#professor rearview hot wheels

[thunderstomm]

“That went well, right? We ended on that evil laugh and struck fear into the hearts of everyone! …Didn’t we?”

[thunderstomm]

It’s debatable how far they would explore the topic, but I’m also considering that other hot wheels media is typically made for a slightly older audience. Also considering how much time is left with the series (likely 5 episodes- 10 segments) leaves little time to unpack everything. It could certainly be multifaceted but brief, but I’m unsure if it would be.

I think the idea of making artificial combatants for each specific racer is fun, but not the most realistic approach. If having one racer (his daughter!) to beat them didn’t work, why make six? If it fails again, the repercussions are just begging for a disaster. Definitely a fun concept for an AU though!

On the last one- you’re right! I always assume that it was the latter, and that he was a genetic engineer of sorts, altering the DNA of his creatures to make them giant, or give them additional skills. They’re definitely organic beings, considering the cobra has to eat, and he mentions training them and practicing what they’re going to do beforehand. If this is the correct answer, it’d be much more likely that Cruise is a standard human, rather than an artificially created one. (Regardless of which is the “right” answer- she’s still his daughter and his responsibility!) The other factor leaning in this direction is the fact that the first time she fails to win, her father’s instinct isn’t to change or fix her, but rather the car. Professor Rearview might be evil, but it’s undeniable that he loves his daughter, and is possibly hesitant to do anything to alter her DNA… yet. Perhaps if she fails again, he might be less hesitant.

Something I've been thinking about recently: if a person could create five giant animals(one of which is based on a mythical creature), then they could certainly create an artificial human(as described by TV Tropes). Just develop them until they're the right age, put in some false memories so they think their creator is real family to them, and why not, build something cool for them to use while waiting for them to finish incubating!

[meetevieinthehallway]

why would you keep something like this for me?

in which she’s been feeling uncomfortable and doesn’t tell harry.

this piece is kind of a mess.

this deals with subjects of harassment, sexual harassment, etc.

-

the rain is bothersome.

it hasn’t been this way.

it’s been sunny this entire week— a comfortable few days of only a gentle breeze and a hot glow casting over, pressing kisses to leaves and warming the ponds. spring is finally fucking developing— growing and sprouting and shifting and the soil and air can’t get enough of the radiating warmth coating everything in sight. the birds have been singing after their long time of being silenced or being absent— joyful and celebratory songs for this unfamiliar, newfound, utter peacefulness—

she thinks the birds have been drowned in the rain.

there’s no brightness, liveliness, there’s only coldness and dampness and she hopes the birds have drowned.

call it pessimism, or utter brutality— but as much as she wants the sunshine and birds chirping placidly she may actually choke out a helpless creature if it starts singing sweetly in her ear.

to say it gently,

she hasn’t had the best day.

to say the least, she’s infuriated— a mix of pure anger but also a pinch of sadness and a bit of disappointment. nothing could go right, and she’s muttering to herself as she storms to her parked car in a heap of red, tears stinging at her eyes because there’s too many emotions right now.

she cries on the way home.

she isn’t a cryer.

but she full out sobs, her cheeks paralleling her blurry windshield and it’s doubling the difficulty of seeing clearly and seeing the road and she misses three turns because she’s that much of a mess.

god, just let me get home.

the rain is pounding on the glass and trying to break through it—trying to soak her cheeks more than her tears already have—and she can’t see and she doesn’t know how or when she makes it home and she doesn’t know why she’s soaking wet.

you left your window open.

another cry rips through her soul.

she feels pathetic.

she feels as if she’s the dumbest person to ever exist— because now she’s miserable and cold and exhausted and she wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. maybe her boss is right— that she can’t do anything right—not even the job she studied brutally for six years—and she despises the look of disappointment on her employer’s face when he sighs and hands her report back to her and shakes his head and shoos her away with a wave of his hand.

she shifts up to meet her eyes in the rearview mirror, and she catches the glaze of letdown in her own irises.

her boss is a straight up asshole.

he’s the boss that every high school and college professor rants of, the unfair one that establishes their fucking superiority complex in the first minute of knowing them. but it’s not a roughness of sophistication— but the exact opposite, one of immaturity and pure ignorance; she doesn’t know how he got so high up in status when he doesn’t even do anything. she swears he is straight out of the devil wears prada, but miranda priestly is a prententious fashion designer and that is kind of to be expected?

she never expected her own boss to be such a prick.

she’s dreamed about her job since she was an early teen—one where she feels accepted and wanted and valid in the workplace—and the level of sorrow she feels that her dream has diminished before her eyes is heartbreaking.

this boss has ruined it for her.

a man who definitely believes women are less than men—evident by the snide, sexist comments and the obvious stares and the groping and sexual harassment of female colleagues who quit days later—because she is one of the now only two women working there and somehow the work gets piled on top of them but the men get to sit in the workroom and watch football games together during their “extended lunch break.”

while her boss joins.

it’s nothing against the male colleagues she works with— they are hard workers and they are intelligent but she works twice as much as them and harder and she still gets paid less.

another tear runs down her cheek.

her fingers are still wrapped around her steering wheel in a vice grip although she’s been pulled in the garage for god knows how long, and her hands are starting to ache and throb.

she wants harry.

harry who isn’t a sexist and who understands she is valid and equal and works hard and well at what she does and—

she wants harry.

her head turns slowly to the left and she sees his car sitting next to hers. her brain is slow and her breathing catches and speeds up as she’s flying herself out the door.

she’s sobbing again, flinging the door open and she doesn’t know the last time she has broken down so extremely— and she isn’t kicking off her shoes as she races through the house.

“lovie?”

she sobs.

she is literally sprinting towards the sound of his voice and she can hear music halt and she rounds a corner and slams into his chest.

“woah—”

she’s sobbing.

harry takes a moment to register how intensely upset she is, and his mouth guppies for a moment before he wraps his arms around her.

“love— are you... are you okay?”

she shakes her head and she’s hysterical and his eyebrows are furrowed over his widened eyes.

“what’s... what’s happened? hey— hey breathe.”

she whines and her hands are shaking and she moves to place them over her face and she feels pathetic.

his hands are on her shoulders as he hold her away from him, his neck bent down and forward as he tries to see her face.

“lovie.”

he says it quite sternly but instantly regrets it because she lets out harsher cries and shakes her head.

he doesn’t know what’s wrong and he doesn’t know how to help and he has never seen her this upset.

“are..— are you hurt? did someone do something?”

head shakes.

“just..” he closes his eyes and exhales. “a bad day?”

her hands fall from her eyes and she sniffles and her mascara is running down her cheeks and he is so alarmed that he pulls her close. her face is coated in tears and redness and the back of her hand comes up to her eye and presses against it as she cries. her arm shakily wraps around harry’s middle as he leans down to press kisses to her temple, gently, shushing her and murmuring just breathe, breathe.

she’s hiccuping and she can’t really breathe and her mind is warped and dizzy and wrapped in harryharryharry and she lets her mind be at ease for a moment.

maybe it’s her brain—she doesn’t know how she is this aware to think of this right now while she’s sobbing into her fiancé—but maybe her brain is letting her breathe in harry to take away some of that pain from inside her being.

she remembers reading that sometimes the brain sends someone to a peaceful place to cope with stress— like a state of shock— and she feels harry take her by the shoulders again and back away and lean down to meet her eyes.

“love, look at me, please?”

her eyes move gently and slowly to meet his and she doesn’t blink. she only sniffles and he pushes his sleeve over his palm. her eyes close when he reaches to swipe away her tears with his sweater, and she feels like a toddler but her heart is thrumming.

“wanna bath.”

it’s the first thing she says and she’s so dazed and out of it when she speaks like a young child— monotonous and sad and harry nods quickly.

“what?”

“a bath. want a bath.”

her finger wipes under her nose and she hiccups.

“okay—.. um, okay i—... let’s get you in the bath.”

—

“i wish i was a kid again.”

the bathroom is warm.

harry drew her bath— so hot that it steamed up the room and fogged up the mirrors but somehow the air is thin and pure enough to let her breathe easy.

her cheeks are still red and it’s breaking harry’s heart every second that the color doesn’t dissipate, because he still doesn’t understand what even happened, what she’s upset over.

he can’t believe he has gone from being so excited to being so terrified in the span of an hour.

all he knows is that he was so unbelievably elated— came home from the studio early and picked up her favorite cupcakes on the way home, because this is the night.

he can feel it.

there was a quirk to his smile and a beautiful tone to his simple humming and a glistening to his eyes—

and to the ring in his left pocket.

harry wasn’t nervous.

he had a couple glasses of wine to loosen him up before she got home, so along with his gentle humming was a soft sway to his body as he practically danced around the kitchen with her voice filling his head.

but now they’re here.

and the ring is forgotten about— for good reason.

harry’s hand gets drenched when he moves his hand downward behind her, cupping his palm to scoop some water and to drape it over her spine. she sighs when he does so, her arms loosening around her knees.

“hm?”

her eyes flutter open and she rests her cheek on her knees, staring at her boyfriend outside of the bathtub.

her heart is throbbing at how careful he’s being.

“wish i was a kid.”

she sniffles after she says it and she’s looking at him so intensely that it causes his eyes to shift to meet hers.

he cups more water and lets it run down her back.

“why?”

she blinks.

“less to worry about. carefree— y’know, h?”

he bites his lip and looks at where her hand is now placed on the side of the tub. his fingers reach to lay on hers, and she sniffles again.

“i wanna quit m’job.”

the water falls between his fingers and runs between the spaces to crash to the bubbles below.

his eyes go wide and he’s startled— because he genuinely doesn’t understand.

“love— you... you wanna quit your job?”

she nods with the saddest smile and swallows as tears resurface.

“no no.. don’t cry. just—” he sits up on his knees and leans over the water, “just explain it to me, sweet.”

she wipes at her cheek with her hand and she feels so dumb and pathetic because her skin is already wet with bath water.

“m’boss doesn’t... treat me right.” she looks up at him. “like—...” she hiccups, “he’s sexist, a-and— i know he’s sexist and a pig and he is so hard on me and i didn’t think it’d be this hard.” she’s shaking her head.

“what do you mean? did...” he’s looking away and racking his brain and he’s trying to comprehend—

his head snaps up.

“lovie.” he says it seriously and he places a hand on her knee as she cries. “don’t... don’t tell me he’s.. touched you, or summat. has he?”

she shakes her head and watches her reflection ripple as her tear hits the water.

“he hasn’t?”

“no, har.” she whispers. “but—... but he’s... grabbed? groped— i dunno the word but...” her bottom lip shakes and she shudders. “all the women that have quit or left did so.. for a reason a-and i’m scared because he... he’ll say things and stare and—”

she breaks down into tears. full fledged— once again.

he doesn’t know what to do.

his heart is racing: at the thought of women being touched inappropriately, of his love being harrassed or even just uncomfortable and that alone? there’s no excuse—

“you... lovie.”

she swallows.

she turns her face to meet his eyes and he’s guppying his mouth and his throat his dry. she feels embarrassed—and she doesn’t know why—none of this is her fault. but there’s a feeling of genuine guilt and nervousness and she can’t pinpoint why.

“how long has this been going on?”

she shrugs.

he swallows.

“since i started.”

her eyes are burning and his are starting to and all he does is nod because he feels so stupid.

he should’ve noticed when she would shrug when he asked how work was or how her day had been— has she really felt uncomfortable for this long of a time? has she really felt unsafe in her work environment for this long?

“since you started.”

he says it to himself mostly, trying to ground his mind into some sort of realization.

“why... why would you keep something like this from me?”

she lets out a soft cry and the water sloshes as her chin falls to her chest. her skin is shaking and she’s tired of feeling so drained and she leans into his shirt when he pulls her to the edge of the tub.

“harry i don’t know.” she’s sobbing now. “i don’t know anything anymore.”

harry’s shirt has soaked through but he’s leaning over her and pressing kisses to her hair because he doesn’t know what to do.

“thought i could be strong a-and—...” she swallows. “ignore it? i—”

“y-you can’t ignore something like this.” he pulls back and turns her so she’s looking at him in the eyes. “this is serious, love, i-i wish you hadn’t let it blow over.” he whispers.

he knows it’s from fear.

he knows that she is only justifying it because her own head is terrified— coupled on how society is nowadays. luckily it’s bettering—all the awareness and movements and empowerments—but the media and the world still think women can be pushed around and objectified.

he feels nauseous.

“well, you’re gonna leave, okay?”

he’s rubbing her cheek now.

“and i’m gonna do anything and everything to make sure this guy gets ruined for what he’s done.”

—

“let me care for you.”

he whispers it.

she’s tracing her fingertip along his collarbone as he whispers it and disrupts the sound of silence in their moonlit room.

he can’t sleep.

every time he closes his eyes his brain won’t fog and transform into colors and waves and images— he’s just staring at a black, blank canvas and helplessly trying to rest. he just isn’t comfortable— even with her body wrapped up in his hold and her calves tangled amongst his legs and the knowledge in his mind that she is safe.

they had shared tears on the side of the bathtub and he had held her over the edge and caressed at her skin and he had lifted her out and to their bed.

she looks up towards his face, slowly, sleepily.

her finger is still running down his clavicle and his chest.

she looks down towards his stomach from where her cheek is pressed against her pillow, nibbling on her lip.

she feels bad for gently coercing him to stay awake with her own lack of sleep— but it makes her heart swell multiple sizes at his care and his love for her.

“what?”

he smiles small.

“i am a man.” he whispers it and she furrows her eyebrows. “and you are a woman.”

“glad your observational skills are this good, h.”

he chuckles and shakes his head. his eyes are glimmering and they flick around her face.

“i am a man and you are a woman.” his hand reaches to catch hers at his chest. he holds it carefully, bringing her fingers to his lips and she smiles small. “i understand that we are equals. you can get another job after this one, or you can just... let me care for you.”

she blinks. “what?”

“i can take care of us, if you want.”

she bites her lip. “i don’t wanna take your money, hazza—”

“hey.” harry whispers it and he leans his head forward so his forehead is touching hers. “what is mine is what’s yours.”

her eyes look at him.

“yeah?” he mumbles, awaiting any response.

he does it gently— the way that he leans forward lazily and pushes his lips against hers. she moans softly the minute he delves into her— drinking her in and caressing her lips and she doesn’t know the last time she’s felt so at peace—

felt so loved.

she pulls away and her head is dizzy when he follows her lips, addicted to her kiss.

“really?”

his eyes flutter open.

he nods slowly, his hand coming up to brush a hair away from her forehead.

“i have a ring in my jean pocket to prove it.”

her eyes widen.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Siren & The Healer (2)

Natasha Romanoff arc

Chapter 2: The Stranger

Platonic Natasha x fem!Reader, Loki x fem!Reader (soulmates?)

Theme: With cracks between the most powerful superheroes of the earth, Natasha Romanoff does not find rest when she is assigned on a mission to find the missing pieces of a puzzling power that once nearly got into the hands- rather, tentacles- of Hydra. In order to unearth the pieces, she must dig through her own past and make a decision that might decide the fate of the earth in the coming wars.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, friendship, and whatnot

Chapter warnings: it does not have floof. or smut. or Loki.

A/N: This was written a few years ago with an OC in mind so reader has a name but it is a reader insert.

Word Count: This weird pain in my heels has not gone away and it has been six freaking months! And I keep missing making appointments! With either of the doctors! I am so mad at myself. And I am trying to take vitamins for the same and I keep missing them too! Which reminds me I should put alarms. Which reminds me I should put alarms for this. ...and I keep missing putting up those too.

MASTERLIST in bio, love

Time: 2200 hrs

Location: Vienna

The little Iron Man funko pop had been entertaining you for the last two hours when the remaining contents of Harry’s table could not. By now you were practically half lying on his table, the chair rolling to and fro while you hummed the tune to Tender’s Nadir, bobbing your head like your little friend to the rhythm. Harry’s colleague- another assistant professor in the department- had come by to collect his stuff from his desk while you waited. “Why don’t you leave and he’ll come when he can,” he had mentioned, drawing a stare of judgment from you. Leave him? What am I? A monster? I can’ just ‘leave’ him. He’s Harry, man! Shut your trap hole!

"I'm so sorry Koshu. I had to collect some assignments from the students." Harry started with loud gasps of breath before he’s even entered the room. You were kinda bummed he knew you were there. You really wanted to surprise him. Though you had to say, you loved seeing him all flustered. It was quite a rare sight for you. You always so calm and composed friend never broke a sweat no matter how hard things were. Well, the things that were hard for you were a smooth sail for Harry. Even though you’d both come here to study and research in artificial intelligence, you had just dropped out of the course after the first semester and taken to teaching minor courses and skills while learning some yourself. He, on the other hand, had been acing it ever since he got here, winning scholarships and accolades. Not to mention the hearts of all ladies and interested men. And what did Harry do about it? Be as innocently unaware about it all as your crush on him. Stupid son of a sexy goofball!

"Look at you, all red and sweaty! I bet Sammy would love to have you now." you giggled.

Harry stood beside you for a second, blank, until he realised what you meant and flushed a fresh batch of red. Yeah, exes tend to have then effect sometimes. A part of you was glad to have that woman out of the picture- that part being the whole of you. No one wants a toxic girlfriend who wants you because you’re hot and then thinks she rather not because ‘I don’t know, Harry, you’re not as outgoing as I thought my boyfriend would be.’ She should have been glad you were on another continent at that time.

"Yeah. Whatever. Hey, I have to grade these assignments so why don't you head home. I'll finish these and then come back,” Harry admitted before wiping the sweat off his forehead. Ugh! Stop it you tease! Your inner voice was really having a day.

"What? Take them home! I'll cook us some pasta or Indian if you are craving some. Get comfy and then grade these bitches."

Harry raised his brows at you.

“That was for the papers. Not for you students....who do comprise of certain stuck ups if you ask me.”

He blinked before shrugging and nodding in agreement. Hesitating for a moment, he remained quiet, the corner of his lips twitching where it met his beard.

"Yeah, I'm comfy here. You go ahead."

It was your turn to raise arch your brow at him.

"Dude! Stop it!” you lectured, raising her hands in the air. “It’s okay for you to do the laundry but it’s not okay if I cook food for the both of us? And it’s not like I’m a bad cook that you avoid eating my hard work. This is called sharing responsibilities, something, I clearly remember, you lectured me on when we first came here. And I like cooking, it’s like a stress-buster. And I make awesome Indian food and a mean Chicken Alfredo."

“...”

“I do...don’t I?”

"Yeah, that you do."

"Thank God. So come home, you twat. Pack those things and let's move. I'm hungry. Let's go before I eat your brains."

Harry smiled sheepishly at his failed attempt for a second and then beamed with happiness from within.

"Alright. Go heat up the car. I'll bring all the material with me.”

You got up with a gush of new energy flowing inside you. Taking the keys from him, you walked for the door.

“Oh! And don't leave without me okay?" He called out from behind you, making you stop, turn and give him a narrow-eyed look. Harry laughed and dodged the duster you threw at him. "Jerk," you hissed through your teeth as you started walking towards the parking lot.

It was only seven in the evening but the sky had already bid goodnight. There were barely any students on the campus. You could hear EDM being played at a distance at some frat house or in someone's dorm. Kids, you thought to yourself, as if mocking them. And then again, you thought to yourself, kids- but now with wistful faraway happiness.

There were only four cars in the parking lot. An old Camry that belonged to a history professor who took night classes. Another one was a Bentley that belonged to a highly infamous professor of Personality Development. The man taught more about himself than about personalities. You never liked that guy.

This guy creeps me out from a mile away, your insides would always remind you.

The last one was an unknown SUV that stood a few meters away from Harry's car. It did not belong to any student or staff you knew.

You took a good look at it as you crossed it and moved to Harry's second hand, Honda. If there was anything Harry and you loved in common more than food, and a bit less than animals, it was this sweet lady. One could find notes, spare T-shirts, cologne, deodorants and much more in there. It could easily be called your second home.

Both of you had spent nights sleeping through all the tipsy- after wild parties during the first year- in this baby. This one had been with you when you’d got here and did not have a dark corner to cry in. Or when you and Harry needed to run away from the buzz of the city and escape into the mountains to rest under the stars and talk about all your deepest desires, darkest secrets and nethermost questions about life and purpose. Not to mention, you’d cleaned up this baby on Harry’s first date just so this guy would get some action- which clearly didn’t happen for this terribly shy guy.  This car had been a constant in it all and had even been knighted with a name.

“Hey Bunny! Did you miss mama? How was my girl today?” 

You were about to open Bunny’s door when your eyes went back to the SUV.

Matte black. Alloy wheels, clearly not of cheap quality. Weird number plate which was not from the state and a little metallic sword that hung from the rearview mirror inside- reflecting the lights from the parking lot right into your eyes.

Something did not feel right. You stood there for a few seconds looking in the parking lot for any sign of the owner.

“It is supposed to look intimidating.”

You jumped at the voice behind you.

A man came out of the shadows of the trees. He was wearing a grey suit and a pin bent in the shape of an eye with what seemed to be a ruby in the middle.

You closed Bunny’s door and locked the vehicle, carefully placing the car keys between your fingers so as to point them away from you and put the other hand around your bag. You took two steps back into the middle of the parking lot, standing visibly under the lights.

“I’m sorry, Sir, do I know you?”

The man stepped into the light. The wrinkles on his face made him look a bit over forty but his well-fitted suit around his body made him look younger and muscular. His grey eyes looked right into yours with a hint of a smile on his thin smooth lips.

“No, ma’am. But I have heard about you.”

You stepped further back into the most lit part of the lot.

“Can I help you, sir?”

You just now noticed the restraint in your voice- into a softer, smoother version of how you normally talked. This always happened when you were intimidated by the person standing in front of you.

“I have been looking for someone who could help me with this concept that is completely out of my league. But considering the things that are at stake, I was hoping you could help me.”

You looked in his direction, confused. More than that, you were frustrated, wondering where the campus guards were.

“I am talking about healing and meditation studies. A few kids who are visiting Europe on a foreign exchange program have shown some interest in getting certified in the course. And I heard you have some sort of experience with that thing.”

The man smiled, this time, his lips extended a bit more while his eyes still stayed grey. Your entire body feel a cold jitter all at once. His eyes. There was just something unsettling about them. Like they were looking right through your clothes, skin, flesh, and bones. 

“Oh! I’m sorry sir. I taught last semester and that was that. I no longer teach or practice it. But you can find teachers for the same more capable than me in the classes going on right now. In fact, the students can directly contact them. Their information is available on the university website.”

The man tilted his head a little as if he was questioning something you just stated.

“Really? You stopped teaching the course? But why? I met some of your students and they gave me really amazing reviews regarding your teaching methods.”

You felt drops of sweat trickle down your back. For a few seconds there, all you did was just blink and feel the fierceness of your heart trying to rise up a little. Finally, you gave a weak smile before answering. “It wasn’t suitable for me. I mean the timings and the hours I had to put in. It was sort of taking a toll on my health. So I don’t do it anymore. I don’t take classes. Neither do I freelance.”

The man was silent for a second while you felt her phone in her jacket. One wrong step and you were ready to press the button of wrath.

“So you’re telling me that healing and meditation took a toll on you.”

You let out one long tired sigh. Here we go. You’d heard that phrase before, more times than you could count.

“Yes, sir”, you muttered, your voice suddenly growing tired, “it does take a toll on you if you’re not careful.”

You wanted to take a look behind you to see if Harry was approaching but did not turn for the fear of the unknown now standing in front of you.

“Careful about what?”

“The things you work on, the ailments for example, who you work with, what energy you are going to work upon slash with,'' you stressed, though stressing as little as you could on the ‘energy’ bit.

“Oh! Like if someone was, say, in an accident, you wouldn’t treat them because that might take a toll on your health. So, you’d rather that person suffer than be treated by you.”

The statement took you by surprise. You had been thinking the man was a sceptical old pervert but here he was asking you questions a healer’s heckler noob does not play with so early.

“Excuse me?” you lost your voice a little. “Sir, it’s a lot more complica—”

The man looked away from you to take out a card from his jacket and hold it out for you to take.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it tomorrow at 8:15 am? Your ride’s here so let’s continue this tomorrow. I’m sure being a healer you have a good reason to not heal someone. Even a…” he paused, his dead eyes looking straight into yours, “loved one.”

And suddenly you were not standing in the parking lot anymore. The dead eyes stayed there with you as everything around you seemed to fade into the distance. Only the eyes, your cold body sweating and a familiar old voice shouting out for you from somewhere far away were present in the void.

Keosha.

You could almost recognize that faint noise accompanying it. A fade white noise was what it seemed to be initially. A part of your mind tried to filter out where exactly where it was coming from. 

Keosha.

It grew closer but now it was somewhat different. You thought you heard someone scream somewhere in the distance.

“Keosha!” Harry shook your arm.

You jumped back into reality, nearly a feet away from Harry’s grasp.

“Hey! Daydreamer!” He called out for you, taking one careful step towards you so as not to scare you away again. “You okay? Where did you go?”

You supported yourself on Bunny. Harry noticed the slow blinks, realising you had been living through some part of your wayward imagination that was not a pleasant one. So, he did what he always did during such times. Rubbing your back to soothe you before taking you in a light embrace.

Your heart was comforted by Harry’s presence, thanking him repeatedly for being there. Your mind was all over the place, looking around you for the cause of this sudden crack inside your mind. The old man was gone.

“Sorry I just got lost in…something. Should we go? We should go.”

Your body worked on its own, getting into the car, closing the door, putting on a radio station to drown out the echo of words left behind.

[petrichoravellichor]

For the College AU thing: -you’re my uber driver and it turns out we’re in the same class, let's say... Pamela and Charlie. Cause I got you into that paring ;)

Hell yes you did! 😍 Side note: I made a minor tweak to the prompt and used Lyft instead. 💜

*****

Oh fudge, thought Charlie as she pulled up to the curb in her yellow bug, watching as a smiling brunette approached with a wave. It’s her, it’s the hot girl from school, crud crud cr⁠—

“Hi, Charlie?” the woman said, looking in through the rolled-down passenger window and holding up her phone to show the open Lyft app. 

Charlie swallowed and nodded quickly. “Hi! Yep, that’s me. You’re, uh, Pamela?”

Pamela grinned, nodding as she pocketed her phone and opened the car door to slide into the backseat. 

Charlie took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. Keep it together, Bradbury. If Éowyn can face down the Witch-king, you can handle a ten-minute drive to The Roadhouse with your crush. She exhaled slowly and pulled back into the street. Phew. Yeah, okay, I got this. 

“Say, aren’t you in my Sociology lecture?” came Pamela’s voice from the backseat.

I don’t got this. “Um, yeah, I think so,” said Charlie, meeting Pamela’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Eight a.m. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with Professor Moseley in Campbell Hall?”

“Yep,” said Pamela with a smile, and holy mother of whoa, she was even prettier up close. “She’s pretty great, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s awesome,” agreed Charlie, forcing herself to focus on the road. Of course Pamela was one of those passengers that liked to make small talk, of course, did Charlie really think her luck would be any different? She cast around for something interesting to say, something that would let Pamela know just how cool and open-minded she was; what she landed on was, “So um, The Roadhouse, huh? You go there often?”

“Heck yeah, best burgers in town,” said Pamela. “You know it?”

“Yeah, my friend’s family runs it. Jo. That’s my friend. But, you know, she’s just my friend, we’re not dating or anything.” What?! Oh my god, you did not just say that out loud! Charlie gave a nervous laugh. “Ha, I mean, of course we’re not dating, I don’t know why I said that, I mean, I like girls, but…” Holy crap, you idiot, shut up, shut up! “Um, I, uh, I’m going to just stop talking now, if that’s okay.”

To her surprise, Pamela laughed. “Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind. Besides,” she added, winking at Charlie in the rearview mirror, “you’re kinda cute when you’re flustered.”

What? Oh. OH. “Oh,” said Charlie, feeling somewhat dazed as a hot flush crept up her neck. She licked her lips and returned the smile Pamela was giving her. “Um, thanks.”

Maybe she did have this after all…

[imdifferentshadesofpurple]

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader (best!friend au) Word Count: 1,237

a/n: dude idk what this is but blame it on @parkhabits (because i blame everything on her lol)

He’s waiting at the front of the school, a small nation gathered around to just catch a glimpse of the handsome stranger in the fancy car.

Books tucked close to your chest, you push some impatient hair away from your face and don’t even notice the commotion. 

It’s when you’re bumping into bodies left and right that you finally look up and realize just how many people are grouped together, heads bent and whispering.

You tap on someone’s shoulder and a thrilled face turns towards you. “Um hi. Could you tell me what’s going on?”

She’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Wang Jiaer is here. That super hot and famous fencer? We think he’s waiting for someone but so far no one has shown up and his car got here like twenty minutes ago.”

That name is, of course, very familiar.

Wang Jiaer, or Jackson Wang, had started fencing when he was still a boy, grabbing awards and fancy titles since he could hold a saber. Ranked eleventh in the 2010 Summer Youth Olympics, Jackson was the golden boy of Hong Kong.

But you knew him as just Jacks, the goofy kid that lived with your family when he was in the U.S. for a brief exchange program. 

The last time you spoke, which was maybe only 24 hours ago, he hadn’t said anything about being in town. 

Or anything about picking you up from classes today.

Any sensible person would wonder how a childhood friend somehow knew your schedule but then you remembered your mother and how much she adores her surrogate son.

Thanking the overexcited girl, you weave your way through the crowd and resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

Jackson’s Lykan Hypersport, a sponsorship gift from a few months back, was sitting at the front of the pickup lane, bright and shiny just like the day he got it.

There were more people clustered towards the sides, eyeing the vehicle and the body behind the wheel. As you grew closer, you saw Jackson was barely paying attention, eyes on his phone as his now light brown hair fell over his forehead.

You’re debating on how to approach him when he looks up and spots you in his rearview mirror. You can tell he’s starting to smile, silhouetted cheeks pulling up as he turns and then waves. You kind of freeze, panicking a bit as people start to see him and then turn towards you. But he’s out of his car in a second, grinning wildly as he bounds up to you, a ball of energy even though his flight from Hong Kong must’ve been draining. 

“Y/N!” He’s throwing his arms around you before you know it, lifting you slightly off the ground and laughing loudly. 

People are staring now but you can’t seem to care when it dawns on you just how much you’ve missed him.

“Hi Jacks,” you whisper, books forgotten as you get your arms around him.

He pulls away and squishes your cheeks between his palms, “Surprised?”

You nod and laugh, “Yes. Very. What are you even doing here, because you’re causing quite the stir, and what did you give my mother in order to find out my schedule?”

He looks a bit sheepish when he grabs your things from you and leads you to the car. No one has moved, shocked at what was happening in front of them, so it was easy to climb into the passenger seat.

“I’m meeting with one of the coaches, he’s been here in the U.S. for a few weeks so I figured I’d just fly here and see you. I promised auntie I’d come over for dinner every night that I’m here.”

“And how long is that? Also, you didn’t have to come get me ya know. I could’ve just met you somewhere for coffee or something.”

He starts the car, the roar of the engine no doubt causing an uproar outside among the crowd again. He slings his arm around the passenger seat and winks at you, finally pulling away from all the attention.

“I’ll be here for about three weeks, figured I’d get some training in before I head to London. So prepare for some real quality bonding time. And of course I had to pick you up! You’ll be the envy of your entire campus, there was this one guy that looked extra pissed when you got into the car.”

“What one guy?”

Jackson shrugged, “I don’t know, he was at the top of the stairs off to the right. He was with some other guys too but I only noticed him after we got back into the car. I thought his jaw was gonna break with how tense he looked. Dark hair? He looked like he was a professor in that striped outfit he was in.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, now staring at the ‘who’s car did you get into’ text on the screen of your phone. “You must mean Jinyoung.”

His eyes widened, “Wait. Jinyoung. That new guy you’ve been telling me about? Mr. Three Dates and He Might be The One Jinyoung?”

You frown, “I did not say that.”

He sighed dramatically, the only way he does anything, “Come on. You didn’t have to physically say it. I could tell over facetime that you’re smitten with that guy. I tried talking about the next few competitions I had but you changed the subject without realizing it. You’ve never been this comfortable with any guy before. Well, besides me obviously.”

You type back a quick response, hoping your ‘nothing to worry about, he’s a friend from Hong Kong’ would be enough to placate him. “He does make me feel comfortable,” you say, turning back to Jackson. 

He squeals and you shake your head in amusement. “Well, then we have to meet! Like I said, I’ll be around for three weeks. We should do something. Go somewhere! I’m basically a celebrity, we can get in anywhere.”

You shove him as he starts to laugh and you love the sound of it. Jackson was your own brand of sunshine when you were kids and having him gone all the time made your reunions so much grander. 

Like that piece of your heart he stole when he’d whisper you were his best friend was coming home to rest in your chest once again.

Your phone dinging with a notification has you smirking.

'You’re friends with Jackson Wang????'

“Is that him? That’s him right? Get him to come to dinner. Your mom is making a feast tonight, he should be there! Ask him, ask him!”

You shush him, fingers pressing against the screen. “Yah quit it, I’ll ask him. But don’t you dare be annoying, I don’t want to scare him off.”

He pouts, “What’s the point of being your best friend slash basically brother if I can’t be embarrassing?” 

'Yeah ok, that’d be cool actually. Does he have any embarrassing stories of you? For science.’

You show the reply to Jackson at a red light and his face becomes a little devious and you’re suddenly unsure if you want the two of them to become friends.

“Yah Jacks, I mean it. No stories. Nothing embarrassing.”

“Oh Y/N. You already know just how embarrassing I can be.” “I change my mind. Go back to Hong Kong Jiaer, no one wants you here.”

“Whatever, you love me.” “Just...just shut up. It’s green.”

[hamilficsfordays]

Drive (Alexander/Reader)

Prompt: “Okay fine, I’m in love with you! Is that what you wanted me to say?” “I literally haven’t spoken for the past hour.” maybe lin/reader or alex/reader ?

Author’s Note: I really wanted to make this a lin/reader on an impulse, but the prompt felt really Alex-y. Hence the Alex/reader pairing.

Pairing:

Alexander Hamilton/Reader

Summary:  You and Alex have just graduated law school and are headed to Vegas to celebrate. It’s a three day trip from New York to Nevada... what could go wrong?

Rating: PG I guess, unless you think that saying “nazis are bad” warrants a T rating?

Warnings: If you have emetophobia (fear of vomiting), you might be pretty uncomfortable as the reader gets really sick at one point.

Words: 2123 (This is literally my shortest work. These are the numbers of the unemployed, people.)

Askbox / Masterlist / What I Write

You slowly typed in the address of your destination on the GPS. Alexander climbed into the driver’s seat, tossing a blanket over his shoulder into the back before he turned the car on.

“You ready, Y/N?” he asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.

“If we can graduate from Columbia law, we sure as hell can drive to Vegas.” you quipped, getting a chuckle from him in response.

Hardly twenty-four hours after your graduation from law school, you and Alex were headed on a road trip from New York City to Las Vegas in celebration.

“How long until we get to Chicago?” you asked, glancing at the clock on the dashboard that read 9:25.

“We should get there around six.” he confirmed. “You’re driving us to Denver tomorrow, right?”

“If there are as many corn fields in the midwest as my stepmom claims there is, it should be a breeze. I might stop to take a ton of corn though.”

Alex laughed out loud this time. “Are you gonna represent yourself in court when you get charged for corn theft or am I going to have to step in?”

“You’ll be too busy lying on my behalf as a witness.” you teased, nudging him gently.

“Maybe I should let you go to jail. They probably serve corn there.”

“But then I wouldn’t have you.” you pointed out. He glanced at you, a smirk on his face. You blushed, realizing what you’d said had blurred your friendship line a bit.

“I’d come visit you.” he insisted.

“Yeah because you’d be insanely bored without me.”

“That’s absolutely true. I’d have no one to talk to. You’re the only person who’s willing to listen to me.”

“Ugh, I know right?” you faked a disappointed look. “This is such a one-sided friendship. I listen to you talk for hours at a time and you don’t offer anything in response.”

“You get to listen to me for hours at a time.” he teased. “Is that not reward enough?”

A few hours passed on your car trip. You had pulled out your laptop and turned on a movie while Alex turned on a radio talk show and listened intently.

By the end of the film, you noticed Alex looked visibly annoyed. His hands were gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, his face a light shade of red.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling your headphones out.

“Why is this up for debate?” he demanded, confusing you.

“Why is what—”

“All nazis are terrible!” he shouted, directing at the radio. “This should NOT be up for debate!”

“No one’s debating it—” you tried.

“This stupid radio show is having two correspondents on debating whether or not all nazi’s are bad. Like, this isn’t a question! Why are they questioning this?! Who decided that it was okay to be a nazi?!”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re gonna spend an hour going off about this, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying it’s ridiculous!”

You tuned him out for a moment, staring out the window. Alex had a habit of doing this, getting really frustrated about something and talking about it for hours on end. It was a regular occurrence in law school. Most of the students and professors found it really annoying, but you thought it was cute.

You could listen to him talk all day (and he probably would).

This likely had a lot to do with the huge crush you’d had on him since the day you met, but you were sure he was better off not knowing.

After all, you didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

He went on for a while, discussing the validity of such an argument (and the social consequences of having it in the first place), before you cut him off.

“Alex, you’re going to mess up your vocal chords from talking so much and won’t have the health insurance to fix it if you don’t chill.”

He huffed, still visibly upset. “Whatever.”

It was a long ride to Chicago, but you’d finally arrived in the city and checked into your hotel that evening.

You had both agreed on sharing a room to save money, separate beds for obvious reasons.

Alex had calmed down by this point, offering to move your bags to the hotel room once you’d settled in.

Once he returned from the car however, you were nowhere to be found.

You came back a few minutes later with a large hot dog covered in toppings in one hand.

“What is that?” he asked, glancing at the comically large pile of toppings as soon as you walked back in.

“I’ve always wanted to try a Chicago-style hot dog in Chicago.” You carefully took a bite, pulling a plate from the cabinet in the kitchenette to make sure it didn’t spill.

“You don’t even like hot dogs.” he reminded her. “I used to live off of those things and everytime I offered you one, you refused. You always thought they were gross.”

You shrugged, pulling out a fork and knife and sitting at the desk on the far end of the room to continue eating. “It’s a new experience. Why not? Besides, there’s so many toppings on here that you can barely taste the actual hot dog.”

“If you say so.”

You and Alex both went to bed early that night. The next morning, you felt really nauseous; a feeling that you could only attribute to one thing—the hot dog.

“My stomach is killing me.” you’d told him that morning as you were checking out.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?”

You felt bad that he offered, but felt worse that you wanted to say yes.

“I mean you drove all day yesterday—”

“Y/N, please. If you’re not feeling well, driving isn’t going to help. I’ll drive. It’s no problem.”

You were back on the road again then, en route to Colorado, your next night stop.

You made every attempt to settle your stomach, drinking a ton of gatorade before you eventually tried to sleep it off. This only worked for so long until you were up, begging Alex to pull over.

This happened multiple times that day, slowing the course of your trip significantly.

Every time you pulled over Alex tried to help, offering you water or food, but you politely refused.

By the time you arrived in Denver, it was well after midnight. Once you and Alex checked in, it was a rush to the room while he followed close behind.

“I should take you to a hospital.” he insisted once you’d run straight to the bathroom. “I’m afraid that you’re going to get dehydrated.”

“Alex, I’m fine.” you insisted between retches. “It’s just a little food poisoning. It’s not worth going to the hospital for.

“Y/N, you’ve been getting sick all day. I’m really worried.”

“Don’t be.” you managed back. “It’s okay.”

An hour went by that you spent on the floor in the bathroom, trying to shake the nausea. Alex came in again with a few bottles of water, hoping to coax you out.

“Seriously, Y/N, I think I should take you to the ER.”

“That would be a waste of time.” You took a swig from one of the bottles. “See? I’m hydrating. It’s all good.”

Frustrated, Alex groaned and left the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices.

When you got sick again, you could hear his footsteps as he stormed back into the bathroom.

“That’s it.” he insisted. “I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, you’re not.”

Alex tried to help you up, but you pushed him away, annoyed with his constant attempts. “Seriously, Alex, don’t.”

“Y/N, we have to go! You need medical attention! I can’t stand seeing you in so much pain. It’s killing me.”

“Why?” you finally demanded, glancing up at him. “You are not my father, and you’re not my brother so why do you care so much?”

“Because…” he started. He seemed to be on the verge of saying a million things all at once, but all he managed was: “You’re my friend.”

Though it wasn’t surprising that he’d respond like that, it wasn’t the answer you were kind of hoping for. You carefully stood up, leading him past the bathroom door.

“Can you please be my friend from somewhere else right now?” Before he could respond, you closed the door leaving him outside.

When your stomach had eventually started to settle, you came out of the bathroom to find Alex already asleep in his own bed. You crawled into your own, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before leaving in the morning.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked, not looking as you as you both headed to the front desk to check out.

“Better, thanks.”

It was silent as you started the final ten hour stretch to Las Vegas. You had curled up in a blanket, sitting in the passenger’s seat and waiting for him to say something.

He didn’t. The radio was off and cell service was hard to find, leaving only the sound of the car to break the silence between you.

Alex seemed to get increasingly tense as time went on, though he still remained silent. You could see him tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, mouthing words silently to himself, slowly turning a bright shade of red.

He went on like this for a considerable amount of time.

“Okay fine, I’m in love with you! Is that what you wanted me to say?”

You glanced at him, shocked. “I-I literally haven’t spoken for the past hour.”

With his initial feelings finally out in the open, Alex pressed on. “I’m in love with you so much that seeing you hunched over the toilet in pain last night got me so frustrated… and when you refused to let me take you to the hospital I got even more frustrated because I just didn’t want to see you suffer anymore. I-I didn’t know what to do.”

“Alex…” you tried, sensing he was about to go on for a while.

“I’m in love with you so much that I listen to the playlists that my mac picks up from your mac’s library because even though I hate indie music, it reminds me of you. I’m so in love with you that the smell of your shampoo is my favorite scent. I don’t even know what it is, I just know it as Y/N’s shampoo. I’ve been in love with it—and you—since we met. I’m in love with you so much that I willingly went on a three day road trip with you knowing very well that if I did that with anyone else I would’ve bitten their head off before it was over. But not you—”

“Oh my god Alex, STOP!”

You managed to get him to calm down, his eyes still focused on the road.

You took a deep breath, covering your face with the blanket. All of his words came rushing back in your mind. He was in love with you. Three years of what you assumed was a mindless crush on a friend turned out to be feelings that were reciprocated.

You couldn’t help but smile under the safety of the blanket, almost shaking with bliss.

You pulled the blanket off of your face. “I love you too.” you almost screamed, hardly able to hold back.

He turned to you, his eyes barely focused on the road. “You do?”

“Oh my god, of course I do. Do you honestly think I would’ve spend all of those all-nighters studying bullshit defense theories with just anyone if I hadn’t completely fallen for them?”

Alex considered this for a moment. He remembered spending countless all-nighters with her while they were in school, but he never recalled her doing that with anyone else.

“No?” he guessed.

“No. It was you. It was always you.”

“Oh.” he refocused on the road, occasionally glancing back at you.

There was a pause. You wondered what came next.

“Why didn’t you say this three years ago when we met?” he asked. “I mean, if you were in love with me then.

“I could ask you the same question.” you shot back, reaching out to hold his hand.

He watched your fingers interlace with his, a sensation that nearly caused him to swerve out of the lane with excitement.

“Pull over.” you finally said.

“I—wait, why?”

“Pull over.” You repeated in a far more serious tone. Afraid you were going to get sick, Alex did as he was told, pulling off to the far right lane out of traffic before slowing to a stop. He pulled a water bottle from the cup holder, offering it to you.

“What?” You asked, confused by his gesture.

“Aren’t you feeling sick?” he pondered, equally as confused.

“What? No.”

“Then why did you ask me to pull over?”

You shifted, leaning into the driver’s seat before you grabbed his face, pressing your lips against his.

He seemed shocked, but made no effort to pull away.

“Because I needed to do that.” You admitted with a small smile.

He smiled back, turning bright red again.

“Oh.” was all he could manage. For the first time in his life, Alexander was speechless.

[topmixtrends]

THE REPORTERS WHO covered the Beatles’s first press conference in the United States, at JFK Airport on February 7, 1964, had never encountered anything remotely similar — and it showed. They asked the band a string of inane questions — about the accents, the hair, the money. Eventually someone asked what their secret was: what did these four lads have that made teenagers around the world scream at the mere sight of them, and spin their records until the needles were worn to a nub? Paul answered honestly: “We don’t know, really.” John cheekily chimed in: “If we knew, we’d form another group and be managers.”

We can forgive the Beatles for not being able to explain the Beatles — after all, creative types of all kinds have struggled to explain the creative process, and scientists haven’t had much more luck. Even the vocabulary we use is fraught: creativity, insight, talent, genius — these are ill-defined words with overlapping meanings. And yet, we somehow know it when we see it. We admire creativity, of course; but we also want to dissect it, to understand it. Can it be captured in a formula? Is there some magical combination of nature and nurture that produces the Fifth Symphony, or The Last Supper, or the theory of relativity?

Perhaps neuroscience can help. The Runaway Species: How Human Creativity Remakes the World is co-authored by Stanford neuroscientist David Eagleman — you may have seen him on TV, hosting PBS’s The Brain series — and Anthony Brandt, a composer and music professor at Rice University. While they don’t offer a magic formula, Brandt and Eagleman postulate three facets of creativity that might help us understand the nature of creative insight. The first is “bending” — taking existing ideas and materials and bending them into something new. A ballet dancer does this when she literally bends her body into a shape never seen before (the authors cite the late Martha Graham as an example), but so too does an artist when he paints something a little different from what he actually sees (like Claude Monet’s multiple, shimmering takes on Rouen Cathedral). The second is “breaking” — dividing something into its component parts, rearranging them, and throwing away parts if necessary. The invention of digital photography and digital sound recording are two examples — neither would be possible without the recognition that even the most seemingly continuous stimuli can be broken down into discrete “bits” of information. The authors describe the development of the MP3 — a digital audio format in which sounds are further compressed; only the most vital information is preserved (a JPEG does something similar with a photograph). Picasso, one might argue, did something analogous in his cubist portraits, keeping key elements of, say, a face — eyes, nose, mouth — but rearranging them in novel (even shocking) ways. Old rules of portraiture were discarded. The third facet is “blending” — taking two or more good ideas and combining them into an even better idea. An example from our ancient past is the fusing of copper and tin to form bronze — a material much stronger than either ingredient on its own. The blending can be mental rather than physical: novelists and filmmakers blend locations and time periods, and scientists might borrow ideas from one area of research for use in another.

The authors aim to persuade not so much by force of argument as sheer volume of representative cases. We’re confronted with a parade of examples — so many that it’s all a bit dizzying, though the many color images are a help. New topics are introduced and dispatched in no more than a couple of paragraphs. There are, as one might expect, tips for nurturing creativity in the workplace and in the classroom. These seem quite sound, if rather unsurprising — a section in the chapter on creative schooling is titled “Encourage Creative Risk-taking.”

The picture that emerges is one of perpetual tension between the familiar and the novel: if something is too familiar, it’s boring; too unfamiliar, and we dismiss it as crazy or even dangerous. The Beatles, one might argue, found the perfect middle ground — familiar enough to want to sing and dance along; dangerous enough to rattle parents. We also find that the new builds on the old; creativity, after all, doesn’t arise in a vacuum. One might point to Shakespeare: a rudimentary version of Hamlet had existed for centuries as a Scandinavian folk tale, but add a sarcastic gravedigger and a pair of buffoonish courtiers, and you have a play for the ages. And neither Mozart nor Beethoven reinvented the orchestra — they just found new ways to make use of it.

Mind you, not every great idea takes hold; as Brandt and Eagleman remind us, an idea that’s too far “ahead of its time” may simply disappear into the fog of history. Occasionally, with luck, it’s rediscovered. They give the example of Alfred Wegener’s theory of continental drift, first put forward in 1912. It was met with ridicule. A few decades later (sadly, after Wegener’s death) it was accepted as a cornerstone of geological science. Sometimes there are sound reasons for a new idea to be met with skepticism; sometimes it boils down to prejudice, or worse. Some German physicists dismissed Einstein’s theory of relativity as “Jewish science.”

There are a few hiccups along the way. For example, in describing an improvement to Japan’s famous “bullet train,” the authors say that engineer Eiji Nakatsu struggled to make the train quieter: “[T]he flat prow of its locomotive would create ear-shattering noise when moving at high speeds.” Nakatsu, fortunately, was an avid birdwatcher, and solved the problem by modeling the train’s “nose” on the beak of a kingfisher. The authors say that this happened in the 1990s — but Japan has had high-speed rail service on its Tokyo-Osaka corridor since 1964, and those trains were already pretty streamlined; as well, airplanes — and for that matter, bullets — had pretty sharp noses by the ’90s. So it’s not quite clear why a bird was needed for the great moment of insight.

And there’s a small problem with the authors’ treatment of the invention of the marine chronometer back in the 18th century. It was John Harrison, a self-taught clockmaker from Yorkshire, who eventually found a workable design (here the authors cite Dava Sobel’s wonderful book, Longitude). After building a succession of ingenious but bulky clocks (dubbed H-1 through H-3), Harrison finally settled on a much smaller design, known as H-4, which did the trick. The authors write that Harrison’s breakthrough was “to get rid of the pendulum entirely” — but it was already well known that no shipboard clock could use a pendulum; all of Harrison’s timepieces employed a balance wheel and spring (a late 17th-century innovation) rather than a pendulum to regulate the turning of the gears.

Here’s an odder thing: in telling how we gradually adapt to change over time, they write,

When we learn to drive a car, we begin with the small steps: checking the rearview and sideview mirrors, signaling when changing lanes, attending to the traffic around us, watching the speedometer. Later, we can drive with a piping hot coffee in one hand, talking to our spouse and kids, with the radio on and our cellphone ringing, all while speeding along at sixty miles per hour.

I humbly suggest that while we perhaps can do this, we shouldn’t.

A larger issue is the way the authors lump seemingly disparate types of creativity and invention together. They say, for example, that “the final, conclusive mobile phone will never be developed, nor the perfect television show whose appeal doesn’t fade, nor the perfect umbrella, bicycle or pair of shoes.” But isn’t our wish for innovation wildly different in each case? New mobile phone designs seem to appear almost monthly, because there’s money to be made, and more features can always be crammed into them. In contrast, umbrellas, by my estimation, have evolved only imperceptibly in the last 40 years (if it keeps us dry, we’re happy); and while shoe designs reflect changing fashions, their essential properties don’t change much. Bicycles, though a bit more technology-laden, seem to fall in that category as well. TV shows seem quite different. We want each episode to bring something new, and yet to stick within an established framework, but even if a show is successful (The Simpsons is in its 29th year) it surely has a limited lifespan in a way that the umbrella and the shoe do not. A further complication, which the book only briefly addresses, is the question of whether creativity can be objectively measured, or if it is, at least to some extent, a label we bestow on things after-the-fact: a kind of social construct. (Some evidence for the latter view can be found in the way our verdicts evolve over time. There’s a long list of novelties that were initially met with derision, only to be recognized as iconic some years or decades later — think the Eiffel Tower, the Sydney Opera House, The Rite of Spring, and AC/DC’s Back in Black.)

Elkhonon Goldberg’s Creativity: The Human Brain in the Age of Innovation is a markedly different affair. For starters, Goldberg, a neuropsychologist at NYU, goes into much more detail about the actual workings of the human brain. While the ever-confident Brandt and Eagleman keep things moving along like a briskly paced PowerPoint presentation, Goldberg adopts a more scholarly tone; he’s more cautious, more willing to admit that sweeping conclusions may not be warranted. On the issue of whether we can truly nurture creativity, for example, he writes,

[There] will not be a binary “yes or no.” The answer — or rather answers — will have to be more nuanced, taking into account many types of creative accomplishments, their many degrees, and many kinds of creative minds. We will also need better ways of defining and measuring creativity in numerous arenas of human endeavors.

Such caution prevails throughout.

Indeed, the two books are framed quite differently: Brandt and Eagleman believe that humans are driving change, while Goldberg takes it as a given that the world is changing, and that we need to embrace creativity and novelty in order to adapt to it. While Brandt and Eagleman stress the uniqueness of our species, Goldberg explains that at least some nonhuman primates respond to familiarity and novelty in the same way that we do (at least, their brains respond in a similar fashion). And the authors differ starkly on the possibility of computers being creative. Brandt and Eagleman say that “[w]hatever you put in is exactly what you get back out” — but as Goldberg points out, computer algorithms have created art and music “judged by humans as being different and valuable.” Besides, are we humans not in some sense “programmed”? “Since even the most unorthodox creative individual is a product of his time and a beneficiary of the previously accumulated knowledge, insight and tradition,” Goldberg writes, “any creative product generated by that individual, no matter how brilliant, is also in a broad sense derivative.”

As with Brandt and Eagleman’s book, there are a few problems. While Goldberg is clearly in favor of gender equality, his language may trouble some readers. He suggests that the contributions of men and women to creative endeavors “can be addressed constructively and rationally, without hysteria, defensiveness, or the corrosive effects of ‘political correctness.’” A lesser concern is repetition; by my count, we’re introduced to Goldberg’s two dogs — a now-deceased Bullmastiff named Brit, and an English Mastiff puppy, Brutus — at least three times. And the neuroscience is occasionally so dense as to be off-putting, as in: “modulation of the dopaminergic but not noradrenergic systems facilitate performance on lexical tasks which are based on more automatic processing and require the use of well-established semantic relationships.”

Creativity is a fascinating subject, and the human brain — that three-pound lump of exquisitely connected gray matter — is the organ that makes it happen. If you could combine the best of these two books, you’d have an entertaining and scientifically rigorous exploration of that subject.

¤

Dan Falk is a science journalist based in Toronto. His books include The Science of Shakespeare and In Search of Time.

The post The Slippery Search for Creativity appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://ift.tt/2oBTEsV

[thunderstomm]

Dash Wheeler and Professor Rearview, back when they were campers at the Ultimate Garage!

I wonder if they ever used to be friends, or if they were enemies from the start?

Original designs- I changed them a little but not by much (:

[thunderstomm]

Hot Wheels: Let's Race - Season 2 Thoughts

Season 2 has been out for a few days now, and I've watched every episode at least once through, so I'm finally going through all of my thoughts on the show, what's going on, and what I think is going to happen next. The joy of serialized kids shows!

Everything will be under the cut, just in case. Spoiler alert for all of season two!

First off- we're finally introduced formally to our "mystery racer"- Cruise! She's the daughter of the villain of the first season, Professor Rearview, and a racer in her own right. I have to say, I think her character design is very clever, having the shape of her pigtails match Professor Rearview's big hair! i know some people may not like that Cruise is his daughter, as opposed to a grandchild or niece, but I think that the fact of her being a direct descendant makes more sense for the story they're telling. That and there's fun to be had with Professor Rearview being an evil dad.

Cruise is undeniably the highlight of the season for me, and my new favorite. I enjoy the angle of the racers having a non-camper opponent, as the lack of constant close proximity, or down-time with one another means they don't have to be cordial or polite towards Cruise, and we see a lot of more intense emotions fester as a result- especially on Coop's end.

I also think in general, Coop as a character works much better in this season. The pre-established motivation, plus his new outstanding title as the camp champ are threatened directly by Cruise, as he is her primary target to beat, and the determination and vigor it brings out in him is very entertaining to watch.

The rest of the racers sadly don't fare as well, as it feels like they take more of a backseat when compared to season 1, outside of a character focus episode. This feels especially apparent with Axle, who has gone from his role as the main rival, to being good-aligned all of the time. His personality is still intact, but It feels very odd to see him so reduced in role, as the show doesn't frame him as a threat to Cruise also- despite the fact he is probably the only racer outside of Coop who could pose such a threat. The rest of the cast seem much more competitive when Cruise is not in the picture, but once she is, the show relegates them back to supporting roles. Considering the show's age demographic and the story it wants to tell, this isn't a huge problem, but nonetheless a little sad to see.

We also get a bit of backstory for Dash and Professor Rearview! I'm surprised to see they're the same age- either Dash has aged really well, or Professor Rearview has aged terribly. It's interesting to see they were campers at the same time. Were they friends? The amount of team-strengthening exercises that Dash has her own campers do is re-contextualized by this reveal- is she trying to prevent a repeat of what became of Rearview by making sure they do actually like eachother and get along, meaning the jealousy that comes with losing is minimal, or reduced because they can feel good for the person who does win because they are friends?

The environment that Dash and Rearview were in was clearly far more competitive and unforgiving. Of course, we can't pin it all on just that, as Professor Rearview's coping mechanism and overreaction to his loss is his own fault. Explanations, not excuses. And carrying this grudge for at least 30 years, it has long passed being something to be blamed on the conditions of the environment.

I'd love to see a flashback episode regarding their time at the Ultimate Garage honestly! Who were the other four campers who they trained alongside? I'd like to think maybe Axle's dad, Striker, was one of them. Seeing the exact conditions of the race would certainly help to clarify as much. Not to mention, they already have the 3D models for young Dash and Rearview...

One thing that was made clear by the episode count, and the season ending about half-way through the level 2 arc is that season 2 has been split in half, and the season 3 we're to get is really the second half of season 2. Which means more time to dwell on what we've gotten, and who will be the winner of the Ultimate Garage. There's also the question of whether the show will redeem Cruise, and have her join the side of good. I personally am conflicted? It would be interesting, and makes sense, but we are also yet to see any desire to change- let alone Cruise's own motivation and feelings towards her father's plans.

One thing I wish we had seen was a slower moment between Cruise and someone else, particularly any of the racers! I think the show would have it be Coop, as he is our main character, and I don't really have an issue with such. Season 1 gave us a whole episode where he was made to work with Axle, and it gave us a better insight into his character, motivation, and storyline. I think an episode like this with Cruise, under a circumstance that suits their storyline and characters better, would work wonders. Cruise clearly LIKES to race, and yet she is willing to help her father win it in order to destroy it? There's the general question of why Professor Rearview would even allow his daughter to be a racer, but considering he was a former racer, I suppose it would be a waste to not pass on those skills. Is Cruise of the belief that her father will spare her car, and allow her to keep racing? I want to see Cruise forced to talk to someone so that we get these answers.

As mentioned in a prior post, I have two theories regarding the next season's end, the winner of the Ultimate Garage, and the events that could follow. These are both hypotheticals in which Cruise does get a redemption arc, so both of these could very easily be wrong, and Cruise could remain evil, which still would be fun to see.

Option 1: Coop wins the Ultimate Garage. Coop manages to catch up in flame badges to Cruise, leaving the final race as to being between the both of them. Coop ends up winning the big race, much to the delight of the other camp racers, Dash, and his father. However, this victory does not stop Professor Rearview, and he puts his plan into motion to destroy the Ultimate Garage anyways. The campers and Dash all band together to stop him, but It's not enough. All hope seems lost, and there is a moment between Professor Rearview and Cruise where Cruise comes to the realization that their plan working means she will never race again, and lashing out in anger to get a victory that destroys the rich car culture of the city, and takes away something she loves, is just not worth it. She'd rather race again and get a chance to prove herself and improve, rather go down as a sore loser. Using her knowledge of her father, her car's unique abilities, and a little encouragement from Coop and the other campers, Cruise helps to stop his plan. After his defeat, Coop invites the other racers to continue staying with him at the Ultimate Garage, wanting them all to continue improving together. He also ends up extending the invite to Cruise, considering that now she has no place to go, as she's betrayed her father, and now that she's "good".

Option 2: Cruise wins the Ultimate Garage. Despite the campers' best efforts to beat her, Cruise still ends up winning out, and is rewarded with the ownership of the Ultimate Garage, much to the despair of everyone else. She excitedly shares the news with her Father, who is excited to begin the plans to destroy the whole thing. However, Cruise is starting to have doubts. She has all of these amazing cars and resources at her fingertips now, and she can use these to become an even better racer! She tries to convince her father that maybe they don't have to destroy everything, and can keep some of it intact, but he is not having any of that. He's looked forward to this for years! Realizing that he won't listen, Cruise instead asks for help from the campers, admitting that she was wrong, and needs their help now to stop Professor Rearview. Reluctantly, they choose to believe and trust her, and foil the plans with their racing skills. Once he is stopped, Cruise attempts to hand back over ownership of the garage, but the others insist she keep it. They come to a compromise- they'll share. After all, there's a lot they can all still learn from one another, as people and as racers.

Thanks for reading all of the way through! What are your thoughts on the new season, and your theories, if you have any ! I'd love to hear what everyone has to say!

[thunderstomm]

I can’t believe this was correct (from a conversation in GJ Discord back when I first watched the show!)

[thunderstomm]

Joyride - HWLR Future AU

Word Count: 2701

Summary: “After the success of the pet shelter day, Cruise and Coop bust into Professor Rearview’s lab to pay the monsters a visit”

“Where are we going, anyways? We’ve been walking for ages!”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the far tunnels of Hot Wheels City, and his voice projected loud. It was far from his first venture into any of the city’s underground labyrinths, but it was one of his first times doing so on foot. The navigation seemed slower, but more careful, and there was not much choice but to follow along.

The tunnels all looked the same when you took them in slowly. They were narrow and winding, something that made him feel uneasy. He hated slow, and he hated small spaces. And yet here he was, traveling through them at the whims of a former enemy. He focused his attention on her, as she dragged a hand along the side of the tunnels, as if to search for something.

“You remember visiting the animal shelter?” Cruise asked him.

“How could I forget?” Coop exclaimed.

The two of them had taken turns, bringing one another to activities or pastimes they enjoyed. She had taken him to the city’s animal shelter, where he’d ended up taking home a kitten, and he had taken her to that year’s classic car show… mostly for the free ice cream.

“Exhaust misses you, by the way.” He added. “But what does that have to do with us walking though the far tunnels?”

Cruise came to a halt, stopping suddenly as her fingertips brushed something. Coop failed to pick up on the movement quickly enough, bumping into her. He took a step back quickly afterwards, feeling both embarrassed and further perplexed.

“You’d say you liked spending time with the animals?” Cruise asked him, as she pressed what looked to be a hidden button on the tunnel’s side. “I thought today… we could visit a few more.”

She grinned- it was the kind of mischievous smile she gave when she had a grand plan, or won a race. Coop’s eyes went from her to the wall, as a small keypad was revealed in the wall.

“Wait, are we breaking into something?!” He asked her, raising a brow in concern.

“Is it breaking and entering if you know the code?” She quipped, swiftly typing ‘2-5-0-4’ into the keypad.

“Uh… yes!” He exclaimed. It wasn’t like he’d never committed a crime in his life. After all, his first day at the Ultimate Garage Camp had resulted in a LOT of property damage. There was definitely more to be said, but most of it had been in the name of saving Hot Wheels City! This, on the other hand… was not.

Before he could argue his case more, the tunnel began to shake. A hidden door slowly opened, revealing a passageway big enough for a person, but certainly too small for a car, to enter. Dimly lit, but short enough that he could see it led to a large, open room with who knows what inside of it.

“Don’t look so worried!” Cruise grinned, grabbing him by the wrist, and dragging him through the passage. The door slammed shut behind them, with a loud thud. “I come here all the time. Or… as much as I can. Once a month? Point is, I haven’t been caught.”

“What is this place, anyways?” Coop asked her, as they neared the room. “How do you know the codes? And why did you bring up the-“

They reached the room, and his last question was answered before he could even finish.

The two of them stood before a massive, dimly lit room, which contained five habitats, each of which contained one of Professor Rearview’s giant monsters. Five sets of bright eyes all now staring at the two of them with great intent, as if they were debating if they start attacking.

“This is…” Coop began, trying to wrap his head around everything. Cruise let go of him, running towards a glass tank filled with dark water. She excitedly pressed a hand against the glass, and the giant shark on the other side bunted its nose against the glass in turn.

“This is where my Dad keeps the monsters. You know, when he’s not busy destroying the city, or doing his experiments.” Cruise finished for him, her eyes still fixed on the shark.

“We’re in one of his labs?!” Coop exclaimed, clutching his head in one of his hands. “What if he catches us? You’re just as much his enemy now as I am, we’re practically doomed!”

“Quiet!” Cruise whipped around, covering his mouth gently with one of her hands. “The monsters are very, and I mean VERY sensitive to sound. Got it, Cooper?”

Using one of his own hands, Coop moved her hand away from his face. “Loud and clear. But seriously, why would you bring me here? Liking a few kittens is very different to being face to face with five killer monsters!”

Cruise sighed. “They’re like my pets too! In a sense. And I might be the only person other than my Dad who this bunch will listen to. You and your friends are always stuck cleaning up his messes, I thought that maybe seeing the monsters like this could… help you out with that.” She looked over to the first tank again, the shark still waiting at the glass. “They’re monsters, but they’re not… horrible? They’re just following orders. Like I was. And if, by some miracle, my Dad ever gets stopped for good, I want someone else to be able to attest to them finding a new home, instead of just being locked up or forgotten.”

Coop exhaled, looking down at Cruise. His face relaxed slightly, understanding the situation better.

“You want them to have… a second chance?”

“They deserve it. More than I did, anyways. At least they don’t know any better.” She admitted, looking back up at him.

“Didn’t know you cared so much.” He laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You going soft on me, Rearview?”

“Don’t call me that!” She laughed, the quip reinvigorating her energy. “It sounds like you’re addressing my dad!”

“Fine.” He laughed, too. “Now, introduce me to your ‘pets’, I’m sure they’re just dying to meet me.”

Cruise nodded, turning her attention back to the first tank, where the shark remained. She placed a hand to the glass, and the monster tapped its snout against the glass again.

“Sharky-Poo here is real into anything that shines. Treasure, jewels… cars.” Cruise explained to him, rolling her eyes at the list. “It’s like bulls and the colour red- you show them something that glitters and things get out of control.”

Coop nodded, looking at the shark. He took a nervous step forward, the movement catching the beast’s attention. He braced for any sort of reaction- after all, this thing had already swallowed him whole once- but was surprised to only be met by a brief stare, before it swam away entirely. Anticlimactic, to say the least.

Cruise sighed, leading Coop to the second tank, which seemed to contain the only other aquatic beast present. She tapped the glass, and soon after, the Octopus emerged from the shadows. It placed one tentacle to the glass, and seemed to be attempting to reach another out of the tank, as if to grab something… or perhaps, one of them.

Before he could react, Cruise’s voice sounded. “No! Don’t try to grab me again! I don’t have a change of clothes and am not going home soaked again!” The beast looked to Coop briefly, changing its target before she spoke up again. “Not him either. As funny as it would be, I can’t let him get drenched too.”

The octopus looked dejected, as it retracted back into the tank, eyes still fixed upon the racers before it. Cruise rolled her eyes at the beast, hands placed firmly on her hips.

“Eightacles is… playful, to say the least. Likes to pick things up and get a good look. He doesn’t mean bad by it, but has a bit of an attitude when told no.” There was an emphasis on the last word, as she stared at the beast, who was trying to reach out again.

Coop chuckled to himself, trying his best to hide his amusement. It was so odd to see the beasts under a more casual lens.

“I know that there’s not a lot of good history regarding monsters, and car washes, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have the big guy work in one. He could pick up the cars and drop them in the tanks… after a few more years of training to ensure none of them get destroyed.”

“You think so?” Cruise asked him.

“Anything’s possible.” He shrugged in turn. “What’s next?”

He felt a tug at his sleeve again, as they charged for the next enclosure. Like the others, a glass door separated them from the beast, but there was no water this time. In the middle of the enclosure hung the giant bat, sleeping soundly.

“Screech is never awake when I come. Nocturnal and all.” Cruise shrugged. “Try not to wake them!”

Coop nodded, making sure to follow her as quickly as possible to the fourth enclosure. Another glass wall, separating them from the giant snake which lived within it. The monster eagerly came as close to the glass as possible, as if it expected something.

“This is Noodle. Always hungry. Does the best tricks… for the best treats.” Cruise waved up at the giant cobra. “Don’t have any today, sorry!”

The cobra seemed upset, if only for a moment, before turning its attention to Coop. He remembered his first meet-in with the monster vividly- the day he and his friends had delivered five-hundred pizzas to another one of Rearview’s bases. Perhaps now-defunct, considering the one he was in currently. The cobra looked at him expectantly, perhaps remembering the day too, and thinking he had another stack of pizzas to feed it.

He shook his head, showing his empty hands to the monster. “I don’t have anything for you either! I swear!”

‘Noodle’, as Cruise had dubbed them, seemed uninterested in the statement, and continued to eagerly await some sort of food. Cruise shook her head to the beast again, urging Coop to do the same. Both kept up the action, as they backed away from the cobra, and towards the final and largest of the five enclosures.

“You know, they’re not that bad. A little eccentric, but… not as scary as they are when they’re destroying the city.” Coop quipped, as they finally were out of the cobra’s line of sight. “All that’s left is…”

“Firepants!” Cruise exclaimed, pointing out the scaly beast behind the glass. Standing much taller than the rest was the majestic red dragon, which exhaled a soft smoke from its nose. “You ever seen a dragon dance?”

“Actually… yes.” Coop concluded, looking up at the beast which stood before them.

“And he’s been practicing, too…” Cruise mumbled. She placed a hand to the glass, watching as the dragon bent its head down to her level, pressing its nose against the glass, causing it to fog up.

Coop stepped closer towards the dragon, looking at the beast. Scaly, sweeping tail, a wingspan double the size of its body, and atop its head, it had equipped the white and grey “ride pad” which he had seen the Professor use to travel atop the beasts with.

“Anything else interesting about this one?” He asked, watching as the dragon wagged its tail at the attention, much like an excited puppy.

“Let’s see…” Cruise hummed. “Firepants can fly faster than most of the cars in Hot Wheels City can drive.”

He scoffed at the prospect. It was a bold claim, but not one he’d dare to believe. “Yeah, right. The giant lizard is faster than the best racing cars in the best racing city?”

“Faster than both your best cars.” Cruise insisted to him.

“Prove it!” Coop doubled down. “Then I’ll believe you.”

Cruise laughed, taking the statement as a joke. “Good one..” she snorted. She looked at him, waiting for him to laugh too, but he never did. “Wait… you can’t be serious.”

“I mean… is it stealing or borrowing if we take the dragon for a test flight? After all, we’re already here, and you know all the codes…” Coop feigned a look of innocence, echoing the same sentiment she had when they arrived. It wasn’t exactly wise to let arrogance get the best of him, but the need for speed, plus the golden opportunity seemed too good.

“Uh… yes!” Cruise responded, before realizing the predicament. “I see what you’re doing. I’m not falling for it! That’s a one way ticket to getting caught and in trouble!”

“I suppose you’re right.” Coop sighed. “Unless… we call it a ‘rescue and rehabilitation test’ and not stealing? But I don’t blame you for not wanting to do it. Figures you’re scared I’ll be right.”

“You’re good at this.” Cruise admitted to him. It was too easy to get her competitive side, and need to prove her point, going. She headed to the end of the wall, where another keypad was located. Hastily, she typed in another code, and the glass cage door slowly lowered, and a hatch which led out of the tunnel opened, revealing a launch-pad of sorts.

“You want a joyride? I’ll give you a joyride. But if we get caught, you’re shouldering the blame.”

“Do I at least get to fly the dragon myself?” Coop asked her.

“Do you know how to fly a dragon?” Cruise retaliated, walking back towards him.

Returning to the dragon, she held out her arms, hugging Firepants to the best of her ability.

“Firepants! I missed you!” She cooed. “Now, are you ready to fly faster than you’ve ever gone before?”

Firepants gave what appeared to be a nod, and lowered their head further, allowing Cruise to climb on. She steadied herself on the white ride pad, gesturing for Coop to join her. Cautiously, he approached the beast, being careful not to step anywhere Cruise hadn’t, not wanting to aggravate it, or set off any secret alarms. Cruise helped him onto the ride pad, before clicking a button with her heel, revealing a set of handlebars.

“There’s only one set, so I’d recommend you hold onto whatever you can find. Don’t want you falling off!” Cruise told him, as she reached into her pocket, hand brushing across the small charm which allowed for the city’s helmet-summoning technology to work outside of their cars.

Coop brushed his own hand against the white button on his jacket, summoning his own helmet. With not even a seatbelt or airbag available on a giant dragon, it was the least he could do if the worst was to happen. Cruise’s words echoed through his head- there really wasn’t much to hold onto to stop him from flying off, and while the traction of his shoes were good, they weren’t built for this. He could try holding on to one of the dragon’s horns, but that would also mean having to step off of the ride pad. Seeing no other solution, Coop grabbed hold of Cruise.

“That works too…” she mumbled, before grabbing hold of the handlebars. She tapped her foot gently on the ride pad again, gaining the attention of the dragon. “Firepants! Let’s fly!”

Firepants did not miss a beat. The dragon stood its ground slowly, spreading its wingspan as far as the room allowed. Claws hit the ground in short and sharp bounds, before the beast leaped from the open hatch, opening its wings fully as the wind hit its body. The duo of racers braced for the rush, before being met by the streaming light of the sun, and the sight of Hot Wheels City, growing smaller below them with each flap of the dragon’s wings.

“Woah.” He exclaimed breathlessly, eyes taking in the city below him. The wind beat in his face, the only clear sound becoming the flapping of wings, the heavy breathing of the beast, and his own voice. “Now… you said the dragon is faster than most cars in the city?”

“Prepare to have your mind blown. Firepants- show him what you’ve got!”

[thunderstomm]

I feel like the most interesting turn that HWLR could take would be to have Cruise win the Ultimate Garage. I also feel like this conclusion is far more likely to result in a redemption for her.

Based on all impressions of her thus far, Cruise is shown to like racing. She calls herself the fastest kid racer in the city, actively trains her skills, and cherishes her car, the Street Shreiker. Unless we get a reveal that she's only doing this for an ulterior reason, it's safe to assume that this is something she actually enjoys doing. Ironic, considering how much her father has come to despise it.

I've seen a few others point this out, but Cruise seems to be someone who is very easily caught off guard. What's to say she doesn't have a full grasp on Professor Rearview's plans? That she believes they're going to destroy the Ultimate Garage, and every car in it, but her own car will be saved, making her the best and only racer in Hot Wheels City?

Cruise is aware and fine with the idea of tearing apart the garage, but it's still debatable if she is aware that the plan is to destroy every car in the city, too. There's potential for this to be revealed earlier, having one of the campers try to tell her the truth, only for her to laugh it off and deny their claims too. Why would she believe them over her Father?

So in the events that she wins the Ultimate Garage, It would be quite the turn of events for her car to be the first to go. Her perceptions of what's to happen being shattered in an instant. An "I told you so" moment if there ever was one. And Cruise is completely caught off guard by it, never thinking once that when they accomplished the goal of winning the Ultimate Garage, Professor Rearview would see no more use for the Street Shreiker.

This would result in her having to make a choice between helping the racers, to save both the garage and her own car, or forego racing as a whole, and stay loyal to her father and his plans to tear down the garage. It would be interesting to see Cruise at her lowest low, sat in the passenger seat of a camp racer's car (she has no access to any other cars, after all), having to come to terms with her world view being shattered, or explaining how whatever creation her father has can be destroyed.

And one last thing. If Cruise is redeemed, it's not like she can just go back home to her evil father whom she's betrayed. She's going to need somewhere to live, and the garage could fit the bill.

[thunderstomm]

Any Other racers that race alongside Coop, Axle and Cruise like we never lot of other racers in Let’s race beaide Dash, Striker and Professor Rearview so the more than better!

Thanks for the ask! I assume this one’s regarding HWLR Future?

In terms of other racers- there has to be! After all, it’s not much of a race if there’s only three competitors. Hot Wheels City is regarded as the world’s top city when it comes to racing and car culture, so there are definitely other racers to be found. No-one else from the canon cast is among this list however, the only three pro racers from the show’s cast are Coop, Axle & Cruise.

If you look in the background of an older art post, you can spot a leaderboard with a few names.

[viewer-of-many]

Not sure about all of them, but at least one has to reference another Hot Wheels show. It would also be funny if the best friends dressed up as each other. Finally, I could imagine Professor Rearview being way into this- like, this is the one time of the year where he wouldn't be trying to ruin everything, because this is when people enjoy monsters and other scary things.

Trick or treat!

I think Brights would LOVE Halloween to bits! Here she is as a witch! ✨

[thunderstomm]

This isn’t to say the crew never get together- it’s just hard to get all six (or seven) there at once.

As for family, it’s interesting that you bring it up!

When it comes to Axle and his father, they are still close. While Striker has retired, he is still involved in the world of racing, albeit in a different role, one where he can support his son with the knowledge he’s gained as a former champion racer. He manages Axle’s campaign, as well as being the one to find him many of the sponsorship deals he’s got. Having these connections really helps him out! Striker is undeniably proud of his son and his accomplishments, which Axle is very grateful for, it’s something he’s constantly chased after all. But having his dad close and so involved is also very overwhelming, and doesn’t help constant comparisons between the two. Part of going pro and having a family member do the same before comes with that territory, and knowing that you’ll never 100% be seen for your own merits, there will always be someone making comparisons, wether that is the public, your peers… or yourself. Striker still believes that his son would have been able to make it even if he didn’t have a champion father, but because he does have that experience, he wants to use it to help and support him. And in the end, Axle benefits from having such a close support, and he’s glad to have it.

When it comes to Coop and his dad, it’s safe to say that they’re also very close. Coop’s dad has always been his number one supporter, and the sentiment still rings true. He attends every single one of his son’s races, and owns any and all of the merchandise they make for him. He is also a place of emotional support for his son, reminding him of what’s important when things get rough. Since Coop’s family are pretty normal, while he is a very famous figure in Hot Wheels City, he provides financially where he can, even if there’s a bit of refusal at first. At a minimum, he pays for his family’s home (however, he does not live with his family), as well as for his Dad’s entry to all of the events. Things are rough for Coop, going from “normal” to “famous racer”, so he wants to make sure that the person who supports him most is okay, and close by. Coop speaks to his dad very frequently, and part of him doesn’t know how he’d cope without that support.

Speaking of support, and fathers… we come to Cruise. Professor Rearview isn’t exactly happy with the fact his daughter has chosen to pursue racing… perhaps he should have thought about this being an outcome before he trained her to be such a good one. Racing is in their family’s blood, but Rearview is far too bitter about his (many) losses to admit it. Cruise knows he is a good racer too, and that he let his personal feelings get in the way of his passions, and she won’t let the same happen to herself. She’s determined to become champion, and if her father cannot bear to see her do so… that’s just how it has to be. She’s found it hard to adjust, especially considering how close they used to be, and that despite the fact he’s evil, he was also a loving father. She still cares about him, but the relationship is strained. They don’t talk often, and they see each other even less. It’s been a difficult adjustment, but Cruise doesn’t think it’s fair that she put her life and dreams on hold because her father holds the world’s longest grudge. There’s not much in terms of support in her personal life… for now.

HWLR: Future AU (Part 2!) ✨

Axle Spoiler, son of now retired former champion Striker Spoiler, has become a racer himself. There are big expectations for him, and often times, he’s not sure if he’s meeting them. While his father is undeniably proud of him, the public seem so critical of each of his performances, and the comparisons seem to endlessly pile up as more races happen. He is also the most socially aware of what is happening, and recognises that his friends are struggling just as much as him, even if the pressure they face could be perceived as “less”. He cares, but can’t resist teasing them a little, treating everything with an “I told you so” mentality.

Bryce “Brights” Hikari is constantly putting her creative mind to good use. Her primary career is to design the race courses for all of Hot Wheels City’s biggest races and tournaments, but she also does photography, and visual design for the cars, working alongside Spark, who handles the mechanical side. Brights is as bubbly and bright as they come, but she’s also self-aware of how lonely things have become, and that everyone else is closer to eachother than they are with her. But she finds it best that she not mention it just yet… everything is so stressful, why add more issues to everyone else’s plates?

Simon “Sidecar” Cotter has always been great at generating hype for other people, and he seems to have embraced that role even further. Working under reporter and announcer Speedy Getaway, Sidecar has quickly become the most popular commentator in Hot Wheels City! The public love his enthusiastic personality, and he seems unbiased, for the most part… until Axle is brought into the picture, as his support and enthusiasm becomes unprofessional.

Feel free to ask questions regarding this AU!