dahliaparton

[dahliaparton]

anxiety will have you thinking things like "will everyone hate me if i order coffee at the coffee shop" and "will people think i'm crazy if i work out at the gym"

[dahliaparton]

i really like this thing where websites will have separate "log in" & "sign up" buttons and if you click "log in" it takes you to a sign-up screen anyway so you have to click "i already have an account" and then it will ask if you want to sign in with your facebook account or with instagram or linkedin or deviantart or whatever, and if you choose "username & password" it asks if you want to put in your username or use your thumbprint, and once you put your username & password it emails you a confirmation code, and once you put in the code it says "do you want to give us your phone number for future sign-ins? do you want to sign up for facial recognition? do you want to give us your bones? give us your fucking bones?

[dahliaparton]

madison bailey 🤍💚🩵

[dahliaparton]

full throttle — ch 3

a Rafe/Kie fic tags: dirtbike AU, sexual tension, eventual smut, lite™ stalking, protective Rafe, possessive behavior, author knows nothing about dirtbikes that wasn’t learned from google and I’m sure that’s evident

She’s sipping on a frozen margarita and polishing off another taco when a pair of guys wearing Ralph Lauren polos and matching finance bro haircuts come in to grab a pick-up order from the front. It’s easy to ignore their looks of interest, even when she can feel their eyes on her. She’s got other things to worry about – mainly, enjoying her food while still chewing demurely enough to not gross out Rafe sitting next to her. 

The man in question turns to glare at the two guys, and she has to hold back a laugh at the way Rafe’s look of censure sends them scurrying away once they’ve grabbed their food from the employee at the front. 

He turns to her. “The fuck is up with that?” he asks, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to the front door. “Do you get stared at like this every time you leave the house?”

“Dude. It was two guys, and they didn’t even say anything. That’s nothing.”

He blinks at her. “No,” he says slowly, like he can’t believe he has to explain this to her. “It wasn’t just those two assholes. You’ve been getting looks the whole time I’ve been with you – at the store, down the sidewalk, and in here. Jesus, and they’re brave enough to do it with me next to you – what’s it like when you’re by yourself?”

Kiara hasn’t noticed anyone else looking at her, and she wonders what that says about her observation skills. 

Or maybe a better question is, what does it say about Rafe’s observation skills? 

She puts her margarita down on the table, raising her brows. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?” 

“Nah,” he says, his eyes drifting away from her to look around the restaurant as if he’s daring someone else to look her way. “Mostly just wondering if I’m gonna end up fighting someone tonight or not. Remember when I said you were trouble? You have yet to prove me wrong.”

She laughs at that, but he doesn’t. 

The silence sits for a bit, and then without really meaning to, she says, “I don’t know if I believe you finding me tonight was a coincidence.” The words just kind of tumble out – well, her margarita is rather strong. 

His smile is hard to read. All at once, he looks amused, smug – almost a little proud, even, like she’d just figured something out he wasn’t expecting her to. “Maybe it was fate,” is all he says. 

“Right. Sure. The fates have a weird sense of humor, then,” she snorts, taking another bite of her last taco. 

Rafe huffs a laugh. “So, you’re mad about it then? I can leave,” he says, making a move like he’s about to get up from the table. 

She stops him, rolling her eyes and laying her hand on his forearm. His skin is warm beneath hers. “I – didn’t say that,” she mutters. 

read chapters 1-3 on ao3!

[dahliaparton]

Madison Bailey

[dahliaparton]

literally how is traffic real everyone just go

[dahliaparton]

sometimes baby boy is a 31y old man…

[dahliaparton]

Fleetwood Mac | Silver Springs Live (1997)

During a taping of a Fleetwood Mac reunion show later released as The Dance, shit once again got very real. Midway through the bridge of a non-album rarity called “Silver Springs,” Nicks turned and faced her former flame as she sang the song’s rueful bridge: “Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me/ I know I could have loved you but you would not let me.” The pair locked eyes, and Nicks gradually built to a cathartic howl – “I’ll follow you down ’til the sound of my voice will haunt you/ You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you” indicating that, for her at least, resolution had never really come.

Suddenly, “Silver Springs,” a song written for Rumours but left off the finished album and relegated to B-side status, seemed like the key to the entire messy and enthralling saga of Fleetwood Mac’s most beloved lineup. 

Rumours became a theatrical affair, with the exes addressing one another’s faults, their own pain and a storm of other topics related to their respective heartbreaks. “Silver Springs” was Nicks’ tribute to the fairy-tale ending that never was. The title came from Silver Spring, Maryland: While passing through the town on tour, Nicks romanticised the name. “It sounded like a pretty fabulous place to me, it’s a whole symbolic thing of what [Lindsey] could have been to me.”

The track’s primary exposure was as a B side to “Go Your Own Way” Buckingham’s own expression of anger and revenge against Nicks, where he claimed that “packin’ up, shackin’ up is all you wanna do.”

"He knew it wasn’t true. It was just an angry thing that he said,” Nicks told of the “packin’ up, shackin’ up” line. “Every time those words would come onstage, I wanted to go over and kill him. He knew it. He really pushed my buttons through that. It was like, ‘I’ll make you suffer for leaving me.’ And I did.”

Of course, Nicks had the exact same motivation when she wrote “Silver Springs.” She explained the song’s message as “I’m so angry with you. You will listen to me on the radio for the rest of your life, and it will bug you. I hope it bugs you.”

[dahliaparton]

[dahliaparton]

https://www.tiktok.com/@s4yko7/video/7503612868311420165

This came up in my fyp and I instantly thought of Rafe in full throttle. I'm obsessed w this fic! You are amazeballs

god y'all should see the amount of bike vids I'm getting on my fyp bc of all the ... ahem... research i've been doing

this guy's the vibe for sureeee lol

so so glad you're enjoying it, dude 🥰

[dahliaparton]

chapter 2 is up

full throttle — a Rafe/Kie fic

tags: dirtbike AU, sexual tension, eventual smut, lite™ stalking, protective Rafe, possessive behavior, author knows nothing about dirtbikes that wasn’t learned from google and I’m sure that’s evident

She hears the roar of the bike long before she sees it. There’s a low growl in the distance that grows sharply as a black dirtbike and its rider come zipping down the street, turning into the parking lot of the gas station, tires popping as they spit out loose gravel. The engine revs once more as the rider eases the bike into a parking spot before settling into a thrumming, idling purr. 

The guy on the bike is wearing all black gear, including a matte black helmet. Tall and presumably muscled, judging by the way he’s handling the weight of his bike with ease. He plants one foot on the pavement. The other he keeps slung low on a peg. 

He was a blot of ink against the golden, yellow tones that make up Kildare – a Rorschach test of a man that has Kie biting her lip and averting her eyes before he notices her staring. 

A few minutes later, she emerges from the store with an XL fountain iced coffee clutched in her hand. She only makes it halfway down the steps before she caves to instinct, turning her head and checking to see if he’s still there, parked in the same spot.

She’s startled to find that his helmet is already cocked in her direction. He’s still in that loose, effortless sort of stance – half-on, half-off his bike – like he’s ready and willing to jump into action at any time. 

For some reason, Chappell Roan’s Hot 2 Go starts playing in a loop in Kiara’s mind. 

She’s still moving, floating down the stairs and miraculously not tripping on any of the cracks in the sidewalk – miraculous because she sure as shit isn’t watching where she’s walking, way too occupied trying to win the staring contest she unwittingly entered with this guy. 

To be fair, his black reflective visor hides his eyes from her, so she can’t be sure, but it certainly feels like they’re staring at each other. There’s a pressure behind her ribs, something hooked in her chest that tugs her forward, making her want to move closer to him. 

She resists, forcing her feet to move along the sidewalk back to Sarah's apartment. 

It was silly, she tells herself. He probably hadn’t even been looking at her. It’s not like he’d said anything. He hadn’t even nodded at her in acknowledgment. 

He was probably waiting for someone. Or maybe resting before continuing his ride. Is that something bikers did – pull over in gas stations to idle unnecessarily? 

She wasn’t sure. To be honest, she really didn’t know the first thing about bikes. 

------

It’s because she doesn’t know the first thing about bikes that her attendance at the annual Enduro dirtbike race later that very same day feels heavily ironic. 

The air at the race course is thick with dust and engine smoke, the smell of gasoline inescapable as she trails behind Sarah through the crowd. Music thumps from speakers placed near the starting line, mixing with the roar of engines revving and people yelling back and forth in excitement. Everyone stands elbow-to-elbow, beer cans sloshing and limbs colliding as they try to move around. 

It’s pure chaos. She eyes the line-up of riders competing as Sarah leads them closer. It’s a mixed bag – some of the racers are no older than reckless teenagers, while others are clearly old enough to know better but are suffering from some sort of adrenaline addiction. 

Several of the riders have clearly cobbled together their gear with whatever mismatched pieces they could find – old faded jerseys, scuffed helmets, pads bandaged with fraying duct tape. Others wear expensive matching sets, the brand names stitched into the fabric and gear. 

One thing they all have in common, though, is a sense of barely contained tension. The way their hands flex on the throttles every so often, the dust spitting out from beneath their tires – it lends them all an air of danger. Loud, messy. Wild. 

Not for the first time Kiara thinks to herself, I don’t belong here. 

Sarah spots who she was looking for in the crowd, waving enthusiastically and pushing through the last throng of people in her way to get to them. Kiara follows, tucking her arms around herself to avoid rubbing against the sweaty strangers. 

John B, Pope, and Cleo are all standing close to the starting line, chatting and laughing with each other. At Sarah and Kiara’s arrival, they adjust their circle to fold them in easily. Kie doesn’t know Cleo very well, having only met her for the first time a few days ago when she moved back to Kildare. Really, she barely knows John B and Pope either – childhood friends, sure, but it’s been six years since she’s spent any quality time with them. 

Sarah’s the only friend from Kildare that she’d maintained a meaningful connection with during her time away. The boys hadn’t really been equipped to put in the effort to nurture a long-distance friendship, which Kie harbored no ill will over. She’d been welcomed into the group upon her return to the island earlier this week. Between Sarah letting her stay in the spare bedroom of her apartment and the easy way the group had included her already, Kie was feeling content with her choice to move back to Kildare.

It was a little bit of an ongoing issue with her – feeling at home, feeling welcomed in spaces she wasn’t sure about. It probably started with her parents shipping her off to be anyone else’s problem back when she was a teenager, and was only compounded as she cycled through different groups ever since. 

She’d struggled to find a core community while she finished out high school at her aunt’s place. When she moved to college, she never found a group that she really clicked with – she had lots of friends, but they were scattered about in different places and circumstances. These friends were ones she sat with in classes and paired up with for projects. These friends are ones she’d meet up with for coffee or for a meal in the commons. These friends are the ones she’d stay out with til 2 am at the bars. There was never one group, not even one person, she was able to do everything with. 

Sarah laughs at something Kiara didn’t catch – a joke John B cracked that’s got Sarah giggling, the sound jarring Kie from her thoughts. “So, did you guys make any bets on J?” Sarah asks the others after she catches her breath. “I guarantee that man bet every penny he has on himself.”

“Of course he did. JJ’s nothing if not cocky,” Pope replies, shaking his head.

“Maybe reckless? Reckless is also a good word for him,” John B adds. 

They all nod in agreement.

Kiara doesn’t nod – it seems rude, since she doesn’t know JJ all that well – but privately, she agrees. JJ’s fun – a little rough around the edges, but charming – and definitely what she would call reckless. In the very short time she’s been back, she’s already witnessed his sketchy side hustles – selling weed and fake IDs to anyone brave enough to ask – and his penchant for needling anyone with authority he encounters. 

She glances over at where the riders are lining up for the race. JJ’s there with his red bike and American flag helmet, and even the way he’s dressed screams careless impulsivity – a shirt with the sleeves cut off, gray threadbare shorts. No pads, no protection besides the beat-up helmet covering the one organ he’s decided is worth saving. His eyes light up through his clear visor when he notices her looking at him, nodding at her excitedly and throwing her a thumbs up. 

She smiles back and lets her eyes trail over the competition around him. Some guy wearing a bright green chest pad shifts slightly on JJ’s left, and the rider behind him comes into focus. 

A matte black helmet with a tinted, reflective visor appears first, then the rest of his colorless gear is revealed as the guy in front of him moves out of the way completely. 

It’s the same man from earlier that day. At the gas station. 

The chaos and noise surrounding her seems to drop away, replaced by the sound of her pulse beating in her ears. 

She would have remembered the combination of all-black gear and helmet, but that’s not what fills her with instant recognition. 

Instead, it’s that same weird pull, still there just like it’d been this morning, tugging on her ribs like a fishhook – a senseless instinct to move closer to him, to speak to him. 

He looks just like she saw him last – one foot carelessly slung over a peg, the other planted in the packed dirt of the starting grid. Tall – taller than most of the other riders, even slouched as he is in the seat of his bike. 

And once again, she has the sense that he’s staring right at her, despite the completely featureless facade of his helmet. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge her in any way, and yet – 

A shiver crawls up her spine. 

A girl in cowboy boots standing next to Kiara guffaws loudly at something her friend said and stumbles, knocking Kie’s elbow and jarring her out of her trance. 

“Woah,” Cleo says, steadying her with a laugh. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Kie mutters, giving Cleo a small smile in thanks.

She looks back to find the black rider again, but the angle is wrong – he’s blocked from her view by the others lining up and getting into position. The race is about to start. 

read the first chapter now!

[dahliaparton]

how can we lose when we’re so sincere is forever always one of my favourite peanuts bits

[dahliaparton]

OUTER BANKS ⇢ 4x03 | THE LUPINE CORSAIRS

[dahliaparton]

stares at your boobs kind of obviously but in a polite feminist way

[dahliaparton]

stares at your boobs kind of obviously but in a polite feminist way

[dahliaparton]

I see the good in people but having discernment is important

[dahliaparton]

Eeehehehe I see that spicy gif Madi 👀😌

Let Me Guess, You're Not Leaving

Chapter Eight Coming Soon...

18+ | Tags: Sneaking Around, Dubious Consent, Somno

“What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me? What are you wondering? What do you know? Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me? When we all fall asleep, where do we go?…"

Bury A Friend by Billie Ellish

Note: Bottom right GIF are made by me. All other pictures are found on Pinterest.