#Pivotal Muscle Car Years

[reasonsforhope]

"The sleeping giant of the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has stirred.

In the past month, an avalanche of anti-pollution rules, targeting everything from toxic drinking water to planet-heating gases in the atmosphere, have been issued by the agency. Belatedly, the sizable weight of the US federal government is being thrown at longstanding environmental crises, including the climate emergency.

On Thursday [May 18, 2023], the EPA’s month of frenzied activity was crowned by the toughest ever limits upon carbon pollution from America’s power sector, with large, existing coal and gas plants told they must slash their emissions by 90% or face being shut down.

The measure will, the EPA says, wipe out more than 600m tons of carbon emissions over the next two decades, about double what the entire UK emits each year. But even this wasn’t the biggest pollution reduction announced in recent weeks.

In April, new emissions standards for cars and trucks will eliminate an expected 9bn tons of CO2 by the mid-point of the century, while separate rules issued late last year aim to slash hydrofluorocarbons, planet-heating gases used widely in refrigeration and air conditioning, by 4.6bn tons in the same timeframe. Methane, another highly potent greenhouse gas, will be curtailed by 810m tons over the next decade in another EPA edict.

In just a few short months the EPA, diminished and demoralized under Donald Trump, has flexed its regulatory muscles to the extent that 15bn tons of greenhouse gases – equivalent to about three times the US’s carbon pollution, or nearly half of the entire world’s annual fossil fuel emissions – are set to be prevented, transforming the power basis of Americans’ cars and homes in the process...

If last year’s Inflation Reduction Act (IRA), with its $370bn in clean energy subsidies and enticements for electric car buyers, was the carrot to reducing emissions, the EPA now appears to be bringing a hefty stick.

The IRA should help reduce US emissions by about 40% this decade but the cut needs to be deeper, up to half of 2005 levels, to give the world a chance of avoiding catastrophic heatwaves, wildfires, drought and other climate calamities. The new rules suddenly put America, after years of delay and political rancor, tantalizingly within reach of this...

“It’s clear we’ve reached a pivotal point in human history and it’s on all of us to act right now to protect our future,” said Michael Regan, the administrator of the EPA, in a speech last week at the University of Maryland. The venue was chosen in a nod to the young, climate-concerned voters Joe Biden hopes to court in next year’s presidential election, and who have been dismayed by Biden’s acquiescence to large-scale oil and gas drilling.

“Folks, this is our future we are talking about, and we have a once-in-a-generation opportunity for real climate action,” [Michael Regan, the administrator of the EPA], added. “Failure is not an option, indifference is not an option, inaction is not an option.” ...

It’s not just climate the EPA has acted upon in recent months. There are new standards for chemical plants, such as those that blight the so-called "Cancer Alley" the US, from emitting cancer-causing toxins such as benzene, ethylene oxide and vinyl chloride. New rules curbing mercury, arsenic and lead from industrial facilities have been released, as have tighter limits on emissions of soot and the first ever regulations targeting the presence of per- and polyfluoroalkylsubstances (or PFAS) in drinking water.” ...

For those inside the agency, the breakneck pace has been enervating. “It’s definitely a race against time,” said one senior EPA official, who asked not to be named. “The clock is ticking. It is a sprint through a marathon and it is exhausting.” ...

“We know the work to confront the climate crisis doesn’t stop at strong carbon pollution standards,” said Ben Jealous, the executive director of the Sierra Club.

“The continued use or expansion of fossil power plants is incompatible with a livable future. Simply put, we must not merely limit the use of fossil fuel electricity – we must end it entirely.”"

-via The Guardian (US), 5/16/23

[distantdarlings]

RECIPROCATION // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 3.7K WORDS

Enzo Berkshire x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested (based on this)* Enzo Berkshire has a tendency to flirt with you. You reciprocate the flirtation, thinking that he genuinely may like you, but that hope is screwed up when he seems to be flirting with another person.

+ WARNINGS - Language, kissing, nothing else really, not fully proof-read (Fluff, Romance)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

As Long As You Love Me - Sleeping At Last

(Note: I am very sorry for the sudden delay in all of my writing. To be quite honest, I started a new job and got into a car crash this week and haven't been writing at all. Please accept this request, and I will have pt. 5 of By the Fireplace out ASAP)

---

“Hey, darling, wait up!” 

The voice came from behind you. You pivoted on your heels, stopping right in your tracks on your way to Defense Against Dark Arts, and glanced around. Your eyes circled the hallway until they landed on a waving hand attached to a grinning body. A smile spread over your lips as you recognized the voice's owner. Lorenzo Berkshire. Handsome, funny, old-money rich, with a side of infamy due to his frightening family. 

He stopped before you, panting slightly from the jog up to you. His face was a bit flushed, and his lips were parted with a bit of shine spread over them. He looked absolutely breathtaking. You nearly had to steady yourself as he combed his fingers through his hair. 

“Well, hello, Berkshire. Are you on your way to class as well?” You turned back the way you were initially heading and started off, beckoning for him to follow. He gave a slight nod, never dropping his glorious smile. 

“Yeah, I spotted you on my way out of the courtyard and figured I’d walk with you,” he said, “it’d give me a chance to see my favorite person.” Your stomach flushed. Favorite person? You could have fainted.

“Well, I’m glad you wanted to walk with me,” you smiled, clutching your books tightly against your chest. 

Enzo had always been an enormous flirt—specifically toward you. You’d be lying if you said you minded it; after all, the boy was absolutely gorgeous and practically everything you could ever want out of a romantic partner. He oozed radiance and dripped sex. Damn it. Your eyes watched as he jogged ahead of you to grab the door to the classroom, the muscles along his forearm rippling wonderfully. Merlin’s sake, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a Muggle romance novel. 

You flashed him your best smile and slipped through the door, watching as he followed quickly behind you. 

The two of you had been friends for a very long time—almost since first year, to be exact. Halfway through second year, the two of you had been paired together for a project in Potions class, and not only had you succeeded in working together flawlessly, but you’d also grown really close. He had always been a good friend to you, no matter what you needed. He was, quite honestly, more than you deserved. But, on the darker side of things, as he grew older, he grew quite flirty. At every turn, he was tracing you with his eyes or making a quick quip about your eyes or your clothing. It was more than you could handle on some days. Your platonic feelings toward him had very quickly become romantic feelings. 

You selected your usual seat in the classroom and kicked the chair beside you out so Enzo could take his place next to you. You mentally prepared yourself for a whole period of brushing elbows, skimming shoes, and knowingly glancing at each other. Why wouldn’t he just admit he liked you already? There was apparent tension between the two of you—even other people had caught on. So why couldn’t he just admit it? Granted, you could say the same for yourself.

Once the Professor had settled everybody in and started with the lecture, you saw Enzo begin to rummage through his bag slowly, trying not to disturb anyone. One hand held the fabric pocket open while the other selected his class journal and his ink kit. You’d already had your things set out by now, but you figured he was just a little behind, per usual. Not that it was a bad thing. It was sort of endearing. 

Through glances out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flip his journal open, collect a generous amount of ink on the tip of his quill, and begin to write. The soft scratches of the quill’s tip tickled the edges of your ear, sending a line of chills down your arm. There was only a tiny amount of information written on the board so far, so he should have no trouble keeping up. 

After a few minutes of continuous scratching, Enzo’s elbow gently bumped yours. Discreetly, you looked over at him and scrunched your eyebrows in silent question. He gestured with his head to the small folded paper beside me. How odd, you hadn’t even heard him tear it out. You quietly placed your quill into its ink well and slipped the note between your stomach and the desk to conceal the message from the professor. 

Have I mentioned that you are looking absolutely ravishing today? Your jaw nearly dropped. With wide eyes, you looked over at him. A smug smirk was printed on his face as he sent an addicting wink your way. You tried your hardest not to blush, but, of course, you’d failed. Must he always be this…severe? You flipped the note over to the other side and wrote: I think this letter was meant for someone else. Unless you have something to tell me? You passed it back. He wrote quickly.

Of course not, darling. Just that you are the most beautiful person in this room. In attempted controlled laughter, the two of you shouldered the other. You knew he was joking, but still, you quietly slipped the paper into your bag. Something about those words in his handwriting directed to you had you blushing. You both returned to your note-taking for the class. 

A few moments of comfortable silence passed before you noticed Enzo’s shoulder shaking with silent laughter. You looked over briefly, seeing a note in his hands. You thought it may have been the same one the two of you had been communicating on before you remembered that you had put that one in your bag. A closer glance revealed that Enzo’s handwriting was on the paper, as was someone else’s. You didn’t recognize the penmanship. You leaned a bit closer, careful not to disturb him as he read the note. 

Have you considered who you will invite to the winter formal? A question to Enzo. Then, his response. I’ve thought long and well about it, darling. Your heart clenched. You flicked your eyes around the room, trying to guess who had sent the note, and landed on some girl from Hufflepuff giggling to her friend and occasionally casting glances at a smirking Enzo. Her eyes caught yours, and you quickly dropped the contact, returning to your notes. Was Enzo taking one of them to the formal? Because you’d honestly thought…never mind.

Your fingers subconsciously tightened around your quill; so tight, in fact, that your knuckles bled white and the end of its feather creased.

“Woah,” Enzo laughed, “what did that quill ever do to you?” His voice snapped you out of your internal rage. Tendrils of guilt and jealousy spiraled around your throat. 

“Nothing, just tired,” you lied, releasing your death grip on the quill and returning to your work. You ignored him for the rest of class, completely missing the nervous glances he threw you every so often. 

By the end of the lecture, you’d packed your things as quickly as possible and headed out the door, not bothering to wait for Enzo to catch up. Perhaps it was childish, but you really thought he might have had feelings for you. But it seemed that the natural flirtation may just be part of his personality. 

You blew a sigh through your lips and pushed a hand through your hair. Surely, there was an explanation as to why he seemed to prefer you to other students. He never followed those Hufflepuff girls around like he did you. Or did he? Maybe you just hadn’t seen him doing it. You suppressed the urge to let out a groan. Why couldn’t romance and crushes and love be simple?

You headed toward the Great Hall to stock up on a bit of lunch; there was no way in hell you were eating in there today. With your luck, you’d crash right into Enzo and have him demand why you stormed out of class. Not that he’d demand anything. He was always so gentle with you…no, shut up. You weren’t going to think about him anymore today. You need to forget about it and focus on studying for your test in Potions today. 

You were kind of absolutely terrible at the class and needed all the help you could get. More than once, you’d been tempted to write the answers on your hand and briefly turn them invisible with a simple spell, but you weren’t that low. You weren’t going to cheat. Enzo was good at Potions class. He could help—

“Ugh!” You pushed the boy out of your head as you turned into the Great Hall, conjuring a small cloth napkin. It fell into your hand delicately and displayed itself evenly as you began to pack a few things onto it—a bit of cheese, some grapes, a muffin. You smiled to yourself as your stomach rumbled. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until just now. All of this worrying about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Jr. (not the noseless one) had your stomach clawing for some sustenance. 

You scooped all of the food together and tied a small knot into the napkin, slipping it into your cloak pocket. One of the goblets you’d gotten from your birthday last year appeared before you, and you poured some pumpkin juice into it. You wouldn’t take one of their goblets because you knew you’d forget to return it. Wandlessly, you sent it back to your dormitory.

You turned and headed toward the grand doors, eyes toward the ground. You whisked across the stone floors, focusing on one thing only: getting back to your dorm without bumping into any…unmentionables. 

A few familiar voices swirled around you as they passed by. You tucked your head even more, realizing it was a few of Enzo’s friends. You were friendly with them and knew they’d say something and draw attention to you if they recognized you. You prayed they wouldn’t notice. 

And just as you had ducked your head once more and pulled the edges of your cloak over your face, you ran straight into a solid wall of Slytherin boy. You grunted from the impact and braced for the fall on your ass when he caught you quickly and steadied you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it is. You’d know his scent anywhere. 

Swallowing your pride, you glanced up and made quick eye contact with Enzo. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, and his eyes flickered over your face. You figured he was searching for some answer to your behavior earlier. You sighed and shook your head slightly, dropping the eye contact. The fingers from his left hand tightened around your arm, and his right hand tilted your head to return his gaze to yours. Embarrassed, you jerked your head out of his grasp and pushed past him. 

Your legs moved faster than they had in a long while as you practically ran up to your dorm, trying to restrain the tears pooling in your eyes. That was quite literally the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened to you. Whether it was your imagination or not, you’d thought that the people around the two of you had completely silenced themselves and had been watching you. Your cheeks burned in shame. Curse this stupid crush. 

Once you come upon the entrance to the Slytherin common room, you quickly speak the password and swipe a few falling tears from your cheeks. You prayed that no one was seated in the common room lest you fully die of mortification. Surely, Enzo had just been doing that because of his usual flirtatious behavior. Nothing else explains why he would have touched you like that. So gently and easily as he reconnected your eyes. The way he had looked at you as he held you tightly to keep you from falling. His lips had parted with a small exhale that had danced across your cheeks, cool and smelling of sweet mint. His thumb had brushed the surface of your chin, daring you to place your lips on it. Fuck!

You pushed through your dormitory door and pressed your hands to your face. You collapsed onto your bed, a small sob leaving your body. Fuck, you were so ashamed. Everything about Enzo swirled around your brain just as it did every day. Every detail of his face was sharp and gorgeous as if carved by Merlin himself. The curve of his lips, the tilt of his cheekbones, the way his hands seemed to always lay upon you somehow. Whether it was tilting your chin up to force your eyes back to his or pressing a hand along the small of your back to lead you forward, it didn’t matter what he was doing. All of it made the rate of your breath increase substantially. Every piece of him made up the strokes of your dreams. You were absolutely in l—

Your name cut your thoughts off. Enzo slammed through the dormitory door, eyes frantic and wild, darting around the room. When they fell upon you as you lay curled up, pitiful and sobbing, in your bed, he pushed the door shut and sped over to you. He squatted down beside the bed until his eyes were level with yours. You refused to look at him. His eyes never left you. As always, he never backed down, while you did so easily. He was so much better than you. 

His hand slowly raised above your head that was pressed into the mattress. Your eyes watched him as he moved, and as he reached the edge of your skull, he let it hover there. You glanced up at him in question, and his eyebrows raised. You nodded. His hand gently laid against the side of your head, slowly rolling his thumb from the tip of your eyebrow to your hairline. It was soothing, and his hands were soft and warm. You felt safe beneath his large grip.

“What happened?” he whispered, eyes searching yours. “Was it something I did or said? If it was something that I caused, we can talk about it. I promise I’ll fix—”

“It’s not you, En,” you interrupted, your voice crackling beneath the weight of your pathetic tears. You were mortified. “It’s me, I guess I just…I just thought…” The words refused to leave your mouth. Your eyes closed in frustration.

“You thought what? Tell me,” he whispered, scooting his face closer to yours, his thumb never stopping its calming motion. 

“It’s stupid,” you whined.

“No, it’s not,” he replied, “it’s making you upset. I want to fix it…did someone do something to you?” You shook your head. The culprit of your current emotional status was none other than yourself. 

“I wanted you to ask me to the formal,” you winced in embarrassment, “and I got upset that you’re asking that girl in Defense instead…” His eyes widened for a moment, and he said nothing. My God, this was the worst day of your life. Your eyes welled up with tears at the possibility of verbal rejection. “God, I know I sound like a toddler, whining like this, but I really like you, En.”

“You don’t sound like a toddler,” he said. His face moved even closer to yours. You could feel his breath on your face now and count each individual eyelash. His eyelids were half-closed now, an air of intimacy spinning between the two of you. “I like you too…a lot.”

The pitch of his voice pushed a shiver through you. The feeling of acceptance brushed through you quickly, elating your heartbeat. Enzo liked you back? Fuck, Enzo liked you back. Your eyes refused to leave his, now. Your heart pounded in your ears, echoing against the back of your skull. 

“I…” you breathed, your voice trailing off. Could you even get the words out? Your breath shuddered as his hands slid down the top of your head to pinch your chin again. He held you in place, his fingers so warm against your skin. His thumb brushed slowly over your top lip.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed. Each exhale from his lips painted the edges of your jawline, teasing longing out of you. Enzo wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him so badly. You slowly nodded your head. 

Then his fingers weren’t so easy as he pulled himself roughly to your face. His lips crashed against yours, clacking your teeth together. You gasped into his mouth as he stood and slipped onto the bed over you, never once separating your lips. Your heart felt as though it was going to explode. You weren’t sure if you could handle this feeling. 

Your fingers tightened in his smooth hair, reveling in the feeling of the delicate strands. He sighed against your lips as the motion tugged at his scalp. Every feeling, every touch, every brush of his lips was almost too much for you to accept. Your chest rose heavily at the feeling, your heart thrashing against your rib cage. You were sure if he kept on, with him caressing every inch of the inside of your mouth, you’d faint. 

You jerked away from him, pushing yourself out from under him and against your headboard. 

“I’m sorry. Was that too far?” he immediately spoke. His hair was tousled, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were swollen. He looked absolutely ethereal. The air entered and left his chest at a rapid pace. His fingers nervously closed around your blanket. 

“No!” you practically screamed. “It wasn’t too far…I thought my chest was going to burst.” You chuckled breathlessly, pressing a shaking hand against your heart. You had dreamed of that feeling for months, and getting to experience it so suddenly had you reeling. Enzo was flawless, and every aspect of his perfect being was pushing your shattered self back together. He was more than just a crush.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit embarrassed,” you laughed. 

“Me too,” he smiled sheepishly, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time; I suppose I was a bit too eager.” Fuck, he was perfect. 

“You’ve wanted to kiss me for a long time?” He looked at you as if you were slow. As if his following words were the only possible response that could have come out of his mouth. 

“Of course I have,” he laughed, “have I not been terribly obvious? I thought it was easy to see that I’ve been utterly in love with you for the last year.” Your lips fell apart in shock. 

“You…love me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His eyes flickered down to your lips once again. Everything in your body urged you to touch him again, to feel his lips on yours, but you wanted more information.

“But, why?” you laughed. 

“Why? Oh, you have no idea. I am in love with you. You are the most perfect person I have ever met—” his hands removed themselves from the blankets to press to either side of your face—“your personality, your humor, your mind, everything about you makes my heart swell. When you look at me, when you walk next to me, when your arms would brush me in class…those small gestures have always been enough to sustain a deep desire to be loved by you.”

“En—”

“If you do not reciprocate those feelings, that is okay. I’m not going to force you to feel anything toward me. The feeling of that kiss was enough, and if you asked me never to speak to you again…it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I will do it, knowing that I told you my true feelings. The feeling of your lips on mine has renewed me forever.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed. The two of you laughed as tears welled in your eyes. The impact of Enzo’s words had hit you like a train, burrowing deep into the vessels of your heart. You never knew someone could be capable of loving in a way such as that, let alone the recipient of that love being you. And to think that he wasn’t even sure if you loved him back. To think he said all of that, not knowing if he’d ever feel the same thing in return. It was enough for the tears to begin sliding down your cheeks.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. His thumbs gently brushed the liquid away from your cheeks. A small smile was plastered on his face, and his eyes were easy and comforting.

“En,” you sobbed, your voice shaking, “of course I love you back. That’s why I was so upset earlier. I’ve loved you for so long. All I think of is you…I have to push you from my thoughts to get anything done.” The two of you laughed quietly.

“I’m that distracting?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow teasingly. You rolled your eyes and nodded, the smile refusing to leave your lips. Your cheeks ached beneath the pull of the grin, but nothing was going to pull it away from you. You were much too happy for that.

He pulled your body against him, cradling your head lovingly against his chest as your arms wrapped around his waist. He smelled sweet and familiar, his heartbeat pushing slightly against your cheek. The feeling of him pressed against you was more than you ever could have hoped for. His strong arms held you tightly in place, warding off anything that could ever get to you. Within Enzo’s hold, you felt like you could survive anything as if his body was energizing you. The love surging through your veins slipped against his, eternally binding them together. You were Enzo’s, and he was yours; that was all you’d ever hoped for. The universe had been particularly kind today. You smiled, your eyes slipping closed. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips pressed into your hair. You took a moment to relish in the feeling of having someone say that to you, of having him say that to you. It felt so perfect.

“I love you too, En.”

[cocteaucherry]

fuckboy!suguru x reader

a/n-something I wrote in like two days, :p

cws- geto is fr a douche, nipple play, nipple piercing, tongue piercings, unprotected p in v, 18+, geto with tattoos, mention of bodily fluids, slight coercion, reader uses she/her pronouns

fuckboy!Suguru who was the sweetest boy through your years of high school.

His hair was relatively long and his face was still developing, he’d offer to help you study for upcoming quizzes and would often invite you out for coffee study dates.

The summer after graduation Geto had cut contact with most of his friends (other than Gojo and Shoko) you didn't look too deep into it, I mean he was cutting social ties starting fresh, turning over a new great leaf. Oh how wrong you were

That fall you attended your local college excited to enter a new chapter, a few weeks into your first semester everything had gone calmly until you saw him.

He was more sculpted, his raven hair cascaded down his back and, how did he get jacked in a matter of months? Although to be fair he always wore baggy clothes. To add onto his new look was a long dragon sleeve tattoo and a cool metal ball pierced through his tongue.

You wondered where this pivot came from until the rumors and whispers began, many people regaling with tears how he fucked, led them on then broke it off with swift quickness.

A pang of disappointment rang through your body, over a boy you hung out with a few times was crazy your mind told you but you couldn't care.

fuckboy!Suguru who approached you in the dining hall with a sickeningly sweet smile and his usual hushed tone, “Y/N, long time no see.” a fake smile generated on your face as you listened to him try to powder and egg you on.

“I think we should catch up this weekend whaddya’ think?”

“I don't know..”

“Come on pleasee, it'll be like old times.”

“Fine,”

“Saturday at five good?”

Fuckboy!suguru picking you up in his surprisingly nice black Jeep, for being a douche he had a suspiciously clean car. He wore baggy jeans and a tight black t-shirt, his muscles looking as if they're trying to bust out the tight fabric but your eyes are brought to his chest.

Four small metal balls on either side of his nipples and you were gobsmacked.

“It's rude to stare, angel.”

You were bought out of your gaze, a heat creeping up your neck, you hadn't registered the nick name he gave you.

The date with Suguru had gone surprisingly well, you held your breath for the level of sleaze he could give off but so far nothing came.

So how come you found yourself on his couch sloppily making out with him?

His lips attacked and bruised yours aggressively, his large hands running over the slight exposure of your skin, small grunts came from his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

In the back of your mind this went against all your morals but at the moment you didn't care.

Fuckboy!Suguru who had you ride his thick, aching cock in the comfort of his bed, you whimpered as you struggled to slam your hips down completely on his length.

His amber eyes scanned your body as his muscles tensed as he felt you clench around him. Rough hands came to your soft bouncing breasts as he squeezed a nipple aggressively in-between his fingers, “Feel how hard you make me angel?” he cooed using his other hand to slap his hand harshly on the fat of your ass.

“Letting me fuck this tight pussy on our first outing too? tch.” he clicked his tongue latching his mouth onto your erect nipple, he swirled the tip of his tongue around purposely moving the cold metal around the space.

Whines escaped from your mouth as you pleaded, “S-Sugu, let me cum please,” you moaned continuing to bounce off his cock.

“Mm should I?” he mumbled pulling off your nipple to smirk at your sweaty face, “Don't know if you earned it,” the grip on your ass getting harsher each second.

Fuckboy!suguru who edged you for about two hours that night but came about four times all over your face, tits, and ass.

Fuckboy!suguru who left you naked in his bed to smoke outside as he ran into his white haired roommate hair tousled, “Suguru, do you always have to do this shit here? I'm not getting any sleep.” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Suguru smirked, holding a cigarette in hand as his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, “You'll be fine.”

“Who’s on the roster tonight?”

“Cute girl, met her in the dinner hall.”

“Huh, might’ve been the quickest fuck you've gotten usually you wait a week or two what's different?”

Suguru shrugged while walking towards the balcony, “No idea, just met her this week.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow with a grin, “Sugu~ y’know you're a terrible liar right?”

I feel like I could've gone a lot more extreme but I didn't wanna hurt my own feelings)

[valleydean]

Final Chapter: Chapter 19 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Winchester v Webb: Heavyweight Title Fight Set for Early May

That had been the newspaper headline all across America that morning.

May gave Dean four months to get his eyes on the prize. Cas and Bobby made training schedules; Benny bought bleacher tickets to Lee’s first bout post-recovery in February, to recon how Lee’s fighting style might have changed after his surgery; Rufus kept his ear to the ground, listening for any rumors about ways Luc might try to fix the fight; Sam spent a full two weeks going through the bout’s contract with a fine-tooth comb.

Dean let them deal with the details. He focused on getting his head in the game. It was like stretching a muscle he’d let weaken after much time of disuse. He’d thought he’d been ready for a title bout for at least a year now, but maybe a part of him had expected Cas to pull the rug out from under him after all, because it finally felt real now. For the first time in years, Dean had a shot at being the champion. He wasn’t about to miss it.

Apparently, Cas wasn’t going to let him do that either.

Today was Cas’ first official-unofficial day as part of Team Winchester, and he’d started the training before Dean even woke up. The son of a bitch got out of bed at the crack of dawn, stole Dean’s car keys, and left a note saying he and Sam took the Superior to drop off Jack at school and they’d see you at the gym at 8. He’d also stolen Dean’s wallet so that Dean couldn’t take a taxi to the gym. Dean had to start his morning off with a run.

When he got in a little after 8 AM, Cas made him warm up on the jump rope, which was pretty standard. But then he told Dean to run again—that time, up and down the stairs twenty times.

Dean looked at Bobby for help, but Bobby only grumbled, “You asked for this.” Sam laughed and laughed at Dean’s expense.

Finally, Dean was able to freestyle on a bag as the rest of the boxers trickled in for the morning session. Victor was the first to arrive. He took one look at the way Dean had already sweated through his sweat suit and gave a leering grin. “Had enough already, Winchester?” he teased, and Dean would have flipped him off if he hadn’t been wearing his gloves, so he did it with his arms instead. It didn’t have as much of an effect, but he was pretty sure Victor would have laughed at him either way.

By midday, the gym was filled with all the usual faces. They all hung off the ropes, watching Dean and Cas on the mitts inside the ring.

Dean had known that Cas was faster with the mitts than Rufus was, but he must have been trying to pick up the pace at certain points, because he was merciless. Dean’s breath was tight in his chest and there was a dry, burning stitch in his sides. Cas hadn’t even broken a sweat. No one would have ever been able to tell that he’d been laid up in the hospital only a month ago.

It was annoying—not to mention pretty distracting.

Dean followed the way Cas was angling and moving the mitts. He jabbed and crossed, jabbed and crossed again. Cas thrust his arm forward, and Dean slipped to the front, the mitt glancing off his shoulder. He shoveled a front uppercut into the mitt when Cas angled it downward. Cas moved forward, making Dean step back and throw a cross at the same time. Dean moved forward again and threw a rear uppercut.

Cas pivoted to the side and swung the mitt, making Dean roll under it and step around Cas to keep them toe-to-toe. A hook and another uppercut. Cas held up the mitts so Dean could throw a few fast ones and twos until Bobby called time.

A few members of their little audience started whistling and clapping—but probably not for Dean, even though he was the one doing all the hard work. Aside from the newbies, nobody ever gawked at him when he was training. Cas was the one who had their attention. Maybe a month ago, that would have pissed Dean off. Now, he was just glad Cas was around for people to swoon over at all.

Dean stretched his neck from side to side and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the fatigue from them. Sweat dripped down from the ends of his hair and got into his eyes. His throat was dry from panting so hard.

He’d asked Cas to help him get faster, and Cas was definitely delivering.

“Alright, show’s over. Get back to it or get out,” Bobby barked at the boxers. Slowly, everyone started trickling away, headed to the weight benches or various bags. Rufus followed a few of the palookas to the speed bags to show them how it was done.

Cas pulled off his mitts and shoved them under his armpit before drifting closer to Dean. “Good work,” he complimented sincerely.

Dean tried not to blush. He didn’t even know why he felt one coming on. He wasn’t exactly a mitt practice virgin.

He cleared his throat and muttered, “Thanks.”

He glanced over to where his water and sweat towel were waiting for him on a stool in the corner of the ring. Sam and Bobby were just on the other side of the ropes, Sam with his hands casually on his hips while he and Bobby spoke. He looked like a natural in the gym, like he fit in there as well as Dean did. Secretly, Dean hoped it took Sam a damn long time to find a new job. He liked having him there—and something told him Sam was enjoying it, too. Maybe Sam had just needed to get out from under their father’s thumb for him to realize he belonged here.

“Can I get a water break,” Dean gasped out, “or do you have some new way to torture me?”

Cas’ eyes lit up in a humored smile. He tipped his head toward the corner. “Go.”

Dean knocked his shoulder playfully against Cas’ before heading for the water. As he went, he undid the knots of his gloves with his teeth and pulled them off, then put them on the stool and snatched up the water bottle.

Cas followed closely behind him and leaned back against the ropes, resting his elbows over the top.

“Lookin’ good,” Sam told Dean. He reached inside the ring and picked up Dean’s gloves.

Dean chugged his water until he ran out of oxygen. It dribbled down his chin and neck, but he wasn’t mad about it because it cooled him down. Through ragged breaths, he said, “Thanks. Don’t have much of a choice with this one—” he nodded toward Cas. “It’s either keep up or risk getting punched.”

Cas scoffed in amusement. “Now you know how I felt when we first met.”

Dean gave him a crooked grin. “I think it worked out for you.”

“Okay, enough flirting,” Bobby scolded, exasperated. “Dean, go do some core work and cool down. We’ll pick this up again after lunch.” He looked at Cas. “Maybe you can get him to actually touch the reaction bag.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ve used it plenty’a times.” So what if it wasn’t his favorite thing to do? He didn’t like getting a face full of leather if he happened to be too slow, and he especially didn’t like it when Benny saw it happen—as he somehow always seemed to do—and started laughing at him.

“I’ll see that he does it,” Cas promised Bobby. He turned his blue eyes on Dean. “After he gets his energy back.”

Dean was pretty excited for the prospect of food and a nap. The hunger gnawing at his gut was starting to turn ravenous, but he’d rather drive home to eat instead of picking something up around the gym. It’d be easier to snooze for an hour afterward.

He walked up to Cas and placed his wrapped hands on Cas’ sides. “I’ll be quick cooling off. Wanna head home after that?”

Cas nodded gently, his eyes scanning Dean up and down with appreciation and affection. Dean’s lips buzzed to kiss him, but he settled for planting one on Cas’ temple.

“Would you two cut it out? I want you keeping it vertical in my ring, got it?” Bobby snapped. Next to him, Sam pulled a grossed-out face.

“Little late for that,” Dean murmured into Cas’ ear. He pulled away and saw the way Cas dipped his head to hide his smile. Dean let his hands slide off Cas’ ribs and headed for the stairs on the other side of the ring, then for the mats near the weights.

[chadillacboseman]

Pairing: David Loki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injury, blood, trauma, kidnapping (if you've seen the movie, you know what it's about), mentions of previous arguments/a breakup, a little angst, pivoting entirely into something much sweeter.

Summary: In the wake of the recovery of the Birch and Dover girls and the rescue of Keller, David is put on mandatory leave by CPD. There's only one place he wants to be.

A/N: MY DRAMATIC RETURN TO xREADER!!! Re-watching Prisoners after like 5 years was enough to make me come back after a lengthy hiatus. Everybody say "THANK YOU, JAKE GYLLENHAAL!"

--

"Take time to recover, Loki," Captain O'Malley looked over the top of a battered file folder, stern gray eyes never wavering as he stared down the detective across the desk from him.

"I can do more here-" David began, indignant; his usually slicked hair had become tousled in his frustration, long black strands hanging haphazardly into his face as he protested.

"I'm not asking, detective."

That was that.

David exited the precinct in a huff, slinging his heavy jacket over his shoulders as his breath came in billowing white clouds against the frigid air. He paused on the front steps, irritation still bubbling just below the surface as he chewed his tongue in contemplation.

His right temple ached where Holly's bullet had struck him, throbbing down into his eye, where a bloodshot ring of ruptured vessels haloed his iris. He brought a hand up to the bandage absentmindedly, tracing the gauze and taking a moment to marvel at the fact that he'd come out from the shootout with his life.

Maybe O'Malley was right. David was in no shape to be on the streets, and the thought of being forced into desk duty made his eye twitch. He sighed heavily as he made his way down the steps and to his car, flinging the door open and dropping into the worn seat before bringing the engine to a whining start.

Muscle memory didn't take him home. Not to his empty house where he'd be left alone with every heavy memory that the Dover and Birch case had put on his shoulders. No, instead it took him to the opposite side of town, to your apartment building, where his car almost seemed to guide itself into a familiar parking space. The headlights cut off with the engine, and he exited into the darkening evening, making his way to the entrance.

David's hand hovered over the call button on the entry system, hesitant, shaking. He swallowed, thickly, then hammered the one next to your unit number, waiting with his breath trapped in his chest. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair, tucking the unruly strands back to join the others as he stood there.

Inside your apartment, the loud buzzer near your door startled you into nearly dropping the dish you'd been about to place in the dishwasher. You furrowed your brows and glanced at the time on your phone- 6:00PM.

You dried off your hands and made your way to the entry; next to your door, a small red light blinked on top of a plastic speaker. You watched it for a moment, wondering if perhaps someone had hit the wrong number.

BUZZ.

"Hello?" you thumbed the button and waited tentatively.

"It's me."

"David?"

You hadn't seen him in weeks. He'd become so engrossed in the case with the missing girls that it had driven a wedge between the two of you, and you'd half expected to never see him again. When David got invested in a case, you quickly learned that you would always play second fiddle. Things had come to a head when Bob Taylor killed himself while in custody and David had become a man obsessed- angry, out of control, so singularly focused that you'd told him to get out.

He hadn't even argued.

"Can I come up?" his voice was quiet.

You hesitated, tongue trapped between your teeth as you considered your options. You'd seen on the news that the case had had a happy ending- both girls recovered safely, and Keller Dover had been found as well.

"Please?"

You sighed and hit the entry button, already feeling your body tense at the idea of him being back in your apartment after such a volatile ending. His quiet knock jolted you into focus and you slid the chain lock off the rail and turned the deadbolt with a loud click before swinging the door open.

David looked like hell.

The right side of his head was bandaged near the temple, and angry red bruising peppered his forehead and circled his eye, which was so bloodshot that it looked alien. You opened your mouth to comment, but decided against it, instead stepping aside so he could enter.

David winced when his eyes passed over the apartment, remembering the last time he'd set foot inside. The way your eyes had swam with tears as you'd begged him to just take a step back, to listen to you for even a second.

The way you'd begged him to show that he cared.

He turned to look at you, standing just a few feet away, but it felt like miles. Your arms were folded across your chest, fingers flexing on your biceps uncomfortably as you avoided his gaze and stared pointedly at the floor.

David opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come.

For once, it wasn't Detective Loki who stood before you. It was just David- a mortal man, not some larger than life police officer chasing down the bad guys in dark alleyways.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke, his quiet words falling flat in the tense air of the apartment, "for all of it."

All of it. The late shifts, the yelling, the nights spent sleeping on the couch. The alcohol he'd used to dull the ache of failure any time he chased a dead end lead.

"David-" you sighed and closed your eyes, bringing two fingers to pinch the space between your brows in frustration. It was so incredibly like him to think that he could finish a case and ride that high into coming back to you, waltzing back into your life as if he hadn't left you devastated just weeks before.

"I mean it," he took a hesitant step toward you, his hands flexing at his sides as he tried to stop himself from reaching for you, "please."

His plea felt genuine, warbling around the edges as if he was barely holding it together. You looked up and felt the slightest pang of emotion sear through your chest at the look in his eyes. Whatever had transpired as the case had come to a close had clearly rattled him- his air of confidence and righteous anger was gone, leaving a bruised and bloodied little boy standing in your entryway.

The same little boy who had joined the police force to stop the same people who had hurt him. The little boy who had felt so alone for so long until he met you.

"Please let me fix this."

Your heart wrenched control from your brain at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you crossed the room, closing the distance until you were just inches from him. Slowly, you brought your hand up to cup the uninjured side of his face, running your thumb gently across the stubble that had cropped up on his jaw.

David closed his eyes and a shaky breath passed through his lips as he leaned his head into your touch. Only then did he remember how much he had missed you- the softness of your touch, the way you kept him grounded when everything seemed lost.

The way you loved him, even when he couldn't bear to love himself.

"Forgive me?" David's lips twitched as he opened his eyes to look into yours.

You weren't sure if 'forgive' was the right word for what you were doing, but it was a start. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your head to rest against his chest as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

David exhaled, as if it was the first time he'd done it fully since he'd left your apartment all those nights ago. You pulled back enough to look at him and he smiled, his face framed by the dark strands of hair that had fallen from the slicked back style atop his head.

"Captain made me take the rest of the month off," David murmured as he looked down at you, the soft smile still playing at his lips as he spoke.

You raised an eyebrow, shocked that he'd even agreed to take the leave of absence. Maybe he was ready to change for the better.

"And what do you plan to do with all that free time?" you asked playfully, your own smile now widening as his eyes crinkled at the corners, soft gaze still never breaking from yours.

"Make it up to you," David grinned and brought his mouth to yours before you could come up with a clever rebuttal.

In an instant, it was like he'd never stormed out of your apartment that night. All the days of watching the news, waiting for some reporter to announce that Detective David Loki had been killed in a shootout were wiped from the slate as his lips met yours.

David broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, the tip of his nose just barely brushing against your own as his hands fell so naturally to your waist to keep you close.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

[welllllllllllllllllll]

can you do jude x any of his teammates from real? 🙏🙏

A/N: yess sweetheart i def can , i been waiting for this one

Note: In this universe , Fede never met mina so they never got together or anything

----------------------------------------------------------------🌹 🌹

Title: Summer Love

Madrid was far from Germany but they say home is where the heart is , and Jude’s home has been nestled in the chestnut haired boy , with kind eyes and a soft smile since the moment they first met each other at a youth camp . It was a camp for 23 year olds and under , naturally Jude was the youngest there .

Salt air, and the rust on your door ,

I never needed anything more

Everyone else might’ve been intimidating but Fede treated Jude as an equal , no envy only appreciation for the boy with lean arms and legs but heaps of potential and confidence.

 They were like 2 sides of a coin . Fede , already developing muscles ; fast , strong and relentless ,if a little lacking in belief and confidence.  Jude, the up and coming talent with a million eyes on him, yet , cool and collected . His scrawny back all but embroidered for that kind of attention , to carry the weight at ease , to bear it with pleasure. It was only natural in the sea of men , they found each other.

But I can see us lost in the memory,

August slipped away into a moment in time

They exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact .The first few weeks of conversation were a little stilted but then, it was like something clicked. They took to each other like ducks to water. Same sense of humor , same goals and the same work ethic. They grew very close. 

At some point , thoughts went from , “I can't wait to play with him” to “I can’t wait to visit him” to 

“i wonder what it feels like to hold his hand or to touch his fluffy hair ”

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Over the years, the boys had become exceedingly close. 

And then one day Jude’s fantasies actually manifested . Fede surprised Jude on his 19th birthday . Lost in the busy schedule , this was the first time they met in months. It had been coming for quite some time , both boys craving the others’ touch like they needed air to breathe. They roamed the roads of Germany , went to a carnival ( the ones Jude loved) and then finally stopped at a lake to enjoy a quiet moment . The stars were sparkling white in this part of town but in front of Jude , Fede wouldn't even look at the Kohinoor if it was placed in front of him. 

Jude gazed at the sky and Fede peered at Jude , they were much the same . Then , as the night sky bled from blue to black , they caught each other's' eye. Jude felt Fede's lips softly land on his , timid but so passionate . So full of love . Fede held the back of his head , afraid to break the moment , afraid that everything would change for the worse.

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August slipped away like a bottle of wine

They retreated home and ended the day by cuddling in bed . As home as Germany had started to feel in the last 3 years for Jude , his heart never felt as at peace as it did with Fede . When Fede was around , there was a haze around them , something sacred , something only they existed in . When the time came for Fede to leave , Jude kissed him goodbye . Unbeknownst to them , this would bring a pivotal change in their friendship and be the onset of their love. 

----------------------------------------------------------------🌹 🌹

i feel like i did too much lmfao , let me know what y'all think . This is Jude x Fede and its like an alt universe where they meet really young and go from there . I feel like young judey and fede would get along idk . Also omg a songfic

~Tia

[klcthebookworm]

WIP Wednesday: Strix: Forget the Sun

April's project is my original fiction novel Strix: Forget the Sun. I have been battling this novel for years now and after last year's incredible results on it during NaNo, I decided to give this project two months in 2024.

I consider this novel falling under the paranormal suspense genre with some coming-of-age elements, but I have been down in writing it so long I have no idea how true that will be by the time I finished the first draft.

Haganville is the prize sought by a centuries-old vampire and only an untested dhampir filling her father’s role as protector opposes him in this paranormal suspense.

that is the comprehensive concept I have been using while in the first draft. Excerpt under the read more cut.

Peg felt pretty good about the night. She got Strix seen, well by more people than she had planned, but she had succeeded in the plan. She had stopped Mr. Body Part Dumper and the cops better keep him in jail for that. And she had her own mystery to solve. She could work on that, Dad could get better, and hopefully she could find and stop those guys in the car before they killed more people.

Such a good night, and then that asshole in black armor stepped out of the shadows in front of her. “Out for a late night stroll pretending to be a superhero?”

“You!” Peg curled her hands in fists. “Pretending nothing. I’m more of a superhero than you ever will be!”

“Pretending to be a murderer isn’t any kind of being a hero.” He stalked toward her. Peg stood her ground. “Maybe it is a family affair? Deats was shot; did you pull the trigger to protect Strix?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Peg shifted into a guard stance.

He stopped moving forward to stalk around her. Peg turned with him to keep facing him. “Stupid little girl. I guess you didn’t shoot a man then. You aren’t so stupid as to not remember that.”

“No, I haven’t shot anybody! And neither has the man you hurt!”

He laughed at her. “Man? A man? You aren’t trusted with anything aren’t you?”

Her anger flared. How did this stranger know how much lying had been done to her to keep her in the dark? “You asshole.”

“And you come wading into this like you have some God-given authority to solve anything.”

“Of course I came wading into this! You tried to kill someone I love!”

“The monsters don’t know anything about love, you stupid bitch! Like love is enough to save a life. Love does not keep anyone alive! You think you love Strix? That you prove it being out here? Fuck you for slowing me down. He should be dead now for murdering my Deats. And you can’t stop me from seeing justice done.”

“I will stop you!” Peg charged forward, swinging her right fist at his helmeted head.

He dodged her punch and hit he stomach with his fist. She curled around it as she struggled to breathe. She did managed to kick at his knee as she twisted away from him. The armor protected the joint, but she did get away. She ended up twisting behind him and plowed her shoulder into him so he’d fall flat on his armored face.

He stumbled forward but recovered and pivoted around. “Poor little rich girl. Nobody taught you how to fight either.”

She spun around with a roundhouse kick. That he had to lean back to duck. But he still laughed.

And more laughter joined his. They both swiveled their heads without turning from each other, so he didn’t bring reinforcements. She hadn’t brought reinforcements, even if she had any to bring. What the hell could Aunt Jane do? She didn’t know how to throw a punch.

They were ringed by five people. A bald-headed, muscle-bound man stepped toward them from the side so not at either of their backs. “[Half-vampires in whatever old term I decide to use for it]! What luck that we have found you. Master Sagara wants you so very badly and now we have you.”

“Who wants us?” Peg asked, keeping her fists up.

The guy in black had his hands on his belt. “You’re with the crazy blonde who needs more English lessons.”

“That’s rude,” the woman said to Peg’s left. Her blonde hair was buzzed short. “United States doesn’t have an official language, you know.”

“He will learn to mind his tongue. Sagara will teach it to him and he will obey.” The bald man nodded. “You both will obey or die. Seize him, Minke.”

Minke smirked and rushed forward. The asshole in the armor bent forward slightly and swung his arm out and into her chest. She stopped and flung both her arms out. Her skin and muscles shriveled until her skeleton remained standing before shattering into dust.

The man in armor straightened up with a pointed stick extending from his fist. “Anybody else got fangs?”

[sevenmerrymagpies]

Chapter 1 - Steve's No Good, Terrible, Kinda Perfect Senior Year

Summary:

Steve pivoted back to his original demand. “You can’t tell anyone.” Munson scoffed. “I mean it. You cannot tell anyone about this.” “What’s in it for me, if I don’t?” Eddie said as he stood up to his full height from leaning over the table and crossed his arms. +++ In a last-ditch attempt to live and create a new leader for their hive mind, the vines in the tunnel released a (probably) toxic goop right into Steve’s face. Getting powers from the Upside Down was the cherry on the shit sundae Steve had been served since Halloween. All he wanted to do was graduate in peace, left alone to lick his wounds and mourn the loss of his relationship with Nancy and the loss of his popularity in private. It turns out the Spring of ‘85 might be when he finally finds a family, real friends, and a very unexpected romance.

As Steve looked down into the tunnels he really hoped the masks helped against the stuff floating in the air. At all. And that the kids kept them up the whole time. After he jumped down into the tunnels and helped the rest of the kids do the same, he let his game-day instincts overcome his nerves. It helped him to focus on keeping the kids safe and letting them do their firebug thing. Even sporting the aches and pains from first the junkyard and then his fight with Billy his body knew how to keep going. He knew how to feel like crap with the first cold of the year and still win his swim meet. He knew how to captain a basketball team with a hangover. His body knew how to do this, so he let it. Better than double-thinking everything and failing to act when Mike was trapped by the vines or the demodogs were chasing them. Better to get everyone out of the tunnels and back safe, firmly in Hawkins.

After all the kids were safe, after he got out of the tunnels, after the lights on the Camero flared to life and Mike declared the evening won, he flopped on the ground and groaned, feeling overwhelmed after ignoring them for the last half hour, all his aches and pains from the night flared as one. He’d had way too much good luck this time out and not enough skill. Not nearly enough of him actually fending off or defeating the monsters with his muscles and his bat. Nothing he’d done had been fully in his control and he suppressed a full-body shudder thinking how easily it could have gone wrong. Or maybe that full-body shudder was from the head trauma. You can only suppress the effects of a concussion for so long before it rears up again, so when the urge to vomit finally got too strong, he crawled down near the caved-in sinkhole they’d used as an entrance to the tunnels and vomited.

It seemed like just desserts to give the Upside Down a little bit of a last fuck you. Expect, of course, his good luck that night finally ran out because one of the vines near the edge of the tunnel seemed to break away, or swing his way for some reason. Steve didn’t know what was happening, or why, he only saw it out of the corner of his eye too late to move as he heaved the last bits of bile from his stomach. The vine curved towards him and squirted something out onto his face.

Right in his open mouth.

“Ew, gross.” He said sitting back from the edge of the sinkhole. It was all over his face, in his mouth, and his hair. He tried to spit it out but he knew he swallowed some of it too. This shit was vile. “Anyone got a napkin or a towel.”

“Of course, we don’t dipshit,” Mike said.

“Thanks, Mike, you’re help is always so stellar.” Steve spit out more of the goo.

Dustin started screaming at the same time, “Oh, my god, get it off you. Who knows what that is.”

“Yes, Dustin, which is why I’m asking you guys to look in the car for something to help wipe it off,” Steve tried to get some of it off his face but instead he smeared it over more of himself. He shook his hands sharply once and fat globs of the stuff flopped onto the ground at his feet.

The kids finally realized leaving Steve covered in unknown Upside Down goo wasn’t the healthiest option, for him or anyone, and frantically searched the car while Max dug through Dustin’s backpack and found some old McDonald’s napkins in the bottom. She handed them over before the rest of the boys even noticed. “Thanks, Red.”

He wiped as much of the goo off as he could and figured he’d get the rest in the shower. He also figured he probably had to tell an actual adult he needed to be decontaminated somehow. Steve didn’t know what that would entail but as long as it didn’t mean he missed too much school, he didn’t care. Too many absences this quarter meant he might get kicked from the basketball team next quarter and that wasn’t something he could stand to give up this year. Not after Halloween. Not after Nancy and Billy.

He tossed the napkins on the ground and then Dustin screamed at him, “No, we can’t get rid of those, they’re samples of whatever that was.” He prodded the napkins with his toe. In a quieter voice, he said, “But maybe you should touch them because you’ve already got exposed to it.”

“You’re gonna make me carry those napkins around with us?” Steve asked, incredulous that this boy was somehow both so smart and such an absolute shit stain. The kid nodded and Steve crumbled, the energy to fight Dustin gone a long time ago. “Fine!” Steve said and threw his hands up in the air. He pocketed the napkins in his jean pocket since the jeans weren’t his favorite and they were probably going in the trash at this point. Despite the goo, Steve was still hoping his jacket was salvageable with a thorough spot cleaning followed by a deluxe dry cleaning.

“I’ll drive us back,” Max said with a chipper, eager voice.

“No way, toss me the keys,” Steve said.

“But you’ve got a concussion,” Lucas said. “You can’t drive.”

“Even with my face caved in I can drive better than any of you. So I’m driving back.”

Steve had to concentrate on driving with enough intensity it made him feel like he had his learner’s permit again. At least his eyesight had cleared and the nausea had receded by the time he got behind the wheel.

They were the first group back and found Billy stumbling outside, barely awake as they arrived. Steve left the keys in the car and kept the kids away from Billy, giving him a wide circle. The asshole ignored them and all but crawled to his car before driving away. He’d have to deal with Billy at school, which was going to be really fucking annoying, but that was a future Steve problem.

He collapsed on the couch in the living room and announced. “I’m going to sleep, wake me up when there’s like actual adults here to talk to.”

The last thing he heard was Dusting announcing loudly he shouldn’t go to sleep and declaring it bad for concussions before he passed all the way out.

Read the rest of the chapter on AO3

[hailqiqi]

Churned this out in a 30min prompt sprint and thought posting it might be an extra push to get me back into writing more, so here you go.

//Kim & Marinette//Gen//568 words

His footsteps thudded along the pavement, the sound almost drowned out by the constant crashes and yells from behind as Chat Noir tried to stop the akuma following them — Go! he’d all but screamed as soon as the light had flashed — and Kim should really be trying to keep tabs on where the fight in case he needed to duck behind something and hide, he should really be paying more attention to his breathing and making sure he could keep up the pace once the adrenaline faded, he should really be trying to think up of a strategy instead of running blindly in the first direction he’d picked, but his mind was frazzled and all he could think was why did she have to be a designer.

She could have been an artist. A baker. She could have stuck with making dolls and teddy bears, which is why she’d told him she was going to learn to sew way back before he’d stopped talking to her at school in case Chloe saw. Marinette had always been into colours and creating — and wasn’t that ironic — but there’d been so, so many ways she could have taken it.

And yet here he was, cursing every choice he’d never been a part of as he cradled her limp body and ran, hoping desperately that nobody recognised the one-of-a-kind jeans, or flats, or any of her other clothes and accessories, all of which she’d helpfully embroidered with her own monogrammes and motifs to stand out and be recognisable. If somebody did recognise her logos — and there were always people watching and recording akuma attacks, even if you couldn’t see them — Kim just prayed they wouldn’t realise the girl he carried was supposed to be Ladybug.

Scorching heat rent the air next to him, shattering the pavement with a mighty crack as Kim pivoted, barely sparing the akuma a glance as he changed directions without slowing. The next shot was further off the mark, and he clutched Marinette tighter to his chest as he started to zigzag, weaving around cars and debris and back and forth across the narrow road as randomly as he could.

Where was Chat Noir?

There was no time to worry about it.

Blast after blast followed, screams of frustration sounding with each dodge, and really things were worse right now — Max could probably give him some fancy numbers for just how much worse the situation had gotten — but each miss felt like a stroke through the water, pulling him closer and closer towards that Zone where his muscles were pumping and he knew what to do next. Five to the left, six to the right, another two rightwards and then stop and circle back before doing a quick left-right zigzag — be unpredictable. An Uproar with his feet but not his staff. If his time as King Monkey had taught him anything, it was that unpredictability was a powerful tool, was something that could take a hopeless situation and reshape it into something winning.

Kim was comfortable with that kind of unpredictability, at least. Just not the kind where teeny-tiny Marinette — Marinette who’d learnt to wrap dumplings with him, Marinette who’d fought him for trinkets, Marinette who was like a baby sister to him, Marinette who’d had a crush on him, Marinette who’d avoided his eyes and barely spoken to him for all of their second year at college — was Ladybug.

[nikhil-patil]

Evolving with the City: The Adaptive Human Form of Future Mumbaikars"

This is a follow up iteration of my last post which was written without the help of any AI assistance. This is a iteration which was made with the help of Chat gpt

Eighty years from now, Mumbai stands as a testament to human adaptability and resilience. As the city underwent a massive transformation, so did its people. The Mumbaikars of the future are shaped—quite literally—by the challenges and demands of urban life, especially those brought about by a new era of transportation.

The Roots of Change

The city’s redevelopment over the next 40 to 50 years reshaped not just its skyline but also its way of life. Rising population density and surging energy consumption pushed the limits of public infrastructure. Natural fuel prices skyrocketed, rendering taxis and auto rickshaws obsolete. Private cars became an unattainable luxury for the majority, leaving the common Mumbaikar to face the daily grind of commuting on foot or through crowded public transport.

The strain on transportation systems brought about a pivotal moment in Mumbai’s history. The government, faced with public outcry, launched a bold initiative: Project N.O.W (New Old Ways). While the trams of the past inspired this solution, the real story lay in how it transformed the human form and spirit of Mumbaikars.

The Evolving Physique of Mumbaikars

Years of standing, balancing, and maneuvering through overcrowded spaces began to mold the bodies of Mumbaikars in subtle yet profound ways. The new tram system, central to the city’s transportation, reinforced these adaptations:

Leg Strength and Endurance Decades of commuting on packed trains and buses had already conditioned Mumbaikars to endure long periods of standing. By the time the N.O.W trams were introduced, this ability had become a defining trait. The human form evolved stronger leg muscles, improved posture, and exceptional balance, enabling people to navigate the jostling of moving vehicles with ease.

Enhanced Equilibrium The absence of seating in the new trams—except for a few spots reserved for the elderly, pregnant women, and those with medical needs—meant that standing was not just a necessity but a norm. Over time, Mumbaikars developed heightened proprioception, an innate sense of balance that allowed them to stand firmly even during sudden stops or sways of the tram.

Adapted Skeletal Structure The constant strain on legs and feet led to subtle changes in bone density and structure. Ankles and knees became sturdier, while the arches of the feet strengthened, reducing fatigue.

Social and Emotional Resilience Beyond physical changes, the necessity of standing and traveling together fostered a unique social bond. Strangers leaned on one another, both literally and figuratively, creating a sense of unity amidst the chaos.

Project N.O.W: A Catalyst for Transformation

The introduction of fully automated, AI-powered trams changed the rhythm of the city. These trams were designed to move quickly and efficiently, navigating the city’s labyrinth of roads in record time. Passengers selected their destination using interactive maps at tram stops, ensuring a seamless experience.

However, the design of the tram prioritized space efficiency over comfort, reinforcing the need for standing travel. This decision was not arbitrary; it stemmed from the understanding that Mumbaikars had adapted to this mode of commuting over generations. Standing was no longer a burden—it was a way of life.

A City Shaped by Its People

The streets of Mumbai, once choked with traffic, became dedicated tramways. Fewer cars on the roads allowed for open spaces and cleaner air. But it was the people who truly defined this new era. The evolution of the human form in response to the challenges of transportation highlighted the adaptability and ingenuity of Mumbaikars.

Their physical endurance and emotional resilience became the cornerstone of the city’s success. Even the youngest generation, growing up in this new system, exhibited traits that blended agility, strength, and a sense of community—qualities shaped by their environment and the demands of urban life.

The Future of Mumbaikars

In this reimagined Mumbai, the human form itself stands as a symbol of survival and progress. Project N.O.W not only provided a solution to transportation but also catalyzed an evolutionary journey, one that turned the everyday struggles of Mumbaikars into their greatest strengths.

As the city continues to evolve, so too will its people—adapting, thriving, and embodying the spirit of a metropolis that never stops moving.

[fastmusclecar123]

New Post has been published on https://fastmusclecar.com/ice-muscle-cars-alive-or-dead/best-muscle-cars/

ICE Muscle Cars: Alive or Dead?

By Dave Ashton

Dodge is responding to strong consumer demand for internal combustion engine, ICE muscle cars by expediting the production timeline for its highly anticipated gas-powered Charger. Refering to MoparInsiders, this strategic pivot underlines Dodge’s commitment to catering to traditional muscle car enthusiasts while navigating the industry’s electric transformation.

However, the news also sends mixed messages about the whole ICE vs. electric debate. Only a few years ago, the Charger Daytona was announced as the first all-electric muscle car, marking the end of ICE muscle cars in general. Even those who vehemently opposed to electric vehicles had to concede defeat, thinking we would all be forced to buy electric vehicles shortly. However, the reality seems to be that ICE cars will not be going away anytime soon.

Why Dodge is Fast-Tracking the Gas-Powered Charger

In 2022, Dodge announced its intention to transition toward electrification with the unveiling of the Charger Daytona EV. However, feedback from loyal customers indicated a continued appetite for ICE models. In response, Dodge adjusted its strategy, ensuring that the electric Charger Daytona and the gas-powered Charger Sixpack meet market demand.

Originally slated for late 2025, the production of the ICE Charger has been accelerated by five months, with dealership availability now expected by early summer 2025. According to Motor1, there are still loads of Chargers and Challengers available to buy on the Dodge website in all configurations.

Key Features of the Upcoming Gas-Powered Charger

Advanced Inline-Six Engine

The gas-powered Charger will be offered with inline-six-cylinder engines, providing a more efficient alternative to the classic V8. Dodge’s commitment to delivering high performance while maintaining fuel efficiency.

Dual Body Styles

The Charger Sixpack will be available in both two-door and four-door configurations, catering to a broader range of customer preferences. This flexibility ensures the model appeals to traditionalists and new buyers alike. Production of the ICE Charger aligns with Dodge’s dual-strategy approach: maintaining the heritage of muscle cars while progressively embracing electrification.

Balancing EV Transition and ICE Legacy

As regulatory pressures intensify and more markets mandate a shift toward electric vehicles, Dodge faces the challenge of balancing its heritage-driven ICE lineup with the future-oriented EV models. The Charger Daytona EV remains central to Dodge’s long-term strategy.

Consumer Sentiment as a Driving Force

The expedited release of the gas-powered Charger signifies Dodge’s sensitivity to its core audience. Muscle car enthusiasts continue to value the sensory experience of combustion engines, and the brand’s decision to prioritize these preferences could bolster long-term loyalty.

Future Implications for the Muscle Car Market

Dodge’s dual approach may serve as a template for other automakers facing similar consumer and regulatory dynamics. The success of the gas-powered Charger and the reception of the Charger Daytona EV will likely shape future strategies across the industry.

Timeline of Dodge Charger Evolution

2022 : Dodge announces transition to electrification 2024 : First Charger Daytona EV production begins 2025 : Early summer release of gas-powered Charger Sixpack 2025 : Charger Sixpack ICE expanded to include four-door models

The whole car market seems to be a mixed bag of perspectives at present. Some makers are all in on electric, some are juggling with hybrids, while others are playing with alternative fules sources like hydrogen. In other words, the future is not fixed in terms of which technology will win out.

As anecdotal evidence, speaking with a local, grassroots car mechanic who serves the average car consumer, states most customers are not fully convinced electric vehicles are the best choice. The main points of contention are not enough charging points, range, what if you break down, I don’t own a driveway to charge the car, expensive, etc. On the other hand, speaking with a machinist from an F1 maker, their view was electric is the future. Two opposing viewpoints from two ends of the buying spectrum. Each has valid points to consider, but as it stands ICE cars have more more shelf life.

[themistechnologies01]

18 November, 2024

Are you new to the newsletter?

Each week, I delve into the latest trends and developments in the UK tech market.

Let’s explore what’s new.

ChatGPT Takes on Google’s Turf

The search world just got a shake-up! OpenAI, the creators behind ChatGPT, are stepping into Google’s turf with a fresh twist on search. That’s right, ChatGPT’s rolling out its own search engine, and it’s built to understand and engage users in a more natural, conversational way. Rather than throwing a thousand links at you, this AI aims to dig deeper, delivering direct answers and meaningful insights. No more wading through endless web pages — just the info you need in a single, friendly chat.

Why This Matters:

For all the times Google left you scrolling, OpenAI’s new search tool could be your new go-to. With AI taking the lead in delivering straightforward answers, we might finally bid goodbye to those “page two” mysteries we rarely click!

It’s exciting to see how this AI-driven search experience will fare. Who knows? In a few years, “Google it” might just become “ChatGPT it”!

GitHub’s UK User Boom: 4 Million Strong and Powered by AI 

GitHub just hit a major milestone with over 4 million users in the UK, riding high on its shift toward AI-driven tools that aim to boost productivity and creativity in software development. With developers embracing these tools to streamline coding tasks, GitHub is turning up the innovation dial—and it’s clearly working!

What’s Fueling the Growth?

GitHub has been integrating AI tools like Copilot, which offers coding suggestions and automates repetitive tasks. This isn’t just making coding faster; it’s letting developers focus on the creative parts of the job, all while GitHub’s user base keeps climbing. From startups to coding pros, everyone’s jumping in on the action.

This surge in GitHub’s popularity proves that AI isn’t just a “nice to have” anymore; it’s becoming essential for developers everywhere. With the platform’s AI tools simplifying the grunt work, the UK tech scene is primed for even more growth and innovation. 

Keep an eye out—there’s more to come as AI shapes the future of code!

NVIDIA Steps Up as Tech’s New Giant! 

In a tech twist, NVIDIA has just bumped Intel off the Dow Jones, cementing its role as a leading force in the AI boom. With its graphics processors now essential for everything from gaming to self-driving cars, NVIDIA’s rapid rise reflects the growing power of AI in the tech world.

Why the shake-up?

As AI becomes the heart of tech’s future, demand for NVIDIA’s top-tier GPUs has soared, pushing it to become one of the most influential players in the market. This shift isn’t just a nod to changing trends—it’s a reminder that the tech sector is pivoting towards new priorities, and NVIDIA’s paving the way.

NVIDIA's arrival on the Dow signifies more than a corporate switch-up; it’s the tech world giving a nod to the AI-powered future. With this change, we’re looking at an exciting shift in the tech landscape, where every innovation pushes the boundaries of what’s possible. Who knew that gaming chips could shape the world?

Data Centres—The UK’s New Economic Dynamo 

Data centres, those “boring” buildings packed with servers, are powering up to become the UK’s economic powerhouse! They’re quietly driving major growth, creating thousands of jobs, and bolstering industries from tech to finance. And it’s not just about storing our selfies or streaming our favorite shows; these centres are the digital muscle behind AI advancements, cybersecurity, and even future economic stability.

The demand for data is skyrocketing, and with it, the need for robust, efficient data hubs. The UK is already becoming a global leader here, and as investments continue pouring in, our digital infrastructure is set to strengthen even further.

With all this buzz, data centres might just need a new image makeover! They’re proving to be the silent heroes, quietly keeping the UK’s economy ticking. So next time you think of “infrastructure,” forget roads and bridges—think rows of blinking servers and streaming gigabytes!

Subscribe to this newsletter to stay updated on the latest news from the UK Tech.

What do you think of this newsletter? Drop a message on my LinkedIn or Instagram.

[starseedfxofficial]

The Hidden Truth About True Strength Index & GDP in Forex Riding the Waves of True Strength Index & GDP Let's get something straight right from the start: if trading indicators were superheroes, True Strength Index (TSI) would be that underrated hero who always gets the job done while Gross Domestic Product (GDP) plays the wise, experienced mentor. Together, they form an unlikely, yet dynamic duo in the Forex universe. And we're not just talking about typical "buy low, sell high" advice here—nope, this is advanced. We're going to reveal how you can leverage TSI and GDP Gross Domestic Product to sidestep those common pitfalls that others fall into (like buying a discounted gadget on a whim that just ends up collecting dust). So buckle up, folks, because we're diving into the hidden gems that will make you the hero of your own trading story. What Exactly is the True Strength Index? (Hint: It’s Not a Gym Exercise) First things first, the True Strength Index is not your run-of-the-mill momentum indicator, nor is it some fancy weightlifting equipment. TSI measures the rate of change of a trend, helping traders discern both trend direction and strength. It’s like having a personal trainer that doesn’t just cheer you on but also gives you the data-driven – and brutally honest – insights into your workout. In Forex, TSI helps identify overbought or oversold conditions, ensuring you don’t end up metaphorically straining a muscle (or more accurately, straining your trading account). True Strength Index differs from popular indicators like RSI because it emphasizes trend direction rather than just reversals. Imagine RSI being the guy who screams “Pivot now!” while TSI leans over and says, “Listen, mate, this is where you’re headed.” And sometimes, you need a little bit of both, right? Connecting the Dots: GDP Gross Domestic Product and the Forex Rollercoaster Now let’s introduce GDP Gross Domestic Product—the literal backbone of any economy. Imagine GDP as the "season finale" of a country’s financial year. It’s that one measure that determines whether a country's economic performance is blockbuster-worthy or the flop of the year. In Forex, keeping an eye on GDP is like checking the weather before setting sail—ignore it, and you could find yourself in stormy waters, cursing your bad decisions. Using GDP along with the True Strength Index is where the magic happens. Why, you ask? Because while GDP tells you how well (or badly) a country is doing, TSI gives you a zoomed-in view of what’s currently happening in the market. This is akin to deciding between booking a 5-star hotel (after a positive GDP report) or sticking to a hostel when things don’t look good. Why Most Traders Ignore This Duo (and Why You Shouldn’t) Let’s get honest: many traders don't bother with GDP and TSI together. It's like having a car with Bluetooth but never using it and screaming at your phone—unnecessary and inefficient. GDP reports can be cumbersome, and the TSI takes some finesse to interpret, but the value lies in their combined insight. Imagine being able to anticipate market direction based not just on past momentum but also on current economic context—that’s a winning combination! It’s a double-edged sword that could give you the edge when everyone else is just throwing darts in the dark. How to Trade Like a Ninja with True Strength Index & GDP Want to feel like a trading ninja? Here’s how to combine the TSI and GDP effectively: - GDP Check First: Let’s say GDP comes out stronger than expected. This indicates that a country is in great financial health. You can almost picture it as a superhero charging up, ready to knock the opposition out. If you’re trading a currency backed by a good GDP report, you know which way the wind’s blowing. - Verify with TSI: Before making a move, pull out your True Strength Index. Is TSI positive and increasing? If yes, that means the trend is not just strong, it’s going in your favor—kind of like finding out the sneakers you want to buy are not only on sale but are also going fast because they’re genuinely that good. - Enter Strategically: Now here’s the trick—combine a high TSI value with positive GDP news, and you have an opportunity to make a calculated entry. On the flip side, if GDP disappoints and TSI shows a declining trend, you might want to hold off on buying, or better yet, look for opportunities to sell. In the Forex world, this is called taking advantage of market sentiment—and it’s how traders walk away with the winnings while others are left wondering what went wrong. Watch Out for Divergences If you really want to separate yourself from the crowd, look for divergences. Imagine your GPS telling you to head north, while traffic is all moving south—this is essentially a divergence. If GDP reports are solid but TSI starts to weaken, there’s a hidden divergence at play. This may indicate potential market reversals before the general public catches on. It’s a little like seeing the dark clouds gather before a storm, and deciding to pack your umbrella before everyone else gets soaked. The True Strength & GDP Secret Sauce Remember, anyone can use the True Strength Index or glance at a GDP report. The real power is in connecting the two in a nuanced way that reveals hidden opportunities. Patience and context are your secret sauce here. Rushing in with one without considering the other is like baking a cake without letting it rise—you get a half-baked result that no one wants. So, understand that GDP lays the foundation, while TSI fine-tunes your entry or exit. That’s the sweet spot where many fail, but you won’t. GDP, TSI, and Staying Ahead of the Curve The trick to consistent success in Forex is staying ahead. Think of GDP as the fundamentals that lay the building blocks of the market, while TSI gives you the blueprints for how those blocks are being moved around. Markets love to price in news and expectations, so as an informed trader, your goal is to not only read the news but also interpret it in a way that gives you an edge. Want an even bigger edge? Start watching for divergence not just between GDP and TSI, but also across correlated pairs and economic regions. The Forex world is more interconnected than a soap opera family tree, and what happens in one economy always spills over somewhere else. Keeping the Bow Tight At the end of the day, Forex trading is all about making informed decisions—and staying one step ahead. By pairing the True Strength Index with GDP Gross Domestic Product, you get the best of both worlds—a macro perspective along with a real-time indication of market strength. Whether you’re aiming to trade like a ninja, leap ahead of the average trader, or just avoid common pitfalls (like that feeling when you hit the sell button and immediately regret it), this duo is your secret weapon. And if you want more insights like this, stay tuned to our services and join a community that’s all about uncovering what others miss. We’re talking the latest economic indicators, real-time Forex news, advanced education, and elite community tactics—everything you need to become the hero of your own trading journey. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article

[meadowofbluebells]

Signed, Death - Short Story

Summary: David was having a great day up until he got a note from Death.

Trigger Warnings: Character Death, Discussion of Death, Blood and Gore, and Trauma Responses

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy

Written By: meadowofbluebells

Notes: I got this idea from a prompt in January 2023 and have been working on it slowly for about a year. I found myself jumping around a lot as I wrote, which was not typical of my writing style up to that point.

This story was written with a prompt from Reedsy.com - https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts. That prompt was: “Write a story that hinges on the outcome of a coin flip.”

~~~

David closed the door to his boss’s office with a cheery smile on his face. His heart was beating erratically, and his facial muscles were doing everything they could to defy gravity. He’d finally done it. After years of work, he’d managed to get a senior position. If only he could go back in time to tell his younger self that all the hard work and sleepless nights paid off in the end. He felt as if he was walking on air. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the door to the break room with shaky hands. There stood his colleagues clad in jackets and clutching pursues - murmuring together in small groups. The chatter in the room faded away upon his entry. All eyes turned to him - an unasked question on the tip of their tongues.

David’s smile grew further. “I got it.”

A round of applause broke out, and David spent the next couple of minutes sharing in the glee of his colleagues. He shook hands, laughed, and was wrestled into hugs. Eventually, one by one, his teammates filtered out of the room in order to head home for the evening. Soon the break room was empty and David went to his office to collect his own jacket and wallet. 

The door creaked open as he flicked on the lights - strolling into the orderly room with a jubilant stride. He threw on his jacket and stuffed his wallet into one of the front pockets. Then, with a satisfied nod, turned to leave. However, as he pivoted, a flash of white on his desk caught his attention. With a furrowed brow, David turned to examine the object - a pristine envelope with his name written in elegantly looping letters. He picked up the envelope and opened it. As soon as he did, a small object slipped out and fell to the floor with a sharp clang. David, still unsure about the envelope’s source, reached down and picked up what appeared to be an aged coin. The muted light caught on the rusted metal as David examined it. After a moment he turned his attention back to the envelope, There, sticking out of the top, was a small piece of yellowed paper folded in two. David unfolded it and frowned. The paper was mostly empty except for a handful of words in the same looping letters. 

“Use this.

-Signed, Death”

David stared at the words - his lips pulled into a thin line. His thumb dragged across the rough surface of the coin as he slowly contemplated the words. Was this a prank? A means of revenge? Who would do this in the first place? A smile crept onto David’s face as questions swirled through his head. One thought climbing above the rest - what a stupid idea. He chuckled quietly to himself as he turned and exited the room. With one hand he turned off the office lights, and with the other, he stuffed the note and coin in his pocket. He’d contemplate the note’s sender and their purpose over a celebratory dinner and movie at home. There was no point wasting his time thinking about it in the quickly emptying building. 

The sky was an indigo blue by the time he made it out to the car. His breath puffed out in front of him. The leaves on the ground crunched loudly with the added layer of frost. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. For just a moment he wished that humans had fur like other animals. Maybe then he wouldn’t be shivering like someone just threw him into a lake. 

There was a fine mist in the air as David drove home. The white fog shied away from the street lamps and his headlights. Still, he was practically squinting by the time he turned onto one of the less-used side streets. The sound of other motorists arriving home late drifted further and further away as he drove. Soon it was just him and nature. On the left, the trees were dancing on the breeze, and on the right the sound of a stream trickling along beyond the guard rails. 

Then, suddenly, a figure standing in the middle of the road. David’s eyes widened as he slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched as they skidded across the asphalt. He was stuck between wanting to slam his eyes closed on instinct and keeping them open in order to attempt to swerve away from the individual. His hands were clutching onto the steering wheel so tightly that his bones felt like they were aching. 

David had never considered what facing death would be like. He’d never questioned whether his life would flash before his eyes or whether he would be surrounded by a bright light. Now, though, with his heart racing in his chest cavity, he wished he had. In those few seconds when the tires screeched across the ground, he wished that something, anything, could have prepared him. Yet, all he could think to do was to stare at the stranger he was about to hit. As if his gaze alone could pull them out of harm’s way. There were no tears. No one screamed. Instead, two people simply pleaded with wide eyes for someone to stop time.

The breath stalled in his lungs as time seemed to slow. Out of the corner of his eye, David saw the coin. It was floating in the air as the milliseconds drew on - hanging loosely by gravity’s thread like a pendulum of a clock. David, on the whim of a doomed man, let go of the steering wheel. His mind raced as he watched his fingers reach out to grasp the rusted metal. A sub-vocal cry filled his ears as time dragged on before him. Then, with a jolt, David touched the cool metal and everything froze. Coffee hung in the air like a towel out to dry, and papers floated around him like clouds in the sky. It as was as if the Earth itself had stopped spinning. 

For a moment, David simply sat there - clutching the coin in his grasp like a life preserver. Yet, the thundering cry of blood pumping in his ears faded to the background as his eyes turned to the pedestrian who almost ended up flattened underneath the tire of his car. With shaky hands, David hurriedly opened the car door and stumbled on numb legs to wrap his arms around the stranger. Tears started streaming down his face as the young man clung to his rumpled suit jacket. They stood there - gasping through strained lungs as they reassured each other that the other was alive. 

David pulled back to get a better look at the person that he had almost hit. “Oh my gosh, I almost killed a kid.” He clutched the teen’s shoulders. His nails dug into the fabric of the red hoodie the adolescent was wearing. “I’m sorry. So sorry,” David cried as he hugged the boy impossibly closer. “I didn’t s-see yo-”

“It’s ok, I s-should have been paying attention.” The young man said through quaking gasps. 

“Please, tell me your name.” The words tumbled out of David, his conscious demanding that he know the identity of the person he almost killed. 

“Jo-Joshua.” The teen clutched at David’s suit jacket.

“I-I’m David. I can’t believe I - that we-” David took in a shaky breath as he drew back to look at the teen’s tear-stained face, “that death was so close.”

The sound of metal hitting asphalt pulled both of them out of their shock. They stepped away from each other, still trying to gather themselves, as they looked down to see the coin illuminated by the headlights of the car. Joshua, eyes still hazy with shock, leaned down and picked it up, handed it back to David, and looked around. 

“Am I hallucinating, or has the world frozen around us?”

David turned around to scan the area. His eyes landed on his car. The tires were frozen mid-movement, dust from the road floating at a standstill in the air. There, through the windshield, the coffee was still hanging above the passenger seat. As he glanced around, it became clear that the entire vicinity was frozen. The tree branches weren’t moving. There was a squirrel frozen as it made a mad dash to safety. Even the sound of the stream had disappeared. Time had truly stopped around them. 

“What happened?” Joshua muttered.

“I don’t know.” David’s thumb rubbed against the ridges of the coin. He looked down at his hand. “Well, I might.” He furrowed his brows, wondering, through the sludge that was his brain post adrenaline rush, whether he was going insane. “I received an envelope today. Inside it, there was only a coin and a note instructing me to use it.” David drew the note out of his pocket and presented the coin still in his other hand. As he unfurled his fingers, there were pink lines from where he had gripped the small coin tightly during his explanation. “It was signed by death. I know it sounds crazy, and it was probably just a practical joke, but I think it might have something to do with this.”

“I believe you.” 

David jerked his head up and blinked at the boy. “Just like that?” Joshua snorted and gestured to their surroundings. “We are standing in some kind of time bubble right now. Besides,” he took a steadying breath as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. Tentatively, he handed it to David. “I found this in my math book. I thought it might have been left there by the last person who had been assigned it.” His gaze fell heavily to the coin held loosely in David’s grasp. “I’ve changed my mind.”

David’s eyes furrowed as he watched Joshua shuffle his feet. Then his brown eyes fell to the paper and all the blood rushed out of his face. 

There on the page, in the same looping letters, were the words. 

“Heads or tails.

-Signed, Death” 

“Oh, God.” The words slipped past his lips without his consent. “You don’t think-.” He couldn’t finish the thought. It was too cruel. Too monstrous. 

“That he’s leaving who dies, and who lives up to the toss of that coin? Yeah, yeah, I do.” The teen’s lips thinned out as he nodded solemnly. 

Time passed as they tried to find an alternate solution. They tried simply abandoning the car, but there seemed to be a barrier that prevented them from going too far away. They tried tossing the coin in the stream, only for it to reappear in David’s hand. They even tried calling for help, despite it being almost midnight. Nothing worked and within the hour they were back where they started. 

“We’re going to have to flip it, aren’t we?” Joshua growled as he kicked a small rock across the street. David nodded. “How do we even choose a side?” The question came out as more of a growl. “There was nothing else in your note?” He paced across the pavement like a wild dog.

“We’ve already been over this,” David snapped. “It said ‘Use this’ and nothing else.”

Joshua stopped and turned away. David watched with a clenched jaw as the muscles in his body tensed and his hands curled into fists. However, the tense pose only lasted a second. From one moment to the next, all the tension fled from Joshua’s body - his arms laying limply at his side and his shoulders slumping. “There isn’t a right answer, is there?” 

David wanted to say that yes, there was. Surely Death had chosen which side of the coin equated demise. Or maybe the outcome was predetermined, and the coin flip was simply a way to change up the monotonous task of collecting souls. After all, it had already become clear that Death had control of the coin. Either way, there was a right answer. One of them would pick right and live, and the other would die. Yet that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. Instead, he clasped Joshua on the shoulder and said with the feeble amount of strength that he could muster, “No, there isn’t.”

Joshua scanned his face, clearly pinpointing the lie in the words. Still, he sighed and nodded. “Alright then, I’ll take tails. You have heads.”

“Are you sure?”

Joshua laughed humorously and threw his hands up in the air. “We’re having a coin toss to determine who gets to walk away from this hellish experience, of course I’m not certain.”

“You can switch if you want.”

The teenager dragged a hand down his face. “What’s the point? Just flip the damn thing.”

Yet, David didn’t move. He simply stared at his companion. He wanted to say something. Anything really. Some final goodbye or even a comment on the weather, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.  His mind was racing a mile a minute, hyped on a heady mixture of fear and adrenaline. Words, however, were dammed up in the back of his throat. So all he could do was stare and shake as they soaked up the last few moments where they both walked the Earth. 

It was funny, really, how up until this moment the word “death” was to be avoided at all costs. It could be ignored through euphemisms or a well-placed taboo. People didn’t die, they passed on or slipped away. A child was called to God or an elderly person left this life. Soft expressions that failed to encapsulate the reality David was currently faced with. Splattered blood and choked-off screams did not suit the calm notion of one passing away. Cries of desperation and strangled pleas did not equate to the warmth of a god calling their child home. The coin held in David’s shaking palm demanded more from the word “death” than these simple phrases could muster. In the face of this reality, the word almost seemed too mild. He wanted to say so much and yet none of it would make what followed ok because the reality was that while death was inevitable, it wasn’t ok.

He took a deep breath and tried to smile reassuringly. The expression was warped. Then he tossed the coin in the air. The rusted metal glinted in the headlights of the vehicle. The two men stared at it. It looked so weightless, like a feather that would tip the scales of their lives. One to live. One to die. A simple game for children turned deadly.

The coin crashed into the asphalt below. Maybe the noise was so loud due to the silence of their environment, or maybe it was their brains recognizing this moment as the crescendo of their lives. Whatever the reason, both of them flinched as it fell.

“Heads,” Joshua whispered. The word sounded swollen in his mouth. 

David opened his mouth to respond. To provide some comfort. To scream. To cry. Who knows. All that mattered is that in a blink of an eye, time started again. The two entangled souls were torn away from each other like an elastic band taking its original shape once more. David clutched at his chest as he was flung back. His face twisted with pain as the world contorted around him. He blinked back to himself, only to realize that he had landed back in the dark interior of his car. 

He wanted to jump back out. Race to Joshua. Demand that he get out of the way. Yet there wasn’t time. There, sitting in his car, David watched as the world flew into motion. His body was propelled forward as the car crashed into Joshua’s fragile form. He heard the anguished cry, the snapping bones, gushing blood, and then nothing. Blissfully torturous nothing. He didn’t have to get out of the car to know that the boy would not be making it out alive. The weight of the coin in his pocket was equal to a signed death warrant. There was no way the boy survived. Despite this, David, walking on newly broken bones, fell onto the asphalt below and crawled around the twisted metal of the vehicle to look for his companion. His blood streaked across the ground as he dragged his body forward. 

Within the wreckage, looking more like an unsolved puzzle than a human being, lay Joshua. His unnaturally pale skin was highlighted by the blood-streaked concrete that made up his resting place. One hazy eye stared back at David - the other was hidden by the concave skull bones that had hit the ground. 

“Hey, Josh,” David croaked, “don’t worry. We’ll get you to a hospital. Just hang on.” His limbs shook violently as he spoke.

The boy blinked. It was slow, like a crushed doll winking. Blood dripped off his eyelashes with the movement. A milky film covered the iris as the eyelid uncovered it once more. A final breath slipped from his lips as the boy’s life was ripped from him. 

David sobbed. Pain sliced through his body with each movement. Yet, he couldn’t get himself to stop. The cries were deep and guttural. He reached forward to touch the boy’s frozen face. “Please, please. Come on, wake up.” He groaned as he tried to shuffle closer. “We can do it again. I’ll choose tails instead. Please wake up. Please.” Tears flowed from his eyes, diluting the blood that trailed from one gash or another. His fingers clung to the damp fabric of Joshua’s hoodie as his head fell to the boy’s chest. His conscious mind left him as he stared up into the misty eye of the boy who died in his stead. 

~~~

When David awoke, he was surrounded by white walls. For a moment he thought death had taken pity on him and heeded his cries. However, the overpowering scent of hand sanitizer quickly destroyed that hope. His hazy eyes slowly focused enough to see the face of a doctor swimming in front of him. He hardly had time to ask them about Joshua before his brain, being the traitor that it was, pulled him back into the depths of slumber.

The next few weeks were a blur. Between talking with police and physiotherapy, David hardly had any time to think. Yet, no matter how strenuous the exercise or harsh the words, he was thankful for the distraction because the alternative was far worse. An indigo sky. Blood. Misty eyes. A coin glinting in the headlights. His life was a waking nightmare. If only he could rip the brain from his skull. Maybe then he would get a moment of peace. 

David expected making it home to comfort him. Yet, as he walked through the doors, it felt like he was an intruder. He glanced around. Everything was exactly as he had left it, and still, everything felt wrong. The books on the shelves were for a man who saw more than blood and bones in his mind’s eye. The mirror on the wall could not recognize the black and blue figure. The picture frames on his dresser spoke of a life David could no longer identify with. Everything was out of step with his reality. Mocking him with the innocent life he had once led. And there, in the center of it all, was a folded bundle of red fabric. David reached for it with shaking hands, caring little for how it got there to begin with. 

The fabric unfurled to reveal the red hoodie that Joshua had worn. It appeared completely unmarred, the fabric lacking the dirt, blood, and sinew that had stained it only weeks ago. Yet, David knew with utmost certainty that it was the same garment. Something deep within him recognizing each individual thread. A cry made it past the lump in David’s throat - the shattered sound echoing throughout the hollow room. He drew it close to his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric as if he could will the wearer to reappear. 

As he moved, however, he heard a crinkling sound. David flinched - a newly acquired habit that made itself known every time he heard shuffling paper or clinking metal. Slowly, David drew back, as if the fabric would launch forward and rip into his jugular. With shaking hands, he reached into one of the pockets, his eyes widening in terror as his fingers brushed against paper. Slowly, he pulled the yellowed sheet from its crimson confines. He took a deep breath as he slowly unfolded it, lacking the energy to care what matter of doom was inked across the page. His eyes trailed over the words, taking a large gulp of air as the words registered, as if the oxygen could siphon the words off the page and carry them straight to his splintered heart. 

“Live on,

Signed, Joshua.” 

Tears dripped down David’s face as he clutched the paper - reading the words over and  over again. He fell to his knees, his whole body shaking with the force of his cries. He spent the rest of the night there, the indigo sky veiling him in darkness, barely aware of the time passing him by. It wasn’t pretty, it might not have even been good, but whatever it was, the feeling coursing through him alleviated some of the weight that threatened to crush him body and soul. 

~~~

It took time, but David eventually regained some semblance of a normal life. It was not quite the one he had lived before. The promotion he had worked for seemed so meaningless now. There was a distinct awareness of the fragility of life that was somehow both a gift and a curse. He still flinched at the sound of screeching tires or crinkling paper. His entire body would tense, muscle memory pulling him back to a night that slipped further and further away. He learned to laugh again. He learned to dream again. There were goals to achieve and journeys to undertake. He tried to live his life to the fullest, allowing himself moments of darkness, accounting for the scars left on his body and mind, but never letting them control him. They could stretch, and they could ache, but they could never devour. No matter how old he got, though, when he saw a person walking past in a red hoodie, he found himself reaching out as if to cradle them close. His mind’s eye would turn back to another soul clutching a scrawled note under an indigo sky.

Written By: meadowofbluebells

[michaelsavageusa]

Mike Savage of New Canaan on the Legendary Pontiac GTO: A Symbol of Power and Innovation

Mike Savage of New Canaan on the Legendary Pontiac GTO

In the automotive world, few names evoke the same level of reverence and admiration as the Pontiac GTO. For Mike Savage of New Canaan, a dedicated enthusiast of high-performance vehicles, the GTO holds a special place in his heart as a symbol of power, innovation, and a pivotal moment in automotive history.

The Pontiac GTO, often considered the first true muscle car, burst onto the scene in 1964, capturing the imagination of car enthusiasts across the nation. Mike Savage reflects on the GTO's legacy, acknowledging its role in shaping the landscape of American performance cars.

One of the defining features of the Pontiac GTO was its powerful engine. Mike Savage notes that the GTO was born out of a unique blend of creativity and defiance within the Pontiac division of General Motors. In an era when GM prohibited the use of engines larger than 330 cubic inches in mid-sized cars, a group of engineers, including the legendary John DeLorean, found a loophole. They offered the GTO as an option package for the Pontiac Tempest, allowing customers to equip it with a potent 389 cubic inch V8 engine.

This daring move catapulted the GTO into the limelight and laid the foundation for the muscle car revolution. Mike Savage emphasizes that the GTO's engine wasn't just about size; it was a masterpiece of engineering, delivering an impressive 325 horsepower and 428 lb-ft of torque in its early iterations. The GTO was designed for one purpose: to provide a thrilling and exhilarating driving experience.

Beyond its sheer power, the Pontiac GTO boasted a stylish and aggressive design that set it apart from its contemporaries. Mike Savage appreciates the GTO's muscular stance, distinctive hood scoops, and iconic twin-slit grille, all of which contributed to its unmistakable presence on the road. The GTO wasn't just a performance vehicle; it was a statement, a visual representation of speed and sophistication.

Mike Savage highlights the cultural impact of the Pontiac GTO, explaining how it became a symbol of the 1960s youth counterculture. The GTO represented rebellion, freedom, and a rejection of the status quo. Young drivers were drawn to its powerful performance and sleek design, making it a coveted icon of coolness and individuality.

The GTO's success on the streets translated to success on the racetrack, further solidifying its legendary status. Mike Savage recalls the GTO's dominance in drag racing and its formidable presence in NASCAR competitions. The GTO wasn't just a fast car; it was a winner, earning the respect of both casual drivers and professional racers alike.

As the years passed, the Pontiac GTO went through various transformations, adapting to changing automotive trends. Mike Savage notes that while the original GTO production ceased in 1974, the nameplate was revived in the early 2000s with a modern interpretation of the classic muscle car. This reimagined GTO paid homage to its heritage while incorporating contemporary design and technology.

In conclusion, Mike Savage of New Canaan reflects on the Pontiac GTO as a groundbreaking vehicle that left an indelible mark on the automotive landscape. Its powerful engine, iconic design, and cultural significance make it a timeless symbol of American muscle cars. For enthusiasts like Mike Savage, the Pontiac GTO represents not just a car but a testament to the spirit of innovation and daring that defined an era of automotive excellence.

[extremeonlinestore]

The Iconic Design of the Ford Mustang: A Style Evolution

When it comes to American muscle cars, few have left an indelible mark on the automotive landscape quite like the Ford Mustang. Since its inception in 1964, this iconic vehicle has been synonymous with power, performance, and a style that is simply unmatched. Over the years, the Mustang has undergone several transformations, evolving both under the hood and in terms of design. In this blog, we'll take a journey through time, exploring the style evolution of the Ford Mustang, focusing on its iconic design elements and the pivotal role of Mustang parts, Mustang parts catalogs, Ford Mustang parts & accessories, and Mustang body parts in shaping its distinctive look.

The Birth of an Icon

In the early 1960s, Ford set out to create a car that would capture the spirit of the American youth. The result was the Ford Mustang, introduced in April 1964. Its design was revolutionary, boasting a long hood, short rear deck, and a sleek profile that exuded power and speed. The first-generation Mustang was an instant hit, captivating the hearts of car enthusiasts and casual drivers alike. Underneath its stylish exterior were carefully crafted Mustang parts, meticulously designed to enhance its performance and durability.

Mustang Parts: The Building Blocks of Style

One of the reasons behind the Mustang's enduring popularity is the availability of high-quality Mustang parts and accessories. Mustang enthusiasts have always had a keen eye for customization, and a plethora of Mustang parts catalogs have made it easier than ever to modify and personalize their rides. From performance-enhancing components to aesthetic upgrades, these parts catalogs have played a pivotal role in shaping the Mustang's style evolution.

The Mustang's Design Language

As the years rolled on, the Mustang went through various design iterations, each building upon the legacy of its predecessor. The second-generation Mustang, introduced in 1974, showcased a more angular design, a departure from the curvy lines of its predecessor. The third generation, which debuted in 1979, embraced a more aerodynamic look, reflecting the design trends of the time.

The 1990s saw the Mustang embracing a modern, yet retro-inspired design. The fourth-generation Mustang, introduced in 1994, featured classic styling cues reminiscent of the original 1960s models. This fusion of vintage charm and contemporary design elements appealed to a wide audience, ensuring the Mustang's continued relevance in the ever-changing automotive landscape.

Ford Mustang Parts & Accessories: Fueling Innovation

The availability of Ford Mustang parts & accessories played a crucial role in this era. Enthusiasts could easily obtain Mustang body parts to restore their vehicles to their former glory or opt for performance-enhancing components to unleash the full potential of their engines. The aftermarket industry flourished, offering a wide array of options for Mustang owners to express their individuality.

Modern Elegance and Performance

In the 21st century, the Mustang underwent a significant transformation. The fifth-generation Mustang, introduced in 2005, embraced a more modern and aggressive design language. Sharp lines, bold curves, and a powerful stance defined this iteration, making it an instant favorite among car enthusiasts. Technological advancements were mirrored in the Mustang parts, with a focus on enhancing both performance and fuel efficiency.

With the sixth and seventh generations, introduced in 2015 and 2020 respectively, the Mustang continued to evolve. The design became more streamlined, with a focus on aerodynamics and efficiency. LED lighting, advanced infotainment systems, and driver-assist technologies became standard features, showcasing the Mustang's ability to blend iconic design with cutting-edge innovation.

Mustang: A Timeless Classic

As we look back at the Mustang's style evolution, it's evident that the careful selection and integration of Mustang parts, as well as the availability of Mustang parts catalogs and Ford Mustang parts & accessories, have played a pivotal role in shaping its iconic design. From its inception in the 1960s to its modern iterations, the Mustang has stood the test of time, captivating generation after generation with its powerful performance and timeless elegance.

In conclusion, the Ford Mustang's journey from a revolutionary concept to a timeless classic is a testament to the importance of innovative design and high-quality parts. As automotive technology continues to advance, one can only imagine what the future holds for this beloved American muscle car. Whatever the next chapter may bring, one thing is certain: the spirit of the Mustang will always be defined by its iconic design and the passion of its enthusiasts.

For further insights, delve into our blog, " The Most Popular Aftermarket Car Parts and Accessories on the Market. "