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[livingstyleup]

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[charile0]

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[onlinewordworld]

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[smuthospital]

🎃⭐️Texas Chainsaw Massacre x reader⭐️🎃

Art by: Minilev

Premise: You go hiking with a friend and this bitch has the audacity to leave you alone. You end up hitchhiking with some hippies, but their van gets a flat! Oh no! Good thing there's a farmhouse nearby. Maybe they can help

Note: I had this in the drafts for awhile. I decided to whip it out for halloween. Enjoy. Say one thing bad thats not constructive criticism and its a block. Tired of these fucking kids smh. Also, imagine everyone with a soulthern accent

-Dr. Smut

Minors DNI

Warning: Non-Con, side charicter death, mentions of gore, kidnapping, fem reader

"So uh..thanks for picking me up." You say with a nervous smile. You refrain from coughing as the strong smell of marijuana floods your nose. Right now, you're in a classic 70s Volkswagen van, hitchhiking through Texas. Your friend convinced you to go backpacking with her, but a quarterway through, she ditched you to continue the trip with her new boyfriend. Some junky she met at a gas station. You can't exactly turn tail and go home because she took the car, and stranded you in the middle of nowhere so, you had no choice, but to catch a ride with some hippies.

"No prob, sweet cheeks. Anything for a pretty lil' lady like yourself." The driver looks back at you for a moment and winks. You think he may like you. You cringe slightly. "Eddy has a crush on you! Ain't that right, Ed?" A girl next to you wearing a tie-dye crop top pokes Edds back a couple of times. "Well, who wouldn't?" He chuckles. You play with your fingers nervously. You've been driving along a dusty, desolate path through some empty part of Texas for a while now. You've always been perturbed by the idea of Texas. Americans and with their guns and hot temper and all. It seems you may have watched too many scary movies. You haven't seen a soul for miles, let alone a house, just tall grass and more tall grass.

The car suddenly jolts and you're all jostled around. The girl sitting next to you clings to you as the driver slams the brakes. You gasp for air, your heart pounding a mile a minute. "Huh!? W-what the!?" Edd shouts before hopping out to investigate. You cautiously slip out the back and join him. Edd lifts a spiked wire. It's still stuck in the now flat tire. "Some asshole must'a dropped it here while delivering somethin'," he says as he drops it back on the ground. It popped the back tires. You pull out your phone. No service. Of course.

"Do you have any spares?" You ask, hoping to get out of this creepy place. "Unfortunately these are the spares, sweet cheeks." He sighs. "Weren't you supposed to buy more, Ed?" Ann shouts from the window. "This is no time to argue! We have to get help!… Look, There's a farmhouse right there. Let's hope someone's home." He says, walking towards it.

You hesitantly follow them to the creepy house. "I'm gonna check the farm, you two knock on the door." Edd doesn't give anyone time to respond before he walks off. You walk up to the front door and Ann knocks. You feel like you're being watched. You shift from foot to foot nervously. A few minutes pass and no word. Not even a sound. "What the? Where's Edd? If no one was home, he should be back by now!" Ann looks around. You begin feeling incredibly anxious. "Let's go find that idiot," she says and walks off quickly, you follow behind her. You can't leave her to do it by herself so you agree. You walk over to the farm and see…the gate open.

"H..hello?" You call. "E-Edd?"…No response. The two of you cautiously walk into the house. It smells like wood and iron. You see a red smudge on the wall…weird. This is getting scary. "Ann…I think we sh-" You're cut off by a blood-curdling scream from Ann. You quickly go over to the open doorway she's looking at to see a horrific sight. Edd has been cut to pieces. You hold back bile in your throat and grab Ann. "Let's go!" You shout. She snaps out of her trance and follows you to the entryway, only for the two of you to halt in your tracks.

Standing there is a giant, his hulking frame filling the doorway. He's the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life. A mask covers half his face, and in his arms is a chainsaw. You make eye contact with the beast and scream. Ann yanks you deeper into the house, hoping to find an exit. The man follows you, hot on your trail. You see a back door and try to open it, but it's locked. Cassie then barely avoids losing her arm as she dodges the giant.

He hasn't tried to attack you yet. You grab a chair and smash it through a window. You pick up a plant and throw it at the man, who cornered Ann. He's completely unphased, but pauses and looks at you as if to warn you. You toss his warning to the wind and jump on his back. "Ann, go!" You scream. Ann runs towards the window but stops when another man shorter than the man you're currently on top of, smashes a hammer onto her head.

You hear a crack and she falls to the floor, limp. "Ann!" You cry. Your body was then slammed to the floor by the hulking, chainsaw-wielding psychopath. You whimper and crawl backwards. You hit a wall and he lifts his chainsaw towards you. You're thankful It's turned off. You close your eyes and wait for death. You feel the blade lightly touch your collarbone…and then gently move down between your breasts and to the junction between your spread legs…he rubs your thigh with the chainsaw lightly, as if thinking. You look up at him in confusion. He tosses the saw to the side and grabs your face in his large hand. He tilts your head from side to side, examining you.

"Think she's pretty, Tommy?" The man who just attacked Ann asked.

'Tommy', the giant holding your face grunts and nods. You're horrified. Does this monster think you're pretty? "Yeah, I agree, Tommy. Good thing you didn't turn her into dinner… though, I don't think you were gonna. You had your eye on her since their car landed in our road trap." He laughed. Trap!? This was all a setup!? Did he say dinner!? Your head is spinning.

Tommy looped his bur waist arm around your waist and hoisted you up, placing you on his shoulder like you weighed a small sack of potatoes. "H-hey! What are you doing? Put me down!" You shout, pounding your hands on his back, but it doesn't even look like he knows you're hitting him. You hear footsteps and look up to see an old woman looking over at you. “P-please help me” you whimper. She smiles down at you sweetly.

"Well, I do say, you sure found yourself a sweet little thing. Ain't that right, Thomas.” The hulking figure above you grunts in agreement. You cry as you realize she has no intention of helping you in the least. “She has a pretty voice too…Take care of my Tommy, girl!” She warns, glaring down at you. “Tommy. Get'er to pop out a few farmhands, will you?" All blood drains from your face. They…want you to…what? Tommy carries you down into a dark, creepy basement. You almost puke. You see dead bodies hanging from hooks and dismembered limbs and bones strewn about….is that Edd? You're carried down a hallway and into a room. The room is empty besides a dirty mattress in a corner. He throws you on the mattress and begins to undress you immediately.

You scream and try to stop him, but he's just too strong. "P-Please stop!" You cry. Tears flow down your cheeks and you hiccup. Tommy leans down and wipes away your tears, not calming you in the slightest. He strips you down to your bra and panties and takes a good look at you, drinking up your body. You can see the lust in his eyes. He grunts in excitement and removes his bloody apron. You curl your body up and hide yourself from him. He softly strokes your cheek and hugs you like you're a teddy bear. He's oddly gentle, but you feel he's losing patience. He taps your shoulder a few times, silently urging you to show yourself to him. when you don't, his taps become a little harder. He grunts in annoyance. He presses himself into you, trying to get closer. You feel his hard cock through his pants and try to shuffle back.

He grunts in frustration, yanking your arm and knees apart, forcing your body to reveal. You need to do something!…" Please,… don't hurt me, Tommy" He only stares into your eyes. You can see emotions swirl in his eyes before he lets go of you and stomps out of the room. Looks like he's giving you time to cooperate. You bring your hands to your face and sob. You look up. You have to get out of here! You hope to god you can do this. You get up and tip-toe towards the door as quietly as you can. You slowly open it and slide it open just enough for you to fit through, which proves to be quite difficult as it's very heavy. You don't know how the monster did it before.

You continue to quietly make your way down the dark hallway, missing the dark shadow to your side. You try not to look around too much at the carnage before making your way up the stairs. You find the window you previously broke now boarded up. You take a deep breath, preparing to make a run for the front door. You haven't heard anyone yet so you think you're still in the clear. You make it to the front door and just as you're about to try and open it, your body is slammed against the wall, your breath knocked out of you. You cough and groan. You feel dizzy. You look up to see Tommy staring down at you with a look of anger. Was he waiting for you to try to escape?

You grit your teeth before lifting your knee to knee him in the crotch, but he anticipates it and grabs your leg, lifting it. He makes space for himself between your legs and lets his large hands roam your bare midriff and up to your breasts where he proceeds to rip off your bra, revealing your chest to him. You whimper in pain and try to hide yourself, earning yourself a shove into the wall, banging your head slightly.

The corners of your eyes go dark for a few moments. Your head stops spinning when he leans down and slides his tongue up your cheek. His other hand reaches down and roughly grabs at your clothed cunt. He makes sounds of excitement once again. Saying you're terrified would be an understatement. You feel his fingers cup and wiggle around down there, not knowing what to do, but liking the feeling of doing it.

You again try to shove him off as best you can. He grunts in annoyance and moves the hand previously on your chest up to your throat. Your whimpers and please turn into choked gasps and gurgles as he squeezes. He gets even closer and you can feel something hard rub against your lower stomach. "Get her, Tommy, get her!" You hear from behind him. He grunts in response and tears off your underwear. He brings it to his nose and inhales. His eyes roll back a bit as if smelling the most heavenly scent imaginable.

You now realize he's probably never held a woman before and he's completely deprived of any sort of warm human touch. "Common, Tommy, gimme that! You get to have her, the least I should get is her undies!" His brother pleads. Tommy contemplates holding the small bit of cloth in front of him before tossing it back, which his brother catches and desperately presses to his face, moaning into the fabric like it's an oxygen mask.

Tommy grabs your hair and begins dragging you back down to the basement. You scream in pain and grab onto his hand for any relief as you're forced to the ground. "No! Please! Ahh Stop!" You cry out. He drags your naked body down the blood-crusted steps and makes his way back to the room you dread. He tosses you onto the mattress once again. By the time you manage to get up on your knees, you hear a clinking sound and turn to see him undoing his belt.

You crawl into the corner as he gets on his knees before you, his shadow casting over you. He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall off. You now know that trying to inflict pain on him is futile. Muscles that scream he could crush you like a soda can. Not only is he as big as a fridge, but he also looks like an off-season pro wrestler. You can see a very prominent bulge struggling to free itself. The size of the tent itself is intimidating.

His eyes lock on yours as he slowly unzips his belt and frees his aching cock. You look away and feel his weight settle on the bed closer to you. You can feel his heavy breathing on the side of your face. He grabs your legs and yanks you beneath him, positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his bulbous tip rub up and down your folds. "Please…" Your eyes widen and you trail off as your eyes lower to what's prodding at your cunt. You want to look away, but morbid curiosity wins. It's almost unbelievable. His cock like himself, is too big. It's long, very thick and veiny. It looks like a beer can. You can just tell he's smiling under his mask.

He slowly pushes the tip in. You try to scoot back, but he grips your hips with his massive hands and pushes forward, but fails entry, seeming too big. He grunts in frustration. He tries again, this time managing to push the tip in. You scream. It hurts so bad. "No, y-you're too big!" you gasp, squirming in place. He holds your hips tighter and continues pushing forward, impaling you on his cock, all the way to the base.

Your mind blanks. You're unable to think cohesively. You're in so much pain. He lets out a groan of pleasure and doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size and just starts moving. It feels like your organs are moving around to accommodate his massive size. You look down to see a large bulge in your lower stomach. You whimper and groan as he thrusts. "W-why?" You croak. He looks up at you before lifting your knees, pressing them to your chest and leaning on you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel him push deeper into your womb, the tip of his cock threatening to push through your cervix. He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, cooing softly to you affectionately while playing with your hair as if to say 'I love you'.

You cry beneath him, moans being forced from your lips as his hips plow into yours. Tommy grabs your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. You can hear him making happy sounds of some sort between grunts. He suddenly picks you up and gets off the bed with you in his arms, skewering you on his cock. He raises you up and down like a human fleshlight. You uncontrollably moan into his shoulder. His hands grope your ass as he starts to force you up and down faster. It feels good. You can't help but feel shame.

He grunts loudly and forces himself as deep as he can. You whine as you feel a rush of hot cum flow into you. Rope after rope, he fills you up. You feel so hot inside. Your stomach bloats from the sheer volume he fucked into you. He pants and looks at you, rubbing your cheek with his. He slowly lifts you off his cock, cum pouring from your abused cunt before setting you down on the mattress. He covers you with a thick warm blanket and brushes your hair from your face, stroking it with his thumb lovingly. If you knew this was gonna be a one-way trip, you would've brought some pillows.

[ultravi0lence14]

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

[sukunas-wife]

Can we get a longer fit on meeting Sukuna's dad🥹

I tried 🤍🤍

“No,” he was judging the woman tying the obi on your waist, “No no no, you’re doing this all wrong woman, move..” You wanted to laugh at the situation, especially when she started talking to him in her mother tongue and he answered back just as snappy leaving her speechless.

You smiled looking down, shaking your head, “I didn’t know you knew more than one language Sukuna.” You looked in the mirror, he was focused, face angled down, you could feel his hands moving, the rustling of the fabric was soft. It was a small shop that hadn’t changed much, its traditional sliding shoji doors, the classic wooden and simple decor, the snappy lady at the front desk scribbling away in her book. All the fabric that was on display or folded away in their respective boxes. Oddly enough it felt like you belonged here in this moment, you looked over your shoulder, Sukuna had stepped back looking at you through the mirror, his eyes fell and met your eyes over your shoulder as you smiled at him. There was a faint tug at his lips, “charming.” You broke out into a grin at his single word before he settled your debt much to your dismay and pleasure as soon as you learned how much the fancy fabrics would’ve cost.

He helped you into his car, a classic black Mercedes S-class, it wasn’t his first choice but his mom beat his safety into him, snapping that if he wanted to risk his life in a flattened down Italian sports car or some useless motorbike he would have to buy it himself. When he had saved up the money to buy his motorbike on his own, his father had sat him down, “Ryomen, listen to me. I would never try to control your life, but I will tell you this, your life is not always lived for just you. On your little bike you could risk your life all you want, but think of the day you meet a fine young lady and want to take her out. It takes one rain, one slide, one bad driver to not only hurt you, but someone you care about deeply.” He smacked his boys back with a heavy hand, “Now, save your money, I’ll let you think about your choices a little longer, don’t tell your mother I’m doing this but considering you have worked hard enough to prove your dedication to this dream of yours.” He gave Sukuna the keys to one of the Sedans, “Don’t tell your mother.” He gave Sukuna a serious look, “I’m serious, you know how she gets it.” Sukuna smiled with a nod, “I really appreciate this, I’ll take the time to think over what you said.”

Of course the first thing he did was go see you in his car, the thought always lingered in the back of his head when you awed over his car. Would he ever put your life at risk for one of his dreams?

“You okay?” Your hand covered his fingers that were tapping away on the middle console, he looked over at you before looking at the road, he nodded, “‘m alright.” His hand stilled under yours turning to hold your fingers in his hand. In his head he was thinking of those American cars where the front seat was built as a single row, he would’ve pulled you into his side if he could’ve. “Ready?” You looked up at him with a small smile, “I’m ready.” It was a lie, you were nervous and it only got worse when he pulled into the Shinden-Zukuri.

He sat you in his room throwing his shirt over your face as he changed so you wouldn’t see him. You sat there nervous but with a small smile on your lips wanting to giggle at his little “Give me some privacy pervert.” When he was the one that brought you into his room after you had said you could wait outside his room.

It all played out well, he brought you to the room where his dad could usually be found drinking tea and unwinding after a long day.

When the doors opened and you saw a larger more profound version of Sukuna you froze. He was a handsome man, square jaw, cold calculating eyes, his hair was a paler pink thanks to the greying hairs. He had a bit of scruff, his eyes were a bit paler with age, his brows dropped in judgement, the choko in his hand was minuscule, his robe was partly open exposing more chest, as he sat there. The thought passed through your head, ‘if that’s what Sukuna was born to be, I WILL marry him..’ it took less than 10 seconds for you to grow a little girl crush on his dad, until Sukuna cleared his throat. Signalling you as he said he would, you snapped back to reality bowing and introducing yourself in the most respectful and put together way you could, your inner child was squealing in delight but you were nervous now. You didn’t see the exchanged looks between Sukuna and his father, until the elder let out a rumble of laughter, “Stand up girl, and then sit. You are an interesting character.” Sukuna wanted to laugh, your practice had flown out the window, at least you had remembered enough to not insult his father.

The three of you sat there, “Well then Y/n,” He looked down at you, a smug look on his face, “I must say you must be quite the character to catch this young man’s attention, I’m interested in how you became involved with him, of course that’s a story my wife would like to hear also I’m sure.” Your eyes widened, “I-“ you swallowed as you looked at Sukuna who looked blankly at the table, “It’s an interesting story so I'd love to share with both you and your wife Sukuna-san.” He smiled bigger, “Sukuna-san? I’m sure if my son is presenting to you he must have other intentions so get comfortable, call me Ryomen.” You looked at Sukuna almost in disbelief, “You have the same..?” The elder laughed, “He’s my only son, of course he’d have my name. Branded him the day he was born, that’s my boy and everyone needs to know it.” You smiled at how his dad seemed to be enjoying himself so openly, you were more confused than ever still when Sukuna spoke with a smile and sigh as he nodded, “My father Sukuna Ryomen, The Man of two faces.”

Soon conversation fell into Ryomen Senior telling you stories of how his little Ryo was a destructive boy. Going as far as to send one of the servants to bring a book which made Sukuna sulk and frown slightly. It was a large leather album, the elder opened the book showing you realistic hand painted pictures and photos of Sukuna as a child, more often than not with bandaids and scrapes, “His mother never liked to put her hands on him, so she found another form of discipline. He loathed standing still considering he was an active child. So when he would cause trouble or get himself hurt with his actions, even getting into fights. She would bring him home, stand him right outside in the garden and have someone come and paint his picture forcing him to stand there scowling for hours.” You were flipping through the book Aawwing and cooing, his father watched proud when you’d ask about certain pictures that had no caption. His answers were lively and entertaining, voice getting louder when he’d begin his stories leaving Sukuna slightly embarrassed at his past. “Look at that boy, embarrassed, it just means it worked to break his bad habits.” He laughed and quickly stopped when he heard the door behind him open. He sat up cleaning his throat. “Oh? We have a guest?” Your eyes moved up the lady's beautiful kimono, she was more filled out in a beautiful manner, her hair was long and dark, her eyes a vibrant red. She was beautiful, you looked at his father thinking in the war of genes he proved to be dominant. “Mom.” Sukuna locked eyes with her as he moved to sit by her husband who was now sitting in a more appropriate manner pulling his robes a little tiger, “This is L/n Y/n.” She looked away from him, staring at you intently, you locked eyes with her you almost felt vulnerable under her stare until she closed her eyes with a soft smile, “It is very nice to me the young lady that has my son huffing at his phone when he gets no messages.” You broke into a grin turning to look at Sukuna who was giving his mom a look and you started to laugh, “Here I thought you didn’t like when I bothered you so much.” “I-“ hsi mom cut him off, “I’ll tell you a story, there was a week during the summer when we left for Kyoto. That poor boy was constantly laid over the table or floor just staring at his phone tapping it off and on to see if anything happened. He even persisted in checking to make sure we had paid for cell service many times. I had become worried he became involved with drugs or something worse until I peeked over his shoulder one day and saw he was continuously refreshing a conversation with a girl” she gave you a look of disbelief, “a girl! Do you know how much disbelief I was in to see my little Ryo was talking to a girl and more importantly patiently waiting for a message? I was astounded, I tried to see a name or picture but he locked his phone, sighed and laid his he’d on the table and scared me, with his little ‘I know you're looking. It wa just something I couldn’t believe, so I knew he either had to bring someone home, or he was just going to leave one day in the middle of the night and I’d have to track him and his little loose woman down and beat the sense into the both of them before dragging him home weather he liked it or not.” Your smile was there but the blank look in your eyes was fear, “ah, I understand entirely, my father is the same way.” She smiled again, “Well, I’m glad you’re the former and not the latter, you seem like a very lovely girl y/n. You can call me Akira, there are too many Sukuna’s here as it is.”

She turned to look at her husband who had an elbow propped on the table, chin resting on his fist while he stared at her, there was a small smug smile on his face, his eyes were lidded, that’s the same look you’d caught on your Sukuna’s face on occasion. You turned to look at him. He was making a face at his parents when his mom brought her hand to hold his dads face. That face was the same face one of your friends had made when the both of you had unintentionally recreated the scene once. You smiled nudging his hand under the table was yours, he looked at you with that same face before he shook his head, his fingers slowly taking yours in a soft hold, his thumb ran over your knuckles and you did your nest to squeeze your hands, oblivious to the way his dad’s eye brows rose motioning to the both of you with his eyes, his wife turned her head slightly. The serene smile on your face was rare for a lady to have around her son considering how much of a brute or cold he could be, what pulled their attention more was the soft look in their son's eyes matching the small smile pulling at his lips. They looked at each other, the silent conversation between the two in an exchange of looks and small head tilts, until his mother let out a hushed laugh. Your both turned to her becoming flustered when you had seen both of his parents were staring at the both of you, “oh-I’m sorry-“ you were about to apologise for falling silent until she waved you off mid sentence, “It’s alright, but my husband here was telling me before I walked in you were going to share the story of how the two you became involved.”

You looked at Sukuna with a grin, “It’s simple really, It was our last year of junior high and during the end of the school year festival, some of the students were running booths to raise money for a school trip before we were let out for break. My friend's father runs a small pet store so we set up a goldfish toss, and everything was going great, kids, adults, couples, everyone loved being able to win a prize to take home.” You sighed, eyes looking away “Then came Satoru Gojo. He's not troubled, just spoiled in my opinion. My dad says the same, he says no one corrected that boy or put hands on him when he was growing up and it shows.” Sukuna’s dad chuckled, “I agree.” You smiled at him, “Well he came along with his friends, his friends were polite when they took their turns, but Gojo,” you made a face staring down at the table, and empty cup, “He kept leaning over the counter and I kept telling him to lean back because it was literally a flimsy folding table, and he didn’t listen and kept leaning further trying to score a fish bowl to take one home but he’s as coordinated as a bat in broad daylight. Just as my friend signalled a teacher the table flipped he tumbled over and knocked into me, we both fell into the table where the fish bowls were and everything came crashing down,” his mother gave a sympathetic look and his father was looking at him pick pick at his nails, “My friend and I rushed to find a decent broken bowl and try to get as many fish as we could back into the water Gojo and his friends ran off when the teacher didn’t do anything because he’s SaToRu GoJo” you shook your head in a sassy way, “It was Terrible and my dads a modest man so I kinda grew up wearing longer skirts and it was a struggle trying to not get wet and save fish and my friend turned to me “Maybe we should just leave them? It might not be too bad?” I wanted to cry because I don’t like the thought of someone or something losing its life as the consequence of some idiots actions, then came Sukuna jumping over the table mumbling something and picking up gold fish left and right throwing them into the bowl we managed to find and I was so grateful, I offered him any of the prizes or fish prizes ended up taking all 13 fish and paid as if he played 13 times even though I persisted it was enough that he had helped but he walked off fish in hand. Just waving me off.” You missed the way his parents shared a look, “Since our booth was broken we just cleaned up and went off to enjoy the rest of the festival. Until the end of the day when I had to take the folding table back to the teachers who had let us use it. I came across Gojo and Sukuna in a standoff in the shoe locker room and I turned a deaf ear to convo after some things were said I kept walking after seeing Sukuna land a punch right on Gojo’s face, I was satisfied seeing it happen and told myself “I won't say anything, that priss deserves what he got.” I turned in the table and made my way out of School just to see Sukuna walking down the school path and I screamed “Hey!” I didn’t know his name, he was kinda scary, and he just stopped. It’s funny because I could physically see him sigh before he half turned to look back, and asked “WHat” kinda intimidating but I managed to catch up and thank him for his help and he just shrugged, and we kinda walked- no I walked you followed me.” Sukuna cut you off, “fine fine he walked and I followed him to the bus stop and we waited for the last bus in silence, I asked what he was gonna do with thirteen goldfish, he stayed quiet, then the bus came. I got on first and he didn’t, I turned around to ask him and he had a stupid smirk on his face, “I’m gonna feed them to the Koi.” The bus door closed, I felt my face drop, and he just started laughing. Anyways, after that, I kinda just kept pestering him, saying hi and trying to talk to him after that day to the point he just accepted I wasn’t leaving him alone. Now that I think about it, he never actually asked me to be his significant other, it just kinda fell into place.”

You finally looked up at his parents, they were nodding, his mom staring at you with a soft smile, his dad more curious “So, how hard did you punch him?” He turned to his son who cracked a smile. “He had a bruise for the next week and a half.” His dad laughed, clapping his hands, stopping and clearing his throat when his wife gave him a look. “Ryo, I’ll leave you to talk to your boy, Y/n will you accompany me?” She stood and you rushed to stand, “I will.” You looked at Sukuna who rolled his eyes letting his head fall to the side with a lopsided smile, before he locked eyes with you, you could almost hear him say “go, you’ll be alright.” So you went, following his mother out onto the engawa into the cool air. You both walked in silence as the crickets and frogs started their symphony. You looked over the garden, zen ponds, zen gardens, lush greenery and plants. You stepped down following her through the zen garden to a red bridge. There were three Islands in the large pond connected by bridges, “My Sukuna…” She trailed off, “He has strong character and a difficult heart, he’s complex in ways no one is able to understand, a bundle of twine no one has found the patience to untangle. Somehow you managed to find a single end and pull it free to see he’s not the bundle of twine, but a gold thread.” You were nodding along, not entirely sure until you made it to one of the islands. “We have a koi pond, but this isn’t it. Take a look.” In your head as you knelt to look closer your brain screamed, ‘She’s gonna PUSH US IN AND KILL US.’ Still you looked at your reflection, it was hard to see without the sun's light, so you pulled out your phone and turned on your flashlight. Looking harder until you saw the flash of colour. “I thought it wasn’t a koi pond?” You asked and she hummed, “It’s not.” You watched as she knelt beside you, she pulled a sleeve up moving her hand into the water and you watched as a light lit up, the bundle of Gold moving in the water caught you by surprise, “Those are-“ she cut you off, “The goldfish he brought home that day. He didn’t tell us where he got them from, or why, he only showed up and asked if he could use the empty pond. Of course we allowed it, it was interesting to watch him empty the fish into the pond, watching him struggle to find a decent food, putting lights into the pond and planting this tree to keep the birds from so easily diving into the water to snatch them up. They’re the original thirteen you know, the others he freely released into the bigger pond.”

You looked up at his mother with a soft smile, she smiled at you, the crinkles by her eyes made it genuine. “GET OFF OF ME OLD MAN!” You heard the struggle behind you and you both turned back to look, there was the elder Ryomen hugging his son in a bone crushing hug, the younger trying to escape, “Let! Me! Go!” You watched as he squirmed with every word until you heard “Alright squirt.” Your Sukuna tumbled unto the water while his dad stood taller, arms crossed over his chest with a burly laugh. You watched as Sukuna sat up in the water, dripping sleeve smacking him in the face as he tried to push his hair back. You laughed with his mom as you both approached. She moved to her husband's side, smacking his chest and scolding him. They watched how you kicked off your shoes getting ankle deep in the water to help Sukuna stand despite his protests and telling you to stay out of the water. How you took his face in one hand pulling him closer when he leaned unto your hand, taking the handkerchief tucked between your body and obi before gently wiping his face, “Ryomen Sukuna you are one of the most complex men I’ve ever met.” A grin grew on his face as his hands came up to grab your wrists, “You love it.”

“RYOMEN.” You flinched at Sukuna’s dads voice, Sukuna tensed up and smiled at you, “You got me into a lot of trouble you know.” You tilted your head, “Yeah?” He leaned in close whispering, “he got onto my ass about never asking you to actually be mine.” You smiled and laughed, “So will you?” You hummed, the smile on your face made your eyes squinty, “I dunno, not to sure I wanna be Y/n Sukuna.” He gave you a look and you closed your eyes shaking your head with a smile, “You’re such a brat.” You pulled him closer and kissed his cheek, “You love it, but yes, I will.”

Tag List: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (1) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n hello, this is called welcome to part 1 of a fic no one will read :) also i have a taglist now (yay?) so shoot me a reply if ur interested in being added <3

masterlist | prologue | part 1 | next part

TWITTER

lina !!! @EB_selina · 2h omg my f1wags debut??? y'all i've really made it 🫶

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 2h us when our frontwoman decides to hard launch her relationship that we were scrambling to denounce: 🙂🔪🩷 ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h the EB Bar admin working overtime bc lina insists on stoking the flames of this ridiculous rumour ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h media literacy where? this is a fucking confirmation bestie

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by oscarpiastri and 103,273 others

selinabui me when i lie to myself and go date yet ANOTHER athlete 🤠👍 this one goes vroom vroom in expensive cars (p.s. dear news sites, pls stop using my old photos)

cameliazzz all that expensive media training chucked down the drain i see

eb_jonno the orange jumpscare holy shit lina it's like u hate him or smth ↳ selinabui @eb_jonno wdym he's very cute 🫶

landonorris Oh hello there ↳ oscarpiastri @ landonorris 😀 ↳ mclarwins @ landonorris OMFG LANDO WHAT ↳ selinabui @ landonorris bro why are you acting like we've never met or smth ↳ pi4str1 @ selinabui there's something about her that's so 😭

TWITTER

🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 5h ok i fear we need to start weighing up the pros and cons ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 5h pros: WE'RE FREE FROM AMERICANS, he's actually cute, we already follow f1 bc of guanyu, he's aussie <3 cons: white, he's another fucking athlete, orange ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 4h 'free from americans' SO TRUE we were in the trenches with t*mmy

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h everything i find about this girl is just 😬 ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h oscar, get the FUCK away from that girl ↳ clovie @ luvyouvie · 2h omg why, what's up with her?? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h kinda the classic rockstar shit and her ex is tommy howard (nfl running back)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 18h SELINA WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS??? WHERE DID THIS ENERGY GO 😭😭😭

↳ emme @flowersforcami · 18h as smo with a footballer ex, the comment on massive egos is so true T_T

↳ Ryan Forrest @ryanforrest93 · 17h Every time that interview pops up on my TL, I just get reminded of how YOUNG she was going through all of that nonsense. She was barely 20 and totally being gaslit by that arsehole. ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17h ^^THIS!! yes!! it was crazy that ppl gave her so much shit about staying with tommy even after the cheating but it was her first real relationship and it fucked her up massively

INSTAGRAM

zhouguanyu24 Margaret Court Arena

liked by selinabui, oscarpiastri and 59,283 others

zhouguanyu24 Went to go check on the baby sister 💪

selinabui my personal photographer fr (good luck tmr 💚)

emptybottlesbar Always stoked to have family stop by for a listen! Best of luck on the track 💪 ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar he doesn't need luck. he needs his team to fix the pit stop problem. he needs divine intervention

zhouguanyu_br piastri is dating zhou's sister?? ↳ jemma.wren @zhouguanyu_br cousin actually, in chinese culture they refer to paternal cousins as just siblings

stakef1team Looking forward to seeing Lina in the garage ↳ selinabui @stakef1team oh lmao that's not happening 🥰 ↳ pastry81 @ selinabui IJBOL she said you ain't SHIT see you in the papaya garage

cameliazzz thanks for dropping by on ur race weekend <3 hope it was worth your while (and family-friendly 🤫) ↳ zhouguanyu24 @ cameliazzz Thank you for keeping her alive ↳ selinabui @ cameliazzz why has it taken you over 20 minutes to go get pizza 🤡 ↳ cameliazzz @ selinabui why are you asking in ur cousin's comments 🤡🤡🤡 (they need to cooka da pizza)

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

emme @flowersforcami · 34m walk with me here... if zhou went to friday's show, do you think oscar did as well? and if so... did they just watch empty bottles' almost 2 hours set of lina and kas flirting 😭 ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 22m i literally can't think of anything else now :) do you know what the encore song was? ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 21m kaslina duet of we don't talk anymore (og by charlie puth) ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 20m oh how do we even defend them

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 1h whole team in shambles... @EB_selina we hope it was worth it

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h every linami realising they need to defend her stage persona to piastri fans... ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h WE SWEAR ON OUR HONOUR THAT THIS GIRL IS A TOTAL LOOOOOSER. SHE'S NOTHING LIKE WHAT THE MEDIA WRITES HER AS. HER ONE HOBBY IS SUDOKU. SHES A COMPLETE DOORMAT 😭😭 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 1h ok well, hang on... i think they get the point

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 5h after a literal night of deep-diving, i take back everything i've ever said about selina bui bc she's such a cutie honestly i get it, i kinda want her now

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by cameliazzz and 113,292 others

oscarpiastri Finally got the green light to 'hard launch'

selinabui sorry i needed to be vetted so hard :/

logansargeant Oh so we're keeping secrets from each other now #fakefriend ↳ oscarpiastri @ logansargeant Sorry, did i forget the bit when you were there when we met or something 🙂

2cami4lina oh she let him in the studio, we're fucking done for

ausgp Some extra Aussie luck for the home race ↳ pi4str1 @ ausgp she's australian??? ↳ emptybottlos @pi4str1 do a simple google search first - the whole band is australian 🤡 they all grew up in sydney

piastri_lina but wait, the way i lowk manifested this... ↳ emptyb-aid @piastri_lina lock ur doors i fear i'm coming for you

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife

[seat-safety-switch]

In a lot of countries, travelling four or five hundred kilometers by car is a big trip. Dutch folks would expect you to bring back a gift, take photos, and be gone for a week or two. You would legally be required to take your mistress with you in Italy. Here in Canada, that barely gets me to the next major city and back. Our country is way too spread out.

Americans: a kilometer is like a mile, but not as big. They're the tiny numbers on your speedometer. That's the gauge that tells you how fast you done be goin'. It also tastes faintly of bleu cheese. The kilometer, that is, not the speedometer.

A hundred years ago, people would simply not travel this far in a single day. If your friends and family moved five hundred clicks away, you would just never see them again, instead of multiple times per year. The automobile is the great equalizer in this regard, but one thing that hasn't updated are our pitifully low, revenue-generating speed limits. Now, some people can travel this distance weekly, returning from their distant jobs to their overpriced, highway-dependent, bedroom communities.

When presented with such a long distance to cover, sane individuals would insist upon a train system. In case you're unfamiliar, a train is a big box on rails that carries people from one urban centre to another. It can't be pulled over for speeding, so you get to blow past infuriated rural cops doing three hundred plus. Rest assured that we do have trains out East, but they suck. The reason why? Too many big boxes, not enough rails. Plus, they can't do three hundred, or even one hundred on most days. A classic fuck-up. Better to just not build anything at all, unless it's highways, say our betters.

Now you're on the highway with several thousand of your closest friends, watching out for cops together. You're going thirty over the limit when you pull into the slow lane to take a momentary rest, right before you return to the usual flow of traffic at speeds contraindicated by the safety warnings on the side of your tires.

All this is so that you can get to the next city over, buy the garbage you came for (metal flake airbrush attachment? You shouldn't have) and then immediately turn around to burn back home before it gets dark. Maybe if you're lucky, while you're filling up, you can send a few text messages to your friends who live in the target city, telling them you just missed them and that they should drop by next time they're down in your neck of the woods. That's the way to live.

[luminouslywriting]

hi love, wishing you a speedy and uncomplicated recovery <3

do you have any hambone headcanons? spicy or not both are more than appreciated! I just feel like he doesn’t get enough love

Hi love! The recovery has been a little bit rough and I'm still bleeding quite a bit. I feel worse today than I felt yesterday, which is not it. But I welcome any and all requests to help me distract myself from the pain!

Cut for length, more under the cut, some light spice sprinkled in:

-Unashamed wife guy who proclaims adoration in somewhat filthy, yet flattering ways

-Very into dirty talk during sex

-Is the type of man who is into acts of service; will go and fill up the gas tank for the car, buys you the flower seeds you've been eying for the past little while, and makes sure that you have enough lotion when it's getting low

-Likes to tag along when you have errands to do because he likes spending time with you

-Likes reading, but some of the more American classics like Huckleberry Finn, Moby Dick, that sorta thing

-Enjoys late morning cuddles and doesn't like getting up early if he doesn't have to

-Has a daddy kink

-And is really into a breeding kink, wants dozens of little Hamilton children running around

-Simply adores physical affection and loves giving it back in whatever ways he can; he particularly enjoys tickling and the way that you laugh when he tickles you

-Super into teasing, especially in public and will not/cannot be discouraged otherwise

-Car sex and bathroom sex in public places

-Is kind of good in the kitchen, given time and ingredients? Don't get me wrong through, he's got a bone for mischief and needs supervision, lest a food fight be started

-Water fights that turn into sex in the garden in the backyard

-Affectionately a menace and has a particularly high sex drive which leaves you unable to walk for minimum of a day

-Not great at caretaking, though he tries his best; the best he can offer is some words of support and his presence

-Definitely got several pets the minute he got home

-Will take you dancing and then the two of you will duck out early for the night and not a single person would bat an eye

-Really into praise and compliments, especially during pillow talk. Speaking of pillow talk, he'll need to be trained on that front, because he just does NOT know what he's supposed to do after sex haha.

-Car rides to see sunsets

-He strikes me as the type of guy who likes to go camping in the summer

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

Welcome to my blog where I talk about Ruggie Bucchi and clothes because I love clothes.

I think Ruggie is well versed in street fashion the older he gets. I will explain. I think... Money wise he doesn't prioritize brands. But he hangs out with Leona. I think... In my mind... Leona plays dress up with him because when they hang out... Ruggie looks homeless. So Leona feels irritated hanging around someone without swagsauce. I think Ruggie is fashionable (a lot of the Twst cast is) but he just can't afford his dreams haha.

I like clothes a lot. When I write fanfiction, I plan out fashionable clothes for my x Readers. I love the idea of a character I like wearing clothes I like to see them in or fashion that suits them out of uniform. In a fic I wrote, I mentioned a character wearing True Religion jeans. Because it makes sense for him.

Here are clothes I want to see Ruggie wear/I might mention in writing/I want to draw him in:

The Goofy Shirt x Shorts

So, I'm black if you did not know. As in African American (I am biracial but both parents in my life are black) and that means I grew up with a lot of black men in my life dressing like this. Me and my friend joined forces and agree Ruggie Bucchi is Afro Latino. He is pale because he is at school on an Island, he doesn't get cooked in the sun so he lacks melanin.

But he dresses like this. I like him wearing shorts because I like that Ruggie has long legs despite being a somewhat short guy. Shorts like this make him look taller (the illusion of baggy clothes also making you look thin) and I actually do like him in boots a lot. Firstly, when I write Ruggie, I write him as someone who's second home was the streets. Boots, especially steel toed work boots are heavy. I actually own a pair and I will explain. There is a bit of heel on work boots. So you get an extra inch of height. But they're heavy because of the steel put in them to protect your feet. In my mind, Ruggie get's into fights sometimes. Have you ever been kicked by someone in a steel toed boot? The bruise is giant and you could get something broken. In his dorm card he also wears boots so I think if she needs to, he can do what needs to be done.

It suits him to wear boots when he looks like he's on a lil' mission. (I will talk about other shoes on him later.) The goofy shirts is something I think he would like. Shirts with bizarre imagery on the front is something you usually would get secondhand and he is a thrifting guy. He goes to places like that for fire fits. They house personality so when I draw or write Ruggie I usually picture him with a weird shirt on.

It makes sense to me. And I hope you see my visions.

For brands I write/draw for him specifically? I will say usually it's older street fashion that is considered 'outdated but still trendy'. I will build him an outfit of what I think he would wear at some point.

Ed Hardy x (Thrifted) True Religion

I think this would be something he wears. At least since its so hot. It is my personal opinion so you don't have to agree with my post. Something like this while going out with a friend. I think he likes odd clothing like the shorts and they have the thrifted vibe. Especially since Ed Hardy is a form of 'street/punk' fashion. Motorcycles and all of your favorite plugs wore Ed Hardy. I think Ruggie's holy grail would be thrifting True Religion (anything) or anything luxury. He doesn't buy stuff like that for full price ever but he laughs knowing the rich toss this stuff out so easily. This can be paired with any basic steel toed boots and classic white socks. Accessories... I think Ruggie would like bracelets. Oh, I usually give Ruggie a think gold chain. Why? ... Growing up, my younger brother and my dad were obsessed with gold chains. It was a thing that made sense. Seeing a black boy smile over his first gold chain. It was a sign of... Adulthood almost. You get your first job and at the age of 15 - 17 every boy I've met has either saved to buy a car or a gold chain. It is a personal thing to me and I think Ruggie bought himself a chain. (This is also because Ruggie wears a traditional necklace from the Afterglow Savana made of wooden beads and stones I think) I think that he can't drive... So a car is pointless especially at NRC, so I think he bought himself a chain with his first check. He was told buy his granny to be selfish for once. To use what he earned for something he wanted. "Make one dumb purchase and then be responsible. Just once' so I think Ruggie 'grew up' buying a gold chain from a pawn shop.

It's culture if that makes sense. I think it's dope.

I will come back to this later, and I will add a second post of another style I think he would wear. I can do Summer, Fall, and Winter... Maybe... Thank you for listening to me ramble. I had fun.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1969-71 Continental Mark III

Iacocca’s Lincoln: The Inside Story of the 1969-71 Continental Mark III

Lee Iacocca is remembered as the father of the Ford Mustang and the Chrysler Minivan, but there was another Iacocca vehicle that changed the Motor City: the Lincoln Continental Mark III. 

In auto industry lore, the design studio guys hate it when the people from upper management start fooling around with their work. Nothing good can come from that, or so the story goes. But there’s at least one instance that cuts against the grain of that familiar Motor City tale. It was Ford senior executive Lee Iacocca who originated the two signature styling features of the Lincoln Continental Mark III: the classic stand-up grille and the faux tire bustle in the deck lid.

It’s no exaggeration to note that these visual features created a design theme and defined the Lincoln Mark Series brand for decades. Years later, lead designer L. David Ash would recall that neither he nor Styling VP Gene Bordinat had conceived these two now-famous design gadgets; no, in fact it was all Iacocca. “Neither one of us would have done it on our own, I’m sure,” Ash remembered. “I have to give Lee credit for that.”

As vice president of the Ford Motor Company’s car and truck group—top product boss, among other duties—Lido Anthony “Lee” Iacocca had at least two problems on his plate in the autumn of 1965. First, sales of the Ford Thunderbird had flattened out after a promising start years earlier. Meanwhile, Ford’s flagship Lincoln division wasn’t setting the world on fire, either. While the Elwood Engel-designed 1961 Lincoln was a style maker of the decade, it was nearing the end of its product cycle. Actually, Lincoln was a perennial problem for Ford senior management. According to Bordinat, it had never turned an actual profit since Henry and Edsel Ford acquired the company from the Lelands in 1922.

So a plan was hatched to build a new, small Lincoln on the same platform as the Thunderbird, which was switching to body-on-frame construction for 1967 (in part due to limited production volume). This would help the Thunderbird fill out production capacity at the Wixom, Michigan plant, and it would give Lincoln an entry in the rapidly expanding personal-luxury category, joining the Buick Riviera, Cadillac Eldorado, Olds Toronado, et alia.

The original body design by Ash and his staff, at one point named the Lancelot, was clean and elegant but lacked visual punch, one could argue. Iacocca’s fake-Rolls grille shell and spare-tire bump fixed that, creating a distinctive and memorable look. It was said that the chrome grille shell was the most expensive such piece in the industry, with a unit cost nearing $200. Ash and crew completed the theme by hiking up the rear quarters and deck lid two inches, scrunching the roof down into the body for a classic ’30s profile.

From its exterior appearance, you might never know that the finished design shared its greenhouse with the Thunderbird coupe, or its floorpan, black metal, and 117.2-inch wheelbase with the T-Bird four-door. When Henry Ford II saw the clay model in the studio, he reportedly said, “I’d like to drive that home.” With the Ford family’s seal of approval secured, the new car was christened the Continental Mark III, establishing its lineage with Edsel Ford’s original 1939 Continental and the Continental Mark II of 1956-57. At that point the previous Mark III, IV and V models of 1958-60 were conveniently forgotten—today it would be called a reboot.

Introduced in April 1968 as a 1969 model, technically (Lincoln division downplayed model year designations, trying to present the car as “timeless”) the Mark III was panned by the critics but embraced by the car-buying public. “The buffs may not like it but the people with money will,” Bordinat wisely predicted. The Mark wasn’t big for an American luxury car at just over 216 inches long and 4,800 lbs, but it was big enough, with solid road manners and a comfortable ride. Interior specialist Herman Brunn covered the seats with rich, pre-creased leather, like the easy chairs in a men’s club. Noteworthy technical features included an all-new 460 CID V8 and Sure-Track, an early form of antilock braking developed by Kelsey-Hayes.

With a base price of $6,758 compared to $4,807 for its Thunderbird cousin, the Mark III was quite a moneymaker for the Motor Company, spawning an even more popular and profitable successor, the Mark IV (shown with Iacocca below). The Mark series, which comfortably outsold the Eldorado and effectively doubled the Lincoln division’s volume at times, continued on all the way to 1998 and the Mark VIII, and Iacocca would to on to further glories, including the Chrysler Minivan.

[compacflt]

Oh to be Maverick, reading AD magazine and has a husband that will write you a blank check to buy any decor you want. Or collects expensive watches. And has the same taste. I don't know if anyone have asked this, what is your hc about their car preference? I hc that Mav likes big car because he's relatively short. And Ice likes luxury car. What do you think?

oh my god i have had this headcanon for so long thank god someone’s asking about it.

Ice will ONLY drive American-manufactured cars. like even when he travels somewhere and rents one. he will raise a stink about it.

It is a significant point of contention in their relationship & marriage that maverick is only interested in Japanese-manufactured motorcycles. Like they have had, and will continue to have, shouting matches over “why can’t you be a patriot and buy American motorcycles like harleys??!? What is with all the kawasaki and yamaha crap???” and “ice im telling you they just run better!!! the japanese just make better bikes!!!” tongue-in-cheek threats of divorce etc.

i definitely think of ice as less a luxury car and more a classic muscle car guy. back when muscle cars still were delicate and beautiful instead of hard and sharp, if that makes sense. there is a Venn diagram of luxury and muscle cars and he definitely has dabbled in the middle (see my fic’s deepthroating of the 2005 ford GT). But he won’t cross the line. (Won’t be caught dead driving a Porsche or mercedes for instance)

in the final final draft of my fic (ie the draft that will get posted before i call it quits on my top gun phase) the Dream Car is getting changed to a ‘68 Plymouth HEMI roadrunner. camaro is too mainstream i will admit. but see above for my “car preferences” hc.

[dailyanarchistposts]

The Logic of “Deep Ecology”

We suffer, these days, from a bad habit. We eat “fast food,” nibble at “fast ideas,” scan “fast headlines,” and buy our panaceas in the form of easily swallowed pills. The need to think out the logic of certain premises is almost totally alien to the “American Way” of the late 20th century. Devall and Sessions’ Deep Ecology and the “movement” they have helped to launch under the presiding icon of Arne Naess, provides what is exactly needed to lull us into a acceptance of “fast ecology.”

As it turn out, however, we cannot say “A” without passing into “B,” or “B” into “C” until we reach “Z.” And there is a “deep” or “deeper ecology” movement of which Devall is a member, formed around a periodical called Earth First! to which Devall is a contributing editor and Sessions a valued contributor. If there is anything fascinating about “Earth First!” as a movement and especially as a periodical, it is the fact that the periodical does go from “A” to “Z” and draws all the logical conclusions from “deep ecology,” conclusions that Devall and Sessions often bury with metaphors, sutras, poetic evocations, and pretensions.

“Earth First!” means exactly what it says and what “deep ecology” implies — the “earth” comes before people, indeed, people (to the periodical’s editor, David Foreman) are superfluous, perhaps even harmful, and certainly dispensable. “Natural law” tends to supplant social factors. Thus: is there a famine in Ethiopia? If so, argues Foreman to an admiring Devall in a notorious interview, nature should be permitted to “take its course” and the Ethiopian should be left to starve. Are Latins (and, one may add, Indians) crossing the Rio Grande? Then they should be stopped or removed, contends Foreman, because they are burdening “our” resources. Devall, who apparently recorded these golden views, doesn’t express a word of protest or even dissent. Nor is there a known denunciation, so far as I know, from Sessions.

Given the preoccupation of Devall and Sessions with the need for an eco-culture — or religion? — what kind of culture should we protect, asks Ed Abbey, the theoretical Pope of “Earth First!”? It turns out that our society has been shaped by a “northern European culture,” declares Abbey — or should we say “Aryan”? Hence there are presumably sound “cultural” reasons — an expression that some might interpret as “racial” — to keep Latins from polluting “our” culture and institutions with their hierarchical attributes. What is the “litmus test” of our adherence to “Earth First!” asks Foreman? It is the question of “population growth,” you see — not capitalism and the competitive market place. No one in that entire crowd, to my knowledge, takes the care to note that if the world’s population were reduced to 500 million (as Naess suggests for a demographic desideratum) or even 5 million, an economic system based on competition and accumulation in which a failure to “grow” is a sentence of economic death in the market place would necessarily devour the biosphere, irrespective of what people need, the numbers they reach, or the intentions that motivate them. American capitalism wiped out some 40 million bison, devastated vast forests, and dessicated millions of acres of soil before its population exceeded 100 million.

If an inherently “grow-or-die” market economy cannot produce cars, it will produce tanks. If it cannot produce clothing, it will produce missiles. If it cannot produce TV sets, it will produce radar guidance systems. “Deep ecology,” with its bows to Malthus, is totally oblivious to these almost classic almost economic principles. Its focus is almost completely zoological and its image of people, indeed, of society is very deeply rooted in “natural forces” rather than social tendencies. Characteristically, it speaks of a “technological society” or an “industrial society” instead of capitalism, a piece of verbal juggling that shrewedly conceals the social relationships that play a decisive role in the technologies and industries society develops and the use to which they are put.

Technology in itself does not produce the dislocations between an antiecological society and nature, although there are surely technologies that, in themselves, are dangerous to an ecosystem. What technology does is essentially magnify a basically social problem. To speak of a “technological society” or an “industrial society,” as Devall, Sessions, and “Earth First!” persistently do is to throw cosmic stardust over the economic laws that guide capital expansion which Marx so brilliantly developed in his economic writings and replace economic factors by zoological metaphors. Herein lies the utterly regressive character of “deep ecology,” “Earth First!” and its religious acolytes like Charlene Spretnak, Kirkpatrick Sale, and the diaperheads who float between Hollywood and Disneyland, indeed, who threaten to remove every grain of radicality in a movement that is potentially, at least, one of the most radical to emerge since the sixties. If the biggest “hole” in the Green movement is the need for a “sustainable religion,” as Spretnak would have us believe, then we have created a donut rather than a movement.

[onlinewordworld]

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[moonvisi0n]

“Not Normal men, for sure” 🛵💛

AKA rewatched Rush (2013) and I’ve been back on the F1 races/grids grind💪👋 ⤵️

Watched 1974 and 1975 season reviews, the best. Became more obsessed with Niki Lauda bien sûr. Always a lovely surprise to see my wife, Lella Lombardi. Spot Grace Kelly <3 Classic Hollywood queen taken too soon. FERRARI FACE CARD Luca Cordero di Montezemolo IKTY, just his name alone—

Went to a car museum and karting when I was back home, feeling very Sebastian Vettel...need to list Formula One world champions by year just because :) Ft. a Jacky Ickx book that I did not buy !

Also rewatched Inglourious Basterds so I've just been thinking about Daniel Brühl (and thus NIKI LAUDA) a lot recently. This time around I was able to understand the French dialogue and yes Tarantino misses the mark, no fault of his (American) own, but I enjoyed Mélanie Laurent/Shosanna either way + made me miss French cinema

Similarly in Rush, we almost get a 70's European romance film between Niki and Marlene. But prob only to juxtapose Playboy Hunt. Could argue all day about biopics + that god-awful ending but overall was a pretty good rewatch. Made me feel a little more for my favorite race commentator James Hunt too—MY SHAYLA :( Vomiting from fear of death??! Big balls☝  -Ange

[inkykeiji]

hihi! your rb with the tags about your profession had me intrigued and I wanted to ask, what DID kill the Hollywood system? if you don't mind me asking >u<

HI HI HI HEHEHE first of all i hope you’re doing well!!! seCONDLY OMGGG thank you for indulging me waaaaah i love talking about golden age/classical hollywood and the studio system!!!

beware: i rambled on and on below the cut >.< apologies for the mini essay in advance waaah

OKAY SO. first, a little context. the classical hollywood studio system originally utilized a practice called ‘vertical integration’, which basically means they owned and operated ALL channels of production, distribution, AND exhibition—aka, they controlled literally everything in regards to the films they made, which was like 90% of american filmmaking at the time. this, naturally, made it quite difficult for any film that wasn’t a film made by the Big Five (warner bros, paramount, 20th century fox, RKO, and MGM) or the Little Three (columbia pictures, united artists, and universal) to be screened at a theatre, because the studios owned a decent chunk of the theatres.

furthermore, the theatres the big studios DID own always got first run of their films, meaning that their movies were exclusively screened at the theatres they owned first, then were passed off to second run, third run and fourth run theatres. it’s important to note here that the film prints being distributed and passed around theatres were the same all throughout a film’s run—so by the time a print reached a fourth run theatre, the film stock was all scratched up and low quality. who wants to go watch that? (no one! audiences flocked to the first run theatres owned by the studios!).

the antitrust case between the supreme court and paramount pictures (aka ‘the paramount decrees’) was the first, and heaviest, nail in the coffin of the studio system. the paramount decrees did two things. first, they forced studios to stop a practice known as block booking. block booking was a practice where theatres not owned by the big studios were forced to buy a huge block or batch of films in advance. usually, these films included one A-list film and then a bunch of B-movies and other less desired films. second, they forced studios to cease owning theatre chains, which allowed for indie directors to begin screening their films, AND it allowed for more international films to be shown (which in turn helped break down the production code & replaced it with the ratings system).

this began the end of the system! it was then further impacted by consumer culture, car culture, and suburbia. after world war two, many people moved out of the city and into the suburbs, where they began to start families. car culture was booming and it was hip to have a car that you could use to commute to work (from the suburbs into the city!). disposable income was abundant, and many families were buying fancy new appliances for their new suburban homes—including televisions.

it’s a common misconception that TV killed the studio system. it was, in actually, only one of several nails in the coffin. television at the time was pretty crummy; it was low quality, the screens were small, and it only had about three channels (not to mention studios began allowing television networks to begin screening older films that no longer ran in theatres). but evidence proves that moviegoing attendance had fallen drastically several years before televisions became a fixture in the home. to combat TV and capitalize on car culture, studios began erecting drive-ins, to little avail!

anyway, i could go on and on and on but basically, in a nutshell, those were the handful of things that broke down the classical studio system and gave way to ‘new hollywood’…which then gave way to the blockbuster.