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brewed-pangolin · 3 months ago

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Corner Lot Creamery

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader

MDNI 18+ Explicit smut, unprotected p in v, backseat sex, Soap being a vulgar little fiend, creampie if you look closely, just absolute filth

WC ~1.3k

Synposis: Everyone loves that new car smell. Except Soap. He prefers a more natural scent. Yours. And he knows just what to do to get that new leather lathered in it.

@glitterypirateduck @deadbranch this one's for you💛

Soap MacTavish is a simple man.

He appreciates quality over quantity. And prefers subtlety over indulgence in regards to the finer things in life.

This is nowhere more prominent than when he signs the down payment on a new 4Runner. Him being handed the keys, his mind already playing out the next strategic maneuvers needed to inact his plan while he aids you in effortlessly moving the belongings from one vehicle to the next.

"You alright, babe?" You ask. Glancing over your shoulder with a smile, scrutinizing the knowing grin etched in his lips.

"Aye. M'good, hen."

It was the simplicity and deep brogue of his reply that had your mind tumbling. The sound of his toolbox jiggling in the back not too dissimilar to the gears turning within your thoughts. Nestling the distinctive red Milwaukee chest in the corner, keeping it in place with his duffle bag that rarely left the vehicle's trunk.

"God. Is there anything better than new car smell?" You boast. Sliding into the passenger seat, the fresh leather molding to your frame, softened by the heat radiating from your skin.

His silence to you was unusual.

Soap was always a talker. Rarely going an hour without interjecting himself into any discussion, and more than comfortable putting his own view on any and all topics of the day.

Your eyes narrowed at him. Trying to decipher his unreadable expression; gaze focused on the road, barely a twitch to the corners of his lips. And his eyes, normally bright and expsoed in the midday sun, were darkened by his Ray-Bans, impeding your perusing stare.

"Johnny. What's going on with you?"

Almost instinctively, and with the speed and fluidity of a hardened servicemen, he reached out to wrap his hand around the flesh of your thigh. His unwavering stare focused on the road, his fingers traveling up the suppleness of your inner thigh, only to nestle between your legs and press his fingertips into the seam of your pants. Feeling the throb of arousal beneath the fabric, pulling a sinful whimper from your lips, adding the perfect amount pressure to the area around your clit.

"New car smell's fine, yeah. But I want somethin better," Soap growled. Pulling into a vacant parking lot, hurdling the sparkling new SUV into a corner spot with a dramatic jolt. Barely able to unfasten his own seat belt, his hands shaking with need, crawling into the backseat before grasping at your clothes to drag you back with him, an excited shriek erupting from your chest from his needy exuberance.

"M'gonnae make 'er smell like you, bonnie. Want yer scent on me, every time I get in 'er."

His hands were on you like a feverish fiend. Tearing your clothes away, fabric tossed to the back with reckless abandon as the scent of arousal permeated into the pours of fresh leather.

Silencing your protest with his mouth, tasting the sweetness of promiscuity on your tongue, exhaling a growl between your lips while he rocked his hips, grinding his hardened cock into your core, feeling the heat radiate over the fabric of his jeans.

Breaking the kiss with a wet pop, he fumbled with his belt, opening his pants with a determination you knew all too well. Thankful for the tinted windows and private brick cove of the parking lot. Not wanting to add indescent exposure to the days events as he moved to hover over your naked frame. Fully intent on christening his latest 4Runner with the spicy bouquet of sex.

With a focused purpose, Soap pierces your silken cunt with the throbbing hardness of his cock, devouring the moan escaping your throat with a heated kiss. Gliding his tongue in a sultry dance tandem with the languid roll of his hips.

"Gonnae make ya come...fuck...got'a make ya come, bonnie. Cannae pull out til ya fuckin clench 'round me."

If it wasn't the desperate plea echoing on a breathy growl, it was the steady and determined roll of his hips that ultimately sealed your fate in that parking lot.

The thick, spongy head of his cock kissing the sensitive wall of your cervix. Refusing to pull out entirely with every backward thrust, keeping himself buried within your velvety walls, pushing you towards overstimulation with every labored exhale. The metal carriage keeping the world at bay as your mind and body succumbed to climactic euphoria.

"Johnny..."

"Tha's it, hen. Come f'me. Feelin ya fuckin wrap 'round me."

Your orgasm moved with a chaotic symphony of gasps and moans.

Wanton and unadulterated.

Muffled by his lips, tangling with his animalistic growls. Legs wrapping around his waist to keep yourself grounded to reality for fear of drowning in the abyss of his own intrepid making.

The rhythmic roll of his hips steadily began to falter. Every forward push accentuated by a groan.

Gravelly and unfiltered.

Raw.

"F-fuck, bonnie. Gonnae come-...fill ya up. Make ya-...spill me outta ya."

You never tired of his vulgarity when he was on the cusp of emptying himself into your cunt.

He was breathless. Beautiful. And altogether beastly as a surge of warmth and pressure filled your canal. Prompting him to give one final thrust as your combined fluids dripped out of your fluttering hole and onto the maiden and unblemished leather beneath.

"Johnny-, you-, you're gonna stain the seats." You plead, attempting to push him off, halted when met with the weight of an immovable Scottish brick wall.

"Tha's th'fuckin point, lass. Gonnae mark 'er up wit ya. Douse 'er in tha' sweet fuckin scent a'yers."

You knew better than to deny him when he was like this. Hell bent on replacing that distinctive new car smell with the aromatic scent of sex and natural arousal.

Letting the quietness surround your conjoined bodies. Acting like a soothing blanket, ignoring the world outside to feel the qualitative euphoria in the afterglow.

Reluctant to move, Soap instead laid himself down and buried his head into your chest. Stifling a moan into your flesh, tilting to the side as he blanketed your naked body with his sculpted frame.

You realized then, gazing up onto the brickstone wall outside, that he had found refuge in the back parking lot of your favorite custard creamery. The familiar font gracing the red barrier catching your eye, exhaling a quiet moan of contentment, watching it rustle over the Scots distinguishable mohawk.

"What?" He breathed. Voice low, muffled against the supple flesh of your breast.

"I think I've thought of a name for her."

"Aye? Wha's tha'?"

You let the silence hang for a moment. Allowing his mind to settle on suspicion, tilting his head to rest his chest between the valley of your breasts.

"Well? Wha' is it, lass?"

"How about CeeDee? Cookie Devil. Our nickname at Culver's, to where you just so happened to park us."

Soap lifted his head, taking a quick glance at the signage above. Replying with a perplexed brow, softening his expression with a gentle yet appreciative grin.

"Aye. Cannae lie, hen. Kinda like it."

You smiled at his approval. Cupping his face to bring him in for a kiss. His lips still reddened from the impromptu coitus, drawing a deliciously soft whimper from the depths of his throat.

"Easy, lass. Been a while since I kissed ya like tha'."

You ignore him. Blissfully continuing with your previous conversation, feigning innocence.

"Y'know. CeeDee can actually work quite well. It's an acronym for the other name I want to give her."

"Mhm. And wha's tha' one?"

Pursing your lips, you paused. Keeping your wits about you in fear of bursting into a fit of laughter at any moment.

"Well, if you plan on us fucking a lot in her, why don't we just call her the Cum Dumpster?"

"Steamin fuckin Jesus, bonnie."

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@ohgeesoap @writeforfandoms @efingart @sofasoap @mini-metal @shotmrmiller @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @crashandlivewrites @random-thot-generator @glossysoap @devcica @tacticalanxiety @gazs-blue-hat @chamomiletealeaf @thetrashpossum @queen-ilmaree @weebumochi @sadstone-s @slutweeds @foxface013 @lily-ilo

#soap squad™️#super soap sunday #4Runner Wingman #corner lot creamery #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap smut #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x f!reader #soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish x f!reader #call of duty #cod

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khristie16 · 1 year ago

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The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chaper 1 It is your first day settling in Formula 1 world. You find out there is something off with Charles, but you ignore it. At least you convince yourself to.

disclaimer: yn with "I" pov format x slowburn

Lights were casting a shadow enveloping me as I headed toward Charles's room. My mind went on full speed and palms getting wet, feet suffering from the fancy wearing for this job. High heels clapping was the only thing disturbing this silence. This whole job experience was pestering but there was no choice but moving out from my family.

Butterflies in stomach were at its peak as I started to acknowledge this is our first meeting. Did I feel like a stalker? Standing in front of his door in a hotel he was accommodated? Definitely. But it is better to meet up here then outside with sound screeching and flashing cameras.

Giving myself one big inhale to reach for the door knob, the wooden squeak made me fall few steps behind and muscles stopped moving as Charles was leaving the apartment. Wearing Ray Ban sunglasses does a lot to one's sight evidentially. His presence was getting far away from mine as he was heading towards the elevator.

"Wait!"

The growing distance between us has stopped. With a serious tone and hands pointing at me, "I'll call the security''

My throat got tight and words couldn't pass through. His words were flowing in and out of me as waves of the ocean in the night, making me restless. Time flew fast and I was met once again with his back showing a gray hoodie.

"I'm your new assistant!"

Hope filled my veins. Mind was playing with the possibility of being thrown out displayed as a fan girl. NOT. His turn was so abrupt I was shocked he didn't crack his neck. Sweet, yet deep voice crashed my eardrums making me feel searing.

"YN?"

I nodded and I finally let my lungs chill. Damn, this started easy.

Sides of his lips crooked making me feel not welcomed but I could finally take a breath. The distance got shorter while I remained situated on one position.

"Sorry for that. I'm Charles."

Chuckle left my mouth as I found the introduction nonessential. Hands connected with him leaving warm tickles on my skin and his cologne messing my senses. God, he smelled good.

“I’m sorry, I must have looked like a stalker,” his nod made me feel even worse.

All I could inhale was airy scent torturing me, enlarging the lift going down with no noise to muddle the silence. A sway of sadness ran through my body given the fact I have to do this job. Slow mornings moving my body to the sound of inner peace and calmness enveloping my heart, the safeness growing inside of me as if it would tear me apart if given the chance to expand. Creative days with no rush and restrictions in nature. Looking to the sunlight and warming my skin touching its sleeves. I never in my heart wanted to be this 'empowered independent' woman the society has made.

I lost all the hope when opening the door of SUV myself. Has the chivalry really gone dead? Thoughts were torn off from the noise, exciting screams from Ferrari fans hovering over the car.

"Have you previously done such a job?" His gaze locked onto mine; I tilted my head in an attempt to discern the eye color, but no clear answer emerged. I chose to let the moment slide.

"No experience with the celebrity lifestyle." He nodded reassuringly, expressing confidence that I would adapt well.

The quietude felt like a snare. Knowing he is not the chatty one, I clenched my teeth. Fingers touched the screen on iPad scrolling through files kept for assisting Charles's personal life.

''I've made some changes and saved a decent amount of money''

I skimmed through the palette on the page styling and got myself wondering which of these colors match his.

''Oh, wow,'' resonated through the air. ''I trust your intellect. You are paid for it after all''

The spoken words seared into my ears, yet I acknowledged him for stating the obvious. Almost as if summoned, my mind spilled forth the reasons why I had accepted this job. The whole concept of my future given by my family's idea was the reason. Working for Charles was better than staying home.

My fingers danced across the screen, orchestrating household tasks in his absence, as a cool breeze caressed my skin. I found solace in the fact that within the SUV, I could relish the refreshing chill, outside it was a walk through hell. Speaking of, it felt as though someone had touched me with a hot frying pan against my bare skin. I turned my gaze to the left, only to find his eyes expressing fondness toward my exposed thigh. The fleeting moment of admiration came to an abrupt end as our eyes locked, and I could swear I detected a spark of intensity in his gaze. Its reason unknown to me. The back of my thigh touched the seat underneath as feet touched the floor again.

''We're almost there'' having Ray Ban again.

Leaving the car as the last one, setting feet in the hell delivered a numb pain. Mix of frustration and calling for help left my lips making Charles shot a glance in my direction as I sat there.

"What's the matter?" The genuine tone in his voice caused my shoulders to slump.

''These heels are killing me,'' skimming the pair of Jimmy Choo heels made my lips curl.

I liked to dress. Wear pretty things. But per usual, pretty things cost, coming from a humble background, the prospect of high heels and I seemed like an incompatible pair, especially in the beginning.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared ahead.

"I value my employees; choose something more comfortable next time," he continued through clenched teeth.

''I am supposed to look presentable,'' I retorted.

''You can look presentable while being comfortable,'' with his last words, he turned away, revealing his back—a connection I, regrettably, began to foster too much.

Engaging in Formula 1 is demanding on both the psyche and the body of the driver. This is why considerable effort is dedicated to maintaining optimal physical fitness, the amount of work they put into it is out of this world and one wouldn’t even tell. This misunderstanding often stems from the assumption that individuals who engage in rigorous physical training automatically develop bulky muscles. However, in Formula 1, many drivers maintain a lean physique with a minimal percentage of body fat.

This is one of the reasons I accepted this job—a relatively minor one, but my admiration for these drivers played a part in my decision. even though they don't save lives of others while risking their lives like firefighters do, they still risk a lot.

Sound of chaos lingered around me watching Charles race on the Singapore circuit, my vision blurred as I found myself yearning for something more profound to heighten the level of respect for this man, changing the weight from one foot to another.

Mere fame is insufficient for me to offer respect. A person, regardless of their status, should demonstrate general respect towards women and interact with them using good manners. I ran away from my family because of this and I block any misconceptions this society made. As of now, I have a feeling that something might be off with Charles.

“You’re the new assistant?” I titled my chin up to see a man looking at me. His hair seemed to absorb no light at all. Forming theories about the man—his inclination toward comfortable attire and a penchant for photography—I nodded in acknowledgment and shifted my focus back to the swift cars, resembling nothing more than fleeting smudges.

“I’m Joris, Charles's close friend”

His hand reached out to me and I accepted his offer.

“I believe it’s quite a job huh?”

This man believed that either way I took this job being incompetent or he tried to start a conversation. Either way I didn’t like how he started.

“Job is ok. People are the tricky one”

His silence provided a momentary relief, causing my tense body to ease. Soon after, someone came to my vision.

A blonde-haired woman enveloped Joris in a warm hug, and the sound of French language resonated in the air. Despite my understanding of French, I chose to keep to myself.

“He’s really put it on a whole new level”

Words stopped at my level, their bodies facing mine.

“Yes, this is YN”

Seeing her face, I smiled. I had a break from work, and I preferred not to spend it with people I don't know.

“I’m not surprised though. I’m Carla”

We shook hands but my mind was elsewhere. Her choice of words got my attention. ''What do you mean by that?''

I was told curious creatures get killed fast. I am okay with that. Joris expression fell and my curiosity grew. On the other hand, Carla showed us white teeth. She was giving me the vibe she could sleep like a baby even after spilling everyone's secrets.

“He is focusing on career now, doing a decent work like tidying his room is a distraction for him I suppose”

Laughter filled the space and the way she proceeded those words made me question everything. It was clear that she was his friend, and her disapproval of his decision to hire a personal assistant inclined me to be drawn to her side and trust her perspective. Bad feeling about Charles was not a coincidence.

Legs swept me elsewhere still on the territory of the Ferrari background but as I got consumed by thinking about everything and nothing, I lost the track where I was heading. The lighting changed, and the once resounding sounds of engines and formulas on the track dissipated. A metal door ahead beckoned me, and without overthinking, I reached for the knob, immediately sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Before me stood an elegant kitchen counter and a man donned in a Ferrari shirt. As our eyes met, I instinctively moved to offer an apology, feeling as though my legs were already propelling me towards the exit. However, he was quicker in his response. His warm smile welcomed me and I looked at his wrinkles around the eyes. He could be in his forties and Italian.

''Ciao''

Shyness enveloped me as it displayed on my scrunched eyebrows and crooked lips. I greeted him back.

''I am Andrea''

As the doors finally closed, my hands released their grip on the cold metal beneath my fingertips. ''I'm YN. Sorry If I disturbed you''

His laugher filled the space as If I told him the most hilarious joke ever and he closed the distance while still keeping his spirit up. His arms enveloped me in a warm hug, creating a sensation akin to being in a cozy room illuminated by flickering candles. Indeed, this guy exuded the comforting ambiance of a room bathed in candlelight.

I put the dots together. He is the personal trainer of Charles. He sent me reports about expanses on stuff for Charles's training. For the first time this day, laugh left my lips as this situation seemed so embarrassing to me, but to keep it fair, I haven't encountered any familiar faces since my interview and I got my feet on the Singapore land just today. But I felt immense gratefulness for Andrea. Mind note: I have to buy him candles sometimes. My stomach seemed to have a mind of its own as it growled, and we both erupted in laughter.

''Oh my, let me make you something''

My eyes felt like they were on the verge of falling out, and I fully embraced the mode of sabotaging the mission he had so earnestly accepted. He shook me with more laughing telling me to relax. I stopped harassing him and hopped on the barstool.

''Thank you, but you really don't have to do that'' He kept quiet with a warm smile on his face as his hands worked the magic. I didn't know what he was making, he could poison me for all I care. I did not. My soul hasn't felt this warm since I have flown through the air gate to Singapore. And it is a lot to say when it is a living hell outside there.

''I believe you’re not used to long flights''

I hummed in response and engaged him about my flight. I wanted to keep it short, but my monologue ended with details and meeting with Charles. He furrowed his eyebrows listening to me while fiddling something on the frying pan. Yep, he could easily poison me if he wanted to.

''That surprises me, Charles is always like a sunshine''

First Carla, now Andrea. As if written on a secret paper known only to few, they were describing Charles differently than I have experienced him to be making my head spin. But as long as I keep receiving money so I can leave this job and start the life I want, then I am fine not being included to this 'crew'.

''I noticed how Charles has changed his approach towards career now,'' lingered in not so approving way and I couldn't hold back anymore.

''Change of approach?''

He nodded and I cursed myself for keeping the question short. Just when I accepted the end of discussion, he put the food on a clean plate and continued.

''He's really hard on himself. He has two brothers and lost a father.''

Words hit me like a rock bottom and my breath got stuck for a second. The sound of plate landing on the counter and the smell of the food freed me from my momentary mental drift. Clearing my throat facing the warm smile.

''I knew he has brothers, but didn't know he is the oldest one''

Andrea shook his head immediately placing the utensils next to the plate.

''He is not. He is the middle child, but Charles is just Charles.''

I understood his words and took my focus on the food in front of me. My stomach responded in gratefulness as the egg omelette was filling its smell to my nostrils. Taking a bite resolved in an appreciative moan as Andrea laughed at my reaction, but his smile slowly faded away as I sensed another presence behind my back. I turned my torso with full mouth of the omelette to see Charles in his gear.

The first upper half of the gear was open, hanging itself on the sides of hips showing the fireproof underneath, displaying his toned chest. Red really suited him. Charles had this lazy look in his eyes shooting through my skull telling me something encrypted in a highly sensual manner and as I become aware I'm no longer chewing, I took off my eyes from him to the plate again.

The food sliding down had a hard time doing so and I shifted my focus to Andrea to thank him. Charles moved like a ghost behind Andrea and pulling out the water from the cabinet. Italian language filled the room and I prayed for having the food eaten already.

I found out Andrea was telling the truth; he was like a sunshine.His dimples were on full display, and his delightful chuckle echoed, sounding like a melody to my ears. I didn't wanna melt here on the barstool so I ate like a daredevil. When Andrea noticed me finishing, he reached for the plate.

''Don't worry about it, I wash it''

Frozen on the spot, he took the plate with a polite smile and I thanked him for it. I couldn't help myself looking away from Charles. He was eyeing me while taking a sip of his bottle. Sweat on his forehead made his longer hair stick to the skin in a delicious matter and I felt my knees to buckle soon. Shifting from warm to cold to hot in a second wasn't good for my heart. I excused myself and went anywhere but there.

Two days have passed and the only conversation I had with Charles were short sentences about work. He finished forth in yesterday's race resolving his mood to worsen. I overheard how critical he can be towards himself.

I was shocked how mean he was and upset about forth place out of twenty. But we are separate individuals with different dreams, If I had lost a small amount of money resolving in postponing my leaving and pursuing my dream life, I would be mad as the weather in Singapore is.

Charles told me he doesn't need me for the rest of the evening so I had practically a time off preparing for tomorrow's flight.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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imsososolesbian · 5 months ago

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Jealously rots the heart

Repost. Not stolen. Edits made

Warnings: mention of vomit

Word Count: 1997

You and Natalie met at a small summer camp. It was a free one that was put up by volunteers every year. Each year you would go together, until the summer before your freshman year. The two of you would start volunteering together at the camp the next summer.

You and Natalie had just finished tearing down and putting away everything the camp had used that week. The two of you were on your way to your house now to change. The yellowjackets had planned a few days trip down to a theme park. Jackie had asked you to come along.

You had been dating Jackie for around six months now. Usually Natalie would ask you to come to their get-togethers, always saying that she didn’t want to room with any of the other girls. Now though, it was always Jackie asking you.

Thankfully that morning, Natalie had walked a bag of clothes down to your house. So you wouldn’t have to drive up to her trailer so she could grab it.

The drive to your house had only been a few minutes and it didn’t take long to get yours and Natalie’s stuff, along with changing out of your camp clothes. You had stuffed the bags in your trunk, and let Natalie sit in the passenger seat. Natalie and Jackie would have to play a round of rock paper scissors after to see who would get to sit in the front.

Jackie’s house was ten minutes from yours, so you and Natalie listened to the type of music that Natalie liked, but Jackie didn’t.

By the time you got to Jackie’s house Natalie had a small tight lipped frown on her face, she didn’t let you see it though, as she was looking out of her window so you couldn’t see her. Unbeknownst to you, Natalie had taken a big liking to you when the two of you had met, and now was harboring an even bigger crush on you.

Jackie and Natalie did a round of rock paper scissors and Jackie won. Natalie grumbled and got out of the front seat making her way to the back seat.

Natalie had always made it a point to sit in the middle seat in your car. No matter what. She would never sit behind either of you. Technically she was banned from sitting behind Jackie because she’d ‘jokingly’ kick the back of her seat, so she got to pick to sit behind the driver's seat or middle. So she chose the middle to piss Jackie off.

Whenever you and Jackie would hold hands with your arms on the center console Natalie would always add her hand to the mix, slapping her hand down hard on both of your hands.

Which of course 30 minutes into your drive you and Jackie started holding hands and all you hear is a whooshing sound before you feel a stinging feeling go through your hand.

“Fuck Nat,” you grumble, glaring at her through the rear-view mirror, “That hurts, dude. Calm it down. You’re going to hurt one of us.”

You were never one to tell Natalie to stop doing it. You thought it was funny, but Jackie didn’t and she had started to give you shit for not telling Natalie off.

Natalie quickly takes her hand back, and looks away, before unbuckling herself, even if the three of you were on the highway. She shuffled over to the left and sat behind your seat and buckled herself in once more.

The three of you don’t talk a peep the rest of the four hour drive. Jackie took a two hour nap leaning against the window, and you didn’t hear anything at all from Natalie. You had know idea what she was doing or what she was thinking.

By the time you got to the hotel it was dark. Two cars were parked side by side, one big SUV, with the back door opened next to a smaller car, which had its front door open, creating a small little enclosed space for people to talk. You could tell it was Taissa’s parents' car, and Shauna so you pulled into the space next to Shauna.

Natalie was quick to get out, not even grabbing her bags and running over to Taissa’s car and getting in, you could only guess she was going to talk to Van.

Once you all had booked in, you had met Lottie and Laura Lee in the little lobby waiting room, they had gone out to have dinner before you and your tiro had showed up.

The group split up, you and Jackie, Tai and Van, Lottie and Laura Lee, and finally Natalie and Shauna.

Jackie had begged you to carry her bags up to your room, and of course you said yes, even if you had both of your arms filled and you couldn’t move well.

You could feel eyes drilling into the back of your head but whenever you looked back all you saw was Natalie chatting with Shauna, a small smile on her face.

You didn’t get the best sleep, but you were excited for the day coming. The group had walked down to breakfast, it was a whole thing. Van kept burning their waffles in the waffle maker and wouldn’t let anyone help them and Jackie wouldn’t stop bothering you about giving her the bagel you made for yourself because she hadn’t liked the cereal she picked out.

Yet you couldn’t say no to Jackie, she’d just nagged more so you passed her your plain bagel with peanut butter over to her and took her bowl of raisin bran cereal. Heck you didn’t even like Raisin Bran but she would stop asking.

Natalie seemed to feel bad for you and ripped a piece of her bread off and passed it to you, a smile on her face once more.

Natalie had not joined you and Jackie to drive up to the theme park. She had joined Shauna in her car. The cars followed Lottie’s out of the parking lot and out onto the main road.

You had planned on going on one specific rollercoaster with Natalie. You knew Jackie wouldn’t like it but by the time you and Natalie got into line, Jackie shimmied herself into the middle of you, with a hold on Shauna’s arm, telling Natalie that they were joining and that Jackie was going to go with you, and Shauna with Natalie.

You let out a sigh but you couldn’t say no, or Jackie would come up with some stupid thing to say.

The coaster had huge drops, and when it was about to go down at its highest drop you felt Jackie hand grip onto your hand with a crushing amount of force. You knew this would happen. She would hold onto you too tightly, the way you told her never to. You bit your lip, really wishing that you were sat next to Natalie and not Jackie.

Behind you, Natalie nor Shauna were happy. Shauna only enjoyed one thing about theme parks and it was the small booth games, which she had slowly learned and developed tricks to win each and every time. Natalie was just unhappy she couldn’t sit with you on the rollercoaster, and wanted to so badly do something to Jackie.

Natalie hated that she didn’t shoot her shot with you when she had the chance to. She watched everyday when the two of you were lovey dovey and it irked her so much. It hurt, she thought that maybe you’d make the first move, and then one day when the two of you were hanging out, all she heard about was Jackie this and Jackie that. She didn’t care about Jackie. She cared about you.

You could tell that Jackie was getting nauseous from the ride but you couldn’t do anything, and hoped that she wouldn’t throw up. There was only around 20 seconds left and so far she looked fine.

You were counting down the seconds in your head, and was so thankful that before she had the opportunity to vomit the ride was done.

After that one ride though, Jackie wouldn’t let go of you at all. You liked physical touch, it was your way of showing love but Jackie was basically hanging off of you, she wouldn’t let you do anything alone. When you weren’t walking she was all over you, she had her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your body.

She’d get mad if you weren’t touching her in some way.

Finally you got fed up when your group was in line and Jackie was complaining about something you had done.

All you did was go to the bathroom, and Natalie had joined you. Which according to Jackie was ‘Natalie trying to hit on you’ but it really wasn’t.

“Jackie, stop. Seriously, people gotta piss. Get over it,” you could tell by Jackie’s face she was hurt by what you had said.

Natalie wanted to laugh, she loved when you put Jackie in her place. Serves her right, she thinks. Natalie didn’t understand at all why you went for Jackie in the first place. Sure she was pretty but that was basically all Natalie could even come up with as to why someone would want to date Jackie in the first place.

But then Jackie moves forward, and looks you right in the eyes, “She's in love with you. Always have been, you dumbass.”

You shake your head, “No. She just knows who I am. She’s just a really close friend.”

Natalie had to look away, because Jackie had moved forward, closer to you and wrapped her arms around your neck. “You know, I’m way better than her. I’m not some prick who doesn’t know how to handle herself. I actually know my worth, compared to her. I was able to basically steal you right from under her nose.”

You try to get out of Jackie’s grasp, not liking what she was implying. “Do you even love me?”

Jackie looked you up and down, a smile on her face, “You give me perks. It’s great.” Jackie had dodge your question straight up.

“So you don’t love me?”

“Not really. You were just a prize to be won. Arm candy.” Jackie smirks, “You make really good arm candy. You're hot.”

You looked up at the ferris wheel, the group was standing in front of, and then made eye contact, “Hey! Nat. Get over here! You’re joining me on this thing!” You smirk at Jackie, and watch as Natalie walks over to you, and stands next to you.

“What about me!? I’m your girlfriend!” you look towards Jackie and shake your head, a smile on your face.

“Not anymore.” The best thing about you saying that was being able to see the way the anger raised on her face. “Also you can find someone else to drive you home.”

Jackie looked like she was going to explode, but she said nothing, and you turned to Natalie, your smirk turning to a smile. “So… is it really true you are like… in love with me?”

“Oh shut up,” Natalie says with a shake of her head, “Let’s just enjoy this ride and talk later.”

And talk later on you did. The two of you talked your feelings out and when you got to the hotel again that night, your bags were on the outside of the hotel room door waiting for you. You could hear Shauna and Jackie laugh through the door, so you just moved in with Natalie for the rest of the trip.

The drive back home was wonderful. Music blasting, and instead of holding Jackie’s hand you were holding Natalie’s.

Natalie had gotten what she had always wanted, you. She was happy that Jackie was out of the picture, but knew that soccer would be weird from then on. Yet Natalie didn’t have a care in the world.

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #raphs writings

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ghostboneswrites2 · 9 months ago

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From the Devil Himself

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: After literally every job in Alexandria turned out to be no match for you, you get stuck on a run with Daryl. To say the least, he doesn't enjoy your company.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, Daryl hates you

You were driving faster than you ever had before and it was plain terrifying. Driving already wasn't your strong suit, having been so young at the wake of the apocalypse. You had to learn, though, in order to travel long distances.

You'd love to say you were driving away from a massive horde of the undead or an army of looters, but somehow you just pissed off a crazy redneck that had lived in seclusion since long before the dead rose. You didn't know it was his land, you thought the place was abandoned. You just needed a place to crash for a few days, but as soon as you stepped for on his porch, the psycho burst through the door with a hatchet -- a fucking hatchet -- and chased you down. You had never run so fast in your life. You dove straight into the car and sped away, but of course this man had his own truck. It was so old it could have been fossilized, but of course, because you were so lucky, the piece of shit still worked, and he was hot on your tail. How did that truck even go so fast? Didn't the older models only go like 40mph?

You should have known not to fuck around in the Appalachian mountains. Your great grandma always told you why she ran away from there as a teenager and why she'd never go back. There are just some people in the mountains you don't fuck with, and you were lucky enough to cross one.

You were so focused on your own internal monologue that you didn't even see the big ass bear in the road that was sure to total your car if you hit it. You instinctively swerved and rolled the car over. You weren't really all there when you opened your eyes. The ringing in your ears, the muffled screech of tires, the distant sounds of the flesh eating corpses. When your double vision steadied you quickly realized you were upside down. You looked around, noticing blood dripping from your head onto the ceiling of the car. You reached to unbuckle the seatbelt and braced your head for the impact when you dropped from the seat. You managed to crawl out of the shattered window, scraping yourself pretty good on the way out, but that didn't matter. You had bigger fish to fry, as they say.

The sunlight blinded you as you pushed yourself off the ground and leaned against the flipped car behind you. You almost didn't notice the truck that was parked just a few yards away. The crazy hatchet wielding hillbilly stepped out of the driver's side and started yelling at you, his thick accent so strong that you couldn't quite make it out. A cold hand grabbed your arm and you quickly pulled the knife from your belt and stabbed the rotten thing through the skull. When you looked back toward the man, he had the small axe raised, now jogging toward you.

As if some guardian angel was watching over you, an engine hummed in the distance, distracting you both for the moment. A white SUV screeched to a halt right beside his truck. Two men stepped out of the vehicle, both approaching the scene with raised guns. You immediately put your hands up, but the crazy old man ran at them instead.

"Stop!" One of the men shouted, the one who was driving. When the old man showed no signs of stopping he fired his gun and the old geezer thumped down on the pavement. The two men turned their guns to you.

"What happened here?" The driver asked.

"You with that crazy old loon?" The passenger asked.

You were still pretty disoriented. Stabbing the walker was sheer instinct at this point, but not all of their words made total sense.

"No." You said, after you took some time to process the second question. The driver began to walk toward you.

"I asked you what happened here." He repeated. He was menacingly calm, his voice low and calm, but it dared you to try anything stupid.

"He-- He was chasing me. I crashed." You stuttered. It felt funny to talk, like you had to strain your core muscles to project your voice, and still it sounded like someone else was talking to you through a thick window.

"Why?" He cocked his head sideways.

"I didn't know it was his house." Was all you could say before everything faded away and you fell into a dark oblivion.

----

When you finally woke, you were in the back seat of a car that you could tell was moving. You sat up quick, looking around frantically. You were with the two men that had showed up after your crash and shot the old man.

"You're okay. You're safe." The driver spoke, looking at you in his rearview mirror.

"Yeah, for now." You retorted. "Did you kidnap me?"

"Nah. We saved your ass back there." The passenger rasped.

"You got banged up pretty bad in that accident." The driver added. "We're gonna take you to our community, let the doctor check you out, then maybe you can stay or be sent on your way. We'll see." "So you expect me to believe to grown ass men threw me in their car and have nothing but the best intentions for me?" You scoffed.

They both looked at each other and shrugged. "Yup." They said in unison. You shook your head.

"You don't have to worry." The driver emphasized. "You're safe. Nobody's gonna hurt you."

"Heard that one before." You mumbled.

"My name's Rick," said the driver. He nodded over to the passenger. "This is Daryl."

"(Y/n)." You told them.

----

"C'mon, she's like a pretty version of you." Carol smiled, urging Daryl to take you with him on one of his solo runs. You had been at Alexandria for maybe three weeks, and since you didn't like working with others much, most of your job assignments didn't work out.

"I don't need no help." He argued, waving her off.

"But you do. This place if the farthest we've gone. Going alone is stupid." She chided.

"We don't even know her, we can't trust her. Damn sure ain't trustin' that little girl to watch my ass out there."

"She's in her late twenties." Carol corrected. "She just looks young."

"You been talkin' to her?"

"Well, yeah. She helped out at the pantry before she called Mrs. Neudermeyer a tedious old bitch when she wouldn't shut up about that stupid pasta maker." Carol chuckled.

"Nah. She ain't goin'." Daryl stood firm on his stance.

"Well, it's kinda not up to you. Deanna put her on the job. Don't be such a baby. You guys would get along."

"What're you, fuckin' cupid?" He shot back. She sighed and shook her head, still smiling at her best friend's stubbornness.

----

"So you just like... don't talk?" You asked, after literally two hours of silence on the car ride.

"Nothin' to talk about." He grunted. You huffed a big, annoyed sigh.

"At least I don't have to hear about that stupid fucking pasta maker anymore." You reasoned. You looked down at the small screen on the radio. It said 'Track 3' which meant there was a CD in there. You reached to turn the volume on but he quickly slapped your hand away. You yanked your hand to your chest, rubbing where the slap stung. You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before narrowing your eyes. Challenge accepted.

You reached for the volume again, and he slapped your hand again. You calculated for a moment, and decided to reach back for the little knob. When he went to slap your hand, clearly growing incredibly annoyed, you pulled your hand up swiftly and slapped him first. He slammed on the breaks and shot you a blood chilling glare.

"Quit." He demanded.

"You quit." You insisted.

"Ain't got nohtin' to quit! Leave the damn music off!"

You couldn't possibly know this, but Rick always drove him insane with those horrible CDs. You rolled your eyes and leaned your elbow on the window, staring out of it, ignoring him. As soon as he started driving the car again, you had to dig your teeth into your gums to prevent the mischievous grin from forming. When the car was rolling at a decent pace, you shot your hand over to the knob quickly and gave it a good spin. The speakers started blaring some admittedly awful music.

He slammed the breaks again and ejected the CD, taking it and tossing it out the window. You stared at the empty CD slot for a moment. He said nothing as he pressed the gas again, knuckles turning white as he angrily gripped the steering wheel.

After some silence; "Guess you're not a music guy."

He sucked in a deep breath, calling upon the forces of nature to hold him back. All he wanted was to tie you up, tape up your mouth, and stick you in the trunk so he could get this run over with in peace.

"So.. No talking, no music. Any other rules I should know about?"

"Yeah, the stop pissing me off rule."

"Well if you weren't such a prude, maybe you wouldn't get so pissed off." You shrugged.

"Man, do you wanna spend the rest of this trip in the damn trunk?"

----

"Ooh, we should bring these back." You said, holding up some board games to show him.

"Ain't on the list."

"But we have plenty of room."

"I said it ain't on the list!"

"But, we have room.." You shrank back a little, but you didn't falter. Nobody told you what to do.

"I swear we shoulda left you asleep on the pavement that day." He grumbled.

"Probably." You agreed. "But, ya didn't."

"Yeah, well, when I tell 'em you ain't fit for makin' runs, and you ain't got no other job options left, then what? They're gonna kick your smartass out and you'll be on your own."

"Good. I don't like any of you, anyways." You said.

"Then just go now! Make it easy on the rest of us."

"And give you an easy way out?" You smirked. "Don't think so, redneck."

"Maybe," he growled, storming toward you and towering over you. "I'm givin' you the easy way out. 'Cause I swear you got one more snarky ass comment and your ass is walker bait."

"Hm." You hummed with a nod, considering his words. You held your hands up to mock a libra scale, moving one hand up and one hand down, as if quite literally weighing the options. "Another three hour car ride with you.. Walker bait.. Another three hour ride with you.. Walkers.."

"God!" He exclaimed. "You're like my own personal punishment from the devil himself. Well, I repent! Ya hear me, God? I repent. Just get rid of her."

"Mm. Sorry. Don't think he's listening." You said.

"Yeah, clearly. If he was you'd be dead 'n' gone by now."

"Who's to say I'm not?" You suggested. "Who's to say we aren't all dead, in our own personal circle of hell?"

"Cut me a break with the philosophy." He waved you off.

"I would cut you a break, but you wouldn't let me play music. And, you hit me. So, no."

"I'm gon' do a lot worse than hit you if you don't shut the hell up."

"Oh yeah, like what? Kill me? Put me out of my misery? A welcome service, my friend. How do they say? Dont threaten me with a good time?"

He slapped his hand around your throat, gripping it tightly, but not so that you couldn't breathe. His nostrils flared as he glared down at you. Now that he had his hand around your throat, and you were silent, he realized you were kinda pretty, just like Carol said. His eyes flickered over your face. You were calm as you stared up at him. You didn't glare, didn't even struggle. You wanted to be mad, but you weren't. It was kinda hot. His hand finally released you and he turned his back to you, running his hands down his face. He'd never felt so stressed in his life, and that said a lot. You were an absolute menace.

"Well, you're a tease." You sighed, nonchalantly throwing your bag over your shoulder, leaning your weight onto one leg more than the other. "I got my half of the list. You?"

He threw his head back with frustration. How could you just act like nothing was wrong? He huffed and picked up his duffle bag.

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Okay." You chirped, picking up the stack of board games again as you headed for the door. He looked down at them.

"I told you those weren't on the list." He grumbled.

You sighed. "I know."

"So leave 'em."

"What's the problem? We have roo--"

He smacked the boxes out of your hand, some falling open and littering the small pieces all over the floor of the dim store. You stared down at them as he walked out of the exit.

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x female reader

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bansuvs · 10 months ago

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#ban suvs #active travel #road safety #climate catastrophe #environment #suvs

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jerzwriter · 5 months ago

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New Discoveries

This fic is part of "MOC (Merida, Olivia, Casey) World," but it focuses on the guys! This is a dual ask from @annoyingmillenialnewbie and also prompts provided by @storyofmychoices. I love writing for these three together! Thanks so much for the inspiration!

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Bryce Lahela, Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: 2,099 Trope: There's just one bed.... Summary: A boy's weekend camping takes a few different turns (literally and figuratively), but they endure and make some new discoveries along the way.

A/N: This is part of the Merida, Olivia, and Casey world. Merida belongs to the lovely @lilyoffandoms, and Olivia belongs to our dear @storyofmychoices. The prompts can be found on this list created by @creativepromptsforwriting. (The prompts are bolded in text.) Participating in @choicesjunechallenge2024 - Beginning.

The mountainous road was perilous, to say the least. Yet, if Tobias was fazed by it, it didn't show. The day was beautiful, with a brilliant blue sky stretching endlessly without a cloud in sight. They were the only travelers on the road, and the rugged terrain was no match for his new Range Rover. All in all, it was perfect.

The SUV jolted hard to the right... then to the left...

“Look out!” Ethan shouted.

Then to the right again.

While Tobias was living his best life, Bryce was left to wonder how much life he had left. He had to be cajoled to go camping in the first place, and now he lost hope of arriving at the cabin alive. Tobias glanced at him in the rearview mirror, smiling sardonically when he noticed his friend’s pale, green complexion.

“You all right there, buddy?” he bellowed.

“Of course he’s not all right!” Ethan replied from the passenger’s seat. “We’re both wondering how many more sharp turns you'll take before this tin can goes toppling over the side of the mountain.”

“For fucks sake, Ramsey,” Tobias chuckled. “Grow some hair on them. We’re absolutely fine.”

“We are not fine,” Bryce insisted. “If I don’t make it, please tell Olivia I love her.”

“OK, maybe you are being a tad too dramatic,” Ethan reconsidered, to Tobias’s delight.

“That’s better!”

Nevertheless, two of the three men couldn’t have been more relieved when they pulled up to the rustic cabin that would serve as their home for the weekend. Tobias stepped out of the car with his usual swagger. Black Ray-Bans in place and an Original Gourmet Lollipop in his mouth, he surveyed the land, filled his lungs with the fresh air, and smiled.

“Welcome home, friends!”

Bryce’s exit was a little different. Stumbling out the back door, he looked peaked, but the fear started to vanish from his eyes when he realized they were on solid earth.

“I would lean over and kiss the ground, but I’m pretty sure I’d throw up,” he announced as Ethan mumbled under his breath.

“What was that, boss?" Tobias called out. "If you have something to say, you really should tell the whole class.”

“I said I don’t know how you convinced me to do this.”

With his hands in his pockets, Tobias rolled back and forth on his feet with a grin. “First, you love us, no matter how much you try to deny it. Second, Merida would have kicked your ass if you backed out.”

“Not to mention you would have never lived down the ribbing we'd give you if you admitted you couldn’t rough it for one weekend.”

“I can rough it, Bryce!” Ethan replied. “Make no mistake about that... I just don’t know if I can rough it with the two of you.”

Tobias clapped his hand against Ethan's shoulder before removing his backpack from the trunk.

“You’re full of shit,” he said, tossing Ethan his bag.

Bryce shielded his eyes to take a better look at the cabin. He had to admit that the bucolic setting was beautiful, ushering in a sense of tranquility that Boston could never deliver.

“The cabin does look really nice,” he observed.

Ethan shrugged with a wrinkled nose. “Looks smaller than I expected.”

Tobias pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, his face glowing like he had just won the jackpot. “Now, there are five words Ramsey has heard repeatedly throughout his life.”

He and Bryce broke into a fit of laughter while Ethan rambled about their juvenile behavior.

“Relax, old man,” Tobias teased. “It is small, but it’s not like we’ll be inside much anyway. Come on, let’s go set up.”

Ethan and Tobias lingered on the porch as Bryce stepped inside, but he returned in an instant.

“Uh, Tobias, are you sure this is the right cabin?”

“Well, the keys I gave you just opened the door, didn’t they? Of course, it’s the right cabin.” Noting the look on Bryce’s face, he continued. “What’s the matter, Lahela? Did you see a mouse?”

“Oh,” Bryce chuckled. “I wish.”

Ethan raised a brow at Bryce while Tobias stepped inside.

“Wait for it,” Bryce mouthed just before they heard...

“Oh, for fucks sake!!”

Ethan rushed into the cabin with Bryce trailing behind him, and his eyes went wide.

“Are you kidding me?” Ethan scowled. “One bed? What the hell did you do, Carrick? Rent the honeymoon suite?”

Tobias turned to his friend, lips twisted. “Who’d take anyone on a honeymoon here, Ramsey! Even you’re not that clueless.”

“You’re right, and I’m also not clueless enough to get us a cabin with ONE bed.”

Tobias ran his hand over his head with a sigh. “The listing said one single bed and two bunks!”

“Well,” Bryce simpered. “The listing lied.”

“I told you we should have just brought tents and sleeping bags,” Tobias admonished. “But noooo, you two couldn’t rough it!”

“Says the man with the luxury Range Rover,” Ethan smirked.

Ignoring him, Tobias placed his phone back into his pocket. “There’s no service here, but if you want, we can drive back down the to the main road. We passed a Motel 6; we could just stay there tonight if you like.”

“Yeah, I’m not about to head back down that death trap of a road in this weather!” Bryce stated.

“In this weather? It’s beautiful out,” Tobias said just before a loud thunderclap shook them. “Wait! What?” He gasped. “Where the hell did this come from! It was gorgeous out! There was no rain predicted, and... how?”

“What was that you said about not spending much time inside the cabin anyway?” Ethan mocked.

Tobias threw himself back on the bed. “This isn’t happening.”

“It’s all right,” Bryce said, trying to lighten the mood. “ “It’s just for two nights; we can handle that.”

“Maybe you can,” Ethan deadpanned. “I’m not so sure.”

“Well, unless you want to take my keys and drive yourself down the mountain in this monsoon, it doesn’t look like you’ll have much of a choice.”

~~~~~

The afternoon and evening looked different than they had anticipated. Envigorating hikes were replaced by several rounds of poker. An open campfire under the stars turned into hotdogs and baked beans prepared on the hotplate. It was as if a woodland fairy godmother had appeared and reversed her magic.

“I wonder what the girls are doing now,” Bryce asked forlornly.

Ethan pulled a chunk of fat out of the beans with a grimace. “Eating better than we are, that’s for sure!”

“All right!” Tobias snapped. “Enough of this. Hopefully, the rain will pass tonight, and we will have two days to enjoy the great outdoors. But tonight... let's make the best of it. There could be worse things than the three of us stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with copious amounts of beer.”

“The beer will help,” Bryce agreed.

“As long as you two don’t overdo it,” Ethan said, popping a can open. “If either of you falls into a drunken stupor and pees in the bed tonight, we'll be returning to Boston with a lighter load."

“How are we going to sleep?” Bryce asked the question they had all been pondering. “What’s that, a full-size bed? How are the three of us going to fit on that?”

“It’s a queen-size,” Tobias corrected. “We’ll make do.”

“Do you have your sleeping bag, T?” Bryce asked. “Maybe one of us could sleep on the floor.”

“Negative,” he replied. “Once you two overruled tents, I had no reason to pack it.”

“I could just sleep on the floor anyway.”

“Bryce, you’ll freeze,” Ethan pointed out. “The temperature drops significantly during the night in these parts, and this place isn't exactly insulated."

“Yeah, and those cute little shorts and crop tops you bought won’t do a damn thing to keep you warm,” Tobias chortled.

Bryce let out a sigh. “I told you a beach weekend would have been better, but noooo....”

“Weren’t you the one saying it’s just two nights, we’ll survive?” Ethan yawned. “Look, it’s late, I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to freeze, so why don’t we just get this over with?”

“I’m with you,” a weary Tobias replied.

“All right, question. Who sleeps in the middle?”

Bryce's words stopped the other two men in their tracks.

“Well, I hadn’t thought of that,” Tobias snickered.

“This is going to be the longest night of my life,” Ethan groaned.

“Come on, princess,” Tobias winked. “You could do much worse than sharing a bed with two lookers like Lahela and me.”

“I mean, we’re all bi,” Bryce reminded. “It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed with a man before."

“That doesn’t mean I want to be sharing a bed with these two men,” Ethan said, gesturing furiously between his two friends.

“Look, I’m freaking tired,” Tobias interrupted. “I say we pick straws. Short straw gets the middle.”

“Works for me!” Bryce agreed.

No one waited for Ethan to reply, which was unfortunate since he picked the short straw.

“Motherfucker!” he cursed.

“Look,” Tobias pointed out. “None of us are going to sleep well tonight anyway, so what does it really matter.”

“Fine! You want the middle, then?”

“Nope!” Tobias said, claiming his spot against the wall. “I’m good.”

“Wait! That means I’ll be on the edge!” Bryce realized. “I’m going to end up on the floor!”

“Would you like the short stick?” Ethan offered.

“Mmmhh. Nah,” Bryce replied. “Just try not to push me off the bed."

The three men spent the next few minutes squiggling and shifting, doing their best to find a position that would be remotely comfortable for all, and the jokes kept coming, at least from Tobias and Bryce.

“Remember, Ramsey... if your hands get cold during the night, my butt cheeks are not pillows, all right?”

“Jesus Christ!” Ethan groused, rolling to his other side.

“What?” Bryce replied. “Do you think my butt cheeks are available? We can get you some socks for those hands of yours.”

Bryce and Tobias couldn't stop giggling as Ethan seethed between them.

“Come on, Ethan,” Tobias laughed. “You’re amongst friends, and at least you won’t freeze to death.”

“Sure won’t. You’re like a damn furnace! I felt like I needed to remove my clothes.”

“Oh, so you're getting fresh now?” Tobias teased, but Ethan wasn't remotely amused.

“Good night!!” He huffed.

“Sorry,” Bryce yawned. “But you walked right into that one.”

“GOOD NIGHT!”

And then something miraculous occurred; against all odds, the men managed to fall asleep.

~~~

When the sun rose, Bryce was the first to wake. He was already sitting in a folding chair near the window, eating a container of yogurt, when Ethan and Tobias began to stir.

“Good morning!” He chirped, as buoyant as the birds flying around the sunny sky. “It’s about time you're awake.”

“Why are you already up?” Tobias said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Ethan groaned as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, attempting to stretch his sore muscles. “And how the hell are you not in pain!”

“The benefits of youth, old men!” Bryce laughed. “I really do need to get some friends my own age.”

“Yeah, screw you!” Tobias said, vaulting out of bed to prove a point, but he couldn't hold back an ouch moments later.

“You were saying?” Ethan mocked.

“Of course, I’m in pain!” Tobias shot back. “I can’t barely feel my arm anymore; you were lying on it all night.”

“Are you aware that you talk in your sleep?” Ethan snickered, completely changing the course of conversation.

"Wait... what?" Tobias turned around, the blood rushing from his face. “What...what did I say?”

“I don’t remember everything,” Ethan smirked. “But I’m pretty confident you proposed to me.”

“Yeah, right!” Tobias laughed nervously.

Bryce mindlessly scraped his yogurt container with his spoon. “Honestly, he’s not joking. You were going on and on about getting married.”

“Do you have something to share?” Ethan grinned.

“Well,” Tobias hesitated. “I guess if the cat’s out of the bag. I'm planning on proposing soon, just not to either of you fuckers.”

“You’re proposing to Casey,” Bryce gasped. “Oh my God, Olivia is going to lose her mind!”

“Yeah,” Ethan ran a hand down his neck. “Merida will probably be all over this, too.”

"If you wouldn't mind keeping this from them for the time being," Tobias pled. "It's not that I don't trust them, but..."

"No need to ask," Ethan smiled, shaking his friend's hand. "Congratulations, buddy. All joking aside, I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Yeah,” Bryce agreed. “This is great news! When are you planning on doing it?”

“Next week, it’s the anniversary of the day we met. I don’t know if she remembers, but I do, so....”

“Do you think she knows?” Bryce asked.

“Nah,” Tobias smiled. “She doesn’t have a clue.”

“You're sure about that?” Ethan asked, preparing a cup of coffee.

“Pretty sure.... why?”

Ethan handed the steaming cup to Tobias with a wink. “Because, apparently.... you talk in your sleep.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #tobias carrick #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The impoverished imagination of neoliberal climate “solutions

This morning (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

There is only one planet in the known universe capable of sustaining human life, and it is rapidly becoming uninhabitable by humans. Clearly, this warrants bold action – but which bold action should we take?

After half a century of denial and disinformation, the business lobby has seemingly found climate religion and has joined the choir, but they have their own unique hymn: this crisis is so dire, they say, that we don't have the luxury of choosing between different ways of addressing the emergency. We have to do "all of the above" – every possible solution must be tried.

In his new book Dark PR, Grant Ennis explains that this "all of the above" strategy doesn't represent a change of heart by big business. Rather, it's part of the denial playbook that's been used to sell tobacco-cancer doubt and climate disinformation:

https://darajapress.com/publication/dark-pr-how-corporate-disinformation-harms-our-health-and-the-environment

The point of "all of the above" isn't muscular, immediate action – rather, it's a delaying tactic that creates space for "solutions" that won't work, but will generate profits. Think of how the tobacco industry used "all of the above" to sell "light" cigarettes, snuff, snus, and vaping – and delay tobacco bans, sin taxes, and business-euthanizing litigation. Today, the same playbook is used to sell EVs as an answer to the destructive legacy of the personal automobile – to the exclusion of mass transit, bikes, and 15-minute cities:

https://thewaroncars.org/2023/10/24/113-dark-pr-with-grant-ennis/

As the tobacco and car examples show, "all of the above" is never really all of the above. Pursuing "light" cigarettes to reduce cancer is incompatible with simply banning tobacco; giving everyone a personal EV is incompatible with remaking our cities for transit, cycling and walking.

When it comes to the climate emergency, "all of the above" means trying "market-based" solutions to the exclusion of directly regulating emissions, despite the poor performance of these "solutions."

The big one here is carbon offsets, which allows companies to make money by promising not to emit carbon that they would otherwise emit. The idea here is that creating a new asset class will unleash the incredible creativity of markets by harnessing the greed of elite sociopaths to the project of decarbonization, rather of the prudence of democratically accountable lawmakers.

Carbon offsets have not worked: they have been plagued by absolutely foreseeable problems that have not lessened, despite repeated attempts to mitigate them.

For starters, carbon offsets are a classic market for lemons. The cheapest way to make a carbon offset is to promise not to emit carbon you were never going to emit anyway, as when fake charities like the Nature Conservancy make millions by promising not to log forests that can't be logged because they are wildlife preserves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/18/greshams-carbon-law/#papal-indulgences

Then there's the problem of monitoring carbon offsetting activity. Like, what happens when the forest you promise not to log burns down? If you're a carbon trader, the answer is "nothing." That burned-down forest can still be sold as if it were sequestering carbon, rather than venting it to the atmosphere in an out-of-control blaze:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/26/aggregate-demand/#murder-offsets

When you bought a plane ticket and ticked the "offset the carbon on my flight" box and paid an extra $10, I bet you thought that you were contributing to a market that incentivized a reduction in discretionary, socially useless carbon-intensive activity. But without those carbon offsets, SUVs would have all but disappeared from American roads. Carbon offsets for Tesla cars generated billions in carbon offsets for Elon Musk, and allowed SUVs to escape regulations that would otherwise have seen them pulled from the market:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#Rat

What's more, Tesla figured out how to get double the offsets they were entitled to by pretending that they had a working battery-swap technology. This directly translated to even more SUVs on the road:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Criticism_of_Tesla,_Inc.#Misuse_of_government_subsidies

Harnessing the profit motive to the planet's survivability might sound like a good idea, but it assumes that corporations can self-regulate their way to a better climate future. They cannot. Think of how Canada's logging industry was allowed to clearcut old-growth forests and replace them with "pines in lines" – evenly spaced, highly flammable, commercially useful tree-farms that now turn into raging forest fires every year:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/16/murder-offsets/#pulped-and-papered

The idea of "market-based" climate solutions is that certain harmful conduct should be disincentivized through taxes, rather than banned. This makes carbon offsets into a kind of modern Papal indulgence, which let you continue to sin, for a price. As the outstanding short video Murder Offsets so ably demonstrates, this is an inadequate, unserious and immoral response to the urgency of the issue:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

Offsets and other market-based climate measures aren't "all of the above" – they exclude other measures that have better track-records and lower costs, because those measures cut against the interests of the business lobby. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, Yale Law's Douglas Kysar gives some pointed examples:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/climate-change-and-the-neoliberal-imagination/

For example: carbon offsets rely on a notion called "contrafactual carbon," this being the imaginary carbon that might be omitted by a company if it wasn't participating in offsets. The number of credits a company gets is determined by the difference between its contrafactual emissions and its actual emissions.

But the "contrafactual" here comes from a business-as-usual world, one where the only limit on carbon emissions comes from corporate executives' voluntary actions – and not from regulation, direct action, or other limits on corporate conduct.

Kysar asks us to imagine a contrafactual that depends on "carbon upsets," rather than offsets – one where the limits on carbon come from "lawsuits, referenda, protests, boycotts, civil disobedience":

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/cif-green/2010/aug/29/carbon-upsets-offsets-cap-and-trade

If we're really committed to "all of the above" as baseline for calculating offsets, why not imagine a carbon world grounded in foreseeable, evidence-based reality, like the situation in Louisiana, where a planned petrochemical plant was canceled after a lawsuit over its 13.6m tons of annual carbon emissions?

https://earthjustice.org/press/2022/louisiana-court-vacates-air-permits-for-formosas-massive-petrochemical-complex-in-cancer-alley

Rather than a tradeable market in carbon offsets, we could harness the market to reward upsets. If your group wins a lawsuit that prevents 13.6m tons of carbon emissions every year, it will get 13.6 million credits for every year that plant would have run. That would certainly drive the commercial imaginations of many otherwise disinterested parties to find carbon-reduction measures. If we're going to revive dubious medieval practices like indulgences, why not champerty, too?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Champerty_and_maintenance

That is, if every path to a survivable planet must run through Goldman-Sachs, why not turn their devious minds to figuring out ways to make billions in tradeable credits by suing the pants off oil companies?

There are any number of measures that rise to the flimsy standards of evidence in support of offsets. Like, we're giving away $85/ton in free public money for carbon capture technologies, despite the lack of any credible path to these making a serious dent in the climate situation:

https://www.spglobal.com/commodityinsights/en/market-insights/latest-news/energy-transition/072523-ira-turbocharged-carbon-capture-tax-credit-but-challenges-persist-experts

If we're willing to fund untested longshots like carbon capture, why not measures that have far better track-records? For example, there's a pretty solid correlation between the presence of women in legislatures and on corporate boards and overall reductions in carbon. I'm the last person to suggest that the problems of capitalism can be replaced by replacing half of the old white men who run the world with women, PoCs and queers – but if we're willing to hand billions to ferkakte scheme like carbon capture, why not subsidize companies that pack their boards with women, or provide campaign subsidies to women running for office? It's quite a longshot (putting Liz Truss or Marjorie Taylor-Greene on your board or in your legislature is no way to save the planet), but it's got a better evidentiary basis than carbon capture.

There's also good evidence that correlates inequality with carbon emissions, though the causal relationship is unclear. Maybe inequality lets the wealthy control policy outcomes and tilt them towards permitting high-emission/high-profit activities. Maybe inequality reduces the social cohesion needed to make decarbonization work. Maybe inequality makes it harder for green tech to find customers. Maybe inequality leads to rich people chasing status-enhancing goods (think: private jet rides) that are extremely carbon-intensive.

Whatever the reason, there's a pretty good case that radical wealth redistribution would speed up decarbonization – any "all of the above" strategy should certainly consider this one.

Kysar's written a paper on this, entitled "Ways Not to Think About Climate Change":

https://political-theory.org/resources/Documents/Kysar.Ways%20Not%20to%20Think%20About%20Climate%20Change.pdf

It's been accepted for the upcoming American Society for Political and Legal Philosophy conference on climate change:

https://political-theory.org/13257256

It's quite a bracing read! The next time someone tells you we should hand Elon Musk billions to in exchange for making it possible to legally manufacture vast fleets of SUVs because we need to try "all of the above," send them a copy of this paper.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/31/carbon-upsets/#big-tradeoff

#pluralistic #neoliberalism #climate #market worship #economics #economism #there is no alternative #carbon credits #climate emergency #contrafactual carbon #carbon upsets #apologetics #murder offsets #indulgences

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hyper-trash-panda · 3 months ago

Text

Teaser: Bad Boys - Legacy

Fandom: “Bad Boys” movie franchise

Storyline: Continues the franchise after “Bad Boys: Ride or Die”

Timeline: Three-ish years following ROD

Warnings: Guns I guess?

In the fifth installment of the Bad Boys franchise, Miami is under siege as a potent new drug dubbed Helios has flooded the streets, leaving a trail of chaos and mass casualties. The narcotic's rapid spread threatens to overwhelm the city, pushing Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett to the brink as they scramble to uncover its source with the help of their next in line: Former Marine Reggie and recently acquitted fugitive Armando.

The Miami skyline raced by in a blur as Mike Lowrey's Porsche 911 rocketed down the sunlit streets. Traffic parted reluctantly in the car's wake, horns blaring as the sleek vehicle wove through lanes with reckless precision. Mike's jaw was set, his eyes narrowed behind his Ray-Bans with determination as he ignored the pounding in his chest.

Beside him, Marcus Burnett clutched the door handle, his knuckles white, eyes wide with a mix of fear and frustration. He braced himself as they narrowly missed a delivery truck, the tires screeching in protest.

“Mike, man, slow down! I didn't sign up for the Daytona 500!" Marcus's voice was strained, each word laced with anxiety as his stomach churned, his breakfast threatening to make a return visit.

Mike didn't glance over, his eyes locked on the road ahead. "We're late. And if you hadn't stuffed your face with that stack of pancakes, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Marcus groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. "I told you, my metabolism ain't what it used to be! I needed a good breakfast to get me through the day."

"You needed a good breakfast? Or you needed to sample the whole damn menu?" Mike shot back, swerving around a taxi that had stopped abruptly. The sharp turn caused Marcus's stomach to lurch, and he swallowed hard, regretting the third helping of bacon.

"I swear, you always gotta bring up my eating habits when we're in a life-threatening situation," Marcus muttered, clutching his stomach.

"Oh, your life gone be threatened alright if you so much as drool on my leather seats." Mike snapped.

From the back seat, Reggie, Marcus's son-in-law and new recruit to the Miami PD, leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "Uh, sir, this speed is unlawful given that we're not in pursuit of a suspect. According to Miami's police code of conduct, officers are required to maintain—"

"Reggie, shut up!" Mike barked, cutting off the younger man. "We're late, and I don't need a lecture on driving.”

Reggie, still trying to process the banter, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sir, I'm just trying to follow protocol."

"Protocol's for rookies," Mike snapped, turning his attention back to the road. "And last I checked, you're riding with the best. So buckle up, kid."

Marcus shot Reggie a sympathetic look, though he was clearly not thrilled about the situation himself. "Mike, he's got a point. The kid's just doing what he's been trained to do. Besides, we're supposed to be setting a good example as his shadowees."

Mike glanced at Marcus, an eyebrow raised. "Shadowees? The only reason he's even allowed to shadow us is because you're sweet on the receptionist who pushed the paperwork through."

Marcus bristled, his voice defensive. "I'm not sweet on her. I'm just polite and charismatic—something you wouldn't know nothing about."

"I wonder how 'polite' Theresa would be if she found out just how 'charismatic' you've been." Mike shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hey, now!" Marcus's eyes widened, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "Ain't nobody being anything but polite. Don't start something you can't finish, Mike."

Before either could respond, the radio crackled to life, cutting through the tension in the car. "All units, be advised, we have a 10-80 in progress near Biscayne Boulevard. Suspect vehicle is a black SUV, heading northbound. Requesting backup."

Mike's eyes lit up with sudden interest, and he gunned the engine, the Porsche surging forward with impossible speed. "Well, would you look at that. Sounds like our kind of party."

"Mike, you can't just—" Marcus began, but his words were drowned out by the roar of the engine as Mike made a sharp turn toward the boulevard.

"Can't what, Marcus?" Mike snapped, his voice edged with impatience. "According to Poindexter back there, we ain't supposed to drive like this unless we're chasing a suspect."

Mike smirked as he pushed the car to an even more reckless speed. "I'm just trying to set a good example as a shadowee."

Reggie fumbled for his seatbelt, his eyes wide as he prepared for whatever chaos was about to unfold. "Sir, are we engaging?"

"Hell yeah we are!" Mike grinned, his tension replaced with the adrenaline that only a high-speed chase could bring. "Bad Boys for life."

Marcus sighed, his stomach knotting even tighter. "Bad Boys for life," he muttered, knowing there was no turning back now.

The Porsche hurtled down the streets of Miami, the roar of its engine echoing through the concrete jungle as the radio crackled with updates from the chopper overhead, its pilot providing a bird's-eye view of the chase.

"Suspect is heading northbound on Collins Avenue, approaching the airport," the dispatcher's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Marcus muttered, gripping the dashboard as Mike took another sharp turn, the tires squealing in protest.

"There he is!" Mike pointed ahead where a black SUV was weaving through traffic, trying to shake off its pursuers. "We're in this now, Joker. Time to show 'em how the big boys play."

Marcus squinted at the SUV speeding ahead, his heart pounding as he took in the chaotic scene. Civilians scattered, cars swerving out of the way as the chase tore through the city.

"Alright, Marcus, shoot out his tires!" Mike ordered, eyes locked on the target.

Marcus's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Hell no! There are too many civilian vehicles out here, Mike. You trying to get someone killed?"

From the back seat, Reggie interjected with a nervous glance at the manual in his hand. "Actually, according to the handbook, we're supposed to request the driver to pull over through the intercom first—"

"Reggie, I don't care what the handbook says!" Mike barked, cutting him off. "Marcus, shoot out the damn tires!"

Marcus shook his head adamantly, his hands clenched tight. "I'm not shooting in the middle of all this traffic. Do a pit maneuver or something!"

Mike's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he scowled. "I'm not messing up the new paint job on my car for this fool."

Marcus shot him a disbelieving look. "So you'd rather I risk shooting a civilian than scratch your precious car?"

Mike huffed, frustration mounting. "You won't hit a civilian if you put on your damn glasses before you fire."

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, but Mike was done with the back-and-forth. He turned his head slightly to the back seat. "Reggie, shoot out the tires."

Reggie's eyes widened. "Is that an order, sir?"

"Damn right it is!" Mike snapped as he hit a button, opening the sunroof of the Porsche.

Reggie swallowed hard, then reached out, taking the gun Mike handed him with disciplined hands. Standing up through the roof, he positioned himself for the shot, his military training kicking in as he steadied his aim. The wind whipped around him, but Reggie's focus was unshakable.

With perfect precision, he fired two shots, the bullets hitting their mark and blowing out the SUV's back tires. The suspect's vehicle swerved wildly, its speed dropping as the driver struggled to regain control.

Reggie dropped back down into the car, his breath coming in short bursts, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Tires neutralized, sir."

Mike flashed a grin as he maneuvered the Porsche closer to the now-crippled SUV which careened wildly as it barreled toward the passenger pickup area of Miami International Airport. The tires left dark streaks on the pavement as the driver fought for control. Smoke began billowing from under the hood, the engine pushed beyond its limits.

"Pull over and stop the vehicle!" Marcus's voice boomed over the intercom, but it was clear the SUV had no more fight left. The engine coughed, then with a final groan, it blew out, sending a cloud of smoke into the air. The SUV slowed to a crawl, finally rolling to a stop right in front of the airport's sliding glass doors.

Mike brought the Porsche to a screeching halt in front of the smoking SUV, his eyes sharp and focused. "Showtime, boys," he said as he threw the car into park.

In unison, Mike, Marcus, and Reggie exited the vehicle, guns drawn and pointed at the SUV. Civilians in the area scattered, some ducking behind pillars and parked cars as the trio approached the suspect's vehicle with the practiced precision of seasoned cops.

"Hands where I can see 'em!" Mike barked as they neared the driver's side.

The door creaked open, and a man stumbled out, coughing and waving his hands in surrender. Before he could even think about making a run for it, Marcus was on him. He grabbed the suspect by the collar, yanking him from the SUV and slamming him onto the hood of Mike's Porsche with a force that made the man wince.

"You're under arrest, jackass," Marcus growled, snapping a pair of handcuffs around the man's wrists. "Don't move unless you wanna get to know my bullets real well."

As Marcus secured the suspect, more officers arrived on the scene, their flashing lights adding to the chaos. Marcus handed the suspect over to a pair of uniformed cops, then turned back to Mike, who was still watching the scene with a careful eye.

"Alright, suspect's in custody," Marcus said, wiping his hands on his pants as he approached his partner. "Not bad for a morning's work."

But Mike wasn't listening. His gaze had shifted, his focus drawn to the figure standing just beyond the smoke, his silhouette becoming clearer as the cloud dissipated. Although it had been over three years since he last saw the man, Armando hadn’t changed since; standing there with his duffel bags slung over his shoulder, a bemused expression on his face.

Mike holstered his gun and approached his son with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm a little late for pickup," he said, trying for a light tone as he gestured back at the chaos behind him. "Got stuck in some traffic."

Armando stood there, his face a mask of indifference. Without a word, he rolled his eyes and walked right past Mike's open arms, heading straight for the trunk of the Porsche. He tossed his bags in with a casual ease, as if this kind of thing happened every day.

Mike lowered his arms, the smile fading as he watched his son's retreating back. He sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

As Marcus walked over, having finished briefing the other officers, he took in the scene and couldn't resist. "Well, at least the kid's punctual," he joked, clapping Mike on the back.

Mike shot him a look that could melt steel. "Not now, Marcus."

"Hey, just trying to lighten the mood, man." Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face said he wasn't all that sorry.

Mike shook his head, glancing back at Armando, who was now leaning against the Porsche, waiting. The distance between them felt like miles.

"Let's just get outta here," Mike muttered, brushing past Marcus to head toward the car.

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #fanfic #bad boys legacy #bad boys movie #new fic #mike lowrey #marcus burnett

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bangtanhoneys · 5 months ago

Text

GRACE TOUR DIARY: April 2nd 2025 - New York City

If there was one thing Big Hit was good at, it was backup plans.

The news had arrived at their hotel an hour after the concert had finished and Grace had gone to bed. Weather warnings of heavy snow and wind across Chicago and New York meant there would be travel disruptions but nothing major as of yet. However, as the hour passed, more updates were coming through to say the weather was getting bad and flights had been cancelled.

There was no other way of getting to New York City in the time they needed to so the staff were looking at hiring another private plane, yet flights were banned from leaving or coming to Chicago so that was off the cards. Trains meant it was a 20-hour journey on one train and then there was logistics of it all, with staff, dancers, luggage, bodyguards and security.

The only other option was to hire cars.

And so before 5am, ten black SUVS had been hired to carry their dancers, staff, luggage and Grace from Chicago to New York City. And that’s what Grace woke up to at 5 am.

By 5:30 am, she was dressed, packed away and looking over the plans with Sejin who had been on the phone to the team in Korea.

“So it’s going to take about 13 hours to drive, but that’s without stops so we’re going to change drivers around so everyone can get a rest. We have to take the longer route as the other route has major road works on it which could delay us even further. We’ve delayed the meeting with the Mayor until tomorrow as he already knows the issues and everyone else with schedules has been informed of what’s going on. I have no doubt tomorrow will continue as planned. Still, for today, we’re not taking any chances,” Sejin explained to the small team around him which included the drivers, the bodyguards, Grace’s female manager and Grace herself.

“I can drive as well as I’ve got my international licence,” Grace mentioned and she could see everyone look uneasy. “If only to help people take a break because I don’t want anyone getting into trouble or feeling unwell because they're trying to get me to New York. If I can help, I will.”

Which is how Grace found herself with a set of keys for one SUV to start the leg of the journey out of Chicago and to Toledo, where someone else would take over the next leg of the journey for her. It wasn’t too bad, it was a bit big the car but the radio was on and Sejin was next to her. Her female manager, Hana, behind Sejin and a bodyguard next to her. Her luggage had taken over the boot.

The American highways were easy and straight, massive trucks going past on deliveries and if they hadn’t been in somewhat of a rush, Grace might have enjoyed the drive a little bit more and enjoyed what scenery she could see.

They pulled into Toledo four hours later and swapped drivers, with Grace now in the back with Hana and Sejin in the front still. It was 11 pm in Seoul and she sent a quick message to the group chat, knowing it wouldn’t probably be picked up by any of the boys until later on in the day.

‘Snow across Chicago and New York. Just drove for four hours to Ohio and now we’re on the way to New York. Wonder if we can stop for burgers somewhere.’

Hobi, surprisingly, was the first one to read it and answer.

‘Jin-hyung and I are out having dinner! We’re thinking of you and your burgers. Stay safe. Don’t drive like a maniac.’ Accompanying the message was a GIF of Stray Kids dancing to their song Maniac.

There was nothing more she could do in the car other than catch up on sleep, check the weather, check the time, and talk to Hana about whatever popped into her head and by the time Grace opened her eyes again, she could see the Big Apple looming ahead.

“New York New York, it’s a hell of a town,” she sang under her breath but Sejin had heard her, causing him to laugh. It had been a long 9 hours from their break in Toledo to a small town outside of Pittsburg where they changed drivers and cars again and then another break in another small town just before they made the last part of the journey.

They rolled into the underground parking at 7 pm and they were all tired, sore, in need of stretching their legs and just in general need of a rest. Sejin had been managing their schedule with every mile of the journey and while the day had been a washout due to the weather, tomorrow’s schedule would go as planned. Up early to go for a meeting with the Mayor, a tour of the 9/11 Memorial and museum and then it would be onto Jimmy Fallon.

Grace had never been more happy to see a hotel bed in her life and it didn’t take much for her to climb into the many layers of covers, fluff up the pillows and go straight to sleep without the usual nerves and worries at her heels. The trip across five states had worn everyone out and while the alarm was early, it wouldn’t be another wake-up call at 5 am.

New York welcomed Grace when she opened her curtains to see the sun shining and the snow starting to melt, city workers were already out to clear up as much as they could and while the news had been reporting about the snowstorm, there were a couple of channels talking about the upcoming Grace concert. Thankfully no fans had been brave enough to try and camp outside in the horrible conditions for merchandise or catch a glimpse but there had been record sales of her two nights at Barclays Center in Brooklyn.

The meeting with the Mayor was nothing more than a ‘welcome to New York’ and Grace posed with the Mayor and his staff, all showing finger hearts to the camera and the pictures were soon posted to social media not long after Grace had left. And with a police escort, it was off to the 9/11 memorial. There would be no BANGTAN BOMB filming for this one, this would just be a personal visit with one photographer to capture a couple of photos but it would be minimal. It was not something that Grace felt like it needed to be broadcasted.

However, that didn’t stop the news from spreading and articles soon appeared, especially online blogs, where they spoke briefly about her visit to the City Hall and then the 9/11 memorial but they more spoke about her Karen Millen belted dress that had been picked specially for the meeting and for the memorial. They talked about how it complimented the first day, how black was appropriate, and how her black heels made her look taller but they weren’t stilettos or stripper heels.

“No one cares about anything other than fashion,” Grace sighed as she handed the phone back to Hana.

“The dress has sold out as well,” Hana commented as she left the room as Sejin wandered in.

“The Grace effect,” he chuckled as he took a seat at the table in the lavish hotel suite and helped himself to the small buffet the hotel had provided for lunch.

The Grace in question snorted to herself and finished off her cup of tea, letting out a large yawn and stretching up her arms. “So,” she said once she finished trying to wake herself up. “Jimmy Fallon - they start filming at 5 pm, don’t they but we’re recording the performance at 3 pm.”

“They’ve got a selected audience ready for the performance recording, half are ARMY and half are regular people. And then at 5 pm, they start the actual recording for the interview and it should take about an hour and a half or maybe two, depending. So we’ll be back at the hotel by at least 7 pm,” Sejin confirmed as he finished off the selection of sandwiches he had picked.

“And rehearsals start tomorrow morning.”

“Rehearsals start at Barclays tomorrow and you’ve got a full day of them as we’re a bit behind but you’ve got that basketball tomorrow night. And then obviously the day of the concert, soundcheck, a couple of interviews mid-afternoon then the concert itself,” Sejin reeled off without having to look at his phone for the schedule since he knew it by heart. He had to know it off by heart so he could keep his team and everyone else in check.

There were no nerves for Grace as they made their way to the studios to film Jimmy Fallon. He was one of the few interviews who got things right and didn’t make it awkward, didn’t treat them any differently, and respected them as a band and individually. She remembered meeting him the first time, how he had fallen in love with all of them but Jimin especially. And that had been clear when Jimin had done his solo trip there, how accommodating Jimmy was of a young man who was just finding his feet on his own. And the interview with Yoongi was another indication that Jimmy had done his research and had known his favourite group enough to ask the right questions, including basketball.

Grace knew Jimmy wouldn’t be asking the awkward questions tonight. She hoped.

He was already there waiting for her and it surprised her as he walked over, hand out ready to shake hers. “Miss. Chu,” he said in a fake posh British accent which had her laughing. “Mr. Fallon,” she replied and shook his hand which made Jimmy grin and hug her instead.

“Welcome back to New York! We’re excited to have you here and I can’t wait to come to the first concert, I’ve got tickets with my family.”

“Oh really? Well, make sure you bring them backstage so I can meet them,” Grace said as she darted a glance towards Hana who nodded and made a note on her phone.

“Amazing! I’ll let you get to your rehearsal for your performance which I can’t wait for, I’ve been gushing about it forever and then I’ll see you later on for your interview. Nervous?”

“With you? Never,” she grinned.

A small rehearsal for her performance without her costume meant it was easy sailing. While it was harder to pull off a grand dance routine on such a small stage, the dancers adapted quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time to record the performance. It was like being in Korea, someone coming up and explaining what would happen, when to cheer, when to applaud, how long it would take, etc.

She could see who was ARMY from the side of the stage. The merchandise they were wearing gave it away and while they didn’t have their ARMY BOMBS, she could see a glimpse of who their bias was with the BT21 characters on clothes or jewellery. So while she didn’t have the boys with her, she did have the next best thing.

The performance of 7 Rings went off like a house on fire. The crowd were so responsive, especially to a remix of the track to make it different to any other performance and the purple outfit Grace had specifically worn in respect to her fans had caught the attention of people on Twitter.

However, while the performance was regarded as one of the best across social media, the interview that came afterwards would gain millions of views and be talked about all the way up to Grace’s two concerts in Brooklyn.

Holding the vinyl cover of the ‘In My Head’ album and the cover of the ‘Here In My Arms’ mini album, Jimmy beamed at the camera. He went to open his mouth but the screams blocked out anything he had to say, causing him to pause for more than 10 minutes until the crowd calmed down enough so he could begin his introduction.

“Our next guest,” he paused just in case the screams started again, “is an eight-time

Grammy-nominated artist and won two Grammys only earlier this year! A global music icon, part of one of the biggest bands the world has ever seen which some of you know as BTS. Her debut album, In My Head, continues to break world records in streams and has been the Billboard Number 1 album for two months, and it shot back to the top of the charts again with her world tour, including the mini-album released only earlier this year - that broke records in its own right. She’s in New York for two sold-out concerts, which sold out in 10 seconds. 10 seconds! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to introduce you to Grace Chu!”

Grace took a deep breath and walked out to the stage, pausing only briefly to bow to the crowd who were so loud it took her breath away as she laughed and headed towards Jimmy. It was the usual hugs, pausing to show her off to the crowd, to marvel at her outfit which had been specifically chosen for the night - a vintage Alexander McQueen 1997 black dress, with two dragons that intertwined each other up to her chest. A pair of Louboutin heels and emerald earrings to match the emerald bracelet she received from Grace. To keep it simple and easy, her blonde hair was styled up into a sleek bun.

“Now, before we start and before you say anything, I want to hear your accent because not many people know about this,” Jimmy started the interview. “So Grace, if you wouldn’t mind and turn to the camera there,” he pointed out the one in question, “and introduce yourself.”

Grace hid her smile and turned to the camera, bowing slightly. “Good evening, my name is Grace Chu and it’s a pleasure to be on the Jimmy Fallon show.” Her British accent made those watching at home later on pause, frantically Google her name so they could see why she had a British accent and wasn’t speaking Korean.

“When I first met you and I heard you speak, I was blown away. I was expecting Namjoon’s American accent, but that’s a proper British accent you have. And obviously, most people expect you to speak Korean.”

“It is amusing when most people interviewing us, especially abroad, turn to look at the translator for my answer and then look at me weirdly as if I’ve started speaking another language that’s not English and not Korean,” Grace shrugged with her hands up as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“So you’re half British and half Korean, correct? And you were born in Manchester?”

“So my Dad is from South Korea and my Mum is from London. And they met while my Dad was working in London and he had to travel to Manchester, where I was born, for his job so obviously my Mum came with him. We lived there for seven years and then we had to move to Germany for Dad’s work. I think I was about ten when we officially moved to South Korea, to Suwon-si where my grandparents live. And then we moved to Seoul a year later.”

“You can speak German?” Jimmy asked, looking completely baffled as if this was complete news to him.

Grace grinned and nodded, asking him how he was in perfect German.

“Is there any language you can’t speak?”

“My Japanese is terrible. Namjoon is always on my case to take more lessons in Japanese.”

Jimmy snorted behind his hand as he brought up the most recent photo of BTS which was taken just after Hobi came home.

“BTS,” he started then paused when the screams started causing Grace to look startled as she stared at the crowd in amazement. ‘Wow,’ she mouthed with a laugh, giggling as she turned back to look at Jimmy.

“The group,” he said instead and playfully glared at the audience. “You’ve been with them since they first debuted and here you are now, on your own. Have they given you any advice? Or have they had any involvement in your album and tour?”

Grace paused, tilting her head. “The album was made without any input from them mostly because it was my first time where I had creative control over what songs, lyrics, music, videos, and outfits. That was all mine. But there were times when I went to Namjoon or Yoongi, Hobi, any of them and questioned every move that I made, wondering if I was doing the right thing or if this was even a good idea.”

“Good thing you did listen to them as you’ve won two Grammys and you’ve been on the Billboard for two months when the album first came out and back at the top since you landed in Los Angeles for your tour, which has broken Yoongi’s records.”

She bashfully smiled and hid her face when the crowd approved by clapping loudly.

“Has it been hard though?”

“It’s been quiet,” Grace started with a snort of laughter. “But it’s tough because it’s only me and the dancers but I’m on stage for 95% of the time and it’s not like Jungkook is going to appear and do his solo song to give me a break or six other members to take your place so it is tough but ARMY keep me going and their support means a lot.”

She turned towards those she could see in the crowd and saw their finger hearts which made her smile and return those affections.

“Now,” Jimmy grinned as he paused and held down the next card, “since you're here.”

“Oh no,” Grace whispered as she covered her eyes.

“We have to talk about this.”

She didn’t need to know what picture Jimmy was showing because she knew by the noise that met said picture.

A peek through her hands told her everything she needed to know.

The most recent picture of Seokjin, where his hair had grown back to its usual length, had been taken from his Instagram and she was pretty sure she had taken that picture. Grace caught the teasing grin Jimmy sent her way and she sighed, bracing herself for what was coming next.

“You’ve been together for seven years and you released a mini-album on your anniversary, which also broke records. I just have to ask, are we going to be seeing him on your tour?”

It wasn’t the question she had expected if she was honest. She had been expecting something worse and something dirty, especially concerning the lyrics from her Here In My Arms album but it was a simple enough question that exposed more about their relationship than any other question could.

“Maybe,” Grace started and smirked at the cheers. “Maybe. Obviously, our schedules are planned nearly a year in advance and I’ve always said I never wanted to overshadow what the boys were doing in terms of their solo careers so we will have to see.”

“Is he here already?” Jimmy asked, leaning forward.

“As far as I’m aware,” Grace checked her watch, “it’s 6 am in Seoul. So I would imagine he’s currently sleeping off dinner.”

Jimmy pouted, obviously wanting the main exclusive that the power couple would be seen on stage in his hometown of New York but it seemed it just wasn’t going to happen. The rest of the interview flicked from funny to serious with questions ranging from any funny moments with the boys to life in England and she finished off her stint on Jimmy Fallon by doing the karaoke segment that Ariana Grande made famous with the Evanescence rendition.

“Well done, that went perfectly,” Sejin greeted her after it was all said and done and she said her goodbyes to Jimmy, and to the staff and got in the car to head back to the hotel.

The next morning, while it wasn’t too much of an early start, Grace woke up early enough to take a shower and do her skin routine. Breakfast was simple as to not give her a heavy stomach and by 10 am, the team were driving through the streets of New York - from the famous 5th Avenue, past the famous Flatiron Building, and onto the Manhattan Bridge and through Brooklyn until they came up to the Barclays Center which had advertisements for her tour all over the LED screens.

The stage was already set up and the dancers were warming up on various parts of the stage or near the seats where 17,000 fans would be packed in over two nights. This stadium would mark the end of the American leg of the tour and the moment she was done, she’d be back on a plane again.

Rehearsals seemed to go quickly and by 5 pm, she was out of the stadium and dressed up to attend her first basketball game. While it hadn’t been a decision made by her, it was more promotional than anything, she found herself courtside where all the cameras were pointed to see who would be taking up the VIP seats. Sejin was next to her as was a bodyguard who sat just behind the two of them and she knew how Taylor Swift felt every time the camera panned to her instead of the players.

It didn’t help that Yoongi’s Hageum song would play at intervals where her face would be plastered all over the screen. But it was a good game, she got some photos to send back to Yoongi when he would be awake to see them and of course, there were the usual photos with players.

The day of the concert, the sun was out and the hustle and bustle of New York City was well underway by the time Grace rolled out of bed. The day of the concert always had her somewhat nervous, the questions of what could happen would roll around in her head until she got to the stadium to do her soundcheck and run through whatever they had discussed the night before.

Time passed quickly - shower, breakfast, interviews with local TV stations or magazines, then straight to the stadium to do soundcheck mid-afternoon, a quick run-through of two parts where they had to make some adjustments and finally, the time rolled around where she was under the stage, hearing the fans explode into excitement as the VCR started to fade out.

No matter how many times she did it, no matter how big of a crowd, no matter if it was abroad or in South Korea - just the noise of the crowd, the ARMY BOMBS, the costumes some people were wearing when her eyes would catch sight of them, everyone singing along, knowing the words or even some of the dance moves, all of it made her hairs stand up and the worries of the tour wash away within the first half an hour.

The New York crowd was so responsive, especially when she welcomed them to the In My Head tour, standing there for 10 minutes and letting the noise of every person in the stands wash over her like it was the first time.

When the opening chords of Save Me started to play, Grace could see everyone doing Jimin’s signature dance move that had been openly mocked by the group themselves. Catching one of the dancer’s eyes, she grinned and nodded and soon followed, sweeping her arm in front of her as she got to the chorus and without much encouragement, the seven other dancers followed and swiftly executed the choreography after a bit more teasing.

“New York City,” Grace paused as she stood on the stage for the final part where she would finish off the concert with Dangerous Woman. “Thank you so much for spending your night with us. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for breaking your own records by selling out both nights in 10 seconds, you’ve been one of the best crowds so far and I can’t wait to come back with the boys. Love you all.”

ARMY was still singing as Grace was lowered back down to underneath the stage, the ending chords of Dangerous Woman still playing as she reached the bottom where staff were on hand to take away her microphone and in-ears. And for the first time, Grace had to admit, she had left the stage on a high - there were no uncertain thoughts, no worries, no stress or anxiety. If there was going to be a concert that had been the turning point for Grace and what she was capable of, then this would be the concert to do that.

Back at the hotel room, kicking off her shoes with a sigh as her tired feet met the carpet, her eyes caught a massive bouquet waiting for her on the coffee table in the living area of her suite. 50 red roses were sitting in a clear vase filled with water, and a teddy bear that was dressed in a t-shirt that said ‘I Love New York’ was sitting next to the bouquet with an envelope.

Grinning to herself, Grace opened the envelope to one simple note that read: ‘Two days to go - J.’

#bts 8th member #bts eighth member #bts additional member #bts female member #bts fic #bts fanfiction

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justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

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Judd Legum at Popular Information:

On Sunday at 1:46 PM Eastern Time, President Joe Biden announced he would end his campaign for reelection. Seconds later, the attacks on Vice President Kamala Harris began. Harris is not yet the nominee. But she has declared her intention to seek the nomination and received an endorsement from Biden. Prominent Democrats including former President Bill Clinton, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, and many others quickly threw their support behind Harris. She is the strong favorite to secure the nomination.

Some of the attacks on Harris were predictable. For example, shortly after Biden's announcement, the Trump campaign blamed Harris for a "migrant crime wave" over the last three years. This was also the centerpiece of Trump's campaign against Biden, but the "migrant crime wave" does not exist. Violent crime has decreased every year since Biden took office — and is down sharply again in 2024. (The last time violent crime increased was 2020, when Trump was president.) Further, a study of the 14 Texas counties along the border with Mexico by crime analyst Jeff Asher found "no evidence of increasing violent crime along the US border with Mexico." In fact, border counties "have seen a relatively steady violent crime rate below that of the rest of their state and the nation as a whole."

Other attacks include those that seem to pop up any time a woman seeks a position of power. The RNC Research X account, which attacks Trump's opponents on behalf of his campaign and the Republican National Committee, posted a video attacking Harris for being "annoying." The post features a video of Harris saying a short phrase — "what can be, unburdened by what has been" — in various settings for four minutes. This is only a slight variation of the common complaint that ambitious women are "shrill." Other criticisms, however, were more specific to Harris. They will be featured in millions of dollars of campaign advertisements, incorporated into Trump's stump speech, and discussed frequently on Fox News. Here is a brief guide to some of the attacks that will be used to define Harris in the weeks ahead.

The truth about Jaleel Stallings Trump War Room, the "Official War Room account of the 2024 Trump campaign," posted on X that Harris "helped raise money for a far-left organization that bailed a rioter who shot at police out of jail." [...] Where's the beef? In the hours after Biden's withdrawal, an RNC Research post suggested that Harris supported banning red meat. [...] 2009 is not 2024 On X, the GOP account posted an attack ad against Harris that claimed that "as a prosecutor in San Francisco, Harris allowed illegal immigrant drug dealers to enter job training and have their criminal records wiped clean." The Willie Horton-style attack claims that "one of the illegal immigrants Harris released went on to steal an SUV and ran down a young woman, seriously injuring her."

Judd Legum breaks down the coming onslaught of right-wing attacks against Kamala Harris that are distorted or false.