#its a long bus ride but still. if i go from the city its one bus......

[obitv]

cant stop thinking about it now. maimai. just a bus ride away....

#and museca which looks scary. why is there a FOOT PEDAL #its a long bus ride but still. if i go from the city its one bus......

[k9wa]

𑣲 PALPITATE. ft hakkai shiba.

⠀ —when hakkai busting his bike leaves him stranded and vulnerable, both at the hands of public transportation and a girl who can't take a hint.

⠀ or

⠀ — two virgins who lack any social skills are forced to share the same bus route.

⚠︎ fem!reader, no referring pronouns used, hakkai and you are so terribly fucking awkward, lot's of sillies.

MONDAY MAY 2ND, 2006.

what was it about public transportation that was so god damn confusing? i mean, sure, the concept is simple, find the bus you wanna get on and you know, get on it. 

until you take into consideration all the factors in between which, for everyone's sake, i won't bore you with. save for two.

not only had you deemed public transportation your sworn nemesis, but now you were battling it in a city you’d never stepped foot in.

actually, there was someone in a similar situation to you, also (temporarily) struck by the punishment hammer that was being forced to bus everywhere while his motorcycle was in the shop. the day you met hakkai shiba was the first day you had to take the bus to your new part-time job across town. you approached him while he leaned lazily against a sign, displaying a small cartoon bus with a number inside it.

“um— excuse me?” hakkai felt his bones go stiff at the feminine voice that called to him. 

“sorry to bother you, i was just wondering, uh, is this the bus that go….” 

he didn’t get to hear where you were trying to go as his brain did its absolute best to tune you out. meanwhile, you waited patiently for a response.

…a response that the tall boy in front of you was really taking his time preparing. all while he kept perfectly still and facing forward.

“…um—excuse me…?” 

had he not heard you? 

“…hello?” 

was he just ignoring you? sure you understood not wanting to talk to someone, but a simple nod of his head would suffice, no?

“sorry— i just really need to know if this is the right stop to get on.”

hakkai didn’t move.

“um, i start at a new job in less than an hour? i can't really afford to get lost right now.” you chuckled uncomfortably, hoping to ease the tension.

nothing. it was as if you weren’t even there.

“…anything?”

nope.

“blink once for yes??”

your hands drop to your sides, all you received was more nothing. his eyes didn’t even twitch.

“i’m—i’m just gonna try the stop down the road.”

hakkai couldn’t bring himself to watch from his peripherals as you walked away from one of the most awkward situations of your teenage life.

away, and to the wrong bus stop.

TUESDAY MAY 3RD, 2006.

the next time hakkai saw you was actually the very next day, after your first encounter with him. around the same time, as well.

turns out, you and he would be sharing a bus route until the youngest shiba’s bike was fixed and ready for riding again.

lucky you! 

you nearly threw yourself into the traffic beside you when the same guy from yesterday was back at the stop. the stop you learned the hard way was actually the right one. 

you trudged up beside him, leaving an awkward distance between you while he was sitting on the bench, and you opted for standing to the side of it.

“…sooo, turns out this was actually my stop, haha.”

you desperately tried to talk to him again, hoping to prove to yourself that he wasn’t really ignoring you as bad as you’d hoped the day before.

he didn’t answer.

“i um— got on the wrong bus yesterday. ended up all the way in roppongi? i think that’s what it was called, anyway.”

answer. say literally anything oh my god i’m begging you.

“pretty cool area, i'd never been before. silver lining, right?”

you turn to look at him, he’s pale as a ghost.

“youuu uh, ever been? to roppongi?”

….no response ever came. you clear your throat.

“awesome, cool, cool.”

this was gonna be a long week.

WEDNESDAY MAY 4TH, 2006.

back at the bus stop you stood, almost shoulder to shoulder with the same boy who you tried almost everything to pry a word out of the last two days.

tuesday night it dawned on you, what if he just…couldn’t hear you? maybe he had some kind of hearing impairment! it would be pretty shitty to assume he was just blatantly ignoring you if that was the case, so, wednesday afternoon you tried again.

“um, hey.”

you looked beside you to the stone face that was becoming unfortunately familiar. he didn’t answer.

so, like any sane person would do, you poked his arm.

hakkai audibly gulped, but continued to keep his eyes on the scenery in front of him.

“…hello? anyone home?” 

you poked him again. hakkai started to sweat rather profusely. it was a good thing he couldn’t see the way your brow furrowed at the physical cues that he indeed did know you were there.

“okay, what gives? are you just like– really not talkative or something?”

you’re a fool for waiting patiently for some kind of acknowledgement. hakkai was frozen in place.

“...seriously? nothing? not even telling me to shut up or– or leave you alone or something??”

you stomped your way in front of him, and finally reached a hand up to wave it in front of his face. 

“just one word! one word and i'll never speak to you again. swear it.”

hakkai, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t move, his eyes dead set straight. the waving and begging went on until your bus came to a screeching stop behind you.

maybe tomorrow.

THURSDAY MAY 5TH, 2006.

hakkai truly was beginning to mourn having an unlimited form of private transportation. not only did he hate the crowded seats of the bus, or quickly grow tired of the schedules ruining his chance to stay with his friends or gang members late that week, but hakkai had also convinced himself you were one more day away from just deciding to punch him square in the gut.

you absolutely were, by the way.

it’s not that he didn’t feel bad, but c'mon! anyone who knew him knew that yuzuha was the only girl he could talk to, it wasn’t anything against you personally.

it also didn't help that, you too, were completely socially inept. i mean, who keeps trying to make conversation with someone after finding out they’ve been actively ignoring them? anyone else would have just, y'know, moved along. 

you being pretty, like, really pretty wasn’t helping his case much either, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about that for longer than a millisecond before he turned red.

thursday, you didn’t show up for the bus. hakkai waited, watching the side of the sidewalk you would normally arrive from, but you never showed. 

which, in theory, should have been elating for him. it was a day where he could take a much needed breather, where he could comfortably arrive home without clammy hands or sweat beading down his neck.

it was…a little disappointing. not that hakkai necessarily enjoyed making a fool of himself (or shutting off all his senses to avoid that from happening,) but he couldn’t deny that your antics were… funny? to him? you were kind of an idiot, but in an endearing kind of way.

hakkai hoped to see you at the stop tomorrow.

FRIDAY MAY 6TH, 2006.

friday marked the end of the week, alongside the end of hakkai’s journey as someone who regularly relied on the public transport system. tomorrow morning, he would pick up his bike, and bring her back home where she belonged. balance would be restored.

you, however, were dreading leaving your home.

the day prior, you had the luxury of getting a ride to work from a friend, putting an ease to your mind and it’s swarm of thoughts regarding the very tall, very well sculpted, very pretty, very well kept–

the guy at the bus stop who wouldn’t pay any mind to your existence even if it meant his damn life was on the line.

he was an idiot, you were sure of it. not only was he stupid, he was rude! you ended up nearly stranded in another district because he couldn’t even spare you a nod of his head!

who cared that he was pretty? who cared that he had some of the best bone structure you’d ever seen in person, or that he was already standing at 183 cm at an age you assumed couldn’t be far from your own? he sucked!

…okay you cared. you had a thing for him. it was utterly humiliating. all you had done was run around poking (literally) and prodding at him for the last week, all because you didn’t know how to properly say “hey, i wanna talk to you!” or “hey, why are you ignoring me?”

that, and the curiosity of what could be causing him to pay such little attention to you was genuinely driving you up the wall. you digress. today, you would make it right.

you finally arrived, i shouldn't have to mention where by now, and were relieved to see the familiar blue buzz-cut. relieved alongside cursing god for making it so you actually had to speak to him again. you slowly took your spot to his left.

“...hey, um–”

you played with the strap of your bag.

“sorry if i’ve been on your nerves or anything this week, realised i was bein’ kinda overbearing.” you chuckled and looked up at him, not surprised at the lack of feedback.

“i just moved here? and everything has been going pretty south for me, but i didn't mean to take it out on you or anything.”

hakkai’s jaw was clenched, but staying true to himself, he didn’t answer.

“anyway, sorry again. hope the rest of your day goes alright.”

hakkai clenched his fists together, sucked in the deepest breath he thought he'd ever taken, and before the bus rounded the street corner, he spoke.

“..sh..ba…h..kai…” it was shaky, and it was spoken through his tightly clenched teeth, but he managed.

“...p–pardon?” you did your best to keep your eyes from widening and having your shock spread across your face, but it was a feeble attempt. hakkai turned his head in the opposite direction, away from you.

“..shiba…hakkai..” he mumbled again, but the second time was thankfully more clear. 

it quickly became your turn to stare straight ahead of you, unable to form some kind of answer in your head. you had been so damn talkative before, too.

the bus came to a rusty stop in front of the two of you. only then, were you able to mutter your name in response to him. one painful week later, you finally had an introduction.

maybe hakkai would keep taking the bus home even after picking up his bike. only sometimes, though. baby steps.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

#hes an idiot i love him #hakkai shiba #shiba hakkai #hakkai x reader #hakkai x you #hakkai fluff #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x you #black dragons #yuzuha shiba #taiju shiba #UNEARTHLY

[centrally-unplanned]

Gonna go on a classic rant here, as the "Uber Shuttle....do you mean a BUS LOL" complaint is making the rounds:

This objection - "why are you just re-inventing buses" has always been very silly because buses are not exclusive services, they aren't like a train where building two "competitive" tracks is a huge waste of money. They can just go on the road like a car! That is the whole point of roads. And US public buses...pretty universally suck (on average, varies per city ofc). We have poor stop infrastructure, incredibly late arrival times, unoptimized routing, and in particular a stubborn refusal to enforce safety and decorum standards, which means riding the bus is very often just a not fun ordeal. I still do it, it is of course normally fine, but if I was richer and could easily pay 3x the going rate for a good bus I would do that a lot. Certainly for trips to the airport or farther distances.

Buses don't have any generalized reason to be shielded from competition, you can just run multiple buses. Its generally better to run more, that means less cars! There are some kinks about traffic flow and stop points, but on average private buses are great. They don't often exist in the US (a good number do ofc, the US is vast) because they have been made either dejure or defacto illegal in many places- though as expected shadow networks exist, which exactly plug the demand gaps that public transit is failing to fill. Private buses are good.

Uber is likely going to be playing the same regulatory arbitrage that its always been with taxis, trying to use tech to help classify itself outside the regulatory system that currently bans private buses - though idk maybe they have worked out deals with the cities its doing its pilot in, not relevant to my point. You wanna complain about how they treat drivers or regulations or w/e, totally fine (or at least a separate topic). But a kneejerk "buses are public" is an ignorance-showing moment, they both aren't in many places and shouldn't be in more.

(pour this one out for @voxette-vk, long lost tumblrite who I know would stan the fuck out of private buses back in the day)

[levisolace]

[1] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Windex and Baking Soda

WC: 7,182 Chapter Warnings: slight angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. story masterlist > next chapter

“It’s always my pleasure, Mr. Brown.”

The corporate smile on your face drops as soon as you hit the end button in the video call application on your laptop. It was the first meeting of the day with a client and you were already exhausted, wanting nothing but to go home and curl up in bed, heavily surrounded by your pillows and weighted blanket for hours. But you know that’s a dream that would remain a fantasy for a while. Why? Because it’s a Monday. It’s only the start of the week and judging from the pile of paperwork delivered to your desk this morning, you would have to work overtime again for the third week in a row. 

Being recently hired by one of the top leading firms in the country is a blessing you will be thankful for every day but as the week goes by and you’re on your fifth pile of paperwork, more than ten meetings in one week, you can’t help but think what would it be like to work for a small, quiet firm. You shrug those thoughts away as soon as they come. You’re grateful for the more-than-average salary the firm provides, at least.

The day went on as it always does: hours of you trying to ignore your back pain. It was becoming unbearable and you can’t even use the ointments your grandmother used to insist you use because it would no doubt infest the building with its smell—your reputation and first impression from your coworkers is at stake. 

As you’re typing back an email from your superior, Atty. Dot Pixis, you halt when you feel the buzzing on your table. You pick it up mindlessly, checking to see the notification. A smile spreads on your face to see that it’s your previous boss, Vanessa. 

hey. how’s working with the big leagues?? pixis is not tiring you out too much is he?? i can give him a word if you want.

pixis is treating me really well, nes. thank u for checking up on me! i miss everyone there at the firm and little ian :(( 

Vanessa, besides being your former boss back in Olsen & Associates, is also your friend and self-proclaimed older sister. She's a well-known attorney, and Olsen is a legend back in law school because she’s an alumnus who’s actually cool and doesn’t have their head up their asses. However, after deciding to settle down and start a family, she opened up a small firm in her hometown. 

i might just have to visit bc i miss my little sis :(( should’ve never let u leave

technically, it’s your fault i left 

i know :( don't remind me

Two months ago, Vanessa told you that ODM is hiring and Pixis contacted her to see if she knows anyone to take the job. Your jaw dropped to the ground when she told you she recommended you and you can send in your resume if you’re interested. It was an offer no one could pass up so before you knew it, you were being hauled into a hours-long bus ride and then anxiously seated for an interview in the city you used to live in. And after about a week of being a nervous wreck waiting for their response, you were contacted that you’ve been selected for the position.

Now here you are, finally settled in your office. You still can’t believe you have your own space in this huge building. You would’ve never thought you’d be working here in the firm you only used to stare at in awe while passing by years ago. 

Although, you have to admit that you miss the warm feeling of the small firm where you all know each other, exchange heartfelt greetings, and gossip when there are not too many clients. Now, you pass by a new face every now and then, most not even bothering to greet you or spare you a look. You can’t blame them. The work here is drastic. 

By the time you left the office, it’s already dark and way past office hours. As you were driving home, you remembered you still needed a few supplies in your apartment. You haven’t exactly settled yourself in, prioritizing work more. God, you even still had a few boxes to unpack. 

You stopped by a 24-hour supermarket that you spotted on your way to work this morning when you had to reroute because of the traffic. It was a little out of the way but it would do. It was still two hours before midnight, anyway.

As you drag your feet through the aisles and drop whatever you felt like you needed in the cart, unwanted memories come creeping in. The air in Paradis City is still the same. Even if a few buildings might have changed or some stores you used to frequent have closed down, it was still the same Paradis you knew—a buzzing city filled with dreams. The streets are never empty, famously congested by students from top universities or office workers. 

When you got the offer for the job, you weighed out the pros and cons. There were only two cons you were able to determine:

You don’t want to leave Olsen & Associates and Vanessa’s hometown, Trost, and

You’d be going back to your hometown, the one you promised not to go back to. 

The pros outweigh the cons, obviously. That weight being the thick fat salary you would be getting. Besides, Paradis is huge and has like three million residents. It’s not like you’d cross paths with him. And it’s been years. He probably forgot all about you anyway. You barely think about him. It was just a silly puppy-love relationship. No biggie.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut up. 

“That one’s better.”

A voice directed to you made you snap out of your thoughts. It made you painfully aware of how you had been staring at the two options of green tea in your hand for probably more than the normal minutes it takes one to decide. The tall brunette had on a face mask covering half his face, his hair parted in the middle, and he wore a simple light blue button-down and black slacks. He was about two feet away from you when he pointed at the tea canister in your right hand. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. Desperate to run away from the embarrassment of zoning out in the middle of a public space, you take his advice and put down the canister on your left hand back to the shelf. 

“You’re welcome. I see my friend drinking it all the time so it has to be good,” he nods and you see his cheeks prop up, probably sporting a smile beneath the mask. You smiled back and thanked him again.

“Can you grab that one for me?” He points at a sweet one, a flavor in contrast with the green tea you chose. It was on the shelf being blocked by your cart beside you. You quickly mutter an apology and reach for a can. 

“My fiancée prefers her tea fruity,” he explains even if you didn’t ask, his ears tinted a bit red from his own statement. You immediately find it endearing. He seems very fond of his partner as he continues to babble about her. “Well actually, she prefers coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots but I eventually persuaded her to drink tea once in a while.” 

“Moby! I know we usually don’t get this brand but guess what? This has a free pink sponge!” 

You freeze at the sound of that awfully loud and familiar cheerful voice heading towards you at a fast pace. You couldn’t turn your head. Your fingers unconsciously grip the can you’re holding harshly with wide eyes. Silently, you were wishing that the person just had the same voice as the crazed tall woman with glasses you used to know or the man beside you isn’t named ‘Moby.’ The former would hardly be the case because from the sound of the voice, the personality of being uncaring of the silent atmosphere of the supermarket, and the way she ran excitedly from your peripheral vision, you were sure that this person was your old friend Hange. For the latter, your last hope dies down as you see the stranger turn his head at the sound of his name and reply with a sigh.

“What the hell are you gonna do with a sponge, babe? We have lots of sponges.”

“Okay but imagine! We swap out Levi’s sponge with a pink one.” 

“I don’t think Levi cares about the color as long as it cleans.”

The fight or flight response in you went crazy at the mention of the name you haven’t heard in years, heavily leaning on the former. You could just hand this guy named Moby’s tea and make a run for it. You doubt Hange would care while being heavily invested in her free pink sponge. 

But why would you run? You only run when you’re scared or did something wrong. Which is it? It can't be the latter, right? 

I did. 

Oh? So you did. You’re scared, huh? That she’d get angry at you for what you did back then. 

I am. 

Run then. That’s all you know to do anyway.

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

“Miss? Are you okay?” 

For the second time in front of the same stranger, you were snapped out of your trance and find yourself gripping the can so hard that you think you’ve made a light dent on the can. Damn, you should really get a decent amount of sleep. You’ve been losing it a lot lately. 

You shake your head and slap your cheek lightly with your free hand. “Sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m fine. Here.” 

You turn to him and hand him the can, hoping he wouldn’t mind the barely noticeable dent you made. Purposely, you don’t stray your eyes away from the man. You don’t want to be the first person to acknowledge Hange. Maybe she doesn’t even remember you. Maybe she doesn’t even want to acknowledge you. 

“Greenie?” 

It was more of a mutter. But with how loud Hanji’s voice is, you and Moby clearly heard it. 

That’s when you look at her and actually see her. She looks the same as you saw her last. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. Nothing much has changed from her appearance except for the disappearance of the youthful look now replaced by maturity. Her gaze is fixed on you, slack-jawed. Her reaction doesn’t surprise or faze you, having expected that much. It’s what would follow that you’re nervous about. What would she say? Will she get angry at you? Or will she even remember who you are? Somehow, you dread that last possible outcome worst. 

“H-Hange,” you breathily let out. You wonder if it’s audible. 

Her fiancé also looks shocked, staring at you and then back to Hanji with widened eyes. “This is Greenie? The Greenie?” He points at you while asking Hange who was still frozen. His tone and reference to you immediately tell you that you have been discussed with people you never met, no doubt now knowing your past with them. 

Greenie. You haven’t heard that nickname in a while. 

It was silent for a few seconds, eyes not straying from each other. You probably look apologetic—scared, even. The man beside her is waiting too. You think he’s having a mini breakdown in disbelief. 

When you see her start to lunge at you, you shut your eyes, expecting her palm to collide with your cheek. You expect her to slap you and scream at you in the middle of the cold supermarket. You expect her to ask you where you got the nerve to come back to the city after all you’ve done. 

Instead, what she did broke down all your expectations. 

Long and slender arms wrap around your figure, pulling you tightly to her chest. Your face is squished against the fabric of her fluffy parka jacket. Even if you suddenly have trouble breathing with how tight her hug is, you were thankful that it covered your face and how you were biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the relief that comes with tears.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You couldn’t even answer. Or move at all. Not that you even know what to say. 

“Hange. You’re killing her.” You hear her partner say. Hange instantly loosens her grip on you, muttering an apology with a slight chuckle. When she looks down at you, you give her a gentle smile.

“I missed you too, Hange.” And you meant it. 

The tall woman was still not letting you go, arms wrapped just below your shoulders because of the height difference. Even if you were caged in her arms, you can still tilt your head up to look at her. Suddenly, tears started streaming down her face as she tilts her head down to you, her mouth quivering. Then it turns into full-on sobbing. You chuckle as she starts swaying you with her, going side to side like a pendulum as she sobs while wailing your name repeatedly. 

There was no stopping Hange when she gets like this. So you let it happen. You let her hug you like she did many times before. You relish the moment, wanting to pass out and let loose in her hold. Maybe you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up in your bed, filled with disappointment and yearning for some warmth.

When she was satisfied, she let you go and introduced you to Moblit, her fiancé and coworker. They walked with you as you continued to shop, telling you stories about her and Moblit. Thankfully for your sake, she didn’t ask you much about yourself or what happened when you were away. She just asked how you were doing right now and what you were doing in the city. Although you were scared that the news would get to him, you told her the truth that you recently got hired at the law firm. 

“So you moved back then? Like permanently?” Her brows raised in excitement. 

“Well, I have a temporary contract for six months before I’m permanently employed there so hopefully,” you shrug while heading to checkout. As expected, Hange doesn’t care that you practically explained that it’s technically a ‘not yet,’ she shrieks and jumps up and down anyway. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Greenie, one of my bridesmaids had to back out but we already had the dress paid and it’s a no-refund. Can you step in for her and attend our wedding? Would you? Please? Please?” Hange begs you, hands clasped together as she stares at you with puppy eyes and a pout. 

You stop in your tracks and feel your heart sink to the ground. She wants you to attend her wedding knowing that many, if not everyone, you used to know will be there. And if his name was so casually mentioned earlier, that meant that they were still very much best friends and he would definitely be there.

And a few minutes ago you were convincing yourself that you wouldn’t accidentally run into him in this city. Now, you have to actually see him and be in the same room for a few hours? 

You start with a chuckle. “Oh. I wouldn’t mean to impose—” 

You were abruptly overpowered by her loud negation. “No, you wouldn’t! Everyone would be ecstatic to see you! I swear.” 

“But—“

Hange sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping with a pout on her face. “I guess it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? You’re probably busy, right? Right. Sorry, I just got excited.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Moby, can you pay for our stuff and Greenie’s too?” 

“What?”

Your eyes widened but before you could protest or take a strong hold on your cart, Moblit was already dragging it away and sending a flying kiss to Hange who giggled like a schoolgirl to catch it with her fist. You turn to her in disbelief as he turns his back. She catches your face, knowing what you’re about to say. 

“It’s fine. That won’t make a dent in his bank account.”

Just like that, you were painfully reminded how no one could get a word in with Hange. 

“Un-fucking-believeable.” 

Niccolo, the training chef, flinched from behind him when the silver-eyed man let out an unprovoked profanity as he entered the restaurant. Connie, his loyal secretary, doesn’t even bat an eye at the unprofessional behavior of his boss, only following behind him with a straight face. 

“Shithead. Call Nile later. Tell him I want a new team on this…” his words halt in disgust as he sees the unfinished, poorly done walls of what was to be a new branch of Kuchel’s. “or I’ll fire his stupid construction company out of every damn project. Verbatim.” 

“Will do, sir.” Connie nods, mentally sighing. Not only is he used to hearing the profanities, but he’s also used to being ordered to say it too. 

Levi nods at his secretary’s response, eager to leave the abomination that was supposed to be at 80% progress at this date. As he turns, he’s faced with Connie and a blonde man he doesn’t know. 

“Who’s this?” 

The blonde man practically shivered at his haze, the corner of his lips twitching at the sides. It was a sad attempt at a smile. Mentally, Connie sighed at his boss’ unfocused mind when there was something that greatly irritates him. The trainee chef was just literally in the car with them and Levi told Connie to bring the chef with them on the way to check the new location. 

“This is Niccolo, sir. He was in the car with us. He’s the one highly considered by the HR,” Connie expertly answered. 

“So you’re on the last stage,” Levi addresses Niccolo. The nervous man gulps but answers. “Yes, sir.” 

Connie watches the exchange, feeling a bit of pity for the tall man cowering at the gaze of such a short guy with a temper taller than a skyscraper. He was exactly like this when Levi interviewed him for the position. 

“Sorry, I had to make a detour because some shitheads can’t do their job right. Let’s go.” 

And so Niccolo and Connie followed the grumpy man back to the vehicle they just got not even three minutes ago. 

Not that he knew what to expect or had guesses but Niccolo was utterly surprised that he was brought to the first Kuchel’s restaurant. The legendary one that went viral. 

When he passed by the reception area, his eyes widened when he saw the reservation list filled with no spots left. It was practically booked for the month from what he saw. 

The kitchen smelled amazing, each one of the cooks was busy and they actually looked happy while working. They worked with so much coordination and laughter like he had never seen before. 

He thought that he’d train or cook with them today, seeing as they’re Kuchel’s main branch’s team. He was excited too. But again, Levi surprises him when he pushes another door open from the kitchen, revealing a staircase. The man says nothing but climbs upstairs. 

Confused but too scared to ask, Niccolo only stares at Connie but who beckons him to follow him up the stairs. When he sees Levi take a glance behind him, his feet move on its own, following the cold short man’s steps.

He sees a living room first. It’s a simple home but maintained well enough to look pristine. He kept on following Levi as he eventually led him to a kitchen. Levi turned to him and he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t jump at his sudden order. 

“Do whatever you like. You have an hour.” 

And then he leaves the kitchen, leaving Niccolo confused as he looks around at the domestic kitchen. He sees Connie, Levi’s assistant aggressively mouthing the words ‘cook anything’ as he follows Levi back to the living room. 

“Good job. I think he liked it.” 

Connie whispers to Niccolo before he leaves. Normally, he isn’t allowed to tell the training chefs what Levi thinks. But he’s feeling a little silly and Niccolo is his friend and his best friend, Sasha’s, boyfriend. 

Just like all the other training chefs, Levi brought Niccolo to his old home to cook something for him. Levi is hella picky with them but Connie could see that he actually liked his friend’s food. There was no pursing of lips, which was the worst of them all. Connie had to scramble and get the trainee out before he burst the room into a myriad of colorful words no one wants to hear. 

When they got back to the office, Hange was already there and most probably uninvited. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, four eyes?” 

Levi’s eyes were seething with annoyance as he sees his friend sitting at his desk on his chair, spinning around like an idiot. It was hard to believe that this woman is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. 

“Shorty! You’re here!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the fine wood of Levi’s desk to stop the chair from spinning. 

“Get the fuck up before I strangle you to death, Hange.” 

Hange chuckles but stands up anyway, skipping before plopping herself on the couch in Levi’s office. “Can you relax? I was just here to remind you that I’m getting married.” 

Levi groans and rolls his eyes. “Who would fucking forget, Hange? You text a fucking countdown at seven in the morning in the group chat tagged to everyone. The mute option has been fucking useless since you learned how to do it.” 

Levi sits down on his chair and switches on his computer to return to work despite his friend’s unsolicited visit to his office. 

“Oh! I wanted to ask you something too! Do you have a date for the wedding? So I can take note of a plus one, maybe?” 

He gives a blank stare to his friend for a second before turning back to his screen. “You know you can ask me that through a phone call, right?” He began typing away on his laptop, answering a few emails Connie forwarded to him. 

“Well, you blocked my number so I thought that you’d rather see me in person.” Hange shrugs with a grin.

Levi pauses, remembering that he did block Hange’s number that one night she insisted for he come over and watch a horror movie with Erwin and Moblit. He was working and couldn’t turn his phone on do not disturb mode so he had to specifically block Hange’s calls. He then proceeds to forget to unblock her until now. 

“So, no date?” Hange presses further. 

Levi grunts, annoyed at the stupid question. “Who the fuck am I gonna bring? It’s not like I’m gonna bring a random girl to your wedding, Hange.” 

“You totally could. They’re called escorts,” Hange suggests like a know-it-all.

“I don’t want a random stranger in your wedding pictures, four eyes.” 

“I would rather have that than see you so depressing in my pictures with your bitch face. Oh! Want me to set you up on a blind date?” Hange’s voice rises again, something that happens when she gets excited over an idea. 

“Fuck no,” Levi spat. 

“Your last serious relationship was decades ago, Levi. Give it a try again.” 

If looks could kill, funeral flowers would be thrown at Hange’s casket instead of wedding flowers. His fingers hover over the keyboard, hanging frozen at her words. At the mere implication of you, his blood boils and his chest tightens. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well–”

“Are you saying I’m not over her again, Hange?” 

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows who was grinning cheek to cheek. Great. Erwin’s here. Maybe they could send a few more uninvited people, order greasy pizza, and have a party in his office. 

“Over who?” Erwin asks, ever the gossip man. Levi grunts and rests his forehead in his palms as Hange greets Erwin enthusiastically before answering.

“You know who.”

Erwin narrows his eyes at Levi before sitting down on the other edge of the couch. Hange tells him about getting a blind date. “You could try, Hange. I’ve set him up with surprise blind dates before and you know how that went.” 

“Can you two fucking shut up and leave? I’m trying to work here,” Levi spat in annoyance. The pair ignores his grumbling, carrying on their conversation like he wasn’t in the room.

“But I have never set him up with someone before,” Hange points out. 

Erwin purses his lips. “I doubt that you can find a girl better than me, Hange. I tried everything.” 

Erwin and Hange look at each other with mischief, clearly enjoying Levi’s suffering from their teasing. He knows they won’t stop. If anything, it only egged them on further.

Hange places a finger on her chin obnoxiously. “Maybe you could ask the girl to wear green next time.” 

Erwin nods, crossing his arms like he’s actually considering it. “Absolutely. We all know Levi still loves his greenie.” 

God, even her nickname is a pain to hear. 

Levi slams a hand down his mahogany desk so loud that people outside his office probably heard it. It didn’t faze his friends who were snickering on the couch though. They know he’s about to blow. He’s so frustrated that he almost ran a finger through his well-kept hair but caught himself before damaging it, exhaling loudly in frustration before speaking. 

“Look, you dipshits. I told you a thousand times. Forget about that damned woman. I’m not dating because I’m goddamn busy with all these expansions, not because I’m not over a girl who left us all without a fucking trace.” Every word is laced with venom and he ends it with a huff. 

“Fine. We get it. You’re over her but you’re still angry at her.” Hange rolls her eyes. 

Levi doesn’t know exactly when they started referring to her as mere stories or inside jokes. But evidently, it turned out that way. They used to be hurt at the thought of her disappearing. Slowly, they started to forget. Except him. He’s still angry and confused when he thinks of a reason why. 

“I am,” he admits.

“And if she comes to see you again? What will you do?” 

This question again, Levi thinks. 

He sighs. Like an automated machine, he answers the question as he did a myriad of times before, the first being the answer to one of your stupid games of what-if questions when you were together. Most were just ways to make him say those damn three words to you. It was usually just dumb things like “What if I was a worm?” and he would roll his eyes and tell you that he would unhesitatingly kill you before kissing you when you frown in disappointment. One question, however, deeply offended him more than anything. 

“Levi, what if I asked you to break up with me?” 

You were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, still reeling from the sad romantic movie the two of you watched where the disabled paralyzed man still decides to die even after he fell in love with his caregiver. 

Levi, who’s in the middle of choosing another movie from your collection of DVDs, freezes in his seat. He doesn’t turn to look at you but you see his whole body tensed up having heard what you said.

“What if we break up like that?” 

You repeat the question with a pout on your lips. Levi finally looks at you with a frown on his face. He sighs and looks away, gaze lifting up for a second as if he’s thinking. 

“No,” he answers even if the question upsets him. “We’re not gonna break up.”

You noticed that his mood falters from your question.  Feeling a little bad, you wrap a hand around his bicep, pulling yourself close to his side. With a smile, you lean in and give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. It was just hypothetical.”

He instantly leans unto you. He always does so when you’re near—like opposite sides of a magnet being pulled together by force. He always wants to be near you.

“Can you just go back to stupid questions like the worm shit?” He asks with a low voice, faces too close to each other that his lips could brush yours. 

You give him a teasing grin and hum, nodding but doing the exact opposite of what he asked. Ever his stubborn girl, you continue asking. “But what if I leave you?” 

He glares at you, not very pained this time, knowing it’s just you teasing again. Instead, his brows furrowed as he gazed down at you with his silver eyes. His eyes flick down to your lips and his lower lip brushes against yours for a millisecond. When you were sure he was about to kiss you, he shoves a hand at your face and pushes you away with a little force, making you land on the couch on your back. 

You laugh but curse him out loud for his attack. Levi huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“If you do that, I will ignore you for the rest of my fucking life. You’re dead to me.” He says it with so much conviction that you know he doesn’t mean a word of it. 

You sit up again, frowning then lightly slapping his shoulder. “That’s rude. What if I come back to see you, then?” 

He scoffs loudly, still looking away from you, and spots his box of cleaning supplies. Then, he says the second thing that comes into his mind, thinking that the first one he thought of would seem desperate and pathetic of him. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the words you hear from him causes an ever louder laugh out of you. He smiles before pushing you on your back again. This time, pulling himself on top of you and sealing your lips with a kiss. 

“I’d spray her with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on her stupid face, and kick her out.” 

Usually, the statement is so funny to them that it ends the conversation. Sometimes, he even gives them a demonstration where one of their unlucky friends gets to be on the receiving end. But this time, Erwin has a follow-up question that goes straight to Levi’s chest.

“And if she insists on staying? What will you do?” 

Levi went quiet. Hange and Erwin give a knowing sad look at each other that Levi doesn’t catch. They didn’t mean to push him this hard. But they had to know if he was ready. 

From just outside his door where Connie’s desk is placed, his secretary listens in as well. He heard about his boss’ ex. The whole office knows about it. His mysterious ex and the only woman Levi Ackerman loved. That was what everyone knew. But from spending too much time with his boss more than he wanted to, Connie had learned the following about his boss’ only relationship:

Her nickname is Greenie because she liked green tea. Levi prefers black tea but he accidentally told you he liked green tea too then ran with it for four months until Hanji revealed the truth accidentally.

The four of them knew each other for a long time. He doesn’t know if they met in high school or college. But in school, definitely.

After getting their undergraduate degree, she asked Levi to break up and broke his heart with words.

After the breakup, she disappeared from Paradis. Levi waited for her for a long time, broken and yearning. She didn’t come back. Now, all Levi has is bitterness in his body.

Those are what Connie gathered from his little detective skills to cope with having to work under the horribly mannered man. Then, he shares it with his best friend, Sasha, during his lunch break. 

He listens a little more, the email he was reading sitting idle for longer than it should. His boss still doesn’t answer. 

Inside, Erwin and Hange await their friend’s reply who is still lost in his own thoughts. Erwin decides to push him one last time. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“If she comes to you for closure, will you accept it? You’re over her, right? You can stay angry, that’s valid. She did you wrong. But will you at least hear her?” 

Levi keeps quiet but listens to Erwin. The word closure gives his stomach an unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to hear it. But it doesn’t matter. His friends were just bored and bluffing again. He can bluff too. 

“I don’t really care about her as much as you think I still do. When I see her, I’ll do what I said I would. Then it’s done. I don’t care what she does anymore.” 

It’s been five days since you coincidentally met Hange and Moblit. Before you parted ways, you exchanged numbers and your old friend has been messaging you nonstop. You appreciated it. Hange was always light-hearted and kind. You’re glad she found someone who appreciates her and takes care of her. So when she mentioned that there was a conflict with the invitations, you offered to fix it for her, knowing a thing or two about it. You handled project management a few times as an intern. 

There was once a time when you called her your best friend. You know that’s a title you no longer hold but either way, you were glad to talk to her again. Even if you know that in the very near future, you would have to face what it holds for you. Now that Hange is back in your life, it’s only a matter of time and you’d have to see your ex again. You lie awake at night thinking of what you’d do then. 

It was Saturday. That means no work for you after lunch, thankfully. You ground through your paper works and clients like a corporate machine all week, wanting to finish them before Saturday so you wouldn’t have to go overtime on a weekend. And after about nine cups of highly caffeinated green tea, you finally finished all your work for the week. Now free from the shackles of labor and capitalism, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder and headed out of your office and onto the elevator. 

Passing by Pixis’ office, you inform him you’re taking your leave which he cheerfully allowed, wishing you a happy weekend before you left his office. You bid him to have the same and left the building, anxious to see through the next events of the day. If this was a normal weekend, you’d be content with wasting away in bed as soon as you rushed home. 

You handled the invitations over the week, using your break time to oversee how it’s going with the printing service you trust for things like this. They generously accepted your request for a rush order, knowing who you are. 

The invitations were piled into a box on your coffee table by Friday, ready to be sent out to Hange’s guests. When you texted Hange that they were ready, she sent over her apartment’s address, telling you to personally meet her there on Saturday after work. She argues when you tell her you can just send it in the same day through an app, whining about how she wants to hang out with you. 

Hange, ever the persuasive and persistent person, got you to agree. That, and you still feel guilty for declining her invitation to her wedding. 

After you press the doorbell, you wait patiently with your left hand holding the small box of invitations. Her apartment was apparently a penthouse. An apartment in this building already costs an arm and a leg. Hange is smart and talented, one of her research must’ve been really successful. You also remembered that she was probably living with Moblit here. Ah, the wonders of having a partner in life—shared rent. Maybe you should get a roommate. 

When the door was taking too long to be answered, you shoot up a text for Hange. 

hey i’m here outside ur door ! :)) 

ok! just wAit a bit

It didn’t take Hange long to reply, easing your anxiety a little. When it takes more than a minute after she sends her text, you tilt your head in confusion. Are you at the correct address? Maybe you’re at the wrong unit. You were pretty sure you were on the right one, though. You rechecked it a few times. 

You wait a little bit more before ringing the doorbell again. You assume she’s probably grossed into something and can’t take the door at the moment. With a sigh, you wait a few more minutes, turning away from the door and deciding to scroll through your social media accounts that you barely use. 

A smile involuntarily plasters itself on your face when you see the posts of your coworkers from Trost. Warmth spreads to your chest as you see the office through the pictures, reminiscing your time there. It’s suddenly frightening, the realization that you’re alone in this huge city with no one to turn to. It’s a feeling you’re awfully familiar with, a state you’d rather not return to. 

When you feel yourself drift away to those thoughts, you pull yourself away immediately, figuring that the time you waited should be enough to press the doorbell again. 

But as you turn around to press it for the second time, the door swings open harshly in a swift motion, making you jump a little in surprise and fear as you hear an annoyed groan from a man that is most definitely not Hange coming with it. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did Hange give a woman my addre…”

The two of you froze. 

The raven-dark hair parted in the middle. The undercut. Those gray eyes and his beautiful piercing gaze. Those high cheekbones and soft cheeks. Those furrowed brows and scrunched forehead that was softly dissipated from his face when he sees you standing behind the door. Those delicate pink lips, now parted in awe and mirroring yours.

Neither of you can move like you were frozen in time. Every muscle in your body refused to move. Your brain stopped functioning and wasn't even able to conjure a coherent thought, much less a response. The only thing you could do was stare at the man you once called home. 

He still had dark under eyes but they were more prominent than before. You hate how it still suited him even if you hated how little he sleeps; they make his gaze heavier, willing you to get lost with him. A few strands of his fringe fall over his eyes. They were a little longer than what you were used to but it was still the same haircut you used to run your hand over when you were cuddling. It was a little unkempt. And even though his white shirt is a little crumpled, it still smoothly falls over his frame. It drapes from his defined shoulders to his waist until the hem of the shirt goes over the band of his gray sweatpants that hugged his legs loosely. 

He breaks the gaze spell when his eyes go over you, top to bottom. He stares at your shocked and devastated countenance, the casual but decent clothes that you changed into after work, the box in your hand, and the way your right foot has stepped further back than your left when he opened the door, ready to run away at the thought the man who opened the door was angry. 

You open your mouth to speak. You know you have to say something. Anything. Hi? Hello? How are you? Is this where Hange lives? Why the fuck do you still look so hot? 

But none of that comes out.

Why? 

Levi’s face hardens before you can speak, wiping off the bewildered eyes and replacing them with his infamous glare, silver eyes glistening with specks of anger. His mouth closes into a frown but not before scoffing at you. The scorned expression on his face shuts you right up for a second but you try and carry on.

This time, before you can speak, he slams the door shut in your face with an impact so loud it booms through your whole being enough to raise all the hair on your skin, leaving you standing there in his floor’s corridor appalled and deeply belittled.

Your startled brain is more confused than ever. As you decide to slowly process what happened and not even ten seconds after he harshly shuts his door, it swings open again, revealing the same man who not-so-gently shut it, with a hand still on the knob and the other holding something blue.

His arm outstretched towards you and you were faced with a nozzle of a familiar spray bottle. With a straight face, he sprays the fucking liquid right on your face. You immediately shut your eyes and mouth, leaning your face away from the spray. Although it’s far enough to not cover your face if you hadn’t moved, you still cringe when you feel the tiny droplets on your skin.

You lift one eye open, scared that he’s about to spray again. He puts the bottle down to his side, looking satisfied with his work. When you open both eyes, he shuts the door again, leaving you in the corridor with heightened emotions from the first time he did it paired with an itching aggravation. 

Was that a fucking Windex? 

Hold on. Windex? 

The door swings open again and he fully reveals himself without a hand on the knob like the two times before. This time he’s holding an orange cardboard box labeled Pure Baking Soda and reaches into it with his other hand. 

You shut your eyes close immediately, realizing what was happening when you remembered his words to you years ago. 

“I’d spray you with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on your face, and kick you out.” 

The baking soda hits your face, making your nose involuntarily scrunch up because of the fistful of powder he threw at you. When you guess that he’s satisfied after successfully throwing you the promised baking soda, you blink your eyes open, finding him still standing there with a straight face. 

“Are you done?” you asked with a deadpan face, covered with baking soda.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman #levi ackermann x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi imagine #levi fluff #levi smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fanfic #snk x reader #snk x y/n

[teddypickerry]

𝐈’𝐌 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍.

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 !

pairings — single dad! jess mariano

summary — this is the first part of my new series. where you request things jess does as a dad with his daughter alice (ex: throwing her a birthday party, helping her when she’s sick, alice and jess during a year in the life, luke and lorelai baby-sitting alice, etc.). this chapter is SIMPLY THE PROLOGUE! introducing alice & her story. but YOU HAVE TO REQUEST the rest of the fic. i will write some of the chapters with my own ideas but for the most part this is something you guys are helping me with. i’m so very excited for this series & for you guys to meet jess as a dad <3

warnings — this is NOT a jess x rory fic. this will only become a jess x reader fic if that is requested & it’s something i agree to. this fic will include language, drinking, mentions of sex, etc. but each chapter will have its own section of warnings personalized to its criteria.

word count — 2.8k

extras — i plan on writing several chapters of this. SO PLEASE REQUEST!

the california weeks were something jess mariano didn't reminisce fondly of. something about the lack of communication between him and his father and maybe knowing there was nothing waiting for him back in stars hollow. but the one good thing that came out of that trip was the drunken night hoping to forget his life with a girl he met on the beach. she was blonde, not his typical go-to but she wasn't hard on the eyes. so he accompanied her back to her dorm room alongside the college on the coast.

two months later jess was back in new york city. eighteen years old and left alone with the world. it was when he got a phone call from the same girl, announcing to him her pregnancy. this was something he could have never expected and honestly — hoped for. never once did the young adult think of something like this, especially to happen this way. but he had a responsibility and he was ready to grow up. that meant raising the child in his mind. so, months later, he watched his baby girl be born.

the night in the hospital was dreadful. the multiple day bus ride to california and lack of sleep only made his adrenaline rush more. the young woman expressed several complaints throughout the delivery, telling jess she was scared and she couldn't do it. the boy only told her they had a baby now, they had to take on this responsibility. and just like that, she was gone the moment the doctor signed the release papers. leaving jess mariano and a small child in his arms.

the journey back home was inevitable, a small bed in a shared apartment calling his name. a severe amounts of his savings were spent on a plane ticket back to the city. the few hours on a plane with a newborn much better than multiple days. considering, he was pretty sure the two would get kicked off. but jess mariano loved his little girl, alice, he had decided on. right before they were to leave the hospital. he loved their matching eyes and the way she smiled. he loved the way she squeezed his finger with her entire hand and the way she looked into his eyes. jess mariano had gone soft the moment his daughter was born. something he'd never admit.

the first few months were tiring. with the amount of shifts the new dad had to pick up to pay for simple products and the crying baby he lacked any amount of sleep. as did his roommates whom complained any chance they got. after continuously telling them off and spending some spare change on a pacifier, jess finally started to settle down. he started with making her own clothes out of his old t-shirts. of course they weren't pretty but he tried. but as time went on, he was able to afford the necessary items to make his babygirl happy. even though she would be happy nonetheless, as long as she had her dad.

the repetitive first months were still admirable in jess' book. he had never loved another being as much as he adored alice. he thought he loved rory but the way he felt for his child made any other kind of love incomparable. even if she spit up on him or wouldn't let him get a blink or sleep, he still found himself smiling at her sleeping late at night. proud of the little human who filled his heart.

the ending of the rotation began when jess was preparing for another shift at work. alice laid on jess' bed, pillows surrounding her like a nest to keep her safe from rolling over into their roommates crap. the young adult threw a t-shirt over his frame when he turned around, noticing the figure in the apartment door frame.

"hey, neighbor! the guys next door just ran out of crack to sell, so they sent me over to borrow a cup. hey, nice place. you put those holes there yourself?" luke danes questioned, pointing his flannel covered arm towards the large holes in the wall. the man hadn't seen his nephew in a little bit over a year, back when he was still seventeen and living back in stars hollow. when everything was different. "what are you doing here?"

"i just wanted to see how you're doing," luke shrugged at his nephews words as she glanced around the apartment. it was obvious he noticed the baby half asleep on the mattress, her pacifier in her mouth. assuming it was the other sleeping man's. "going great."

"great, you're doing great. wow, you're doing great. i'm not doing great and i have running water," he humored as jess huffed. the teenager grabbed his bag, throwing in a few of the things alice would need while she sat with him at work. "the place is fine."

"fine not great? what happened to great?" luke asked as he watched his nephew throw several children's items in his bag. his head glancing back and forth between his nephew and the baby. two and two connecting at the moment. jess sighed heavy, nearly waking up his roommate. "all this and no housewarming gift?"

luke turned towards his nephew with widened eyes, his finger locked in a point as he pointed between him and the baby once more. "jess... tell me why- tell me that's not..."

"spit it out, uncle luke." jess humored as he turned towards him in frustration, already being late for work. "what is that?"

"the ending of my adolescence," the boy shrugged as he zipped the bag. his curly hair bopped as he made his way over towards the baby, watching her flutter her eyes open. he offered her his arms as he picked her up. luke felt his heart stop as he watched jess with the baby, confusion entering his body. "you have a- a-"

"a little demon, hm?" jess hummed as he pressed his lips to her tiny forehead. turning back to his uncle with his daily poker face. luke still couldn't fathom the situation, still locked in a moment of shock. "why didn't you- you know, tell me? i mean when could this have happened? i saw you a couple months ago."

"thirteen months ago actually. when you kicked me out, remember? couldn't exactly ask for some help when you didn't want me," jess held the baby tightly as she watched her great uncle luke. the man looking right back at the baby. "jess, i would have- just... mom?"

"not here."

luke remained silent as he watched the small baby. noticing the similarities between her and the baby jess. "alice. her names alice," jess mumbled making his uncle glance up at him. "alice? that's a pretty name... too normal for you."

"well she's named after a rock legend," jess admitted making luke burst into a small smile as he watched the little girl. jess holding her forward. "here."

luke was quick to grab the baby, holding her in his arms protectively. he was in awe of the little baby who had yet to cry in the minutes he had been there. something that was so far from her father as a child. "so, why're you really here?"

"well uh, liz told me you weren't coming to the wedding." the man told his nephew, his eyes not leaving the baby cradled in his arms. "there no way you're here about that."

"i am here about that," he argued as he glanced up at the teenager who threw on his leather jacket. "why?"

"why? you're mothers getting married and you're not coming. you also have a new family member that she's gonna desperately want to meet. and i'm assuming, she's yet to hear about this little angel." jess' personal note, make fun of luke for calling alice a little angel... even though she kind of is a little angel.

"no biggie. i'll just catch the next wedding. they can meet ali then, i'm sure she'll have maybe another hair or two by then." jess joked as he reached his hands forward, motioning for his uncle to give him back his baby. luke sighed before obliging; very carefully handing him the babygirl. "jess, this guy is different."

"come on," the teenager choked on a laugh before turning down to look at his smiley baby. the girl had developed a habit of smiling at her father's voice within the past week and a half. it was wild to him how quickly she had grown, not even opening her eyes three months ago. "well he could be different, he seems different." luke attempted to argue, despite noticing jess falling into his own world with his baby. he was proud of jess for his responsibility taken on with the baby and the way his eyes lit up as he watched her. jess mariano was not the same boy that left stars hollow a year ago.

"i've seen him with liz. they seem to work. we need to support this thing, to give it a chance," the man shrugged as he watched his nephew glance up from his baby. "no we don't." he wasted no time going back to place his baby on the mattress as he gathered her blanket to wrap around. "you're gonna regret it, jess."

"doubt it," jess bit back his crooked smile as he wrapped the girl in her small blanket. the protectiveness from the spring new york chills. "no you are. if you ever manage to grow up and get yourself together and drop this selfish, self-destructive behavior that you are so fond of, if that ever happens, you are gonna look back on this moment, and you're gonna feel like a big seaming mound of crap that you missed this. and maybe you have changed, you have a baby now and you're looking at her like... a parent should look at their kid. and she's obviously not in a biker gang so maybe you're doing something right. but jess, you've got a bunch of smelly mattresses and no running water and a toilet in the middle of the room. this stubborn individuality or yours is costing your kid a good childhood."

jess' eyes narrowed as he turned to look over at his uncle. he hated that he agreed with some of his words, knowing alice deserved much more. but she had milk everyday, a warm place to sleep, and a dad who loved her very much. which is more than jess could ever say for himself. "does she seem malnourished to you?"

"what?" luke asked, with his signature confused face. "does she look malnourished to you? or unhappy for that matter? does the clothes with flowers on her back not scream happiness? or what about the fridge with multiple bottles? god, i must be abusing her then, huh?" jess argued as he placed her in his arms, the bag slung around his shoulder. "todd, get up its four!"

jess only shot his uncle an annoyed look as he shoved past him, exiting the apartment. holding his free hand over his baby's back with a soothing pat. "hm... ali, that was your uncle luke. he's kind of a jackass sometimes but he means well. you'll like him sometime, i promise." he whispered to his daughter as he made his way off to work. contemplating how he would explain his little girl to the small town of stars hollow.

it was only a couple hours later that jess mariano packed up his and his daughter's belongings to head to the small town a few hours away. a car ride full of rock CDs to teach his daughter to have an adequate music taste. he only battled with himself the entire shift. debating whether or not to go to the wedding or not. he had no doubt in his mind that he would see his mother's wedding once again. it seemed only every few months that she she found "the one." but his attendance meant a lot to luke for some odd reason. and whether he wanted to admit it or not, luke was the only person who was ever truly there for jess.

so the moment jess emerged in the small town, he sighed at the familiar signs. stopping the moment he saw the town gazebo, parking in-front of the william's hardware store. the curly haired boy stepped out of the car, immediately opening the backdoor and grabbing his baby. the bags thrown over his shoulder she slept peacefully against his shoulder. he could already feel the eyes on him around the town. he was a recognizable character within the small population. the baby in his arms didn't exactly keep him hidden either.

jess made his way into the familiar diner, lacking customers due to the after dinner crowd. the familiar bell only attracted the eyes of the people, the man behind the counter fighting a smile at the sight. "i'm not paying for a motel, so i'm staying with you." he called, making his way past towards the stairwell. they entered the stairwell and made their way up towards the apartment, not even wanting to hear any further comments. the silence from lorelai gilmore made luke turn his head in shock, not used to it.

"um- luke? please tell me that a hairless cat was just being cradled by your nephew right now." lorelai's jaw nearly dropped as she set down her mug. luke glanced around the diner, attempting to find a customer in need of some help. "that is alice."

"his babydoll...?" the inn owner tilted her head as luke let out a breath. "his daughter, my great niece. she's about three months i think. met her earlier, she's great."

"liar! i am not caught up on everything!" the girl gasped towards the man making him groan. "i was getting there but then the proof presented itself. and i only saw her a few hours ago."

"just wow... how is he dealing with all of this? i mean gosh... he's eighteen," lorelai thought aloud reminiscing on her own times as a teenage parent. the struggles and the rewards of having your best friend. the only difference was maturity in her mind. jess was still the immature and cold teenage dirtbag who broke her daughter's heart the year prior. but now he was a parent, just like that.

"i'm gonna go see them. you want to meet her?" luke asked the woman as she replied in a smile. "yeah, of course."

the two exited the empty dinner. luke granting caesar, his chef, privileges to run the place while he made his way upstairs. lorelai followed hesitantly, her mind still on her previously heart broken daughter the entire time. and the boy that had broken it now had a baby.

"ah you're here," jess announced without looking up from his little girl. hearing the sound of the door creaking open as the two entered the apartment. he currently had her in a clean diaper on his old bed, a giggle escaping her lips as he looked down at her. "i do show up occasionally," luke responded.

"hi, jess." lorelai greeted making the boy look up from his little girl. mixed feelings swarming throughout his body. having no idea why or how to feel about her at the very moment. "lorelai," he greeted before looking back down at his girl. "and who's this?" lorelai asked smiley as she followed luke over towards the baby and her father. alice smiled warmly at both people, her bright gestures resulting in smiles throughout the room. "this is alice."

"in wonderland?" she joked as he admired the little girl. jess pressed his lips together as he shook his head. "cooper."

a simple 'ah' escaped from the woman's lips. the desperation was obvious on her face as jess picked the baby up, handing her towards lorelai who proudly held her. jess never truly trusted anyone with his baby. but he knew lorelai knew a thing or two about kids and people in general. even though she lacked showing him that decent respect in the past. "she's so beautiful."

"she's my kid," jess humored as he made his way over towards the fridge passing luke who watched lorelai hold his great niece with pure love. something jess noticed immediately. "i wasn't sure what food to eat." he announced making luke turn towards him. "eat what you like. start with the expired stuff." his eyes glanced over towards the beautiful woman holding the beautiful the baby. a smile instantly forming on his face. "go out. i'm hearing good buzz about the chow mein sandwhich from al's. i got her. caesar can watch the store."

"yeah, i'm sure you haven't been without her since she was born. go get some food for an hour or so. it's the only break you'll get until she's eighteen and off at college," lorelai smiled as she rocked the little girl who was flapping her arms around. jess watched his daughter protectively for a second before sighing. "sure, yeah. i should go get some diapers - for her, anyways. i'll be back in an hour."

#gilmore girls #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #dad jessmariano #dad jess mariano #alice mariano #dad jess mariano series #rory gilmore #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #gilmore girls fic #teddypickerry

[collegetennisoriginstory]

I don’t even know how I beat both Emerson and jacks, the entire time I was just spinning a wheel and vaguely being like “oh yeah, my finesse is high”, I’m so sorry because even though I played through the entire demo I have not picked up a single bit of strategy or knowledge about tennis. It went through one ear and out the other, but god do you write the matches so beautifully. I was on the edge of my seat, clutching my pearls, literally had to close my eyes as I picked an option cause I was so worried about losing. The laser tag part was arguably my favourite though!!! I passed my mother out in the hallway getting water and she asked me why I was laughing so hard. Thank you so much for writing this!!! I’m looking forward to any updates!!! <333 please take care of yourself!!! Sorry for the long ask, anyways, ideal dates for the ROs???

HAHAHA yasss now I can't shake the image of you clutching your pearls and cackling in the hallway. Thank you for the message, it really made me smile.

So glad you enjoyed the laser tag, I go through phases of "SHOULD I JUST CUT OUT ALL THE RUBBISH FLUFF IN CT:OS" and "No no, someone out there is enjoying it", so it's definitely useful to get a vote in favour of the fluff.

Ideal dates for the ROs below the cut! (I only included one each, but I can imagine them enjoying more than one type of date!)

Tobin

Tobin and MC drive upstate, to visit a quaint little town. They stumble across a large thrift store and goof around with the dusty treasures, chat with the thrift shop owner and end up getting a bunch of silly things for each other (owner practically gives 'em away for free). They get brunch in a local diner/coffee shop, then hike in a forested national park nearby. Tobin's hand finds its way into MC's as they walk, and they follow a little creek through the trees, chatting and laughing. They grab a cinnamon doughnut before heading back.

Rayyan

Rayyan invites MC back home with them over the summer. In the morning, they go for a quick dip in a freezing-cold lake, then lie on a rock to dry-off, allowing the sun to slowly warm their skin. Then they head home and help their mother prepare lunch —a hugely elaborate affair—and spend the afternoon in the living room, napping/playing with the cat/chatting with their grandpa/siblings. Rayyan is... different with their family; more relaxed, at ease, and MC gets to see a side of them that they rarely see at training.

G

G and MC spontaneously take a bus downtown one afternoon, to attend an obscure Altai throat-singing concert that G heard of from a random brochure. It's a strange, but mind-blowing experience, and they stay to chat with some of the singers after, and they recommend a restaurant in the next town that serves amazing food. G and MC end up getting a lift from them so they can eat there for dinner; across the candle-lit table, G reaches for MC's hand. They spend the long bus ride back chatting until G falls asleep on MC's shoulder.

Sam

Sam and MC have known each other for a long time, but Sam still always finds a way to cook up some chaotic new adventure—like the time they ended up brewing purple rice wine in Sam's kitchen because they "watched a cool YouTube video". Now that Sam's in UCLA, MC has also been treated to all the best sites in the city of lights, long afternoons spent on the beach, playing beach volleyball, watching the sunset, getting tacos, then driving out to the desert to see the stars.

#CT:OS #asks #College Tennis: Origin Story #Interactive fiction #IF #ideal dates #Sam #G #Rayyan

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous |

⏮️ chapter 13: amaide ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2670

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: THIS IS IT! THE END IS NIGH. He’s a long one, that’s for sure. Thank you for anyone who has stuck through and tolerated every drawn out update - I appreciate it very much and hope you enjoyed it anyway xx

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui, @noniesgirl, @gyubagebin @kookiedesi​ @binniebutter​ @wonwooslibrary​​

You sit at the train station, the rain bucketing and splashing your legs. You can barely stand to check your phone.  Already, you can see the headlines: Princess To-Be Disappointing No-Show. That and the tens of voicemails probably piling up in your message bank. The disapproving hum of your mother, the squealing worry of Mingyu and Minghao. Soonyoung’s barely restrained desperation mixed with understanding only he could have. The guilt churns thick and slow in your stomach, a monster ready to rear its ugly head. But, amongst all that and your blurring tears, you find one you don't expect. Jihoon.

Your finger slips on a raindrop as you tap it.

“Hey. Uh, look. Whatever you're feeling and whatever you decide, it'll be okay. We'll still be here for you at the end of the day. But please, come home. We're all worried. Your grandmother is still waiting for you at the embassy. Everyone is. But, I'll be at home - uh, my place if you need me. Please, just be safe.”

There's another one, from an unknown number.

“Y/n,” your grandmother. “I know you're scared. I'm sorry if you ever felt like I was pushing you into this. So much has been riding on your shoulders, all so soon. And looking back, we should have waited. I should have waited. As much as I may not have looked it, I always cared. You’re family, our legacy. I'll still love you, whatever choice you make.  You could never disappoint me - anyone. I love you.”

That's all you needed. Mingyu's attempt at motivation could fall flat, Minghao terrible with your specific type of sympathy. Even Soonyoung’s familiar reassurance or anything your parents could ever say wouldn't sink in. They were all you wanted to hear. Grabbing your bag, you take off running, back to the bus stop back into the city. You might never make it. But you'll give it a damn shot. Violently struggling to tap on your transport pass, you slump into a window seat by the front, sighing in relief as it begins to putter away.

The scenery gets gradually slower and drivers’ thick brows furrow. You sit up wearily as we splutter to a stop, the air brakes whooshing anyway.

“W-why are we stopping?”

He turns to the few of us seated. “We've broken down. Probably the oil or something. I’ve called the depot and we’ll have a replacement shortly. Just sit tight.”

“We - what?” you squeak, getting up into the aisle. “No, no no no! I've got to be at the Amaide embassy! I have a ball to go to!”

He shrugs, opening the doors to let air in. “Sorry, Cinderella.”

You climb out the vehicle, out into the rain again. The road is straight and relatively unmarred. You'll have to run. Shouldering your bag oddly, slinging both straps of the duffle over each shoulder you start to sprint.

It's a bad, short lived sprint. Why you don’t think of a taxi is beyond you.

Your chest is heaving with pain, and so are your legs, crying out for relief. You look to the sky, unforgiving and heavy. You throw your side into a wall as you drag yourself along the footpath. You'll never make it.

“Oh - my - god. This is - how I die. Dead in a - in a puddle.” You sniffle through heaving breaths.

Leaving against the wall, you try holding back another sniffle before giving up, rubbing at your cold, running nose instead.

A car honks. Dropping your head down, you see the official envoy pull up, the door kicking open and the drivers’ window roll down. Junwoo and...Jihoon?

“Come on, princess. You're late!” the bulky man calls with a smirk.

You push off, throwing yourself into the leather seats. Jihoon is across from you, sitting neatly in his simple black suit. God, he looks good in it.

“Thank you for finding me.” You smile.

“Well, after that text and then you didn't show up, something had to have gone wrong. And Junwoo was going out to look for you anyway. Queen's orders.”

You sink into your seat as he passes you a towel. “Gotta love Grandmother.”

“She wasn't giving up on you too soon.” The stocky guard in front says through the open partition. You catch his smile in the rear view mirror. “Especially when Jihoon showed up.”

You pat your arms down and rub furiously at your hair. The cold is only just starting to sink in, wetting the leather under you and sending a shiver through your torso. Jihoon sighs and tosses another fluffy towel over your legs. You slide side to side on the seat a little as Junwoo zips through town while trying to be reasonable.

“Oh well, I'll definitely be making an entrance. Not the prettiest thing to ever get out of an Amaide envoy. Certainly not very princess-like.” You chuckle, throwing the first towel helplessly round your shoulders.

Jihoon’s gaze is warm on you, for once resting for more than a few moments in your direction. His pitch black hair is rustled from the gale that the rain brought with it.

“You're always beautiful, Princess.” He hums.

You laugh breathlessly, ducking your head. He was always so soft-spoken but never failed to make you at least a little flustered.

“How come you were ready so soon?” You squint at Jihoon.

“I was ready even before you messaged me. Call it intuition, but I had a feeling I’d end up here tonight, whether you knew it or not.”

The embassy houses are starting to pop up and you know you're close, even though the rain hasn't let up. You would never have made it in time with your ridiculous idea.

Junwoo pulls up an umbrella and the lot of you usher yourselves inside. Jihoon is swept away in the backstage madness, with not even a chance of goodbye. Soonhee is standing in her soft champagne dress, sash in red over her shoulder and across her middle. She smiles warmly and you don't care how much her dress costs for once as you barrel into her. She makes a soft grunt with the force but delicately wraps her arms around you.

“Thank you for not giving up on me. Sorry I'm late.” You mumble into her shoulder.

“Of course. You're a Park at heart. You're strong enough to make the right decision. It may not have been easy or kind and it might have taken a little while, but you're here.” She says haughtily. “Now, I’ve stalled for as long as I can but that means you're going to have to go out there as you are. There's no time left.”

How did everyone but yourself know you were gonna be here? 

You pull back to look at her with furrowed brows. “Are you sure you can't do any more? I don't want to go out like this for you or Amaide.”

Soonhee shakes her head. “I'm sorry. But, I think this will do. It’s...how do you say, authentic. I am glad and incredibly proud that my people will be in your hands.”

Soonyoung has wormed his way back behind the heavy velvet curtain. He giggles at the sight of you.

“Hey Boss! Bit late?”

“Just a little. Weather is vicious.” You shrug.

He slings an arm around you, rubbing fondly at your hair under the towel. “Say what you feel. It’ll come out right. See you after.”

You swallow and nod. Soonyoung gathers the queen up with Junwoo and they both exit down a short hall to the main ballroom. You sling the towel round your neck for later. Someone would announce you when you were ready. And you had to be ready now. You glance to an attendant to your left and nod resolute, heaving a calming breath.

You hear your name and the curtain pulling away to warm bright lights and a podium ornately carved with lemon tree motifs - you know, you watched them pull it out from storage. There’s the violent, sickening shutter of cameras but you hold firm, plastering on a nervous smile, your towel slung round your shoulders.

Your grip is tight on the wood as you lean into the mic. “Hello. Good evening. I apologise for the wait - the weather is a bit horrendous.” A smattering of laughter from press and guests. The lights aren’t blinding but you’re trying not to focus on the many faces on you. “Thank you for attending tonight. Amaide’s freedom and independence has always been our pride. But, I understand if that’s not really why you’re here. And that sort of sucks. Because our country and our people should not boil down to the latest tabloid gossip. We have a thriving tourism and agriculture sector and are one of the few modern societies with a very active and well-functioning monarchy - and a matriarchal one at that. We should be celebrating its freedom and everything that makes it what it is. But, I digress.

“As of half an hour ago I was sitting at a train station in the pouring rain, running away from all of this. And think about it, three months ago, I didn’t even know about this world. And I didn’t think I was ever going to be ready. You’ve all seen my face more in these last few months than anyone ever has all my life. These events have turned the lives of myself and everyone I care about upside down. They have borne this mess none of us ever asked for. I love them all so much that I didn’t want to ruin my home.

“But - oh but. Amaide is home for millions of people. And it could be my home too. I mean, you all just heard me wax poetic about a place I’ve never been. But, it is part of who I am. Who I am going to be. I would never dream of hurting it. I’m so desperate to take care of my home, always have been.

“So with that in mind, I make my claim as Princess and heir apparent to Amaide’s throne - to the future.”

You smile and the delegates make raucous applause. Camera shutter click and flash but you hold steady. You have claimed your birthright. Now it's time to make the right impression for once.

You tip your head. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to dry off a bit before I catch the flu! Please, enjoy your evening.”

You’re ushered off to the side stage then around the back to servants quarters. Antoni is violently brandishing a round brush and Dyson Air Wrap like a club.

“Where is the Princess! Chop chop!” He cries out.

Massive, calloused hands are firmly on your shoulder blades and shove you into his direction - damn Junwoo, enjoyed any pain that you endured. His eyes light up then he goes pasty.

“This? This is my canvas? Ey, I have my work cut out, huh?” He shoots you a look. “Always the hard road, hmm Princess? Come come, we fix.”

You are whirled up the staircase where Antoni makes quick work of you. The gown fits perfectly, all those fittings paying off in the speedy transformation. Antoni knows what he’s doing, determined as he works around you, drying your hair out for some more control.

“I try to keep you a little natural - we want a good, open impression of you, Princess. Looks can be everything, huh?”

Your hair draped behind your ears and up off your neck in twists and layers where you didn’t know where your hair began and ended. A glittering hair comb, part of the private collection, just like the heavy set necklace that rested against your collarbone, dazzling and weighty. Antoni claps his hands, triumphant. “You are done - beautiful! My work is perfect! Come, the queen will give tiara.”

The embassy is no longer daunting, the staircase not a passage to doom. You turn to Antoni and tip your head.

“Thank you, for your help tonight.”

He scoffs and waves you off. “Is honour, Princess. I must go and ready myself for the people. They will all want to know who dressed the future queen of Amaide.”

You laugh as he whirls back out the way he came and you look to the attendant again, motion to call.

“Announcing Princess Y/N, of Amaide.”

The red curtains part and you step back into the light.

The queen holds a sparkling tiara, the most stunning thing you’d ever seen. This, you hadn't organised. Your grandmother was quite secretive about this part, insisting it was something she must do alone.

She raises it and you tip your head down so that she could place it on your head. “This was my first tiara, also gifted by my grandmother at my coming out ball. I was not meant to be queen. Neither were you. Now look at where we are. Now you must shine.”

A round of applause and your sight falls on your mother's eyes glassy and red as she smiles, her applause one of the few that mattered at that moment.

When you step to the main floor, you are swarmed by diplomats and the like with congratulations. Soonyoung is by your side in a heartbeat to mitigate them as quickly as possible, while turning the lights on even more and the strings rising in. A lot of greetings and thank you’s and “look forward to discussing the topic of choice with you at a later date.”

Then, as soon as you’d finished, the people fell away and you spot Jihoon by a pillar, close to the string orchestra. Of course he was where the music was.

I sidle up next to him, watching the orchestra. “Evening.”

He glances at you and smiles. “Evening, Princess.”

“How’s your night been?”

“I did meet the conductor here. Got some tips, had a chat. I can keep myself busy.”

You mock frown. “That’s the conductor of Amaide’s Philharmonic Orchestra, you know - the queen pulled out all the stops. But, I had sort of hoped you would be at least a little bit bored. What am I supposed to do to top that for someone like you?”

“Not sure. Maybe become princess?” Jihoon smirks.

“You’re annoying. Lee Jihoon, will you do me the honour of being my first dance partner?” You pout up at him a little, clasping your hands in your lap. “I saved it for you. Even over my own parents!”

“Of course. How can I deny that?”

He guides you gently out to the mosaic floor, settling you in front of him. In your time training and with Jihoon as a music major, you yourself have come to appreciate the string set playing tonight - you might not know the song, but it’s very beautiful and fits the energy of the room. He starts with a simple, not very royal, sway. With your meticulously manicured hands slung up round his neck, you let the fact that this is your first dance as princess, in public, cameras shuttering only metres away fall to the back of your mind. You’re happy that this moment would be one of the first pictures for the news outlets. You wanted it documented.

“Are you sure you’re okay with a princess as a potential girlfriend? We’re very prim and proper and not very fun. We certainly shouldn’t be going out for fried chicken and drinks on a weekly basis.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m sure you can make an exception.”

“For you?” You quirk a brow.

Jihoon gives you an unimpressed look. “Yeah, I guess for me.”

“Well, of course then!” You laugh. “Anything for you!”

And after all this, you really mean it. He grits his teeth and grins, tightening his grip on you and giving you a forceful spin that has you cackling. Jihoon doesn’t even get tangled in your dress!

“I didn’t know you could dance.” You chirp.

“I’m a music major. I’ve got rhythm.”

“Shut up.”

final notes: well, here we are. the end of an excessively drawn out two...three? year journey. i hoped you enjoyed it as much as i did. and i certainly hope i did justice any sort of expectation you may have had walking into this. thank you so much for all the support, i promise it did not go amiss! who knows? maybe i might pull a “princess diaries 2: the royal engagement” just to be funky...

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #seventeen smau #seventeen au #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #jihoon au #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #jihoon smau #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fic #woozi au #woozi scenario #woozi imagine #woozi smau #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

[suomeen]

Chapter 3: The Longest Journey

We departed on December 20. Took the bus at 2 pm and went through 3 of Ukraine’s major cities to pick up other passengers and head for Poland. The trip started out well but soon things began to go south. The bus itself was alright. However, the site boasted outlets for your devices and free wi-fi. Which is true technically. Except the outlets were the type basically nobody uses in Europe and the wi-fi… there was a whole of 250 MB, all for the taking for your 16-hour ride. The seats were fine but the human body is not really made to sit in one place for so long. My knees were soon hurting and I barely had any sleep.

The trip itself was a bit of a mess too. Flixbus clearly doesn’t want to pay for extra buses for emergency situations so when another one of their buses broke, our driver had to pick up its passengers. Then another company’s bus broke and we took some of its passengers too. Sitting in a bus for hours is bad enough, but at least we weren’t the ones standing in the aisle, wet from the rain. We felt sorry for those people but it was very frustrating for everyone. This incident set us back a few hours. Then there was the border crossing.

Poland was startlingly unwelcoming. I didn’t expect much. I knew we were way past the “Poland is our best buddy” early war honeymoon illusions but this encounter still took me by surprise. We arrived at about 5 am but had to wait for a few hours in a line of other buses before finally proceeding to the border control. At first, they had the few men on the bus go there, making sure they had the right to leave the country. Then it was the rest of us. There were about 5 Poles at the checkpoint and they were not happy to see us. I honestly don’t know what our people did in these 2 years that they hated us so much. First a blond middle-aged woman came up to the bus and began to shout at us in Polish to get out in groups. I understood most of it, but I shouldn’t be expected to. Then we went to show our documents to a few dudes in booths who asked us where we were going and why. After that, a tall handsome young man began to rummage in some people’s bags. He took his time dismantling one woman’s bag, which mostly contained children’s clothes. Her little son, about 3, wanted to help and I don’t like children much, but he was adorable and made all of us passengers smile. Not the Poles though, they didn’t budge. None of them spoke Ukrainian or Russian, or maybe didn’t want to. I wonder who pissed them off so much. We were tired and stressed out as it was and this felt like we were some sort of criminals, not women and children fleeing from a war.

I managed to book a trip directly to the Warsaw airport so, despite the delay, we still had 2 hours to get on the plane. I was just glad we took a plane because 16 hours on a bus wrecked me and I can’t imagine 40, which is what most other people had to endure. We got the world’s most expensive coffees and muffins and took off. The flight was delayed but only by about 10 minutes so it was fine. The Finair plane was kinda small but the flight was very smooth. The weather was rainy but up there, above the clouds, the sun shone brightly and I felt my heart healed a little.

Finland greeted us with blinding whiteness and I felt a strange comfort when we finally arrived. But there was still a good chunk of road ahead.

Normally, most people in our situation would just go to Helsinki and apply for asylum at the closest police department. But this way you get assigned to any place in the country they see fit. Our plan was different. Since we had a friend there and we wanted to be close to her, we were to go to the large city nearest to her and apply there. She even asked at the reception centre and was told they would be expecting us and we would probably get an apartment that was prepared for moving in.

So first, we had to take a city train to get to Tikkurila. Then we had to take the intercity train to a city where we would later be living. But instead of going there, we were to stay at our friend’s so we then had to take another train that got us closer to her where she could pick us up.

I had no internet connection of my own and got to rely on whatever hubs were available. There were none at the station and I was getting a bit panicky that I would miss the train. I had to bother a few Finns for directions, the first of many. They were very friendly and tried to help the best they could. As I got into the train, I had trouble opening my ticket on the ancient tablet I had but the conductor was nice and patient with me and let me take my time as he went on to check the tickets of other passengers.

The intercity train was great. Fast and smooth, it was the best part of the trip. The cars were clean and comfortable. Everything was designed to make the trip enjoyable for everyone. The Finns looked relaxed and many took off their shoes for the ride and stretched their legs languishly.

We also found ourselves in the children car. The idea of such a car would probably sound a little annoying to me, but I was happy to be there. There were many parents with small children and a part of the space was free of seats with some stuff for them to play in. Small kids were running around back and forth in the aisle. Some fell a few times but nobody seemed to worry, kids or parents. They just got up and continued on their way. I sat next to a Finnish mother with a tiny baby. I don’t care about babies that much but I couldn’t stop looking at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so gentle and tender and loving as she was with her child. The whole car had such a soothing atmosphere of peace and joy. It later turned out that we took the wrong car and when the rightful owners of these seats came, we had to move to another. But I’m glad we made that mistake so I could experience this.

This train was also slightly late. Not by much, but enough that we were risking to miss the transfer. I’m glad I decided to seek help from the lovely young woman staff, so we just barely made it to our final train, which was a small local train, far less glamorous. After bothering some more Finns, we finally got help from a nice older man and made sure we were going the right way. After another 40 minutes, we finally stepped off the train and into the dark, immediately greeted by our friend and her husband.

It wasn’t the longest trip of my life but it sure felt like it and was certainly the most intense and nerve-wrecking. Honestly, I don’t even know how I survived the journey, let alone got it all right, though a lot of it was thanks to the lovely Finnish people.

We did not immediately go to their place. First, we went to the nearby building to have our photos taken for the police. Your document photos never look good but having them taken after a 28-hour journey makes them extra ugly. Though I suppose fitting for a refugee application. Finally, after a short drive, we arrived at the house we would spend the next week at.

[mudskip-muses]

@ult-mechanic​ 

As soon as the trip was announced, Gundham knew he was going to hate it. He was only going to please his mother, the angel worrying about his lack of friends at the school, so this was used as a way to ease her mind with the promise that he would at least try to speak with his classmates. There were very few that were worth his time, but Gundham didn’t say as much to his mother, knowing very well she would just scold him, say that you couldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, and he needed to give them a chance. He had scoffed at all this, but there was a smile none-the-less, the breeder knowing very well her worry came from a place of love.

So he had agreed to the trip, and by some humorous twist of fate, Gundham was assigned to be “buddies” with the one person who loathed him the most. 

...Alright, perhaps that was a bit much with what the breeder knew now. Kazuichi...wasn’t all that bad, he simply...

No, it was bad. Any comradery the two had while hunting for his lost pet was surely that of convenience and nothing more. They had hardly spoken after that, so Gundham could only assume his usefulness had come to an end for the mechanic, and now here they were, thrown together by an ill will of causality to spend an entire weekend at each other's side with hardly a hope of reprieve. 

They hadn’t even arrived at the motel yet and already the breeder was on edge, teeth grit and fingers dug into the sleeves of his coat where his arms were crossed as he seethed in his seat on the bus, every noise from his overexcited classmates grinding on his nerves. The only saving grace was his Devas, Cham-P popping out from his coat with what looked to be earbuds in his little mouth. Gundham was confused at first, knowing very well they weren’t his, but he wasn’t about to complain for a moments peace in a maelstrom of sounds. 

The ride after that had been relatively fine, save for having to watch the mechnic out of the corner of his eye to ensure his motion sickness didn’t get the better of him. And if Gundham handed him a bottle of water from his bag when he started to look a bit ill? He simply didn’t want to get thrown up on, was all.

Music playing loud enough that it was a miracle the little speakers hadn’t blown, Gundham almost missed the stopping of the bus, jumping as he was snapped from his day dream when everyone started to exit. The next set of instructions was uneventful, the city was theirs to roam so long as a teacher knew where they were, and they checked in with one every few hours. Curfew was eleven, and groups could pair up, but you had to stay with your buddy to ensure no one got lost. 

The last bit, though, caught Gundham’s attention: There had been a mix up with the hotel, a few rooms that were meant to be doubles were instead booked as singles, and with the full capacity of the hotel, there wasn’t much that could be done about it, save for extra pillows and blankets to be given if someone wished to sleep on the floor instead of sharing a bed. He should have known then and there that the fates weren’t done with him, the sight of a single bed upon opening the door stopping the overlord dead in his tracks, eyes staring blankly at it for several long moments before his bag was dropped inside the door with a rattle of its contents. 

Turning to Kazuichi, Gundham took the mechanic’s bag from his hands, tossing it into the room before pushing him out into the hall and closing the door behind them. “I desire a coffee.” Was the only explanation that Kazuichi got, and since the breeder still had both keys to their room, he didn’t have say in the matter...

#oh man not only were they roommates but there was only one bed!! #you know theyre both gonna be stubborn and refuse to sleep on the floor lmao #fucking idiots #muse: gundham tanaka #ult-mechanic

[blurban-form]

Motornormativity (4/4)

Conclusion: “…and why should I care?”

Ok, so why is this even a thing?

Anyone active in urban planning or transportation planning / civil engineering will be very familiar with the lively discussions taking place about changing the paradigm re: transportation… that we can’t keep building more roads to solve congestion issues and that our cities need to be more compact, to make them more sustainable by using less energy.

(There are multiple benefits to a less auto-oriented culture, but energy use reductions and sustainability are a big one.)

Cities cannot reasonably expect their residents make the necessary changes unless the alternatives are seen as viable options. This is going to remain a challenge until the infrastructure for these modes is available (like sidewalks and bike lanes) and there will always be trade-offs; transit today is routinely at least going to take 2x or more time to make a trip compared to a car.

There also need to be inviting places to walk, bike, ride transit, and socialize.

Like other cities similar to it, Brisbane has some of the necessary elements to be less auto-oriented… but is still very much auto-oriented.

Note that not all cities are stuck in this situation. Over the last fifty years, Copenhagen has made a shift towards active transportation, and Curitiba is an example of a city that changed to make heavy use of bus rapid transit. But in Copenhagen’s case, this has meant taxes and fees to dissuade people from driving. And Curitiba is maxing out its BRT capacity.

As long as people still believe that they have no choice but to drive, people will not change their habits. Providing more transport choices and raising awareness about those modes will be key. “Bluey” has actually made some efforts to do this, perhaps without even intending to do so!

It may be a sweeping statement but people all tend to take for granted what we've grown up with. What happens in “Bluey” episodes will seem familiar to anyone who’s about the same age as “Bluey” and Bingo’s parents. Incorporating ideas into these stories that make alternatives to driving “ok” and “not unusual” helps encourage children and their families to consider such options seriously, particularly given that many people seem open to emulating the Heeler’s parenting styles / “taking advice from a dog” 😉

Feel free to send me your thoughts on this. -Dave

Some further reading

Newman, Bartley, Boyer. Resilient Cities: Responding to Peak Oil and Climate Change. Island Press, 2009.

Kunstler. The Long Emergency. Grove Books, 2006.

#Bluey transportation #Bluey paradigm shifts #Bluey

[detroit-grand-prix]

Wildest Dreams Chapter 2 - It’s Nice To Have A Friend

Chapter summary:  Phoebe ages out of karting and gets ready to compete in Formula Renault after having joined the Red Bull Racing driver academy. She turned Mercedes down, but she still managed to gain a mentor in Susie Wolff, another female driver who is currently one of Williams' test and development drivers. Even so, now that she's moved up to actual single-seater racing, a lot changes. More pressure, more expectations, more time away from home and school. Somehow, though, it’s fun.

Chapter word count:  3,435

Author’s note: I’ll put notes/references about each chapter here, because a lot of these took some research.

Anyway, the Schlossplatz is a big historical public square in Stuttgart, with a big palace that was rebuilt. There’s a Christmas market there every year. 

Phoebe competed in both the Formula Renault 2.0 Northern European Cup and the Eurocup series in the 2013 and 2014 seasons. The results/schedules for the actual races can be found here: 1 2 3 4

Previous Chapter

Stuttgart Mitte, Stuttgart, Baden-Württemberg, Germany March 14th, 2013

The next month passed quickly. Arrangements were made with Susie Wolff to meet her and her mother for lunch. Bee took the day off of school for it, and her mother took a few hours off of work. Susie suggested a restaurant in Stuttgart’s city center, near the Schlossplatz, that she said had good food.

Bee and her mother took the bus from their house in the Degerloch neighborhood to the Schlossplatz and walked to the restaurant from there - Josephine said it was easier than trying to find parking near the city center, even in the middle of the week, even though the bus ride would have taken twice as long as driving did. Either way, Bee was excited about going to the Schlossplatz - it was her favorite part of the city, with its wide open square and the gorgeous Neues Schloss. During the winter, she loved coming to the outdoor skating rink they set up here, and going to the Weihnachten during Christmas.

They found the restaurant, which was a German restaurant that served mostly tourists, which struck Bee as odd for some reason - it wasn’t as if Susie was a tourist, per se.

When Toto mentioned his wife being a professional racing driver, something clicked in Bee’s brain. She remembered going to DTM races when she was younger when there was a woman on the DTM grid named Susie Stoddart. The image of her was burned in Bee’s mind - a blonde woman that drove a car with a pink livery. It was hard not to notice one of the only female drivers driving a bright pink car, but she never stood out in Bee’s mind beyond that, as her results were never exceptional, at least when Bee still kept up with DTM. 

She and her mother stepped inside the restaurant (“Carl’s Brauhaus”) and Bee recognized Susie immediately. She still looked the same, more or less, as she did the last time Bee had seen her at the Hockenheim DTM race two years ago. Susie looked up from a menu and waved at them Bee and her mother stepped up to the host stand. She stood up and offered a handshake to Bee and her mother as they approached the table.

“Hello! I’m Susie Wolff, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Josephine, and this is my daughter, Phoebe.” Josephine put her hands on Bee’s shoulders, encouraging her to step forward, like she was shy. Bee thought it unnecessary - she wasn’t afraid of this woman, or anything.

Bee offered her hand, “You can call me Bee, though. Most people do.”

“So, Bee - ” Susie said as the three of them sat down. “From what I hear, you’re a pretty good racing driver, at least in karting. Toto has told me a lot about you. He said he really enjoyed meeting you.”

Bee blushed a little. “Thank you… I liked meeting him, too. I feel bad I ended up going with Red Bull, I hope he wasn’t upset.”

“He wasn’t, he understood your reasoning, but I think Niki - Niki Lauda, he’s managing the team with Toto - was a little confused. I told him that it’s different to be a woman in this sport, and people would find any reason to scrutinize you being in it. If you didn’t want to join Mercedes because your father works for the company, because Red Bull is better-established, and you had another option, that’s perfectly reasonable to me. Anyway -”

Susie picked up her menu. “I hope you don’t mind that I picked this place. I wouldn’t normally get something like all of this heavy Swabian food, but I haven’t been to Germany in a while, and I quite like the food in Stuttgart. Order whatever you’d like, this is on me.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, thank you.” Josephine said. She and Bee both perused the menu and a waiter came over to take their order.

Susie put in her order while Josephine told Bee what she wanted, to relay to the waiter in German. Susie looked at Bee with a puzzled expression.

“Sorry,” Josephine explained, noticing the way Susie was looking at her. “My German isn’t that great. I can get by, and I can read it better than I can speak it. Even after living here for ten years, I can’t seem to get a hang of it. Bee learned it in school when she was a kid, my husband - John - uses it at work every day, but I work for an American company that has an office here in Stuttgart, so everyone just speaks English. Sometimes Bee has to translate.”

Susie nodded. “It’s hard. When I started racing in DTM, I didn’t know any of it, but they told me I pretty much had to learn it if I wanted to stick around. Luckily, I was living in Switzerland then, so I picked it up quickly, but it’s all I was using every day.”

All three of the women chatted a bit about everything - how the Stallards came to live in Germany, Bee’s karting career, and school.

“So, let me get this straight - you live here in Germany, but you go to an American high school?” Susie said.

“Yes,” Bee said. “I went to a German primary school and then on to a Gymnasium, but I never really fit in that well, so I changed to the school on the army base last year.”

“Plus,” Josephine said, “For some reason, schools here in Baden-Württemberg have classes on some Saturdays, and that just didn’t work with Bee’s racing schedule. There’s so many weekends where we’re out of town for karting races that it just wouldn’t have worked if she’d gone to a German school.”

“And if I end up going to college, I’d like to go back to the US for it. So I don’t really need the Abitur, the diploma you get from going to a Gymnasium, but I’m still not sure if that’s what I want to do. If I can’t make it in racing, I will. But I’d like to be in racing for as long as I possibly can.” Bee said.

Susie looked at her thoughtfully.

“That brings up a good point - do you have any specific goal you’d like to achieve? How far do you want to go?”

“Well… I’d like to make it to F1 someday. I know it’s going to be hard. But… that’s my goal. If I can’t make it that far, I’ll figure things out. But… I just know that I want to race. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I met Sebastian Vettel.”

“She went to the German Grand Prix in 2011,” Josephine interjected. “Her dad managed to get pit lane passes through work, so she met her favorite driver. Since then, all she’s wanted to do is become a racing driver.”

Susie smiled at her. “I felt the same way when I watched Jensen Button during a Formula 3 race my parents took me too. Racing was all I wanted to do after that. I think you can do it. It’s going to be difficult. It has been for me, but I think things are maybe starting to change."

Bee absolutely loved meeting Susie. They had a lot in common. Susie gave Bee her contact information and told her to call her any time she needed advice. They talked about her upcoming step up to Formula Renault. Bee had been fortunate enough to have landed a seat on a team and the sponsorship from Red Bull to compete in two series - Formula Renault 2.0 Northern European Cup series and the 2.0 Eurocup series.

She was surprised that it didn’t seem difficult to find a team willing to take her, but this was no doubt due to the influence of her coming with the sponsorship of the Red Bull academy. She’d also been lucky enough to end up with a German team, so she wouldn’t have to move away from home, like she’d known a lot of other drivers ended up having to, especially if they weren’t from Europe.

The next few months before the new racing season started in the spring were agonizing. Bee had effectively aged out of karting and hadn’t raced in months. She started working with a fitness trainer from Red Bull to try to put on some muscle, especially in her neck. There was also the PR and media training, and occasional trips to Milton Keynes in the UK to visit Red Bull Racing headquarters for meetings and events that she had to participate in. On top of that, with the arrangements she’d had to make with her school around her race schedule, she’d have to go to summer school to get ahead for the upcoming school year, as she’d be gone almost each weekend the following fall.

It wasn’t all dire. One of her trips to Milton Keynes for PR purposes was to finally get the race suit and helmet she’d been fitted for, and to have publicity photos taken for the Red Bull website. She could hardly believe it when she’d put the suit on and looked down at herself wearing it. It was magnificent. It fit her far better than any of her karting suits had, because she’d always had to buy ones made for boys - there just weren’t any options for girls, and it had been mostly fine until she’d hit puberty and began to develop. Her karting suits would always be too baggy in some places and too tight in others. This one had been made to measure, specifically for her.

She loved everything about it - the spectacular navy blue, the red and white stripes going up the side, the American flag embroidered at the belt with STALLARD next to it in white letters. She’d also been fitted for a helmet and a HANS device, which she found strangely comfortable. She had heard some drivers found the HANS restrictive, but she sort of liked the feel of it.

She almost didn’t want to take her racing gear off after the photoshoot and filming her introduction video was done. She admired herself in the mirror when she first tried it on, imagining herself on a Formula 1 podium, Sebastian Vettel standing on the second step, as they showered each other with champagne.

Bee made sure to keep in touch with Susie and Toto, and they were kind enough to invite her to visit when she had to be in the UK if they were home, because their home in the UK wasn’t very far away from Milton Keynes. It seemed that almost all of the motorsport people and teams she knew of all were around the same area of England, which made sense when she realized where the infamous Silverstone Circuit was. Bee had started feeling a bit of the pressure of the realities of being an up-and-coming racing driver, but being able to talk to Susie, who had been in her shoes before, helped quite a bit.

By the time testing time for her team came around, she was nervous about driving a proper single seater car instead of a kart for the first time. There wasn’t much to worry about, though, as she took to it like a duck to water. It was more enclosed than the kart, like climbing into a small bathtub, but she didn’t mind it so much. She had a naturally slight frame, so that helped. It almost felt kind of comfortable, despite having absolutely no room for her elbows, and the fact that she was sitting in a reclined position. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic.

She also loved how it handled - also different to a kart, but in a good way. It took a few laps to get used to the feel, and the way she had to orient herself in the car, but she began to put in some very impressive lap times. By the time she was done, she had heard people whispering up and down the paddock about the “American girl” and her times. It felt like validation.

Finally, the actual racing season started. Her school year ended a little early due to the relatively brutal travel schedule she had coming up with competing concurrently in two series. It wasn’t uncommon - most of her gridmates would be competing in both. In her first month she’d be going to Italy and Spain, with trips to the UK for team business in between.

On one of these trips, she got to meet Sebastian Vettel at a team event. She had met him before, once, at the 2011 German Grand Prix. Her father took her for her birthday and through some stroke of good fortune, had obtained pit lane passes. He pulled some strings at work, apparently. But then, she was just a fan who happened to be in karting. He was incredibly kind to her then, but now she was his teammate, in a sense. She felt so nervous about it - where most girls her age had posters of One Direction on their walls, she had posters of Sebastian Vettel in his Red Bull gear. Her nerves were not helped because he’d since developed a bit of a reputation of being a bit cocky, but he was nothing but kind to her when they talked. They switched between English and German, which Bee thought was fun. Sebastian said that he remembered meeting her a few years back, and was happy to see she’d stuck with racing. He told her that he was excited that she was getting started in single-seaters, and said that he hoped she would be able to do well. They talked occasionally when they were both in Milton Keynes together, and in a few months, Seb ended up becoming a sort of friend. He always made sure to say hello to her whenever he saw her.

Her first race was at Monza. It was her first time in Italy. The idea of racing on such an old and venerated track made her a little nervous. It was the first race that she’d ever seen Sebastian win. Watching him win in Monza was the moment that Sebastian became Bee’s favorite driver. She’d seen it so many times on TV, she’d never imagined she’d actually race on it one day.

Practices weren’t so bad, but by the time she’d lined up on the grid for her first qualifying round, she could feel her heart pounding so hard that it felt like it was trying to escape her chest. Susie had given her some advice to close her eyes, take deep breaths, and try to visualize the racing line around the entire track, turn-by-turn, to distract herself from the nerves, and to make good use of the formation lap to try to settle into the pattern of the turns.

When it was time for the race to start, she felt better. After she started, her body almost felt like it was going through the motions automatically. It was delightful, and the result was delightful - she qualified in P7, which was entirely respectable for a rookie driver. She was the highest qualified rookie to boot. Both of her races that weekend made for equally respectable results - P8 in the first race, P4 in the second race - just shy of a podium. Even so, it felt incredible.

By the time she got home from Italy, she could barely keep up with all of the nice messages she got. Susie had called her the day after the race to congratulate her and tell her that her performance was impressive. The Detroit Free Press had run a small article about her, so she had calls from lots of family and family friends from Michigan.

As the season went on, she improved, and was pleased with her results. She learned to go on the attack and started developing a driving style that was characterized in a motorsport blog as “surprisingly aggressive”. It was fun to see those words in plain black-and-white. It felt like a challenge of sorts - like nobody had expected her to drive like a real driver because she was a girl. At first, hearing people doubted her was a little bothersome, but eventually, she just let them fuel her - she loved proving people wrong, after all.

She also, pleasantly, found it a lot easier to make friends with the other drivers than it had been in karting, at least, she thought. There was another American on her team for both series, a boy from New York named Ryan. She also liked talking to the British kids because they spoke the same language as her and she had now spent a considerable amount of time in the UK.

Her first season was more successful than she’d expected it to be. She had a handful of podiums, even starting on pole position once (which was, quite frankly, terrifying - it was her first experience being the hunted instead of the hunter). She hadn’t managed to get a win, but her team managed to win the Teams’ Championship by the end of the season in both series, which her respectable results contributed to. She loved racing more than she ever thought she could. She had the time of her life during every race weekend, even on the race where she'd had a retirement due to a suspension failure.

The next season was more of the same - the same thrill, the same impressive results. She did well - a handful of podiums, and three races where she’d started on pole.

Circuitio de Jerez, Jerez de la Frontera, Spain October 18th, 2015

By the time the second season ended, Bee was almost sad to be moving up into Formula 3. She really enjoyed the atmosphere of Formula Renault, and had a good relationship with everyone on her team. Before qualifying for her final race, her team principal almost made her cry by telling her how proud he was of her, and how he couldn’t wait to see where her career went. “I know you’ll go far.”, he told her as he pulled her into a tight hug before wishing her luck.

She had already signed to another team for Formula 3, because her team, Kaufmann racing, didn’t compete in F3.

Susie and Toto had also made it to her final race weekend, which was in Jerez, Spain. They sat in the grandstands with Bee's parents, despite the fact that they would easily be able to access the paddock - who wouldn't have known who they were? (As it was, Josephine had told Bee after-the-fact, the two of them being in the grandstands had caused quite a stir amongst people sitting near them.) Bee was surprised they’d come, but it was an off-weekend in the Formula 1 calendar and Susie said that she really wanted to see Bee’s last race in Formula Renault. They had established a tradition of doing an unofficial debrief on the phone after each race weekend - Bee felt that Susie’s input was invaluable, even though she wasn’t actually watching the races, but she’d watch videos of them. Bee was certain she wouldn’t have been as successful without Susie’s guidance.

Bee managed to close her Formula Renault career with a bang, with a second-place finish in her final race. An actual win had eluded her throughout her Formula Renault tenure, but at that moment, standing on the second step, spraying her gridmates with celebratory champagne, still sticky with sweat - it didn’t matter. She felt like she was on top of the world.

Toto and Susie took Bee and her parents out for a celebratory dinner after the race. Bee had a gift for Susie to thank her for all of her help in both seasons, but it was a bit large to bring to the restaurant in a subtle way. She stuffed it in her backpack anyway.

After they’d finished dinner, Bee spoke up.“Susie, I have something for you, just to thank you for all of your help these past two years. I don’t think it would have gone as well as it did without your help.”

She reached under the table where she’d stowed her backpack and unzipped it, producing her race helmet.

“I know it’s a Red Bull helmet, but I wanted you to have it. I remember Sebastian telling me once that he liked to exchange helmets with other drivers he liked and respected, so… I thought I’d give you mine from this year. I hope that someday I’ll be able to give you one of my Formula 1 helmets.”

“Oh, my goodness, Bee.” Susie said, accepting the helmet from her, setting it on the table, and pulling Bee into a hug. “I’m so proud of you. I’m sure you will someday, and I can’t wait.”

Josephine insisted on getting a picture of the two of them together, which Bee was a little embarrassed about, but she obliged anyway.

The next morning, while Bee was packing up her hotel room for the trip home, Bee’s grandmother called her and told her to check the website for the Detroit Free Press if she could.

“Why?”

“Just take a look! I think you’ll like it!”

Bee navigated to the paper’s site on her phone’s browser, and it took a second to realize what she was seeing. Where the front-page article is usually placed, there was a giant picture of herself on the podium, spraying her competitors during the victory celebration. She had an enormous smile, her dark hair was still tied into the French braided pigtails she’d always worn under her helmet, but the braids were a frizzy mess. She had her 2nd place podium hat on, and the picture featured blurry drops of champagne in the foreground, and the American flag illuminating an LED screen behind her. It was the kind of image you would see on a poster.

The caption read:

“Phoebe Stallard, 16, Sterling Heights native, celebrates on the podium for the 2014 Eurocup Formula Renault 2.0 series. Stallard placed second in the final race of the series at the Circuit of Jerez, Jerez de la Frontera, Spain. She will be competing in the European Formula 3 race series in the upcoming season.”

Next Chapter

#f1 fanfic #f1 oc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #original character #female OC #toto wolff #susie wolff #sebastian vettel #my fanfic #series: wildest dreams

[darlenealive]

Back from my Scandi vacation!

Felt like I took it for granted leaving my brain back in SG and letting Ax do the planning and the navigating. I brought my spirits though! Spending my day off today looking back at the trip which was such a great use of my time. Really appreciating this extra day off after my vacation.

Some tips for Norway and Denmark travels first

1. It's cashless even in the small towns. Cash was more of a liability as it forced us to spend it all

2. Hotels cost as much as Airbnb for 2 pax so opt for hotels as there's guaranteed shampoo, soap, hair dryer, heating and laundry. Most of our airbnbs were missing soap or shampoo which we didn't bring any of, in order to travel lighter. The bnbs we stayed in were also commercialised houses so there's absolutely no feelings attached. Checking in and out would also be more convenient with hotels. We had to return one of our keys from a convenience store which wasn't open in the early morning, in time for our flight.

3. Groceries are marked down on Friday if they expire Monday. If you're in Norway, go to Kiwi or Coop for basic groceries as it seemed to be the cheapest. However, each shop will hv their own discounts (not standardised across the same chain). Eg. We went to a place with 40% discounts on Freia choc which was only available at a particular store.

4. Northern lights chase was the coldest we experienced. Basically, the guide said that if its frost on the floor, it's worse than snow as there's no insulation for your feet. Not the coldest real temperature but coldest we felt. Bring extra clothes and heatpack just in case. The bonfire didn't do anything for me because it's too cold. We went with GuideGunnar which updates its aurora sightings on a daily basis. These guys are crazy and would bring you as far as Sweden just to chase the lights so bring your passports along! They also offer a 50% off the next trip if you don't see it on the day.

5. There's no heat packs there so bring them from home.

6. In Copenhagen, we recommend the Copenhagen card. It's only 65USD for 24hrs and you get free transport, museum pass and boat rides. We only decided to get the card after our boat ride which cost about SGD25-30, which was already a quarter the cost of the card. In Copenhagen, checking of bus tickets was a regular thing.

7. Useful apps for riding public transport: Oslo uses Ruter, Tromsø uses Troms billet, Copenhagen uses Dot tickets. Ticket checking was not very often in Norway. We did not cycle as it felt too cold for more wind to hit our faces.

8. Skip Oslo if you dw to visit a city. We spent 3 nights there and it felt too long. We wanted to do our last minute shopping at Oslo but everything was expensive throughout the whole trip that we started to buy souvenirs earlier when we saw marked down prices. With one more day in Tromsø, we could've gone whale watching.

9. Take into account daylight savings from 29/10. You have 1 more extra hour to sleep but your days are much shorter. We slept a lot because of the cold, about 10hrs of sleep each day and it felt just right.

10. Personally I would have brought instant noodles as the food there isn't flavoured with the same umami as I'm used to. I would also bring a thermal flask there to enjoy my hikes even more, taking a comfortable and warm rest at the peak.

11. If driving, please remember to pay for parking. There's usually a machine to start your parking. Otherwise, the fine is 660NOK. Don't let the rental company settle it as it'll still be billed to you with an extra fee. We would also recommend full insurance since we aren't used to left hand driving and Norway is famous for its narrow roads (at least from Stavanger to Odda where we drove).

12. We used waze for driving and it seemed that speed cameras are only in tunnels but nobody was following the speed limit anyway.

That's about all of the suggestions Ax and I thought of!

Hope these suggestions come in useful for someone.

[karagin22]

You know you've been gone too long if…

When mortars land near your compound and you roll over in bed and think "still way off, I got another 5 minutes"

When you start humming with the Arabic song playing on the radio on the shuttle bus

Every woman that reports to your unit starts looking attractive

Every guy that reports to your unit starts looking attractive

You actually volunteer for convoy security duty because you still haven't seen the country yet

You start picturing your wife in traditional Arab dress

When you go to the bathroom at night you bring your gun, flashlight, and toliet paper with you. be prepared to walk at least 1 mile.

When you go on R&R, you duct tape your child to the roof of your car, hand him a pellet rifle, and assign him a sector of fire for the ride to "The Olive Garden."

The contractors have more fire power than the military combat units. (This is true)

You take the time to add your lines to this list

You've spent $200 dollars at Haji mart on DVDs buying Basic Instinct, 9 and weeks, and Body of Evidence just for the sex scenes

You drink the water from the tap because you want to drop 20 pounds in two weeks

Driving around in SUVs with weapons pointed out the windows and forcing cars off the road seems very normal to you

You can put your body armor and helmet on in the dark in under 5 seconds

When the organization you work for has changed its name more than 3 times

When you actually spend more time writing e-mail about the dog in the compound versus doing real work.

When you actually get excited to get a package that contains 3 pair of socks, 12 bars of soap and a Victoria Secret Catalog

you get pissed off because you don't need any fucking more baby wips.

When you start to enjoy the rocking of the trailer every time the MEDEVAC choppers fly over

You memorized every episode from the 4th Season of Sex in the City, sopranos, simpsons, and anthing else on dvd.

You see celebratory fire going over the compound at night and think, "wow the colors are so pretty" and want to fire back

Your thinking of buying real estate in the green zone

Your idea of sex is 20 minutes of Instant Messaging with your wife on the computer, OK, 10 minutes, who are you kidding?

You wake up and think Baghdad, I am still in friggin Baghdad

You make the new guy show you his count down timer on the computer just to make you feel better about your time you have left in country

You're in the Army and you start saying Ooorah

You're in the Marines and you start saying Hooah

You're in the Navy and you realize you are in the middle of the desert, the exact opposite of being in the middle of the ocean, where one might normally find the Navy.

You're in the Air Force, and you're on the plane home laughing at everyone else because a tour only lasts 4 to 6 months. So long fuckers!!!!!!!

You plan on removing all trees and grass in your yard when you get home so it will look more natural

The temp drops down to 102 degrees and you shiver while reaching for your Gortex jacket

When you call home and your kids ask "Who is this?"

You call home and your wife says hello Bill (your name is Sam)

when you get home you still brush your teeth with bottled water.

While on R&R, you look out the window and find Nature, which leads you to wonder who stole your sandbags.

When some of the contractors wear their DCUs (Desert pattern camouflage uniform) more properly than some of your soldiers.

When 12 hours is a short work day

You go Battle Captains!

When, During the BUA, "DIV asked MNSTC-I for the FRAGO that MNC-I was supposed to publish, but couldn't because MNF-I hadn't weighed in, since they were too inundated with MOD and MOI war-gaming the JCCs (and you know what this means)

When you start using words like G'day mate, Cheers, and Bloody hell as part of your normal vocabulary

When you have your opinions printed in the STARS and STRIPES more than 3 times

When you step into any office and there are 6 colonels, 12 lieutenant colonels, 15 majors, 8 captains, and 14 first- and second-lieutenants supervising the work of 3 staff sergeants

When you're ordered to get a mission together on short notice because it's a "Hot priority" only to have the Major call back once he is in the air to ask "Does anyone know where I am going?"

When the weapon buyback program has become so successful that you have issued the same AK-47 to the Iraqi army 3 times

When you can actually tell the difference between the sound of an exploding car and an exploding mortar

When on R & R you tell your wife that your weapon status is Red and your looking for the clearing barrel

When on R&R you go to Church and wonder why no one is wearing body armor or carrying an automatic weapon to the service

You see an indirect fire attack take out an air conditioner and your vigor to fight is renewed

You yell at the FNG for shouting incoming when the rounds don't impact close enough to hit your tent with dirt

You know that you need to run inside immediately after any win of an Iraqi sports team to keep from being hit by celebratory fire

You decide for that for shits and grins - lets take a run around Lost Lake at Camp Victory to see if we can get shot at by the sniper

You never worry about oversleeping because if the morning call to prayers doesn't wake you, the daily 0430 mortar attack will (most mornings)

The highlight of your shopping experience at the BX/PX is to see that they got in a new shipment of Schick Tracer razor blades

When you send out your laundry and your whites become grayer, your blacks become grayer and your DCU's become grayer - makes it easier to sort loads…

You get offended by people wearing clean, pressed DCU's

You decide that it is a better course of action to pull your blankets over your head than put on your body armor during a mortar attack - the woobee will save you and at least you are comfortable

You make a contest out of seeing who can wear their uniform for more days before becoming entirely disgusted with themselves

You wonder if the fish served at dinner really was carp caught out of the Tigris or Camp Victory's lake

You find it completely acceptable to pick your nose while talking to a complete stranger or member of the opposite sex

A rocket or a mortar really isn't a big deal until the crater it leaves is big enough to trip over in the dark on the way to the latrine

You go to a social gathering and intermittent gun fire or explosions don't even cause a pause in the conversation

you actually start to think " I wonder what's on afn tonight"

FEEL FREE TO ADD YOUR OWN TO THE LIST*

[romaine2424]

Eight Days A Week (Chapter 16) is up! One more to go!

Notes: This is the final chapter for the two years of Libby transitioning into the witch she was always meant to be. The last chapter will take place 21 years later. I hope you've enjoyed the story. If you haven't started, now's a good time as Sunday is the finale. The fic is coming in now at 120K.

Chapter Summary:

Harry and Libby have one last visit with the international exchange Aurors. Summer holidays at Shell Cottage are enjoyed along with car rides to Scottish Lochs. Libby and Harry visit Paris twice for two different major occasions.

Excerpt:

Harry and Libby sat on an old, tattered blanket laying over the sand, watching the ocean waves crash onto the shore. Libby’s feet were on Harry’s lap as he massaged them. “They’re not so pretty anymore,” Libby said, whilst wiggling her painted toes.

“Still are to me,” Harry replied. They’d taken a long morning walk on the beach until Libby’s feet and ankles began to swell. They were at Shell Cottage. Ron and Hermione lent it to them for a week for Libby’s twenty-first birthday, whilst they were still on their two-month honeymoon touring the continent. It would be coming to an end soon. The papers from the Malfoy solicitors sat upon the kitchen table inside. Libby’s inheritance was now safely in its own vault at Gringotts. Under other conditions, Harry was sure they’d be celebrating in Paris or Rome or maybe even New York City, but Libby was not only completely restricted from Apparating but now also from using a Portkey. Flooing was allowed but only to and from St Mungo’s for her classes. Most of the time she stayed home and studied. They’d tried the Knight Bus, but it made her ill. Harry bought a car. Private driving lessons ensued.

“This place is perfect, Harry.”

“You’re perfect,” Harry replied.

Libby swatted him across the head. “Potter, I have swollen feet, I’m getting fat and no, it’s not all baby. Bloody hell I can’t even fit into my leggings anymore. I’ve come to the conclusion that Hermione is right, and having big tits is not all that it’s made out to be. My back is constantly hurting.”

“Still perfect.”

Libby rolled her eyes. She pulled her feet from Harry’s lap and laid down on the blanket. She pulled on Harry’s jumper to make him join her. Whilst she complained about how big she was getting; she’d started noticeably showing later than most given her height. Harry rubbed her stomach for a moment and then moved his hand up to her face. “So perfect.”

“I thought we could start looking for land to build on,” Libby said. “I’d imagined that we’d go north, to Scotland. I want snow in the winter. Somewhere on the shores of a loch, surrounded by trees. But now, I’m thinking by the ocean. What do you think?”

Harry played with strands of her hair. It had got thicker over the months, and the ocean air salt breeze was playing havoc with it. “Scotland to live, ocean cottage to visit whenever we like.” Libby’s eyes widened.

“That’s perfect.”

Read More on AO3: Eight Days a Week (Chapter 16)

#eight days a week #drarry #romaine2424 fics #transfem draco #transitioning #drarry fic #writing is hard

[kuvopal]

May 27 (day 6) Dancing; read the full chapter of Number One Fan here on AO3!

***

It was the kind of a joke you’d make in high school. If things don’t work out, I can always become a stripper. That, or work at MacDonald’s.

Well, things were not working out for Kuvira.

Waitressing was … not her thing, and it turned out that being a stripper was less degrading that being yelled at for less than minimum wage. Or, at least that’s what Kuvira was imagining while she surfed her way through the first page of Google results that came up when she typed in ‘camgirl website’.

She needed supplemental income. Or even just income. Kuvira was still settling into Republic City and maybe her landing was currently kind of rough.

But the idea of dancing or stripping online was tantalizing.

Working from home and not having to interact with real people in the real world sounded ideal. No more hour-long bus rides to and from a restaurant that would make her clothes and hair smell like onions and where she’d regularly get lectured by miserable old women to be more polite and by miserable old men to smile more (two different but equally unpleasant kinds of customers).

And, given that Kuvira had finally broke down and told a customer off, it’s not like she really had a choice anymore. She’d walked out on the job only to keep them from firing her on the spot. It was really this or MacDonald’s. If Micky D’s would even take her now that quit her last food industry job.

It was a joke. Obviously. But it abruptly became less funny as Kuvira got to a screen that demanded she make a profile and she obeyed. No turning back.

Kuvira dumping her money into Dance at Zaofu Academy was maybe not her brightest idea. But, allegedly, you only live once. Allegedly, you should chase your passions. Unless your passion is Dance, in which case that’s a waste of money, according to Kuvira’s parents.

“Look at me now, mom,” Kuvira grumbled to herself, filling in the bare minimum information the profile required.

She loved dancing. While her family wasn’t supporting her, she didn’t need their support. She needed … she needed to consider stripping as an option, apparently. Scholarships couldn’t cover everything after all. Not that Kuvira was getting a ton of those, either.

Kuvira had settled on the second website that came up, since it seemed the least sketchy. But a part of its less sketchy nature had it prompting her to complete a profile. For free, it claimed, though they still made her fill out her credit card information. The actual giving and taking of money came later, they promised.

The name Dancer was taken. Kuvira clicked her tongue in annoyance and added a few Xs to her username until she found one that worked. xxDancer it was.

Kuvira just wanted to check out this website. Apparently, it was one of the most prominent and exclusive sites. If there was some kind of niche Kuvira could fill, she could probably make decent money here. Enough to take the edge off, at least.

She clicked submit, and her webpage was quickly overwhelmed with a barrage of boobs and smatterings of below-the-belt content.

It was a lot.

If Kuvira was any more prudish, she would’ve clicked away. She averted her gaze – even though these women probably didn’t mind, given that this was the whole point of the website. They knew what website they were on, even if Kuvira clearly did not.

But Kuvira knew she couldn’t beg for yet another minimum-wage retail job. It was just going to end the same way – with Kuvira putting in her two weeks notice before a full two weeks had even elapsed.

She’d have to at least give stripping or camming a try.

Kuvira was hot, maybe too muscular for some guys, but she knew how to move. If anything, dancing on camera would just be more practice for her.

She scanned through several streaming screens. The diversity of bodies was surprising. She’d always thought men liked a specific type of woman but … that type of women wasn’t exactly common or even realistic, so maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Most of these girls looked, well, pretty but also kind of average in their own way. Average wasn’t the right word. Human. Kuvira really didn’t know what she was expecting to see here. It wasn’t like she’d looked up camgirls before, but she had expected that they’d all look airbrushed. Stick thin with wispy straight hair, big boobs, and perfect makeup.

Their makeup was often pretty good.

But they were also stunningly normal. Some people had big boobs, most were average or small. Saggy, perky, completely flat-chested. Even just – nipples alone, Kuvira analyzed, ranged from peach to dark brown, large to pinpricks. Kuvira wasn’t someone who was overly self-conscious about her body, but … it was strangely reassuring. It wasn’t – it wasn’t sexual, her admiration. It wasn’t – she wasn’t attracted to most of these women. But undeniably, some of them were pretty attractive.

One girl in particular caught Kuvira’s eye. It might’ve been because she was still wearing clothes. Maybe she always would – Kuvira didn’t really know how far people were expected to go on here, or how far she herself would be comfortable going.

The woman was pretty, if a little plain. She wasn’t wearing makeup, or at least not obviously, and she was one of the few girls Kuvira had seen with short hair. She had a small chest, which was fortunate for Kuvira since Kuvira’s chest was paltry in comparison to what she expected people who used these websites were hoping to see. It boded well, that’s all.

Kuvira’s mouse hesitated over the window, then clicked. The woman – username AirNomad – was chatting about something as she sat back on her bed.

“– I came back here, obviously,” she was in the middle of saying, “I made a promise, right? Couldn’t leave you guys hanging. Plus, I’m kind of an introvert. That’s probably enough social interaction for a week.” She laughed.

Oh, so her persona was … quirky. A pixie dreamgirl ‘not like other girl’ types. That was … a little bit grating. But, well. Kuvira was here to get a lay of the land. It sounded like this camgirl stuff required a little more talking than Kuvira had been planning on, but maybe it was easier if you weren’t actually talking to people directly.

“Oh, I see we have a new attendee today,” AirNomad said, sounding a little amused. She read out Kuvira’s username, “Ex Ex Dancer.” She leaned in closer to the camera, having the incidental affect of showing off her cleavage. Her boobs were small – they definitely weren’t nonexistent. “Are you a dancer?” Kuvira’s mouth dried up.

She hadn’t expected to be noticed, much less addressed. She had the strong urge to just click out of the window.

But … what was she so scared of or intimidated by? Sure, she’d expected to just anonymously blend in with the rest of the perverts, but clearly a part of this woman’s schtick was that she was personable. A fake girlfriend. As perky as her boobs. Kuvira could play along with that, probably.

She glanced down at her keyboard, trying to remember herself.

She typed out, “I’m considering it.”

“Considering it?” AirNomad asked, leaning back. She had been carefully waiting on Kuvira’s response. “That’s a little vague.”

Kuvira felt ridiculous. She hadn’t expected for Nomad, or anyone, to notice her presence and she felt like the camgirl was shining a spotlight on her. She forced down her instinct to just log out.

“I’m considering becoming a camgirl,” Kuvira explained. “I just wanted to check out this site and I had to make an account.”

“Scope out the competition?” Nomad asked, grinning broadly. “That’s valid, I guess. But I hope you’ll use a different credit card for when you make your actual account.” Dumbass that Kuvira was, she’d just used her regular credit card. “The security on this website is apparently pretty good, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra cautious.”

That was actually very generous of AirNomad. Kuvira felt kind of bad that the two of them were in this situation. Like she’d been caught spying on her – though the woman hadn’t done anything compromising yet.

“Sorry if this is awkward,” Kuvira typed out. AirNomad smiled.

“What,” she asked sardonically, “stripping in front of another stranger online? I think I passed the awkward stage awhile back.” She shifted on her bed. “Speaking of, I guess I better get started?”

If Kuvira had anything to add, it was soon swallowed up by other commenters. Kuvira resolved to not look at the chat if she didn’t have to. After all, it wasn’t like she was tuning in for the chat.

Nomad moved backwards on her bed, leaning over the side so that she could put on some music, exposing the soft line of her stomach as she did so. Kuvira shifted on her bed, balancing her laptop on her thighs, trying to get a better look at Nomad’s set-up.

Nomad had a larger bed than Kuvira, and she could kneel comfortably on it. She was lit well too, clearly she had a ring light or something at the foot of her bed, and LED strips across her ceiling that provided extra brightness and colour. She also had a high-quality camera – Kuvira could see detail even in the shadowed areas. Kuvira wondered if she’d have to do some initial investment, beyond just showing up and taking her clothes off. Especially when she wasn’t sure if she had the nerve to take her clothes off.

But then Nomad settled back onto the bed, smiling at the camera like she was looking directly at her audience, and Kuvira stopped thinking about the interior design.

Nomad was dressed unexcitingly, like any random girl on a sunny summer day. She wore a red sundress, and beneath that – shorts – like she’d just come back from doing some errand and had hopped onto her bed with little preparation. It went with the kind of sweet, airy personality she gave off, like she was the wholesome girl next door. It was not the kind of vibe Kuvira could give; she was too severe.

AirNomad spread her legs and kneeled forward on her bent knees. “Okay, you guys,” she said breathlessly. “What should I take off first?”

read more here on ao3!

#opalviraweek #yes im mortified. #kuvira #opal beifong #femslash

[nl2537p]

Because the world didn’t end at 14.

One day i with all of the knives in my hands, i told to myself that there will be no tomorrow, but i was afraid to break a solemn promise, so afraid that i had courage enveloped from my cowardness:

Courage to take that nakakakabang train ride, who knows where we will be going? No one knows.

We can end up between the tallest of buildings, and you will be reminded of how small your world was;

On desolated highways where people rarely come and go, and you were in the corner of that unknown street waiting for a car to pass by so you can go home:

On a stage where thousands of dreams had officially been announced; it signifies an ending and, a new beginning.

Or In that serene place where many tourists went to breathe—a long hour bus ride alone at midnight. But when you open your eyes, you will be at your destination, cold, but you find your warmth inside.

On the front seat of a concert or a fan meet that was not your initial seat, but stars aligned, and suddenly this world was dancing just for you, singing how you deserve all of the melodies it offers in your hands, overflowing.

On a city that you had cursed for a long time, you know why until you forget how—As you walk on that same pathway, your feet remembers which way to take but your heart and mind can’t. Why does this hate me and why do I hate it? I will never know now, but it's fine; the cold breeze from the sea was still angry, the perfect coned mountain was still hiding, but I'll walk on your pathways like I have always been here, because I had been here. Suddenly it felt like the fragment of the broken glass they left to you before was now thin and weary. It's fine to walk on it now.

On a province where your roots find its own ache, this is the place where they had been made. The place that feeds them and makes them, and you finally understand where they came from. You finally understand what’s behind of all of this, some might not be valid, but it caress a soft warmth of reason and peace.

On room you had tried to end yourself but today you had your wise eyes, you hug the ground as if you are one of it, you are safe here, you’re always are.