#courtesy bus

[richo1915]

Rained off again. And have learnt my lesson from last inclement weather day. But now I am bored. I cannot go out because of dry slick tyres. Thinking I might get the courtesy bus down the pub to meet the lads…..

[bugwolfsstuff]

Sad because I had a road-trip fic idea for the head counsellors (+Chris) but I didnt wanna remove Jake, Drew and Nyssa for Leo, Piper and Jason so now I either gotta pretend HoO never happened in the fic or they really just uninvited the lost trio plus the newer cabin counsellors :(

[juliarobertsisswedish]

Can we talk about this ID card please?

His written full name is Logico. Just Logico. Which means one of three things:

1. He misunderstood the concept of a “full name” being a first and last name (unlikely).

2. People in the Murdleverse are given exactly one name at birth, Middle Ages-style. Which means, I guess, that they use honorifics like Miss Saffron and Dr. Crimson to differentiate themselves between the other Saffrons and Crimsons…?

3. Logico’s parents just straight-up did not bother to give him a last name

[angelwiththeblue-box]

the kids are alright

taglist: @joshkiszkashusband @thedrowningpoetofdionysus @thedragonemperess @blueskiesandstarrynights @disdoorted-crows @dimension20official @depressedtransguy @genuine-possum (lemme know if u want to be added or removed)

[undead-knick-knack]

Can't believe these chucklefucks have to be the ones to stop Ludinus

[transguyhawkeye]

being ghosted by a job 1/2 a block away from where you live is crazy. youre in My house

[thechaosoflonging]

lmao if u man spread into da main aisle on da bus where ppl move up & down n u sit on da outside chair when the inside seat is available i WILL swing my bag & whack u in da face bc ure taking up unnecessary public space perhaps u should jus go away:,)

[marmota-b]

Relatively normal in Southern Moravia, but then Southern Moravia is Southern Moravia. Once when I did this in Prague, the driver looked like I had grown a second head or something.

If you take the bus, wave to the driver and thank them as you're getting off the bus.

Being a bus driver is an underappreciated and difficult job but still very vital to society. They still have to do customer service and deal with rude and even aggressive passengers, and on top of that have to deal with traffic and other drivers all day (and let's face it, there's a lot of bad drivers out there who aren't considerate about sharing the road). All while providing an invaluable service of getting us where we need to go. Showing them some appreciation can go a long ways for someone doing such an important job that usually gets little to no recognition or thanks.

[dtriad]

早安！三国打工人 Good Morning! Workers of the Three Kingdoms

[artist 张青椒 @ Weibo]

ft. General Lü Bu, courtesy name Fengxian, & his advisor Chen Gong, courtesy name Gongtai

Ch. 210 | Side Story: Lü Bu's Fantastic Adventures (2):

“… I’m the defender. If Yuan Tan doesn’t want to attack, how can I force him to fight?” Regarding this problem, Chen Gong answered very quickly, “General, just reply to the letter yourself.”

Would Yuan Tan go to battle if he replied personally? How could something so amazing happen in this world? How could he have a skill like that? Lü Bu thought for a while as he faced the bamboo slips, then took another look at Yuan Tan’s eloquently written letter; he thought about it for a long time, but couldn’t figure out how to goad Yuan Tan into a fight. In the end, the renowned talent Lü Bu gave up on this task, which really wasn’t his strong suit. He didn’t have the ability to deliberately scheme against others, and he was probably going to disappoint Gongtai. But it didn’t take much to write a letter, so Lü Bu still patiently, sincerely, serenely wrote a few words in reply to Yuan Tan: —Let your daddy come.

(after which Yuan Tan, with his many many many daddy issues, spontaneously combusted: DIE!! HE MUST DIE!!!)

[magmabanana]

Shoutout to the guy on the bus behind me, who has his FUCKING PHONE VOLUME UP and is presumably scrolling through one of many short vertical video platforms

Have a little courtesy please. I get that you like that song, but why do you have to sing along to it? I just wanna get to class

[piplupod]

of course the day i find a large yellow crate beside a dumpster that I decide to grab and bring home is the day the bus is full of ppl and i have to sit beside another person with my crate that comes up to my knees while on its short end fjdkdl

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

tagging @starkeysprincess bc she saw it first <3

[mccourtesycorporation]

Alliance doesn't just last one month. That's why for the months of September, October and November: all frequent passengers to the Down with Cis Bus are offered one free McCafé drink per day!

Please be advised that it is best to bring your Down with Cis Bus Pass when you order, otherwise we may not be able to accommodate the free item.

Our offer is available to all Courtesy Corporation locations. Stop by soon! 🏳️‍⚧️♥️💛

P. S. Our utmost sorry to Stella Liebeck.

[hidemiwoods]

The Happiest Place in Tokyo hr664

It was 1983 when the theme park which host is the mouse opened in Japan for the first time outside the U.S. Two years after it opened, I left my hometown and began to live by myself in Tokyo to pursue my career as a musician. My partner was the one that I had a meeting with to join my first band and I had worked with ever since. He also moved to Tokyo and settled in an extremely shabby small…

[harleiquina]

Are you telling me that this is not standard behaviour for most of the people?

I mean... you can be distracted and not notice someone that might need help (with anything, not just doors) but not doing it willingly? Why?

But of course, you're talking to a girl that gave away 2 seats (that weren't her own) on the same bus ride once because at first I saw an elderly woman clasping with her whole body one of the bars (the bus was full yet NO-ONE gave her a seat despite her advanced age). One of the seats was free and a younger (still older than me, around 40 something, maybe 50) asked me if I was going to sit, otherwise she would do it, so I told her about this grandma across us and she agreed on give her the seat. I reached to this lady and offered my hand so she could hold herself while walking to the seat. A couple blocks later the seat next to the grandma was free so I let the younger woman sit.

A couple of seconds later someone tapped on my hand (I was holding myself from the small handle that is behind the head of the seats) and it was a man (also about 50 or 60) that told me to sit down on his place. I told him that I was fine (I was not, I still had a long ride ahead and the driver was going a little faster than he should) but he was about to get off the bus and wanted me to have his seat (probably because he saw what I did).

Once I sat down I was behind both women and I could her them talk about how nice of me was to let them sit and almost draw a tear of my eye.

One of the things that I enjoyed more when in College was surprising people that did not expected someone like me (young, with band t-shirts, cargo pants -in summer-, and that clearly didn't cared enough of how she looked -always loose hair with little to no makeup-) did something unexpectedly kind for them. It was like breaking the Matrix 🤣 And lets not mention the times where I had to dolled-myself-up (a requirement when doing a group presentation) and I sat down next to someone on the bus, put on my headphones to listen to Billy Idol's Devil's Playground, Whitesnake or some of The Cure heaviest tracks and the sound bleeded a little to whoever was sitting next to me so they would turn like "WTF? This girl is listening WHAT?" 🤣🤣🤣

Hold the door if there's someone behind you.

Nobody likes having a door slammed in their face, but you also never know if the person coming through the door behind you might be struggling with an injury or disability where holding the door for them could be a big help. It's especially important to be mindful of holding the door if the person behind you is carrying something, as it's extra hard to multitask carrying things and open doors when your arms are full.