#displaced shopping cart

[wifetomegatron]

i have this little worm in my brain that's obsessed with the idea of putting cybertronians in normal, everyday scenarios. to pluck these blocky, stiff characters and drop them into a landscape so smooth, so gentle, that they stand out like a sore thumb. a shadow across a monet painting : from far away nothing looks out of place, but the closer you look, the more you realise that this is absurd.

and yet i love first contact aus, where earth has established a semi-stable understanding with cybertron that assimilation has gone as far as mechs being able to roam around the streets and go unnoticed by the crowd of humans. that they can sit and dine in restaurants with their human partners or friends, nursing a glass of energon, while they catch up on each other's lives. where mass displacement and gravity adjusting machines are accessible so these bots don't destroy or ruin everything they touch in this little blue planet and instead learn how to adapt to it. to not only live but to live together : 

fortress maximus having breakfast with you in your shared apartment.

swerve shaking up drinks for human patrons at his bar.

rodimus walking his date down the street of their home.

ratchet and drift going through the christmas market. skids helping you with your jewellery by the vanity table. velocity pushing the cart while you shop for groceries.

it's ridiculous and makes little sense but it is also wishful thinking. and most of my thoughts consist of mourning the painfully tender slice of normalcy humans could have given these giant war-raging bots if given the chance.

how we can finally find a way to fit the sharp and unyielding edges of their armors against the curve of our open palms. so they can learn how to be finally grounded to the soil and not drift against the nothingness of space. word barf but i'm going insane.

give me the domestic bliss i deserve with my sixty foot tall alien husband or i will explode like confetti.

[thelampisaflashlight]

My HC brain is whirring today...

So assuming that the Ministry is pretty self-sufficient to a degree, it would make sense that they have livestock. Suppose that Mountain cares for the livestock as well as the orchards and gardens.

So every so often he has to go into town to buy feed. Most of the time the Ministry does orders for delivery, but sometimes it just doesn't happen and Mountain has to go pick it up. So he takes the beat up truck and goes into town to load up on corn and oats and other livestock specific feed. He often forgets how strong he is compared to humans or even other ghouls. So, he is always confused as to why the workers at the feed store stare at him wide eyed when he refuses help loading up and just hoists two 50lb bags of feed onto each shoulder without thinking much of it and just walks back to the truck as casual as you please.

I've seen some strong af folks walk into the barn and carry out that much and it is always like, "HOW" but also, "...Could you carry me like that?"

I max out at 75lbs. on one shoulder, albeit I have also done it with 50lbs. on one and 25lbs. but 100lbs. on both shoulders would probably result in me getting squished.

Mountain would be the customer we have to tell to use the carts because the other dudes in the shop feel like they have to do that now.

Like, "Holy shit, don't do that-"

Although, I could also see Mountain being the customer who works out the logistics of having to use a hand truck and going, "The handle for those ones are all the way down there, and I am all the way up here, so it'll hurt my back more to use this." versus, "It's only this many bags, and using the dolly would look/feel awkward because of the weight displacement and how few there are..."

He'd probably at least put the carts back in the right spot, ya know, instead of leaving them in the back lot...

Or by the side of the building...

Or in the parking lot...

Or right outside the door, thus blocking the exit...

I also feel like he'd be the customer that taste tests the hay.

The amount of people who do that... is not zero.

In fact, I think I have witnessed at least one person do so.

Mountain would eat an entire handful though.

[thebawdybaldurian]

Halsummer Day 1

Halsin enjoying Midsummer

It’s the start of Halsummer! A week of SFW prompts for our favorite Druid. I’ll be adding a NSFW version later tonight or tomorrow, but enjoyed keeping things a little tame. I even included a cameo of a character from a popular DnD show I’ve been wanting to write! This is a pretty Tav-focused story, but several of the other prompts will be more from Halsin’s perspective.

Background: Tav, Astarion, and Halsin are married and have two young twins. The trio has just purchased the home next door, now that they need more space than Tav’s small cottage can accommodate. They sold Astarion’s tailor shop to help pay for it, and he plans to reopen in the front of the house. Cazador’s former palace has been turned into a refuge for displaced tieflings.

Tav awoke from her trance hearing a loud, repetitive clunk that drove her out of bed. “What in the Hells is that?” She searched the cottage, finding it suspiciously empty. “Where is everyone?” She called aloud, expecting an answer. She heard giggling outside and grabbed a cloak to cover her thin chemise. The clunk was louder once she opened the front door and she skirted around the cottage to look for the source. She found Halsin in the wide alley between her cottage and the neighbor’s house, which they’d just bought to accommodate their growing household. The twins sat safely near the side of the house, playing with some toys as Halsin drove a pickaxe into the cobblestone. “What are you doing?” She yawned, shielding her eyes from the bright summer sunlight.

“Getting the new garden started,” he smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“We haven’t even gotten the permits to tear up the alley yet,” she grinned, giving the kids a good morning kiss on the head.

“If some city bureaucrat wishes to come haul me down to the jail, they can certainly try,” he set down his axe to receive his own good morning kiss.

“We already drove one neighbor away from all the…noise,” she blushed as he gripped her buttocks tightly. “Not everyone can be swayed by your rippling physique and we can’t afford to buy the whole neighborhood…Good morning, by the way,” she smiled as he released her from his tight grasp.

“Good morning, my heart.”

“Were you up when Astarion left?”

“I was. He wanted to get a head start on his last minute orders since he’s closing at High Sun.”

“And yet he still hasn’t finished our Midsummer outfits yet,” she smirked, stepping back as he began breaking up stones again.

“You know how fussy he is about getting them perfect.”

“I know too well…so I’m assuming you already have a whole plan in mind for this garden?”

“I have a cart full of rich soil coming from the grove, so once I get all these stones up and dig out enough of this city dirt, I can start planting in the fall before the ground freezes. There will be thick hedges on either side so no one can just walk through and we can have…private time out here. There will be aromatic and medicinal herbs in vertical gardens to save space. I’m hoping to create a dark, damp corner to start some mycology growth, but I don’t know how they will fair in the city. Plants and flowers everywhere else,” he replied, looking over all the work to do.

“Quite ambitious for a man pushing 400,” she grinned widely.

“You make me feel no older than 200,” he growled at her.

“Just make sure to save some energy for tonight’s festivities,” she winked and headed back into the house.

Tav was performing at her first large festival since having the twins and was a little nervous. She’d been preparing for her performance for weeks, but still felt out of practice. She bathed and put on some loose clothing to do some intense stretching, practicing some of her tumbling as well now that they had more space. She brought out some iced honey tea for Halsin as he continued his work in the sun and took the kids in for a nap. She’d just begun precisely tuning her lyre when Astarion arrived home.

He was already dressed for the holiday, wearing a very short, leg-less garment adorned in flowers. It was bare in the back, showing off his now flawless, pale skin. He’d been dressing more freely since being transformed by Syma’s Wish spell. “That’s it then…last day in my old shop,” he went to the icebox to grab his own glass of honey tea.

“You certainly dressed for the occasion,” she teased, his backside peeking out as he bent into the fridge. “You really wore that all day? Bending over in it?”

“Of course,” he grinned, doing a little twirl. “I wasn’t doing any measurements and I sold ten copies of these before even getting to my shop. Once we get the new one open here, I might have to hire an assistant.”

“From dictating laws to dictating fashion trends…quite the turn for a forty-year old,” she beamed, giving him a long kiss.

“I had a lot of help,” he nuzzled against her. “I’ve never been happier.”

They kissed passionately, leaning against the kitchen table until they were interrupted by a stranger knocking on the window. “Take it outside, ha ha!” He laughed drunkenly, clearly already getting a head start on the festivities. He ambled away after taking a swig from a flask.

“So if the shop is officially closed, does that mean you’ve finally finished my costume for tonight? I’d like to make sure I don’t need to change up my set in any way,” she asked, closing the curtains.

“Oh, it’s been done for days. I just like making you wait,” he lied, having finished up the last finnicky bit before he’d gone to the shop.

They left the cottage and found Halsin stowing his tools for the day, needing to drop the kids at the Emerald Enclave, so Zevlor could watch them for the night. “We don’t have permits yet,” Astarion also teased, looking over the torn-up alley. “Though if any city inspectors see you looking like this…they might give us a break,” He gave Halsin a kiss.

Halsin let out a laugh and wiped his brow again. His tanned skin glistened with sweat, small spots of dirt smeared across his bare torso. He’d pulled his long hair until a messy knot, looking the very picture of a romance novel hero. “If it were me, I’d let him plant gardens across the entire city,” Tav stood on her toes to steal a kiss from him. “And whatever he wanted to put in me.”

“Save it for tonight, my heart,” Halsin growled playfully, gripping her tightly against him. “They are letting the maidens loose in the park to be hunted…what will they be doing with the overly amorous wives?”

“I’m sure we can think of something creative,” she purred back at him. “Speaking of…you’ve distracted me from trying on my costume. I am sure Astarion will have a few more adjustments to make.”

“Can you get the little ones up and fed lunch while I bathe? I want to get them over to the Enclave before the frivolities start spilling out into the streets.”

“Of course, my love,” she gave him one last peck on the cheek.

She followed Astarion to the front side of the house, which was still in the process of being converted into his new shop front. Piles of ready to wear garments sat stacked on tables, with various bits from the old shop scattered around. “I’ll take care of the kids,” he offered as they walked inside. “Why don’t you go try on what I left on the dress form?”

“Alright,” she nodded, heading to the small room that would serve as his sewing area.

Astarion went to the children’s bedroom, finding Ava already awake and sitting on the floor drawing. “You’re already up?” He knelt down to kiss his daughter’s head. “Did you get enough sun this morning?”

“Ya…want to dwaw so I woke up,” she replied, staring at the paper with the same intense focus as Tav did.

“You get your energy from the sun, darling, but you still need to sleep,” he mussed her long curls. “Stubborn just like your mother,” he laughed quietly.

They were so very similar that he sometimes forgot that his daughter was a dhamphir, conceived before he had been cured of his vampirism. They could only suspect her unusual thirst for sunlight instead of blood was due to the magically enchanted ring he’d worn before his cure. It had allowed him to walk in the sun through a blood bond with Tav and Halsin. He rubbed the small scar on the underside of his right ring finger, grateful that it might have saved his daughter from a life of bloodlust. “Why don’t you wake up your brother and I will take this to the table for you to finish while you eat lunch? I am sure Uncle Zevlor will have plenty for you to do at the Enclave,” he took the drawing from her to break her focus on it. She whined a little but got up, toddling over to her brother’s bed. She blew a loud raspberry into his peacefully sleeping face to wake him up. She still took after Astarion in some ways, he chuckled to himself as Shan woke up with an annoyed growl.

Astarion helped both kids into their chairs and gave them some cut up fruit to snack on while he prepared some cold sandwiches for them. He was still getting used to eating food again, so they had plenty of simple options in both houses for him. “Astarion!” Tav called from the other room as he set the kids’ plates down.

“Be good,” he looked at them before heading to his sewing room.

Tav stood facing the door with her arms crossed over her chest, both from annoyance and to cover the intense cleavage spilling out of her costume. It was made of embroidered lace, hugging her body with long trails of red, white, and pink roses. “You don’t like it?” He smirked, looking her over.

“It’s beautiful,” she uncrossed her arms. “But if I bend down, everyone is going to see my nipples slip out or what I had for dinner,” she laughed, flashing her backside at him.

“Then we should eat a fine meal tonight,” he teased, leaning down to plant a kiss on it.

“Astarion!” She protested.

“There are specific undergarments to wear under it…and a cover up for walking over to the park,” he grinned. “I just wanted to see it on you bare.”

He grabbed another box from under the table, containing the undergarments and a few other accessories as well. “Let me change then and make sure I can still move in all of this,” she looked everything over with a smile.

He returned back to the kitchen, Ava still too enraptured by her drawing to have eaten any of her sandwich. “Don’t make me take it away,” he put the plate over the drawing to interrupt her again.

“Da!” She cried, tears already beginning to fill her amethyst eyes.

“You aren’t giving your father trouble, are you?” Halsin walked in, freshly bathed and changed into new clothes.

“No,” she sulked, squishing a piece of the sandwich in her fist.

Astarion was a pushover when it came to the children, forcing Halsin and Tav to be the disciplinarians most of the time. “Thank you, my angel,” Halsin sat down next to her to help her finish eating the rest.

“Oooo pretty mommy,” Shan exclaimed with a last mouthful of food when Tav reappeared, fully changed and with her hair taken down.

The semi-sheer gossamer cover up was modest enough to wear in front of the children, the muted colors of her costume visible through the fabric. Her hair was curled and voluminous, a delicate crown of silk flowers threaded into some of the strands. She’d thrown on a bit of shimmery makeup to give her an ethereal, goddess-like aura. “Pretty indeed,” Halsin and Astarion both stared at her.

“I won’t be able to do as many flips as I planned, but Astarion has done it again,” she did a little twirl.

“Why don’t you two grab your favorite toy and I will take you to see Uncle Zevlor?” Halsin kept his gaze on Tav while helping the kids out of their chairs.

He embraced her at once after Astarion had guided the children into their room for a moment. “You are testing all of my self control,” he growled in her ear as he kissed and nuzzled her neck.

“Astarion will have your head if you rip off this one,” she giggled. “Just wait until you see me on stage.”

“The evening cannot come soon enough,” he added as Astarion returned with the kids, a wide smirk plastered on his face.

Halsin put the kids into their walking carriage so he didn’t have to carry them all the way to the Upper City. Shan had chosen to bring his owlbear plush and Ava had Clive Jr. He headed out with them into the early afternoon sun, eager to get back home to his beautiful wife. Several other couples had already dropped their children off at the Emerald Enclave, looking forward to the evening’s decadent mirth-making. “They are growing quickly,” Zevlor greeted them in his wing of the former Crimson Palace. Many of the tiefling orphans had gone to live in Reithwin at Halsin’s commune, but a few had remained in the city and Zevlor oversaw their care.

“Especially this one,” Halsin picked up Shan out of his carriage, Ava having fallen back asleep on the way.

“He will no longer be a little tree very soon,” Zevlor took him, surprised at the toddler’s weight. “He takes after his father.”

“I believe he is already taller than I was at his age,” Halsin covered Ava with a blanket so she could rest more. “Thank you again for watching them.”

“Of course,” Zevlor nodded, setting Shan down with a groan. “I am too old to enjoy most of the revelry.”

“We’ll likely be gone late into the night…but if they can’t sleep, you can always drop them home.”

“I am sure we will have a grand time,” Zevlor began pulling out toys for them to play with.

Halsin returned home after kissing the twins goodbye, already seeing festival-goers heading towards the park in scandalous attire. He could only imagine what Astarion had made for him to wear. Tav was doing some practice on her lyre when Halsin returned, a little extra blush in her cheeks. “She’s still nervous for tonight?” Halsin asked Astarion, whose cheeks were also blushed slightly.

“She is…I did what I could to…take her mind off things, but perhaps she needs a little more…reassurance,” Astarion grinned. “Then you can change and we can head to dinner.”

Halsin was quick with his reassurance, giving her voice a little extra warmup. He changed into the outfit Astarion had sewn, something similar to the one he wore, though a bit less revealing. The trio walked together towards the Helm and Cloak where they would be having dinner. They were stopped several times to inquire about their outfits, Astarion presenting them with business cards. They’d had to scratch out the old address, but Tav had already designed and sent new ones to the printers for him. They ate a sumptuous dinner and enjoyed a bit of dessert tasting off one another’s bodies, as the revelry got into full swing.

They headed towards the park after, where the festival was bustling and crowded. Alcohol flowed freely and was passed between mouths as vintners and brewers provided free samples of their fermentations. Tav accepted a few wine-laced kisses from her husbands, not wanting to drink too much before her performance, but enough to shed any last minute nerves. She left them near a prime spot by the front of the large stage and disappeared into the performer’s tent nearby to make her final preparations. She shed her cover-up, many of the other bards and acrobats inquiring about her outfit. “I’m afraid my designer only does costuming exclusively for me,” she beamed. “But he sells generic designs in his shop,” she handed out several more business cards to the disappointed artists. She secured her flower crown a little more and attached the silk epaulettes that attached to her shoulders and hips. They resembled white wisteria blooms and would shake beautifully when she danced.

She nervously waited at the side of the stage when her time slot drew near. A group of performers were doing an acrobatic number around the three maypoles that had been affixed to the stage. Two solo artists spun and contorted on the side poles, while a pair did a very sensual routine together on the center pole. Tav blushed deeply, spying Halsin and Astarion in the crowd, their arm around each others’ waists. They appeared to be very into the center performance, kissing and whispering to one another as the two performers put several new positions in their heads. Tav had been secretly practicing a few moves utilizing the maypole, but was no where close to the skill of these acrobats. The performance ended with a shower of not-so-subtle white petals that rained down onto the crowd and stage with a resounding climax of cheers. “Tough act to follow, darling,” Lucretious, the emcee, patted Tav on the back as she strutted on stage to make announcements.

Her voice boomed across the park as the Projecting Stones at the front of the stage amplified it into the crowd. “What a stunning and sensual performance by the Spinning Sisters of the Savalirwood!” Lucretious praised as the five acrobats left the stage. They all nodded at Tav as they passed, covered in sweat and petals that had stuck to their skin. “Well worth the journey from Exandria, if I do say so myself!” Lucretious continued.

“Chardonnay? Is that you? I never forget a backside,” a voice called from behind Tav as Lucretious reminded the crowd about the proper etiquette for voyeurism and consent during public activities of an erotic nature.

“Scanlan Shorthalt? Of all the people I expected to see!” Tav knelt down to greet the gnomish bard, giving him a peck on the cheek. “What are you doing on Toril?”

“I’m here with the Sisters,” Scanlan glanced back at the quintuple of acrobats heading to the performer’s tent. “I’m their manager.”

“Manager?” Tav asked. “So you’ve hung up your lute?”

“I have,” Scanlan nodded. “I’m a family man now. I have a wife and giant Goliath son to feed. The money was too good to pass up the invite.”

“I understand that,” Tav smiled, holding out her hands and showing off the two bands on both her ring fingers.

“I never thought I’d see the day and twice over!” Scanlan’s eyes widened. “Especially not after that night we had in Stilben.”

“How long are you here for?” Tav asked, hearing Lucretious wrapping up her announcements with some quick jokes. “I’d love to catch up…and introduce you to my husbands.”

“A few days. Those Planetshift Portals really screw with my insides. We can talk after, perhaps meet for dinner,” he replied as Lucretious announced Tav to the stage. “Good luck, Charddy!”

“Coming to the stage now, one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, a seductive songstress and contorter of clowns. Lady Chardonnay Brandywine!”

The crowd whistled as Tav walked on stage, doing a few nervous twirls and bows with her lyre tucked under her arm. All the nervousness ceased when she strummed her first note, imbuing the instrument with her magic. The thrill of the performance took over, her body moving almost instinctually to the rhythm of her music. She danced and sang, spinning around the center pole while a Mage Hand played her lyre. Halsin and Astarion stood beaming in the crowd, seeing that she hadn’t missed a step since becoming a mother. The love and passion that she held in her heart for them flowed into her performance, the crowd both enraptured and titillated. Occasionally moans could be heard in the crowd as couples let their inhibitions lower for the night. There was no shower of white at the climax of Tav’s performance, but an urgent high note as she fell into a split in front of the maypole, her chest heaving with heavy breaths.

She left the stage to cheers and whistles, the crowd becoming more rowdy after her set. “Dear Gods,” she grimaced, putting a hand to her groin. She may not have lost much of a step after giving birth to Halsin’s enormous son, but her hips weren’t what they used to be and she instantly felt it.

“As incredible as ever,” Scanlan clapped as she hobbled down the stairs.

“Just a little more weathered,” she groaned at the last step. “I have my own giant son now too.”

“You had a baby!” Scanlan exclaimed.

“Twins, actually,” Tav downed a mug of water waiting for her inside the performer’s tent. “Once you meet my husbands, you will understand.”

“I can’t wait. It sounds like you’ve gotten up to a lot in the past twenty years. A hero of Baldur’s Gate?”

“It’s a long tale,” Tav let out a loud sigh, fanning herself with her hand. “I wrote a play about it.”

“Well, wait until you hear about Vecna,” Scanlan laughed, grabbing them each a glass of wine. “It sounds like we might need to make this dinner multiple courses.”

[breitzbachbea]

❤️ for Gabriella and Charlie and 🧠 for Paddy and Tahir!

Thank you my beloved!!!! You're like. One of my bedrocks of serotonin <3

OC Emoji Ask Game

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Gabriella: Sometimes, when she is vulnerable and feels the demons knocking softly at the walls, she wants to tell you that one of her fondest memories are the first times she recalls Dolcetto calling her "Rella". The first time she and her brother bundled up and went on a walk in their neighbourhood to get groceries and both of them felt so important. Those memories that justify her giving up her life to join the world of her brother. But those aren't her best. This is the grief and loss and a displacement of love speaking that will never ever find room in Dolcetto again. She loves her brother; he loves his sister; but they are very different people. Therefore, her best memories are probably of nights out in gay clubs and kisses shared with young women her age after she left home to find Dolcetto and herself. Memories of her, drunk, telling another girl under tears how much in love she was with her childhood best friend. Feeling free and herself. And she does love the memories she makes with Fabio, a kindred soul in this depressing world. The nights they spent alone as friends and as lovers.

Charlie: Much like Gabriella, part of his best memories are an expression of grief and love lost. He does miss his father dearly; maybe not exactly the man that died and could never accept him, but the younger Connor Higgins. The Connor who skipped his piano lessons with him to play football. The Connor who was so cool and put together, but no buzzkill. The one who so clearly loved and knew his son. He sometimes gets take away and will stand in a dingy, warm and small shop and be hit with the feeling of this being the highlight of his entire month, because it was secret time spent with dad. But these memories are accompanied with rage and sadness and a deep, all-consuming longing. What he truly remembers most fondly is racing cars on his model track with Harry and other friends. He remembers fondly the trouble he caused at school, the defiance of standing up for himself that kept him alive throughout these awful years. He remembers the first roadtrips he took alone, no matter the terrible state of his dad's old Mercedes. Charlie's best memories are both of freedom and community, of figuring out who he is and indulging in what thrills him.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Paddy: I like the most how old Paddy is. He's by no means 'old', he's middle aged in 2013, but compared with the rest of their characters who are usually in their twenties, he's got a lot more experience under his belt. Moreover, he lived such separate lives. Magdy is 20 years older and Magdy has SEEN SOME SHIT, but Magdy spent most of his life in one place, working with the same family for three generations. Paddy grew up in Derry and lived there until he was in his midtwenties. He could have never imagined to leave Derry until part of his house was destroyed by an explosion. Then he left; over the border into the Free State, through the country until he made it to Dublin. Characters, like the reality of people they are modelled on, can change rapidly in very little time, especially in younger years, but when you have a character like Paddy, you really get to see the layers that make up the tree. I love to figure out the core of his character and how it manifests. I love to see what an older Paddy regrets, what part of the younger self are transformed. And the ghosts, fucking hell do I love the ghosts. And I love how Paddy runs. He could never have imagined leaving Derry; now he's deadly afraid to return. He goes quiet in the first chapter of the IP rewrite when he begins to talk of Ben's death. He runs from himself, he will push a cart for others until the end, but faced with having to do anything for himself, he will run off the next cliff. For a character that's such a bedrock to others, he is very, very empty inside.

Tahir: Oh baby boy. I again like his relative age gap with a lot of the other characters, being in his 30s in 2013. But what I like the most about him is how selfishly selfless he is. All he ever did was to meet expectations and to afford the promise of a better life for him and his family. He may not be a sentimental man, but his love for his sister is immense. He very much believes he owes his parents, who worked their asses off, that he works hard for them. A sense of duty and responsibility is at the core of his being and it shows in all of his interactions. And yet, yet he's not a machine. Yet he wants freedom - as much as he still adheres to expectations (his own) in his freetime and exploration of himself and keeps appearances, he does want something divorced from the expectations of his family. Yes, the courtship dance with Arielle still runs along known rules, but it's an expression of desire and love, somewhere along the axis of platonic and romantic, a self-expression of himself as a man with a beating heart. As much as he might seethe over that his relationship with Robert is functionally no different than the arranged marriage of his parents, it was his own choice. It was an acknowledgement of his needs and that he is indeed not an island - that he'd like to come home to someone at the end of the day. I really like the soft, vulnerable and so, so loving boy that hides under the steely husk of a man. Play Oh No! by Marina and the Diamonds.

[dystini]

Indycar Driver Lore

Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist

George Dario Marino Franchitti

Birthdate: May 19, 1973 Hometown: Bathgate, West Lothian, Scotland Residence: Scotland Height/Weight: 5��� 9″/172lbs

Rookie Year: 1997 (CART)

Team: Ganassi (advisor)

Follow him on: Instagram Twitter

Career Stats

CART 1997 Hogan Racing - 22nd Overall 1998 Team Green - 3rd Overall 1999 Team Green - 2nd Overall (lost the title on a tiebreaker) 2000 Team Green - 13th Overall 2001 Team Green - 7th Overall 2002 Team Green - 4th Overall

Indycar 2002 Team Green (Indy 500 only) - 44th Overall 2003 3 races with Andretti Green Racing - 25th Overall 2004 Andretti Green Racing - 6th Overall 2005 Andretti Green Racing - 4th Overall 2006 Andretti Green Racing - 8th Overall 2007 Andretti Green Racing - 1st Overall 2008 Chip Ganassi Racing (Only competed in an exhibition race) 2009 Chip Ganassi Racing - 1st Overall 2010 Chip Ganassi Racing - 1st Overall 2011 Chip Ganassi Racing - 1st Overall 2012 Chip Ganassi Racing - 7th Overall 2013 Chip Ganassi Racing - 10th Overall

NASCAR

Sprint Cup 2008 Chip Ganassi Racing - 49th Overall (partial season)

Nationwide Series 2007 Chip Ganassi Racing - 95th Overall (partial season) 2008 Chip Ganassi Racing - 35th Overall (partial season)

appointed Member of the Order of the British Empire (MBE) in 2014

is lefthanded

currently serves as advisor/diver coach for Chip Ganassi Racing

started go-kart racing at age 10

won more than 100 races and 20 Scottish, British and World karting titles

raced in British F3 in 1994

made a cameo appearance as a racing driver in the 2001 film Driven

appeared on the US television shows Late Show with David Letterman and The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson three times each in the late 2000s and early 2010s

voiced a Scottish news anchor and a male tourist in the 2013 animated film Turbo, for which he provided technical consultation

served as a television co-commentator and driver pundit on Formula E's world feed since its inaugural season in 2014

is a member of the "Brat Pack", an international group of CART drivers composed of Dario, Tony Kanaan, Greg Moore and Max Papis, who shared a desire for enjoyment, attending all-night parties, discussing life and staying in close contact with one another

Prior to the 2000 CART season, Franchitti was hospitalised after a crash during pre-season testing at Homestead–Miami Speedway; part of the car's suspension hit his head, and he sustained displaced fractures in his left hip and pelvis, and multiple minor brain contusions

sustained an anterior stable compression fracture of the lumbar vertebrae in an motorbike accident during a trip to West Lothian in April, 2003

requiring season-ending keyhole surgery to strengthen his back, missing the second half of the 2003 season

had a minor left-ankle fracture in 2008, after a crash in a NASCAR Nationwide race

Before the season-ending 2011 IZOD IndyCar World Championship at Las Vegas Motor Speedway, Franchitti led Will Power in the championship standings by 18 points. The race was abandoned following a 15-car accident on the 11th lap that involved Power and caused Wheldon's death, meaning Franchitti won his fourth championship win; his third in succession.

suffered a concussion and two spinal fractures, plus a fractured right ankle in the second to last race of the 2013 season

retired from competitive driving in 2013 after doctors advised him his most recent injuries and those from previous accidents put him at risk of permanent paralysis and brain damage in the event of another major crash

Iconic/memorable moments

Shopping at Target with Dario Franchitti and Scott Dixon IndyCar: Scott Dixon, "We got hosed again" by Will Power IndyCar Dario Franchitti and Scott Dixon Interview (part 2) RACER: Franchitti, Kanaan, Dixon Prank 20yr old Teammate Dario Franchitti and Scott Dixon, part 1 Dario Franchitti and Scott Dixon, part 2 3 motorsport legends compete at Goodwood Revival! | Goodwood Revival Special IndyCar drivers Scott Dixon, Dario Franchitti robbed at Indy Taco Bell RACER: Dario Franchitti ALS Ice Bucket Challenge Thank You Dario Dario Franchitti: A hacksaw to Tony Kanaan’s bike Dario Franchitti: People think I have OCD Dario Franchitti: Royal Automobile Club Talk Show in association with Motor Sport Dario Franchitti: Regrets NASCAR move? Behind the Bricks: Dario Franchitti, Part 1 Behind the Bricks: Dario Franchitti Part 2 Dario Franchitti: Five weeks of my memory lost in crash Dario Franchitti: Devastated by Dan Wheldon's death Dan Wheldon Memorial Service, Part 3

Dario Franchitti Press Conference 11 in 11 with Dario Franchitti Dario Franchitti gets pied 2012 Indianapolis 500 Finish - Dario Franchitti Wins (Interviews Included) RACER: Robin Miller Dario Franchitti and Tony Kanaan IMS Tire Test 2013 Dario Franchitti Press Conference Drivers React to Wheldon's Death Road to the Championship: Close Competition 2011 Indycar Toronto - Will Power and Dario Franchitti controversial incident Dario Franchitti is 2010 Champion Dario Franchitti Indy Means Everything Concussions in Racing: A Case Study - Dario Franchitti & Dr. Stephen Olvey Dario Franchitti: Garage full of Ferraris, Porsches Dario Franchitti: Lack of recognition in Europe is disgraceful Dinner with Racers Episode 59: Dario Franchitti Greg Moore At 20, with Dario Franchitti, Paul Tracy, Max Papis, Mike Zizzo, and Marshall Pruett. Dario Franchitti - McLaren AUTOSPORT BRDC Award winner 1992 Remembering Greg Moore: Champ Car’s Brat Pack having the time of their lives Dario and Greg Moore and Seibkins in Elkhart Lake

Dario Franchitti book Romance of Racing (out of print, can be found used, although not cheaply. Try your library)

The "Brat Pack" Max Papis, Tony Kanaan, Dario Franchitti, Greg Moore

Dario is now a senior member of the paddock, an advisor for Ganassi and coach, often more like a father/uncle figure, to their new young drivers. But in his youth in the 1990’s he was a wild child, a member of Cart’s “Brat Pack”, prone to staying up all night partying yet still winning races. He almost won the championship in 1999 but lost in the finale only to be told after the race that his best friend, and fellow member of the “Brat Pack”, Greg Moore had died.

He made the switch to IRL which became Indycar, in 2003, although injuries and recovering from those injuries kept him out of the car most of that year. He recovered and then began the epic prank era at Andretti Green races with his teammates on the way to his first Indy 500 win and his first Indycar championship in 2007. He decided to give NASCAR a try in 2008.

(We don’t talk about the NASCAR year)

He came back at Ganassi in 2009 and proceeded to win three championships in a row (and two more Indy 500s) while becoming the elder statesman of the series. But all of this success was not without sorrow and near disaster. The loss of Dan Wheldon hit him hard. He and his former teammate were still close friends. Another crash and the subsequent injures forced him into retirement in late 2013

He is a prime example of why we don't leave decisions on their fitness to race up to the drivers anymore, suffering more than his fair share of injuries in his career (see list above) and continuing to race when he definitely should not have.. One might call it a lack of survival instinct, which to be honest, most drivers lack, but Dario lacks it to an alarming degree. He is at risk of permanent paralysis and brain damage in the event of another major crash, yet still races vintage/historic cars on occasion, particularly at Goodwood.

I would be remiss not to mention his Scottish accent, thick dark hair that is silvering at the temples and still fit physique. He’s lost none of the charm of his youth and perhaps gained more now at the age of 50.

Fanfic Lore

Paired/grouped with the “Brat Pack” Originally comprised of Dario, Tony Kanaan, Greg Moore and Max Papis. Various later iterations included Scott Dixon, Bryan Herta, Dan Wheldon and sometimes Marco Andretti.

paired with Will Power during the height of their rivalry though they’ve became very good friends since Dario was forced to retire

sometimes used as supportive dad figure for younger drivers (sometimes as more of a “Daddy”)

Dario and TK

More Dario and TK

Even more Dario and TK

Brat Pack

Dario and Dixon

[mareastrorum]

WIP Wednesday: TF&TS (Shopping)

Here is a scene from an early chapter of a longfic I am working on.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

This fanfic will be posted on AO3 starting hopefully by Friday 7/28.

Shopping wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t fun either. Just a chore Otis never paid much mind to beyond getting it done. The Tombtakers had usually left Tyffial and Cree to handle that; Tyffial always seemed to know where to find the good stuff, and Cree insisted on making sure that Jurrell didn’t talk Tyffial into buying a bunch of extra crap. Jurrell had always shown up with something anyway, so who knows how much there would have been if Cree hadn’t tagged along.

But shopping could be fun when money didn’t have to be spent doing it, and even better when the owner didn’t intend to give up what Otis was shopping for.

So when the Nein insisted that Otis stay in the Run while Lucien was out cold, obviously that meant that the halfling would stalk the group all the way back to Zadash. Obviously. Lucien would give them an earful otherwise. And since the Nein planned to use the Iron Shepherds’ cart and horses, that meant Otis needed a way to keep up. After getting a solid three hours of sleep and hiking back to the Run, the halfling’s first stop was checking the news on Jagoda Uttolot. That half-orc bastard was somewhere in the Savalirwood on another hunt, so that meant his collection was closed until he got back.

Otis made their way to the west side of town, then snuck into the woods to circle around the Uttolot’s menagerie. It was partially a zoo and partially a holding area for any live beasts Jagoda had caught for the family to sell. There was good money in trading the hides and flesh of Savalirwood monsters, but there was more in keeping certain beasts alive. Of course, that meant the Uttolots had spent an awful lot of money and resources on building pens to keep the monsters locked in until they were ready to be transported. Which was great, because they usually sucked at keeping thieves out.

It did not take Otis too long to sneak past the giant fence enclosing the section of forest the Uttolots had laid claim to. Most of the trees had been cleared and used to construct more fences, and the grid structure was easy to navigate. As expected, there were barely any guards. Sure, there were plenty of valuable beasts that would be worth stealing, but they were usually noisy as fuck, and most people didn’t want to risk getting caught to then risk getting eaten to then risk getting stabbed and then…

Well, yeah. Most people.

Besides, Otis wasn’t after the more expensive ones. Riding something like a hippogryph all the way to Zadash would be awesome, but there was no way they were going to sneak a flying mount out, and the halfling preferred that they be able to return to the Run and show their face eventually. Eventually.

Otis briskly wandered the enclosures, peeking in at what there was to be had. Whatever the halfling picked, it needed to be suited to travel the forest quickly and hardy enough to fend for itself if theygot in a fight. Horses were alright for the first, but shit at the second, which is why Otis was here. Also, horses were boring.

The first potential mount was a panther, though the halfling was disappointed to see it only had four legs and no tentacles. Oh, man, it would have been so cool—so cool—if it had been a displacer beast. Then again, Jagoda probably had to sell any live ones super quick because they were so difficult to contain. And Cree would probably be mad if they showed up on a panther. So nah.

Otis continued on until they found an elk of some kind, though it had an extra set of limbs and bark-like skin instead of fur. Those things were fast! Sure, they looked slow, but they had long fucking legs. And no one with any sense picked a fight with something that big. Zoran was a living example of that. But now that they thought about it, riding an elk as a halfling was going to be a challenge, no matter what barding Otis put together.

One enclosure over was an axe beak. Not as tall as the elk, but it rushed about its enclosure pretty quick. It didn’t make much noise beyond clacking it’s beak. Clack clack. It vaguely reminded Otis of Tyffial—birds were always mean. Otis would prefer not to have to kill their mount for being a jerk.

Next was a boar. It looked tame enough. Fucker was big too; taller than Otis. They vaguely recalled that Lucien and Cree had said they were more dangerous than the bears in these woods, but Otis never ran into any. Really though? It just looked like a larger, hairy pig with curved tusks that looked almost like swords.

The boar stared at the halfling with its black beady eyes. Otis stared back, baring their teeth as they giggled. It did not move, did not twitch, did not falter.

Otis shivered and moved on. Nope. Something was wrong with that thing.

Growling rumbled from the next enclosure. Otis didn’t even have to approach the barrier to see a massive, hulking wolf peeking out at them, sniffing hungrily at the air and licking its chops. Nope, nope, that was an easy no. It was definitely going to try to ea—

“HeHEheheHEH.”

Otis perked up and looked around. The same snicker sounded from the enclosure on the opposite side, so they snuck over.

Inside was a golden, spotted dog with a thick neck, humped shoulders, a fluffy tail, short black legs, and teddy bear ears. It snickered again as it paced side to side, sniffing at the gap in the gate with its tongue hanging out the side of its toothy maw. A hyena. Big brown eyes looked at Otis curiously. “HEheheHEheh.”

Otis gasped. It was perfect.

Within minutes, a giggling halfling and a snickering hyena had made off into the woods long before the next guard patrol wandered by.

“HeheHEHEheheh.”

[nataliesnews]

What day is it 18.10.2023

 A couple would wait for people at  the border with Gaza and take them to hospitals in Israel for treatment.  Now they are amongst those kidnapped. 

P Migdal Nofim and its residents were harnessed in absorbing the settlers from the south who came to live with us during this period.

Despite the difficulty and pain of the evacuees, they make sure to appreciate and shower us with compliments for the caressing welcome that takes care of all their needs by the residents of Nofim, their families and volunteers.

It warms the heart to see the new friendships formed between the old tenants and the evacuees,

as well as their participation in the various activities held by us

This is how conversation goes nowadays. You meet someone....How are you....The answer is ...Like everyone

 Thoughts that come.....Those who spoke of transferring Arabs....today half a million Israelis....the number given on the tv....have been not transferred but displaced and kibbutzim, moshaviem are emptied and people are being asked to come and milk the cows which otherwise will die in pain. Towns are also emptied. 

We keep hearing from politicians when asked who will take the responsibility.... they say after the war and that is if the one most guilty and his wife have not fled to join their cowardly sons. And that the great leader is having a wonderful time today meeting the leaders of the Western world. 

For the first time in my life I feel old and useless. I am suddenly having such difficulty getting on and off the bus. 

 A cynical sign. ''There is a new nomination...Benjamin Netanyha is the minister for makes the connection between his wife and the government' 

 I have been each night at six at the demonstration opposite the home of Herzog calling for the emphasis to be placed on bringing our captive families home. Not once has he come out to us. I wanted to go to town to have a poster made but first had to draw money. I use a fake phone number for my credit code but when I opened it I found the numbers absolutely confused.  I then also saw that I had been getting weird messages on the Nofim networks. Then I found an invitation to a wedding as if it was new .The wedding took place three months ago.  I realized the same thing had happened yesterday but I thought it was a glitch. Phone numbers have disappeared.  Two nights ago there was a backup and since then I have had problems. I have an iPhone.   I wonder if anyone else has the problem. I sat on a park bench and a man started talking to me.  It turns out that his wife writes for TOI.  He knew nothing about the nightly protests now taking place. I also told him about the olive harvest but he said he didn’t want to be somewhere where the settlers would attack him. I am going to contact his wife and ask if she knows about these happenings and also what is happening on the West Bank

I just had one of the ladies, Mazal, from Ashkelon in for tea ...she is 89...... and she said that she is overwhelmed as to how she has been received here at Nofim. .

For some reason I am exhausted as I did little today besides to go to the centre. So many shops have little wagons outside and people are asked to put things in for soldiers or for those  who have been evacuated. And this evening to the demonstration but I feel wiped out. Young people are standing with the carts and then taking the goods to a centre where I would like to help but you have to be on your feet the whole time. The people are doing what the government should be doing. All the money that they have given to the religious should go to the people of the South and Lebanon. 

In the lift one of the older ladies broke down and started crying......she has two grandchildren  in the army. All I could do was hold her but tomorrow I will go and see her. And I keep thinking of Irit and Yaakov....their daughter's wedding was to be on Friday. 

With all my feelings of humanity....we are giving Gaza water.....Without any of the hostages being returned this should not have been done. 

[nickgerlich]

Living In The Past

Once upon a time I used to teach our Retail Management course (which is now being rebranded as Multichannel Retail). One of my favorite topics was the Wheel of Retailing. Essentially, it posited that when a company enters the market space, it tries to disrupt things by doing things differently. But as time passes, as the concept goes, that company starts adding back elements that, in the end, make it look a lot like the other companies it sought to displace or replace.

If you read Orwell’s Animal Farm back in 8th grade, you might recognize the story line, because it is rather analogous to how the animals overtook the farmer, a man who ruled with an iron fist because he was—well—the farmer. Slowly but surely an animal hierarchy emerged, with the pigs being more equal than others. In the end, farm life wound up being a lot like it was when the farmer was in charge.

Skip forward to the digital era, and we now find ourselves seeing purely online retailers as well as DTC (Direct-to-Consumer) manufacturers supplementing their e-commerce presence with stores and—gasp—even wholesalers and other retailers.

While there is certainly money to be made as a pure play business, there’s more to be made by enlarging one’s tents. Of course, there are costs for doing so, like if you follow Amazon’s model with its own stores, as well as others like Warby Parker, the popular purveyor of eye glasses, with their retail shops. 

Then factor in using completely unrelated entities, such as wholesalers and retailers.

This is, in fact, the traditional distribution chain. It is long been the norm, and much of what we buy has gone through these three levels before we put it in our cart. In some product areas, such as alcohol, a three-tiered distribution is mandated by law, except for small amounts that can be purchased at craft breweries, wineries, and distillers.Of course, we must recognize that using middlemen implicitly means sharing profits with each of them.

No discussion of the struggle to reach more customers is complete without mentioning Peloton, the high-dollar stationary bike that rode to fame during COVID, and then had two flat tires once things reopened. The company, which had started as pure play and then opened its own shops, decided to use Dick’s Sporting Goods and Amazon as retail partners. The company now realizes its future profits will be in subscriptions for workout software.

All of which is to say that BAM (brick and mortar) is not dead, nor will it ever be. While some of us buy nearly everything online, the vast majority of shoppers still like being out and about in shops and centers far and wide.

In fact, it may be the easiest way to overcome any lingering resistance to online shopping, as well as score huge revenue gains. While e-commerce is a significant player, it has its limits, at least for now, and there is a lot of untapped potential back in the BAM world.

Once again, in a strange kind of way, we are seeing the Wheel of Retailing in play. It was true thirty years ago when I first taught the course, and it is still true today. It just manifests itself in different ways. It’s great to be a disruptor, because it garners a lot of attention. But once that luster begins to fade, it’s time to get down to brass tacks, which is making money.



And for the time being, that financial fix is doing things the old fashioned way, more than likely in tandem with the original online efforts. It opens the door to many new customers and much higher market share. Sticking to their original guns could actually be ruinous, given the limits of the online platform.



Because reality can be a pig.

Dr “Don’t Forget The Past“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[phthalominekitty]

my car finally has a drink holder.

9/7/2001

i was standing, slouched somehow against a great rack of energizer batteries, breathing in the fog. air displaced by the parallel movement of shopping carts, strands of strawberry blonde hair floating around my face. a halo of sorts, the perfect companion for my heavy eyelids. a mexican lady told me to smile. her request was ignored, if not unnoticed. i began the evasive task of examining my cuticles, the lunar shapes momentarily captivating me. (maybe i should slop on some blood red nail polish tonight. that blood moon got me thinking of vampires. vampish. yeah.. )

there was also me trying to forget about the throbbing pain in my feet. fuck me for wearing black tights imprinted with dice and stars. fuck me for wearing clunky black shoes with the 2.5" clunky black heels. nevermind i was upright for eight hours. i deserve everything for my poor judgement.

(hey, aren't those the shoes you wore out dancing? two saturdays ago? when they photographed you for the paper? when you were graceful and fluid and sexy and beautiful?)

my entire body is screaming out for a massage. mostly because it knows that will never happen. my picture did not make it into the paper.

and i'm suffering from uncharacteristic urges lately. please tell me that you'll keep me away from the following: parties, alchohol, and boys. because all three will lead to trouble.

maybe that's not so uncharacteristic. i think the desire for it, that might be. if i were in a better mood, i'd ask for any takers. of course i'd be joking, because i've got a nice logical (however contemplative and spontaneous) head on my shoulders. maybe this is just sophie screaming "i want a man", but i'm not that pathetic, either. i'm just bored, and lonely. and shaun's not working tomorrow.

ah well. i'll see about inviting him out to staxx then, sometime. i'll be dressing up, for once. lavender pet shop boys shirt and glitter, i suspect. and i might even wear the wings. we shall see. i hope to be a very fun dancing girl. everyone should come just so they can see my dorky fun with clothes. you know you love it. because crazytown says so, butterfly.

[displacedshoppingcarts]

Mr. Blue Sky. Whitehall, Ohio

[bumbleklee]

shopping for baby

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | discord server | pregnancy series

pairings: diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli x female!reader (separate)

warnings: pregnancy

diluc

he secretly adored shopping with you for the twins. after crepus passed away, diluc was left with a large sum of money that he didn’t know what to do with. showering you and his babies was the best way to spend it. 

“Everything has socks attached,” Diluc said, holding up a pajama set with footie pants. He had taken you to Fontaine for a week to pick up clothes and goods for your twins and you were going a little overboard.

“Well, obviously,” You remarked, rolling your eyes. “Do they have that in another color?”

As you searched the racks of the boutique, Diluc sighed. He wasn’t concerned with the amount of money you were spending, rather the fact that he just didn’t understand anything when it came to babies. Like why did pants need attached socks? And why couldn’t he put your babies in their cribs for a month? And why were you buying so many blankets for the twins if the babies couldn’t even sleep with them?

You shoveled two more onesies in your basket and grinned at Diluc. Unlike him, you were ecstatic to be shopping for the twins. Filling their closet with adorable clothing and finally setting up their nursery meant your little ones were arriving shortly.

“Shouldn’t we buy them different clothes?” Diluc asked, eyeing the many matching sets in your cart. “Like what about this?”

Diluc held a puffy pink dress to you, his cheeks darkening. “That’s perfect,” You assured him, “Do you like it?”

He nodded, “I think it’s cute.”

You took the dress from Diluc and held it against your swollen stomach. The twins were seven months now but still tiny in your belly. “She’s going to outgrow it so fast,” You said solemnly. The dress was a newborn size and while you would put your daughter in it so often, there was no doubt in your mind she was going to quickly get too big for it. “But we should still get it.”

After a while more of shopping, Diluc paid for the clothes and even offered to haul the bags back to your hotel. “We’ll buy furniture in Mondstadt,” He told you, “I don’t think anything else will fit in the carriage.”

You hummed and leaned into Diluc’s side. He rummaged through the bags, smiling to himself as his fingers grazed outfit upon outfit for your twins. When you looked at the expression, you had never seen Diluc so at peace.

“This has been an amazing day,” He admitted to you, glancing up at your glowing face. “You’re going to have to tell me how to button all these snaps though.”

kaeya

like his brother, he adored shopping for your daughter. he wanted to spoil her as much as he spoiled you so when you gave him the a-okay to start purchasing items for your baby, he quickly went overboard. 

When you arrived home from work, you were met with yet another pink dress laid out on the couch. Kaeya was awaiting you with puppy-dog eyes, excitement radiating off his body. When he saw you, he instantly lit up. “Look what I found her!” He beamed, “And it’ll match that little pink sweater I got her yesterday.”

You sighed and tried to smile through your annoyance, “Kae, not everything had to be pink. What if she doesn’t like the color pink?”

Kaeya rolled his eyes at you, “She’s a baby, love. She won’t even know what pink is.”

You couldn’t stay mad at Kaeya for long. He really was doting on your unborn baby like never before and you would be a fool to displace his admiration. Plus, the clothes he was picking out were adorable (even if they all were pink).

“Did you pick up pajamas like I asked you to?” You questioned, moving the dress so you could scoot into Kaeya’s side. You felt his abdomen tense up and he nervously chuckled, turning his head away from you.

“That’s what I went for today,” He said sheepishly, “But as you can see I got distracted.”

You sighed again and hid your head into Kaeya’s chest, “What am I going to do with you?” Your fingers traced his bicep and a smile creeped onto your lips, “Let’s go together next time.”

“Deal.” Kaeya’s hand found yours and he fiddled with your fingers, “Lisa is knitting us some clothes, too. Maybe they won’t be pink.”

“That would be a delight.”

Kaeya pressed a kiss to the top of your head and leaned back against the couch, pulling you close. Shopping for his daughter was a dream come true. Everytime he bought a new article of clothing for her, he would only imagine how adorable she was going to look in it. He couldn’t wait to meet her.

childe

it took you a month to convince childe that he didn’t need to handcraft all of your nursery furniture. not only would it be way too time consuming, you weren’t sure if you even trusted him with a hammer. 

With Childe’s family so far away, you weren’t going to be receiving any baby items secondhand. Because of this, you and Childe spent a few weeks collecting whatever your son would need to live comfortably and safely.

Thankfully, money wasn’t an issue on Childe’s mind so you traveled to Mondstadt and back to buy what you needed. Childe let you make the big decisions, choosing to hang around with his wallet instead. Following the start of your sixth month pregnant, you finally bought a bassinet. It was the perfect size for your bedroom and the color even matched your walls perfectly.

“Childe, look at this,” You beamed, showing your boyfriend the furniture. You pressed down on the pillow, “This is perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Don’t we have one of these already?”

“No, we don’t,” You rolled your eyes, “This isn’t a crib, honey. It’s a bassinet.”

Childe shrugged his shoulders, “Same thing.”

“It’s not!” You complained, your hands on your hips. Childe just shrugged his shoulders and grinned at you. In the midst of your playful argument, a woman walked by with a toddler. He was teary-eyed and frowning, tugging on her arm.

“I want a toy!” He cried, trying to plant his feet into the floor.

“You have so many,” The woman said calmly, “We need to shop for your brother today, so stop throwing a fit or you can’t have any ice cream after dinner.” You heard the woman sigh as the boy only protested louder, his face twisted into a pout.

Childe nudged you and reenacted a dramatic, horror expression. “That’ll be us soon enough.  Wipe that smirk off your face,” You scolded your boyfriend, “Just help me move this thing.”

zhongli

it was zhongli’s turn to be riddled with anxiety. he wanted the best and only the best for his baby girl but was terrified that he wouldn't be able to provide that for her. 

Zhongli was clueless when it came to shopping for his daughter. You felt you had to hold his hand and lead him around the boutiques and stores in Liyue. Besides Qiqi, Zhongli didn’t have much experience with children, nonetheless babies, so he heavily relied on your knowledge.

But when you had a busy work week, you sent Zhongli to the store with a list of essential items and hoped for the best. Luckily, Hu Tao was able to go with him and even though she didn’t have much information either, she knew more than Zhongli.

“You look pale, Sir,” Hu Tao teased as Zhongli stared at the list clutched in his hand. “It’s just baby supplies, how hard can it be?”

Zhongli nodded, “Of course. It’s just things for my infant. Although Y/N didn’t write any brands down and there’s quite a few types of strollers.” He looked overwhelmed at the selection so Hu Tao rubbed his back.

Hu Tao looked at the list over Zhongli’s shoulder, “A crib should be easy to get. They’re over there.”

She led Zhongli to the corner of the store and pointed to the selection of cribs. You wrote down both a bassinet and a crib but Zhongli couldn’t tell the difference, at least not from the boxes. He examined the different styles of cribs before choosing an inexpensive one. “Is this good enough?”

“Probably,” Hu Tao shrugged.

After the crib, there was still so much more to go. Your daughter needed clothes, diapers, bottles, blankets, and so many other things. And they all had 100 options each. He wanted only the best for your daughter but was suddenly overcome with worry that he would pick up the wrong item.

Eventually, Zhongli gave up. He bought the crib and a few other items and solemnly went back home to tell you about his failure.

[imeverywoman420]

Theres instagram accounts for every vice like drinking and driving and leaving ur shopping carts in the wrong places and i love them. Theyre like gang alcohol gang cart displacement enlightened Booze cruiser vs Big Water sober drivers cause 80 percent of accidents

[uwingdispatch]

Blooming

Blooming

Notes: Bodhi Rook/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader, domestic fluff

CW: chronic anxiety/PTSD, implied chronic pain, implied physical intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You’re in the living room curled up with a cup of tea and your tooka-cat when he comes through the door exhausted, immediately taking his work clothes off and throwing them in the wash. You can sense the stress radiating from him even before Red chirps something about “bad mood” and “grease problem.”

So you wait until he’s in the kitchen checking on his slow cooker to say, “No hello for me today?”

Bodhi lets out an audible sigh. “This droid came in today,” he says, making his way to join you on the couch. “leaky oil valve, but nobody said a word about it so we found out the hard way. The droid panicked and lost control of his motivator, so now there’s black oil all over the shop. Never been so thankful for that little locker room, but I’ll be washing it out of my hair for ages.”

He sits down on the sofa where you’ve been resting and draws you toward him, displacing the tooka before running a hand through his hair, still damp from trying to wash it at work. He’s wearing just his favorite pair of soft lounge pants, and you rest your head on his warm chest. He smells like the herb-y soap he keeps at the shop and, yes, oil. But his heart—you can hear its quickened pace, the stress of a bad day perhaps sparking anxiety.

“It’s not so bad,” you say. “Give me a minute.”

You get up and retrieve a weighted blanket from the linen closet before returning to him and his open arms. Wrapping the blanket around the both of you, you cuddle into Bodhi, nose to nose, and you run a hand down his arm, fingers lightly tracing the lines of his tattoos—a touch you know he finds relaxing.

*

Bodhi told you this first tattoo was spontaneous. It was the second day of a holiday fair in town, the first year you were in Chandrila. Things had finally started to quiet enough that only a few units were still out there trying to take care of Imperial remnants, and the two of you were adjusting into a civilian life. It was dusk and the streets were glowing with bright lights. Families were beginning to gather their tired children and head toward transportation home. Local food carts rolled out their dinner menus and there was live music in the park—finally a feeling of safety was settling in—a safety that had eluded you for years. When you walked past a tattoo shop advertising holiday specials, Bodhi stopped and went in.

You’d already had several tattoos at the time, but his skin had been unmarked—by ink, at least. The war, though—his chest and abdomen showed evidence of the shrapnel he’d taken on Scarif, and there were ways in which, even though years had passed, he was still adjusting to the synthskin prosthetic he’d received after his leg was crushed from the knee down in that same blast.

He’d mentioned tattoos before, but never a plan, so it was a surprise to you when you ended up in that shop with him. There were a few artists setting up with clients, but the shop was surprisingly unbusy—perhaps because they’d just opened their doors for the night. When Bodhi told the first available artist—a Twi’lek woman in her late thirties—what he had in mind, she was eager to get started.

He pulled up an image on his datapad for her. The image was a flower—a huge blossom that he said was native to Jedha, specifically to the area in and around where he grew up.

“Spontaneous, huh?” you said.

“Mostly,” he replied

Bodhi took off his shirt so that the artist—she’d introduced herself as Nori—could print a stencil onto the muscle of his chest. A few scars were still prominent there, and when Nori asked if he was looking to cover them up, he said, “Not really. I think this is more about healing.”

“Bodhi, that’s enormous,” you said. The stencil stretched from his shoulder down over his collar bone and across the left side of his chest into his sternum.

“If you hate it—”

“No, it’s amazing, I just want you to be sure.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s time. To move forward.”

“Okay,” Nori said, her accent hinting at a childhood on Ryloth, “this spot—” she indicated the sternum, “will be quite sensitive. But you are clearly not a stranger to pain.”

From your own experience, you knew that this tattoo would take a while, so you asked Bodhi if he wanted you to stay. “No, love,” he said. “That’s okay. Go enjoy the fair for a bit. Buy something you don’t need. Come back in a couple of hours. I’ll be fine.”

You glanced at Nori and she said, “The technique I use is a bit old-fashioned, but it shouldn’t be more than two hours, maybe three if we need to take a break. Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you said, walking out the door, knowing he’d probably been planning this in his head for weeks, if not longer

*

Tonight you feel him trying to catch his breath from panic, “Do you want a cup of meiloorun tea?” you ask. “Can I do something for you?”

“Just stay here,” he says. “Be with me.”

“Okay,” you say.

You run your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes. It’s so often that this is in the reverse, that you are feeling on the edge of losing your mind and Bodhi is here to ground you, to bring you back to the present with just a small touch. And while you hate to see him this way, you’re glad you can provide him with that same comfort.

You’re brought out of the moment only when your little C1 droid comes into the room with a cup of tea for Bodhi. The droid he’d brought home to help you has become quite taken with him as well, and he can’t help but smile as he places the cup on the end table to cool.

“Thank you, Cilvie,” he says. “You’re going to put Red out of a job.”

The droid came with the designation C1-1LV, but she seems to appreciate the nickname. She chirps and scoots out of the room

With your fingertips, you trace the inked star map up Bodhi’s arm, land on the blossom on his chest. “This,” you whisper, tapping the tattoo, “was a good day.”

“It was,” he says. “A brilliant day, really.”

*

When you returned to the little tattoo shop, the sun had fully set, and Bodhi was just sitting up from the reclined chair where Nori had just finished working on him.

“What do you think?” she asked you.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, wanting badly to run your fingertips over every delicate line. But Nori hadn’t even applied bacta yet—the area was still very much tender.

Bodhi made his way across the shop to a mirror and for a moment you wondered if he regretted this decision. Then he broke out in a smile that was undeniable. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said. “Truly. This…this was what I needed.”

“It was my pleasure,” Nori said. “And I hope to see you both again.”

After the requisite—but quick—bacta treatment and exchange of credits, you and Bodhi left the shop. You bought dinner from a food cart and took it to the park where you stayed for a few hours, on a blanket in the grass, just listening to the music.

“I’ve been thinking,” Bodhi said. “And you can say no, and I won’t be upset. But…would you want to get a proper place together?”

“Oh, wow,” you said. “I…of course. I’d like that.”

Bodhi immediately took your hand, interpreting your hesitation as displeasure. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.”

“Bodhi, you surprised me, but I want this for us.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Thank the stars,” Bodhi said. “Come here,”

He took your face in his hands and kissed you, your lips meeting his with an almost desperate need for closeness, not caring at all who might be watching in this crowded park under a clear sky. Your hands came to rest at the back of his neck where a few tendrils of hair had come loose from the knot where they’d been secured earlier.

“I may have already made an appointment to see a place in that neighborhood you like. To rent, of course. I don’t think we can afford—”

“Bodhi,” you said. “We can figure out the details tomorrow. Right now I just want you to kiss me.”

*

Tonight, Bodhi folds you into his body, pulling you close before running his hand down your arm. He lifts the hem of your shirt ever so slightly, his fingertips tracing up your spine, tender despite the callouses his hands bear from years of mechanical work.

“There have been worse days,” he says. “I don’t know why this is getting to me.”

Tucking his hair behind his ear you say, “You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Not all bad days look the same. And I bet that roast you’ve had in the slow-cooker all day will fix things, just a little.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh. “You put a lot of faith in a roast, love.”

You touch you nose to his, your palm over his heart—over his blossoming tattoo—and you tell him that your faith isn’t in the roast. “It’s in you,” you say. “Always in you.”

You lie there for a while before Bodhi takes a deep breath and insists he get up to check on dinner. When he returns, he has a heating pad. “For your back,” he says.

“How did you know?” You hadn’t mentioned the spike in pain today, not wanting to make him feel like he had to take care of you on top of everything else.

“You winced when I got up from the couch.” Bodhi bends to run his fingertips along your jaw, tilts your head toward him. When he presses his lips to yours he says, “You know, I still can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

“I never know what to say when you say that.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He returns to prepping dinner, the tooka-cat at his feet already begging for scraps. “When were you going to tell me you made bread?” Bodhi calls from the kitchen.

Cilvie chirps to tell him she helped.

“Of course, little one,” he says. “And it’s still warm in the machine.”

“It was a surprise,” you say. “I had a feeling you might need something comforting tonight.”

You close your eyes, letting the heating pad soothe your back, and think of that beautiful tattoo on your partner’s chest. The one that had supposedly been spontaneous, that evening at the fair. He’d later tell you that this blossom was from one of a few flowering plants that managed to thrive in his hometown, despite the climate. And you couldn’t help but look at this man who managed with everything he’d been through to hold not just himself up but you as well—you looked at him, palm against his chest, and you said the words you were thinking aloud: “Like you.”

Tonight, if he allows you, you will remind him again of his beautiful strength. And of the strength he does not need to have, because you are here to steady him when he is tired, when his equilibrium is shaken. Neither of you have to survive difficult days alone.

★★★★★★★★

taglist: @waterpancakeao3​, @zinzinina​, @princessxkenobi​, @maul-ologue​, @operation-spot​ (let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts)

Thanks so much for reading! I hope this brings you some warm comfort.

Re: tattooing, I do know that a tattoo as large as the one Bodhi gets in this fic would take much longer on present-day Earth, but I figured that in the GFFA tattoo artists have access to technology that makes it go pretty fast. Even if they’re “old fashioned.”

[wizard-spells]

shopping cart displacement

[carminite-wyrm]

A Sunless Skies!AU fic, Part 1

So I've...ended up writing a fic for my Sunless Skies x Hermitcraft AU. At first it was meant to be just like, a ficlet, but it's kind of spiralled a bit into a multi-parter fic. So here's the Part 1!

Again, credit to @redstone-sun for the FL!AU that kickstarted my inspiration for the Sunless Skies!AU!

Ren and Doc, brave Co-Captains of the Octagon Van, seekers of secrets and conspiracies, have for once, decided to take a brief vacation from their adventures and accidental incidents in the High Wilderness. Their vacation of choice? A few days at the most desirable holiday destination in all of Albion: Worlebury-juxta-Mare.

An idyllic holiday spot, where nothing is amiss, and nothing can go wrong. Right?

(Spoilers for Sunless Skies lore!)

The admission passes for a weekend stay at Worlebury-juxta-Mare had been a gift from the Boatem Crew, after a series of incidents that were probably best to never be spoken about again, on both groups’ parts.

Specifically, Scar had handed over the admission permits with a wink, tipping them out of his top hat with a dramatic gesture, along with a pamphlet.

“Should be fine for a weekend stay, gentlemen! I’ve heard that they even sell genuine rubbery lumps there, tastes just like it does back in London, apparently. Haven’t tried any myself, admittedly.”

And with that parting note, the Boatem Crew had set off from their rendezvous, leaving behind Ren, Doc, and their horde of semi-displaced goats.

A few weeks later, they had finished finding decent homes for the goats across the entirety of the High Wilderness, with a few exceptions who were still very much at home onboard their locomotive. And finally, the two could head off to their first vacation in several months.

“So, Worlebury-juxta-Mare.” Ren commented, staring at the cursive writing on one of the passes, and checking the pamphlet’s travel details with the map in front of him. “Have you gone there before?”

“Nope.” Doc replied, most of his focus upon repairing his mechanical arm after their last goat drop-off resulted in a very close call with some of Albion’s native wildlife. “It’s…off to the east, isn’t it?”

“Past London, yeah. Not close to the Avid Horizon, though.”

“That’s good to hear, I don’t think they’ll be happy to see us again so soon after that one, uh, incident.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“True.”

The journey to the holiday destination took a little under a fortnight, with the last of the goats willing to leave rehomed on the way. The one remaining goat ended up being named Vigenere, and appointed as the Octagon Van’s noble mascot, screams and all.

The island that Worlebury was located upon was shrouded in mist, which slowly parted to reveal a quaint-looking town, with multiple other locomotives docked at the port, and the faint outline of amusement park rides in the distance.

“Well, it certainly looks like what the pamphlet described.” Doc said, as their locomotive was guided to a docking station.

As they stepped onto the wooden planks of the docks, they followed the signs leading them to a sizeable queue in front of the main gates of the station. A few signs, all in the same fanciful cursive as the passes that they carried, directed visitors either to the queue for those with passes, those bringing supplies, those waiting for regular entry, and workers. Right by where all the queues began, they could see a bright turquoise banner for a Swaggon Inc. stall, set up in what looked like a cart, and selling all manner of knickknacks to the passing visitors.

“Suppose that’s us.” Doc pointed at one of the shorter queues, patrons in fine clothing and clearly of noble or wealthy backgrounds murmuring among themselves as their passes were checked and stamped.

As they waited, an official suddenly wandered by, stared at them for half a second, before making a ‘come over here’ gesture. Curious, the two headed over, and the man held out a hand, the badge of a government representative clearly affixed to his lapel.

“First time in Worlebury-juxta-Mare? Excellent, excellent, right this way then.” He said, a businessman’s grin fixed upon his face as he shook their hands in greeting. “I’m a representative of the Bureau of Entertainments, and I’d like to welcome you to our fine port. Now, I know queue jumping is a little uncouth, but well, for fine gentlemen as yourself, I am certain you would rather be enjoying the sights rather than mingling with the proletariat for hours.”

Ren and Doc shared an awkward glance, silently comparing their practical, but significantly less extravagant, attire with the shining emerald suit the official was wearing. Over by the admission pass queue, one of the women’s hats looked more expensive than all of Doc’s prosthetics combined, and Ren knew for a fact that Doc had not spared any expense with his equipment or materials for that.

“Uh, thanks? We do have passes though.” Ren held up the aforementioned two items.

“Consider this a courtesy for your first time visiting. We are, of course, absolutely certain that you will be returning guests, after all.” The man smiled at them, before showing them to a door that had a brass plaque with the words ‘Fitting Room’ etched onto it. “Now, there is a dress code, so please do step inside and let the good Couturier find you a suitable outfit.”

With only the slightest amount of hesitancy, the duo stepped into what turned out to be a sizeable room that had all manner of clothing hung up in the wardrobes and racks that lined its walls. The Couturier took one look at Doc’s labcoat (missing a sleeve after it was ripped too many times by him using his mechanical arm to physically fend off the creatures that attacked their locomotive), and Ren’s combination of overalls, tinted goggles, and a ragged red shirt, seemed to grind his teeth in silent outrage, and stalked over to one of the racks.

“Pick an article of clothing you imagine suits you, and I’ll…figure something out to match it.” He said shortly.

Doc immediately gravitated towards the rack of coats, finding a white coat that was almost like his labcoat except with all its sleeves, and also made in the fashion style of decades past. The Couturier seemed to calm down upon seeing his choice, and immediately busied himself with providing the rest of a three-piece suit to accompany it. Off to the side, Doc saw Ren contemplate a lavish velvet-lined hat, before putting it down and flicking through a selection of dress shirts and blouses.

Fifteen minutes later, they had finally shoved Ren into a tailcoat set, much to the relief of the Couturier, who had seemed close to sobbing after the twelfth time that Ren had thought the chosen attire did not suit him.

“I still think the fur coat would have looked better.”

“It looked like someone had stitched together a bunch of rats, Ren.”

Ren sighed dramatically, before immediately lighting up once again as they finally made it into the port town proper, and spotted the wide variety of shops and amusement park games that lined the streets.

“Oh, there’s a stall for the rubbery lumps that Scar mentioned!”

And with that, the hours whirled past as they visited shop after shop, Ren gleefully taste-testing several shops’ worth of tea variety before ordering a few caddies for them to take with them. At one point, Doc swore there was something more wormy than earthy in a particular cup of tea, staring suspiciously into his cup before setting it down. There was something…just a bit odd, besides the fact that the mists really were vaguely corrosive and causing their clothes from the fitting room to slowly disintegrate and unravel as time went by.

But, on the other hand, Ren did seem to be having a good time, and the shop with a wide array of elaborate tea sets, and other porcelain objects, was quite enjoyable to wander through, even if the screams from the nearby donkey ride was a little disconcerting.

Wait. Screams?

Doc whirled around, to where the donkey ride was. No, he must have been mistaken, it seemed like nothing was amiss, though his mechanical eye did focus upon an odd reddish stain that seemed to shimmer in and out of view. He blinked, and the stain was gone.

Huh, his eye probably needed a little bit of a tune up once they were back on board the Van.

“Hey, Doc, want to get some candyfloss?”

He turned away from the donkeys, to where Ren was tugging him over to a stand with multicoloured sticks of candyfloss. Still perturbed, he absently took a bite out of the pale green spun sugar that Ren had purchased for him.

It was sweet. A bit almond-bitter, if he thought about it for long enough.

Their hotel resort room was actually quite comfortable, considering they were essentially visiting for free. The Department official had said that their stay would be the equivalent of their usual pass, just without needing the actual pass, for some reason.

Ren tugged awkwardly at his clothes as they settled for the day, the fabric already looking a bit threadbare. Doc simply huffed, sitting down in one of the armchairs with relief after a whole day of walking and running around.

“They sure weren’t joking about the mists.” Ren joked, looking out at their beachfront view. “We’ll probably be lucky to get to midday tomorrow before we have to leave because our fitting room outfits are in tatters.”

“I thought we already saw everything today?” Doc eyed the bags of souvenirs that they had acquired, and the stack of cargo receipts he was dreading having to file away at a later time.

“There’s an art exhibition tomorrow, and we still haven’t seen the beach.”

“Hm, alright.” Doc sighed, sinking further into his armchair. “I’m going to be honest; I’m looking forward to being back on our locomotive, my eye’s been seeing some strange things and I think it might need a tune-up.”

“Probably isn’t anything serious, Doc!”

“I hope so.”

Roughly eight hours later, Doc was deeply regretting everything as the sky above the beach shimmered and doubled, the sight of an idyllic foggy day overlapping with scintillating tendrils of unsettling light. Off to the side, Ren was attempting to skip stones along the sea of mist, which quite frankly wasn’t working on account of the ‘water’ not being water in the first place.

“Ren, I think we should leave.” He said, catching the other man’s attention. “I’m…The place is starting to look a bit weird.”

“Ah, is the eye giving you that much trouble?”

“No, it’s-“

“Eh, we can always come back later, we still have the tickets Scar gave us.” Ren shrugged, and the two of them slowly made their way back to the dock. As they stepped back out onto the wooden platforms that formed the dockside, Doc blinked as the double vision he had been experiencing slowly cleared up, fading away almost like mist on a windy day.

An hour or two later, and Doc held up his mechanical eye to the lightbulb above his workstation, frowning in consternation. There didn’t seem to be any faults with the eye, and he even swapped it back out again with the spare, to compare the two. For all intents and purposes, his eye was perfectly functional, down to the polished glass lenses within it.

“Well, Doc? How’s the eye?” Ren poked his head into the tiny room that housed most of Doc’s tools and other equipment.

“It…seems to be working as normal. I don’t get it, I swear it was glitching out whilst we were in town, but there’s nothing wrong with it! I even pulled it apart to check if some of the internal pieces had corroded or fallen out of place, but it was all fine!”

“Huh, weird.” Ren shrugged. “So, you up for heading back in to the town, or do you want us to go? We did manage to get quite a bit of souvenirs, anyways.”

“Honestly? I think we ought to go, there’s just something not right about this place.”

“Hm, maybe something about the mists is making your hardware go a bit haywire? They do have a corrosive effect, even if its mild enough to only affect fabrics.” Ren nodded. “Anyways, I’ll go tell the crew to get ready to set off.”

“Uh. Captains?”

The two turned, to see one of the crewmembers looking at them with barely hidden panic on their face.

“Yeah?” Ren raised an eyebrow.

“Vigenere. The mascot. We can’t find them anywhere!”