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uh25ef7ozv · 1 year

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Brazzers - Milfs Marica Hase & Luna Star Give A Lucky Dude The Wettest Massage Of His Life Sierra facesitted by masseuse Lana Blonde brazilian pornstar show on stage Io mejor de issa Vegas Kacie Castle and Fallon West Sextapes Saucy Tranny Nicole Marques Trades Blowjobs with a Guy and Then Gets Fucked casada se masturbando pra mim Asian beauty gets clit stimulated by vibrator before cam Mom Catches Step-Son Using a Fake Rubber Vagina - Rachael Cavalli - Kyle Mason penetrates submissive Sheena Ryder from behind

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blizzardsuplex · 5 months

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Yet each man kills the thing he loves; by each let this be heard: some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word; the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword. - Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

Adam Cole, mask on versus mask off from AEW's World's End 2023, 12/30/2023

#aew #aewedit #aew spoilers #adam cole #just wanted to highlight the stark difference in body language pre and post reveal #when he's on MJF's side he's animated as hell #all wide eyes and loud words of encouragement #but when it's time for him to deal the fatal blow? he's controlled #TOO controlled and too still and too quiet #even when he's reveling in Max's pain it's so...cold.#the real Adam Cole ladies and gents: believes himself so untouchable that at his best he might actually be

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palin-tropos · 1 year

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it’s understandable to see folks saying pre-amnesia harry is a fixed character and your choices in the game can’t change who he was. but it’s also fascinatingly incorrect

when you talk to idiot doom spiral about your tequila sunset escapade, idiot doom spiral tells the story of that night slightly differently depending on what political leanings you’ve chosen, and what “copotype” you’ve adopted

I know it’s a small thing but I noticed it in game and immediately thought “oh it’s cool that the game changes who harry used to be based on how you play him now”

but other people seem really confident that there is only one pre-amnesia harry du bois so 🤔 idk what to make of that. it seems like there is a case for disagreement here

#disco elysium #disclaimer: yes I know all of the many things that aren’t changeable about him #i have read his wikipedia ok but this isn’t about that #this is about the suggestion that his pre-canon life can be read in more than one context #and the game actively encourages that? with this idiot doom spiral convo #like if you act like a communist now the game says pre-amnesia harry was a communist too etc

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runnerfivestillalive · 9 months

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This is from the book, while Crowley is trying to talk Aziraphale into helping him stop armageddon, and does his drunken ramble about eternity. Apparently God enjoys The Sound of Music.

“You’ll enjoy it. You really will. You won’t have a choice.”

I feel like this line gets overlooked a lot. It’s an important line, for sheer horror potential.

Whatever the control mechanism is, clearly it isn’t running on every angel at all times, because if that was the case, a rebellion never would have happened. Aziraphale wouldn’t have six thousand years of doubts piling up to critical capacity. Gabriel wouldn’t have been able to escape.

But it’s also clearly very easily turned on, since they both accept that it would be used for something as petty as enjoying a movie. This lack of will can be rolled over angels at any time, for any reason.

Aziraphale clearly has some dread of this. *Crowley* knows it, and used it to convince Aziraphale to help him stop armageddon. But Aziraphale is very good at letting one part of his brain know something while another part of his brain denies it, so it’s not clear how much *Aziraphale* knows he dreads it, even as that dread shapes his character.

He’s never really broken free of Heaven. Even when he was being called a traitor, he wasn’t fallen, and so he was expecting to be called home eventually. And he’d be happy, of course. He won’t have a choice.

Aziraphale’s been trying to walk away from Heaven for at least six thousand years. He walked away from guard duty. He gave away his sword. He lied straight to God’s face about it. He lied to the archangels, and then straight up told Crowley he was ready to go to Hell. Several millennia of trouble-making and demon-fraternizing later, he stood in the middle of Heaven, declared he wasn’t going to fight in any war, then escaped via the demonic act of human possession. He is ready to GO.

And still his wings are snowy white. He’s just as angelic as when he first worried the pretty starmaker might get in trouble, and tried to protect him with a warning.

But he can’t escape. Heaven isn’t letting anyone else go. And he knows what his future holds. Eventually, no matter how many times they put it off, eventually he will be called back to Heaven.

And so, what promises can he make Crowley?

To stay with him always? Of course not. To love him? Can he even promise to love him? No. He’ll eventually be dragged back to Heaven, and he’ll be happy to go, and he won’t even miss him. *He won’t have a choice.*

And perhaps that’s the problem. He loves Crowley too much to make promises he can’t keep.

#Gabriel’s escape isn’t terribly encouraging #He had to be warned his time was up #hide his brain inside a contraband gift from Beelzebub #smuggle it out with his now brainless body #make it to a pre-existing place of safety that could protect him from both Heaven and Hell #get rescued by Beelzebub #and even STILL he only escaped by the skin of his teeth #Aziraphale can’t just decide to leave Heaven.#good omens

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roguetelepaths · 2 months

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The way certain male characters in fandom are talked about as having traditionally afab sex characteristics/anatomy, not in a "trans headcanon" way but in a "meant to imply you think this character is weak/delicate/submissive" way... It bugs me.

#writing pre op/non op trans man characters is good! i encourage everyone to do that!#but y'all aren't doing that. you're implying that [fictional man] has a vagina because you think he's girly.#i think there are words for the association of certain types of genitalia with gendered personality traits— OH RIGHT sexism and transphobia

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lilyrizzy · 2 years

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just a little something based of a csi fic i read 100 years ago, but cannot for the life of me find online to give credit to. if anyone recognises, pls do let me know!

outsider pov

cw: crash aftermath, breif mention of parent (guess who lol) being homophobic and a general dick

Sophie had always hoped that lighting a candle in church and crossing herself at the race track would be enough to appease God. Maybe she had angered him, missing so many Sundays this year to spend instead with her son, at his church; the track. Maybe it is just that God gives his hardest challenges to his loyalist followers, something she has heard repeated over and over since she was a child, something she taught to her own children.

Either way, watching the stewards pull her son’s unconscious body from a race car, it’s enough to have her wondering if there was more she could have done.

Sophie lets herself into Max’s apartment with an easy twist of his key in the lock. Easier than she remembers, but then she’s struggling to recall when she was last here. The most recent times she’s seen Max, it’s been in the Netherlands or at different race tracks around the world. He says he likes to come home to see her, and it’s always warmed her heart too thoroughly, the idea that her house is home to him despite him never growing up there, for her to question that.

Now, she wonders if there wasn’t more of an ulterior motive.

Flicking on the hallway light, immediately she can tell it’s different. Splashes of colour she doesn’t remember seeing on the whitewashed walls. An antique-looking clock, letting her know it is 3 am. Artwork she’s never seen before hanging next to it, photos too, photos actually in frames. Years ago, there had been just one, her, Max and Victoria. Both of her children actual children in the picture, standing in front of some race track or other, and it had been frameless, stuck to the fridge with a magnet in the shape of a Red Bull can.

Now that one picture has multiplied, to make an entire collage frame, five photos in total sat inside it, the word ‘family’ written underneath.

Putting the keys in the glass bowl beside the front door- another new addition- she steps closer. The urgent, anxious need to be back at the hospital has dimmed, and she realises she feels closer to Max here than in a white, soulless waiting room, carefully avoiding both eye contact and conversation with his father.

The first photo she notices has a girl, no a woman, smiling at the camera with two small children by her feet. A boy and a girl, her hand on each of their blonde heads. The woman has dark hair though, a wonderful smile and kind eyes. Older than Max, probably by ten years. Sophie has never seen her before, can’t recall ever being introduced to her, and she wonders if this is the reason she has been kept away from this apartment, a secret girlfriend.

But Sophie can’t see any other photos of her, just a picture of Max’s own family, her, Victoria, Luka, Lio. A few photos of podiums at Red Bull, from when Max was just eighteen, then again at twenty, if she can guess right. A photograph of a sunset, the two blonde heads of the children just at the bottom of the frame, so maybe-

There’s a noise, the sound of footsteps that have her reaching for the can of hairspray she carries in her purse just in case, and-

“Fucking hell,” a man says, hand flying to clutch his chest, “Sophie, you scared the shit out of me.”

It’s a voice, a face that she recognizes.

“Daniel?” Her face is hot, embarrassed at her own overreaction, as her hand drops from the zip of her bag. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes widening a little as though there is still something to be afraid of. Quickly, her eyes track over the rest of him, the sweatpants and Red Bull Racing t-shirt he is wearing, both looking a few sizes too big. She wonders how much weight he has lost since being with the team, for the clothes to hang off him the way they do.

“Is Max okay?” He asks, and his voice sounds- Hurt almost. Definitely worried.

“He is still in surgery,” she says, hoping her tone is reassuring. He seems to need it. “I took his keys too- Well the nurse said maybe he would like some things, for when he wakes up. To help him feel more at home.”

A part of her, embarrassed, had wanted to ask the nurse, ‘like what?’ It had occurred to her then that she has no idea what her 25-year-old son would want, what he would need to make him feel better. She hasn’t been somebody who has comforted him when he is hurt, or sick, or even just upset, for a long time. With her, he is always happy, and though she has always cherished his smile, his laugh, she wonders just how true it is that he always feels that way.

Daniel nods, running a hand through his curls but doesn’t say any more about Max. Instead, he turns, walking into the kitchen, gesturing for Sophie to follow him.

“Would you like a coffee or something? It’s pretty late, but-“ he shrugs then, tapping his fingers against a fancy, expensive-looking machine that again, Sophie has never seen before.

“Yes, that would- Daniel what are you doing here?” She feels rude, interrupting his politeness with a question he dodged the first time, but she’s beginning to worry she’s let herself into the wrong apartment, or something equally ridiculous. Vaguely she remembers Max telling her, when he was newly moved to Monaco, that the building was nice and he knew so because Daniel lived there.

Daniel Ricciardo, his teammate and then ex-teammate, who Sophie heard endless stories about for the first few years of her son’s time with Red Bull, and then suddenly, nothing at all. The next she’d heard about him was when he left the team, Max saying dutifully that he was happy for him, but not much else.

They’d stayed friends, she knows, or whatever variation of friends rivals, competitors, can truly be.

“I live here,” is what Daniel tells her now though, turning his back to her to fiddle with the machine, “do you take milk and sugar?”

Sophie doesn’t know if she manages to hide the shock that must have found its way onto her face in his admission, by the time he turns to face her again with a tired smile, teaspoon in hand. She does manage to shake her head though, to take the cup from his outstretched hand and take a sip of bitter, black coffee without it burning her tongue.

“I’m sorry,” she says, once he’s finished fixing his own cup, “I did not know that you had been staying with him.”

She waits for an explanation.

Keeping up with the grid gossip has never been her strong suit, but she's heard the rumours like everybody else that this might be Daniel’s last season. She expects to hear something that makes sense, like maybe Daniel has already sold his Monaco apartment, and Max is helping him out. That he’s broke, that he’s in between apartments, that he’s an alcoholic that needs someone to hold him accountable, anything.

Not for Daniel to shrug, giving her the same wary smile, and say, “why would you?”

She nods like that makes sense, like any of it makes sense. Like she isn’t getting irritated by his attitude, by this feeling that there is something he knows that she doesn’t.

Her baby boy is hurt, she doesn’t want this. She doesn’t need this, to feel confused in his home, when she could be by his bedside, stroking his hair. Hopefully asking him herself, why Daniel Ricciardo is living with him. If he’s awake, if he can even-

“Where is his bedroom?” She asks, setting the cup on the counter. “I cannot be too long.”

He mirrors her, putting his own mug down. “I can get some things for him, no problem,” he offers, but she shakes her head.

“You should get back to sleep,” she tells him with a polite smile, “it is very late.”

He purses his lips and looks at her as though considering something. Clearly, there is an internal conflict that again, Sophie is not privy to, but it’s over as quickly as it comes, with Daniel shrugging and saying, “okay. Let’s sort him out some stuff.”

She’s about to insist again that it’s fine, she doesn’t need his help, but he’s making his way down the hall to another room, presumably Max’s bedroom, before she has the chance.

Inside, again, it’s nothing like she remembers, and she has a moment to stand in the doorway, watching Daniel open and close drawers, to take it in.

The walls are painted a soft green, where before she is almost certain they were white. The furniture is a dark wood, instead of the white Ikea flat packs she helped him to pick out when he first moved here. Even the bed is different, bigger, the bed sheets patterned, but not distastefully so, complimenting the features of the room.

An adult’s bedroom.

It isn’t the décor isn’t the thing that gives her the biggest pause though.

It’s the way the bedsheets are crumpled, as though somebody- Daniel- only just got out of them.

It’s the way there are two phone chargers plugged into the wall on either side of the bed. Two bedside tables littered with items. One with a couple of water glasses, a racing magazine, a watch Sophie recognises as one she brought for Max’s 21st birthday. The other is tidier, just a book and a photo frame resting on top.

The picture is the final thing that makes her understand. Daniel with his arm wrapped around Max’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek,

She looks from the photograph, then to Daniel, who is watching her carefully, something on his face quietly pleading for understanding.

“You should pick him some comfy clothes,” she suggests, swallowing down all the questions suddenly at the tip of her tongue, “for when he is discharged.”

That earns her a soft smile and a nod, and he starts rummaging through the wardrobe behind him, pulling out a jumper, a pair of worn tracksuit bottoms, a couple of plain white t-shirts. He walks to another set of drawers to get some boxer shorts and socks, moving around with comfortable familiarity, before dipping into the adjoining room, the bathroom Sophie gathers when he comes back holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“He doesn’t- The normal kind is always too minty for him,” Daniel explains, holding up the tube that Sophie recognises as a children’s brand, strawberry flavoured, before putting it on top of the small pile of belongings he’s made on the bed.

“Maybe a book?” Sophie suggests, wanting to feel helpful, but Daniel just snorts, not looking back from where he’s back in the wardrobe, reaching on his tiptoes for something off the top shelf.

“Good luck getting Maxy to read,” he says, “but maybe his headphones so he can watch a movie?”

“Sure,” she allows, “where are they?”

“Bedside drawer, but don’t- ah,”

She’s opened, seen, and slammed the drawer shut again in the time it takes for him to say it. Different, bright colours of silicone, and- When she looks back up at him, his face is pink the way hers feels, and his hand is cupping the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he’s saying, struggling to meet her eye, “I tried to warn you.”

She pastes on the brightest smile she can muster. “It’s okay,” she laughs, but it’s forced, “I should know better than to go poking in my son’s bedroom drawers, maybe- Maybe you can find me a bag, instead, and I will just pack the things to take.”

Daniel nods, “right, yeah, let me just-“ and before long they have a system. Daniel places items, more clothes, a magazine, a phone charger, onto the bed, and Sophie packs them.

“Maybe this too,” he says after a while, holding up a tattered rag he’s retrieved from the bottom of Max’s wardrobe- their wardrobe- that it takes Sophie a moment to recognise.

“Oh,” she says, and the smile that spreads across her face this time is effortless. “I cannot believe he still has kept this.”

It’s her dress, the dress, the one she wore when she had him and gave him when he was a toddler, because Jos said he was not allowed cuddly toys or else he would turn out- Well, turn out exactly the way he has anyway, if the apartment he shares with another man is any indication.

“I used to wrap him up in this when he was a baby,” she explains, taking the dress from Daniel, rubbing the distantly familiar fabric between her fingers. “It was all he was allowed, as a boy, to cuddle. Jos tried to tell me no, but-“

But it was something she had stood her ground and paid the price over.

Daniel nods, “I know,” is all he says, “he loves it very much.”

The words lodge themselves thick in Sophie’s throat, as though she is the one to have spoken them. She remembers what it was like, to hold her new baby, her first baby, in her arms and to know that she would do whatever it took to make sure they were happy.

Even if that meant leaving them behind. It is just that standing in this apartment, in the middle of the life her son felt the need to keep secret from her, she is questioning what the right thing to do was more and more.

At the time, she had felt selfless, but now she just feels naïve.

They gather and pack the rest of Max’s things in silence. It is not until they are done, Sophie standing once more in the kitchen, this time a small duffel between her feet and Daniel’s that she speaks again.

“So how long have you- How long?”

If Daniel is surprised by the question, to his credit, he doesn’t show it.

“Six years,” is all he says, then tilting his head to the side as if to prove he is thinking, “seven in a few months.”

Sophie nods, as though the length of time is not a slap across the face. For seven year her son has loved somebody, and she has never known. Max would have been eighteen, barely. Daniel, what, 26? 27?

It should worry her, she knows, but she finds that strangely it doesn’t. Max is not a liar, it is not in his nature, so for him to have felt the need to hide this from her, it must have been something precious in his eyes. Something worth protecting.

“And I suppose you moved in here, let me think, four years ago?” She asks, and this time he does look shocked, and she relishes the only opportunity she’d had to make him feel this way, when he has caused that same emotion within her countless times since she came through their front door.

“That is around the time he stopped inviting me to stay with him here,” she offers as an explanation when he doesn’t say anything.

His face smoothes over into understanding.

“Ah,” he says, nodding with his lips pursed again, “I thought- Well, my mum, she said she always kinda knew that-“

“That you were with Max?” Sophie interrupts, because this is not something she has considered. Was she supposed to have seen this coming, all the times Max mentioned Daniel, unprompted, during the first season of his career?

“No,” Daniel says though, shaking his head, “I mean about me. My mum always thought I was, well, different was the word she used, but what she meant was ‘a little gay.’” He grins then, as though he expects that to make Sophie laugh, but it doesn’t. “I’m bi though,” he adds in a bit of a rush, as though that matters to her.

Bi. Gay. Which one is Max, she wants to ask, but is afraid she’ll fail some kind of test doing so.

“So your mother does not know? About you and Max?” She questions instead.

“No, she knows,” Daniel admits with a shrug, “my dad too.”

Jealousy spikes within her, and she feels her jaw tighten as she has to look away, to the sea just the other side of the balconies sliding glass door that would be visible if it wasn’t so dark.

“Who else knows?” she eventually demands, voice clipped to her shame.

“Well, my sister,” Daniel begins, and with that, he gestures to the new photograph stuck to the fridge, the RedBull magnet replaced with one in the shape of a race track. The Yas Marina circuit, if Sophie had to guess.

It’s another photo of the same woman Sophie had thought might be Max’s girlfriend not twenty minutes ago.

“A couple of my best friends, who I trust,” Daniel is continuing, “one of Max’s, you know Martin, right? That’s it though.”

“So Victoria, she does not know?”

Daniel’s eyebrows knit together, and Sophie wonders if he is considering how much he can stretch the truth without it being an out-and-out lie. It stings, to consider that Victoria might know what Sophie did not. She has always, and maybe foolishly so, considered her and her children a trio, one that didn’t keep secrets from each other.

“No,” he says eventually, “I think Max always thought she wouldn’t be able to keep things from you. You two are close.”

They are. Sophie had just thought all three of them were.

“And Max wanted to keep it a secret?” She asks, because that is what she cannot wrap her head around. Her sweet boy, so eager to put his head in her lap to be close to her, hiding, being deceitful.

Eyes glancing towards the door behind her, as though wishing he could use it, could leave this conversation altogether, Daniel sighs. “I think Max is afraid. Of what you would think.” Then, frowning, head tilted to the side as he reconsiders, “of what Jos would think.”

The unhappy look on Daniel’s face at just the mention of her ex-husband’s name has Sophie thinking he knows, just like she does, exactly what Jos would think.

“Max should know better than to assume I would share anything with his father, much less an opinion on this.” She tells him firmly, harsh and unfair considering Daniel has done nothing but try to answer her questions and help her pick things to take to Max in the hospital.

“I think- Look this is something you should talk to Max about, yeah?” He allows, an apologetic smile on his face. “But if- Look if you really don’t care, tell him that. Go to him first. He’ll open up if you push him, trust me.”

She nods, as though this isn’t strange. As though it isn’t her who should be giving him advice on how to handle her son, and not the other way around. She is his mother, and yet, this man she hardly knows, knows Max so much better.

“Thank you,” she says, grateful anyway.

Daniel just hums in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on where he is picking at one thumbnail using the other. There are a few beats of silence, and then he is speaking again.

“Is Jos still at the hospital?”

It’s then that Sophie considers how terrible this must be for him. To be stuck here, in the home he shares with her son, when he should be there, by his side.

“Yes,” she tells him, and now it’s her turn for the apologetic smile, “but not for much longer. We- Obviously we are not supposed to be in the same room together, and I know he was planning to fly home soon.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at her. Keeps picking at his thumbnail.

“Would you like to come?” She asks.

He snorts then. “Of course I do, but-“ He shrugs, doesn’t need to say what is the unspoken truth they both know.

It is important that Jos does not know.

It is important to Max that it stays that way.

#sorry that everything i write atm seems to be set around crashes or hospital drama oops #or coming out:/#i just love love love outsider pov so couldnt resist #the next thing im planning to write is actually NOT medical drama related lol #or coming out #shock #hope someone out there enjoys regardless #thank u to my gals for pre reading and encouraging me to post this #especially lorna for never getting bored of chatting about angsty drama with me<3ly #max/daniel #fic

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askfussyfangs · 5 months

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Greetings, I Am Kanaya! I Have Recently Discovered This Odd Website And Have Decided To Make An Account.

Honestly, Decided Is Such A Loose Term... Perhaps "Mildly, Passive-Aggresively Coerced" Would Be More Accurate....

In Any Case, I Believe This Site, Similarly To Trollian, Can Bypass The Laws Of Time And Space. Which Means There Are Many Of You Seeing This. Um.. Ask Away, I Suppose!

//I got the idea to make one of these from reading @askinsufferableprick so check them out if you see this//

#//#thank you user askinsufferableprick youve encouraged me #anyways #ill be using this as an excuse to practice my art too so im gonna try my best with backgrounds #honestly #this style is a little detailed for me to keep up w in an ask blog #so it might get simpler as we go #and yes less green ass colouring i swear #OH ALSO!#pre sgrub #ok thas it #homestuck #homestuck ask blog #ask blog #askfussyfangs #ask kanaya maryam #ask kanaya #kanaya maryam

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ectonurites · 11 months

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Soooo I’ve been seeing this post go around and I do wanna just take something I wrote about in the tags and make an actual post about it to clear up an (understandable) misconception I think a lot of people have:

The upcoming Tales From Hawkins #3 centered on Robin…

(Variant covers for Stranger Things: Tales From Hawkins #3)

…is a single comic issue not a graphic novel.

This distinction matters here for two primary reasons:

Length: A standard comic issue is generally about 32 pages, as opposed to graphic novels which vary a lot in length but are much much longer. I haven’t read other issues in the Tales From Hawkins series so I’m not 100% sure the length of this issue specifically, but I do know people thinking this is going to be the length of a full graphic novel will be expecting a lot more than what there will actually be, so that’s just like, setting yourself up for disappointment.

Availability: While digital purchasing and/or pirating will of course be options, if you would like a physical copy of this story you will not find it at a regular book store any time soon, you will need to to go to a comic book store (here is a helpful tool: the comic shop locator) or if there are no comic stores near you/getting to one is not feasible for you, order from a comic store that delivers to other places (for example, Midtown comics or Things From Another World). Comic publishers used to have some single issues available at bookstores via the newsstand distribution model but that ceased existing during the 2010s. I think it’s highly likely that once the Tales From Hawkins series is over there will be a collected edition (much like the other Stranger Things comics have gotten) and THAT would be available at regular bookstores, but that would not be for a while.

And just for the context of how I know for a fact that this is a single issue and not a graphic novel:

Every month comic publishers put out solicitations (also known as ‘solicits’) which list what books are available for preorder. Usually solicits are about 3 months ahead of release, so in the case of Tales From Hawkins #3, it was part of Dark Horse’s August 2023 solicits which were released in May.

Anything that is a hardcover, trade paperback, graphic novel, etc is labelled as such—with the remaining listed books being single issues. Plus this specific site reporting these solicits has everything sorted by category so super clearly labelling what’s what, and if you scroll through the page you’ll see that Tales From Hawkins falls under the single issue category!

And also just like… graphic novels typically don’t get variant covers like this, that’s a comic issue thing. Graphic novels also typically aren’t given numbers like ‘#3 of 4’, they’re given numbers like ‘Volume 3’ if part of a multi-book series. And the list price is $3.99 USD which while standard for a single issue is like unheard of for a new graphic novel.

#ALSO QUICK ADD ON: midtown doesn't have it available right now because we're past the pre-order date but before the actual release date #so once it actually releases the backstock will likely be available to order from 👍 TFAW seems to still allow preorders tho so i added it #included the covers to encourage ppl to actually read this LMAO #stranger things #robin buckley #stranger things comics #stranger things tales from hawkins #tales from hawkins #also like absolutely no hate to op of that post if ur not highly aware of comic book stuff its an easy misconception to have

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a-mere-dream · 2 years

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I was ill, Peerless_Cucumber writes back. Why, did you miss me?

fuck no.

You totally did! Airplane can practically hear him crow. You /missed/ me.

Here is a secret: it feels good to hear Cucumber hate on this stories. Not because Airplane is a secret masochist or something, but because it assures him of his work's quality.

He knows he dropped that plot thread. He knows he didn’t explore her character beyond the three single personality traits he assigned her at the start of the Arc. He knows he was careless with contradictory backstories.

Peerless Cucumber has never called him out on something Airplane wasn’t aware he did.

That must mean he's still good, right? That means his work is not unintentionally bad, not worthless beyond what Airplane knows is his fault.

And so, Cucumber is a reassuring presence, despite his whole... everything.

#svsss #scum villain #cumplane #shang qinghua #shen yuan #pre-transmigration cumplane anyone?#these two guys are just *clenches fist* so full of potential for the most bat-shit dynamics youve ever seen #airplane: this is my emotional support hater <3 #cucumber: you suck. never write a single word again.#airplane: isn't he so sweet and encouraging?#cucumber: >:(

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fadefromthelight · 1 month

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hold your breath

Nobuhiko just stares down at him with that look Wataru's come to associate with him trying to solve a difficult problem. "What do you want?" Wataru asks, barely above a whisper.

"You're going racing, right?" Nobuhiko's voice is low, just as aware of their parents in the next room as Wataru is. "Take me with you."

Read on: Ao3

#and thank you rachel for encouraging me to write and post this!!#this is super self indulgent but if no one else will write anything for nobu i will #this is all pre-canon too #literally wataru introducing nobu to street racing that's it that's the fic #initial d #wataru akiyama #nobuhiko akiyama #wataru <3 #nobu <3 #my writing #faded writing

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