#Mile Zero Post

[rabbitcruiser]

Dawson Creek, BC (No. 3)

Upon entering the war, the United States decided to build a transportation corridor to connect the US mainland to Alaska. In 1942, thousands of US Army personnel, engineers, and contractors poured into the city – the terminal of rail transport – to construct the Alaska Highway. The highway was completed in less than a year; even after the workers involved in its construction departed, population and economic growth continued. In February 1943, a major fire and explosion in a livery barn, packed with road-building supplies including dynamite, caused serious damage to the center of town; five people were killed and 150 injured. Dawson Creek became a RCAF station during WWII, in September 1944. The station disbanded in March 1946.

By 1951, Dawson Creek had more than 3,500 residents. In 1952, the John Hart Highway linked the town to the rest of the British Columbia Interior and Lower Mainland through the Rocky Mountains; a new southbound route, known locally as Tupper Highway, made the town a crossroads with neighbouring Alberta. The next year, western Canada's largest propane gas plant was built and federal government offices were established in town. In 1958, the extension of the Pacific Great Eastern Railway to the Peace from Prince George was completed, and the village was re-incorporated as a city. Between 1951 and 1961, the population of Dawson Creek more than tripled. The RCAF center reemerged on October 1, 1956 and was declared functional in 1958. It was disbanded a final time in March 1964.

Growth slowed in the 1960s, with the population reaching its all-time high in 1966, but area population increased. In the 1970s, the provincial government moved its regional offices from Pouce Coupe to the city, Northern Lights College opened a Dawson Creek campus, and the Dawson Creek Mall was constructed. Several modern grain elevators were built, and the town's five wooden grain elevators, nicknamed "Elevator Row", were taken out of service. Only one of the historic elevators remains, converted to an art gallery. Since the 1970s, with the nearby town of Fort St. John attracting much of the area's industrial development and Grande Prairie becoming a commercial hub, the town's population and economy have not significantly increased.

Since 1992, the city has undergone several boundary expansions. One expansion incorporated undeveloped land in the southeast for an industrial park and a Louisiana-Pacific Canada veneer factory. The city extended sewer and water lines to the location; however, the area was not developed and with the factory only half-built, L-P Canada abandoned its plans. A business making manufactured homes bought the factory and completed its development in 2005. Another expansion incorporated the existing oriented strand board factory in the northwest corner of the city, while further incorporations have included undeveloped land to the south and north.

Source: Wikipedia

[moralesfilms]

just wanna start off by saying I haven’t watched itsv in a while so forgive me for any mistakes/misrememberings

I’m telling you, miles stopped a canon event in itsv.

remember this scene?:

apologies for it just being a photo

pretty sure that’s miles saving gwen from dying while stopping the collider. iirc

but none of them knew about the canon. they didn’t know what the canon events were, not even basic ones like directly or indirectly causing the death of a loved one.

if we take this as miles disrupting a canon event (gwen/spider-man’s first love dying), then we’ll also see that nothing happened during or after he saved her.

personally, I think miguel has the canon all wrong. pavitr’s reality glitching after the spot made a new collider was the spot’s doing and not miles’, as we see a giant black spot when the spider-people from the spider society go to check it out and that.

when we see gabriella’s reality collapsing in miguel’s backstory/intro, everything is glitching and falling apart. again, iirc

neither of these things happened when miles saved gwen in itsv, so this has me thinking that the canon isn’t what miguel thinks it is. maybe it doesn’t exist at all, or maybe it does but it’s not what we’ve been told by miguel.

extra thing - at the end of atsv, george stacy quit his job, making him unable to be a police captain, therefore changing the canon (the death of a police captain close to them). gwen knows the canon, but once she hears her dad say he quit, she realizes that the canon can be changed and it isn’t set in stone. it’s not like she disrupted the canon, her dad just made his own choice - like how miles wants to stop his dad from being a police captain and stop him from dying. or rather, “everyone keeps telling me how my story is supposed to go. nah, i’ma do my own thing.”

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

a list of creatures my sister has likened alex turner to:

• a rat hungry for cheese

• a porpoise

• a french duck called gertrude

• a strange but alluring woodland cryptid

• “one of those birds that mate for life and do really weird showy sexual dances to entice their partner”

• bambi in a leather jacket

• “some kind of mysterious siren”

[hanzajesthanza]

don’t let me reread because i saw this

and an image of reynevan pleading innocent like the crying cat meme flashed across my mind

[phoenixlionme]

Team Black Spider Heroes

[elizabethrobertajones]

TBH re: Grerenville... I make Frog Canon in ffxiv strictly start from only what is suggested in canon and I can branch off and fill gaps but I don't go into anything too AU that needs to be kept track of, because I am really enjoying the Warrior of Light story as presented anyway and Frog is just the best and most special warrior of light (as is every WoL but she's mine so :))

Just because G'raha and Erenville have never met in canon doesn't mean they can't have bumped into each other given the occasional times they've been based out of Sharlayan since Endwalker. Like, it's humorous to me that they haven't crossed paths yet, especially when Erenville is now hanging out with Krile. But also that is just what we see on the surface so why not say they could have met.

Of course, then we get into the complex knot of relationships that is Frog's life, given that G'raha is pretty much The Boyfriend ffxiv hands you of COURSE he's Frog's main boyfriend (vs, like, Aymeric who is merely courting her in the sense that it's still like 90% show at public events with lots of bowing and dancing and chastely kissing the back of her hand, and 10% frantic meetings in the Forgotten Knight :P)

Frog has totally encouraged G'raha he can date other people if he wants and aside from getting very flustered about Aymeric when she takes him on formal trips to Ishgard, and getting tongue tied about Estinien, he's been hesitant to branch out (mostly because if I tried to hold in my mind the web that is Estinien's love life being Aymeric's ex and Vrtra's consort, if G'raha got into all that it would become some sort of unstoppable katamari ball of ship rolling over everything)...

But what harm could one friendly unattached Gleaner do to all this? :)

enter: Frog declaring Erenville her arch nemesis after the Toad Incident with the same level of devotion to the cause that Zenos took to her. And Erenville reciprocating as the arch rival from an high school anime role in her life with glee.

Yeah, sure. I'll just try shipping Grerenville in that atmosphere. It'll be fine.

[goingtothebes]

videos for when it was NOT a sparkle on wednesday

[oflgtfol]

i love new york so much. separated by hundreds and hundreds of miles, no matter where i go, i can always be guaranteed to see a random "I ❤️ NY" decal on the side of a major highway

[ourlordapollo]

May get spicy and put "antis DNI" in all my bios, not because I'm a pro (I'm not, I just don't see any value in circlejerking on the theme of how other people's squicky fetishes and fixations are sooo gross and evil and bad and dangerous uwu*), but because I have yet to meet a self-proclaimed anti who isn't a sanctimonious, bossy little proto-Karen shitbag

[fruitsyrups]

Miles 🙂🥺🥹🥰☺️🤗😌😊😇😁

[rabbitcruiser]

Dawson Creek, BC (No. 2)

Dawson Creek is named after the watercourse of the same name, itself named after George Mercer Dawson who led a surveying team through the area in August 1879; a member of the team labelled the creek with Dawson's name. The community that formed by the creek was one of many farming communities established by European-Canadian settlers moving west through the Peace River Country. When the Canadian government began issuing homestead grants to settlers under the Dominion Lands Act in 1912, the pace of migration increased. With the opening of a few stores and hotels in 1919 and the incorporation of the Dawson Creek Co-operative Union on May 28, 1921, Dawson Creek became a dominant business centre in the area. After much speculation by land owners and investors, the Northern Alberta Railways built its western terminus 3 km (2 mi) from Dawson Creek. The golden spike was driven on December 29, 1930, and the first passenger train arrived on January 15, 1931. The arrival of the railway and the construction of grain elevators attracted more settlers and business to the settlement. The need to provide services for the rapidly growing community led Dawson Creek to incorporate as a village in May 1936. A small wave of refugees from the Sudetenland settled in the area in 1939 as World War II was beginning. The community exceeded 500 people in 1941.

Source: Wikipedia

[buffintruder]

In white American culture, drinking tea is generally seen as a bit more on the snobby side while coffee is not, so I understand why people headcanon that Edgeworth drinks tea while Phoenix drinks coffee. However, this does not take into consideration the fact that Phoenix is Japanese American, and i’m pretty sure it’s illegal to be Japanese and not like some sort of tea, so consider this:

Phoenix only drinks bottled green tea like this:

(here is the can form)

And Edgeworth is horrified

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

i feel like we don’t talk about the sheer insanity of this moment enough

[kalivodas]

JOHN PRICE I'm so in love. I saw a post with the headcanon how he gets a boner in situations that aren't sexual but sweet. Like whenever they talk about marriage or moving in together or something like that. I just thought that such a cute thought.

awww i blush me + that old man 4ever 💋

YOU AND JOHN Price were standing in the middle of some bustling department store. Walls lined with home decor, faint promises to the future that swelled around you.

John was pressed right to your backside, eyes roaming the bath section curiously, and your mouth parted as you realized a part of him swelled, too.

“John,” you cough out. “Are you hard looking at towels?”

He blinks down at you, head shaking in an accusatory way. “No. Why’d you ask that?”

“I can feel it.”

A taut grin splits his face before he can stop it. “Maybe a bit.”

You go to step away from him, chide him a bit, but his palms find your hips, and he tightens a vice at the fat there. “Don’t move,” he grits. “Please.”

“Fine,” you huff, a snort of insolence passing your lips as you bent down, grabbed a set of black towels, and rocked on your feet to push back into his hips. It sounded like he barked, and he smooths it away with a cough.

“Give you an inch and you take a mile, don’t you, lovie?”

You smile, a juvenile sort of thing painting your face as you toss him the stack of cloth to cover himself while the two of you strolled the aisles.

“Why’d you get hard anyway?” you question. Your gaze zeros in on the candle section before you dart off in that direction.

John’s shoulders shrug as you bring a butterscotch and brandy three wick to his nose. It crinkles. “Too much butter. And I’m not sure.” His tongue should’ve burned in dishonesty.

“You’re a horrible liar, John.” You try a Tahitian coconut next. He hums, so you tuck it between your arms, and glance down each of the end caps of the aisles. The coast was beautifully clear.

Your hand glides down to the underneath of his buckle before you smile. “Jesus, honey, you been popping viagra every time I turn around?”

He chuckles at you, hips pushing into your palm. “No, I just enjoy this. These things—“ he clears his throat. “I want to marry you.”

The palm that teased him changes its course, pinches his cheek instead. “You should. We’d make beautiful, fat babies.”

You hear him sputter on air behind you.

a / n the aftermath

[dabihaul666]

Damb.... I am just overwhelmed with shit 2 do and super fucking behind on thesis n don't really have the tools still like it's just all too much and for what etc but

[scudslut]

ahhh yes yes, I haven’t written him too subby on here yet so I was super excited to write this❤️ I hope you like it @darylsgirl23 <3

Heartsease

Daryl x f!reader

Setting: Bridge Camp/Post Savior War

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, softdom reader, unestablished relationship (but both know there’s a little somethin somethin iykwim), aka your his and everyone knows it, oral (m - receiving), unprotected piv, premature finish

Daryl was never one to keep still.

It made him anxious to be in one place for too long, always going on runs and patrols ensuring his people were as safe and provided for as they could be. He felt at ease outside the walls, out of people's prying gazes, and left alone to do his part for the community in peace. These days though, he was a flurry of activity. Hardly ever in the same spot long enough to see the sun rise and set again.

You knew he felt guilty - that he was angry and didn't know how to release it. You'd watch him work on the bridge for hours, frustration seeping out of his bones and into the atmosphere around him. It hung off him like a phantom.

The vast majority of the community was intimidated by it. They would walk on eggshells in his presence as if they could predict an oncoming outburst. But you knew better, you knew him.

He was angry at the world, yes. But he was distraught with himself... his own mind. It ran a mile a minute and gave absolutely zero reprieve. Anyone could see that if they dug just a bit deeper, looked at him a little closer.

Sure he was strong and burly; a true beast of a man, but he was also quiet and thoughtful. He cared so deeply about others that it frightened him to his core. All he wanted was to protect his family and do right by them.

And you saw all of that.

You had for years now and it only made your desire for him stronger. You wanted to thank him. Drop down to your knees and worship every freckle and scar that made him, him. He deserved it, deserved an escape.

Initially, you thought maybe he wasn't into that and preferred to keep his relationships asexual, to which you were perfectly happy to abide by. Any time spent with him was cherished time in your eyes. But during a sleep-deprived chat with Carol one night on patrol, long ago, you had found out he did have a few sexual encounters before the apocalypse. Just none that had truly meant much to him, or that he was entirely sober for.

That small bit of insight helped you understand the man so much more and you carefully dropped your hints from that point on. However, with your luck, every time you thought something might happen between you two, the moment would slip right through your aching fingers, dusted away by whatever imminent danger lurked behind each corner.

To be quite honest, you were getting fed up with the world's continuous cruel jokes, and from the looks of things, Daryl could use a healthy distraction right about now.

Ears perking at the familiar rumble you'd grown to love, you watched as he pulled up on his trusty, beaten-up Nighthawk, finally returning from a longer visit at Hilltop. You could see the sheen layer of sweat built up above his furrowed brows, his teeth nibbling away at his lower lip - an anxious habit you had picked up on mere days after meeting him.

His mind was bothering him. That much was clear.

He shuffled quickly to his tent, gaze transfixed on the muddy shoes he wore, avoiding any onlookers who wanted to ask their silly questions, throwing the flaps open, and disappearing in a fluster.

You knew better than to bother him now, give him some time to gather his thoughts and decompress. You whittled away at your spears, biding the time as you devised a plan on how you would approach him. After all, the last thing you wanted was to scare him off or embarrass him in any way. He was reserved when it came to these situations, unsure of himself. The few times you had brushed lips or touched him a bit heatedly, he was jumpy and almost insecure, as if he needed instructions on how he should behave. It was extremely endearing to you; like a stray pup who just needed a little reassurance and affection to calm his fierce walls of doubt.

It was almost dusk when you finished with your spears, gathering them up and placing them near some of the other weapons the community used when needed. You scanned the grounds, noticing everyone collected by the fire, dishing up for a late dinner. You quickly made your way over, grabbing two portions and slipping away before you were noticed and stopped for conversation. You knew Daryl wouldn't get one for himself, spew some excuse that 'he wasn't hungry' or was 'too tired' when really, he just didn't want to take away from another. Even if that meant he didn't eat or drink anything for days at a time. It made your heart blister for more reasons than one.

You balance both plates on your left arm, reaching to pull the flaps open slowly, not wanting to startle him with your arrival, "Dar? You asleep?" you whisper into the dim den.

You hear a grunt, some shuffling, and in a moment a soft glow fills the area as he lights a nearby lamp, perching up on his small cot, "I was."

Flicking off your boots, you zip the entrance closed behind you, "I brought you some dinner, figured you'd be hungry after your trip," You smile and he mutters a quiet thanks, opting to accept your kind offer rather than argue with you, he knew you wouldn't take no for answer anyway. He scoots to the side, creating a spot for you to sit while you two eat in comfortable silence. He liked that you didn't feel the need to fill the air, that you could simply enjoy each other's company without all the small talk. You were one of the few people he'd met in his life, who just inherently understood him, down to the most basic level. He hated leaving you all the time like he had been, just another thing to nag at his over-exhausted mind.

Hearing him sigh quietly, you cast your eyes over, watching as he scrapes up the remaining crumbs off his plate, placing it outside the tent along with yours for you both to deal with in the morning.

"I imagine your pretty tired, huh?" You ask, following his movements as he plops down again beside you.

"Nah, not really. Got a few hours 'fore ya came bustin' in here," he grumbles with a small smirk and you lean into him nudging his shoulder playfully. "Why ya wanna chat or somethin'?"

You consider him for a minute, trying to find the proper words to initiate what was truly on your mind. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. That even though you'd never labeled anything between you guys, you both felt it. Knew it was there. You just needed the right moment. Now was as good a time as any, you figured.

"No, I just- I wanna try something."

He nods his head for you to continue, so you scoot closer, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder and bringing your face centimeters from his. You stop just before you close the gap, gauging his reaction. His breath hitches slightly and you feel his pulse rapid under your fingertips, but he doesn't pull away. Taking that as the only confirmation you'll get, you press your lips to his softly, brushing your thumb against his stubbly, pink cheek. He takes a good minute to respond, carefully moving his lips back against yours and placing his hands on your hips. You feel him squeeze, eliciting a quiet moan of encouragement from you and he all but sinks into your touch, falling into a comfortable rhythm with your lips. You stay like that for a while, breathing in his piney scent and relishing in his gentle kneads at your waist. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but you knew that was his way of pouring his affection into you without so many words. His way of telling you he was yours.

You drag your kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking at the salty flesh between his collarbones. His breaths grow uneven and you can feel him begin to tense again, unused to such personal attention, "Is this okay?" You ask, not wanting to push him past his boundaries. He only nods in response, his throat feeling like the Sahara.

He has to admit, he's thought about this many times, relieved himself to thoughts of you too many times to count over the years. He's just never known how to approach you about it, scared you'd reject him or he'd do something wrong.

He watches as you slip to your knees before him, your eyes glued to his. "You'll let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?" As he tries to nod in response again, you stop him, "I need you to say it to me," You press.

"Y-yea, I'll say somethin'," he whispers timidly and you grin, beginning to unbuckle his belt and slip his raged jeans down. You kiss down his strong thighs, feeling them tremble slightly beneath you. His hard-on is poking through his boxers and you drag your lips across it, placing soft pecks down the length of him, listening to his breathy pants. You didn't realize how turned on you'd be, having him all flushed and needy for you, but god were you enjoying it. Slipping your fingers into the waistband, you tug them down and his cock springs free, precum leaking from the pretty, pink tip.

"You dun have'ta," he mutters, anxiety sweeping over him fast, even though he really, really does want to. You catch his gaze, noticing how dark his stormy eyes have gotten.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart," you reply, pressing soft kisses from the base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch. You enclose your mouth around him, taking almost his entire length at once and you hear a guttural groan from above you, his knuckles white from the clutch they had on the bedsheets.

You wondered if he had ever had a woman go down on him before. Judging by the gasps and twitches he was emitting, if he had, it hadn't been for a very long time.

He bucks into you, searching in a daze for more friction, and you pin his hips down, earning a deep whine from him. You knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, use your mouth to his heart's content, but he wouldn't. He wanted you to take charge. Needed it.

Raking your eyes over his heaving figure, you slide your tongue along his shaft, moving in slow, sensual circles as you bob up and down. Daryl's head is tossed back, eyes screwed shut and you can tell he won't last much longer. The sensitivity of not being touched in so long, sprinting towards him at full speed. You pull back, slowing your movements. He lifts his head off the wall, pale blue eyes blown to darkness as he watches you take him so sweetly, "Please," He whispers.

When you shake your head, humming a soft, "Not yet," as best you can around him, his eyes roll back into his skull, entirely overwhelmed by the overstimulation, but loving it nonetheless. "I-I can't," He gasps, his accent muddled even stronger in his lustful state. You have to squeeze your legs tighter, clenching around nothing hearing your man so utterly wrecked beneath you. You want to draw it out for hours. Have him begging you to let him cum down your awaiting throat. However, you decide you both have waited damn long enough to prolong your union even more.

Releasing him with a soft kiss to his leaking tip, you stand in front of him, shimmying out of your clothes as quickly as you can. "Lay down for me, baby,' You direct, moving the straddle him as he eagerly follows your orders, turning lengthwise on the makeshift bed. His eyes never leave yours as you sit down on him, groaning when he feels how wet you are pressed against his cock. "Have you thought about this before, pretty boy?" His cheeks flush crimson at your sultry compliments, nodding curtly whilst avoiding your stare.

"Dar." You press.

You were being so gentle yet stern with him it was making it brain fuzzy, all stressors from the day long washed away to be replaced by only you.

"Have, yeah," He huffs in embarrassment, trying with great difficulty not to portray how truly turned on your words were making him. But you saw right through him... or rather felt him. You lean forward, kissing and nipping up his neck to the shell of his pink ears, "Do you want me to stop?"

A full-body shiver jolts through him when he feels your warm breath against his ear, involuntarily rolling his hips into yours and you chuckle at his obvious sensitivity. He knows he needs to use his words. You won't be letting him off that easy. "Please don't," Is all he manages and it seems to do the trick. You grip his length, tracing it along your soaked folds, and slowly sink down. Your careful as you take in his reaction, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. He bites his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and lets out a muffled groan.

"Fuck," He mumbles, and you're surprised to hear him say anything you didn't need to pry out of him. A positive sign, you determined and start to bounce your hips slowly, creating a synchronized dance between your bodies. Your body is buzzing as you ride him, finally feeling the dull ache you’ve had for the man below you begin to dissipate as he whimpers oh so softly for only you to hear. His hands grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises to find in the morning, but you hardly give it a second thought. All you can think about is Daryl. His closeness, his warmth and strength, and-

He tenses beneath you, broken gasps leaving his chewed lips and suddenly he’s lifting you off of him, soaking your thighs and abdomen completely. You gawk as you watch him come down, sworn you haven’t ever seen something so fucking sexy in your life. His head tossed back, jumbled curses leaving his mouth, and dark auburn hair dripping with sweat. You don’t care that he finished before you, this was about him. But you see his eyes snap to yours when he fully comes back down to reality, cheeks blazing for a different reason than before.

Leaning towards him, you capture his lips with your own, tenderly pouring your affection into him, needing him to know you weren’t upset, “It’s okay, relax,” you whisper against him with a soft smile, leaning your forehead onto his. His eyes are filled with guilt, “I mean it, Dar,” And he’s back to his nods of response.

He didn’t need any more words of sympathy. He knew you were happy as a kid on Christmas, he just needed to accept it for himself. So with one last peck to his cherry lips, you slide off him, grab a rag to clean yourself up with, and scoot right in beside him, craving his warmth. He turns to you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel a few soft pecks from him along your jaw and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your limbs around his, reeling in your post-coital glow.

You were safe, snuggled with your love, and that was all you needed.