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mylovelies-docx · 1 year

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Sorry, I Love You - Prologue

We did it! We did it! We did it! Yay!

Since you guys are awesome and helped me reach 100 followers, here is the prologue to my new Bucky x Reader fic Sorry, I Love You inspired by the Stray Kids song of the same title (also, stream 5-Star on your favorite music app!)

This is a friends-with-benefits - to - strangers - to - something that I haven't written yet. I've got 5 chapters completed and no idea where the story will take me. I'll add tags as we go!

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Friends with Benefits, angst, unrequited feelings, Natasha being a Good Friend. This is just the Prologue, so a lot more to come!

Word Count: 700

Let's go!

You hide your feelings as deep as you can, but they bubble over. You can’t help but stare dreamily when his face morphs in happiness as his eyes squint when he laughs with the guys over a pint of Asgardian liquor.

You know your face says everything you won’t. When you meet Natasha’s gaze from across the table as Bucky throws his head back in an exaggerated groan at something Sam said, you immediately straighten your spine and wipe all traces of love sickness from your face. She softens her brows and gives you a pitying look you can’t stand.

You stand from where you’re sitting, disturbing the group’s conversation going on around you while you’re distracted by the highlights and shadows of Bucky’s mouth. His bright blue eyes meet yours, slightly fuzzy from the amount of Asgardian liquor flowing through his system, and he smiles at you from one side of his mouth.

“Where ya’ goin’, sweetheart?” Bucky basically yells from three seats away. “The party ain’t over yet!”

You laugh and drain what’s left of your drink before slamming it down and taking a small step backwards. You scrunch your face up and shake your head at the burn.

“It is for me, Barnes. You guys know it’s way past my bedtime.”

Everyone either laughs at your self-deprecating statement or starts complaining about you being lame. You smile brightly as you tell everyone good night and make your way out of the room. You immediately know you're not alone in leaving the table when you hear more exaggerated complaining from the group following someone else’s goodbye.

“Hey!”

Nat’s voice reaches your ears just as she grabs your arm and walks beside you. You both make your way towards the residential quarters where you and Nat share the same floor. The walk is quiet. Neither of you speak all the way to the elevator and the entire ride up. The hand she grabbed you with has looped through your elbow and pulled you close. You both lean back against the shiny surface of the carriage wall, listening to the soft AC/DC coming from the speakers. Freaking Tony Stark, you think to yourself, hiding a small, fond smile.

Nat breaks the silence as the ring of the bell ushers the opening of the elevator doors. Her arm tightens around your own, pulling you closer into her side.

“Are you good to go on the mission with Barnes later this year?” Although Nat asks the question bluntly, her tone of voice is gentle.

You snort and turn to look at her with a confused look on your face.

“Yeah?” you respond. You know that she knows that you know why she needs to ask the question, but you refuse to admit anything out loud.

“It’s just,” Natasha sighs and drops your arm, turning to face you, “this is a close quarters kind of mission – I don’t want you doing something stupid.”

“Wow, Nat.” You huff and cross your arms protectively in front of your chest, continuing down the hallway at the slow pace you’d set. “Tell me how you really feel.”

She closes her eyes and waves a hand in front of her face, acting like she’s batting her last words out of the air.

“Not stupid,” she clarifies, “I meant I don’t want your feelings for Barnes to make you think there’s something there when there really isn't.” Nat gives you a reproachful look when you start to deny it. “I know this is something you and he talk about sometimes, where he says he’s not looking for a relationship. But, hon, you’re always looking at him like you want one.”

You stare straight ahead to avoid her gaze, worrying your lips with the blunt edges of your teeth. A jittery, painful feeling fills you at the mere thought of whatever it is you have with Bucky ending like you know it will. This ‘relationship’ that isn't really a relationship.

“I don’t mean to,” you whisper pitifully.

“I know,” she soothes, removing your lip from your teeth with her thumb and using the other hand to rub your arm. “It’s just a crush – it’ll go away.”

You both hear the doubt in her words.

PART 1

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #100 followers #Sorry

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lovelytsunoda · 11 months

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typical male // pato o’ ward

summary: pato is nothing if not a simp for his girlfriend, the most wonderful woman on the planet, in his eyes. or, all the little moments that made pato o' ward feel like the luckiest man on earth

pairing: pato o ward x female! reader

warnings: smut scene, inappropriate use of a mclaren, fucking on the hood of said mclaren, pato is a simp and cannot go five minutes during the act without telling her how pretty she is. weddings and talk of. pato is the boyfriend we all deserve, a game of giant jenga played at a wedding reception (and may end a few friendships)

Tell me lawyer what to do, I think I'm falling in love with you

(..)

All I want is a little reaction, just enough to tip the scales. I'm just using my female attraction, on a typical male, on a typical male

the garage smelled like grease and pennzoil, the hood of pato's mclaren popped open and a bluetooth speaker in the corner blasting a playlist of blues-inspired rock and roll from the seventies and eighties. ac/dc. guns n roses. the usual.

pato didn’t mean to stop and stare, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself, leaning against the doorframe, eyes trained on his lovers ass, barely covered by her grease stained cutoff shorts.

she took his breath away.

"hey, beautiful." pato hummed, slipping his arms around her waist, gently kissing her neck.

"pato, i'm covered in grease, wearing the rattiest shorts i own and i'm not wearing a bra." y/n laughed, lacing her fingers with his. "i feel like a trainwreck."

"but you look incredible, love." pato insisted, peppering her face with kisses. his embrace was warm and comforting, a reassuring presence in her life.

pato made her feel complete, like she was the only girl in the world.

"and you know what no bra means." the driver hummed in between kisses. "easy. access."

"at least let me close the hood first." she giggled under his kiss, slamming the hood of the electric blue sports car down and wiping the grease off her hands as pato slipped his hands up her shirt, gently playing with her nipples. she moaned under his touch, heat growing between her thighs.

"lean down over the hood, mamas." pato hummed. "wanna see your beautiful body."

the hood of the car was cold against her skin, shirt still pushed up over her breats, making her jump in surprise. behind her, pato laughed, gently tracing the linework carnation tattooed on her back, just above the hem of her denim shorts.

"you okay, pretty girl?"

"your car is freezing, jesus!"

"sorry, corazon. we can head inside if you want?"

y/n snorted, resting her head on her folded arms as she looked back at her lover. "you and i both know that we aren't going to make it back to the bedroom."

pato laughed, playfully smacking her ass before pressing himself against her, fingers fumbling with buttons. "god, baby, i need you. i need you all the time, yeah, you looked so fucking sexy bent over my car like that."

"you need a new fan belt, by the way." she moaned, unable to speak as her boyfriend slid her shorts down her legs, revealing her lacy fuchsia panties. "yours is cracking."

"i love it when you talk dirty to me." pato laughed, half moaning as he undid his belt. "but i'm more concerned with taking care of my pretty girl than my car."

"mhm, spank me, papi." y/n joked, shaking her ass in pato's direction. she loved that she could goof around with him, that pato didn't take himself too seriously in the heat of the moment.

"do you have a good grip on the car?" pato asked softly, running his soft hands up and down her spine, giving her full body shivers. "i don't want you to get hurt or anything."

"baby, i'm fine. honestly, i'm shocked we haven't fucked on your car before." she giggled, reaching back to hold pato's hand. "you know that if anything feels off, i'll tell you."

pato gently let go of her hand, reassuringly tracing circles on her thigh as he used his other hand to tease his cock up and down her entrance, making sure that she was ready to take him.

he slipped in gently, listening and watching for any sign of discomfort before y/n reached once again for his hand, signaling that it was okay for him to start to move.

pato's pace was relentless as she moaned underneath him, whining his name as she squeezed his fingers.

"yes, pato! fuck, just like that."

"that's it, corazon. you're doing so well for me, yeah? so beautiful. so fucking beautiful and i wish you could see yourself the way that i see you every fucking day."

the room was dark, the mirrorball hanging from the ceiling refracting the party lights against the wall. the music was loud, the singing bad as y/n and cate, callum illotts girlfriend, took to the stage, singing a duet of ‘the best’ by tina turner.

“i know that look.” alex palou laughs, clapping pato on the shoulders as he stares at his fellow testing drivers awestruck expression, the stars in his eyes as he watched his girlfriend butcher tina turners greatest hit.

felix rosenvquist snorts, looking over at alex “has he told you that he’s spent the last hour debating whether it not he should ask y/n to marry him tonight?”

“marriage?” alex snorted “dude, you’re still so young, why tie yourself down like that?”

“what if I want to be tied down? i love her and I want to spend my life with her” pato said matter-of-factly, pulling a small velvet box out of his khakis

“we aren’t going to stop you, but that perfect moment isn’t just going to present itself.” felix shrugged. “you have to make the moment yourself.”

back onstage, the song was ending, cate and y/n collapsing into laughter fuelled by adrenaline and sugar. the light refracted off her skin, making her glow like some kind of neon goddess in the nightlight.

“before I get off this stage, there’s something I want to say before I lose my nerve!” y/n shouted, lifting her cocktail glass into the air. “patricio o ward is the love of my life! he’s the reason I look forward to getting up in the morning, the driving force behind what I do. he’s my biggest supporter, and the best lover, but moreover, he’s my best friend.”

the room started cheering. felix nudged pato in the arm, the mexican driver getting to his feet with a smile and waving to the room as if he was the queen of england. y/n beckoned him closer to the stage, and pato began to wonder if this was the perfect moment.

the moment he would pop the question.

“patricio, my love, my light, my smile. my best friend.” she smiled, lacing her fingers with his. she’d have got down on her knees to ask, full proposal classic, but with the crowd in this room, it would turn into a sex joke. “will you do me the honor of being my husband? will you marry me?”

pato just laughed, opening the ring box in his hand. “i was about to ask you the exact same thing.”

they both laughed, wrapping their arms around each other on stage, in front of the whole indycar grid as pato kissed her softly.

“is that a yes?”

“you first, tough guy.”

“yes, of course I’ll marry you, pretty girl.”

iii

“you look so fucking hot right now.” pato whistled as his fiancée stepped out of the dressing room, fabric of the wedding dress swishing around her legs as she walked.

they do say not to let your husband see you in your dress before the ceremony, but seeing as y/n was technically the one that proposed, they said to hell with all the regular wedding superstitions.

"you've said that about every dress so far." she giggled, twirling to look at herself in the mirror.

it turns out that the lovesick male is also very unhelpful when narrowing down which dress to buy, as the specimen thinks that every dress is equally as hot.

the dress was simple, white fabric hugging all her curves, with a scooping v-neckline. she loved the way it looked, but wondered if it might be perhaps a little . . . pedestrian. but she didn't even want a big wedding, she was happy with a quiet family affair in cancun.

pato shook his head. "this is different, babe. this dress is the one."

"you don't think it's too basic?" y/n worried, swishing the fabric around once more as she stared at her reflection.

"i think it's beautiful, corazon. you are beautiful." he wrapped his arms around her waist. "i'd marry you if you were wearing ripped jeans and a grease-stained tears for fears shirt."

"good to know. when we have our vow renewal maybe i'll wear a leather skirt."

"vow renewal?" pato laughs, kissing her softly. "we haven't even said them the first time yet."

"i can't wait until we do." y/n sighs, leaning back into his arms. "i love you."

"love you more, pretty girl." pato grins widely, kissing her cheek. "so, how do you feel about the dress?"

"this is the one."

iv.

"pato watch out!" y/n laughed, watching her now-husband remove one of the large jenga blocks from the tower set up in the middle of the reception hall.

pato had stayed true to his word when he promised that it would be a small wedding, only family and close friends allowed to join them in the serene jungle of cancun.

in lieu of a guest book, the o'ward's had bought a massive handmade jenga set, and each of the guests had written a message for the happy couple on one of the wooden blocks now towering into the trees and the stars above.

"relax, honey, it's not going to fall." pato chuckled, using both hands to maneuver the wooden block. "elba, get me the step ladder!"

shaking her head, pato's sister brought over the small two-step ladder that the wedding guests had been using to play the life-sized game.

or, larger than life sized.

"patricio, if you fall, i swear to god." y/n half warned as she held the ladder in place, the glow of happiness and surreality on her face as she tried to comprehend that she was now married to her best friend in the entire world.

pato rested the jenga block on the top of the wobbly tower, straightening it and attempting to stabilize it without knocking the whole thing over. stasified with the structure's strength, pato let out a breath and descended the ladder, moving to stand next to his wife.

he thought she looked so beautiful in the soft, led lighting. the jungle clearing was right on the water, lit up by christmas lights stung between the trees and plugged into a generator. y/n had a hibiscus flower pinned behind her ear, and a small smudge of mascara on her cheek.

that didn't matter. she still took his breath away, made his knees go weak when she smiled.

even after marriage, he was still al lovesick fool.

felix was up next in the massive jenga game, pulling out a block from the middle that he could barely reach, getting alex to hold the step ladder in place as he ascended to the top of the dangerously rickety tower.

"i don't like the looks of that." y/n hummed, resting her head against pato's chest. "if those jenga blocks crush anybody at our reception-"

"they won't, don't worry about it." pato murmured, kissing her forehead softly. "i'm so happy we did this."

"me too."

"the tower's coming down!" alex shouted, pushing felix out of the way and into the water as the jenga blocks fell down.

in the opposite direction of the lake.

"what the fuck was that for?" felix shouted, surfacing in the turqoise waters as he began to doggy paddle back to shore.

"sorry." alex laughed. "i thought it was going to fall on you."

still laughing, y/n turned to pato, kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more, pretty girl. way, way more."

TAGS:

@oconso @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @cl16version @unluckyhoneybee

#pato o ward #pato o ward x reader #indycar x reader #indycar imagine #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #pato o ward imagine #pato o ward x y/n #Spotify

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faeriekit · 1 year

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Quiet Respite 🕸️❤️🦇

find the whole thing on Ao3 or read the previous updates here on tumblr

A DC x MCU fic inspired by Dark Matter, Cassandra Cain meets Peter Parker in an exploratory romance slash “mystery” fic. (If you’ve read a lot of these before, you pretty much can tell what’s going on in the background.) Features: Cass’s turn as POV character, use of sign language, the flimsiest timeline you’ve ever seen, teen romance, hurt/comfort, implied homelessness, fight scenes, Cass’s teen rebellion arc, Spider-Man villain arc?? (whoopsie), and a good deal of sneaking around. Updates on tumblr before ao3.

Previous updates are listed above, so if you don’t want to start off with ch 15 below, click on those. This is just to consolidate a big post into something slightly smaller. Anyway, enjoy the continuation of Peter’s trauma-induced depression arc.

🕸🕷🕸❤

The next day is dance class.

Baby Bat’s school will be waiting for him tomorrow, which means Peter will either go, or not go.

That’s a tomorrow problem. Today, Cass has dance.

She hovers her hand over Peter’s stomach. “Can I…touch?” She uses her voice to ask.

He lets her touch. She gently prods his ribs.

“They don’t hurt anymore,” Peter whispers as he signs, exhausted, but awake. “I ate. I slept. I healed.”

He heals quickly, then. Some creatures do. Cass nods.

“Okay.” Cass can sign that one without even looking at him. She rolls off of her bed. “We are going.”

Peter frowns. He’s confused. “We…?” he starts, but his hands fall before finishes his thought. He’s too tired.

Cass hums a doing chores song that Alfred likes. “Mmhmm,” she vocalizes in her throat, more thought than sound. She reaches underneath her Peter, and he barely even flails. So gentle with her.

“Wait, where are we—?” He squawks. If he’s signing, it’s at the wrong angle for Cass to see. “What?? Cass— Wait—“

Having his bare skin against her arms is kind of nice. He’s kind of squishy. Cass is hopeful that with more food, he might be even squishier. His body is a little too cold. He needs clothing.

Cass makes it over to the door. An almost-free hand wiggles enough to get Cass’s fluffy purple robe from the hook on back of it, and positioning Peter beneath it makes it fall neatly onto his face.

Peter makes a wounded noise. But he’s not hurt. Cass whistles Alfred’s cleaning tune and opens the door with a careful stretch and her toes.

Cass pokes her head through the door.

Cass looks left. Cass looks right.

“I don’t think anyone is here,” Peter murmurs, close to her ear. He’s looking where she’s looking but— right. Peter and the spider are the same. He can hear things Cass can only feel whispers of. She nods. She carries him down to Bigger Bird’s room.

Bigger Bird’s not here, but his pants are. Cass pulls open a drawer with her toes (new skill!), sticks Peter closer, and let him choose.

…And prods him to choose, when he doesn’t.

“Are we stealing?” Peter mumbles, upset. But he picks a pair of shiny, dark blue shorts. “Because I stopped that now.”

“No. Giving back. Later.”

“Oh. Well, then.”

Baby Bat’s shirts fit better. Cass walks them across the hall to Baby Bat’s room, stepping over the clutter and noise to get to his closet.

“It is a little weird how comfortable you are with going into other people’s closets,” Peter says under an exhausted sigh. Cass understands most of the sentence: the part that says This is weird. The rest is probably about the clothing.

“One child,” she accuses of him easily. “Normal.”

Peter barely looks at the shirts. He picks one off the closet without examining it. “Only child?”

“Mmhmm.” What’s the difference?

The door cracks open. Cass knows it’s going to be Baby Bat, so she doesn’t worry. Baby Bat likes Peter. He appears in the doorway, head-speakers half on and half off, computer under his arm. “Ca— Peter?!”

Peter’s head lolls in Baby Bat’s direction. Cass shifts to accommodate him. “…Hi,” says Peter.

“You’re in my house?” Baby Bat asks, confused. His eyebrows are pushed together. He doesn’t understand why they’re in his room, or in his room, together.

“…I have been? For a few days?” Peter asks, more confused than Baby Bat is. Cass hasn’t told him they were hiding him.

(To be fair, she thought it was obvious.)

“Shirt, please,” Cass rasps, and gestures to Peter, clad in only her purple robe and with his stuck-up hair.

Thankfully, signing: “Okay??” only takes one hand and a strong expression. Cass loves Baby Bat. She might kiss his hair on the way out.

Cass wheels them out into the hallway, almost backs into a fancy art thing on a tiny table, and ferries Peter back into her room.

His dirty clothes and his metal skin are still on her floor. They’ll have to stay there until Alfred cleans her room tomorrow and the laundry goes away.

Peter. Stands. He holds the clothes. He doesn’t change.

That’s okay. Cass takes his choices from his hands and carefully guides him through the process. Sometimes just touching the body is enough to bring someone back to it. His arms go up. The shirt goes over his head. Cass touches each foot to guide his legs into the shorts.

His body is dressed, although he is without shoes. Cass fetches skinny little socks from her drawer, because his body is always too cold to her touch and loving people means giving heat and warmth.

Hm. Maybe he should have her jacket too.

Bigger Bat is fending for himself in doing job things. Bigger Bird is doing day work in his very far, very smelly city. Baby Bat already likes lying to Bigger Bat for fun.

All Cass has to do is take Peter into the car with her.

…With Alfred.

Cass is very gentle with Peter. He’s strong and he’s healed and she doesn’t have to be gentle, but Bigger Bat is always gentle with Cass even though he doesn’t have to be too. She takes Peter’s hand to walk him downstairs for fear that he won’t come after her if she doesn’t. They slip through the long halls and heavy doors of Cass’s new nest on socked feet.

Alfred is already at the door when Cass and Peter get there. When Cass puts herself between Alfred and Peter, it’s almost unconscious.

Alfred looks up.

Alfred looks down.

He does not look…surprised.

“I had thought Cass was hiding a cat,” Alfred signs, slowly and precisely, as he always does.

“P-e-t-e-r,” Cass fingerspells instead. She tries not to look sheepish. She is doing a good thing. She doesn’t have to be shy about it.

“Indeed. To the car?” Alfred signs, and speaks, in case Peter doesn’t understand ASL.

Peter doesn’t sign back; but still, he’s pliable. Cass guides him into the car, and he buckles himself in.

They go to dance.

Peter doesn’t dance, but that’s okay; Alfred is clear with his words and tone that say Leave him alone and Be nice at the same time, and all the same ballerinas who had watched Cass be tossed with envy are careful and quiet with him.

The music plays. A dozen feet fall on the same beat, and Cass dances.

Arms. Legs. Bend. Twirl. Dip, and bend. Turn. Angle her head, just so, so that Cass can watch Peter without breaking the line of perfectly organized dancers.

Peter watches, legs crossed, knees up to his chin.

The lessons end, and the ballerinas leave— kindly waving to Cass, to Peter, with shy shoulders and soft-spoken concern. They’re nice. Cass loves dance-partners. They mean as much to her as fight-partners ever could.

The ballerinas leave. The teacher, in her black leotard and taut leggings, leaves.

Cass doesn’t leave. The floors smell like wood and wax. There’s the smell of sweat and emotion in the air. The mirror is the only cool part of the humid, sweaty room. Cass, not Batgirl and yet in a black bodysuit, sits beside Peter.

Peter says nothing.

Cass says nothing.

…Cass holds out a hand.

Peter. Looks at it. He isn’t sure he wants to take it, she can tell— knows what it’s for, but doesn’t have the energy to do anything about the gesture.

“Please,” Cass asks. Animals that do not move are doomed to die.

Her spider sees the expression on her face. His own falters because of it.

His grip is hesitant, but Cass is certain. She hauls him to his feet and puts them in pose: their fingers entwined, his palms to her, her body to his, her cheek to his collarbone.

For a moment, they just breathe, in silent embrace.

And then Cass moves, and Peter moves with her, two minds and one body.

Peter only follows old memories at first; muscle memory works to keep his body upright, to bend and to hold her, to keep Cass steady and sure.

But Cass knows what’s going to happen before it happens; her spider is a creature of movement, just like her.

Slowly, as she spins, as he follows, his eyes soften. His practiced care becomes intentional. Then it becomes artistic, and Peter joins her in the music.

The girl who wears Batgirl’s skin and a spider boy dance in an empty studio, arm in arm, dancing to music she has heard in her dreams. Their footsteps are a whisper of an echo against the plaster walls and glass mirror around them. Cass can see their reflections when she’s angled to— in the sunset angling through the windows, they are little more than the shadows they pretend to be.

She isn’t surprised when Peter lifts her— she knows he knows she likes it— but the relief that Peter feels safe enough to play a little makes her laugh. Openly. Loudly.

Peter’s eyes go wide with awe.

Cass can’t help but adore him for it.

He slowly lets her down. He doesn’t let go of her.

It’s good that he doesn’t. She wants to (and she does) angle Peter’s head down, until she can press a kiss to his curls. She pulls him in close and he comes to her.

Tears find Cass’s shirt. She welcomes them as long as Peter needs to cry them.

“T-they’re,” Peter hiccups, too close to her to sign. “They’re gone. Everyone’s gone. My aunt, my friends, my…my team, my uncle.”

Cass knew some of that. Not the details. Her arms circle around him so she can pull him tighter. “I’m here,” Cass whispers.

There’s a sob against her chest. “What do I do? Where do I go from here? Everyone’s…”

“I’m here,” Cass whispers again, because it’s the truth. “Let me…help. Brothers help. Dad helps.”

“They’re not…” Peter grips her back— careful not to crush her, not like Cass had hurt him days before. “They’re your family. Not mine.”

Cass clicks her tongue. That can easily change. Once upon a time, the Bat hadn’t been her parent either. Now she has two-and-more brothers and parent and a purple friend and an Alfred. “Can share.” And then, because she means it: “Stupid.” She bonks her head down onto his. Peter’s laugh is watery, but it’s bright.

Cass carries Peter to the car this time. He almost smiles.

(Alfred does.)

“I hope you understand that this does require you to be at dinner, young Masters,” Alfred says, signing the gist to Cass as they go. Cass catches most of it, though his white gloves make it hard to tell where Alfred’s fingers are.

Cass sticks out her tongue. Peter splutters, wide-eyed.

(They trade the sight of pink tongues all the ride home.)

(Alfred pretends not to see them, but Cass catches his smile in the mirror at odd glances.)

#dc x marvel #quiet respite #faer fic #NO Marvel ONLY Spider-man #dcu crossover #mcu #but only mcu in the ways I personally think are cool and interesting #if they are NANOBOTS why can they not change COLOR #spider #?#spider gif #arachnophobia warning

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running-with-kn1ves · 1 year

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Walla....kn1ves....genius big brain yandere writer....i just (re)found your Yves work (im sure you saw me freak out in the tags lmao) if you have the time/energy/inspo pls i beg you for a speck, a crumb, a droplette, ANYTHING of my baby Yves x fem!reader. I'm not sure how specific is too specific but I have a truckload of daydreams and prompts for this man dc im down BAD BAD for the way you write him. I'm not sure if this is too specific of a request but can it be yves holding himself back constantly because he wants to *romance* the reader but its so obvious he's itching for more until one day he finally snaps and takes her (specifically him giving her his virginity and whoops maybe going crazy when he finds out she isnt one)? I'm just obsessed with his characterization and want to see him in a ton of situations and feeling/reacting to different things. The stern dom undertones his whole vibe has disguised by a friendly foreign guide 🥵 The drabble of him was sooooo good and such a tease of his personality, it's so enticing hahaha. If that prompt is no good or doesn't inspire you then anything else is fine and ofc if you have no inspiration for Yves at all then that's a-okay too!!! Thank you sooooo much for thinking up that beautiful man and sharing him with us!!! Hope you enjoy your holidays💞💞💞

A/N: Ugh I'm so sorry I took so long in answering 😭😭 I was gonna write like a whole piece but my time has been cut dramatically, so please accept this poor little piece!! I was honestly so overjoyed at seeing your tags, it makes me so happy to see people's reactions to my stuff ┗( T﹏T )┛I wish I could have more time to write for this because I love the concept, I'm a huge fan of the "mysterious foreign guide who's just a little too friendly" kind of trope. Thank you so much for your support anon and I hope you enjoy this!! OG piece here for any of you nerds!

TW: Kidnapping, implied dubcon/noncon, manipulation

It wasn’t hard to notice Yve’s shift in behavior. Well, this shift out of many. When you first met him, he gave off a kind, well-meaning but nervous vibe. He did his best to show you around, to make you comfortable and converse with you in english to the best of his knowledge. That kind persona shifted into something more… desperate; obsessive, once he brought you back to his apartment. He was still kind, still well-meaning and observant to your needs. He apologized profusely when you got upset from how he kept you from leaving, promising that you weren’t missing anything important in class and that he could show you real culture instead! What could you learn from a textbook that would be better than seeing the country itself?

But time and time again, Yves made excuses to keep you inside, to make you stay by his side whether through photoshoots or studying, with him as your “teacher”. You had to learn the basics before taking such a “big” step out into his country, right? Unfortunately for you, Yve’s only taught information on the most trivial subjects. From words like “textbook” to “glass”, you were able to make meaningless sentences that wouldn’t serve you well in conversing with native speakers outside of Yve’s little apartment. Sure, it might help you occasionally, but it got you no where closer to understanding Yve’s rushed mumbling and incoherent rambling.

With your sudden move to his apartment and his new change in conduct, Yves had slowly become less generous. He didn’t make as much of an effort to talk in english anymore, and made far less points to explain himself. You couldn’t tell what caused this new change-- a change that you were soon starting to accept as Yves showing his true colors. The man was still attentive to your needs, still caring and kind-- but the posessiveness that had slipped out almost entirely seemed to be taking hold. And while you’d think that a growing obsession would make it more beneficial to you-- it in fact, made your difficulty increase tenfold. Yves began to direct you on what you should wear, when you should eat, what you should do for the day.

Not only that, but his attentiveness to…more intimate needs were far more prevalent as well. Whether it was bathing, or the need that pulsed between your legs, Yve’s was there to try and take care of it. You pushed him away multiple times, awkwardly trying to tell him that you were fine-- but it never seemed to stick. He always just looked at you with a tilted, confused expression, muttering in his native tongue as if he didn’t understand. So when the foreign guide began to sleep next to you instead of the cot on the floor, and began to press his morning erection agaist your backside sleepily, you knew your protests weren’t having any effect.

You would have walked right out of that teensy apartment the moment you felt he didn’t listen-- if you weren’t so afraid. If you weren’t afraid of the loaded handgun in his locked nightstand drawer, or how easily he could destroy your life at your new university-- which he mentioned offhand multiple times in a casual manner-- you would have walked out. The power he held against you, a foreign student with failing grades and no money, was too much for you to ignore. So, you decided to bide you time. It was only a matter of weeks until he got bored with you, you decided. But his new actions didn’t seem to prove that.

In fact, the lustful, mischievous look he gave you that evening was the complete opposite. His scrawny frame jumped atop yours, hooking his hands behind your neck and leaning in to try and kiss you. He had planned an unusually fancy dinner, lighting candles you had never seen in his apartment before and bringing a bottle of wine with some italian takeout. You tried to question him about the mound of pillows and blankets on his balcony, the sudden romantic lighting, but the male only gave you a broad statement on how it was a “celebration” of sorts.

Yves’ sudden prowling mood after dinner wasn’t a complete shock-- considering you felt his eyes on you the entire evening-- but it still caught you a tad off guard. You tried to reject him, to push him away after each kiss, but it was done with such little effort and such great fear that you stayed silent once he muttered in an annoyed tone in his own language. Yves took your silence as a surrender, friskily lowering his hand under your shirt to caress your abdomen. He rambled against your flesh in half-english as he kissed you up and down, not afraid to let out vocal little noises of pleasure, or grunts of satisfaction ones he heard your breath hitch or a hum of desire come from your lips.

But it wasn’t until he uttered a sentence with a familiar word, did you actually reply to him. You recognized the term from messing around with your friends, when you jokingly learned dirty words from your textbooks and the internet to use when you finally entered the country. You never expected to actually utilize them unless you went to a club or bar and happened to meet someone. One of those words, was ‘virgin.’ A more tame term compared to the bunch you had memorized, but one that you and your friends had idiotically decided to research. Though, it seemed your stupid endeavors had paid off.

As Yves repeated himself, you began to understand the sentence a bit more. The man was seeming to imply… you were a virgin? Something about you both no longer virgin-ing? Maybe he was saying that he was going to ‘virgin’ you? You couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, only mustering up the courage to poorly explain your sexual status to him, first in english and then in a broken version of his language. You tried to repeat yourself, thinking you might have said your statement wrong-- but Yve’s shocked expression and sudden lack of kisses seemed to prove you wrong.

“You have…. Sex?” Yve put a hand to his mouth, eyes begging you to respond.

“Uh….yes?” You said with an awkward expression; you hoped he was asking what you thought.

Yve’s let out a choked gasp, looking as if you had crushed his heart in your palm.

He looked down, voice cracking as he mumbled something incoherent, and likely not understandable to you in the first place.

“I….I i’m sorry?” You tried to apologize, seeing how shaken Yves had become at finding out you weren’t as inexperienced as he. Despite his eagerness, you could tell he was new to trying to initiate something you had already grown long accustomed to, new to being so intimate. It was actually in part of his eagerness that you realized he wasn’t of the same sexual history. He was full of anticipation and desire, throwing caution and logic to the wind to fulfill what he had read in books and seen in films.

Yves seemed to treasure the act of losing ones virginity far more than you had-- but you had only noticed it now. The candlelit dinner, the mood-fitting music-- your first experience was nowhere near as romantic.

Yves seemed shaken, his low, almost sob-filled words growing heavier. He grew more aggressive, seeming to realize something now that he had processed this unexpected news. He had assumed you were just as much of an amateur as him-- that he’d be the one to “deflower” you in an act of passionate romance-- a bubble fantasy that had just been popped. But the male realized-- if he couldn’t have his desired outcome, he’d have to make due with what he had. Which was to make sure you’d fall to your knees, experiencing the best night of ‘passion’ that would make you never want to crawl to another man again.

He was going to claim you-- to make it so those nights you spent with others never counted.

You could only understand a fifth of what Yves breathily moaned into your mouth, once again jumping your bones though this time much more roughly. Before you could say anything further you had felt his quick hands unbutton your pants, his own thrown to the floor. He didn’t listen as you begged him to atleast let you move to the bed, where you would no longer be visible to prying eyes on the balcony. But he didn’t care-- Yves had already taken off his shirt, intent on ripping yours away too. He didn’t care anymore if this wasn’t going to be special for the reason he expected-- he was going to make sure you would be left with a night you wouldn’t forget.

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gffa · 6 months

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How do find all those gems of fics because you have incredible taste im so serious

Hi! Aw, you are very sweet to say so, thank you! I freely admit that I have very specific tastes, but I know what I'm about and I'm recommending fics that I know I would enjoy, so it's a list perfectly tailored to what I want to see in fandom! As for a semi-serious answer about how to find the fic you want to read, it's sort of a collection of little tricks: 1 - Read a lot of fic. The more you read, the more you'll find that you like, and the more you'll develop a sense for finding what you want to read faster! 2 - Be willing to give up on a fic that's just not for you. The number of times a fic has gotten better after hitting one of my personal warning signs has been so low that now I almost never both to keep reading. If a fic says attachment and love are the same thing, good luck with your fic, author, but I'm out right then and there. If a fic crosses into Bad Dad Bruce territory, you're perfectly valid author, but I'm out right on the spot. If I don't vibe with the formatting or style (I need every new speaker/thinker to be in a new paragraph, I need reasonable sized paragraphs, etc.), I drop the fic and move on to the next. If a summary seems like it has the type of fanon that doesn't hit my id, I keep scrolling. This isn't a value judgement, those fics are fine! They're just not meant for me. But it means I have more time to move on to the next fic, rather than frustrating myself by trying to vibe with something that's just never going to be for me. If I change my mind later, I can always come back, but honestly this has allowed me to find a lot more fic that is for me, if I'm not spending time on something that I don't vibe with. 3 - I will sort by kudos to get started in finding authors to begin reading when I first start, but after that I'm heading to the bookmarks of authors I liked, filtering by "Other work tags to include" to find what I'm really looking for (usually a specific relationship), and start opening up fic. When you find another author you like, repeat the process! 4 - Check out when other people do rec lists, too! Like, I've picked up fic from @cacchieressa and @fantastic-nonsense in DC fandom, as they both do recs fairly often, or I'll do a search for whatever character I'm looking for on tumblr, like "search/dick grayson fic recs", and if something sounds interesting, I'll drop it onto my reader. (I hope I can give back in this way, too, I would love to help others find fic to read and if that inspires making a recs list, that would be great, too!) 5 - I do go through certain tags every night (I go through the Dick & Bruce tag every night, I go through the Anakin Skywalker tag every night, sometimes I'll go through the Jedi Culture Appreciated tag, etc.) and see what catches my attention that's new today, or I'll do a search by kudos and hit up the 300 to 500 number of kudos fics, the ones that are smack in the middle to find more authors that are often really good (which I will then hit up their back catalogue and their bookmarks). Basically, just figure out what really makes your motor run when it comes to fic, whether a favorite character, a favorite relationship, a favorite trope, and you'll naturally just start reading so much that you'll find a ton of fic you like. But also, seriously, hit up authors' bookmarks, if you like their writing, chances are good you'll like their taste in reading, too!

#lumi.txt #fic recs

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mariacallous · 7 months

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Far-right figures in the United States are making violent threats against Muslims in response to what they believe is a planned “global day of jihad” today.

The violent rhetoric comes in response to comments made in a statement by Khaled Meshaal, the founder and former leader of Hamas, to Reuters on Wednesday. Meshaal called for protests on October 13 across the Arab world in support of the Palestinians before adding: “To all scholars who teach jihad ... to all who teach and learn, this is a moment for the application [of theories].”

While Meshaal very specifically made the calls for protests in “the Arab and Islamic worlds,” his comments were quickly mistranslated online to become a “global day of jihad,” a phrase he did not use.

In the toxic stew of misinformation and disinformation that has circulated online in the days since Hamas’ attack on Israel, those misinterpreted comments have been weaponized by right-wing lawmakers and influencers to suggest that Hamas is planning attacks on non-Muslims. This latest round of online disinformation now threatens to spill over into real-world violence.

Users of pro-Trump message boards and extremist channels on Telegram, as well as mainstream platforms like X, formerly Twitter, repeatedly claimed that they would be carrying firearms today; some claimed they would be prepared to use those weapons if or when they encountered Muslims. In many cases, people referred to Muslims using racial slurs.

In response, some police authorities in US cities, including New York and Los Angeles, announced that they plan to boost officer numbers to counter any potential violence. Some schools in the US and in the UK have closed due to concerns about “an international day of rage ” or “out of an abundance of caution.”

The situation was made worse today by two separate incidents of violence in China and France.

In Beijing, the Israeli embassy confirmed that a diplomat was stabbed in broad daylight outside the embassy building. In Arras, France, a teacher was stabbed to death outside the school they worked in by someone who shouted "Allahu Akbar" during the attack, according to witnesses.

Videos purporting to show both attacks, which WIRED has not been able to independently verify, are circulating online and are being shared by right-wing figures as proof that the “global day of jihad” is real.

Yesterday, FBI director Christopher Wray attempted to assure the Jewish community in the US that his agency is taking any threats seriously. “I am not, in any way, trying to alarm you, but I want you to be confident that the FBI is most assuredly paying attention,” he said during an update on domestic security guidance following the Hamas attacks. “We remain vigilant to the potential of this event to inspire violence.”

The terms “jihad” and “day of rage” were both trending on X this morning, having been boosted by prominent accounts, including one belonging to hard-right representative Marjorie Taylor-Greene of Georgia. “If we are not going to vote today for a Speaker, why don't we just go home and regroup next week? I’ll buy ammo while I’m home,” Greene wrote on X.

Rogan O’Handley, a former Hollywood lawyer who has become a influential far-right figure under the pseudonym DC Draino, falsely claimed that Hamas had called for “an international day of terrorism.” O’Handley, who has 1.1 million followers on X, added, “I will not be changing 1 thing about my daily life b/c I will not let terrorism win,” he wrote. “I will, however, be carrying an extra mag. Be safe y’all.”

A WIRED review of Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok found dozens of posts highlighting Meshaal’s comments and the potential threat from the “day of jihad” but little evidence of threats against Muslims posted on those platforms. On Instagram yesterday, popular right-wing podcaster Charlie Kirk wrote: “Day of Jihad? Arm up.” The post has received 34,000 likes. Meta did not respond to a request for comment about Kirk’s post.

Amidst the flurry of threats, disinformation, and real acts of violence, it appears that X is attempting to limit search results for the terms “global day of jihad” and “jihad,” both of which returned no results when WIRED searched on mobile, desktop, and in different countries. While a search for the term “jihad” on X didn’t return any posts, it did suggest three people to follow, the first of which was US president Joe Biden.

X did not respond to WIRED’s request for comment about the violent threats on its platform or the lack of search results for terms related to jihad.

The calls for violence from right-wing accounts online echo violent responses from extremist groups in the days following the outbreak of the war.

While many right-wing groups have posted Islamophobic content and calls for violence against Muslims, many others have doubled down on their antisemitic worldview and are posting violent threats against Jews.

In a post on Telegram, the Texas chapter of the extremist group the Proud Boys, using multiple antisemitic slurs to describe Jews, called for the “extermination” of the Jewish people.

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kaaaaaaarf · 7 months

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20 asks for fic writers

Thank you for tagging me, @fruityindividual, @lynxindisguise, @butcherbacterium & @spindrifters <333

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

56,757

3. What fandoms do you write for?

HP Marauders.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) aka murder husbands

Now I'm Spreading Your Legs (with mine in between) aka the original hatefuck

soft like silk chiffon aka silk slip Remus

back when we were dinosaurs aka museum

Rolling In The Deep aka divorced sopping wet wolfstar

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, of course!! I love getting comments, they sustain me. I need them to live.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending

Oh, hmm. I try to give all my fics a somewhat happy ending. I guess my blood is singing with your voice, which is my Midsommar au...I think you can guess how that ends.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that museum will probably win this once it's finished, but for now I would say I Knew Your Love Before I Knew Your Name and You Grew Tall (I Stayed The Same).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far no. I have received some weird feedback before, but nothing hateful.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

hahaha Listen. When I started writing fic I was like "I will never write smut, it's too hard to do it right." and then the first fic I published was my original hatefuck fic. 🤷 In fact, I think I'm best known for my Hatefuck Extended Universe series.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have not, I don't really think it's for me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. Like Lynx said, I think there are a lot of themes and motifs that float around the fandom so inevitably you're going to find something that is similar to yours. I have had people reach out and ask if they can write something inspired by my fic or like, with a similar theme (murder husbands) and I really appreciated the asking.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! I don't know how I feel about it...there's no way for me to ensure that they have kept the story the same, ya know? I guess it would be a case by case basis.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

B, Kels and I started a sort of Miami Vice AU, but it sort of fell to the side. It was fun to collaborate, but we collaborate on every fic we write anyways, so.

In general, I don't think I'm the right person to co-write with because my muse is so fickle and comes and goes. I wouldn't want to let anyone down.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Wolfstar at the moment! I will always be an everlark shipper though.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have had a wolfstar girldads au sitting in my notes app forever and I would love to write it, but the muse never sticks around for long. I also have a soulmate au that I started but will likely never finish. I think my take is unique, but I've just never been able to figure out how I could make it work.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh, I guess I have a really good grasp on the characters I'm trying to write, and I think I'm also good at humour. Also if you need a flowery metaphor, I'm your girl.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

World building. I'm just incredibly lazy and not that imaginative. I also have terrible grammar. I use em-dashes to hide that fact that I have no idea how to correctly use a semi-colon.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I mean I would do it, but only if I had a friend who could proof-read for me. The last thing I want to do is write something in another language that takes a native speaker out of the fic entirely.

The title of my fic In ár gCroíthe go deo is Irish, but it's also a song title from Fontaines DC so I didn't have to worry about that so much.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This one! Marauders. I've only been writing since April.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

The ones I'm most proud of are The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) and back when we were dinosaurs.

no pressure tagging: @kaleidoscopexsighs, @grimjobs, @vajazzly, @crushofdoves, @greenvlvetcouch, @sommerregenjuniluft, @cancerravenclaw, @facewithoutheart, @sheisraging , @achilleslikespeas, @hihimissamericanbi, @colgatebluemintygel and @thefairylights

#about me #my fics

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grison-in-space · 7 months

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yeah so I hadn't reread the bit of 1633 where spoiler happens and the crowd rises in a fury and everyone has to go out and talk it down since ... well, before 2017 really, when I went to the Women's March in DC.

having just done so: it is actually even more powerful when you have, in fact, stood in a crowd that uncertainly angry and that dangerously packed and felt the collective mood shifting. I cannot underscore that enough. especially given that in 2017 the crowd did get frustrated and angry and needed to be redirected, and Janelle Monae caught it up and channeled it and set it to rights just as smoothly and beautifully as you have ever seen.

Love Monae's music and acting, but I think I am always going to respect her brilliance under fire even more than her artistic genius in her own time. Obviously she wasn't the only gifted speaker and organizer shaping that crowd that day--not even close--but she's always going to be one of my touchstones for the power that an experienced speaker and decisive leader can bring to a crisis. Incredible work, and all the more so because she didn't direct the crowd to praise or even focus on herself; she quieted that crowd, swept it up, and directed it towards the Mothers of the Movement who had come to speak from Black Lives Matter. Set everyone listening to them.

There's a lot in that scene that reminds me of that experience. Perhaps most of all I remember the acute awareness that if someone says the wrong thing, steps wrong on the red hot dance floor, the consequences will be swift and dire... but if that tense grief and anger can be swept up and channeled, it can be used to temper a lasting and powerful determination.

Flint--and these bits are all Flint--was such a genius at turning historical events into inspirational narrative without ever allowing anyone to forget the notes of true shame that accompanied those inspirations. And yet even when he's openly scolding me, the reader--and the bits where he's writing Melissa Mailey taking young Darryl McCarthy to task about Oliver Cromwell were extremely pointedly heard by my adolescent self--he's so deftly careful not to break surges of earnest enthusiasm.

He's so American in that way: that unabashed refusal to cringe in shame for any reason; that direct insistence on finding things to cheer about to focus on, and that embarrassingly earnest enthusiasm for open, untempered praise where due, even in the midst of an open conflict. Don't get me wrong: he's very clear about what it means to do shameful things, or about grief in the face of injustice, or about the importance of squaring up directly to face down the times for which genuine, thoughtful contrition and reparations are warranted. But he won't let you dwell in that place of wallowing shame: rather, it's onward and upwards to try your best to make the next mistake better next time, once the lesson penetrates. Your shame solves nothing: your actions might.

It's such a valuable lesson, and I am glad to have those fingerprints on my soul alongside many others. He's so damn energetic. I can see Eric Flint listening to the Tumblresque refrain "death to cringe!" and laughing uproariously in delight. I hope whenever he is now, he's laughing once more.

#1632 #eric flint

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despairs-heaven · 1 year

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Right... If she’s not going to talk to him, this conversations going to go nowhere quick.

“Hey kid, were you traveling alone here? It’s rather dangerous in a school like this isn’t it? How about we go along together till we find someone you know, you can talk when you’re ready.” At least if he can get her to stand up, there’s a chance they’ll be able to get somewhere.

“S...so much blood...” She almost sounded as surprised as anyone would’ve been normally to see her. “I.. I want to get it off...”

Great. Tag a longs.

David let out a sigh before speaking. “It was raining outside last I checked, we’ll get soaked but it should wash away the blood. Let’s go.” David walked past the girl into the locker room.

The girl managed to push herself off the floor and from a distance, trekked after David.

#DC - Inspirational Speaker

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weshipyourride · 2 months

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2024 National Bike Summit Recap

Our Bikeflights event season shifted into high gear last week in Washington, DC at the 2024 National Bike Summit hosted by the League of American Bicyclists. Each spring, the Summit draws hundreds of bike advocates together from across the US to learn from and inspire each other to create more and safer opportunities for biking and walking.

Bikeflights was represented by four Ambassadors, including Tina Beecham, Jessica Brunson and Diana Hildebrand all in person and Kecia McCullough joining virtually.

Vice President Sue George also made the trip to the nation’s capital.

Held over three days at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library and on Capitol Hill, the Summit’s energy was overwhelmingly positive. It turns out that now is a good time for bike advocacy. You can see it by simply riding around Washington, DC, where like many other parts of the country, there are increasingly more protected bike lanes, dedicated trails and paths and many other infrastructure improvements that have been proven to increase rider safety, like rumble strips and better lighting and signage.

And the momentum continues with recent infrastructure bills promising more funding to come to states and localities everywhere. Of course, there’s still plenty more work to be done. We were all reminded of a sobering statistic: there’s been a 55% increase in cycling fatalities in the US in the past 10 years.

On opening day, we especially enjoyed the presentation by Veronica O. Davis, author of “Inclusive Transportation: A Manifesto for Repairing Divided Communities.” Davis believes everyone should have access to safe, reliable and affordable transportation, and she shared some of her first-hand experiences creating more such opportunities while working for the City of Houston as the Director of Transportation & Drainage Operations. Davis painted a candid picture of what it’s really like to be on the administrative side of bike advocacy, something useful for bike advocates to better understand as they work with other administrators in similar situations.

Perhaps the most entertaining speaker was Shailen Bhatt, Administrator of the Federal Highway Administration (FHWA). With his witty sense of humor, Bhatt made us laugh, even while sharing info about The Active Transportation Infrastructure & Investment Program (ATIIP) and how the FHWA encourages the implementation of projects and programs to improve safety, equity and accessibility for all road users, especially through Complete Streets Planning.

Another big highlight was getting to see our very own Bikeflights Ambassador Diane Hildebrand receive an award upon being named “Educator of the Year” by the League of American Bicyclists. Congratulations to Diane!

The second – or middle day – of the Summit was what is called “Lobby Day.” That’s when Summit attendees swap out their bike shoes and helmets for business attire and meet with their respective Senators and Representatives or their staff to advocate for bills and initiatives that will create a more bicycling-friendly America.

As we rode bikes and walked around Washington, we were treated to the sight of blooming cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin and everywhere. Mother Nature may have brought peak bloom a week or two prematurely this year, but her timing worked out to be perfect for us to enjoy.

Our big takeaway from this year’s National Bike Summit is that the most important thing is to simply show up. Again and again. We were reminded by retiring Oregon Senator Earl Blumenauer and Washington Area Bicyclist Association Advocacy Director Jeremiah Lowery that nothing ever happens to make cycling better and safer if no one shows up.

So while not everyone can take the time or afford the expense of traveling to Washington to lobby their members of Congress for bills that fund cycling infrastructure improvements, there’s a lot we can all do locally… such as filling out surveys to give rider input about proposed local transportation projects, attending your city or county meetings and getting involved in your local advocacy group.

Bikeflights is proud to be a long-time sponsor of the League of American Bicyclists National Bike Summit.

#bikeflights #bicycleshipping #bikeshipping #weshipyouride #shipthebestway #shipyourbike #eventshipping

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official-wonho · 2 years

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No One Is Doing Kpop Fashion Better (or Sexier) Than Wonho

The crush-worthy idol talks about his new album "Bittersweet," his love of his fans, and his Halloween costume.

“Nightwing cosplay!” Wonho says, excitedly. “My fans recommended that for Halloween, I dress up as Nightwing from DC Comics, so I’m actually searching for a costume.” It’s that happily accommodating charisma — paired with an undeniable talent and unapologetic sexiness — that has earned kpop idol Wonho millions of worldwide devotees.

It’s easy to forget that Wonho (born Lee Ho-seok) is a global superstar when you’re talking to him. Sure, he has that same honey-dipped voice that you’ve heard blasted through stadium speakers and on a million fan-made YouTube compilations. And, yes, those are the broader-than-a-refrigerator shoulders you’ve swooned over on Instagram, but when you’re with Wonho one-on-one, he makes you feel like you’re with a good friend. His warmth and soft-spoken humility is palpable even through a pair of translators and the expanse of time zones between us (when we talk, his late night is my early morning).

Let me warn the newcomers: you are not ready for Wonho’s aesthetic. There aren’t a lot of men who could pull off jeans with thigh cutouts but, then again, not a lot of men are Wonho.

With his stage costumes, Wonho has taken dopamine dressing to a new level: Mesh, sequins, vinyl — all are fair game. “For my stages and my performances, I really think hard about trying to show sides of myself that I haven’t shown before,” he explains.

Thanks to that drive to constantly innovate, he’s managed to bring a new brand of unapologetically provocative sexiness to the kpop world. Wonho’s stagewear closet is filled with backless blazers, leather harnesses, peep-show jeans, fishnet shirts, and strategically unzipped turtlenecks, peeled back to reveal a set of abs that would make Thor do a double take. That risque wardrobe (and general aversion to wearing a shirt during concerts) means he can send the internet into a meltdown with just one performance.

“It is true. I started to work out for my physical health, but it has turned into somewhat of an aesthetic,” he tells me as the topic circles to his Instagram. Wonho’s grid is dotted with shirtless selfies and thirst traps worthy of a global idol between charmingly normal pics of him drinking coffee and sightseeing. “My physique,” he says, coyly, of the thirst traps. “I can show it to [my fans] every once in a while, because I like seeing their reactions.”

When I ask what it’s like to be known in the kpop community as a sartorial boundary-pusher, Wonho is happy to take on the title, but firmly unbothered. ”First, thank you for recognizing me as a fashion icon,” he says, with a shy smile. “I don’t really think of boundaries when I am thinking of my own fashion. If it’s a fit for the concept or the style [of the performance], I’ll just try it without any hesitation.” No boundaries, no hesitation, all confidence. That’s Wonho in a heartbeat.

Off-stage, Wonho’s preferences favor comfort. Sweats and Jordans. T-shirts and Vans. Easy styles that can take him from the studio to the gym to rehearsals to the airport. That casual, off-duty wardrobe is tweaked slightly when he’s continent-hopping. This past summer, Wonho launched his FACADE tour — his first solo sprint across Europe. The opportunity to perform for his fans there also gave him a chance to switch up his fashion

“When I’m in London, I tend to style my outfits more clean-cut and dandy. Whereas, in Korea, I style them more comfortably and stylish.” And, as any jet-setting idol will tell you, practicality will trump fashion when the weather turns. “And, more recently, in Japan, my schedule was just packed and it rained all throughout my stay there, so I wore very comfortable clothing and raincoats and stuff.”

Wonho’s fans can be cited as one of the sources of inspiration behind his whiplash-inducing fashion, but it’s clear that they’re also the motivation behind his music, as well. The rankings, the cynics, and all the other distractions that clog up your nerves and can kill an artist’s creativity — those are the obstacles that Wonho chooses, staunchly, to ignore. Instead, he only wants to make his fans proud.

“My goal [as an artist] isn’t really chart-oriented,” he tells me with the help of those translators picking up the more nuanced questions. “I don’t really focus on getting any sort of ranking on the chart but, rather, I want to make music for as many years as I can. I also want to go on a world tour to meet WENEEs who are in all parts of the world.”

The self-chosen moniker of his fans, WENEEs — the name equal parts silly and sweet — is short-hand for “WE are NEw Ending” or “WE NEEd.” Both phrases are representative of the symbiotic relationship between the artist and the fans who have been supporting him from the beginning, and will be there until the end. “[With this album,] I am making a promise to my fans to always be by my side, as they have always been.”

His latest project dropped earlier this month, a highly anticipated second single album named Bittersweet. It was a deeply personal effort for Wonho who doesn’t just sing his music but writes and produces as well, though he’s quick to share the credit with his team. “[I’m always] getting tons of support from all the staff and all the good people around me so I’m able to prepare and produce my albums very conveniently,” says the humble idol. “There are a lot of teams involved with the album production process so it comes out very smoothly.”

The new album’s tracks, “On & On” (a smooth, pulsing dance track featuring Korean rapper YUNHWAY) and “Don’t Regret” (a powerful, tender ballad), are about all-consuming emotions and the Wonho-penned lyrics are as vulnerable as a baby bunny. What helps him to write and perform music this honest and personal is, in part, his impressive multilingualism. “It’s easier to express those kinds of emotions because I can use two languages, Korean and English,” Wonho says of his skill set, which also includes Japanese. “I can use both languages to express my thoughts and emotions.” The tracks add to Wonho’s consistently introspective and sentimental music catalog, making Bittersweet another compelling treasure from the solo star.

And then there’s that beautiful Wonho duality again, right there in the title of his album: Bittersweet. “I wanted to express a mix of emotions that are bitter, yet sweet. Exciting, yet depressing,” explains Wonho. “I believe our lives are filled with different emotions and they shape how we are.”

That paradox of his album’s title and theme is an echo of his whole career and strengths as an idol. That duality is why the entire world has a crush on him. Wonho can do it all. He has a voice that is lovely and dreamy when paired with pulsing dance beats, but also soaring and gorgeous when singing full-chested ballads. He has an off-stage boyfriend aesthetic but is also an easy-to-worship glam god on-stage. Sexy and cute. A Disney face with a Marvel body, as fellow idol Jessi described him. But who needs superhero movies anyways when you have the adrenaline rush of Wonho’s duality?

Source: instyle.com

#wonho #221024 #t: interview #instyle #era: bittersweet

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ghostofafruit · 2 months

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I give to you a fic inspired by my thought of crowley just saying there isn't a highway to hell and my apparent obsession with peter parker. Enjoy

Peter slipped into the Bentley, the AC/DC tape Tony had given him clutched in his hand.

"Hi Mr Crowley," he said. Crowley was his next door neighbour, and had somehow convinced both Tony and May he was the safest option to drive Peter too and from the tower when Happy was unavailable. Peter still hadn't figured out how he'd done it.

"What you got?" Crowley asked, not bothering with a greeting. Peter nervously flipped it over. It was rare anything other than Queen played in the Bentley, he wasn't sure how the demon would take Peter suggesting they listen to something else.

"Mr Stark gave it to me," he said, handing it over anyway.

"Haven't listened to AC/DC in a few years," he said.

"You listen to things other than Queen?" Peter asked.

"The Bentley is the one that likes Queen, not me," Crowley said, hissing at the end as if to make a point. Peter grinned. It was a common occurrence for them, and neither of them really understood why Peter was never scared of it. By all accounts he should have been, Crowley was a snake he was a spider, it was typically intimidating to humans. But nope, Peter was just special.

"So can we listen to it Mr Crowley?" he asked.

"If you stop calling me Mr Crowley," he answered.

"Can we listen to it Mr Demon?" Peter asked. Crowley shifted to look at him, and lowered his sunglasses. Peter glared back.

"Fine, but you're the one putting it in once I've started driving," Crowley said, handing it back. Peter shrugged. He'd gotten plenty of experience with that since Crowley had moved in next door. The car started and Peter was thrown back into his seat as Crowley sped off.

With a practied ease, and spider reflexes, Peter got the cassette in. Highway to Hell started playing as they drove out of the parking lot. Crowley swerved through traffic and Peter thought the song was pretty fitting.

"I'm on the highway to hell," the speakers spat out loudly. Crowley groaned.

"You know, there isn't a highway to hell," Crowley said as the music quieted so he could talk easier. "Be far to convenient. If you want to drive to hell, which no one ever does, you've got to take the most winding, traffic filled, unpaved, pothole riddled, roads. The escalator is better."

Peter hummed. He was getting used to Crowley randomly spouting out facts about hell and heaven too sometimes if he was drunk enough.

"Wouldn't a highway work better though?" Peter asked.

"Please, Hell is a leaky office building in the basement. Well, parts of it are sometimes. It's complicated," he said. Peter nodded just accepting the confusion nature of it all. He supposed humans, especially living ones, weren't really meant to know much about heaven and hell, and as such they didn't have the brain strength to properly understand it.

#good omens #crowley #peter parker #crack fic #mcu #spiderman #ac/dc #highway to hell #fanfic

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humblequestvinyl · 2 years

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THE FURTHEST THING

THE FURTHEST THING, SPENCER REID X FEM!READER!

APART OF THE HUMBLE QUEST SERIES!

SUMMARY: y/n and spencer are on a phone call while the team is on a long case, expressing how much they miss each other!

inspired by the furthest thing by maren morris!

CW: missing a loved one, talks of the case (briefly) & swearing!

category: fluff!

lowercase is intentional!

wordcount: 427

NOTE: i cannot wait to hear this song live in four days oh my gosh. (update: i sobbed and cried a lot over this and circles. i started writing this four days before my concert and didn’t finish it until now!)

“THREE WEEKS GONE, I MISS YOUR FACE.”

y/n sighed as she laid in the bed the two shared, and she could already see the frown on spencer’s face.

“i’m sorry this case is taking so long.”he apologized, something he always did when cases took more than a week, “we keep getting stuck. its like a damn goose chase.”

“spencer its alright. i just miss seeing that smile of yours.”a small smile played on her lips as she heard spencer chuckle, “is it different than the other cases?”

“nope. same exact case, just a different state.”spencer’s voice flowed through the speaker, before a door opening could be heard, and then some muffled speaking.

after a few moments, another sigh left spencer’s lips, “love, i’ve gotta go. we might have a break in the case.”

“alright, be safe.”y/n told him, and he hummed.

“hopefully i’ll be home soon.”he spoke aloud, causing a grin to be spread across y/n’s lips,

“i’ll be counting down the days.”

→

36 HOURS LATER,

the entire bau team sat on a red eye flight back to virginia, and only him and rossi were awake, with silence filling the plane, causing it to feel too loud.

“excited to be home?”rossi asked, and spencer slightly nodded before letting out a sigh,”relieved to say the least.”

“felt like i’ve been missing a part of me these past few weeks.”he brought up quietly, realizing what time it was, “won’t feel right, not until the plane wheels touchdown.”

“was that missing part y/n?”dave asked, and a smile spread across spencers face at the mention of his fiancee.

“yeah.”he chuckled, leaning his head against his hand, “you ever heard the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow stranger’?”

dave nodded as they started to see washington dc out of the plane window, “it’s not like that for us. something always pulls me back to her.”

shaking his head with a quiet laugh, spencer had a memory flash throughout his mind, remembering a time where the two of you knew you’d have everything figured out.

“crazy how we thought by now, we’d have this all figured out.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #humble quest #criminal minds #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #maren morris #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fandom

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thewarriorspecial · 5 months

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A long post on writing and languages and insecurities

I went ahead and started in the translation project because I’m excited for it but also I’m seeing a pattern developing in the poll and I like to deliver.

the amount of colloquial expressions that I use for tone and dialogue just…don’t translate. This will be my biggest hurdle. I’m far from fluent. I’m leaning on online translation tools to get the noun or verb I need and then conjugation charts to try to match the tense of the story.

if you’ve politely not mentioned that I cannot spell or conjugate in my mother tongue, thank you, but take solace that I know and I’m so much more aware of it now lol. I feel like I’m better at English by trying to learn other languages. Hm that’s a sad thing to type. Moving on.

I think I’m going to be brave and try to make friends with the French and Spanish speakers at the new job and maybe like talk to them to learn. My skills always degrade because I watch stuff or read but I don’t actually speak so it’s like there’s this enormous downed tree in my mind and I just don’t have the ability to jump it so instead of responding in the target language, my tongue goes all gooey and I just go ummmmm. But I’ll get there one day.

I read something once and I wish I could find it where the author was describing how their voice changes and they “feel” different as they spoke in different languages. I was fascinated by this concept and I feel like I’m seeing it as I translate some of the GLs dialogue in my fics.

Hal and Guy especially are so so much more cool and sexy in Spanish I have to say. I can’t quite explain the change in the tone but I am rewriting a little bit to accommodate my lack of slang and accents to characterize. As I was writing for Kyle, he feels less cool and authentic and it inspired some little WIPs where I have him talking about feeling like he doesn’t know himself or wishes he was more a part of his own heritage. So that was interesting. John always comes off as just slick and natural no matter what I do with him. In my head he just is unflinchingly honest and himself and he applies himself fully to everything he does. He’s passionate without all the show and pizazz of the others. But I also haven’t read him as much as I wish I had. I mostly know him from the Justice League animated show. I adored him and I hated Batman lol. I didn’t feel any love for Bats until Kevin Conroy, go figure. I had a subscription for the DC comics app for a bit and the nearest comic shop to me is over an hour away. I just don’t make it out often enough to read the way I wish i could. For all my love of Green Lantern and space operas and Star Trek and the Lensman series and all that I’m actually not that well read. I feel like less of a fanatic fan and more like a Tik Tokker on a parade float; waving at the real fans and tossing the occasional, unsolicited WIP that’s promising but never finished.

Is it the imposter syndrome getting to me or is it the glaringly weak characterization im delivering staring me in the face? Eh. I enjoy writing. My amateur yet passionately created half-works be upon y’all.

To quote my fave, good old Henry (Rollins): “My mind is like a ball of Teflon; coated in obsidian and impervious to the uptake of ka-nah-ledge.” I feel that in my soul, i really do. Henry and I read and forget so much because it keeps the brain demons busy.

And so the reading/writing hour bell tolls and it’s time to get out of bed for another shift. Off I go!

as always, thanks for reading

#My writing #navel gazing I suppose

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