#car battery change signs

[puleosauto]

Wondering what is the average life of a car battery? Ask the auto professionals at Puleo's Auto Clinic if it’s time for a car battery replacement.

[rainrot4me]

Keep It Rolling

Summary: You and your friend decide to see if you can find ghosts in an abandoned asylum as you record the whole thing. When you run into Hoodie, he thinks it’d be fun to record you instead.

Characters: Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Recording sex, bad blowjob, vaginal, threatening with a gun, pussy slapping, size difference, forcing, gagging, stretching, cream pie, size difference

Words: 3.9k

You spent your whole life filming everything. 

It didn’t matter what. Eating breakfast, going to the store, hanging with friends, everything was caught on your little camcorder. You had an internet personality to keep up with and feeding your viewers your personal life was a hefty job. But you loved it. 

So, of course, when your best friend messaged you about some supposedly haunted mental asylum twenty minutes off the interstate, you had to get it on camera. 

The mid-autumn breeze blew through your hair as you and your friend packed your filming equipment into the back of your car, shutting the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat. The asylum wasn’t even an hour away. But as you sped down the interstate, it was like the whole atmosphere had changed. The clouds were dark, the wind blew leaves from the trees, and this ominous darkness loomed around you. 

“Where did these rain clouds come from?” Your friend mumbled, scrolling through her phone and checking the weather which didn’t offer many answers. Brushing it off, you turned down an overgrown dirt road off the highway and searched for the building. If it did start raining, there was no way you were getting your camera out of the car. And if there was no camera, there was no reason for you to go inside. But as you drove further, an overgrown sign dangled on the side of the path. ‘State Asylum for the Mentally Insane.’ Charming. It was much farther after that that you could see the run-down building come into view, boarded up windows and patches of wall missing. The decorations of the building had all but disintegrated, but the foundation and skeleton of the building still stood strong minus the crumbling sections of walls. You pulled the car as close to the end of the path as you could before the overgrown plants stopped your path. Shutting the engine off, you sat and stared at the rolling clouds swarming overhead, judging if this was a good idea or not. Obviously, you knew it wasn’t.

“Shit, whole things coming down. Wonder how much longer it's got till it completely crumbles.” Your friends laughed, hopping out of the car and opening the trunk, slinging a bag full of voice recorders over her shoulder. “I hope we don’t find out.” You joked back, sliding to the back and grabbing your camera and backpack full of batteries and hard drives. The wind howled through the building, an eerie whistling noise echoing off the decaying walls that were visible from the outside. If you couldn’t find anything haunted in there, at least you’d get some good aesthetic shots. “I say we make a lap through the building and see if we can find any particular room that feels right to set up in. Y’know, see if it feels haunted.” They laughed, slamming the trunk shut and sauntering towards the entrance, a large dark door with shattered lanterns on either side. You flipped open your camera lens, filming a good shot of your friend shoving the door open and peeking inside. You quickly followed behind, skipping up the steps and peeking inside yourself.

The entrance was dark, furniture and paintings rusted with age and tossed around on the ground. Leaves and cobwebs accented the space, giving just the right amount of old and creepy as you filmed you both entering. The wind howled through the halls as you scanned each room, discovering abandoned medical supplies, facility rooms, and rows and rows of medical beds. All of it was caught on film, the dim lighting giving just the perfect balance with the soft glow of your flashlight. This had to get you views.

When you and your friend finally decided on a spot, a recreation room fit with a stage and tables, you set your audio recorders on the tables, little blinking lights illuminating the room as you pointed the camera. Your friend pulled out their flashlight, laying it on the table and flicking it on. You angled the lens, catching their face in the glow as they began to ask questions, the eerie quietness echoing their voice. “If there are any spirits here who are wishing to make themselves known, please do so now.” Silence. Besides the settling of the old floorboards, there wasn’t a movement or sound to be made. They tried again. “We’re here to do nothing more than talk. Please don’t be afraid to communicate.” Nothing again. You were growing impatient, switching your camera between your friend and the dormant recording devices, no lights signaling activity was being captured. Your friend groaned, holding out for maybe just some noise but ultimately flipping off the flashlight and scooping the recording equipment back into their bag. “Maybe we just picked a bad room. I want to try something though.” You flipped your camera shut, breathing deep and smelling nothing but mould and concrete. “And?” 

They shuffled the bag onto their shoulder, shining their flashlight around the disheveled room. “I saw on some ghost channel they split up and went to opposite ends of their hospital and got a lot of activity. Apparently, ghosts like it when you’re alone.” They smiled, shuffling back to the hallway. “Sounds good to me,” It didn’t, but who were you to say no to some good content? “Walk to opposite ends of the building and meet back in thirty minutes?” You both nodded, turning away from each other as you trudged your way to the farthest end of the asylum. 

You felt like you had walked forever, stepping down two flights of stairs until you ended up in what you assumed to be the basement. Random trash and unorganized medical equipment littered the floor but it was charming in a way, like the place was a relic of what it used to be. The damp air surrounded you, every step echoing off the concrete walls and recording beautifully as you flipped on your camera. Cobwebs hung in every corner, more afraid of running into one than running into an actual ghost, but content was content.

You set your camera on the ground, shining your flashlight at your face as you crisscrossed in front of the lens. The hall was silent, the dark corners sending chills up your spine as you couldn’t see past where your flashlight glow went. You settled yourself, breathing deeply before calling into the darkness. “If there are any spirits here who would like to communicate, please make yourself known.” Silence. The rhythmic dripping of water from the pipes offered some relief as you listened closely, but ultimately heard nothing. You sighed, trying again. “I am only here to talk. Please make yourself known.” Nothing still. It was relieving, sort of, praying internally that you’d find nothing as you stared into the camera’s lens. Shaking your head, you gave it one final attempt before you’d decide to head back upstairs. “If any spirits wa-” 

That was when you heard it. The loud thud echoed from down the dark hallway. Fear shot through you, quickly aiming your flashlight but seeing nothing that could have made the noise. “Hello..?” You called, picking your camera up and directing it the same way. There was no response. But as you went to stand, a very clear sound of someone clearing their throat echoed. You scrambled to your feet, realizing this wasn’t going to be paranormal, but some squatter you’d accidentally run up on. Your hands were shaking but relentlessly keeping the camera trained on the hall, staring intently for any sign of motion. Deciding not to press your luck further, you quietly stepped towards the stairs, barely reaching the railing before you saw it. The tall figure of a man resting his shoulder on the wall beside you and staring straight at you. 

A scream bubbled in your throat, panic building before he was on you in a second, his large hands shoving his over your mouth and holding your head still. You gripped your equipment tightly, panicking desperately as you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. That all stopped as soon as you felt the gunhead press against your ribs, nudging you to be compliant. “One word and I shoot.” He huffed, his deep voice reverberating against the walls. That’s when you could see him in the glow of your flashlight. He wore a ski mask that covered every feature of his face, but had a weird face drawn on. Tears rolled down your cheeks, realizing what a heap of trouble you were in. Whining, the man released your mouth but nudged the gun deeper into your rib, forcing you to the wall behind you. His gruff demeanor shakes you. “Explain yourself. Now.” He commanded, shoving the hilt further up. You panicked, quickly answering. “Uh- My f-friend and I came to see if we c- could find ghosts. I was making, uh, a video.” You cringed, holding the camera up as it was still rolling, capturing everything that had happened so far. The man jerked the camera out of your hand, examining it before tossing it to the floor, a whine escaping you as you watched it skid against the concrete. He leaned in close to your face, his breathing mumbled by the mask. “No ghosts, huh?” He towered over you, his large frame encapsulating you easily. You shook your head awkwardly, gulping as he pulled the gun from your side but quickly repositioned it under your chin, nudging it forcefully. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m afraid this is as far as you’ll get.” He cocked the trigger, the noise sending a full-blown panic through you as you gripped his arm. “Please! Please- oh, God, I’ll do anything,” You huffed, tears pouring heavily. “Anything you want. Money, your dick sucked, food, anything!” You pleaded, face growing red as you shook with fear. 

The man leaned back, pulling his finger off the trigger as he chuckled. “What was that second thing?” He smirked, resting his hand on his hip but not letting that gunhead leave your chin. You blushed roughly, your words betraying you as you just word-vomited something to save yourself. “I said anything.” You huffed, gritting your teeth as you felt the cold metal leave your skin, sighing deeply. 

The man holstered his gun in the back of his jeans, sauntering over to your camera on the ground and scooping it up. He wiped it off, flipping the screen open before pointing it at you. You blushed, feeling awkward on the other side of the lens for once. He chuckled, stepping closer to you as he moved the camera to the side, staring at you directly. “Well?” He grinned, focusing his gaze back on the camera screen that captured your red face, the flash accentuating your features. His mask concealed his expression making you unsure if he was being serious or not, but you didn’t want to test those waters knowing full well he had a gun.

You awkwardly knelt in front of him, the concrete wall behind you cramping you. The truth was, you had no clue what you were doing. No boyfriends made their way around to lay you, so whatever you were about to pull out of your ass: your life literally depended on it. 

You fiddled with his belt, sliding it open before nervously pulling the zipper of his jeans down. He wasn’t even half-hard in his boxers. You palmed at the bulge awkwardly, glancing up as the camera stared at you, his face peeking behind and watching you closely. Growing in your hand, you tucked your fingers under his boxers and tugged them down, his large cock barely bobbing out. It was awkward, but you took the length in your hands and slowly began to stroke, feeling it harden slowly. This was good. Nervousness pricked at your stomach as you licked at the tip. You slowly pressed the now hard length into your mouth, getting as deep as you could before pulling back. Slobber coated the length, gleaming in the flash of the camera. You leaned back in, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and taking the rest of what you could in your mouth. It wasn’t good and you knew it. Your teeth constantly scraped against his length. Not to mention any time the tip passed your tongue you were gagging back off of it.

He was growing impatient, the half-assed attempt at head making his head hurt. You felt his hand slink up the back of your head and grip a handful of your hair, slowly guiding your head back onto his cock. “Open wide.” He commanded, holding the camera lower to get a good shot. You hung your jaw lower, gripping his jeans quickly as you felt him press into your mouth further than you knew you could take. You gagged, straining to pull your head back but he wouldn’t let you, he just kept pushing your head further. You slammed your eyes shut, tears pricking as you wrapped your lips around the thick cock deep in your mouth. He finally pulled your head back, giving you a second to breathe before you snapped his hips back into your mouth quickly. You whined, throat choking as he thrust your head on his cock quickly. He held your hair tightly as he forced himself down your throat, practically face-fucking you and not giving you a second to adjust. 

“Damn, you got a mouth on you, huh?” He huffed, shoving the camera closer to your mouth wrapping around him tightly. You groaned, eyes rolling as you gagged each time his cock pressed against the back of your throat. It was loud and vulgar, the wet sounds echoing off the walls. He refused to let up though, groaning as he held your head back. “There you go. Keep that throat open, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, pressing your head flush against him but not pulling away. You began to panic, gripping at his jeans as you choked, no air reaching you. He chuckled, cock throbbing in your mouth at the sound of drool gurgling in your throat. He finally pulled you off his length, a loud gasp escaping you as air filled your lungs. He pulled your hair back making you stare at the camera, your flushed face and slobber-covered lips shining brightly against the flash. “God…” He let go of your hair, pumping his cock into his hand before kneeling at your level. “Yeah, I’m not done with you.” He grinned, gripping your legs pulling them out from under you and landing you on your back. He crawled over you, nudging himself between your legs as he tugged at your shirt until it bunched above your bra. He hooked his fingers under the cups, pushing them up and exposing your tits. Hands were on them in a second, massaging and pulling at the mounds. 

Your whines echoed as he pinched your nipples, pulling them roughly and kneading the buds in between his fingers. “You’ve got such a nice body sweetheart. I can’t wait to ruin it.” He scaled the camera across your body and shot your curves well. It was incredibly embarrassing. 

He pulled his hands off your nipples, leaning back to set the camera on the ground and angle it between your legs, getting a good shot of your crotch. If anything, you were impressed with his familiarity with a camera. But the other half of you cringed as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them off your legs, giving the camera a clear shot of your damp panties. His fingers rubbed at the spot, his thumb pressing roughly against your clit and making you squirm. You reached down quickly, grabbing his wrist. That wasn’t going to happen. He immediately grabbed your wrists in return, pinning your hands above your head and relishing the way your body arched in defiance. “Calm down, huh? Relax…” He grinned, sliding your panties off your hips with his right hand and sliding his fingers up your folds, collecting your arousal. Pressing your legs open, he spread your folds the same, the cold air making your clit twitch. “Such a pretty cunt…” He groaned, spreading your lips and spitting against your hole, making you squirm.

He rubbed his fingers against your entrance, circling the area as you arched your back, silently begging for him to slide them in. That was when you saw his hand reach back and quickly slap down on your cunt, a sharp sting hitting you. You gasped, his hand slapping you again before you could even say anything. His palm continued to connect with your cunt, rubbing the area roughly before bringing his hand back to slap down again. You were a whining mess, every sting and slap making you so much wetter. The squelching sounds your cunt made every time his palm reached was embarrassing, your moans mixing and creating an insanely lewd noise. “God! Please…” You whined, squeezing your knees closer and trapping his hand against your cunt. He chuckled, giving in and pressing his fingers into your soaked entrance, a loud squelch echoing. You groaned, his fingers reaching deeply inside of you and curling just the right way. When he began to pump his fingers, it was all you could do not to scream your pleasure. Your throbbing clit ached as his fingers curled against your walls, each curl causing them to clench down. His thick fingers worked you open, your squirming body being easily held down by his muscled arms. Your orgasm came incredibly fast, your walls tightening around his fingers as they stretched your entrance wide and became soaked with your ecstasy. 

He pulled his fingers out sharply and brought them to the hem of his mask as he slid it up just above his nose. He licked his fingers of your arousal, smiling at you as he took them down to the knuckle. Your eyes frantically glanced at the camera lens, the flash blinding you as you begged the battery would magically die and none of this would be recorded. No luck. “Damn sweetheart, you think that cunt’s ready for me yet?” He grinned, pulling his mask back down and wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling you quickly to rest your thighs on top of his. His cock was twitching and angry, the head pulsing as he pumped it in his hands. He let it rest on your tummy. You glance down, head spinning as you realize just how big he is. “Oh, I’m gonna be in there.” He chuckled, releasing your wrists to scoop his hands under your hips and angle them up. He nudged the head of his cock against your entrance, leaning down to meet his face with your as he breathed deeply. “Try to not scream, yeah?” 

Before you could question why, he slammed your hips down onto his length. The rough stretch and sting of him entering you so abruptly made you cry out, tears leaking down your cheeks. He didn’t wait. Either because he couldn’t or because he didn’t care. His hips snapped into you quickly, fingers digging into your bare hips as he forced your hips to connect with his. “Shit-” He was grunting with every thrust, heavily breathing behind the mask. Your moans and cries matched his, every nudge of his cock against your walls making your back arch and jaw hang open. It was dizzying. He was perched on his knees, holding your hips off the ground and fucking into you like some fleshlight. 

Every tug at his hands and pull at his jacket went unnoticed as you clawed against him, trying your hardest to find some stability as your body was being rammed against. Your cunt throbbed with every squelch and slap, your walls constricting around the thick length invading inside of you. The camera caught it all, angled perfectly to see every inch of his cock sink into your cunt as he thrust quickly. It caught every lewd moan, every slap of skin. The tears were rolling down your cheeks, the sting and stretch of him mixing with the absolute pleasure slamming into you. “Fuck, so tight. Gonna milk me dry, sweetheart.” He huffed, repositioning for a split second before angling his hips up to ram into your g-spot. You screamed out, hand reaching for your clit as you rubbed in pace with his thrusts up into you.

That’s when he grabbed the camera, angling it down directly at your cunt as he sunk into you quickly. “Cum on my cock. Yeah, let me see it.” He moaned, shoving your hand out of the way to press his own fingers against your clit, rubbing quick and rough. You slapped your hands over your face, eyes rolling as you felt your orgasm rushing against you. The masked man was moaning louder, little whines escaping his lips as his own pace became sloppy. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.” He groaned. It sent you over, waves of pleasure crashing into you quickly as he refused to let off of your clit. You screamed out, arching your back against his fingers as he rubbed your orgasm out. Walls around his cock constricted, milking him as he held the camera close, the flash catching every drop of sweat and arousal that mixed on you. He bottomed out against you, moaning loudly as he released deep into your cunt. 

The room went quiet apart from your panting. The camera caught it all, each pulse of his cock as he filled you full, your hands gripping tightly against his wrist as he held his thumb over your clit. He slowly pulled out, hissing as you felt the stretch of him. When his head popped out, he moved the camera down, catching every second as his seed leaked out of you. “Did so good sweetheart. Took me so good.” He huffed, sliding his fingers through your folds and spreading his release across your cunt, making you squirm. He pressed his fingers into your swallowed entrance, pressing his seed back in. When he pulled them out, he flipped the camera shut, turning the flash off and setting it back on the ground. 

Finding your panties, he slid them back on you and relished as he watched them soak darker. He helped you button your pants back, pulling your shirt down and helping you stand. Handing you the camera, he laughed at your hazy expression, your heavy eyes and swollen cheeks evident of your fucked out cunt. “Thanks, sweetheart, now run along before I change my mind.” He huffed, turning back to the dark hallway and waving you off. “Good luck with your ghosts.” You nodded, frantically turning back to the steps and rushing up to the fresh air. It hadn’t been long, but as you listened closely and heard the sound of heavy rain, you trudged to the other side of the asylum and found your friend just as hopeless as you left them.

“Did you find anything? I had a whole lot of nothing.” They sighed, leading you to the entrance and out to the car as you tried to hide your equipment from the rain. “Nah. Nothing interesting.” You sighed, climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off back down the dirt path. 

When you eventually made it home, you sprinted to your laptop and shoved the SD card in, loading up the video. Your hand covered your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, arousal growing in your pants again as you felt the leak of the masked man’s seed against your folds. 

The video played through, every squelch and moan sending shivers through you as your hand slid down between your legs, rubbing lazily as you rewatched his cock sink inside of you. 

You’d have to go ghost hunting more often.

Comments are reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[23meteorstreet]

i hate my shitty fucking apartment :) so much :)

[pirateprincessblog]

2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

*

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

ew.

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've  put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

[outsideratheart]

Snippet - Anyone But You (Alexia Putellas x reader)

It was the most important night in football as players all around the globe gathered in Paris for the prestigious Balon d’Or ceremony. Despite being one of the front runners you really didn’t want to be there have just played the last game in the international break. This was now the third time you have been ranked high but having just lost out in the previous two years, last year’s being to Alexia Putellas. 

The moment your name is called though all irritated feelings disappear and proudness replaces them. You look into the audience and connect eyes with your sister Leah who was hands down your biggest fan, you could ask her and she would say the same thing. Even though Alexia had just lost, she too stood and applauded you with a grin on her face. You can only nod your head as your own sign of respect.

A couple of hours pass by and your social battery is all put empty. When Leah is having a little photoshoot with your trophy you see it as a perfect time to leave given that your younger sister is else wise occupied.

There was a chill in the air are you wait for your car service to arrive. Out the corner of your eye you see Alexia who is also waiting for her getaway car only she has a look a frustration on her face.

“¿Esta todo bien?” You took the small of amounts of steps so that you were by her side. Alexia sends you a soft smile as you make the effort to speak her language.

“I wanted to leave but the car is for the team and they are still in there” Alexia points back to the building.

“You’re staying at Le Grand Mazarin, right?” The Spaniard nods her head “Me too. You can share my car if you want” 

Alexia thanks you many times and by the time she is done your car is pulling up. 

Both of you watch the streets of Paris pass by you. The car journey is taking a little while longer due to traffic but neither of you seem to mind. You do find yourself stealing glances at the blonde, choosing to take in the sights of her instead of the french architecture.

Truth is you found her extremely attractive and looked forward to these awards shows because you knew she would also be in attendance.

It is when the car comes to a complete standstill for the fourth time that you decide to make a move.

You place your hand gently on her thigh as a way to get her attention.

“Do you want to walk the rest of the way?”

Alexia glances down at her shoes before asking you how far away you were. When you tell her that it’s only an half hour walk she accepts your invite whilst butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Yes, the hotel was only a short distance but somehow you are both walking the streets of Paris two hours later. You both talk about the pressures of your career, the love you have for your families and the kind of things regular people would talk about on their first date.

When you get back to your hotel Alexia invites you for a night cap in her hotel room. It is an invite that you do not decline. She, like you, had a room with a balcony that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. You never saw Paris as the city of love but with Alexia standing beside you, your outlook began to change.

“Can you believe that this is our lives?” Alexia asks you the unintentionally heavy question.

“Do you ever think about living a different life? Like you are destined for something more?” You answer her question with another question.

“We are Balon d’Or winning football players. What more are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You are living your dream at Barcelona”

“And you are at Arsenal. It is your club just as Barcelona is mine”

But what if I don’t want it to be my club anymore? 

You don’t say that or at least you didn’t think you did.

“I cannot imagine you in anything but an Arsenal shirt” Alexia response lets you know that you did in fact say it out loud.

“I can’t either and that’s the problem” you shake your head as you rid you mind of the thoughts “Forget I said anything”

“I can make you forget about it” Alexia closes the space between you, her hand comes to your cheek before leaning in to kiss you.

She did in fact make you forget about football and the stresses you were feeling. 

When you wake up several hours later you do so with her arm wrapped securely around your waist. You feel vulnerable and exposed so you do what you think is best; you leave.

The walk from Alexia’s room to the elevator felt much longer than it did the night before and it makes you realise that you are making a mistake. You have an incredible night with the Barcelona Captain, the best night you have had in a long long while. You are filled with regret as you all but run back to her room only you find the door slightly ajar.

“You never do this Alexia. You slept with Y/N Williamson and she is-“

“It was a mistake. You know how these nights are and I used her as a distraction. It was nothing, a mistake and it shouldn’t have happened”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Last night you felt a connection with Alexia but clearly she didn’t feel the same thing. 

Paris wasn’t the city of love. Paris was the city of lust and severe disappointment.

[spookypete-94]

Take a Picture

Scareactor!GhostxFem!reader

Reader is a professional photographer hired out at a haunted theme park where she catches the eye of one of our favorite masked men.

Inspired by a TikTok I saw that I can not find for the life of me! Will do a part 2 tomorrow if time allows it. Feeling festive :)

Happy Halloween!!

"$1,500."

"For the weekend??" Y/N asked eagerly. After starting her own business, money was tight. Wedding season had slowed down from the change of seasons, and senior pictures would be her next pick-up in the spring.

"For the weekend," the manager of the theme park said before continuing, "if things stay busy and the weather is good, we will ask you back for the next weekend. Does that work?"

"Absolutely!" Y/N said, without any hesitation. Fuck yeah! Was what she wanted to say.

"Great, shift brief starts at 4 PM before the park gets dark. If you want to attend to see how we operate, you are more than welcome."

"I'll be there." Pleasantries were exchanged before the phone was hung up. She felt like she was riding on cloud 9. Gathering her camera equipment, flashes, and extra batteries and a few lenses, nearly skipping out the door to her car. The money would be nice, but how many people get to take pictures at a Halloween event at a theme park for their portfolio as well?

The autumn air was crisp on her skin, the sky bright blue with Toy Story clouds in them. This felt promising for her, and she loved the feeling. She gave up her hated job and moved on to her dream career as her own boss, making her hobby into her life choice.

Pulling into the theme park, she immediately noticed the dark aesthetic, further feeding her anticipation for the next two nights. The black metal gates at the entrance decorated with twinkling purple lights. Seeing what appeared to be a group of workers, she gathered her things and followed them I'm.

"Y/N?" Someone asked as she walked through, assuming it was the person she talked to on the phone.

"Yes," she said, sticking out her hand to shake the other person's

"Thought so with that camera around your neck, come with me, have some information and papers for you to sign before you get started." The woman turned on her heel waiting for y/n to follow.

"My name's Kate. Basically, we want jump scare shots if you can get them and some candids of the actors. We will take your pictures at the end of the night and place a watermark on them. If the customers want to buy them, then they can. Sound good?"

Kate kept walking at a fast pace, heading to what looked like an office.

"Yeah, totally," she nodded.

Once inside, she sat down and signed the proper paperwork.

"Stay out of the actors' way if you can help it. They can get pretty into it and don't want you hurt. Wear this mask," she said, sliding a black and red formal mask to her. "I've already shown them this mask so they understand you're here to photograph, not to be scared. Alright?"

"Got it." She said taking the mask and looking at it. It was flat black with red sparkles outlining it. Black ribbon used to tie it back.

"They should all be in the meeting room, I'll lead you there and then you should be good to go."

Standing up once more, she followed Kate. Heart pounding in her chest, ready to get started.

It was almost like a locker room, men and women scattered through it. Most were in actual costumes that would frighten anyone, fake blood spattered across fabric or skin. Full masks of different creatures on their shoulders.

One of them caught her eye, however. He was shirtless but wearing black pants. Red over his tattooed arms and hands, making it look like he had freshly killed someone. His eyes were brown, like the leaves in the trees right now, the only feature she could see of his face from the skull mask he had on.

Instantly, her breathing hitched. It was like her heart stopped, making her stand still. Awkwardly moving in, realizing that people were watching her move now.

She tried to make herself small, standing in a corner. Listening to who was designated in what area and when everyone would rotate around, trying to pay attention to the map. Her eyes kept wandering over to the large man that was built like a Greek God, finding she wasn't able to control herself. The brown eyes glanced over to her, making her hair stand on end. He caught her staring at him.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." The voice in his chest rumbled.

She couldn't quite place if he was making a joke about her, or if he was upset with her for staring.

"S-sorry," she stuttered out quietly, turning to face the speaker once more. Shortly after her apology, the meeting was over. He walked past her, shadow looming over, making a chill across her skin.

Kate must have seen their interaction. "Don't mind him. He comes across gruff sometimes but mostly just sticks to himself."

Y/N nodded, readying herself, doing one last check through things ready to get the night started. Tying her mask around her face, she walked out into the main courtyard.

It started off amazing. People come through the gates in waves. Laughing to herself when people were scared by the actors, but then stopping her with them when they wanted their picture taken. It was beautiful to her, even as it was creepy. People were having a good time spiking their adrenaline, and she got to capture it. It made her earlier embarrassing moment go away. She had completely forgotten about it... until it was shift change, and there he stood. Making her stomach feel like it had just rolled.

Underneath his mask, he was smiling. Seeing the fear strike her face. It was what he lived for... but she was untouchable... for now.

She told herself to move past it. Getting paid was important. It didn't stop her. She took her photos of him in awe of his ability to just intimidate his victims, bolting after them, making them run away. His chuckle in his chest made her body heat up in such a way. Heart throbbing at the sight of him.

The night is coming to its end. The clock striking midnight at the park, the bells rolling off in the distance. It was like it signified something to him. She watched his head turn around to her, his eyes wicked. Taking large steps, he approaches, rolling his shoulders in the same manner that he did when he picked his next target. Her eyes were wide, and she turned and tried to run, unable to process what he was doing. He grabbed her arm and pulled him to her, where he then backed her up into the corner of a garden and a doorway. Hands now on either side of her head, all she could do was look up at him and breathe. Even that was hard to do.

"You get your picture, finally sweet girl?" His voice rasped. "Get my good side, did ya? I get to take pictures of you next, right?" He said, taking the camera of her shoulders and lifting it over her head. He snapped a few photos of her before leaning in further, lips now brushing her ear through his mask.

"Would like to take different photos of you...if you're interested." With that, he turned on his heel, walking away now. Just leaving her alone with her thoughts... all she could think was-

And I get to do this again tomorrow.

part 2

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

[ancientcraftnoccultism]

Ancient Craft & Occultism

More On Spellwork

___

By KB

Introduction

Whew…it's been a rough few weeks. Thanks to everyone for holding out and being patient with me as I try to get things together. Anywhooo - welcome back to class ♡ We're going to sink our teeth a bit deeper into the sweet and savory taste of spellwork! Last time, we went over the basic foundations of spellwork - raising, gathering, directing, releasing, sealing, and conducting a spell! Today, we're going to discuss different energy currents to create for your spell, talk a bit more on sealing the spell, and were going to talk about some mishaps that may happen during spellwork.

Energy Currents/Tethering

Scientifically, this would be a conduit you build that acts as a battery to send the surge of energy towards your goal - the exchange of potential and kinetic energy. If say, you were to create a tether from the sun, or moon, or a power plant, or your favorite waterfall, to say, yourself, you would be taking potential energy from that source and storing it (like a battery) in yourself. Until you used it, in which case you would convert that energy into kinetic energy.

You have the ability to intentionally direct energy currents from one energy source to another, much like a connection of attachment forms between you and whatever you hold dear. Even while these may require some upkeep, they are perfect if you are working on anything that calls for a lot of concentrated energy.

Typically, it functions best when there is a charged object between which you wish to establish a cord of conduit and an energy source. For this, it's crucial to connect with your personal energy, visualize, and open your mind's eye. When the chord has developed, you'll notice it. You can now construct a constant flow toward your directed target for the spell once the cord has established. The best part is that, like with a typical chord cut, you can toggle it off at any time as if it were a switch.

Sealing The Spell

For magical activities, endings are immensely potent. If you know what you're doing, you can exploit endings' strength to make your magic more effective. If you are executing a ritual to rid yourself of a problem, sealing the ceremony is a means to make sure that the energy of the ritual stays concentrated on eliminating the problem rather than fading away. By sealing the ritual, you permanently lock the ritual's energy in place. You strengthen your will by establishing that concluding contract. Something coming to an end provides closure and can help define limits. It might provide as a space to unwind and consider what has happened.

A sealed spell keeps out unwelcome effects similarly to how sealing a jar keeps out undesirable air. Sealing your spell is crucial for any practitioner who wants to have long-lasting effects because of these advantages. Your spell becomes more enduring and less prone to change if you seal it. This indicates that your magic will be considerably more difficult to change, which may be advantageous if your spell was well-written. But if you wind up regretting it, it may be a problem.

Making ensuring your spells are properly tied and secured to prevent alterations without your consent is known as sealing them. A sealed spell is comparable to saying "amen" or "so mote it be" following a working. It is a declaration that you have completed applying magic to this specific spell and is followed by your name. Even in secular circumstances, such as when signing a lease for a new car, there are rituals for finality. When you sign it, the intention (the new car) becomes yours.

The feeling that something has been left undone or that the spell itself has no effect can result from failing to seal a spell. Your spells must be sealed in order to be as focused and powerful as possible. It's possible that you won't have enough energy, that you won't be able to control your magical power, or that you won't know what to do next if you don't seal them properly. You might think the spell hasn't fully taken effect yet or that something is missing. If everything was done correctly, though, you would be fully aware of what needed to be done, where you needed to go, and how to get there.

Which brings me to our next section…

When Spells Take a Left Turn

Even the best of us experience it. You compose a spell with an intent, prepare all the necessary components and tools, cast the magic, and then something goes wrong. This section aims to explain the numerous reasons why spells go awry, their causes, and solutions. Now, please keep in mind these are not all of the ways and reasons as to why spells go wrong, but rather what I have found to be the most common through interactions with novices.

Nothing Happens

Simply understanding how a spell functions will go a long way in explaining this. In many ways, a spell is actually rather simple to grasp. It simply involves raising and accumulating energy, giving that energy a purpose or direction, and then releasing the energy into the world with the use of a catalyst. The "release" or "catalyst" is the crucial component in this. A spell that fails and does nothing is a result of the catalyst in this equation not functioning. It was not powerful enough to elicit the anticipated response, resulting in a transformation reaction that would cause the energy to move and flow toward its intended use. Energy returns to the source it was drawn from, as it cannot be generated or destroyed.

The majority of us experience fatigue or exhaustion after casting spells, which is natural. It is because of all the effort and focus we put into attracting that energy to us for use in our operations. The fact that we continue to feel exhausted and drained after casting a spell contributes to the difficulty in determining whether or not it was successful. It's important to keep in mind that the spellwork and energy pulling, rather than the actual energy movement, are what cause the tiredness.

This pattern of spell work, generally the catalyst, is the main cause of a spell failing 99% of the time. Any spell's catalyst is as basic as your knowledge and trust that it will work. You are not releasing the magic into the world and preventing the energy from taking form and shape if you don't believe the spell will succeed. Instead, that energy returns to being what it was before. When you cast a magic, the knowledge and trust that the spell will work give the spell its physical shape. Your faith gives it shape, even though the energy fuels it and the goal provides it direction. There is nothing to keep it together without that form. Imagine it as a bucket that is gathering water. Water serves as both the energy source and the function of the spout, but without a bucket to hold it all together, it simply empties onto the ground.

Backfiring

When a spell you cast backfires, it can cause the magic to act arbitrarily, work on someone else, and have several terrible side effects on you (with purpose, yes, getting to the end goal, yes, but still having random events thrown in being unpredictable to say the least). Contrary to popular opinion, a spell backfire might not harm you or even have any effect on you, therefore the name "backfire" is somewhat misleading.

This is exemplified perfectly by the next example. Imagine casting a charm to help secure a new loan you are requesting. You followed all the instructions exactly (or so you believe), but when the time comes to apply for the loan, you are rejected. Yet a week later, a friend of yours learns that she was given a loan even though her credit was considerably worse than yours. This was a miscast spell. You weren't impacted by it, but your friend was. Let's say you're being harassed at school and you want that person gone. You do a quick banishing spell to get them to go away, and they comply. However, all of a sudden your other pals start acting distant and cold toward you as well, ultimately abandoning you. This is an illustration of a spell that you cast that did its job but injured you in the process by leaving you alone rather than just removing one person.

A distraction when casting a spell is typically the most frequent reason for a spell to go wrong. In order to avoid this, it is crucial to always maintain a proper focus while performing any spell work. A spell's energy and working are very important.

Imagine the magic as a bodily cell. It develops, acquires mitochondria and nuclei, has a definite purpose, and strives to carry out that purpose. Imagine a virus entering a cell and altering even a single strand or minuscule portion of the double helix in the DNA. As a result, the cell might stop functioning, behave strangely, develop cancer, etc. In this illustration, the virus is the interruption that occurred during casting the spell. Even though it is minute, transient, and faint, it can have a terrible impact on how the spell functions as a whole.

Our thoughts shape the energy that generates and regulates spell work. A spell is not sentient; it does not think for itself; instead, it functions similarly to a computer. To get the computer to do what you want it to do, you must follow a series of protocols. When you are distracted, the computer doesn't know or care; it simply incorporates that into its program. This is why concentration and intent are so vital.

[homeslices]

I’m Sorry

A/N: Guess who’s backkk. Sorry for taking so long again, school has been stressing me out. Also my newest hyperfixation is The Last of Us (naturally) and so I’ve decided I want to write for it tooooo. I am still writing for Alice in Borderland but writer's block kinda hit me with that (I’ll be up and writing for it soon and I have all of your requests already in mind). I realized there was very little Ellie x a maternal figure fics and decided I needed to change that.

Summary: A little pre-apocalypse the rest post-apocalypse, you comfort Ellie when she has a nightmare. Ellie may be a little ooc but I tried my best.

Pairings: platonic!Ellie Williams x motherfigure!reader, Joel Miller x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Spoilers for season 1, mention of Sarah’s death, David, mentions of attempted SA

You have always wanted children, wanted to be a mother.

And you got that chance once before in what feels like another life.

You’re step-daughter Sarah, who you helped raise and thought of as your own, was the light of your life.

You, having recently moved to a new neighborhood, couldn’t help notice your neighbor struggling to take care of his baby daughter by himself. You could tell he was running on little to no sleep and when he about had a fit trying, and ultimately failing, to put in a car seat into the back of his truck you finally stepped in and helped him.

All of the pieces soon fell together afterward. You helped him when he needed it, babysitting Sarah when he was about to collapse from sleep deprivation, teaching him how to put in a car seat correctly, and bringing over dinner when you could tell he had a long day at work. Similarly, Joel also lent you a hand when needed as well. Fixing your car when it wouldn’t turn on, helping repair your new house, and also listing that same house when you fell in love and moved into his home with his daughter. That same daughter whose second word was mama- dada obviously being the first.

The day that Joel proposed to you was the same day that Sarah asked you to be her mom officially, by adopting her. Your wedding was when you all decided to sign the adoption papers, and you legally became not only a wife, but a mom as well.

Life was blissful. You had the family you always wanted and were the happiest you could ever be.

But then the world ended, literally.

The day of the apocalypse officially starting, was the same day that a piece of you died inside.

Your daughter died in Joel and your arms that night terrified, calling out for you and her father to make the pain stop.

It changed the both of you.

The person that brought you both together, was now gone, and all that you could do now was hold on to each other.

So when your friend Tess, your husband and you went to see Robert about the car battery, you were also roped into smuggling a young girl to another firefly base across the country.

You tried to keep her at an arm's length. Ellie reminded you so much of your Sarah, the humor, the attitude, the persistence, and you didn’t know if you got close to her and she suffered the same fate as your daughter, that you would be able to recover again.

But somehow, Ellie wormed her way into your heart, and there was no going back now. You love that girl, just as you love Sarah, and the maternal urge to protect her from any harm overwhelmed you.

So when you found out that you weren’t able to protect her from a twisted individual that wanted to do something worse than kill Ellie, it made you see something more violent than red. You could’ve burned the world down with your rage, and honestly you still could.

You blamed yourself in all honesty. Because both Joel and you were injured, Ellie wanted to protect the pair of you. In doing so she got captured and not knowing where she was, you and Joel found her only after she walked out of a burning building, covered in that monster’s blood.

As you take watch a few weeks later, your attention snaps over to Ellie as she mumbles in her sleep. You’ve been more hyperfocused on her ever since him, making a promise to both her, and yourself, that you’d never let anything like that happen again.

With a sign, you return your attention to the darkness surrounding you and the people you care about. Joel was sleeping next to you, still recovering from his injury, and Ellie was on the other side, moving and muttering every once and a while.

However, the sudden jerk of Ellie and the distressed scream she let out in her sleep immediately made you jump in surprise and scramble towards her.

Her eyes were screwed shut, eyebrows were furrowed, and her breaths were coming out in hard pants. She was terrified, you could tell, and the second her mouth parts again to let out another petrified cry you firmly, but gently, try to shake her awake.

“Ellie,” you say in a low tone. “Wake up, it’s just a dream.”

Her eyes immediately fly open, and out of fear and what seemed to be the cloud of sleep plus the threat of her nightmare still hanging over her, she flips open her knife that she recently started to sleep with and slashes it blindly towards your hand.

Realizing your mistake, you quickly pull your arm away, but not before a gash forms on your hand drawing a hiss from you.

Ellie’s eyes were no longer affected by sleep and panic, but now were filled with horror at her actions.

“I-” she chokes. “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

You cut off her apologizes with a gentle hush.

“Ellie it’s okay, it was an accident.”

Moving slowly, like you would with a wounded animal, you gently remove the knife from her grip, then hold her hands in your own- albeit after you wiped the blood from your hand on your pants.

“Are you alright?” You ask, scooting closer to her not in a hovering manner but more so she knows you’re there mentally, emotionally, and physically.

“I’m the one who should be asking you that. I hurt you, almost stabbed you! What kind of sick-”

You interrupt the young girl off once again.

“Ellie it was my fault I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”

She doesn’t reply to that, instead her eyes were focused on your still bleeding hand.

“It’s not bad at all, just a flesh wound,” you try to comfort her. “Doesn’t even need stitches.”

Ellie looks away from you, however, you could hear her mumble, “but it could’ve been,” in reply to your first statement.

Raising your uninjured hand, making sure it’s in Ellie’s line of sight so she doesn’t get startled, you comfortingly rub her arm. Her body seems to relax from her tense state slightly, shoulders drooping as proof.

“I’m sorry,” she says once again, voice small and eyes glassy.

Ellie was emotionally stubborn, similar to your husband, and seeing her like this broke you. You have only seen the girl in this vulnerable position a handful of times before, and it always made you want to hold her close and never let go.

“Ellie listen to me,” You make eye contact with her, just so she can truly understand what you’re about to say. “That was not your fault. You had a nightmare and I startled you.”

You pause for a second trying to figure out how to word the next part of your reassurance.

So with a gentle voice you finally start speaking again.

“I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again and-” your voice cracks with emotion. “I’m so sorry Ellie. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to stop him, and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.”

Her eyes that were previously glasses were now overflowing and falling down her face.

Then, in a blink of an eye, the young girl that you’ve grown to love like another daughter, crashes against you. Her face pressed against your left shoulder and her arms wrapped around you tightly as if you would make her let go. Not a chance in hell you would.

Your arms surrounded her and at this point, her body was shaking due to her tears.

Soon you heard Ellie’s muffled, shaky voice speak out.

“It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault.”

At that point your tears were falling down your face as well. Gently, you rub your hand in comforting circles on her back and sway the both of you back and forth.

Ellie’s shaking soon died down. It took some time but exhaustion finally hit her, so now she was fast asleep in your arms, snoring softly.

You let out a watery chuckle, emotions still running high, as you continued watch with Ellie in your arms.

The sun soon rises a few hours later. Joel’s eyes flicked open ready to wake up and start the day’s journey. Nevertheless by doing so, he was met with the familiar sight of his wife holding a sleeping young girl, eyes focused towards the sun in the distance, and couldn’t help the small smile that crossed over his face.

Both Joel’s and your thoughts were very similar at that moment.

You’d both do anything to keep your family safe.

[maria-crossover]

† The Believer †

After months I was able to finish the concept sheet for my Outlast Trials OC ^_^ I'm still working on her lore and the description of the Trials but in the meantime I'll give you some information about her...

General information | Prime Asset backstory | Trials | Dialogues

「 Prime Assets 」

“Someone is desecrating the body of one of God's children? How disrespectful… You better start repenting and stop, unless you want your pretty hands cut off!” —María Carmichael

Appearance (Physical Description)

Height of 1'55 cm (5'8) is a young adult with the appearance of a teenager due to genetics and probably a slow development in hormones. The age isn't identified due to her bones and teeth, also due to the subject's lack of memory and behavior (Has somewhat sharp front fangs). Her clothing includes a long-sleeved black shirt with gray stripes, a gardening overalls with black jeans stained with white paint, black boots and a gardening glove on her left hand. Short messy black hair with curls. Unlike the Ex-Pops, she doesn't show signs of having undergone surgeries or changes presented by the infirmary. The girl only has a scar on her right cheek, on her neck and bleeding bandages on the hand that carries the deployable sickle, also, night vision glasses that connect to a modified car battery that she carries inside a small black backpack.

There is also Manny, it's part of the subject that possesses and controls. It has a humanoid appearance, almost a "ghost", but it is made of ashes, gunpowder and nanomachines with some blood from the girl and previous people it tried to possess. When the believer climbs the walls and ceilings, you can see that her arms, legs and abdomen are covered by a black smoke that is clearly the Walrider helping her and providing her with unique abilities like those.

Personality

María is the only one of the Ex-Pops who is more sane, but she is very insecure, paranoid and easily manipulated, so much so that she sees the Reagents as sinful enemies. She suffers from a hero complex, telling herself that she is God's chosen one and Manny is an angel who will be helping her at all times so that the world can seek its redemption while getting rid of the sinners. However, she constantly exhibits violent behavior towards any human being, especially adults. She tends to be a bit open-mouthed and rude when it comes to hanging around the Trials when the Reagents or an Ex-Pop are present.

She is mostly rude around the Ex-Pops because they are "adults", but with Franco she is more polite. This is due to a post-trauma that she suffered during her kidnapping in her childhood, her greatest fear and hatred will be adults from then on, however, as Franco shares characteristics of an infant she doesn't say anything because she trusts children more, seeing them as vulnerable and unconscious beings. In fact, María divides between "normal" people and the sick. Her behavior varies to normal adults, seeing them as hostile and potential sinners, she doesn't usually trust anyone. However, with sick adults she sees them as harmless, the sick refers to those who are mentally disabled. One reason is that she sees Franco as vulnerable, his behaviour. But she also doesn't deny that he resembles a child and She sees him a little weaker. Although Manny doesn't think the same and is of the idea that all people, humans in general, are equally hostile and disgusting. Except with Maria, since it have a close bond with her.

Having the Walrider inside her, almost always ruins her brain by sharing a body with an entity. Since her violent tendencies and bad mood are due to the pain of having something in her body, her bones and the mobility that she has not had completely in her body before. Which leads to suicidal tendencies, with clear depressive thoughts of "goodbye" to her life and perhaps abandoning it at the hands of her friend Manny.

Despite being somewhat sane, she displays sadistic tendencies when it comes to torturing a Reagent, whether in a chase, attack, or execution. This is due to the adrenaline and anger she feels, at the traumatic memory, the injustice she witnessed in childhood, and a helpless desire to cause pain to those she considers harmful sinners.

Maria mixes her language with English, being of Argentine blood, mostly when she insults and apologizes when doing so. Also the songs she usually hums while wandering through the darkness looking for Reagents. She uses Spanish as for insults, taking advantage of many who do not understand her language to be sincere with her thoughts and regardless of her feelings. She is very indifferent to speaking openly and honestly about what she has in mind, politically, economically or religiously. But when it comes to her past, the many families she may have been in, she keeps her words to herself so as not to speak.

Despite being very aggressive, she is obedient and makes an effort with Manny to get him to follow her. Besides having a great adoration for Jesus and God, she trusts (in a small part) Dr. Easterman. Although most of the work she does is to seek approval and earn respect or adoration from him, which she desires, a consequence of the loving absence of her parents and generating emotional dependence on Easterman.

Since the first meeting with Clyde Perry to talk, she was always cautious and distrustful. She has never spoken or trusted with any human being, unlike the Walrider. She mostly talks to herself, but she actually talks to Manny who occupies her body and is the only the living being she can trust to talk to and feel safe. Walrider always protected Maria, not only for the body but for the company she offered throughout the journey. Supposedly she can hear it speak, only her, since she shared her body she is the only one who hears his voice, as inside and outside her body. Maybe a connection or a consequence of sharing her brain and hearing the voice through her thoughts.

Weapons and Skills

Like the Reagents, but unlike the Prime Assets, she can see in the dark and climb walls with the help of Manny. The lenses of the glasses change color from green to red when she finds a Reagent. In addition to that, she can climb ceilings or walls with the help of the Walrider. She uses a deployable sickle, modified to be stored while climbing ceilings and only takes it out when she is standing on the ground to attack.

Walrider, or known as "Manny" by María, is part of her abilities. Providing her with greater mobility in the test, strength and support when executing a Reagent. The Walrider also grants her a temporary levitation ability, when she lets go of a wall or ceiling. But when a Reagent uses a stun module, it not only affects the girl, but Manny as well. And after recovering, she shudders along with the cold sound of her bones adjusting, showing that the Walrider is readjusting inside her.

Trials

Ruin the wake

Burn Jesus

Kill the Father

Poison the followers

[puleosauto]

How do you know when your car battery is bad? Ask your auto mechanic at Puleo's Auto Clinic for expert advice about car battery replacement.

[lightsaber-dorphin]

Jedi Order Bureaucratic Structure

I’ve been working for a while on worldbuilding the inner workings of the Jedi Order. Below is a flowchart of the administrative bodies, their duties, and any other admin bodies they oversee. More details on each below the cut.

These are different groups involved in running the Jedi Order. For different roles within the Jedi, see my Jedi Order Corps and Subdivisions.

High Council: (Finance, bylaws, PR, major trials)

Determines the budget(s)

Relations with the Senate

Only body that can expel members

Librarian's Assembly: (Ensures knowledge is available to Jedi)

Fund academic researchers (many Jedi researchers work directly for the assembly)

Archives: (Run the Archives & research)

Host academic conferences

Protect important artifacts

Run basically directly by the Librarian's Assembly

Department of Classes: (Adult education)

Organize all classes that aren't geneds

Set criteria for certifications/ degrees

Help members get degrees from external organizations

Council of Reassignment: (Oversees transfers & is Jedi CPS)

New Initiate paperwork

Transfers between corps and/or branches

Helps members leave the Order

Checks the CoFK when necessary

Padawanship paperwork filed here (crèchemasters sign off, padawan signs off, check master for red flags/ not allowed to take apprentice, sometimes mind healer signs off)

Council of Justice: (Attourneys & internal justice system)

Try & punish cases committed by Jedi & internal to the Jedi Order

Mediate interpersonal disputes

Lawyers for the Order

Cannot expel members

Council of Outreach: (Manages outposts & patrols)

Assigns Jedi to satellite locations or watchfolk posts

Hires other outpost staff

Ships supplies to & from outposts

Tracks the locations of missions & sends Vanguards to areas that haven't been visited recently

Council of Temple Maintenance: (Oversees internal services and temple upkeep)

In charge of the cleaning droids

Coordinates trash & recycling with Coruscant government

Has the occasional member who can do specialized maintenance (ex. plumber, electrician)

Volunteers sign up to fix things

Hires outside contractors when there isn't a Jedi with the necessary skills

Assigns Jedi to living quarters

Interior decor

Delegates chores such as taking out the trash, mopping, dusting, etc.

Padawans and initiates are often assigned these chores as punishments

Kitchenmasters: (Mess halls)

Make & serve food in the mess halls

Label the food with which species can eat it

Order food supplies

Supervise initiate clans helping in the kitchens

Quartermasters: (Distribute supplies & manage finances)

Bulk-order supplies for the Order

Provide mission allotments

Desk operators help members pick up supplies

Accounting

Transport Office: (Run the hangar bay & speeder pool)

Responsible for the Order's vehicles

Mechanics

Vehicles are checked in & out like a library for cars & ships

Hire external staff when there aren't enough Jedi

Temple Guard: (Security & emergency response)

Guard against exterior threats to the temple

Security during criminal situations

Really good at sensing danger to temple inhabitants

First responders (fire & police-- MedCorp handles EMS)

Change lightbulbs and smoke detector batteries

Odd jobs on behalf of the CoTM

Uses the lore by Adsecula in "Nameless"

Council of Reconciliation: (Central hub of Jedi outreach & diplomacy)

All aid requests go through them

Sets mission objectives

Approve or deny aid/ mission requests

Reviews behavior of Jedi on missions when there are issues

Mission Consignment: (Assign Jedi to approved missions)

Desk jockeys

Not officially divided by type of mission/ Jedi role needed, but missions will be passed to people who are more familiar with the experts required

Organizes specifics for missions such as transportation and housing

Council of First Knowledge: (Runs Initiate & Padawan dorms, clans, & childhood education)

Initiate clans members live together with their crèchemasters rotating out night shifts

Padawans & Senior Initiates live in individual rooms in designated halls with some crèchemasters living in each hall

Department of Seekers: (Regulates conduct of Seekers)

Create regulates for what Seekers can & cannot do & how they should act

Investigate reported misconduct by Seekers

Crèche: (Organizes care for Initiates)

Sort Initiates into clans

Run events/ field trips/ etc.

Set educational standards

see my post about Living Quarters in the Jedi Temple

Department of Primary Classes: (Classroom education for younglings)

Standard elementary school operation stuff

Provides the general education classes all Jedi take as younglings

Circle of Healers: (Sets certification requirements)

Certified to train medical professionals for a variety of degrees

Determines when Jedi have fulfilled requirements for medical certifications

Sets the qualifications for Force-specific medical degrees

Halls of Healing: (Healthcare within the Order & internal outreach)

Like a local hospital but also has general practitioners

IRB: (Reviews research for ethical concerns)

Institutional Review Board

"Under FDA regulations, an Institutional Review Board is group that has been formally designated to review and monitor biomedical research involving human subjects. In accordance with FDA regulations, an IRB has the authority to approve, require modifications in (to secure approval), or disapprove research. This group review serves an important role in the protection of the rights and welfare of human research subjects."

IRB for the entire Order, not just the MedCorps

[coimbrabertone]

NASCAR Numerology: How NASCAR's Current Teams Got Their Numbers: Part Four.

Welcome everybody to the mission creep blog! We've done Trackhouse, Penske, Wood Brothers, RCR, SHR, Hendrick, RFK, and Spire, which means we've cleared the first ten numbers!

Today we're going to talk about:

Joe Gibbs Racing, who runs the #11, the #19, the #20, and the #54 this year.

Kaulig Racing, who runs the #13, the #16, and the #31.

Rick Ware Racing, who run the #15 and the #51,

and 23XI Racing, who run the #23, the #45, and sometimes the #50.

So, starting with Joe Gibbs Racing...and their story starts with none of their current numbers! Rather, it starts with the #18 in 1992.

Why the #18? Once again, it was a story of lowest available number, as 1-12 were taken, the #13 was being used by a part time time along with various superstitions around it, and #14, #15, #16, and #17 were taken as well. Thus, JGR debuted in 1992 with Dale Jarrett in the Interstate Batteries Chevrolet. This partnership won the Daytona 500 in 1993 and won at the fall Charlotte race in 1994, but for 1995, Dale Jarrett would leave. He moved to Yates Racing to take over the #28, subbing for the injured Ernie Irvan, and when Irvan returned to the #28 in 1996, Jarrett moved to a second Yates car, the #88.

Thus, JGR had to make their own story with Bobby Labonte, who impressed immediately by winning the 1995 Coke 600 and sweeping Charlotte.

1997 would bring only one win, at Atlanta, so for 1997, JGR switched to Pontiac. This era of JGR, with Bobby Labonte running the Interstate Batteries #18 Pontiac, is when the team really broke into the top of NASCAR.

Bobby would finish second to Dale Jarrett in 1999, but in 2000, Bobby Labonte would win the championship for JGR.

This was also the time that JGR became a two car team for the first time, but more on that in a moment.

For now, Labonte continued in JGR through the end of the 2005 season, with his last three years in a Chevrolet as GM began phasing out the Pontiac brand in NASCAR. Upon his retirement, he was replaced by JGR development driver JJ Yeley, but Yeley would only last two winless seasons.

He would be shuffled off to Hall of Fame Racing for 2008.

This is when JGR experienced its biggest change in history when, feeling like they were second or even third fiddle at Chevrolet, they switched to Toyota for the 2008 season. Toyota looked downright bad in 2007, but with a year of experience and JGR making the switch, there was hope.

Another reason to hope was that Kyle Busch, the hotheaded but fast kid from Hendrick Motorsports, made the switch, with JGR signing M&Ms as a sponsor over from Yates.

Thus, one of the most recognizable partnerships in modern NASCAR began, with Kyle Busch, Toyota, and M&Ms - they won the 2015 and 2019 championships together, took countless wins, and along with Kevin Harvick of SHR and Martin Truex Jr., Kyle formed part of the "Big Three" drivers that dominated the late Gen 6 era of NASCAR, particularly 2017-2019.

However, during the 2022 season, Mars Inc., parent company of M&Ms, announced that they were ending their NASCAR sponsorship. Kyle Busch was forced to move to the #8 car at RCR, while Joe Gibbs announced that his grandson, Ty Gibbs, would move up to the NASCAR Cup Series.

Rather than the #18, he would continue in his Xfinity number, driving the #54.

Ironically enough, the #54 originates with Kyle Busch, as Kyle Busch Motorsports has long run the #51 (a tribute to Days of Thunder antagonist Rowdy Burns, who Kyle has nicknamed himself after) and the #4 in trucks. When KBM moved up to the second-tier Nationwide series in 2012 neither number was available, so they ran the #54 instead.

Kyle and Kurt Busch split the season, with Kurt taking its only win at Richmond.

For 2013, KBM's Nationwide team was sold to Joe Gibbs Racing, where, in 2022, Ty Gibbs ran the #54 to the Xfinity series championship (for those who don't know, Busch, Nationwide, and Xfinity are all the second-tier NASCAR series, it just doesn't have a proper name so it has always been known by its title sponsor, which has changed a few times).

So, the #18 became the #54.

Meanwhile, Joe Gibbs' second number was the #20, introduced in 1999. Why the #20? Because the #19 was taken by a part-time team at the time, so the #20 was the next available number after #18. This number was initially ran by Tony Stewart with immediate success, winning the championship in 2002 with Pontiac and 2005 with Chevrolet. The Home Depot #20 was one of the iconic cars of NASCAR's boom era, and Tony Stewart was its superstar driver. In 2008, however, JGR switched to Toyota, while Tony was an all-American GM guy to his core.

The awkward partnership only lasted for one year before Tony left JGR to start his own team with Gene Haas, forming SHR.

Joey Logano replaced Tony in the #20, showing flashes of brilliance, but with only two wins in four seasons, Logano was replaced with Matt Kenseth for 2013. Logano would move to Penske, with much more success there than he had at JGR.

Matt Kenseth, meanwhile, saw the #20 switch from Home Depot sponsorship to running a Dollar General primary. Nevertheless, Kenseth showed immediate success, taking seven wins and falling just nineteen points off championship leader Jimmie Johnson.

Two years later in 2015, Kenseth was on for another championship contending season before being spun out from the lead at Kansas by none other than Joey Logano. Getting caught up in a wreck at the next race at Talladega saw Matt Kenseth get eliminated in the round of 12, while Logano won his third race in a row at Talladega to sweep the round of 12.

In retribution, at Martinsville two weeks later - the first race of the round of eight - Matt Kenseth wrecked Joey Logano as the crowd cheered. Kenseth was suspended for two races, but getting wrecked at Martinsville, a tyre problem at Texas, and failing to win Phoenix meant that Joey Logano didn't advance either.

A historic feud between drivers of the #20.

Kenseth would leave JGR after 2017, handing the #20 over to Erik Jones for three seasons, before it ended up in the hands of current driver Christopher Bell in 2021.

Bell has made the championship four in both 2022 and 2023, but finished fourth in the standings both years.

JGR's third car was the #11, co-owned by JD Gibbs and running the #11, which was the number JD used in college football at William & Mary. The #11 debuted in 2004, running various drivers such as JJ Yeley, Jason Leffler, Ricky Craven, and even Terry Labonte before settling on Denny Hamlin at the end of 2005. Hamlin went full time for 2006.

The team, with primary sponsorship from FedEx, has run ever since.

Denny Hamlin and the #11 team have won three Daytona 500s, fifty-four races, and have basically done everything in NASCAR besides winning a championship. Truly the Chicago Cubs of the stock car racing world.

Last on the list for JGR is the #19, which Joe Gibbs was finally able to secure in 2015. They had already poached Matt Kenseth from Roush for the #20, so Gibbs decided to do it again and nabbed Carl Edwards for the #19, a partnership that lasted two years before Carl abruptly retired at the end of the 2016 season for reasons NASCAR fans still speculate about to this day.

In the words of Carl Edwards himself...he had taken too many knocks to the head over the years and with him then starting a young family with a neurosurgeon wife, he decided to retire.

Daniel Suárez replaced Edwards for 2017 and 2018, before the other leading Toyota team in the form of Furniture Row Racing collapsed, giving JGR the chance to pick up 2017 champion Martin Truex Jr. for the 2019 season. Truex brought sponsors Bass Pro Shops and Auto Owners Insurance over with him.

2024, however, will be Truex's last season. Chase Briscoe will take over the #19 for 2025.

One team down.

Kaulig Racing has two full time cars, the #16 and the #31, as well as a part-time #13. The #31 is driven by Daniel Hemric, the #16 by AJ Allmendinger, Shane van Gisbergen, Josh Williams, Derek Kraus, and Ty Dillon, and the #13 has been used by Allmendinger in races where both he and SVG were running, such as COTA and Chicago.

Kaulig took #16 since it was available in 2021 (their usual Xfinity numbers, #10 and #11, were both taken), the #31 was chosen for their chartered entry for 2022 since RCR had vacated it after 2019, and the #13 because one: it was vacated, and two: it's the inverse of the #13. Yeah, not much story there, Kaulig is a new team and their numbers don't have much historic meaning behind them.

I mean, Roush ran the #16 for a long time, most successfully with Greg Biffle, but there's no link between that and Kaulig.

Kaulig does have two wins - Indianapolis Road Course 2021 and Charlotte Roval 2023 - with AJ Allmendinger, which is the most success the #16 has had since Biffle, for whatever that's worth.

Now onto Rick Ware Racing.

Rick Ware Racing has built up their history as a start-and-park team running the #51, and initially their numbering scheme was built on that, running numbers such as #52, #53, and the #54 as well. This is also the number that Rick Ware uses on its co-entries in other series, such as its alliance with Dale Coyne Racing in Indycar - where the #51 is currently run by a slew of drivers, of which Katherine Legge is expected to finish out the season - and IMSA LMP3 racing, where Rick Ware runs his son Cody.

Cody Ware was arrested in 2023 for assaulting and strangling his then girlfriend, so that's the first and only time I will mention him on this blog.

Anyway, more recently Rick Ware Racing has started professionalizing its NASCAR efforts, with Justin Haley showing promise in the #51 car that he runs in alliance with RFK Racing. Their other car, the #15, is still somewhat of a revolving door of drivers, but it does appear to be improving.

So, that's the #11, the #13, the #15, and the #16. Roush has the #17, the #18 is currently vacant, JGR has the #19 and the #20, Wood Brothers has the #21, Penske the #22...that means 23XI is next.

23Xi Racing, a joint venture by Michael Jordan (the 23 part) and Denny Hamlin (the 11 part, or XI in Roman numerals) is another new NASCAR team, having entered NASCAR in 2021 in alliance with Joe Gibbs Racing.

The history of their numbers is quite simple, the #23 is Jordan's jersey number, and the #45 is the number he wore when he returned to the Chicago Bulls in 1995 after a brief sabbatical during which time he played for the White Sox's minor league affiliates.

Bubba Wallace has run the #23 since it was established in 2021, while Kurt Busch was the initial driver of the #45 before a career-ending crash at Pocono. Ty Gibbs was drafted in to replace Kurt, before 23Xi briefly switched Bubba into the #45 to compete for the owner points playoffs. Daniel Hemric and John Hunter Nemechek also had starts in 23XI cars in 2022.

For 2023 though, Tyler Reddick has been brought in to drive the #45, winning twice in 2023, and another two times so far in 2024.

Bubba, meanwhile, won Talladega 2021 in his #23, and Kansas 2022 while filling in in the #45.

23XI's third car was initially the #67 - get it, like 2,3,4,5,6,7? - but this year, in a promotion with sponsor Mobil 1, it has run as the #50 to celebrate their 50th anniversary.

Travis Pastrana, Kamui Kobayashi, and Corey Heim have all started in the #67/#50, while Juan Pablo Montoya is scheduled to run the #50 at the 2024 NASCAR Cup race at Watkins Glen.

So yeah, we started with a college football number in the #11, and we finish on a team named after basketball numbers with 23XI.

I believe tomorrow will be the end of this series, as Front Row Motorsports with the #34 and #38, Legacy Motor Club with the #42 and the #43, and JTG Daugherty with the #47 are the only remaining full-time teams.

Higher numbers are a bit sparse in NASCAR these days, huh?

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

I haven't written Wedding Planner au (officially) in a minute, and this idea popped into my head. Based on something that happened to me in middle school, here's some preteen Delia and Anetra coming to the rescue.

CW for menstruation and talk about periods.

Of all the things Delia’s mother had taught her, always being prepared was probably the biggest. Her mother had everything they needed in the car, at least four first aid kits in the house, and flashlights with batteries in almost every drawer. 

Whatever could happen, it will happen, was a lesson her mother taught her.

The only thing her mother didn’t teach her, was preparing for her menstrual cycle. 

That was her other mother’s responsibility, of course. 

“Shoot,” Delia muttered in the empty girl's restroom. The pocket on her backpack where she kept her spare pads and tampons was empty. Upon looking, she realized that she gave her pad to a sixth grader who cried over her first period, and the tampon she gave a friend. 

She looked at the other girls in the restroom. One was brushing her hair and the other was washing her hands. Both looked like they were eighth graders. “Do either of you have a pad? Or a tampon?” she asked, her hands wringing themselves.

Both girls shook their heads in a no, and Delia looked down in a mix of disappointment and worry. She only had a few periods before but always started at home with a full box of hygiene products. 

Now, she was in the middle of the school day with nothing.

“You could use toilet paper, it works for me in a pinch.” One girl suggested. “Just fold it up and you should be fine,” 

“Oh, yeah I can try that, thanks!” Delia said as the girls were leaving. She was safe until she got back home. 

Unfortunately, the toilet paper trick did not last as long as Delia hoped. 

Within a couple of class periods, she had a red stain on the crotch of her jeans. Looking in the mirror, it was getting noticeable. 

She had to go to her last resort, the nurse’s office. She remembered seeing a basket of feminine products last week when she went in for a headache. The nurse could give her one, maybe even find a change of clothes in the lost and found!

The science teacher signed her a pass to go to the nurse’s office with a sympathetic look. Delia quickly walked down the empty hallway for refuge in the nurse’s office. She hoped the nurse didn’t have another student now, waiting would make her situation worse. 

Delia sighed in relief to see an empty nurse’s office, with the school nurse at her desk. She tapped on the door to get her attention, the same way she did it when her mother was working in her office. 

“Hi, excuse me?” she walked in as the nurse looked up at her. 

“Weren’t you just in here the other day?” the nurse asked her with a pointed look. 

Delia nodded, feeling like she was in trouble, “Yes, but I need-” she tried saying before the nurse got up from behind her desk.

“This isn’t a place to skip class, young lady,” the nurse started, and Delia felt a bundle of worry rise in her chest as the older woman continued, “You can’t always come in here and expect me to not be suspicious of you,” 

Delia felt her eyes well with tears as she tried to muster a response, “I-I got my period and I got blood everywhere,” she said with a wobbling bottom lip. “I didn’t have any pads and now my pants are ruined,” she cried as she tried to wipe away her tears.

The nurse’s face changed and asked Delia to turn and show her, “Oh dear,” She said with empathy. “Is there anyone you want me to call to bring you some fresh clothes?” 

Delia nodded, “C-can you call my mom?” 

The nurse nodded as she looked up Delia’s file and the contact list. She offered the girl a cold bottle of water and a seat as she dialed the number on her desk phone. 

Delia wiped her stray tears as she listened to the nurse speak on the phone. Now her only worry is if the nurse was calling the correct mother. 

As Delia was still reeling over how she just cried in front of the school nurse, she eventually heard her name from the secretary from across the hall. 

“Colby? She’s right in there,” the older secretary said over her typing on the old keyboard. 

Delia tried to listen to the footsteps that came across the hall, but it was hard to tell on the linoleum. Mama had light footsteps with a short stride, meanwhile, Mom had quiet steps with a longer stride. Delia always knew who was walking behind her closed bedroom door. 

Delia felt relieved at the sight of her mother’s red hair turning the corner. Mom would know exactly what she needed, which Delia was grateful for.

“How bad is it?” Anetra asked her as she dug through the bag. She pulled out a pair of dark-wash jeans with a plastic bag to put her dirty clothes in. 

“I bleed through, it’s bad,” Delia said as she gladly took the new clothes in a folded pile. “I think these pants are done for,” 

“I’ll try to get the stain out with some cold water, it works for me every time,” Anetra shrugged as she took out a pad from the bag. “Or, I’m sure Mama would love a shopping trip with you,” she smiled.

After a quick change in the small nurse’s office restroom, Delia felt much better. She had some cramping starting but saw a bottle of Midol at the bottom of the bag. She was glad Anetra remembered everything for a period emergency.

“Let me know if you need anything else, okay? I’ll see you at home,” Anetra gave her a side hug with her free arm. 

“Is Auntie Mirage still picking me up?” Delia asked as the hug ended. Her aunt loved taking her out after school before taking her home. Auntie Marica did too, she usually brought her to the theater to watch different plays and musicals rehearsing. 

Anetra nodded, “She is, just make sure she brings you home in time for you to study for your math test tomorrow,” she warned. 

“I know, love you, Mom,” Delia said as she waved her mother goodbye. She didn’t care if another student heard her, her parents taught her to always say ‘I love you’, even when you are mad. 

“I love you too, blossom,” Anetra smiled with a wave before leaving the nurse’s office. 

One month later, Delia luckily found a new pad and tampon in her backpack, ready for use. But she noticed something else at the bottom of that pocket. 

Her fingers grazed a smooth plastic, with paper taped to the front. She pulled out a candy bar, the type with smooth caramel and soft nougat. Her favorite to get at the checkout of the grocery store. 

She opened the folded note and smiled to herself as she read it.

“Mama thinks chocolate makes everything better, and I think she’s right,”

-Love always, Mom

[umgeorge]

george russell is interviewed during the press conference, saudi arabia - march 6, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, why don't we start with you? Mercedes were difficult to read at the pre-season test, and it feels they were a little bit difficult to read at the first race weekend, as well. What conclusions did you draw from the Bahrain Grand Prix?" George: "I think the conclusions we drew were the car has potential. I think when we saw the pace on FP2, that was genuine. Lewis and I had P1 and P2. I think probably not everybody turned up, but we were genuinely fast. And then in the race we had some really big cooling issues that caught us by surprise, and we know there's at least a fifteen second loss just in the battery and the power, and probably more after you consider the effect it had on the tires. And just an extra couple of seconds in stint one, when I had Checo beind me, would have been pretty handy, so I think we'd have been in the fight for P2, for the podium, with Checo and Carlos, but definitely we didn't show our true potential." Interviewer: "Were those cooling issues a simple miscalculation, or something that actually needs a fix?" George: "I think it was definitely a miscalculation. It would have been quite straightforward to just open the bodywork very slightly and make things much easier, but we don't know how we fell into that place… Sorry, I'm just distracted by Charles walking in." [laughs] Interviewer: "Charles. Welcome!" Leclerc: "Sorry." George: "Yeah, lost my groove now. [laughs] No, but we don't really understand why, because we didn't change anything from testing-in FP2, as well-and it suddenly caught us out on Saturday, so I'm sure it'll be better this weekend." Interviewer: "I was gonna say, are you worried about it this weekend? George: "We need to get on top of it, and we've got some tests tomorrow to try and understand further what happened." Interviewer: "Alright. Thank you, George." [time jump] Journalist: "Nelson Valkenburg, Viaplay, for George: F1 media, everybody, is obsessed with the possibility of is Max going to Mercedes. How would you feel if a driver who had some choice words for you a year ago would join the team?" George: [laughs] "Yeah, I think… As I said last week in Bahrain, this is my third season now alongside Lewis, greatest driver of all time, and I feel like I've done a pretty good job alongside him, so whoever were to line up alongside me next year or the years to come, I welcome anybody, welcome the challenge. You always wanna go against the best, but ultimately, for me, just focused on myself. I believe in myself, I believe I can beat anybody on the grid, and you just got to have that mentality, so as I said, having Lewis as my benchmark for the last couple of years has been a pretty good benchmark, for sure." [time jump]

Journalist: "But what chance, George? What chance is Max Verstappen really going to Mercedes? From the inside, could you see it happening? 'Cause it would be perobably the biggest story since your current teammate signed for Ferrari." George: "I think any team want to have the best driver line-up possible and right now Max is the best driver on the grid, so if any team had a chance to sign Max they would 100% be taking it. So I think the question's more on the other side, on his side, and on Red Bull's side. Obviously so much going on there. We don't know what truly's going on behind closed doors and ultimately it's none of our business right now. Yeah, I guess it would be exciting." [time jump] (NOT SHOWN:) Journalist: "David Croft, Sky Sports F1. You all did 57 laps. Everyone did 57 laps, apart from those that were lapped, on Saturday in Bahrain. You all went into the race optimistic, I'm sure, because it was the first race of the season. How was your optimism levels at the checkered flag? That's to all of you." George: "I think after three days of testing everybody knows Bahrain pretty well. It all panned out as we probably expected, but obviously we all hope that the field tightens up a little bit right at the front. But the fight behind Max, I think, is really, really tight and it's gonna be quite exciting, between ourselves, Ferrari, Aston, and McLaren." [time jump] (NOT SHOWN:) Journalist: "Diego Mejia, Fox Sports Mexico. Both Charles and George, about the issues you had with the cooling, with the brakes and the power unit, is that a worry here? Was it probably the changing conditions in Bahrain that caused that, that we had probably the lowest temperature before the race started and then it was increasing over the race weekend?" George: "Yeah, similar to Charles, it was definitely a bit of an odd one for us, but we're confident we're on top of it and won't face the same issue this weekend."

[call-me-maggie13]

I’m bored and the guys at work are being goofy so here’s a list of no context things I’ve heard from The Boys™ recently.

“Call me a fake lesbian but I don’t really like girl in red. Clairo? Love. WILLOW? Besties. Hayley Kiyoko? Lesbian Jesus. But Girl in Red and I don’t really vibe. Sorry.”

“Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I wanna bite that truck.”

“Aye, watch your language.” “Will it do a flip?” “What?” “Watch it’s gunna do a flip!” [flips manager off]

“Have y’all heard about the Zuckerberg V. Musk fight? Okay let’s debate. Kanye or Swift, who would win? Actually. That wouldn’t be fair, Kanye never stood a chance. Okay. Obama or Trump? Fists only, no weapons.”

“Do you ever wonder if grass can feel? Like. What if it screams on a frequency I can’t hear every time I step on it? What if the fresh mowed grass smell is actually grass tears and blood?”

“I know we all agreed, but…”

“If lightning struck me right now, would y’all try to save me?”

“Sometimes I’m like ‘Hozier is a god.’ And sometimes I’m like ‘Hozier is just some guy.’”

“Someone threw away a black American Express card. Can I keep it? It’s not expired.”

“I’m not allowed to set off fireworks anymore. It’s not my fault I didn’t know they were actual explosions that could burn a house down. No, this wasn’t when I was a kid, this was like three months ago.”

“What do you think the sky tastes like?”

“When I was twelve, my mom hit me with her car backing out of the driveway and she didn’t even take me to the hospital. I think I broke my arm and I’m pretty sure that’s why my wrist does this. [shows wrist making clicking noise when he rolls it]”

“Okay. But. What if. Nope wait, I think that’s illegal.”

“God customers are stupid. Are you closed?? No lady, the sign says we’re closed because we’re open. It makes me want to eat a car battery.”

“If you could only eat one bug for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“What are y’all’s opinions on potato flavored chewing gum?”

“Can I start bringing my dog to work?”

“Can I break this? I know it’s already broken, I want to break it more.”

“I’m a simple man. I like when things go boom. That doesn’t mean I started the fire.”

“Sometimes I like to take a bath and pretend I’m a little potato getting boiled to make some mashed potatoes.”

“Why can’t I be a duck? Why do I have to be a person?”

“But if I just punch him in the face, I don’t have to worry about him being mean anymore.”

“Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Mag - okay I’m bored now.”

“If I was a rock, I think I’d be a big blue smooth shiny rock. What rock would you be?”

“I have an announcement to make. Stalactites and stalagmites. That is all. Carry on.”

“Sorry, was that gay?”

“I think being an adult is all about being nice to yourself. And taxes, maybe.”

“Why does the dirt over here taste saltier than the dirt by the flowers?”

“No. If I’m not asking him about Taylor Swift, what makes you think I’d ask him about Gracie Abrams?”

“Can I make a list of everyone’s red flags?” “Only if you list their green flags too.”

“I had to change your contact name to Charles. I don’t know why Charles, I just panicked and picked the first name I could think of.”

“Sometimes I forget she’s your mom.” “She’s not my mom. Do you think she’s my mom?” “Not anymore.”

“God. Everyone wants to be Donna but no one wants to be Rachel. No one is Donna except Donna. Everyone else is Rachel. Or they’re Harold.” (Someone please tell me what this means, I have no idea what he’s talking about)

“Why do crickets taste like that?”

“Oh to be a silly little horse in a silly little field being taken care of by a silly little person I could crush like a bug beneath my silly little hooves.”

“Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car?”

“The world went to hell when autopsies started testing for poison. Women just can’t poison their husbands anymore. That was the true beginning of the downfall of society.”

“What happens if someone asks to take their motorcycle through the carwash?”

“You don’t have to file customer complaints if you eat the paper they’re written on.”

“And if I said I still haven’t forgiven John Wilkes Booth, what would you say?”

“I don’t say this lightly, but the Pedro Pascual edits on tiktok have confused me sexually.”

“I just pulled a dead bird out of some guy’s grill. Anyone hungry?”

“Taylor Swift might have forgiven him but that doesn’t mean I have to!”

“Why aren’t we allowed to have a company pet? Firefighters get Dalmatians, we should be allowed like. A fish or something.”

“I dreamt that I came to work yesterday and worked an entire shift, is there any way I can get that added to my pay?”

“My girlfriend is mad at me because I keep playing I’m Just Ken and telling her she’s Kenough.”

“Can we close early on October the thirteenth? Oh, no reason… On a completely unrelated note: what should I wear to the Eras Tour movie?”

“If my grandmother confessed to murdering my grandfather but it happened in like the eighties, do I have to report it? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Sometimes a man just needs to cry to mirrorball and tolerate it in his car. Sometimes he just needs to scream Death by A Thousand Cuts. Sometimes…”

“I accidentally just called a customer Mom and she gave me her phone number, what do I do?”

“It’s only blasphemy if you get caught. Do you really think God has time to listen to everything every single person says?”

“Sometimes I wish I was a woman but then I remember this is America and I thank the stars that I’m not. Sorry, Maggie.”

“Why is it so hard to find a stupidly rich woman searching for a trophy husband?”

“Do you think I could walk through the carwash instead of taking a shower?”

[after a guy’s day off] “I missed you guys yesterday. I wish I never had to leave.”

“My sister told me I was adopted and my mom got mad because she wasn’t supposed to but like. My parents are white. I’m black. I already knew.”

“I just had a child quote Revelations at me because I told him he shouldn’t drink the glass cleaner.”

“I forgot my shoes. Also, I just stepped in glass in the parking lot, someone should really clean that up.”

“I think everyone should be allowed to kill someone if they have a really good reason. I would kill the guy that called my sister a bitch because she didn’t want to sleep with him. Who would you kill?”

“Is… is that… not… normal?” [hint: it was not.]

“I stand with Sansa - I mean Sophie Turner.”

“I still don’t understand why I’m not allowed to punch customers in the mouth for being assholes to Maggie and Dru.”

“What kind of tree do you think I am?”

“Apparently I was supposed to listen to the new Olivia Rodrigo album with my girlfriend and now she’s upset with me for listening to it with y’all first.”

“Every night, I go to sleep and every morning, I wake up. How do I stop this cycle?”

[baronessblixen]

Candlelight Moments With You

Day six: candlelit snack

I'm doing the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge that msrafterdark posted!

Summary: Mulder and Scully have to stop at a motel for the night. They make the best of it. (one room, some fluff, some candy. Yes, real candy. Wc: 1,201

Tagging @today-in-fic

The weather - and he doesn't want to quote the classic Christmas song at all, but it's all too fitting - is dreadful. He doesn't know if their flight was canceled. With the phone lines down, there is no way to call the airline. With the snowstorm raging outside, however, he can't imagine a single plane taking off, no matter where it is going.

This is why they're stuck here. He's not entirely sure where 'here' even is. It had started with soft flurries that neither worried Mulder nor Scully. Then, almost out of nowhere, the snow was coming down heavily, making it impossible to see where they were driving. They were going so slow, they probably could have walked.

After what felt like hours, but was most likely not more than thirty minutes, a snowed-in neon sign came into sight. They exchanged a look and the decision was made. They parked their car in the parking lot and by the time they'd taken out their bags, it was already covered by a soft white blanket. They were lucky, too. The motel had one room left. It's drafty and basic, but better than being out in the storm.

At least it was until a few minutes ago when the power went out. Mulder turned on his flashlight and put it on a table like a candle. But of course, he hasn't changed the batteries in a while, and the light keeps flickering.

"Merry Christmas," Scully mutters, sitting on the bed in her pajamas.

"Technically," Mulder says, "it's not Christmas yet. We'll be back in time."

"You don't know that." She's right, of course. He can't know it. But he's Mulder and he wants to believe. Even if he can't get Scully home for Christmas Eve, he's determined to deliver her to her family on Christmas morning at the latest.

"And we'll soon be without light. It's only a matter of time until it will be freezing in here. We haven't even eaten." Scully's voice carries dejection in it and it hits Mulder straight in his heart. He can't bring the power back, or make the snow stop, but maybe there's something he can do.

"Will you be okay if I take the flashlight and go talk to the receptionist?" He points the light at her and she narrows her eyes.

"Sure," she says, crawling under the blanket, and getting comfortable. He can't tear his eyes away from her until she smiles softly, giving him a spark of hope.

It's a small motel, so there aren't many people here, but some are also seeking out the receptionist. A child is crying and Mulder makes a funny face, distracting it into a hiccupy laugh.

"We know that the power is out and no, we don't know when it will be back," the receptionist says in a monotone voice when it's Mulder's turn.

"I just wanted to ask for a few candles."

"We don't usually allow candles in our rooms."

"My partner and I are Federal Agents," Mulder says, flashing his badge. "We can handle it."

"Fine. But don't let the other guests know." Mulder grabs the two candles he's offered and stuffs them into his pockets.

"Do you sell any food?"

"Does this look like a restaurant, Mister? No, we don't."

"Thanks." Mulder stands in the lobby, his stomach grumbling. It's been hours since they last stopped to eat and he feels it. And he knows how Scully gets on an empty stomach.

"You don't happen to have a vending machine anywhere close, do you?" He returns to the receptionist, who rolls his eyes.

"We used to. But not anymore. You're on your own. Unless..."

"Unless what?" The receptionist's head disappears under the desk. When he comes back up, he's holding a bag of chips and another bag with heart-shaped fruit gum.

"I'm willing to sell you these."

"Sell? How much?" Mulder fishes out his wallet, figuring the guy would want five or maybe ten bucks for the snacks.

"$100." Mulder stares at the young man whose expression is steady.

"You're kidding."

"My mom gave me these. So $100 or no deal." Mulder checks his wallet, grumbling.

"I have $81 and some change."

"I'll take it."

Candles in his pockets, chips and fruit gum in hand, Mulder returns to his and Scully's motel room.

"Mulder?" she asks.

"Were you expecting someone else? Power is gonna be out for a while," he says. "But I have candles." He grins at her, her face unreadable in the shadows. He uses a matchstick to light the candles and the soft flickering plunges them into a soft light.

"Tada," Mulder says. "We have light. And I have food."

"You do?" Scully sits up in bed.

"Willing to share the bed?" he asks her, feeling surprisingly bashful. She scoots over and pats the space next to her.

"What did you bring?"

"Well, it was as expensive as a restaurant visit." Scully throws him a confused look. "But quality is more gas station." He hands the chips to her and she tears open the bag, digging in.

"Wow," he says, forgetting his own hunger. "You really were hungry, huh?" She just nods, taking the other bag out of his hands.

"Are these-"

"Hearts? Yeah."

"And they say romance is dead." He watches her - momentarily speechless - as she opens the bag of fruit gum too and stuffs two little hearts into her mouth.

"What did you mean these were expensive?" she asks as she offers him a heart. Their fingers meet as he takes it from her.

"The little shit demanded $100."

"Please tell me you didn't pay that."

"I paid $81," he admits. "Was all I had. You're worth it, too."

"Mulder, you're crazy," she says, licking her salt-peppered fingers.

"What else is new?" He chuckles. "I didn't want you to go hungry."

"Thank you." She looks at him, her eyes earnest. "I'm sorry for being... I know the snowstorm wasn't your fault. I'm just tired."

"And hungry," he adds, nudging her shoulder with his.

"And hungry," she confirms.

"I promise that I'll take you to breakfast, lunch, and dinner as soon as we can leave again."

"Mulder, are you asking me out on a date?" He stares at the heart-shaped fruit gum in his hand. She's long taken over his heart; it beats to the rhythm of his love for her.

"If you accept me," he says gently, offering him the heart. The one in his palm and the one in his chest.

"Mulder," she mumbles, taking the fruit gum. "You know, this almost is a date right here."

"Hm?"

"Candlelight," she says, "and food. Or something like it."

"I'd like to take you on a real date. One day."

"I'd like that, too. One day." She eats the fruit gum, her eyes remaining on his face. "You look like you're gonna faint. Eat something." She holds a chip up to his mouth and he accepts it, his lips closing over her finger. He can't tell what flavor the chips are, but he knows he wants more.

"More?" he asks in a whisper. She smiles at him and nods. But he doesn't get another chip. Instead, he gets a kiss.