#i say this as a mixed race kid with one white parent and one not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

badomensbaby · 5 months

Text

rules of the road. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: finally getting your driver's license after moving to the big city for college, you're a bit stunned by your dorky, charming driving instructor.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, praise kink, mommy kink, car sex, safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content. (driving instructor! luke, racecar driver! luke)

words: 6,307

a/n: one beautiful evening, as i was driving home with a frosty from wendy's balanced in my lap, i saw a student driver vehicle and i was like! hm! what if... and then this kind of happened. i tried to keep a keen eye while editing but if there's an error, feel free to let me know! <3

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

You weren't a typically nervous person.

Growing up in a town where you practically had to just figure it out on your own, nothing really got under your skin. Not tractor maintenance nor harvest schedules, or that nasty little wasp's nest in the cattle barn in the spring.

But tests, those were a different story.

From college entrance exams to applying for your driver's license, those were the types of tests that made your heart race and your palms clam up. Because it was the unknown that bothered you so much. The unfamiliarity.

And, sprinkle in the fact that you'd left the family farm to pursue a college degree into the mix and every worry's been increased tenfold. As the baby of the family, first daughter behind a handful of rowdy, hard-working boys, being the first of your household to attend college was a serious milestone. You could only hope to make your parents and siblings proud.

But moving to the big city meant learning to drive. Well, legally. You've spent countless hours in your father's farm truck or your grandfather's tractor, you weren't necessarily inexperienced when it came to driving but you've never really been surrounded by other drivers. Just gravel roads and grassy two-tracks and your bothers dirt bikes.

The initial exam, a knowledge test about road signs and rules, wasn't too bad. They'd given you a practice test and a helpful guide booklet when you'd arrived at your appointment. It felt odd, being just barely twenty years old and taking a driver knowledge exam alongside kids barely pushing sixteen. You felt behind but it wasn't your fault.

Nerves didn't erupt in your stomach until the kind lady in the Secretary of State's office informed you that you'd be taking an on-road driver skills test. An instructor will watch you, quiz you, and grade you accordingly and if you fail, you can kiss your ability to drive legally goodbye until you pass.

Now that makes you nervous. Like there's ravenous butterflies swarming your stomach. You're already under a lot of pressure with fall classes starting soon and your part-time job, now you're worried about passing your driver's exam. The lady assured you there's nothing to fret over, that the instructor you've been assigned is well versed in the rules of the road and he's a total sweetheart.

Waiting in the parking lot wasn't the worst part. You were told he'd arrive shortly, a man named Mr. Hemmings, in one of the contracted company's instructing vehicles. Plastered with bright yellow stickers along the back, just shouting to everyone on the road that you're an inexperienced driver so take it easy.

Expecting some middle aged, married, grumpy man with nothing positive to say, the nerves weren't so bad as you basked in the moderate heat of the Michigan summer sun. Your phone pings a few times, a slew of good lucks and you've got this! from your family members. You don't even realize there's a stark white Toyota Camry pulling up to the curb until the scuff of shoes on the asphalt catches your attention.

"Y/N L/N?" A thick, low voice questions. A text message to your eldest brother sits unfinished beneath your thumbs, lips parting with shock. There's no bald patch or flat tire sticking out beneath his shirt, hell it barely looks like he's wearing a shirt at all because the white fabric is so snug and pulled taught over his abdomen and chest and arms that it's absolutely ludicrous. "Y/N?" he repeats.

"Yeah- yeah, that's me," You hesitantly stand, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jeans before brushing your now clammy hands along your thighs. His eyes flicker between the clipboard in his hand and you, shamelessly raking up and down your frame before clearing his throat.

"Great," His lips twist into a wide, toothy smile, shoulders seemingly relaxing at the confirmation. His stance laxes, nodding his head of bouncy, golden curls towards the vehicle that's idling behind him. "Why don't we go ahead and get started?"

You nod, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat, hardly maintaining eye contact with the instructor as you climb into the driver's seat and watch him awkwardly fit himself into the seat beside you. "Okay," He blows out a breath. "I'm Mr. Hemmings but you can just call me Luke, it's easier and nobody likes saying a long name especially if you're in a panic."

You barely manage a short, clipped laugh. "Rad. Anyway, we're gonna be in here for the next hour or so. I'm mainly here to make sure you understand vehicle safety and that you're prepared to operate this beauty on your own," With a laugh, Mr. Hemmings taps the dashboard with his palm. "Well, not this beauty obviously, but you get my point. Oh! And I have break pedals over here just in case. I haven't used them yet this month so please don't put us in a situation where I might need to."

He's funny, you'll admit. In a dorky, charming kind of way. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time and you're curious if he's just that way in general or if it's a front because he probably deals with some right idiots when it comes to being an instructor. "You're quiet."

"Sorry," You mumble, hands still folded in your lap. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"There's really no need," he assures you, turning in his seat with an excited smile. "If you've passed your vision and knowledge tests then this is like, a cakewalk. Have you driven before?"

"Yeah, back home," You tell him. "Mostly just old trucks, though. I don't think I've ever driven a proper car."

"Cool, car virgin. I like that," Luke turns his attention back to the clipboard, scribbling something that you're unable to make out because it's complete chicken scratch. "Well, why don't we get going so we can stay on track."

"Okay," You breathe out, clasping the seatbelt over your lap. Under your breath, you rattle off the first steps of safety before your hands ever touch the steering wheel. Seatbelt, check. Rearview mirror, check. Side mirrors, check. When everything seems as it should, you rest one hand on the wheel before shifting the vehicle into drive, peering out of the passenger's side mirror to ensure no cars are coming up behind you in the lot.

Luke stays silent, observing you, pen hovering over his checklist sheet. As you head towards the exit, you realize you have absolutely no clue where you're meant to go. "Uhh-"

"Take a left here," Luke tells you. Signaling, you check both ways for any oncoming traffic before exiting the parking lot, keeping an eye on the speed limit signs posted on the side of the road. "And at the next light, hang a right. We'll follow that through downtown and then get you on the highway for a bit."

Nodding, you try to keep yourself composed and not let the nerves get to you as you follow his instruction. You make sure to slow down appropriately as you cruise through the city's downtown area, briefly taking in the brick buildings and shops as you pass.

The vehicle's air is a little stiff, a little warm underneath the summer sun and you're considering asking Luke if he can turn the air on but he's too busy drumming his fingertips along his bare thigh to really pay you any mind. You'd always heard that driving instructors were very observant, overly cautious and very strict about everything but Luke's so laid back it's slowly beginning to relieve your nerves.

"Would you mind turning on the air?" Luke asks, eyes soft and kind when you glance over at him. You're just trekking along behind other vehicles, following signs for the highway that's still a few miles out. It's probably one of the things on his checklist, for you to tinker with something and hope it doesn't distract you enough to cause any accidents.

Glancing at the various knobs, luckily they're standard and simple, similar to your father's truck so pressing two buttons quickly has cool air flowing into the car. You feel a little more at ease, less of an iron grip on the steering wheel. "You're doing great, by the way." Luke chimes in.

"Thanks," You keep an eye on the Jeep that keeps randomly breaking in front of you, easing off of the accelerator when applicable. You weren't a newbie when it came to driving itself, just following the actual road laws and learning the flow of traffic. "I need to turn right up here?" You ask.

Luke hums with a nod. He's began muttering some tune under his breath along with his finger-drumming, as if he isn't remotely worried about you merging onto the highway. Picking up speed, you join alongside the few cars rumbling along the road. "We'll take this to the next town over, about thirty minutes, then we'll head back and do a few simple maneuvers and that's it."

You nod, fighting the urge to sigh. Who knew your road test would be so boring? There's no music, just the sound of your tires on the asphalt and Luke's low humming. "Why'd you decide to become an instructor? Isn't it- well, boring?"

A slow chuckle slips out of your instructor's mouth, elbow perched on the door, hand clasped against the side of his face. "It's not all boring, I swear. I just like helping people become confident drivers. You'd be surprised how many students I've had that are too terrified to even start the engine."

"You're pretty laid back, it's definitely making me less nervous," You laugh softly, keeping your eyes on the empty road. "Helps that you're not bad looking either."

Shit, you weren't meant to say that.

In your peripheral, you can see Luke squirm slightly in his seat, instantly worrying that you've made him uncomfortable. You're about to retract your statement and apologize but the grin that overtakes his pink lips stops you. "Thank you," he says honestly, his tone a little strained. "So are you. I mean, I wouldn't say not bad looking, you're pretty- like quite pretty- and okay, is it a little warm in here? Jeez."

You stifle a laugh at his nervous rambling. It's cute, kind of refreshing, too. But a weight settles in your stomach because no, you absolutely cannot think your driving instructor is cute. Doesn't that cross some kind of line? Break a rule? It has to. "So- are you uh.. getting your driver's license to.. drive to your boyfriend's house orr.."

Oh god, he's also pretty damn terrible at flirting. Normally, you'd find it cringey and a tad obnoxious but it's cute on him. Adorable, even, because he's definitely a handful of years older than you but he flusters so easily it makes your confidence soar.

There's nothing wrong with indulging in it, is there? It's not like you're gonna fuck him on the side of the highway or anything.

"No boyfriend," You keep a straight face, like you're intently focused on the billboards you pass by. "Or girlfriend." You tack on, just to see him flounder a little more.

"Oh- yeah, rad," Luke nods a few times. "That's- yeah, okay, cool."

God, he's so fucking cute. How'd you get so damn lucky to have him as an instructor?

Luke's tapping the window ledge aimlessly, almost looking uncomfortable but not with you, like something's gnawing at him. "Hey, can you pull off at this rest stop for a minute? I need to- uh- bathroom. Yeah."

"Sure." You signal off, slowing down as you near the small building, only a few cars scattered in the parking lot. Luke quickly unbuckles himself and slips out of the car, almost too fast for you to realize there's a tent in his shorts. Well, fuck.

You've never really been the hook-up type in the past, coming from such a small town there's slim pickings when you know everyone's faults. Only when your family would travel up to Mackinac Island or down to Kalamazoo to visit family would you end up fooling around with some local for an afternoon but that didn't happen very often.

Though the circumstances aren't ideal, there's obviously some kind of attraction on both sides. Probably just some silly short-term infatuation and who knows what's running through Luke's mind. But he's hot, there's no denying that, and guilt tugs at your chest because he's here to do a job and you're just being a massive distraction.

Luke returns about fifteen minutes later, a little flushed in the face but there's this look he's sporting that looks nothing short of pure bliss. You're not stupid, you can recognize a post-orgasm haze from a million miles away.

God, did he really get off in a public rest stop bathroom? What the hell was he so worked up over? You bite back any inappropriate questions lingering on your tongue as he buckles himself in and you merge back onto the highway.

Luke doesn't say a word until it's time to circle back. He's quiet, too quiet, thrumming his fingers against his knee in a rhythm you aren't able to recognize. You decide to go the exact speed limit, setting the cruise control and waiting for Luke to ask why you've done that but no such comment comes.

"You okay?" You finally ask. The two of you are trapped in here for at least another thirty minutes on the highway alone, then likely another twenty or thirty around town after that. The silence isn't deafening but it's making you a little uneasy.

"Me? Yeah- I'm great. Fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." The instructor rambles.

Something's definitely wrong. You're not a very confrontational person but you'd rather have whatever issue at hand out in the open than let it linger silently the remainder of your test. "Luke-"

As you're getting his attention, the car begins to splutter. Numerous lights illuminate the dashboard, a loud rumbling sound making the steering wheel shake beneath your hands. Immediately, Luke begins to press on the emergency instructor's breaks and with some guidance, he helps you pull off on the shoulder just as the engine dies.

Not believing the sight before you, you turn to Luke, who's equally as shocked and silent, both of your chests heaving. "What the hell?" You ask aloud.

"I have no clue," Luke says frantically. "The car's been running fine all day. There weren't any warning lights, were there?"

Truthfully, you don't remember. "I don't.. think so? All of them lit up before it crapped out."

"Shit," Luke curses lowly. "Let me see if I can figure out what's going on."

Luke slips out of the Camry, leaving his clipboard behind. You hear him yell, muffled, "Pop the hood!" And you do, after taking a second to find the button with your shaky fingers.

The longer Luke is beneath the hood the longer you worry. It's an early Thursday evening, on a fairly quiet highway, and the likelihood that some passerby is going to offer assistance is slim. Plus, tow trucks in this area only operate within a ten mile radius, so it's unlikely you'll find one for a reasonable price if the car is toast.

This is what you get for thinking he's cute, your brain tosses at you. You know it isn't true but it's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Luke slips back inside the car. "Well, one of the hoses broke," He sighs, digging through the pockets of his shorts in search of his cellphone. "So the car won't start even if we wanted it to. We'll have to call a tow truck."

"Of course this would happen during my driving exam," You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as a low, frustrated groan crawls up your throat. "Just my luck."

"I probably shouldn't include the fact that I have no service then, should I?"

Your eyes pry open. "What?" You ask, finding your phone and sure enough, no fucking signal. "Seriously? We're on the damn highway, not in the middle of the ocean!"

"Hey, we'll be fine," Luke rests his hand momentarily on your shoulder and you try to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin. Sheepishly, he pulls it away. "I'll see if I can make an emergency call to highway patrol."

"Please do," You mumble weakly.

Your father would have a field day if he could see you. Barely a week into living away from them and you're stranded on the side of the highway with a hot driving instructor. What a joke.

With no luck, Luke groans, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. "My phone died," he says. "Can you call on yours?"

"Yeah," You dial using your phone's emergency function, only to be met with CALL FAILED in big letters. "How the hell can an emergency call fail?"

"Okay, well at least we've both probably eaten recently and I keep snacks in the trunk," You toss a glare towards the blonde, not finding his statement remotely relieving at all. "What? Teenagers get grumpy so I always have granola bars on hand."

"So we're stuck," You sigh softly. Luke nods, hands toying with one another. "Until I get signal or someone passing by takes pity on us."

"I'm sorry Y/N," Luke says quietly. "About- about all of this. I really had no idea, this car's never given me any problems."

"It's not your fault," You glance over at him, noticing his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "I'm gonna walk a bit and see if I can get signal, alright?"

"You shouldn't go alone," Luke says, a bit rushed. "I mean, not that you aren't capable or anything because I'm sure you are - female empowerment and all that I just- uh-"

"Just stay here," You say, a little clipped. You aren't upset with him, just the situation. "I'll be right back."

Luke swallows thickly, blue eyes wide. "Yes m'am."

You slip out of the car and begin walking along the shoulder, grass and gravel crunching beneath your feet, checking your cellphone every few seconds in hopes that a signal will appear. A big fat SOS stares back at you, practically mocking you.

After ten or so minutes, you aren't sure how far you've walked but you can't see the Camry anymore. You know it'll cool off soon as the sun begins to set and it'll be best if you're somewhere safe. Regretfully, you head back to the car to find Luke scribbling on his clipboard in the passenger seat.

"Nothing," You say, checking your phone once more, noticing it's been about thirty minutes since you've pulled off the road. "What're you drawing over there?"

"Just doodling," He says, showing you a mix of scribbles along the bottom of your driving checklist. "What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck for the time being."

"Yeah, you're right."

It's silent for a few minutes, aside from Luke's been inking the checklist. "We could.. play a game, maybe? Something to keep our minds off of.. y'know, the whole car breaking down thing."

"What kind of game?" You ask.

"Oh- uh, twenty questions?" Luke offers.

You snort. Twenty questions is for horny teenagers, not two almost-strangers stuck in a broken down vehicle on the side of the highway. "Guess that's a no."

"What about what are the odds?" You suggest. "I played it all the time with my soccer friends, it's pretty fun."

"Okay," Luke agrees. "You'll have to explain the rules to me, though."

You sit up a little straighter, a smile unknowingly tugging at your lips. Maybe there's an ulterior motive ping-ponging in the back of your mind. Maybe.

"It's really easy. One of us says something like 'what are the odds that you'll make an embarrassing noise', then pick a number in your head, and on the count of three we'll both say a number and if it's the same the other person has to do that thing. Make sense?"

"I think I've got it," Luke nods, turning in his seat with excited eyes. He looks fucking adorable. You shake your head, getting comfortable in the seat. "Okay, can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay- uh, what are the odds that you'll.. you'll- tell me something about yourself?"

That's not quite it but a good start, Luke.

"One through fifteen." You say. "Three.. two... one.."

"Ten."

"Twelve."

"Ah, shit," Luke frowns. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," You tap his knee with the back of your hand without a thought, watching his cheeks twinge pink. "I'll go. What are the odds you'll pass me?"

"One in.. ten," Luke says. "Three.. two.. one.."

"Six."

"Aha!" You grin, victoriously. "See, I'm a mindreader."

"As if I'd flunk you," Luke rolls his eyes. "You're a good driver, Y/N. You need to be a little more confident but there's no way I'd fail you."

You need to be a little more confident. Sure, Luke was talking about driving but that doesn't mean you can't apply that statement to anything else, right?

"Alright, my turn," Luke rolls his lips in thought. "What are the odds that.. you'd be my friend on Facebook?"

"Facebook?" You ask, a brow raised. "Nobody uses Facebook anymore, Luke."

"I do," Luke defends softly, shoulders drawing inward. "Just play along, Y/N."

"Okay, fine," You laugh softly. "Uhh, one in ten. Three.. two.. one.."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Damn, looks like we won't be Facebook friends," You tease, the flush still bright and red and pretty on Luke's cheeks. He's so easy to fluster. You almost regret what you're about to say. "What are the odds you'll admit the real reason we stopped at the rest area?"

Luke's face falls. "I.." He glances away from you, clearly caught off guard and there's a stinging in your chest. You should've just kept your mouth shut, he didn't deserve to be called out like that.

"I'm so sorry, that was too far, I-"

"It's..okay," Luke lets out a wavering breath. "I feel really bad about that," Your brows furrow. "Look I- I think you're really pretty and this is so, so unprofessional of me but I uh- you said girlfriend and my mind just- went off on it's own. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. "You were thinking of me with- oh."

Luke looks away, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming down his neck. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was really inappropriate and I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," You assure him. Luke looks like a kicked puppy, unsure as his eyes slowly meet yours, not quite believing you. "Seriously, it's fine. I- yeah, I'm also into girls. I don't blame you for your.. thoughts, or whatever."

Luke sucks in a sharp breath, like you've said something sinfully explicit. "I- maybe we should end the game here before I say something really stupid."

He isn't covert about it, covering his growing hard-on, beginning to tent his shorts. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, trailing along the inside of your lower lip. Fuck, you have quite the opportunity here and it would be a shame if you let it go to waste. Consensually, of course.

"You're thinking about me with a girl again, aren't you?" You boldly accuse, your eyes narrowing in a teasing manner, watching Luke's gentle blue eyes widen and mouth fall open. "It's okay if you are."

He's so.. submissive. You've never really explored the whole dynamic of positions like that but making your instructor blush and squirm makes you feel.. hot.

"Maybe," Luke's voice is small, soft, and you're loving every second of it. "Y/N, I-"

"What're you thinking about, Luke?" You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the center console, your tone low. "Me kissing another girl, maybe? Getting all hot and bothered and messy and wet?"

A whimper crawls up his throat. "I- fuck."

You trail a finger along his thigh, tracing the leg of his shorts. "Maybe you'd just watch, huh?" You provoke him, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah- I would.." His voice is weak, lips parting and soft little pants escaping them. He's so easy for it, you love it. The dominance rolling off of you in waves seems to come naturally and who are you to deny it? "Y/N.."

"What, Luke? What do you need?"

Need. Luke keens. "I.. can I.."

"You wanna touch yourself?" You ask.

"No.. you, please."

You hum. How can you say no, when he sounds so wrecked like that? "Think there's enough room for us in the back there?"

"Don't wanna.. move," Luke mumbles, eyes already glazed over. He's so far gone. "My lap?"

You won't toy with him anymore, not when he's offering to get you off. To touch you. God, his fingers are beautiful and long and you're dying to have them buried inside of you. "Yeah, 'kay." You puff out, watching Luke adjust himself properly and helping guide you to sit in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

It isn't ideal but it'll work. He works with shaky, excited hands to unfasten the button and zipper of your jean shorts before trailing his fingers along the waistline of your underwear. "Can I?" You nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip in anticipation.

Without hesitance, Luke dips his hand into the waistband, finding your damp heat with ease. His fingers curl around you, whimpering at the warmth before a finger slips inside of you, slick and velvety. "Oh- fuck."

"Luke," You moan out softly, clasping a hand on the instructor's shoulder. He carries a steady pace, sliding a second finger beside the first, brutally hard at the warmth coating his digits. "Fuck, feels so good."

"You're so wet," He mumbles, like he's surprised, peering up at your blissed out features. "Fuck, did I- did I do this to you?"

"Yes," Your hips shift greedily, making his fingers sink deeper into you. "You're just so.."

"So?" You can feel his breath against your collarbone through your shirt.

"So needy," You moan, rotating your hips, effectively riding Luke's fingers, like he's some kind of toy. "It's so hot, how hard you get so easily- I- fuck, there."

"Y/N," Luke pants against you, his free hand trailing up to your hip, holding tightly. "Wanna make you cum, please."

"Yeah?" You breathe out. "Gonna let me ride your fingers? Fuck myself until I cum?"

"Oh god," Luke trembles, his movements faltering but it doesn't matter, you're moving steadily and the more you shift the more his fingers hit that perfect spot. You can feel it in your toes, that you're close, but you need something else to get you there.

"Did you think about me?" You ask, a light sweat forming on your brow. "When you got off in the bathroom? Did you moan for me?"

"Yes," Luke admits in a whine. "Yes- fucking- came so hard, Y/N. Thought of you the whole time."

Just thinking about Luke, working his cock so quickly in his fist thinking about you is enough, warmth flooding your stomach as your orgasm rapidly approaches and you're releasing all over Luke's fingers. Like a fucking floodgate.

"Oh fuck," You hear him moan, fingers slowing as your hips come to a halt. "Fuck, Y/N."

Blissful and warm and flushed, Luke retracts his fingers from you, the digits glistening as he slips them into his mouth with needy, complacent hums. He looks more wrecked than you do.

"Can I- can I ride you?" You blurt.

Luke goes rigid. "What?"

"I wanna ride you," You reiterate. "I wanna fuck you, Luke. Can I?"

"You- yeah, fuck of course," Luke's eyes are blue and glassy and glazed and you aren't even sure how he's functioning right now. He hasn't even cum yet so- wait. "Just give me a minute.."

Curiously, you shift back a bit on his lap to see he's half-hard and there's an obvious damp patch on the front of his shorts. "Did you cum while you were touching me?"

Luke nods. "Sorry."

"Fuck that's so hot," You can't help it, fitting both hands beneath his jaw to tilt his head upward, capturing his lips easily with your own. He tastes like spearmint gum and flavored coffee, it's all you can think about when you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. That was too easy, you can already feel his dick fattening against your thigh again. "Do you have a condom?"

"In my wallet," Luke pants against your mouth. "I wasn't like- expecting this, by the way."

"Neither was I," You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Let me get my shorts off."

Car sex seems so hot in theory until you're caught up in the moment and you're stuck trying to take off clothing where it's just not possible. You manage to slip your shorts off, leaving your damp underwear on before claiming Luke's lap once again. The condom sits in the crevice between his thigh and hip, fly open and dick straining against the seam of his boxers.

"Get yourself ready for me," You tell him softly, your fingertips trailing along your lower abdomen, along the inside of your shirt to cup your breasts beneath your bra. Luke's in a trance, nearly swallowing his own tongue before nodding and barely wiggling his shorts and boxers down his hips. He slips the condom on, abandoning the foil packet god knows where, before stroking himself a few times with a gentle hiss. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Luke squirms at that. "Thank you," he mutters. "Can I- are you ready?"

"So ready," He carefully aligns his hips with yours before slowly pressing inside, letting out tiny whimpers with every inch he sinks in. "Fuck."

"Y/N," Luke moans, eyes threatening to fall shut. His hands find your thighs, blunt nails digging into the soft skin there, hips threatening to rut upwards at the sheer warmth encasing his cock. It's immeasurable, how good you feel wrapped snugly around him.

"So good, Luke, you're doing so good," You praise gently, holding yourself upright with your hands on his broad shoulders. Once he's buried to the hilt, you slowly rock your hips in a circle, eliciting a short gasp from the blonde. "Such a good boy."

The simple phrase makes Luke choke on his own breath. "You're so warm," he mumbles, lips barely moving, chest rising and falling steadily. You rock your hips again. "Oh my god."

Luke isn't like the guys you've slept with before. He's sensitive and responsive and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. It's like he's fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, you begin to bounce in his lap, testing the waters. Luke moans every time you sink down.

"Yeah?" You ask him after a particularly whiny moan falls from his mouth. "Feel good, Luke? Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels so good," He babbles, a wheezy, whining mess every bounce you make. It's slick and wet and so fucking hot you know you'll cum again sometime soon. He's hitting all the right spots inside of you. It helps he's probably the biggest dick you've taken by far. "So good. Please don't stop, please."

"Not gonna stop," You mutter, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders. "You're such a good boy, Luke. Taking it so well. Feel so good inside me."

Luke lets out a squeak when you clench around him. "Mommy-"

Your hips falter briefly but you can't stop, you refuse, because that word, though you've never been called that before it lights a flame inside of your stomach that makes you want more and more and more. "Yeah?" You abandon your grip on one of his shoulders to clasp his jaw, making Luke meet your eyes, his half lidded and cloudy and dark blue. "Gonna let mommy fuck you, Luke? Ride your cock until she cums?"

Luke bites down on his lower lip so hard he swears he can taste blood. His head is swirling, like yours, all fuzzy and fucked dumb. Your pace grows quicker, a bit more focused but frenzied, until Luke's panting to the point where he's babbling words that don't even make any sense. "Gonna- please- need-"

"What, Luke? What do you need?" You ask, ghosting your lips over his own. He whimpers against your mouth.

"Wanna cum, mommy. Can I?"

"Yeah baby," You press a hard kiss to his mouth, pushing your tongue past his lips and that's all he needs, gripping your thighs tightly until he's fully inside of you before releasing into the condom. Luke slumps slightly, clearly spent but you're far from finished. "Stay still, won't you?"

"What-" Luke mutters, flushed and confused when you begin to raise your hips and sink back down on him. "Oh fuck me."

"So close, Luke," He isn't softening in the slightest. It almost makes you smile, makes you proud because he's so turned on, just letting you use him like some kind of fuck toy. "Touch me?"

Luke nods, blissed out, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing furious, hard circles. Your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds up, toes curling inside of your shoes before finally letting go and releasing all over his length.

Shuddering through the warmth spreading up the base of your spine, your nails sink into the instructor's shoulders, panting against his mouth as he tips his head up to connect your lips in a soft kiss. Your skin feels tingly in the best way, electric, and your head swarming furiously.

Luke pulls away first. He's so flushed, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and you're positive that pretty pink blush has reached his naval, there's no doubt. He's definitely a full-body blusher. "Y/N.."

"Yeah?" You ask quietly, breathless, noticing the windows have fogged up a little bit from your activities.

"Can you.. sorry, it's just uh- the condom's a bit uncomfortable." The blonde grimaces apologetically, reddening further when you muffle out a short laugh and slowly climb off of him. Your underwear are soaked, from your own release, but you slide your shorts back on anyways as Luke ties off the condom and places it hesitantly on the floorboard.

Now that the two of you are dressed, less short on breath, you figure it might be best to address what the hell just happened. "Luke-"

"Y/N-"

"Sorry, go ahead," You mumble.

"I wasn't- planning that. Or, expecting it, I swear," Luke says rather quickly, eyes flitting away from you, a bit embarrassed. "Please don't think I make a habit of this. You're- you're the first."

You swallow harshly. "The first?"

A nervous, awkward laugh tumbles out of Luke's mouth. "No, no, that was a girlfriend in high school. I mean- uh- student."

"Oh," You puff out a relieved breath, resting your head back. You're still warm and relaxed from your orgasms. "Well in that case, I don't really sleep with driving instructors, so I guess it's a first for both of us."

"It's not.." Luke trails off, his voice low, like he isn't sure how to phrase what he's thinking. "It won't be the only time, will it?"

That comes as a bit of a surprise to you. Again, you weren't really the hook-up type but the guys you have hooked up with in the past were quick to forget it even happened and move on with their lives.

You're stunned into a short silence. Will that be the only time you hook up with Luke? Sure, he's funny, and insanely attractive, but aside from the few things you've shared during the drive he's still almost a complete stranger.

"I understand," Luke quietly says.

"No I- sorry, I was just- surprised," You say. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not in a broken down car on the side of the highway."

Luke chuckles briefly. "Okay, cool," The tension seems to slip from his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm not really good at this. I don't really uh- date? Just, with work and everything it's hard to find the time."

"Being a driving instructor is that demanding?" You inquire, a lighthearted teasing lift to your voice. The highway is still dead silent and the sun is slowly beginning to set. Soon, you'll be cast in a hue of pinks and oranges and pretty purples.

"I race for a living," Luke says, catching your attention abruptly, your brows furrowing in confusion. "It's not something I really bring up in conversation or during uh- other things."

"You're not like, a Nascar driver or something, right?" You joke. Luke stays silent. "What the fuck?"

Way to go, Y/N. Fucking a driving instructor slash Nascar driver. Your parents would be so proud. Stupid girl.

"Like I said, I don't really tell people," Luke quickly defends, swallowing as an anxious look perturbs his features. "This doesn't uh- change anything right? About seeing me again?"

"No but if my dad finds out you're gonna be forced into every Sunday dinner until you're dead," You speak without thinking, still shocked about Luke's line of work. And here you were thinking he was just a dorky driving instructor for the state of Michigan. "Sorry, that was weird."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. He took your comment well, like too well, and you're starting to think maybe Luke isn't real at this point. He's too.. perfect. Handsome, dorky, a fucking racecar driver. "You're fine, I get it. Your dad's a big fan, then?"

"Huge," You sigh. "My brothers, too."

"You think they'd come to a race if I set aside some tickets?" Luke's teeth sink into his bottom lip, a hopeful look on his splotchy, pink face.

"I- I mean yeah," You stumble. "Luke, you really don't have to.."

"I want to," He reassures you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I really wanna see you again and if free tickets is the way I can then, I'd be dumb not to offer."

"For the record, I'd see you again regardless of the free tickets," You tell him, leaning to rest your elbows on the console. One of his eyebrows arch curiously, in a way that's so damn hot and Luke doesn't even realize it.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," You confirm. "By the way-"

You're cut off by the chirping of a siren, glancing out of the rearview mirror to see a State Trooper has parked behind you, lights flashing.

Well fuck. This'll be fun.

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #5sos x reader #luke hemmings x reader #5sos smut #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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blu3-tea · 4 months

Text

Gift - G/t - Part 3

Part 1: click here

TW: Pet trope, swearing.

Premise: A world in which genetically engineered tinies or Littlins are viewed as pets. Ellen is gifted one on her grandpas' birthday party, as she had graduated the week before.

Word count: 1,644

Note: part 4 might take a while to write

………………………………

Ellen hastily gathered her bag, trying to ignore the persistent background noise of her parent’s voices. Every word of caution and concern grated on her nerves, but she forced a tight smile, nodding absently.

“I just got a call from my neighbour. That’s all.”

Any more seconds here and she’ll get squeezed to death. You would have been more careful around a dog for fuck’s sake!

Part of her, though, blamed herself for not being more direct about leaving the littlin alone. Even if she had, they would not have listened anyways, she realised.

She gave a halfhearted hug to her grandpa. “Take care,” she managed, her voice catching a little, despite her efforts to sound cheerful. She thought that he should know better than anyone in that room the stark contrast between an animal and a person, as he looked after so many different pets at home, from koi fish to parrots. In the end he was just like her parents.

Just as she reached the car door, her dad appeared beside her, holding a small sack that reeked of pet food. The smell hit her like a wave and she scrunched her nose. Her dad’s earnest expression only made it worse; she could not stand how oblivious he was to her mounting anger.

“Here, take this for the pet,” he said, holding out the sack.

Ellen gritted her teeth, a strained smile plastered on her face. “Thanks, Dad.” She said, her voice tight. She shoved the sack into the backseat with more force than necessary. She could feel her father’s eyes on her, but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

“Call us when your neighbour’s bath is fixed.”

“Sure thing.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, she slammed the door a little too hard, causing the bewildered girl next to her to almost jump out of her skin. As Ellen drove away, the tension in her body slowly began to ease, but the anger lingered, simmering just beneath the surface.

She drove in silence through the quiet neighbourhoods, the soft hum of the engine the only sound accompanying them. The houses blurred together, as she navigated the familiar streets, her mind racing faster than the car.

Her aunt consistently took brash decisions without consulting anyone, behaving as if she owned everything. Unexpectedly taking her sister’s car and dropping her kids off at their house out of the blue, had lost their element of surprise by now and were forced well within the “boundaries”. Letting her kids casually grab a person had sent her hundreds of miles outside that boundary. Ellen gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white, trying to steady to whirling of emotions swirling within her. She did not think she could fake a smile around her aunt any time soon.

Her eyes flickered to the passenger seat, where the miniature girl sat, absorbed in fiddling with her tiny delicate fingers. Ellen could still feel the sensation of those tiny limbs, the weight so insubstantial yet profoundly significant, trembling like a leaf. Only now, in the stillness of the car did she fully grasp the gravity of that moment: she had literally held someone’s life in the palm of her hand. The realisation settled over her like a heavy cloak, bringing with in an overwhelming mix of awe and responsibility. Every breath the girl took, every heartbeat, had been cradled in her palm, utterly dependent on her.

Ellen opened her mouth, about to speak, but then hesitated. What could she say that would not sound patronising or forced? She wanted to treat the girl as she would anyone else, but every time she looked at her, she was reminded of their sheer size difference. The guilt gnawed at her- guilt for feeling awkward, for not knowing how to bridge the gap.

As they neared the highway, Ellen’s frustration grew. She stole another glance at the girl, who was now looking absentmindedly down at her barefoot feet, seemingly unaware of Ellen’s inner turmoil. Her heart clenched. She wanted to tell the girl that everything would be okay, that she would be safe now.

Instead, she reached over and turned on the radio. The abrupt eruption of drums and guitars startled the small girl. She covered her ears with her hands, her wide eyes darting between Ellen and the radio.

“Oh, sorry.” She turned the volume down, enough to ease the initial shock, but still loud enough to drown out the silence. The girl lowered her hands just as quickly as she had raised them before and fiddled with them in embarrassment. “My bad. Err… what do you listen to?”

The littlin stared up at her with contemplation for a long minute. “I don’t listen to anything really.”

“There has to be something you prefer over other genres.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll figure it out now.” She turned the knob, changing radio stations and waited for a reply that never came. She encouragingly asked “Do you like this one?”

“I don’t mind what music is on…”

“I see, so you don’t like it. That’s ok.” In her peripheral vision she noticed the girl’s eyebrows pinch together. Changing radio stations she commented in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I used to listen to this one, but then they changed the hosts.” No reply came. “They’re not as funny as the last ones, but the music is pretty much the same.”

The upbeat pop music playing could not drown out the awkward silence that filled the car. Ellen played through their conversation so far, desperately trying to pinpoint where she had gone wrong. The harder she tried to recall, the more elusive the answer seemed. She stole a glance at her, hoping for a clue, but her expression was unreadable.

Then it dawned on her: no one ever asks what music pets listen to. Taking into account that the girl has been treated as a pet so far, she actually did not know what genre she likes. Ellen took it upon herself to change that.

“This one plays general pop. Anything that’s trending online.” She changed stations, a sonorous soprano voice resonated through the speakers, “This one’s classical. It sounds better in person, trust me.” The knob turned again. “I haven’t heard this one is a long time… it’s rock by the way.” Her passenger still did not comment. Advertisements replaced the song quickly after. Just as they seemed to go on forever, Ellen said as nonchalantly as she could, masking her disappointment, “It’s ok if we don’t have any music on. It’s your call.”

“I’m not sure. Put anything you want.”

“I’m asking what you want.” She sounded somewhat stern.

“Pop… sounded nice, I guess.” She said, her words trailing off as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Alright.” Ellen was not entirely convinced, but at least she got the littlin to talk; it was a barely-visible crack on the ice.

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name.”

She craned her head up, looking stunned. “I don’t have one.”

“Everybody does.”

“No, I don’t.” She persisted, “You’re supposed to name me.”

“I would if you were my pet.” She could feel the littlin’s piercing gaze falter.

“You’re not keeping me! Whatever I did wrong I-“

“Hold on. Calm down, you’re staying with me more as a… roommate or something.” Her cheeks grew hot, she felt silly for exclaiming that out loud. “Just give me a name.”

“Seriously?” She stammered in disbelief and Ellen nodded in reply. “Nelly. I’m Nelly.”

“Nelly… you have a pretty name.” Ellen could not contain the corners of her lips curling up into a grin.

It was another crack in the ice.

………………………………

Everything was wrong.

The giantess saving her from suffocation and apologising on top of that was wrong.

The giantess asking her what kind of music she likes and what her name is was wrong.

The giantess calling her a roommate was utterly wrong.

Whatever plans she had of surviving were thrown out the window. They all seemed irreverent in the face of this unexpected and bizarre turn of events. She had always prided herself on being adaptable, but this was beyond anything she had ever encountered. The giantess was so terrifyingly unpredictable that Nelly felt a profound sense of vulnerability like never before.

She could not turn her attention away from Ellen’s towering stature. Every twitch the driver made, pumped adrenaline through her veins. She expected her to turn around a complete 180 degrees and pinch her between her fingers, her sharp nails poking her, with a condescending smirk. Yet, Nelly was still sitting on the passenger’s seat, not in a cage, unscathed from the previous ordeal.

At the same time, a glint of hope lingered in her heart. “Roommate.” Nelly whispered to herself, savouring the word. If the giantess was being honest, this could not be that bad. Roommates have privacy and opinions. Most importantly, they can say “no”. Could she actually be one? She shook her head vigorously, as if to drive the thought away. She knew better than to trust giants.

“Nelly?” Ellen’s booming voice calling her name, quickened her pulse. “I should have asked earlier, but… how are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere?”

A warm, rare sense of gratitude blossomed in her chest. This rollercoaster of emotions and expectations was only getting worse. “I’m fine,” she faltered for moment, as she tried to decide whether she would regret this later or not, “thanks.”

“That’s good to hear.” Ellen released a long sigh of relief. “Again, I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming.”

Roommate…

………………………………

Thank you for reading!

Tags list: @i-am-beckyu , @whumpinthepot , @heroofthe13thday , @torakan

Part 4: click here

Thoughts: I’ll try to rewrite this part and repost it, because I am not happy with it. Idk something about it doesn’t satisfy me… I had also hoped to write more and include more action… oh well. I hope you enjoyed it!

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t community #gianttiny #g/t writing #gt #gt community #giants #sfw g/t #gt angst #gt/tiny #sfw gt #gt writing

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swiss-mrs · 8 months

Text

EDDIE MUNSON X SINCLAIR!READER

just me rambling on again about how Eddie loves a black woman from infinity to infinityyyy

there's a 'face claim' under the cut because i said so. you've been warned

okay, listen here.

Ever since your family moved to Hawkins, life has been... different

You just turned 13 when your family uprooted to the small town in Indiana. Lucas was 10, and Erica was only 6.

It was a bit easier for your younger siblings to adjust, but you had to start fresh during your last year of middle school, going into high school. That sucked like a bitch.

Transitioning from a larger city with a decent mix of races to a predominantly white town was about as smooth as it sounded, not at all.

Though racism was not terrible, there were plenty of backhanded compliments, passive aggressiveness, and snarky comments.

You were always so "well-spoken", "well-mannered", "presentable".

You didn't "sound black".

You didn't "act black".

You were "pretty for a black girl."

Whatever the fuck that means.

You knew that begging your parents to move elsewhere was not an option, waste of time, so you always knew that the moment you had the chance, you weren't gonna stick around for too long.

Going into high school at the end of '82, just shy of a year after moving into Hawkins, was how yours and Eddie's paths crossed, just barely.

Since you could practically count on one hand how many black families were in Hawkins's population, not knowing one another by name was near impossible.

You know Jeff by proxy.

Your parents knew each other, and you were the same age, so of course you knew each other.

You wouldn't call him a friend per se, but you were friendly enough to exchange quick greetings in passing.

Jeff was with three older kids when you passed him in the hall.

A chubby, curly haired, white boy, a pale brunette girl, and a slim, lanky kid who looked like he was trying to grow out a bad haircut, all of which were decked out in jean and leather.

The polite smile and wave he gave made the lanky boy to turn and see who Jeff was waving at.

As soon as you caught each other's eyes, his curious expression turned into a lovestruck one.

You didn't pay much attention to it, though.

"Who is that?"

"Oh, no one. She's just the daughter of some friends of my parents."

Since you were in separate grades, you didn't regularly cross paths with any of the people you saw with Jeff often, but you did end up having an elective class with the brunette girl.

It was a couple of weeks in when you were partnered up with her for a project.

"Veronica is my government name. Call me Ronnie."

During lunch, Ronnie mentioned to Jeff how adorable you were.

"You got to meet her?!"

Ronnie would then go on about how you were so nice and polite, but you were also extremely smart and sassy.

She got to witness your wit first hand when you made a sneaky comeback at someone who gave one of those stupid 'for a black girl' comments.

"I think Eddie is going to blow a fuse."

"You got to meet HER?!"

The boy was starstruck every time you would unknowingly pass him in the hall or when he saw you from across the cafeteria.

"Would you just go up and talk to her, numbnuts?" Ronnie would say as she smacked the back of his head when she caught him staring a bit too hard.

"I can't just 'go up' to her!"

"The fuck not?"

He'd reply with silence, not really knowing what answer to give.

You were too good for him? He'd have no chance? You'd dismiss him? Reject him? What would he even say?

"I wouldn't know what to say..."

"Maybe try, 'Hello'."

He spent the next four years pining over you from a distance.

Now, in your senior year, you were more excited than anything to get out of this shit hole.

The cute super super senior with the loud mouth, long hair, and less than stellar reputation had always caught your eye, but you both still had yet to actually say anything to each other. Paths never crossing further than beyond the hallway.

You never bothered to make a move on him.

You were convinced that you weren't his type, or anyone's type for that matter, especially not here.

But you're both seniors now.

Much to Eddie's surprise and delight, you now had classes together.

He never once liked being in high school for longer than necessary, but here he was, oddly thankful for being held back.

Your schedules are almost completely aligned, save for the fact that you had a couple honors classes.

For the first few days of your senior year, Eddie was a ball of anxiety every time you were around.

He sat either behind or beside you in the back of all your shared classes.

It wasn't until one fateful Tuesday, in the second week of that school year, that your pen ran out of ink, and you finally said your first words to him.

"Hey, do you have a pen I can barrow?"

You were turned around in your seat to look at him behind you. He was stuck for a few beats before he blinked away his shock.

"Uh, y-yeah. Here." He handed you the very pen he was using to doodle in his notebook instead of actually taking notes.

The small smile and the gentle brush of your fingers against his nearly made his heart stop on the spot.

He was absolutely gone.

It was in that moment that he realized he'd never properly heard your voice before.

He wanted to hear it again.

You even remembered/bothered to give him his pen back at the end of that class.

He spent every single one of his classes for the remainder of that day coming up with a full ass tactical plan to approach you.

Every day that passed, he for some fucking reason just couldn't find the right moment to put his plan in action.

It wasn't until a few weeks later when you threw his plan through a loop.

You showed up to a Hellfire meet just as they were all leaving out the drama room.

He heard your voice coming from outside once some of the freshman members walked out the door.

"Hey, Baby Bro! How'd it go? Have fun?"

Eddie eyes widened, and he stilled for a second before he dropped what he was doing to rush out the door.

He tried to play off his stumbling by leaning against the wall right outside the door.

"Oh, Hey! You're in this club too?"

"This is Eddie. He leads the club." Your little brother's curly haired friend, Dustin, clarified immediately.

Before Eddie could give Dustin a look to 'shut the fuck up before he ruined his shot', you raised your brows with somewhat of an impressed look on your face.

"Oh, so you're Eddie."

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him want to melt into the floor.

All the false confidence he once had completely depleted, and he was back at a loss for words. Thank God you didn't leave room for him to make a fool of himself.

"The boys talk so highly of you. Thank you for looking after them for a couple hours after school. See you tomorrow!"

He watched, awestruck, as you walked away with your brother and his friends.

"Y-Yeah, no problem!" He'd finally yell after you a you made it to the exit doors.

You turned to wave bye before fully exiting the building to the mostly vacant parking lot.

Eddie waved back weakly.

"See you tomorrow." He says to himself in the empty hallway, still waving even after you couldn't see him anymore.

A cheesy grin would grow on his face as he went back into the drama room to collect his DM stuff.

"Holy shit. You actually exchanged words!" Jeff would say.

"~See you tomorrow~" Gareth mocks, clasping his hands together, resting them on his cheek and batting his eyelashes.

Eddie glares at the younger drummer. "Shut up, asshole."

Early October is when he finally leaned forward to ask you a question.

"Hey, I don't really understand what's going on. Could you help me?"

There it was.

You accepted, falling right into his hands.

His plan was now officially in motion.

You were smart and nice. Of course, you would help tutor him.

Eddie knew that would work.

You were well aware of his academic status, or rather lack thereof.

You couldn't help but let that little 'I can fix him' part of your teenage brain take over.

You really wanted to help him pass and graduate, ESPECIALLY since he reached out to you for help.

You couldn't say no. wtf

You two had spent all of October studying together.

Even though he was distracted by you most of the time and always going off topic to get to know you, he actually was kind of learning something.

A win-win for him.

"Hey, so, uh, you know, Halloween is right around the corner, and, uh, there's a special rescreening of 'Alien' this weekend. Would you, uh, you know, if you're into it, would you like to go see- watch it, like, with me, I mean?"

The question came at the end of your recent study/tutoring session.

Over the last few weeks, you had shown nothing but kindness towards Eddie. You two even had conversations with one another out in the open, outside of the safe privacy of the library.

He finally had the courage to ask you out.

You hesitated.

"Oh, uh..."

Your apprehension was not for the reason he was thinking, but it was enough for his mind to start caving in on itself.

"I mean, I just want to show you my appreciation, you know, for all your help. There's no- no pressure at all. I get it if you don't wanna be seen with me too much. I won't blame you."

His response takes you aback.

"Hold on. That's not what I was trying to get across at all."

Your firm tone made his chest tighten with anxiety. If that wasn't it, what was it? Did you have plans already? Maybe with a boyfriend? Shit, why didn't Eddie make sure to get your current relationship status out of you before asking.

"It's just that, uh, I'm kind of a... wuss... with scary movies. The sci-fi part of it seems intriguing enough, but I heard that it was pretty scary... The Boys snuck the VHS during one of their movie nights a couple years ago. I just remember Lucas being on edge for weeks after watching it." You chuckled nervously.

Eddie chuckles, relieved by your answer.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be there to protect you from all the monsters." The use of his DM voice at the end goes straight to the pit of your stomach like hot coals.

You hold back a girlish giggle, not wanting to show how much that effected you.

"Okay, fine, but if I fail our test due to a lack of sleep, I'm blaming you."

After you agree to go on a date with him, he fully unleashes his inner flirt.

His surprising change in attitude towards you makes butterflies erupt within you.

His overt flirting brings out your sassy side as you two go back and forth.

That movie-dinner date was the first of many.

Eddie wasn't huge on physical PDA.

He was always super respectful and reserved in public, but he almost always made a show of you.

"There she is! The most beautiful woman to ever exist!"

"Look at her. A goddess among us mortals!"

"Here she comes! Make way for the queen!"

You eventually got used to his over the top antics, going from telling his to "shut up" with a shy grin to just embracing your new 'royalty status' with your head held high and a bright smile.

You'd been dating for months.

Your tutoring actually helped raise Eddie's grades, especially after you told him how much you wanted him to graduate with you this year.

Come spring, Lucas is now unsuccessfully splitting his time between Hellfire and basketball.

When Dustin and Mike bring in the third Sinclair into the drama room, Eddie can't help but cave quickly once she shows off her dnd knowledge.

Erica definitely gets her sass from you, though she's a lot more blunt with it.

Eddie can't help but form a huge soft spot for her, even after the game is over.

While Erica, Dustin, and Mike were waiting in your car to leave, Eddie stopped you.

"So, you know, we've been dating for quite a while now-"

"Five months and counting." You beamed.

Eddie grinned happily. So, you were keeping count.

"Yeah, soon enough it'll be six, then seven, then ten, then 12, then-"

"OK, OK" you giggled. Eddie's smile only got bigger.

"So, I was wondering..." That shy boy who could barely ask you on a first date returns, bringing a soft grin to your face. "Do you... Would do... I... Will you be my... my girlfriend?"

"Of course." You smiled without missing a beat.

"Really?!"

As the news sunk deeper and deeper, it became harder and harder for him to physically contain his excitement.

He jumped up and down, grabbing you by the shoulders to pull you into a hug, bouncing up and down with you in his arms.

Your shared laughter filled the empty parking lot of Hawkins High.

From that moment on, the word 'girlfriend' was used in place of your own name for months.

"I'm convinced you've forgotten my name."

"I could never forget such a thing, girlfriend~"

He introduced you to metal music.

You introduced him to leave in conditioner.

You two were high school sweethearts, ones that would last forever.

🥹🥹🥹

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #x black!reader #eddie munson swiss fics

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juniorfor2 · 3 months

Text

For all the racism that’s very obvious in the show, I really think one big one has been missed - C&H’s decision to make the Velaryon boys bastards, instead of Laenor’s sons by blood, simply because of their skin color.

Due to the writers’ decision to make the Velaryons black, but Jace, Luke, and Joffrey white, this was used to support the idea that they must be bastards. Rather than using hair color, only skin color is brought up as an issue (or at least that’s what’s obviously implied). Because the writers think that kids come out looking like a 50/50 mix of their parents. That if they aren’t exactly in the middle of Laenor and Rhaenyra’s skin color, then they can only be bastards.

But this just isn’t how real life works. Kids come out looking all sorts of ways, lighter or darker than both their parents, right in the middle, or only like one parent. My own mother is from Pakistan, but I came out looking exactly like my white, American father (except as a girl).

And that has consequences for a lot of people. Those who come out looking different from one parent can often experience difficulties as others refuse to see them as part of their group or culture. Biracial children are often forced to choose one race over the other, or are deliberately excluded from one group because they aren’t light or dark enough.

And the thing is, this issue is actually raised in the show. Vaemond actually gets the closest to the real life issue, when he says to Rhaenyra, “you wouldn’t know Velaryon blood if you saw it.” Because they are white, they are excluded from being Velaryon. They are viewed almost as weird colonizer-parallels, “stealing” from the only black family in the show, thereby erasing any racial culture the Velaryons currently have.

Even Alicent, despite not being part of the dispute, shows so much disgust towards the boys. They aren’t darker skinned, and so she views them as unworthy and unable to be part of the Velaryon family. It’s not even her fight, but she still is vitriolic towards them - and that’s how so many biracial people are actually perceived and treated in real life.

The issue of how biracial children are perceived should have been a fairly easy message to portray and resolve. We could have seen how Jace was ostracized and pushed away because of his looks, how much it hurt him for everyone to say he wasn’t Velaryon, even while Laenor raised him and viewed him as his son. We could have then seen how Jace eventually resolves this, realizing that it doesn’t matter what he looks like, because all that mattered was that Laenor was his father who loved him and raised him with Velaryon culture. That Corlys accepted him as well, despite the rumors.

But C&H, because they are both racist and mainly ignorant of how skin color works in real life, went the easy route and didn’t try to even find a single explanation for why the kids could be Laenor’s children by blood. I don’t need a complete reversal to make them undoubtedly Laenor’s, but some ambiguity would have been nice.

#it’s so frustrating how biracial people are seen and treated #no we’re not some 50/50 mix every time #if you saw me as a baby next to my mom & half-sister you would never think I was related to them #Jace Luke and Joff absolutely could have been Laenor’s children #unlikely? yes. impossible? no.#anti hotd #anti alicent hightower #anti team green #cause tg clearly has some racist tendencies #that they just disguise as concern for other families #hotd critical #hbo racism #HOTD racism #house of the dragon

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chroniclesofajewishteen · 1 month

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How my Jewish identity came to be:

I always thought my eye shape was a little weird.

I have a very large crease on the upper lid. I thought oh, that's kinda like east asian eyes. But my eyes look different.

I saw that there was a lot of under-eye puffyness. I thought oh, people use cucumbers to get rid of that. I must be tired. But it was mid-day. The puffyness never went away.

My friends have pretty wide eyes. I thought oh, that's strange. But my mom always told me that society likes big wide-eyed white women. But does that mean society doesn't like me? Does that mean I'm not white?

I had always been told I was white. Well, my mom always told me. My dad shrugged and said "It's complicated. But people will see you as white." I didn't understand why. I knew at some level that being Jewish was an ethnicity, that Jews are from Israel, and that Israel is in the Middle East, but when people saw me they thought I was white. Because I have pale skin and blue eyes.

I have blue eyes because my Dad has blue eyes. His Irish Dad has blue eyes. But my dad's Mom is Jewish. She speaks some Yiddish, and never puts up Christmas decorations, but I had no reason to think that was strange. I knew she gave us presents, even though she doesn't celebrate Christmas like my goy friends do.

We celebrate Christmas because both of my Jewish grandmothers get FOMO during the season. They didn't want to miss out. So when they were kids they would get a little present and say they celebrated it. When they married goyim they had a tree. Now my direct family has a tree.

My mom was told she was ethnically Jewish, but that all religion is dumb and the Quakers were probably onto something with all the acceptance and peace...etc. My dad was told "You are Jewish. Society will either see you as a rich white man or a sneaky brown man. You do not get to choose. The minute you say your grandfather was a man named Murray Goldstein, they will know. You do not get to choose, because society has chosen your race already and the left and the right will never agree on who is right." He never told me exactly this, but it was implied.

On certain tests and forms, they ask you for your race. It always said the same thing: Asian, Black, Native American, White, Mixed, and sometimes they said Pacific Islander. What did I put? My parents put white, but I always knew on some level that wasn't the full truth. I would write "Ashkenazi Jewish" at the bottom and let them decide.

Then October 7th happened. People on the streets said, "Go back to Poland". I was never Polish. My family lived in Ukraine. Did they want me to go back to Ukraine? There is a war there! I would not be safe. I don't have any relatives in Ukraine. My family left at the start of the 20th century. Who would I go to? Where would I go?

When October 7th happened, I thought the world would stand for Israel. I knew it was the Jewish homeland, and I had already been researching Birthright trips a few months before. On my favorite TV show, Black-ish the main character, Dre Johnson said "Jewish kids get to go to Israel, why can't my kid say the N-word?" in that horribly out-of-context quote, I knew it was my homeland. Why did these people say it wasn't?

My younger sister had a babysitter who was Palestinian. Let's call her Fatima. I didn't know that was an ethnicity until I met her. Her mom was a politician there. All Fatima was doing was saying "Get my mom out of Gaza. It's not safe for her." She knew I was Jewish, and she was always nice and supportive. I still follow her on Duolingo.

Fatima had a friend who was also one of my sister's babysitters. I'm going to call her Charlotte. Charlotte was a white British woman. She heavily supported the Pro-Palestine cause. She marched in protests and boycotted businesses. She was a goy, and we both knew that. Fatima never protested and was always happy to buy from Starbucks and other Zionist businesses. Charlotte would always listen to me explain B'nai Mitzvahs, but it was clear I was the only Jewish person she knew.

I don't say these things to say that Palestinians can't support the cause, I'm saying this because Fatima didn't, and her white friend did. The fact that Fatima was brown and trying to finish her PhD definitely played into it.

I read Chaim Potok's The Chosen. Its end plot was about the creation of the modern state of Israel. In the end, the characters agreed that after the Holocaust, we deserve to call the land of our ancestors our own. My family agreed with that.

At the time I was really into Pinterest. More specifically, Tumblr screenshots on Pinterest (definitely influenced my decision to come here). After a while, I got more pins on my dash saying "All Zionists are evil. Come to the good side!" That definitely sounded like a cult, so I looked more into it. I saw a lot of people saying "Zionism is killing Palestinians", but I also saw people saying "The official Jewish definition of Zionism is the belief that Israel should exist. 80% of Jews want Israel to exist." The comments were either "Thank you! This is what I have been saying for months!" or "fuck you zionist rat you are killing Palestinians." I looked into it on more trustworthy websites. They usually agreed that it just meant wanting Israel to exist. They also said that Khanisim is the belief that Palestinians must die for Israel to exist. I didn't like that idea. In my Pinterest bio, I put yellow ribbons to support the hostages. I started getting hate messages.

I am here now, and from my bio and previous posts, you can assume my stance on the situation. This post started with me complaining about my eyes and to give you an epilogue, it was today I realized they were Jewish eyes. I love them and would never change them for the world.

If you have any questions regarding this post or me in general you can privately message me. I am a minor though, so don't be creepy. Have a good day!

Also: my other blog is @jewishbiancadiangelo. It's mostly Percy Jackson stuff.

#jewish #jumblr #pro israel #i stand with israel #jewish history #i stand with palestine #judaism #bring them home #free palestine from hamas #bringthemhomenow #israblr #free palestine #zionist #Palestine

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neechees · 11 months

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Do you have any more context for the whole thing happening with Buddy Sainte Marie rn? I mean as a cree person, does your community have suspicions about her? I’m from way out west, and I’ve not heard anything, and I was wondering if the cbc has a foot to stand on at all

Absolutely not, no suspicions. Ask some Crees around Saskatchewan & there'll be some who can tell you they know her family (both her biological & adopted Cree family) & even some that are related to her, in Alberta too. The only Crees that would be believing Keeler at all are, like my Nîtisân said, the facebook ndns who will claim Johnny Depp & Cher based on nothing but then believe Keeler's baseless claims. The type who have no critical thinking & have nothing better to do with their day.

Keeler's claims are baseless for a number of reasons & shows how fucking ignorant and stupid she is, because her basis for how Buffy is a pretendian is that 1. She was adopted, 2. She couldn't have been a victim of the 60s scoop because she was born in the 1940's (& this is why she was adopted), & 3. Her actual birth certificate isn't recorded. But I'm gunna debunk all those right now without google because

The 60s scoop does not refer to exclusively kidnappings of Native children ONLY in the 1960's, it also goes as far up to the 80s formally (but this literally continued), and goes back years before that too, the government was doing this to Native kids years before the 1960s, but the 1960s is just when a lot of them happened & there was a spike

Buffy went BACK to a different Cree community & was adopted by another Cree family formally & started reconnecting more to her Cree culture again. To Crees, if you're adopted by a Cree, especially if you start taking part in the culture by the will of your parents, you are Cree. Even if she was "White" or any other ethnicity to begin with & she was adopted like this, she would still be Cree by our (& many other tribes') standards.

Afaik its just her birth certificate that isn't documented, but other documentation exists that shows Buffy is Cree. Lots of Cree people don't actually have proper documentation for a lot of things, even today, for a number of different reasons, but it was especially popular back then. I think even my grandfather didn't have a lot of proper documents because he literally couldn't write.

Additionally, Buffy just SHOWS she's Cree. She has a Cree accent, she LOOKS Cree, and she knows Cree things even a dedicated "pretendian" wouldn't know. I've heard her talk about things like Michif folk tales & oral history that even I didn't know existed, I know she speaks Cree, she knows about Cree culture, things like that. Also like I said earlier, she literally knows what reserve she came from originally and who her parents were before she was kidnapped & she's talked about it extensively, so its not like the usual jig of a pretendian randomly claiming Native ancestry with no basis, her claims are easily provable by talking to other Crees who know her family.

But of course, Keeler is the type of person to not recognize these at all, because shes the fuckin Blood Quantum vampire police who only thinks about you as Native if you have some kind of documentation that youre enrolled in a federally recognized U.S tribe, you're not mixed race, and you "look" Native. Everyone else in her mind is "faking" & a "pretendian". Keeler is an ignorant, xenophobic, racist bully who seems to only call women & twospirit people (particularly successful ones) "pretendians" so of COURSE She'd go after Buffy.

Keeler has also literally claimed that documented, enrolled, Native looking ndns are "pretendians", & in one case she claimed that she had "contacted" the (iirc) Cherokee Nation to say that THEY said that this one person she was claiming was a "pretendian" allegedly wasn't enrolled, only for the Cherokee Nation to call her out for lying & that this person WAS actually enrolled in a legitimate Nation. Later they had to keep telling her to fuck off bc she kept using them to lie about legitimately enrolled people.

So no, there's no basis to Keeler's claims bc shes a fucking idiot American who doesn't know shit about Crees or even how Canadian shit works. Any sensible Cree person will tell you Buffy is Cree, & shes our Kohkum.

#merry-harlowe #i dont have any other details atm but even from this keeler is bullshit

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years

Text

last christmas.

ln x fem!reader

hello. i got whamageddoned early this year and i’m okay with it bc ‘last christmas’ is a bop. felt inspired to write some sad shit. mixed feelings on this one but we move - no smut for once (who am i?). not much else to say really. lemme know what you think and happy holidays <3

warnings: ANGST! language, alcohol, bad boyfriend behaviour

3.8k words

based loosely on ‘last christmas’ by wham! (normal text = present) (bold & italics = song lyrics) (italics = flashback)

a crowded room, friends with tired eyes

i’m hiding from you and your soul of ice

it had to be one of the coldest winters to date, utterly freezing. the chill had sunk into your bones in early november and you hadn’t been able to shake it since. it was bitter, bordering on painful, left you shaking, but it didn’t compare to the plummeting temperature in the room when he walked in.

it was christmas eve and old traditions were dying hard. the norris household had always been decorated beautifully, warm and cosy and inviting, a highlight of your childhood. cisca and adam knew how to throw a party, your parents and your brothers attending their annual christmas parties since the very first one. your parents were close with the norris’s, as were you, sort of. well, you used to be.

you’d known lando since you were seven years old, when you’d weakly kicked his kart with all the strength you had. he’d beaten you in a race and his smug little face had pissed you off more than the loss. he’d just stood there, grimacing and narrowing his eyes in search of damage. there wasn’t any.

disdain grew into a close friendship as you both continued to compete, weekends spent dotted about the english countryside, moving from track to track. you gave it up, losing interest and seeing a different path for yourself. he never gave up and that’s why he was where he was now, sitting pretty in f1, and not with you.

things used to be fine. you stopped karting and he didn’t, but nothing changed. he was still your best friend and you were still his, but you were just kids. what did you know? nothing, apparently, because as the years went on and life got more complicated, the worst happened. feelings.

it was hard to judge who fell first, but you both fell, tumbling uncontrollably off the cliff and into the rocks below. it was torturous, your late teenage years spent wallowing in internalised angst and self pity, sharing longing glances that you both ignored afterwards.

looking back, it was better that way. the pain had been worth it, because at least you had him in your life. now, you had nothing, while the whole world and the prettiest woman you’d ever seen seemed to rest in the palm of his hand.

it felt a bit silly to be stood there watching him walk in, tugging the sleeve of your tight red dress anxiously. he looked so good that you felt a bit sick, suddenly flushed. the crisp, white dress shirt he wore seemed to wrap around his lean body perfectly, his tanned skin glowing. and her. god, her. she was perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world, or that’s how it felt in the moment, her hand wrapped around his bicep. they were the centre of attention, the happy couple, perfect together. you’d seen her on instagram, shamelessly stalking her page, pictures of them together in dubai, on yachts, in the paddock, making you cry alone in your apartment a million miles away. what the fuck were you doing here?

you turned your back to them quickly, the glass of red wine in your hand being quickly raised to your lips. it had been made for sipping, and so you gagged as you gulped it down in mouthfuls. you ignored the way your eyes stung and took a deep breath, searching for anyone in the crowd that would be able to distract you.

your parents were chatting away with lando’s and the last thing you needed was a grilling on romantic partners and your job from that group, especially since they all knew what you’d turned down last year. your brothers were talking animatedly with oli and savannah, little mila perched on your brothers hip. you wondered why no one could ever focus on his love life instead, he was clearly better suited to having one, the little girl taking to him so naturally. you quickly realised you were out of lifelines, not fancying striking up conversation with a stranger. you knew that you shouldn’t have come, avidly against attending until your mother practically dragged you kicking and screaming. you should have stayed in london, cold and alone and wallowing, because nothing could have been worse than this.

between shaky breaths, you made it to the drinks table, abandoning the stained wineglass in exchange of some far too expensive champagne, seeking comfort in the fact that it would do the job. you felt a familiar presence beside you, tensing up as you said a prayer. anyone but him, you begged. i’ll take her over him, anything. just not him. your shoulders slumped as you relaxed, the sight of max fewtrell doing everything to ease you. as soon as you clocked the sympathy in his eyes, you wondered if his arrival was the worst of them all.

“hey, you.” he spoke fondly, ruffling your hair.

“don’t be a prick, max.” you mumbled, smoothing out the mess he’d made. it didn’t matter really, there was no one here to look good for.

“someone’s in a mood.” he teased, opening his arms for a hug. you glared at him for a second before succumbing, having missed your friend.

max looked tired, the drive from london wearing him out. he was busy these days, everyone seemed to be. you were too, but it was different; you were miserable. you asked him how he’d been, watching as he spoke happily. new opportunities, new girlfriend, new scenery. you couldn’t even be jealous of him, because you knew that he deserved a bit of happiness.

“what about you? how’s it, uh, going?” his head tilted, the returns of that stupid sympathetic look dimming the spark in his eyes. you shrugged in response.

“oh, you know me. i’m muddling through.” you brushed the question off. “being back home is-“

“awful?” he cut you off, deadpan. you scoffed out a laugh. max always knew.

“you know how it is.” you smiled sadly, breaking eye contact.

“have you spoken to him?” max’s voice was gentle, but inquisitive nonetheless. you shook your head so strongly that you could practically feel your brain rattling around. “you should, you know. he misses you.”

you almost fell off your high heels at the laugh you let out, full body shaking with incredulity at max’s statement. he looked borderline uncomfortable as he plastered on a fake smile, as to not make you look quite so peculiar when people turned to see what was so funny.

“are you having a fucking laugh?” you gasped out, voice laced with the unhinged rage that you tried so hard to hide from everyone else.

“you and i both know i’m not.” max was firm, eyebrow raised. “you know how bad last year hurt him. it didn’t need to be like this.” max murmured, and suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. it felt like you were being told off. maybe you deserved it.

“i did what i had to do. for both our sakes.” you reasoned, hating how desperate you sounded. desperate to prove that you’d made the right decision, to prove everyone else wrong.

max turned his back, opting to stand beside you instead of before you, the both of you now looking out across the room, instead of at each other. there they were, her pressed against his chest, laughing together as they danced. you felt bile rising in the back of your throat.

“and how’s that working out for you?” max’s question sent you straight back to hell.

a face on a lover with a fire in his heart

a man under cover, but you tore me apart

lando couldn’t help but stare, the gorgeous green dress you were wearing doing nothing to ease his heart rate as he watched you from across the room. you’d been driving him insane since he was fifteen, and at twenty one, the man could barely breathe in your presence.

you’d been there in abu dhabi, watched him finish off his best season yet, wrapping him a hug when the race didn’t exactly go his way and affirming that you’d never been so proud of him. he knew he was in love with you, but in that moment, he knew he had to tell you, because your pride in him was what made it all seem real. the years fighting for a place, the blood, sweat and tears, the different countries that kept you both apart. you made every accomplishment seem real, because your affection was what he craved more than anything at all.

he gave you as much of himself as he could when he was home, often failing to coax you out to attend races, so when christmas eve rolled around, he knew he had to take the biggest risk of his life so far. liquid courage seemed effective, so the champagne in his glass quickly disappeared, even though the taste made him ill. it was a small price to pay to be able to finally, finally tell you that all of his lucky stars resided in your eyes.

the first problem arose when he couldn’t stop throwing back glasses of champagne. his palms were sweating, anxiety wracking him and all his nerves, the glass being raised to his lips all too easily. the second problem arose when he couldn’t actually see you anymore, eyes scanning the room in panic. the panic overtook any other sense of fear that he felt; he had to find you. the third problem arose when he eventually did.

you were sat in the back garden on the patio, giggling to yourself, as wasted as he was. you smiled goofily when you saw him watching, arms outstretched. he moved to sit beside you in the cold air, and you leaned into him instantly. he froze, thawing out as soon as you looked up at him. all too easily, his arm was around your shoulder, keeping you close, warm.

“what are you laughing about, hmm?” lando asked, words sloshing together, subtlety enough that you didn’t notice. you let out another giggle in response.

“max gave me this. said we should,” you paused briefly, as if you were trying to carefully consider your words, your inebriation getting in the way. “said we should use it.” you pursed your lips, doe eyes boring into his. lando gulped.

twirling between your fingers was a sprig of mistletoe. max is a fucking bastard, lando thought. he stared down at your hands, watching the way you dropped the plant into your lap.

“and what did you tell him?” lando murmured, meeting your eyes again. his eyes were glossy, just like yours were, and he found himself strangely comfortable, at ease. more at ease than he’d been in years.

“told him that you probably don’t want to kiss me underneath the mistletoe.” your smile faltered ever so slightly but you kept up your teasing facade. he knew he had to go for it, now or never.

“you’re right, i don’t.” lando started, watching your eyebrows narrow, a flash of hurt striking your features that was invisible to the untrained eye. way to be blunt. “i don’t want our first kiss to be part of some tacky christmas tradition.”

he dipped his forehead down against yours, the alcohol leading the way as he waited for you to process his words, your lips parting in an ‘oh’ as it dawned on you.

“lando-“ you sounded panicked. he ignored it.

“can i?” he whispered, begging.

you broke free from under his arm, standing to your feet, wobbling as you scurried across the patio to create some distance.

“you can’t just- lando, we can’t. you can’t do that to me.” you were flustered, genuinely distraught.

“do what? let you know how i feel about you?” he tried to mask his the hurt in his voice but it was impossible.

“no. no! you can’t do that.”

“and why not? why can’t i?”

“because it’s not fair!”

once bitten, and twice shy

i keep my distance, but you still catch my eye

“because it’s not fair!”

your words from last year stabbed him through the heart as he walked in the room. her tight grip on his arm did nothing to stop his eyes from finding you instantly in the crowded room. he told himself that he hated you, sometimes, just to make it easier. it wasn’t true, no matter how much he wished it was, a fact made glaringly clear by the way his eyes hooked onto you in that dangerous red dress. how dare you turn up here like that? how dare you make him think about you when he was here with her?

lando was certain that you didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘fair’.

it was like a sickness, the way he constantly had an eye on you all evening. it was bittersweet, having you here. he was furious that you’d dare to come, but also the sight of you, a whole year on, seemed to take the weight off of his chest.

he watched you talk to max, curiosity taking over, but he barely had time to process the sight, a hand slipping into his.

“dance with me, baby.” he couldn’t say no to her, so he pulled her close and went along with it. he didn’t let you out of his sight, watching you from the corner of his eye as he swayed with her.

lando could feel your eyes on him, burning holes in his relationship. he felt undeniably uncomfortable, fake smile on his face while she whispered in his ear. the guilt wracked him. she’d been a distraction, a welcome one, and now it was serious. too serious. but at least it was easy, and he felt like he deserved easy, after what you’d put him through.

he didn’t get to watch you for long, your red dress trailing behind you as you stormed away from max, disappearing from lando’s view, empty glass discarded.

lando dropped her hands.

you hunched over the sink, letting the sobs ricochet off the walls. you’d tried to be quiet, breathe your way through it, but that seemed futile and you just let the tears take over, numbing you.

max was right. how was this working out for you? it wasn’t, not one bit. you had nothing, no one, and lando had it all, with someone that wasn’t you. you couldn’t blame him for moving on from you, you couldn’t blame him for your unhappiness, not when it was your own doing. you could have had everything with him that she did, and you’d thrown it down the drain.

a long, hard look in the mirror told you that your makeup was somewhat still in tact, the tears finally agreeing to a ceasefire. you were smart to have worn waterproof mascara, you knew it would come in handy. you ran your fingers through your hair, tidying yourself up, hands dragging down your sides to smooth out your dress. once you were sure you didn’t look like a train wreck, you took a deep breath, unlocking the door and peering into the hallway. you wished you’d stayed weeping in the small room.

there she fucking was. her.

her eyes locked on yours in the empty corridor, anxiety pooling in the pit of your stomach. her face softened, an audible gulp signalling from the other woman. except she wasn’t the other woman, she was his only woman.

“i’m sorry, i can find another bathroom.” she murmured, her voice sugar and spice, angelic. she seemed nice. for fuck sake.

there was no way she didn’t know who you were, the way she seemed on edge, fiddling with the silver bracelet on her wrist. i bet he gave her that. you shook your head of the thought, stepping out into the hallway.

“oh, no, no. that’s fine, uh, sorry, here, um, i’ll just go.” you rambled, heels clacking awkwardly on the hardwood floor as you floundered your escape.

“wait! um, i hope that this isn’t hard for you.” she was sincere, so, so sincere, and it made you sick. why couldn’t she be the bitch you’d painted her out to be in your head?

“does he make you happy? is he happy?” you rushed the words out, embarrassed. say no. say no!

she just looked at you, head tilted. more fucking sympathy. it told you everything you needed to know. you nodded your head in forced understanding and turned on your heel.

now i know what a fool i’ve been,

but if you kiss me now i know you’d fool me again

“thought i might find you here.” he sounded the same. his voice warmed you up, but the deja vu hit and suddenly you were ice cold again. you were back on that damn patio and he’d found you once again.

“well, here i am.” you replied, sinking into the silence. you wrung your hands nervously, avoiding eye contact.

“didn’t think you’d come.” he was blunt, straightforward. it was better like that.

“you and me, both.” you laughed humourlessly, watching the way his shoulders slumped.

“how are you?” he asked softly, awkwardly. “you look beautiful.” he blurted.

“oh, just fantastic. heard you tried to grow a beard.” you bit back, as sarcastic as ever, hoping that he couldn’t see the blush spreading across your cheeks. it was nostalgic for him, and he would have smiled if it wasn’t for the sadness in your voice.

he couldn’t help but scoff, and you finally met his eyes at the sound, your own narrowing.

“if you’ve got something to say, then say it, lando.”

“it didn’t need to be like this.”

“don’t say that when your girlfriends on the other side of that wall.” you stood from the bench, gesturing at the house.

“it’s true, though. you know it is.” he didn’t take his eyes off of you, his entire focus honed in on you. you deserved it, this onslaught from him. the wound you’d caused clearly hadn’t healed.

“of course i do. it’s all my fault, i know it is.” you spoke desperately, voice breaking, laced with shame.

“do you miss me?” he stepped towards you, closing in.

“do you miss me?” you echoed. both questions were equally as unfair.

“i try not to. every day. but i know i shouldn’t, it’s pathetic.” his voice was raw with emotion, the very same way it had been last year, and your heart thudded inside its cage.

“why is it pathetic?” you whispered. he was close enough to hear you perfectly, now. your breath hitched.

“because you didn’t want me.”

“it’s not fair?” lando felt his eyebrows furrow, confused. what wasn’t fair?

“no it’s not.” you said quietly, voice wavering.

“what? what’s not fair?” he was confused, the alcohol and your caginess being a deadly combination.

“you being gone, me being here. c’mon, lando, it wouldn’t work.” you explained, eyes welling up with tears as you spoke. he had never imagined this conversation going so horribly wrong. he’d replayed what this moment would be like over and over and over again, and now that it was here, it was gut wrenching. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“yes it could. if you want me, this, it could work.” he reasoned. he was firm, this was his only chance. he had to get you to listen to him.

you were quiet, unmoving in your spot across from him. he took another risk. what more was there to lose at this point? he closed the gap between you both slowly, inching closer and closer until your toes touched, and your chests bumped with every breath.

“stop me. if you don’t want me to do this, then stop me.” lando was clear, searching your eyes for any hesitation. your soft nod was enough to convince him to close the gap.

kissing you was relief. it was getting out of the car after a long race, coming home, winning a round of golf. it was sunshine, ethereal, something he’d happily do for the rest of his life. you kissed him back with the same enthusiasm, your hands in his hair, raking through the soft strands. one of his cupped your jaw, deepening the kiss, while the other rested comfortably on your waist.

your hands slid from his hair down his neck and to his chest. he sighed in content, lost in you, until a soft force pressed against his chest. you’d broken away, stumbling backwards, away from him.

“lando…”

“don’t do it.” he looked down, feeling his own eyes begin to water. he’d blame it on the bitter, bitter cold.

“it won’t work. i don’t,” you inhaled shakily. “i don’t want this.”

“you don’t want me?” lando practically whimpered, the same way a puppy would if you kicked it.

“i don’t want this.”

now I've found a real love

you'll never fool me again

“go back inside. go on. go back to her.” it had started to snow, frozen rain falling in chilling globs.

“is that what you really want?”

“god, lando. no. are you happy now? no, i don’t want that. i don’t want to watch you walk away. it fucking hurts.” you were crying now, the tears flowing freely.

“then don’t let me.” he looked like he would cry too, and you wouldn’t blame him. your entire relationship had built up to this moment.

“this is ridiculous. you’re with her. and i can’t watch you leave me every week. call me selfish but i can’t. i won’t.”

“then come with me. you could have always just come with me!” his voice was raised now, getting progressively higher in his aggravation.

“and uproot everything, my whole life, to follow you? lando, you don’t get it. i’ll hate you if i have to leave my life behind, and i can’t face that.”

“what do you want from me? i’ve given you options, i’ve told you what i want, something i know you want too, and yet you continue with this deflective bullshit.”

“just go back inside.” you were prepared to get on your hands and knees and beg him to go.

“i’m not doing this again. i’m not having this conversation with you ever again.” his eyes began to water and you squeezed your eyes shut. he looked broken, disheveled, pristine shirt wrinkled.

“good.” it came out emotionless.

“do us both a favour and don’t come next year.”

and with that, he left, just like you’d begged him to, your body turning into ice, veins burning as you froze. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he walked away, forever, as the snow buried you in his back garden.

you grieved him, right there, stood in the very spot that he’d kissed you the year prior. you’d never really be gone and neither would he, too intertwined and hopeless. you gasped out a sob, a cry of heartbreak, your very own christmas carol ringing out into the darkness.

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg

(i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed for my taglist <3)

#lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #f1 driver x you #f1 fics #lando norris imagine #lando norris oneshot

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avpdvoidspace · 5 months

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Do you ever struggle with being demonized for your quietness? I have, pretty much my whole life. I think it's a huge problem in society, if I'm being honest. I'm tired of acting like my whole child-self was in the wrong for not being able to bring myself to talk in a lot of situations, especially since I didn't get diagnosed and treated for my disorders until I was an adult. To be honest, I think it's society's way of demonizing people with AvPD, non-verbal autism and selective mutism. Thinking people like us are "rude" or "suspicious" for only speaking when spoken to, or having a non-verbal episode where we can't speak at all. I was suspected of being violent or "hiding something". Also I was deemed "weird" and treated like some alien due to other neurodivergencies as well.

People on this website sometimes act like being quiet is also a weakness or result of privilege. My parents were encouraging me and trying to get me to speak all the time, though. No one was saying "you don't have to speak if you don't want to". My father used to get angry with me about it, calling me "weak" and my mother used to guilt-trip me for it, claiming I "never tried hard enough" for her because I couldn't get myself to be neurotypical.

I also grew up in a world of domestic violence. My mother told me the abuse she faced from my father started getting particularly worse when she was pregnant with me. I was a little child born on-edge and having to walk on eggshells. My parents would get into violent fights with each other and my father would hit me, too. Both my parents worked and instead of spending time at home playing or bonding with family like other kids did, I was made to go to headstart when I was only like 2. I know it might seem like not a big deal, but thinking about it, I didn't have the same experiences that average kids do, and I still don't know if whether or not that contributed to my avoidant personality. I didn't even realize most kids don't even start school until they're 4 or 5 until I was much older. People have been getting me out there and encouraging me to socialize with others since the very beginning. It never worked.

I spent my whole life hating myself for it. I felt like I was never competent and that I was a burden on my mother. And there were many times I did try to make connections with others but they ended up either backstabbing me or shaming me for my interests. I regret a lot of the times I allowed myself to be known by others. There are many memories of me simply saying things to people that make me feel awful. Terrible disorder.

I did manage to make and keep some friends. But also I'm still not truly myself with most of them and still afraid they're going to end up demonizing me too if they knew more about me. Being queer and growing up with having kinks has left me with seeing so much family, strangers, and even other queer people say people like me are "freaks" and "degenerates" to my face without knowing they're talking someone who's exactly the kind of person they think should be killed.

I saw a post recently and honestly, it doesn't even apply to me. However, it still managed evoke a lot of negative emotions and memories I am experiencing right now...

So there's this post going around that goes something like "discourse about letting kids not say 'trick or treat' is concerning"(paraphrasing) which was weird to me at first because I've never seen anyone say they allow their kids not to say it. I've always said "trick or trick" during Halloween as a kid, even adding some "meows" because I liked being a cat. So it doesn't even apply to me.

But then there were people acting like not saying it comes from a place of privilege. Someone was like (paraphrasing again)"when I was giving out candy, all the black children were lively and sweet, and all the kids who didn't say it were white and probably middle class".

And that struck me a bit. I'm mixed race. People treated me like a potential violent threat because of my quiet nature, which was a result from trauma, not anyone "babying" me. I was always working class. My parents didn't even own a car. We used public transportation to get everywhere.

BIPOC kids who are quiet get treated as threats! Of course you fucking enjoy lively black kids. If one of them was quiet, you might demonize them...

Then there were people saying "you people just need to grow up."

It's so strange that traits that apply to non-verbal autism or CPTSD get deemed as "social anxiety", because tumblr thinks that is the lesser disorder.

I don't know. I got a lot of bad memories spring up from seeing that post, and I just wanted to vent about it here. So many people demonized me for being quiet growing up and it made me believe I was a monster for so long.

I'm not even saying I encourage the behavior of refusing to talk to people. I had a nice conversation with an old woman at Dunkin yesterday. I enjoy small talk and listening to others talk, even when I can't add much to the conversation. I just worry about other children who are like how I was growing up, being traumatized and quiet and being treated like shit for it... I don't trust anyone sees "quiet" as "rude"

I'm sorry about the length and I hope you're doing well.

anon, I'm sorry this took me so long to post. I just want to say that your ask really resonated with me and I've thought about it several times since receiving it. I get similarly frustrated when I see priveleged people praising marginalized for being more friendly, more whatever, for similar reasons. Or setting up an oppression competition between two groups they're not even a part of.

#avpd #avoidant personality disorder #again #sorry to take so long to post these #have been especially avoidant

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violetren · 2 years

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Just took my nephew to see Strange World and it was a great movie. After so many mommy issues driven Disney movies it was fun to see a daddy issues driven one.

There is actually so much I could say on it.

Like how one of the key messages actually felt like it was aimed at the parents rather than the kids - don't let building a legacy for your kids actually get in the way of being there for your kids in the now because they are your real legacy. Alternatively: don't lose sight of the fact that your kid is just as much an individual as you are.

And the more general theme of: seek to understand and work With your ecosystem instead of destroying it because short term gains will only meet long term destruction.

Or how the whole "I'm not you dad" plotline would have been called queer coding in any other movie except in this one on of the main characters in that plot is literally already out to his family who loves him unconditionally.

Which brings me to the one scene that prompted me to make this post. Spoilers. Duh.

There is a scene maybe halfway to two thirds of the way through the movie where Ethan (our mixed race gay child protag) is talking to his long lost grandfather Jaeger (old self absorbed white man, kinda protag).

It's a catch me up on your life tell me who you are type convo so there's a pretty rapid fire "what do you do for fun, what do you like, WHO do you like?" Flurry of questions.

Ethan has a massive crush on this guy in his friend group and so when asked about romance gets all stuttery and flustered which makes Gramps push for details.

At this point my queer ass was white knuckling my seat because sure he's comfortably put to his family that has been there but Jaeger HASN'T been there he's been cut off from civilisation for 25 years and is the bad father of the movie if anyone was gonna be the homophobe it'd be him. If this had come out when I was nephews age This is where the grandad would call it a phase or get mad or play along to retain cool status and then go get mad at the parents. This would have been a dark moment of heart break.

But then with no hesitation Ethan starts gushing about this boy and how he hasn't been able to ask him out because he's so awkward around him, and the grandad's literal only response is to give him well intentioned but fucking awful advice as to how to ask this fella out (Which Ethan appreciates but also instantly calls out as an awful idea).

I unclenched purely from shock, because it went good.

It was just another light funny scene but also and this is crucial it wasn't a shoehorned in coming out moment.

There was no formal coming out, just used he/him pronouns when talking about his crush like super casual and realistic like in a scene whose actual function was to show that while Ethan thinks adventuring stuff is cool he isn't "like his grandad" (a major fear of his father's) he is instead a smart young man who is already starting to see his own path in life doesn't look anything like his father's or grandfathers.

Anyways I fully recommend everyone go see Disney's new movie about sustainable living and daddy issues just as a massive fuck you to Disney who has been making active decisions to give it less attention than recently renewed long held licenses and the 504th Christmas short from basically every franchise they own.

#strange world #disney #ethan clade #jaeger clade #queer media #strange world spoilers

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piperxnoel · 8 months

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PART 1: THE BASICS

• What is your full name?

Piper Noelle Harrington-Cruz

• Where and when were you born?

In Rhode Island on December 8th.

• Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

Adoptive Parents: Deshaun(👼🏾) and Chauncey Harrington. Married 28 years. Had custody of Piper since she was born.

Biological Parents: Michael and Valencia Vergara. Married 30 years.

Deshaun was a Professor of English at NYU before retiring at 38. After which she returned to her Salon business as a stylist and owner. She also helped Piper run her business until her untimely death. Her mom was a fun loving, energetic woman with a fiery attitude and optimistic disposition. she was young at heart, supportive and an amazing mom and glamma.

Chauncey is a business owner. In his lifetime, he has owned several businesses. From a car dealership and car wash, to a barber shop, and a few fast food franchises. He has always had several sources of income. Currently his main occupation is that of a property investor. He is a quiet man with little to say, has a strong sense of humility and strives to be the best at everything he can. Around his daughters, he’s very comical, always joking and sharing stories of his past with them. He’s very protective and vigilant when it comes to his girls.

Michael is a lawyer and a doting father to his two girls. Though he’s only known Piper for the past 7 years, he has built a loving relationship with her and her children. Valencia is a doctor. She is very sweet and caring, but also no nonsense. She and Piper have struggled with building a strong bond but the two love one other very much.

• Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

Piper has 4 siblings. 1 older sister, Lauren Vergara(strong, determined, but guarded and stubborn) and 3 younger siblings, Yessica, Annabella, and Zalena. All of her younger siblings are similar in personality. They are all quite like Piper and very close knit.

• Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

Piper lives in a Modern Mansion in Los Angeles with her sister and best friend, Sarai and their 4 kids.

• What is your occupation?

Like her father, Piper is a serial entrepreneur and owns several beauty based businesses. Currently she owns and operates 2 salons, a spa, and is in the process of building her medical Spa which is set to host its grand opening in the Spring. She also owns a cosmetics company, lash extensions line and is working on her own line of hair care products and extensions. She co-owns a food truck with her ex husband and son but only manages the books for the company. The business is for her son and he is the only one of the three who profits from the company.

• Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

Piper is 5’2, weighs 163, is mixed race(black, white, dominican), has long black hair and brown eyes. She likes to dress stylish, often times going through different trendy looks, but adding her own twist. She has several tattoos, the most important ones are the times of her children’s births on her ankle and arm.

• To which social class do you belong?

Piper is currently apart of the upper class but has been apart of both the lower and middle class before.

• Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

No.

• Are you right- or left-handed?

Right.

• What does your voice sound like?

Sweet, modulated, and melodic on a normal day with a bit of raspiness when she’s sick or has been crying or yelling or overly excited.

• What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

Girlll, Child, love bug, babes, hey boo, bitchhhhh, and please leave me the fuck alone are the most common.

• What do you have in your pockets?

Nothing. I carry a purse. I keep my wallet, phone, make up, gloss/lipstick, and protection from weirdos with me at all times.

• Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

None that I can think of.

PART 2: GROWING UP

* How would you describe your childhood in general?

Pipes had a great childhood. In the beginning, her parents struggled to conceive and adopted her in the years after taking in Piper, they fell on hard times, but were able to bounce back relatively quickly. Her parents never let Piper or her younger sister see their struggles. They often went back and forth between Rhode Island and New York. Her parents covered her, protecting her from seeing how bad things were. Eventually, when they were in a better postion, her parents filled her childhood with beautiful memories of family time at amusement parks, trips, and more. She was very loved and taken care of.

* What is your earliest memory?

Piper’s earliest memory is

* How much schooling have you had?

* Did you enjoy school?

* Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

* While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

* While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

* As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

* As a child, what were your favorite activities?

* As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

* As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

* When and with whom was your first kiss?

* Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

* Who has had the most influence on you?

* What do you consider your greatest achievement?

* What is your greatest regret?

* What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

* Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

* When was the time you were the most frightened?

* What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

* If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

* What is your best memory?

* What is your worst memory?

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catsolas · 1 year

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i can't take it anymore,

if you are not going to put any amount of effort into researching the experiences of actual mixed race people, please do not write about your white half-elf dnd/bg3 character as an oppressed minority

"not accepted by elves or humans" is such a vague statement, it's basically meaningless!!

even if you don't have a backstory fully formed in your head, your character does not live in a vacuum. "not accepted" by WHICH elves? WHICH humans? especially if they live in a sword coast city -- why would those elves and humans they pass on the street have any care in the world about their existence as a half elf??

is the character going in to elven grocery stores, speaking in elvish only for the proprietor to give them a weird look or a hard time about their accent? are random humans doing double takes before asking, well where are they really from?

(actual advice below (from a biracial person if that needs to be said))

half elves are really, really not that uncommon. even if they're a rarity in their individual community, that alone isn't a reason for them to be discriminated against. elves aren't a marginalized group in most generic dnd settings or Forgotten Realms! Not human =/= oppressed!

instead, think about what the character's upbringing would have been like and what cultures they were exposed to rather than shaping them on basis of race. a biracial character isn't just someone who doesn't "fit" within a binary system, there are a hundred other factors at play, too.

let's say their elf and human heritages are opposite sides of a riverbank. if they grew up on one side primarily (raised by the elf OR human parent), did they ever get a glimpse of the other side -- whether that was sun, moon, wood elf cultures, or any number of human cultures? what did it look like? did they care about it enough to learn more on their own, or were they content to turn their back to it and stay on the side they were at? maybe they never had an opportunity to learn more!

plenty of people irl have no connection to parts of their heritage. it's up to you to decide whether that is a source of grief, shame, anxiety, etc., for your character. there's no wrong answer, but it's important to explore.

if the character grew up separated from one "side," did they ever get a chance to cross that river? how? was it on a makeshift raft, undertaken at their own peril? did they have regularly scheduled ferry trips, wherein crossing that gulf was a pleasurable or hopeful experience? why did they seek to return or visit in the first place -- was it out of curiosity or filial duty?

if they're seeking a "home" to return to because they've felt out of place in other parts of the world, do they find that there? what about these cultures resonates with them, especially if they were not exposed to it as much from a young age?

can they even speak the language of their predecessors?

diaspora creates so many different environments for people irl -- some kids of immigrants never visit their parents' homeland, while others have the wealth and resources to return regularly. different amounts of grief and obligation are felt by everyone involved in both situations. many of those who leave the community are expected to send back money, clothes, supplies, etc., if they left for a "better life"; and despite their best efforts to maintain their ties to the community, they often end up estranged from their own culture and language over time as they assimilate into their new home. it's a devastating situation especially with the history of colonialism across the globe.

but with regards to fantasy cultures of elves and humans, the possible scenarios are just as endless! a half elf character could have easily been raised by a happy couple who made an effort to share their culture, languages, and histories with their child. conversely, they could have been raised by an elven parent who, still mired in grief at the loss of their short-lived lover, raises their child with resentment borne from that grief, or an overbearing, overprotective nature to keep this "living memory" of their love alive.

maybe the character was raised by a human parent who knows nothing about the elven culture their partner came from -- maybe they feel guilty they can't share it with their child, and maybe they don't. an inherent talent for magic from fae ancestry etc. could be at play here as well, which the parent might or might not be familiar with. something else to consider is that the human parent may only live for a fraction of their child's life even if they die of old age. (this is true in real life as well, obviously, but of slightly different significance here)

tl;dr you can play a half elf like they're a human but with darkvision, it's fine. but if you're wanting to explore how their mixed heritage would shape them, especially for backstory trauma reasons, consider in what ways they're an outsider -- and to whom.

#bg3 #dnd #idk i'm just shouting into the void #but genuinely hope this is helpful in any way to someone somewhere #one day i'll get to the weirdly polarizing focus on drow and colorism i've been seeing recently #sometimes i look at my tl and feel like i've been transported back to 1910 #and it's just about ELVES

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returntoregalia · 3 months

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on the mice having math names:

I do think that all the underland creatures have their own names in their native languages, and it's only when speaking english that they use other names. the bats thought the humans' stories of gods and heroes sounded noble, so they chose their names from there, the mice took an interest in the humans' way of doing math and thought their math words sounded intriguing, so they chose their names from there, the cockroaches when asked just give their real names and the human they're talking to goes "uh tick, you said tick?" etc. I hc that the only race that uses english translations of their actual names is the rats.

anyway Cube

Ask continued:

fuck I have more to say about marks of secret actually I think ripred really tried his best with pearlpelt… but he might have been more abrasive than he meant to be. especially when pearlpelt was a baby and couldn't/didn't say much, I feel like ripred would've made bitter comments that he figured pearlpelt wouldn't fully understand or remember. pearlpelt's pre-existing trauma, mixed with his status among the rats as either a future leader or a future threat, all just came together to create a kid who desperately needed to feel like he belonged somewhere, like he was wanted… and on the one hand you have ripred, who had his best interests at heart and probably fed and protected him to the best of his ability but was likely snippy with him and somewhat aloof, versus twirltongue who only wanted to use him and made him feel like she loved and wanted him… it's easy to see how she was able to manipulate him. (esp when you have that scene where gregor starts to trust twirltongue more than ripred for just a second there after only one conversation with her.) I'm not blaming ripred for The Bane, it's just fucked up that pearlpelt didn't have a good support system after his father killed his mother =( he WAS just a kid, before he was pushed into becoming a genocidal dictator

First of all I love your headcanon about the rats being the only animals to use direct translations of their original Gnawer names. It makes sense to me that animals' names in their own languages would be descriptive of the animal in some way. Like white coat = Pearlpelt. And the rats don't care what the humans think, so they were just like, "That's my name, I'm sticking with its original meaning." Meanwhile, the bats are like, "We must sound dignified to the humans! Let's pick Ancient Greek names."

Also, "Cube" kills me. Luxa why did you pick that name it's so silly!

I enjoyed hearing your take on Ripred and the Bane! I'm always very interested in hearing what people think of Ripred's parenting skills or lack thereof.

#averagecygnet-blog #ask #returntoregalia #gregor the overlander #gto #the underland chronicles #tuc #underland chronicles #suzanne collins #return to regalia

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foreverlogical · 1 year

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Georgia’s new school censorship laws have claimed their first known victim. Cobb County elementary school teacher Katie Rinderle was fired for reading her class a book she bought at a school book fair, because the book’s message of accepting and embracing differences offended some parents.

According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, Rinderle had offered her fifth grade gifted program students a choice of books to read and discuss, and they chose Scott Stuart’s “My Shadow is Purple,” which you can check out here. The book centers on a child who looks at their mother’s pink shadow and their father’s blue shadow and doesn’t identify fully with either. Their shadow is purple, and they have traits in common with each of their parents. At a school dance, the child is pressured to choose pink or blue, but ultimately, other kids speak out to say that actually, their shadows aren’t pink or blue, either—they’re yellow, brown, red, green.

Rinderle, who is obviously an excellent teacher, then had her students discuss the book’s themes and write poems about their own shadows.

“My shadow is white, an underestimated thing,” one student wrote. “When mixed with colors, it can do amazing things but left by itself it’s kinda bland.” Another wrote, “My shadow is purple and now I do know that everyone’s different and not to be woe [sic] when my heart glows and tells me to see it’s fine to be me.”

Following complaints from a small number of parents—and despite other parents vocally supporting her—Rinderle was investigated, told to resign or be fired, and fired.Campaign Action

Two days after she read “My Shadow is Purple” to her class, Rinderle was summoned to the principal’s office twice for meetings. “When I asked why this book was available in our school’s recent Scholastic Book Fair, especially if it was not deemed ‘appropriate,’ there was not a clear answer that could be given,” she told the SPLC. “When I asked if there was a specific list of books or topics that were not allowed in inclusive libraries, the principal stated, ‘No.’ When I asked if there was a rule or policy I was unaware of, she told me she wasn’t sure and she believed it was just considered ‘divisive.’ She told me parents were ‘talking’ and had emailed to complain.”

That message came through repeatedly: The rules are vague. It doesn’t matter, because we’ve decided you broke them.

In a recorded investigative meeting, Christopher Dowd, the district’s director of employee relations, said, “Not every topic will be specifically in black and white on topics [you] can and cannot teach which is why the language allows for a broader spectrum on ‘issues’ to navigate.” In other words, you’re guilty if we decide you’re guilty.

The 2022 Georgia laws under which Rinderle was fired give parents broad rights to demand the removal of class and library materials and censorship of class discussion. Like most such laws passed in recent years targeting public school curricula and teachers, the Georgia laws are broad and vague enough to allow almost anything to be the subject of a complaint. That in turn means that teachers have to censor themselves because they never know when they’re going to get in trouble. After all, Katie Rinderle was fired for reading a book sold by the book fair at her school.

That vagueness is a weapon that will never be wielded equally. District administrators have the discretion to take some parents’ complaints seriously and not others. They have the power to fire some teachers and let others off with a warning. And factors like race and membership in other marginalized communities will always be at play in those decisions.

In the recorded conversation with the teacher, Dowd also repeatedly referred to “inappropriate topics” and “pornographic” material. Now, you can read “My Shadow is Purple” yourself. There is nothing remotely pornographic about this book, which in fact is aimed at children younger than Rinderle’s fifth graders. What is “inappropriate” about it is that it tells kids they don’t have to fit firmly into a gender binary. That’s all. Nothing sexual. Nothing explicit. Just, “It’s okay not to be pink or blue. It’s okay to like traditionally masculine things and traditionally feminine things.”

As administrators investigated and questioned and castigated Rinderle, they communicated to her that there was “a revolt against you.” She wasn’t told about support from her students’ parents, although it was out there.

“My daughter was very worried about her teacher and suspected that all wasn’t well,” one parent said, “as it was not normal for Ms. Rinderle to miss consecutive days of school. “Emotionally, she was distraught when her class was informed by the school counselor that Ms. Rinderle was gone for good,” the parent said. “My daughter broke down in school and had to have a private session with the school counselor to work through her emotions. Ms. Rinderle’s class was one of the highlights of her school week. In her absence, my daughter described the class experience as ‘chaotic’ and ‘lacking direction.’ She no longer enjoyed it.”

Teacher turnover is known to be a problem for students, something that disrupts learning. Losing your excellent teacher under mysterious circumstances in the middle of a school year? That’s traumatic for kids. And then being told that your teacher was fired for teaching that it’s okay to be different? Well, that’s one way to ensure that LGBTQ+ kids stay deep in the closet, terrified, with serious mental health consequences.

What happened to Katie Rinderle is horrific, and she is rightly fighting her dismissal with the help of her union, the Georgia Association of Educators. It’s important to put it in the broader context—from the damage it does to kids and specifically LGBTQ+ kids to how this is part of a broader campaign against public education. Teachers are leaving the profession because they’re being called groomers and indoctrinators, because they fear parents' reactions to teaching about race in U.S. history, and because, “We are constantly being questioned by people who do not have degrees in education.” This is why the percentage of teachers who feel respected has plummeted over the past decade.

Republicans are passing laws that empower parents not just to say their own kids can’t read certain books but that those books have to be taken out of schools entirely. But again, in practice, it’s only some parents and some complaints (right-wing ones, to be specific) that wield that kind of power. This isn’t about one book or one teacher. In the relatively short time since the new wave of school censorship laws were passed, we’ve seen so many cases, like the 1998 Disney movie about Ruby Bridges removed from schools in Pinellas County, Florida, because of a parent complaint. A textbook company removed mentions of race from the Rosa Parks story after looking at the books being banned in Florida. The College Board backed down to Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ demands on an Advanced Placement African

American Studies class, then realized it had emboldened a bully when he started coming for AP Psychology, too.

This is a right-wing effort to kill two birds with one stone: to weaken schools by painting them as sites of harm to children and driving teachers out of the profession, and to keep bigotry socially acceptable in this country and maintain a white, straight, conservative power structure as a natural state of affairs beyond questioning. While it’s partly a matter of convenience for Republicans, these things are truly linked. Public education as a public good, a place for all kids to be educated in ways that benefit our society and the nation as a whole, is served by inclusion and support. Done well, it does promote equality beyond the classroom. And that’s a key part of why it’s coming under such ferocious attack from the right.

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