#hot wheels mexico

[somewheredownthesidewalk]

May 3, 2023

Albuquerque, New Mexico

[the-dance-of-italy]

I want to heal my child self and start the hot wheels collection she always wanted.

[rik-evora]

Sobre el 30 de septiembre y que se regalan carritos . Es un tema muy fuerte si coleccionas carritos y las mujeres se burlan de ti, es que eres feo y poco atractivo para ellas. Pero si ellas te los regalan es que eres guapo. Para ellas la moral tiene valores estéticos

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Checo Perez with wife reader? He was doing PR things with Max and she was just watching from the background with their kids.. He constantly broke whatever things they gave him and she was having a great time watching it, much to the horror of the staff. Their kids eventually crashed one of the Red Bull's video and chaos ensured. While Max just encourages them. Just something fluff and cute. Thanks!! :))

Honey, they’re going to be the death of me - Sergio Perez x Wife!Reader

Plot:

It was a Thursday, typical media day in the world of F1 and today Sergio your husband had asked you to bring the kids along. Usually you showed them round the city you were in while he was off with the team filming stuff for whatever was needed of him by the social media team. But he wanted to see you today.

You had your 7 year old boy Diego who was the best older brother to his two younger siblings and he was currently watching his two little sister in the garage. He hadn’t taken to Sergios love of karting, finding the loud noises of the karts irritating and found a love for football instead.

The middle child, Isabella who is 5 had really gotten into Karting, loving the smell around the garage and was born on a very special race weekend, one where you husband was on the top step of the podium. She’s naturally taken to the car and was already looking at competing in the next few years when she got a little older.

Then there was Alexandria, the youngest who was still just a baby in yours eyes at age 2. She was so young that she hadn’t really taken in any footpath yet but was so very clearly a mummy’s girl. Just like her older brother.

Where you rarely had the kids in the paddock because of how busy it gets and you never wanted them to feel overwhelmed you just never really brought them. However this time Sergio was adamant that they come.

You were sat in the RedBull hospitality watching while Sergio and Max did loads of different team challenges. One where they were blindfolded with a mock track and a hot wheels car and had to guess which track it happened to be. Of course your husband split the pieces of track up from pushing the car to roughly before letting the small toy car slide off the table, a wheel popping off as it hit the floor.

The next thing they were given was a whiteboard and pen to film a top 3 video where they were asked what they’re top 3 things were.

So top three tracks, and Sergio answered with Mexico City, Spa and Baku.

But of course he also broke the pen, for the whiteboard pressing it to hard into it as he was concentrating on drawing a small image asked for.

You were loving watching him just look at Max with that blank confused expression as he showed the broken object to him in concern only for Max to start laughing, to the point he would sometimes choke.

Your kids were also finding there dads frustrations very amusing which was mainly why you were finding this as amusing as you were.

However, you turn away for one second to look at your phone, a text from your mum wondering how the kids were getting on at the track. A quick reply explaining to her it was hard to tell right now as the cars haven’t even started going round the track yet so you have no idea how bored they’re going to get.

In that one second, Max has beckoned your children over, and who are they to deny their beloved uncle Max, and the chaos has begun.

When you turn back round Diego has his face in the camera that they’re using to film. Isabella is sat on the floor under the table playing with the car and track that your husband had broken not so long ago. And then Alexandria was now sat in Max lap, yapping in her two year old way that made sort of sense but when you really listened was just a load of toddler mashup.

“What does this do?” Diego asked looking into the lenses of the camera while playing with the toggle on the side. The Young awkward intern next to the camera doesn’t really know how to reply and looks at you for help. While the other tries to coax Isabella from out under the table with more cars but off to the side away from filming. And eventually Max gets up to start tossing your daughter up in the air and her shrieks and shrills start to echo in the room.

“Sergio” you exclaim to your husband who isn’t helping whatsoever as you try to calm all three children down.

“Honey they’re going to be the death of me” Sergio replies.

“I’m so so sorry” you say to the intern as you finally manage to pull your son away from the camera. But just as you stopped one child the other two start. Max starts to chase them round the room and Sergio attempts to stop Max but he’s enjoying this just as much as the kids.

“Max” you exclaim trying to get him to stop while your son stays at your side cuddling into you laughing at his sisters.

“Look Mamá” Diego points, seeing Christian slip into the corner of the room. He has a confused look on that stern face of his making you walk over to start to profusely apologise.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m not meaning for them to take up your work day” you exclaim, sending a look to Sergio to try and stop Max from messing about with your daughters, but now Deigo has also joined in now that you’ve left. But instead of being chased by Max, he is now chasing his sisters alongside Max.

“It’s more than okay, it’s nice to see all of them having fun” he grins watching his staff try to calm everyone in the room down.

“They look more stressed than having fun” you giggle watching the team members all start to stop the chaos.

“Mmmmm no that’s most definitely fun” he says taking another look at the staffs faces loosening up the more they realise they cannot stop the chaos that is your three children.

Sergio comes over, pulling you in for a kiss, nuzzling into you when he pulls you into a hug.

“We’ve raised little nightmares” he chuckles. Watching the staff members slowly start to give in to what your children are doing and slowly starting to help Max play around.

“That we have” you sigh watching everything unfold, as more things in the room get moved and more things get grabbed that were supposed to be used for the video.

You couldn’t help but sit back and watch with Christian and Sergio, his one arm wrapped around you.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[octuscle]

Gringo Life

Carlos was breathing heavily. Today, his destiny might be decided. The savings of many years of hard work had been spent on Carlos's trip to the United States today. He was to meet the smuggler in a village not far from the border crossing. Carlos was to come without luggage, without papers. Only with the clothes on his back. Of course, that sounded strange, but Carlos did as he was told. He wore his best clothes. He had gotten himself a new hat. He looked hot. He was an alpha paisa! He would make a career for himself in the land of the gringos.

At the agreed meeting point, a man was standing next to a surprisingly clean new pickup. He looked like something out of a bad college jock comedy. Stars and Stripes tank top over a muscular, tanned torso. The buzz cut hidden under an upturned cap, powerful legs in tight jeans that also accentuated an impressive bulge at the crotch. Feet in dusty biker boots. He spat a bit of chewing tobacco on the street. “Carlos?” he asked. Carlos nodded with a dry mouth. “Good, then let's go.” With the little English he knew, Carlos asked where he should hide in this car. Probably not in the open loading area. The guy laughed and said that Carlos had booked a first-class ticket. You don't hide with this ticket. With this ticket, you drive the car into a better life yourself. He threw the car keys to Carlos and went to the passenger door. “Are you serious?” Carlos asked. He was already much more fluent than a few minutes ago. “You drive, I choose the music. By the way, I'm Zack!” Carlos climbed into the car. He had never sat in such a big and new and expensive car, let alone driven it. “You know how to drive an automatic, bro?” Zack asked. Carlos shook his head. “You'll learn!”

It was hot. Zack had turned off the air conditioning and rolled up the windows. Carlos had no idea which buttons to press to change that. He didn't want to ask Zack. Zack had turned up the music loud and was enthusiastically singing along to songs Carlos didn't know. He was sweating. He ran his hand over his neck. His mullet was soaked in sweat! “Coke?” Zack asked, opening what was obviously a cooled compartment in the center armrest. ‘Holy cow, dude! You're like, a total lifesaver! Thank you, fam!’ Carlos replied. With a heavy Spanish accent. But in fluent English!

“12 kilometers to the border” was written on a sign. Damn metric system, Carlos thought to himself. How many miles was that now? 10? Or more like 20? He drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Young's ‘Young Love & Saturday Nights.’ The muscles in his forearms twitched, making his tattoos dance. Zack opened the windows. The wind blew up Carlos' cut-off tank top. It felt damn good on his sweaty skin. At the end of the road, the border station appeared. Carlos took a deep breath. He slowed down. He rolled up to the Mexican border guard's hut. Zack handed Carlos two passports, which Carlos passed on. The officer only glanced through the window. He had to stand on tiptoe to see not only Carlos but also Zack in the big car. He stamped both passports and wished them a safe journey. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. Although he knew that leaving Mexico was the easy part. Now came the entry into the USA. The officer could be a brother of Zack. Muscular, short-cropped hair, a tight, perfectly fitting uniform. He bared two rows of immaculate Hollywood-white teeth. “Welcome back to the USA!” he said as Carlos handed him the two passports. “What was the reason for your stay in Mexico?” “We were there to get wasted and hook up, y'all! Get ready for some wild times!” said Zack. The officer said that was indeed the best thing about Latinos. “Which one of you is Charles?” Silence… Zack nudged Carlos in the side. Carlos jumped and said, “My friends call me Chuck, Officer!” Zack grinned. The border guard looked at Carlos and then at the passport. Then he asked Carlos to take off his hat. Shit, the hat, Carlos thought. Of course, with it he looked like a wetback. He felt for the hat. There was no hat. He took off his trucker cap. His long blond hair fell into his face. He pushed it back. The border guard grinned and said that with short hair, Chuck would look less like a girl. He stamped the two passports and handed them back to Chuck in the car.

“So, what did I tell you?” said Zack. “Easier than stealing candy from a baby.” Chuck replied that he had obviously lost the bet. He wouldn't have believed in his life that the guy wasn't checking the back of the pickup. There were six kegs of the finest smuggled tequila rocking on the truck bed. “Dude,” Zack said. “Didn't you see the way the officer was staring at you? If you had told him you had the tequila on the truck bed, he would have let us through. The main thing is that you smile at him once.” Chuck kneaded the bulge in his torn jeans. Hell yes, the officer had been hot. But the load of his balls was reserved for Zack today. He had lost a bet, so Zack was allowed to suck him off in the repair shop. Chuck could only hope that the border guard was back on duty on the next trip to Mexico.

Chuck and Zack had been best bros since they first got kicked out of college together for drug smuggling. Behind the facade of the auto repair shop, they smuggled various things across the border. In both directions. It was lucrative. And each time they bet on whether they'd get caught or not. The loser had to empty his balls into one of the other's holes. They were rarely caught. For some reason, Chuck spoke fluent gutter Spanish like a construction worker. He didn't know when or where he'd learned it himself. That usually helped with problems at the border. And if that wasn't enough, a blowjob had been enough to get him out. Life was great.

Pics by @ki-kink

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.”
 “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds – JUNE 26

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @autistic-gothic

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser @spnfamily-j2

[bigshunt]

Race week. Mexico. Predictions. Let's gooooooo!

(Can't belive it's Thursday and I still haven't posted this. Where has the week gone?)

No nuance top 3

1. Carlos

2. Max

3. Charles

Silliness below!

🚗🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎

Realistic

- Charles Leclerc and insahalla says Ferrari. But what's this? Carlos Sainz with the steel chair! Turn 1, lap 1.

- Turn 1 carnage in the midfield. One of the rookies divebombs probably. Safety car 🚗🏎🏎🏎🏎

- Max not pushing too hard to try and avoid a DNF so is happy (well, not "happy" but ygwim) to stay in position as long as Lando is behind him.

- Mercedes stop emotionally abusing your drivers and making inconsistent, but mostly bad, calls. challenge level - impossible.

Unrealistic

- Lestappen wheel to wheel, lap after lap, hot and heavy, sexy racing. Carlos creates a pit stop gap while they squabble with each other. Lando is also there in the cuck chair P4. (I moved this one back and forth from realistic to unrealistic so many times. I think I just really want it to happen haha)

- Fernando points finish for his 400th. (Sorry queen I wanted to put this in realistic but that Aston is 🤮)

- Williams (probs Franco but rooting for Alex too) qualify high and being hard to catch on straights get their best finish of the season but gain no places.

- Checo top 5. I am a known Checo h8r but I always wish drivers well at their home race and he should have the full upgrade package this week so we'll see. (He's still a fucking embarrassment but what are you gonna do 🤷‍♀️)

Unhinged

- Alonso and Lawson crash each other out and then spit fire in their interviews.

- Max DNF, Lando wins. The championship chase stays alive for one more round.

- Fuck it. Franco podium. 🏆 If that's what it takes to get him a seat at this point I do not care

[francixoxoxo]

Modern!Billy would 1000% listen to Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen, you can’t change my mind

He’s absolutely putting on his Petty record, skipping to Mary Jane’s Last Dance and singing it in the most dramatic voice he can muster, and you’re laughing at him, which was exactly his goal. If you’re doing something, I’m picturing you’re standing at the kitchen counter, bookmarking pages in a new cookbook, and you hear that damn record come on. You look over your shoulder at the first guitar riffs and you see Billy dancing up to you, grinning like anything, “She grew up in an Indiana town, had a good lookin’ mom, who ne’er was around!”

You can’t help laughing at him, but he doesn’t mind. He steals you away from the counter, it’s not a slow dance, certainly not to the harmonicas and guitars of Tom Petty, but it as dance all the same. “Oh my my, oh hell yes! Honey, put on that party dress!” Who are you to deny Billy a dance? You let his hands come to your waist, even singing along with him, to his absolute delight. He’d absolutely whistle that iconic harmonica line of Mary Jane’s Last Dance while he works, while he’s walking around, all the time, same thing with humming under his breath, “Into the great wide open, under them skies of blue..”

In his truck, he’d totally have a collection of Springsteen CD’s. The truck’s pretty old and pretty crappy, so there’s no aux, just a cd slot. “I don’t mind, baby. S’ hell of a lot cooler than a phone.” Billy would tell you, grinning boyishly as he pushes the manual shift into drive (btw this guy totally swears by driving stick shift and probably is appalled that you don’t know how bc literally who does). His favorite is absolutely Dancing in the Dark, and the moment the song comes on that man is belting. The more embarrassed you are and the harder you laugh at him the more he leans over the console, singing the lyrics with even more pride. “Ya can’t start a fire without a spark! This guns for hire, even if we’re just dancin’ in the dark!” His hand on your knee you absolutely shake your leg a little, ‘cause he knows you think he’s corny. He knows that you think it’s funny that he listens to the music your dad listens to.

But he also knows that you think he’s never been hotter, practically shouting more than singing, his brow and neck sweating a bit from the hot New Mexico summer in a pickup truck without any AC besides the wind blowing past. With his left arm hanging over the rolled down window, driving with one hand on the bottom of the wheel, the defined muscles in his arms shown off by his navy, sleeveless shirt. Those eyes peering at you now and then, those stupidly plush lips pulling over his teeth to laugh at you, tell you that you’re staring. So what if you are? Billy’s yours to stare at— and laugh at.

Might have written this bc I whipped out the Tom Petty record last night when I lost my phone

[bizarrebaby]

Lobita | Lalo Salamanca/Reader

Pairing: Lalo Salamanca/Reader (third person, female pronouns) Warnings: blood, somewhat graphic violence, NSFT. Usual Lalo warnings lol Summary: You and Lalo are on the road back to Mexico. Back home. But long car rides are never uneventful with Lalo, are they?

Author's notes: This is basically all for @richeeduvie who has BEWITCHED me with her writing for all the BCS characters. This was based pretty heavily on Lalo and Princesa in Madman, but I gave her a different pet name to differentiate because I wanted to make her a little more unhinged and violent, even if she's still Lalo's helpless sweet girl <3

They’d been caught off guard. No use in denying it– it happens to everyone. It’s been one of those long, quiet drives between New Mexico and, well, Old Mexico. Just Lalo and his girl (the way it should be, no?) and nothing around for miles except for an old farm or the remains of some abandoned building in the desert. He keeps one hand on the wheel, relaxed for the stretch of lonely road, a hand on her thigh so she can play with his fingers– a way to keep those silly little thoughts out of her head during the silence. He hates to put an end to her focus.

“Ai– gonna pull over, querida,” he hums, turning over his hand so he can loosely squeeze hers for a moment. “Been on the road for a while– gotta stretch those beautiful legs of yours, hm? Asegúrate de ser amable y flexible. And– not to be crude– but your guy’s gotta take a piss, cariño.” She hums in response, a little tired. Just how he likes her.

He stops by one of those old buildings, nice and gentle. He’d hate to jolt his girl when she’s just gotten so relaxed. He unbuckles himself, then her. “C’mon, mi pequeña niña dormida, let’s go for a little walk.” She rubs at her eyes as she nods, fuck, does she have any idea what that can do to a guy? You would think she does, seeing as she does cute shit like that all the time.

He opens the door to help her out, holding her hand for a bit while she stretches and yawns like a gatita. His little kitty. But he’s gotta stop thinking about pussies, or he’s not gonna last the drive home without being all over her. She just walks and twirls a little, loosening up while he undoes his belt to take care of things. The side of this building sure as fuck isn’t gonna mind.

Night has fallen over the desert, but the headlights of his car are on. His eyes adjust quickly anyways. But not before some boar of a guy tackles him to the ground– the fuck?

They must’ve been hiding out. Waiting for him– must’ve scouted out his way home fucking good to catch him off guard. No car around, either– guess they were dropped off. But they’re not getting picked up, that’s for damned sure. Lalo’s blood runs hot when he hears his querida’s muffled cries, the fabric rustling as she thrashes and kicks. He’s just barely able to see past his own assailant to witness a knife flick open as he covers her mouth with his free hand.

With all of her twisting and squirming, one of his fingers finds its way into her open mouth. He’s gonna wind up wishing he’d never been born, hijo de puta, for invading his girl– his pequeña querida that way.

And then her teeth find their way into that sacred space, where tendon and cartilage separate bone from bone. And they sever.

Hot red fills her mouth while the attacker staggers– she’s able to pull from him and grab the knife from his hold, slicing open her palm in the process. By some miracle, fumbling and bleeding in the dark, she’s able to pass the knife to her other hand and push herself forward just enough to plunge it into the back of el cerdo on top of him before she’s grabbed again. The bastard howls alongside his friend. A symphony of pain to Lalo’s ears, and they grant the few precious moments he needs to reach into the holster at his side and start unloading point blank into the sternum of the man on top of him.

Lalo rolls him off into the dirt as he becomes a corpse, training his sights on the man with his arm around her neck, cursing you with insults she can’t understand, but that he’ll regret. He squeezes the trigger when she pulls him into the blinding beams of the headlights, granting Lalo a clean shot into his shoulder. She shrugs him off and scrambles the few feet it takes to get to Lalo’s side, an arm around her waist to greet her as he unloads a few more bullets into the guy.

Why couldn’t Nacho have been third wheeling them, for once? He’s not gonna wrestle this guy into his car for further interrogation. Not when his girl is needing him. He squeezes her hip. 

She spits out the finger. And a healthy amount of blood. Well, not healthy for the guy it came from. 

Tears spring to her eyes as their minute-long battle draws to a close. She curls into him, like always, and sniffles against his shirt. She tries to pull away after a moment, gasping as Lalo keeps her close. No, you’re not leaving. Not when you need me, poor little thing.

“Lalo, I-I’m sorry– the blood– I’m getting it a-all–” Of course his sweet girl is worrying about making a mess at a time like this. So silly.

“Ai, querida– I have a closet full of these. But there’s only one of you, pretty girl. Which one you think I’m concerned about, hm?” He’s able to say with a smile. His smile drops when he feels the blood continue to soak  his side, and he remembers her palm. He peels it off of himself so he can take a look, and she peeks from his shoulder, eyes shiny with tears. Poor little querida. He scoops her up so he can take her back to the car. Fuck, his pants are still undone. He hears a quiet little sniffle against his neck, and it makes the blood surge so hard he can feel his own pulse.

He sits her down in the passenger side, pulling the first aid shit from the glove box. Never hurts to be prepared, huh? He kisses her palm, and can’t help himself from licking it once or twice to clean her up. He pulls open the gauze packet with his teeth before wrapping it around her cut. He glances up to see the drying blood around her mouth. 

Lalo feels heat rise and burn in his chest at the thought of her consuming a part of another man. Of drinking something made by someone other than him. His blood is hers the same way her blood is his.

He wipes away the blood with his thumb. Her tears make it easy. He shushes her, leaning up to kiss her cheeks and taste her salt. “I have myself a little wolf girl, huh? Una lobita. Tearing into people for me, Dios mio… You know how to make a guy feel special, huh, querida?” Her tears slow with her bleeding.

Lalo sighs, pulling her into his lap as he takes her place in the car seat. He holds her so they’re chest to chest. His heart thrums as he feels the tiny little kisses being placed on his jaw. His pretty girl starts to rub herself on him, the way she’s so used to. Her skirt rides up, one hand on her hip to help her along while the other strokes her hair. Just needs her guy to take her mind off of things, hm? He’ll let her use him whenever and however she pleases.

He’d fuck her now, but he wants to stay alert. And besides, she deserves a real bed, their bed, to be under her the next time they make love. Making love. He’d never been able to bring himself to call it that before her. Didn’t feel right. But with his girl that’s the only thing it can be. He coos at her.

“That’s right, gatita… Just use your guy. Take what you need, hm? Papi’s got you, baby. I’ve got you.” The fabric of his jeans catches on her clit, just like always, making her mewl and whine in a way that nearly forces a growl out of him.

“Lalo, I– Papi– I’m gonna cum,” she confesses quietly into the fabric of his collar, as if she were afraid that anyone but him would hear.

“Go ahead, querida. Take what you need. Get yourself nice and relaxed. Cum on me, sweet girl.”

With a shiver and a sharp inhale, she does, like such a good girl, it makes Lalo’s hand flex against her hip. She goes more or less limp against him. He waits a few moments before pulling her out of his lap. He swears he can see her wetness string from the cotton of her panties to his jeans. He smoothes out her skirt, kissing her forehead before buckling her up. He does his own pants back up after he closes her door, walking around to the other side to get in. For a second, he sees the finger on the ground and thinks of taking it. His lobita’s first trophy.

He eyes the bodies in the dust without much thought. He’ll call someone once she’s asleep– get someone to come here and check it out. He starts to pull back onto the road, giving his hand to querida for her to hold.

“Lalo, will we be home soon?”

Home. Her home. Their home. Seems a little empty with just the two of them, but he’ll fix that soon.

“Before you know it, querida. Just close your eyes. You’ll dream a good dream for me, no?”

[mawrblaidddrwg]

WIP Wednesday: Chapter 3 - Sons of the Saiyans

“This one is pretty bad, he’s bleeding through his leather jacket,” Raditz who had seen his fair share of bloodshed and bullet wounds flashed concerned eyes to Nappa, who was gripping the leather steering wheel of his black Cadillac straining his eyes straight ahead at the road.

“Well, we can’t take him to the hospital. Frieza would flip the fuck out if he knew what Vegeta just did without his permission, so we can’t go through any of his contacts we normally would for medical help,” Nappa pointed out.

Raditz seemed to think this over knowing that Nappa wasn’t wrong. But they had to do something, Vegeta was not one to complain about pain. He had been shot before two other times to be exact. But the previous times were clean, the bullet having left upon contact, no shrapnel to be found. But for Vegeta to be this pale and bleeding as much as he was, this was becoming a lot more serious.

“Wait, I have an idea!” Raditz said suddenly, his wild black lion’s mane twisting in his movements.

“Even a broken clock is correct twice a day, anything is possible,” Vegeta muttered under his breath still managing to find the strength to insult his cousin even if he was on death’s door.

“Kakarot’s super hot friend with the blue hair, didn’t she drop out of medical school? Maybe she can help,” Raditz said suddenly, nearly popping out of his spot in the front seat.

Vegeta who was lying across the backseat of the Cadillac writhing in pain and running through every single one of his poor life choices to lead him here like a rolodex, suddenly perked up. “Bulma was in medical school?”

Radditz and Nappa both turned around in their seats to stare curiously at Vegeta who had never even bothered to learn a woman’s name before. They had seen him pick up many a bar fly. Or even a Frieza Force groupie. Well, more like the poor girl would throw herself at Vegeta and he would capitalize on it before sending her off on her own way after he was done with her. He was very discrete in his sexual encounters. But the way his voice tightened and wavered ever so slightly when he said her name, spoke volumes.

“Wait, how do you know her?”

“She fixed my Harley while you two fuckers were in Mexico,” Vegeta rasped but couldn’t control the blush that stained his white and ashen complexion.

“I bet that’s not all she fixed, eh?” Raditz wagged his eyebrows at Vegeta who considered opening the car door and rolling out on the freeway. Death was far less painful than this ridicule.

[teamghoulstudiosmx]

I just want to say I'm loving your interpretations of the Monster High cast, and I like the idea of putting together characters and idea from all three gens. Have you considered including characters from other media such as the books? (Melody Carver from the original book series for example.)

An attempt will be made to refer to all versions of Monster High, including the anime version and the versions of the universe where they are superheroes.

We are working on finishing the designs necessary for our project to be able to work on the designs of other universes, for example trying to adapt the Monster High G3 designs to our style but preserving the details of these versions

Also, references to other Mattel products are included. For example, Hot Wheels car models will serve as traffic or personal cars for the characters

greetings from Mexico

[saleintothe90s]

244. The Big List of Favorite Commercials (part 18)

(part 17)

International Delight

It's hard to remember the time before we had the screw top cartons and then eventually (in the case of fake creamer for your coffee) the plastic bottles. But I mean, cartons were easy to open, right? I mean I would get a lil carton of lactaid milk in college almost every day and I was able to open that. I'm not genius either, I barely graduated.

I wanna know what flavor "Cafe De Mexico" was .. cinnamon chocolate?

1985 Shortcuts from General Foods "Meatballs Mediterranean" with Pat Doyle

Ma'am, just putting oregano in your "square meatball" dish drowning in Worhcestire sauce does not make it exotic.

1985 Heinz Ketchup "The Thick Rich One" TV Commercial

Come for the shots of that amazing burger and the weirdly shaped "1". Stay for the lobster claw.

A&P Commercial - "We Watch Our P's and Q's" - 1982

I have a low key obsession with a&p / Super Fresh of the 1980s. I'm hoping to branch into that in a future entry. You know kids at home giggled hearing the elaborated "peeees" in the jingle. I adore the "little green guys!" cashier! Shelly Sigur. She is my favorite commercial actress of 1982. I hope Shelly is still with us.

Don't think I forgot about you, Wharlest Jackson!

1996 Kodak Advantix Camera "Dennis Rodman" TV Commercial

'Cuz you know, Dennis was bad back then? The Advantix camera. That's another subject for a deep dive.

1980 Kodak Colorburst 250 Instant Camera commercial

Wow, two Kodak commercials in a row. oops. This here, this is early FaceTiming. Instead of cellular data, you had Charlie's mom to relay the messages.

1983 Cottage Cheese "Coming soon, Bikinis" TV Commercial

I've eaten cottage cheese my whole life and I'm still not tiny. Wha happen.

This is like an early version of that (now controversial) Yoplait commercial from the early 2000s where the lady only eats that gross light yogurt so she can fit into her yellow polka dot bikini.

Also, the VoiceOver guy reminds me so much of this Simpsons scene:

Statue of Liberty Oldsmobile Aurora Commercial 1996

She picked that Oldsmobile up like it was a Hot Wheel. This is giving major Ghostbusters II vibes.

Lucky Dog commercial [1984]

That illustrated mouth on that lil dog was upsetting, wasn't it?

Philadelphia Cream Cheese

I love this yuppie couple getting excited over ol cream cheese. Before this they lived off of celery and water.

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[disneytva]

October 2023 Programming Highlights

Sunday, Oct. 1 Original Special – Premiere on Disney Channel, Disney Junior and Disney XD “Mickey and Friends Trick or Treats” (7:00-7:30 p.m. EDT) Additional Airings All Month Long! Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, Donald and Daisy are trick-or-treating when Donald spies the spookiest mansion he’s ever seen and assumes it has the best treats. After he convinces his friends to risk a visit, the owner, Witch Hazel, casts a spell that turns them into their costumes. TV-Y7

Friday, Oct. 6 Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney Junior Mickey Mouse Funhouse “Stink, Stank, Stunk!/Dia de los Muertos” (2-15) (10:00-10:30 a.m. EDT on Disney Channel/12:05-12:25 p.m. EDT on Disney Junior) “Stink, Stank, Stunk!” – When Mickey and the gang try to rid Majestica of a mysterious smell, they discover the Grand Pumpkin must be returned to Halloweenville before it rots away.

“Dia de los Muertos” – The gang celebrates Día de los Muertos in Mexico City. TV-Y

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney Junior SuperKitties “Cheesenado/Talented Troublemaker” (1-26) (10:30-11:00 a.m. EDT on Disney Channel/1:25-1:55 p.m. EDT on Disney Junior) “Cheesenado” – Bitsy learns to say goodbye to Renata and her robin babies when they have to fly away.

“Talented Troublemaker” – The SuperKitties stop Mr. Puppypaws from cheating in the talent contest. TV-Y

Saturday, Oct. 7 Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Big City Greens “Bad Dad/Junk Junkie” (4-03) (8:00-8:30 a.m. EDT) “Bad Dad” – Cricket and Tilly get to know their grandpa while Nancy scrambles to find him a job.

“Junk Junkie” – Desperate to ensure his family’s future security, Bill becomes a hoarder. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Kiff “I Like To Move It!/Hive Got An Idea” (1-21) (9:00-9:30 a.m. EDT) “I Like To Move It! – Kiff and Barry agree to move a piano for Helen in exchange for a wish, but can’t agree on the wish.

“Hive Got An Idea” – Kiff shows a new kid around school but can’t stop his family from interfering. TV-Y7

Friday, Oct. 13 Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney Junior Pupstruction “The Mayor Mover/Bobby’s Balloon Blunder” (1-16) (8:00-8:30 a.m. EDT on Disney Channel/11:40 a.m.-12:10 p.m. EDT on Disney Junior) “The Mayor Mover” – When Lloyd goes out of town, Pupstruction builds a cart with wheels to help move the mayor around.

“Bobby’s Balloon Blunder” – Lickety Split builds a hot air balloon but gets stuck and asks the crew for help. TV-Y

Saturday, Oct. 14 Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Big City Greens “Handshaken/Coffee Mates” (4-04) (8:00-8:30 a.m. EDT) “Handshaken” – After being mocked for his handshake, Cricket trains for a Western-style handshake duel.

“Coffee Mates” – Gloria combines her work life and social life by hiring her friends as employees. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Kiff “You Can’t Handle the Tooth!/Blooper Quest” (1-22) (9:00-9:30 a.m. EDT) “You Can’t Handle the Tooth” – Kiff has a lot to do today, but brushing her tooth is not on the list.

“Blooper Quest” – Kiff, Barry and the crew set out to make a movie so they can have a fun blooper reel, but blooping is hard. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel Hamster & Gretel “Nano a Nano/The Ultimate History of Dr. MedusaSaurus” (1-24) (10:00-11:00 a.m. EDT) “Nano a Nano” – On a school trip to a robot factory, Gretel encounters a nanobot.

“The Ultimate History of Dr. MedusaSaurus” – Gretel and Bailey meet a strange paleontologist at a museum. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Hailey’s On It! “I Know What You Did Last Slumber/Lady and the Trampoline” (1-17) (11:00-11:30 a.m. EDT) “I Know What You Did Last Slumber” – When Hailey’s innocent sleepover prank goes awry, she must choose to live with the guilt or come clean.

“Lady and the Trampoline” –  When Hailey must face her fear of trampolining, she learns not to let worries about her appearance get in the way of fun. TV-Y7

Saturday, Oct. 21 Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Big City Greens “Iced/Chipped Off” (4-05) (8:00-8:30 a.m. EDT) “Iced” – Gramma butts heads with Nick when he crashes her special family hockey outing.

“Chipped Off” – Chip Whistler recounts what happened to him since “Chipocalypse Now.” TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Kiff “When You Mow You Mow/Harry’s Maturity Crisis” (1-23) (9:00-9:30 a.m. EDT) “When You Mow You Mow” – Reggie is the first kid in Table Town to mow his own lawn, and Kiff wants to be the second.

“Harry’s Maturity Crisis” – When Harry runs away, Barry and Kiff do anything they can to bring him back. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel Hamster & Gretel “No Sprain, No Gain/Finding Professor Ex” (1-25) (10:00-11:00 a.m. EDT) “No Sprain, No Gain” – Kevin is stuck at home with a sprained ankle as the rest of the gang tries to stop a strange jewel thief.

“Finding Professor Ex” – When Professor Exclamation goes missing, Gretel and Nordle try to find him. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Hailey’s On It! “Scott’s on a Roll/Bye Bye Birdies” (1-18) (11:00-11:30 a.m. EDT) “Scott’s on a Roll” – In a competition where the winner has a sandwich named after them, Hailey is pitted against Scott.

“Bye Bye Birdies” –  When Hailey must be truthful for a day, she ends up delivering a comedy roast. TV-Y7

Saturday, Oct. 28 Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD The Ghost and Molly McGee “Welcome to NecroComic-Con / Fit to Print” (2-16) (8:00-8:30 a.m. EDT) “Welcome to NecroComic-Con” – Ollie struggles to have the difficult conversation with his parents and reveal that he is friends with a ghost.

“Fit to Print” – When the school newspaper is in danger of shutting down, Molly goes on a mission to save it. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Kiff “Silly Moods/Chatterley vs Chatterley” (1-24) (9:00-9:30 a.m. EDT) “Silly Moods” – A trip to Table Town Museum is threatened when Kiff and Barry get into a silly mood.

“Chatterley vs Chatterley” – When a leftover slice of pizza goes missing in the Chatterley home, they must settle the matter in family court. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel Hamster & Gretel “Bayou Barb/The Great Pillow War” (1-26) (10:00-11:00 a.m. EDT) “Bayou Barb” – The Grant Gomez family goes on a bayou vacation where they encounter a local legend.

“The Great Pillow War” – Kevin and Gretel battle it out in a huge pillow fight. TV-Y7

Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel and Disney XD Hailey’s On It! “Frankly Fabulous/The Pin is Mightier Than the Swole” (1-19) (11:00-11:30 a.m. EDT) “Frankly Fabulous” – Hailey enters Frank the Flamingo into a bird show and they run into his former mean trainer.

“The Pin is Mightier Than the Swole” –  Expert bowler Hailey struggles with a list item that requires her to lose to her dad at bowling. TV-Y7

[boltedgarlic]

taglist~

you’ll have to use the search function unfortunately :( i am no longer linking all my tags. if you’re on desktop, my theme should have a search bar!

dated by year

1980 | - | 1994 | - | 1997 | - | 1999 | - | 2002 | 2003 | 2004 | 2005 | 2006 | 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023 | 2024 | - | 2039

dated by month

january | february | march | april | may | june | july | august | september | october | november | december

holidays/seasons

christmas | easter | fall | halloween | valentines day | winter

locations

australia | belarus | belgium | brazil | bulgaria | canada | china | france | georgia republic | greece | holland | india | ireland | italy | japan | medellín | netherlands | new zealand | palestine | peru | poland | spain | sweeden | switzerland | syria | russia | thailand | uk | ukraine | uae | usa

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Chuck E Cheese | Dongdaemun Market | Hershey Park | Moody Gardens | NASA | Rocky Mountain National Park | Treasure Island Beach | Walmart

animals

anemone | birds | bees | bugs | bunnies | cats | chickens | cicadas | cows | crabs | deer | dogs | ducks | ferrets | fish | goats | goldfish | guinea pigs | horses | kittens | sheep | snakes | swans

pets

Abby | Augustine | Azuki | Bert | Bob | Mr. Boot | Bruce | Cupid | Donna | Dusty | Ellsie | Fiona | Fudge | Gizzy | Huckleberry | Itzl | Kiwi | Mattie | Mookie | Muffy | Newt | Noose | Ollie | Pepe | Mr. Punky | Ramses | Shika | Smokey | Tamako | Tucker | Xoco | Ziggy | Zoey

art/mediums

art car | ceramics | collage | crayons | crochet | drawings | food art | glass art | installation | knitting | miniatures | mural | oil pastels | origami | ornaments | paint | painting | paper crafts | patchwork | quilt | sculpture | tapestry | tiles | yarn

artists

Anne-Sophie Landou | Enrico Delponte | Jen | Keith Haring | Mark Schaer | Ryan Gander | Terry Ravan

Ween

colors

red | orange | yellow | green | blue | purple | pink | brown | black | gray | white | silver | gold | multicolor

food & drink

baking | batter | bento | birthday cake | bread | breakfast | cake | candy | cereal | cheese | coffee | cookies | cooking | curry | dessert | drinks | fake food | fruit | hot pot | ice cream | meat | onigiri | pancakes | pastries | pie | potluck | pumpkins | salad | sashimi | smores | soup | sushi | tea | torte | vegetables | wine

characters/licenses/media

animal crossing | anpanman | boognish | candy land | dora | doraemon | evangelion | garfield | giant microbes | hannah montana | hello kitty | hoops & yoyo | joe cool | miffy | moomin | moppy | muppets | nasa | powerpuff girls | sanrio | sesame street | snoopy | sonic (the hedgehog) | spongebob | texas chainsaw | universal studios japan | wallace and gromit | winne the pooh | yotsuba | yugioh

interior

apartment | attic | bar | basement | bathroom | bedroom | cabin | chandelier | dining room | dorm | foyer | hallway | home | hostel | hotel | kid’s room | kitchen | library | living room | mall | playroom | shelves | stairs | studio | unfurnished | window

bead curtains | beds | bookshelf | computer | crt monitor | chairs | curtains | desk | fishtank | fridge | furniture | kitchenware | lamp | laptop | lava lamp | salt lamp | sewing machine | stove | tablecloth | tables | tv | vase | whiteboard | wood paneling | wood stove

exterior/outside

backyard | balcony | beach | bridge | building | canal | car show | cemetery | chapel | chicken coop | church | city | clothesline | dam | fair | fence | ferris wheel | gate | highway | hills | house | iron gate | mailbox | neighborhood | park | patio | picnic tables | plants | pool | porch | road | street | tables | train | train station | tunnel | wind chimes | wreath | yard

clouds | creek | dirt | field | flowers | fog | forest | frost | garden | mountains | mushrooms | nest | night | lake | lawn | ocean | path | plants | rain | rainbow | sky | snow | snowman | sunset | topiary | trail | trees | waterfall | woods

miscellaneous tags

altar | angel | antlers | astrology | beekeeping | baby shower | bamboo | basket | bicycle | birthday | birthday cake | blankets | books | brick | bowling | camera | candles | chain | cherub | chess | clock | clothing | car | card game | cards | chess | cigarettes | collection | construction | decor | desk | dollhouse | dolls | dusty | figure | figurines | flowers | fortune telling | gift | globe | gloves | hay | installation | karaoke | kite | knife | knives | lace | landmark | lanterns | leak | lock | machinery | mannequins | market | moving | nursery | objects | orbs | party | pearls | people | piano | pillows | plane | playing cards | plush | polaroid | posters | preschool | pyrex | rail | remodel | religion | retail | roadtrip | school | school bus | sculpture | seashells | shoes | sign | silverware | smoke | spirits | suburbia | sunlight | stained glass | swords | tech | toys | trinkets | vehicle | vhs | video games | visual clutter | water | wedding | window

blur | edit | fisheye | flash | frame | glow | low quality | panorama | photo collage | text | timestamp | video | vignette | watermark

my tags

11:11 | baby tag | birthday tag | fav | grandmas house | magic tag | personal | thank you post

updated: 09/13/2024

[summerblueringo]

*cupping my hands around the mouth to yell from the other side of the continent* How do you rank the GPs of this year on a scale of 'hot chili' 🌶️ to 'not so hot chili'?

I've decided to take some cheeky inspiration from Nando's for this ;)

On to the reasonings!

Extra Hot

Singapore! The first GP I’ve watched live where my favourite driver won, and let me tell you, the feeling is amazing. We literally jumped for joy and hugged when Carlos crossed the finish line, and the DRS trick was so so spicy. Often imitated but never replicated etc etc, the only non-Red Bull victory of the season yet still a Red Bull junior, the narratives in my head appreciated it very much.

Spicy

Interlagos the iconic legend that you are, literally everything happened. The Pérez vs Fernando drag race was chef’s kiss, one of the best wheel to wheel fights I’ve seen, it was beautiful and so much fun, I hope we get more of it next year!

Monza also makes it here because of Carlos’ amazing pole that sent the tifosi’s spirits through the roof and his amazing defense against Max that reminded us that dreaming is for free and set the stage for his victory at the next race :’)

Australia was SO FUNNY TBH it was a MESS and Carlos sounded sooo hot pleading on the radio and his big sad eyes were <333

Mild

Bahrain got some flavour with Lance hitting Fernando and the engineers refusing to tell Nando who did it lmao.

I’m obligated to put Miami here based on the quali alone.

Canada. Albon P7!

Britain. My boys didn’t do that well but yours did and I think it was around this time that I started to notice Oscar more! Plus it gave us the iconic pobrecito saga.

Hungary. Daniel was back but Ferrari still need to hire me so I can destroy them from the inside.

Netherlands. It rained, and the marshals knew how to party, and Carlos was very sexy from what I remember.

Japan gave us Sebzuka but ofc I overslept and missed half of the race, but from the highlights it was a bit messy and the Pérez penalty thing was so funny but I still feel cheated by the McLaren boys not kissing the trophy!

Austin. Late penalties DO have rights sometimes :^) Also Max’s PLEASE no talking when I’m breaking!!!!

Mexico. Ohhh that was heartbreaking for Sergio…. but the entertainment value.

Lemon and Herb

Saudi Arabia… I could not tell you what happened in this GP. I’ve watched the highlights and I still can’t remember, but it’s not Flavourless level so it’s here.

Azerbaijan… I legit fell asleep during the race but the exchange between Max and George after GR torpedoed Max’s car in the sprint was funny.

Kimi was right about Monaco, enough Monaco, we as a society are past the need for Monaco, no more Monaco! Carlos had spicy radios and we got Estie bestie on the podium baybeeee, but I cannot put it higher based on that alone.

Spain. Another one I can’t remember, but I don’t remember hating it either so it goes here.

Flavourless

Austria. What do track limits even DO??

Belgium. This race lasted one lap. Brundle gets paid to explain things and said he couldn’t be bothered to do that.

Qatar has no rights. Oscar in Qatar is separate and he was very funny and spicy but the GP itself stays here.

Las Vegas has no rights. Not even “send them my regards” can save it.

Abu Dhabi has no rights. Maranello delenda est.

[ladyeckland28]

Midnight Cargo

A vampire thriller by Ecky

The endless ribbon of asphalt stretched out before Max Callahan's Kenworth W900, disappearing into the inky darkness of the Midwest night. The clock on his dashboard blinked 11:23 PM, a silent reminder of the long hours he'd spent behind the wheel. His eyes burned with fatigue, but the promise of the biggest payday of his life kept his foot steady on the accelerator.

In the passenger seat, a sealed manila envelope held his motivation: $50,000 in cash, with another $50,000 waiting at the delivery point. All for transporting a single, nondescript crate from Detroit to a remote location in New Mexico. No questions asked, no paperwork filed. It was the kind of job that screamed trouble, but after two years of barely scraping by, Max couldn't afford to be picky.

The CB radio crackled to life, breaking the monotony of the engine's hum. "Breaker 1-9, this is Nighthawk. Any cowboys out there got their ears on? Over."

Max reached for the mic, grateful for a distraction from his own thoughts. "This is Lone Wolf, reading you loud and clear, Nighthawk. What's your 20? Over."

"About 30 miles behind you on I-80, Lone Wolf. Fair warning, I passed a group of bikers heading your way. Looked like trouble. Keep your eyes peeled. Over."

Max's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Copy that, Nighthawk. Thanks for the heads up. Lone Wolf out."

No sooner had he replaced the mic than a distant roar reached his ears. In his side mirror, a cluster of headlights appeared, growing rapidly larger. Before Max could react, a pack of motorcycles swarmed around his truck, their riders whooping and hollering as they performed dangerous stunts on the empty highway.

"Jesus Christ," Max muttered, fighting to keep his rig steady as the bikers weaved in and out of his lane.

One rider, astride a massive black chopper, pulled up alongside the cab. Even in the dark, Max could see the man's wild eyes and shark-like grin through the open-faced helmet. The biker revved his engine, then made a slashing motion across his throat before accelerating away with the rest of the gang.

Max's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the taillights disappear into the distance. Something about that biker's gaze had chilled him to the bone. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the encounter as just another bunch of adrenaline junkies looking for a thrill.

An hour later, Max's eyelids were growing dangerously heavy. Just as he was considering pulling over for a quick nap, a sign appeared in his headlights: "LAST STOP DINER - 24 HOURS - NEXT EXIT."

Deciding that some coffee and a hot meal were worth the delay, Max took the exit. The diner's parking lot was surprisingly busy for the late hour, with several trucks and a handful of cars scattered about. Max carefully backed his rig into an empty spot, making sure the trailer was secure before heading inside.

The diner's interior was a throwback to the 1950s, all chrome and red vinyl. A jukebox in the corner played a scratchy Patsy Cline tune. Behind the counter, a weathered woman with graying hair tied back in a messy bun poured coffee for a couple of weary-looking truckers.

Max slid into an empty booth, his body groaning in relief as he stretched his legs. A young waitress with a nametag reading "Cindy" approached, notepad in hand.

"What can I get you, hon?" she asked, her smile tired but genuine.

"Coffee, black, and whatever's hot on the grill," Max replied, returning her smile.

As Cindy walked away, the diner's door swung open with a bang. Max's blood ran cold as he recognized the wild-eyed biker from the highway, now flanked by two equally intimidating companions.

The lead biker scanned the room, his gaze locking onto Max. A predatory grin spread across his face as he sauntered over to the booth.

"Well, well," the biker drawled, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Looks like our friend from the road decided to take a break. Mind if we join you?"

Without waiting for an answer, the biker slid into the seat across from Max, while his companions loomed at the end of the table.

"Name's Fang," the leader said, still grinning. "And I think you've got something that belongs to us."

Max's mind raced. How could they possibly know about the crate? He decided to play dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about, pal. I'm just passing through."

Fang's grin faded, replaced by a look of cold menace. "Don't bullshit me, trucker. We know exactly what you're hauling, and who hired you. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way."

Before Max could respond, the diner's door burst open again. This time, a statuesque woman with long, raven-black hair strode in, followed by four more bikers. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

"Fang!" she snapped. "Stop toying with him. We need that cargo now. The moon is almost at its apex."

As she spoke, Max noticed something off about her appearance. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and when she opened her mouth, he caught a glimpse of elongated canines.

A chill ran down Max's spine as the impossible truth dawned on him. "You're... you're vampires?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The woman's head snapped towards him, her eyes now glowing with an eerie red light. "Clever boy," she purred. "But not clever enough to stay out of our affairs. Fang, bring him. We'll need fresh blood for the ritual."

As Fang reached across the table to grab Max, all hell broke loose in the diner. One of the truckers at the counter smashed his coffee mug into the face of the nearest biker. Another overturned a table, using it as a makeshift barricade.

"Run!" someone shouted, and Max didn't need to be told twice. He bolted from the booth, narrowly avoiding Fang's grasp.

The next few moments were chaos. Max found himself being pulled behind the counter by the older waitress, who was now brandishing a large kitchen knife with surprising skill.

"In here!" she hissed, shoving open a heavy metal door. Max stumbled through, finding himself in a walk-in freezer. The waitress followed, along with Cindy, the cook, and two truckers. They slammed the door shut just as snarls and the sound of breaking glass erupted outside.

As they huddled in the freezer, their breath forming clouds in the frigid air, Max's mind reeled. Vampires. Actual, bloodsucking vampires. And they were after whatever was in that damned crate he was transporting.

"What the hell did you bring down on us?" one of the truckers demanded, his voice shaking.

The older waitress, her face grim but determined, gripped her knife tighter. "I don't know what kind of mess you're in, mister," she said, looking directly at Max, "but those things out there are straight out of a nightmare. And something tells me this freezer won't hold them for long."

Max nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. As inhuman shrieks and the sound of splintering wood filtered through the door, one thought dominated his mind: How long until dawn?

****

The temperature in the freezer seemed to drop even further as the sounds of destruction outside intensified. Max could hear the vampires tearing through the diner, overturning tables and smashing dishes in their search for him and the others.

"We need a plan," Max said, his breath visible in the frigid air. "We can't just sit here and wait for them to find us."

The older waitress nodded grimly. "Name's Rita," she said. "Been working here for thirty years, and I'll be damned if I let a bunch of bloodsuckers destroy my diner." She turned to the cook, a wiry man with graying temples. "Frank, where's that propane torch you use for the crème brûlée?"

Frank's eyes widened in understanding. "Under the prep station. If we can get to it..."

"Fire," Max breathed. "Of course. Vampires are supposed to be vulnerable to fire, right?"

One of the truckers, a burly man with a thick beard, spoke up. "That's all well and good, but how the hell do we get to it? Those things will tear us apart the moment we open this door."

Cindy, the young waitress, had been quiet until now. Her voice shook slightly as she said, "There's a vent. In the ceiling. It leads to the kitchen."

All eyes turned to the small grate in the corner of the freezer's ceiling. It was barely big enough for a person to squeeze through.

"I can fit," Cindy said, her jaw set with determination. "I can get the torch and maybe find some other weapons."

Rita shook her head. "It's too dangerous, girl. I can't let you—"

A loud bang against the freezer door cut her off. The metal bulged inward slightly, and a inhuman snarl filtered through.

"We're out of options," Max said. He turned to Cindy. "You're sure you can do this?"

Cindy nodded, her face pale but resolute.

Working quickly, they used boxes of frozen food to create a makeshift pyramid. Cindy climbed up, and with Frank's help, managed to pry off the vent cover. With one last look at the group, she pulled herself into the narrow space and disappeared.

The minutes that followed were some of the longest of Max's life. The vampires continued their assault on the door, each impact making the hinges groan in protest. Rita and the two truckers braced themselves against it, but Max knew it was only a matter of time before the creatures broke through.

"So," Rita said, her voice strained from the effort of holding the door, "want to tell us what's in that crate that's got these monsters so riled up?"

Max shook his head. "I don't know. I swear. It was just supposed to be a delivery job. Fifty grand to transport one crate, no questions asked."

The bearded trucker snorted. "Helluva thing to not ask questions about, buddy."

Before Max could respond, a new sound caught their attention. A rhythmic thumping was coming from the vent. Moments later, Cindy's face appeared in the opening.

"I got it!" she whispered fiercely, lowering a bag through the vent before wiggling out herself.

The group gathered around as Cindy emptied the bag's contents: the propane torch, several large kitchen knives, a meat tenderizer, and a can of cooking spray.

"Good thinking," Frank said, grabbing the cooking spray. "Improvised flamethrower."

Just then, the freezer door buckled inward with a screech of tortured metal. Through the widening gap, Max caught a glimpse of glowing red eyes and gleaming fangs.

"Get ready!" Rita shouted, hefting a knife in each hand.

The door exploded inward. Fang stood in the opening, his face twisted into an inhuman snarl. Behind him, Max could see the female vampire and several others, their eyes burning with hunger and rage.

"Now!" Max yelled.

Frank unleashed a stream of flame from his improvised flamethrower, catching Fang full in the face. The vampire screamed, a sound like nothing Max had ever heard before, and staggered backward.

Taking advantage of the confusion, the group charged forward. Rita slashed with her knives, opening a deep gash across one vampire's chest. The bearded trucker swung the meat tenderizer like a hammer, crushing the skull of another.

Max found himself face to face with the female vampire leader. She hissed, baring her fangs, and lunged at him with inhuman speed. He barely managed to dodge, feeling the wind of her passage as her claws scraped his shirt.

"The crate," she snarled. "Where is it?"

"Go to hell," Max spat, swinging the propane torch in a wide arc. The vampire danced back, wary of the flame.

The battle raged through the kitchen and into the main area of the diner. Tables were overturned, booths were ripped apart, and the air filled with the acrid smell of burning vampire flesh.

Despite their advantage of surprise and their makeshift weapons, Max knew they were fighting a losing battle. The vampires were simply too strong, too fast. For every one they managed to injure or drive back, two more seemed to take its place.

As Max found himself backed into a corner, the female vampire advancing on him with murderous intent, a new sound cut through the chaos. The deep, rumbling roar of a diesel engine.

Through the shattered windows of the diner, Max saw headlights approaching fast. A massive semi-truck plowed into the parking lot, horn blaring. It didn't slow down as it neared the building.

"Get down!" Max screamed, diving to the floor.

The truck smashed through the front of the diner in an explosion of glass, wood, and twisted metal. Vampires were sent flying, crushed under the wheels or impaled on shattered beams.

As the dust settled, the truck's door opened. A figure stepped out, silhouetted against the headlights. In one hand, he held a pump-action shotgun. In the other, a gleaming machete.

"Somebody order a rescue?" a familiar voice called out. It was Nighthawk, the trucker from the CB radio.

The tide of the battle turned. With Nighthawk's help—and his seemingly endless supply of shotgun shells loaded with what he called "special wood chips"—they began to push the vampires back.

But Max knew the fight was far from over. As he helped Cindy to her feet, his eyes met those of the female vampire leader. She was bleeding from several wounds, her once-beautiful face now a mask of fury.

"This isn't over," she hissed. "The Master will rise, with or without you. And when he does, your world will burn."

With that, she and the remaining vampires retreated into the night, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation.

As sirens began to wail in the distance, Max leaned against a broken table, his body aching and his mind reeling. He looked at the survivors—Rita, Cindy, Frank, the two truckers, and Nighthawk—all battered and bloodied but alive.

"So," Nighthawk said, casually reloading his shotgun, "I'm guessing you've got one hell of a story to tell, Lone Wolf."

Max nodded wearily. "You have no idea. But first, we need to get to my truck. Whatever's in that crate, it's the key to all of this. And I have a feeling our vampire friends will be back for it before dawn."

As the group made their way to the parking lot, Max couldn't shake the vampire's final words. The Master will rise. Your world will burn. Whatever he had gotten himself into, he realized it was much bigger and more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

And the night was far from over.

*****

The group moved quickly through the devastated parking lot, their eyes darting nervously into the surrounding darkness. Max led them to his truck, which miraculously had been left untouched during the chaos.

"Everyone in," Max ordered, unlocking the cab. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but we can't risk splitting up."

As they piled into the truck, Nighthawk hung back, his shotgun at the ready. "I'll follow in my rig," he said. "We'll need the firepower if those bloodsuckers come back."

Max nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Nighthawk. I owe you one."

"Name's Jack," the other trucker replied with a grim smile. "And from the looks of it, you might owe me more than one before this night's over."

As Jack jogged to his own truck, Max climbed into the driver's seat. Rita took the passenger side, while the others crammed into the sleeper berth. The engine roared to life, and Max felt a small measure of comfort in its familiar rumble.

"Where to?" Rita asked as they pulled out of the lot, Jack's truck close behind.

Max hesitated. "I'm supposed to deliver this crate to a warehouse outside Albuquerque, but there's no way in hell I'm doing that now. We need somewhere safe, somewhere we can open this damn thing and figure out what we're dealing with."

The bearded trucker, who had introduced himself as Bill, spoke up from the back. "I know a place. Old buddy of mine has a junkyard about fifty miles from here. It's isolated, fenced in, and he's got enough tools and scrap metal to build a fortress if we need to."

Max nodded. "Sounds like our best option. Give me directions."

As they sped down the dark highway, Max filled the others in on the details of his mysterious job. The cash, the secrecy, the strict instructions not to ask questions. In return, Rita and the others shared what little they knew about the vampire attacks.

"It started about a month ago," Rita explained. "At first, it was just rumors. Truckers talking about weird encounters on the night roads. Then people started going missing. Whole families in some cases. The cops are baffled, and the media's barely reporting on it."

"Why isn't this national news?" Max asked, bewildered.

Cindy, her voice shaky but determined, chimed in. "Social media blackouts. Anyone who tries to post about it has their accounts suspended. It's like... like something's covering it up."

A chill ran down Max's spine. Whatever was in that crate, it was part of something much bigger and more terrifying than he had imagined.

About an hour into their drive, Jack's voice crackled over the CB radio. "Heads up, Lone Wolf. We've got company."

Max's eyes flicked to the side mirror. In the distance, he could see a cluster of headlights approaching fast. Too fast.

"Everybody hold on," he growled, pressing the accelerator to the floor.

The truck surged forward, but the pursuing vehicles – motorcycles, Max realized with a sinking feeling – were gaining quickly. As they drew closer, Max could make out the riders: the vampires from the diner, led by the female leader on a sleek, black sport bike.

"They're going to try to run us off the road," Rita said, her knuckles white as she gripped the dashboard.

Max gritted his teeth. "Like hell they are."

He swerved suddenly, using the bulk of his truck to block the entire highway. In his rearview mirror, he saw Jack doing the same, creating a moving wall that forced the vampires to slow down.

But the respite was brief. With inhuman agility, two of the vampires leapt from their bikes onto the back of Max's trailer. The sound of tearing metal filled the air as they began to claw their way toward the cab.

"Frank!" Max shouted. "There's a toolbox under the bunk. See if there's anything we can use as a weapon!"

Frank scrambled to obey, emerging moments later with a crowbar and a flare gun. "Will these do?"

"They'll have to," Max replied grimly.

Rita rolled down her window and leaned out, flare gun in hand. The wind whipped her gray hair as she took aim at the nearest vampire. The flare shot out with a hiss, striking the creature square in the chest. It screamed, an unearthly sound that set Max's teeth on edge, before falling from the truck in a ball of flame.

But the victory was short-lived. The female leader, her face a mask of fury, accelerated her bike and pulled alongside the cab. With a leap that defied physics, she landed on the running board, her clawed hand smashing through the driver's side window.

Max yelled in pain as her talons raked his arm. The truck swerved dangerously, tires squealing on the asphalt.

"The crate!" the vampire hissed, her eyes glowing red with hunger and rage. "Give us the crate, and you may yet live to see the dawn!"

In that moment, as he fought to keep the truck on the road with one hand while fending off the vampire with the other, Max made a decision. Whatever was in that crate, whatever forces were at play here, he knew he couldn't let it fall into the hands of these monsters.

With a surge of desperate strength, he jerked the wheel hard to the right. The massive truck tilted, its wheels leaving the ground on one side. The vampire leader's eyes widened in shock as she realized what was happening.

"Hold on!" Max roared to his passengers as the world turned upside down.

The truck rolled, the sound of screeching metal and breaking glass filling the air. Max caught a glimpse of the vampire being thrown clear before his head slammed into the side of the cab and everything went black.

When he came to, Max found himself hanging upside down, held in place by his seatbelt. The cab was crushed, smoke curling up from the crumpled hood. Around him, he could hear groans of pain from the others.

"Everyone alive?" he croaked, tasting blood in his mouth.

A chorus of pained affirmatives answered him. As Max fumbled with his seatbelt, a new sound reached his ears: slow, mocking applause.

Through the shattered windshield, he saw a pair of expensive leather shoes approach. His gaze traveled up to find a tall, aristocratic-looking man in a tailored suit standing before the wreck. Behind him, the female vampire leader and the remaining bikers gathered, looking battered but triumphant.

The man smiled, revealing gleaming fangs. "Well done," he said, his voice cultured and cold. "You've led us on quite the chase, Mr. Callahan. But I'm afraid your little adventure ends here."

As the vampires began to pry open the wreckage, Max realized with a sinking feeling that the night's horrors were far from over. In fact, they might have only just begun.

*****

Max's head spun as he struggled to focus on the aristocratic vampire approaching the wreckage. The taste of blood in his mouth and the ache in his bones told him he was in no shape for another fight. But as he glanced at his battered companions, he knew he had no choice.

"I must commend you on your tenacity," the vampire said, his cultured voice at odds with the carnage surrounding them. "But I'm afraid this little game of cat and mouse has come to an end. I am Lord Erebus, and you have something that belongs to me."

As the vampires began to tear into the overturned truck, a thunderous boom split the air. Lord Erebus staggered back, a look of shock on his pale face. A smoking hole had appeared in his expensive suit, right where his heart should be.

"Game's not over yet, you bloodsucking bastard," came a gruff voice. Jack emerged from the shadows of his own truck, his shotgun still smoking.

The female vampire leader hissed in rage and launched herself at Jack, but he was ready. Another boom, and she was thrown back, screeching in pain.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Max finally managed to free himself from his seatbelt. He tumbled to the roof of the overturned cab, then turned to help the others.

"The crate," he gasped to Rita as he helped her down. "We can't let them get it."

Rita nodded grimly, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead. "On it."

As Max and the others extricated themselves from the wreckage, a fierce battle erupted around them. Jack's shotgun boomed repeatedly, each blast sending vampires reeling. Bill and Frank had armed themselves with pieces of twisted metal from the crash, swinging desperately at any vampire that got too close.

Cindy, despite her youth and apparent fragility, proved to be a fierce fighter. She had found the flare gun and was using it to great effect, the bright flares causing the vampires to shriek and recoil.

Lord Erebus, having recovered from the initial shotgun blast, strode forward with inhuman speed. He grabbed Jack by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

"Insolent mortal," he snarled, his refined demeanor cracking. "You dare to challenge me?"

But Jack wasn't done yet. With his free hand, he jammed the barrel of his shotgun under Erebus's chin and pulled the trigger.

The vampire lord's head snapped back, his grip loosening enough for Jack to break free. But to everyone's horror, Erebus remained standing. The lower half of his face was a mangled mess, but it was already beginning to heal.

"Fool," Erebus gurgled, his voice distorted but still terrifying. "I am ancient beyond your comprehension. Your mortal weapons cannot destroy me."

Max, realizing they were quickly losing ground, frantched for a plan. His eyes fell on the leaking fuel tank of his overturned truck.

"Rita!" he yelled. "The crate! Get it open!"

Rita, who had been trying to pry open the twisted trailer, nodded in understanding. She redoubled her efforts, finally managing to create an opening large enough to reach the mysterious cargo.

As Max watched, she dragged out a ornate wooden box, intricately carved with strange symbols. Without hesitation, Rita smashed it against a jagged piece of metal, splintering the wood.

Inside was a collection of ancient-looking artifacts: a gnarled staff, a crown of blackened metal, and a vial of what looked disturbingly like blood.

Lord Erebus's eyes widened in fury and fear. "No!" he roared, lunging towards Rita.

But Max was faster. He snatched up the items and sprinted towards the leaking fuel.

"Everyone, get back!" he shouted, pulling out his lighter.

His companions scrambled away from the wreck. The vampires, sensing the imminent danger, hesitated in their attack.

Max flicked the lighter and tossed it into the pooling diesel fuel. Flames erupted instantly, racing towards the truck. He threw the artifacts into the growing inferno just as the heat triggered an explosion.

The blast knocked Max off his feet. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the vampires screaming in rage and pain as burning debris rained down around them.

As he struggled to his feet, Max found himself face to face with the female vampire leader. Her once-beautiful features were twisted with hatred, her clothes singed and smoking.

"You've ruined everything," she snarled, her clawed hands reaching for his throat.

Max stumbled backward, his foot catching on a piece of twisted metal. He fell hard, the vampire looming over him with murderous intent.

But as she lunged for him, a strong hand grabbed her from behind. It was Rita, her face set in grim determination.

"Not today, you bloodsucking bitch," Rita growled, and with strength that belied her age, she began to drag the struggling vampire away from Max.

The sky was beginning to lighten in the east, the first hints of dawn approaching. The vampire's eyes widened in fear as she realized what Rita intended.

"No!" she shrieked, clawing desperately at the ground. "Release me!"

But Rita held firm, pulling the vampire further and further from the shadows. Max, shaking off his daze, scrambled to his feet to help.

Together, they dragged the thrashing vampire into the open, away from any shelter. As the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon, the vampire's shrieks reached a fever pitch.

Smoke began to rise from her skin, which blackened and cracked like burning paper. Her thrashing became more frantic, then began to weaken. In a matter of moments, she crumbled to ash before their eyes.

Around them, the remaining vampires howled in despair as the sunlight advanced. Those too slow or too injured to retreat burst into flames, turning to ash in seconds.

Lord Erebus, his face now mostly healed but contorted with fury, glared at Max from the receding shadows.

"This isn't over, mortal," he hissed. "The Master will rise, with or without the artifacts. And when he does, your world will burn."

With that, he seemed to melt into the shadows, disappearing just as the sunlight reached his hiding place.

As quickly as it had begun, the battle was over. Max and his companions stood in stunned silence, surrounded by piles of ash and the smoldering remains of his truck.

Jack was the first to speak. "Well," he said, casually reloading his shotgun, "that's gonna be one hell of an insurance claim."

The absurdity of the statement broke the tension, and soon they were all laughing, the sound tinged with hysteria and relief.

As the adrenaline wore off, the full extent of their injuries became apparent. They were all battered, bruised, and bleeding, but miraculously, no one had been killed.

"So," Bill said, wincing as he prodded a particularly nasty cut on his arm, "what the hell do we do now?"

Max looked at the burning wreckage of his truck, then at the strange group of survivors gathered around him. "First, we need to destroy whatever's left of those artifacts. We can't risk them falling into the wrong hands again."

Rita nodded in agreement. "And then?"

"And then," Max said with a tired smile, "I think we all deserve a hot meal and about a week's worth of sleep."

They worked quickly, gathering the scattered remains of the artifacts and tossing them into the still-burning wreckage of the truck. As they watched the flames consume the last remnants of their nightmarish encounter, a sense of finality settled over the group.

Cindy, her face streaked with soot and dried blood, spoke up. "You know they'll come back, right? That Lord Erebus guy, he's still out there."

Max nodded grimly. "I know. But we'll be ready for them next time."

As they turned to leave, Rita laid a hand on Max's arm. "You know, for a trucker who was just in it for the money, you did alright, kid."

Max smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the nearby flames. "Thanks. But I couldn't have done it without all of you."

Jack chuckled, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder. "Well, don't go getting sentimental on us now, Lone Wolf. We've still got to figure out how to explain all this to the cops."

As they trudged away from the scene of their battle, the rising sun at their backs, Max couldn't help but feel that this was less an ending and more of a beginning. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever dark forces were still out there, he knew he wouldn't have to face them alone.

The mysterious cargo was destroyed, the immediate threat neutralized, but Max had a feeling their war against the shadows was far from over. As they walked down the empty highway, battered but unbroken, he made a silent vow. He would uncover the truth behind the vampires, find out who or what this "Master" was, and put an end to the darkness that threatened to engulf the world.

For now, though, he was content to bask in the warmth of the sun and the companionship of his unlikely allies. They had survived the longest night of their lives, and whatever the future held, they would face it together.

As they crested a hill, they saw a diner in the distance, its neon 'OPEN' sign a beacon of normalcy after the chaos they'd endured.

"First round of coffee's on me," Max said with a grin.

And as they made their way towards the promise of hot food and strong coffee, Max knew that while his life would never be the same, he wouldn't have it any other way. The open road had always called to him, but now it held the promise of not just freedom, but purpose.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, burning away the last remnants of the terrifying night. But even as the warmth seeped into his battered body, Max remained vigilant. For he knew now that darkness could lurk in even the brightest of days, and that the battle against the shadows was far from over.

But for now, surrounded by his new friends and fellow warriors, Max allowed himself a moment of peace. They had faced the darkness and emerged victorious. And whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them the same way they had faced the night: together, with courage, determination, and a readiness to fight for the light.

As they pushed open the door to the diner, the smell of coffee and bacon enveloping them, Max couldn't help but smile. It was a new day, full of possibilities and potential dangers. But for the first time in a long while, he felt ready to face whatever it might bring.

The adventure that had begun with a mysterious cargo and a lonely stretch of highway had transformed into something much bigger. And as Max settled into a booth with his newfound family, he knew that this was just the beginning of a much greater journey.

The end... for now.