posts off road

In which somehow they got their hands on a functioning old world TV and vhs or dvds and Furiosa is totally not buying this horror movie at all, NOPE she’s just being considerate to Max who clearly is the distressed one. Max is not going to argue.

Number 12 for Prompts.

His attitude towards gay rights as an actor, people like that he would do what he could to support them. Although sexuality for him wasn’t an issue, he knew that it was a big issue and there was a lot of discrimination within film, within every walk of life which he thought it was just ridiculous.
The fan letters that I would show to him, especially the ones to do with ‘Idaho’ from people that came out were just very touching, and really emotional. River was very touched by the fans, quite moved.
For ones I remember was just saying, 'Thank you. I’ve come out, It wasn’t as hard as I thought and you gave me the confidence to do that. And my life has changed, thank you.’
—  Abigail Greenberg (River Phoenix’s personal assistant) on This Road Will Never End Documentary

anonymous asked:

Klance with that prompt you just reblogged? Lance as A? ( also I looove your writing, you're very skilled!!)

Why thank you, anon! I hope you like this! (Based off this post.)

The road trip was Lance’s idea. He wanted to spend a week with Keith in a more casual, intimate manner. So, when he woke himself up sneezing the morning they were set to leave, he shoved any thoughts of getting sick towards the far back of his mind.

However, two hours in, and he was starting to feel off. But, he didn’t want Keith to find out, so he did his best to subtly hide his ailments. He would clear his irritated throat to try and avoid coughing when Keith was distracted by something out of the passenger window. Anytime his breath hitched, he would quickly turn his head as if engrossed by something outside to stifle a sneeze. And, when his nose started running mercilessly, he made an off-hand comment about how the radio was too quiet and turned it up in the hopes that it would mask his constant sniffling.

Their first stop was for brunch at some local fast food chain. After some debate, they decided that drive thru would be best if they wanted to get to their destination by night fall. Lance asked for extra napkins at the window, and when Keith raised his brows in question, he told Keith that the last thing he wanted was to make a mess in his car and not have ample supplies to clean it up.

Keith insisted on feeding Lance his nuggets despite Lance’s protests that he was a professional at eating and driving simultaneously, and for the next forty minutes, the two ate and giggled as if they were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship.

When Keith declared that he’s going to take a nap after they polished off the food, Lance agreed all too quickly, which prompted Keith to shoot him a questioning look.

“Sick of being with me already?” Keith asked, one eyebrow arched playfully.

“Of course not,” Lance replied, mock offended. “How could you even say such a thing?”

“You are too eager for me to nap. Are you going to play Shakira while I sleep?”

No, Lance thought solemnly to himself while keeping a smile plastered across his face. Constantly stifling sneezes was beginning to hurt his chest, and he wanted a brief moment of freedom to sneeze fully when need be.

“You got me,” he replied easily, waggling his brows at Keith.

“You better not sing at the top of your lungs,” Keith laughed, snuggling further down into his seat and crossing his arms. “If you wake me up, I’ll be pissed.”

Lance breathed out a low laugh despite his scratchy throat. “I’ll be quiet,” he said, glancing over to see Keith nod.

He waited at least twenty minutes until he was confident that Keith was asleep based on the steady rise and fall of his chest. He had been stifling sneezes while waiting for Keith to fall asleep, but now that he was sure, he grabbed one of the rough fast food napkins, pressing it against his nose and sneezing harshly once, twice, three times. He rubbed at his nose, sniffling pitifully.

The off feeling from before was starting to flare into a cold, but still, he didn’t want to ruin this trip. He vowed to do his best to keep it from Keith.

The tickling in his nose picked up once again ten minutes later, and he pressed the napkin to his nose with just enough time to sneeze four times into the rough material.

“Are you okay?”

Lance’s single-hand grip on the wheel tightened at the sound of Keith’s voice. He slowly moved the napkin away from his nose, glancing to see Keith watching him with questioning eyes.

“Of course,” Lance said, doing his best to keep his voice confident and upbeat despite the energy depleting from his body.

“Are you sure?” Keith asked, voice gentle, worried. “You’ve been sneezing an awful lot. I wouldn’t want us to crash if you get caught up in a sneezing fit or something,” he added, tone all but dripping with concern.

Lance mentally cursed himself for not being more cautious while Keith was sleeping, but it had been such a relief to sneeze freely for a bit. “Allergies,” he lied easily, shooting Keith a wide-tooth grin.

Keith frowned back at him but didn’t press further, and Lance considered that a win. The two fell into a comfortable silence, with the only sounds filling the car coming from the radio and Lance’s more frequent sneezing and coughing.

However, an hour later, and Lance started to shiver. His head was throbbing, and he couldn’t go five seconds without having to cough or sneeze.

“Lance,” Keith said, breaking the silence with a firm voice.

“Hmm?” Lance kept his eyes on the rode.

“Let me drive for a bit. You should rest.”

Lance shook his head. Despite feeling completely terrible, he had told Keith he would drive majority of the trip since Keith had seemed hesitant to agree at first because of the long distance.

“I’m fine,” he said despite his chattering teeth.

“You really aren’t,” Keith pressed firmly. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s cold,” Lance countered.

“No, it’s really not.”

Lance sighed, feeling defeated. He finally nodded after a few moments, and eased the car off to the side of the road.

Keith was quick out of his seat, pulling Lance’s door open only seconds later. Lance moved sluggishly, feeling incredibly tired, but when he went to stand, Keith stopped him by pressing a cool palm against his forehead.

“I knew it,” Keith frowned. “You’re running a fever.”

Lance only wrapped his arms around himself in response. He allowed Keith to help him up and over to the passenger seat, but when Keith moved to shrug out of his light jacket, Lance held a hand up.

“Stop,” he tried weakly, but Keith already had the small jacket off and draped over him.

“Just rest, Lance,” Keith said before gently shutting the car door.

Lance pressed his head against the cool window, nodding off only seconds later.


Lance came to a few hours later, glancing around with tired eyes to find the car empty. He sat up despite his aching limbs with a frown. A half-lit sign blinking “Galra Drug Store” had his attention turning to look out the driver side window.

He watched Keith walk out of the store with a bag in hand, opening the driver’s side car door only moments later.

“I got you some medicine and tissues,” Keith said, plopping the bag onto Lance’s lap, and Lance’s frown deepened.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, voice rough and thick with sleep.

“Lance,” Keith sighed. “You’re sick. You’ve got a fever, and your nose is all red from those fast food napkins.”

Lance poked weakly at his irritated nose, wincing at the burn. He nodded, digging into the bag to find fever reducers, water, and tissues.

After he downed to pills, he ripped the tissue packet open with trembling hands as Keith pulled out of the drug store parking lot.

The car fell into silence once more for a few hours. Lance was content using the soft tissues whenever he needed to sneeze, but when he went to reach for another, he found the packet empty.

He tried the glove box but found nothing, and one quick look outside told him that they were nowhere close to a stop that would have tissues. He sighed, sniffling wetly and pulling his jacket sleeve down over his hand to rub at his runny nose.

“You’re a mess,” Keith said fondly as he glanced to the side to see Lance rubbing vigorously at his nose with his jacket sleeve.

“Shut up, Keith,” Lance called back with a pout, falling back against the seat and crossing his arms as he settled in for a long ride.


Countdown to River Song Appreciation Day - May 28th: give me the words that give me everything.I found myself standing as if at the fork in a road, and one branch went to places I knew and could understand, and the other took me where I had never been, and where things were different and terrifying and wrong. Where the world that I knew fell away and strange bones poured out of the melting skin of the universe. -Holly Lisle, The Ruby Key

I’ve been following the discussions about the supposed split in the MMFR fandom, War Boys vs. Sisters/Furiosa/Vuvalini.  My primary reaction is, let’s all just agree to love what we love, and if what I love bugs you that’s ok, you don’t have to listen to me squee-ing over it.

But then I get all thoughtful about it because That’s What I Do.  And maybe I’m just askin’ for it here and I’m going to be sorry I opened my mouth, but I’m curious if anyone feels the same way about it that I do.  (This is partly in response to the recent thread on @kimbureh‘s blog, but I didn’t want to hijack that conversation.)

Here’s the thing:  I’m not particularly a War Boy fan, but my dash is filled with War Boys because I love seeing the creativity that’s coming from all the women, men, and non-binary folks who are having an absolute blast with them.  OCs everywhere, laugh-out-loud comics, stories that zig-zag between humor and genuine, sometimes heart-wrenching emotion. 

There is something about the idea of War Boys that seems to invite all this.  It’s not just that they’re pretty, or that it’s fun to imagine hot shirtless guys getting up to all kinds of hijinks.  And there’s no denying that many of them would slit your throat as easy as look at you, at least prior to the events in MMFR. 

But I think… I think that what the fandom may be doing is giving them their humanity back.

They’ve been trained from childhood to be what they are, by an insane man their society has worshiped as a god.  They have never known any other way to be.  I was going to say they’re blank slates, but that’s not quite right.  It’s more that…  Well.  In a way, they are souls awaiting redemption.

But what about the women?  Don’t they deserve just as much love, if not more?  Don’t they deserve to be honored for what they are, for all they have been through, for their needs?  Why don’t we see dozens and dozens of Vuvalini OCs, why are there so few stories of Furiosa before she was taken from the Green Place, why aren’t there more (non-War-Boy-shippy) stories about the Sisters?  

Here’s what I’m finding, and I’m aware it may just be me, but:  Writing about the women is HARD.  I identify with Furiosa and with the Vuvalini like whoa.  They are so precious to me, these carefully drawn women who are allowed to be something beyond just a love interest or a hot body.

They are not slates waiting to be filled in, waiting to be given their souls back, waiting to be given fuller lives.  They are rare and exquisite and already complete.  And that means, to me, that writing about them is a serious responsibility.  As a writer, I worry about getting them right.  About doing them justice.

And… I think… that means that the deep love I have for that part of the storytelling simply doesn’t lend itself to being splashed across tumblr.  War Boy stories seem to bubble up more easily because there is so much room to create for them, and room too for the kind of teasing (Lizard jokes! War Boy Instagram!) that keeps a fandom bubbling merrily along.  But the women’s stories don’t seem to lend themselves to that kind of marvelous, unexpected silliness.  Their unexpected dignity in canon makes teasing them (in anything more than a gentle way) feel strange, and wrong.  And I don’t think that me sitting around contemplating the portrayal of women in media or tropes about abuse or the history of feminism and its modern manifestations would drive nearly as much traffic on tumblr.

I don’t know, is it remotely possible I’m onto something here?  Or maybe I’m the only one who perceives things this way?