer, but still not great. The materials on the wheel and shifter were decent, but most of the interior still feels dated and cheap. I think I would really want the 2SS if I went with the Camaro, but the 2SS is closer to 40k and out of my budget.

This car is fast, though! Definitely faster than the others I test drove. The engine sounds great, almost good enough to make you forgive the cars shortcomings.  The A10 felt really good, too. Shifts were instantaneous up and down in manual mode, the tach just pinned from one RPM to another.  I did notice a very clunky downshift when coming to a stop in manual mode, though.

2015 Mercedes C350 (W204): I think this is a beautiful car, very understated but still sporty. My girlfriend (who is not a car person at all) thinks it looks like a car for old people. She kept calling it the “granny car”.  Driving the Mercedes was different from the others.  It absorbed all of the bumps in the road and felt kind of like driving a couch, yet somehow still felt planted and handled really well for the ride comfort.  I felt very insulated from the outside world in this car.

The interior in this car is pretty good. The materials on the dash/wheel/console felt really high quality. The seats looked and felt really good, also. The only problem is the center console and navigation screen look really dated for a 2015.  The buttons and radio don’t look like something you would find on a new, modern, luxury car. The nav screen looked tiny and was very low resolution. If I plan to keep the car 5 years, the nav screen display is going to look absolutely ancient.

The C350’s speed was just decent, not slow but it doesn’t feel fast, either. It lacked the “oomph” of the Camaro or 435i. Honestly, I could live with the speed, I just was not impressed with the Mercedes 7G-Tronic transmission at all, though.  I have seen some reviews online where people said it was pretty good for a “regular” style automatic, but it was miles behind everything else I drove.  There was a noticeable delay between when I pulled the paddle and the shift actually executed.  It also seemed to downshift pretty clunkily on every downshift while cruising slowly.  The car only had less than 30k miles on it, but I almost wonder if there was something wrong with the transmission?

2015 BMW 435i M-Sport:  The car looks great in person. It looks the most modern of anything else I drove.  Very futuristic and angular.  Really loved the look of the headlights and taillights, too. I know the roofline is roughly the same height as the others, but my perception is that it seemed lower.

The interior of the 435i was miles ahead of the other options.  It looks super modern and I have no worries that it will look dated in a couple years. I personally like how the navigation screen extends out of the top of the dash (even though many seem to hate it).  The materials in the interior all felt top notch.

The car’s handling felt very balanced, nimble, and in-tune with the road. It kind of reminds me of how the Porsche’s felt when I did the Porsche Driving Experience. It was also very fast, it felt like it had more power in the low RPM range than even the Camaro.  It must make full boost really quickly, because I didn’t feel any perceptible turbo lag. But, I was most impressed with the ZF8 transmission! It shifts so perfectly like the A10, maybe even better.  And I did not notice any clunkiness on downshifts at all. It had perfect shifts in manual mode but still felt super smooth like a regular auto. I think the ZF8 is the best gearbox out of anything I tested.

2017/2019 Toyota 86: This is the cheapest option I have considered.  So that definitely helps it to try and overcome some of its downfalls.  I have also kind of wanted one of these since they came out, so it was near the top of my list now that I am in a position to get a new car. I think they look great in person, especially the new headlights on the 2017+ models. I drove both a 2017 automatic base model and a 2019 manual with the GT trim level.

The interior of the base model was passable.  It was not amazing, but I could definitely live with it.  It’s a big improvement over the FR-S, which had a horrid interior in my opinion.  The only thing is that the GT interior was just way nicer. If I got this car I would want the GT interior no question.  The layout of the interior kind of reminds me of a poor man’s Porsche. It is definitely Porsche inspired.  The only thing I didn’t really like is how they just forced a rectangular LCD screen into the round pods of the gauge cluster.  It just doesn’t look right.

The steering feel in this car was awesome, maybe even the best of anything else I tested.  I really liked how it felt smaller and more nimble than the others.  The automatic shifted pretty good in manual mode, definitely better than the Mercedes. This is the only car out of the bunch that I would get in manual, though. The clutch felt excellent, nice and light. The shifter was also amazing, so much shorter and tighter than the stick in my Civic.  This car is actually a ton of fun to drive.

There is just one problem: after driving the other cars, this car is just so slow!  I know it’s basically a meme how this car is slow, but the power is really just underwhelming.  On the test drive in the auto, I told my girlfriend I was going to gun it from a complete stop to see how fast it was.  She literally started laughing because it was so slow (yet somehow far louder than anything else with the TRD exhaust it had).  It kind of hurt my soul a bit because I really wanted to like this car after lusting after it for so long.  The manual did feel a noticeably faster than the auto, but it was still pretty underwhelming.

The other downside of this car is that I would want to mod it.  Header, tune, coilovers, wheels, and supporting mods.  After you add all of that up, you could just buy a better car to start with (which is also probably a wiser financial decision).

Additional Options: I still plan to drive a 2015-2016 Audi A5 and S5 (with the DSG) and I know I need to check out a new Mustang GT.  For some reason I thought only the GT350 had the A10, but I just found out you can get it on the GT.  Not sure If I will bother trying to drive a V8 Challenger. I know it has the ZF8, but I have been in them before and the interior is sub-par quality and feels like it was made for giants. I suspect it would feel like the Camaro, but all the downsides would be magnified. Is there anything else out on the market I am missing?

Conclusion: I am really glad I went and test drove a bunch of different models.  It really gave me a feel of all their differences.  I have not really ever been a big BMW guy, but after driving the competition, I get it. The BMW is my first choice right now, which is not what I expected.  It has the driving dynamics, the speed, and the super nice modern interior.  I was really impressed. I may even stretch my budget a bit and try and get a 2017 440i M-Sport.  I’m curious what everyone else thinks about my impressions.

[themyskira]

Wonder Woman: Earth One, Vol 2 - Part 1

I’m going to break this into a few parts, because it turned out I had a bit to say. I’ll start with my overall impressions, then dive into the spoilery recap.

General thoughts: Next verse, same as the first.

Grant Morrison purports to want to explore Marston’s ideas, but he’s more interested in the kooky, kinky trappings than the sentiment behind them.

Marston was radical and progressive in his time. Writing in the 1940s, he told his readers that women were men’s equals — and even superiors! — in every way. He told young girls there was no limit to what they could do. His stories promoted love over hatred, peace over violence, rehabilitation over retribution.

If Morrison had taken that bold sentiment and reimagined it through a lens of modern society and feminism in 2018, he might have had a compelling story to tell. Instead, he takes Marston’s ideas as he understands them and transplants them wholesale into a time in which they’re no longer radical and progressive, but rather backward and out-of-step with modern intersectional feminism, and then proceeds to ask such deep, incisive questions as “yes but realistically could we actually replace all world governments with a matriarchy?????”

He never truly deconstructs any of Marston’s ideas, just parrots phrases like “submission to loving authority” a lot and raises questions without ever making a decent attempt at answering them. To be fair, part of the problem is that he’s simply trying to do too much at once: juggling parallel stories in Themyscira and Man’s World, an interrogation of the Amazons’ philosophies and the introduction of three new antagonists and the tensions they cause, all within a limited page count, Morrison is unable to devote the necessary time to properly developing any of them. It’s no wonder the result is so half-baked.

But hey, just throw in a bunch of vagina planes and a dusting of kink and watch as everyone crows over how subversive he is.

Yannick Paquette’s artwork is still beautiful. His page layouts are still dynamic and expressive, and his character designs are still lovely. Diana in particular gets a variety of very cool outfits, including a beautiful modest costume for a trip to the Middle East.

But he still can’t shake his tendency towards drawing women’s bodies in weirdly-contorted poses with bizarre pornfaces. Wonder Woman shouldn’t look like she’s orgasming as she’s leaping into battle, ffs.

Oh, and the series is still being edited by noted serial sexual harasser Eddie Berganza. HASHTAG FEMINISM!

Let’s get into the recap.

Content warning for some skeevy mind control content and general discussion of the gender essentialist, body-shaming, TERFy attitudes of Morrison’s Amazons.

The story opens with a flashback to 1942, with Paula von Gunther leading a Nazi invasion of Themyscira, and god I’m already so tired.

idk, I mean, I get that Nazis were a major Golden Age antagonist, and Morrison is harking back to that. But there’s a broader historical and cultural context to consider. Cartoonish Nazi villains in patriotic WWII-era American comics carried very different associations than they do in 2018, in the midst of a presidency steeped in white supremacy and hate speech, on the eve of a midterm election in which a record number of neo-Nazis are standing for office, at a time when hate groups are surging, when migrant children are being separated from their families and held in detention camps— just. Not a time when I want to be reading about cartoonish super-Nazis, personally.

And I don’t really see why they necessarily need to be this story? The battle serves to illustrate how Amazons combat and… “rehabilitate”… their adversaries. Paula ultimately serves as a plot device. Couldn’t that maybe have been achieved without Nazis?

Anyway, Paula announces that she is claiming the island for the Third Reich, and Hippolyta is like “lol no”.

Okay, that part I like. Evil army storms the island, backed by guns and warships, surround a half-dozen barely-armed women… who all but roll their eyes. ‘Pfft, children. Fine, if you want to play this game…’ And the evil army can only gape in bewilderment as the women proceed to take them apart in minutes.

But this is where it gets weird.

The Amazons fire a purple ray at all of the Nazis, which… makes them all drop their weapons and start screaming “YES!” orgasmically?

Hippolyta tells Paula that the soldiers “will be taken to the Space Transformer. They will be transported to Aphrodite’s world where Queen Desira and her butterfly-winged Venus Girls wait to purge them of their need for conflict. They will be taught to submit to loving authority. They will learn to embrace peace and obedience. They will be as happy as men can be.”

Paula attacks Hippolyta, rips off her magic girdle and heaves a great boulder over her head— wait, were we supposed to know that Paula had superpowers? That seems like something that should have been flagged.

She effortlessly takes down the Amazons who rush to the queen’s defence and takes a moment to cackle villainously. “Behold the pride of Germany! The ultimate daughter of the thousand-year-empire of Adolf Hitler!” To which Hippolyta— okay, I like this part, too.

Hippolyta calmly gets to her feet and puts Paula in a stranglehold. “We are the Amazons of myth, my dear! I am Queen Hippolyta eternal.” She swiftly and efficiently brings Paula to her knees.

But, welp, never mind, it’s about to get fucking creepy again.

Hippolyta forces Paula into “the Venus Girdle”, a device that “charges every body cell with vitalising currents and harmonises the brain, encouraging obedience.”

Paula: Let me go! What is that? What are you doing? Hippolyta: The Venus Girdle? It charges every body cell with vitalising currents and harmonises the brain, encouraging obedience. A dainty thing, is it not? Paula: I won’t— I won’t— You can’t control me— you can’t— can’t make me— make me... oh… make me…

Paula: nmmuhhh… What’s happening? My Nazi ideals— slipping away— they— they don’t make any sense now… I— I thought— I thought— I was strong. What’s wrong with me? I’m so weak— I must be weak to wish to serve weak, cruel men— like— like Herr Hitler— I— I— Hippolyta: If you truly long to be a slave to the ideas of others, well… we can find a loving mistress to help you explore your desires in a healthier context. Paula: Yes. Yes! My queen— [sob] —how can you ever forgive me? How wise of you to know— to know this is all I ever wanted! Hippolyta: Devote yourself to me by following the Amazon Code. Go with out sweet Mala to Improvement Island. There you will come to know yourself until the Venus Girdle is no longer required.

Paula: But all I want is to serve you, my queen! I love you! Please don’t turn your back on me!

Basically, Hippolyta forcibly uses a mind-altering device on Paula that alters her brain chemistry to make her placid, compliant and suggestible, then immediately washes her hands of her.

So… let’s talk about this, because I think it strikes at the heart of the problems with Wonder Woman: Earth One.

Queen Desira, the Venus Girls, magnetic golden Venus Girdles that “harmonise the brain” — all these things are drawn from Golden Age Wondy comics cowritten by Marston and his collaborator Joye Kelly. Marston played with mind control a lot in his stories, and not all of it came from the bad guys.

Morrison’s bold, subversive approach to these story elements is to export them wholesale into the present day and force us to feel uncomfortable about them.

In other words, he’s taking some of the weirder and more fucked up story elements from a collection of comics that are widely agreed to be very weird, and then plonking it before your readers and asking, ‘hey guys, have you ever considered… that this might be weird and fucked up???’

There’s nothing clever or insightful about that. And there’s certainly nothing groundbreaking about a cis white male writer imagining a fictitious feminist dystopia where women strip away men’s free will.

Like, if you really want to be subversive with Marston’s Wonder Woman, how about you start by hiring a woman to write it? Why not see what this iconic feminist hero conceived by a cis white man in the 1940s and written almost exclusively by cis white men for over 75 years might look like if she were reimagined and reinterpreted by LGBTI women, by women of colour? By the women left out of those original comics?

That would be subversive. Morrison is just being a smartarse.

So yeah, Hippolyta turns her back on the helpless, brainwashed, lovesick Paula and walks over to Diana, who’s defied her mother’s orders and run down from the palace to get a glimpse of the action. She’s full of questions; Hippolyta brushes them off with the usual (for Morrison’s Amazons) ‘men are shit’ line.

There’s a moment where Paula and Diana meet eyes from across the beach, and each asks, “who is she?” Diana is simply curious; Paula is instantly lovestruck.

Paula: That girl… the image of my queen.

This looks like foreshadowing, but spoilers: it goes absolutely nowhere.

Sidenote: If the Amazons deal with invaders by brainwashing them, why did they want to kill Steve Trevor in Volume One?

Cut to present-day America, where a room of faceless men discuss the threat posed by the Amazons and their superior technology, which they assume extends to deadly weaponry. The only in they have with the Amazons is Wonder Woman, and to get through her defences they’ve called in “an expert in female psychology”, aka a misogynistic monster.

Doctor Psycho: Gentlemen. She may be strong and tough and smart and beautiful… but she’s just a woman. I never met one I couldn’t break.

Oh, goody.

Cut to a cute splash page of Diana playing baseball. She gets a lot of great outfits in this book.

She’s also clearly making an impact in Man’s World; her face is plastered across every magazine, and people flock to hear her speak.

A Q&A sessions serves as a thinly-veiled opportunity for Morrison to answer some of the criticisms of the first book. His response leaves something to be desired.

“Amazon training can make any of you into a Wonder Woman,” says Diana. We teach a system of physical and psychological health and vitality. The grace and beauty of Aphrodite, the skill and wisdom of Athena.”

Woman: What about Wonder trans women? Is there room for people like me in your utopia? Diana: There’s room for everyone. The Amazon Code was evolved by women over thousands of years and outlines a progressive, pacifist way of living and thinking that anyone can follow.

I’m sorry, but that’s a fucking bullshit answer. It’s a weak, superficial gesture towards inclusiveness that conspicuously fails to express any real support or solidarity.

And depressingly, this is 100% in-character for Earth One Diana, because Morrison’s Amazons? are absolutely TERFs. As with the mind control content, Morrison has exported Marston’s 1940s binaristic gender essentialism unchanged into the 21st century in order to ask searing questions like ‘hey but what if??? the idea that women are genetically more suited to ruling??? is simplistic and flawed?????’ But the most he’ll engage with the genuinely insidious implications around the exclusion of trans and nonbinary people is a smiling noncommittal, ‘Are trans people welcome? My friend, everyone is welcome! No further questions!’

Morrison’s Wonder Woman displays a profound disregard of context. He ignores not only the cultural, historical and individual contexts that shaped the original 1940s Wonder Woman, but also the contexts of the time in which he’s currently writing and the cultural space that Wondy has come to inhabit today as a feminist and LGBT icon.

Removed from context, Morrison is simply taking a hero who traditionally hails from an advanced utopian society, taking another look at the views that society actually espouses, and reframing her as a well-meaning but naive hero from an advanced but deeply flawed and unsettling society.

In context, he’s doing exactly what Brian Azzarello did in turning the Amazons into murderous man-hating monsters, just with more kink and vagina planes.

Woman 2: Umm, there’s a lot of stuff on social media about how you dress provocatively and promote an unrealistic body type, which is basically setting a bad example for women. I mean, the stuff you do is amazing and all, it’s just… does any of the criticism bother you? Diana: I don’t think there’s any such thing as an ‘unrealistic’ body shape. My own body is the result of diet, exercise and… um… sophisticated genetic engineering. Otherwise, I dress as I please.

Volume One made it clear that all Amazons have the physique of supermodels, and when they encounter the diverse body types of the women in our world, they are disgusted and respond with body-shaming insults. Here, Diana again avoids voicing any actual support (she doesn’t say that all women’s bodies are beautiful and valid, she suggests that her body type is not unrealistic), while also throwing out eugenics as a reason for the lack of body diversity among the Amazons. Oh good, I was hoping we’d get more Nazi parallels!

Finally, a militant white feminist stands up and observes that if the Amazons are capable of half of what Diana says they are, then they could dismantle the patriarchy overnight — so why is Diana wasting time giving philosophy lectures? “You can control people’s minds with that lasso of yours. Like you did with that dude on TV— so why can’t you put a lasso ‘round the whole world?”

Afterwards, talking to Beth Candy, Diana’s like, ‘gosh, Beth, I’ve never seriously thought about world domination before, but maybe it is time to consider stripping all mortals of their free will, dismantling all nations and compelling everybody on the planet to bow down before Amazonia.’

Then Diana gets on her mental radio and calls her mother, confessing her doubts about her mission.

It was around this point in the book that the Amazons’ dialogue began to grate on me. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was at first. Every line read like a ceremonious pronouncement. They used antiquated syntax and words, like “whole systems … must o’erturned be” and “she did, without due caution, this, her island home, depart!”. Even Diana would become infected with it whenever she was speaking to them. It felt like they weren’t so much conversing as they were reciting… 

...verse… 

oh my god, that motherfucker.

Surely he hadn’t.

I scanned the dialogue again. I double-checked it.

He had.

Grant Morrison, that obscenely pretentious wanker, wrote all of the Amazons’ dialogue in dactylic hexameter.

For fuck’s sake.

After finishing her call with Diana, Hippolyta learns that somebody has vandalised one of the temples with the symbol of “a backward-turning sun”, i.e. a swastika. Unseen by everybody, Paula breaks into Hippolyta’s palace.

[ra3lynn3]

Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long while since I last posted an update. Big thanks to @savvylark for making my first (beautiful) banner 😍. Much love to my beta @pip117, too, for your quick work. I hope you all enjoy! Chapter 15 Katniss was more than a little surprised when she walked into work the next morning to find a small white envelope laying on her computer keyboard. She glanced around the near-empty office scanning for the possible sender. She picked up the small orange flower that accompanied it, twisted it between her fingers and brought it briefly to her nose. She reached for the envelope noticing her name scrawled across the front in Peeta’s familiar, smooth, writing. Turning it over in her hands, she lifted the flap to discover a simple note inside. It read: Katniss, I’m sorry for being weird yesterday. I was being stupid. Forgive me? -Peeta P.S. dinner tonight at 7? Katniss felt a smile tug at her lips as she glanced around again for any sign of Peeta. She considered the note a moment longer before setting it back on her desk and heading to the break room for some water for her blossom. She wasn’t sure what was up with Peeta, or what prompted the note. But when she considered his behavior from the day before, he had been noticeably different. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought him jealous over the sudden appearance of Dalton. But that was ridiculous to even consider since the two of them were just friends, right? Although, she definitely felt a peculiar pulling at her heart when he blew off her lunch invitation. She grew more than a little concerned when he mentioned in passing that he had a headache (that would explain why he was acting so distant and short with her). She also thought a little too long about his leaving early for the day, saying something about meeting with Finnick, Annie, and the kids for dinner. In the past she couldn't have cared less about Peeta or his feelings, but the more she got to know him and spend time with him, the more that began to change. She was lost deeply in her thoughts when Peeta’s voice filled the quiet space, causing her to startle. “I see you got my note.” He said, nodding toward the flower she held in her hand. “I’m beginning to think you like scaring me!” She chastised, heart beating wildly, as she filled a small glass with water. "Yes, I got your note.” Katniss continued, a smile playing on her lips as she set the bud inside. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You feeling better?” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye before turning to lean back on the counter. “Yeah, nothing a swift kick in the pants from Annie couldn’t fix.” He replied with a smirk as he rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Katniss asked glancing at him suspiciously before she walked back toward her desk with Peeta following closely behind. “I’ll tell you later.” He replied, waving it off. “We still on for dinner tonight?” “Definitely.” She replied as she sat down at her desk and settled the flower beside her computer. “Great!” Peeta said with a clap of his hands. Katniss shot him a smile, glad for the change in his mood. Once Peeta had walked away, she grabbed her phone and eagerly texted a picture of the flower to Johanna. Her friend’s reply was swift: “Will you just sleep with the poor guy already?!” Katniss scoffed and rolled her eyes before replying, “It’s not like that! He was only apologizing for blowing me off yesterday.” “Jealous.” Was all Johanna replied. “I doubt it! It was nothing, just a bad day.” “And that’s why you’re still single!” “?” “Oh darling, go buy a brain! He. Likes. You. You like him. Simple. Stop over complicating things! And stop being so oblivious...it’s not cute anymore.” Katniss rolled her eyes and set the phone down intent on ignoring her friend’s jabs. Not one to leave well enough alone, Johanna’s next texts pinged in quickly, one after the other. Katniss picked up her phone and read: “He was jealous, acted like an ass and had enough maturity to admit it AND apologize?” “Good luck finding many men like that!” “And again... Stop. Over. Complicating. Everything. It’s time to put on your big girl panties and have a real relationship already!” “I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in the ass! Let me know how dinner goes tonight. Xox” Katniss chuckled while setting her phone down again, knowing that Johanna’s rant was over. She had made several valid points but there was work to be done now. Even though thoughts of having Peeta Mellark all to herself this evening made that near impossible. Katniss ran her fingers through her hair and tugged at the bottom of her blouse, wondering if she had overdressed. She also questioned if the lace undergarments she’d opted for instead of her usual cotton was taking things a bit too far, or expecting too much too soon. ”Too late to turn back now!” thought Katniss, she had already knocked on his door signaling her arrival. “Hey.” Peeta offered simply as he opened the door, eyes surveying her. Katniss began feeling unnerved as his stare grew longer, an unreadable look upon his face. “Can I come in?” She asked, peering over his shoulder curiously. “Of course! Please!” Peeta said, seeming to break from his trance as he moved aside to let her in. “Nice place.” She remarked as she took in the sight of his apartment. The inside of the home was simple. The layout was open, with one space leading seamlessly into another. The furniture and decor exuded warmth, comfort and manliness, but not so much that Katniss felt like she was in a dorm. She found her mind wandering dangerously as she assessed the home, curious to know what every room in his apartment looked like. “You look really beautiful, Katniss.” Peeta offered looking bashful. “Thank you.” She replied after a moment, coming out of her head. She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling a heat rise to her cheeks as they stared at each other for a long moment before a chiming from the kitchen pulled Peeta’s attention. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Make yourself comfortable." He announced, motioning toward the sofa in the other room as he stepped away to the stove. Katniss wandered toward the living room gazing at the paintings on the wall, framed photographs adorned the tables that flanked the couch. She took a seat gingerly on the sofa, running her hand over its smooth brown leather and glanced briefly at the rough sketches drawn out on the pad of paper sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “What did you want to drink?” Peeta asked drawing near. “Whatever you’re having.” She replied giving him a smile. “Beer it is!” He said with a snap of his fingers as he disappeared back to the kitchen, returning moments later with two bottles in hand. “Are all of those yours?” Katniss asked, nodding toward the paintings on the wall beside them. “Yep, all mine.” He replied sitting down next to her and taking a swig of his drink. “Don’t worry though, you’re welcome to touch them.” He said with a wink. Katniss nudged him playfully in the side, taking a drink herself. They sat quietly for a moment while she eyed the art a moment longer. “I think I’m falling for you.” Peeta blurted out, catching her off guard. She swallowed quickly causing herself to choke and sputter, trying to think of a way to respond. “What?” She croaked trying to regain her composure. “I’m falling for you, Katniss.” Peeta admitted again gently. Her mind was racing; stomach in knots. They had come so far in such a short time. Was it possible he really was falling for her? “Are you sure?” She replied, instantly feeling stupid for asking such a question. “I mean...how do you know? What makes you think that?” She was floundering. Fast. Peeta smirked, “I just do,” he shrugged. Another chime from the kitchen caught his attention. Katniss stood eagerly to follow him. She watched at his side as he pulled a dish from the oven, set it down and turned a series of knobs before removing his oven mitts. “Listen, Katniss,” Peeta said turning toward her, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “I don’t think I can do this whole ‘friends’ thing with you. The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s you. You’re it for me. Even early on when I acted like a completely stupid jerk. I guess it was my way of getting your attention. Being near to you.” He offered with a shrug. “In the worst way possible.” Katniss muttered under her breath, glancing to the side. “Yes, in the worst way possible! I know!” He grabbed her hands in his looking her square in the eyes. “But I want you. I want to do this with you. I think about you all the time. I like being around you, talking with you, working with you.” His voice rose with each admission. “I’m tired of being alone, Katniss. I’m tired of being lonely...” He said quietly, trailing off. They looked at each other for a long time while Katniss searched for the right response. She was terrible with the mushy stuff. Feelings and romanticism were never really her thing. Her mind reeled with several different ideas of words to say. It seemed, however, that none were forthcoming. After awhile Peeta looked expectantly at her and Katniss’ mind froze completely. “Say something.” Peeta urged giving an awkward chuckle. “Dinner smells amazing.” Katniss offered meekly, going for the first idea that came mind. Peeta heaved a sigh and turned to grab the dishes for dinner. Katniss felt her chest tighten. If words were not her strong suit, actions definitely were. Gathering her courage, she stepped closer to Peeta’s side. He turned his head to eye her curiously just before she grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, feeling Peeta turning to face her. She felt his hands press against her back, bringing her closer to him and dug her fingers into his hair at the back of his neck, feeling his soft wavy locks on her skin. She allowed her hands to roam over his broad shoulders and down his arms. Peeta pulled back after a moment and gave her a small smile before taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips so softly that Katniss wondered if they had made contact at all. She found herself eager to feel his mouth on hers again and pressed against him. Katniss felt relief when Peeta pressed back, a grunt coming from the back of his throat as he pushed her into the countertop. “How about a tour?” Katniss asked pulling back breathlessly before diving back in to kiss Peeta. Their hands roamed each others’ bodies hungrily. While she was normally one to move painfully slow when it came to relationships, there was something about Peeta that ignited a fire in her. And right now there was only one thing she wanted to do slowly. “Sure.” Peeta replied with a quick nod before leaning down to kiss her neck. “This is the ah-kitchen. Living room.” He said with a quick glance around, motioning with his hand before tending to her neck again. With his hands on her hips, he began to guide her backward down the short hallway. Leaving dinner behind and long forgotten. “My studio.” He choked out before a moan escaped his lips. Katniss smirked as she nibbled his earlobe, pleased with the reaction she had elicited. “Bedroom.” Peeta whispered pulling back once again, searching her eyes. Both stood breathless, foreheads against one another. Katniss’ back pressed against the door. “Thanks for showing me around.” She replied biting her lip. Reaching behind her back to search for the door’s handle, she quickly found success. Peeta steadied the two of them as they spilled into the room. “Peeta?” Katniss muttered. Peeta gave her a noncommittal grunt and continued in his quest to kiss every inch of her neck, nibbling at her earlobe. “Peeta!” She said more insistently. “What?” He asked pausing from the action, a heavy-lidded expression on his face. Katniss felt her stomach knot as she admitted, “I don’t want to be friends either.” Peeta gave her a seductive smile as he dove in to kiss her lips, kicking the door shut behind them.

[yoonia]

Between Chocolates & Candy Canes (M)

➽ Character: Yoongi x reader x Jimin

➽ Genre/words: Smut, Crack, Oompa Loompa!au / 3,795 words

➽ Warning: public sex, threesome, spit roasting, so much filth, PWP smut, borderline crack

➽ a/n: Yes, this is merely a crack piece which is written with comedy purpose (although the outcome might not be speaking of it so much), so please don’t expect much of it and don’t question everything. Every bit of this fic will be pure imagination filled with filth, so I am asking for your forgiveness in advance to what it is you are about to read lol | tagging @jheartseok and @floralseokjin because you guys are responsible for this T.T

This day was supposed to be the best day of your life. After a long wait filled with curiosity, excitements and a bundle of nerves, you are finally here, walking between the other members in the tour group invited to visit the magnificent and renowned Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. You are thankful to be in the older age group for the tour, since you know how being with younger kids would be much of a bother with continuous screaming, whining, and pretty sure they would be all over the place by now.

Being in teenage and up group means that the only guardian is the staff assigned by the man Willy Wonka himself―the one fact that had put you down, honestly, since you were quite hopeful of seeing him in the tour.

Yet being in older is also making you feel bored too easily with the whole tour. Sure, the sight you’ve been seeing are marvellous. You have passed by the garden filled with cotton candy and sugar canes, you witnessed how bubble gums are magically made, and how liquidy sweets passed through the pipes dangling above your head. But the moment you have reached the fudge room, you have grown bored. Yes, this tour is certainly made for much younger and innocent minds, because your adult mind could never stop questioning about the magical things you have seen, and have been more sceptical to how the machinery actually works.

By the time the boredom is taking over, you put your attention away from the show they had prepared for you to witness their process of creating the delectable sweets and pay much closer look into the Oompas surrounding you. In a glance, you would think they were all the same. Until you give your full attention to them and realize that after a while you could distinguish one to another. Around halfway into the tour, you could identify their faces―even point out the good looking ones―and their height differences. Not all of them are small or short, just the way they have described the Oompas through articles or commercials, when most that are doing the hard labours are nearly as tall and as big as yourself. 

Interesting, you muse as you take in their sights.

You are completely lost in your own world, in your own thoughts, that the moment you look ahead to your group, they are no longer there. Fuck, you curse in your mind when you realize that you have been left far behind.

You decide not to give up, however, confidently start to pace about and walk ahead. They should be on this track, right? You keep on guessing as you keep on walking, continuously convincing yourself, they can’t be far. But after a long exhausting walk, you have no other choice than admit to yourself that you are indeed lost. Your worn out legs take you to a field of gummy bears and candies, planted on the field of greens―which you silently guess is either synthetics or something eatable―with chocolate streams nearby, flowing from a chocolate fountain somewhere across the plane. The inner child in you would be screaming in joy by now, but your logic is now questioning if any of these objects are actually safe to be consumed for your tired self and hungry tummy.

Faint voices of bickering catch your attention, and you divert your eyes away to look around between the weird looking bushes made of cotton candies until you see them, two figures hidden between giant gummy bears arguing with one another. Desperately in need of help―and a way out of the crazy looking place that is so close of driving you insane―you walk cautiously towards them, hoping they are either any member of the tour group or the staff. Until you reach closer to finally get a clearer sight of them and to see that they are neither of whom you have hoped them to be.

You stop a few feet away from two Oompa Loompas who are too busy bickering to notice you there. The sight has you completely reluctant to disturb them, leaving you there to study them while you ponder on how―or whether you should―make your presence known to them. These two Oompas are much different than the others, you notice. Just like the hard labourers you’ve seen before, they are much bigger, almost a bit taller than you even. That is probably why they are here hiding in plain sight instead of appearing in the ridiculous shows you’ve seen before finding your way here.

It is the way your head starts to spin that has you deciding to call out to them, after wasting long minutes of witnessing their weird bickerings. "Excuse me?" you cautiously say to them after clearing out your dry throat. You can hear your heart pounding, afraid that your action of cutting them off from their arguments would have them getting angry at you, but they only stop and freeze before turning their heads, each of their faces void of any expressions.

"Yes?" said both Oompas.

"Can you help me? I think I'm lost,” you told them as they both come facing you.

“Of course, what’s your name?” says one of the Oompas, the one who seems to be the more friendly one.

“My name is Y/N,” you answer them while keeping your eyes to study each Oompa. Now that you are able to see them up close, you notice how they are much good looking compared to others. What a gem, you wonder without looking away.

“Hi, Y/N,” says the friendly looking one that has been smiling cheerfully since you first greeted them. “I’m Jimin, this is Yoongi,” he introduces himself and points out to his friend who has been squinting his eyes at you. “Sure, we’ll help you. But first, you need to help us out to clear our misunderstandings. Can you help us do that?” his smile turns into a grin as he speaks. “We can’t really go anywhere until we solve our little problem. It’s really unsettling to do so.”

You look back and forth between them with creased brows, “Umm― sure? I don’t know how I can help you out though,” you answer him with a shrug, completely unsure about it at first, but the need you have of finding your way home seems much more urgent right now. And it looks like they are your only hope as of this moment. “So what’s the problem?”

“Help us decide which one of us is bigger,” says Oompa Jimin without missing a beat, keeping a wide grin on his face.

“Uh― but―” you look at both simultaneously once more, more confused than ever, and completely unsuspecting to what’s to come. “I think both your heights are the same, though.”

The two Oompas starts chuckling as a response, and the grumpy looking Oompa Yoongi suddenly starts showing you a wicked grin. “Oh, we’re not talking about our body heights, love,” he growls in low voice, while both Oompas move their hands on the waistband of their pants.

Your eyes widen at the sight, your words get caught in your throat when you watch them untying their sweatpants in tune with one another. “Woah, wait― wait!” you scream out to them, making them stop by lifting your hands toward them. “Wha―what do you mean? What― what are you trying to do?”

They both stop. How they move and act almost in tune with each other, almost robotic and always on point is so close to making you laugh. And you would probably be laughing amusedly at them right now if not for how eager they seem to take their pants off. Both Oompas look at each other before looking back at you. “We’re asking you for help?” Oompa Jimin speaks first, followed by Yoongi. “We’re trying to show it to you.”

“Show me what―” you whine, but too powerless to argue or say anything. The long walk you had before as you were trying to find your way out of the factory’s confusing layout was already draining your energy too much. And then this― “Okay―” you take a deep breath to calm yourself, “―what is it exactly that you need me to compare?”

Both Oompas only grin at you―again, right on cue and not even missing any second of each other―before answering at the same time, “We are comparing this, of course,” they say to you as if it isn’t a big deal, merely seconds before they let go of their hold over their sweatpants and let them fall to their ankles.

You let out a yelp at the sudden move, totally unexpecting that they would actually let those pants off of their legs and reveal―well, the one problem they were referring to. You cover your mouth with your hands to hold back your gasp, yet for some reason, you can’t seem to divert your eyes away from what is now in front of you. “Oh, wow―” you speak up before you can even stop yourself, when you are much in awe―a bit too much, that is―at what you see.

You have seen the other Oompas―you’ve compared their looks, their body heights and weights, and when most of the times you had to remind yourself that they are not little children working for a factory, these two Oompas before you are doing a lot more than that. You have noticed earlier how their body and heights are much different, that you had given them a nickname down at the first glance as “giant Oompas”, now you what you see is most definitely defining that. “Those are―” you gasp and stop, the words already hanging on the tip of your tongue but you have no power to let it out by being in complete awe.

You definitely did not expect them to have such good sizes.

Your eyes can’t seem to drift away from the pair of cocks in front of you, each Oompa holding each of their own. You know you should look away, to refuse to do whatever they want to―okay, it’s probably too late since now you are staring at them and yes, you are actually comparing the two―and then run away to start looking for help elsewhere. You know you shouldn’t have your mouth watering or your entire body throbbing with desire.

This is wrong.

But the only thing your mind can process is how the dangling soft meats in their grip aren’t fully covered by the length of their palms, even when the one named Yoongi has much longer fingers and wider palm than the other. And they aren’t even fully erect. You can’t stop admiring how the tips seem more swollen and inviting. And you know you’re not supposed to be wondering what it’s like to touch it.

“I―I can’t―” You try to speak up, stuttering with your words when you can’t decide what to say, what to do, yet you can’t even force yourself to run away.

“Do you want to touch it?” Jimin suddenly speaks out, cutting you almost too innocently. And if the tone of his voice doesn’t show it much, the way his eyes are staring at you with wide curious eyes would show how he is completely oblivious to how sinful his request is.

Your eyes turn to look at the other Oompa who is staring at you, waiting patiently, and the moment you look back at Jimin, the only thing you do is nod your head. The smile that comes across his face seems so enthralling, calling for you to come over. And that’s exactly what you do next. Your legs start to move before you realize it and suddenly you are now right in front of them, standing with your eyes on them―well, on a certain part of them.

No one dares to say anything. The silence lets you listen to your own deep breathing and the sound of the streaming chocolate river surrounding you. Nobody says anything when you drop yourself to the ground and on your knees before raising your hands, wrapping your palms gently around their dangling meats on each palm after brushing their hands away.

You watch with wide eyes how your hands are wrapped around each one, and it is only when you feel the warmth on your palms―along with the pulses and twitches that come from them as you slightly tighten your hold―that your senses start coming back and you finally realize that you are not imagining things. 

You really have two huge cocks in your hands.

“S―so― what do you think?” The way Jimin is stuttering above you lets you know that they are feeling something, probably the same thing as to what you are feeling now. You turn to glance at Yoongi, and find his frown no longer apparent, yet his eyes are now mirroring Jimin’s curious stare, anticipating.

Curious to see what might happen, you brush both your thumbs over each tip, grazing over the soft skin and rubbing gently over the slits. And then, you start moving your hands to stroke.

You bite your lips as a soft gasp suddenly comes from your side, and you see Jimin looking down with his mouth agape, no words coming out of him. Meanwhile, Yoongi is starting to show more reaction, as his eyes are now fluttering while he grunts with strained voice, “Ugh, fu―”

All the reactions now seem to be pushing your curiosity even more, so you lean forward and take Jimin’s cock between your lips.

“Oh, oh―” he whines as he watches your lips wrapped around his shaft. You take as much as you can into your mouth, keeping your fingers circling around the remaining girth to hold him steady. With flatten tongue, you start moving your head, letting his cock slides in and out of your mouth in steady pace. You can feel how his shaft is slowly erecting and hardening inside the warmth of your mouth, his hands are clenching into fists on the sides of his body, as if he can’t decide where he should be placing them.

Turning your eyes back to Yoongi again, you catch how his curious eyes are set on you, as he takes in the sight of Jimin’s cock slipping through your lips each time your head bobs. You try to adjust how your palm is wrapping around his length―that has also turned fully erect after he watches the show happening in front of him silently―and you slowly start pumping him at the same pace as you are now moving your head. Yoongi seems to have a better self-control, however, as he moves one of his hand to wrap itself around yours and starts guiding you to pump in steady pace. And he is able to show you a devilish grin as to show you how he is enjoying what you are doing.

As you still have your eyes looking away from Jimin, you don’t see his hands moving until they land on your head, keeping you steady and stopping you from moving. You only understand the reason why when you notice how Jimin’s eyes are now glowing with a glint of delight, and his chest heaving intensely. Pulling yourself away from him, you wrap your hand around his shaft again and ask him while gently pumping the swollen girth, “Are you okay?”

The poor Oompa nods his head erratically, stuttering his words before he speaks in a breathless voice, “Yeah― Yeah, I’m okay. I just― it was―”

You can see how his cock is now completely swollen, and the way it is now looking all red and hot between your palms, you feel the warmth in your core building up, desperate for your own release. And by the way Yoongi is tightening his hand around yours, and how he starts bucking his hips when your hand starts to slow down, you know he is starting to let go to his own needs. You aren’t sure about it at first, but you know that it’s too late to stop anyway. The only way to go now is to move forward.

“Hey, Jimin?” you call out to the Oompa who is licking his lips, his body is already trembling so much each time you move your palm around his hard-on. “Why don’t you sit on that rock and let me help you, while I give Yoongi his turn?”

He stares at you, completely baffled at the thought. So you ask again, “I mean, do you want me to help you? I can stop if you want.”

“No, no―” he stutters, “Don’t stop, it felt good― I want―I want it. Please.”

You give him an encouraging nod and he hastily sets himself perched over a big rock on the ground the moment you let go of him, while you also let go of Yoongi so you can pull your skirt up to your hips and push your panties aside. You can hear Yoongi’s desperate grunts as your palm leaves his skin, and the moment you turn around, you can see him already pumping his own shaft with his own fist.

Showing him a coy grin and a wink, you walk over to Jimin, pushing his hand away from his cock and replace it with yours before you straddle him, your body facing away from Jimin and looking straight at Yoongi instead. “Are you ready, Jimin?” you ask him, looking over your shoulder while using your other hand to tease your own clit until you feel your arousal dripping onto the tip of your fingers.

“Yes―” he gasps. And you lower yourself down, positioning the tip on your heat before letting him slide between your wet entrance, straight in between your throbbing walls. “Oh, God―” he gasps, while his hands shoot up to grab a hold on to your waist, helping you down until your bottom cheeks land nicely on his hips.

You wince at the feeling of him filling you up, your walls throbbing around his shaft and sending delightful pleasure all through your body until you let out a loud moan. “You feel so good―” you mewl as you take your time to adjust to the feeling, already close to bursting even before you have a chance to do anything.

Opening your eyes when your body stops shuddering, you inhale a deep breath before moving your hips upward, stopping when you can feel him so close to sliding out of you, and then landing your body back down until you feel his tip reaching deeper. You repeat the movement a few more times, until it becomes easier for him to slide through your core the more your arousal is now coating him.

Your eyes land on Yoongi’s hand which is now moving so fast until his fist becomes a blur, and you call for him. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

Yoongi licks his lips and grins at you before taking a few steps towards you. Mirroring his sly grin, you smile at him again and takes his cock in your hand, now realizing how much it has grown. This place is so full of magic, you wonder as you take it between your lips.

He is much different compared to Jimin, you notice, the moment his hands land on your head and he starts pulling you gently, guiding you take more of him into your mouth. “Yeah― oh, you’re warm,” he releases a hiss when you lick the head. Pulling away to take a deep breath, you adjust your jaw until you are finally able to take him deeper, and after bobbing your head twice, you feel his tip nudging the back of your tongue.

Having your attention away completely from the one sitting beneath you, your hips move too sloppily with your mind focusing on sucking Yoongi’s girth, until Jimin bucks his hips, letting his presence known to you. A yelp escapes from you from the sudden thrust, followed by a deep moan when he quickens his pace, the grip around your waist also tightens as he keeps your body in your place. While the vibration is causing your moan to surge through all over the cock inside your mouth, allowing Yoongi to grunt at the pressure building inside him that he automatically starts thrusting his hips forward.

You place your hands on Yoongi’s hips, holding on tightly when their paces become faster and they keep thrusting into you harder each time, pushing your body back and forth to one another. The feeling of being filled from front to back becomes overwhelming that you start tearing up from both pleasure and pain. Your continuous cry is muffled by the girth that is moving in and out of your hot mouth, your heated walls are throbbing with intense pleasure threatening to burst.

Everything else becomes a blur as the ripples of bliss keep building up, again and again, as they somehow seem to be moving faster, until you finally explode. Your whole body trembles as jolts of pleasure take over your body, your legs are kicking over the ground and your nails digging into Yoongi’s skin.

Yet they keep on going. For how long, you might never know for you are already spiralling out of control in continuous spasms until you feel them exploding into you―Jimin comes first with a loud cry and a few whimpers, and followed by Yoongi who releases himself with a deep and long grunt.

Your body falls back to Jimin’s chest as soon as Yoongi pulls away from you. Keeping your eyes close, you take deep breaths to control yourself and your body, calming your senses from the intense pleasure you just got out of. The only sounds you hear next is the sounds of ragged breaths, before the stream is audible once again, and that’s when you open your eyes.

The sight in front of you has you completely baffled, when you see Yoongi still standing in front of you, his eyes closed as he takes in the pleasure, and his hand still wrapped around his girth, which is still looking hot and swollen. And by the way the shaft that is still buried inside of you twitches slightly as you wiggle your hips on Jimin’s lap, you know that the other is probably still looking the same way.

This is a magical place indeed.

“You know―” you speak to them with hushed, sultry voice, “―since I measured you each in different ways, I think I’m still having a hard time to decide which one is the winner. Why don’t you guys switch places to help me measure you better?”

a/n: I can’t seem to find the most fitting gif or image for this piece, let me know if you have any^^ And also, thanks for reading. I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through :”)

Edit: the glorious edit of Oompa Yoonmin in courtesy of @floralseokjin which inspired this fic

SCENARIOS MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: All works are written by myself. Any copyright infringement, reposting on any other social media or website, and any act of plagiarism will be dealt with legal action

[deersstorystorage]

Day 1 - Free the Beast

-a pair of guards struggle to help their Pokemon president get his leg off of the table without breaking anything-

Mr. Merica: -Standing oddly still as two men attempt to lift his heavy body for the sake of freeing his leg- “I REALLY MUST APOLOGIZE FOR THIS INCONVENIENCE. I WILL MAKE SURE NOT TO PUT MY FEET UPON FURNITURE IN THE FUTURE, SO AS TO PREVENT AN INCIDENT LIKE THIS FROM HAPPENING AGAIN.”

Guard 1: “Don’t worry about it, sir. This is the most action we’ve had in a while. Think of it as a pleasant surprise to suddenly be doing something other than watching a door.” -this guard is clearly trying to stay supportive but is hinting at dissatisfaction with his job, because, yeah. It would be boring to watch a door all day-

Guard 2: “Think of the bright side, Mr. President. Now we have that excuse to get the room remodeled. Given your tastes, I’m sure you’ll really manage to spice up the place.” -this is the guard which is content with his job but would love a change in scenery-

Mr. Merica: “I WOULD EAGERLY ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR OPINION ON ANY CHANGES THAT MIGHT BE MADE. I AM GOING TO LOOK OVER THE STRUCTURE OF THIS BUILDING TO DETERMINE IF IT MEETS MY STANDARDS. IF I AM TO PUSH FOR BETTER ACCESSIBILITY TO PEOPLE OF SPECIAL NEEDS, I MUST START BY BRINGING THIS SPACE UP TO PAR!” -The president is staying surprisingly calm, despite his tone of voice. To give him credit, not a lot of Pokemon can talk. Given that this being is a giant dragon, it makes sense that he might have some sort of issue where communication is concerned-

Guard 2: “Oh, really? What sort of changes do you plan on making?... And, uh. What exactly do you mean by special needs?” -He is now clearly feeling awkward over foolish reasons. The most likely being that he’s unsure whether the phrase ‘special needs’ relates to the emotionally handicapped, or people with physical handicaps which make travel a bit of an issue. He also seems to feel incredibly guilty about this confusion-

Mr. Merica: “WELL, THESE CHANGES WILL ONLY BE PUT INTO PLAY IF WE ARE NOT UP TO PROPER STANDARDS. TO START, I WILL BE LOOKING INTO HOW ACCESSIBLE THE BUILDING IS TO PEOPLE WHO ARE WHEELCHAIR BOUND, AMONG THE OTHER DISABILITIES WHICH MIGHT MAKE TRAVEL DIFFICULT. AN EXAMPLE BEING SOMEONE WHO CANNOT BREATHE PROPERLY, DUE TO SEVERE DAMAGE TO THE LUNGS. I INTEND ON SEEING TO IT THAT ALL DOORWAYS AND HALLWAYS ARE LARGE ENOUGH TO PROVIDE EASY PASSAGE TO THE HANDICAPPED. I HAVE SEEN A GREAT DEAL OF COMPLAINTS ABOUT HOW PEOPLE CAN BARELY FIT THROUGH A DOORWAY WHILE IN THEIR CHAIR. AND I HAVE CONCLUDED THAT SIMPLY BEING ABLE TO SQUEEZE THROUGH A DOOR IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. ANOTHER IDEA GIVEN TO ME BY MY SECRETARY, IS TO CONVERT ALL DOORS TO SLIDING DOORS, SO AS TO MINIMIZE THE RISKS OF DOOR RELATED ACCIDENTS. THIS WOULD ALSO MAKE PASSAGE THROUGH A DOORWAY EASIER FOR A WHEELCHAIR BOUND PARSON, AS THE DOOR WOULD NOT ONLY BE LIGHTER, BUT EASIER TO GET THROUGH. MIGHT I GET YOUR OPINION ON THIS MATTER? AS I HAVE NEVER KNOWN THE TROUBLES OF THE HANDICAPPED AND FEEL THAT ADDITIONAL INPUT MAY BE NEEDED.” -Well that was a bit of a mouthful, to say the least. But don’t blame the ‘mon for trying to be up front with his workers. He became president to make a change, but understands that some changes are more WANTS and less NEED-

Guard 2: -absolutely stunned because given this ‘mon’s general behavior, one would not consider him to be so... Thoughtful? If that was right- “Well, uh. I’ve been lucky to not have any cases of disability in my family, sir. But I have helped wheelchair bound people. I can agree that its a bit difficult to get through the doorways. I mean, they fit just fine. There’s just that one inch margin of error that’ll determine whether you get through without bumping into the wall.”

Mr. Merica: -has hardly been moved at all in the midst of their struggling to free him- “DO YOU FEEL THAT INCREASING THE WIDTH OF A DOORWAY BY A MARGINE OF FOUR TO SIX INCHES WOULD MAKE PUSHING A WHEELCHAIR THROUGH A DOORWAY EASIER TO ACCOMPLISH?”

Guard 2: -a little out of breath at this point- “That would definitely reduce the chance of hitting the wall. And the sliding door thing. That would definitely make it a little more of a convenience. I don’t know how they feel about it, but I never liked having to ask people to hold the door open.”

Mr. Merica: “THEN IF THE DOORWAYS ARE TO NARROW TO SUIT MY STANDARDS, I SHALL SEE ABOUT GETTING THEM WIDENED FOR THE SAKE OF MAKING WHEELCHAIR TRAVEL LESS OF A DIFFICULTY TO THOSE INVOLVED.” -He offers a bit of a grunt as his leg abruptly shifts an inch or so- “IF I MAY BE SO FORWARD AS TO ASK YOU TO DO ME A FAVOR, WHEN YOU ARE ABLE, COULD YOU SEE TO IT THAT A WHEELCHAIR IS BROUGHT HERE? I FIND THAT A VISUAL WILL ALLOW FOR US TO DETERMINE WHETHER OR NOT THERE IS ROOM TO IMPROVE ON THE LAYOUT OF THE BUILDING. I WILL REQUIRE ONE PERSON TO SIT IN THE CHAIR, AND ANOTHER TO PUSH THEM THROUGHOUT THE BUILDING SO AS TO DETERMINE WHAT DOES AND DOES NOT NEED FIXED. THIS WOULD INCLUDE BOTH THE MALE AND FEMALE RESTROOMS. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO PARTICIPATE, THAT WILL BE FINE, AS I DO NOT WANT TO MAKE ANYONE UNCOMFORTABLE. I SIMPLY WISH TO OBTAIN THE NEEDED DATA, AND FEEL IT MAY BE ROOD TO REQUEST THE HELP OF A DISABLED PARSON.” -Again, this ‘mon is proving to be more of a deep thinker than most of the people in the building-

Guard 1: -attempting to shove the president backwards so sort of slide his leg off of the table- “That wont bother me at all. We just gotta make sure the bathrooms are empty so we don’t bother anyone. But if you really need to work on some improvement, the cafeteria would be a better start. None of the tables are all that suited to accommodate a wheelchair. None of the staff is handicapped, but still. It might be nice to make sure everyone has a place to sit, if we ever have visitors with those needs.”

Mr. Merica: “THAT IS VERY HELPFUL INFORMATION AND I WILL HAPPILY WORK TO MAKE SURE THAT THIS FACILITY IS ACCESSIBLE TO ALL. I HAVE ONE FINAL QUESTION NOW, SEEING AS MY LEG IS VERY NEARLY OFF THE TABLE AND I BELIEVE YOU BOTH DESERVE TO REST AFTER PUTTING SO MUCH EFFORT INTO HELPING ME.” -His leg is barely on the table now, but still very much stuck.

Guard 1: “That’s very thoughtful of you, sir. And I’ll be happy to answer that question.” -straightforward and out of breath-

Mr. Merica: “FORGIVE ME IF MY WORDING IS WRONG OR CONFUSES YOU, BUT THIS IS ALSO A SUBJECT WHICH I FIND TO BE OF GREAT CONCERN. I AM UNSURE AS TO WHAT THE SPECIFIC PHRASE IS, BUT I KNOW THAT IT BEGINS WITH TRANS, AND I HOPE THAT YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT TERM IT IS THAT I AM TRYING TO RELATE TO. I WISH TO KNOW IF THE RESTROOMS IN THIS FACILITY CAN BE CONSIDERED ‘TRANS FRIENDLY’.”

Guard 2: -shoving a little hard- “Yeah, I know what you mean, sir. And as far as I know, our bathrooms have not been established as such.”

Guard 1: -confused over the term- “I can’t quite say I know what Trans is, Mr. President.”

Mr. Merica: “I MIGHT EXPLAIN THIS SLIGHTLY WRONG, AND I APOLOGIZE IF I DO. IF I HAVE STUDIED APPROPRIATELY, TRANS IS A STATE OF BEING WHERE A PERSONS GENITALS DO NOT MATCH THEIR GENDER IDENTITY. AN EXAMPLE BEING A BIOLOGICAL FEMALE, WHOM IDENTIFIES AS A MALE, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE ON AN EMOTIONAL AND SPIRITUAL LEVEL. IF I AM TO ESTABLISH THIS LOCATION AS A STEPPING STONE TOWARDS IMPROVEMENT FOR THIS NATION, THEN I FEEL THAT SHOWING SUPPORT TO THE ‘LGBTQA’ COMMUNITY WILL BE AN ESSENTIAL STEP. IN THE CASE OF A TRANS FRIENDLY BATHROOM, THE IDEAL IS TO ESTABLISH THAT A TRANS INDIVIDUAL HAS THE RIGHT TO USE WHICHEVER RESTROOM THEY FEEL IS MOST APPROPRIATE. A MAN HAS THE RIGHT TO USE A MANS RESTROOM, AND A WOMAN HAS THE RIGHT TO USE A WOMANS RESTROOM. WE MUST ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THESE RIGHTS ARE ESSENTIAL REGARDLESS OF WHETHER YOUR GENITALS MATCH YOUR GENDER. THE OVERALL GOAL BEING TO GIVE A TRANS PARSON THE RIGHT TO USE THE RESTROOM OF THEIR CHOOSING, EVEN IF THEIR REPRODUCTIVE PARTS DO NOT MATCH THE INTENDED GENDER.” -How in the world did a Pokemon succeed in becoming this in depth on human issues? Do Trans Pokemon exist? Anything is possible at this point.

Guard 1: “So like... You’re saying if a man is in a woman’s body, he should have the right to use the men’s restroom?”

Mr. Merica: “YES. THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM TRYING TO EXPLAIN. I DO HOPE THAT THE TWO OF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND MY POINT OF VIEW?”

Guard 1: “I can’t really say I understand, but I guess I can agree? I mean, I’d be pretty uncomfortable if I was suddenly forced to use the lady’s room and had to do my business with them around. Everyone aught to have the right to be comfortable while they’re tryin’ to take a pi-leak.” -the man nearly used a bit of profanity while addressing the leader of America-

Mr. Merica: “YES. EVERYONE HAS THE RIGHT TO DO THEIR BUSINESS IN COMFORT. I FIND IT INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT TO RELIEVE MYSELF IF I AM ANXIOUS, AND IT MUST BE VERY UNSETTLING FOR A MAN TO HAVE TO GO IN FRONT OF WOMAN. EVEN IF THEY HAPPEN TO HAVE A VAGINA.” -Wow, that one was new. No one in the room had ever heard a Pokemon say the word ‘vagina’. Now the question is, which of today’s events was more surprising to everyone?-

Guard 1: -gives the last shove needed to allow the president to properly stand up. Thus allowing him to immediately get off of the pile of plastic and leather that the chair had been turned into. That must have been uncomfortable- “Yeah... Yeah, when its put like that, I can definitely agree with you. It might take some getting used to if I suddenly see a lady walk into the stall in the men’s room, but y’know what? I bet I can get over it if I just remind myself that they’re a guy too. They were just born with the wrong parts.”

Mr. Merica: “YES. THANK YOU BOTH FOR DISCUSSING THIS WITH ME, AND OFFERING YOUR INPUT. I WILL NOW ALLOW YOU BOTH AN HOUR LONG BREAK SO AS TO GET A SNACK AND PROPERLY HYDRATE YOURSELVES, AS I AM SURE THAT YOU ARE BOTH TIRED AND COULD USE SOME TIME TO REST. DO NOT CLOCK OUT FOR THIS BREAK, AS YOU ARE BOTH INCREDIBLY DESERVING OF YOUR PAY.” -He has taken to sitting on the floor near the side of the desk, so as to still try and be behind it. Size is a real issue here. Getting through the door must be a struggle, even with its extreme width taken into account-

Both Guards: “Thank you, Sir.” -as such they are free to go and do whatever it is that they might wish to do with their hour long break-

Worker Steve: -this man has surprisingly watched all of this without uttering a word- “I, Uhm... Shall I call to have the chair removed, seeing as it is now more of a hazard?”

Mr. Merica: “OH, WORKER STEVE! I THOUGHT THAT YOU HAD WAITED OUTSIDE WHILST ALL OF THAT TRANSPIRED. I APOLOGIZE FOR UNINTENTIONALLY IGNORING YOU! BUT YES, PLEASE SEE TO IT THAT THE BROKEN CHAIR IS REMOVED, SO THAT I MIGHT SIT BEHIND MY DESK PROPERLY.” -Yes this was awkward but he was able to play it off-

Worker Steve: “Yes sir.”

[amiyahsoul]

Skype Call 💻: Mercedes & Otis Jones

INVOLVED: Mercedes Jones & Otis Jones TIME FRAME: Wednesday April 11th, 2017. LOCATION: Mercedes Condo . L. A. NOTES: As Mercedes attempts to bury herself in idle prep for the baby’s arrival she has a surprise Skype call with her father. 

Mercedes hummed along with the music that filled the room.  She was in a cleaning frenzy. The bathroom sparkled and the beds in her condo had fresh, crisp, clean linens. Now she was freshening the kitchen. Her hand circled across the counter wiping down the surface. The house wasn’t messy, just a little dusty from being left vacant for so long.  She blew slightly, starting to get tired. Her exertion was to be expected, but she still wanted to shop for a few extras before heading home for the day. Her hand went to the small of her back, as she was startled by the Skype chime. Seeing Her father's face pop up she rushed to answered the call. as quickly as her short legs could carry her.  She answered the called. Then squinted as a huge teddy bear dominated the computer screen. “Hello, I’m teddy the bear. And I can’t wait to meet my new friend!.” Mercedes snorted, staring at the screen.  “Daddy, that bear is huge. That thing will only scare the baby.”

Otis’ head popped out from behind the bear, huge grin on his face. “You have no proof that it will scare her. She’s going to love it and name him Otis. -I’m having him shipped tomorrow. Your mother would kill me if I tried to bring him on the plane.” He hefted the huge bear moving him off screen.  “Speaking of… tell me you’re having a contraction. Something." He said rubbing his hands together. "I’m excited. A new little girl to spoil and this time I get to do it right.”

Mercedes shook her head. “And she’d be right that thing is ridiculous.” She chuckled, “Sorry," She sung out, "but since last week, I’ve only had some pain but nothing significant enough to go back to the hospital.  She’ll come when she's ready." She smiled.

“Don’t talk about O like that. I know he’s huge but this is my first grandchild.  I am shooting for completely rotten.” Otis raised his eyebrow. “Have you been walking.  It’s what they made your mother do when she was in hospital having you guys.”

“The fact that you have already named him. -DADDY.” She laughed, holding her stomach as she did so. “So you are going to spoil her and leave me with a bratty child. No sir, that is out of the question.” She shook her head no, “Not as much as I should. But she is coming, of that I have no doubt.”

“Spoil completely... Yes, it will happen. It’s my prerogative as a grandparent.  Listen, Mercedes I'm going to give you and her till the end of the week, then I am going to come to L.A. and just wait it out.”  Otis moved closer to the screen. “Umm, Baby…  Why are you in your condo.”

Mercedes raised her hands, “Go right ahead and spoil away. A few days of grandparent over kill shouldn’t do too much damage.” She looked around, the space. “I was cleaning it up for you and mom. I thought you might want more privacy when you’re here.”

Otis smile faltered, “Mhm… well if you want us to stay there we can…” Otis leaned back in his chair staring at his daughter. Since her engagement party this young woman had been on cloud 100 and now her expression was different. “What’s wrong? And before you give me the nothing is wrong cover up, remember I know you better than you know yourself. Even now…”

“Don’t sound like that that. You don’t have to stay here it’s only a suggestion.”  Mercedes shrugged his words off “but there is nothing wrong with me, Da…”

“Bup.. bup.. bup …”  Otis cut across Mercedes. “Don’t hand me that landfill of lies.  You have been a hundred watt bulb for literally months. Now you look like someone snatched all the cheer from you. WHAT IS WRONG?

“I don’t want to talk about it… so can we just leave it. I’m fine, the baby is fine. That’s the focus right now. When she comes and i’m not a human incubator, then I’ll deal with what’s bothering me. It’s private dad. So just leave it.”

Otis sighed, and leaned back in his chair.  “I remember when you lost that little bald headed doll you had as a girl. You stood there with your little arms folded and told me you were fine. But for a week, you barely smiled, and went to bed early and whimpered in your sleep.  Baby girl, you weren’t fine then and you are not fine now.”

Mercedes smiled softly at her father’s little story. “And what did Mom, do to pull me out of my funk?” She asked. She didn’t remember this story at all and was curious.

“Your Mama?” Otis snapped back, shaking his head. “I’ll have you know.  I am a capable parent.  No matter what you and your sister seem to think. “  He told her pointedly. “I took you for ice cream. Double fudge chocolate chip.” he said accenting each word as he went.  “I got you on a sugar high, then took you to the park… I went down the slide with you just the way you used to do with that bald headed doll… What was her name, anyway.” He thought crossing his arms eyes wandering to the ceiling.

“And that worked I talked to you after that?” Mercedes chuckled. “I was a cheap  date.” She grinned.  

“You are my stubborn baby.  Who always takes everyone of your short falls and coming, on yourself. You bottle it all up so tight, trying to figure it out, on your own.  I’ve never understood why you do that. Family is about support. But no one can help you if you don’t open yourself too it.  And the truly messed up part is you want someone to care enough to ask how you feel, while at the same time pushing everyone away.  You were one hell of a maddening teenager I tell you.” Otis told her.

“I’m not a little kid anymore dad.  Aren’t I supposed to figure things out for myself. In less than 15 minutes I’m going to have a baby of my own. I can’t depend on you or mom to order my steps for me.”  Mercedes countered.

Otis snorted, “You and your sister are lucky Mercedes.  You have me and your mother to talk to. You don’t need us to tell you what to do.  Hell, you don't listen anyway, but talking isn’t making a decision, it’s sorting out how you feel.”

Mercedes rubbed her hands over her face. “Not this… Not now. You’ll never understand it will taint my daughter's birth. I don’t want that. I want everything to be perfect when she comes. Not people side eyeing each other. And definitely not your renewed hatred of Sam.”

Otis nodded, “Mhm…” He rubbed his hand down his face and groaned.  “Mercedes I know when I have been defeated.  Now I can kick and scream for days, but you ain’t going to be done with Samuel Evans, especially now.” he said pointing to her stomach. “Until the throw dirt in one of your faces. “As long as he isn’t laying hands on you,” he shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Mercedes wiped at her face, determined to hold herself together. “No, he’d never do anything like that. He’d never hurt his baby…  I’m just kidding. She sniffed. “It’s so much happening in such a short period of time.  I can’t get my footing.” Finally breaking down. “I’ve created a mess. Now I have to live with it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Leaving that man when you were younger? Mercedes, you have GOT to forgive yourself for that. There was nothing wrong with you deciding not to get married. Do you truly think, that single solitary action created all this.  I don’t know what’s going on NOW  but, I assure you all this is not your fault.” Otis sighed. “I will say this, it was a bad idea not to just leave that man alone.”  He closed his eyes, blocking the protest he knew was about to come, “Nope, hold up. I’m not saying you couldn’t have found your way back to him, but you muddy the water because you didn’t let go. Completely. So now you don’t know if what you are seeing from him now is real, or fake or whatever. Unfortunately, for you, the only person who knows for sure is HIM. And the only way for you to find out  is through time.” He stopped and rubbed the side of his eyes.  “Time I wish you two fools had taken before my grandchild. Or getting engaged for that matter. You needed to feel secure in his changes and him in yours.

Mercedes listen to her father layout her pitfalls. Each lash a whip of truth that that highlighted her real pain. “I know… I just don’t know what to do now. But wasn’t it you who always said a little bit will tell you what a whole lot means? It’s been more than a little bit. And now..." She lowered her face, not wanting to see his I told you so expression. “He already has a son.” She cried “From the woman right before me.”

Otis blinked, and all he could do was shake his head for his child. His poor foolish child. “You still half protecting him so I assume, this child was conceived before you and he were official.”

Mercedes just looked at her father. Even pregnant these types  “Yes, He didn't cheat or anything. but, I… I just… I’ve always wanted what you and mom have and now.” She button her lip and dropped her head again.

Otis thought about explaining his past to his child, all of it. But this wasn’t the time, she was going to have to decide if she loved Samuel enough to stay on her own. That was the only way. It was only luck that kept this situation with Samuel from being himself. But even then building what him and his wife had was hard work. Very hard work. “So… You’re upset there is a living reminder.  I’m sorry baby girl.  This is a less than ideal situation.” He told her, pinching  the bridge of his nose.  “Oh Mercedes.”

“We were building it. Since I’ve been pregnant he has been perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything more or better. He was actually getting on my nerves, he barely left the house.  Then the other day, he just up and left. -Stayed out all night and then he told me about being stress by work, and needing a pacemaker. I was upset he just didn't tell me...  And then he told the rest. Why couldn’t he be more careful. I was.”

Otis could kill Mercedes for not listening to him the hundreds of times he’d tried to steer her towards other men. He held his breath. No father wanted to be in this position. To have to brake his own child's heart.  “He tried to bury that information didn't he." he sighed "You know why.” He said simply. “You made a choice months ago. And up until that little party that young man through for you, I was skeptical. But I don’t think any man would go through all that for some one he doesn’t care deeply for.”   

“It just makes me question everything.  I’m I being a fool, dad? I hurt because, I’m not the only mother of his children.. Because I believed that if I could come home and he’d be there, that I was most important.  You know the other day, he told me how hard he tried to replace me. It’s like I’ve heard the words and been looking at the evidence for so long… What if I am being a fool for  continuing to do so?” Mercedes covered her eyes, wiping at her face. “Am I going to teach my baby to be a fool too.”

“Baby, I don’t know.” Otis full lips pressed together, and he looked back up to the display. “Now you want this guarantee?  With him?” He chuckled. “I think you know better then that. Forgive yourself Mercedes for the past. Once you do you’ll be able to make better choices for your future.  And remember that not even your mother and I have a perfect relationship. And as hard as it is to believe. Even if you had married Sam years ago, It would have never been easy. No matter what you want believe. Just think about it. I love you baby girl no matter what you decide.”

[lxvxjxnkie]

Facing up

In January I broke up with the guy I was seeing, because it was going to take a ton of energy to bring him up to speed on my emotional history, and it was energy I needed for dealing with that history.

It was a seven month wait to see a psychologist who had the skillset I needed. I knew I was in trouble by June last year.  A couple of things stand out: there’s an aboutness to my experience of depression; I can trace it back to a trigger event, and there’s often a specific theme to my ruminations. Secondly, it doesn’t respond to medication. My mood, confidence, day-to-day experience of life is improved on medication, but I’m still stuck, avoiding a major decision and not getting any writing done.

I’ve seen a psychiatrist who said I’m not bipolar.

Finally, about four weeks ago, I had my first appointment with the psychologist. It went well, but we barely scratched the surface. He said, straight up, that he thinks there’s complex trauma playing out.

I knew that already. I have always avoided writing that I have primary trauma. I’ve talked about intergenerational trauma, paying deference to my primary parent’s experience of domestic violence in her childhood.

But now it’s time to face up to the primary trauma: a two year period, from year eleven at high school to first year at uni.

My brother left home after about three months of screaming.

My mum visited the daughter she gave up for adoption, about three years after they’d had a reunion, and the daughter had more or less blanked her. Mum came home and spent about a week catatonic with grief, and required a massive amount of emotional support after she finally started talking again.

I came out and that didn’t go well.

Growing up I was lucky to have a dad who paid child support, but every few years the agreement would be reviewed, and mum would come home from court spitting venomous rage about how he’d screwed her in court. When I turned 18, the agreement was up for renewal (it’s payable until 21), but I was now legally an adult and the case was brought in my name. Dad had offered to reach an informal agreement but Mum called me a fool for considering it and made me sue him. So in the middle of year twelve I was suing my father for child support. On our day in court, it turned out to be a negotiation process, not a contested hearing and not an opportunity for a court to hear and adjudicate all mum’s grievances. So she unloaded those on the Legal Aid lawyer, and when I asked her to stop that, she turned her rage on me. To this day, I still break into a cold sweat in small rooms with meeting tables.

After that, it was weeks and weeks of cold, silent, grit-toothed rage. In the end I decided to move out and started looking for places, and -that- got through to mum; she said to wait until I’d finished year twelve, and the cold thawed a little.

I did something stupid, deleting a file I’d created to layout a newsletter for Women and the Australian Church. Not sure how many kids in year 11-12 were laying out 4-5 editions per year of a 12-16 page newsletter for their mum’s church group. More of the cold silent treatment lasting for weeks.

I was also debating for my school and the state team, moot courting, public speaking, and editing the school newspaper. I honestly don’t know how I got through that year. I remember my teachers being pretty concerned for me, but I absolutely couldn’t talk to them about it; at the tiniest gesture of sympathy, I felt like I would start crying and never stop — just not done in an all-boys’ school. At the end of the year I had one conversation with the guidance counsellor, who faked a bunch of absence notes in my diary, because I’d missed too many days to graduate, otherwise. Then I graduated as Dux of the School, won a Premier’s Prize for English, school prizes for Literature and Debating, and an Australian Psychological Society Prize. Straight As and perfect marks in three subjects.

And I’ve written before about how it all fell apart in undergrad at Unimelb. More than any other university, Unimelb frames pastoral care for students as a service. Even if you’re failing all your subjects, nobody there will ever e-mail to ask ‘are you alright?’ You are required to model good help-seeking behaviour, framing yourself as a responsible service user, before you’ll get help. I didn’t even know there was anything wrong; I knew I was very, very unhappy, but I understood it as moral failure and laziness, and I really resented needing to identify as sick to get help. And still do. And if you have social anxiety, and you’re paralysed, well, good luck managing to ask for help. I enrolled there in 2000 and it was not until 2008 that I was dating someone and he said, you’re acting weird, what the fuck is going on? And he pushed and pushed until finally I said, ‘mum won’t stop calling me.’

My uncle Peter had died. I’d asked her to leave me out of the inevitable court battle over his estate. But one day I visited her and she was incredibly distressed over her other brother taking money out of the estate that should have been equally divided. So I wrote a letter laying out the legal duties of executors and threatening action for her to send in her name. But she forwarded it to him saying ‘this is what I would send you if I was really nasty.’ And it turned out that he was reimbursing the money he’d paid upfront to the lawyers, having mortgaged his house, to defend the estate against my uncle’s ex-partner. ‘What difference does that make?’ said mum. I was so angry with myself for letting myself get suckered into that game: mum presenting herself as the victim to get someone else to step in as rescuer. And seeing myself the way mum saw me — like the pitbull you let off the leash to intimidate someone — I felt stupid, and used, and ashamed. I didn’t talk to mum for a year, but she kept calling my phone, and until my partner picked up on it, I had no idea how much that ‘jack-hammering’ was winding me up.

All through my teenage years and once I’d moved out of home, it was normal to go to bed and have a flashback. I have an incredibly detailed memory and the flashbacks were vivid; they would leave me frozen and sweaty and exhausted. One every night before sleep, sometimes more. I would have them as well in lecture theatres, when something in the lecture cued the memory of a family experience.

Back to the present moment: late last year, I got that e-mail from my mum, ‘correspondence must cease’. But coming up to my birthday on Monday, I knew that she would get in contact. It’s just the most characteristic thing for her to feel like she’s got the upper hand so everything in the relationship is fine. There are people she has grievously wronged and she is still surprised and hurt when they don’t accept her overtures of ‘forgiveness’. Sure enough, 10AM, there’s the e-mail, happy birthday, thinking of you, love mum. And I smacked it back over the net so hard. I reiterated the line I’ve been saying, over and over: I am not trying to relitigate the past, but I am going to tell the story of it, and you need to acknowledge that your experience does not determine the truth and validity of my story and my relationships.

The hardest thing post-trauma is to tell a coherent story of self-survival, and anyone who deliberately tries to disrupt that process is morally akin to the Catholic lawyers demanding time and date specificity of people abused as children.

I knew when I wrote that post in August 2015 to expect a call; I stopped in at a supermarket to pick up a bag of glucose in preparation. Sure enough, it came, and it was the usual arctic blast of self-righteousness and the purpose of the call was fact-checking. ‘That’s not how I experienced that.’ No shit; you have every self-serving reason to remember it differently, because you were not the one getting hurt by it.

It was my birthday on Monday. I hid the date on FB and only my step-mother remembered it. I hid the date because I knew this e-mail was coming and I knew it would dig up a ton of baggage that I would have to deal with, and I knew that I was going to really struggle to field and enjoy and respond to birthday greetings. So I had a day of self-care instead, after replying to the e-mail. And when I went to bed that night, I woke up around 3AM straight into an intrusive episode, a flashback to that tiny room in the Mag Ct, reliving it for about 45 minutes until I was finally able to get up, stagger down the hall to the kitchen and get some water.

I haven’t done that for years. I had forgotten how exhausting it is; afterwards, even though I eventually got back to sleep, I woke up feeling like I’d run a marathon overnight. And that nauseous feeling in my gut, the interferon-y feeling in my muscles, the lactic acid build-up in my diaphragm. The tightness of breath all day until my boss suggested we go walk up a mountain and that unlocked me. Today, the day after — it feels like weeks later — I’m still tired. The next appointment is on Tuesday, so that will be a chance to debrief, but it’ll no doubt dig up new stuff to process. I need to make a decision really soon about whether to continue with my PhD or put it on hold while I deal with this stuff.

[itsworn]

Homebrewed, Twin-Turbo 1971 Camaro Wins ECTA/HOT ROD Top Speed Challenge in Super Street – 227 MPH!

When Ray Brock and Ak Miller joined together to enter the 1954 La Carrera Pan Americana, their manta was “How backyard can we be?” while building the “Caballo de Hierro” Model T racer – and in that same vein, David and Michael Matyjasik have built one of the quickest homebrewed hot rods out there.  Their 1971 “Time Bomb” Camaro (a play on Freiburger’s F-Bomb Camaro) has been a mixture of trial and error driven by as much persistent creativity as it was by the racing family around them.

Before moving on to how the harshest, rainiest land speed races the Matyjasik brothers’ have ever seen resulted in the best mile-per-hour the car has ever ran, let’s discuss the path that led to Time Bomb.

Dave started, “Yeah, racing’s always been my thing. I remember going on bike rides for boy scouts and it was how fast can you go downhill, and I remember doing like 45 miles an hour on a little 24 inch mountain bike when I’m 10 years old!”

“Grocery shopping with my mom, she’d dropped us off at the magazine Rack and we’d read HOT ROD and Mustang Monthly, all those magazines,” Mike continued. “I did terrible in school and had horrible grades because the only thing I was reading were automotive magazines — I wouldn’t read anything for school, but you could drop me off at a magazine rack!”

Before flunking out too hard, they split time on the 1971 Chevy Malibu in high school that got their real start in drag racing at the local eighth-mile strip. The duo continued passing the blame as the conversation went on to the Camaro’s acquisition. “I can actually blame my parents, I had really wanted a 1997 Anniversary Edition Camaro Z/28 convertible, but they would not co-sign on it…” Dave said. “But they would co-sign on a $5,500 1971 Camaro with a black vinyl top. So I blame my mother because I would’ve never raced the convertible, but I could race this!”

At first glance, second-generation Camaros look like they’d do OK in the wind, but A2’s wind tunnel proved otherwise with an abysmal .497 coefficient of drag (Cd). This was Maxton, 2006.

This 1971 Camaro started life as a generic 307ci-powered coupe that quickly became Dave’s sandbox for performance. The brothers had already been splitting time on the Malibu at the drags, and in 2001 the Camaro took up the duty as a street terror. Eventually, Dave craved for a four-speed, but managed to shatter the M-20 and M-22 he’d dreamed of and converted the car back to a TH350. Around this time, they pulled together a nitrous setup for the Camaro, but that started a steep uphill battle climbing the learning curve.

“We went to the drag strip and proceeded to burn up a piston on the starting line,” Dave confessed. They had wired the nitrous to a full-throttle switch, but didn’t have a manual trigger – the pistons weren’t happy with the uncontrollable abuse and before he got a chance to even beat on it, Dave was back in the motor to finally fortify it with forged rods and pistons – and he added a nitrous button for the steering wheel. The car became a formidable 11-second street car, before the rise of the LS fourth-gen Camaros really wiped the street clean of conventional small-blocks.

It was around this time that Dave, while working at another performance shop, met Randy Brown. He was famous for his total sleeper of a 600hp 1994 Pontiac Firebird Formula (Apr. 2001), which churned 10-second time slips while bolting across an airbase at 168mph with the ECTA Maxton Mile. With his shop right behind Dave’s, it didn’t take long to pass the bug. The Camaro had been on hiatus as Dave went through his broke-college-kid phase, but the ECTA gave him a real reason to pull it out of the corner of the shop.

This is about the time they met Keith and Tonya Turk (who also help run Drag Week), along with Joe and Donna Timney, of Delaware Chassis Works. This was everything they needed to see, and the duo first picked up Michael’s 2004 Ford Mustang Mach 1 with the goal of grabbing all the seat time possible while building the Camaro.

Looking back, Michael told us: “I’m looking at all the time slips — 151, 150, 153, over and over — we probably got 20 or 30 passes in that thing. We ran that while the Camaro was being built.”

“We never broke 160,” Dave admitted. “But we beat the living hell out of that car getting seat time.”

Mike, on the left, helps Dave pack the ‘chutes after making their first speed-capped run.

In 2006, Time Bomb made its ECTA debut with a literal stack of nitrous plates feeding a 383 that was splitting gears with a stick again thanks to the TKO-600 five-speed. Naturally, the build came to a last-minute thrash with 20-hour days leading to a “beg for forgiveness” tech inspection, but the brothers managed to get Time Bomb through its first scrutiny and onto Maxton’s infamous runway surface. The course was notorious its kinked layout and bumpstop-checking surface, but the duo managed to pack a 176 mph record in their first time out.

The entire front end is sheet metal, built by Joe Timney of Delaware Chassis Works.

With more runs that season, they began to learn the practical limitations of the second-generation Camaro’s aerodynamics – above 190 mph, the machine became a liability according to Dave: “We had a 400-shot on a 383 that only made 400 hp, it wasted the rings every pass! But it would not go faster than 198 mph, I was hitting the nitrous button and it was blowing the tires off at 190 mph. I’m not a very religious guy, but Baby Jesus and I had a talk after that pass and decided we can’t keep doing that!” With a season full of destroyed pistons behind them trying to horsepower their way to the 200 mph barrier, the Matyjasik brothers decided to finally deal with the ’71 Camaro’s stock aero.

The duo joined Freiburger and Keith Turk at A2 Wind Tunnel to drop the car from a flying-brick-like .497 Cd to a svelte .292, trading horsepower for less drag in their 200 mph pursuit. Dave recalled that they found that the stock 1971 Camaro created 500 pounds of lift at the rear of the car, resulting in their traction issues. The result of their field trip with Keith and Freiburger? “It went from uncontrollable wheel spin to driving with one hand on the wheel and just pulling the shift lever when the light came on,” Dave said. The car now produced 250 pounds of downforce and freed up 400 aero-hp, the difference in power needed to hit their goals thanks to the slippier aero package. Despite that, they decided that the 383 was still out of its element, and a 401-inch, NASCAR SB2-based small-block was slammed together (and was still being dynoed while the race started) with a hearty 250 shot.

With a controversial, full-throttle-in-4-low start from their push truck, the new bullet sung to 212.986 mph – certifying Dave and Time Bomb with the “2 Club,” the short hand for the 200 mph club in land speed. It earned him a spot in HRM’s ECTA coverage (Aug. 07), and was all downhill, at high speeds, from there.

In Freiburger’s “W.O.T.’s Happening” story for the August 2007 issue, where Dave first broke 200 mph with Time Bomb. You can see the earlier front-end here, with the brothers fresh from their wind tunnel testing.

With more HRM tech articles in hand, they took their bootleg copy of CAD to create an enclosure for the carb to run boost. Legend has it even Dave’s wife, Shelby, approved funneling their tax returns into a pair of turbos for the endeavor. That 383 proved troublesome, but eventually race engine builder Steve Ashworth donated the brothers a Dart small-block with Buick-SBC heads. Mike built the 364ci, 9,000 rpm mill and they turned it loose at the 2013 HOT ROD Top Speed Challenge, earning Mike his 2 Club credentials. Despite its best efforts, the duo eventually retired the Buick-SBC, as by this point in its long career the heads were prone to cracking ports and leaking water.

By this point, Dave was ready for EFI, and those LS engines had been knocking on his door long enough. He off-loaded everything SBC and grabbed the first MS3 Pro and church van 5.3L he could. The tax return Power Master turbos were undusted, and the build began out of Mike’s new home shop in North Carolina. Paul Falcon of LS Excitement, the guy who sold Dave his first Muncies, supplied him with the factory 6.0L 317 cylinder heads, an LS1 intake manifold, and an 87mm throttle body to get the ball rolling on the cheap. Jason Youd at PAC Racing Springs spec’d them the right kit for their Stag 2 turbo cam from John Bewley, of Little John Motorsports, and a cheap CX Racing liquid-to-air intercooler setup was combined with a $17 ice chest to keep things cool under boost. Once a season of racing proved this little combo could out run their knife-edge Buick-SBC, they moved on to a 6.0L block with CP Bullet Pistons, a used LS3 crankshaft, the same old 317 heads with new PAC springs, and shaft-mount Jessels.

Glutens for punishment and performance, they allowed their car to be the guinea pig during a How to Tune class ran by Scott Clark, of Real Tuners. Working through the curriculum of bug-testing wiring and safely pushing the envelope with a new setup, the students were able to start creeping over 1,100 hp with a SuperFlow dyno. “They didn’t think too highly of my sloppy MIG welds, 8-year-old turbos, and Igloo intercooler tank,” Dave joked. “Then it made 950 hp on the first partial pull and the guys were losing their minds. In the end, the class collaboratively tuned my car to 1,113 hp.”

It’s ugly, but it goes like hell – Time Bomb runs an iron-block 6.0 that carries stock 317 heads stuffed with PAC valve springs. The Cam Motion bump stick carries a 253/266 duration with .670in of lift, and is spun by a used LS3 crank. CP Bullet pistons and second-hand Howard H-beam rods fill out the rotating assembly, and Chris Hall Performance Machine Works nipped and tucked every mating surface to fit. A pair of 70mm Master Power turbos feed the homebrewed concoction enough air for 1,100hp

And that leads us to a closed runway in the north east corner of Arkansas as Keith Turk stood with his arm outreached in the wind stream, gauging whether or not his trusty wind speed meter was going to give him an all-clear. As it turns out, the wind around us was having a land speed race of its own, perpendicular to the runway – and it was obvious even as we putted around the facility in a rental car that at two-bills the 15 to 20mph cross-winds were dangerous. Very few cars squeezed runs through on Saturday, but the pay day was Sunday for the Matyjasiks, and the final day of racing after the first day-and-a-half were written off due to those temperamental gusts and heavy rains. It was do-or-die for all of the racers, with most having jobs and families to trek back to before the work week wound up.

This meant that between gusts, Keith and ECTA’s starter Mike Morgan were hustling drivers through – the catch was that because it was a new course, every racer’s first run had to be a speed-restricted pass, not unlike a licensing pass. This was to ensure that drivers had a chance to see the surface, find their turn-outs after the finish line, and get a feel for things before falling into more primal habits with the throttle at full-bore. The Matyjasiks ran their shakedown and turned it right back around in the lanes for their full pass.

Keith Turk and Mike talk to Dave about the conditions, waiting for a calm in the gusts to make their pass.

After a fistful of limiter and a few gears, Time Bomb finally dug into the tarmac and surged through third. “I knew as soon as I cracked 7,000 rpm that I had beaten [Drag Weeker] Clark Rosenstengel’s 220 mph pass, my land speed ultimate goal,” Dave recalled. “7,200rpm clicked past just before hitting a wicked ump that shot concrete dust through the shift handle boot hole, and I crossed the line with 227.2mph of pure glory!” The run not only secured his win in the Super Street class of the ECTA/HOT ROD Top Speed Challenge, but the Matyjasik brothers had another personal goal: to break Keith and Freiburger’s 217 mph standing-mile top speed in their So-Al Camaro. And for a few minutes, they even held the weekend’s top speed, until Spring, Texas’ Rick Harden with his twin-turbo, big-block-powered ’92 Corvette blasted to a 229.5 mph peak.

What Time Bomb represents is more than just a 220 mph, street-legal science experiment. It’s proof that you can still go out and make a big splash in racing without a big budget. There’s not a penny added where there doesn’t need to be, and there’s more stock Camaro steel in the car than you’d think – that’s the point. With everything they could scrap, the Matyjasik brothers have not only accomplished their 200mph goal, but they also did so with the help of a racing community that can be found by anyone with enough tenacity to simply try. Failure was taken as a step forward, and the car evolved with them to its current form.

“I would estimate you could duplicate this Camaro for around $30,000 to $40,000 from scratch if you did the work yourself and carefully sourced your parts,” Dave figured. “In the age of $500,000 radial cars, it seems like a helluva deal. And I hope you try, and I hope you beat me, I challenge all of you to – I only ever borrow a record, I never own it. That’s what a wise man once said and I believe it.”

Tuner Scott Clark, Dave, and Mike alongside his wife Angie after securing the Top Speed Challenge at 227.2 mph.

  The post Homebrewed, Twin-Turbo 1971 Camaro Wins ECTA/HOT ROD Top Speed Challenge in Super Street – 227 MPH! appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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