#I'm not saying every cyclist is like that

[essaytime]

Listen, I hate car-centric infrastructure as much as the next guy and I wholeheartedly agree that a lot of drivers behave like some sort of entitled homicidal maniacs, but those of you acting like cyclists are just riding their bikes doing nothing wrong - and especially those of you in the comments saying that if cyclists pose a danger to you you must be an unsafe driver - really need to spend a day in the Warsaw or London city centre as a goddamn pedestrian.

In my life, which has been pretty short for both objective and this site's standards, I have encountered:

A man in London that rode in front of me at lightning speed on a crossing with no traffic lights, despite clearly seeing that all the cars had just stopped to let me pass and this was a crossing near the bridge in the middle of the city

A cyclist (that actually happened this Monday) who didn't stop despite having plenty of time to, honked (what is the English word for using this like alarm button on your bike?) at me and uttered some mean comment at me, right next to a bus stop which a bus, my bus, was pulling up to, and it was plainly visible from his perspective.

Near my school there is a slope with stone stairs in a park that I walk down to get there. Someone once rode down this slope, along the stairs, at full speed and just continued driving without slow down. To this day I don't know how on earth he didn't kill himself.

A cyclist in Kraków who was doing an actual race against time on a route near which plenty families with children were strolling, and when my little brother, three or four years old at the time, ran too close to him, he started yelling and swearing at us - a string of k-words at a four-year-old - rather than acknowledging a busy site with so many children was not a place for amateur Tour de Pologne

My friend was once getting off a bus and two nearly rode her over and bumped straight into each other, but that's only what I heard from her

When I do get into a car, which I do most rarely out of my family:

When my dad was turning to drive into a small street in the city centre, with a speed limit of I don't even remember what, a man suddenly rode into the street without even looking sideways so we had to stop the car immediately, and then turned around to yell

My mom says a young woman who was riding in the middle of a road on headphones and not paying any attention to the traffic knocked on her window and told her to drive more carefully because "that is dangerous". I would normally be wary about what a car driver says, but that's my mother who is frantically scared of causing an accident and would never even get close to a speed limit in her life

The one good thing about car drivers is they stay on the road and nothing is likely to happen to you until you have to cross it, so this saves up some of a pedestrian's patience. Cyclists' crazy behaviour you can on the other hand, encounter everywhere: the pavement, the road, and especially the places which are definitely not where they're supposed to be riding according to the law. You just can't predict where they pop up.

I fully support choosing bikes over cars, and I don't know how this looks in the US (some of your roads apparently don't even have pavements?), but my European experience is the reason why so many people hate cyclists is not because of a car culture conspiracy, but because a significant part of those are honestly just freaking insane. And I can guarantee you that the people in the notes who say cyclists cause problems for them even when they're driving carefully aren't unsafe drivers, it just is like that.

[rulesforthedance]

After several weeks of working with my bike education co-teacher, I realized that I did not, in fact, just meet her this year, and that we actually went on a single date in 2019 and then never contacted each other again. I did not realize it was her until I did, because her hair is different now. My hair is the same. I have no idea if she remembers/recognizes me, and I will never mention it. I hope she doesn’t either.

[bee-wg]

PROLOGUE:

Our family isn’t too big. Ever since my grandparents moved to their cottage by the lake, It's just been the three of us. I don't even bring my teammates or friends home. And all the peacefulness is about to change. 

“Ahh Shit- Sorry!” the fumbling buffoon said. 

“Language, sweetheart. David! Could you help him pick it up? I'm tidying up the kitchen,” My mom replied. 

“Coming!” My dad sprints down the stairs. 

“Oh, Pumpkin, you're all grown up! Are you prepared for the semester?” Dad gestured to the culinary tools scattered across the floor. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry about the mess,” he replied. The “Pumpkin” in question is my cousin, Theo. He's about to attend a college in the city to study culinary arts… or something. And, of course, he’s sharing the room with me. Not for long, though. I have a few buddies who have invited me to share a room with them. They reek, but it's a necessary evil. 

“Jay,” my dad asked, nudging me, “Remember when you guys used to play house together every summer?” 

“Yes, then he bit me and we never talked again,” I deadpanned. 

“Oh come on, he was just a kid,” Dad retorted. 

No, he wasn't. He was a little demon that stole my pretend credit card. My hand still itches thinking about that vicious attack. 

I put down Theo’s luggage and bit back the argument. “I'll go back to the car to see what’s left.” 

“Alright bud, thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He could probably thank me by asking what happened at football camp, but what do I know? It's not like we haven't talked about football the entire summer. We could be doing that right now, on the deck with some ice-cold beer. But the twinky little “Pumpkin” needs help, and I have the muscle for it. 

God, I wish the summer was over already.

***

“Hahahaha Exactly! I have never seen Chloé like that before.” Dad laughed.

“Right? Who knew mom had sass in her.”

Mom's competitiveness was kicked off by Theo's presence. The kitchen has basically been a war zone for the past two weeks.

Looking down at my watch, the light flashes on.

6 kilometres down, 5 more to go.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a good morning run with Dad like this one. The ocean breeze flowing past my hair and the faint rays of sunrise brought back some old memories. 

Regulating my breathing, we slowed down for a second.

“Damn, son - your stamina has gotten so much better this past year.”

“The football camp really made you put up 20 pounds of pure muscles too, I’m glad I recommended you there.” Dad beamed proudly at me.

“You’re not too bad yourself, for an aging old man.”

I still get the same rush every time he compliments me. It’s like a reassurance that I’m doing something right.

“Hahahaha, you won’t be saying that when you’re one foot in your 40s; it’s basically death by fossilization.”

Dad has always been modest with his body, but everyone who knows him either admires his body, wants him, or is jealous of him and I am the same. Ever since high school I’ve been inspired to be like him. Even with the 15 pounds of muscle I have over him, I’m still lacking in so many ways. He just has the confidence to own it.

“Want some water?”

“Oh, right, of course. Thanks.” I took over the ice-cold bottle.

“About that training camp, I should request the school board to have the team register next summer for the training course. High school kids these days don't care about sports as much no more.” Dad said

“Speaking of which, remember your friend Lancaster who got held back for two years?”

“Yeah, Avery. He used to scold me when I didn’t take the nutrition classes with him. Haven’t hung with him in a while though.”

“Well, he probably won’t scold anymore. The kid got too cocky after getting a full sports scholarship and gained 70 pounds of fat in the summer. The university probably revoked the funds. Hope he didn't take it too hard.”

“Shit, that’s awful. I didn’t expect it to be him out of anyone. He was a damn good receiver.”

We resumed the pace, avoiding some rogue cyclists on the way.

Crazy to think the weight could creep up on Avery Lancaster of all people. I should watch out for myself too. I have good genes from dad so it probably will never happen, but the new influx of delicious food from Theo and my mom’s little competition definitely doesn’t help. At least it keeps the brat out of my room.

“Dad, I think I’m not going to move in with Brad and the guys.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“Well first of all, as much as I love them, the guys stinks. Second of all, Theo is not as much of a blood-sucking gremlin as he was before. And I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to you guys.”

“Plus, How can I leave when the thing with mom just got interesting.”

“Staying for the family drama, huh?” He chuckled.

“We’re happy to have you for as long as you want, Jay. Truth be told, your mom has been crying about it for weeks. We’re both not ready to say goodbye too.”

“Tell you what, Chloe and Theo probably have some fancy lasagnas waiting for us back home; let's cut through the forest and head back early to celebrate.” He said, practically drooling.

“Lasagnas for breakfast?”

“Wait, You just want the Lasagnas. Don’t you?”

“Hahaha, Maybe.”

“Well, don’t get too drawn in, or you’ll end up as Hansel in the candy house.” 

He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

That would be funny to imagine though, cause Dad is anything but a glutton.

Chapter 1 ->

[astonmartinii]

head over handlebars | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x fem cyclist reader

some can be described as head over heels for their partner, lance just loves to go the extra mile

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

yourusername

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tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: note to self, do not take lance to olympics training

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user1: MY HEART STOPPED I THOUGHT IT WAS Y/N FOR A SECOND

user2: for real i need my cycling queen in tip top shape that gold is calling her name

lancestroll: THERE WAS A ROCK ON THE ROAD I SWEAR I AM NOT COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT

yourusername: you don't need to explain yourself to me sweetie

lancestroll: are you sure 🥺

yourusername: yes honey i know you just wanted to keep up

lancestroll: i didn't want to hold you back 🥺

yourusername: it's okay babe, just focus on recovering, you are also a professional athlete, remember?

lancestroll: oh yeah....

user3: bro so down bad he forgot he's a whole formula one driver

user4: i need my man like this and nothing else

estebanocon: okay you've been nice enough now, how much did you laugh?

yourusername: I DIDN'T LAUGH

mickschumacher: he's fine!!! you can admit it this is a safe space !!

yourusername: he's got two broken wrists dude?

mickschumacher: and? he's already had surgery we're legally allowed to laugh

yourusername: okay fine... IT WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY ... obviously when i realised he was actually hurt it wasn't funny but like objectively it was funny

lancestroll: i guess it was kinda funny

yourusername: ALSO THE SOUND HE MADE WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY

user5: i mean yeah objectively it is funny that the boyfriend of an olympic cyclist fell off of his bike

user6: anyone wanna bet there wasn't a rock?

lancestroll: ...

lancestroll

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon and 634,290 others

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lancestroll: i think i'm going to stick to four wheels ... good luck to the love of my life at the olympics, you're going to kill it !! xx

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user8: move over lance, we're ALL y/n's wag for the olympics

user9: every four years i become appropriately feral over this woman

lancestroll: every four years is rookie numbers pal

fernandoalo_oficial: WHERE ARE MY TICKETS LANCITO ???

lancestroll: excuse me ?

fernandoalo_oficial: i am bicycle enthusiast where are my tickets

fernandoalo_oficial: also i need to support my daughter

yourusername: i have acquired another father?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes and a supportive one so CHOP CHOP CANADA BOY WHERE ARE MY TICKETS ???

lancestroll: god fucking damnit i'm getting them old man

fernandoalo_oficial: thank you 🫶🥹

user10: well... that was something

user11: at least it means we'll get both lance and nando olympics content

yourusername: thank you baby !!! once i get that gold, we'll put that cardboard bed to the real test

lancestroll: 🤭🤭🤭

mickschumacher: IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING SALAD

yourusername: you're not invited ???

yourusername: also don't say you haven't thought about it

user12: VLOG? VLOG? VLOG?

user13: you people are nasty (please please please)

yourusername

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tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: dreams do come true, never give up. thank you for always supporting me baby xx

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user15: i think i died and went to heaven

user16: i'm not even british but i felt so patriotic watching her fly around that track

user17: singing god save our queen but for HER ONLY

lancestroll: SO FUCKING UNBELIEVABLY PROUD OF YOU

lancestroll: i would say i can't believe it but i can you are the most talented person i have ever met and you can do anything you put your mind to

lancestroll: i'm so glad you wanted to share this moment and your life with me xx

yourusername: awww baby you're going to make me cry again 🥹💗 i'm so so so happy you could be there because i wouldn't be here without you and this gold is just as much yours as it is mine

lancestroll: NO!!!!! this is your gold and yours alone, you earnt it with your own blood, sweat and tears. just being in a relationship is the real win for me here

yourusername: i love you 🥰

lancestroll: i love you more 🩷🩷🩷

user18: now THAT is a man who loves his girl oh wow

user19: like it's cute when athletes say that their wins are for their loved ones but it's nice when their partners tell them that it's THEIR win

user20: i love them so much

mickschumacher: THAT WAS FUCKING SICK

estebanocon: HOLY SHIT I'M STILL SO FUCKING HYPED

fernandoalo_oficial: THAT'S IT YOU'RE MY FAVOURITE NOW

yourusername: ahahahaa thank you guys !! thanks for coming to support me xx

user21: this little group and their olympics adventures is so dear to me

user22: we better see more of y/n in the paddock after the summer break now

lancestroll

liked by estebanocon, mickschumacher and 832,013 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: i'm head over handlebars for you (quite literally) and i'm so proud of you, you deserve everything and more

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user23: bro won gold and is going to marry into one of the richest families ever, does she know how to lose?

user24: she needs to tell me her secret FOR REAL

yourusername: i love you so much lance, thank you for being there for me always

lancestroll: and i'll be there for you forever, if you'll have me

yourusername: there's no man i'll ever want again

lancestroll: and i don't want to be with anyone else ever

yourusername: we're so sappy i love us

lancestroll: why wouldn't i be sappy? i love you and it makes me mushy

mickschumacher: IT ALSO MAKES YOU LATE HURRY THE FUCK UP WE'RE TRYING TO GET DRUNK ON BEHALF OF Y/N

user25: thank the lord mick because i love these two as much as the next person but this level of loneliness as well as jealous towards people who are good at sports is CONCERNING FOR MY HEALTH

user26: so so so valid

user27: literally why didn't my parents push me into a sport when i was a toddler

estebanocon: first of all, fuck you for making us stand outside your hotel room while you banged. second of all, HURRY THE FUCK UP FERNANDO SAID HE'D COVER THE TAB AND WE NEED TO GET A COUPLE OF DRINKS BEFORE THE OLD MAN HAS TO GO TO BED

mickschumacher: i think they're still busy

estebanocon: ....

yourusername: WE'RE SORRY WE'RE COMING

mickschumacher: you sure were 🤨

lancestroll: okay we're finished you guys can stop being perverts

user28: okay so like this is proof these people are fucking insane even after things like WINNING A FUCKING GOLD MEDAL ???

user29: and they're queens for that i don't care

fin.

note: i am so so busy, i kind of hate this but i hope you guys enjoyed it!! xx

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi Lovely, just dropping by to say that you can totally decline weigh ins if not extremely necessary. You're a fantastic writer, you've got excellent music taste and clearly are funny at hell. Plus you can probably lift every twat nurse who tuts and scoffs at you, they shouldn't every judge you.

If you're up for it, I'd die for some NikPrice in a proper sex shop (Not a gag/gimmick one) or maybe a lil NikPrice who want to bring in a certain delightfully sassy sergeant to their dynamic.

Head up, we are all here to support you!

😊

Thank you for this, Selkie. It was a massive boost going in. So, Nikprice in a sex shop, eh? Well, obviously I had to visit Prowler to, uh, check it still looks the same as the last time I visited. Here we go...

Nik and John visit ProwlerRED in Soho as Nik helps John take those first tentative steps in exploring his sexuality.

cw: fetishwear, inexperienced and nervous sub, teasing Nikolai.

Price stood opposite the shop and stared at the giant white paw on the black banner between the ground and first floor, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his beanie pulled low around his ears to disguise the hot flush colouring them a deep red.

They stood at the crossroads. Passersby dipped into the gutter to get around them on their way down Old Compton Street and Price stepped back a little further as a cyclist hopped the pavement, swerving a stationary taxi that was blocked from turning into Dean Street. Price's eyes would make it to the window eventually, but first he needed to get over the road.

"We should go in," Nik said, exhaling the last breath of cigarette smoke as he ground it out under his boot. This had been his idea. He had spotted Price eyeing up some of the leathermen at the bar the previous evening, and teased his interest out of him under the duvet of their exorbitantly expensive hotel bed. It was hard to keep secrets from Nik when his hands and mouth were on ya... Some kinda witchcraft.

Price knew what leathermen were. It was impossible not to when your old man had been both a sergeant in the armed forces and a keen biker. It was a joining of the two things together; the latent homoeroticism of a career and a hobby that had been, at the time, completely male dominated. His old man had been predictably foul in his judgements of his fellow soldiers, but Price had been fascinated. He'd avoided looking too deeply at why he found them so--

Price was... he was interested, alright? Something about the way that the leather looked on a man's body; the harnesses, the jackets, the jock straps. He didn't much care for the caps or the police shirts. If he wanted to wear a cap, he'd give in to Mac's relentless naggin' and get promoted, you know, wear a cap that came with a bloody salary increase, and Peelers weren't exactly high in his esteem.

It was the smell and the texture of the leather against sweat, the slide of it across hard and soft curves as leashes and harnesses shifted, the sound of belts snapping together, watching the dominant partner haul their willing subordinate around and the responding trust. The relief and pleasure on faces that weren't covered by masks, moans muffled by gags. That looked good. Real good.

Imagining Nik's hand wound through a--

Price swallowed.

"John?"

"Hold up, I'm gettin' there. Don't rush me." Price bristled, shoulders rising up around his ears. He didn't even need to look at Nik to know what his face was doin'; Price could feel his grin like atmospheric pressure and it rankled him. "This ain't funny, Nik."

"It is funny," Nik said, arms folded across his big chest, open palm tapping his own elbow. "This is not live fire fight or hostage situation. You need to relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," Price said, immediately dropping his shoulders and sniffing when Nik raised his eyebrow. He bounced on his toes and coughed, aiming for nonchalant, but knew his eyes were wider than a rabbit's gazing into oncoming headlights. "See, fine."

"It is just a shop."

"I can see that."

"The owner is half your size."

"Oh yeah? You well acquainted?"

"Fairly."

"Course y'are." Price's cheeks reddened and he scrubbed a hand through his beard. "Alright. Ground rules. Nothin' that's sharp or... Let's just stick to the harness."

Nik hummed and started crossing the road. Price tried to grab his arm to get at least some verbal agreement, but Nik had already skipped up the opposite curb and was looking through the window. Price waited for a black cab to pass and then jogged over to stand at his side. He could see himself in the reflection of the window, hunkered low. "Is that a leather pig mask?"

"Da," Nik said, examining a full body harness with a metal cock ring at the groin. Price hazarded a glance at what had Nik so interested and his heart skipped a beat, his fingers curling into fists inside his pockets . Nik tapped his elbow. "Come." Price let Nik take his elbow and drag him through the door on the corner of the building, his breath held for... fuck knows what reason.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The same smell as the bar the evening before, except without the added layer of sweat that had made his mouth water. It was sharp, clean. Behind the mannequins in the window were two railings of leather harnesses, and along the walls were racks of leather shirts and trousers. Fairly... innocuous, really. It could have been a biker's shop if it had helmets instead of masks, and less lube on the shelves.

"Hey," called a faintly accented voice from behind the counter, Price would guess Polish but Nik would get a better read. "Let me know if you need anything." She had enough metal in her mouth that kissing her would risk a stab wound, and Price found himself counting the studs when Nik cleared his throat.

"Da, thank you, we may need help with sizing."

She shrugged. "The best thing to do is try 'em on. There's a changing room round the corner," she jutted her thumb over her shoulder, "and two downstairs with the toys and bondage. Just no underwear, yeah?" With that, she turned back to untangling the pile of leather paraphernalia and hangers on the counter.

Nik seemed distracted by something on the far wall, so Price took the opportunity to examine the shelves behind the shop assistant. Aromas. A fair number of them, in fact. Price had seen a few of the lads holding them at the bar, but googling "aroma" and "disk cleaner" had yielded completely innocuous Amazon searches.

"You will not need those, solnyshko," Nik called, so Price continued to tentatively explore, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

His gaze wandered to a pile of flyers at the edge of the counter. "Boot blacking," Price murmured. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Da," Nik said softly, appearing at his shoulder with two harnesses in his hand. "It is a kink, but also good for repairing tired equipment."

"Fuckin 'ell, gettin' the troopers to buff their boots proper is like pullin' teeth, and these lot do it for jollies? Is he... Is he lickin' it?"

Nik chuckled and took the flyer out of Price's hand, stroking a finger over the bristles on Price's chin before twining their fingers together. "Perhaps if you put on a jock strap and licked their boots they might be more, hmm, proactive, no?"

"I'll run it by brass," Price said with a wry smirk, letting Nik pull him down the narrow staircase to the basement level.

His eyes blew wide once they'd adjusted to the dim lighting. Now that was what he had actually expected when Nik had said "fetish shop". The walls were crammed with an assortment of delightful looking torture devices from whips to gags to masks that covered everything but the mouth. There was a rack of staggeringly big silicone cocks, and Price felt the heat creeping back up his neck again at how bloody real some of them looked. And big. So fuckin' big.

He was so out of his bloody depth here.

The display case to the right of the stairs as they reached the bottom was filled with the weirdest collection of dildos he had ever seen in his life. He stooped down, hands on his knees, and peered inside. "Fuck me, that one's thicker than my thigh. Nik, there's no... Nik, come here. There's no way that fits. What the fuck is that meant to be?" He pressed his fingertip to the glass at what looked like a tentacle with little nodules all over it.

"John, here." Nik beckoned him over and Price sidled over to stand at his side, casting one final alarmed look into the display case. On the wall, there was an array of cuffs and collars, all with slightly different fastenings, studs and coloured linings. Nik took one of Price's hands and placed it on the nearest pair of cuffs, pressing against Price's back, his chin on his shoulder, palm on his belly to keep him close. "Choose."

"I thought we said just the harness..." Price murmured, but he could barely hear the words leave his own mouth, too fixated on the feel and smell of expensive leather. His toes curled in his boots as he pressed his fingers inside the circle of a cuff, slipping out the other side to nudge one of the metal links and stroke around the smooth edge of the buckle.

These weren't the laughably flimsy handcuffs Price had used previously in his, admittedly, limited sex life. The kind where the plastic broke through the cheap fur and cut your skin if you pulled too hard. Tokenisitic in their restraint. These were sturdy, unyielding; they would be completely unbreakable, even by a body like his. The thought of Nik securing Price's wrists to the headboard, working his hands down his body, made Price's damn prick twitch.

Nik nuzzled the side of his neck, bringing him back to the present, and he picked up a solid black pair like the ones he had seen on a man last night. They had a single silver loop each and a thick buckle. The leather was stiff, clean and unblemished, and Price flexed them a little in his palms. "Uh, these." His reward was a soft kiss just beneath his ear, and Nik reached a little higher to pluck the matching collar from the top row of hooks.

"Try them on, with your shirt off," Nik said. "I will wait here. Take your time." He placed the harness in Price's hands and nudged him towards the narrow changing cubicle. Price hesitated, glancing back up at the stairs and then into the shop proper. Nik placed a palm at the small of his back and pressed his nose to the side of Price's face. "It is fine. I will not allow anyone to see."

"Right, yeah..." Price ducked beneath a silk sash hanging from the railing as Nik nudged him forward. He figured if people were down here looking for a birch to take stripes out of them, seeing some battered old soldier in a leather harness wouldn't faze them too much. And that's what he told himself as he yanked the curtain across and shucked his shirt over his head.

The harness seemed to have more buckles than entirely necessary at first inspection, and he turned it over and over in his hands, checking the model on the label to work out how it should sit. It was sturdy, with silver studs and thick metal, and he felt that same throb of arousal as he handled it.

"John, is ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, jus'... workin' it out."

In the end, Price pulled open one of the side buckles and ducked into it. The leather was chill on his skin and his nipples pulled tight as he sat the straps just above them. Once he'd fastened the buckle back in place, he glanced into the mirror through his eyebrows, hesitant.

The yellowing bruise on his ribs from the last op was beginning to fade, the scrapes all but healed into thin pink lines, and he had the usual litany of scars he was used to seeing by now.

He looked... good.

It sat well around his shoulders, framing the furred curves of his chest by sitting just above the line of his nipples, the silver d-ring between his tits. The straps beneath his arms sat just above his obliques, following the line of muscle comfortably.

Fuck, it made him look... made him look broad, strong, with his jeans belted at his narrow hips, his operation-ready athletic physique well-complemented, and he stood up a little straighter, jutting his chin. He'd expected to feel like a dog, maybe a bit demeaned, but when he flexed into the leather, heard the stiff straps creak a bit, he felt fuckin' powerful.

Next were the cuffs. He wrapped them around each wrist, turning them around until the silver rings sat on the top and the buckles beneath. The lining was slightly padded, lending to a snug fit.

"How does it feel?" Nik asked, close to the curtain.

"Yeah, s'nice. Like, uh, it fits well."

Price grabbed the collar and then pushed the curtain aside a bit, his eyes fixed on the floor as he felt the heat creeping up his neck again. He heard Nik's breath catch and then a soft curse whispered in awestruck Russian.

"Not bad, right?" Price asked, trying for cocksure but coming out shy.

Nik said nothing. He took the collar from Price's hand and wrapped it carefully around his neck, using his forefinger to stop the leather biting as he threaded the strap through. The moment it pulled tight enough for Price to feel it, he let out a soft gasp, his hands lifting to latch onto Nik's wrist, a sudden panic beating a little harder in his chest.

"Easy, solnyshko," Nik said gently, leaning in to kiss him. Price's grip relaxed, and he drew in a shaky breath. Nik took his hands. "Here, let me show you how it would feel with your wrists secure. If you feel unsafe, you must tell me, da?"

"Is... Is anyone down here?"

"Nyet. We are alone."

"Ye-yeah, right... Yeah." Price swallowed as Nik moved his arms behind his back, lifting each wrist until he could attach the cuffs to the d-ring at the back of the harness. When Nik was done, he stepped back, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the shop as he appraised the man before him.

"Krasivyy..." Nik said, reaching to lift Price's chin from where it was tilted down. John kept his head up as Nik's hands roamed his body, following the line of the leather straps over his clavicles to his upper chest, leaving goosebumps of pleasure in his wake.

Price watched Nik's eyes darken with desire and felt like the hottest piece of arse this side of the Thames; he flexed cheekily into the straps and Nik's lips twitched. The control in this wasn't so clear cut, was it? Price had assumed he'd be the one under the boot, but watching Nik's reaction made it clear he had more power than he'd assumed. Nik was enraptured, his arousal clear in the heated caress of his palms and fingers.

Price wanted to lean into his hands, arch like a damn cat. His stomach pulled tight as Nik stroked just above his nipples, following the line of the harness beneath his arms and making him flex and shiver. It was too much, too sensitive, and he let out a soft, strangled noise, squirming as heat gathered in his hips. He couldn't stop Nik from touching him, couldn't push his hands away, and that made his blood run south, hot and urgent. "Mm, Nik... Please... I..."

"You are... breath taking like this," Nik said, lifting a hand to hook the collar and draw Price to him. The experience of being drawn to Nik's chest like that, having to trust those strong arms would catch him, made Price groan softly. He buried his face into Nik's neck, arching only when Nik's hands swept down his back, gently stroking the burn scars at the base before dropping lower to squeeze his arse. "If I could, I would have you here."

"Fuck," Price breathed, grinding forward to feel the hard line of Nik's cock. "Guess we're buyin' this then..."

"Da, and one or two other things."

"Nik."

"Nothing sharp. Nothing to hurt you, John. I promise."

"You could never hurt me." Price had never been so certain of anything in his life.

Nik took the back of the harness and pulled Price away from him, lifting his chin so their eyes met. "This is important. So listen," Nik said. "Sometimes hurt is not physical pain in this. It can be feeling unsafe, it can be feeling too overwhelmed. I may push too far, and you must be honest with me."

Nik looked so serious and Price could only nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. Fuck, Nik cared about him so fuckin' much and it made Price's heart feel all kinds of warm. "So, what... We, uh, we need safe words and the like?" He flashed a lopsided grin and Nik kissed him on the forehead with a low chuckle.

"Da. We will discuss. Now, get dressed. I wish to get you back to the hotel."

"Yes, sir."

"John..."

"Sorry, couldn't help it."

"If you wish to call me sir in our bedroom, then I would not be opposed."

"Bet you fuckin' wouldn't..."

"I see you are going to be, what to say... a brat." Nik swatted Price's arse before he undid the cuffs from the back of the harness and drew the curtain across.

Price almost felt sad about taking the harness off, savouring the phantom sensation of it on his skin even when he pulled his t-shirt and coat back on. He lingered in the cubicle, squeezing his prick through his jeans with a grimace, and only re-emerged once it had calmed enough to be bloody discreet.

Nik was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding a coil of rope, a leash and what looked to be an anal toy of some kind. "It is remote control," Nik said with a roguish little smirk when he saw Price looking, before jogging up the stairs.

"Bloody 'ell," Price breathed, following behind him.

Nik flashed the plastic and purchased the lot, despite Price fumbling through his coat for his wallet. "This is treat for me," Nik said when Price glared at him, plucking the opaque black bags from the counter.

"'M worried what I've unleashed here," Price replied once Nik had thanked the assistant and they were heading for the door.

"Ah, I believe it is I that have leashed you, no?"

"Ha-fucking-ha, corny bastard."

Nik grabbed John's hand and looked far too proud of himself, his smile so bright and handsome that Price's heart felt light. He didn't let go of Price's hand as they strolled back towards the station, and Price felt his heart swell as he glanced down at their intertwined fingers, his lower lip between his teeth.

Today was a day of firsts: his first visit to a bloody sex shop, and the first time in his life he had ever held a lover's hand, head up, chest out, as he walked down the street. When in London, eh?

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

between the lines

↖ navigation: seventeen masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: dormmate! woozi x gn! reader

↬ tags: bringing the 96 liners into this because i can, pining + longing, love is blind yada yada <3, quite wholesome towards the end

summary: through unspoken thoughts and harmless meddling, both you and jihoon get caught in the midst of your friends playful matchmaking

word count: 1.1k words

a/n: i posted it a whole day later ,, i thought today was the 1st of august… ㅠㅠ

jihoon wanted to get close to you. but the only thing stopping him was just that he was bad at initiating anything, especially when it came to things concerning you. unlike his friends who seemed to so easily befriended you. he sadly thinks that his love language might just be existing.

soonyoung displayed his affections with physical banter, oftentimes grabbing you and roughing you up playfully. you didn't mind it one bit, but jihoon did when his chest tightened at the sight of you leaning against soonyoung almost willingly as the male scrolls through his phone and shows it to you. or when you linked arms with soonyoung as the two of you strolled, leaving jihoon trailing behind.

the ever so brotherly junhwi was like a big sibling figure: upon your request, jun always never hesitated to do anything for you within reason. acts of service was something jun excelled at; on the other hand jihoon's dejection simmered beneath his skin when you walked past him towards jun, asking for his help even though jihoon could have done it too.

you sought wonwoo to spend time together. every time he thought of asking you to do passive things together, you had claimed to be spending time with wonwoo instead. wonwoo and you clicked because of the games you two played, but outside of gaming you two also do school work together in comfortable silence.

in conclusion, he's bad at expressing his feelings that he wanted to be with you. he found it confusing himself too, not being able to put a feeling as to why he always desired to spend time with you, to hold your hand, to do things for you.

funny thing was that, his friends knew about his way-too-obvious crush, and have been devising so many ways for you two to be alone together. call it brothers for brothers, or something.

jihoon zones back into the present: it was a movie night after finals and you had suggested to host a sleepover with the rest of them. wonwoo lightly bumps shoulders with jihoon; a curt nod, and a small grin.

junhwi unpacks all the food and exclaims in displeasure (jihoon thinks it was a bit too much), "we didn't get the drinks!" sooyoung makes a show of sighing (a little too loudly), "dang i was just getting thirsty for some cola..."

"i can go get them!" you offered unknowingly and jihoon perked up. his three friends looked at each other, as if their brains were firing off signals simultaneously and jihoon immediately claims, "i'll go down too, you guys can set up the area."

"yeah that would be good. we aren't too familiar with the neighborhood here." wonwoo adds on, sealing the deal. (jihoon never thought he'd see the stoic wonwoo trying his best to fight off a playful smirk)

with a recycle bag slung on jihoon's shoulder, the two of you headed out as the evening sun started to dip. "i'm glad finals are over." you light-heartedly started the conversation, beaming a little when jihoon reciprocates with his shy smile, "me too. it's been a while since we last saw them too."

silence blanketed you two again, and jihoon started getting fidgety as the convenience store emerged as both of you turned left. you glanced at the male, "jihoon, do you have something to say to me?" his shocked expression betrayed him with a mere statement from you.

you soften your eyes, "is this about the laundry? if it is, then i'm sorry, i knew it was my responsibility and i've been just so cooped up with all the tests and everything, and i know that you're a stickler for hygiene and i--" jihoon notices a whizzing cyclists pedaling downslope and immediately drags you towards him, "watch it!"

you let out a gentle "oof" at the sudden impact and jihoon hopes his heart wasn't beating too loudly. you moved away from him almost as quickly as he pulled you in.

"you okay?" his hands were still lightly grasping yours and your face flushed under his scrutiny, "yeah. you can let go of me now." jihoon's reluctance seemed to catch your eye too, "did you mean to talk about something else?"

dang it, you and your perception.

jihoon glanced down at his hand intertwined with yours, "why can't i link arms with you like you do with soonyoung?" you were mildly taken aback by the sudden question, but jihoon pressed on, "or when you got jun to do things for you when i could do them too? i'm your roommate, not him. certainly you don't need him to move your shelf when i was around."

you stared back at him with an unreadable expression and jihoon abashedly looks at the ground, "and when you spend time with wonwoo instead of me, i feel like i've been...left out. i don't know, tell me if i'm reading too much into this or maybe..."

he hears your sudden laughter amidst his worries and he thinks you might have lost it. you wiped away a tear from the sheer amount of force it took you when you started chuckling, "i didn't think this day would come. i like you, lee jihoon. like, a lot."

jihoon sputters, "this entire time?" you averted your gaze, "i just wanna ask if...maybe you do have feelings for me?"

"i do, for as long as i've met you and i..." you pecked him on the cheek and rocked back on your heels, "then that's all i wanted to hear."

if jihoon could combust right now, he would. he noticed how your blushing face mirrored his and he pulled you in for a hug: this time it was far from anything like that of two friends embracing.

"the things you mentioned: about soonyoung, he's just naturally clingy like that, but i thought maybe if i got closer to him it would make you jealous. same with jun, or more like he offered and i decided to test you a little to see if i was right. and for wonwoo, he was totally on board trying to rile you up."

you stopped your rambling and raised your hands as if to surrender, "i said my piece. the boys had a hand in all of these sneaky actions."

your words caused jihoon's mind to run at miles per hour, "but they told me they'd be 'wingmen' for me, and would try to create more opportunities for us to be alone together...?"

realization hit you. they've been instigating everything, orchestrating every action. "do you think they..."

"i think so." you confirmed his suspicions. hurriedly, you two entered the provision shop and bought the drinks, feet quickly carrying both of you back to the dorms to confront the three trouble makers.

the door bursts open at the impact, effectively shocking the three masterminds.

jun swallows his food comedically, "uh-oh." "seems like our plan worked out, huh?" wonwoo smirked as he leaned over to high-five an equally joyous soonyoung, "welcome back lovebirds!"

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 761: Reserve

Pag 1

1: Please get ready the allen key, the allen key

Time is going by

Yessir!!

6mm

Yessir

4: You gotta calm down

Ye.... yessir, teh!!

You're frozen stiff

Pag 2

1: Sugimoto-san, where do I put this

The supplies box is under the foil bag over there, so put it in there

2: Ah, here?

Wait

3: Whose shoulder bag is that?

Kaburagi-san's....

4: (NdT.: the writing says “Kaburagi”)

7: This way, you won't have to look for it when you'll have to take it out

Oh... thank you so much!

Time is short when you have to hand it over, so you need to take your time with preparation beforehand

8: 40 minutes before the start!!

Pag 3

1: Alright, let's get your heartbeat up one more time

Yessir, teh

Is he alright?

Soon my role as a reserve will be over

Pag 4

1: Pfuui, it's hot

Together with the signal gun at the start....

3: No....

4: I guess it's already over?

6: These six people are already rock solid

Pag 5

1: I'm sure they'll run a good race

2: How about you sit down? Sugimoto-kun

The preparations are almost done

3: And you've been standing on your feet working since this morning

Pag 6

6: I feel.... disappointed

7: Even though I lost during training camp, I was still told I'd be the reserve

I guess I still “felt like I had a chance”

Pag 7

1: Say, Sugimoto-kun

Huh

Ah, yes!?

2: Why did you start riding bikes?

4: Ah, yeah, I've never told you?

5: Yeah

Well.... it's a silly story

It's just an ordinary story that's not worth listening to- you still want to hear it?

Yeah

7: My father used to ride a road bike

He suggested it to me but I was scared so I didn't

Pag 8

1: But, one day.... ah... well, my father's family home is in Okayama

In the north of Okayama at the border with Shimane, there's a huge mountain called “Mt. Daisen”

2: One time, when he made me get on a rental bike and run, he said “let's go there”, and took me there even though I didn't want to

3: For some reason, I was deeply moved

That majestic mountain's scenery kept changing as I advanced

4: I thought it was really interesting

5: Even though I said I was scared of falling, I soon got absorbed in riding

Pag 9

1: And I thought it was fun

2: I could ride this forever...

3: that's what I thought

4: After that I asked my father to take me to, like, Lake Kawaguch or Hakone on the weekends. We went to Hakone three times, three times (haha)

5: But still, the first time you see the scenery from a mountain is the best

Pag 10

1: Maybe I wanted to see the scenery for the first time

3: When I became an high-school student, I met Naruko, Onoda, and Imaizumi

Well, I had already heard about Imaizumi in middle school races

Those three....

4: I saw them running in the Inter High giving their whole body and soul

Midosuji!!

5: I saw them from up close

Onodaaa

Onoda-kun!!

Onodaaa

Pag 11

1: In my third year, I thought I wanted to see this Inter High's scenery

3: from inside the course

6: For sure

Pag 12

1: It didn't come true though

3: No no

4: Hahaha!! Why am I talking about such gloomy things before the start!!

Sorry, sorry, forget what I said just now, forget it!! Let's be bright!!

5: I'm their support, after all

My role is to be their backup!! Yes!!

Pag 13

2: The participants will be at the starting line soon

3: I give up....

4: Ah, ah

What's wrong?

5: Ah, every year we gather cyclists from each school who failed to enter the race in the “selected team”, right?

6: Yeah, the team with white jerseys and number bibs in the 200s!!

There's a vacancy there

Pag 14

2: Give it your all!

Yes, senpai!!

3: Thirty minutes until the start!!

4: We were informed just now

Are you looking for someone to fill in?

Well... there are conditions... and there's probably no one....

5: who can be ready within fifteen minutes from now

Pag 15

2: Oooii

3: Oh... it's Touji-san

He's in a hurry

Are there troubles? It's the first time I see Touji-san running

4: Sugimoto!!

5: Huh!?

Onii-chan?

6: Why are you in such a hurry.... everyone has finished getting ready, we're going soon

Sugimoto-san?

Huh? Me?

Pag 16

1: Do you want to ride in the Inter High!?

2: Huh!?

3: Run!? In the Inter High!? Eh!?

You're saying this to me!?

I just got a call from the director

4: He's speaking with the main office right now

Pag 17

1: But the the team's six people are rock solid...

2: It's not Sohoku!!

It's the team with white jerseys and number bibs in the 200s!! There's a vacancy there

3: They asked us to lend them a reserve!!

4: You only have fifteen minutes to get ready

Moreover, it comes with strict conditions!!

6: Still, will you run!?

Pag 18

1: Sugimoto....!!

2: Sugimoto...!!

3: Sugimoto-kun!?

5: Sugimoto-san!!

6: Ehy ehy

No, no!!

7: Sadatoki, set the wheels on Sugimoto's frame!!

On!!

Pag 19

2: Wa- wait please. This is the third Inter High and I've always been working for this team behind the scenes

And, I mean, supporting is also an important.... role

Ye-yes, that's it

3: The Inter…..

4: High!?

Me!?

5: This is the important last Inter High, so I'll reliably support Imaizumi, Naruko and Onod-

Pag 20

1: Is there anyone who would throw away their dreams for someone else?

2: My Colnago

Pag 21

1: It's a great opportunity

Run!! Take....

2: This chance!!

Imaizumi....!!

4: That day was hectic for me

Until up twenty minutes before the starts I was frantically doing preparation for the race for everyone

Pag 22

1: And after that, somehow, I wore a jersey I had never seen before

2: And, shaking, I was standing at the starting line of the Inter High

[psychologeek]

Teaser on chapter 24!

Bc I loved it, and I think you would as well.

Edit: please, please let me know what do you think about this. Comments, #, rb - all goes.

If any of my followers is fluent in Arabic, I would highly appreciate it if you take a look and lmk what you think. Translating idioms is HARD.

Idioms I used/referenced to in chapter:

You play with cats, you find the talons - thousand words.

اللي بدو يلعب مع القط بدو يلقى خراميشه

Literal translation: Whoever plays with a cat will find his claws.

English equivalent: If you play with fire, you’re going to get burned.

Whoever has a head wound keeps feeling it

(I also considered "a book knows its reader" - which suits better to Jason, but is an Egyptian proverb, afaik.)

Darbk 'akhdar

دَرْبك أخضر Lit. Your path is green.

Guan Tang Bao Zi - a dish from Keifung.

Anyway -fic!

That was a good day, he remembers. Father had been away on some mission with the Kryptonian and the warrior. Mother had taken him to an old restaurant, where no one knew them. Where they were just a mother and her son, eating and talking about school or football or whatever American kids talk about. Mother had then proceeded to ensure he hadn't lost any of his fighting skills. He had gotten to keep the dagger he gained in the battle. Yes, he knows she’d let him take it. That's irrelevant. Mother is a mighty warrior, and there is no shame in losing to her. They ate dinner at a Chinese place. They even had proper Guan Tang Bao Zi, served with a spoon, like Mother used to eat as a child. He can almost taste the sugared pear he ordered as a dessert. But every good thing must come to an end. 

And as they exit the restaurant, Mother takes him to an alley. There's someone already waiting there, sitting on his motorbike with his helmet on, one hand typing so.ething on his phone.  “Kiif kaan?” how it's been?  Mother asks as they approach the cyclist. “Tamam,” the man replies, distracted. fine. “Kiif zakhtak?” Mother asks.  How do you feel?  “Tamam,” the man's still focused on his phone. “Wa sahiblk?” Mother doesn't let go. and your friends? “Tamam, yā mama,” he finally put away the phone. “Kulu tamam. lā taqlluqī.” His voice is both irritated and loving as he finally turns to look at them taking off his black helmet, he smiles at mother. Fine, mom, everything's ok. Don't worry. “What will I do with you, Asfuri?” She mumbles, letting out a long sigh. “You kids and your phones.” “Hi–!” The man's mouth opens in an offended scream, but mother easily disarms him. “You are late, Ayuni,” she kisses his forehead. “I almost thought you were caught.” “As if,” the man rolls his eyes at her. “They wish. You taught me well.” “You play with cats, you find the talons,” she warns him fiercely. “I wasn't –” “How many explosions, uh? How many more then you really needed?” The man sighs. “How did you know?” “Whoever has a head wound keeps feeling it,” she reminds him. “You keep looking at your phone to see if it made it to the news yet.” “I'm sorry,” the man says. “I almost failed you. It won't happen again.” “Make sure it doesn't,” Mother is certain. “I will not lose you to such low-life creatures.” But her face are soft as she looks at Damian's brother. “Rukhi“ she kisses his right cheek. My soul “Mi Alma,” she finally kisses his left cheek. Jinsu's face is an interesting color. Almost as red as his war helmet, Damian notices. Mother takes a deep breath, and faces back at Damian.  “Yalla, Habibi,” she holds him. “It’s time to go.” (And if his arms hold her tightly, and his fists are closed behind her back– if he breathsher for nearly a minute, there's no one around to say anything about it. Except for Jinsu, but he'll never tell.) “Darbk 'akhdar, Galbi,” Mother says as she picks him up and helps him up the motorcycle. Travel safely, my heart. (He can do it alone, but her arms are soft and warm and long missed. He lets her help him.) "aetni bi'akhik, ya ibni,” she says. Take care of your brother, my son. “Dayamin,” they both reply. Always. (Damian doesn't look back as his brother takes them away from their mother.)

[umseb]

vettel to mercedes?! 👀 | sebastian vettel reveals dicussions for f1 return [part 1/2] - 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Yeah, it's great to join Sebastian Vettel live on Sky Sports News ahead of the Japanese Grand Prix, which is a favorite circuit of yours, obviously, Sebastian. But, I mean, what a career you've had. You've been out of F1 for a year and a bit now, but four times a world champion, 53 times you sprayed champagne or sparkling rose water from the top step of the podium. But it's a different beverage which brings you to London today. What's the big concept?" Seb: "Yeah, so there was the time where I was spraying champagne. Obviously, racing in Formula 1 at the highest level, it's an environment where you're looking for perfection, so you're trying to tune everything you can, and it's also your body. You try to train as good as you can, you try to eat as well as you can, and you try to have the best drink inside the car that gives you the energy for the full two hours. It's trying all sorts of stuff-powders, gels-and they didn't really work, but they came, mostly-and that's the problem-with side effects. I suffered stomach cramps. Speaking to other drivers, they felt similar; other athletes. So it seemed to be a thing, and it was only until the end of my career where I stumbled across a product that is now Perple, a sports drink that didn't do that, that didn't give me any suffering, and giving me the energy towards the end of the race. So I was curious why that is and got to know the person behind- the founder, the story, and got involved, as well, invested, so… I think the biggest surprise to me was that the industry of sports drinks, all your supplements and so on, is not regulated. There's a lot of synthetic stuff that people are taking in every day. These are expensive products, and they're trying to optimize their performance, whether it's your cyclist that goes for one or two rides a week, whether it's the occasional runner, squash player, but then also your professional, and that's where Perple now kicks in. And Perple, not with U but with E, and it stands for P-E-R-P-L-E, performance and pleasure, and it's an all-natural product so you're not putting any of this rubbish stuff into your body. So yeah, give it a go. I'm a big fan of it, obviously, and I think obviously proving it in the testing ground of the car, it did make a difference and I hope people are giving it a go and see what they think." Interviewer: "Sustainable fuel for the body, I guess." Seb: "It is! It's a good comparison, yeah, it is. Yeah." Interviewer: [laughs] "But, I mean…" Seb: "And people become more and more aware that the stuff that we used to consume, eat, drink, maybe isn't doing the trick, so that's where stuff like this offers an alternative." Interviewer: "Okay. Well, I wanna know how sustainable you are, Sebastian, because you're only 36."

Seb: "Yeah." Interviewer: "You've only been out of Formula 1 for a year and a bit. Are you potentially on the driver market for next season?" Seb: "Well, potentially I am because I haven't got a ride, but the question is am I looking for one. I think it depends on the package. I retired from Formula 1 not to come back, but I also did say that you never know, so I think it still stands. Obviously there's things that I miss, which is mostly the competition, and things that I don't miss, so yeah, that hasn't changed. Obviously life is very different if you're not involved, and I do enjoy that still. Still trying lots of different things. Now we're talking about a sports drink. I didn't think [laughs] years ago that this will be something I'll be talking about in the future or be involved in, but you never know where life's taking you, so maybe it takes me back behind the wheel, maybe it doesn't." Interviewer: "I'm just thinking, might it be now or never? As I say, you're still young. It looks like some interesting potential opportunities on the grid for next season. There's a rule change coming in, as well, with some sustainable aspects which you have promoted. I know you've had some conversations with Toto Wolff. If that Mercedes seat was offered to you, how hard would it be to turn down?" Seb: "Well, I had conversations with him, not really about a seat. We did speak about the whole situation, in short, as well, but I did speak to others, as well, because I'm still keeping in touch every now and then. I have some projects and ideas together with F1. We'll see if they will turn out or not, but yeah, so I am staying in touch. I don't know. It has to be a couple more phone calls and conversations, I guess, to really, yeah, find out a little bit more. But for sure it's one of the best cockpits, or best seats, on the grid. I think, performance-wise, Mercedes has a great track record. Struggling a little bit in the last years, but then struggle, you're still second or third in the constructor's, it's not like you're racing in no man's land." Interviewer: "Well, Lewis Hamilton was prepared to leave that car…" Seb: "Yeah." Interviewer: "…even though he had another year on the contract. Going to Ferrari, what sort of fit might he be at that team? He's a big individual and we know it's very much about the team at Ferrari. Is that any…" Seb: "Well, it's true. I think it's about the team everywhere you go. Obviously each to their own, but I think it is a team sport and I think someone like Lewis has said that over and over again, thanking the team around him. I think, without Mercedes, Lewis' career would have been very different. Mine, too. [laughs] But that's how it goes. No regrets. [laughs] No, no. But yeah, I think time will tell. I think if he's excited, that's the main thing. It was ultimately his decision and he took it for himself, so best of luck. I know the team in Ferrari, and yeah, obviously for us or for the outside, the measure is always whether you're successful or not, but the real measure I think is whether Lewis is happy or not."

[aliveandfullofjoy]

Yet again, it’s time to indulge in one of my favorite new year traditions: my ten favorite new-to-me films of 2024!

Every one of these movies got under my skin in one way or another and made this difficult year that much brighter. If you like, consider this a strong endorsement for each of them.

Same rules as always: no movies from this past year (2024) or the year prior (2023). Every other year is fair game.

01. Close-Up (dir. Abbas Kiarostami, 1990; Iran; 98 min.)

"Tell him The Cyclist is a part of me."

Every now and then, you watch a film for the first time that knocks you sideways, that reminds you of the power and beauty in cinema, that lives up to every expectation you had for it, that works its way into your bloodstream to take up permanent residence as a part of you.

That was my experience finally watching Abbas Kiarostami's Close-Up. While retaining his empathetic gaze, Kiarostami uses a real-life incident to crack open the very ideas of performance, escapism, identity, truth, and storytelling. Is it a love letter to cinema or a condemnation of its ability to distance people from reality? Is it both?

That this film exists at all is a miracle. Hossain Sabzian's performance (as himself) is miraculous in itself, too. There is simply nothing like Close-Up, and I am so grateful to have experienced it. I can't wait to revisit it for years to come.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

02. Paris, Texas (dir. Wim Wenders, 1984; West Germany/France; 147 min.)

"I wanted to see him so bad I didn't even dare imagine him anymore."

I mean this in the best way possible: Paris, Texas was not what I expected it to be at all. For years, I've heard it spoken of with reverence, and I've seen shots from it, and I generally knew the premise, but I didn't expect a film that was as nakedly emotional as this. Paris, Texas ripped my heart out over and over and over again, and I was grateful for it every time.

Everything about it is superb: Robby Müller's cinematography, creating poetry out of the neon-soaked desert; Ry Cooder's haunting guitar; Sam Shepard's enormously moving screenplay; Wenders' patient and precise direction. And then there are the performances! I waxed poetic about Harry Dean Stanton's performance yesterday in this post, but in short: it's a landmark performance. Nearly equally impressive, and with less screentime, is Nastassja Kinski, the key to the film's mystery.

This is an exquisite piece of work. What begins as an almost unbearably lonely film grows into one of bittersweet reconciliation, of healing. I'll be thinking about Travis and Hunter walking together on opposite sides of the street for a long, long time.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max.

03. Barton Fink (dir. Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, 1991; USA; 116 mins.)

"I tried to show you something beautiful."

I know I'm late to the party here (isn't that what these lists are all about?), but my God, what a major work. Barton Fink is every bit as dense and as literate as No Country for Old Men and as gripping and darkly hilarious as Fargo. John Turturro's performance is the perfect anchor, a twitchy live-wire with dueling inferiority and superiority complexes falling headfirst into a nightmare. He's matched (haunted?) perfectly by John Goodman, giving one of his best performances, using his folksy charm and twinkling eyes to terrifying effect. 

Again, though, the film is primarily an incredible achievement because of the Coens. Between their writing and directing, Barton Fink pulls at so many threads and juggles a number of conflicting tones to create a singularly hellish vision of Hollywood and an entertainment industry caught between World War II and the rise of McCarthyism. It's a marvel. I can't wait to watch it again and again.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

04. Hoop Dreams (dir. Steve James, 1994; USA; 171 min.)

"That's why when somebody say, 'When you get to the NBA, don't forget about me,' and that stuff. Well, I should've said to them, 'If I don't make it, don't you forget about me.'"

Hoop Dreams is every bit as monumental as its reputation suggests, both a masterpiece of non-fiction filmmaking and the blueprint for the next thirty years of documentaries. The editing work alone here is unbelievable, with the film starting life as a 30-minute PBS short and growing into a three-hour-long epic.

The triumph of Hoop Dreams is a reminder that documentary filmmaking is an act of sculpture. Director Steve James collected 250 hours of footage over five years of shooting, which he and his Oscar-nominated team of editors, Frederick Marx and William Haugse, whittled down to a single, thrilling experience. The film is long, but not without reason. By the end, you feel like you've lived William Gates' and Arthur Agee's high school years with them.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max.

05. Out of Sight (dir. Steven Soderbergh, 1998; USA; 123 min.)

"It's like seeing someone for the first time, like you can be passing on the street, and you look at each other for a few seconds, and there's this kind of a recognition like you both know something. Next moment the person's gone, and it's too late to do anything about it. And you always remember it because it was there, and you let it go, and you think to yourself, 'What if I had stopped? What if I had said something?' What if, what if... it may only happen a few times in your life." "Or once." "Or once."

Call it a crime thriller, call it a neo-noir, call it a rom-com, call it whatever you like: Out of Sight is all of them, and it's extraordinarily good at being all of them at the same time. Every aspect of the film is perfectly realized: Steven Soderbergh's impeccable command over tone and genre; Scott Frank's charming, intelligent, complicated screenplay; the unstoppable movie star charisma of George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez. Everything that makes Clooney such a compelling actor is on full display here, and I'm not sure he's ever been better. Same goes for Lopez: she hasn't gotten nearly the respect she deserves for being such a remarkable screen presence, even in movies that don't deserve her, but she's luminous in this. 

And, my God, Anne V. Coates' editing -- the brilliant story structure feels like it might fall apart at the seams if she hadn't held it together. Between a legend in the editing room and a legend in the making in the director's chair, Out of Sight seems to come together effortlessly. It's as graceful and entertaining a film as you'll ever see. I loved everything about it.

Currently available to rent on demand.

06. Punch-Drunk Love (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson, 2002; USA; 95 min.)

"It really looks like Hawaii here."

This one really is magical, huh? Between the cinematography (Robert Elswit, a legend) and the music (Jon Brion, a legend) to the beautifully funny script by director Paul Thomas Anderson, just about every individual aspect of the film sings. This is true, too, for the performances -- Emily Watson is always so lovely, and Luis Guzmán should probably be in every PTA film ever made, but especially Adam Sandler (who, Uncut Gems be damned, has never, ever been better), and Philip Seymour Hoffman, who makes a three-course meal out of minimal screen time.

I feel like I've seen or catastrophized the worst possible version of a movie like this so many times -- an off-kilter indie love story between two #weirdos, the kind of thing that aimed to replicate this film or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind -- but the experience of actually seeing Punch-Drunk Love knocked me out. It's just so funny and romantic and sad and sweet and winning. It's a thing of real beauty.

Currently available to rent on demand.

07. Female Trouble (dir. John Waters, 1974; USA; 97 min.)

"This is so exciting! Just think of all the little horror stories that go on in other people's lives!"

What a terrific vehicle for Divine. What a brilliant continuation of the Dreamlanders' work. I certainly appreciated Pink Flamingos, even if it made me genuinely sick, and I understand why it's still seen as Waters' masterpiece, but to me, Female Trouble almost feels like a more complete, more precise, and more vicious variation of the earlier film. As a hit job on the sensibilities of good taste, its aim is deadly.

The film's look and sound is more polished and impressive than in Pink Flamingos, too, particularly Van Smith's astonishing costumes, Vincent Peranio's production design, and the horribly catchy theme song. The whole film feels like a fever dream, and it would be very easy to imagine this as a straight-up horror movie if there wasn't such a relentlessly funny rebellious spirit to it. Even still, the final act is genuinely disturbing. "Who wants to die for art?"

It's horrible. It's wonderful. It's kind of a masterpiece in its own sick way.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

08. Memories of Murder (dir. Bong Joon-ho, 2003; South Korea; 131 min.)

"What did he look like?" "Well... kind of plain." "In what way?" "Just... ordinary."

At the risk of saying something extremely obvious, Bong Joon-ho is a really great director, huh? Purely looking at how he manages to make Memories of Murder -- one bleak, bleak, bleak film -- both extremely funny and extremely upsetting and, in multiple sequences, genuinely frightening, it's clear that Bong is a generational talent. 

The cast is stacked (of course) -- Song Kang-ho holds the whole thing together beautifully, lending the final shot its gravitas, but he's flanked by the likes of Kim Sang-kyung, Kim Roi-ha, Byun Hee-bong, and, most memorably, the chilling Park Hae-il.

It's just kind of a knockout on all levels, from that gorgeous golden hour cinematography at the beginning giving way to the muted grays of the procedural to the way Bong milks an overwhelming sense of dread out of something as mundane as a rainstorm.

Currently available to rent on demand.

09. The Long Goodbye (dir. Robert Altman, 1973; USA; 112 min.)

"It's okay with me."

A neo-noir crime thriller with the vibes of a 70s hangout movie, The Long Goodbye is everything you could ever want from a Robert Altman/Philip Marlowe movie: grimy, rambling, uncomfortable, and very funny in its own bone-dry way. The soundtrack consisting of just one song? Inspired.

Elliott Gould is the perfect center for the film, giving a wonderfully relaxed, effortlessly cool performance. Altman's naturalistic conversation style mixes beautifully with the genre's stylized dialogue (and every other character tells Gould how cute he is, and you know what? It's true!). Also, it's got one of the great movie cats.

I'm positive I missed some of the inner workings of it, but it washed over me like a wave at the beach, and I loved every bit of it.

Currently available to rent on demand.

10. Crooklyn (dir. Spike Lee, 1994; USA; 114 min.)

"Ladybug, you turned out pretty good considering you were raised in a house full of ashy, rusty-butt boys."

Maybe it's just how inundated we currently are with this subgenre -- Esteemed Filmmaker Reflects On Their Childhood, à la Belfast and The Fabelmans and Roma -- but I can't help but feel like Crooklyn would become something of an awards darling in 2024. Like the best of the subgenre's newer films, Spike Lee's look back isn't really about him. He's definitely there (or at least a spectacled Knicks-loving stand-in is), but Crooklyn is primarily about growing up from the perspective of his sister Joie -- or rather, her stand-in Troy.

It's also more generally about the dynamics of the family and, by extension, their neighborhood. In both regards -- as a portrait of Black girlhood in the early '70s and as a memory piece of a family on the precipice of a major turning point -- the film is a triumph. The cast is tremendous, from the parents played by Alfre Woodard and Delroy Lindo, to the miraculously well-cast group of kids. Their chemistry together is magical (and my God, they are all so cute -- the scene of them singing along to the Partridge Family is instantly iconic to me).

There are so many well-observed slice-of-life moments in the film: all of the scenes of the family spending time together, RuPaul(!) in the bodega, Aunt Song (a very good Frances Foster) singing Christian songs while Troy stares at her. And, because it's a Spike Lee joint, Crooklyn is a stylistic and technical achievement. It has one of the most audacious aspect ratio changes I've ever seen (and honestly, I'm not sure if it's successful, but I admire the swing!), plus one of the funniest uses of the floating dolly shot in any of Lee's movies.

A supremely lovely film.

Currently available to rent on demand.

Other films I loved (in alphabetical order): After Hours (dir. Martin Scorsese, 1985); Aguirre, the Wrath of God (dir. Werner Herzog, 1972); An Autumn Afternoon (dir. Yasujirō Ozu, 1962); The Bad News Bears (dir. Michael Ritchie, 1976); Baseball (dir. Ken Burns, 1994); Big Trouble in Little China (dir. John Carpenter, 1986); Blue Velvet (dir. David Lynch, 1986); Burn After Reading (dir. Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, 2008); The Cassandra Cat (dir. Vojtěch Jasný, 1963); Eyes Wide Shut (dir. Stanley Kubrick, 1999); Green Porno (dir. Isabella Rossellini, 2008); Heaven Can Wait (dir. Warren Beatty and Buck Henry, 1978); High Hopes (dir. Mike Leigh, 1988); History is Made at Night (dir. Frank Borzage, 1937); The Hunt for Red October (dir. John McTiernan, 1990); I've Heard the Mermaids Singing (dir. Patricia Rozema, 1987); The Insider (dir. Michael Mann, 1999); It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (dir. Stanley Kramer, 1963); Joy Street (dir. Suzan Pitt, 1995); La Haine (dir. Mathieu Kassovitz, 1995); La Roue (dir. Abel Gance, 1923); Leave Her to Heaven (dir. John M. Stahl, 1945); Love Letter (dir. Kinuyo Tanaka, 1953); Marnie (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1964); The Match Factory Girl (dir. Aki Kaurismäki, 1990); Miller's Crossing (dir. Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, 1990); Morning for the Osone Family (dir. Keisuke Kinoshita, 1946); Oslo, August 31st (dir. Joachim Trier, 2011); Querelle (dir. Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1982); Robert Frost: A Lover's Quarrel with the World (dir. Shirley Clarke, 1963); RoboCop (dir. Paul Verhoeven, 1987); The Salesman (dir. Asghar Farhadi, 2016); Seconds (dir. John Frankenheimer, 1966); The Shop on Main Street (dir. Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos, 1965); Simon of the Desert (dir. Luis Buñuel, 1965); Spellbound (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1945); The Thing (dir. John Carpenter, 1982); Tokyo Godfathers (dir. Satoshi Kon, 2003); Tokyo Olympiad (dir. Kon Ichikawa, 1965); Twister (dir. Jan de Bont, 1996); The Unknown (dir. Tod Browning, 1927); Walking (dir. Ryan Larkin, 1968); When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (dir. Mikio Naruse, 1960); Wooden Crosses (dir. Raymond Bernard, 1932)

And finally, some miscellaneous viewing stats:

First movie watched in 2024: The Cassandra Cat (dir. Vojtěch Jasný, 1963)

First movie seen in theaters in 2024: I Know Where I'm Going! (dir. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, 1945)

Final movie watched in 2024: Asteroid City (dir. Wes Anderson, 2023)

Final movie seen in theaters in 2024: Interstellar (dir. Christopher Nolan, 2014)

Least favorite movie: Viva Zapata! (dir. Elia Kazan, 1952)

Oldest movie: How a Mosquito Operates (dir. Winsor McCay, 1912)

Longest movie: La Roue (dir. Abel Gance, 1923 - 413 min.)

Shortest movie: Stellar (dir. Stan Brakhage, 1993 - 2 min.)

Month with the most viewings: February (54)

Month with the fewest viewings: October and November (7 each)

First movie from 2024 seen: Drive-Away Dolls (dir. Ethan Coen)

Total movies seen in theaters: 30 (including shorts)

Total movies: 246

[blubushie]

Disclaimer: none of this is to be taken seriously.

DNI IF YOU:

Are vegan (vegetarians are fine)

Are a cyclist (bikies, you're on thin fucking ice)

Don't like flanno

Are scared of snakes

Are scared of bugs

Unironically say "NAURRR" (Aussies are exempt)

Drive a manual (I'm jealous of you)

Scream when you're afraid or startled

Don't take your shoes off indoors (WTF is wrong with you?)

Have never loved the stars too fondly

Claim your favourite flower is roses

Like the colour pink

Don't wear a watch

Don't like vegemite (WTF is wrong with you? x2)

If you DO like vegemite, DNI if you eat it at level 6 or anything below 3

Eat vegemite plain off the spoon (WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU? x3)

Call all cattle "cows"

Use chapstick (let your lips split like a real man)

Weren't sacrificed on the altar of Victoria Bitter

You drink Foster's

Call thongs "flip-flops" (wrong) or "jandals" (inhuman)

Are a ranga

Wear neon colours (hunting orange is fine, safety green is only permissible for tradies)

Like wearing shoes

Wear socks and ESPECIALLY if you sleep with socks on

Like maths (you're an alien)

Wash your face every morning

Don't know how to change a tyre

Think heat above 80F/25C is "unbearable"

Have never ridden a horse

Don't know the difference between revolvers and pistols

Have, at any point, unironically uttered the phrase "assault rifle"

Are from M*lbourne (Victorians, you're on thin fucking ice)

Are from New Zealand (Aotearoans, you're fine)

Are French/speak French (Africans, you're on thin fucking ice)

Are Canadian (exempt if you're the TikTok lumberjack lady)

Are French-Canadian (double-wrong)

Are English. The rest of the UK, you're on thin ice.

Are from a city with a population higher than 1mil. People from cities with populations of 30k to 999k are on thin fucking ice. People from cities/town/shires/villages with less than 30k I love you.

Think "bogan" is an insult

Don't shave with a knife (people who use straight razors, you're on thin fucking ice, people who don't shave at all I love you)

Have never been sunburnt (only for people who can get sunburnt)

Don't like camping

Own decorative towels and ESPECIALLY if you get mad at people for using them. It's a bloody towel and I'm using it for its intended purpose

Believe in astrology

Have a skincare routine and/or wear makeup

Drive a Toyota Prius

DON'T love thunderstorms

Were born after 2023

Think catching toads to get high is "animal abuse" (the toads are fine unless they're cane toads, fuck cane toads, all my mates hate cane toads)

You microwave water for any reason

Have never been to a B&S ball

Don't believe in aliens

Are taller than 158cm/5'2"

Take multivitamins (aka you are healthier than me)

Haven't read my fic (minors exempt, do not read it)

Don't like bush ballads or sea shanties. I'm going to show up at your house and aggressively sing Waltzing Matilda at 3am outside your bedroom window

Think the term "blackfella" is racist

Would give me up, tell a lie, and hurt me

Don't bless the rains down in Africa

You shave your eyebrows

And the only LEGITIMATE ONE on this list...

People who think/call Sniper TF2 a Kiwi. If you'd call Sniper (who left New Zealand as an infant and spent his whole life in Australia and didn't even know his Australian parents weren't his birth parents until he was 30) a Kiwi, then you would call me an American because I was born in America and moved to Australia when I was two. You need to re-evaluate how you see migrants, relationships to culture, and adoptees.

[13lizardsinatrenchcoat]

Ok i have to make an olympics discourse post im so sorry. The reactions I'm seeing to the sharpshooter from Türkiye is offputting to me on multiple levels.

"He won without eye or ear protection isn't that so cool and badass." Not really?? Neither of those things make you better at shooting. Theyre not performance enhancers. It's like saying a cyclist won tour de france without a helmet. Like the scenarios that make this possible are.

1. Sharpshooting competition organizers don't care about protecting their athletes from harm and so don't make protective equipment mandatory.

2. His home team or country places so little value on him that they don't care about protecting his health and don't make him wear protective equipment.

3. He doesn't consider his own health to be worth protecting.

Like sorry to be all Health And Safety about it. But having competed in sports that permanently injured me as a teenager and would have left me more injured if there were not safety rules in place, I don't find it invigorating to see this multi-level failure to take athlete health and safety seriously.

Also the comparisons between he and the female sharpshooter who won while wearing protections does sort of have an eau de misogyny about it.

Finally why are we hyping up this dude at all. A few months go by and we're all chill about the genocide of armenians all of a sudden? Turkey should not be able to walk into the olympics and feel all proud over a victory. They should not have this opportunity to advertise themselves on the world stage. And people should not be doing the advertising for them!!!

Every social media post about their presence at the Olympics should be asking why their athletes are allowed to compete at all. The question should be inescapable. The fact that it isn't is hmm. Disappointing but not surprising. If an israeli athlete does well while looking cool will you be hyping them up too?

[smithiecollege]

Fall is here, and nothing screams fall more on Smith's campus than the tweeting of sparrows drowned out by the ground-shaking, teeth-chattering noise and reverberation of construction. Yes, Mountain Day came and went, and the once wide and welcoming Chapin Path, where any student was once welcome to be passive-aggressively passed by a cyclist, is still shuttered. Many students have so missed that crucial part of the campus experience that they've taken to walking to class in the bike lanes along Elm Street, hoping to replicate that same thrill Chapin Path usually provides.

While many students have complained about the construction all over campus (says one junior: "I'm a liberal. I believe in investing in more eco-friendly energy sources. But maybe--maybe not here."), some have managed to live amid the disruption. "The construction noise doesn't bother me. I'm just screaming in my head, constantly," said one senior. "God knows I don't have a job lined up after graduation. I'm going to have to move back in with my parents, and they're going to ask me why I'm not gay married yet, and that's just not something I can take."

Yes, while many gripe and groan about the construction, there is an objective argument to be made here: Construction is God.

Proof:

Is that not God, streaming through the clouds that cover the sky above the early site of the Kathleen McCartney building? No doubt--God Himself casts his gaze upon Smith, and He has decreed "You shall have only one stir-fry dining hall this year. Also, the price of Celsius at the Julia Child Campus Center will be increased by a half-dollar. But fear not--you shall have a building made of ghastly timber, like the remodel of a historic home in a morally dubious HGTV series."

And so we shall.

Therefore, if Construction is the word of God, it is our duty as a once-secular (but now, clearly, blessed) school to pursue this plan. Many students have suggested lights at crosswalks, to perhaps mitigate the number of students who end up in collisions with vehicles, or even functional elevators in every house, or possibly even better pay and treatment for all Smith employees. While these are all certainly options, do they honor the word of Construction God? We think not. Smith's next project will be Holy.

Now proposing:

The Barbara Bush Center for Eat (Construction 2025-2035)

This project will take the ultimate step towards Smith's final goal of centralized dining. The Barbara Bush Center (Or Bushie, as students will affectionately call it) will occupy Green Street. Blueprints require the entirety of Green Street and all student housing to be razed to the ground to complete this construction, but ultimately, we feel as though it will be worth it. Bushie will stand ten stories tall, as it must be built to represent the time it was conceived of. Furthermore, the building will be in the exact shape and design of the Oceangate Titanic Submersible, to honor the failures of science, and encourage Smithies to do better. Bushie will serve breakfast on floors 2,4, and 7 from 6:45 AM to 7:04 AM, and after that, there will be no meals until 8:30 PM, and they will always be sold out immediately, as a way to teach Smithies about scarcity and competition. However, Bushie will serve snacks on floor 5 during the third minute of every hour of the day, just so students can internalize the importance of punctuality. Bushie will also offer fifty-seven lactation rooms throughout the building, and while it is understood that there are surely never going to be that many lactating people in need of a designated room in Bushie at the same time, these rooms will serve as a location for people with roommates to respectfully have sex with someone on the rugby team. However, all lactation rooms will be noise-transparent, because we value womxn's voices.

Finally, we would like to announce that in addition to First Tuesdays and Second Thursdays, we are beginning a tradition called Every Other Fourth Wednesday where on every other fourth Wednesday of every month, community members stand silent on Burton Lawn and practice taking a bra off of someone with one hand, supervised by the most butch members of our faculty. Members of the 5 College Consortium are invited and encouraged to attend. All skill levels are welcome.

With love from the bottom of paradise pond,

Smith College

[sherlockianscholar]

the solitary cyclist from the canon, in my opinion and acd's, is not the greatest work among doyle's repetoire. but i would like to call to your attention one point that has needled me since i first read this story.

violet (yes, one of the six violets in the canon) smith takes on a live-in music teaching position in the country for her un-married employers' (carruthers) ten year old daughter. the daughter is mentioned once in the entire story, during violet's exposition at 221b. violet goes back to the country with no further mention of the girl. after the ruckus and holmes/watson's intervention, carruthers and the others get arrested and taken to jail. off the father goes without making any inquiry into the fate of his daughter nor does violet comment on it.

now the granada episode (which i'm rather fond of) seals up this plot hole, simply and sweetly, by having violet and her soon-to-be husband look after the daughter while her father's in jail. but that doesn't happen in the story. which leads me to wonder...considering the lack of attention by violet or carruthers, did she run away or die (i say, very tongue in cheek)? did carruthers just say fuck them kids and abandon her?

or my personal favorite, did he hire a random 10 year old girl for this express purpose? given the absolute chaos and ever-unfolding half-baked schemes concocted by every member of carruthers and co, i can imagine those men coming up with something that ridiculous.

acd makes a lot of mistakes and slip-ups in the canon, but honestly, if i could ask him one question, this stupid pedantic detail would be high on the list.

[deadfrog-and-friends]

domestique part 9: in which we sweep the dishes and meet the human vacuum

(read parts 1-8 here)

Another month went by. I learned how to type, and to surf the internet. I helped Sistress type up some very basic spells ("reward helpful crows with good luck", "tits enlargening spell level 1", "video game dexterity buff") and started dollposting. Things started feeling normal. Then a cyclist from Merxy's team contacted Sistress.

He wanted to come visit, chat with Sistress, and pay his respects.

I listened to Sistress explain to him over the phone that Merxia had been restored to life, but she was a bit vague on the details. She didn't want to admit that she'd done so by stuffing another doll into Merxia's unresponsive shell, that probably wouldn't sound very good to a stranger. "So while this fellow visits, just don't say a lot" said Sistress. "You don't have to pretend to remember him, I told him you came back different, forgot most everything."

"You should have told him not to come," I said.

"But I think he wants to give us money," said Sistress. "In my tarot reading the other day it said a man on a horse was going to visit and bring gifts. I bet it meant a man on a bike. Anyway, you've been dollposting so much you should have your own laptop."

"What's this guy's name, anyway?" I asked.

"Wiebe? or Weibe? Wiebe S….sierksinga, or was it—"

A roar of noise rose up in my head and I couldn't hear anything else she said. My vision disolved into black and white static. And I saw the man's face. Actually I did remember him from when we watched the races. The commentators had called him Wiebe Sierkstra the Human Vacuum and he was another domestique for the team. He would always vacuum up his team mates, the commentators said, and make sure they got to the finish line. Sistress would always say "and then he—" and then make a rude gesture with her tongue in her cheek. He had been in the background of the shot of Merxia's interview, after her illicit sprint, looking pale and troubled.

This was the first time Merxy had pulled me out of consciousness in the middle of the day to show me something. He must have been important.

Moments later, well I'm not sure how long it was, the face cleared, the noise cleared, and I saw Sistress in front of me. She was holding my hands and peering up into my face.

"H-hi," I said.

"Nell," she said. "I'll tell him not to come."

"N-no. It's okay," I said. "I think we'd… like to see him."

That night, a bit nervous, I asked Merxy about him. Merxy flooded me with memories. There were in fact a lot of memories of him kneeling in front of her between her legs as she gently held his head in place, her fingers between his sandy hair. In hotel rooms. On top of mountains, next to their bikes. On the team bus, with others watching. Interspersed were memories of normal conversations with him, or memories of him holding her as she wept. She had wept a lot. It had just been very hard to be so hard from Mistress. Wiebe seemed to care.

I cleaned the entire house in the days leading up to Wiebe's visit. It wasn't for Sistress, I told myself, it was for Merxy. I didn't really know how to clean, but I watched videos online and talked to some of the maid dolls. Sistress took me out to buy cleaning supplies. (I finally learned to use the stairs.) I purged the house of years of dust, and swept every dish. Sistress was, I think, a little unnerved.

Wiebe arrived. The gift was Merxia's team bicycle, an extra one. I didn't know we had a heart, but it started beating like mad when we saw him standing in the doorway with the bike. I almost fell over, but Sistress caught me. She took my hand, and we all went into the living room.

Wiebe looked at his hands. "Thank you so much for having me." He had a light accent, pronouncing his v's like f's, his intonation lilted up and down and up and down. His voice made us shiver. I could feel the static rippling up and down my arms and legs.

"Of course," said Sistress. "And what a beautiful bicycle you've brought for Merxia. Though… we don't know if it is still able to ride."

"For sure, for sure," said Wiebe. "And…" he peered at us. "Miss Isabel said you might not remember much."

I blinked. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. "Ah…wa…" were the only sounds it seemed like I could make. My fingers twitched. I remembered the sex memories Merxia had shown me. There was a throb between my legs.

"You know what," Sistress said, blushing, "maybe she does remember you, Wiebe. Let me… give you two some privacy." She got up and left.

I glanced down realized that Sistress must have seen my doll parts become hard through my dress. I wondered if she felt jealous. I wondered if Wiebe noticed.

Wiebe sat down on the couch next to us where Sistress had been. We gave him our hand. He took it, and ran his finger all over it. We saw a tear fall on it. He was crying.

Crying. He was crying. Awa.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. We lifted our hand to his cheek. "Het komt goed, het komt goed," this one crooned. "Het komt goed, liefje."

"Liefje…" he repeated, through sobs. "When you went off the cliff… I went after. I went to you."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. We put our arms around him, repeating "het komt goed, het komt goed." We were telling him it was going to be okay, maybe.

And he said, "I thought… I thought… I thought I felt you die, in my arms."

It was something about his voice. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. "Sorry, sorry," this one said. "Sorry…" Looking up at the sky, this one's sight darkening, the top of its head is gone, arms are around it, they are shaking, shaking, shaking, this one smells dirt, and sweat and tears. His—liefje's. Holding this one…while he cries. No. Wrong. Error. Error. Erro

"Merxy," this one said, "Broken." Error. Try to explain. "After Mistress. No race no more. Could not no." Holding him. While he cries. Log error. It is this one. Who should cry.

"I know," Wiebe said. "I understand but…it hurt so much more than I could have ever expected. A-and then… they took you away. A-and you never came back."

Failed. Failed liefje. "Sorry, sorry. Sorry to leave liefje. Leave liefje like that. This one's fault. Please. Do not cry. Broken doll not person, no problem not matter. Replace." Log. Broken doll. Decommission.

Wiebe shook his head, and lifted it. He was smiling through his tears. "No, don't you see?" he said "Nothing could replace you. D-don't worry about me. You're here, you're alive. Alive, and talking to me. And you … you remember. I thought you'd remember your Mistress, maybe, Miss Isabel, maybe even the directeur sportif, but me? A-and our name for each other? A-and—" He glanced at this one's lap. And didn't say anything more.

This one stroked his cheek. "Important," it said. He remembered himself.

"Y-yes. You're very important. I didn't tell you, so I was going to come here and try to explain to Miss Isabel, your only family, h-how much you meant to me. How…precious you are. I can't tell you how happy I am… happy that I can just tell you, directly."

"H-ha-appy?" this one said, its speech malfunctioning. Log. Its speech, whole body tremble now. "If happy, why so c-cry?"

In response, liefje kissed this one's cheek, from which tears freely flowed. "I love you," he said.

[someinstant]

So I just got done scoring a million essays for College Board, and after a week of the academic equivalent of industrial line work, the folks who were working on the same essays as I was decided we'd all go out for a drink or seven and NOT talk about anything related to the exam we'd been scoring.

We chatted a bit about the schools where we taught-- most of us were high school teachers, but there were a couple college profs as well, talked about one dude's utterly unhinged goal to visit EVERY SINGLE county in the United States, the ridiculousness of the upcoming UK elections (we're all American, but the US elections are too terrifying to talk about), and then of my colleagues mentioned he was a cyclist and--

"Oh," I said. "You enjoying cycling?"

"Yeah," he said. "Used to want to ride the Tour de France as a kid. I watch it every year."

And look, it's hard to find fellow cycling fans in the US. It's possible I got a little over-excited about this. Did I say, "Oh, I like cycling too! Have you watched it recently?" No. Instead, I said, "I woke up early this morning so I could catch the end of the Dauphine-- I don't know about Roglic's chances in the Tour, he only beat Jorgenson by eight seconds and looked like he was missing his top gear, Tadej's going to eat him for breakfast," which prompted the rest of the table to look at me like I had six heads.

I keep forgetting there's space between "I know what the Tour de France is and sometimes watch it" and "I'm absolutely certain that Mark Cavendish's gearing problems on Stage 7 of the 2023 Tour were the only reason he didn't hit 35 stage wins and I'm not sure I'm over it yet" levels of interest in this sport.