#who needs safety regulations anyway

[justactgaussian]

I worked at an amusement park for 6 years, mostly as a ride operater. It was quite a few years ago, but I feel like reminiscing, so here are a few of my favourite things customers said. Most of them happened to me, but a few are 'greatest hits' from stories shared in the break room.

Breaking news: Water is wet

"I got wet! My clothes are soaked!"

Yes, that is sort of the point, it's why this ride is full of water.

"Well there should be some kind of warning!"

Somehow, pointing out the huge sign saying YOU MAY GET SPLASHED didn't help. 

This one happened regularly.

If you get scammed by a ghost, that's on you

"I already paid!"

I'm not that stupid. You're waiting in line, I know you didn't pay yet.

"No no, I paid your colleague, just like I did earlier today"

What, the one whose shift ended 2 hours ago, when the rush died down? 

"She's still there, I swear"

Sure. Look, you're clearly too drunk for this anyway, go back to my colleague and ask for a refund.

7 ways to (not) make your child taller

No shift went by without at least one argument over children not being tall enough. I'm still surprised so many people hate basic safety regulations.

"If the height requirement is 120cm then clearly 119cm should be fine too"

Try following that logic a little further and see if you can spot the problem. 

"We've been standing in line for an hour!"

And that wasn't enough time for them to get taller. Maybe read the sign first next time. 

"His brother is tall enough, they can go in together"

A nine-year-old can not save a six-year-old from falling out of a rollercoaster.

"It's fine, I'm sure *this* will take care of it"

Bribes don't make your children taller. 

"Do you know who I am?"

Being a celebrity doesn't make your children taller.

"Just stand on tiptoes when they measure you, sweety"

First, that is the oldest trick in the book. We know, we check. Second, you're right in front of me, I can hear you.

"But they said she was tall enough just yesterday"

If she shrunk that much in a day, you should probably call a doctor.

Not how rain works

"The seats are wet"

I know, it's raining.

"Can't you dry them?"

I could, but won't. Because it's raining.

Safety precautions make me feel unsafe

"Closing down the ride for 20 minutes and then opening it up again makes people really worried. It's unacceptable!"

Okay, if we can't call a technician just to check if something out of the ordinary is a problem or not, what do you want us to do instead? Would you really feel safer if we just ignored things like that? Do you want us to close down a perfectly safe ride for the rest of the day to make you feel better? Are you paying for that?

I get that being reminded of accidents isn't fun, especially when you're in an amusement park, and I'm not telling you how to feel about it. But it won't change the saftey protocols. If it helps, you don't have to try this one, it's not mandatory.

Do I look like I own this thing?

"I can't believe you only take cash! Don't you know how much more money you could make if you accepted card?"

"This is too expensive, don't you see how much more you would earn if you lowered the price a bit?"

Actually I do. I'm paid by the hour, that means it would increase my earnings by exactly 0.

'I wasn't looking' is a terrible excuse

"How dare you yank my child's arm!"

Your dumbass child was running as fast as they could, severely overestimating the speed of the cart pulling onto the platform. It was either grab them, or stand back and watch them faceplant onto the tracks and get run over. I don't know about you, but my first priority is that no one dies here.

"I didn't see them do that!"

I sure hope not, it would be really fucked up to just wait for me to handle it if you did.

The math is too hard

I'm sorry, you and your sister can't go alone, she needs someone who's least 15 years old with her.

"I'm 15!"

Mhm, and what year were you born in?

"I uhm... in..."

Wow, I can't believe that worked in the year of our lord 2015

Music to match the mood

A couple were too busy making out to sit down, so I couldn't close the safety bar. After awkwardly waiting for a minute or two, I realised the only right move was changing the music to Careless Whisper. They got so mad. Luckily their three friends were very quick to defend me: "It's fucking hilarious, and you asked for it!"

[lord-squiggletits]

Also idk if I can elaborate on this in beautiful enough detail, but I think that the Autobots going through unreasonable amounts of effort to save other people even at great personal cost to themselves is literally something good about them, and if you try to criticize that as a way the Autobots are “bad” then I really don’t get you.

[medicinemane]

At least even when I was a teenager and identified as communist, I was still never a soviet apologist

(And as I got older I came to dislike the USSR more and more and more, also seeing that soviet apologism kinda tended to fuck things up for western communists cause they'd be so busy running defense for people who didn't like or care about them, that actually getting policies passed to help western workers came second to being a tankie)

(Straight up, while I was volunteering in Quebec, one of the people I stayed with had this book by her uncle about being a Canadian communist, and he basically pinned soviet apologism as the whole reason he left the party cause they were more interested is doing PR for the kremlin than they were interested in like... unionizing in Canada)

Anyway, tankies suck, soviet apologism suck, and I'm glad to be able to say that even when I was a communist I didn't fall into that trap... like thank fuck for that, you know?

[sohya]

sweat it out

-> f!reader x aoi todo

-> 3.7k words

-> gym workout talk. spit play. impact play. oral. big dick. size difference. possibly ooc todo. creampie.

-> last attempt. if fuckass tumblr hides it again im gonna p** myself and not in a good way

tagging: @suyacho

“oh, hey, lil cub. what’s on for today?”

there’s only one person in the entire world who calls you ‘lil cub’, and it isn’t even in a demeaning way. everyone is little compared to a giant brute like aoi, but for some reason, he’d adopted you with ‘cub’ after the title.

you look up from your spot by your pigeonhole to see aoi walking over to you. built torso, thick thighs and hair tied up into a bun like it’s his signature look. while the exposed skin on his chest is tantalizing to look at, the real treat comes from the gymshark shorts he wears that does nothing to hide the bulge in between his legs. 

“just arms for today,” you look away lest you get caught staring at the most vulnerable part of your gym partner. “something short and quick.”

so you can get you and your ovulating self out of his presence sooner. 

“great. i’ll spot you.” he grins as he rests a heavy hand down on your shoulder. like the rest of him, it’s huge and you engage your core to right yourself when his palm tilts you to the side.

you let out a chuckle as you shrug his hand off to slip your hoodie off before stuffing it into your designated box. you’ve stopped feeling bad about taking him away from his workouts, given he’s always been insistent on helping you and to be honest, a man like him doesn’t need to be lifting weights every second of his life anyways. that and you actually appreciate the tips he gives you, at least that’s what you tell yourself. 

as you follow after him, his longer legs making him advance in front of you, your eyes fall to his bubble ass that doesn't hide just how he really takes the workouts for every part of his body seriously. you look up to the ceiling, your fingers fumbling with the handle of your water bottle as your womanly instincts kick in. 

“actually, aoi,” he looks back at you, a curious eyebrow raised, “i might work on my glutes today. it’s been a while.” 

you could’ve sworn his eyes flicked down to your thighs at that very moment but anyone else would probably tell you it was just a blink. “i think that’s a great idea, lil cub.” 

you’re stern in telling aoi that you won’t be here for long so he curates a shorter workout for you to do. hip thrusts are first and you attempt to put on a show for your personal spectator, grunting as you exert your strength to push the barbell up into the air, then sighing softly as you lower your hips again. there’s brazen interest in his eyes when you look up at him in between your second and third set but he doesn’t entertain you with anything, taking his role as a personal trainer seriously.

but like it’s some sort of punishment for you, he increases the weights by 10kg in the last set, causing you to struggle with the last rep with clenched teeth and a sound that sounds like too much of a moan than a sound of struggle. as soon as he helps you off the machine he gives you a high five and the image of his hand dwarfing yours has your dizzy mind straightening up immediately.

“good girl.” he completely skips over the unnecessary praise. “that’s the hardest one done. three more to go.” 

having aoi as your unofficial personal trainer is truly beneficial, you have to admit. having someone like him encouraging you to increase your weights and praising you has your mentality going haywire, because it feeds into your act of making sounds that should have his resolve cracking by now. 

aoi comes back holding two 10kg dumbbells. “you’re doing great, lil cub,” he praises as he hands places the weights down by your feet for you to pick up yourself, following gym safety regulations. “rdls for the last set, 12 reps but i want you to hold the last one for 10 seconds.”

his nose crinkles when he laughs at your glare. “you wanna go a weight lower then?”

you wipe the sweat off the bridge of your nose if only to hide your face from him for a short second before you shake your head, “no, i think i can do it.” you bend down to pick the weights up before standing into the correct posture. shoulders tight, core engaged and your feet shoulder width apart. 

a quick scan through the mirror at the rest of the gym makes you realize you two are the only ones left in the premises. which is the only reason you’re confident enough to say what you’re about to say. “it has been a while though. do you mind helping with my form?” you indulge him with a sultry gaze through your lashes.

as if he recognises what you’re doing, aoi steps closer and rests a hand on the small of your back. “‘course, lil cub. that’s what i’m here for, no?”

you barely even finish the second set.

exactly twenty two minutes later, you’re stumbling down the hallway of aoi’s apartment, the faux promise of him giving you your last workout at his place in the back of your mind as your lips clash together in a hungry duel for each other’s taste.

“i have to warn you, though, lil cub.” he says in between desperate kisses before he bursts into his bedroom. “i’m big. like really big.” you pull back to see nothing but pure honesty in his eyes. none of the smugness that would usually come from a guy warning their potential partner about the gigantic size of their dick. “so, if you want to tap out, no hard feelings.”

the warning doesn’t serve as one to you, if anything it only makes you more excited and inclines you to press your stomach up against his crotch. if the weight of it is anything to go by, you can already feel your walls lubricating itself up with your arousal. “that’s not very pt of you,” you taunt, hands grazing down to the hem of his matching gymshark t-shirt. you pull it over his head to rid him of the clothing, “i thought i was here for my last set.”

eager to stump your confidence, aoi picks you up with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. your feet hang in the air as the top of your head hits the ceiling, only possible given his height. “then take these off.” he pinches at your loose t-shirt and you fumble to pull it off your head. 

the second the first sliver of your skin is exposed, aoi’s mouth descends onto it, pressing kisses along your skin and warming your entire body through it. his tongue darts out to lick your skin, still salty from your workout, before it travels up to your chest once you remove your sports bra. he groans into you before he closes his lips on your soft stomach, sucking your skin and licking what hasn’t been cleaned off with his spit. 

aoi’s eyes, which had been previously closed as he cleaned off the ambrosia left on your skin, flutters open to see you staring down at him, clear desperation in your eyes, your brows furrowed and mouth opened to breathe heavy pants into the air. he groans. “fuck no, i can’t wait anymore.”

you’re quickly dropped down, yelping and grabbing onto whatever body part of his on your way down before your knees land on the floor without the pain and his hands supporting you under your arms. you look up at him, his monstrous height making him feel like he’s triple your size. 

but that’s not what you’re focused on. what grabs your attention is his hand disappearing into his shorts, shuffling inside before he grunts out a sound of annoyance and his other fist yanks his shorts down. like a cinematic piece, you watch as his hand draws out his cock, which had been tucked into the right side of his boxers, out of the restriction of his shorts that falls down to pool around his feet. 

half-hard, as thick as the circumference of your clenched fist and a generous 10 inches, you almost tear up at the sight. dripping pre-cum from the slit glistens like a crystal chandelier under the light. heavy balls that you want to smother your face into. nothing could compare to this. you’re struck with awe like you’re witnessing the 8th wonder of the world. 

you let out a sigh and aoi grins, runs his large thumb down the length of his cock, which droops down due its weight, before it runs off the tip of his head and springs up to slap your chin. “close your mouth before you start to drool.” he says with a loud laugh. “actually, no. keep it open.” he prods the tip of his cock against your slightly parted lips, urging him to slip his cock into your hot mouth. 

“it’ll fit,” he promises as if he can see the panic in your eyes, “just let me get the angle right.”

your lips burn as they stretch to accommodate the thick girth of him at the halfway point. at this point is when your eyes start tearing up, another inch and those tears are slipping down your cheeks as your head tilts back for him to descend his hips onto your face. another inch and he’s three quarters of the way while you gag violently around him. a deep inhale through your nose has you recollecting yourself before your source of air is cut off when he hilts himself into your mouth and your nostrils fill up with the soft curls on his pelvis. 

your eyes blink open before snapping shut when they catch a glimpse of his pursed lips and the feeling of his warm spit landing at your eyes warms your face.

“ah- just missed it.” aoi tsks before pulling his cock halfway out before thrusting it back in. his head tips back at the glorious sound of you gagging and choking around his intrusion and subjects you to a few minutes of some brutal and honest face fucking. by the time he pulls out, your shorts and thighs are stained with spit and precum, tits dripping with the same mixture and the lower part of your face dampened in filth. 

“you always make me so proud, lil cub.” he praises but demeans you at the same time with harsh taps to the side of your face, which probably wasn’t his intention but inevitable given the heaviness of his hands. “so pretty.” he compliments as he examines your state.

you whine as you fidget in your spot, hands moving to spread the wetness all over yourself. “a-aoi. c’mon.”

“you wanna get played with, huh, cub?” he hums, his hands cupping the side of your head and tilting your skull around, marveling at how your eyes follow him no matter which way he turns your head. “need something to sweat out, hm?”

he grunts as he bends down, slots an arm between your thighs and hooks you up from your crotch. you yelp when he spins you around so your head is dangling along with his dick. your tongue peaks out to grace it with a kitten lick before your mouth falls open when aoi’s face smothers itself into your wet shorts. 

“you smell so nice, cub.” he huffs. if his dick struggling to fit in your mouth hadn’t made you aware of the drastic size difference between the two of you, then having his face pressed right into your cunt would do it for you. tightening your legs around his head doesn’t sway him from sucking a wet spot into the fabric where your hole would be, instead it just holds him there and doesn’t deter him from your pussy. 

with careful hands, because he knows you’re still sane enough to scold him at one wrong move, he places you down on the bed and pulls your shorts and thin panties off. he flings the latter off to the side, making sure it slips between his bedside drawer and the wall so you’ll give up looking for it when you inevitably leave. 

with your entire body now bare, he buries himself in between your thighs, your sore muscles granted reprieve by relaxing against his warm shoulders as opposed to floating in the air.

“beautiful fucking pussy,” he groans into your folds, “i could drink you up.” 

the words you would have replied with die in your mouth when aoi dips his tongue into your hole, making a show of closing his lips around your opening and slurping the juices that coat his tongue. he’s relentless in the way his entire mouth covers pussy, the heat emanating from him making your toes curl all while your hands fly to the loose bun on his head to hold him still. he’s purposely avoiding your clit and you can tell because his head’s at an awkward position where he’s close enough for his mouth to encompass your heat but the tip of his nose avoids rubbing against your clit, making the warm breaths he’s exhaling into your bud warm your body up even further. 

his tongue works in lapping everything you have to offer, dark eyes zoning in on your expression that you don’t hide away from. your head is tilted up to look at him but every flick of his tongue inside you has your eyes rolling back and your mouth opening in a silent scream. 

but aoi’s patience only runs for so long and as much as he’d love to die and suffocate himself in your pussy, the ache of his rock hard cock chafing against the fabric of his mattress has him going insane. without a word to disrupt his momentum, he pulls his tongue out and closes his mouth around your clit, sucking on it hard enough for your back to arch and your heels to kick at his back. he holds you down with a heavy hand while the other sinks two fingers into your dripping heat. “ah… wait, aoi, nnh! i c-can’t–” you gasp, words falling out of your mind when your stomach begins to warm up as a hint of your impending orgasm.

he ignores your sounds in favor of each thrust that he drags out, focusing on curling his fingers upwards and running against the roof of your walls. you full on go lightheaded when he pulls his fingers out halfway before ramming it back inside, the tips of his fingers rubbing against your walls in a come hither motion on repeat causing your orgasm to wash over you. your mind blanks in what you can only describe as the best climax from getting head you’ve ever had. only thing you can hear and feel is aoi groaning into you as your juices flood into his mouth. 

the loud suckling noises don’t cease your orgasm in any way, if anything it makes it last what feels like an eternity before you come down, twitching and whining into the air. your lungs work in overdrive trying to gather air back into it but you’re not given the chance to properly recover when aoi’s face hovers above yours. only then do you realize the tingling in your pussy was from the aftershocks of your orgasm and not the feeling of his mouth overstimulating you. something in your mind feels disappointed about the fact.

satisfied with how quickly relaxed you become, aoi eases three fingers inside you, watching with a smug grin when you wince at the stretch of the third finger’s addition. “gotta stretch you out some more, cub. as much as it’d be nice to see you cry even more for me,” he pauses to lick the embarrassing streak of tears down your cheeka, “it’s not gonna be good for you in the long run.”

“ahh– i can- i can take it.” you push on, grinding your hips against his knuckles to ease another finger inside. 

“i’m sure you can. my little cub knows how to push herself.” he says as he pulls his fingers out. aoi’s eyes grow dark as they encourage your gaze to stay on his, entire attention focused on him that you only realize what he’s distracting you from when the blunt head of his cock pushes into your hole and makes no move in slowing to accommodate you. “but it’s more for my sake, so your tight pussy doesn’t cut my dick off before i even get myself inside.”

and just like that, you’re forced to take it. him pushing his hips further and further down while his huge cock positively splits you open. the silence is disturbed with your pants and moans of his name that flood out in a series of babbles that would’ve been incoherent if aoi wasn’t slipping into the same state of fucked out bliss like you were. 

“there we go,” he says after another agonizing few seconds, you can just make out the press of his balls against your ass when he looks down at you. his hands are cupped on the juncture between your neck and shoulders and you don’t get the time to wonder why when he uses his hold on you as leverage to pull his hips back and slam back into you, quickly building a rapid pace that has you screaming with nothing to ground you but the thin bed sheets that are threatening to rip apart in your fists. 

“a-aoi. i- n’ver been fuc-fugged this good,” you wail, being forced to take his brutal thrusts with how his hold on you doesn’t allow you to fidget up the mattress.

the compliment doesn’t fly over aoi’s head as he grins and leans down to lick at your open mouth, your tongue immediately flicking out for him to crudely lap at before he purses his lips and hacks a glob of spit onto your awaiting tongue. “yeah i can tell, cub. and you’ll never get anyone to fuck you this good again.” he says like it’s a promise.

like some cringy monologue, he gives a deranged speech with the sound of his hips slapping against yours as background music. “been wanting to fuck you since the very first day.” he releases one hand from your shoulder to decorate your thigh with a hard slap, “wanted to break you since then. didn’t think i’d get there because of how head plap fucking plap strong plap you are, but look at you now.” he sneers in a menacing look but he purses his lips and lands another serving of spit onto your barely open eyes. he chuckles breathlessly when your tongue makes a useless attempt to lick at the added warm puddle on your face. “my broken little fucktoy.” he praises demeaningly.

“aoi.” you breathe his name out like it’s the only sound you can make on top of the pathetic “nnh- don’t stop, please don’t stop. it’s too much… pl-please gimme more–”

in his mind, aoi promises to give you nothing if not more.

“you wan’ more, huh, cub? you think i have more to give you?” he returns his hand by your hip to your face, smothering you and mixing the mess of spit and sweat into your skin, “i’m over here wrecking your precious little cunt and you’re still asking for more? what more could you possibly want?”

“you– your cum… please aoi.” your mind has some semblance to come up with a logical answer quickly which doesn’t satify aoi as much as it should. without warning he pulls out and flips you around and rams his cock back inside you before you even get the chance to whine.

“let this be the arm workout you would’ve done today.” he bites into your earlobe as he speaks, hunching over you and pressing his sweaty chest against your just as sweaty back. “keep yourself up and then i’ll flood your stomach with my cum.” he promises before standing up on his knees, his hands tightly gripping your hips, he leans back and uses that momentum to thrust his hips upwards, cock slamming into you with no reprieve for you whatsoever. 

keeping his words in mind, you mindlessly babble your gratefulness to him as your arms wobble but stubbornly force yourself to stay up. it isn’t long until the head of his cock meeting your sensitive spot overwhelms you, your body tightening up and your arms feeling like jelly as you squeeze around his cock in an orgasm that you can’t hold back no matter how hard you try. “cumming, aoi. ‘mgumming!” you groan as your eyes flutter shut, body pretty much going lax at the powerful orgasm.

“keep your head up.” he takes a hand to cup your neck from the front, forcing your head upwards in a dangerous bend. “got so much fucking tighter, fucking sshh-it.” he grunts, granting you one two three more thrusts before his hips ram into you, cock expanding and deflating while warm cum fills up your inside. you almost swear you can feel it filling your womb up, a special place in your stomach that desperately drinks his cum like it has a mind of it’s own.

the room is filled with tired sounds of disbelief as you come down from your high. aoi is stock still, palming your ass as he throbs minutely inside you. he lands a harsh spank on your ass, causing you to yelp and fall to your face when your arms give out underneath you.

grunting his displeasure, he presses a hand down the small of your back as his hips rear back, ready to subject you to another round of his cock damaging your insides. “aoi… gimme a… sec…hah… i can’t–” you hide your face in your hands with a small wail, sanity crumbling with every slap from aoi’s hard hips to your softer in comparison ass cheeks.

his hand cups your throat again, squeezing it as a warning as he pulls you up to your hands again. “no, cub. i told you to keep yourself up. we’re not done for today until we do three more sets of this.” he grins at your whine as his hips pick up even more momentum. “what kind of gym buddy would i be if i didn’t push you to your limits, hm?”

[lesvii]

The Dinner

Valeria Garza x F! Reader

Valeria Garza fic… yeah this is the diner by Billie eilish😶‍🌫️… anyways hope u enjoy

Tw: toxic val, brief mention of smut (just touchy).

You’ve been living in a small apartment, big enough for two people. Waking up at 6am coming home at 2am. You’ve work two shifts at least to keep the rent going. Working in a coffee shop near by, at night on bar 5 min away from your place. Today was a calm evening, you sighed as you walked back to you place, fist clenched. You knew Las Almas wasn’t so “calm” at least at night… you knew you had to be careful, looking backward once in a while, just to be sure no one was following you. But that feeling of someone watching you didn’t wash away.

Don’t be afraid of me.

I’m what you need.

You’ve arrived at you place at 2:30 A.M. as you took your work shoes off and change to some comfortable pink fluffy slippers. You turned the TV on, exhausted as you stroll to the kitchen opening cabinets to see what quick meal you can make. Until something catches your eye.

“We been notified that a near squad militar unity had capture a cartel suspect, just a quick reminder on how Las Almas is quite a dangerous place—“

The TV when quiet for a second when you served yourself a bowl of fruit and yogurt as you sat on the couch near the TV. The lady on the screen looked nervous, quite astonished as she talked to someone behind camaras.

“I— um- we’ve been informed that the suspect we’ve mention has scaped the military quarters, we suggest you to no go outside past midnight, keep your doors locked, and don’t answer the door if you don’t know who they are”

“The characteristics we have been informed is a Tall woman, tan skin, tattoos in both arms, dark short hair, we repeat—“

I saw you on the screens.

I know were meant to be.

It got cut off by you changing the channel, but sadly this was all over the news, you groan as you finish your dinner.

A thunder straddle you as you jumped from the couch, you looked outside the living room window as a thunderstorm was covering Las Almas when a huge thump made you turn around in shock, you walked slowly as you tried to gather yourself, a cold breeze hit your body from behind as you turn to see the door was open.

“Fuck.. that scared the shit out of me”. You mumble as you came to close the door, this time with a lock, probably the wind made that.

You stood in silence as you decide to go upstairs to your room, wash off the stress, you took a shower, put on a set of black silky shorts and a top, quickly hoped to bed, closing your eyes, you drift to your dreams quickly.

A black shadow stare at the corner of the room, your breathing becomes heavier as you can see the woman described walking towards your bed, a knife at her hand, looking at you like a prey, the next meal she’s gonna have before disappearing into the darkness again.

You’re starring in my dreams.

In magazines.

Your looking right at me.

You scream, waking up cold sweating as you try and regulate your breathing back again, you groan as you rest you face in your hands. That’s why you don’t like to watch TV so often, too many deaths and negative propaganda. You sighed as going back to sleep wasn’t an option, finally your body stopped shaking. Nothing but a mare nightmare right?.

You sat up on bed as you turn to face your nightstand where your clock was at 3:33 A.M.

The devils hour.

What a coincidence you thought as a shiver down your back was known.

I’m here around the clock.

I’m waiting on your block.

You heard a weird creek on your stairs, strangely the same as when you set your foot cause by a weight, they are wooden stairs after all, they do made noices, you think. You stay silent for a second as you decided to be brave enough to get out off the comfort and safety of your bed, as if no monsters could ever get you there. You slowly open you bedroom door, as you peak your head a little to watch, not being at peace you decided to go downstairs quietly.

Step by step, slowly but calculating your way down to your living room, your breathing a bit on edge, you hear a noice coming from your kitchen, scared shitless you turn to see where the noice is coming from, but fear not, for your surprise was just a loose branch clicking the kitchen window, you decided to peak on the window.

“Care to have some company, chula?”

A husky voice straddled you to the point you were too scared to look back, you froze in the middle of the kitchen, as your worst fear came true.

But please don’t call the cops.

They’ll make me stop.

I just wanna talk.

You left out a trembling sighed as you turn around to face the femenine husky voice. You shook your head as you open your mouth to speak but for a moment nothing c,w trough.

“I— I don’t want any problems just take whatever you want and go-“.

Your voice practically trembling, fighting the urge to not look weak. She makes a low giggle, as she takes a step towards you.

“Really?, anything I want, careful for what you which for florecita”.

She grins taking a final step towards you, as she examines your face, the moonlight hitting your face in the most perfect angles. You stare right into her eyes, there’s something about them… something about the way they look at you, with desire, lust, possession.

“You know… I was planing to knock the fuck out of whatever perro was living here…”

Valeria makes a pause examining your apartment surroundings.

“But— I didn’t knew there was a pretty little thing living here, now you’ve just changed my mind?”.

She said as she caressed a strand of hair that was messy from the commotion.

“How about I bring you back to my place?, you can have anything with me, just name it.”

Bet I could change your life.

You could be my wife.

You stare at her confused of who she was, what was she doing here?, and now she was telling you she was going to take you away. What’s this a kidnapping of some sort?. You started to panic but something kept you grounded, the way her hands were now resting over your hips pulling you closer to the heat of the older woman’s body. You looked down to her hands as you looked away in shyness.

“Aww, no chula don’t go all shy on me now..”

Valeria said, making little circles with her fingers massaging your hips. You sighed at the touch, she leaned over as she dominantly kissed you, bitting your lower lip, her hand traveling down to your pajamas shorts. As things started to get more heated you pushed her away, as you try to make a run for it.

Bad decision

She was right after you, in a split second she cashes you like a lion stalking his pray, ready to make the last kill. She pushes you right into the corner of the living room.

Could get into a fight

I’ll say your right

And I’ll kiss you good night.

“And I thought we were getting along?, you don’t wanna get me mad princess..”

Your breathing accelerates, adrenaline pumping into your veins. As she Hoover over you, you manage to set a punch as she straddles back.

“get away from me !”

I waited on the corner till I saw the sitter leave.

Was easy getting over.

And I landed on my feet.

You scream hoping someone would come for your rescue, Valeria backing up from you finally when you see her walking to the kitchen, confused you stare at her not knowing what to do.

I came in through the kitchen.

Looking for something to eat.

As she comes back to you she grins, you hear some commotion outside, honking in general.

“My rides here… but you can call me if you change you mind sweetheart.”

She finally said as she caressed my lips, final look as she went through the front door and disappeared in the darkness.

I left a calling card so they.

Would know that it was me.

[sseomtada]

stick [lewis hamilton]

you show lewis how to drift like a local.

warnings: 18+++ | wc: 5872 | part: 1/1

a/n: this was supposed to be finished in time for suzuka. anyways..do Not tell my dad why i really asked about his driving days...#pureresearch

“I keep hearing the word hashiriya, what does it mean?”

His question came as you hiked through the narrow path he’d been apprehensive to take at first. You didn’t blame him for that. If someone you’d reached out to only a few months ago on Instagram offered to take you to an obscure location in a foreign country in the middle of the night, you’d be constantly looking over your shoulder too.

“That’s what they call us, street racers. Well, not you.” You squinted at dim lights in the distance. “We’re almost there.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Am I not?”

Your steps quickened in an effort to leave the chilly air and meet the engines purring not too far off.  Lewis was right beside you, his ears perking up when he registered the sound as well. It made his shoulders relax.

“Someone who drives in a highly regulated series that leaves no room for imagination or creativity is not hashiriya.” You laughed.

“Hey! I drift a little too…” He joined in.

Just before reaching your destination, you stopped and stepped in front of him. If he didn’t want to completely stick out like a sore thumb, some pretext had to be given. You were also vouching for him. So the last thing you wanted was to be teased by your group for bringing a full fledged newbie on their run.

You held out a hand. When Lewis looked at you with confusion, you sighed and grabbed one of his. The way your dad taught you was a mix of tactile and visual. Something about that always worked better for you and seemed to for the other drivers you helped.

“What you do is more manji, that’s when you fishtail or high speed drift.” Your finger moved down the middle of his palm, veering off left at his knuckle.

His eyes followed and then met yours. “Is that not what we’re doing here?”

“In my team, we do choku dori. It’s like sliding back and forth.” You zig-zagged your finger down his whole palm. “To do this style you need to have complete control, full trust in the car and yourself, and a bit of madness.”

Lewis nodded, but the tension had returned to his shoulders.

“We’ll do a few runs at the port before heading out.” Your hand closed around his, squeezing reassuringly. “Any other questions?”

“Actually, yes.” He aimed a thumb back at the direction you walked. “Why did we park down there?”

That made you smile sheepishly. The thing about what you were doing was that it technically wasn’t legal, and by that you meant it fully wasn’t. Drifting itself was permitted by law, but ripping through Osaka’s narrow, weaving mountain public roads? No so much.

“It’s a safety precaution incase the cops show up. Some stay behind to use the road cars to bail us out. We hide them because of plates and registrations - don’t need those present in a lot with a bunch of tire marks.” You tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t make him too anxious.

Ya!

The greeting echoed from your leader who waved from the hood of his car. You returned it and began to jog over. When Lewis was noticeably trailing further behind than before, you spun with a cheeky grin, goading:

“You coming or not, pretty boy?”

His laid back demeanor immediately returned at the name you’d jokingly began calling him after his initial DM. It was the first thing that came to your mind. Professional drivers in F1 were so polished with their well maintained images and brand deals, far from anything in your world. On top of that, well, he was objectively gorgeous.

Lewis caught up, challenging gaze meeting your own. He looked like he was contemplating a comeback that would make you eat your words. Ultimately, he knew just like you did the only way he could do that was behind the wheel.

Everyone size him up as he came into view. They were aware of who he was, but his status meant nothing in this crowd. He received respectful greetings and that was about as far as it went for acknowledgement. If he wanted the same praise he got on race weekends, he’d have to earn it.

Turbo charged engines fire up all around you. Gasoline and clutch fluid fused into the crisp, cool air, burning tires soon marring the sky with smoke. You crept up on your mechanic who jumped, nearly banging his head on the underside of your open hood.

“How’s she looking?” The last run was pretty taxing, you’d barely lugged it back to the garage before stalling.

“Like 90’s Pam Anderson after the improvements.” He smoothed his hand over your black Silvia.

Your eyes rolled, “What do you have for my friend?”

“TO4Z HK5 freshly installed in this san ni.” He motioned at the Skyline next to your car.

Lewis took a walk around to check out the vehicle. You saw him smile as he noticed the paint job was fresh, body now wrapped in a deep purple. It made you jealous. Your car still wore some of the scars from the last barrier you kissed.

“Let’s see what you got!” You hurled in his direction as you slid into your driver’s seat.

Vibrations shot through your body once you started her up. Since you were just testing how she felt more than anything, you didn’t push much. The rears were working just like you wanted them to. They grappled for traction on the straights and as you swung left, you got the perfect amount of oversteer to whip into the night’s first drift.

Behind you, Lewis was stressing his own cylinders. You cut your engine and leaned out of your window to watch him. He was admittedly good, better than you expected. To go from handling a car where a sliding rear was an issue to one where it was essential, and to do so with precision, wasn’t a small feat. He rounded off his practice run with a Scandinavian flick that resembled your own, though he was a bit shakier on the entrance.

“Wanna try something with me?” Your finger ran along the edge of his window.

“Sure, what?” Lewis breathed heavily, still on a high from having his body thrown about.

“Tsuisou.” Your cheeks rose.

It was tandem, when two cares drifted together. With his skill level, you think he was ready to have a go at it. Practicing extra precision would also help him when you took to the steep, weaving road.

He looked unsure at the suggestion, which was actually a good thing. If he had been too eager to give it a shot, you might’ve changed your mind. It was among the most dangerous forms of drifting should drivers lose control. You had faith in him though.

“Think about it as a dance. Just follow my lead.” Your hand gave his door a pat before you jogged back to your car.

She was in way better condition than the last time you drove her, another reason you wanted to do this. You shot down the lot’s makeshift circuit and swung your car into the first corner. Right as your instincts signaled that you’d reached the limit before you’d spin out, you straightened up to build momentum.

You continued. Drift left, drift right, left once more and straighten. Once you’d completed your lap, you pulled up beside Lewis and caught his eye. He gave you a thumbs up. With a wolfish grin, you peeled off again.

Your car was half a length in front of his and then cleared it with about that width in between. As soon as you pulled the wheel right to swing the Silvia out in the opposite direction, he did the same to his Skyline. The short left drift entered a long right and into an even more extended left as you both turned the corner.

He was nearly there, his front windows level with your back. Going into the next turn, you repeated the same action - short left for the set up, long right to really provide the push and then, magic.

Lewis lined up perfectly beside you. For a split second, right in the heart of the corner, your front windows were level with your cars barely a few feet apart. You swore you heard him cackling loudly before you tore down the straight to prepare for the next one.

The feeling was exhilarating. There was no space in your mind for worries that stressed you out on the daily when the beast of a machine you wielded demanded every inch of it. The freedom in those seconds you let the car just be all that it is, your hands hovering barely an inch above the wheel while in full lock, was incomparable.

And getting to do that alongside him made this night one of the best in your life.

Everyone turned their high beams on, signaling that they were headed out. In your rear view, you could see Lewis brimming with excitement. A far cry from the man who looked so apprehensive on your walk through the desire path carved wilderness earlier.

Soon, Osaka’s night sky was buzzing with a hive of engines combing through its mountains. Rocky hillside blurred by your vision on the right while shining barriers leading to the forests’ black abyss went by on your left.

A symphony a cars played out to no other witnesses but the ones behind their wheels. Every inch on either side of the tarmac was used as you slid, never feeling fear creep in even as your Silvia’s nose threatened to meet the apex of a bend.

Once uphill, you followed the leaders who burned puffs of smoke while hard breaking in preparation to go back down. The large hand break lever found itself under your forceful grip to spin your car in a one eighty to a full stop.

You leaned out of your window once Lewis pulled up behind you in the same manner to shout:

“This is the fun part, pretty boy!”

With that, you dropped the clutch and your rears broke traction. Going downhill was like opening yourself up to the world, a rollercoaster in the most maddening sense. Your speedometer had been rendered useless by the controlled chaos of your speedy free fall. You imagined this was what a deity felt like as your hands guided the car to become a pendulum.

Down the hill, hazards before you flashed in warning to slow. You did the same for Lewis trailing close behind and finally took a second to breathe. A sense of ease filled your racing heart while you passed by some of the others drivers. Aside from one hanging rear fender and a few broken tail lights, everyone would be making it back home in one piece.

“So, what did you think of your first real drifting experience?” You asked Lewis while you drove him back to his hotel.

“I honestly can’t even find the words it’s…” His eyes reflected the city’s lights. “Brutal and beautiful all at the same time.”

That was a good way to describe the craft in many senses. The cars themselves were crude instruments on the inside, often chimeras of sorts with mismatched parts and missing pieces traditionally found in vehicles. That was hard to tell from the exterior. The group you ran with took pride in expressing their creativity through vibrant wraps, lights and embellishments.

Drifting itself was nothing short of vicious. Tires were shredded through like paper and engines with decade long lifespans were shortened to about half that. But the moments you created with car, that raw, incomparable sense of liberation achieved when you weaved - would last until your dying breath.

“Now you sound like a hashiriya.” You beamed proudly.

He chuckled and settled into his seat, head nestled comfortably against its rest. It wasn’t long until you pulled up to his fancy accommodation. You expected nothing less of an F1 driver than staying at the W.

“Are you tired?” Your gazed raked down the column of his neck.

“Not remotely.” Lewis cracked an eye in your direction. “If you’re not, do you wanna join me for a drink?”

You squinted. “But you don’t.”

“I never said it had to be alcoholic.” His retort came cheekily.

He’d clearly been waiting for his turn to one up you with banter. You were anything but a sore loser though and would never argue when you were wrong. The keys to your road car ended up in the hands of a valet as you found yourself the one walking with timidness into his arena.

It hit you rather belatedly that there was no need to be self-conscious. At this time of night, any censorious glares you might’ve received were absent. There was no one around to make you feel out of place in your oversized clothing.

Steps echoed as you walked with Lewis through the pink lit welcome tunnel through to the lobby with its geometric shaped roof to elevators. The only bar open at this hour would be the one in his suite. You obviously knew that before handing off your car, possible implications included.

To your surprise and his credit, Lewis had been very respectful during your time with him. You were a flirtatious person by nature and it often made you end up having awkward conversations with friends later. He didn’t seem to read too much into your vampish manner of speech. While your energy was met, no boundaries were ever crossed by him.

“Are your views always like this?” You gawked once entering.

Your feet quickly slipped out of your sneakers before you raced to the three paneled floor to ceiling windows. The room was so high up that you cleared the top of every other sky scraper around, their lights glimmering like thousands of stars.

“I want to say yes, but not always.” He chuckled. “Sometimes it’s nothing except clear skies and the bluest water you’ve ever seen.”

You scoffed and turned to face the main living area. Aside from the table with two high stools you were perched at, there was a sofa and a round accent chair. You flopped down onto the buttery leather couch while he popped out some glasses.

“Water, soda or sparkling juice?” Lewis listed your options.

“Juice all the way.” Something sweet but not as saccharine as soda would go down good.

He poured your requested beverage and chose the same as well before coming over to join you where you sat. Your glasses clinked with a quick cheers, the drink going down smoothly despite its bubbles.

Lewis picked your mind about how you got into your own form of racing, which was a stark contrast to your actual job. Like many of the other guys on the scene, the origins of your obsession was found in your father.

Every free moment he had away from his main responsibilities were spent on building out his car and taking it to the tracks on weekends. Your mom was extremely supportive of his driving, that being the reason she even took him up on an offer for a date.

Once you were old enough, he began taking you out to races with her. Not exactly your typical family Friday night, but it was perfect in your eyes. Your first time behind the wheel came a short while after you’d gotten your license. He was right there to guide you slowly, teaching you all you needed to know until you were ready to fly solo.

“How many times have you crashed?” Lewis raised a brow.

You blew a puff of air. “Many, maybe about twenty? I’ve completely wrecked two cars.”

“At least yours aren’t broadcasted worldwide.” He laughed, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa.

“No,” Your knees tucked in so that you sat more comfortably too. “Some were recorded though.”

“Oh, I know.” Lewis shot you a sly glance.

You felt heat rise in your body, mouth dropping open. What an absolute mortifying discovery. Crashes were just a part of the sport, but knowing that he’d somehow found footage showing one of your worst runs didn’t do much to appease your ego.

“Where did you even find that?” You ducked your head slightly.

It wasn’t necessarily an easy task to find videos of your racing online. There were still the odd forums that local drifters used to post clips of meets, but none of them were in English. You would’ve never guessed that he would stumble across one.

“I’m pretty good at falling down rabbit holes when I’m interested in a topic.” His finger tapped your shoulder.

Your eyes were drawn to the touch. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d shifted closer as the conversation continued, your legs angling to face him. Having him this near made your mind go back to a question you’d been wanting to ask, but always shied away from. There was no better time than now to find out while you were face to face.

“There are so many others with more experience, so why’d you reach out to me?” You asked softly, perhaps nervous about how he would reply.

“I went through so many videos and they were all impressive of course, but just in the way that made you think this is cool.” Lewis scratched his beard. “Then I came across a race from two years ago. The driver looked out of their league a bit, clearly up against someone who’d been doing it for a long time. There was this sense though, like they were the predator instead of the prey. And then they did this pass while drifting, so close that only a hair separated the cars, and I thought man, I need to learn from them.”

As soon as he mentioned that, you knew exactly what he was talking about. It was your famous touge, mountain pass, that went viral in an underground sense. Up until that point, you’d never pushed a car that hard but you had to because he was right, your opponent was tough and well respected.

The only way you would beat them to the finishing point was if you pulled out something exceptional. Overtaking while driving downhill on a winding mountain road curve was about as ballsy as it got. You still felt the tightness in your chest, one slip up could’ve sent your both through the guardrails and into nothingness. That was definitely top three in your driving history.

“I wasn’t expecting that answer, but I’m deeply honored.” You rested your chin on your knees.

“What did you think was my reason, then?” His dark eyes scrunched at their edges.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Your head tilted. “I thought maybe you just wanted a cute girl to show you around.”

“Just because I didn’t add that in doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Lewis didn’t miss a beat.

There was that heat again. Though this time, the reason for its rising was far from embarrassment. It was also the first time you felt yourself flush from a flirty exchange between you two. The atmosphere probably had a lot to do with that.

“So you’re admitting that you think I’m cute?” You found yourself the one testing where the line was.

He shook his head. “You’re way more than that.”

You towed the line a little more, eyes dancing between his own and his mouth as you leaned in. Lewis met you halfway. His lips pressed to yours, sucking them in slightly before he pulled just out of reach.

Your eyes fluttered open to catch his on you, studying the way they clouded over for him. It only lasted a second. You shut them again and dove back in to kiss him once more, with conviction this time around.

He tasted of citrus and felt like the fine bristles of your hairbrush under your fingertips that glided over his jaw. You let your knees fall to the sofa so that you could bring your chest to his, shuddering as one of his warm palms worked up your back.

Lewis nipped at your bottom lip, teeth dragging the soft skin down gently until your mouth opened to welcome his tongue. Shocks went all the way down to your sock covered toes that curled in response to the feeling of it sliding against your own. When he traced the center of your tongue with the tip of his, you groaned with a filthy thought. What would that feel like between your legs?

He pulled you over to straddle him, letting you feel something else in that spot for now. Despite the layers of clothes still separating your bodies, you felt him hardening. That only grew more and more pronounced as you ground your hips into him whilst your tongues twisted - just like your panties grew in stickiness.

“I need you to touch me.” You rasped, forehead pressing to his.

“Show me where.” His breathed into your mouth.

You used your hand to guide one of his beneath the two waistbands until you met skin. Lower they went together and then you hissed when the spot was met. You piloted his digits over your swollen clit in deep, slow circles. Once he picked up the rhythm you craved, your hand retreated.

His cock strained beneath your rotating hips that pressed forward enough for his touch to provide him a bit of relief as he pleased you. You kissed his neck, licking and sucking at the throbbing vein running along its side. Lewis moved his ring finger down to tease your hole and your eyes crossed.

“Yes…” You whined.

He brushed his lips against your temple, letting the digit slip into your walls. You gasped at how easily you welcomed it, coating him with your slick, squeezing as you silently pleaded for more.  He withdrew and switched his positioning to give you just that - index and middle now tucked into you while his thumb played with your clit.

You pulled him in for a searing kiss, moans floating from the back of your throat. The fingers in your pussy curled and straighten in a motion that beckoned you to come undone for him. You’d been doing that from the moment your lips met. All of that combined with the way he still kept that torturously slow circle on your stiffened nerves, and the ball of his hand pressed against your lower belly had you leaning over the edge.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” Lewis murmured.

That threw you tumbling into bliss.

You bit down on his shoulder to suppress your cries and gasps, knees squeezing his hips as you came. Your body trembling over his uncontrollably in the same way it did when you maxed out your engine while in full lock.

“That’s it…” He stroked your hair.

A trail of wetness was left behind on your skin as his hand made a reappearance. Lewis dipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, offering you a taste from his thumb. Your lips closed around it, tongue swirling to collect every trace of yourself before you did the same in a kiss.

He grabbed your ass and stood up, your arms and legs immediately locking around him. You were met with an even more stunning view of Osaka. The bedroom seeming to float in the sky above its gritty infrastructure. It only received a second of your attention though.

You let Lewis undress you from head to toe. He freed your hair from its tie, letting it sprawl like spilled ink across the white duvet after your shirt and bra were removed. You raised your hips to let him get the remainder of your layers, left shuddering under the change in temperature and the eyes that raked over your form.

“God, look at you.” Lewis revered.

You followed his hands that cupped and massaged your breasts, erecting your nipples to their peak. Then down to your stomach and the apex of your thighs. He tugged you to the edge of the bed, kneeling as he marveled at your open, glistening center.

The deep inhale you took would be your last for a while. Even as he tested your readiness with small pecks against your other set of lips, your breaths caught short. You no longer had to wonder what the move he did earlier in your mouth would feel like as he made it a reality, his tongue dragging down your clit to your hole.

Your toes curled against the sheets, legs opening wider for him. Lewis flicked at your entrance before making an arch back up to your pulsating clit. You lost sight of everything, eyes closing while he mapped out your most sensitive parts. Once he knew which areas made your back bow, your abs tighten and your lips part with praise, he hit them consecutively without pause.

He closed his mouth around your cunt, lips keeping your folds parted. There was more than enough ruin for him to play with. Some of it swallowed, the rest of it sucked and spat back onto your clit that throbbed under his tongue’s unrelenting laps.

“Fuck, I’m-“ Your head lifted to catch his eyes already looking back.

You let out a prolonged whine, falling down to the bed again. One hand crept up to your breast, twisting your nipple while the other pushed his head deeper into your pussy. His moan reverberated through you, tongue prodding at your hole in anticipation.

There was no way to hide the noise that ripped its way out of you the second time around. Your head gnashed against the duvet, throat burning as you released a wave of cum into his mouth. Lewis held your thighs that threatened to clamp shut, widening them to keep you bared to him.

“You taste so good,” He slurped lewdly. “Can I have some more?”

Though you wanted to tell him to take as much as he wanted, all you could do was moan and nod. Lewis dove back in to eat you out like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this plane of existence, your eyes fluttering to the ceiling dimly lit by the city lights below.

He let a hand join in on this occasion. His fingers sank into your hole to their knuckles and dragged their way back out, a glistening thread connecting you two. You watched his tongue curl around the tie before he brought the digits down over your clit with a sharp tap. Electricity shot through you, your mouth opening to let out a puff of air.

“Again, harder.” You panted.

A devilish smile crossed his lips while he did what was asked. A wet smack filled your ears as he spanked your pussy. You jostled, clenched and groaned, writhing beneath him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“Again.” You slurred.

Lewis fulfilled your wish, giving it one firm slap that left you levitating. All you saw was white. Your fingers bunched up the sheets on either side of your hips as you sucked in short breaths. And when he put his mouth over where his hand had just been, applying the slightest pressure, you gave him what he wanted too.

You found inhuman strength to retreat your legs from his grip, tucking them until you sat up on your knees. He stood up as you kissed him wildly. Your palms grazed along his beard that was soaked in you before sliding down to gather his shirt.

It joined your heap of clothing on the floor while you worked at his pants, lips trailing down his tattooed torso. Lewis stepped out of his final layers to join you in full undress. What a marvelous being he was, every inch carved to perfection. Especially the ones you took into your hand greedily.

He hissed as you slowly tugged on his cock with fingers that couldn’t even meet around its thickness. Your tongue laid flat over your bottom lip before you brought it to meet his tip, tapping it onto the wet, warm muscle.

The sound he made was just as alluring as he was. You wanted to draw out more of them. So you took him into your mouth and began to move back and forth, working your way down his length each time.

“Just like that, angel.” He groaned.

Lewis threaded his fingers through your hair, neck baring as his head dropped back with a drawn out moan. The sight and tone of him added to flood he left between your thighs. You dared to go further, jaw slackening to take his cock to the point that made you gag.

He retreated slightly, but you reeled him in. You wanted him to feel the softness of the back of your throat, to get lost in it. Air escaped through your nose while you kept him there, bobbing and choking until you reached your limit.

You reared back with a burning inhale, watering eyes locked on his. He ducked his head to kiss you gently, tongues colliding and combining the tastes of you both. Your arms circled his neck, fingers playing with his braids as you brought his body down on top of your own.

In a swift move, you had him on his back. Lewis moaned against your lips at the sensation of you sliding your wet pussy over his cock. You couldn’t help but do the same. It felt so much better without obstruction - fire to your flame, hard to your soft.

“I need to feel you before I go mad.” His heavy gaze peered up at you.

You were on the same page, had been since you ruined your panties on the sofa. Your hips rose and you took hold of him, lining his cock up with your entrance. It was a huge ask of your walls to let him in without protest, but all the work he’d done earlier made it possible.

Still, you gasped against the burn as you expanded to fit around his girth. You dropped one thigh and moved steadily, going past the head to about halfway down. Lewis held onto your waist to help you ease onto his length that slowly disappeared the more you circled your hips.

When you were ready, you released the tension in your other thigh and took him whole. Curses fell past your lips as you bucked your hips that now rested flush against his. You raised them up a bit, your pussy gripping his cock hungrily.

“Fuck, you fill me up so-“ Your words and train of thought became tangled.

He was tucked so deep, stretching your little cunt out so much. It was intoxicating, possessing. You found yourself going further up each time you bounced until he was nearly slipping out. Lewis was a moaning mess under you, eyes screwed shut as the sound of your wetness spilling onto him filled the room.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pace speeding up. Each time he bottomed out, your pussy swallowing him whole, you cried out. Then he joined in, thrusting up into you as you came down and you lost it.

All you could do was announce to anyone who dare listened I’m cumming, I - please, keep fucking me like that. Your body quivered and you rocked into him, determined to see just how much you had left.

Lewis fought through your clenching walls, grunting as he pinned you to his chest with his arms circling your lower back. Your lips dragged against any bit of skin they could find, teeth grazing to spell out the things you were too fucked out to say.

When he strokes slowed, you took in a shuddering breath. He rolled until you were on your back and pulled out. You whimpered at his absence, but found solace in the kisses he placed from your nipples to your navel.

“You doing okay?” He massaged your thighs.

“Yeah,” You smiled down at him. “Get back in here.”

Lewis chuckled softly, planting a kiss on your hip before he turned you onto your side. Your back pressed to his chest as he spooned you and tilted your head to allow his tongue to twist with your own. The flesh on your leg stood to attention in wake of his touch. You raised it so that he could tuck himself into where you both wanted him to be again.

What a relief it was. The mild ache you felt eased with his languid thrusts, each ending in a satisfied hum. Your head fell to his arm that cradled it. All the energy you had left was harvesting again where he touched you, his fingers finding that same pace they kept at the start of everything.

“Look at us,” Lewis sucked your neck. “How well we fit together.”

Your gaze tilted downward, but it was difficult to see from that angle. He shook his head, teeth pulling on your earlobe as he whispered to focus your eyes ahead. There was a mirror facing the bed that you hadn’t noticed.

Though the lighting was dim, you saw the entirety of what he meant. Your swollen, heaving chest that he kneaded and his cock sliding into your cunt deeply, coming out coated in your hot ether. It was the most prurient sight you’d ever seen - both lips parted, his gaze wandering between them and your own - and all too much to bear.

Instead of your end slamming into you with the force of a freight train, it came calmly yet no less powerfully. Like a breeze that shifted leaves, you were swept up and carried. Gravity defied until you swayed back down to earth, to his arms.

Your eyelids peeled open just as his screwed shut. Lewis pulled out and emptied his cum onto his stomach with a chord that would play in your mind for eternity. Your heart raced in the aftermath, galloping erratically to find its rhythm again. Hard to do when he took your mouth in his with a kiss that still managed to make your raw core throb.

You found your place again in his arms after a detour to freshen up. His hand ran soothingly down your spine as you cuddled into his chest. The lights had disappeared, sun beginning to rise over the city. Osaka’s skyline was something of a contradiction - steel and clouds, mountains in the distance.

Brutal and beautiful.

[bitchfitch]

Idk. my hottest take in relation to stained glass has to do with resin. So Many YouTubers do "stained glass resin" vids and i know why they do it, because total boat pays them to, but it's gotten your average joe thinking its the better and easier craft.

its literally not, like, in anyway. Like ignoring that resin is just plastic and these people are using gallons of it to convince folk to give their sponsors, who are one of the larger plastic waste creators, a lot of money. Resin is more expensive to do in terms of raw material and is only getting more expensive as plastic regulations tighten up and require the company's to offset the massive amount of waste they're generating. It's way less easy, once that resin starts curing your on a clock vs being able to just fuck off whenever you like, and if you fuck up an SG piece, Big woop just melt off the solder or retry the cut, it's not going to ruin your entire project, while resin isn't even the type of plastic you can melt and reshape.

and the most like Irritating one, Resin isn't safer to do than SG! it just isn't!

like, here's the thing, you can absolutely cut yourself on broken glass or bump the soldering iron, but that's 2 seconds of pain and a bandaid vs resin, which is a known carcinogen and Ridiculously toxic to the point of the fumes alone making people sick and killing pets. Literally all the safety kit for SG is is a pair of glasses and some gardening gloves (which you resuse infinitely instead of often replacing multiple times a project), resin needs eye protection, full skin protection, a proper n95 or other equivalent filter rated for the hazardous chemicals in resin, and Real good ventilation.

And when you're done you have to clean all that plastic crap up instead of just sweeping a bit.

but if you mention any of that during your video, no one will give more money to the people sponsoring you!

[married-to-google-translater]

Hello! I was reading through your rules after I saw your post and I got really excited when I found out you wrote for Obey me :]

[ I've read through almost everything in the Yandere Obey Me tags] Anyway, I was hoping to request Yandere Beel and /or Yandere Simeon If you do him with an autistic darling who struggles to express/regulate their emotions and is also really forgetful [sorry if this is weird I just don’t see a lot of stuff for stoic / anxious people and I think it’s shame]

I try my best <3

Sorry if I do something wrong.

Yandere Simeon

Simeon would be worried about you.

You were so innocent that at first he thought you were an angel.

You weren't...

Simeon quickly noticed that you forgot a lot of things.

He took it upon himself to help you.

Even if you don't necessarily feel you need his help.

Simeon could become overprotective very quickly.

He would be afraid that you would sometimes forget your own safety and hurt yourself.

Although that probably wouldn't happen.

He is your guardian angel and his job is to protect you.

Simeon himself appointed himself as your guardian angel.

He would be interested in your autism and want to learn all about it.

God truly made you perfect.

Simeon would also learn things that make you feel better.

He would love you~

Yandere Beelzebub

Beelzebub would be over protective with you.

More overprotective than he would normally be.

Beel would already be really overprotective.

He noticed right from the start how there might be something unusual about your behavior.

You would explain to him that it could be due to your autism and how expressing emotions can be difficult at times.

Beel would listen to you.

He might ask his brother more because he would care about you and want to learn a lot.

Beel would understand and support you.

However, that doesn't mean all demons do.

Most demons wouldn't even accept that you're human.

Your "abnormal" behavior wouldn't make it any better.

Because of this, Beel would be with you constantly.

He would beg for your protection...

Beel would really enjoy being around you.

It would start happening much more often to the point where it feels like he is with you all the time.

This would be kind of true.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

TWST Cast - Fidgets/Stims/Self-Regulation

I needed something simple to write to feel like I'm. we're not actually gonna get into that, anyways, enjoy.

TW: Some of these are NOT healthy/borderline SH, but there's nothing graphic, it's just some folks don't know What's Wrong and only know how to make themselves focus via some sort of (minor) physical pain.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Heartslaybul

Riddle - had to mask around his mother, said his stims (bouncing his leg, and kinda just. shaking his pen? you know what I mean, like between two fingers and you just let it bounce?) made him look mentally unwell (🙄), unruly and undisciplined. Totally not projecting At All So he rarely stims in public when he's trying to focus, though during testing periods and in the safety of his own room he tends to let himself (subconsciously) stim. He also chews on his bottom lip a lot, but not enough that it was ever noticed by his mother. (Floyd gifts him a fidget ring sometime in the future and he's surprised at how well it works for him) He also loves compression but has yet to discover it.

Trey - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but even in game we know that he tends to touch/readjust his glasses when he feels awkward/about to join a conversation or make a point he's being a bit of a smart alec about. Usually when he's really stressed, (which takes quite a bit to get him there), he'll excessively wash his hands with cold water.

Cater - has a lot of caffeine, so for the most part, his impulses to stim aren't there. That being said, when anxiety comes to kick him in the butt, usually just listening to music and tapping out the rhythm of the guitar with his finger against his thigh is enough to help him out, usually while keeping the beat by tapping his foot or bobbing his head at the same time. (usually some soft rock or pop music) When he's REALLY like. needs to get emotions out but can't because he doesn't like being vulnerable he makes himself eat unbearably hot (spicy) food and insists that he likes it even as he is Crying and Sniffling because. then he can write it off to the spice and not the fact he's dying inside. (Don't do this please sdlkjfhlksdjf) Sometimes he also stims by making popping noises, but he doesn't even recognize that he does this, because usually it's just when it's him and Trey in the room, and Trey isn't bothered by it. "Like" and "Really" are both stim words for him too.

Deuce - He's still learning to self-regulate! He knows that shouting helps him get everything out, but in the moment he sometimes struggles. He's still trying out different techniques. As for stims/fidgets Deuce doesn't really have any? Well he does, but he doesn't act on them when he needs to focus since One Incident early on in life when he found out that his fidgets make noise (he's deaf as a part of my HC and didn't get hearing aids until he was like 5-6) and he hates to be a bother to anyone else. On top of that, I think he has a slight auditory processing disorder, so he has a tendency to repeat things back to people, just to make sure he's understood correctly once his brain has caught up to their words. He doesn't know it yet, but compression will help him Calm Down when needed.

Ace - Whistling/noise imitation in general, bouncing his leg, pen tapping, etc. this guy has ADHD but thank the Seven for his older brother who was patient and gentle with him when he was younger. When Ace struggles to focus, he tends to just shuffle a deck of cards, he likes the way they feel. In the rare occasion that he chooses to study, he usually does so while shuffling the cards/practicing a magic trick at the same time because the Physical task during the Mental task makes the Mental task more interesting. He also uses music as a means of self-regulation. (Usually classic rock).

Savannaclaw

Leona - His emotional regulation is out to lunch and the closest he gets to stimming is his tail flicking. It could be argued that the feeling of his blankets is Nice To Him but idk man. Catnip helps with regulation? Idk. Sure.

Ruggie - Idk are we counting his tail wagging as a stim? technically it could be considered one, right, it's a subconscious physical response to happiness? Ruggie also tends to chew on his lip when he's focusing, but his teeth are sharper than Riddle's so it often draws blood and he rarely notices. Sometimes he's kinda hit with just a Wave of what the fuck am I doing with my life? and just needs to rub something soft (Usually Leona's laundry bc it's more luxurious than anyone else's), a little bit to try and recenter himself. If that doesn't work he just tries to work himself to a point of exhaustion so he can ignore the Bad Feelings. This rarely works and he ends up calling his grandma by the end of it just to ask her to leave the phone on speaker so he can hear the chaos and rough and tumble of home. At the end of the phone call his grandma sings to him bc she knows full well what's going on and the sense of familiarity is enough to help Ruggie feel less restless. This boy also loves compression. Also, rolling with the idea that he got to keep the trumpet from the port fest event and started teaching it to himself, during the day/when he's bored he practices tonguing+breathing excercises/patterns (don't be weird about this I stg) or buzzing with or without his mouth piece. Also chews on his nails a lot. I feel like eventually someone gifts him one of those chew necklaces and he loves it but his bite force accidentally damages it much sooner than it should have been so then that same person gets one commissioned specifically to withstand a hyena's bite force and it's the best gift he'll have ever gotten (besides a wad of cash but yknow)

Jack - I mean besides his tail wagging...there isn't much else? For emotional regulation, he tends to just go running if he needs something to focus on. Music also helps sometimes, but it's specifically classical and he just sits in bed and listens to it in his comfiest clothes bc. unlike SOME people he will listen to his body and mind and rest when necessary.

Octavinelle

Azul - Him? Stim? Never. /J He masks a lot mostly because he knows that stimming can come off as anxious, and that's the last thing he wants when he's trying to be convincing to someone else, or really, in front of the twins. That being said, alone in his office he twirls his pen a lot, and late nights/Anxiety Times leads to him tugging on that strand of hair that's longer than the rest as a means of staying focused and in the moment. He thinks he can't be vulnerable in front of the twins but honestly they pick up on his anxiety so easily, they both know compression helps him out. Jade is generally touch repulsed, so usually Floyd takes it upon himself to Flop on Azul's back while he's working. Azul will sometimes imitate playing chords on the piano, on his desk for the same reason Ace plays with cards. He also finds himself stress eating sometimes which does nothing good for his self-esteem.

Jade - Also Masks A Lot. It would take someone he trusts even more than his own twin that would ever get to see him act on his impulses. Otherwise we would see Jade with the happy flappies (though I feel like he would keep his hands in fists instead). However, when things are Bad, Jade does one of two things, both of which are done in a locked bathroom. 1. Fill the sink with cold water and dunk his head in without switching to his mer form. 2. Rolls up his sleeves and bites himself. Just once is usually enough to get him out of it. He also finds the whole. Cleaning out the wound and wrapping himself pretty relaxing. He has not considered just using a tensor bandage yet to self regulate, eventually Floyd will find out wtf he's doing and suggest That instead. Jade will sometimes unmask just enough to rock slightly side to side or back and forth/up on his tiptoes and back down bc he can make it fit with his whole 'I'm innocent baby' kinda facade he pulls sometimes sdlkfjhslkdjf Also tends to need a completely silence space when he's overstimulated.

Floyd -WHOOOOOWEEE babes you already know he is STIM central WHOOT WHOOT he's got the happy flappies, he's got the leg bouncy, he's got the clicky pen, he's got the 'I gotta touch something squishy' need, etc. etc. HOWEVER sometimes he's got the Bad Stims, like he cannot focus on anything, nothing is being retained, he feels over and understimulated at the same time, nothing feels Good, he doesn't feel hungry, he wants Nothing to do with anyone, his leg is bouncing, he's kinda just stabbing his pencil repeatedly into the table and he KNOWS he should focus but just can't- and then Lilia introduces him to metal music and it's like Wow. Everything is better. It has to be blasting, but now Floyd has a means of dealing with That Feeling whenever it rolls around. Also it HAS to be over the ear headphones because of the compression and Friendly Squishy Texture of the parts that cover his ears. Makes him feel better in less than ten minutes, it's a win-win for everyone except he can never remember the name of the band, so he almost always tracks down Lilia to demand (ask) for a reminder and Lilia just almost always has his headphones and phone on hand so just Gives them to Floyd while he goes through Floyd's phone and curates a playlist for him and finds his exact headphones on the equivalent of Amazon so Floyd can order them. Floyd in general, when listening to music, tends to imitate whatever his favourite part of the song is, whether it's the bass line, guitar, drums, keyboard, lyrics, etc. and will switch between various parts as he sees fit. This also means it's not uncommon to hear Floyd essentially beatboxing as a stim method as well. Floyd also snaps his fingers a lot, he likes spinning things on his fingers (be it as innocent as a key chain or dangerous as scissors), and also imitates people a lot. He doesn't always intend to, but like. If he is talking to someone with an accent, he accidentally IMMEDIATELY takes on that accent and finds it funny because he literally can't stop himself. Idk if anyone else has this issue but dear god as someone more anxious than Floyd this has lead to a lot of awkward situations for me bc I have to CONSCIOUSLY not speak in whatever accent my brain is trying to make me take on.

Scarabia

Kalim - ALSO stim central, though his tend to be in response to happiness. He tends to parrot people a lot, beatboxes/makes noise, happy wiggles, snaps his fingers,lots of different kinds of taps, and has happy flappies. He has some. Not so good regulatory practices as well, but when he's overwhelmed he tends to rock back and forth, or ...like. Idk really how to describe it, but he taps his hand against his chest really fast, but it's like in a claw shape so after a few times it starts to hurt a little? because of his finger nails?? idk how else to describe it. He knows better than to do it in front of Jamil though. Music tends to overwhelm him when he's already overstimulated so he ends up putting headphones on just to try and block out the noise. White noise doesn't help, he just wants it to be as quiet as possible.

Jamil - Stims more than people realize, because his stims are naturally more subtle. When Kalim comes to 'bother' him in the kitchen, he keeps himself as focused and relaxed as possible by balancing on one foot at a time, to give himself something to think about besides the 'unwelcome' invasion. When he's studying, he flips his hood up and is constantly rubbing the fabric close to his face and has a bit of a leg bounce. He also uses music as a means of regulation, usually something with a lot of syncopation. Jamil also keeps his hand in a fist and bumps it against his side sometimes when he's trying to stay focused in a conversation.

Pomefiore

Vil - He doesn't really stim all that much, but on days he doesn't feel himself/bad anxiety/PTSD is getting to him, he washes his hands with burning hot water. He knows it's not good. And his hands are super sensitive afterwards. But it stops him from spiraling and that's all he needs. He takes care of them properly afterwards and will make sure to wear his gloves.

Rook - I kinda HC Rook with OCD. Most of his stims are his methods of coping with any sort of dirt or germs, perceived or otherwise. He hates not wearing his gloves, (of which he has different pairs for different Places), but in the event he can't have them on for whatever reason, or a task will be more efficiently done without them, he washes his hands until they're raw because then he can be sure that layer of skin that was in Contact isn't there. Rook regulates with scents a lot too, whether it be the perfume Neige/Vil uses or rooibos tea that his sister used to make for him.

Epel - Idk if gesticulation counts as stimming, but he does it a lot, just not in front of Vil dslkfjhksdjf. I feel like it's only really around Deuce that he feels comfortable doing his happy stomps, though for the hometown event he likely doesn't mask much so other people get to see it too. As much as Epel hates being called short, he likes the fact if he sits back far enough in his chair he can kick his feet without touching the floor sljdfhlksjd. He also tends to grind his teeth.

Ignihyde

Idia - He has SO MANY homemade fidgets but he gets tired of them really quickly so he ends up putting them in the scraps lab of Ignihyde. He likes clicking sounds a lot, (go figure /lh), and ASMR. In the (horrific) event he has to leave his room, usually he tries to keep his anxiety at bay via rubbing the ridges on his sweater, playing/rubbing at his hands/wrists in the pouch pocket of his sweater or rocking a bit, though he hates doing that bc it draws attention to him sometimes. If he does end up overstimulated in a Bad Way or anxious, he tends to pick at his lips/chew on his fingernails.

Ortho - Baby!! He tends to mimic other people's stims when they look fun! He does do happy trills/beeps now and then of his own volition and it's Adorable. He will also do them when he feels like cussing sldkfhlksjd Ortho also claps when he's happy, and if he has his boosters on might even do a little flip. As a treat. When he does need emotional regulation, he knows compression helps so he just asks big brother for a hug. 10/10.

Diasomnia

Malleus - Doesn't stim a whole lot...nor does he really emotionally regulate, though I feel like. For some reason he really likes (cloud) slime as a fidget. Like, he doesn't need it in order to regulate anything, but he finds the texture and sound pleasing. He does sometimes repeat other people to process information. I do think he would be more prone to stimming when he's more dragon than humanoid.

Lilia - Obviously uses music to regulate, bc he did it for Floyd, but he also uses his turning upside down and feeling all the blood rush to his head as a method of getting his brain out of a bad spot. Lilia does also have a chew necklace that he uses now and then, but other than that, he rarely gets overstimulated or needs a distraction. He just likes chewing sldjfhslkjdf he does help Sebek and Silver self regulate though

Silver - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but when he was younger he used to have a lot of nightmares. Usually Lilia would help him through it with breathing exercises, but if he was too panicked to focus on that he would get a few pieces of ice and wrap it in a cloth towel so as to protect him from it hurting. The cold would distract Silver enough to stop crying as hard, and then both Lilia and Silver would hold an ice cube in their hands until Silver didn't want to anymore and they could practice their breathing. Every now and then, Silver still goes to the freezer at night just to hold ice in both hands until he's calmed himself down from a particularly bad dream or anxiety just eating at him.

Sebek - Refuses to believe he stims. However, he acknowledges the ice trick does help him refocus when he finds that he isn't able to on his own. He doesn't realize he grinds his teeth or that staring at a fan actually helps him calm down. Also Lilia bought him a lava lamp and it also helps stop the overwhelming Feelings he has sometimes.

Others

Che'nya - picks at his skin a lot. He knows it's not good but he can't help it there are Textures There He Doesn't Want but also Feel Funny on his fingers. He tends to self-regulate simply by purring or scratching himself/getting someone else to scratch behind his ears. He also tends to put things in his mouth without much thought behind it. All his pencils have bite marks. He has probably eaten like 30 erasers by this point by accident. He also really likes smells, usually freshly baked bread to help regulate, which is why he sometimes comes to 'invade' Heartslaybul is just to chill in the kitchen while Trey bakes to help him tune out any bad feelings he has. Every once in a while, he'll use catnip to deal with anxiety, but Neige usually intervenes before then and like. Puts on one of those fish videos for cats. Che'nya loves them more than he would like to admit. He also carries a ball of yarn because he likes how soft it is and he can fidget with it when he needs to.

Jack T. - Almost the exact same stims as his little brother, but he masks a lot because he Had To when he was growing up. He's just glad that he was able to provide a space for Ace to be able to express himself the way he needed to.

Najma - She also stims in a fairly subtle way. She usually has a scarf on her that's a soft material that she rubs as a means of regulation, like some sort of silk, she likes the smooth texture. She has 10 hour versions of her favourite song, (whatever it may be) on her playlist. (Jamil does NOT understand this whatsoever, how Najma can stand to listen to something that long does not make sense to him sdlfhlkjsf) She also has a hand cream she carries with her everywhere because she likes the smell of it.

Neige - He has a lot of anxious bouts and PTSD that he can usually mask, but he's almost always rubbing his wrist gently, humming, singing or whistling. He kinda figures if he's always making a noise of some kind, nobody will pick up on what lies underneath. When he does have a full blown panic attack, he has breathing exercises he works through that work for him. He also journals a lot.

Extra

Vizzie - Rubs her wrist where her vambrace ends, tugs at her hair when she's borderline dissociative to help keep her in the present, and when she's really feeling. not great? She eats ice with salt on it. It's the burning sensation that helps her focus on Just That and nothing else. Once Cater introduces her to caffeine as a stimulant it does help with a lot of her ADHD-like tendencies, but listening to music with over the ear headphones helps too. When she doesn't want to. you know. punish herself with salted ice, she just has Ice but she has to let it sit until it's the Right Texture. And you might be like. Hey. This sounds like an amalgamation of A Lot of things from above. Guess what babyyyy most of those stims ^^^ are things I do too. And Vizzie is basically. An AU version of myself. Guess what I was doing that made me wanna write this post? slkdjfhslkjdf that's right doing a shitty job at self regulation but hey, writing it out made me Feel Better WOOOO yeah Later on in the Canon story she ends up being more comfortable showing happy stims. When she's listening to music, she often ends up doing the same thing as Cater with the rhythms of the guitar line being tapped out. (bc I gave him my stim wooo I'm taking it back for her lsdkjfhlksjdf)

Anyways. I'm surprised I finished this in one sitting. Must be the caffeine.

Taglist: (lmk if you wanna hop on)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[chron0ph0bia]

im sorry the way ur talking about carini is just giving misogyny… she’s literally apologised for the way she acted, not shaking khelif‘s hand etc. she never said a single thing against khelif, she said she had to end the fight bc it was too much for her. but nothing against khelif & nothing abt her being trans/intersex. be mad abt the way khelif is being treated, but why r u calling carini a bitch and a crybaby for deciding to end a fight she felt unsafe in. she didn’t start the transphobic & misogynistic conversation around khelif.

I'm calling her a bitch cause she singlehandedly started a global witch hunt against a poc? I'm calling her a bitch cause she called the fascist pm who DID say all the transphobic misogynist things (and who RAN on them) her mother? I'm calling her a bitch cause she's a cop? I'm calling her a crybaby not because she got out of the fight which she has every right to do, but because the veiled comments she said and the way it was handled was fuel for the entire shit storm we saw. I'm calling her a bitch for acting in a way far right SALVINI would endorce.

She didn't even apologise for the entire shit storm she caused. She paid lip service, but an apology for the witch hunt you instigated? A personal apology to the actual person she hurt instead of stuff to the media? It isn't enough, she just covered her own ass. She should know better. She should've acted better. It doesn't take a genius to see what effects her actions would cause.

I called her a crybaby cause I was really fucking mad.

I'm calling her a crybaby for using her white woman tears to HURT a poc woman. I don't understand why you felt the need to come to her defense? I'm a nobody on the Internet, if I see her down the street I'll call her a bitch to her face but Italys a big country.

Also.. her safety? Bitch her safety? It's the Olympics, a televised event, a regulated sport. There's regulations, rules.. She got scared and quit, that's alright, but to act as if she was on the floor with a rabid dog (or a Dangerous Man, which is what the words you're using imply) is straight up false, and I want you to analyse your biases the same way you asked me to analyse mine. Why did you feel the need to rescue her, after all the support and media attention she got? Why were you so quick to excuse her, say "ohhh no she didn't mean it, she said sorry, seeee" when she didn't even "properly" apologise at all. Why were you so quick to take the responsibility off of a woman? It's giving infantilisation, when no, she's 25. She's older than me. She's in the public eye. She shakes hands with fascists publically and gives herself deniability by letting the others say the quiet part out loud.

Also I have the right to make fun of an athlete representing my country pulling out in the most pathetic way possible, causing a media shit storm and acting as if she's not a fucking BOXER. Who signed up to get beat up by the best punchers in the world. And. Most Importantly, WHO GOT A HUNDRED THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS FROM THE TRANSPHOBIC ORG AFTER THE FACT. She PROFITED. off of this. As if she'd won gold, if this isn't a spit in the face to female boxing I don't know what is.

I would love to have a conversation about internalised misogyny with you but I don't believe it applies here, I may not express myself 1000% coherently all the time on my own blog but I beg you to read the room. I don't have anything against you btw, this is all in good faith. I've done self analysis and I don't think what I've said was misogynistic at all, but a strongly worded answer to the veiled misogyny that was so frustrating to see. Anyway have a good one

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 2/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the Airforce and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE

2003-2006 – The early years

                “Your son is very focused. His discipline is admirable. He’s going to go far. He’s going to be our youngest certified tandem skydiver.”

                Pete’s throat works, because it’s not the first time someone has called Bradley his, but hearing someone else talk about his skill… to sound impressed not only with Bradley but also as a reflection of Pete’s own efforts. He didn’t realize he needed someone external telling him he’d done a good job, but here it is anyway.

                “I’m Navy. He’s been brought up in a fairly disciplined household.”

                “He mentioned that actually. He never thought about joining the service?”

                “He’s too tall.”

                “What?”

                “To be a naval aviator. I’m a naval aviator.”

                “Clearly didn’t get his height from you.”

                “No…” Pete says dryly, doesn’t bother mentioning the convoluted relationship that he and Bradley have.

                “So what, he jumps out of planes instead of flying them?”

                “Oh, he can fly them too. He’s been flying since he was 14. Perk of having a whole bunch of honorary uncles willing to fly him up and getting him his flight hours. Unfortunately he can’t both pilot the plane and then jump out of it,” Pete says.

                “He’s a lucky kid.”

                Mav hopes he remains lucky.

…             …             …

                It’s become second nature, either of them able to also carry out the safety checks and make sure that Bradley has definitely done everything. He never misses anything and it soothes a part of Tom, knowing Bradley takes his own health and safety seriously. There is no cutting corners or rushing through anything. They never talk about Goose, but he wonders if he thinks about his father every time he checks the stitching for wear, every time he runs his hands over the fabric and checks for tears before rolling it carefully to ensure it unfurls correctly while he’s plummeting toward the earth.

                They all learn about static lines and accelerated freefall, and things have changed since he was in flight school. The materials they use now are much more durable. All of Bradley’s gifts are centered around skydiving. Tom becomes fairly knowledgeable around the entire process, another set of regulations to add to his already encyclopedic knowledge of Naval regulations. He somehow becomes friendly with a couple of the higher ups in the FAA and he becomes known around the airstrip as Ice, most people not realizing exactly who he is. He admits it to himself that he likes it, that he’s just a guy who knows a lot about planes. Added to that is the US Parachute Association and Tom has a new map in his study showing all the drop zones in the state as well as the neighboring states.

                Neither of them had intended to become this involved but neither of them say anything to each other. Tom has had to check with several people about potential conflicts of interest, but it’s agreed that he is, first and foremost, a naval aviator, so if he wants to fly a private plane on his own time that’s allowable, as long as he’s meeting all the FAA regulations. The FAA make a special dispensation (his new friends doing him this favor), allowing them to sign off flight hours, but neither of them are officially instructors. They do both become FAA-certified parachute riggers though.

                It’s through one guy he knows in the FAA that he acquires the hangar. It’s an old Navy one, but Pete’s been making noises about wanting to renovate a P-51 Mustang he keeps seeing for sale, but how he’s got nowhere to keep it. They could store another plane there too, Bradley’s sky-diving one in the future. It seems like it’s definitely going to happen, Bradley making a business plan and presenting it to them and asking to have his parent’s life insurance money to help him purchase a plane. Tom can give their planes a home, so he purchases the hangar and gives it to them a joint fortieth birthday gift for Mav and graduation present for Bradley.

                A different plane comes into their life a little earlier than anticipated, although none of them have to buy it. Pete comes to an agreement with one of Bradley’s instructors. They’ll store the plane in their currently empty hangar in exchange for being able to use it to take Bradley up for jumps, paying for fuel and carrying out the checks and maintenance. Somehow word gets around – there are two pilots capable of signing off flight hours. They can count as solo flights as they aren’t instructors. Others wanting to jump out of planes arrange times with Bradley.

                He hasn’t spent so much time in the air since flight school and he loves every moment, regardless of whether he’s piloting or doing the checks before Bradley does his jumps. His relationship with Mav has settled into an easier less-volatile thing, maybe his promotion to Rear Admiral has made him feel less threatened by the potential fallout if anyone decides to voice their concerns about his relationship with Pete.

…             …             …

                “I’ve done it. The five-hundred jumps, more than three years in sky diving, done more than fifty jumps in the last year, got my medical and I’ve got more than 8 hours of freefall time logged. I can apply for the Tandem course now…”

                “Proud of you. You’ve been working towards this for a long time.”

                “Thank you! For taking me up and buying the hangar, and just… thank you so much. I know you and Mav both don’t really get it, but you’ve never made me feel like I didn’t have your support this entire time.”

                “It’s what parents do. Good parents that is.”

                He throws his arms around Ice then, hugs him tightly and doesn’t let go.

                “The best parents.”

2007-2010 - The middle years (NEXT PART)

[sgiandubh]

Charities and politics: the thin, red line

When you are a proven impostor and idiot and still you insist, it's time to remind you a simple Roman proverb: errare humanum est, perseverare diabolicum. In other, English, words: to err is human, but to persist is diabolical.

Or supremely stupid: your pick, Max.

This page is not into politics at all - and I explained why: this is a very familiar terrain to this blogger, who'd really like to enjoy her daily time off that particular kind of madding crowd. However, from time to time, reality manages to pierce the veil, such as today, when news of Humza Yousaf stepping down as Scottish First Minister made worldwide headlines - just a basic example: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/29/world/europe/scotland-humza-yousaf-resigns-snp.html

That does not mean that the whole Cabinet is bound to resign, unless next Wednesday's debate on a non confidence vote promoted by Scottish Labour is lost. By the way, non-Scottish Max.

Never mind Max very recently amused me to no tomorrow, with her color blind, non-European view of Scottish politics (and politics, in general). Never mind she wrote enormous things like the SNP and Greens being politically opposed Scottish parties, just because of Yousaf's recent horrible blunder kicking the Scottish Greens out of his coalition cabinet and trying to keep the steer of a minority SNP cabinet. The SNP & Scottish Greens coalition partnership is very likely to resume as soon as John Swinney (or perhaps Kate Forbes, but my money is not on her, for many reasons: too divisive, too close to elections, etc) is hastily anointed First Minister (https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2024/apr/29/snp-looks-to-unity-candidate-after-humza-yousaf-quits-as-first-minister). No Scottish person, living anywhere else than under a rock, would have aligned this intergalactic bullshit with such confidence and such bad syntax:

Angus Robertson is a shrewd politician. He needed to be seen doing exactly that, yesterday night: showing off at an event hosted by S, once a very vocal support of the Scottish Greens. Here is why, according to normal people, like the Guardian's Scottish Politics team:

[Source: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2024/apr/29/snp-looks-to-unity-candidate-after-humza-yousaf-quits-as-first-minister]

How old is Max, anyways? Where do they live? I won't add insult to injury, but boy do they seem to write from an ever more far-flung corner of the world than me, and my money is on South America, for many reasons I will not develop here. I chose to be merciful, tonight.

Tonight, she comes back with a renewed batch of freshly half-baked ineptitude:

Please ignore the hideous word salad the two first sentences are. Google Translate would have done better. Who dunnit? Alexa, in the kitchen, with Colonel Mustard? Let's focus on the Big, Fat Lie, here:

'Any participation in events involving charities must be independent and must not support or be endorsed by any political party or be associated with any candidate or politician.'

This is simply not true. If that were to be true, on this planet, or at least in the UK or Scotland, we would never have any NGOs actively lobbying politicians, hosting debates with them or petitioning them on various issues ranging from road safety to global warming.

I will refer the definitely non-Scottish blogger Maximum Wobbling Bullshit to the official factsheet on this very topic, issued by the OSCR, the Scottish Charity Regulator (https://www.oscr.org.uk/media/2899/v14_faqs-charities-and-campaigning-on-political-issues.pdf):

The above rule is limited to the case of election campaigns, as it is logical to be, since a husting simply is another way to call a campaign meeting. There was no campaign related anything yesterday night, the comments were simply about a Scottish national policy that is anything but political (promote Scottish tourism!), Angus Robertson is not a candidate to be Scotland's next First Minister. And same goes for the WWF and Blood Cancer UK - if you think those people went to that gala without a mandate from their NGO Board, you are: a) 5; b) delusional; c) a foul-mouthed troll.

Anyways, to go to the bottom of it, I also looked in the Scottish Charity Register - because you never know what those people might come up with, again:

As I think we all know, MPC is a registered US Limited Liability Company (LLC), based in Delaware. Its California branch is now closed, but the Nevada one was still active, one hour ago, when I checked:

And in case you are still wondering, after all these years, about MPC's legal status, here is their legally impeccable FAQ answer to the people who subscribe and who would legitimately want to know where their money goes, after all:

An LLC is a relatively recent (1970s) hybrid type of legal entity, equivalent perhaps (give or take a couple of technicalities) to the UK's PLC. In my professional view, it offers the best legal framework for what S tried to achieve with it, allowing both for management flexibility and tax transparency. If MPC does not present itself as a charity, it has the entire right to do so and is, therefore, not a charity, from a legal point of view, unless otherwise successfully contended in court.

You are still an idiot and a liar, though.

PS: S has not shared Robertson's X message on his own socials. Just so you know, MAX. [Later edit: extensively quoting The Scottish Daily Express, the Scottish edition of The Daily Express, a notorious UKIP/Farage supporting media outlet, hate speech condemned by the UN High Commissioner on Human Rights, just tells me once more time what a color blind impostor you are, Max.]

[impossiblepluto]

Hello bonjour I reread Adversary + Antigen and ignoring the fact that I am now screaming in every possible way except physical (and, even though I knew what was coming this time, I still had a physiological stress response to your words (<- big big compliment)), I am also gnawing on my laptop thinking about McClain and Reese's reaction and response to seeing Mac.

I am just. I am thinking about how much do they know??? Has Yasmin radioed over and given them the scoop?? Does Yasmin even know what went on in the back there (😱)?????? Like despite (or maybe inspite of) the fact that Mac's got about a thousand different reactive molecules moving through his blood stream right now, he's still somewhat combative I imagine. Or at the very least, I'm sure there's a good chance that some of those drugs are going to wear off before everything is sorted out 😬

Anyway whilst thinking about this I inadvertently made a chart in my head and thought it would be funny to share with you:

pros of epi wearing off: less wired mac who can breath without his entire body vibrating and causing panic on top of panic

cons of epi wearing off: anaphylaxis comes back and says hi!!!! because it is annoyed it got pushed off of metaphorical center stage

pros of sedative wearing off: mac feels less betrayed, more in charge of his body with more autonomy

cons of sedative wearing off: PANIK

...I'm not sure what this ask is anymore at this point. I just need you to know that my brain is entirely occupied thinking about what the future has in store for Mac and I am wondering if there is any hints or thoughts that I can have to munch on in my brain <3

Bonjour friend (I cannot read that word without seeing the polar bears peeking their heads out of dens or into portholes memes, and I am delighted to realize that)

I am also delighted to hear that you reread Adversary + Antigen. I was completely spoiled by the comment you left on that fic and now I get another one + more Vi thoughts. Ah! Amazing. An embarrassment of riches.

Not sure if it's the worst thing I've done to Mac but it's the most in depth I've gone. I got a little tightness in my chest and throat while writing it.

Reese and McClain hearing about what happened to Mac, the panic attack, and getting to witness one of their own is a moment that I am anxiously awaiting to share (and finish writing) Originally, Mac was going to make it all the way to Phoenix Med, where he would again stubbornly insist that he was not laying down, not riding into the building on a gurney, and mostly unsuccessfully struggling through the halls with his entourage, before his facade completely broke. I was as shocked as Jack and Ed when Mac began fighting for his life in the back of the ambulance.

I think I might have to do Mac's attempted escape from someone else's POV. Yasmin does know some of what happened and has radioed ahead so McClain and Reese have an idea of what's coming through the doors. Also, everyone is putting the puzzle pieces together a little quicker and confirming what they suspected. And Jack is struggling for many reasons.

One of the things that has me stalled is getting Mac's headspace right- and portraying so it feels genuine. The epi, adrenaline, and emotions are still thrumming under his skin, but the sedative is making it feel strangely distant even though it's right there. The loss of safety, security, autonomy, he expects that from Murdoc but from his friends and the people he trusts, that betrayal feels like a sinking pit. If he expresses his needs who would listen? Even his anger feels muted, but will be making an appearance that I'm very excited about. Regulating his emotions and his responses are beyond his ability so he's oscillating between this betrayed, submissive compliance, seething anger, embarrassment about his outburst and shame that he allowed Murdoc to do this to him. Everything that anyone says or does feels so patronizing. There's a detached clinical part of him too, and while he wants to lean into that part, that's worse for everyone else watching.

I love your chart because it's all the same stuff going through my head. I'm trying to fit a little bit of everything in there. The half-life of epinephrine is very short (epi is just to stem the reaction and keep you alive long enough to get additional treatment) so he might start feeling the foreboding, prickly sensations growing again before this is over.

Thanks for the ask, friend! It has reawakened my excitement for this fic when I was starting to get too in my head about it! If there is something specific that you've been like "i hope she does This!" feel free to share because there are a lot of directions that I'm still trying to decide on

[lifewithchronicpain]

This is fucking ridiculous. Btw the baby is okay, of course they broke the window glass.

My mom has a Volkswagen and when her key fob died and she couldn’t get in it, she had to call AAA. There was a keyhole on the car, but it was hidden and my mom had no idea.

Now, electric cars, especially Teslas, are dying in extreme heat and trapping people inside. Apparently Teslas Only have a manual release inside the car, that many people don’t know about and is utterly useless if a baby is trapped inside the car! It’s absurd.

There needs to be regulations against this, not having a way to use a fucking physical key to open a door is a potential death trap. And if you’re going to hide the keyhole and levers, (which btw why??) there should be a huge fucking instruction on how to use before they can even take the car off the lot.

So please, if you own an electric car please be aware of this problem and learn how to open your car without electricity. And if it can’t, like the Tesla from the outside, make sure you have a window breaking utensil. (Which btw, you should have anyway)

[neptunescore]

Kinda off topic, but do you think that people forget that F1 is BOTH a drivers championship and constructors? People complain that certain drivers are washed and if they had a different car they wouldn’t be as successful. I saw Zak Brown (I hate him sm, I don’t even have a valid reason I just do LOL) say how Max is great but he wouldn’t win championships without RedBull dominance. But isn’t that the point? Almost every championship was won by a championship level car. That’s how dominance happens BECAUSE it’s whichever team is the best at the regulations. It’s literally why FIA always changes the regulations, people expect we’ll see a drivers true form when they are in a different car. Also he said how Lando would match Max in a straight fight and… I’m sorry to say but their grids when they began were two different worlds. I respect Lando as a driver and person (I did question his comment on the Orange but it is whatever, no one knows if it was for PR or out of his own mouth) but we have literal past champions and experts talking about the driver’s expertise. I’ll admit the car is a huge play (maybe like 70%) but the driver is who makes the difference. A good example is Lewis. I love him but everyone knows Mercedes downfall. He showed how much the car plays a role but also how good the driver has to be. We’ve seen him in China sprint be able to get second place because of good setup from the team and because he was able to make that difference. You can argue for many drivers such as Seb, Kimi, hell maybe add Max when he didn’t have the best car on the grid, they all won races even without the best car. Even if those wins were through safety cars or just plain strategy, which is something some teams really struggle in. McLauren happened to be the best car in Miami and had a good start (dare I say luck too) but you can also see from the other teams that everyone was struggling. No one improved their times Q3, a lot of complaints about the cars not being right. This is turning into a Zak Brown hate speech now but I think it’s important that he realizes for Lando to matchup with top drivers like Max or Lewis he needs consistency. Something that drivers such as Charles is good at. He’s still young and he has time but currently? He doesn’t stand a chance in equal machinery, different from what Zak previously stated.

Sorry for my rant!! I went off topic myself but I just think a lot of people in the media (cough twitter) forget how many teams care about the constructors championship more than the driver’s one. No one is a car merchant because there is no way you can make the car’s equal in all fields. Even if the driver isn’t the most important bit their expertise is what makes the difference!

...heyyy (im so sorry it took me so long to answer this ask anon😭, I swear I would've done sooner but at that point all of my asks were just hate crimes and I was NOT feeling the vibe. I'm back now!!!❤️🤗)

But anyway, YOURE SO RIGHT NONNIE. Ugh and this is smthng that acc makes me so irritated sometimes, bc in the end, f1 is more business than it is sport and teams NEED sponsors. I feel like alot of ppl forget that, like the drivers and teams literally DO have to pay to remain in the sport.

This means that the whole point of a team is to build the absolute best of a car they can, especially for teams at the top (rbr, ferrari, mclaren, mercedes), bc that's what the sponsors want. That's what the drivers WANT. They WANT a dominating car. They WANT a car that's 1 second ahead of the wholeass grid. They WANT that. And if top teams don't deliver that then yes, they ARE gonna lose both drivers and sponsors.

I feel like so many fans forget that f1 is literally the MOST competitive sport. No driver wants to be out there in equal machinery. They just want to WIN. Sponsors don't care how competing cars have been beaten, they just want the team they've picked to be ON TOP.

Now, away from all the money talk, fans who put EVERYTHING a driver achieves on to the 'car' just piss me off. You literally cannot be saying that. You cannot be saying max's dominance is only bc of the car when this man has a 20 SECOND GAP to the next car, while his teammate is literally fighting to make it to q3. Like please. Go look in the mirror and think abt ur comments bfr they leave your mouth😭. Monaco also proves that so well, the redbull car was absolute SHIT there, and max still managed to put it up in p6.

Who is not a Zak brown hater in this economy nonnie😌✊🏽, dw I completely get u. Literally no points to add to that bc everything uve said is so right. I feel like Zak just puts lando on a pedestal that lando has NOT achieved. There's still a long way for lando to go, and while I am happy for him and his first race win – Zak brown immediately saying lando is a championship competitor right after it is just hilarious to me😭. Like slow down bro, chill.

All in all, consistency is KEY. And literally not one driver wants to be in a car that's the same as their competitors.🤗

Edit: also nonnie, can I ask who ur fave team/ driver is?? I just like the way you talk and I wanna know so bad now.

[forwomenbiwomen]

Hello! I’m making a compilation. If you feel comfortable, what does radical feminism mean to you, and how would you explain your stances to someone else? What do you do to live as a radical feminist? Thanks!

Hello friend! Excuse me if I'm a little wary, I don't know where you're coming from or what you'll use this for. I'll reply in good faith and hope it's received earnestly ☺️. Sorry if this gets too long to read properly.

Radical feminism to me at first was a massive taboo. I never assumed in a million years that I would think the things I do now, especially concerning the trans issue; I was a staunch defender and thought it was common sense because, quite honestly, I did not understand it. That is not the crux of my feminism though, I just thought you might be looking for it, so I won't focus on it too much.

In all honesty it has improved my life in several areas. It has made me feel like a person, and clear the fog that is patriarchal conditioning. I'm now painfully aware of patterns from men that people take for granted or excuse, and challenge the ways their socialisation has impacted me to feel and act lesser. (I'll go into that in a second.)

As a school of thought it's massively broad, encompassing everything from FGM to sexist infrastructure to LGB issues to female separatism to makeup and beauty standards, etc. so it's a lot to take in at first, especially when you're coming from such a 'normal' background like I was. Women are a massively broad topic at half of the population, so I see no reason why we would have to include males in it to be more diverse. Black people do not have to include white people in their fight against white oppression, do you see what I mean?

Anyway as a result of actually looking into what radical feminism believes despite my fear of being 'wrong' and 'evil' and a 'terf', I have:

Stopped shaving. This seems small but it was an unbelievable change!! I've never felt more like an adult human. I had no idea how much dignity I would gain from just... doing nothing, living my life. I don't want to look like a child, or be in that mindset of looking good for men even in my most private areas/moments. Not to mention how comfortable it is for the hair that naturally grows there to stop me chafing. Genuinely, this was such an unexpectedly big deal for me.

Stopped wearing makeup. I am still pressured into it, so much that I have to cave sometimes, but that just affirms my personal choice not to. If it wasn't an issue there wouldn't be such a desperate pushback. I don't see women's natural faces behind a mask of concealer and foundation. It is full of harmful chemicals and is not regulated for health and safety. It makes you decorative; you can't swim, laugh, rub your face, sweat, hug someone, get rained on, make expressions lest it crease, put sunscreen on periodically, not go in certain lighting lest it look cakey, etc. It costs money that I'm more than happy to use for something else. It costs time that cutting out has meant more time for me. My natural face is timeless, my makeup style isn't, and that's my face that people would look at and think "how dated". I'm not giving money to men who curiously do not wear makeup. Less people care than you think that you have no makeup on.

Adjusted my standards. I am an osa woman and I'm in a relationship with a man. Luckily, he does not do things that I need to ignore or excuse in the name of love. He does housework more than I do, he is caring, loving, romantic, listens when I talk about feminism (I am continually shocked by how little he knows but we're getting there) he looks after his mother and sisters, he does not watch porn (I'm on the lookout tho) and he's very giving to both men and women. All of this meets my criteria for a safe relationship, and I am ruthless about what I will excuse from him. He is the same to me. Feminism empowered me to do that and not feel like a harpy for prioritising my safety and security in a relationship (ie when you should do it most).

Awareness of oppression in wider society. Now we're getting into the bigger picture. More than anything, this has felt the most dangerous and painful, but it has empowered me and I wouldn't change that for the world. I have become aware of the ways men manipulate women into relationships and sex through many disgusting avenues, and I try to warn and raise awareness of that in my own life. I have read many feminist texts, some opposing, and learned things I take insanely for granted, ie that women have different transport needs and roads are built for men, women need more floor space in bathrooms and more bathrooms in general, NOT equal space, cars use male crash dummies, phones are built for male hands, males are the only ones used in the majority of medical studies we use today etc. (READ INVISIBLE WOMEN IT'S GREAT!) I could go for ages in this category but I'll stop it here.

Trans issues. Maybe this is what you were looking for. I do not believe in gendered souls or brains, I think it's deeply spiritual, sexist nonsense. What does a woman feel like? Ask any trans woman and they'll say they feel things like "soft, maternal, feminine, happy and breezy, I want to go shopping and focus on my appearance" as if those feelings are exclusive to female people. I think it is laughable. Similarly with trans men, they'll say they just "feel normal, I don't have to perform femininity and I can be weird and gross and hairy and assertive and it's acceptable" as if those are all male feelings and women simply do not, cannot, think that. If they accepted that both men and women can think these ways with their respective intense feelings, it makes little sense to then say that they are actually the other sex. They have nothing to stand on except stereotypes and the mental effects of living in a society that says the male body is the best body: dysphoria. This issue has come storming through progressive spaces with such vigour that it's hard to keep up sometimes, and with all the drama it's quietly taken away/demonised female only spaces, GNC people (if you're GNC you must be trans, you can't be a masculine woman or a feminine man, fit back into the gender binary. Just look at all the lesbians told they must be trans men) other opinions such as people not wanting their kids to medically castrate themselves/ruin their healthy body with cross sex hormones, etc. All valid concerns whether you want them to be or not.

I can explain things further but this is long as it is. I used to proudly proclaim myself a liberal feminist until I was 17. I thought that it was the only correct, moderate answer, because I was ignorant and had no real world experience. In the real world men terrorise women on a global and institutional level, and women are angry about it. We are sick of being the second sex, and that anger is part of radical feminism not because we are looking for trouble, but because we are aware of it. Feminism has always been radical. If it's not radical, you're surrendering it to the patriarchy.

I am very passionate about this so please do not take my words to be callous. I think my position is right, but don't we all. I'm willing to adjust my views.