#I got denied for renewal

[vitiateoriginator]

I think I'm gonna have to start seeking medical coverage elsewhere

[inactivelizzy]

🪴 5 songs on repeat 🪴

thank you @emilee-has-legs and @moonriesims for tagging me!

1. boy from carolina - ashley kutcher

2. amsterdam - tors

3. state lines - novo amor

4. men on the moon - chelsea cutler

5. haunted - ken xox

tagging any of you lovely humans who want to participate as well as @simmerlou @kairasims @pikasimss

[waywardxrhea]

Tuna-Tober Day One - Spencer Reid

pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!pregnant!reader

prompt: falling asleep in a hospital room

word count: 2,034

content: hospital setting - mentions of IV lines, ventilators, lacerations, stitches, and broken bones; mention of motor vehicle accident

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

dividers by: @tunatober

The music playing from your phone stopped abruptly as an incoming call from an unknown number began ringing you. Sliding the bar over to answer, you placed the phone between your shoulder and ear as you continued chopping vegetables. “Hello?”

You were greeted by your name being quietly spoken by a familiar voice, who added, “It’s Emily. I’m calling to tell you that something happened with Spencer. He’s in the hospital right now and-”

The sharp knife in your hand nearly slipped as her words rang in your ears. You placed the knife down on the cutting board and tried to take a calming breath before asking, “What happened?” You were hoping that your husband would be done with the case in enough time to make it home for dinner, but now, clearly that wouldn’t be happening. 

“He’s in the operating room right now and then they’re taking him to the ICU. The car he was in got hit by the unsub,” Emily informed you quietly, keeping her tone neutral for your sake. She took a deep breath before telling you, “He flipped a few times and they needed to use the jaws of life to get him out. That’s all I know for now. I’ll keep you updated on when-”

“What hospital is he in?” Emily said your name exasperatedly before you asked in a firmer tone, “What hospital is he in?” She sighed before telling you the name of the hospital, but not before once again attempting to keep you at home in order to keep your stress levels down. 

When you hung up the call, you leaned heavily onto the counter as tears began to fall from your eyes and emotion threatened to close your throat. Shallow breaths were all you could manage as your mind flitted through the worst case scenarios of the outcome of this hospital visit… It took a few minutes, but you finally gathered yourself enough to safely make the trip to the hospital Emily said Spencer had been taken to. 

Your worry had started to ramp up again as you quickly made your way into the hospital and navigated to the entrance of the ICU where you hit the button to speak with the nurses at the station. Your hands fidgeted with the strap of your purse as you waited, and you jumped when the voice finally crackled though, asking, “How may I help you?”

“I-I’m here to see Spencer Reid. He was in a car accident? I was told he would be here after he got out of surgery.”

There was a long pause before the woman on the other side said, “He already has more than the max number of guests at the bedside, you can-”

“I’m his wife! Please!” you pleaded in desperation, your voice breaking with renewed emotion at the thought of being denied access to see him. 

Another long pause filled the air before you heard the locks on the doors give way and open to give you access into the ICU. As you wandered past the nurses’ station, you heard the same voice from before call out, “Mrs. Reid?” When you turned your attention toward her, she told you, “He’s in bed 18, right this way.”

On the way to the hospital, you imagined many different reasons for Spencer to end up in the ICU after a car accident, but the one you didn’t imagine was him being on a ventilator, having a machine breathe for him. There were tubes and IV lines everywhere and the sight of Spencer’s battered body made your knees give out under you. “Woah!” the nurse walking you yelped as she grabbed you under the arm to try and keep you from falling to the ground. 

Your name was called before another set of hands was under your other arm and their owner helped you stand. “I’ve got her,” said Luke as he wrapped an arm around you to keep you steady. “JJ, get her a chair.”

JJ turned toward the two of you and nodded, grabbing a rolling chair from nearby and pushing it behind you so you could sit. Without anyone even saying anything, the small crowd of BAU agents parted as Luke rolled you up to the bedside so you could be beside Spencer. “What happened?” you whispered as you grasped Spencer’s hand in your own and held on tightly. 

Right as you asked this, a doctor walked into the small room and said, “During the crash, his airway became compromised and a lung collapsed. He also sustained a few broken bones. Fractured left tibia and fibula as well as a dislocated left shoulder. There was a large laceration across his abdomen that we stitched up in the OR. He’s lucky to be alive. We’re going to keep a close eye on his case and hope that he can come out on the other side of this with minimal long term complications.”  

“Oh my God…” you whispered, practically collapsing against the railing of the bed as a fresh bath of tears cascaded from your eyes. 

“He’s gonna pull through, he’s strong,” Emily said as she put a comforting hand on your shoulder. She cleared her throat before telling the team, “Let’s give them some space, everyone.”

A kiss was placed on your temple by David before he wrapped you in a hug, telling you, “Call if you need anything, okay? We’ll be nearby.”

When they were gone and you were alone with Spencer, you sat and held his hand for a few minutes, only the beeping of machines and your quiet sobs breaking the silence. When you felt like you ran out of tears, you lowered the railing on the bed and raised the chair you were sitting in. Scooting closer to the bed, you took Spencer’s hand and placed it on your swollen belly, holding his hand there as you whispered, “I really need you to pull through this, Spence. You need to be here when our little girl gets here. I can’t do this without you…”

The stress of the situation combined with the hour drive to get to the hospital had you nodding off in the chair soon enough. By the time visiting hours were over, the nurse came into the room to inform you, but just couldn’t bring herself to wake you. She made her way to the blanket warmer and got a blanket to drape over you before ordering a cot to be brought to the room for when you stirred from your sleep at some point. 

The next morning you startled awake when you heard a pair of voices in the room. Blinking hard, you adjusted your eyes to your surroundings and saw Tara and Penelope in the room, both fussing over gifts they brought. Tara held a handful of balloons in her hand as well as a stuffed bear, and in Penelope’s there was a vase of flowers and another stuffed animal stuffed under her arm that you couldn’t tell what it was…

“Good morning,” came Tara’s voice as she made her way over to you, picking up a cup from the table and bringing it over to you. “Hot chocolate. Extra chocolate, and whipped cream on top.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the warm drink and held it in your hands. Spencer must’ve told them your order at some point… The thought brought tears to your eyes. 

The tears fell when Penelope shuffled over and wrapped you in a hug as she whispered, “This sucks so much…”

“Yeah…” you whispered, your voice scratchy and breaking as you spoke. 

When she pulled away, she pushed the mysterious stuffed animal into your hands. Looking down, you realized it was a capybara. Penelope cleared her throat before saying, “Spencer says that you remind him of a capybara with how kind you are and how you take in and take care of anyone who needs it.”

“Damnit, Penny!” you whispered, your voice pitched up as you took the stuffed animal into your arms and held onto it like a lifeline. 

“I’m sorry! I just saw it in the gift shop and couldn’t help it!” she said, frantically reaching into her purse for a tissue to give to you. 

Tara had to take off before Penelope so she could work the case, but Penelope stayed for a bit after to keep you company until she was needed. Her positive attitude and words attempted to keep your mind off the horrible reality that you found yourself in. 

You spent the day at Spencer’s bedside and only left when you realized how tired and sore you were from sleeping in the chair and then the uncomfortable cot. Penelope offered her guest room to you, and surprised you with your pregnancy pillow on the bed after a hot meal of pizza and warm mug of hot chocolate to end the night. 

Every night for the next week you stayed at Penelope’s place after visiting Spencer in the hospital. She worked from home as much as she could so that you weren’t alone, and by the end of the week, the unsub was brought to justice, not only for his crimes against the people he killed, but also for what he did to Spencer. Penelope joined you as you made your way to the hospital to tell Spencer that the team had caught the guy. The nurses had been telling you that even under sedation, some people can hear and remember what was happening around them, and you were sure that would be the case for Spencer. 

Penelope was armed with yet another get well soon card, and you had a bag of Spencer’s favorite coffee in hand as an incentive for him to wake up soon. When you neared room 18, you saw a large team of medical workers walking away and your heart instantly kicked up, pounding in your ears as you made your way over to the room which had the curtain drawn. As you pulled back the curtain, you were met with a sight that brought tears to your eyes. Spencer was off of the ventilator! “Oh my God, Spence!” you whispered, your hand covering your mouth as you dropped the coffee and rushed over to his bedside. 

“Hey,” Spencer said, his voice hoarse from lack of use over the last week. 

“Oh my God! Oh my God! You’re awake!” Penelope said hurriedly. She rushed over and kissed the top of Spencer’s head before saying, “I’ll give you two some time together and go tell the team! I love you two, and I’ll be back soon!”

“Love you too, Penny,” you replied before turning your attention back to Spencer. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as you gently nuzzled yourself into the crook of Spencer’s neck. 

“For what?” he asked as he wrapped his right arm around you. 

“For coming back to us,” you told him, pulling away and guiding his hand to your bump. 

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said, a fond smile on his face as he gazed at your growing belly and then up to your face. “You know…” he started, his voice wobbly with emotion. “When the car was hit, all I could think about while it was flipping was you and our little girl. How I couldn’t leave the two of you here alone. So before everything went black, I told myself that I needed to fight to get better. I knew that if the worst did happen, the team would support you through it all, but… I’m so happy it didn’t have to come to that. I love you both. So much.”

“I love you too, Spence,” you whispered before leaning over to give him a gentle kiss. “Once you get out, no more hospital stays ‘til she’s here, got it?”

Spencer chuckled before nodding and telling you, “Got it.”

And he kept that promise. After he was released, the next time the two of you fell asleep in a hospital room was after the birth of your baby girl and you were so grateful for the better circumstances for the stay.

and that is Tuna-Tober Day One done! enjoy!

ps: how freaking cute is Spence in that gif?? i love him!

likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

[ylangelegy]

hii,

for the prompt game: seungkwan + " its not like i'm in love with you or anything"

can't wait to see what you do with it !! ♡♡♡

ⵌ non-idol!seungkwan x reader. ⵌ word count: 999 ⵌ notes: alternate universe: non-idol, childhood best friends, fake dating -ish. a, i will give you the world!!! 🫰

"You've got to be kidding me."

Alas, you've known your best friend Seungkwan long enough to know that he is, in fact, not joking. You can see the familiar set of his jaw, the spark of mischief in his eyes. It's the same expression that the brunette has sported since you were children on the playground, pulling pranks on one another.

This was yet another one of the many practical jokes he wanted to pull, except you were now an accomplice instead of the victim. "Kwan," you say. Slowly, like you're explaining something to a five year old. "I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend just to make your ex jealous."

"Why nooot?" he whines. He's splayed out on your bed, half his body hanging out the mattress as he attempts to give you a pitiful, puppy dog-like gaze. "It's not like I'm in love with you or anything. I just need to show her what she's missing."

"By going out with the girl you told her not to worry about?" you ask wryly.

"Exactly! You got it!"

"I was being sarcastic."

Seungkwan lets out a drawn-out groan. He curls up further into your sheets, his expression contorted into one of childish petulance. It's difficult to believe that the man in front of you is twenty-something and not, in fact, a teenager who isn't getting his way.

"You're a terrible best friend," he accuses. "The absolute worst."

You would be more offended if you haven't received the brunt of Seungkwan's tantrums throughout the years. "I am," you say empathetically. "And that's why you're still here, bothering the hell out of me."

He gives you an exaggerated sniffle in return. "It'll literally be just for a day. You don't even have to say anything― just stand there and be your usual, pretty self."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Boo."

"This isn't flattery. It's a negotiation." A beat. He looks thoughtful, which is never a good sign for a conniving Seungkwan. "Okay― how about you just hold my hand?"

From where you are across the room― your computer chair, by your desk― you raise an eyebrow. "Hold your hand," you repeat.

It's not a particularly novel idea. Seungkwan was fairly tactile― prone to hugging you from behind, tugging you to and fro. Hand-holding was usually reserved for more serious moments, though, and so it feels like a bit of a travesty to imagine it being used in his little ploy.

"Just hold my hand," he prompts, scrambling to sit up. Your renewed interest in the idea seems to have given him a burst of misplaced hope. "You don't even have to― we won't even call you my girlfriend or anything. Just hold my hand for, like, an hour."

"An hour? You're greedy!"

"Alright, thirty minutes."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five!"

You huff out a sigh. You've never been able to deny Seungkwan, not even on your best days. "Fine. But you owe me."

You're already thinking of what you might want to cash in as the two of you roll up to your destination for the night: The dreaded high school reunion, where everyone who's anyone is gearing up to boast about their lives. Seungkwan has been single since his tumultuous relationship with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and you can't even blame him for his petty need to prove a point.

At the door of the speakeasy, the two of you share a look.

"Ready?" he asks, holding out his hand.

With a heatless glare, you take it. Your fingers slot into the spaces between his, the same way it has a couple dozen times before this. "Twenty-five minutes," you say.

There's a hint of a smirk on your best friend's face as he pulls open the entrance for the two of you. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm already counting down in my head."

Seungkwan holds your hand as the two of you make your way to your designated table. He waves at old friends with his free hand; sometimes with your clasped hands, as if showing it off. Every so often, he'll mumble to you under his breath. Seven minutes. Thirteen minutes.

You're so caught up in the feeling of his warm palm against yours that you completely neglect one very important thing.

The dinner has started, and Seungkwan is seated at your side― your joined hands over one of his thighs― and only then do you realize. You lean in so that your mouth is by his ear, keeping your voice low amid the thrum of conversation and the faint pop music in the background. "Kwan, she's not here."

As if on instinct, Seungkwan squeezes your hand. He hums a quiet 'hm?' back, tilting his head so you can whisper a little easier.

"Your ex," you hiss. "She's not here, you idiot."

"Huh?"

Seungkwan surreptitiously glances down the table. Sure enough, the girl that had broken his heart is nowhere in sight to witness your little stunt. "Oh," he says, his tone quiet and stunned. His gaze briefly flicks to your intertwined fingers. "I didn't even notice."

Despite yourself, your heart does a little kick-flip in your chest. You clear your throat, just enough to say, "Right. Well."

"Right. I guess―" Seungkwan starts, and he makes the most half-hearted effort to disentangle from you. It's laughable.

It gives you the courage to suddenly say, "You know how you owe me?"

He pauses in the middle of pulling away. "You're cashing in already?" he inquires, that smirk from earlier making a reappearance.

"Yeah." You shift slightly, just to make sure your fingers are still snugly fit between his. With a boldness that you could applaud yourself for, you say, "I want you to hold my hand for the rest of the night, Kwan."

The smirk morphs into a smile. His fingers hold yours just a little bit tighter, because Seungkwan was never one to deny you, either. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and he makes good on that promise.

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[kradogsrats]

Now we know What Viren Did(tm), and...

My personal side-eye aside, that denouement is actually an incredibly elegant application of the story's themes, within the scope of restrictions imposed by this particular medium (i.e. a cartoon targeted for pre-teens and younger). Like, I personally assumed for a long time that we would simply never find out the details, because it would be either too grim and/or violent for the story's intended rating or... kind of a let-down. On the surface, what we got seems like the second.

Most of us have looked at Claudia killing the baby deer to heal Soren's paralysis and went "well, it was obviously that, but y'know... worse, somehow," which is a completely reasonable assumption to make. It was definitely what was narratively implied, which makes the supposedly-damning ingredient being "your mother's tears" instead of like... idk, "your mother was pregnant again and I used the life of that unborn child to save you" or something kind of "... oh. Okay, then."

To be fair, that might also be why they went so hard in the IMO inadvisable male-dominated writer room direction of "so I held her down and took what I wanted" to convey the requisite "he's doing A Bad," which is what all my side-eye is toward. But here's the thing:

On some level, dark magic is about violation—of nature, of others, and of the self. Even violation by Aaravos, ultimately.

But it's also not just that.

Dark magic also sits at the center of one of the primary themes of the whole story, which is the evil of denying others' personhood. We see it again and again from the angle of the heroic cast: "You keep calling it a monster," "You knew he was a person, just like you," "She's not 'the elf.' She's Rayla." The evil they do not allow to take root is seeing people as things, the place where all other evils begin. (GNU Terry Pratchett, IYKYK.)

So Viren's damning crime, the crime that is dark magic, is this:

In that moment, he looks at his wife, and sees only a source of what he needs. One that he can take from as he wills. That's why Lissa leaves—Viren has pulled the circle he draws around "people" versus "abstractions, things to be used" in so tightly that she has found herself suddenly on the outside of it. That's not something you come back from, in a relationship.

As for it all being over something as innocent as Lissa's tears, as opposed to something like her blood, her unborn child, her heart, her last breath—that's also, I think, part of the point. It's a renewable resource, harvested without doing permanent physical harm, but it's still a violation of her. This is the ultimate refutation of the "but what if ethically-sourced phoenix feathers" argument as being, for the final time, bullshit.

When Viren bursts in looking like he walked straight out of hell and demands use of her tears, could Lissa have given them freely? Sure... but she didn't. Could he have talked her around, if he invested the time and respect for her that would require? Probably, but again, he didn't! He took what he'd decided was necessary, did what he decided he had to do, because he could.

And like, he knew, even then. Because while dark magic twists your perceptions and reasoning, dragging you deeper each time—it can't twist you so much that you no longer have a choice. It will do everything it can to make you rationalize making that choice, over and over, but it can't erase that it is a choice.

Like, I'm honestly kind of emotional about it because while the surface level watching experience is kind of hmmmmm, it delivers so well on a thematic and meta level that I'm just like idk. Fuck. It's good.

[re-lmayer]

i've found myself in a bad situation. the tl;dr is i have to move, but i can't afford to. i'm a disabled student and just do not have the funds required to rent a truck, hire movers, and cover deposits. so, i'm offering various services on my kofi, but if you don't need those you can also donate there or via paypal. my cashapp and venmo are both erinshelley91 if you'd like to donate on those platforms (i couldn't figure out how to link to those)

if you can't afford to commission me or to donate, reblogging this post and sharing my twitter thread is a free way to help me out and is so appreciated!

more context and stuff under the cut, i just don't want to make a long post on ppl's dashboards

my landlord has been cheating on his husband, and their relationship is rocky. he also has a massive spending addiction according to his husband. his spending addiction is making him not want to perform the actual duties of a landlord, because investment costs are cutting into his shopping spree funds

ex, he is illegally not fixing a leak in the shower of the upstairs tenants, and claims the costs are more than their rent. he told them to "figure it out, or get the fuck out." (verbatim.) he also told me it would be cheaper for him to not have tenants at all bc his utility bills would be smaller. he then left it to ME to inform another tenant to leave (then gaslit me and denied it in front of his husband when his husband questioned it)

in his words, we have 90 days to leave. i am disabled and a full time student and have been living on my fafsa returns, and the last job i had made one of my disabilities worse to the point i've had intensive physical therapy (several hours several times a week) and am likely going to have to undergo surgery

i'm also mi/nd, so even on a good day i'm not very well equipped to handle things, and the recent stress has also caused my therapist to see me several times a week in lieu of institutionalization

all that said, i'm not in a good spot physically or mentally, hence the best i can do right now is offer some of my skills on kofi

i'm currently working with my state's vocational rehab to try and find a suitable job until i can get my degree, but even then i simply would not be able to afford the costs of a sudden move in the timeframe i've got to work with

UPDATE MARCH 25, 2024: i want to invest in a scooter to do gig work like doordash. this will let me work at my own pace, and earn towards the move myself, then i'll have some more independence to continue doing that after as well

they require 50cc or under, which means i could get a scooter for under $1,000. i'd also need to cover fees to renew my license (i let it lapse since i haven't had a vehicle), get a helmet, and get insurance (roughly $100 annually)

i also made some amazon wishlists for folks who would like to help but prefer to know exactly where their money's going. i have one for housewarming stuff here, and one for necessities here

update as of april 5: my cat peed on my bed, and since it's a memory foam mattress it soaked all the way through and ruined it

update as of april 7: she did it again. this time there's blood in it

update as of april 14: i still haven't been able to take her to the vet, but i've been trying to do at home remedies

[koiiiji]

hideout

summary ; before Jinrang end up in jail, and on his way to become head of busan, he used to hide in old, dirty hotels rooms, hen things went wrong. just like today.

author's note ; i just can't get enough of him, im sorry!!😭

rain hammered against the window of the tiny hotel room in busan, each droplet adding to the rhythmic sound that blanketed the city outside. the dim yellow light from the single bulb overhead flickered occasionally, casting uneven shadows across the peeling wallpaper. musty scent of old wood mixed with the freshness of rain, giving the space an oddly comforting yet oppressive atmosphere.

Jinrang leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you pace the room. the tension between you two was almost palpable, charged with an odd mix of your annoyance and his unspoken curiosity.

“one bed?” you hissed, spinning around to glare at him. your voice was laced with annoyance, though exhaustion was quickly dulling its edge. “of all the places to hole up, this is what you find? and with one bed?”

he shrugged, feigning indifference. “it’s not like we had a lot of options, you know. cops and half the gangs in busan are on our tails. be grateful i found a place with a roof.”

“a roof would be fine if i didn’t have to share a bed with you,” you snapped back, dropping onto the edge of the creaky bed. “you’re lucky i’m too tired to care right now.”

Jinrang’s smirk deepened. truthfully, he’d been thrilled when he saw the single bed earlier. he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced every time you looked his way. not that he’d ever admit it.

you eyed the bed warily. “and where are you planning to sleep? the floor?”

“why would i do that?” he replied with a grin. “it’s a big enough bed. we’re both adults; we can share without it being a big deal.”

you rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath before standing up. “yeah, sure, of course...” you said sarcastically, still not believing he gonna sleep with you. “i’m taking a shower first. don’t even think about falling asleep before i’m back.”

Jinrang chuckled as you gathered your toiletries and disappeared into the cramped bathroom. the sound of water running mixed with the rain outside, creating a soothing symphony that he couldn’t help but relax to. faint patter of raindrops against the window blended seamlessly with the soft hum of the shower, filling the room with an almost meditative calm. but still, he couldn’t shake the image of you in the shower. it made him smile.

when you emerged, the steam from the shower followed you into the room, curling around your figure. Jinrang watched as you fished a spare shirt out of your bag, preparing to change right there in front of him.

“you’re not shy, huh?” he teased, propping himself up on his elbows.

you shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “turn around, idiot.”

with an exaggerated sigh, he obeyed, rolling onto his belly, so he was with his back now to you. “it’s not like i haven’t seen worse in the field.”

“doesn’t mean you get a free show,” you retorted, tugging the towel off and changing to dry shirt. when you were done, you cleared your throat. “you can look now.”

Jinrang turned, his dark eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than they should have. the oversized shirt you’d thrown on barely masked the weariness etched into your features, but to him, you still looked—

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “do i have something on my face?”

“nothing,” he said quickly, standing up to set his jacket on the back of a chair. “you should get some rest. we’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

your hair was still damp, clinging to the sides of your face, and your annoyance seemed renewed as you glanced at the bed again. “you’re still on about this sharing thing?”

“i’m not moving,” Jinrang said lazily, already sprawled out on one side of the bed. his large frame seemed to dominate the small mattress, taking precious little space. “come on, (y/n), it’s just one night.”

you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “if you snore, i’m kicking you off.”

“deal,” he said, patting the open space beside him. “now, hurry up before i take the whole bed.”

with a grumble, you slid under the blanket, keeping as much distance as possible between the two of you. or at least, you tried to. Jinrang’s broad shoulders and long legs seemed to take up every available inch of space, forcing you to edge closer. the mattress creaked under his weight, and his shamelessly sprawled posture made it clear he wasn’t about to accommodate your protests.

“why you are so fucking big?,” you muttered, elbowing him lightly. the warmth radiating from his body was impossible to ignore, and despite yourself, it felt oddly comforting against the chill of the rainy night.

“i can’t help it if i’m built like this,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone. “but hey, at least i’m warm.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh but didn’t argue further. the day’s exhaustion was catching up with you, and the rhythmic sound of rain combined with Jinrang’s steady breathing began to lull you into a hazy state. as you drifted off, you muttered something about personal space, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Jinrang glanced down at you, noticing how your breathing had evened out and your features softened in sleep. the weight of the day’s events hung heavy in the air, but in this quiet moment, he felt an uncharacteristic sense of peace. the way your hair framed your face, damp and slightly tousled, made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“goodnight, (y/n),” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

for once, you didn’t reply with a sharp remark. and as his eyes slid shut, Jinrang couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the best hiding spot he’d ever found.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober 2024 - Day 22 - Dirty Talk

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the Kinktober episode for the « Dirty Talk » prompt. Thank you so much to the anon who suggested it to me in the Asks ✨. I hope you enjoy it !

CW : Dirty Talk - Flirting

In the studio's dimmed lights, Marshall paced the floor, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his thigh. He’d been trying to work with you for months, bending schedules, pulling favors, convincing his team, convincing you. It was almost unheard of for an artist of his stature to try this hard to work with an emerging artist such as you. As it was for such a new talent to be so wary and hesitant to work with such a big name in the industry. When you first got an email telling you that Eminem wanted to collaborate with you, you thought it was a prank and did not even bother replying. But then, you got a call from Paul Rosenberg, assuring you it was real. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity but you had your reservations : sure, being on a track with Eminem would be huge, there was no denying that. But still, the promise of exposure was not enough to convince you. You didn’t want to be just another pretty voice he’d use on a track. You wanted control, artistic freedom. And as someone who was trying to build a brand based on being audacious and unapologetic, you weren’t sure that he was the right fit. After all, it wasn’t 1999 anymore and, if Eminem was a household name, you really would have wanted to collaborate with Slim Shady.

When you kindly replied that you had your reservations about the collaboration request, you expected things to end there. But they didn’t. Marshall Mathers himself got on the phone with you to try and convince you. And, seconds after you said you would think about it, you received a few files, beats he produced in your Inbox. He offered for you to choose the one you wanted to work on, assuring you that he had made them with you on his mind. You actually loved every one of them and there was only so much artistic courting that you could resist, so you ended up agreeing. And as soon as his team received word that you were on board, they booked your flight and hotel reservation. And judging by the private plane sent your way, as well as the penthouse suite in the fanciest hotel in Detroit, you could tell they were putting efforts into making the whole thing happen.

In truth, Marshall had been obsessed with your music for a while. He had randomly discovered one of your tracks and he had ended up binge-listening to everything you had ever put out. Why you weren’t a superstar yet, he was not sure. What he did know, however, is that he needed to be on a track with you. Soon enough, a big, household name would collaborate with you and he would have lost his chance. Every time he heard your voice, gritty and lush with this edge he couldn’t quite define, he felt himself get pulled deeper into an obsession he couldn’t shake. You were fresh, unlike anything he’d heard—raw, provocative, and willing to cut to the bone. And now, finally, you were coming to his studio to work with him.

The door swung open, and in walked the woman who’d been running laps in his mind for the better part of the year : you. She was as striking as her voice, with a smirk that hinted at trouble, and eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once. One that said you knew exactly what you were worth, and that you were not impressed by his notoriety. One look at you and he could tell you weren’t one of those new artists who got all shy once they were face to face with him, often trying too hard to mold themselves to his expectations. And, of course, he liked it. That was exactly what he was looking for. Being one of the greatest was, in many ways, a blessing, but it was also a curse, especially when one was looking to constantly renew themselves, push the pen and their artistic boundaries.

There was an instant click, a mutual electricity hanging in the air. Marshall didn’t miss the way your gaze lingered on him, a mix of curiosity and challenge. “Didn’t think you’d actually pull it off,” you said, eyebrows raised as you looked around the high-end studio. Your voice, lower than he’d expected, hit him like a sucker punch, all slow confidence and swagger. “Didn’t give myself a choice,” he shot back, holding your gaze. “When I want something, well, in that case, someone, I get it.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into that signature smirk. “I guess that makes two of us. Let’s get to work, yeah?”

You settled in, talking about the track, about the way he wanted to play with tension, throw caution to the wind, using some of your work as inspiration and reference. You were on the same wavelength from the start—both looking to take risks, create something that would linger in people’s minds, make the audience feel something intense.

The track he had in mind was something dark and seductive, a pulsing bass line underlying a beat that was slow but biting. He laid down his first verse, his voice smooth and confident, every word dripping with an intentional intensity. He could feel you watching him from the booth, the way your eyes followed every line he delivered. He didn’t hold back, letting his lyrics flirt with the edge of decency, taking up space in a way that dared you to match it. Of course, you were intent on proving that you were up to the challenge. When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let it all pour out, your voice a rich, smoky counterpoint to his. Your verse didn’t just match his energy—it went toe to toe, pushing him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. You turned his words back on him, responding with lines that danced between taunt and temptation. Your lyrics seemed to pull at him, inviting and provocative, every line like a hand wrapped around his collar, drawing him in. As you recorded, Marshall’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a track. It was something else—something that was as personal as it was artistic. The tension wasn’t just in the music. It was in the room, filling the space between you, every glance and every word laced with double meanings.

When you wrapped up, they both took a breath, looking at each other across the soundboard. The track was like nothing he’d done before—raw, sensual, a collision of their styles in a way that felt both inevitable and dangerous. “Damn,” you murmured, still catching her breath. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I guess you bring it out of me.”

The two of you sat in silence, the unspoken hanging there, both of you fully aware that you had created something unforgettable—not just in the music, but in the connection you had formed, a synergy that was addictive, electrifying, and undeniable. The hypothesis was verified as soon as his team heard it and you saw their eyes open wide with a mix of shock and excitement. They exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves as they processed what they’d just heard. One of his longtime producers. “Man…that was…” He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to find the right words. “It’s insane. I’ve never heard anything like it from you before.” Paul, his manager, practically vibrating with excitement, chimed in. “That track—it’s got this… it’s hot, but it’s intense, like… it’s like you two were…” He hesitated, not daring to finish the sentence. You let out a low laugh and raised an eyebrow when you caught the unspoken word.

Marshall smirked, feeling that same rush he’d felt in the booth, that electricity that seemed to carry through every single line you’d spit back and forth. “It’s a vibe,” he said, his voice casual, but the gleam in his eyes told everyone that he knew exactly what you had both created. “We went all out on this one.” Paul turned to him, a sudden fire in his eyes. “You can’t let this just be an audio track, man. People have to see this. They need to see that tension. It needs a music video—one that’s as raw as the track itself.” His personal assistant, Tracy, nodded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Exactly. I mean, the lyrics alone…there’s a story there. It’s like a back-and-forth, the chemistry, the intensity. You’re going to leave people craving more if they don’t get the full visual experience.”

You glanced over at him, eyes sparkling. “They’re right, you know. The track isn’t just something you hear—it’s something you feel.” For a moment, he let himself imagine it. A dimly lit set, shadows casting just the right angles, both of your voices echoing through a dark, intimate setting. Your verses bouncing off each other, your eyes locked, the tension between you building in every frame. He could see it perfectly—a music video that wasn’t just a performance but an experience, where every look, every gesture, was a continuation of the fire that had been poured into the track. “All right,” he finally said, feeling a grin stretch across his face. “Let’s make it happen.”

His team erupted in cheers, already throwing around ideas for directors, cinematographers, and set designs. But through it all, you and Marshall stayed locked in, that same spark between you burning as bright as ever. You leaned in, your voice low, almost teasing. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer, then.” He gave a slow, satisfied nod, knowing exactly what you’d just set in motion. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Weeks later, the music video finally dropped, it was like striking a match in a gasoline-soaked room—the internet exploded. Within hours, the video was trending worldwide, fans and critics alike flooding social media with reactions that ranged from awe to outright disbelief. It was intense, raw, and more than a little suggestive. The chemistry that had been palpable on the track was cranked up to maximum on screen, leaving viewers questioning just how much was acting and how much was real.

The video opened in a dimly lit, shadowed room, smoky and moody, with neon lighting casting dramatic hues across the scene. You and Marshall faced each other in the middle of the room, your silhouettes close but never quite touching. The way you exchanged verses was more than just a performance—it felt like a conversation laced with danger, anticipation, and something unmistakably intimate. Each line you spit felt like a challenge, each look lingering just a little too long. One of the most talked-about scenes showed you standing nose-to-nose, voices dropping to a murmur as you exchanged lyrics that sounded more like secret fantasies than lines in a song. His hand brushed down you arm, your gaze locked on his with an intensity that made it impossible for viewers to look away. Every second of the video was like a slow burn, inching closer to the edge without ever quite going over it. But the tension between the two of you was undeniable, and that fine line between performance and reality left people buzzing.

Immediately after the video ended, social media exploded with speculation. Fans were dissecting every moment, rewatching certain frames on repeat, turning them into gifs in the process, trying to find evidence that what they’d witnessed wasn’t just acting. A tweet from a prominent rap reactor read: “That video was more than a collab. Did they actually…?” Another comment racked up thousands of likes: “I swear they DID it on camera. You can’t fake chemistry like that.” Even celebrities chimed in. One famous pop artist tweeted, “Is it just me or did they actually record their dirty talk in te studio? 🔥🔥🔥,” while others posted cryptic reactions that only fueled the frenzy. Fans shared memes about “needing a cigarette after that video” or “wanting what they have.” A rumor began circulating that someone from the crew had leaked hints of “off-camera moments” that were even more intense, stoking the intrigue and mystery surrounding the pair.

When asked about it in interviews, Marshall gave his trademark smirk and brushed it off. “We wanted to make it unforgettable. I’d say we did our job,” he said with a gleam in his eye, adding nothing to deny or confirm the rumors. And yourself, just as sly and playful, simply said, “I guess you’ll never know. But you can certainly dream about it.” The ambiguity only fueled the fire. The video racked up millions of views within days, and the speculation became part of its mystique. Fans debated, celebrities whispered, and music critics declared it “one of the sexiest collaborations of the decade,” a “masterclass in tension and allure.”

The two of you certainly had fun watching people’s reaction to the track. Both of you had enjoyed the collaboration, the artistic chemistry being absolutely undeniable, and when Marshall offered to produce some tracks for your upcoming album, you happily accepted. The two of you spent a lot of time in the studio, getting to know each other and joking around whole you got work done. You were kind of amazed that the hype around your collaboration didn’t seem to die down. You were in a cozy corner of the studio, scrolling through your phones and watching the internet collectively lose its mind. Every tweet, every meme, every fiery reaction sent you both into fits of laughter and smirking exchanges. It felt like you were sharing in on some private joke, one that only you knew the punchline to. “Did you see this one?” you laughed, nudging him and holding your phone out so he could see. It was a meme of the two of you side-by-side with captions that read: ’When you make a whole music video just to flirt,’ and ’They can’t act that well… right?’

He chuckled, shaking his head as he read it. “I mean, they’re not totally wrong,” he murmured, his voice low, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. You arched an eyebrow, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. “Oh, really?” You let the words hang in the air, daring him to take the bait. He leaned back, pretending to think about it. “Maybe,” he said slowly, smirking. “Maybe they’re onto something. All those people guessing we weren’t just acting… I mean, what do you think?”. You gave him a playful shove, laughing. “I think you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Nah,” he replied, scooting a little closer. “You’re the one who keeps egging them on.” He raised his eyebrow, giving her that signature cocky grin. “You love it. Admit it.” You rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m not saying I don’t like watching them squirm a little,” you said, smirking as you glanced down at another comment that read: ’The only thing hotter than the track is the way they look at each other.’ “I mean, they do have a point, though. The chemistry is… undeniable.”

“Oh, we’re undeniable now?” he teased, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Undeniable chemistry, huh?” You shrugged, pretending to be unaffected, though you were pretty sure that he could see the flush creeping up your neck. “I mean… I just call it like I see it,” you murmured, your voice a little lower, a little softer.

There was a charged silence as you both looked at each other, the playful edge lingering but shifting slightly, deepening. His fingers brushed yours, just barely, but enough that you both felt the spark. “You know,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between her gaze and her lips, “we could give them a little more to talk about.” Your grin was wicked as you leaned in, your voice barely a whisper. “Now that would really set the internet on fire.”

[jesswritesthat]

Rody Soul: Crush

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.4k, fluff

• You knew Rody well enough to know he doesn't just disappear, but until he returns someone's gotta look out for his siblings.

Warnings: World Heroes Mission spoilers

>>>>——————————>

There was a reason besides job hunting that Rody frequented Stanleyk's Bar so often, and that reason was a part time bartender who surely had to be in today.

However, once more he was disappointed with your absence and apparently he hadn't hidden it well this time regardless of Pino.

"Your little crush is off working."

"I— I didn't even ask. Besides, I thought (Y/n) worked here."

"Only part time kid. (L/n) takes on jobs just like you." Both he and Pino fell into awed silence, they heard you lived in one of the nicer residences in Shanty Town with little threat due to your renowned fighting ability, but to know you were contracted too? Wow, no doubt higher ranked than him considering you were away for longer periods.

"Bonjour! I'm back~" Gladly you entered, greeted by a soft pelt nuzzling into your neck, cooing affectionately despite Rodys' chiding outburst.

"Oh hello Pino, aren't you beautiful today."

"Congratulations, the contact was very pleased with your work and have requested your services at a later date." Stanleyk bluntly interjected, usually he received only positive feedback on any job associated with you.

"You get requested?!"

"Yeah, more elite clientele tend to stick with trusted confederates. It's just how they work, casual clients don't mind who they get as long as they suit the requirements." Came your experience-infused reply to Rody, reaching into your bag with renewed brightness. "Here, souvenirs for your siblings."

Rody had only introduced you to them once over the years and he hated that you were so thoughtful. It was hard not to develop a stupid crush on you even if he'd deny it to his last breath. Luckily you both had a withholding deal that prevented the disclosure of quirks. It annoyed him that yours was a secret but it was a worthwhile sacrifice when he realised he was attracted to you early on - and Pino had no shame in expressing that. You'd connect the dots way too fast for his liking.

That was your last interaction and you'd never gone so long without an encounter together before this - so knowing his address, and noting his delayed return, you knew something was awry.

When you'd brought up the matter to Stanleyk, he'd relayed a call he'd received and immediately you'd raced over to Rodys' home. Roro and Lala were cautious when you'd knocked but recognised you upon mention of their eldest brother and were glad for the company. 

Days passed and you'd opted for short-term jobs which allowed time to cook for them, play with them, and tell any bedtime stories you could conjure all whilst dozing on their corner seating area once the pair fell asleep. Although, with the impending bomb detonations and inevitable death that followed, your babysitting gig got harder.

Soon enough, you found out Rody was in the hospital after apparently putting an end to said calamity.

When you'd taken the worried Soul duo to visit him, you found Pino flapping about Rodys' siblings with vibrant joy whilst they hugged their bandaged brother. You assumed the other patients were the heroes he'd fought alongside, the green haired one being the most gracious toward your presence. It was then Pino awkwardly fluttered around you, unsure of what to do with herself and blushing fiercely meanwhile Rody offered a charismatic smile.

"Hey (Y/n), thanks for looking after my family whilst I was away, Stanleyk told me you took quicker jobs to check on them."

Before you could respond, Roro and Lala excitedly chimed your praises.

"Yeah (Y/n) cooks way nicer food than you!"

"And tells the coolest bedtime stories!"

"You— you did all that?"

"Eh you know, I have to balance certain aspects of my life with good deeds." Immediately the little pink bird was in your arms embracing what she could - to which Rody rapidly pulled her away with an embarrassed mumble.

Once visiting time was over, you all bid him farewell, leaving Rody with a knowing Midoriya.

"Does (Y/n) know about your quirk?"

"Nope, we have a deal."

"I see... which means they don't know how you feel—"

"Not another word! I don't have the confidence to tell them alright, you've just seen how beautiful and amazing they are..." It was a friendly exchange, and though chuckling Izuku gave his support.

"I think you should be honest about your feelings, after all you just saved many lives worldwide Rody. This shouldn't scare you."

Meanwhile outside the hospital room, you were experiencing the same revelation in a different form.

"That's why you came to check on us, because you're big brothers' partner?" Roro hummed in thought, Lala way too giddy with the information even if you were thoroughly confused.

"Where did you get that idea?"

"Rody is in love you." Roro cemented, shocked you were apparently unaware.

"I don't think—"

"Yeah just look at Pino. She's always nuzzling and admiring you." There must be some miscommunication here.

"What's that got to do with Rody? If anyone loves me then surely it's Pino." You happily laughed, assuming this was just a child's' fantasy and thought you were playing along with it.

Their puzzled expressions had you second guessing though, then came their matter-of-fact enlightenment.

"Pino is Rodys' quirk. You know that right?"

No you did not, you thought she was a pet.

"She expresses exactly what Rody is feeling, making it impossible for him to lie!"

It suddenly all connected, why he came to visit on your shift days and how affectionate Pino had grown to be with you - warmly greeting you every time she saw you, fretting over any injury, tackling you, and flustering whenever you touched Rody. That was how he truly wished to communicate with you?

"Hey, I just need a minute, wait here." Obviously the pair did so with gleeful grins upon their faces as you dashed back into the room. The heroes seemed perplexed, especially when you pulled the curtain around Rodys' bed stating you wanted to see his injuries without children around.

He was equally as confounded, and this time you didn't miss the flourishing Pino despite the contrasting coolness her owner exhibited. You sat on his bed, staring him dead in the eye before you broke his very soul with your whispered question.

"Rody, are you in love with me?"

There was a flush of colour on his cheeks, but without another second to think he smirked casually and leaned closer to you.

"If you've fallen for me (Y/n), it's okay to confess, I won't judge."

Pino however, crash-landed in embarrassment with a white feather of submission waving above her demonstrating the answer you'd desired.

"I see, thanks Pino."

"Wait— you know, crap who told you?" The charade was up and the pure horror finally set in.

"Yeah, Pino shows your true emotions right? So what happens if I do this?"

You matched his previous false confidence, leaning closer with only centimetres between you that allowed you to feel his warm breath brush your lips. He didn't retract though, and so you closed the gap, Rody more than willing to kiss back when gentle fingers reached up to your jaw and a melodic chirping emitted from Pino as she soared though the air right over the curtain and around the room as if she was set aglow.

You pulled away slightly, amused by the display even if your opposite was heavily embarrassed - still, you moved in to kiss him again leaving Pino to enjoy the moment.

"Would ya get that damn bird to shut up already?!" It was the voice of the explosive blonde which fractured the fantasy, excusing yourself once opening the curtain with plausible cover.

"I'll stock some bandages for the wounds ready for when you get back. See you!"

———

Life seemed to resume to normal with both of you giving up the shady lifestyle, whilst you quit your position at Stanleyk's Bar to pursue your true passions, Rody in turn ended up getting employed there.

You spent nights over with the Soul family, even if it meant sleeping on the corner couch, Rody always ensured to cook you breakfast. He listened to your bedtime stories with a dreamy look on his face, and when his siblings fell asleep came to join you prior to heading to bed himself.

You'd gifted him pilot books, and you became a feature drawing upon their wall, all the while both of you saved to improve life for the better.

"Hey, if you need a flight attendant oh future pilot captain, may I apply early?"

Just then, Pino held a wing over her heart and promptly fainted whilst Rody ran a hand through his hair.

"Actually, I'd rather you be my copilot so we could always fly together..."

“Is that your idea of a proposal Rody?”

“Wha— not yet! I haven’t saved enough to buy you a—“

“I meant a job proposal, what were you thinking?” Your witty tone left him slumping begrudgingly in his chair and briskly swiping Pino before you could see the classic engagement proposal position she’d admiringly taken.

“Ah, of buying you a pilot manual too if you want to fly with me. That’s all.”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[bloodyspector]

To everyone who wanted to know my thoughts on Charles' behaviour at the end of 'The Case of the Very Long Stairway' aka the famous post-confession rooftop scene: ⬇️

We've seen him flirt and be all sassy towards others in vulnerable moments to lighten up the mood, but that's not what he's doing in that scene. He's actually taken aback by what happened in Hell and you can see how things are finally catching up to him when he talks to Edwin

He was only focused on getting him out of Hell so now that they're back on Earth without any demons trying to kill them, he's starting to process everything that happened and things might be getting too real for him and that's why he changes the conversation so fast

We haven't even seen him act like that before, even less with Edwin, and it's clear that it has to do with the confession. I think he's starting to realize that what he feels is more than friendship and he's scared of that

He might deny it and tell Edwin that everything is fine, but we all know that's far from the truth. Yes, they're still close friends and associates, but Edwin's feelings are now in the open and it's gonna change things between them whether they like it or not

As you can see in this gif, he's already starting to blush and be all shy around Edwin, I don't know when he'll realize he's in love with him too, but it's obviously gonna create some tension between them until he does

Edwin is his closest friend in the entire world and there's no way he would want to led him on or ruin their friendship so he's probably gonna start distancing himself from him, being less touchy than usual, not wanting to be the two alone in the office... And Edwin is gonna snap

I know it won't be pretty because hiding things from him is a big no especially now that he's willing to help others with their personal issues, so Charles refusing to tell him something important when he knows it's eating him up might hit a nerve

We don't even know if Charles knows he's bisexual so him realizing their love goes deeper than what he thought at the same time he has a sexuality crisis is gonna make him question everything so until he's ready to tell him what he feels for him, I'll enjoy the angst (sue me)

If the show gets renewed for a second season there's no way we won't see him come to terms with his sexuality like Edwin did in the first one. We also might see him panic because of how much he notices Edwin staring at him now so it's gonna be great

Charles might also think that crossing that line would be unfair to Edwin because of his anger issues and low self-esteem

As he told Crystal in 'The Case of the Two Dead Dragons', he's got some shit he needs to sort out before getting into a romantic relationship with someone so learning how to love himself might be their focus before we can get that friends to lovers slowburn we all like

If you got here I apologize for my long ass rant and if there's anything that doesn't make sense let me know since english isn't my first language and all I know is self-taught

[zablife]

You're Gonna Be the Death of Me

Johnny Davis x female reader

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny knows you're trouble the moment you show up with Benny, but he can't help himself.

A/N: I've been writing so much for Benny recently, I haven't properly indulged in my Johnny fantasies. This is for @potter-solomons who shares my obsession 😍

Warnings: 18+ MDNI

"You're gonna be the death of me," that's what Johnny always said about you from the moment Benny started bringing you around. Those cute sundresses paired with an innocent smile indicated you were just a girl who didn't know the effect she had on men. However, the way you pursed your lips before blowing on the tip of your pool stick and that naughty wink cast in his direction said otherwise.

The first time you met, you leaned across the table in your low cut dress, twisting a lock of hair idly as you thanked him for inviting you to see his garage. He scratched the back of his neck wondering when he'd agreed to that, but you were too busy explaining how well you knew your way around tools. He had to laugh at your double entendre, refusing to believe anyone was that naive or that you actually knew anything about mechanics.

The next day he was pleasantly surprised when you proved him wrong, somehow reading his mind before he could call out which socket wrench he needed. "Would you look at that?" he chuckled at your cleverness.

"Don't underestimate me," you warned him with an alluring look. He knew better than that, especially when your delicate hand brushed his grease stained fingers to offer a cold beer. And especially later as you hummed along to the radio, the syrupy sweetness in your voice dripping into his ear while he worked.

The quiet afternoon had only been one side of the coin, however, as you quickly proved yourself to be wild and impetuous, demanding a thrill a minute. He realized then, you were Benny in female form.

If Johnny gave you a ride, you'd dig your red nails into the legs of his worn denim shouting, "Is that all you got?" His heart thundered at the challenge, taking turns so quickly you shrieked with delight. He was addicted to the feeling of your hands against his abdomen, igniting the fire in his belly that had been there for you from the beginning.

You were impossible to deny, any request you made satisfied whenever possible and your honor defended at the slightest infraction. The thought of losing your favor, making Johnny's jaw clench hard enough to break a back tooth. As a result, his own recklessness only increased when you were by his side, the racing and fights spurred on by your enthusiastic cheers.

It wasn't only the blood stains on his colors and the renewed swagger in his walk that told the tale. Everyone saw what was happening between you as you exchanged heated glances across the bar on Saturday nights.

When Benny finally disappeared the way he always said he would one day, you and Johnny were already in bed together. Exhausted from a long haul out on the road, you urged him to lie back and enjoy himself as you rode him. One arm behind his head, he looked up at your bouncing tits with a blissed out look on his face.

As he came with a satisfied grunt, your hands pressed to his chest with a look of devilment in your eye. Resuming the slow grind of your hips, you smirked when his large, calloused hands flew to your waist. Moans of overstimulation left his plump lips as you dropped your head to place a kiss. "Feel good?" you taunted.

As he managed a shuddered breath, he admitted, "You're gonna be the death of me."

[astonmartingf]

NOBODY KNOWS ; FA14

dbf!fernando alonso x ex-red bull engineer! reader . . . barcelona in the summer of 2019, what a time to be alive. and what better way to spend the break with a retired world champion as a tour guide

amgf woahhhh hehehehe so... yeah 👍 this was so fun to write ughh i love them so much and i know i saw that to all pairs in my works but i do love them all so yeah. there will be an accompanying part because somehow i furthered the plot even more and got too immersed in the story so... enjoy like always <3

not my fault ; part one

The summer of 2019- as much as you loved every bit of memory in Barcelona, you’d rather bury those thoughts down a hatch never to be seen from the day of light. But sitting in his garage, name and number sticking out from all corners, a familiar scent lingering reminding you of the late nights and early mornings spent over his house in the city.

Taking a deep breath, you regulate your emotions, keeping them at bay and clinging onto the last bit of professionalism you could muster. As far as you know, Fernando invited you here for one thing and one thing only, and just like the other teams he’s only interested in what you could offer for the longevity of the team.

Considering the latest buzz of his contract renewal, you could play a key part of the remaining time he has with Aston Martin. Along with the fact that Newey has left Red Bull, though it remains a hush to the majority of the paddock, moreso to the fans, and it was clear that people’s eyes were on your move.

Seeing you in the Aston Martin garage would raise more rumors, as it was normal seeing you alongside your stepfather in the McLaren garage. Closing your phone and leaving Sebastian on read, your eyes linger around the garage, fully immersing yourself in the experience. If you were to join the team for the next season, possibly the next races.

You watch the hustle and bustle of the team as they prepare for qualifying, a familiar experience, nothing too different from Red Bull, despite issues with the higher ups, the mechanics and engineers make do and focus on the race ahead for the team. Something you can no longer look back at fondly due to other internal issues you had with the team. 

Watching the mechanics interact with one another, the smiles and serious air as they hover around the car. You’re not one to deny that you missed working in the paddock, and as much as you enjoyed your break, you’re itching to work on the data of cars. Maybe that’s why your stepfather had put his feet forward in the matter and gave you a chance to see the team for yourself, despite it being on behalf of Alonso which still irked you to some sense, it’s nice to be inside a garage outside McLaren and see the inner workings of a team, look at different perspectives.

“I’m surprised you agreed to Mark’s invitation.” You freeze from the familiar voice emerging from behind you, you haven’t moved from your spot but you can sense his presence, just inches away from you, the scent of his perfume wafting over your nose, taking you back instantly to your summer getaway with him.

Maybe Sebastian was right, maybe you’re still hung up on the minute memories you spent with Alonso, memories made too long ago. Yet in such a short time he managed to hook you into this feeling, the very moment you’ve been thinking about for so long. “I’m not one to decline an invitation, even if it was from you.” 

You turn around, facing him for the first time in what seems to be four years, not like you’re counting but the sight of him leaves you out of breath. You thought you’d be more mentally prepared to see him once again, or at least that’s what you convince yourself with.

His presence lighting a fire inside you, the familiar passion burning through him, you can feel it. You don’t look away from his gaze, keeping your eyes straight into his, trailing down to the movement of his mouth, but your ears fall deaf at whatever he could be spouting on and on. “Pardon?” Biting your lip, you blink your eyes lost and embarrassed at your lack of attentiveness. You watch Fernando’s lips thin before a smirk rises, taunting a reaction out of you, “I wanted this to be a professional meeting but I guess it can’t be helped that we’re one minute in the conversation and you're already distracted because of me. Is something bothering you sweetheart?"

You roll your eyes at the audacity of this man, he surely knows how to push your buttons. "I assure you there is nothing bothering me, there are simply other things more interesting in my mind. You on the other hand— asking Mark for a favor? What are you twelve?" You don't miss the irked expression on his face when you point out his excuse for inviting you in his garage.

Huffing, Fernando inches forward as you subconsciously lean back on the wall behind you, "Well you better pay full attention because things are about to be interesting." Flashing you a wink before slamming down his helmet, walking towards his car as qualifying comes to a start.

His words leave you out of breath, so much for acting unbothered, Sebastian has truly jinxed this day. You watch as his car flies past the pit lane onto the tracks of the Chinese Grand Prix. 

As time passes by not only the qualifying session comes to a close but your high emotions as you inch towards the edge of your seat, celebrating with the team as Fernando clinches into P3 for the starting formation for tomorrow's Grand Prix. You find yourself in conflicting emotions— the longing feeling of being a part of a team and working with Fernando Alonso himself.

Despite your unusual relationship with him, you'd hate to admit it but you're always rooting for him in his races. Aside from Oscar, the only driver you've shown support open or not is Fernando. To quote Lando from last year's season, "Who wouldn't want to see Fernando Alonso win?" And he's right.

Personal biases aside, you truly only want the best for him, and you know that won't happen if you're in the team with him. As much as you want to, you'd rather not ruin the familial environment of the team. Your situation with Fernando and personal biases and grudges will definitely come in the way, because as much as you'd front and act like it didn't matter to you, he was and still is one of the biggest losses in your life.

Call it the right person, at the wrong time but you're still hurting and being in the same space as him, you can envision yourself celebrating the highs and lows of the team and it's all too much for you. You don't want to be stuck as coworkers with the man you first—

Sighing, you shake the thoughts clouding your head and focus on the positives for this race. Watching Fernando walk towards the interviewer with a big smile on his face, the more conflicted you are with your emotions. You try to escape the hustle and bustle of the garage, hoping to avoid Fernando before he comes back. 

But luck seems to be avoiding you, as you quite literally bump into Fernando whilst trying to escape him. Grabbing your wrist before you could walk any further, he pulls you closer, hands hovering between his lips and whispered in your ears, "There's something we need to talk about after the race.”

Your eyes wander looking for an excuse, but you remember that this could be your only opportunity to decline the offer his team could be asking you for the remainder of the season. "Sure. Where should I wait for you?"

Your response seems to have taken Fernando off guard, "You can wait for me here, or if you want somewhere more private, you can always head into the motorhome." 

Parting ways, your head can only form any more responses before you go into a complete spiral. Nonetheless, you're well aware that the only answer you can give him is a rejection. Because you can't trust yourself to work with him after all that has happened to you.

You jump, surprised as Fernando barges in his private quarters of the team motorhome, "Having you been waiting a long time?"

You shake your head, getting comfortable in the cushioned chair beside his bed, "Why'd you call me here by the way? What do you need to discuss with me that requires privacy?"

Fernando smirks before sitting on the bed, "After the interview with Rosberg, he asked me if we were in a relationship, considering he saw you in my garage earlier. I for one don't mind having this conversation outside but I know for a fact that you wouldn't want anyone hearing about our conversation now."

Your face curves, tracing back on your thoughts of how Nico could be able to piece such information, the only person you told was Sebastian, "You're a blabber mouth is what you are. What re you asking me that, for all I know you could've told half the grid!" 

Fernando scoffs, shaking his head in disapproval, "I'm sad you think that about me sweetheart, but sadly it wasn't me. Like how you made me promise that I won't tell a soul, I didn't tell anyone. But one detail that Nico mentioned piqued my attention, apparently you told Vettel, who told Lewis, who told Jenson, who told Rosberg, who in turn then asked me if that actually happened. I'm surprised your stepfather hasn't found out about us."

Sebastian. You curse under your breath, more shocked with the amount of drivers who knew about you and Fernando, minus Seb, you thought nobody knows. "Can you stop referring to Mark like that." 

Fernando raises his brows, his words rub you off the wrong way, knowing well enough that he's only doing this to elicit a reaction out of you. "But you refer to him that way, what's so wrong? Are you scared?" Fernando chuckles in a deep and slow voice, as frustration builds up in you.

"Fuck you Alonso."

"Oh you did, and it was so damn good we did it again and again. I think you remember it clearly, or would you like a refresher?" The way he casually mentions your past occurrences astounds you. You become more cautious after his words realizing that you're stuck in a small space with him, and a bed literally beside you. 

Your thoughts make their way to wat you, as you think back of your late nights shared with him in his bed. Swiping your tongue over your lips, you shuffle in your seat mulling over a better response to catch him off his feet. You can't lose to him like this, your pride won't let you. 

But before you could speak, Fernando presses his fingers over your lips. "You don't have to say anything, whether or not you agree or like it, what happened between us was a fact and a reality you should accept. I for one loved the short time we had together."

Your eyes shake, confused about this all. Even more questions emerge from your head, has Fernando been thinking of you since then? If so, why is he telling you all of this now? He said he loved the short time you had with him, why didn't he want you to stay then?

Your curiosity is killing you, but you've already made your front to act unaffected by it all, which only confirms that you're not ready to work with him at all, as much as you would love it be. Which he hasn't mentioned at all, is this why he invited you to his garage? A rekindling of an old flame, gone far too long in the past. 

But the matter of fact is until you decide to be honest to yourself, it'll remain like it was before, because nobody knows.

[clonesfanacc]

Surprise kiss!

Short little echo X reader scribble about how Echo is absolutely adorkable and insecure about kissing. Very chaste, no spice, slow and lots of thinking about each other. Set after the last episode in season 3.

I am no native speaker so please ignore minor mistakes in grammar and spelling. Hope you enjoy!

Echo

Echo sat in the cockpit, trying to make repairs after the last mission on tantiss, but he was distracted. After losing track of what he was even doing for the 5th time, he gave up. Leaning back into the chair, he closed his eyes. Tried to get his focus back. But his thoughts wandered back to before the mission.

As him and his brothers had been getting ready, just minutes before go time, y/n approached him. He was so attuned to her step, his heart had begun beating a little faster as soon as he heard the tip tap of her boots on the hangar floor. As he turned towords her, he had tried to put on an easy smile to show her how confident and cool a soldier he was. He had practiced that look in front of the mirror until it looked just right. And promptly failed when he saw her expression.

She had an upset look on her face, wringing her hands nervously, and his easy going smile turned into his usual, stern expression.

"please, stay safe. And come back", she had said, looking up at him with such sad eyes it had almost broken his heart. It felt both good and bad to have someone special worry so much about him.

He would have liked to calm her, if he only knew how. Even after all this time spend with her and Omega, he didn't quite get girls. Or women. So he said the only thing that came to mind:

"There's no guarantee a soldier comes back from a mission" he repeated what Rex had hammered into him before every mission.

"Oh" she had looked down. Echo had cursed himself for upsetting her even more. His playbook with the opposite sex was at an end now. It made him so nervous, he had started stuttering nonsense, trying to come up with something to make her happy.

"I didn't mean to- I meant to say- y-y-you know...", he had felt like such an idiot.

He wouldn't even have dared to dream what had happened next. Y/n had stretched her arms out, wrapping them around his neck. They almost never touched, especially not where he could directly feel her skin on his. Completely caught off guard, he barely had time to feel his skin tingle with the feeling of her warmth. She had pulled his face towards hers and kissed him. His body had gone into panic mode, freezing in position, heart beating so fast that he feared she might feel it through his chest plate.

The kiss had only lasted a few, heavenly seconds before she let go and ran away, denying him to do anything more than stare after her as his brain tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Echo had to smile at the memory, feeling his cheeks flush once again as he replayed the moment in his mind over and over again. Her lips had been so soft and sweet. Her hug so warm.

After coming back, he didn't have a chance to talk to her. The clones they had saved had to get settled in, everyone had to heal and rest.

Had she kept her distance? He wasn't sure. At moments like these, he wished fives was still here. He would surely know what to do.

Imagining his brother in his mind, fives would surely tell him to go to her and play it smooth. Whatever that last part meant. All he knew is that he had to man up and go to her. Talk to her. He was back, just as she wanted. And he was damned if that wasn't worth a second kiss.

With renewed resolve, he slapped the ships console and got up, determined to find y/n and play it smooth.

Y/N

You were so glad that everyone came back. Not everyone was in one piece, but they were alive and well. When you saw Echo's familiar silhouette appear from the ship, your heart skipped a beat. Relief washed over you. Soon followed by stress. In an instant of anxiety, you have decided to kiss him. Absolutely convinced that he would not come back, you decided to screw consequences and just go for it.

Now he was back and surely had questions, or at least a comment. Or a rejection.

Already hearing his deep, raspy voice say something like "I'm sorry, I don't like you that way" made you want to get on the next ship away from Pabu to live on a remote planet as a farmer.

Since that wasn't an option, you buried yourself in busy work, keeping your distance to Echo.

You sat at your usual spot at the beach, bare feet in the sand, watching the ocean waves. The calming sound of the water was relaxing after the busyness of the last days.

You sighed, lost in thought. So lost in fact, that you almost missed the crunching steps coming closer. The familiar sound of combat boots. Completely unprepared for that conversation, you saw Echo approach with his dark armor, helmet under his arm and golden eyes fixed on you.

Trying to pretend everything was normal, you waved and smiled, coaxing a lopsided grin from his face.

"hey", you greeted him, avoiding his gaze.

"hey" he answered, sitting down next do you.

Silence.

Awkward. Silence.

"So...", you started, at the same time as he said "Well..." Both of you stopped. He chuckled nervously.

You turned towards him, finding his golden amber eyes studying you. You felt your cheeks and ears furiously blushing.

"I'm back" he stated, leaning forward, "just as you ordered me to", his voice was low, his eyes searching your face for a reaction.

"yes, I'm glad" you drew your knees close and half buried your face in your arms to hide the embarrassment.

He etched closer, his arm almost touching you.

"Uhm, you know, before I left. What- what did it mean?" He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.

You pondered your answer. What did it mean?

Noticing your hesitation, Echo nervously clarified:

"the uhm...the k-k-iss." He whispered the words like it was something forbidden and secret.

His expression changed. Now that the words had left his lips, he looked insecure. The faintest hint of red could be seen on his pale, bony cheeks. That face, document to all the hardships he had endured, pale and sunken, yet it was all you could think about. His amber eyes were what drew you in. Kind and intelligent, determined they looked at you. You couldn't help but wanting to comfort him.

Slowly, you lifted your hand to his cheek and let you fingers glide down his face. Feeling his warm skin, the slightest hint of stubble.

"it meant that I would miss you a lot" you finally answered.

He swallowed hard again, eyes darting.

"you, too" he rasped, and very carefully lifted his good hand to your chin, lifting it so you faced him directly. He licked his lips and his eyes fluttered shut. Leaning in for a kiss, you could hear his nervous breathing. He tried to shift his weight and lean on in the scomp link attached to his arm.

It was stable, sure, but still just a metal rod. He hit a stone and it glided away to the side. Just as he was about to touch your lips, he toppled over to the side, landing in the sand with a loud curse.

It was puzzling how he could manoeuvre with absolut precision in one Moment, and trip over his own body the next. You had to laugh. It was freeing and relaxing, breaking the tension. You could hear his barking laugh chime in. It was such a rare sight to see him laughing, full of warmth.

The uneasy atmosphere was gone, Echo stretched and rolled on his back, still smiling at you. He looked good like this.

When he was about to get up, you put a hand on his chest and pushed him gently back down. With newfound boldness, you straddled his hips, earning a surprises gasp from him, and bent down to finally kiss him.

Authors note: I recently read a post about how he sometimes really is a bit clumsy, and I think it's adorable. I also like to think that he's the kind who likes to be prepared, so he is surely helpless in the face of romance. I hope you enjoyed my little debut story, leave a comment and let me know what you think

[hard--headed--woman]

I know I spent two days without posting any lesbian pride post lol but I swear I'm gonna post two posts per day in the following days to make up for it. I am again going to talk about an artist, but from a different period this time.

Rosa Bohneur !

(I love her name by the way... Bohneur means happiness in french and that's such a pretty name to have)

Marie-Rosalie Bonheur, known as Rosa Bonheur, was born in 1822 in Bordeaux and died in 1899 in Thomery. She was a French painter and sculptor specialising in representations of animals.

She has kind of an interesting family story (mother adopted by a rich guy who found out later who was her real father, siblings all artists, father who met a lot of interesting people, links with many famous people...) but it would be too long to talk about it and I want to focus on Rosa herself. Do check it up if you're interested!

During her youth, Rosa Bonheur had a reputation for being a tomboy, a reputation that followed her throughout her life and which she made no attempt to deny, wearing her hair short and later smoking cigarettes and cigars. Her emancipated lifestyle never caused a scandal, even though she lived in an era that was very concerned with convention. Like all women of her time, Rosa Bonheur had to apply to the Prefecture of Paris for a cross-dressing permit, renewable every six months, in order to wear trousers, in particular to attend livestock fairs, travel or ride horses.

Here's one of her permits, from 1857 :

And though many historians tried to deny the fact that she was a lesbian, she always refused to marry a man, has only ever had relationships with women and literally wrote that she never felt any sort of love, attraction or tenderness for men, "besides a frank and good friendship for those who had all my esteem". After the death of the woman she loved, she also wrote "If I'd been a man, I'd have married her, and they wouldn't have made up all those silly stories..." You got it : even if she didn't shout it from the rooftops, Rosa was very probaby a homosexual woman.

Rosa Bohneur grew up in a fairly wealthy family, thanks to the financial support of her mother's adoptive father. But when her mother's father died, the family was left without any such support, and fell into dire poverty. When Rosa was 11, her mother died, which deeply traumatised her. She kept a lifelong admiration for her mother.

In 1836, at the age of 14, she met Nathalie Micas, who became her lover. Only Nathalie's death 53 years later separated them.

Her father remarried in 1842 to Marguerite Peyrol, with whom he had a last son, Germain, who would also become a painter. Rosa Bonheur did not get on well with her stepmother and when her father died in 1849, she left the family home to live with the Micas.

After her mother's death, Rosa Bonheur went to primary schools, was apprenticed as a dressmaker and then went to boarding school. Eventually her father took her into his workshop, where her artistic talents were revealed. He was her one and only teacher. Gradually, she developed a passion for animal art, which became her speciality.

She exhibited for the first time, at the age of 19, at the Salon of 1841. She won a 3rd class medal at the Salon of 1845, and a 1st class medal (gold) at the Salon of 1848. This award enabled her, at the age of 26, to obtain a commission from the State to produce an agrarian painting (paid 3,000 francs). The painting resulting from this state commission, "Labourage nivernais" was supposed to go to the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Lyon. But it was so successful at the 1849 Salon that the Beaux-Arts department decided to keep it in Paris, at the Musée du Luxembourg. After Rosa Bonheur's death, the work went to the Louvre, before being transferred to the Musée d'Orsay in 1986.

When her father died in March 1849, Rosa Bonheur replaced him as director of the École impériale gratuite de dessin pour demoiselles (or École gratuite de dessin pour jeunes filles). She remained in this position until 1860: ‘Follow my advice and I'll turn you into Leonardo da Vinci in skirts’, she often told her pupils.

In 1860, she moved to a huge house in By, where she had a huge workshop built, and ample space for her animals. One of her relatives wrote: “She had a complete menagerie in her house: a lion and a lioness, a deer, a wild sheep, a gazelle, horses, etc. One of her pets was a young lion she let run around. My mind was freer when this leonine animal died".

In June 1864, Rosa was visited by Empress Eugenie, who invited her to lunch at the Château de Fontainebleau with her husband. The following year, Eugenie returned to see her, to present her with the Legion d'honneur herself. Rosa is the ninth woman and the first artist to receive this distinction. About this, The Empress said :

“At last, you've been knighted. I am delighted to be the godmother of the first woman artist to receive this high distinction. I wanted the last act of my regency to be devoted to showing that, in my eyes, genius has no sex."

She was also the first woman to be made an officer in this order, in April 1894 (first female officer of the Legion d'honneur).

Rosa traveled extensively with her lover Nathalie, herself a painter and mechanical enthusiast (she invented and patented a railway braking system), and painted many pictures inspired by her travels.

In 1889, Nathalie died after some 50 years together. It was then that Rosa expressed her regret at not having been able to marry her.

After Nathalie's death, Rosa met Anna Klumpe, a talented American painter. The two women moved in together some time later.

Rosa Bohneur died of pulmonary congestion in 1899, without having completed her last painting, “La foulaison du blé en Camargue”, a monumental canvas she had planned to exhibit at the 1900 Universal Exhibition.

She is buried in Père Lachaise cemetery, alongside Nathalie, her parents and Anna (who died years after her). She left her entire fortune to Anna, who, in 1908, published a biography of Rosa Bonheur and created a Rosa-Bonheur prize at the Société des artistes français. The Société des Artistes français posthumously awarded her the Medal of Honor shortly after her death.

Rosa could have had military honors at her funeral, but she specified in her will that she did not wish this.

There's a lot of interesting things to say about Rosa, her art and her history, so I suggest you do some research on her! She was a very talented and strong-willed woman who had a huge impact on French art and left a considerable cultural legacy.

Here are some of her paintings :

I personally love them ! I am not a painting expert, I just find them sooo pretty.

See you tomorrow :)

[veryconnoisseurcherryblossom]

Predaking x Reader - Breeding.

(First time writing valveplug ever, please let me know if I got anything wrong/where I can improve. I also cross-posted on Ao3. Thanks!)

--------

“Mnngah… Pr-Predaking…” You moaned helplessly beneath the behemoth that was your Conjunx, your mate. You hear him growl into your audials, but you can barely focus on anything but his large, primary spike thrusting into you, all but piercing your gestational forge. His smaller, secondary spike rubs against your anterior node and belly with each thrust, the combined feeling of both drawing out desperate, whiny gasps.

“M-more, please more…!”

He chuckles above you, a warm ex-vent washing over your back. The room is almost unbearably hot, each vent you take barely doing anything to cool down your frame. In your internal HUD you see a warning about overheating, but you ignore it, turning off the warning system.

“Such a greedy little mate you are… Who am I to deny you?” Predaking begins to pick up speed, his thrusts becoming harder. You gasp and groan into the pillow, your tears soaking the plush cushion. Groans turn into squeals as your royal lover shifts your hips, changing your position ever so slightly, yet the ridges of his spike rub against your valve sensors in such a way that the renewed stimulation brings you closer to crashing, falling into euphoria.

“Predaking! Oh, oh Primus I’m- I’m going to-”

“Overload for me, my queen.”

Your scream reverberates around the cave, your frame shaking as you feel your calipers work feverishly on Predaking’s spike, all but trying to milk him of his transfluid. Not a moment later does he overload, spilling his seed deep inside of you and coating your chassis from his secondary spike. You shake in the berth, tired, sore, but oh so full.

Whimpering as he pulls himself out of you, you hear and feel him hum in approval, satisfied at the sight of your overfilled, puffy valve spilling his transfluid onto your berth. You can feel it leak down your tibulem, burning hot against your overheated frame.

“You will make a fine carrier, my queen.”

You sigh, content as you fall onto your side and roll onto your back. You tiredly bring your arms up, welcoming him for a hug with a near-delirious smile. He obliges without a word, wrapping his monstrously large arms around you and capturing your lips with his own, drawing you into a slow, lazy, loving kiss.

Pulling away, you look at Predaking with a bashful smile.

“One more time…? Just to make sure I’m sparked…” Predaking smirks, a rumbling chuckle emerging from him. His golden optics glow as he lines his spike up against your valve, drawing a mewl out of your vocal components as you feel his claw circle your over-stimmed anterior node.

“What a greedy little mate you are...”

[seat-safety-switch]

If you drink, you should drink moderately. Booze is very expensive, you see, and every penny that is spent on it could be put into race car parts instead. It's for this exact reason that my ancient ancestors spent a lot of their free time figuring out how to synthesize their own alcohol at home, and giving birth to the modern-day NASCAR stock car circuit.

Like any good science experiment, the project didn't start out as an excuse to day-drink. Originally, the family story goes, they wanted to make some synthetic alcohol-based fuels to run a race car off of. And there were way too many mouldy bananas getting thrown out at the grocery store. Why not simply turn all that discarded banana waste into zingy, renewable meth-o-line?

The reason why not is that what actually comes out of the process is high-test banana liqueur. If that concept sounds good to you, perhaps you are a secret monkey, brainwashed into thinking you were a person all along. Check your closet to make sure there's no secret radio equipment made out of coconut shells, hair, and poop, reporting back to the Big Gorilla at the zoo to advise him of when the best time to begin the invasion is. For the rest of us, banana liqueur is, most generously, a weird novelty.

A weird novelty, that is, until prohibition. The nation's wet blankets got together, and collectively said "maybe do something other than drinking all day." And they had a point: auto-body repair bills were starting to skyrocket, what with all the whisky dings getting racked up on the expansive chrome bodywork of the time. Those ancient scolds did make a mistake, though: denying them their booze meant that a newly-sober and terrified country had to turn to race cars instead.

So, a classic capitalist story: needs (for banana-based high-octane race fuels) met haves (banana-based high-octane race fuels,) and there was immediate success. Not so. For one thing, Great-Great Grandpappy Switch was really bad at business. He much preferred to be out racing, in the process inventing new motorsports like "drifting" and "grocery-store shopping cart drifting." And for another thing, he didn't see the point in changing the label on the bottles. He had paid for those labels, goddammit, and they were going to say "Incredibly Illegal Banana Booze, Don't Let The Government See It" until he had used up the entire roll of stickers.

Eventually, his two loves did meet, in the form of a group of bootleggers who started to use their souped-up shitboxes for racing instead of just outrunning the morality police. That's a story for another family, though, as by then Great-Great Grandpappy Switch had moved on to inventing the world's first pinball machine.

Say, I didn't notice your friends come in while I was talking. If you don't mind me saying so, they sure look a whole lot like those gorillas that escaped from the zoo earlier. They want to hear about my family banana liqueur recipe, you say?