#Impound Lot

[thecittiverse]

Lemon of Troy - Frinktober 2024 - Day 28

"Now if you'll excuse me, all this talk has made me hungry." Frinktober 2024 Day 28: Shelbyville

Shelby's dad has the Springfield Lemon Tree secured in his impound lot, so he celebrates with a refreshing lemon in "Lemon of Troy." See the whole Frinktober 2024 prompt list here.

[syoddeye]

you have shit luck. money's skint, and your car finally kicks the bucket. there's nothing in your area that looks remotely reliable and within your budget. you need transport for work. you lose it, you lose your job. desperate times call for desperate measures.

desperate measures lead you to a seized vehicle auction, where you buy a banged-up car on the cheap.

it's disgusting—reeks of tobacco, the console's sticky, and the glove box looks like something took up residence prior to the car's seizure. you don't know the history, neither do the police. it's sat in the secure car park for so long that they just want to be rid of it.

remember your shit luck? yeah. the scathing look on your normally absentee neighbor’s face and his furious gesturing to lower the window suggests you shouldn’t comply. but you do. he doesn’t hesitate to reach in, pop the lock, and yank the door open to haul you out. he clenches a lit cigar between his teeth, the tension in his jaw nearly crushing it.

what the fuck are you doing, driving his car? he reported it stolen just this morning, finding it missing when he got it in.

ah. maybe that's why it looked familiar.

[throwaninkpot]

If I had the power to do one omnipotent thing, I would erase the phrase "lonely god" from existence.

[chadillacboseman]

Music Monday Thursday

During his days with the Federovs, Alex was kind of a d-bag. He wore his hair down, had an obnoxious gold chain on his neck, and a stud in his ear.

He also drove a blacked out Hellcat and may or may not have had a little bit of a drug problem.

Kate (@thesingularityseries) gives him grief about it.

This song is essentially the soundtrack to those days-

I feel like a Hollywood star Hand full of pills, all black car. Rock guitar & 10 shots of whiskey Got a chain on my neck & a massive hickey You say you're a big deal? Big deal. I've been a big deal ever since big wheels Shit's real. I feel, like a supermodel who just skipped a meal

[insomtiny]

omg my sister found her jeep we all thought it was GONE

[prolibytherium]

[odlaw]

the scariest road ive ever been on is lower lower wacker drive (secret third level of underground road directly below lower wacker drive which is an underground road directly below wacker drive which is a normal city level street) which i ended up in bc the gps told us to go down there for some reason and then promptly stopped working. because you are two levels under downtown chicago so no service gets down there. and theres not a lot of signs so it feels like youre gonna die down there and never see the sun ever again.

[foone]

What does BDSM look like in the cars universe?

Like, I don't think they'd necessarily be into, like, rope bondage, because cars don't have the same range of motion as humans.

You could maybe do things like take their wheels off, but does that end up being like a doctor kink too? Like, mechanics are car doctors, right?

Do you use one of those folding sun-visor things as a blindfold?

What's the car equivalent to a leash. A tow truck? A hitch? Maybe.

Can you whip a car? Maybe you use some of those rubber hammers, like "kneel*, slave, and receive your 5 dents from your mistress! Count them"

Suspension bondage I guess is doable, you just need one of these:

Which again is probably like a medical kink to cars. It's like a putting a human on a doctor's examination bed with stirrups.

I'm just wondering if there's BDSM in the cars universe without it getting mechanic-kink. It seems an easy trap to fall in.

How do you gag a car? Take out their radiator? Drain the fluid? Or maybe the grille? What about, like, Teslas that don't have grilles? (Are there teslas in the carverse?) are they mute?

Where do cars hear from? Like, if you wanted to do sensory deprivation on a car, where do you put the earbuds? It's the side mirrors, isn't it. They're probably equivalent anatomical features.

I don't think you can do wax play to a car, because that's just a fancy car wash.

Bondo and one of those dent-hammer things is probably involved in Car BDSM. A welder and angle grinder for the extreme stuff. Speaking of angle grinder, is booting a car like putting them in handcuffs?

Instead of a cage, do you put your Puppy!car in a garage? Do you role play that she's at the mean impound lot and has to do you a favor to get released?

I have so many questions. I'm tempted to go look on ao3 to see if fans have come up with answers. But at the same time, I don't want to.

* don't ask how cars kneel

[croc-odette]

i think it's fun in its own way but live action yusuke mostly sulking quietly versus original yusuke screaming at anyone for any reason at all

[oliviawebsite]

disabled trans woman in need of help paying impound fees + rent

hi its me again coming in to ask for some help. in spite of a lot of positive momentum in my life as of late, i faced a pretty rough setback after my car was stolen from right in front of my house. the "good" news is that it was found and brought to a tow yard but the bad news is that its gutted and practically undriveable and insurance will not pay out for this due to the age of the car and its status as "high risk" for theft. im looking to sell off what i can and scrap the rest instead of selfishly begging for the thousands of dollars its going to cost to replace everything that is now missing. the dilemma is, i still need to pay the fee to get the thing released and towed somewhere safe, which amounts to the exorbitant fee of about $900 all because i made the "mistake" of getting my car stolen and then being out of town when it actually got located.

this is compounded with my need to pay rent for the month of july. i have been unemployed and taking small freelance gigs as a result of my chronic health issues making it nearly impossible to work a regular 40 hour week. i've been focusing on treating those issues and trying not to exacerbate them further than i already have. i have severe difficulty walking for extended periods of time and have to push thru pain just to move my body and it makes getting about town without a car while living alone a real struggle, which results in me requiring delivery and rideshare services to fill in the gaps where i physically cannot.

i know there's a lot going on right now but if you can spare a few to help me out it would be immensely appreciated. i've set a goal that should reasonably cover all of the aforementioned costs. pls help or share, i'm sorry for begging like this but i don't know what else to do right now! life keeps happening and its hard and i just need some help. thank you <3

and as always i have music for sale if you fancy to buy something:

0/1400

[flashhwing]

it can never just be a normal thing with me they always have to do something ridiculous with my car

so they repaved the road my car was on and instead of like towing it like a normal thing i guess they took it and just parked it somewhere else????? but have no record of where exactly it's parked????? just within a 5-block radius??? hello???????? i almost wish it were just towed why do i have to go on a scavenger hunt to find my fucking car

[physalian]

On Writing Characters with Hyper-Specific Triggers (and a PSA)

*Trigger warning for this whole post

Once upon a time, I had a roommate. Nothing looked wrong from the outside and this narcissist probably thought nothing was wrong on the inside, but there was. I knew moving in with them was a mistake, but financial circumstances demanded I shut up and try to make the most of it. Enter the longest thirteen months of aPTSD-inducing psychological stalemate I hope to never repeat again. Seven of which were on overdrive.

The why doesn’t matter. The how doesn’t matter. What matters is that this roommate was so toxic, there was no point in attempting to talk things out because any little thing could be a land mine for starting an argument and it didn’t matter what casualties got caught in the crossfire, so long as this person “won”. Casualties including our friendship. So if any little thing, anything at all, could be a land mind, what do you do if not try to completely avoid them? For seven months.

This person’s work schedule was incredibly erratic, but they were gone more hours than not, and when they were home, they were usually asleep. In those few overlapping hours where we were both awake, I could not leave my room for fear of said verbal land mines. If I wanted to cook, leave the apartment, get anything from the living room or my desk that I had to abandon, get more water from the fridge, I had to do it before they got home, or after they went to bed, and I could never predict when they’d be home.

Luckily (or unluckily), my room faced the parking lot, and this roommate drove a car that made a very specific sound. From the moment I heard that car from my room, I had about 20 seconds to shut down whatever I was doing in the apartment, retreat to my room, and lock the door. Overreacting? Potentially, I wasn’t in any physical danger, but this was seven months of near complete isolation from any other friends, and the fear of making it worse kept me silent.

So, 20 seconds from the moment I hear the telltale whine of that engine. If I couldn’t hear the car, our front door had a lock that chimes and I had about 7 seconds from the first chime to the door opening to get the fuck out of the way. I lost weight that I couldn’t afford to lose from being unable to cook past a certain time in the evening and staying locked in my room on their days off.

Seven months of only having a door chime and an engine to tell me when it was safe and when I had to run.

—

These chime locks are the new normal and one year removed from that apartment, every time I hear it and I’m already stressed, it’s a trigger.

Every time I’m on the highway and I see a dark grey sedan of that make, that is the most important car on the road until I make sure it’s not their car.

Every time I see a dark grey sedan parked in reverse, as they habitually did, that is the most important car in the parking lot until I make sure it’s not theirs.

Every time I have to drive near a certain location where they work, I am watching for that car.

I could pick it out from 200 others. I know the license plate, I know the license plate frame, I know what sticks to the windshield, I know what hangs from the rearview mirror. I would know that car rusted and crushed in an impound lot.

So. Today I drive home and I pass a rear-parked car one turn before my unit, and I think to myself, “that’s not X’s car, but I noticed it, I’m never not going to notice it.” It wasn’t the same make, model, or color, it was just a sedan with its nose sticking out and that was enough.

Then I turn the corner. And there it is. My ex-roommate’s car.

I shit you not it was like I had a warning from the Universe before it hit.

I don’t need to check the windshield, I know it’s theirs. I’ve seen it in my complex once before. The last time I did, I’d parked my own car and waited, got out, and hid between two others in the dark, waiting for this person to leave.

Today, in broad daylight, that car is empty. They happened to arrive while I was gone for 30 minutes. So I park, and I wait. I watch that car from my side mirror. I scan the sidewalk for them and I don’t see anything. I have frozens that can’t wait.

I’m thinking to myself, of all the parking spots in all the parking lots, of all the apartments in this godforsaken town, you parked right behind my spot.

Nothing happened, and even if we crossed paths, nothing probably would have happened (that’s how they worked, pretending nothing was ever wrong and that I was the crazy one). But I still waited, and when I decided to leave, I moved as fast as possible without drawing attention. One whole year removed from that person.

—

It doesn’t take physical abuse, or yelling and screaming and death threats. It doesn’t need to be a parent or a sibling, a relative, or a romantic partner. This person never touched me, never screamed (though they did yell on occasion), never actually threatened anything. They never called me names, were never direct with any of their insults, were never explicitly petty. I had no proof. Ever.

I just had example after example of every time they cut me down to feel smart, picked on me to feel better about themselves and project their own insecurities and jealousy, or used me as their emotional punching bag because of choices they made.

So a year after completely cutting them out, there’s that fucking car parked outside my apartment.

Media portrays “triggers” usually only in characters who are veterans. Noises that sound like gunshots, or thunder, fireworks, because that’s what we think of when we see PTSD—people who fought in wars.

It’s not like I sit around fixating on that car or that door chime (and actually with exposure to that chime every day with no consequences it’s gotten better), but that’s the point. They come out of nowhere when you least expect it. They don’t prepare you for their arrival, they just happen.

I didn’t have anything close to a panic attack, but nothing in the universe was more important in that moment than making sure I didn’t run into this person, until I calmed down.

Trigger attacks don’t have to be this big flashy thing, born of big flashy movements. It can be something as subdued as going quiet, staring at the thing, and your brain dumping everything else except all the potential outcomes of not escaping this situation immediately. It’s just a car. It’s not like an evil Big Dick truck with smokestacks and truck nuts and a MAGA flag on the back. It’s just a nerdy sedan that could belong to anyone.

—

So. PSA.

What you think might be an overreaction by someone you care about, they probably think is an overreaction, too. Did I want to have fate shit on my day and spend extra minutes under the hot sun when I have chores to do? No. But it happened.

What you think a trigger is supposed to look like or what the symptoms are supposed to be are not just what’s dramatic and flashy for the TV. Here I am writing a whole blog post about it instead of just moving on and I can't go back and check for typos because I don't want to have to reread it.

Do you want to die on a hill of “get over it” when someone you care about would love nothing more? Just. Be there for them.

And to writers, artists, anyone—it doesn’t have to be dramatic to be the most upsetting part of someone’s day. Including such simple things as a door chime, or the sound of an engine, really helps with visibility so people like me don’t think “I’m not allowed to feel this way, I didn’t actually suffer like a shell-shocked veteran”.

Most of us never will. That doesn’t make any of our hardships any less valid. Please be kind.

[crowsintheforest]

you can look at the vorkosigan saga books and assume (correctly!) that it's a lot of space opera/space war stories, with daring rescues and laser gun pew pew and clones wandering around. but they're also full of other things, like

probably most famously, jane austen via space russia (a civil campaign my beloved)

look I swear we're going to finish our honeymoon but my boss's ships got impounded and whoops I seem to have found a murder mystery

oh no we lost a dead body before we could do future medicine to bring it back oh no we lost the protagonist

fake wedding turns out to be a real wedding and your cousin won't stop laughing at you

great news shareholders, we've genetically engineered humans to live in null G by giving them arms instead of legs! what do you mean humanity invented artificial gravity

culture and medical exchange's influence on gendered politics, or how does nobility's patrilineal inheritance work when you can trans your gender

navigating polyamory when one of you is dead

basically a decades-long multibook treatise on the impacts of providing and utilizing alternatives to in vitro fertilization and live births