The Night Hung Heavy With Anticipation As The Neon Glow Of The City's Underbelly Illuminated The Makeshift
The night hung heavy with anticipation as the neon glow of the city's underbelly illuminated the makeshift racetrack. The air crackled with the energy of imminent competition, and the distant hum of engines hinted at the approaching storm.
Amidst the throng of racers, Diana revved the engine of her cherry pink Chevrolet Corvette, the sleek curves of the sports car gleaming under the neon lights. The scent of burning rubber permeated the air as she eyed her opponent, the legendary 'Tyrant' known for his burned orange Toyota Supra MK IV.
Engines roared to life, and the racers edged to the starting line, the anticipation mounting with each passing second. Nick, masked and clad in the shadows of his reputation, revved his Supra's engine, the orange glow of the tail lights casting an eerie aura around the car.
With a signal, the race exploded into motion. Tires screeched as the two vehicles catapulted into the night, streaks of cherry pink and burned orange leaving trails of color in their wake. The city became a blur as they navigated the winding streets, each turn a test of skill and nerve.
Diana's Corvette, agile and daring, hugged the curves with precision. The roar of her engine harmonized with the pulsating beat of the city, creating a symphony of speed. Nick's Supra, a manifestation of controlled power, surged forward like a burning comet, the orange glow illuminating the darkness.
The roar of engines intertwined with the pulsating beat of the city, and amidst the chaos, Nick's Supra and Diana's Corvette danced, each maneuver a carefully calculated step in their high-speed ballet. The neon-lit streets became their canvas, and the race, their masterpiece.
As the racers hurtled through the urban labyrinth, each strategically timed drift and acceleration became a subtle exchange of wits. The neon-lit streets transformed into a high-stakes chessboard, where every move could be the difference between victory and defeat.
The crowd lining the racetrack erupted into cheers, their voices blending with the roar of the engines. In the heart of the race, amidst the adrenaline and rivalry, Diana and Nick pushed their cars to the limit. The finish line loomed, a distant beacon in the chaos.
As the finish line neared, the air crackled with the tension of uncertainty. In a photo finish, the two cars crossed the line simultaneously, leaving the outcome hanging in the balance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even in the anonymity of their masks, the exchange of glances between Diana and Nick spoke volumes.
The silence that followed was broken by the announcement, "It's a tie!" The racetrack echoed with the revelation, and in that moment, Diana earned her moniker as 'the Empress.' The mysterious 'Tyrant' had found an equal, and the legend of their rivalry had begun.
More Posts from Clopeh-sekka and Others
It's truly tragic that our lord and sheild Cale-nim must share his glorious face with the white thing, only our glorious legend should have such ethereal features.
The thing I hate the most about Part 1 is that I can't insult the White shat's appearance because I would be insulting KRS
The thunder saga of epic is making me fucking salivate. I love it, I am fucking feral about it. Mutiny and Thunder bringer are going to be my loop songs for the next forever and a half. I am officially not okay in the best way.
A wonderful day to see this brilliant piece of tumblr history
“ummmmm ur bra strap is showing :/ ”
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I bought a platypus plush from Berlin whom I've named Susan
it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore
Bout to start writing a time travel fix it fic for epic where some random crew member gets sent back in time after being murked by zeus. His name is Steven-dave and I love him already.
Just finished episode 38 and I am not okay. Firstly, the completed list of nicknames:
1. Boob 1 - Giorno
2. Boob 2/mommy - Buccerati
3. Piss kink/Jazz boy - Abbacchio
4. American flag - Mista
5. Swiss cheese/fatherless - Fugo
6. Mathless/my son - Narancia
7. Yogurt cheese bowl - Fromaggio
8. Pickle Rick/bb himbo - Pesci
9. Mafia daddy - Prociutto
10. Mellon boy/sex offender - Melone
11. Emo jester/daddy - Risotto
12. Devil fruit - Ghiacchio
13. Italian ice cream - Gelato
14. Rich people ice cream - Sorbet
15. Bad bitch/pinky pie- Trish
16. Pigtails - Illuso
17. Torao 2.0 - Jotaro
18. Valentines day but yandere - Boss' stand
19. Squidward - Squalo
20. Femboy - Tiziano
21. Sailor moon/pink twink - Doppio
22. Strawberry shortcake/THIGHS - Diavolo
23. Chocolate/Brocoli - Cioccolata
24. Prosecco/Bodycon - Secco
25. Rejected pharo/Poneglyph - Polnareff
Secondly, my top 5 characters:
1. Bucciarati
2. Risotto
3. Pesci
4. Narancia
5. Secco
As you can see, all of my favourites have kicked the bucket. I am entirely not okay. In other news, I dispise Swiss cheese for breaking up the found family that is the bucci bitches.
Diavolo has some of the sexiest legs to ever grace my screen and I dislike golden experience requiem's design.
I am now moving on to part one bc I have been told that is very important lore wise. I have also been told the English accents are funny as fuck so I'm looking forward to that.
At the behest of a few friends, I have started watching JJBA. I was told I am able to watch it whatever order I want, so I've started with part 5 and I am currently on episode 10. Here are my nicknames for these dudes so far with the actual character names courtesy of said friends:
1. Boob window twink 1 - Giorno
2. Boob window twink 2 - Buccerati
3. Piss kink twink - Abbacchio
4. American flag boi - Mista
5. Swiss cheese - Fugo
6. Mathless - Narancia
7. Yogurt cheese bowl - Fromaggio
8. Pickle Rick - Pesci
9. Mafia daddy - Prociutto
10. Mellon boy - Melone
11. Emo jester - Risotto
12. Devil fruit - Ghiacchio
13. Italian ice cream - Gelato
14. Rich people ice cream - Sorbet
15. Nylons - Trish
16. Pigtails - Illuso
17. Torao 2.0 - Jotaro
Right, so I am currently facing a dilemma. I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, my first one in six years. (I'm seventeen). I have to go to a specialist dentist due to being born with a cleft lip. I was meant to have a dentist appointment every three months in those six years I didn't go, the only thing is, my mum hid all of the letters I got from my dentist and canceled all of my appointments without my permission or knowledge. To make matters worse, she didn't even buy me a toothbrush at all untill i was about seven and by that point and her attitude towards brushing was 'do it or don't, it's not my problem.' So I didn't start brushing my teeth until i was about ten (I'd already lost my most of my baby teeth) when I realised it was something you were actually supposed to do. The thing is, ive only started regularly brushing my teeth in the last three years since ive started living with my grandparents and they told me how bad that was for my teeth but i still havent been able to go to the dentist because my mum was the one getting the letters. Now my teeth are in a really bad state and I know for a fact I'm going to have to have at least one filling and a few teeth removed. I'm stupidly embarrassed and I'm really worried that my dentist is going to be silently judging me and I feel like my grandparents will as well since they're the ones taking me. I'm also scared of going to a dentist in general now because of how long it's been since I've gone. Idk why I'm even putting this on here tbh, I just really needed to vent it ig. Wish me luck tomorrow and let's hope I'm not laughed at for my shitty oral hygiene.
Dick Grayson barely registered the creak of his apartment door as he stumbled in, shoulders sagging under the weight of another grueling night. Three jobs and a patrol shift in Blüdhaven would do that to a guy. He kicked off his boots, dragged himself toward the couch, and froze mid-step.
Someone was already here.
For a split second, instinct had him reaching for the escrima sticks he kept stashed near the door. But then he caught the faintest whiff of something familiar—coffee beans? The expensive kind. And the faint rustle of someone shifting in the dark. He relaxed. Probably one of his siblings. Jason liked breaking in unannounced when he was in a mood, Tim treated locks like they were a mere suggestion, and Damien was Damien.
"Tim, if you're raiding my coffee stash again, at least leave some for me this time," Dick grumbled, flopping onto the couch without bothering to look.
Silence.
"Jason? Did you lose your keys, or are you here to eat all my leftovers again?" He paused. "Duke, if that's you, I—okay, actually, no idea why you'd be brooding in the dark, but it's been a long day, so I'm just gonna roll with it."
The silence stretched on, but Dick was too exhausted to care. Whoever it was, they could wait until morning. "Look, I’m on your side. Or, I will be in the morning when I’ve had some sleep." He yawned, dragging himself up off the couch and toward his bedroom. "I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk then. Pancakes or eggs, your call. Just...try not to trash the place while I’m out, yeah?"
The figure didn’t move, and Dick didn’t wait for an answer. He fell into bed and passed out almost immediately.
---
When Dick woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The second thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.
He frowned. Coffee? He hadn’t made any.
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, on the counter, was a steaming mug of coffee and a note. Beside the note sat a printed receipt and a bag of fresh groceries.
Dick blinked, reaching for the note first. The handwriting was sharp and precise:
> "Not one of your siblings. Sorry for the confusion. Came to deliver a message, but your ‘brotherly’ assumption and hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. They should last a week. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"
He stared at the note, then at the receipt. The assassin—or whoever they were—had bought him eggs, milk, bread, fresh vegetables, and even a few snacks.
Setting the note aside, Dick opened his fridge. Sure enough, it was freshly stocked. His two protein bars and box of expired cereal were still there, now dwarfed by the bounty of fresh food.
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Only me,” he muttered, sipping the coffee. It was good. Better than what he usually bought.
Dick leaned against the counter, rereading the note. Whoever this “K” was, they clearly didn’t know how to keep things impersonal. And while the whole “message from an assassin” thing was technically alarming, he couldn’t help but feel amused.
“I guess I should be worried,” he mused aloud, glancing at the groceries again. “But hey, at least they care about my nutrition.”
It was the weirdest start to a morning he’d had in a while, but for Dick Grayson, that wasn’t saying much.
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