DRIVERSEATS prev. venustrape. a mutually exclusive, independent & selective roleplay blog featuring portrayalsΒ ofΒ severalΒ femaleΒ muses, predominantlyΒ originatingΒ fromΒ sitcomsΒ /Β comfortΒ showsΒ thatΒ areΒ nearΒ &Β dearΒ toΒ myΒ heart.Β low to medium activity. personals,Β pleaseΒ donβtΒ interact.Β Β written by dee, she / her, 21+. rules under the cut. MUSES | MEMES | MAINS
BLOGROLL : chloe. daphne. allie.
don't be a dick ! drama instigators / partakers or people who engage in hateful behavior generally are not welcome here. as any other of my blogs, this is a safe space & i'd like to keep it that way.
memes are the best way to initiate interactions with me ! of course, no other method is off limits, as long as we can agree that we've followed each other in order to interact & not to boost our follower count. please feel free to turn a meme reply into a thread whenever.
i enjoy everything from text threads, to one-liners to plotted out threads. feel free to come to me for plotting, i will instantly be your friend, no questions asked <3. one fair warning, i tend to drop threads sometimes if my muse doesn't cooperate but that doesn't mean i don't want us to start something new !
please don't like a starter call / send a meme without specifying a muse or at least a few muses you're torn between. i don't want to be writing something that won't go anywhere, so please help a girl out.
i love shipping & i won't pretend otherwise. if you have something in mind or, in the case of romantic ships, if you notice chemistry between our muses, feel free to yell @ me about it because there's a good chance i wanna yell about it too. a little note here : i don't consider people sending me shippy memes force shipping as long as we've interacted a little ic / ooc. i will immediately let you know if i'm interested in that kind of dynamic & it's likely i'll come talk to you if i'm inspired by the meme for some type of plot / context.
if we've been following each other for a while and have not interacted, i reserve the right to soft block. it's truly nothing personal, but i am someone who likes a small dash and if we don't necessarily vibe with each other, i will most likely step back.
i may not always be here - please see blogroll at the top <3
nsfw content will appear every now & then. i will tag it accordingly. if there's something in particular that slips my mind, please feel free to let me know.
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" i wanna talk to this woman that might know her. or know where to find her. her name is monroe, and talking isn't her thing. believe me, i've tried. " they're past that. they've been past it since he was 19, only he hadn't wanted to accept it then. perspectives change. lenses shift, reality casts its harsh light and calls out every shadow in the corners. he knows better now. that doesn't mean that he has to like it, but acceptance isn't always soft. sometimes it's the teeth of a steel trap snapping shut. ahead of them, the shadows break open around the bright yellow of her parked car. scott feels the hook of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. the beetle looks out of place but somehow like it belongs exactly where it is, like the gold yarrow that grows in clusters with chaparral and sage scrub back home. he arcs a brow, lets the smile curve a little into a grin. " this is yours? " it lands halfway between admiration and fondness, almost like relief. the only other car that's stood out in years, unique and familiar, not some big, boxy SUV with blaring headlights and an engine that sounded like a threat, is stiles' jeep. " nice. the street bike that i had in high school was lime green. "
" sounds like she's a problem β d'you have backup ? " she feels the need to ask. there's an aura of unease to the way he talks about her & she wonders just how effective it would be if he were to take this woman on alone. she wonders if she has backup. she's dangling dangerously close to caring about the rest of this story β still, she tries to focus on her own crap. her own investigation. if this chick knows anything about what happened the night she was abandoned, emma needs to pry it out of her. she needs to know what she told the cops that night, word for word. because as her absolute shit luck would have it, the precinct chalked it up to the ramblings of a mad woman in shock & the details fell through the cracks β but she got a name. well... a nickname : the cobra. & now, she aims to hear everything from the horse's mouth β or the cobra's mouth β as soon as humanly possible. " yeah, it is. " a beat. " i mean... now, it is. " how do you drop 'i used to be a thief' casually in this conversation ? the wrinkles on her forehead & the thin line of her mouth say she has no idea. " it's a long story. " & a long drive. she reaches for the car door next & lets out an amused puff of laughter. " nice... people are weird about bright colors, but they're cool as hell. "
β tousle . mess playfully with my museβs hair . / maya
maya isn't particularly precious about her hair. in fact, brooke's hands don't do anything to it that the wind hasn't already done a million times over while she was riding her skateboard. but it's the principle β just because she doesn't care if her hair gets messed up doesn't mean she doesn't care how it happens. she doesn't move to fix any strands of hair, but looks brooke's way instead with a mix of confusion & intensity reading one thing : what could've possibly possessed you to do that ? " alright, here's the deal... " maya finally pipes up after a moment, running a single hand through blonde locks β it still looks messy, but now it's her style of messy. much better. " you stop doing that, like- forever. & we go get you a dog or somethin' so you can take out your cuteness aggression, or whatever the hell that was, on it. sound good ? "
" ha-ha... save it for your stand-up routine, ibsen. " she mocks, thoroughly unamused as arms fold tightly against her chest. " the only thing the son of a bitch broke is my windshield ! " the pitch of her voice goes up again, full of irritation as she gestures towards the mess made of her car β her beautiful, relatively new, saved-every-penny-to-get-it car. " would've broken a nose too, but asshat bolted before i could get to him... " he was a behemoth β the son of a tech mogul that had recently found himself on the other end of her journalistic uppercuts. needless to say, he didn't appreciate her opinions on daddy dearest's latest unethical endeavors. irritated beyond belief, she frowns just a few seconds longer before deflating right back into bummed out territory. softer now, she looks his way. " please tell me you can work some speedy magic here ? "
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In some ways, being Superman is a lot like being the Blur β go in, fix the problem, save as many people as possible. It's the aftermath that's different. The Blur had been a faceless presence. Superman is a hero. People want to hear reassurances from him.
So instead of leaving the crime scene immediately, Clark stays β talking to the crowd, making sure that everyone who needs medical attention makes it to an ambulance, ensuring the police have everything they need to make the proper arrests.
Which means it's almost two hours later when he finally makes it back to the Daily Planet, whooshing in through Lois' office window. Still looking a bit windswept, he adjusts his glasses and straightens his tie. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. How do I look?" There's a bit of soot on his cheek.
crisis of the day, coming in hot ! she can practically hear the bustle of the bullpen, the clicking keys, the conspirational chitchat by the watercooler β lois doesn't need super hearing to know everyone is currently placing bets as to how long it will take before superman swoops in & wraps everything up in a neat bow for the authorities. she knows it because not all that long ago, she was taking money from the poor suckers who didn't believe the blur would make his appearance. good times ! can't do that anymore... not when she has it on good authority that superman will be showing up. takes the ethical aspect right out of the bet ! besides... she's not as strapped for cash as she used to be. it's bad taste to take your colleagues' money & then waltz right back into your office... with a view.
the feeling of relief & pride is the same each time she sees that red cape floating in the wind, taking him to where he's needed. she watches the live report breathlessly, hands clenched around the edge of her desk, only letting out a joyful exhale when the save is over & done with. the aftermath is what takes a hell of a lot longer to conclude now, but it's all part of it. it's part of sharing him with the world. a little more than a few handshakes later, he finally flies back to her & she rushes in with the warm welcome. " about time you showed up, hero ! i'm surprised they let you go, i was this close to taking off on a rescue mission. " she teases, hands smoothing over his shirt & finally resting on his shoulders. the question brings a grin to her lips, thumb lifting to clean the soot off his cheek. " like a million bucks. " a beat. " you missed our lunch. " she's decidedly not scolding, just informing, but that doesn't mean he won't have to make it up to her. " you owe me dinner. "
βΒ it's on the house. β he hands the keys back over now, the swan pendant dangling between them. β consider us square after β β where does he start? breaking the curse? saving their little town not just once, but countless times? finally, he settles on the obvious: β keeping my secret. β
" 'you sure ? " a skeptical question, brow arched as she flashes him a sympathetic smile. " i heard you back there, it sounded like a pain in the ass process. " with that, she takes hold of the keys, breathing a sigh of relief β one of these days, her car might actually crap out on her for good & that's not a day she's looking forward to. emma might not have much to her name, but what she does have, she holds onto with her teeth, hopelessly attached. " you don't have to thank me β it's not my secret to tell. " still, there's a curious glint in her eye. " hey, can i ask you something ? "
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