#but it's a very real thing that really happens to me

[bowtiepasta]

HIGHWAY BOYS

a honey packet from a gas station. a bet with vi. someone’s about to eat their words — and get very right in the process.

smut! minors & ageless blogs do not interact. indulging: afab and f!reader (she/her), aphrodisiac, in car, slight exhibitionism, oral, hair pulling, semi switch!vi, dom!reader

it’s a flimsy little thing — most likely expired, the kind nestled between knock-off colognes and novelty sized lube in neon packaging, baked in the heat.

you notice it as soon as she sets it on the dash, with the rest of your gas station haul: sour candy, two ice-cold cans of monster, her choice of hot chip, and an absolute disgrace to breakfast subs.

“honey?” you say, holding it up. “really?”

“you planning to sweeten your hot cheetos?”

she smirks. “no. I was thinking of sweetening you.”

you raise an eyebrow but you don’t argue, flicking on the A/C as she pulls back onto the road. cornball.

the sun’s starting to dip, painting everything in gold — the kind that makes even cracked pavement and faded fast food signs look warm.

“climb over and sit on my lap.”

you blink. “what?”

she nods to the car in front of you. it hasn’t moved. “we’ve got time.”

“you are not serious-”

“I’m starving,” vi says, patting her thigh.

your pulse beats in places it shouldn’t while you’re still technically clothed. “come feed me, sugar.”

you don’t realize you’re moving until you’re halfway over the console. the steering wheel digs into your back, and the seatbelt locks for a second, but then her hands are on your hips and she’s dragging you down.

“…it looks like it came out of a bunker.”

“that’s the charm,” she laughs, taking it from you. “end-of-the-world fallout shelter cuisine.”

you roll your eyes. “what-fucking-ever. you do realize this is an aphrodisiac, right?”

“no, it was 55 cents. next to the condoms.”

“do you hear yourself?”

she gives you a look. “you’re full of shit.”

“you’re about to be full of something,” you say sweetly. she swats at your shoulder but turns away and breathes out of her nose the way you know she does when she’s trying not to laugh.

she tears it open, tips her head back, and squeezes the thick syrup into her mouth. it’s warm from your palm, malty, sticky, ridiculously sweet. she drags her thumb along the edge and sucks it clean.

you clear your throat. “okay, if I start moaning in five minutes, you’re driving us straight to jail.”

vi snorts. “baby, if you start moaning in five minutes, I’m not letting you stop. plus, nothing’s gonna happen.” she adjusts in her seat. “just regular honey.”

“wanna bet?”

you snatch the half-crushed packet from her hand.

“..bet?” she tilts her head, grabbing your other and kissing the back of it before she lets you get to work. “bet on what?”

you peel the flap open with your teeth and draw a line of it straight down your tongue while she watches. it’s cloying and weirdly metallic — god knows how long it’s been sitting on that shelf — yet you don’t flinch when you swallow. you even moan a little, just to sell it.

vi nearly chokes on her own spit.

you lick a glob off your lip. “you good there?”

she tries to laugh, but it cracks in the middle. “pfft. yeah. keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

you do — dragging a finger through the golden mess and licking it clean like you’ve got all the time in the world. her gaze drops to your mouth, then flickers back up like she’s trying not to react, but her grip on your waist tightens, a dead giveaway.

“you sure you don’t wanna tap out?” you almost coo, leaning forward enough to put pressure where it counts. “you’re looking a little-”

“stop being a tease,” she mutters, voice low.

you laugh into her neck. “what’s wrong?”

somewhere between “fuck” and “please,” she realizes she was wrong. very wrong.

when you tug her boxers aside and put your mouth on her for real, the sound she makes punches straight through you. her thighs tremble around your shoulders as your tongue moves in her, and she lets out a breath that sounds like a prayer and a threat all in one.

you swear she tastes like honey.

there’s a knock on the window — the drive-thru worker, deadpan and holding a tray of paper bags. vi’s voice is hoarse when she leans forward to grab them, one hand still buried in your hair.

vi huffs, rolling her hips in a desperate attempt to gain control, but you’re not having any of it. “you’re so stubborn,” you murmur, before sucking her clit into your mouth, tongue circling, then flattening, then flicking in that perfect rhythm that makes her fall apart every time. her hips jerk forward, and you let her grind against your mouth, messy and uncontrolled.

the way her stomach clenches when you suck harder, the way she jerks when you add your fingers, curling them just right—

she may not be winning this bet. but she’s definitely getting lucky.

you’re in the parking lot now, and she’s close. you feel it in the way her thighs shake, in how she’s cursing under her breath, “baby, baby, baby, fuuuuck-”

the car rocks faintly with every twitch. her jeans are pushed down, the windows fogged up around you both, cocooning you in.

you stay with her through it, mouth gentle now, coaxing every last shudder from her until she’s sagging boneless against the seat, chest heaving.

“jesus,” vi says, voice shaky. she glances down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy, crooked grin tugging at her lips. “get your ass back up here.”

“you wanted to prove a point?” her thumb swipes at your chin while you readjust on her lap. and you move to kiss her again, but she swerves.

vi slides down to her knees on the floorboard. “let’s see how long that smug little mouth of yours holds up.”

“now you drive.”

listened to roses by the chainsmokers while writing this i’m on a weird nostalgia kick recently. vi nation are we alive and well

i might start writing for cait because i’m tweaking the fuck out i can’t keep pretending i wouldn’t throw everything away for her (and mel)

[mdhwrites]

So, this person has a point but I want to take this as a chance to essentially talk about WHY so much is done in High School. After all, it's not just tv dramas. A looooooooooooot of different mediums default to high school for their storytelling. Why is that?

A: It's a shared experience.

Not everyone has gone to college. Not everyone has even applied to a college. As such, you may lose some people with how things like sororities, fraternities or even just a basic schedule works. If you haven't been to college and some dude talks about how he only has Physics twice a week, someone might wonder why that is because most will assume college works just like high school because all versions of primary school (elementary to high school) work in a similar way where you're there ALL DAY. I mean, even the changing of nations can cause confusion for traditions between high schools and lose parts of the audience that way and make it less approachable.

B: There's downtime in classes.

So I actually went to college for a year and a half and admittedly did not do things like clubs, look into fraternities, etc. like that. Even in High School, I wasn't that social... But when it was just time to do homework, I saw and heard plenty of bullshit around me. I never had a SINGLE lecture that had time for people just to hang out in the middle of class. In an environment where you are all packed together, bored, waiting for the bell to ring and thus something can happen while the density of people is at its absolute maximum.

This similarly goes for Lunch time, which isn't a thing in college. You want a fight to break out, or someone to have a big public break up? You can do it in the Commons but you are guaranteed an excuse for your main character to see it if it's at lunch because they have to be there but they don't necessarily need to do anything.

C: Everyone has downtime.

This one is more flexible as I had more free time in college than one might immediately expect... But I still had less and it was more awkward to get ahold of because I was a part time worker too. My weekends were eight hours in the toy department of Walmart, Friday-Sunday. My days meanwhile were chopped up piece meal between all my classes which would leave me like two hours between each of my lectures but only two hours so I could go eat, maybe strike up a conversation but go hang out with someone? That was a lot more questionable until potentially five in the afternoon, WAY later than High School gets out and your characters are free to get into shenanigans. I mean, chased by feral hogs? I bet there are teenage dumbasses who had that happen too because they fucked around and found out. Being in college doesn't really dictate that, that's more due to:

D: A weird mix of pressure and not.

You're old enough to have a car! But not old enough to get much of a job but you can have a part time job for a little bit of spending money but then you gotta still do homework but at least all that money is yours instead of having to go to rent, food, transportation, etc. But maybe you want to save some of it for college someday and that's why you're working instead. Teenagers are in a very weird place in society. They are considered old enough to be mostly left to their devices so they can get into a lot of trouble but not old enough to be entirely untethered. They are young enough to be taught instead of simply punished but old enough that there are real consequences to when they go too far. They're told at the same time to remember to be kids and enjoy this time before the real world kicks in but also to be thinking about their future and how their actions now may affect their prospects for jobs, colleges, etc. like that. This is all without getting into hormones, dating, etc. like that. It is a natural time of life where society and biology smash together to tell you to DO SOMETHING MOTHERFUCKER!

Not to say that in reality young adults don't deal with a LOT of this stuff anyways but it is not the social norm or what is expected, though that is changing with how severely fucked most young adults are because the world sucks. -_-

Speaking of these weird places where the line blurs... How could you get some of these advantages back? The answer is theoretically simple to point out but I'm not going to call it easy:

The Dorms.

I was not a dorm kid myself and admittedly, I've never used the social spaces in any of the apartments I lived in. However, you do have these cramped spaces that force a LOT of people together, often in situations that are not ideal between roommates and the like and if you want a place to study, you might just have to leave your room in order to find it. This leaves the character in a high density place where, if they took out loans or had enough in scholarships, they don't have to worry as much about transportation, food, rent, etc. During their downtime, there are always people coming and going from the dorms, there's always bubbling trouble within the rooms, etc. like that. It essentially trades the high school advantages for the advantages of sharing an apartment but with WAY MORE PEOPLE, at least to some extent. You trade the rigid structures of High School for a more fluid epicenter for your drama and action. Otherwise, stuff like clubs are just also a part of college so you can keep those too for such things.

It's not a perfect solution but the goal shouldn't be to make it 1:1 to high school because otherwise, why did you bother swapping the setting to a college? I think there is a lot of potential for works genuinely focused on college too so I am in support of what the OP is talking about. I just wanted to share my thoughts on why we don't see that transition really. See you all next tale.

can we have tv dramas set in college please. fucking nothing happens in hs man. now im in college and my friend got chased by feral hogs a week ago in the woods and its like the 5th craziest thing to happen this week

[grogumaximus]

Driving Style Secrets Episode 1: Max Verstappen | Edd Straw and Mark Hughes

Edd: (...) So as a starting point, let's just have a basic overview of how Max Verstappen drives. And then perhaps we can explore some of the details of that as we go on.

Mark: Yeah, well, as we say, it depends upon lots of different things, and it's important not to get too dogmatic about it, especially with Max, because he is very, very adaptable, and he does think a lot about it, and especially with his sim racing, he's constantly comparing techniques in a way that you don't have time to do in the real thing. So he does employ a lot of different styles, but he does have a preferred technique, which is, you normally see it in slow to medium speed corner entries. It's fairly early into the turn with a bit of braking overlap, so he's building up the cornering force as he's reducing the braking. Lots of momentum really meshes those two elements of braking and lateral forces together, a bit like Lando Norris in fact. Then once he's got the speed down and the brakes are off, sometimes there's a second bite of the steering when the car's more ready to accept it to get that last little bit of turn. But it's more dynamic than with most other drivers. It's like he's more keyed into the moment, keyed into the grip and the balance of the car in that moment. And he can feel it earlier and adapt what he's doing sort of moment by moment. So if the grip's not there as he's trying to build up the cornering force with the braking force, he'll maybe reduce the braking a little bit and turn in a little bit later, just trying to get that front tire to wake up and respond. And it's a very adaptable technique. It comes into play when the limitation of the car changes between the front and rear tires. As the tires wear and the fuel load comes down, it allows you to be more flexible. And I think because he's got that instant sort of adaptation, that flexibility gives you lap times more consistency. So because he's constantly adapting to what the car and the tires and the track surface are doing.

Edd: I would say if you want to see some of that adaptability showcased, the Suzuka pole lap on board from this year is quite a good example in terms of how it's not kind of a lap of perfection and precision, but it's a lap of perfection in terms of responding to what the car needs and trying to drive around some of the limitations. And I think that's a really, really good showcase of what he can do. But I think one of the important things with Max is he does have phenomenal sensitivity in terms of being able to Feel what the car is doing and interpret that feedback really really fast because that's what it comes down to doesn't it? You've got an input in terms of all of that that feel and information you're getting you've got to process that as close to instantaneously as possible and nothing happens instantaneously and then you've got to transition that into an output and It's not I mean you could talk about it being reactive and in a way it is but it's not like you know it's quite easy to drive a car reacting well after the event and that's how you can get quite a spectacular driving style when the car's all over the place and you might think wow that's brilliant but actually these days that that doesn't work because the way the cars are once you get into that really obvious sort of sideways sliding or whatever you've long since ruined whatever corner you're particularly in but that to me seems at the heart of Verstappen's ability just just the pure mechanics of it and then the pure mental processing of it to absorb that and then transition it into an output in what's a matter of a tenth of a second.

Mark: Yeah, and I think part of that is because he's not even having to think about it because he's thought about it so much in advance. He doesn't do anything else almost. In between races, he's on the sim and if he's not sim racing, he's actually using his sim to try and replicate real situations. And you saw that in 2015, when he went around the outside of Blanchimont, of Felipe Nasr. And that was a move that nobody had seen be pulled off before, but he practiced it and practiced and practiced it on the sim. And for the first like 50 times or something, he practiced it. He couldn't get it to work, but he did find a way of making it work. And so when that situation presented itself, it was already there, it was already built in. And it's the same with his, how he reacts to any changes in the grip and things like that. It is partly intuitive and partly built in, but it's also partly just already there just through repetition, through repetition, which has been one of the great motifs of his career, you know, instilled in him by Jos. It's just a graft of doing it over and over and over until you get perfect at it. And you see him described as being very at ease with the car oversteering. And that's just another manifestation of the same thing. It's that same sensitivity, because all he needs is to get that initial response into the corner. But the tipping point, really, where you get the quick rotation, but you then lose time through the rear sliding as a result of the quick rotation. So there's a very, very narrow sweet spot in the middle where you don't lose that time, but you have got the quick rotation. And it's not always there. The car doesn't always give you it, or the tires don't always give you it, but he's better at finding it. The narrower it is, the more difficult it becomes, and he's better than anybody else at finding that. So if the car starts to over-rotate, he can feel it so early. And because of that lovely feel, just as it's starting to rotate too much, he'll change how much braking or steering he's doing. And in that way, that's how he can just have the rear of the car dancing around him and still keep momentum. You know, we saw qualifying turn one in Miami. He had that moment at turn one, a quick oversteer snap because the tyres weren't quite ready. But he maintains the momentum. It doesn't, it isn't just a, oh, that's the lap ruined. He just does the corner in a different way. Michael Schumacher used to do the same thing. It's very similar in that regard. But he's actually so good at that. that it sometimes misleads the team and at least twice Red Bull have headed too far in that direction with their car development until even he's found it too much. But it's been at a point sort of half a season later than the other driver, Alex Albon or Sergio Perez, have been pointing the problem out.

Edd: It's interesting you mention Schumacher because I do see there's similarities there. It's that kind of responsiveness of the car. I remember years ago doing an interview with Johnny Herbert, who of course was Michael Schumacher's teammate at Benetton, the end of 94 and in 95 and he said that you have this car that's very very pointy you know the kind of like the turning moment of the car is sort of miles in front of the car and it turns in really responsibly and he said what Schumacher could do that he couldn't was calculate how to deal with that rear end and stop it turning into a slide and it just it just astounded him in terms of what Schumacher could do and it's similar with Verstappen the cars have changed a bit You can't go quite as far down that path these days as Schumacher did, but it's still there. In fact, there's a quote from Max Verstappen I think is worth throwing in about his driving style, where he just said, I like a pointy car, but with a rear end that is just stable enough to have a controlled balance. I like a strong front end. I don't like understeer. It's just killing the whole feel of the car. But yes, a strong front end with a rear that's just on edge. But then, of course, you still need that rear to rely. And I think this is When we're talking about what I'd say the broadest brush stroke on Verstappen, about liking having that responsive rear, this is where I like to talk about tolerances. And it's that ability to have the rear that moves and rotates enough and then just be able to control it. And I don't see any other driver on the grid who can go as far into that as Verstappen can. And as a general rule, as a driver, that's going to be the quickest way to do things because you've got the responsiveness and driving a car through a corner, it's all about rotating it, that's your key thing, rotating it with as little time loss as possible so that you can then gun it on down the straight having got through the corner, not lengthen the corner, keep the corner at a sensible overall length and that's what it's all about with him and getting that entry phase correct but it's not achieved as you said by being last of the late breakers because he isn't, Pierre Gasly learned that he was trying to catch up with Verstappen when they were teammates by braking later under rotating and then he kept complaining about poor traction on exit because he had more lock on he was trying to turn still turn the car more because he hadn't done that rotation so for me that's that's critical with Verstappen and that's something that you can't it's very, very hard to replicate, isn't it? Because it's been learned over those decades, that hard baking, all of that subconscious processing into yourself, which has been done, he's been doing, he's been building up since he first drove a car at what, the age of four?

Mark: Yeah, that's right. And I think it is partly learned, but I think it's also partly intuitive. Just some people are wired up in a more suitable way than others. And that essentially is why one guy is quicker than another. Doesn't make them better necessarily, but it forms the foundation, the basic foundation of some drivers is just higher because of that basic physiology, so I think in Max you have the ultimate in both, you have the ultimate DNA from his race and driver parents probably, and then just the insanely intense way that he was trained by Jos in the early days. And I think, you know, it wouldn't have worked if Max hadn't bought into it. And he obviously has bought into it in a massive way and he doesn't want to do anything else or hasn't wanted to do anything else. So, yeah, you see this perfect synergy of nature and nurture.

Edd: Exactly. And I think that word synergy is important because although we have certain innate characteristics and skills, like you talk about the ability to sense from kind of the lower spine, some of that area comes from, but you have to refine it and work on it and use it. And that's all the stuff that just gets plugged into the subconscious processing. And it just allows you to do what you do to calculate it. So he certainly, I mean, I know there's criticism and I completely get it in terms of, the elements of what Max was sort of put through when he was karting by Jos pushing him. But, and you address this in the book, that's, whether you like it or not, that was the experience that Max had that has played a part across the board in terms of making what he is today for better or worse. So he's almost a unique case in terms of the nurture element of the equation, I would say. And therefore, I think even if you wanted to, like, grow your perfect racing driver, I feel like that Max is kind of in such a unique position in terms of how it happened to racing driver parents, plus Jos feeding in his way of doing things, all of the mistakes that he made in his career. Right from the start, he talked about how he wanted to make sure Max had the knowledge he didn't have, because Jos was very much a driver with great, great potential that ultimately wasn't delivered on. And Max is almost the, well, he's got that same potential, but it's been delivered on in spades.

Mark: Yeah, exactly. And I think also not to be underestimated is that he was brought up living in the karting environment. You know, Jos at that time was making his living from running kart, running karting teams, preparing kart engines. Max lived in that environment right from the start. He didn't know any other environment. So I think It's different even from other kids who have started very early, but their parents have had a conventional life outside of the kids racing. It's beyond even that. So every little tiny area of advantage, every little thing, thing that he'd learned from, you know, the specific tools you need in that environment and in karting. And it's a very, it's very highly specialized area of racing. The things which you need to know, which don't, don't apply to any, anything else actually, once you've got out of karting. So you've got a shortcut, you've got a shortcut through all that instantly. And I think that's not to be underestimated either.

Edd: One of the things that's always struck me about Max, I mean, we've both watched him for endless hours from trackside over the past, well, going back to 2014. In fact, I can remember we were both watching at the Esses, weren't we, when he had his first FP1 in Toro Rosso. I think I was on one side of the track, you were on the other. And I remember seeing him there. the experimentation through the laps. You could see he was changing his approach to the corner, refining it. And I don't know about you, but I saw him continue to do that for a few years, certainly around 2018 time. He was still doing it. If you watched on Friday in FP1, you'd see that experimentation. But it seems to me that as the experience has grown, that experimentation phase has gotten narrower and narrower and narrower to the point where, to all intents and purposes, it almost doesn't exist, does it? He is responding immediately, like first flying lap of a weekend. He's adapting to the car and he's seeing the limitations and then pushing back at the team saying, right, this is what we need to do. This is the area that's weak. And that's been an area of kind of evolution with him that I've seen most obviously trackside in that that experimentation has just become almost invisible because it's done in the first few corners almost.

Mark: Yeah, and I think this is part of what I was saying earlier on about the levels of thought and preparation that he's doing in between races. He's just soaked in it. He's thinking of it all the time. And it'd be very tempting to think when you get to the level of someone like Max that, okay, I've mastered this craft now. But he doesn't ever seem to think that. He just seems to think there's always more things you can find. And as you say, as you refine that, it becomes less visible on the outside, but he's clearly still doing it. And I think then it would be interesting to see how long he could just maintain, he's obviously found this sweet spot now, how long he would be doing that before he would have difficulty in adapting to a new formula, a new way of driving. Something like what Lewis Hamilton has probably been experiencing for the last few years with these regulations, because they don't suit the way he naturally drives, but he's not. He doesn't apply the same level of immersion, I don't think, in the technicalities as Max does. He knows exactly what he needs and can feel it. But I think with Max, he's always He's always thinking about it and he can change technique from one corner to another or one set of tires to another. It's almost as like he has certain trigger points in his brain already and as soon as it happens he recognizes it and acts. And that can only come from lots of deep analysis and deep thought and trying things out, which he does in the virtual world.

Edd: How about limitations? Obviously, we've seen times when teammates have been closer, say when the car is understeering. There were times when Perez got closer. Do you see that as something that Verstappen struggles with, or do you just see it that it just limits him and it just lets mere mortals get close?

Mark: Exactly that. I don't think, you know, when the car is just understeering all the way through a corner and that's the basic trait of the car, well, it's really easy. You know, there's not much difference a great driver can make from a good one in that situation. It's like, you know, playing noughts and crosses against Einstein rather than trying to play him at chess or something. It's just, you know, he'd have half a chance, wouldn't he?

Edd: That's a great analogy.

Mark: I like that one. It's just, it puts a ceiling, puts a false ceiling on the great drivers if you just dumb the car down. And that's what understeer does, it dumbs the car down, makes it easy, makes it not particularly satisfying to drive, but it's relatively easy to get to its limit. So I don't think it's a limitation of Max. that he's not as much quicker than ordinary drivers when he's in an understeery car. I just think that that's the car putting a false ceiling on his ability.

Edd: And also an understeery car is kind of at the extreme other end. That thing I was talking about earlier with when the rear instability is such that people can't cope with it, but an understeery car can give you plenty of confidence, but it just slows you down. That's just the way it works. And I think that's an important thing to note when we're talking generally about driving styles. Not all driving styles are equal. You will fundamentally, a car that has got that rear instability, provided it's the right level of it, provided everything else works with the car, it will be quicker than a car that's a bit understeering. So it's not about driver preference, making the difference in terms of the car needing to suit them, it will just limit them, which is why I think the whole argument about the car being made for Verstappen is more complicated because he allows you to go to places where the car's quicker, but it's trickier. That can bring its own problems, but it's just the way it works. But I think it's worth talking about other limitations that may happen with Verstappen. That point I made there about the fact it can push the car into slightly difficult places where perhaps the team underestimates how much how much difficulty has been engineered into it and doesn't take seriously problems and also his kind of mentality in the car. We haven't seen it this year but there were times last year when he was getting a little bit agitated, hungry I guess is the great example where I feel he compromised himself in the race just by getting too angry about everything. So those are kind of the two areas where maybe you can make the case that there is a limitation. How do you see it?

Mark: Yeah, I think his emotions, sometimes he struggles to control his emotions when things aren't going well. And probably the best example of the opposite of that, of someone who can control their emotions perfectly is Oscar Piastri. And that can pay dividends in all sorts of ways. And so, yes, I think you could probably point to a handful of races over the years that Max has got less than he could have done had he controlled his emotions better. But at the same time, maybe that emotion is what's pushing him on to achieve what he does. So it's probably just the other edge of the same coin.

Edd: That's very true. You can't pick and choose. qualities and characteristics necessarily can you they that it's rare that it's binary that oh this is all bad sometimes some negative comes with the net good and I think that's certainly the case with Verstappen. I think we should talk about his wet driving as well because wet weather driving By its nature, it has to be to an extent reactive in terms of the track can change from corner to corner, from lap to lap, in terms of the amount of water that's down and how it's been moved around. We've seen some great wet weather performances from him in the past. I guess that famous one at Interlagos all those years ago is one that often springs to mind. But I guess the wet is a very pure manifestation of Max's qualities, isn't it? Because I always think you have to improvise a little bit more in the wet, don't you?

Mark: Yeah, exactly. And it's about improvisation, but it's also about knowledge and his knowledge of where the rubber is and therefore which bits to avoid and how it's so much more, how it's such a different line to the dry line. That's one of those things that he instantly knows because he's thought about it beforehand. and has experienced it so many times and has taken note of what happens. So it's partly that, and it's part reactive. We talked about the feel that he has, just that intuitive feel. It also applies to not just the lateral and the brake, and it applies to the throttle as well, of course. And the engineers, when they first start working with them, they all say, God, he's got amazing feel for where the traction limit of the car is. His throttle foot is almost glued to where the traction limit is. It's uncanny. So you combine that feel for where the lateral grip is and how quickly attuned he is to changes in grip. And that means he's just devastating in the wet. And, you know, part of that is confidence as well. He knows how good he's going to be, and therefore that sort of becomes self-fulfilling to an extent.

Edd: Yeah, I think that's a good point. And that traction sensitivity, as I like to call it, is so valuable. And probably only Charles Leclerc, I would argue, of the drivers we're talking about is on a similar level to Max in terms of that, because he's fantastic on that score as well. But I think it's worth briefly mentioning braking as well, because he's not last of the late breakers, but he's capable of being it. And I think braking technique and brake feel in these cars, it's probably the area that most consistently astounds me with these drivers. And F1 drivers are generally astounding in many ways. But if you think about what you're trying to do when you brake, It's a rock-hard brake pedal for a start. You don't have much feel, particularly with these cars, with the anti-dive and that kind of thing. And then on top of that, you have the interaction with the downforce, which is huge in that you're not just responding to the grip, but you're trying to cross-reference that with the expected change to the car as the downforce reduces, as you reduce the pressure. And there's so many factors going into that. Verstappen's phenomenal at that as well.

Mark: Yes. So the grip is decreasing at a very, I mean, the downforce squares with speed. So it's coming down at the square root of the speed. So you can imagine how quick that is, how much less downforce you're getting as the speed comes down as you're braking. So you– It can't be calculated, it has to be feel, it's happening so fast. So you have to have a perfect feel for where that grip is through your foot. And as you say, the latest cars with so much anti-dive and the suspension really loses you some of that feel. So yeah, it then becomes even more important to be sensitive to it because it's not giving you as much feedback, the pedals are not giving you as much feedback. And yes, but even some idea of how difficult the current Red Bull is, he's having difficulty with lock and brakes. We saw that a couple of times in Miami. We've seen it in the previous races as well. We've seen Yuki Tsunoda in particular struggling with it. So that's clearly an area that's limiting him. especially as the things change during the race, as the grip level changes and the balance changes and things.

Edd: Yeah, and that's important. You need a car that you can actually feel properly and actually adapt to that because, as you talked about, his braking phase, you know, braking isn't fundamentally about slowing the car. I mean, obviously it is, but it's also about manipulating the car, isn't it? And getting everything perfectly set for that turn in. point, which is what makes it so important. And it's another area that Verstappen is very, very good at. And I think doubly so with these cars, actually, that's– that's so, so, so important. And it's why I think it's one of the key reasons why it's so hard for his teammates to do what he does, because it's almost counterintuitive, because the driver kind of wants to push on a bit and try a little bit harder and kind of naturally that takes your mind to a break a little bit later, carry the speed in and That's not really what it's about. So, again, you're not trying to push yourself in terms of just that sheer attack of the corner. To do what Verstappen does, you have to push yourself in terms of that manipulation and the way you kind of get the perfect attitude of the car as you turn into the corner. And not just that, but also in terms of where your aerosensor pressure is for given phases of the corner. There's just every part of this art. There's so many things to calculate and respond to. Verstappen himself has his limits, but he seems to do all of that better than anyone.

Mark: Yeah. I mean, every speed of corner, every track temperature, every state of the tires, every car, it's different every time, you know? So it's never, the corner is never going to be exactly the same. Even the same corner is never going to be exactly the same, but in different speeds of corners, the technique will be completely different. If a hairpin, for example, that doesn't have very much a long straight afterwards, if it's a hairpin and just a short, like China, for example, turn 14, you've just got a little stretch between the exit of that hairpin and then the next corner. It'll be all about late braking and that's where the lap time will be and you don't need to worry too much about the exit and you'll see Max being the latest of the late then and you'll see him being able to outbrake people in there. We saw that spectacular in his very first Grand Prix there in 2015. He could just brake later than anybody else and still keep the wheels from locking. So that's what I said earlier on, you've got to be quite careful about being dogmatic in terms of what terms you're using. Because yes, he can be if that's what's required, but he's very attuned to what's required and what's usually required in more conventional corners. is, as you say, to get that rotation as efficiently done as possible. So with the ultimate trade-off between the quick direction change, I'm not losing any time through the rear getting upset.

Edd: And I know people are going to be crying out at us to talk about this. It's kind of adjacent to driving style, but we can talk about the racecraft element, because I think this is the area where Max probably gets the most criticism. And by racecraft, in this case, talking about the wheel-to-wheel stuff. Do you think that's an area where he can be weak in some elements? Obviously, he's a very hard racer. He knows the passing limitations in terms of the guidelines. He certainly pushes those limits. But do you think that's an area where he maybe oversteps the mark, potentially to his own detriment?

Mark: Occasionally. I think probably if you looked at it statistically, he's come out better more often than he's come out worse as a result of, if you look at any of his marginal weight from a sporting perspective, if you say that, ooh, that was either past the line of the regulations or pushing up very close to them. I think his success ratio would be pretty high. Whether that's how you should go racing, I mean, that's the perspective of the outsider, isn't it? That's those looking in, making their own judgments on that, and then everybody would be their own. So, yeah, I don't want to get moralistic about the way he chooses to race, but it is extremely aggressive. And as you say, understands instantly the implications of any guideline. You saw with Norris in Miami, which is all to do about the latest guideline for 25 that the drivers agreed with the stewards about if you can get to the apex with your front axle ahead of the attacking driver on the outside, ahead of his mirror, then you don't have to leave a car's width on the exit. As long as you can get there ahead of him, then you can run him off the road effectively. And that's what he did. there was no regulation come back from that. Whether that's the way you should race, particularly on a corner where there's an element of danger there, the runoff sort of comes up to a point and there's a wall there, but he acted upon that. He was the victim of that same regulation in Jeddah, where Oscar Piastri used it to his advantage. But the difference there, of course, was that the corner geometry allowed you to rejoin in the lead, whereas Norris couldn't do that because the circuit was going the other way from where he was on the runoff, you know, the other direction. So there wasn't a shortcut there, he was going the long way around. Yeah, Max is always the first to understand the implications of a rule change and many of the regulations that have been changed are as a result of Max pushing the limit.

Edd: Let's bring it to a bit of a conclusion now. In terms of what Max offers, in terms of his driving style, his ability, do you think he's the best driver in Formula 1 currently?

Mark: Oh, unquestionably. I think as a combination, yeah, he's not always the best. And I don't agree with Franz Tost saying he's got three tenths on everybody. He hasn't. There are certain... Yeah, nobody has that. There are certain situations where Charles Leclerc could be faster. There are certain situations where Lando Norris could be just as fast, for example. But as an overall combination and looking at it in the round, yeah, he's got a way higher score than anybody else.

Edd: Yeah, very, very much. I think if you had to pick a driver to race for your life, I think most would choose Max Verstappen, wouldn't they, because of what he's achieved. And I think I'd certainly agree he's the best driver currently, and it's always difficult when the careers are still going, but he's certainly in the debate for greatest ever already, I would say, and that's a debate for another time, maybe 10, 15 years down the line. It'll probably be a debate that's raging in 50 years or 100 years time, but a fascinating driver, and it's been great to dissect in some detail his style and his approach, and we hope that people have enjoyed hearing a little bit what we've seen and observed and learned about Max Verstappen over the years. (...)

[rooniearts]

Metal Wins Asks 1: Initial Reactions

YALL TORE ME APARRRTTTT IN THE ASKBOX LOL THANK YOU FOR ALL THE RESPONSES!!! I'm glad to see that the AU has been well received despite it all! :'D I already have enough asks about it (TWENTY SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!) to justify a longpost, so here goes!

Any trigger warnings that pertain to the Metal Wins AU are gonna apply here in the discussion, just so you're warned. You can find the warning under my pinned post

@railway323

IM SORRAYYYYYYY,,,, IT HAD TO HAPPENNNNN,,,,

@zezodacol

yeahh,,,, yeahhhh,,,....,..,

@akaneenaka33

Unfortunately, it's gonna have to be cruel and unusual punishment for now :') This AU works differently from my other ones in the sense that this one has a bit of a running story to it, so I can't tell you much without spoiling things.

The basic premise is that this incident happens and everyone has to navigate how they cope with it, Metal included. Some find their way through, while others continue to spiral downwards to rock bottom.

MY BABY BOYYY!!!!!!!!! MY LITTE GUYYYYY!!!!! AUUGHHHHH

@niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian

The true answer is that I just thought Metal looked really cool whenever I put blood on him and then it just kinda went downhill from there </3

So. Metal killed him and brought him there to mess with Sonic. That's about the lore I can give you about it for now unfortunately, except for the few other bits and pieces throughout the rest of this post :')

@sanicdetails

YOU KNOW WHAT. Good point. All crimes have been forgiven <3

@sparkyboi

NEVERRRR!!!! IF SEGA CAN KILL TAILS THEN SO CAN I!!!!!!!

BWUH,,,, Tails nation please don't publicly execute me I would be so very sad

@disgruntled-rat

YAYYY thank goodness...... I may rejoin my people..............

@thatbirdguyy

Unfortunately for our little guy, it is by decree of the author that he Must suffer. It is simply inevitable for any Tails enthusiast to put him through the wringer </3

ALSO YO?? I love your art and au sm! :D I'm so glad you find mine interesting too!! <3

@thecustomcosplayed

HE DID NOTHING WRONGGG THATS THE WORST PART,,, MY POOR LIL GUY DOESN'T DESERVE THISSSS

Ohohhhh yess ! I too love me a good whump au or two

Oh, he was long gone before Metal even showed up with him :( There was nothing they could've done

@cheeseburgerhelper

See, Metal wanted an efficient kill, but the problem is that Tails isn't about to go down without a fight. That's why he got so brutal, and also why he's sporting some scuffs and dents.

@humble-introvert0808

LMAOOO NOO MY GIRL AMY 😭 I do really enjoy this response to seeing me kill off my blorbo baby boy being "ooohh do mine next!! do mine next!!" bcus it's so so real

I prob won't do anything like that anytime soon, but rest assured that Amy's a MAJOR player in this AU and gets to be sad asf a LOT <3

@anactualfuckingnerd

Well. Yes. But I get the feeling that it's not what the most of y'all are looking for rn because Metal does, in fact, NOT get obliterated immediately :'D

Sonic WISHES he could've pulverized Metal on the spot, but no, he lost the fight and Metal got away. Sure, he was mad, but more angry =/= better at fighting

The next part (which I'm currently working on!) will go over this, but basically it was a fit of jealous rage. A "if I can't have this, then you can't either" type of thing.

But you're right. The real Sonic would NEVER have done that. Metal's realization of this fact is the basis that sets off his character arc and exploring that is what half of this AU is all about :]

(I use any pronouns for my version of Metal! I tend to mostly use he/him before character growth, and mostly they/them and she/her after, but y'all can use whatever)

YEAH they are fighting an uphill battle for that redemption arc after this one :') They fucked up BADDDDDD and they KNOW it.

LMAOOASDFGH,,, It's definitely a slow climb for her :'D All will be revealed in due time!

HELP NOOOO NOT THE BLAME SHIFTIIINGGG!!!! HES THE BLAME SHIFTER!!!!!!

I think he might have, like, a twinge of resentment towards him about it, but on some level he does understand that Silver had no earthly chance of knowing even if he is from the future. That, and Silver's like one of the only people who are willing to go along with his murder death revenge quest, so he can't afford to piss him off lol

Even still, I'm sure it comes out as snide remarks once in a while though :')

@i-only-created-this-to-read

The Tornado is fine! It's probably just sitting in Tails' hangar, collecting dust. No one can bear looking at it right now.

And oof. That's actually hard to say! I don't think I can accurately place it in a specific game timeline, unfortunately. But I can say that Sage isn't here nor has she been created yet (as much as I love her </3 but my co-auther hasn't played Frontiers) Eggman will behave much like he does in IDW, if that gives you a good reference point.

Eggman is very much alive, and we will see him! But no, he's NOT happy about any of this. We'll see this explored later, but yes, he absolutely sees Metal as a liability now that he's gone and painted such a HUGE target on their backs. And also little mad that he acted autonomously and took away a potential asset/victory from him.

From what I've heard, he needs either the real or fake set of Chaos Emeralds to do that....??? And right now he has neither, so no, unfortunately not :') He's never once allowed near any of the emeralds, because his friends know he's crashing out and will hurt himself and others if he goes super/dark. They spend the whole time playing Emerald Hot Potato to keep them from him lol

Sonic absolutely drops his whole being the better person shtick IMMEDIATLY though, at least regarding Metal. He's gone too far, and now there's no more second chances for him. As far as Sonic's concerned, Metal is to be destroyed on sight.

YES! Or, at least, Shadow tries. He tries to reach out, and he tries to help him cope, but Sonic just isn't open to it. He's not in a headspace to be able to receive any advice at all.

@i-only-created-this-to-read

Honestly, I like to think Amy probably came crying to him and told him about it pretty much immediately, and that he becomes one of the biggest comforts to her during all of this. He seems like he'd be a great listener and give some top tier advice <3

@anactualfuckingnerd

LMAOOOO yeahh,,.,,, Valid reaction

[subbykittyboythoughts]

Sorry can't be horny too busy playing DOOM mods after myhouse.pk3 got updated

[lifedaiiry]

Here is a MASSIVE guide to those curious:

Apeshit: Violently crazy. You are setting buildings on fire and punching babies.

Batshit: "Woah, crazy". Grandma is dyeing her hair blue. Playing loud music at the library.

Chicken shit: You're a coward, but not afraid. You can't take responsibility.

Talking shit: Spreading gossip/rumors/lies/insults too much.

Ratshit also means bad quality.

No shit: Also said as "No shit, sherlock!" which means "That's so obvious!"

Jackshit: Nothing. "I don't have jackshit!"

Holy Shit: "Wow that is so shocking I never expected that!!"

Dipshit: You are dumb

Tough Shit: You either like it the way it is, or leave

Good shit: a good thing / good quality

Shit on a shingle: An American food, not a saying or slang

THE shit (emphasis on the word "The"): The thing you are talking about is perfect. Never about people.

This shit / that shit: This thing / that thing but with cursing

Shit out of luck: There is no hope of success

I've got shit / I ain't got shit: I have nothing

Shit stirrer: troublemaker

I shit you not: I'm not lying/I'm not joking

he/she/they are built like a brick shit house: They are either very strong or very fat

shit faced: extremely drunk (cannot be used for drugs)

shit for brains: you're really stupid

cut the shit: stop lying/stop being silly

shitting bricks: you're horrified

Scared shitless: you're afraid

shit-eating grin: A smug look

I don't know shit: I don't know anything

in deep shit: you are in the worst kind of trouble

when shit hits the fan: When things go wrong

full of shit: someone is lying

lose my shit/she lost her shit: They suddenly became explosive with anger

to give a shit: to care

Are you shitting me? Are you kidding me?

No shit? (with an emphases on being asked as a question) Wow, really? That's surprising.

start shit/starting shit/to start shit: to cause trouble

for shits and giggles: when someone does something for no reason at all. Doesn't have to be humorous but can be.

I don't give a shit: I don't care

"he/she/they are on my shitlist now" I hate them

shoot the shit: wasting time by talking about nothing important

shitshow: it was a disaster. For example: "Well, that concert was a shitshow, am I right?"

shitload: a lot of things (never about people. Just objects)

Hot shit: always said as "He thinks he's hot shit" or "She thinks she's hot shit" or "They think they're hot shit" it means these people think they're all cool but it's not true

shit ton: a lot of things (same as shitload)

shit happens: Life happens that way, sometimes, and we cannot control it.

shit just got real: things are about to get serious/things are about to be terrible. Sometimes used sarcastically.

piece of shit: terrible person

I've got shit to do/I ain't got shit to do: I have nothing to do

shitpost: A funny post on social media

shithead: you're dumb

to shit on something: to make fun of something or say how terrible it is

You've gotta be shitting me! You've gotta be kidding me!

Well, no shit. This one is tricky. If said in a certain tone, it can mean they agree with you but they're being coy about it. Example: "I think everyone should have human rights." "Well, no shit." Usually their voice gets slightly higher at the end of "shit".

get your shit together: take responsibility, seek therapy, and do better. It means all of those things at once.

you ain't shit: you're worthless or you're not as cool as you think you are

Shit's real / shit's real, man: things are intense in the world/situation or whatever you said, they agree with it

Fuck that shit: "I have no respect for that thing/rule/way of life anymore"

let me know if I missed anything ^__^

english slang is awful i would hate to be learning this shit. like the word shit. something can be horseshit or bullshit which means it's a lie. but cow shit is just poop. and something can be dogshit which means it's really bad quality. but cat shit is just poop.

[mediumgayitalian]

MEMEMEME! ILL ASK ABOUT THAT FIC TELL EVERYTHING

(I'm trying to catch up on your blog I swear!)

HI BELOVED TAKE YOUR TIME. I KNOW YOU ARE BUSY. IT IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE. but as for the fic (i'm sorry. genuinely):

cecil and lou ellen are fighting. cecil is being a shithead and just driving her nuts, which is rare bc she is also often a shithead who drives ppl nuts, but she is at her wits end. and will is like halfheartedly trying to stop it but hes like Busy right. its summer. hes got an infirmary to run.

but lou ellen snaps and goes YOU WANNA ACT LIKE A CHILD? FINE! BE AA CHILD! and shes so mad the magic POPS off of her like cecil gets HEXED.

except.

cecil is his fathers son.

he is fast.

he ducks and will, who is less fast and also Tired, gets hit instead.

theres this huge glow of green light, everyone is shrieking, no one knows what's going on, then the smoke clears and there is will, on the floor, NINE GODDAMN YEARS OLD. and everyone is like oooooohhhhh gods what do we do.

and lou ellen is like I DONT KNOW I DONT KNOW IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I DIDNT EVEN HEX HIM I JUST KIND OF EXPLODED and everyone is trying so so hard to figure it out,m but will is unconscious, and he is LITTLE and there is PANIC

cue annabeth who is like OKAY. everyone chill the fuck out. someone go get him clothes that fit. hes gonna wake up and be confused. remember we're down a medic. the rest of you need to use your fucking heads.

so people are chill but BUZZING with the rumours bc baby will is so goddam Cute like actually but also like. is he gonna age back? is he stuck that way? and they keep side eyeing nico and nico is trying not to let it bother him but hes also like oh shit oh god did i just lose the love of my life please tell me this isnt happening oh my god fuck

someone brings harley's extra clothes, but since harley is jacked they're Way too big on him, also will is small for his age, so theyre like literally what is the point of giving him these he might as well wear his own clothes, and cecil is like yo wait a second. ur onto smth maybe. so he slinks off into storage and comes back with like a stack of will's old clothes. and they're just The dorkiest things in the world

but anyways someone comes hollering to dinner like HES UP HES UP so nico rushes over and everyone else too and hes up alright. he is Bouncing off the walls.

as they suspected he is very much a nine year old. like not current fifteen year old will in a nine year olds body this is Nine Year Old Will Solace. and he is a motormouth and jumping on the bed and asking a million questions and going YOOOOOOOO ANABETH YOURE GIANT NOW and shes like bruh. okay. guess we really are going back to baby will. hold on everyone.

and nico is still stressed but also like. oh my gods. will is SO cute he is melting a little. like its hard not to

but then

then.

will chills for six seconds and hes like hey where's lee? or michael? they usually work this time a day and Boy does it ever get real quiet real fast.

and its like.

do you tell this child.

this bright eyed child.

that his entire family is dead.

or do you just lie.

they lie!

thinking quick as hell annabeth is like "uhhhhh theyre on a quest."

"all twelve of them?"

"…they're going on four quests"

"oh okay word! how come i couldnt come"

"?? bc?? ur 9??"

"aw"

and its just.

the rest of the time as they try to figure out how to turn him back

its just. this time capsule.

this kid who is asking about all these people that half the campers dont know and the other half are remembering, vividly and painfully, for the first time in years

knocking on the athena cabin door like "hey malcolm!! is carter here? i wanna play soccer"

"oh, sweetheart. he's, uh. he's at school"

and will is suspsicious because what the heck! carter always plays soccer with him especially when lee is gone! and carter is the smartest guy ever he graduated when he was ten! what!

and hes asking clarisse and she doesnt know what to say to him. she is the weakest shes ever felt in his life. all she sees is silena.

and hes asking about beckendorf and percy can hardly breathe and hes asking about luke and conner and travis dont know what to say and its AWFUL. its awful. the entire camp is realising for the first time just how many people theyve lost.

he asks about castor and mr d almost kills him.

like its just AGONIZING its the worst

and the worst of all is that will starts to realise.

the longer it stretches on the more he realises hey they arent here. they havent been here.

he goes to pull a box out from under his bed and its one no one has ever seen before and its just Filled to the brim. pictures on pictures and home videos and letters and diary entries spotted with tear tracks.

"they're gone. aren't they."

"…yes."

"all of them?"

"i'm sorry, will."

like it ACHES

he comes back to fifteen eventually and its just

how have you carried that

missing them all for so long

forgot to mention that when will tries to go back to his cabin nico thinks quickly int he beginning. "uhhhh they tried to um. renovate your cabin. with paint fromt he big house. and it had lead in it? apparently? so you and your cabin have to stay with me actually. for a while." just to keep him from seeing that literally None of his sibling's stuff is there. and hasnt been for years. and then one day no one can find will until they find him in the apollo cabin, in the early morning, rifling through this box in this giant empty cabin and realising what has happened. what he loses in the future. crying quietly. then into nico's arms, who's choking his own tears back.

"i don't want to go back to a future without them in it. i don't want to grow up. i don't want to grow up."

"believe me, sweetheart. i know."

just HEARTWRENCHING

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

Man I tell you, another heavy day in my production job. And on top of that, pollen season. There goes my allergies smh. Well, at least I get bit of a break, have some food with me, and I can finally watch today's episode. Let's see what we got! *sees thumbnail* 😶 .....I haven't even pressed on the video and my theorist senses are tingling already

"wait what?"

Alright, so I'm going to need you to follow along with me here, cool? Now, doesn't 4's pose seem familiar to you? Well, it should because that's exactly the same pose as the ringmaster 4 render from the early version of the WOTFI website. We all know it was really Mr Puzzles behind it all.

And now look at the ads! It certainly feels very similar to what happened in the "Mario PC Virus" episode, and y'know how I already pointed out how it could connect to the goop!4 theory. BUT y'know what other video had ads?

That's suspicious. That's sus. 💅 /ref

"Don't you think it's Ben trolling again? Or just taking creative liberties?"

No bc the thing is, it's the thumbnail and it's the Team who gave him the prompt in the first place. Ofc Ben can take creative liberties, but essentially it has to follow the prompt. How have I not started the episode yet?! *turns to the Team* I'm watching you.... /silly

(the following is my live reaction:)

and there's our beloved intro *claps like an excited lil kid*

A convention? oooooh

LOOK AT THEM AAAAA

ofc 3 talking about his villain self 😌↕️

Clench being a VTuber was not on my bingo card but honestly, good for him (and I do love Tari sticking out from the table hehe)

and MELONY! you got what Axol's been working on, Two Piece. Gotta love the continuity, dude. The cover looks great!

Melony: "At least, I hope so..." 🥺 Oh honey, Axol would've been so proud of you and what you've done. I can already imagine him singing praises to it and say "look at what my girlfriend and I have done! :D"

YES, let's spread the word!! ofc Mario and 4 would help, they care so much about their friends

ngl Mario's got a good tactic.

and there goes 3's eye lol (don't think about goop!4 don't think about goop!4 don't think about goop!4)

*wii sports theme plays*

YES YES YES oh I'm so here for it

look at them go :D

nahnahnah, Team. You think you can do a speed-up moment and for me not to pause it frame by frame? smh /silly

luckily for the rest of yall, I got you:

and yes, it did have some repeats that I think they're very interesting: "turns you muscular SUPER chad", "makes you rich", "become SWAG", "get your a bunch of friends", "become a member of society", "become a SIGMA", get a romantic partner ("girlfriend" (the one with Mario) or "boyfriend", "you WON'T NEED SLEEP", "become AWESOME"/"RESPECTED"

Ofc it could just be how much 4 wants to emphasize the benefits of getting the manga. But it certainly feels strange, doesn't it? *writing notes down like a madman*

also a win for the skittle squad

and ay, it's got 4's stamp of approval!! (curious that the Team used the old model instead of current one 🤔)

hehe look at 4 pouting while he sits 💙

SMG4: "This is how it works!" 4, bud, are you ok?

ok first off, WE GOT THE OG 4 MODEL BACK?! WHAT? and two, Mario has a point. 4 is taking things too far and really needs a wake-up call. I have a feeling as to why 4 may be acting this way....

oh. oh okay.

So they decided to bring parallels to show how much 4 and Mario's fighting is affecting her/reminding her of her family separating. Hmm. Alright, Team, which one of you decided to strike that dagger into my heart? 😭 /lh

And Mario walked away just like Melony's mom did *head in hands*

and that's 4 alright. He would say that "everything's fine" when it's clearly not smh

4, buddy no :(

SMG3: "The real villain is society..." Well you ain't wrong, 3

Wait a second. Enhance..... enhance.....

I see what you did there, Shadow 😔↕️

love that Toad's like right here too

OMG was that 4's "date" from the "Find Luigi" episode? IT IS.

I'm tell yall, 4 has a secret art account and is selling his work as merch/prints. I mean, c'mon

NO 4, people were waiting for Silksong for decades naurrrr

oh Melony, my girl :(

*pauses episode* ........they did not just do that. I'm rewinding that moment 2/3 times now, what do you mean I was right about my suspicions? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY JUST BROUGHT BACK IGBP?!

I need to walk away. I need to leave the room, do a cartwheel and dive into a lake, bc HUH?!

okok, let's breathe. goop!4 is gonna happen, and this is not just a "haha Ink is a crazy lil theorist wishing for this to happen". The fact that he said "nowadays" means that the situation is affecting him too. Ofc it would, that's his livelihood, his WHOLE PURPOSE as a meme guardian. But, other than that, it makes sense why he's doing this (I'll talk about it soon)

Mario: "SMG4, you're better than this! You've done enough damage." 😨 holy shit. it's like I got shot through the heart WTF. I might just cry in this episode

who keeps punching me in the FEELSSSSS 😭 poor Melony, those guys were absolute jerks smh (desperate times do call for desperate measures *ready to make swiss cheese*)

*head in hands* :(

at least they can apologise

*points at screen* hehe that's me :) I'm just a reporter

did I hear the peanut gallery audio from ace attorney? 👀 (<- ace attorney fan, don't mind Ink)

The Crew came? 🥹

EVEN SHROOMY?

OUGH that got to me, dude. They all came to support her and enjoyed the manga. I'm tearing up, dude.....

what did I say? Melony may have not had both parents as they were separating, lost Axol to the events of the Genesis/Revelations arc, was betrayed by who she thought was a friend who understood her, and despite it all, she's been so strong. Having friends, her found family...

man, this hit me hard and it's not even from the allergies, I tell you that

the truest supporters are the ones who care

this episode wants me dead /very pos

what's the lesson, Mario?

SMG4: "Is that we shouldn't care so much about fame and profit and instead be proud of our friend's work? No matter how successful it is?" yeah pretty much... "No"? wydm "no"?

....nahnahnah, you can't end the episode there, what the hell do you mean by that?

You can't close it off like that! What about my suspicions!? You can't just move on like that in front of my theorist self, c'mon!!

sitcom laugh track and everything, smh /silly

Congrats to SteveAlexAri12 for your art being featured in the end credits for this episode 🎉 cool art of WPNZ

um. Team, any particular why? just asking /j

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Wow, this. This was absolutely fantastic omg. The writing in this was so good and I loved the tidbits of animation we got, like when Mario and 4 were picking up the pages to clean! This was somehow brilliant, and this is coming from a long-time viewer.

It' crazy's awesome that they brought Wolfychu back to do some lines this episode, and I was right about the Waggy cameo from Shadow (YES!). Also, EVAN! You make the cover of the manga? It looks SO GOOD, dude!! As always, great work with the writing on your end 👏

I've already mentioned Melony but we have to talk about the boys. Both Mario and 4 had good intentions to help their friend out. "I would do anything to not lose my friends" and that's exactly what 4 did. The algorithm has been affecting him so much that he didn't want Melony to go through it either. So, he went overboard with the crazy advertising and such, but he still cared for his friend. And a touch of self-doubt and insecurity from IGBP is back because he thought he wasn't doing enough. What good of a friend is he if he can't help out? The savior complex in him would say that he isn't good enough to help Melony, to "save" her from the low viewer retention. That he isn't enough, so he went desperate to have anyone take a copy of the manga. This isn't just about selling a book, it's that he's worth the friendships he has and they can always come to him if they need anything.

He doesn't want to lose them.

Ofc Mario cares so much about 4, they've known each other for years. Best of friends. If anything, Mario would know everything's not fine with 4's actions and thoughts in general. It's why the line, "SMG4, you're better than this! You've done enough damage" from Mario to 4 hits so hard. 4 was back to the "None of you understand the work I do" moment from Mar10, relapsing, and Mario needed to remind 4 of his true self, the one that cared for his friends without perfections. That instead of helping as 4 sees it, 4 was hurting Melony unintentionally, and he has to open his eyes to see that. Two sides, indeed.

Curious that the episode ended with the not "go cuckoo crazy" lesson instead of what 4 said. Goop!4 would eventually happen, bc at this point, yes. But what Mario said is exactly what 4's mindset is rn. 4 is bottling up his emotions and trauma and as long as he doesn't think about it for too long, everything's fine. As long as he doesn't reach that breakpoint, he's fine. In some way, he learned his lesson after IGBP but not quite. For one, he still doubts himself with the guilt of IGBP on top of it. And two, nothing is letting him move on from his trauma. His in-universe audience isn't letting him, Puzzles during WOTFI wasn't letting him, the memories he's been suppressing wasn't enough.

Why does he go through the extreme? Bc he thinks that it would solve everything for him. Like how he locked Puzzles in prison, thinking that Puzzles would remain there when we all know a prison escape is bound to happen. Like the Meme Factory itself was an elaborate trap. Whatever it takes to protect himself emotionally, as he's under the line from having a meltdown, he's fine. But what is that line? What is his breaking point? The thing is he wouldn't known, as shown in this episode, thinking he would still fix it. Everything's fine, he's fine.

And y'know what the cherry on top is? That, other than 4 and Mario enjoying the manga, Boopkins and Luigi were the first to be interested in Melony's creation, regardless of popularity. Very representative of Kevin irl and the deeper significance of IGBP.

....whoops sorry, I went on rambling for too long. I mean, c'mon, you should know the drill by now *points at bio*. If anything, this episode is the biggest piece of evidence for the goop!4 theory, I'm sure our local co-CEO of the theory Funkii (hey moot!) and other goop!4 enthusiasts would agree, YESSIR. Overall, this was such a sweet episode and I can't wait for more. That's all from me, and remember: numbers always go first!

*taps mic* ...well chat, how do we feel knowing that the star trio all canonically wore maid outfits? (well technically Madoka outfits from 4 & Mario but still)

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Vine Between Us (2)

Summary

Annie left the Mississippi Delta with a broken heart and a full-ride scholarship, determined never to look back. Now a celebrated professor in Chicago, she’s called home to care for her mother—and the last thing she expects is to run straight into him.

Elijah "Smoke". Her first love. Her first everything.

He disappeared the summer after graduation, leaving only unanswered calls and a goodbye she never got. Now he's back in town, running a moody, magnetic blues lounge with his twin brother, playing late into the humid Southern nights like he’s pouring his soul out just for her.

Annie wants to hate him. She wants to forget the way he made her feel. But one look from those stormy eyes, and she’s seventeen again—burning, aching, and lost in the man he’s become.

He left without a word. But now? He wants to finish the story they never got to end.

Characters: Annie x Elijah " Smoke" Moore (Modern AU)

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Mention of Abuse, Vulgar Language, Sexual content & more...

Chapters: PART (1)

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! I really do appreciate it! Feedback is very much welcome, and if you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know. Enjoy!

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The air seemed to settle, but Annie felt anything but steady. Her stomach churned. She gripped the red basket tighter, her knuckles pale against the handle. Pearline said something, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater.

“Elijah,” she murmured, not as a name, but a wound. One that hadn’t fully closed in nine damn years.

Pearline leaned on the cart. “Annie?”

Annie let out a short breath that didn’t feel like relief. “He looked right at me, Pearline. Like he hadn’t disappeared. Like he hadn’t left me without a goodbye or a damn word.”

“You never talked to him since?”

Annie scoffed, tossing a box of cornmeal into the basket like it had offended her. “Not once. He didn’t write. Didn’t call. Nothing.”

“I thought Stack sent you letters?”

“He did. Two. That’s it. Told me they enlisted. Said they left the next morning after graduation. But Elijah? Nothing. Not even a ‘I’m sorry.’” Her voice was rising now, emotions climbing up her throat. “We were kids, yeah, but I loved him, Pearline. I thought he loved me. He let me plan out our whole summer together, let me sit there talking about the future like we had one—and all the while he knew he was leavin’.”

Pearline looked at her gently. “Maybe it was hard for him to say goodbye.”

Annie gave a sharp laugh. “You don’t ghost someone you love because it’s hard. You show up. You explain. You give them something—a note, a moment, a goodbye kiss, I don’t care. But he gave me nothing. He took the boy I loved and vanished like it never happened. And now he’s just… back. Lookin’ at me like we’ve only been apart a season.”

She paused, swallowing hard, then added, “You know what the worst part is?”

Pearline shook her head.

“I waited. For months. I’d check the mailbox like a fool. I'd look out the window every time a car slowed down. Mama thought I was sick. And then Stack’s second letter came. Told me Elijah got quiet. Said he wasn’t the same. Said to move on.”

Pearline touched her arm. “Have you ever written back?”

Annie shook her head, eyes glassy. “What was there to say? ‘Thanks for the crumbs?'"

The two stood in silence for a moment, the hum of the freezer aisle filling the space between their memories. Annie blinked away the sting in her eyes, gathering herself again.

“I don’t care how good he looks now,” she said tightly. “I buried him nine years ago. I’m not digging up bones.”

Pearline didn’t argue. She just nodded, pushing her cart toward the register. “Well… if you change your mind, I hear The Cypress Lounge got the kind of ghosts that sing when you listen real close.”

Annie watched her go, the ache still pressing against her ribs like old bruises. She wasn’t ready to see him again—not like that. Not when all she wanted to do was ask why and hit him in the same breath.

The screen door creaked open as Annie followed her mother up the front steps, grocery bags tugging at her fingers. The sun had started to drop, casting long shadows across the porch. Cicadas buzzed in the trees, a lazy hum that made the evening feel heavier somehow.

“You gon’ pout all night or help me put these greens in water?” Mama asked, setting her bags down on the kitchen table with a soft grunt.

Annie didn’t answer right away. She moved through the kitchen like she was underwater, setting things down without care, her mind still circling the moment Elijah’s eyes locked on hers in Bo Chow’s. Nine years, and he hadn’t flinched. Like he expected her to still be there, standing still.

“I saw Elijah,” she said finally.

Her mother didn’t look surprised. “I figured. Ruby called me from the parking lot. Said she spotted you at Bo Chow’s, lookin’ like you seen a ghost.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Of course Ruby nosey self did.”

“She was just picking up some turnips, and saw you ducking behind cereal like a sinner hiding from the deacons,” her mother said, with a knowing look. “Said he looked good, though. That was her exact phrasing—‘that boy aged like a mahogany tree and shame on him.’”

Annie scoffed. “Of course she’d notice that.”

Her mother started unpacking the collards, her hands working with muscle memory. “You still mad at him?”

Annie let out a bitter breath. “Mad? I was ruined, Mama. He left me like I was nothing. Like we were nothing. Didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even call. Just disappeared with Stack and never looked back.”

“Stack wrote you.”

“Elijah didn’t.”

Her mother nodded slowly, rinsing the greens. “You were young. So was he.”

“That’s no excuse. He could’ve told me. He owed me something.”

Her mother set the colander down, turning to face her. “You right. He did. But maybe he didn’t know how to face you. Maybe leaving was harder than you think.”

Annie shook her head, eyes starting to sting again. “Then he shouldn’t have let me dream about a future he never intended to give me.”

Her mother walked over and cupped her face gently. “You held on too long, baby. You let that silence become your whole story. Maybe now’s your chance to write a new ending.”

Annie pulled away, blinking back tears. “I’m not interested in happy endings. Not with him.”

Her mother didn’t press. She simply kissed her forehead and returned to the sink, humming an old blues tune under her breath. Annie stood still, the weight of the past pressing against her chest like a stone.

Later that night, after the greens were cleaned and stewing low on the stove, Annie sat on the porch with a glass of sweet tea sweating in her hand. The crickets were out now, and the breeze carried the soft scent of honeysuckle from the side of the house. Her mother was rocking beside her, shelling peas into a bowl like she always did when she wanted to talk without pressing too hard.

“You hear from that teacher fella lately?” Mama asked, keeping her eyes on her hands.

Annie took a sip, not looking her way. “Nah. I let that go.”

“That’s what, the third man this year you done ‘let go’?”

Annie gave a half-shrug. “It wasn’t working.”

Mama smiled faintly. “It never does when they start talkin’ forever, huh?”

Annie’s jaw tightened just a little, but she didn’t respond.

“They don’t measure up?” her mother asked lightly, but the words had weight.

Annie looked out at the yard, where the porch light barely touched the overgrown grass near the fence. “It’s not about measuring up. I just... don’t feel it. Not like that.”

Her mother was quiet for a moment, and then said, almost to herself, “You felt it once though. All the way through.”

Annie’s breath hitched just a little, but she forced herself to stay still. “That was a long time ago.”

Her mother nodded slowly. “Mm-hmm.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’m not hung up on Elijah,” Annie said suddenly, a little too fast. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I ain’t say his name.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Her mother looked over at her, warm eyes sharp with knowing. “You’ve had good men, Annie. Kind ones. Smart ones. Ones who wanted to build something real with you. But you run every time they open that door.”

Annie looked down at her glass. The ice had melted.

“I guess I just ain’t the buildin’ kind.”

Her mother didn’t push. She never did. She just kept shelling those peas, soft click-clack sounds filling the quiet.

But Annie knew. She knew her mother saw the space inside her heart where Elijah’s ghost still lived. The part of her that had never healed right. Like a broken bone that fused crooked—strong enough to carry on, but always aching when the weather changed.

And no matter how much she denied it, or how many smiles she forced through new dates and fresh starts, that pain had made her cautious. Distant. Every time love reached out, she pulled away just enough to keep from bleeding again.

Her mama let the silence sit a minute longer before dropping another shell into the bowl and saying, like it was nothing more than a passing thought, “You know… Stacks used to light up like a Christmas tree whenever he saw you.”

Annie blinked, caught off guard. “Stacks?”

“Mmhmm,” her mother nodded, a little smile playing on her lips. “Even when y’all were just kids. Always hanging around the house askin’ where you were. But Lord, he was too busy chasin’ every girl with good hair and fast hips.”

Annie huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah. Stacks flirted with anything that moved. He was always trying to charm his way outta trouble.”

“Still, that boy looked at you differently,” her mama said softly. “Not like the others. And not just ‘cause of Elijah either.”

Annie shook her head, lips tugging upward despite herself. “Stacks was just a clown. Sweet, sure, but not serious. Not back then.”

Her mother gave her a sideways glance. “Maybe not. But you never did give him the time of day.”

“That’s because I only had eyes for one person.” The words slipped out before Annie could catch them, and she immediately regretted it.

Her mama didn’t press. She just reached for another pea pod, her voice gentle. “Funny how you still talk about Elijah like you seventeen.”

“I don’t,” Annie said, too quickly.

“Mmhmm,” her mother replied, which was her polite way of saying yes, you do.

Annie sighed and leaned back in her chair, watching the porch light flicker like it was thinking about giving up. Her heart felt tight in her chest, the weight of memories pressing in. She thought she’d buried that chapter of her life deep enough that even her mama couldn’t dig it up, but somehow all it took was one encounter at Bo Chow’s and her world was unraveling.

And now her mother was talking about Stacks like he might be an option, as if Annie still had something left to give.

“Stacks was always a better talker than Elijah,” her mother added, almost sly now. “At least he wrote.”

Annie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Because her mother was right. Stacks had written to her, twice. Letters that came months after they’d vanished. Words that tried to explain what Elijah never did.

Her mama set the bowl down, wiped her hands on her apron, and turned to face her daughter. “That boy left a hole in you, baby. I know that. But I also know you never let anyone else even try to fill it.”

Annie looked away.

Her mother hesitated, then smiled faintly. “You remember how you used to love to walk barefoot in the greenhouse?”

Annie’s brows lifted. “Of course.”

“I saw you one night. Slipping out through your window. I got up to get some water, and there you were, tiptoeing like you were a spy or somethin’.”

Annie blinked. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t have to. You were lucky it was me that saw you. If it had been your daddy...” Her mama shook her head, laughing under her breath. “He liked Elijah, sure. But he was no fool. He knew Elijah was still a boy—and boys have eyes, especially for girls they ain’t supposed to be out with that late.”

Annie’s cheeks flushed with memory. “You knew all this time?”

“I knew more than you thought. I remember the way you used to come home glowing like the moon had whispered secrets in your ear. And I knew it was only a matter of time before that boy either broke your heart... or tried to keep it.”

There was a long silence between them.

Annie finally whispered, “He didn’t try to keep it. He just left.”

Her mama softened. “He was young. Didn’t know how to be honest. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. And you’ve been holding that silence like it’s yours to carry.”

Her mama looked at her long and deep. “You may not owe him a second chance, Annie. But you do owe yourself a real one.”

After dinner, Annie helped her mother clear the table, both of them moving in a quiet rhythm honed by years of coexisting in the same modest kitchen. The clink of plates and the soft scrape of forks filled the silence between them. Her mother wiped the last of the crumbs into her palm and tossed them into the trash before speaking.

“Why are you so quiet over there, child?”

Annie gave a half-smile. “I’ve just been thinking.”

Her mother didn’t press. She knew Annie well enough to let her thoughts settle on their own time. But when Annie leaned back against the counter and said, “I might go out for a little bit,” her mother stopped rinsing the sink.

“Where to?”

“Pearline said she might stop by Cypress Lounge tonight. Thought I’d catch up with her.”

Her mother slowly turned off the faucet and dried her hands on the dish towel. “The lounge?”

Annie gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” The sound carried meaning. Not quite judgment, but not surprise either.

Annie rolled her eyes with a teasing smirk. “And yes, I know who owns it.”

Her mother raised a brow. “Stacks and Smoke. That ain’t no secret, child.”

“They’ve probably done well with it,” Annie said, unsure why she felt the need to defend them.

“They always knew how to hustle,” her mother replied, her tone neutral. “Still... walking into their world again ain’t like passing through the produce aisle at Piggly Wiggly.”

Annie chuckled despite herself. “I’m not going there for them, Mama. Pearline will be there. It’s just a lounge. I’m grown.”

Her mother didn’t argue. She just gave her that long, knowing look that seemed to see through the years and right back to the girl who used to sneak out late at night to meet Elijah behind the Greenhouse.

“Well,” her mother said finally, “if you’re going, fix your hair. And don’t let that boy’s dimples undo all your common sense.”

Annie laughed. “You talking about Stacks or Smoke?”

Her mother smirked. “Don’t play coy. We both know which one made you lose sleep.”

Annie shook her head and grabbed her purse. “Good night, Mama.”

“Be safe, baby.”

As Annie stepped outside into the warm Delta night, the weight of memories pressed on her chest, but so did the thrill of seeing Cypress Lounge not as a symbol of the past, but a place where she might reclaim a little piece of herself.

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The Cypress Lounge pulsed with rhythm, low and thick like molasses. Laughter drifted out with the smoke, but Elijah was known to most as Smoke leaned against the brick wall out back, cigarette glowing between his fingers. The night air was heavy with humidity, but the quiet outside was a relief from the blues buzzing inside.

Only Annie and the elders ever called him Elijah.

He hadn’t heard his name said like that in over a decade, and somehow it still felt like it belonged to her.

He took a long drag, exhaled slow.

“You thinkin’ about Annie?”

Stacks’ voice broke the silence like a gentle elbow to the ribs. His twin brother, same face but always a little brighter around the edges. Stacks wore the same face, but with mischief tucked into the corners of his grin. Always had. Even now, older, sharper, wearing a tailored vest and easy charm, he was still the same boy who cracked jokes in the middle of a storm.

Smoke didn’t answer right away.

Stacks didn’t need him to.

They’d always understood each other without saying much.

But the truth was, yes. He was thinking about Annie. Hell, she never really left his mind. Not when they left town, not during all those long years in the military, not once in the ten years since.

He hadn’t said goodbye.

He hadn’t sent a letter.

He just disappeared.

It was the one thing he regretted. Even now.

Stacks had written to her. Twice. Checked in. Explained what happened, best he could. But Smoke? He hadn’t had the guts. Not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too damn much.

And now she was back.

Of course she’d still be beautiful. Of course the moment he saw her it’d feel like the world flipped upside down.

Stacks knew the history. He’d known it even back then.

He’d had a crush on Annie when they were just kids. Everybody knew it. But even at ten years old, Stacks had seen it. That look in Annie’s eyes, the one she only gave Smoke. And for all his wild boy charm, Stacks never got jealous. He just smiled, teased them both, and let it be.

Because if there was one person in this world Stacks would never betray, it was his brother.

And Smoke knew that. Always had.

Growing up with their father, who was mean and drunk more often than sober, had taught him how to anticipate pain. He’d learned how to take a hit before it landed. Learned how to stand between Stacks and a swinging fist, how to bite his tongue and swallow his screams. His father never touched Stacks. Smoke made sure of that.

Maybe that’s why he clung to Annie so hard back then. She was soft in a world that was bruised. Her laugh made things feel normal. She believed in him when he barely believed in himself. She saw past the fists, past the scars, past the silence he wore like armor.

And God help him, she was still the only girl who ever made him smile without trying.

He hadn’t seen that smile in the mirror since he left.

He didn’t know what it meant now that she was back in town, or whether he even had the right to say her name anymore.

Smoke crushed the cigarette beneath his boot and rubbed a hand down his face, like maybe he could wipe the memories away. No luck. Annie lived behind his eyes now. Every part of this damn city held her name in it.

Stacks leaned beside him, silent now, eyes cast toward the alleyway like he was watching for ghosts.

“You ever think about what it’d be like if we never left?” Stacks finally asked, voice low, thoughtful.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. Instead, he watched the shadows stretch across the bricks, thick like ink in the heat.

“All the time,” he muttered.

“You ever regret it?”

Smoke tilted his head back. “You don’t?”

Stacks shrugged. “Some days. But I think we needed to go. To survive. Pops was gettin’ worse. I don’t think we woulda made it much longer.”

Their father’s anger used to thunder through the walls late at night. A bottle always in his hand. Hands that were too quick to swing. Smoke had learned early to stay ten steps ahead of him, not just for his own sake—but to protect Stacks. If it wasn’t for Smoke, Stacks would’ve taken the worst of it. That’s just who their father was.

So they hustled. Ran the streets before their voices even cracked—fixing radios, selling bootleg tapes, flipping whatever they could get their hands on just to put food in the fridge. They had dreams, sure, but hunger and fists didn’t care about dreams. They cared about survival.

One day, Smoke decided enough was enough. The military wasn’t just an escape—it was the only road that looked like it led out.

But it cost him Annie.

“She was mad,” Stacks added, voice softer now. “She wrote me back once. Told me she was done waiting.”

“I deserved that.”

“She cried in that letter, Smoke. You know how hard it is for a girl like Annie to admit she cried? She trusted you. And you disappeared.”

Smoke clenched his jaw, pain flickering behind his eyes. “I was gonna write. Every day, I meant to. But I didn’t want to give her false hope. I thought if I just cut it, it’d be easier for her.”

“You were trying to protect her.”

“Yeah. And I ended up hurting her more.”

Stacks gave him a look, one brother to another. “You gonna let her keep thinkin’ you didn’t care?”

Smoke turned his head, eyes sharp. “No.”

“You still love her?”

Smoke didn’t even blink. “Always did.”

Stacks cracked a smile, no jealousy in it, just understanding. He had known, even as a kid, that Annie was always looking at Smoke—even when she was standing right beside him. And he couldn’t be mad. Not when Annie was the only thing that ever made his brother smile like that.

Then he clapped a hand on Smoke’s shoulder. “Then you better fix it, big bro. Before someone else steps in.”

Smoke stared into the night, jaw tight. “She ain’t the type you just win back with flowers and apologies.”

“Then don’t give her that. Give her truth.”

Stacks stepped away, voice trailing off. “We’ve got a club to run. And you’ve got a woman to face.”

Smoke stayed where he was, staring at the stars, the weight of memory flashing in his mind. It was a memory of when he first spoke to her.

Smoke wiped down the kitchen counter, scrubbing at the sticky ring left by a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey. Their father had stumbled in late the night before, angry and mean with nothing in his pockets but excuses and the sharp stench of regret. Now he was passed out in the back room, door wide open, mouth hanging slack.

Smoke tossed the rag in the sink and let out a breath. The walls felt like they were closing in.

“Yo, come on,” Stacks called from the hallway, already halfway out the door. “We hittin’ Mr. Gary’s before it gets packed.”

Smoke grabbed his white t- shirt, slid it on, and followed his twin into the humid Mississippi morning. The sun was bold overhead, baking the pavement, making everything shimmer like heat was trying to erase the whole town.

Stacks bounced down the sidewalk, full of energy, snapping his fingers and breaking into a loud, off-key rendition of the Ying Yang Twins.

“Wait 'til you see my—”

“Stacks,” Smoke warned, glancing around.

Stacks just laughed. “What? I’m sayin’. That song go hard. You just mad you ain’t got the vocals for it.”

Smoke shook his head, but there was a smirk trying to creep in. As usual, Stacks was showing out, dancing and spinning a coin between his fingers like the world had never hurt them.

They turned the corner near 12th and saw Mr. Gary’s ice cream parlor just ahead, the old hand-painted sign barely hanging on. The scent of sugar and waffle cones drifted out into the street like an invitation.

Stacks slowed. “Yo. Yo. Ain’t that the girl from math class?”

Smoke followed his gaze.

There she was.

Annie.

She was sitting outside the shop on the bench, one knee up, licking a grape popsicle like it owed her money. Two thick braids framed her face, and an old Saints jersey hung over her cutoffs. She looked like she belonged on a whole different planet—cool, unbothered, sharp-eyed.

“She new,” Smoke murmured. “Moved here from Louisiana.”

“She fine,” Stacks corrected, grinning. “Watch this.”

He sauntered ahead with all the charm he could muster, chest puffed like he was walking into a music video.

“Hey there,” he said smoothly, leaning against the bench. “You in our class, right? I’m Stacks. You probably noticed me already.”

Annie didn’t even blink. “Only thing I noticed was somebody always talkin’ when the teacher tryin’ to speak.”

Stacks froze, smile faltering for half a second. “Dang. That’s cold.”

“I’m from Louisiana. We say what we mean,” she said, then looked past him. “Your brother the one that don’t talk?”

Smoke, still a few steps back, raised a brow. “Sometimes.”

Annie gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Good. I like the quiet ones. They don’t waste your time with nonsense.”

Stacks laughed too loud. “See? She like you already.”

Annie cut him a look. “Boy, don’t flatter yourself. I ain’t said I liked either of y’all." Smoke walked up beside his brother, unsure of what to say.

Annie turned to him. “You got a name or you just go by ‘Shadow’?”

“Elijah,” he said, voice quiet. “But everybody call me Smoke.”

Annie licked her popsicle, then said, “Smoke, huh? You look like you don’t play around.”

Stacks jumped in. “He don’t. Always got that serious face like he solving algebra in his sleep.”

Annie stood up, brushing crumbs off her jersey, and walked between them like royalty on a mission.

“Well, nice meetin’ y’all. Don’t be weird next time.”

And just like that, she was gone, her braids bouncing with every step.

Stacks let out a low whistle. “Man... she really just...she got attitude.”

“She got presence,” Smoke corrected, still watching her walk away.

Stacks looked at his twin and shook his head. “You catchin’ feelings already?”

Smoke didn’t answer.

Stacks grinned. “Me too."

Elijah brung himself back to reality as he heard Stacks calling his name from the side door of the lounge. He wasn’t the boy Annie used to sneak off with to the greenhouse under moonlight. He was the man who left without a word, but he was ready to write his wrongs.

TAGLIST:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @brattyfics @chrisevansmentee @margepimpson @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @bigjh @est1887 @tadjoa @thickmadame

[rosenclaws]

Alright Rose, can I ask for my own Logan head cannon?

How each Logan would act to the news that you’re pregnant and when they meet your baby for the first time.

hi Lub!! I got this as an anon ask too so I'll combine them into these headcanons

Origins Logan -

Oh man he'd need to sit the fuck down for a second. He'd be worried first and happy second. Don't get me wrong he's not going to leave or anything but Logan has lived a very long life up to this point, about 100 years or more. I think this is the case for most Logan's but the first thing his mind goes to is his mutation. Will he pass it on? He knows what it's like to live with a mutation. How hard it can be. So he's scared. Plus the threat of stryker looms over his head. He'd do anything to protect you and his now unborn child. He's there every step of the way but the worries never leave his mind.

The protectiveness gets ramped up to 11 once your child is actually born. Oh man he's just melting. Holding them in his arms and watching for a long time. You're fast asleep and it's just him and his baby. He doesn't really speak, literally just watching your baby breathe. He makes a promise to himself that he won't let anything happen. Ever.

(Oh man side note this reminds me of a fic idea I had where Logan goes with Stryker and leaves the you and his child to protect you with every intention of coming back just to lose his memories and disappear for 15 years only to regain them and then search for you guys.)

Trilogy Logan -

He thinks you're joking at first. Cracking a smile and telling you that you really got him. Then he sees your face and he realizes you aren't joking and things become serious real quick. Look I know Logan is great with kids and he won’t admit it but I don’t know if ever wants his own because he is unsure if he wants to bring a possible mutant child into a world that hates your kind. He hugs you and maybe a cracks a joke but deep down he’s afraid.

Its late into the night. You’re fast asleep and he’s sitting outside nursing a root beer. He hears footsteps and thinks that they’re yours but then he catches a whiff of a different scent. It’s Marie. He doesnt do heart to hearts but he spills some of what’s going on. I think that Marie would be the best person to reassure him. I mean she was a kid when he found her and whether or not he wants to admit it he was there for her. Made her feels safe.

The day he actually gets to hold his child is where all those fears melt away and get replaced by new ones. Like what happens if his kid gets hurt or what if he accidentally drops them? What if he fucks up? Oh man its terrifying but he can’t help but smile when he hears the little baby noises his kid is making. He also shows them off like crazy. Smirking as he brags about them to anyone who would listen.

DOFP Logan -

Now just like trilogy logan he thinks you’re joking. His reaction is a little different. He’s hesitant to bring a child into the world but I think he’d be a little more open to it. He never dreamed about being a dad but shit it happened and well, he’s getting older and he doesn’t hate the idea lf raising a child with you. He jokes that the best case is your kid gets 99% of you and 1% of him. That 1% being his shining personality of course. A part of him hopes that your kid isn’t a mutant. He doesn’t know how the whole x gene thing works but keeping his kid out of this world is better even if things aren't as bad as he remembers.

He’s so protective when your kid is born. Oh my good luck to those doctors who try to get within 5 feet of his kid or you. He says he’s a new dad but his students would beg to differ. He’s got years of practice under his belt now. He holds them close and promises to be there for the rest of their fucking life. You don’t appreciate the swearing but still.

Old Man Logan -

I think he has the worst reaction of all of them. By worse I mean he just doesn’t react well. He’s not happy and celebrating as much as you wanted him to be. Realistically you knew it was going to be a tough announcement. I mean Logan isn’t built to be a dad and with Laura. He’s overwhelmed trying to make ends meet now. He’s not a good father. At least thats what he thinks. Laura would beg to differ. He has a temper and he’s drunk and gets mean but he she feels safe and protected by him. He saved her. You both did. Logan is terrified of this big change because things are fine so why add something that had the potential to disrupt everything? And man did your new baby disrupt everything. But not in a bad way. Logan is a fucking mess the whole time. He panics every other day about this and you tell him to knock it off because if anyone should be panicking it's you. To which he says fuck no that could hurt the baby (he read it in some parenting magazine he might have stole from a gas station). Theres a natural instinct to protect deep in him and when your baby is born his whole world just shatters. This small innocent little. thing. It’s his child. He has two kids. He has a family. I think he cries. Not when anyone can see or hear him. But he sheds a few tears. Wondering what he could have done to deserve this. If his sins have finally been repaid. His old grinch heart grew three sizes, just enough to fit you, Laura, and his new baby in there.

Worst Logan -

He reacts a lot like Old man logan. Fear that turns to anger. I wrote something like this but the idea of having his own child is fucking terrifying. He believes that he was never meant for the family life. Even with Laura, that was the other him. He and Laura get along but this is a whole other thing. This is a newborn baby. A child that he will look after and take care of for the rest of his life.

I think his instincts kick in and he runs. Not for long. He doesn’t actually go far. Just down stairs to Laura’s apartment. She chews him out for leaving you alone and threatens to stick her claws into him and drag him back upstairs. But she does understand. Just a little. Logan spills his insecurity and to his bewilderment she just agrees. “Yeah you are old and you are mean and you drink way too fucking much” she would tell him. But she tells him that hes an idiot to think he won’t be good for this. If he’s waiting for the day he’s the perfect father then he’s going to be waiting forever. Logan is far from perfect but deep down, he’s a good man. A man who has a second chance laid in front of him on a silver platter. So fucking take it.

The day his baby is born is when he just. It feels like everything clicks. Its funny really, watching him hold her for the first time. He keeps looking back at you to make sure he’s not doing anything wrong. She cries and Logan feels this gut punch. A horrible twisting just knowing his baby is upset. As you sleep he holds her. Whispering promises of being the man you both deserve.

[hungrymilliek]

Funny, extremely tenuously related story, but in Civilization V I think, there's a scenario where you can play through the American Civil War. The one time I can remember playing it, John Brown's actions shortened the war by five months, prevented (technically) the Battle of Gettysburg and Sherman's March to the Sea, and by happenstance made it so that Grant never played a prominent role.

Okay, here's what happened.

It's sometime around the start of 1863 and things have been roughly at a stalemate. Apart from the garrison at Fort Monroe taking, with naval help, Yorktown, there had been very little action, Union or Secesh.

So, being the Union commander and dyed-in-the-wool Yankee that I am, I figure, "Y'know what'd be a real shot in the arm for abolitionism and the north as a whole? If we captured Harpers Ferry. That'd really chap Johnny Reb's hide, former Virginia territory in Federal hands."

So I gathered together a small army, a few units of infantry and a couple units of cannon, and sent them off to West Virginia. On approach, Confederate garrison. Okay, not unexpected, I've got enough to keep them penned in while I wear them down.

Coming in from the southwest, more rebs. Ooookay, they must be sending reinforcements. I'd better bring in some reinforcements too.

It didn't dawn on me until well after I'd finished the game, but I blundered headlong into the Army of Northern Virginia on their way to invade Pennsylvania.

This thing basically settled down into a siege for the next like eighteen months, Union boys gradually grinding down the garrison until they could push the Confederates out of town.

While all this is going on, the Rebs launching attacks at fortified Federals (who eventually get enough troops together so that units can be rotated off the line), there are some naval battles in the James River, including the Monitor vs. Merrimack happening further inland and later than in real life.

By about mid-1864, with Lee tied up around Harpers Ferry and more Union ironclads in the water, it was time to make a move. Boys from Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, and Massachusetts sailed for Fort Monroe and the Virginia Peninsula.

McClellan had been too timid in real life. This Second Peninsula Campaign would fall to his one-time subordinate, Major General Joseph Hooker. Supported by ironclads acting as his artillery, he and his men made their way up the James, the ships shelling Richmond into submission by December.

I still like to imagine Hooker sending a telegram back to Washington after the capture:

Mr. President:

Have secured for you and the American people first rate Christmas present city of Richmond stop If needed prepared to march on to aid Gen Grant stop

Yours

Joseph Hooker Maj Gen Army of the Potomac

[songbirdseung]

𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑳𝑬  𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻  𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹  𝑾𝑨𝑺 It’s a very nice thing to have... love, that is.

The idea of spending the rest of your life with one person, someone you cherish, someone you vow to love, care for, and all that. It sounds poetic. Sweet. Like the kind of thing you read about in novels or see in movies where everything wraps up perfectly before the credits roll.

But for you, that wasn’t going to happen.

Now, as you stand in the backroom of a church, surrounded by people who love you, dressed in white and still holding a bouquet like you're waiting for a cue that will never come, you’re being told that your groom isn't going to marry you.

And suddenly, love feels like a cruel joke.

Because what do you mean... he just left? Just walked out without a word? After all the years together, the memories, the plans? The late nights dreaming about your shared future? What do you mean you won't be walking down the aisle, led by your father to the man who once promised to love you for the rest of his life?

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t feel real.

You couldn’t even cry. You were too stunned to feel anything properly, just a cold, numbing kind of denial sinking deeper and deeper into your skin.

He called you last night. Said he loved you. Told you he couldn’t wait to see you in your dress, to grow old with you, to bicker over what to name your third cat when you were both in your eighties. He told you he was ready. So why now? Why this morning? Why wait until the violins were tuned, until the guests had taken their seats, until you were already in the damn dress?

Was he just nervous? Did he get cold feet? Did something happen? Or was it all a lie? every word, every kiss, every “forever” he whispered into your neck when you couldn’t sleep?

You don’t remember how you ended up in the park. Still in your wedding dress. Heels off, bouquet discarded somewhere behind you on a bench.

People walk by, confused or sympathetic. Some offer awkward one-liners “Hang in there,” or “You’re too beautiful for him anyway” and then they keep moving, like their words could fix something shattered.

But you barely hear them. All you can hear are the voices in your head, his voice, your own thoughts, the echo of your name being called in a ceremony that never happened.

And then someone sits beside you.

Jake. One of the groomsmen. His jacket is wrinkled, his tie loosened, hair slightly disheveled like he ran here.

He opens his mouth, starts to speak, then immediately stops and winces. “Are you o—wait, of course you’re not, Jake. Are you dumb?” he mutters to himself.

It almost makes you laugh. Almost.

You glance at him. He looks at you like he’s holding your pain for you. Like he’s trying to shoulder some part of it even though it’s too heavy for anyone.

“I don’t know why he did it, Y/N,” he says softly. “I wish I knew.”

You stare ahead, at nothing in particular. “Did you see him? When he left?”

Jake hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. He was... quiet. Like really quiet. Pale, almost shaking. He didn’t say much. Just looked at me and said, ‘Tell her I’m sorry.’ Then he got in a car. I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “He couldn’t even say it to my face.”

Jake doesn’t reply. There’s nothing to say.

The breeze picks up slightly, rustling the layers of your dress. It feels ridiculous now. Like a costume.

You laugh, finally. Not a happy one. Not even angry. Just empty. “I think I hate him.”

Jake lets out a breath. “You’re allowed to.”

You nod, eyes stinging again. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Jake reaches out, resting his hand gently over yours. “You sit here. You breathe. And when you’re ready… we figure it out together.”

You look down at your hand under his, then up at him. There's no romance in his touch, no hidden motive. Just warmth. Just presence. The thing you needed most.

And for the first time all day, you let yourself lean into someone, just a little.

You didn’t go home that night.

Not to the apartment that still had his toothbrush in the cup beside yours. Not to the fridge filled with champagne for a celebration that never happened. Instead, you let Jake drive you somewhere quiet. A friend’s spare room. Blank walls, neutral colors. Safe.

He stayed with you. Sat on the floor while you sat on the bed, saying nothing. He didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. He just stayed—until you finally lay down and stared at the ceiling in your wedding dress, too drained to undress, too hollow to cry.

The days after were a blur. Texts poured in. Friends, family, people you hadn’t heard from in months. Most of them said the same things: He’s an idiot. You didn’t deserve that. You’re strong. Time heals.

Jake texted too. But differently.

"Eaten anything yet?" "Want me to drive you somewhere just to scream into the wind?" "You don’t have to answer. Just here when you’re ready."

You didn’t know what he was doing, or why he even cared this much. He wasn’t your closest friend before all this. Just a groomsman. One of his college buddies who became part of your orbit. But now, with the groom gone, Jake stayed. Everyone else eventually backed off. He didn’t.

And maybe it was the stillness he brought. Or the way he never made you feel like you were a burden.

Two weeks passed before you finally said yes to a walk.

“I feel like a ghost,” you muttered as you passed the playground you once joked about taking your future kids to.

Jake looked at you, hands deep in his coat pockets. “You’re not a ghost.”

You shrugged. “I feel like one. Like I died that day, and this version of me just doesn’t know where to go.”

He didn’t argue. Just said, “Then maybe you’re haunting the wrong places.”

That made you stop walking.

You looked at him. Really looked.

“What?”

Jake glanced back at you, stepping closer. “You keep walking the same mental roads that lead back to him. The church. The memories. The what-ifs. Maybe you’re stuck because you think you’re supposed to mourn the life you didn’t get.”

You hated how that made sense. Hated how it sat right in your chest like it belonged there.

“So what, I just move on?” you asked. “Pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No,” he said gently. “You remember. You hurt. But you also remind yourself that he didn’t take the best version of you with him.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. Your silence was answer enough.

The healing wasn’t instant. There were days you texted Jake just to cry into the phone. Nights you lay awake wondering if he’d call. Mornings where the weight didn’t crush you quite as hard.

And somewhere in all that space between the ache and the quiet, Jake’s presence became something more than comfort.

It started with laughter. Then long talks in parked cars. Then moments where your hands brushed and neither of you pulled away.

But he never rushed you.

And you never rushed to name it.

Because this, whatever it was wasn’t built on the ruins of something broken.

[omgfangirlland]

I random Idea suddenly appeared in my head (I was about to sleep but this is more important). Originally I had two Ideas but I thought.. Why not combine them? My first idea was a neglected reader who can see ghost.. Like, one day she just developed this abilities. Imagine how it would go if Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne were still in the mansion and looking after the batfam. They can see how Bruce Wayne is threatening his daughter and stuff.

The second Idea was a more realistic neglected reader where she's really neglected and I don't mean birthday is being forgotten or what not.. I mean real neglect where she had to work for money and her own food.. Where she has to learn how to cook for herself and learn how to do things at the very young age. I want to see her actual struggle for survival where there are times she barely makes money so she had to go hungry for some days.. Sometimes she resorts to stealing foods just to eat.

I wanted to combine these two but I'm too sleepy to continue two peace out ✌👉

-🔱

The sudden burst of creativity right as you get in bed is such a serious problem- like pls- I had like 10-12 hours where I could have done all of that- why at 3am?😭😭

When I first read this, it was way so late, and I was like "cooking her own food and working isn't neglect-" and then I realized I am in fact poor, and due to the necessity of my parents needing me to be somewhat independent my view of that point is skewed- also the reader is going to be quite young at the start of being in the family so really, a five or 10 year old shouldn't be operating the stove without supervision or finding jobs to pay for necessities-

Reader is the oldest sibling(I love the forgotten oldest daughter trope) in this for various reasons(angst) and I am so keeping ghost!Thomas and Martha btw-

CW - postpartum mental breakdown/psychosis turned into attempted infanticide via drowning, miscarriage/suicide/drugs mentioned.

My thoughts on how this MC came into Bruce's care come down to three options: Bruce and her mom were actually lovers and married, but after Reader's birth mama either left, had a postpartum breakdown, and is now rotting in Arkham, or she died. I personally prefer the Arkham route, but dying during childbirth is also quite angst filling. (Let's all ignore how I keep fridging Reader's mom, pls)

----

Martha and Thomas were by your mother's side as soon as she walked in with you in her arms, Martha almost crying at the sight of your scrunched up face, still wrinkly and flushed. They were both so happy when Bruce found love, both were so sure he'd die alone in some alley, and when the news of the pregnancy came, they were right there, celebrating with their son as if they were still alive.

But Bruce got busy, too busy with both Wayne Enterprises and being Batman. And while your mom had her friend and Alfred, she needed the reassurance of her husband. Martha was the first to notice the cracks.

They both noticed how you'd look at them as if they were right there, so they'd interact with you. Playing with you, making sure you wouldn't bump into anything when you started crawling five months later- but while Thomas would teasingly crawl after you, Martha couldn't help but keep close to her son's wife.

She tried her best to soothe her, trying to give her some warmth from beyond the veil. She knew what was happening- well... to some degree. Martha, too, went through post-partum depression, however, hers stemmed from losing Bruce's unborn brother. Martha hoped to be there for her daughter-in-law before she tried something she'd regret- The dead woman thought your mom would put herself at risk, try to take herself out. She feels guilty that she hadn't seen it earlier.

Your mom would sometimes stare at you for hours, and while it worried Alfred, he brushed it off as the woman simply admiring the bundle of joy she created. He, like Bruce, had other things to attend to. He was sure everything was fine, your mother simply loved you too much.

None of the living expected what happened, mainly because of their own willingness to ignore the clear changes, but Martha and Thomas did. They stuck around even after nightfall, so when at three in the morning your mom walked in and took you out of your cradle, they were hot on her trail.

Obsessive thoughts about your baby, paranoia, sleep problems, hallucinations, and delusions were all symptoms of postpartum psychosis, easily confused with the similar symptoms of postpartum depression.

It'll be easy that everything went to shit quickly- but it didn't. Martha and Thomas watched with pure confusion as your mom filled the bathtub, the thought that she may harm you not even crossing their mind as she held you close, swaying side to side while humming some lullaby. It was a slow build, but when she did submerge your head under the water and firmly held you there, it sure felt like a hundred years passed right through Martha.

She doesn't know how she did it, but Martha was screaming her lungs out as she and her husband pushed the woman away, making her slump against the opposite wall, but neither could pull the plug out, leaving you fighting to keep your head above the water.

Alfred ran as soon as he heard the yelling, a chill passing through him for a moment as he thinks it sounds way too familiar, and your wailing, pausing just for a second to look at your mom, shaking in the corner as she mutters to herself, before he had you in a tower in his arms. Both of the dead Waynes dropped next to the bathtub, clutching at their unbeating hearts and shaking

Bruce is left depressed, traumatized, and with a baby who keeps crying. This wasn't how it was supposed to go in his mind. They were supposed to be happy, the it couple with a sassy baby to boot, they were supposed to grow old, he was supposed to hand over the Batman mantle to you.

Now the responsibility of caring for you fell on Alfred, Bruce being unable to care for himself, let alone a baby he couldn't look at without bursting into tears. And Alfred did his best... for maybe three years.

As soon as you started walking on your own, Alfred started pulling away, redirecting his attention to his usual work. By the time you were three years old, you barely knew of the existence of Bruce. Not because you actually saw the man, but because his parents tried to tell you about him.

You were a quiet toddler, mainly due to learning that if you cried, only Martha and Thomas would show up, and they really couldn't do much. Hell, they barely taught you to speak, but oh, did they love to hear your little transatlantic accent in the few sentences you could make.

They were indulging themselves, really, especially when you'd call the mama and papa- "No, MArtha! I'm not crying, you are, my dear-" They both were tearing up the first time it happened. They were indulging themselves with you, because if their focus wasn't on you, it would be on Bruce, and both were so disappointed in him.

They tried at first, exhausted themselves trying over and over again to nudge their boy towards his daughter- typing on his laptop, writing in the mirror, leaving her toys where he'll find them- nothing worked.

So they redirected their attention to your education- they were terrible at it, but Alfred sure as hell didn't seem to care- so they did their best. You could read perfectly, however, your writing isn't the best, and your speech was stuttered most of the time as you preferred to be mute. There really wasn't anyone to force you to speak, your father's parents unable to get much out of you, especially if they pushed. Teaching you sign language was the best course of action.

For the early part of your life, Alfred still cooked enough to leave leftovers for you to munch on, but sometime along the way, he stopped. Martha and Thomas were stumped. They were raised with buffets and golden spoons glistening in foods they didn't even think about how they were being made.

There was also the problem of you being too short to reach the stove top. Your newfound diet consisted of toast, sandwiches, salads, and the occasional baked potatoes and meat. As you grew older, you got better at cooking, mainly due to sneakingly searching the internet and quickly writing down recipes.

Sadly, the problems keep piling up. The more you grew, the more you needed new clothes, new shoes, sanitary stuff from pads to toothpaste- Bruce couldn't be bothered to be a presence in your life, so you tried to talk to Alfred. With no avail. The old butler was simply too busy, moving past you with more speed than you could keep up with. But you needed money, so despite Martha's protest and Thomas's worry, you went outside the manor.

At first, you did meager jobs that people gave you out of pity. Washing that, trimming the lawn, throwing away this, helping the old lady with carrying bags. It didn't pay well, honestly, it was mostly trading, some clothes or food for a bit of help. Until a goon of the Penguin stopped you.

You weren't stupid. You knew the package was drugs, but the amount he was willing to pay was simply too much to refuse. You guessed that was the perk of the public thinking you were dead, no fear of being kidnapped for ransom.

You became a familiar face among them, and while most were ticked off by a kid being involved, there were a few who threw in a few extra bucks. Martha and Thomas hated it. But you started having clothes that fit, food that wasn't burned, and even had a few extra to buy yourself treats, so they held their lips shut. You usually just put the extra money away.

By the time you turned thirteen, you just wrote Bruce off as a man incapable of love. But then Richard "Dick" Grayson came along. And then Jason. And Tim. Despite Martha and Thomas trying to tell you that it wasn't you, that they loved you- Bruce was just-... They couldn't justify it.

The more time passed, the more you thought those two were hallucinations your mind made up to stop you from going insane. You stopped talking to them. You stopped even acknowledging them. By the time Tim fully settled in, you had left.

There was nothing for you there, you took care of yourself for so long, you didn't need Alfred or Bruce- no matter how much you cried at night, wishing for an ounce of the attention they give the boys- and threw yourself into the crime world. There wasn't anything else you could do. You had no school, could barely write, let alone speak- but you were a good mule, and if someone picked you up and decided to train you to be a weapon, you were fine with that.

When John Constantine first set foot in Wayne Manor, the first thing he saw was the bat's dead parents glaring at him. He expected a lot of things when Bruce called him in need of help, angry grandparents who were worried for a runaway granddaughter, who had been missing for years, and that Bruce forgot even existed, wasn't one of them.

----

This took quite a lot of hours to write- kinda rushed towards the end.

Other thoughts:

If Reader did get picked up by a rogue, it'll be funny for them to be either Uncle Two-Face or Slade... It'll even be funny if it were Talia or Ra's after Jason left.

I strongly believe the Reader wasn't even sent to kindergarten.

I also think Martha and Thomas may have lied and told the MC that her mom is dead instead of institutionalized.

If there is supernatural shit, trust, John Constantine will make an appearance.

It'll ALSO be funny if Reader came to terms with her being able to see the undead, so she also becomes a mage/hunter on the side, kinda like the Winchesters. So when John finally connects the dots, he's just like- "Oh. Oh no. We have a bigger problem here."

Dick at first thought Batsis was a helper. So did the others until they were corrected by Alfred. Nobody cared to ask for further info, except for maybe Jason, who asked once why she isn't eating with the family, and it made Alfred pause for so long that Jay just assumed she's mean.

[3liza]

the shoe brand Ellie, who makes stripper and costume shoes primarily, has a really good victorian shoe last and a good heel shape, but they dont manufacture any of these in real leather. which is such a bummer because this is a terible boot to buy in plastic because of both the sweatiness factor and the cracking that will happen so fast around the ankle joint. it sucks because the only other brands using a similar last are American Duchess and Oak tree Farms, both of which are using real leather but are charging commensurate prices. and their pices are completely fair so im not complaining. but i emailed American Duchess once to ask about their ankle measurements and they've made them modern-sized and all their shoes are going to be too big on my ankles .

i really hate this change in shoes manufacturing, the ankle thing, because when a laced boot is too SMALL for someone's ankle they can just unlace it more! shoes used to be designed with wide tongues spcifically to allow for everyone's ankles to both fit into the boot, and to be laced snugly to get ankle support.

but now when it's too big there;s nothing you can do without altering the shoe itself or ading bulky clothing to pad it out, which again i dont want to do because the slender ankles is an important part of the silhouette of the boot. the size issue is really only a problem for boots that dont have laces, but they just use the same last for everything so now we only have boots designed to be slipped on whether they have laces or not, and unless youre buying expensive specialty workboots, you're not getting any ankle support from any shoe unless you happen to be within the "largest potential customer ankle" end of the manufacturing spectrum

edit: someone got me a very good priced Oak Tree pair of boots from my wishlist so i will be able to see how their ankle support is! thank you!!

[misskingshit]

Only bought this dress so u can take it off

summary: After winning for best pop album, the words slipped from your mouth (inspired in the ICONIC moment nicki minaj x michael b jordan)

note: I could write billions of fics for Em, so ask me and shall recive. remember english is not my first lenguage so sorry for any mistakes. xoxo

The amount of shouts and congratulations you heard from the audience as your name was mentioned, along with the best words you've ever heard in your entire life: "Best pop album of the year." Your steps were shaky, which, in heels that seemed to be 12 inches, also became dangerous. Your heart was about to jump out of your chest. "I really don't know what to say," you laughed. "I am eternally grateful to absolutely all the hard workers who helped make this album possible, and of course, to every single person who supported me and made it possible for me to be here tonight." Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn't help it. "This is from all of you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much." Again, applause and shouts were heard, all the famous people clapping and celebrating with you. Including him. damn You didn't think very carefully about the next thing that came out of your mouth. "Shotout for Donatella because Costum made this dress for me." You ran your hand over her tight, translucent, electric blue dress. "And shotout for Eminem, who's going to be taking it off me tonight." If the crowd's screams had been thunderous before, now they were something else. Em couldn't believe what you had said, not because he was upset (quite the opposite). He had even gotten a little embarrassed, a small smile appearing and him turning his face to the side, trying to hide it. While you continued smiling, the crowd calmed their applause and shouts, but not for long. "I don't know if I'll be able to hold it until this is over," Em yelled, and then everything exploded. All the celebrities were laughing, clapping, some of them fist-bumping Em. Your face was almost red.

You glanced at Em, who was now leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. The guy was never one to shy away from a challenge, but this? This was a whole new level.

Your hands shook slightly as you held the trophy in your grasp, but somehow, it felt lighter now, like all the weight of the night had somehow shifted from your shoulders to the stage floor, to the crowd's roaring approval.

"I guess we all know what happens next," you said, half-joking, half-serious. "But for real, this moment is bigger than anything I could've ever imagined. Thank you all again. This is... wild."

Another round of applause. The crowd was eating it up, and you knew, deep down, you'd never live this down. But hey, if you could survive this, you could survive anything.

You shot one more glance at Em, who was now laughing along with the chaos, and gave him a wink. "Hope you're ready, Slim," you said, the playful tension still hanging in the air like an electric current.

The night had been a whirlwind, and as you made your way backstage, the buzz of the ceremony still echoed in your ears. Your trophy felt like it was burning a hole in your hand, and your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, but the moment you were really waiting for was just ahead.

You caught a glimpse of Em through the crowd. He was leaning against a pillar, looking annoyingly calm despite everything that had just happened. His eyes met yours, and for a split second, the chaos of the night seemed to fade away. He raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin you couldn't hide betrayed you. “What now, Em?” you teased, taking a step toward him.

“Just admiring my favorite troublemaker,” he said, voice low and smooth, like he knew exactly what to say to get under your skin. “You did great tonight... but I gotta admit, the after-party’s not really my thing. Too many people pretending to care.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I noticed you duck out early. Was it the free champagne or the drama you couldn’t handle?”

He stepped closer, almost too close. "Definitely the drama," he muttered, his eyes scanning the room like he was waiting for someone to notice you two. "But the real fun? I’m thinking it’s probably with you."

You could feel the heat rising in your chest as you stared at him, unsure whether you wanted to laugh or throw something at him. You couldn’t deny the way his words made you feel. That damn swagger of his, the way he could always make things feel more interesting.

Before you could think of a retort, the door opened, and the flash of cameras flooded the hallway. The press was still on you, still hungry for every tidbit they could squeeze from the night.

"Em! Where are you two headed?" one of the reporters shouted, snapping a picture. “What are you two going to do next?”

Em didn’t even blink. He tilted his head toward you, that playful grin never leaving his face. He had the kind of presence that made the room feel smaller, the spotlight shining only on him—and you.

He smirked, leaning in just a little too close, then threw a glance toward the cameras. "Where are we going? Well, that’s a little personal, don’t you think?" He let out a mock sigh, looking at you like he was both amused and intrigued. "But I guess if you really want to know… I’m taking her to my place, and we’ve got some... private business to take care of."

The room fell silent for a moment, the reporters processing his words, but Em’s confident swagger didn’t falter. He turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “Hope you’re up for a little... fun,” he added, his voice low, teasing, like he was daring you to bite.

You laughed—more out of nerves than anything else—then shrugged, matching his energy. “Guess I’ve got nothing to lose,” you said, shooting him a wink.

The reporters erupted into a flurry of questions, but you barely heard them. You were already stepping past them, the weight of their stares falling behind you. The moment you and Em slipped into the back of the car, the world outside felt like it was just a distant echo.

You leaned back in your seat, still catching your breath. "Well, that was a lot more attention than I expected," you muttered, still processing everything that had just happened.

Em chuckled, his eyes flicking to you as the car pulled away. "You sure you’re ready for this, or should I drop you back at the party?" he teased, clearly enjoying the aftermath.

You turned your head to look at him, a little more serious now, but that same spark still lingered between you two. “I think I’m good with you, Em.”

And as the car rolled down the street, you had no idea what the night would bring, but something told you it was going to be a lot more unpredictable than you expected.

[faceofpoe]

On the highly contentious unraveling of Cassian Andor (and how season 2 is at its heart about his relationship with Luthen).

(This has nothing to do with justifying or not fuck-all about Rogue One Cassian beyond getting him to that beach, I'm an Andor girlie just working my head around what we've built and where it's going in the context of the show).

I had a lot of issues with arc 1, and some of those issues (like ducking around pillars at a wedding to have the hey we're gonna have to murder that guy talk or, why is Kleya even here?) are not going to go away BUT as someone whose brain wasn't exploded by season 1 until seeing the full big picture come together (Rix Road, beloved), I promised myself a full season rewatch to try to recalibrate.

I haven't rewatched yet, but let's have a 75% recalibration now that arcs 2 and 3 have led us where they have to much fandom furor, and mulling how we bring this whole thing together.

Which brings me back to: this season is at its heart about Cassian's relationship with Luthen, and his acceptance at the end of season 1 that Luthen was right, he's going to die fighting the Empire - so either kill me right now, or put me to good use fighting these bastards for real.

Season 2 came to us with a gigantic ask: engage with the negative space. We have to imagine how Cassian went from big wet bambi eyes above to Mr Earnest-Reassuring-Come-Into-The-Circle with Niya. Mr Empire's-Most-Wanted is sneaking into top secret facilities and doing it with confidence and -

Shit goes instantly sideways. This isn't even the right ship, did anybody know that?? (they didn't, obviously they didn't, they don't know what's gone wrong, and this is really important I think about the fallout of this arc). Cassian's off having a terrible time while Luthen and Kleya are spying and drinking on Chandrila and he doesn't check in and this isn't normal.

It's been a year+ since season 1. Partagaz tells Dedra she's been on the Axis hunt for "almost two years" I believe so presumably we've jumped decently down the calendar year for the 4bby arc.

I have a lot of feels on how Cassian's arc one story should have had more time to breathe, to make the losses punch harder at the end by showing him leaving home, etc, but perhaps that is also the point -

He's good at this; he's accepted his pact with Luthen, one day he'll die fighting - but they're tucked away safe. Brasso's looking out for everyone, Brasso who he tasked with looking out for Maarva if he could. We're meeting him on the high point of thinking he can have it both ways and... perhaps not fearing what happens back home, if this mission or that is the one from which he doesn't return. They'll pull through. This is perhaps his era of: the Cause comes first; we take what's left. And he's balancing it, or thinks he is anyway.

Dashing off home and having found that unraveled while he was having The Worst time on Yavin - captured by, theoretically, allies -

The balance is upended, and cue crisis of faith. Not in the Cause per se, but in Luthen. He gave his own life up to Luthen but now the situation has changed on multiple levels. He's rattled by the failure on Kleya & Luthen's end on Sienar, doesn't have Brasso, doesn't have this illusion of safety on Mina-Rau, Bix and Wilmon both get involved, but Cassian isn't handling it well. There's no "take what's left" when she's right there in the line of fire too. Bix questions his decisions in the field, Luthen... his exchange with Kleya in 2.6 is telling.

"This isn't the piece we need."

"We knew that already."

"I thought seeing it in person would make a difference."

Cassian is not the operative he was where we met him with Niya. Sending him to Ghorman is something of a confirmation of something they've clearly been realizing/discussing. Luthen going to check on Bix/put her to work/whatever was the deal there - this seems very much Not The Norm by her reaction, they don't have a lot of face-to-face contact I would guess - he's doing his own assessment of just what is the situation here. (In the most dickish way possible of course, my problematic beloved.)

Cassian's at this complicated intersection of having lost this comfortable place where he can risk and trust his family's safety. Luthen and Kleya are having their own meltdown over how chaotic their operation has become. Cassian... is probably thinking about that bad intel for Sienar and wondering when the next catastrophic fuck-up that isn't his fault is going to cost something else while Bix is over here being the far better adjusted one about just what war looks like and how unreasonable his mentality about her presence. And I'm really curious if we're meant to read in the sudden appearance of "I have friends everywhere" that this was an effort to avoid another experience like the Maya Pei Brigade.

And then Luthen asks him to see about stoking the flames on Ghorman. (I'm still trying to decide how I feel about the sort of 'having it both ways' aspect of Ghorman and provocation and 'it never mattered anyway the ending was already written.')

And Cassian says: "I'll sit this one out." He doesn't take the order, he decides he wants no part in it. And that is where the final fracture in kill me or take me in finally happens.

He doesn't trust the vision anymore. Doesn't trust that the inevitable tragedy will be worth something in the end. Is this fighting these bastards for real? And is starting, perhaps, to wonder if it was worth it at all, to walk back off that ship to Gangi Moon.

And somewhere in the next year, Cassian starts to come to terms apparently with the fact that he doesn't trust Luthen with his life anymore. But he's not quite all-in with Yavin and Draven either. He's maybe still grappling with the acceptance, or inevitability, or not, that the fight will claim his life in the end - and he's lost his faith in Luthen spending it well. Sometime in this time gap after arguing over Ghorman, the fallout with Cinta, getting shot and struggling with recovery... it unsettles him into retreating, ducking Luthen's calls, until Wilmon turns up with compelling incentive.

[insert Force-ex-machina plot here to heighten his internal struggle]

And at the root of their conversation before the Mon extraction is basically Cassian refusing the assertion from 1.4 - this end is not already written. His own decisions matter. Arcs 1 and 2 only validated his teenage understanding that rebellion is pointless and all they'll do is fight themselves one way or another and, Ghorman has validated his plea with Maarva that she can't beat them. People stand up, they die.

And he has a very similar sort of conversation with Luthen as he had with Maarva and gets much the same response. Still work to be done. Luthen doesn't ask Cassian to stay, but he gives him the "I can't go." They're done. Cassian's done.

[I have quarantined the unfolding of the Bix departure in my brain, Bix's story is now Tether, sorry, I hate it so much, and it could have very much worked without the Force healer Force-ex-machina of it and probably with different timing, anyway]

Anyway Bix pulls the "if you leave, it won't be for me."

So we the audience know of course that Cassian is going to stay. Ironically, perhaps, in a far less make-my-own-decisions friendly capacity within the military hierarchy than he ever was with Luthen. And it will be interesting to see how we meet him at the opening of arc 4. He's presumably got Wilmon and Vel and Melshi and K2SO. He's finally seen the Rebellion pull together; Bix ripped away his fantasy (and it is a fantasy, he knows it's a fantasy because it's played out already on Ferrix and Niamos and Mina-Rau) that there's somewhere safe they could get away from it all.

Will he trust Draven & co to spend his life for good again? Or perhaps he simply can't bring himself to care so much either way after all of the turmoil surrounding Ghorman and the fallout and Bix. Orders are orders and good soldiers follow orders and here he is now, slapped into a uniform with a rank on his chest (idk if he ever actually wears the uniform with rank insignia between all the amazing coats in R1 but you get me) and he'll play the part because what else is there?

But Luthen is still out there, against just about every prediction for how this season would unfold. Luthen is the one puzzling over Ghorman and Dedra, demanding the endgame. Luthen isn't finished.

And I guess the question is, since we know how this ends - what is the force the propels Cassian along to Kafrene to kick off the final mission?

Just a soldier following orders?

Or are we going to wrap this back around to that s1 claim and that pact and the extension of broken trust and give Luthen something of a chance to earn it back (possibly posthumously), in sending Cassian along to the meaningful death he promised?