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dannystheone · 3 months ago

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Merc With The Mouth (Lee DP/ Ler Wolv)

HI GUYS OMG IT'S HERE!

So I watched Deadpool and Wolverine in theaters being a big-time Deadpool fan since 2016 and I fell into the trenches HARD

I was not expecting to fixate on this movie as hard as I have but I wanted to try my hand at it! Now let me be clear, this is no @lovemybluebully work, they really have their finger on the pulse when it comes to these fics, but nevertheless, I'm still excited to share this piece :)

I hope you guys enjoy this is a big thing to take on after having not written in a while so I hope it's well received! Thank you for everything

WARNINGS: SPOILERS! Cursing, gore, violence, general shenanigans, fourth wall breaks

Wolverine snaps on Deadpool in the Honda Odyssey after hours of being a mouthy handful. But how does he deal with the silence that follows?

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Hours of driving in the dusty Honda Odyssey, not getting any closer to the Borderlands where they were needed, and a jabbering idiot in his ear made Logan's eyeball twitching damn near audible.

The dense corn fields on either side of the Odyssey whipped past as Wolverine's hands clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Deadpool started up another nonsense topic to yap on about after Wolverine told him to shut up for the millionth time. Apparently, no one's ever taught Wade to sit in a comfortable silence.

"So if they fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do? Rubbing alcohol shots with a wiper fluid chaser?" Wade quipped. The weight of Wade's words hit Logan's ear like a bullet. It was the first thing Wade had said that Logan paid any real attention to, but this was arguably the most paramount.

Logan took his foot off the gas and slammed into the brake, making the Honda's tires squeal and jolt to a jarring stop. The vehicle shuddered with the sudden movements. Deadpool looked to Wolverine as Wolverine faced him, malice glinting in his eye.

"What did you say?" Wolverine asked Deadpool with chilling calm.

After discovering the ridiculousness that was Wade's so-called 'educated wish', Logan found himself in an uncontrollable rant after the days' past events caught up with him all at once. Once he started his rant, he found he couldn't stop. Everything he wanted to say to Wade that day poured out of him in a stream of hatred. Deadpool stared at him unnervingly with no comment while he raged.

"-Couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! And motherfucker I wish I could say you die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! Except that's on all of us!" Wolverine growled, his heart thundering in his chest after he ended his explosive tirade. He looked to Wade expectantly.

"Oh, what? You got nothin' to say, Mouth?" Wolverine spat.

Deadpool swallowed silently, being taken back to the photo that he had shown to Wolverine that had his whole world inside of it. His whole world, in one tiny polaroid. And even though it was that small, he still couldn't save it.

He felt his resolve slowly crumble as Wolverine's words started to sink in. He couldn't save Vanessa in his timeline, and when he brought her back to life she still left him. What if he failed again like he did last time, on an interdimensional scale, with not even a cream cheese spreader in hand to try to defend his loved ones? His whole world, his whole everything, lost? He couldn't defend them from an entire timeline collapsing. Maybe Logan was right-

Wolverine snapped his fingers in Deadpool's face to snap him back to reality.

"Hey, asshole. I'm talking to you. What have you got to say? You've had some idiotic little quip to respond to everything I've said to you today, and now you clam up?" Wolverine demanded.

Deadpool swallowed again and opened his mouth to speak, but he was truly lost. He was really at a loss for words. He didn't think this would ever happen to him, but he couldn't even begin to think how he could respond. Logan got him this time.

Unfortunately for Wade, this pissed Logan off worse than hearing about this 'educated wish' bullshit. Wolverine didn't want to admit that most of what he said was deflection, and he was frustrated and took it out on Deadpool. The more Deadpool was silent about his explosion, the more Wolverine would have to think and actually reflect on what he said to him. Wolverine wanted to fight, to argue now, to get this aggression out. Wolverine shifted in his seat to better face Deadpool and pointed a gloved finger in his face.

"If you think, that this stupid little game of yours with not fucking talking is gonna make me regret a SINGLE thing I said to you in any way, you're sorely fucking mistaken. We're not moving this car until you open your goddamn mouth." Wolverine snarled. Deadpool snuck a glance at the camera for this gratuitous quote from Wolverine but kept his mouth shut.

Deadpool decided to see if he could call his bluff because he was still at a loss for words. What was the point of any of this if everything would be destroyed, leaving him in the dark like his life before his family?

Wolverine growled and unsheathed his adamantium claws, and shoved them in Deadpool's ribs. The Honda Odyssey jostled with the violent movement. Blood began to seep from the wound and crawl down Deadpool's side. The red bled into the shade of Deadpool's suit. Yet, not a peep left Wade's mouth; He stared nonchalantly at the dashboard ahead of him. Nothing Deadpool couldn't handle of course. He's had worse from Vanessa in terms of penetration.

"Why is it NOW that you finally shut up? I said speak, bastard!" Despite the bliss that was Deadpool not speaking, Wolverine couldn't stand the thought of being remorseful of his words, especially in the direction of Wade Wilson. He should be able to say whatever he wanted and not feel guilt twining in his chest like barbed wire.

With an irritated sigh, Wolverine went to take his claws out of Wade's ribs. He jerked his elbow back to take his claws out, but his claws were caught on something. Grunting, Wolverine drew his elbow back more sharply on the next try, but Deadpool's body swayed with him. Now, if Deadpool were on speaking terms, he would allude to Wolverine's inability to pull out. However, he wasn't feeling funny right now.

Wolverine snarled in annoyance and grabbed Deadpool's ribs with his free hand to brace himself and wrench his claws out. Wolverine's fingers pressed into Deadpool's ribs, causing a jolt to pass through the merc. Deadpool snorted, a small sound coming out of his mouth. He slapped Wolverine's hand off his ribs, but Wolverine heard that small exchange.

"What was that? Something to say, Bub?" Wolverine tested. Deadpool stayed silent. Anger flared up in Wolverine as he clenched his fist. He shot forward and gripped his ribs with more force to seize his claws out. Deadpool jolted as he yelped and shrunk away from Wolverine's hands.

"GAH! Hey, no touching, Penn State. I don't have my rape whistle on me today." Deadpool shoved Wolverine's hand off his ribs again, but Wolverine figured this was the only way to get him talking again. Wolverine took his hand and gave Deadpool an intentional squish in his side just below his sunk claws, causing Deadpool to squeak.

"You're gonna talk, asshole. We're not moving until you show me what you thought about what I said." Wolverine needed to know how Deadpool felt about what he said so Deadpool didn't power down on him when it came to saving the world later. He needed to know that he didn't actually take those hurtful words to heart. Deadpool narrowed his eyes at Wolverine and instead tried to yank his claws out of his ribs.

"What is this, a podcast? We already hosted one to promote the movie, where you said absolutely nothing- might I add- and now you care about my opinion? Too little, too late, Fresh and Fit. You don't get my opinion, you just get to drive." Deadpool faced forward again, but Wolverine wasn't having it.

"Alright that's it you piece of arrogant shit-" Well, this was one way to get his aggression out. Wolverine took the claws that were embedded in Deadpool's ribs and used the leverage to drag Deadpool closer to him. Wolverine took his free hand and started scribbling his gloved hand on Deadpool's stomach. Wade squealed and started pushing against him immediately.

"Mahaha! Nohoho no no- wahahait! Thihihis ihihihisn't hohohow I imahahagined it!! Ahahat leheheast rehehead mhyhy AO3 fihihihirst!" Deadpool started giggling and kicking his legs, trying to curl away from Wolverine's offensive hand. Wolverine kept a gruff expression, not knowing all these inane references he liked to use. Logan scribbled his fingers into Wade's side, making the merc squeal.

"Why do you always jabber on about everything I DON'T want you to talk about. All you have to do is one simple fucking thing and you can't even do that." Wolverine grumbled. He didn't want to sit here tickling Deadpool all day, especially when they were on a world-ending time crunch, but he needed a non-sulking competent partner.

"I cahahan't! I'm tohohoo commihihitted to the bihihihit!" Deadpool shook his head as Wolverine continued, his fingers squishing into Wade's skin as he kept a firm grip on him via his claws. Logan had to admit, he couldn't remember the last time he actively tickled someone. Maybe some antics back at the academy, but that was decades ago. Hopefully, he hasn't lost his touch, however, Wolverine wouldn't be surprised if Deadpool had a thing for this kind of stuff.

"You gonna talk now? We've got no time for games." Wolverine asked. Deadpool threw up his hands and gestured to Wolverine squishing his side repeatedly while still laughing, a wordless show.

"Juhuhust stohohohop ahahalready! Thehehese ahaharen't lihihike my heheadcannons ohohf yohou 'ler'ing' ahahat ahahahall!" Deadpool shouted. Wolverine figured maybe a different spot was in order. He went lower on Deadpool's side nearing the top of his hip, and Deadpool's laughter grew louder with the motion.

"Wahahait wait wahait! I neheheed a pahahassword behehefore yohohou goho behehelow the behehelt! Thehe mohohovie is R-rahated but stihihill!" Deadpool kicked the legroom he had in front of him as Wolverine started kneading his hip with his thumb. He always had to be theatrical, no matter what.

"Why don't you just stop wasting our time and say what I want you to say. You said your world is at stake, isn't it? And you're taking up time being an ass." Wolverine gruffed. Logan's four fingers were pressed against Wade's back as his thumb pushed and pressed into the hollow of his hip, which was surprisingly easy to find through his suit. Wolverine drug Deadpool closer with his claws every time he tried to escape.

"I dohohon't knohohow whahat you wahahant mehehe to sahahay! Thihihis ihihihisn't in the scrihihipt!" Despite this being a dream come true for Wade, he did agree that they were wasting time here. He didn't know what it was Wolverine expected him to do though. He wanted feedback for exploding on him like that? He was unclear about Wolverine's goals if he didn't say them aloud.

"Stop talking and just fucking speak! Quit wasting your breath on fucking nonsense!" Wolverine demanded. He moved his hand to Deadpool's waistline above his belt and started vibrating his fingers into the skin. Deadpool snuck a suggestive look into the camera before bursting out in laughter again.

"Yohohou knohohow fohohor beheheing mahahad yohohou're dohohoing behehetter thahahan my rohohohose tohohoy!" Deadpool shouted, his hands trying to push Wolverine's hand down below his belt line while Wolverine kept up his vibrating motion. Wolverine grimaced in disgust and shoved his hand as far away from his belt as possible, which he found was lodged in Deadpool's armpit. He began scratching into the space.

"Fine, then we'll just be here all day, wasting our time, when an entire timeline is collapsing because you don't want to take two seconds to say one fucking sentence." Even Wolverine didn't know what he wanted that sentence to be. He was starting to think even if he did hear what he thought he wanted to hear, it wouldn't be enough to calm his eternal war.

"I cahahan't dohoho thahahat! I cahahan't ihihimprohovise whehen I'm beheheing tihihickled!" Deadpool countered. Being giggly didn't give Deadpool the best coordination or strength for that matter, so trying to get Wolverine's hand out of his armpit was a herculean feat.

"Whyhyhy hahahahasn't Shahawn yehehelled 'CUT' yehehehet?! Thihihis ihihihis rihihidiculous!" Even Deadpool had his limits, and he was coming up on it. Some of his fantasies were much better on paper rather than practice. Deadpool decided to try and get out of this in a way that wasn't physical. Wade swallowed the remainder of his laughs and pointed out the windshield.

"Oh my God! The Bachelorette! The TVA sent Jenn Tran to the Void?! What is she doing here?!" Deadpool put on his best convincing voice as he pointed behind Wolverine. Wolverine followed his pointed hand before inwardly cursing himself. Deadpool took his leg and shot out at Logan's jaw, kicking the mutant in the face. The force knocked Wolverine's claws out of his ribs (finally) and sent Logan into the door of the Odyssey. The Honda wobbled with the movement, Logan looking temporarily dazed.

"Finally, now you'll- Oh God." Deadpool started, but Wolverine recovered earlier than he'd thought. Wolverine held Deadpool's leg in his grip with his leg draped over the center console, a grin crafted of pure malice on Wolverine's face. Deadpool looked at the camera with a nervous expression.

"Chat, on a scale of 1 to 10, how cooked am I?" Deadpool asked before nearly screaming.

Wolverine had plunged his fingers into Deadpool's thigh and kneecap, squishing and prodding the sensitive skin on top and inside his thigh. Deadpool belly laughed when he was just giggling before, unable to truly form words now. Wolverine snorted with a frown and shook his head at the ridiculous display as he continued scribbling and scratching over Wade's thigh.

"NOHOHO! Thihihihis ihihihisn't hohohohow yohohou treheheat Mahaharvel Jehehehesus!" Deadpool laughed hysterically, his leg kicking as the ticklish electricity zapped up and down his thigh.

"Talk and I'll let go. It's really that simple, you're doing this to yourself, Bub." Despite the huge threat the timeline was facing, Wolverine was starting to brighten with this treatment of Deadpool. He didn't think it would get him this bad, and after being an insufferable prick all day, he was starting to gladden at the fact that he could get him back in some way.

"Ihihihif I hahahad it myhyhyhy wahahay, yohohou'd behehe tihihihickling ahaha dihihihifferent bohohohody pahahart!" Deadpool let out. Even when he was getting tickled to death, he had to express his quips. Not being able to be a smartass was the REAL torture.

So they were there for a minute, going back and forth between each other with Deadpool being effortlessly funny and Wolverine muttering in reply. It would be listed out here for you but the author is running out of dialogue and doesn't want to admit it.

"Okahahahay seheheheriously! Ihihihif yohohou dohohon't stohohop I'm sehehetting Dogpohohool on yohohou!" Deadpool shouted, his leg kicking and shaking from its repeated abuse from Wolverine.

"You ready to talk yet? We go any more and you're gonna hurt yourself." Wolverine eventually asked. Deadpool simply nodded, too overcome with laughter, and Wolverine let him go. Deadpool held his thudding heart while he caught his breath, glad that his mask shielded the view of his red cheeks.

"Ha... ah... and I thought Colossus was mean. He at least asks if I'm comfortable and establishes a safeword first. You're just... vicious. I don't even think Blake has explored my body like that." Deadpool took his leg off of Wolverine's lap and slouched in his seat.

"So. What do you have to say?" Wolverine asked. Deadpool's heart calmed as he opened his mouth.

"Well... truthfully... I mean if we had the time and the budget for a segment that lengthy we could have used it for scenes you'd have to open your incognito tab for-" Wolverine shot his hand out at Deadpool but didn't actually touch him, and Deadpool jumped and yelled in surprise.

"What do you have to say about what I said, smartass? No fucking games." Wolverine said with icy calm. Deadpool exhaled loudly and dropped his head back into his seat, looking up at the ceiling of the Odyssey.

"I think you're wrong. I can save my family, my universe, and my timeline because I've done it before. But not without your help. You're right, I did lie to you. I lied and I told you what you wanted to hear just so you could help me, and there's a reason why you're the anchor being and I'm not. I was willing to say anything to get you here, to help me. And I'm... I'm sorry. I am sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Deadpool looked over to Wolverine who was looking at him with a softened expression.

Wolverine took a moment before he slowly nodded.

"Okay. Come on. Let's save your fragile ass timeline and save your world, so you can stay far away from mine as possible." Wolverine said ultimately. Deadpool nodded, pumping his fists into the air.

"Yes! Ketchup and Mustard are back on the road! The fanservice is our savior once more. It's a blue moon when it doesn't work, and those odds only kick up when you're writing for Voltron." Wolverine started the car back up and began to amble down the road once more.

Only a few moments afterward did Deadpool start back up his antics after Wolverine started driving down the road in the Odyssey like nothing had happened earlier.

"Hey, Honey Badger. English or Spanish?" Deadpool asked. Wolverine narrowed his eyes at the question and shook his head.

"The hell are you asking me?" Wolverine asked. Deadpool cackled unexpectedly.

"HAH! I always knew underneath that rugged exterior was a fruit bowl on the inside. The kind of fruit bowl with a single bruised banana and a brown lime in it, with some garlic cloves at the bottom, but still a fruit bowl nevertheless. Oh, you make me happy." Deadpool went and leaned his head on Wolverine's shoulder until Wolverine shrugged him off.

Something about Deadpool's fruit bowl comment nagged at Wolverine. Something about the garlic cloves made him unexpectedly snort. Deadpool looked at him like the god that he was as a ghost of a smile traced Wolverine's lips.

"You really are the Merc with the Mouth huh? You never shut up." Wolverine commented. Deadpool reached over and gave a generous helping of pokes up and down Wolverine's side. Wolverine growled and slapped Deadpool's hand away.

"You touch me again and you lose that hand." Wolverine threatened.

"That's the game, and business is good. By the way, next time let's establish when we're going to do a tickle scene, okay? Danny tends to be insecure about the length of the tickling scenes in their works because they feel they write too much exposition." Deadpool looked into the camera and winked.

"Who the hell are you- you know what, fuck it." Wolverine shook his head once more and stared out onto the open road.

"Don't worry Danny, you're doing great sweetie. And thank all of you for your unending support. You just say the word and we'll get Steve Irwin hear singing his laughter like he's on The Greatest Showman again. We'll see you next time, here in the Borderlands." Deadpool blew a kiss into the camera and waved off the audience.

#danny writes #danny fics #danny tickle fics #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie #lee deadpool #ler wolverine #deadpool tickles #logan howlett #wade wilson #lee wade wilson #ler logan howlett

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lovesickonmybed · 9 months ago

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bully ellie is really really mean and i really really want her, so I want to ask what would be her reaction to reader in a date with someone like her (a loser)

bully!ellie my beloved. she's soooooooo mean and so jealous that anyone is hanging around her nerd but her. in my mind she's pretty possessive over reader even though they aren't together and she bullies her. i think ellie finding reader on a date in general would make her lose it, but finding you with another loser would make her 10x worse. this was gonna be short but it turned into a mini fic. pls feel free to send more bully!ellie stuff bc i love her.

i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

masterlist | info abt palestine | donate to gaza

Maybe y'all are out at a coffee shop or something, sitting in a booth near the back talking about your favorite movies when Ellie walks in. You're sitting facing the door and she spots you immediately. She looks pissed when she sees you and walks over without a plan for what she'll say or do. You sigh and look away from her, dreading what's about to happen, your date looks around confused until her eyes land on Ellie.

Ellie sits down at your booth, shoving your date to scoot over, shooting her a mean glare, "When did you two losers get together?" she snarks, raising an eyebrow and looking between you two. Your date scoots closer towards the window and looks Ellie up and down fearfully.

“Ellie we’re just trying t-” you try to speak but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Trying to make small talk before you lose your virginities to each other because no one else wants to fuck either of you?”

Ellie’s response shocks both you and your date, your eyes go wide and your jaw drops. Your date quickly scrambles to try speak up but Ellie narrows her eyes at her threateningly to shut her up. “Don’t try to deny it, I could smell you desperate losers from a mile away. You,” she points to you and smirks, “You’re probably wet at just the idea of having her lazily attempt to fingerbang you in the back of her moms Honda. She won’t get you to cum you know.”

Your face heats up with embarrassment and you look down and take a sip of your water as Ellie continues to humiliate you and your date. Ellie turns to your date to address her, “You were gonna give her an awful fuck weren’t you? Y’know Dina told me that she heard you talking to your little friends in the locker room about how you finally came for the first time just last week. One sad little orgasm doesn’t mean you should promise little losers like them,” she motions over to you and chuckles, “a great night. It’s not fair to get her hopes up like that.”

Your date looks down, very clearly feeling humiliated by Ellie and her words. “P-Please move,” she mutters to Ellie. Normally Ellie would tell her to speak up and humiliate her further but she’s already quite satisfied with the girls humiliated state and gets up for her to exit the booth. As the girl pushes past her Ellie is quick to grab her waistband that’s showing over the top of her skirt and pull hard enough to get her to yelp. Your date rushes off out of the coffee shop, stuffing her pulled panties back into her skirt as she rushes out to her car.

“Seriously, Ellie? You had to ruin a date for me too?” You groan, your head falling into your hands in frustration.

Ellie rolls her eyes and takes a sip of your date's discarded drink, “I saved you from having to fake an orgasm for a girl who can’t even get herself off. You should be thanking me, loser.”

“In your dreams. You just ruined my chance with her and she left without paying!”

Ellie rolls her eyes and throws a $10 down onto the table, “There, I even paid. Happy now, loser?” Ellie walks closer to you and grabs your hand, pulling you to the edge of your seat. She closely examines your makeup and outfit, smirking to herself while she does, she extends her hand to you, “Get up, you’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not,” you cross your arms over your chest in defiance, looking up at her with a glare.

“You are, you don’t have any other way home now that your little date is gone. Lets. Go.”

You think it over for a second before sighing and taking her hand, letting her help you up from the booth. You follow her out to her car and get in the passenger seat begrudgingly. As you buckle up she reaches over and lifts your skirt and looks down, “You wore some pretty panties for her loser, shame she didn’t get to see them hmm.”

You groan and pull your skirt back down, crossing your legs. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“And you eat it up, nerd.”

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #bully!ellie williams #bully kink

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moonshynecybin · 8 months ago

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGemcDwPY/ Vale doing this to Marc a couple years down the line (when their relationship has been established, maybe they’re already engaged at this point, disgression) in the FCO AU because google calendar used to be that place that they had to share with the PR people from Honda/Yamaha and that Marc obviously loathed and obviously they no longer have access to them now and I don’t think that Valentino is like, enough of a nerd to do this, BUT, I think it could happen once and it would make Marc blush like a fool (he definitely takes a screencap of the invite just in case it ever disappears)

it’s literally like. okay we are past all of the #angst and headfirst into the reality of rosquez in a loving and committed and deeply horny relationship that has been well established at this point. several years post outing, post fake dating, post screamin and fighting and kissing in the rain, et cetera. they are sweet! they are in love! BUT. they are ALSO two of the busiest people on the planetttttttt. so it’s been. literally like three fucking weeks at this point since they’ve gotten more than a night alone together. agony. first it was a double header and then vale had sponsorship obligations and marc had a photo shoot and vale had to meet with one of the academy kids and then they BOTH had testing and like. it’s one thing to have lots of sexy fun sneaking around the paddock trying to find a spot that can lock long enough to fuck in between press conferences. it’s another when EVERYONE knows you guys are fucking and STILL the only time together you get outside of literally being unconscious is AT those same press conferences!!!! not fun!!!! not sexy!!!! (dani voice. can you two please stop playing footsie. jorge voice. marc that is in fact my foot. and my thigh.)

SO! what is a romantic little prankster to do when he wants to plan a fucking. at this point it feels like BIANNUAL date night with his favorite generational talented but unfortunately very busy twink ass boyfriend?? well if you’re vale, you hack his google calendar when he’s sleeping and you trick him. for funsies. he loves a scheme he loves a plan he loves a joke he loves a surprise !

so like. it’s post fucking media day at a race and marc is EXHAUSTED and all he wants to do is find vale and curl up in one of their ludicrously tricked out mobile homes and pass out with his nose pressed like. into vale’s armpit. and dream about merging their souls into one ephemeral but eternal being. typical marc stuff. and he’s almostttt out the door when his friendssistant (they ALL HAVE ONE !) jose tugs on his sleeve near the end of the day and is like. i’m sorry marc, but there’s one more thing… and he literally nearly CRIES. he hasn’t gotten dicked down in a FORTNIGHT it’s dire. it’s rough.

BUT! it also means that he doesn’t ask many questions. so when he gets led (easily) to whatever goofy ass elaborate rich people venue vale has chosen for date night (neither of them have changed clothes this so so essential to me… just both of them in khaki shorts so big they could legally be classified as parachutes. and new balances/vans. in the rich people venue.) he is SUPRISED ! and delighted… it’s perfect… vale sitting there eyes sparkling SO pleased to get one over on marc in the lovely little joyful way you get when you play a sweet little joke on your partner and is marc SO happy to get some alone time/attention just basking in it… like they LOVE each other… it’s the perfect night… and they do get papped (FCO AU is fundamentally about being famous and having no privacy i have to stick to the THEMES of my story) and they don’t even care!!! because the photos are them like. slow dancing and slightly tipsy pressed together… marc’s hands looped around vale’s neck… swaying… and the photos are kind of blurry but the smiles on their faces come through clear as day…

#tiktok is a guy sending a lady a gcal invite titled date? which is cuuuute #not exactly what you asked but nonetheless where my brain drifted. our little traditions.#motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez #forced coming out au

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theboombutton · 7 months ago

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I've just started reading Dungeon Meshi and I had to share some context for a Japanese-culture joke that I actually got for once!

When I was in college, there was a little independent theater that mostly showed foreign & independent films, plus midnight cult classics, monster movie Mondays, and a monthly? amateur short film festival that was also a gong show*. I didn't make near enough use of this theater and I regret that to this day, but one of the movies I did see there on a Monster Movie Monday was Matango.

Spoilers for Matango below, if it wasn't obvious.

Matango (1963) is a Japanese monster movie by director Ishiro Honda, who you're most likely to know as the director of Godzilla (1954). Matango is generally considered his darkest film. Also, weirdly, I've heard a rumor it might be a major inspiration for Gilligan's Island? And I can kinda see it?

Anyway, it's about a group of people who are shipwrecked on an island full of radioactive fungus. Everybody's pretty leery about eating them, because the shipwreckees found an older shipwreck, including a ship's log from its (now-absent) survivors saying the mushrooms cause hallucinations - but they're running low on food so eventually some of them say y'know what, fuck it.

The mushrooms turn out to be not only hallucinogenic, but also addictive and infectious - you can tell how long someone's been eating mushrooms based on their level of mushroom disfigurement. The mushroom eaters hunt down the holdouts and force them to eat the mushrooms too. Only one dude escapes the island, and in the last shot of the film we see - dun dun DUN! - even though he got away without eating any mushrooms, he still got infected and is turning into a mushroom person.

So the implication is that the travelogue guy ate from a Matango-style walking mushroom, and got transformed into one himself for his trouble. And because it's a funny side page instead of main comic continuity, Marcille understands the implication and is freaked out by this.

What's funnier to me, though, is Laios's nonchalance. You just know that if he understood the cultural reference, he would be fucking drooling at the thought of a monster he could both eat and turn into.

Dumb asides about that independent theater's film festival below the cut.

* The Gong Show was a 70s TV talent show where if someone's act sucked, they'd ring a big gong to cut them off. In the case of this short film festival, there was a 2 or 3 minute grace period, after which one of the organizers shone a light on the gong. Once the light was on the gong, the audience was allowed and indeed encouraged to shout "gong!" if they weren't enjoying the current film; if there was enough shouting, the host would ring the gong and the film would be cut off. From a creator's perspective I imagine this must have been humiliating; but from an audience and I suppose business perspective, it was crucial to keeping the event fun and well-attended. Very few people would have paid 5 bucks to spend their Friday night screening a bunch of poorly-paced, masturbatory student films. Instead, the threat of the gong encouraged locals to make short funny videos that would have done numbers on Tiktok if it had been around at the time. (An example I still remember 15 years later: shots of someone's hands assembling a cheese sandwich while Duel of the Fates plays. Cut to show the guy throwing the sandwich into the air, just as the music is climaxing. The guy is in jedi robes, activates his lightsaber, and swings at the sandwich. Cut to the sandwich falling back onto the plate, cut in half, grilled from the slice out. The guy picks up one of the halves and takes a bite. End of film.)

I only saw the audience not be ruthless about gonging a boring film once. An out-of-towner entered a short about a woman losing her child during the Holocaust. Not depicting an actual series of events, you understand - just symbolic shots of stars of david and swastikas and a woman and her child frolicking in a field and then DRAMATIC SLOW-MO on a shot of her spinning around and then gasp! The clothes are empty!

During the intro (every entrant gave one before their film was shown), she mentioned that it had won some other local film festivals, but she didn't think it was going to play as well here. I get the impression she hadn't realized this was a festival attended by normal-ass people, and was rather embarrassed about how poorly hers was going to go over. But, nobody wanted to be the first one to boo a film about the Holocaust, and so everyone patiently waited through her maudlin piece of crap film. (When your film is already dragging, for the love of god, don't add slo-mo .)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #matango #matango 1963 #walking mushroom #toho

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maks-punchout-hyperfixtion · 5 months ago

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Punch out headcanons take one

Sorry super punch fans, this is only wii/nes versions

Minor circuit

Glass Joe

Pretty good baker, can't make complex stuff without help though.

Actually retired once after the arcade/nes version of punch out, came back after Gabby jay retired, has had thoughts about it again but keeps remembering that his life would be dull without it. Also his score rested and he still got 99 loses (102 after the wii game)

Has trouble sleeping, uses weighted blankets to help.

Von Kaiser

Your meaning to tell me that dispite being 42 canon years old with some of the most out of pocket head canons ever im the only one that thought it would be funny for him to have a kid be the near opposite of him? Aka he is a dad.

Knows how to cook, doesn't often anymore but still knows

I believe he would like coconuts.no i won't elaborate.

Disco Kid

Likes all kinds of songs, not just disco. Still loves disco though.

Is a relative of kid quick, nobody knows what relation though.

I like the idea that he is friends with aran, i don't ship disco clover but its still a nice pairing we need more.

King Hippo

Can speak English but prefers grunts or noises.

Likes to explain his culture, specifically gifts and other stuff other find meaningless.

Also has a lot of tropical recipes he gives to everyone.

Major circuit

Piston Hondo

Still has that restaurant from the Wii live action ad.

Piston honda? Oh that's his twin.

Definitely has a manga collection. He also has 3 sets of everything. One for display one for reading and one for borrowing. He does not trust aran,soda, bear hugger, and king hippo with them at all.

Bear Hugger

Dad energy. He essentially went and adopted all the boxers with daddy issues, or parent issues in general.

Forced the WVBA to give maple (the bear) a seat in the crowd so she could watch the match, they had to make an entire separate area for her.

Has walked out in the snow with nothing but his overalls and shoes on. That gave everyone a scare forgetting he's used to the cold.

Great Tiger

Uses his clones to do/help with his chores. Once got beaten up by them (a reference of the century here folks)

Once his jewel was stolen and was found in a pawn shop selling for 3 dollars. He was mad at how low the price was then anything.

Once brought his tiger into the shared house, and it immediately broke the couch. The tiger is not allowed in the house anymore.

Don Flamenco

He and Carmen broke up after his first lost, got back together shortly after and forgot the whole issue.

Used bull fighters techniques on bald bull, he would have won if bald bull didn't right hook him into next sunday (literally)

Has tried multiple different types of hair growers, wigs, and more. He is still Balding.

World circuit

Aran Ryan

Actually got in the world circuit fair and square, not by cheating.

He started cheating after some idiot tried to stab him in the ring, good times from the WVBA!

I have a feeling he would say he likes to eat limes raw just to get on everyone's nerves.

Has also gotten confused with his Older brother, spo Aran Ryan, who promptly got a name change after aram started to cheat.

Soda Popinski

None of the boxer can drink his soda because its a legit health hazard to all of them.

Has no clue what the hell is going on 68% of the time.

Has actually used dry ice as a ice pack. This guy isn't human anymore.

Bald Bull

Hates don flamenco with a passion after the bull technique incident.

Is actually calm outside the ring, any public out brust is to get rid of potential paparazzi's (it doesn't work often)

Makes a pretty good calming tea.

Super Macho Man

Once had a horrible movie shoot that made him lose alot of viewer, proceeded to have an early mid life crisis and dye his hair gray.

After his loss with little mac he was more upset at the ladys chasing after little mac rather then him, rather then the sudden drop of viewers (which wasn't even a dent)

Probably had alot of talks about his boxer outfit, you know what im referring too.

Mr. Sandman

Dispite his name, he gets very little sleep. Not like glass joe but still.

He's so strong the WVBA actually has a ambulance on standby whenever he fights.

One time was put up against glass joe, actually laughed, realized it was serious, looked the referee in the eyes and said "if im put up against him ever again we'll need to find a new glass joe" and forfeited the game. Technically if joes score didn't reset it would now be 2-299.

#mak post 2024 #punch out wii #punch out #glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #king hippo #piston honda #piston hondo #bear hugger #great tiger #don flamenco #aran ryan #soda popinski #bald bull #super macho man #mr sandman #punch out headcanons

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year ago

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Ko-fi prompt from @thisarenotarealblog:

There's a street near me that has eight car dealerships all on the same lot- i counted. it mystifies me that even one gets enough sales to keep going- but 8?? is there something you can tell me that demystifies this aspect of capitalism for me?

I had a few theories going in, but had to do some research. Here is my primary hypothesis, and then I'll run through what they mean and whether research agrees with me:

Sales make up only part of a dealership's income, so whether or not the dealership sells much is secondary to other factors.

Dealerships are put near each other for similar reasons to grouping clothing stores in a mall or restaurants on a single street.

Zoning laws impact where a car dealership can exist.

Let's start with how revenue works for a car dealership, as you mentioned 'that even one gets enough sales to keep going' is confusing. For this, I'm going to be using the Sharpsheets finance example, this NYU spreadsheet, and this Motor1 article.

This example notes that the profit margin (i.e. the percentage of revenue that comes out after paying all salaries, rent, supply, etc) for a car dealership is comparatively low, which is confirmed by the NYC sheet. The gross profit margin (that is to say, profits on the car sale before salaries, rent, taxes) is under 15% in both sources, which is significantly lower than, say, the 50% or so that one sees in apparel or cable tv.

Cars are expensive to purchase, and can't be sold for much more than you did purchase them. However, a low gross profit margin on an item that costs tens of thousands of dollars is still a hefty chunk of cash. 15% gross profit of a $20,000 car is still $3,000 profit. On top of that, the dealership will charge fees, sell warranties, and offer upgrades. They may also have paid deals to advertise or push certain brands of tire, maintenance fluids, and of course, banks that offer auto loans. So if a dealership sells one car a day, well, that's still several thousand dollars coming in, which is enough to pay the salaries of most of the employees. According to the Motor1 article, "the average gross profit per new vehicle sits at $6,244" in early 2022.

There is also a much less volatile, if also much smaller, source of revenue in attaching a repairs and checkup service to a dealership. If the location offers repairs (either under warranty or at a 'discounted' rate compared to a local, non-dealership mechanic), state inspections, and software updates, that's a recurring source of revenue from customers that aren't interested in purchasing a car more than once a decade.

This also all varies based on whether it's a brand location, used vs new, luxury vs standards, and so on.

I was mistaken as to how large a part of the revenue is the repairs and services section, but the income for a single dealership, on average, does work out math-wise. Hypothesis disproven, but we've learned something, and confirmed that income across the field does seem to be holding steady.

I'm going to handle the zoning and consolidation together, since they overlap:

Consolidation is a pretty easy one: this is a tactic called clustering. The expectation is that if you're going to, say, a Honda dealership to look at a midsize sedan, and there's a Nissan right next door, and a Ford across the street, and a Honda right around the corner, you might as well hit up the others to see if they have better deals. This tactic works for some businesses but not others. In the case of auto dealerships, the marketing advantage of clustering mixes with the restrictions of zoning laws.

Zoning laws vary by state, county, and township. Auto dealerships can generally only be opened on commercially zoned property.

I am going to use an area I have been to as an example/case study.

This pdf is a set of zoning regulations for Suffolk County, New York, published 2018, reviewing land use in the county during 2016. I'm going to paste in the map of the Town of Huntington, page 62, a region I worked in sporadically a few years ago, and know mostly for its mall and cutesy town center.

Those red sections are Commercially Zoned areas, and they largely follow some large stroads, most notably Jericho Turnpike (the horizontal line halfway down) and Walt Whitman Road (the vertical line on the left). The bulge where they intersect is Walt Whitman Mall, and the big red chunk in the bottom left is... mostly parking. That central strip, Jericho Turnpike, and its intersection with Walt Whitman... looks like this:

All those red spots are auto dealerships, one after another.

So zoning laws indicate that a dealership (and many other types of commercial properties) can only exist in that little red strip on the land use map, and dealerships take up a lot of space. Not only do they need places to put all of the cars they are selling, but they also need places to park all their customers and employees.

This is where we get into the issue of parking minimums. There is a recent video from Climate Town, with a guest spot by NotJustBikes. If you want to know more about this aspect of zoning law, I'd recommend watching this video and the one linked in the description.

Suffolk county does not have parking minimums. Those are decided on a town or village level. In this case, this means we are looking at the code set for the town of Huntington. (I was originally looking on the county level, and then cut the knot by just asking my real estate agent mom if she knew where I could find minimum parking regulations. She said to look up e360 by town, and lo and behold! There they are.)

(There is also this arcgis map, which shows that they are all within the C6 subset of commercial districting, the General Business District.)

Furniture or appliance store, machinery or new auto sales - 1 per 500 square feet of gross floor area

Used auto sales, boat sales, commercial nurseries selling at retail - 5 spaces for each use (to be specifically designated for customer parking) - Plus 1 for each 5,000 square feet of lot area

This is a bit odd, at first glance, as the requirements are actually much lower than that of other businesses, like drive-in restaurants (1 per 35 sqft) or department stores (1 per 200 sqft). I could not find confirmation on whether the 'gross floor area' of the dealership included only indoor spaces or also the parking lot space allotted to the objects for sale, but I think we can assume that any parking spaces used by merchandise do not qualify as part of the minimum. Some dealerships can have up to 20,000 gross sqft, so those would require 40 parking spaces reserved solely for customers and employees. Smaller dealerships would naturally need less. One dealership in this area is currently offering 65 cars of varying makes and models; some may be held inside the building, but most will be on the lot, and the number may go higher in other seasons. If we assume they need 30 parking spaces for customers and employees, and can have up to 70 cars in the lot itself, they are likely to have 100 parking spaces total.

That's a lot of parking.

Other businesses that require that kind of parking requirement are generally seeing much higher visitation. Consider this wider section of the map:

The other buildings with comparative parking are a grocery store (Lidl) and a post office (can get some pretty high visitation in the holiday season, but also just at random).

Compare them, then, to the "old town" section of the same town.

There are a handful of public parking areas nearby (lined in blue), whereas the bulk of the businesses are put together along this set of streets. While there is a lot of foot traffic and vehicle passage, which is appealing for almost any business, opening a car dealership in this area would require not only buying a building, but also the buildings surrounding it. You would need to bulldoze them for the necessary parking, which would be prohibitively expensive due to the cost of local real estate... and would probably get shot down in the application process by city planners and town councils and so on. Much easier to just buy land over in the strip where everyone's got giant parking lots and you can just add a few extra cramped lanes for the merchandise.

Car dealerships also tend to be very brightly lit, which hits a lot of NIMBY sore spots. It's much easier to go to sleep if you aren't right next to a glaring floodlight at a car dealership, so it's best if we just shove them all away from expensive residential, which means towards the loud stroads, which means... all along these two major roads/highways.

And if they're all limited to a narrow type of zoning already, they might as well take advantage of cluster marketing and just all set up shop near each other in hopes of stealing one of the other's customers.

As consumers, it's also better for us, because if we want to try out a few different cars from a few different brands, it's pretty easy to just go one building down to try out the Hyundai and see if it's better than a Chevy in the same price group.

(Prompt me on ko-fi!)

#economics prompts #marketing #zoning laws #ko fi prompts #ko fi #auto industry #automotive dealerships #car dealerships #phoenix posts

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identifying-cars-in-posts · 1 year ago

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Hey what would you say is the most unkillable car? Last time i had a car and it started sounding weird i ADHD'd so close to the sun it literally died mid-drive and never got back up ;u; (Admired cars from a distance in the 10years since, and the guilt is strong, but i really need one now and a 'needy' car is the worst possible car for me lol) Love this blog <3

i will always stand by toyota and honda as good brands to default to. it’s like a meme at this point how reliable they are. especially toyota, whatever you need out of a car, toyota (or lexus, same company) probably has a version that will go forever while staying cheap to maintain and relatively hassle-free, especially if you don’t know much about cars. the default is the corolla. honda civics and accords are also up there, and hondas in general tend to be pretty solid, just less consistently than toyota. mazdas are also pretty solid, as are 90s volvos (though with these when problems do come up they tend to be pricy to fix) some mid to late 2000s and 2010s hyundais, 90s and EARLY 2000s saturns, and 90s subarus

the thing with cars though is that they’re only as reliable as they are well maintained. toyotas and hondas can usually take a bit more neglect than most but they have their limits. a friend of mine just bought a 90k mile toyota corolla from one of its best generations (she got a ‘98) and it’s already presented with a bunch of weird random problems. they are complex machines and things can and will eventually break. conversely, sometime the most notoriously unreliable cars will go forever - a friend of mine got a trouble free near 20 years out of a chrysler pt cruiser because it was babied

all that to say, i highly recommend a toyota or honda, but finding a car with a good maintenance history in good shape is more important than anything. if you can, bring it to a mechanic or if you have a friend who’s mechanically inclined bring them with you to check a potential car out before you buy it, assuming you’re buying used. even if it’s from a dealership, unless it’s from an official manufacturer dealership that’s the best way to guarantee something’s gonna be in the best shape for the longest time

#not a car id #asks #anon #car recs

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charles-leclerc-official · 6 months ago

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RB thoughts! I don't deny that SP11 is doing well! It's just that if RB wants to win the WCC they can't expect for Max to carry the whole team on his shoulders! One off weekend and the gap went from 60ish points iirc to 24 points. 24 points is almost nothing to flip if we consider we're a third of the way through the season. On the topic of possible teammates for Max there are quite a few options, but few viable ones. SP11 staying is the most probable because he's a known quantity. NH27 would've been an option before he signed with Audi. Looking at who other could have been an option, they're not viable for a plethora of reasons: AA23 & PP10 were cut off from the team, DR3, LS2, VB77, ZG24 & KM20 are not actually better than SP11, EO31 & CS55 have historically clashed with Max and they won't absolutely tap in YT22 because he's a Honda academy graduate and Honda is moving to AM for 2026. Their reluctance to put LL in that AT seat for 2023 or 2024 will cost them dearly. I can't see any other candidates for that RB seat in the near future, so RB effectively screwed themselves over with the musical chairs they were doing up until 2020. I feel like this whole situation is a clash between managements of RB and AT, which has in turn led to a Gordian knot of a situation. (DR3 in that AT seat is the sticking point for me, because if they wanted him for PR, he was already theirs as the reserve driver and there was absolutely no need to put him in a F1 seat full time). I feel like H*rner and RB in general have been mismanaging drivers since the inception of the team, and I can't see it getting any better, sadly. For as much as Ferrari is known for not treating their drivers well, it's still better than how RB treats theirs, I feel.

I agree with you on Checo, he's a good driver, but his results are likely not going to be strong enough to secure the constructor's(we'll have to see that could change) And next year the constructor's is going to be more up in the air I think. So do they stay with the known quantity or take a risk on someone new? I seems they aren't taking that risk and it will likely be what costs them the WCC(not that someone new would come in and make that happen either but it might be worth trying)

This is actually a very good summary of things and the likely trajectory of the team in terms of talent recruitment. Very nicely put anon.

And yes, the reason the team has artificially looked stronger than they are is because of Max. I don't know how he's still standing from carrying that team both on and off the track. Max being good has made Horner look more competent at talent management than he is.

Like people look at VCARB and we don't really know what they are doing. They are there, racing, they are connected to Red Bull, but why? What is the goal? Apparently to develop young talent for other teams to eventually take. Whatever team gets Yuki is going to be very lucky.

And Ferrari gets a far worse reputation than they really have. Most drivers still say very good things about Ferrari in spite of the brutal environment. Then you have Alex who is out there openly saying how bad Red Bull was to him. And some of it comes down to the environment at the front of the field being brutal no matter which team you are in.

#luci answers

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yallwildinrn · 1 year ago

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Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

#the karate kid #cobra kai #johnny lawrence #og cobras #horror #writing #my writing #snake in the grass #forgot to mention #this is set in a few years after TKK #May 1990 to be exact #I’ve so much work into this it’s not even funny #put so much*#I’m really proud of this ngl #wish I could let y’all know when it’ll be finished and out but #I’m hoping everything will be completely done and ready to publish by next Halloween #I’d say sooner but I’m going so slow rn #maybe I’ll be able to get some real writing done on winter break

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haghottie420 · 6 days ago

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About the Stoned Hag Who Runs This Blog

Alyssa | She/Her | Dyke | Aries ♈️ | 30 | Tattoo Collector | Bitch Druid | Film Podcaster: Let's Get Fucked Up w/ Alyssa and Sadie | Leftist | Liberation for all | Free Palestine 🍉 | TERFS, Minors, occupation supporters DNI | personal blogging tag | my fic tag | my post tag | I have a John Waters tattoo and I showed it to him once. Shows: True Detective (season 1), What We do In the Shadows, Dragula, Interview with the Vampire, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, English Teacher, Yellowjackets, Community, Bob's Burgers, The X-Files, Film: Horror, John Waters, Gregg Araki, Wachowski Sisters, Noroi: The Curse (2005), Nowhere (1997), Cecil B. Demented (2000), I Saw the TV Glow (2024) Video Games: Pokemon, Stardew Valley Music: Metric, Broken Social Scene, Stars, Hop Along, Arctic Monkeys, Fall Out Boy, Charli XCX, Chappell Roan, Saintseneca, Lady Lamb General: Some Aesthetic Tags, cats, 18+, fav posts

I won't shut the fuck up about: Smoking weed, my wife and Rust Cohle and Mary Hart making out Follow me on: Letterboxd | AO3 | Bluesky

Latest True Detective Fics:

Tag Selection: Weed, Smoking and Fucking, Bottom Rustin "Rust" Cohle, Anal Sex, Marty's Giant Dick mention, Domestic Fluff, Domestic smut, Barebacking, Exhibitionism, Emotional Sex, Riding, The mortifying ordeal of your daughter teaching you how to roll a joint in front of your hot partner Their favorite habit since making a home together has been smoking weed in the sunroom at twilight. Marty hates how many cigarettes Rust smokes, even after cutting back. The taste is always sour on his tongue when they kiss. But he’s been respectful of the fact that tobacco and nicotine are nowhere near as bad as the alcohol and the harder shit Crash was into. Besides, the number of cigs diminished compared to what he could put away in the front seat in ’95. Marty doesn’t keep alcohol in the house anymore, thinks both of their livers are penning them thank you letters for being spared cirrhosis. Rust was lucky to dry out in a coma and is doing his damnedest to stay off that particular wagon, so the smoke takes some of the edge off. Marty spirals upwards.

Tag selection: Trauma, Should I even tag trauma or is that just implied in this fandom, Husband's work partner to lovers, the mortifying ordeal of discovering your two father figures are fucking, Original Butch Dyke Character, Non-linear narrative

Audrey doesn’t know how she ended up here—face throbbing, upper body bent over the steering wheel of her beat-up Honda in the driveway of her estranged father’s tiny rancher. She throws the burner phone back into her messy pile of clothes, heart is still pounding. The sweat covering her hands is now smeared all over the steering wheel and mixed with dried blood from her previously weeping wound. The inside of the car smells like copper and black ice air freshener. Audrey breaks the flat circle.

Currently working on:

-???

#bitchdruid.txt #pinned post

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wehrwolf · 2 years ago

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so this week I flew across the country by myself to see my favourite band in the entire world. practically nothing went amiss. I had random interactions with lovely people. my hobbling faith in humanity has straightened its spine a bit? I’ll be cringe about this below because I want to remember, let’s have some positivity for once.

I hate that I like nissan rogues, I know the transmissions are dogshit. rented one for a day to avoid dragging luggage all over hell’s creation. sound system fucked hard. LOUD paul barker. ate hella steak, eggs and pancakes at pancake chef near seatac. alright alright alright.

killed time before hotel check-in, visited lakeview for brandon and bruce lee, ended up perusing the cemetery with a multi-talented guy from LA for about an hour swapping perspectives, observations on the human condition and tombstone critiques. glossy black crow perched on an equally inky granite headstone embellished with a huge cross - oh my goth, bro. eric, I’m sorry your cat died, you are rad and I will try to find your music online. be water, my friend.

the fashionable gentleman who checked me into the hotel was a sweetheart, down with skinny puppy, name dropped wax trax, awesome taste in rings.

dipped out for coffee, asked directions from coffee-holding stranger in glasses to make sure I was headed the right way. ran into him the next day in my new hoodie post gig, he mentioned how he used to work at a record store in edmonton, sold records to cEvin. what? insane.

seattle has too many hills, someone should do something about this. but very walkable. always move confidently with purpose, shoulders back, mean mug, look like you want to curb-stomp god. never appear lost.

found a 24 hr cafe near the kurt cobain twin tower / frasier obelisk that served a mean breakfast and was blasting tunes at 9:30am. several compliments on my filthy rat nest hair. what is this fever dream? unwashed hair is in. pancakes are my passion.

wandered to the paramount to get my bearings, saw justin by the tour bus and that metalworker ephraim dude’s sick rusted-out mad max’d honda cr-v. meandered around for the rest of the afternoon before skuppy-prep time. incredible roast beef horseradish sandwich. cool and good.

hung out in the GA line for a while, no VIP this time, wind picked up and it was pretty cold for a may evening. ended up next to a tough looking dude during the show, chatted a bit, he was a kmfdm roadie for a few tours. said his best puppy show was new orleans, I can only imagine. he reminded me of wez from the road warrior. thank you R for the gum, it gave me a second wind.

the paramount theatre is something out of a golden fairytale, gilded to the gills. generous stage for alien abuse. fantastic acoustics. reminds me of the hippodrome. I relished irving plaza’s intimacy but the paramount was my favourite venue.

I will never tire of seeing lead into gold. soundtrack for slowly asphyxiating in a warm tar pit but make it erotic. thank you paul barker, long-legged light of our lives.

no surge/mosh at this show- if so, I didn’t notice. the energy was on point. denver had some choice dumbasses in the crowd, no such issue here. seattle mirrored silver spring imo, excellent all around. I made a brief, wonky post touching on this but in denver ogre was still obviously uncomfortable. that made me feel fucked up... and quiet afterwards. this time around he seemed in great spirits, tons of energy, spinning the mic around a bunch, writhing all over the place to thwart tormentor!dustin (our boy is flexible). everyone was going wild, we all yelled ourselves hoarse. got to use their A setup with the big projection sheet. justin and cEv on risers.

side note: big love to matthew for his crowd engagement and bubbly enthusiasm this entire tour. honestly he comes off as just a literal cinnamon roll of a guy and the tour diaries have been a real treat. at the end he reflected on otherness and a need to be kind to one another in an unkind world, which really oddly summed up my seattle adventure... and the general vibe of skinny puppy’s unique fans (as others have mentioned here far more eloquently).

also real talk does ogre do belly dancing or something BECAUSE jesus fucking christ man he makes my mind literally fucking blank with all that fluid gyration absolutely knuckle dragging cave woman looney toons wolf beating the shit out of itself with a hammer feral. he knows what he’s doing too, god bless him. there were gals behind me that just started SHRIEKING like it was beatlemania, fucking ogremania with every slutty little hip movement (”go daddy gooo”). also like... cock grabbing causing me irreparable brain damage. then he legit straight up purposefully spit/drooled and it was just... super hOrny NOT like... mouth trauma symptom salivation (I hope? oh god.) his spit makes me insane. ok.

this was the first time I had the pleasure of hearing god’s gift (maggot). we were graced with smothered hope at earlier shows... so I think I basically experienced everything الحمد لله رب العالمين screaming. they ended with candle again, huge plus. ogre practically pranced off the stage after the encore. everyone came back out together for a heartfelt round of goodbyes. no concerts have moved me like these puppy gigs. I am so thankful, down to the marrow. there are probably other details but I have slept ~two hours in the past 48 so... ✌️👽

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markmiller97568 · 7 months ago

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dreamauri · 8 months ago

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♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part four max verstappen x fem! driver! reader (fluff) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and wec prodigies collide, hey find out hey find out that they're not that different and carve out a place for their selves in each others hearts. the commentators from sky sports call this puppy love

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

Y/N Halimi-L/N chats with Martin Brundle on his DREAM F1 debut 🏎️🐅

"One more lap, tsunoda ahead in p10. push for q3." "heard." You mumbled back on the radio, preparing for one more qualifying lap to be a part f the top ten. You've never raced in jeddah before as it was one of the newer circuits and you'd long left formula 2 by then.

But the track wasn't too difficult to figure out. Sure the track is challenging, especially since FP3 wasn't enough to learn the car and that you still indeed are learning the track. Qualifying laps were ok, no real battles yet, just against the clock which gave you peace of mind.

The sim helped a little, not as much as the fact that you'd be teammates with charles again or the fact that Lando has a good car and would be near you throughout the race, battening you or not. On top of that, the only reason you're going through with the race (like you had a choice anyways) is max.

You'd subconsciously called Max after Fred Vasseur broke the news to you, making him the first person to know and the first person so far this half weekend to give you real tips and advice about the circuit, going as far as staying up with you the other night after inviting you to his room to practice on his sim.

"Well done, Y/N, that is P9. P9." You heard your race engineer beep in your ears as you crossed the finish line. "WO! Q3!" "Line up so far is: verstappen, leclerc, alonso, piastri, russel, perez, norris, tsunoda, you, stroll." "Tsunoda? I thought he P10? Did i not knock him out?" "No, that was—" "Oh my god, it's john wick." you gasped once realizing. "Who?" "I eliminated lewis, didn't i?" "Confirmed. Yes." "Oh my god."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled, giving a nod to return the greeting. “You’ve had an amazing debut thus far. How are you feeling?” You laughed, shrugging. “I woke up this morning thinking I’d be chillaxing back in the hospitality and drinking barbican while watching the red cars. Never expected that I’d be in one of the cars. But uh, we had a good qualifying. Q3 is good for the team and hopefully, we’ll have a good pace tomorrow.”

“It is a very remarkable debut,” “It is.” You agreed nodding, brushing your hair back. “I mean, I knew I’d be driving an F1 car at some point or another. I’m glad it was a night race. I’ll do my best to seize the moment and maximize the opportunity,” you quote, joking, making the interviewer laugh. “And we’ll see where tomorrow takes us.” “Very nice, Y/N.” “Thank you-” looked back, feeling someone put a hand on your shoulder.

Max could visibly see you relax upon realizing it was him. He found the smile that rose on your face too cute. “Q3, I taught her.” He joked, making you laugh. “Which position?” “P6.” Max made an impressed face nodding. “Hands off my teammate.” Charles shooed Max, pushing him away. You watched, trying to hold in your laugh.

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“There was something in the air that night, the stars so bright, fernando.” You sang as you hugged the spaniard. “youre going to sing that every time you see me." He laughed, hugging you back and patting your back. “its tradition." You reminded him as the two of you pulled away. He ruffled your hair, cupping the back of your head. “P6?” He asked, smiling. You shrugged, smiling. “just stay behind me." “very funny, nando."

You waved him goodbye as bid a farewell, going to his car. You unlocked your phone as you walked the other way, scrolling through your contacts as you looked around, searching for a certain honda. You don’t remember the license plate so finding your ride back was difficult, especially since there were so many cars in a lot of colors and expensive models.

‘Where are you?’ You send the text message, looking around the parking lot. You were answered with a light flicker. Max’s car wasn’t too far, he’d turned his lights on and off as a signal for you. He wasn’t too far, so you made a jog for it, opening the car door and getting in the passenger seat, and placing your backpack between your feet.

Max started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. Since you accidentally spent the night at his, and the two of you were already staying at the same hotel and you didn’t rent a car out for the weekend, Max figured: why not carpool? “Seat Belt.” the blond reminded you as the car neared the exit of the parking lot. You did catch what he said, distracted by looking out at the other driver’s who were finding their own cars.

“hm?” instead of repeating himself, max reached and buckled you up himself, smoothly merging into traffic, using blinkers and abiding the laws. You blushed, leaning your elbow on the door and watching him out of the corner of your eyes. It was a long day and you were tired. Still jet lagged, you made the mistake of waking up early to venture around unknowing that you'd be driving twice. And now that the main anxiety drilling events were over, the sleep and rest you needed was catching up to you.

Max lowered the music from the radio once he noticed your low energy and slow blinking. He'd been taking glances in your direction, keeping track of you slowly dozing off. When he parked the car at the hotel, you were totally asleep. It took max a few seconds of theorizing on what to do next before going into action.

He didn’t want to wake you up, so with two backpacks on, he managed to get you up on your feet so he could carry you. You were only half asleep when he gently and slowly opened the door, catching your elbow so you don't fall. with half opened eyes, you looked at him confused as he pulled your backpack on before unbuckling your seat.

You let him hold your hands and help you get out, before gently wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up into his chest. He kicked the door shut before carrying you away. You leaned your head on his shoulder falling back into slumberland.

it was a shame you weren't awake to witness the journey up to his room. Max had somehow signaled a staff worker over, making him take out the wallet from his back pocket and unlock the entrance from the garage to the building, and once again to unlock the door to his room.

The truly memorable part was when Max set you on his bed. After taking your shoes off and covering you with the blanket, the dutch gently brushed your hair in a ponytail he found in your bag. When he tried to pull away, to get himself asleep on the couch, you'd held his hand in your sleep.

Max felt like he was frozen in place as if one of his cats fell asleep on him and he couldn't move so as to not wake them up. He knelt down on the floor, brushing his thumb against your cheek where you held his hand. You looked so peaceful and adorable that it took Max around 10 minutes of contemplation before slipping in bed with you where you welcomed him by hugging him and clinging onto him.

The smile and blush that covered his cheeks as he hugged and cuddled you back, stayed on his face through the night. The best sleep he's ever had.

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“The nostalgia,” “It's like a copy paste.” the two commentators laughed. “Just look at her driving style as well, she's aggressive but not over the line, shouting" I'm here, I'm going to overtake, and you can’t do anything about it.” Their explanation was on point. You got straight to the point. You caught up, intimidated, saw a gap and went for it. P6 to P3 with a good chunk of the race left. Max and Charles were ahead by a few points and it took you a few laps to catch up. Staying behind the fellow ferrari, you stayed on his tail within a half second distance.

Once you took corner #27 and the DRS was applicable, You were past Charles and chasing Max in the red bull.

Post dive bombing max into turn one, and over taking him, you lead a difficult 4 laps where the dutch was breathing down your neck. You genuinely felt scared because he was in your mirrors the whole time, like playing tag with an adult and they laugh evilly which makes it feel real and you start screaming and actually running for your life.

Max did eventually take his P1 back and you stayed behind him. Unfortunately, under team orders, you had to switch with Charles and give him the P2 once he caught up. You looked up once someone came up from behind you, patting your back. “Rickey, when I catch you, rickey.” You laughed as you took your helmet off, watching Max go off for his post race interview. “Nice driving,” You turned, smiling at Charles and returning the fistbump. “Nice breaking.” you returned the compliment.

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not two steps in the room and max had cupped his hand under your chin and pulled you in a for a kiss. You were defiantly suppressed, not getting the chance to at least find the light switch or put the trophy down somewhere. You kissed back eagerly, a small hum leaving your throat as the two of you made out.

Max must have been continuing where you left off in the morning with how hungry and eager he seemed. Since waking up tangled in each other, the moment led to a kiss and another and another. You never realised how attracted you were to max, how he made you feel.

Dropping your bag, you used your free hand tp tangle your fingers in the hair at his nape, letting him tilt your head with the grip he hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. "I've been waiting all day." he mumbled before leaning in for another kiss.

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arminreindl · 7 months ago

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So this one was an absolute blast (and sometimes pain) to research in preparation for the stream and I love how Josch's piece came out.

And so that all that info isn't just hidden away I'll break this one down beyond the croc stuff. Big part of this was defining what would be used, which brings the often overlooked but important distinction between the Pebas Megawetlands as a whole and the Pebas Formation in particular. Obviously the latter was used for this piece, which largely removed other fossil localities like Fitzcarrald and most importantly La Venta of the Honda Group from the resource pool (La Venta being well known for its mammal fossils), but despite this there was still a lot of ground to cover.

Starting with the crocs, the Pebas Formation might just be the formation with the single highest Cenozoic croc diversity. Sure in total theres more taxa in places like Urumaco, but in that case they are spread out across very different biomes. Meanwhile, all 7 Pebas crocodilians are known from the same localities. Of those 7, 4 are featured in the piece, covering most of the different morphotypes. The ones left out were Paleosuchus sp. (an extinct species of dwarf caiman), Kuttanacaiman and Caiman wannlangstoni (the latter two being ecologically too similar to one that is featured).

Images by Joschua Knüppe, Wann Langston, Andrzej Wolniewicz and yours truly.

The first one that obviously had to be included was Purussaurus neivensis. I wager most are familiar with Purussaurus at least by hearsay, generally as "one of the biggest crocodilians" and all those estimates upwards of 10 meter in length. Purussaurus neivensis however is the oldest species in this genus and as such as nowhere near as big and has a notably less boxy head. It was still big mind you, when I scaled it some years ago I still got a size of 6 to 7 meters, though a paper published after that proposed a more modest 5 to 4 meters. Multiple localities have yielded bones of this thing and the locality of Na 069 has sloth fossils that bear bitemarks likely attributed to P. neivensis.

Images by Josch, yours truly and Salas-Gismondi R. et al.

The second largest animal featured here is Gryposuchus pachakamue. Now as with Purussaurus, Gryposuchus is probably best known from its giant relatives like G. croizeti. Again the species encounted within the Pebas Formation is smaller and has some major anatomical differences, namely the fact that the eyes aren't telescoped. Quick context, if you look up the skull of modern gharials and derived Gryposuchus, you'll find that the rims of their eyes are raised, which elevetes the eyes. That's telescoping and not present in G. pachakamue. This might factor into habitat preferences and ecology. Telescope-eyed Gryposuchus are present in the Pebas Megawetlands, but do appear to stick to the edges and areas with flowing waters, like rivers, whereas G. pachakamue was found deeper in the oxygen-poor swamps. Another cool thing about this guy is that its the only crocodilian from the formation thats not a caiman, but a gharial. Long story short, gharials briefly colonized South America, thrived but sadly went extinct. Tho its possible that todays Indian Gharials are descendents of this South American radiation.

Artwork by Josch, skull reconstructions by Wann Langston, size comparisson by me

Third on our list is Mourasuchus atopus, which, I mean look at it. Mourasuchus takes us back to the caiman subfamily and it might just be the weirdest of the bunch. A flattened surfboard like head, highly telescoped eyes, lots of small teeth. These things are an enigma. Again the species present in this piece is on the smaller end of the spectrum and in general these animals are often way oversized in artwork and popular literature. The more interesting thing tho is their diet, which we still don't quite get. Theres been multiple hypothesis, including that it was a herbivore or that it waited with open jaws for fish to pass by. The hypothesis that has recieved the most attention is "filter feeding", tho the term is probably missleading as I'll explain. The idea is that Mourasuchus may have fed on small prey that could have hid in substrate or appeared in large numbers. Accordingly, it has often been depicted with a gullar pouch or similar to whales, largely based on a hypothesis erected for the unrelated Stomatosuchus, tho said hypothesis is not well supported either. Given that it lacks any obvious filter apparatus and may not have actually filtered anything, its perhaps more apt to describe it as a gulp feeder as used by Cidade et al. in their study. Which nicely leads into the name gulper caiman thats occasionally floated around.

Images by Joschua, Kevin Montalbán-Rivera and me

The final croc featured in this piece is Gnatusuchus (Nose Crocodile), the smallest of this selection at only around 1.5 meters long but not the smallest overall (that honour goes to the unnamed Paleosuchus species). Gnatusuchus represents the crusher morphotype. Basically, during this time period the wetlands had an incredibly diverse mollusc fauna with plenty of shellfish. These shellfish became prey to a variety of caimans that had blunt, globular teeth and generally shorter snouts. The afforementioned Kuttanacaiman and Caiman wannlangstoni both fall into this camp, but Gnatusuchus was probably the most extreme with its shovel-like skull and very round teeth. It is thought that they were the main predator of clams in the oxygen poor swamps, given that as air-breathers they didn't take issue to the water conditions in the same way that fish did.

Live reconstructions by Joschua, Paradracaena skull by Matt Borths, Pebasiconcha size by Ta-tea-two-te-to

Crocs out of the way lets move on to other reptiles with Paradracaena and its would-be prey that I'll just cover here for simplicity. Now Paradracaena is an extinct relative of today's Caiman lizards and tegus and a good example of where La Venta really comes to help. The skull featured above is from La Venta for example, but we do have less complete fossils of this animal from the Pebas Formation, after all they are located within the same wetland system. Paradracaena was large, larger than modern caiman lizards and tegus, yet this one overestimates just how big its prey is. Pebasiconcha is among the largest known terrestrial snails with a size of possibly up to 30 cm (25 at the least of it), larger than even today's giant african land snails.

More hidden is this one, Colombophis, a relative of today's false coral snake. Now problem is, I know little to none about this animal so I'm afraid I cannot provide that much information on it other than that it was widespread across the megawetlands and its successor systems during the Miocene.

Joschua Knüppe and the University of California Museum of Paleontology

The final reptile to be covered is this guy, Chelus colombiana aka the Giant Mata Mata. This is another one that I know less about than I like and its been on my list to research and write about for a while, but to keep it brief Chelus colombiana is a relative of the modern mata mata turtle that reached a shell length of upwards of 70 centimeter. Given that Mata Matas have stupidly long necks, the full animal would probably exceed a meter in length. If I get around to it I'll go on a deep dive in the future, but I'll make no promises.

People who follow my blog should be familiar with this animal, given I've written a summary on it shortly after it was described (shameless plug here). Several cool things about this guy come to mind. Not only is Pebanista the largest river dolphin we know (at least of those that are described), measuring 3.5 meters in length, but its also entirely unrelated to the river dolphins that inhabit the Amazon today. Instead, as one might guess from the name, Pebanista is most closely related to the genus Platanista, which includes the Ganges and Indus river dolphins of South Asia. This family used to be a lot more common during the Oligocene prior to the rise of orcas, sperm whales and real dolphins, and both our modern ones and Pebanista seem to have fled competition into areas further inland. In the back you can also see manatees. Better known from other regions of the wetlands, manatees are known from the Pebas Formation itself through ribs and teeth.

Moving on to the remaining mammal fauna. Again this is far from my expertise so I'll have to keep things relatively brief. First and most obvious we got the ground sloth, Magdalenabradys. Remember when I mentioned that we have caiman bite marks on some fossil remains, yeah its this guy. Which makes it all the better that in Josch's illustration the latter seems to sneak up on the former. Now when said bitemarks were described the sloth was identified as Pseudoprepotherium, but some digging by the other members of Paleostream has found that the Pebas specimens were later moved to the genus Magdalenabradys (hell the name of the type species even references how common this confusion is). Next to it you'll find Potamarchus, relatives of today's Pacarana and Josephoartigasia, the largest rodent ever. A more distant cousin to these guys is seen in the background next to Mourasuchus, Neoepiblema. THe morphology of the hindlimbs and pelvis suggest that they could have been digging or swimming animals, the latter seeming quite likely given the types of environments inhabited by them. And finally there's the glyptodont, specifically, bear with me, Parapropalaehoplophorus. Not making this up. Now a consistent theme with the Pebas Formation mammals is how little we know of them. Again, La Venta is easily the superior formation when it comes to mammal fossils, wheras the Pebas Formation proper mostly preserves fragments of taxa found in the former.

Fish I'll just keep to a quick footnote, having reached another area where I just know little about these animals to the point where I feel like without doing a proper deepdive I might just accidentally get something wrong. The most interesting might be the cow-nosed rays and the sawfish. Sawfish of course still inhabit the Amazon to this day, so perhaps this ones not so surprising. The cow-nosed ray stands out more, but several papers indicate the presence of either Myliobatis (the eagle ray) or Rhinoptera (the cownose ray). The latter ended up being chosen due to the work of Chabain et al., who also named three different species of Potamotrygon (bottom left next to Purussaurus), which are your typical South American river rays. The rest of the fish fauna here falls into your typical modern Amazonian fauna (Pacus, Plecos, Piranhas, Cichlids and various catfish) with Pogonias being the one outlier featured, as its closest kin are found in the Atlantic Ocean (tho they do occasionally venture into freshwater from what I could gather). In general there are some fossil fish from the formation that are either offshoots of lineages that are still marine to this day or early offshoots of groups that would eventually become fully freshwater, highlighting how these fish, much like the dolphins, took the opportunity presented by these enormous wetlands to expand into new habitats.

And thats all I have to say, thankfully I somehow managed to keep this under Tumblrs 30 picture limit.

Result from the Pebas formation #paleostream!

Not as diverse as some other places he have hit and yet, we weren't even able to put in all the crocs.

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