#my car is making a strange noise. gas is expensive. I need that car to last and making pointless drives is not helping

[actual-corpse]

A win for the people pleasers.

I said "no"

[antiherocorner]

Niki Lauda - The White Wolf

A Werewolf! Niki Lauda x Reader fic (18+)

Headcanons: 

So... This is my first AU ever... And also this is my first smut... Kind of... Thing... Ever... Sex scene, let's go with that... I was debating to post it in smaller parts, or a bigger one. I decided the second one might be better.

This is a mess, and a random idea... This could be a psychedelic trip, while you're watching fucking Twilight... Yes, I am familiar with the Twilight Saga... No, I wasn't Team Jacob... No, I didn't intend to base this on that... But it might has some similar stuff (no vampires)... Small stuff... All of them were unintentional, really.... Well... 1 or 2 things weren't, but most of them.

English is still not my native language, apologies for the grammatical mistakes, I tried.

Taglist: @rumblelibrary (you are my first tag in a fic written by me aaaaaaa🥺❤️🔥)

Summary: Your car broke down while you're on a road trip, on your own. You need someone to fix it. There's a small town. What could possibly happen?...

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do it kids), swearing, possibly smoking, drinking, mention of scar (nothing big or serious), google translated German, bad dog jokes, puns, and no, i didn't make a "real" wolf fuck the Reader, i'm not that kinky, i imagined the Reader to be female, but can be gender neutral, no name, or age mentioned, no use of y/n either... That's it?... Idunno, still new to this

(collage made by me, i don't own the pictures, i just used them, it's also very amateur, I haven't done a collage in ages)

🐺🤍❤️

You were in your car ‘till your waist. The damn thing broke down half way into your road trip. You have had enough of your monotonous everyday life, so you decided to pack up the essential stuff of yours, get your car together, and head out into the unknown. You have already seen beautiful mountains from a distance, gone through deep, mysterious forests, taken many pictures. You have tried to live in your car, but occasionally you have stayed in some cheap, low budget motels for 1 or 2 nights. You always had trust in your car, yet there you were. It didn’t run out of gas, it just suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, just outside of a small town. It looked rather friendly, and not busy at all. There wasn’t any other car passing by, so you did what you thought was the best decision: packed your bag, locked the car, and started walking into the town, praying to find someone, anyone really, who can maybe lend a helping hand.

The people you saw were really kind, it seemed they didn’t really get too many outsiders in their small town, and they seemed happy for you. They told you that there was one car mechanic in the town, a little group of guys. They also told you about a motel, which was always open for travellers, and due to the lack of them, it was basically empty. You decided to go to the motel first. The receptionist was a friendly old lady, who, again, got very excited to finally have someone at her place. You got your room, for a very small price, went in and unpacked some of your stuff. You really wanted to know what was up with your car, or if it could be fixed at all, so you didn’t waste much time in your new temporary place. After a few minutes you headed out to the streets, to the direction where you were told before to find the mechanics.

It was one of those warm days, so you were glad you found what you were looking for. You heard music coming out of an open garage. Above the doors you read “The Rat's Den”.

- Hello?... - you popped your head in the garage.

- Can I help you with something? - a tall, blonde haired man, with broad shoulders approached you. He had a cheeky smile on his face, sweat under his long locks. Oh, and shirtless.

- I uhm.. My car broke down just down the main road - you gestured with your hand where your car was - And I was just wondering if you could help me with it… I don’t know what could be the problem, I have been traveling with it for the past few days, weeks, everything was fine up until now. I just can’t get it to work.

- Sure, we can take a look at that thing - you turned your head to the direction from where another voice caught your attention. Another man just slipped out from under a car. He had curly hair, slimmer body than the blonde one, but still tall. You looked him in the eye as he came over. His eyes were like a river of caramel pudding, and they were glowing like a forest fire in the middle of the night. Your mouth watered.

- Thank.. You… - you said shyly. What’s happening? You normally aren't this shy… - When can you do that?

- Are you staying in that old motel? - asked the curly one.

- Yes.

- Alright. Is that good, if I go there around 7 am tomorrow, so I can take a look at it before I open the garage?

- Y-yeah… sure.

- It’s a date then. I’m Niki Lauda, by the way, that’s James Hunt. - he gestured towards the blonde one, James. You didn’t even notice him leaving you two. You told him your name.

- It was nice meeting you. I’ll be there at 7.

- Okay. See you then. And thank you.

- It’s no problem.

And with that you headed out of the garage. You turned back before you completely went outside. You saw a tattoo on James' right shoulder. You didn’t see every detail, but you felt a strange feeling. Unconsciously your eyes wandered to Niki. He was wearing a white shirt, but you could still see a glimpse of something similar, at least as you guessed, just under his neck. Strange.

You went back to the motel. You couldn’t go to sleep during the night so easily. You had a weird feeling about The Rat’s Den. Some kind of an aura was around it. It looked like any other garages where they repair cars and that’s it, but not there. There was something. You couldn’t really describe what you were feeling, or grasp what you should even be looking for. Something was up, you were sure about that.

🐺🤍❤️

After a few hours of sleep, you woke up. Niki could be here any minute now. You freshened up a little bit, you felt like shit due to the lack of sleep. Suddenly, you heard a loud car noise. You were the only one there at the motel, you guessed that was Niki. Honk. Yes, most definitely. You opened the door for an old, shiney Ferrari, with Niki sitting at the front.

- You’re coming or no, Schatzi?

You blushed by the petname, but quickly composed yourself, locked your room’s door, and jumped into the passenger seat. The man asked you about where you left your car. You answered and he drove to the correct directions. The short journey was mostly silent, with small talks. You stared out of the window, so you missed the spectating eyes of his.

- You’re good? You look exhausted…

- I’m okay, I just haven’t slept much. - you turned to him.

- Well, that makes the two of us.

You looked at him with curious eyes, but he remained silent, eyes focused on the road. You couldn’t read him, but tried to observe his features. He was pale, especially his knuckles as he was basically suffocating that poor wheel. He was taking deep and slow breaths. He looked like he was having a hard time in his own car.

- Is that your car? - Niki snapped you out of your thoughts.

- Yes, yes, that’s it.

Niki stopped his car in front of yours. You got out, and walked to it. He asked for your keys, so he could open the hood of the car. You took them out of your packet, then placed them in his open palm. Fingers briefly touched. He was warm. Surprisingly warm. For a moment you thought you heard him sharply inhale, but he quickly busied himself with your car. He has a nice butt. You immediately scolded yourself and turned your back to him, leaning on the side of the car, while he was working. After a few minutes, awkward silence, and some rattling, he straightened himself and turned to you.

- The engine gave up. Although it’s nothing serious or expensive, it will take some day to fix it properly, so it won’t die again. - so I stuck here yey - How long will you stay?

- As long as I don’t have a car I guess… - you massaged your nose, the lack of sleep started to catch up - I took it to a mechanic before I left… That’s just great…

- Well, that asshole did a shit job… It’s obvious what’s wrong, and it didn’t happen overnight. - he shrugged and closed the hood - I can’t take it back to the garage now, but during the afternoon I will come back for it with a more usable car.

- Sounds like a plan - you nodded and extended your arm to take your keys back.

Your fingers brushed against his, again, but this time the contact shot electricity up in your arm, which caused you to drop the keys. You instantly crouched after it, but what you grabbed weren’t your keys. It was a hand. Niki’s hand. How does he have these quick reflexes? You looked up, still holding his hand, and just realized that your faces were just a few centimeters away from each other. Both of you froze. Niki even seemed like he wasn’t breathing. His eyes were on yours, before he looked down to your lips. You licked them unconsciously. He purred. What?

- We should get back to the town.

He jumped up, leaving your keys on the ground. You tried to get yourself together, picked up your keys and sat back into his car. The way back to the garage was in complete silence. He didn’t purr, did he? He just breathed weirdly… I am imagining stuff… Right? You were confused.

🐺🤍❤️

Not much happened during the rest of the day. You tried to look around the little place, bought some food and just relaxed in your room. When the sun started to settle down you realized that you didn’t give your car keys back to Niki. You left each other in such a hurry, after he took you back to his garage, none of you had it in mind. You couldn’t call him, you didn’t have his number, and you didn’t really want to walk there. Throughout the whole day you had a strange feeling. Something was definitely up. You just felt it in your guts. Niki was like any other man and yet, he had an aura that just gave off some vibes which you just couldn’t grasp, no matter how hard you tried. You were pacing in your room when you looked out of your window. A red Ferrari just stopped in front of the motel. What, is he a mind reader too? You opened your door, spinning your keys in the air with your right hand.

- Catch! - you shouted, throwing them at his back, but before it could hit him, he turned around and caught them in his left hand with incredible accuracy.

You weren't expecting that. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and winked at you, as you locked eyes. You blushed deeply, and he disappeared just as quickly as he came by.

🐺🤍❤️

During the evening, you couldn’t rest. Again. This time you decided to go for a little walk. You weren’t really paying attention to where you were going. You just wandered around the quiet, calm town. It seemed like everyone was fast asleep. Not a single person, not a single soul was up. You arrived at a little dirt road which was leading you to a forest, next to your temporary home. You didn’t know why, you followed it. You got to a little field which was shielded with huge trees from the outside world. Some rays of sunshine were still peeking through the bushes, giving it an angelic look. Little red flowers covered your newly found small area. It felt like you were in a fairytale. But you weren’t. You heard a branch break behind you. You turned on your heels, just in time to see a huge, black wolf coming out from the bushes. It looked unusual, there was something in its face, in its eyes that was off. Human? It had a human kind of amused face expression. In the middle of your observation you just realized it was coming close. You panicked. Just when you thought it was going to rip you apart, another one jumped between the two of you, from behind you. This one was white, and slightly bigger. It growled at its own kind, like it was telling him to fuck off. The black wolf looked at you one last time and took off into the trees. The remaining animal calmed down, before it turned to you. It looked majestic. There was something royal in its posture. Around its neck and on his chest it had little patches of curly fur, like a mane. It had a cut on its lip, probably just had a fight, maybe with its prey. It looked deep into your eyes, like it was staring into your soul. There was something familiar in those eyes. The eyes were glowing, and like a river of caramel. Wait. You took a step forward and it instantly disappeared into the shadows. You really did needed to sleep.

🐺🤍❤️

You jolted up in your bed. You were covered in sweat, hair was messy. You massaged your face while you were trying to catch your breath, even your breathing. You looked at the clock. 1:30am. You managed to sleep for about an hour, before the nightmare woke you up. You saw the wolves again. They were circling you. The black one jumped forward and tackled you to the ground. Your sight got blurry, but you could still make out the silhouette of the white one. It changed into a man. It had curly hair. You felt like someone or something was watching you. You walked to the window, and pushed the curtain aside. You saw a wolf, watching you from the otherside of the road. A white wolf. That wolf. You immediately turned around, hands were burying in your hair. What the hell is going on? Am I going crazy? What is this place? A knock on the door caused you to jump. With shake legs and hands, you went to the door and opened it. Niki was leaning on the door jamb, with his left hand.

- What an earth are you… - you started with a confused look but it quickly changed into a shock, your eyes got wide when you looked at his lips. He had a fresh scar there. - There’s no way…

- I can’t do this anymore. You drive me crazy. - he looked at you with a beast-like expression on his face.

- What do y- - you couldn’t finish your question.

Niki technically broke into your room, then kicked the door closed. He didn’t mean to scare you, but he was on the edge of completely losing control over himself. He took a step towards you. You didn’t step back. You couldn’t. That animal look on him made your legs weak, your mouth dry. The lust in his eye made you want him. You licked your lips. That was the last straw for him. The next thing you knew you were thrown against the wall. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a hungry wolf. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he didn’t plan to go easy and kind on you either. He hooked his hands under your knees, picked you up and you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass and thighs.

- Your smell is intoxicating to me. I still don’t know how did I manage to not to rip your clothes off and fuck you on the hood of your car, when there were just the two of us, alone. - he confessed into your ear, and that made you feel all kinds of incoherent thoughts.

You wanted to answer, but when he sucked on your collarbone, the only thing that came out of your mouth was a moan, which could have been heard in Hell as well. He growled in response, grabbed your shirt on the back, and tore it in half with such ease, letting it fall to the carpet. He took you away from the wall, then placed your back on your bed. He sit up, just to took of his shirt. He placed himself between your legs, arms next to your head to keep himself from crushing you. He looked you deep in the eye. The warm that radiated from him was unbearable. It made your stomach turn in itself. He leaned in to capture your lips, but he stopped just millimeters away from you. There was a silent question in the air. He got his answer when you closed your eyes. When your lips met, you felt like you jumped to another dimension. He tasted like a mixture of cigarette and beer. Your hands found their ways into his curls. His breath stuttered for a second, before letting out a purring sound into your lips and mouth. He liked that. No. He loved that. His left hand wandered down between the two of you, to pull your pants down. You let him. Then it was your turn to free him from his pants. He let you. He was bigger than you would have imagined, and thick. And also hard like a rock. You gently grabbed him to pump him a little bit, but he didn’t let you have your fun for too long. He needed you badly. He wanted to bury himself in you. He pulled your hand away from him, and just as you were to pull your legs up for him to get a better angle, he tightened his grip on your arm a little bit, and turned you around like he just picked up a feather. You got confused for a second but when you felt him at your entrance you put the puzzle together. Oh. He is half wolf after all. And without a second word he trusted his hips toward and filled you up. You pressed your face into your blanket to suppress some of your cry.

- I’m sorry, but you really bring the animal out of me... Meine schöne Beute...- was all he whispered, but waited for a little bit for you, to get used to him, before he started moving.

From slow and sensual trusts, you quickly arrived to needy and shameless fucking. His occasional growles got mixed with your load moans. Niki kept biting your neck and shoulders, and you couldn’t do anything, rather just take it. Not that you had any coherent thoughts about doing anything in that position. As both of you were coming closer to reaching your desires, Niki’s hands found their ways to the back of your own ones, interlocked your fingers, and raised both his and your arms above your heads on the bed. You saw the finish line, but before you could register the checkered flag, your pleasure hit you like a racecar. The man behind you finished the race as a close second. He stayed inside you until he got soft, then collapsed on the bed beside you. After you stopped seeing stars, you looked at him. He was already looking at you with his big caramel eyes. You felt this urge to cuddle him, you were already missing his warmth, although he wasn’t that far from you. He looked like he sensed your thoughts, because he opened one of his arms, invitingly. You quickly snuggled to his side, head on his chest. He was drawing circles on your back with the hand that was behind you. You reached up to the back of his neck, and started to slowly massaging the hair on it. He instantly started purring.

- I love this sound… - you slightly chuckled.

- I can get used to this… - he smiled.

- So am I... - the broken car was long forgotten.

Both of you drifted off to sleep like this, in the arms of each other. The last thing you heard was Niki’s heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Honk.

You shot your eyes open. You were in your car. In a parking lot. You sit up, confused, trying to solve your thoughts. You were tired, so you stopped to sleep a little bit in your car, before you reached your next destination. Was this all a dream? You climbed over to the driver’s seat. Started the car. Looked in the mirror on your right, on your left, then on the middle one. You saw a little purple spot under your shirt, around your neck. You pulled the shirt aside. A hickey on your collarbone.

🐺🤍❤️

The End?...

[jjmjjktth]

Chapter One: Intruder

First - Previous - Next - Masterlist - (ao3)

        The portal was a strange experience, It felt different than whe Max used it; but she had been using a miraculous longer than he ever had. The gateway opened into a spacious courtyard closed by a large wooden gate with an iron portcullis. Along the stone-brick walls were gardens filled with vegetables and herbs. A little weedy… how odd, they don't appear to require any trimming. Even the grass isn't overgrown. Despite being built centuries ago, the temple appeared to be newly built. Maybe some of the Guardians were restored with the temple. On the other wall were racks and racks of weapons of all difficulty levels. Not even rusted! At her feet, the dirt was magically stained into an intricate symbol. The Order symbol? Maybe.

      Finally preceding to the main doors she had to pause, the doors were ornately carved wood inlaid with gold. The carvings depicted the story of the founding of the order. Detailing the many wars and summits necessary to protect the miraculous and the world. Taking hold of the equally intricate, brass door-rings, Marinette pulled open the doors with surprisingly little difficulty.  

        The doors opened to a square-shaped pathway with arch-like pillars lining the right side opening to a lawn. A pool of clear water with a blossoming cherry tree on it’s bank, despite it being fall. Does it bloom year long? In the pool was the same symbol found in the courtyard. Along the left side of the stone path were plain wooden doors with a single, unique symbol carved where there would be a peephole on more modern doors. Upon closer examination, she could read the symbols. Must be the Guardian Language. The symbols each represented a miracle box. Opening the first door, Marinette found a queen sized bed covered by luxurious bedding. Through another archway was a small area to prepare food with a cabinet containing only fifteen tiny dishes and one set of larger dishes. Passing through the final archway, she saw a miracle box set on a table with a guardian staff leaned against it. 

        Marinette made her way back to the pathway to look around some more. Spying a door without a marking, she decided to head that way. Through the door she beheld an oriental style dining hall with all the places set with delicate pottery. This has to seat over a hundred!  At the end of the hall was a dais that sat thirteen, the middle chair being the most elaborate. Maybe for the main guardians? Were there thirteen of them? 

        “Tikki, who were those chairs for?” she asked.

                 “I don’t know, we were never allowed out of the miracle boxes.” 

        Moving on through an arch at the left of the dais, she came across the kitchen. There were iron kettles and fire pits large enough to cook animals the size of a horse. By the window in the sun, several flowers and herbs hung to dry. Only half of them are dry! It’s like this place was frozen in time! Picking one of three doors leads her to another hallway lined with hundreds of doors; each one an individual living space. The rooms contained a simple bed, a washbasin, and chamberpot. The lucky ones got a window.

        Going back to the kitchen and exited through the only door she hadn't gone through. There were three doors, one on the left, one on the right, and one at the end of the hall. Opting for the left door, the teen found herself in a large training room. Along the walls were five of each weapon, all dull. 

        The door across the hall lead to a treasury. Precious metals, gems and tapestries lined the room all painstakingly organized by size, value, and intracity. Separate from the other rooms, Marinette found what she suspected to be the “Grand Guardian’s” quarters. The rooms were even more luxurious and spacious than any others she had seen, (minus the treasury). That would be her room, judging by the marking of her miracle box on the doorway. Exhausted from the day, The new guardian fell onto the bed, not even bothering to get changed or tuck herself in, and fell sound asleep.

–––––––––––––––––Damian–––––––––––––––––

        Sticking to the shadows, Damian leapt through Gotham skillfully avoiding cameras and using none of his usual equipment. Relying on his techniques that he learned in the League of Assassins, the vigilante had a distinct advantage against the members of his family. True to his training, he would disappear. Mother would be proud, no… Thalia wouldn’t, he clearly wasn’t her son anymore. At least until he was useful again. 

        It was simple to make his way to the run-down apartment that looked like it was abandoned. Entering through the window, Damian called off the security system and turned on the lights. He would need several things. Heading to a cabinet, the heir took out several debit cards, each in a different name with a substantial fortune he deposited personally from banks around the world. His closet was filled with clothes of all kinds. Some were for Damian while others accompanied disguises of various complexity. He filled his suitcase with the disguises.

He left the safehouse the same way he came and donned a simple and elegant disguise, Fredric Destero, a twenty-year-old businessman. Frederic promptly walked to a paid car garage to collect a car attached to Fredric’s alias. Despite sitting in a garage for four years the car had a full gas tank and charged battery. It wasn’t an expensive car, it was bought for the purpose of escape. And escape he would.

        It was a short drive to the train station, filled with silence. Damian could only think of two reasons to not disappear from the modern world, and one of them would be able to find him easily and know that he didn’t want to return. The other reason was his pets. He would miss them. Maybe I could find a way to come back for them. He thought about turning back however, when he caught a glimpse of Batman starting his patrol as if nothing were out of ordinary, Damian finalized his decision to leave. A ticket to New York was cheap and the train ride would be short,(only an hour or two). 

       Upon arriving at the New York station Damian promptly boarded the subway that headed to the airport. JFK Airport was huge and if he hadn’t been there before, the teen would have easily been lost. However, Damian –er Friedric headed to the ticket counter to purchase a plane ride to some remote area. Opting for the soonest flight, the teen would be headed to Tibet in… twenty minutes! I probably should have given myself a larger time window. 

        Running through the airport is a good warm-up after sitting on a train for a few hours. He just barely made his flight. Good thing I have to be quick, almost thought I Wouldn't make it. He was sitting next to an older woman. She was talkative. Tt.

       “Have you ever been to Tibet, young man?” The woman said, “ It’s my first time. For a family vacation.” 

                “Yes, I have visited some of the ruins and sanctuaries there.” Can I have a peaceful flight? Maybe? Turns out the answer was yes and no. She stopped talking when she fell asleep; but, she fell asleep on him. All and all, it was the most uncomfortable flight he had been on, even with his brothers.

        Getting off the plane was a long and tedious process, and crowded. I am never flying again. If I can help it. Now where to go. In hindsight, he should’ve had a better plan. Instead Damian decided to hike into the mountains to live off the land? That was his half made plan until he came upon a large temple with it’s gates wide open. Against his better judgement he entered.

        The place didn’t look like it was abandoned but, no one was in sight! Not a noise was made that didn’t come from some animal or nature. Until there were footsteps. The ex-assassin quietly followed the footsteps to a dining hall of some sort before he could see the person. She was elegantly dressed in what appeared to be the traditional clothes for the temple and her raven hair was tied up into a bun using red ribbons. When she turned to look in his direction, she only appeared to be sixteen years old. When the girl caught sight of him, she stood alarmed.

“Who are you and how did you get in? I thought the gates were closed.” Was that French?

Taglist: @swiftie-miraculer13 @messymessyml @myazael @woe-is-me0 @roguishredaxion @user00000003 @genderfluidmoma 

Next - Masterlist

Hello, Jjmjjktth here

Chapter one is out! I’m still not sure what I should call this fic tho.

Smiled and love, Jjmjjktth <3 :)

[huntertales]

What Should We Name Him?

Summary: Three years after gaining control of his own destiny, Dean Winchester discovers a puppy abandoned on the side of the road. What should he do? Take it home to his wife and children, of course. Painting: Dean Winchester x Reader (Series Rewrite Setting) Word Count: 2,137. Warning: Possible spoilers for 15.19! (???) 

This might be my little take on what life would be like after the show “ended.” (Plus I believe this is how that scene should have ended.) I wrote this out of whim, so it's not perfect. But there’s a whole lot of fluff because we need it right now. Enjoy!

Dean loves the high he gets after finishing up a hunt. He spent three days in Missouri due to a nasty vampire nest Sam was trying to take down with Eileen that got out of control and required some backup. His brother and fiancée decided to stick around to clean up, letting Dean slip back to the bunker and to his own awaiting family back in Kansas. 

The Impala drives down the empty road he’s taken thousands of times that always leads him back home. His favorite tunes play as he enjoys the feeling of the wind rushing through the open windows all by himself. Today is perfect weather with the sun shining bright in the blue sky, not a single cloud in sight. No little kids trying to touch the buttons to the radio or asking what the strange rectangular object is after they went snooping around underneath the seats searching for a toy they dropped. It was just Dean and Baby, just like the good old times. The only thing missing was his wife and little brother in their respective seats singing along. 

Dean finishes out the classic rock song by softly slapping his hands along with the rhythm of the drums. The music gets shut off for a brief moment when he spots the gas station he always stops by to fill up the Impala. He continues on with his routine of getting gas and thinking about what to get inside. Maybe some candy for the twins when you told them about how well they did on their spelling test. Hell, he might even pick up a six pack to celebrate the successful hunt.  

He stopped drinking heavily as he had in the past. And the hunts he participated in slowly dropped to only a few times a month. Dean’s lifestyle changed dramatically when Chuck was kicked out of the picture. It allowed Dean to breathe and step back at the life he was finally able to control. The man wasn’t getting any younger and his kids were growing up fast. He wanted to be a good father, best that he could be. Which meant not having the twins creating memories of  him nursing a beer at ten in the morning. And forcing himself to let Sam do more of the cooking and incorporating some greens into his meals. 

Dean wanted to live long enough to see his babies grow up—see what they were going to do with their lives. Make decisions their parents were never allowed to. Dean’s entire life someone has been telling him what to do, writing down what to say. Not anymore. For the first time ever the curse was broken and he was able to do what he wanted. And he wanted to be a better man. He wanted to grow old with his wife and raise his children right. Watch his baby brother walk down the aisle with Eileen. Have some quality time with his friends and live his own life, damnit. And he was. 

Dean checked his phone while filling up Baby to see you responded back to his text about heading back from the hunt. Like always, you warned him about making it back safe and signed off with a quick ‘love you ❤” that never ceased to make his own heart beat faster. He smiled to himself and shoved his phone into his back pocket once again. If there was one thing in this world that he knew, it was his love for you was tried and true. Your love was not a story that could be written or broken up. No one or nothing would be able to take that away from him. 

After doing his normal routine and fetching a few snakes for the short ride home, Dean decided to make one more stop to the bathroom when he spotted the sign on his way back to the Impala. That's when he hears it—a whimper. The noise caught him off guard as his hand lingered over the doorknob. A few seconds passed before he heard it again. Dean stepped away and tried to figure out where the noise came from. He followed it until he came across something that made him stop in his tracks.

“Hey, buddy.” Dean ever so softly greets the puppy that is hiding in a cardboard box that has seen better days. Someone might have confused it with the rest of the trash next to the dumpster. Inside was a puppy that had to be only weeks old with old sheets. Dean dropped down to a crouch to carefully inspect the puppy for any possible tags indicating an order. His lips stretched into a frown when there was none. “Someone’s gotta be missing you, right?”

Dean knew he couldn't leave the poor dog on the side of the road. He always had a strict rule of never letting any non-humans into his car. The guilt would eat him inside if he let the poor dog remain abandoned. Dean picked up the box and carefully set it inside the backseat. He decided to make one more pitstop before heading home. 

***

One stop ended up turning into two. The vet told him there had been no reports of a missing German Shepherd puppy recently reported. Which meant someone had abandoned the dog at the gas station in hopes someone might find him. Dean could have left it at that and headed home. But he kept staring at the dog. It reminded him of something that happened a few years ago. For some reason he wasn't able to part with the dog. He needed to be sure the mutt got a good home. The decision led to him making another stop—to the pet store. 

The vet cleared the dog of any possible or diseases until the next check up. Dean splurged on the new addition to the family; puppy food the vet recommended, a dog bed, toys, anything the mutt might need. And most importantly a collar and leash. He got himself prepared with anything the dog might need. The amount of money he spent that day reminded him of the times he prepared for the birth of the twins. Expensive. But well worth it in the end. He couldn’t wait to see their faces. 

***

“We’re home!” 

Dean found his family where he normally did after coming home from a hunt; the twins in the library doing their homework while you and Cas kept tabs on the network of hunters across the states. You quickly looked up when you heard his voice echo through the bunker. An expression of pure relief crossed your face when you realized he was all right. You opened your mouth to ask him what took so long, but you found yourself with more questions than answers when you saw what he was holding. And the small creature at his side. 

“Daddy!” The twins wasted no time dropping their pencils and jumping out of their seats to greet their father. Dean dropped the bags to the floor and crouched down to be attacked by two six-year olds with tight hugs. He embraced the both of them and gave out forehead kisses. 

“Monkeys! I’ve missed you!” He greeted his children with the same amount of enthusiasm like always. “Were you two good for Mommy and Uncle Cas?” The twins nodded their head a little too eagerly. 

“Dean,” You got up from your seat and headed over to your husband who had failed to yet mention the extra companion he brought home. You pointed a finger to the puppy sitting next to him. “What is that?”

“A dog.” He said a little too casually.

You rolled your eyes at the obvious response and tried again when he stood back up. “What is it doing here?”

“I found him on the side of the road.” Dean explained. “I couldn’t leave the little guy there so I brought him home.”

“Can we keep him? Please?”

“Please? Pretty please?”

“I promise I’ll walk him—”

“And I’ll feed him—”

“Okay! Okay.” You quickly stopped the twins from chattering your ear off at the possibility of adding another member to the family. You let out a quiet sigh when they wasted no effort in warming up to the dog. He was friendly enough, giving out licks and happy barks. You thought about this for a moment. “Maybe we can look after him for a little while. See if anyone lost this poor baby.” 

You had to be honest, seeing the little guy made your heart swell in delight. It was always a dream of yours to own a pet. But the life you lead made it impossible. A lot of things seemed like that. Until a few years ago when it all changed for the better. You didn’t want to get your hopes up that Dean would be on board with another member of the family. Especially a furry four-legged creature.

“The vet told me no one reported any missing dogs. My bet someone abandoned him.” Dean said. Your expression quickly flashed into anger at the news at someone’s abusive and reckless behavior on a poor and defenseless creature. “I say...their loss. Our gain.”

“Wait, what?” You sounded surprised at his reaction. “Are you suggesting we keep him?”

“Why not? He’s updated on all his shots and the vet ran a whole bunch of tests. This little guy needs a good home.” Dean said. He smiled to himself at the sight of Mariella and Robert playing with the dog. Their smiles were too pure. They’d be heartbroken if Dean denied them an opportunity to have a pet. “Looks like he’s already part of the family.” 

You can't help yourself when you make your way over to the dog and greet him with pets and ear scratches. You remind the twins to be careful when they take note of the puppy's floppy ears. The three of you look so happy in the moment. He couldn't wait to see Sam's reaction when he got home. He always secretly wanted a dog as his own. Today that dream was going to come true. 

“What should we name the little guy?” You asked. 

The twins thought about it for a moment before a round of names only a child could think of were shot off left and right, too fast for either you or Dean to keep up on. You let out a faint sigh when the discussion quickly turned into a fight about which name was better. Dean was quick to defuse the situation before it could end in tears. 

“How about...” Dean crouched down to give the dog a scratch behind the ear like he seemed to enjoy. He examined the mutt for a second before the perfect name popped into his head. “Zeppelin?” 

“Zeppelin?” You repeated the name, your tone the least be enthusiastic about the reference he subtly passed by you. “Are you seri—”  

“Zeppelin!” Mariella shouted the name with excitement. To her it was odd and unique, something a six year old thought was perfect. “I like it, Daddy!”

“Me too!” Robert agreed. 

Dean smiled to himself when you playfully rolled your eyes. Zeppelin decided to explore the bunker, his new home, with curious but cautious steps. He made his way over to the angel and started sniffing him out. 

“Hello, there.” Cas greeted the puppy. He offered his hand for the dog to sniff to try and get to know him better. “You are certainly adorable. And a perfect addition to the family. German Shepherds are known to be a perfect guard dog. They are loyal and smart. Very strong." 

“Sort of like you.” You softly nudged Dean with your elbow. 

“Then it’s settled.” Dean said. “Zeppelin’s here to stay.” 

Dean never really did like dogs. He always complained they shedded too much, barked at the smallest things and required too much attention. His opinion changed ever so slightly after taking a hunt with a German Shepherd that required him to meld minds with the animal. His opinion softened, but the lifestyle he led made it impossible up until this point in his life. But seeing this poor fella abandoned on the side of the road, the exact same way he did when all hope felt lost? He couldn’t turn his back on the dog. There was still an ounce of happiness left in him that blossomed back up. 

This little guy reminded him that he was in control of his life. There was no one who was going to take Zeppelin away. Or you. Or the twins. Or Sam and his family. And most importantly, Cas. It was funny how dogs could bring out the best in people and reminded them small miracles existed. Maybe dogs weren’t so bad after all.

[babbushka]

This sounds like a blast for your Lawyer couple to argue over! Maybe they even have to pull into a seedy motel on the way due to gas or weather. Poor Kylo, his cashmere sweaters and 3k suits being soiled just by hanging in the closet of the cheep roadside motel. 🤣

10. Person A and Person B are driving to visit family for the holiday, when their car starts to have trouble. Turns out, Person A didn’t fill the tank, and they’re not sure they have enough gas to make it to their destination…or do they??

Thank you!!!

Anonymous said: Happy chanukah, Z! If u dont mind, that prompt about the car not being gassed up when theyre driving to see family sounded like it could provide some fun banter between lawyer kylo and his better half. Thanks and have the best holiday!

(2.8k Fluff, mostly banter & silly shenanigans!)

Rain beats down on the windshield of Kylo’s shiny black Mercedes relentlessly. He’s behind the wheel, you’re in the passenger seat next to him, the seat heaters on to keep you both cozy. It’s a miracle that the rain hasn’t frozen, the last thing you wanted to have to deal with was black ice, as you and Kylo make your way up the interstate to Connecticut.

It’s still surreal to even think you’re in the car with him, to think that you’ll be celebrating Hanukkah together. Go figure that despite you and Kylo being sworn enemies, your parents and his parents were friends. Something about having gone to the same law school, and coincidentally moving into the same lavishly expensive small town. It would only make sense for them to invite you and Kylo to a joint-family Hanukkah celebration, where you would be staying in your mother’s big mansion for eight nights – separate rooms, of course.

There’s music playing softly on the radio, Kylo had let you hook up your phone so your spotify plays through the bluetooth; a Hanukkah playlist you made just for the occasion late last night. You didn’t want to listen to the incessant sound of Christmas music, not during your favorite holiday.

“About how much longer do you think it’ll be?” You break the comfortable silence between the two of you. Kylo doesn’t have the GPS on or anything, he’s driven this route too many times to need it.

“The worst of the traffic is behind us, probably only an hour.” He shrugs, not looking away from the road.

Despite all your better judgement, you think he’s particularly handsome tonight. No doubt wanting to dress up to impress your family and meet the standards of his own, he’s in a navy blue dress shirt, with a black and silver patterned sweater vest. His suit jacket is laid down carefully in the backseat along all the Hanukkah presents that you’ve somehow managed to stuff into his car, and his Rolex glints occasionally when the street lamps pass over it through the windows.

You’re just about to tell him how handsome you think he is, when the car makes a strange motion that you’re positive wasn’t on purpose, causing you to frown and ask, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Kylo, for his part, doesn’t react at all. Or at least, he pretends you.

Sometimes Kylo forgets that you’ve had a lifetime of being able to tell when people are lying, and you don’t appreciate his stubbornness right now. He turns to glance at you for a split second, and you are already gearing up for a bit of an argument.

“That lurch.” You explain, gesturing with a wave of your hand.

“I didn’t feel a lurch.” Kylo shakes his head, the liar.

“Yes you did, don’t be difficult.” You turn around in your seat to try and glance out the rear-window, but it’s too dark, the rainclouds obscuring the sky. “Did we hit something?”

“Are you doubting my ability to keep my eyes on the road? No I didn’t hit something.” Kylo replies with a dangerous sort of edge to his voice that only makes you cross your arms over your chest and fix him with a hard stare.

You get a small ounce of satisfaction from the way his hands grip the steering wheel a little nervously, Kylo doesn’t like to be scrutinized, least of all by you.

“Well then what was the lurch?” You press, and he finally grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“There wasn’t any fucking lurch, (Y/N) – ”

Ding!

You and Kylo shut up at the noise, your eyebrows flying up. For the first time, you lean over to see what the hell is going on with the car, disbelief flooding through you when you see the little gas-light blinking on and off.

“Oh my god you didn’t fill up the tank before picking me up?” You’re incredulous, when you see the needle on the gas dial all the way down below ‘E’.

“Oy, here we go.” Kylo grumbles to himself and you scoff and huff and smack at your thigh, because yeah, here we go.

“No really, you really thought we could just make the drive from Manhattan to Darien at rush hour on a Thursday on what was it, a quarter tank of gas?” You grill him, knowing that sitting bumper to bumper couldn’t have helped his cause.

“It’s a hybrid!” He runs a hand through his hair, as if that makes it any better.

“I don’t give a shit if it’s a hybrid or a gas guzzler you should’ve thought to fill up.” You’re immediately pulling your phone out, typing furiously into the navigation to try and see where the nearest place to fill up would even be. “Now look at us, we’re running on fumes. Can you switch it to the electric?”

“It’s not charged…” Kylo groans, his face burning bright red, hating every second of this. You blink at him, mouth already opening to complain, but he puts up a hand and cuts you off before you can even start. “It’ll be fine, I’ll pull into the next gas station that I see.”

Dismay trickles down your spine, when you see that there isn’t a gas station anywhere near where you are, certainly not close enough to make it on the couple of miles that Kylo’s Mercedes has left.

“I don’t think there is another one, we might’ve passed it before driving over the bridge.” You smack a hand to your forehead, Kylo literally growling under his breath at the news.  

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He snaps, and his anger only makes you angry – because yes, you’re not just in disbelief about the whole thing, you’re angry about it.

“I offered to drive you know.” You start, and Kylo can already tell in your voice that you’re ramping up to something.

“I know.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“So we agree, I said ‘I’ve got a full tank of gas, and plenty of trunk space for us.’ Do you recall me saying that to you at approximately eight P.M. last night? Or were you too fucked out of your mind to hear me? Why you never listen to me I will never fucking understand.” You keep going on and on, your hands waving and punctuating the air.

“I’m trying to fucking think over here sweetheart, I’ve got some schmuck riding my ass – fuck it I’m pulling over.” Kylo decides all at once, puts on his blinker and gets off at the exit that comes up just off the interstate.

He pulls the car to a slow roll, you frantically searching on your phone for something, anything nearby that would maybe get you out of this situation.

“My mother is going to kill me if we’re late.” You sigh, thinking about how dinner is going to be served soon. Your stomach growls, thinking about latkes and sufganiyot and brisket and and and…

“Your mother? Wait until Leia gets a load of this.” Kylo mutters, already envisioning the proverbial smackdown he’s going to get. And here he wanted to make a good impression, he can’t help but think how angry your family will be for putting you in a predicament like this.

You grab at his bicep just then, and he startles at the contact, it’s the first time you’ve touched him since waking up in his bed earlier that morning.

“Kylo, look I see lights! Looks like a motel, maybe they can direct us somewhere close.” You give him big pleading eyes, and as much as Kylo hates asking for help, he can’t just keep wasting gas like this.

“Okay but stay in the car.” He concedes, urging the car closer to the motel. It doesn’t matter that it looks kind of run-down, he’d give a thousand dollars to anyone who could get gas in this fucking thing, he thinks.

“Why?” You frown, not liking the thought of sitting alone in the car.

“It’s cold and wet and I don’t want you bitching about the weather.” Kylo grumbles, “Stay in here where it’s warm, I’ll keep the engine running.”

What he really means is, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.

He doesn’t say that, but you hear it anyway, so when he parks in the lot outside the Motel, you do as he asks.

You don’t have to wait for him for very long, because about fifteen minutes later he comes back with a little key-card in his hand that you eye suspiciously.

“So.” He gets back in the car, closing his umbrella and sticking it in a bag before chucking it in the back seat. “There isn’t another gas station.”

“Do we have enough to double back to the one just before the border?” You wonder, trying to do the math for how far away that is, but Kylo beats you to it.

“No. I got us a room for tonight – ” He starts, holding up the key card, and you feel the hot sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, frustrated and sad about this whole nightmare.

“We can’t stay, it’s the first night of Hanukkah!” You complain, leaning forward and crossing your arms on the dash, burying your face in the crook of your elbow in defeat.

“I know, I know we can’t stay, but we can’t keep driving either. I’ve already called your mother, she’s going to drive over in the morning with some gallon cannisters and fill us up enough so we can make the rest of the way.” Kylo smooths a comforting hand across your back, and you peer up at him just a peek through your sweater sleeve.

“You called my mother?” You arch a brow at him, knowing how prickly he can be when he’s irritated.

“Yes, I was very polite I’ll have you know.” He seems to read your mind, and untangles you to gently push you sitting upright again, “Come, lets go get settled in the room, I’ve got a pounding fucking headache and I just want to go to sleep.”

 The room is…well. It leaves much to be desired, that’s for sure. It’s not bad, certainly not the worst place you’ve ever stayed, but it’s not really much else than a bed, a television, a couple dressers and a bathroom. Which is fine, considering you plan on staying for less than 12 hours, but…but you really wish you could be with your family.

Kylo is none too pleased about the situation either, which makes it at least a little better. He refuses to take anything out of his suitcase, not wanting to get his suits soiled by the mediocrity of the motel room. You don’t blame him, honestly. You do, however, take a couple things out of your suitcase. It’s just about seven o’clock, and you know that the sun would be set by now if the rain clouds weren’t here, so you pull the curtain windows open and set your menorah down on the windowsill.

“What are you doing?” Kylo blinks from the bathroom, standing in his boxers and undershirt.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m lighting the candles.” You hold up the little box of matches and the shamash.

“You brought a menorah with you?” He comes over to where you’re standing, drapes his body against your back, his arms wrapping around your middle.

“Mhm, it’s the one I got on my very first Hanukkah when I was a baby.” You nod, lifting it up to show him, “My mother gave it to me when I moved, so I’d always have a piece of home with me. I always light it along with the others when we get together to celebrate.”

“That’s very sweet.” Kylo grumbles, pretending not to be as affected by this whole thing as he really is. Kylo had wanted to be with his family too.

“Well?” You nudge him expectantly, as you strike a match and light the Shamash.

“Well what?” Kylo frowns, making you smile tiredly at him over your shoulder.

“Are you going to say the prayers or not?” You prompt, and he swallows.

Kylo hugs you tighter around your middle, his cheek resting against yours as he clears his throat and starts the first of the three prayers.

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.” Kylo’s voice is deep and the baritone spreads through your whole body as he cocoons you in his arms.

You lean back against his chest, watching the flame share with the first night’s candle, the two of you huddled together as the heater in the motel room cranks to life. He chuckles, and you chuckle, and the whole thing is so fucking ridiculous.

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higiyanu laz'man hazeh.” Kylo finishes, the prayer for the first night complete.

It’s not the Hanukkah that either of you wanted, but as the two of you retire to the single bed – of course there’s only one bed, you think slyly – and kiss one another by the glow of the candles, his smile pressing against yours as the mattress squeaks underneath you, you think that maybe it isn’t such a bad first Hanukkah together after all.

[softinkshadows]

Shingeki no Kyojin Demon AU (Part 1) (x female reader)

You’re a young graduate working long hours at a bistro and doing food deliveries. Little did you expect your life to get entangled with the leading figures of the largest conglomerates in the world. Or a thousand-year-old demon clan war.

Part 1 / ?

---

“Tch,” Levi tuts in distaste as his gaze wanders across the empty pantry shelves. “There’s no tea, Erwin. You have a 50 million-dollar home, but no damn tea.” He shuts the sleek cabinet doors brusquely, giving a side-eye at the blond reclining on a lush sofa in the living room. Behind him, large down-to-floor Fleetwood doors open into an expansive backyard, where the soft lights of the infinity pool and the pool house stand out against the night sky and the rolling hills of Paradis beyond. 

“There’s no coffee either,” a loud voice calls from the corridor, “Just rows and rows of expensive alcohol. Talk about an upgrade... Ahhhh and I’m getting hungry too...” Levi turns to see Hange return from the wine cellar, looking equal parts fascinated and frustrated with the home. 

“Sorry about that. I only just moved in proper, so I only have the essentials - Miche, glad you could make it,” Erwin breaks of mid-sentence and nods to greet the brown-haired man entering the living room. 

“I saw off Nanaba with the rest outside. For a meeting this late at night... this must be something big, Erwin,” Miche glances around the room, his body tense with concern.

“I’m afraid it is. We need to get used to more meetings like this. It seems they are moving again,” Erwin leans forward, tenting his fingers. Levi moves to sit on a nearby couch, his brows furrowed and arms crossed, clearly annoyed. “If we’re going to be up all night, we’re going to need tea.”

Hange sighs in acknowledgement, before running out onto the patio, yelling. “Moblit!! We need tea, coffee and decent hot food. Anything that can deliver at this hour, and fast!” As she rounds back into the house, the scurrying of footsteps and the softer response of “Ryoukai! (trans: Roger!)” is heard immediately.

---

“Change the channel will ya!” your uncle shouts from the kitchen as the blare of heavy metal rock screams from the old, wall-mounted television.

“Just a minute!” you yell back over the din, serving a customer’s plate of fish and chips before walking back to the bistro counter, scrambling for the remote. The screeching music stops as the screen switches to the standard Paradis News Channel, and you heave a sigh of relief. It is already close to midnight, and the bistro is occupied with only a handful of regulars who work the night shift nearby. But as the niece of Bruno’s Bistro, a cosy establishment and hidden gem of the Trost district, you had a reputation to uphold; there is no way you’d put your customers through that noise at this hour. 

A hand pushes a small plate of tacos towards you on the counter. “Supper,” says your uncle cheerily, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel round his neck, his eyes shining with quiet affection. He brings a second plate round for himself, tucking in straightaway, and you do the same. You know that even after all these years, he feels sorry. That he blames himself when you threw away the prospect of working a cushy, corporate job after graduation to help him run his bistro, toiling long hours till three in the morning every day. But you are happy to. It was your uncle Bruno who took you in as a child and looked after you since your parents’ untimely death many years ago. His wife had passed on earlier from an illness, and he was alone. So were you. And for the longest time, all you had was each other.  The main phone rings loudly from the kitchen, and Bruno walks over to answer it. You can’t make out the conversation, but you suppose it’s one of the bistro’s food suppliers.

“This is Ilse Langnar, and this is Paradis Nightly News. Today, Mitras Holdings announced a joint venture with SNK Group to develop the world’s largest shopping district in downtown of Paradis city. This marks Mitras’ third large scale project in Paradis, after the restoration of the Reiss chapel and the commissioning of a cutting-edge renewable energy plant in the eastern district. We hear more from its chairman on their string of successes -” You look up from your food at the flickering image on the television, as a stoic, charismatic man with blue eyes addresses a crowd of reporters on a podium. “What a different life,” you mutter to yourself, before turning your attention back to the tacos. The newscaster drones on. “In other news, Liberio Corp’s shares increased another 10% this week, cementing its standing as the most influential conglomerat-”

“Y/n!” Bruno’s voice interrupts suddenly, slamming the phone receiver down. “We got orders! Lots of them!”

“What? At this time?” You hurry and shove the last of the tacos into your mouth, wiping your hands of crumbs, before gathering your senses.

“We got half a dozen chicken and beef pastries each, 1 strong black, 1 mocha, 1 latte, 4 flat whites and 2 cups of our best tea. And it’s delivery,” recites Bruno. Your quick mind and experience from working through the busiest shifts already has you committing all the orders to memory and preparing the drinks on cue. Minutes later, you’re packing the orders neatly into the back of your motorbike, and strapping on your helmet.

You peer at the slip of paper with the delivery address scribbled over with Bruno’s messy handwriting.40 Ehrmich Drive... Damn. Isn’t that the wealthiest district in all of Paradis, just north of downtown? you wonder to yourself. Didn’t know rich people pulled all-nighters. Whoever was on the phone did promise to tip lavishly if you could deliver within the hour. Without hesitating, you step on the gas pedal.

You find yourself winding through the lanes of Ehrmich Drive, only passing by an intimidating front gate every two hundred meters or so. The houses here are huge. And so far apart that it is rather dark, save for the sporadic streetlights here and there. You come to a stop at a long steel gate, on the side of which the number 40 is engraved into the limestone wall. “Where’s the damn doorbell,” you mutter, looking around wildly but to no avail. You catch sight of some security cameras and wave to get its attention, but nothing happens. You groan. The person who called didn’t leave a contact number.  Here goes nothing, you think, resigning yourself to fate. You try the steel gate, and realize it slides open easily. So much for security. 

It’s a walk before you even reach the main house, a chic two-storeyed mansion sprawling across this vast acre of land. You are aware of your place when you catch sight of several luxury cars parked along the driveway, each looking more expensive than the last. You look back at your faded, worn sneakers on the gravel, feeling extremely out of place. Strangely, what appears to be a mammoth-sized glass front door doesn’t budge. Please just make my job easier, you grumble to yourself in frustration. Contemplating leaving the food on the hood of one of the cars, your turn back when you are drawn to sounds of distant conversation from around the patio. 

“In any case, the purebloods are moving in on Paradis,” you hear a familiar low, smooth voice. “They are certain that they’ll find what they’ve been looking for.”

Your mind whirls a little. Pureblood? What is that? Some kind of dog? 

Another deep voice chimes in. “Is this the reason for the venture with SNK? I thought we were supposed to be killing off -” Then silence. Killing?

Just as you are about to reach the corner, someone steps in front of you so fast you barely have any time to register. A man with cropped dark hair and even darker eyes blocks your way, dressed in a fitted black suit and a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt. He’s a little shorter than you, but something about the intensity of his eyes, his stance with one hand resting on the wall and the other casually tucked into his pocket makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You feel your chest tighten, you mind blanking out as an indescribable fear washes over you -suddenly you’re thirteen again, running through the dark streets, breathless, desperate, running away from something - what? - and then cold, cold all over, feeling the shadows encroaching, creeping across your skin and reaching deep to clutch at your heart, squeezing the light out of you- You snap back to the present and feel yourself trembling, shrinking under his gaze. Your mouth runs dry and you struggle to form words, your feet frozen to the spot. Suddenly, the man takes a sharp intake of breath, his hand against the wall now balled into a fist, as if trying to maintain some semblance of control. His eyes narrow, scrutinising you.

“Who the fucking hell are-” he stops himself, glancing at the bag of drinks and food you’re holding. Then he yells, furious.  “Moblit!” 

Within seconds, a panicky-looking brunette appears from the side. “Take her through the front,” the black-haired man ordered.  You’re mindlessly ushered through the main door, which you realize is in fact unlocked. It seemed impossibly heavy earlier, yet the brunette in front of you swings it wide open with apparent ease. He leads you through the entry way into a informal dining area, passing by the living room along the way. You can feel a frightening atmosphere emanating from that direction, heightened by a pervasive and uncomfortable silence hanging throughout the house. Were you intruding upon something just now? You lift your gaze briefly, and what you see causes your back to stiffen, the hairs on your neck standing on end.  The shorter, dark-eyed man from moments ago leans against the open doorway leading out to the patio. On a couch nearby, a woman with dark brown ponytail and glasses looks over her shoulder, while next to her sits a man with light brown hair and emerald eyes. In the centre of the room, in a crisp blue dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sits a man whose presence seems to be the electrifying point around which everything else seems rotate. Blond hair and icy blue eyes. It takes a second for you to realize who he is. And another to realize they are all looking dead straight at you. The next few minutes are a haze. The suffocating, overwhelming sensation returns, and you avert your eyes and set the delivery down on the table before your legs give out. The man called Moblit quickly hands you a fifty, apologizing and thanking you at the same time, before he sees you off. You heart thuds wildly in your chest. You can’t think, and you only vaguely feel your limbs clumsily half-running, making their way back down the driveway, across the wide lawn, past the gate and back onto your bike. It’s only then that you finally catch a breath. You hastily step on the gas pedal and take off into the early hours of the morning, still feeling the sharp and penetrating gazes burning into your back all the way home.  ---- Notes: This is my first attempt at a long running narrative, after falling so deep with snk recently. The canon status of many characters break my heart, and I wanted to write them into a world where they aren’t dying or dead. Not sure where this chapter will lead, but I have some mechanics of the world thought out, with hopefully more demon/power smut things coming in the later chapters. Please bear with my trashy trashy writing

[zwiezraczek]

6 + 1 Underground [Four x OC/reader] Chapter 5

SUMMARY: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight…

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5: Eight’s Mission CHAPTER 6

Sasha lives her first mission as the Ghost of Kubica. Adrenaline is there.

WORDS: 2.4k

TAGLIST (if you want to be part of it, leave a comment! ^^) : @kingniazx @imjustboredso @pandamanda99 @mustbeaweasleyginger @cooliosmosh @lillymitl 

Sasha's hands covered in white gloves wandered on the steering wheel. She had waited for this moment since she joined the team, and here it came: she was in Paris, waiting for One and Two to come out of the Villa Saïd in the 16th Arrondissement in Paris to step on it. This was the adrenaline rush she needed right here and right now, and nothing else. Five sat by her side, nervously checking the entrance of the Villa, expensive cars going in and out every few minutes, minutes nearer to the moment Sasha could drive as she always did: Kubica had to be awaken. She sat in a nice black car, a black Renault RS, slender and not very noticeable, nothing too flashy as she was once told by Piotr and from then stuck to that rule. Unless told otherwise. But now, they had to blend in, as rich tourists waiting for anything, their husbands, their friends, girlfriends? Who cared as long as Kubica sat behind the steering wheel.

Three proudly called the two of them “bonitas” as he picked their disguises, flowery dresses and satin shawls on their hair, glasses for Five and none for Eight. They looked adorable, nothing suspicious in this chic district, and that was the whole point. Sitting in the front seat, nobody remarked them as they seemed to carelessly chat about the new Louis Vuitton's collection, the one with red scarves and leather bags, whereas Eight asked Five if she had any new information coming from Two. But still nothing. No blond head in sight, nor One's face, no running, no people covered in blood. As a small talk, Five told her how Two got injured in Florence, and what a bitchy patient she was moving around and even going out as she lost a shit ton of blood to shoot some of the guys: this women was unbelievable. Sasha smiled, hands stiff. She could feel the leather under her palms, she felt the engine, this clean machine only waiting to go faster and faster. She could sense it.

“Bonjour demoiselles,” Eight heard in her ear along with Five: Three's voice from the car parked near the Place de l'Etoile.

“Something wrong,” Sasha asked, ready to speed up at any moment.

“Twenty one still inside,” he asked.

“Yes, they are,” Five replied looking at Eight, a bit nervous. “This shouldn't take too long if... Mierda, here they are,” she shouted as she saw from the corner of her eye One, covered with blood and Two having his back as they advanced towards the car. Five went to the backseat, already taking her medical supplies as Sasha had her hand on the lever, ready to go.

“What the hell you did,” Sasha asked, as One was put into the car by Two before she shot some bullets towards the villa and making her way next to Eight.

“He fucked up,” Seven's voice resonated in her ear. He stayed on the top of the building facing the villa, ready to snipe, and apparently he saw the whole scene.

“Go,” Two shouted, as Sasha put her foot down, wheels screeching, One's head bumping on the door as Five tried to make him stay still, him and his bleeding arm.

“Gentle millenial,” he screamed, all painful and fussy.

“Fasten your fucking seat belt, you” Sasha yelled as she sped up on the Avenue Foch.

“Idiot,” Two completed calmly. “To the Place de l'Etoile. He got fucking shot as I tried to gently talk with the man hiding his stick. And this idiot out there threatened him.”

“Three, path's clear,” Sasha's voice was strong, waiting for a reply.

“For the moment yes, staying here until Seven joins me,” he confirmed as she heard a car following them on the avenue.

“I'm not an idiot,” One protested, wiggling and Five had no other choice than slapping his head. “What was that for,” he exclaimed.

“Don't move or I'll be obliged to cut your arm off or take you to a hospital,” Five seemed stressed, as sweat drops appeared on her forehead, but she didn't lose cool.

Sasha drove, wheels screeching, the engine roaring under her control, One cursing along with Five and Two looking peacefully at the road. Three made a good job, she heard him faking a foreign delivering some stuff to the souvenir shop around there, the mafia men weren't pleased at all as they cursed him, making Two smile under her breath. But Sasha had no time to laugh, focused and tense: everything she loved in this job. She remembered perfectly the ways she had to take to reach the Quartier Latin – without Two's help – to reach Four, waiting for them on an old building. A grand finale, he said to her with a huge grin. Nothing good, absolutely nothing good.

“Where are you,” she heard Four's voice inside her head now, as she tried to avoid the cars in front of them and not get caught by the guys behind as Two was ready to shoot some of them.

“Not so fucking far from Notre Dame with dogs... Pigs behind me, three cars for the moment” she correcter herself, One's cursing distracting her from talking as Five scolded him endlessly. “And the mafia of course, five cars. Hope your plan is bomb or I'll have to speed my way to the 91 as soon as I can!”

“We'll be able to lose half of them, pigs and mafia, so be ready to drive fast: trust me!”

“Do I have a fucking other option,” she yelled, a little smirk on her face as she avoided another car while turning next to the BVH Marais, feeling alive and ready. “I guess I have to trust the Eastern guy!”

“Hey, lovey dovey Eastern people,” One interrupted as he laid on the backseat, trying his best to not move as Five tried to get the bullet out of his arm, “we're not on a love mission, you're not Three and Two, so fucking do your thing before I lose my fucking arm,” he yelled, Two rolled her eyes, before looking at One who just mouthed yes I know.

“Coming to you,” Sasha replied, ignoring One's whining, focused on the mission, and the grand finale.

She turned down the road after the bridge, arriving until one of the universities, this was the old building Four talked about, ready to be destroyed it seemed. She sped up, as the cops and the mafia were trying to catch them. She prayed for Four's plan to work out, truly. And if not, improvisation. She improvised many times, in a city she knew but here she felt like in a damn maze, and was still impressed by her ability to find her way out there. As she entered the large street next the building, she felt gas. No way. She sped up, fingers crossed, hoping they wouldn't get injured even more. A great noise, dirt all around, the building fell. Right on the road, right on the cars following them. And now, she couldn't tell how many of them followed them, but she had a moment to lose them, taking another path, and fitting in the flow of the cars. To Corbeil-Essonnes. The place police feared and French mafia too, because these people were something. And luckily, they loved the ones messing with Frenchies.

“Four, do you copy,” Sasha asked, as the adrenaline rush came down. On the road around Paris, she almost lost all of them. Almost. “Four, do you copy,” she insisted, as Two looked at her, intrigued. “Three, you're still in Paris?”

“Oui, mes beautés,” he replied as she could almost imagine Seven rolling his eyes as Three spoke.

“Four went mia,” Sasha said, focused on the road between One's groans.

“We leave the kid behind, he'll be fine,” she heard. One's voice. She tightened her grip around the steering wheel. No, she wouldn't lose her Eastern partner in crime. She gave him a dark look through the mirror before addressing Five.

“Five, if he says that again don't you fucking dare taking that bullet off his arm, and if you do I'll fucking kill him myself,” she threatened as Two chuckled under her breath, nodding as she looked at Eight, before turning her head back abruptly at the window.

“Don't worry Eight, we won't leave him again, as One wanted,” Seven said through the device.

“Again,” Sasha exclaimed, her voice full of reproach. “You're a sick team, and a sick man One!”

“Stop talking and drive,” he retorted, hissing between his teeth as Five still tried to get that bullet off his arm.

“We're not leaving until we find this problematic boy of ours,” Seven said and Sasha could hear Three's humming.

“You see these guys, you see them,” One shouted, moving all around,as a car sped up until reaching them and Two grabbed her gun and pulled the trigger. One less. Five just sighed.

“We need to lose them, you can do this,” Two asked and Eight looked at them, smirking.

“I absolutely can,” Sasha replied. Speeding up? She was born to do this.

~~~

Pretty quickly, Sasha managed to lose them all, with Two's help and her knowledge of the roads here – something Sasha missed truly to master this evasion properly. On the backseat, Five managed to get the bullet out of One's arm, not without him cursing for many, many long minutes as her and Two were trying to totally lose these guys. And they succeeded. And so did Seven and Three, finding Four.

“Good news,” Seven's voice almost blasted in everyone's ears, “Four's alive, his mic went off during the explosion.”

“Great,” One groaned, as Sasha sighed in relief. She grew close to all of them, but him and Five especially, and she dreaded the moment she would lose them under any circumstances. She already lost Piotr and Magda. “See, Eight? Nothing to be worried about with Four, he's a grown boy!”

“Yeah, thought you were too but you screamed during the whole thing as Five was trying to get that bullet out your arm,” she replied, driving calmly as Two just nodded. Eight made her laugh, sharp remarks, really nice to hear.

“... You have the right to remain silent,” he pursued and looked at Two to change the subject. “So, the usb key?”

“I have it, don't worry One.”

“I do worry, we never know with you,” he complained as Two rolled her eyes.

As Sasha drove towards the hotel they were staying in, Two and One discussed about the usb key, some details about what they needed there and how to get round the CIA's protections against intruders on their files. Three and One would certainly work on that.

They arrived in the hotel almost forty minutes before the others. Sasha was amazed by the calm of the man at the reception desk when he saw One's arm covered with blood, cursing as he held it. Two spoke to him in French, explaining some things Sasha had no idea about, as she looked at Five who just looked helplessly at her to escape One's ramblings. A sound, the doors of the elevator opened and two men with two massive guns came out, not even casting a look at the small group gathered around the desk. Two told them that this place was safe for any criminal, and that here having a gun was nothing abnormal, but seeing it with her own eyes, as she was accustomed to hide her weapons in Poland, made it look even more surreal than it actually was.

They had three rooms to share, Eight with Five, Two with Three and the rest of the group together. As soon as the group arrived to the room where the three men were about to stay, One decided to display all his electronic devices in order to begin to hack the whole key, with Two's knowledge. Five was still searching through the medical bag they carried in the car for some medicine for One, and trying to stitch his wound, as he typed on the keyboard. And Sasha, Eight, stood next to the large window from where she could see the parking lot, looking for the boys to arrive. And she saw them, her face lightened up instantly. Four was the first one to jump out the car, his hoodie on his blond locks and all covered with dust, she could see it distinctly from there. Seven carried his gun in one hand, not seeming to care too much about people who could see him – he must have noticed some men carrying weapons here – and Three had his sunglasses on, and walked confidently towards the entrance. Sasha told to the group that they arrived. A dozen of minutes later, Three opened the door, carrying a bag with him, followed by Seven and Four.

“Was it all worth it,” Seven asked as he put his gun on the bed that was his now.

“One says it is,” Two replied, looking over One's shoulder. “The man we got had many information, I worked with him in the CIA, and that key is our key to some true good information,” she continued, putting her hand on her hip.

“So what's the status of the research,” Three asked, standing next to Two.

“Either you fucking let me work this out, or you go fuck in the elevator or whatever,” One snapped, and Five put some medicine next to his left hand with a glass of water. She took a deep breath.

“Nasty move,” Seven commented. Four, who remained silent until now, leaning against the wall, only nodded with a hum.

“So sorry I'm not a romantic,” One ironically apologized, “but either you two move your asses and help me a bit with this or this mission will me meaningless!”

“I'm out,” Seven said, standing up to avoid the argument or the tension between the three of them.

“Coming with you,” Four stated, following him.

“I'm staying here Eight,” Five said to you, as you gave her a look. “Need to watch this bad boy right here,” she precised, pointing One's arm.

“Joining you guys,” Sasha finally said, Four still holding the door for her.

[banashee]

I’m on a roll today, so there is another bingo square of the @badthingshappenbingo​

Prompt: buried alive.

Trigger warnings for the obvious: survival horror, panic, trauma and anxiety. Also blood and injury

*+~

 Trapped in the dark

 One moment, Tony is throwing back drinks amongst a group of strangers, fake-laughing at some shitty joke, then he’s starting to feel dizzy. What happens next, he’s got no idea, but the glass slips out of his hand, shattering on the floor and spilling champagne everywhere.

 Tony blacks out before he even hits the floor.

     When he wakes up in a small, dark room, he manages to remain completely calm.

 The sensation of coming back to consciousness in a strange place is something that Tony is getting depressingly used to, so he tries to stretch out his limbs in preparation to get the fuck out of - wherever he is. He doesn’t know. It’s hot and sticky in here, and there is already sweat pooling down his face and into the collar of his shirt.

 And now that he tried to move, he’s realizing just how tight this space must be. His feet and hands collide with walls before he can even stretch out completely - which is concerning, given that he’s not especially tall in the first place. But it tells him that he is trapped in a box - carefully, very carefully, he does not think the word “coffin” because then he’ll freak out right away.

 But it’s essentially what this is - him trapped in a fucking coffin. Maybe or maybe not buried somewhere. he doesn’t know - yet. He’ll have to find out, sooner rather than later.

 Panic rises up in his throat, heart beating fast but he forces himself to remain as calm as humanly possible.

 If he had any time or air to spare, he’d have laughed out loud in desperation.

 He’s read so many books, seen so many movies where people have been buried alive, and yet, despite the shit he’s lived through, Tony would never have thought he’d have to experience this first hand. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

     “Stay calm. Don’t waste any air. Get out. You can fall apart later.”     he thinks to himself, and it sounds easy enough in his head. He knows it’s not, but thinking about that right now will not be helpful in any way.

 Moving is hard, but Tony is flexible.

 He manages to get off the buckle of his belt - a big, heavy and pretentiously expensive thing. Solid. It’s the best tool he’s got on him right now. Whoever put him here didn’t think to remove it - thank fuck. He puts it down under himself to keep it safe and in reach, then he pushes off his suit jacket. Once he got that, he’s sweating even more but Tony still keeps his breathing slow and even. He can do this.

 Pulling up his shirt over his head is not easy in here, but it’s doable. Then he knots it together at the top  so the small space under the fabric protects him from inhaling any dirt.

 Once he’s got a plan and working on it, it is kind of remarkable how calm Tony is.

 He’s determined to get out, if only out of sheer spite, just so he can wave his middle fingers at the bastards who did this in a final giant “Fuck you!” before he makes his way back home.

 Home.

 The other Avengers are hopefully missing him by now - they must be, because otherwise it’ll be one hell of a lot longer until he gets away from here.

 One time, just one goddamn time he      doesn’t     pack his frickin’ suit and see where it lands him - buried alive fuck knows where.

 Tony swears he’ll implant the thing into himself once he’s out of here so this kind of shit will never happen again - and if it does, he’ll be able to blast himself out in a matter of seconds, instead of having to blindly hack his way out of a wooden box with his belt buckle, dirt crumbling through the openings he created.

 Wriggling like a worm, and pushing the soil down to his feet, he manages to stay on top of the whole thing. He kicks back the earth and digs his way up with bare hands. He can feel the pain, blood running down his hands and fingernails ripping away. He doesn’t care and keeps going.

 Every muscle in his body is straining, and when he looks back onto the situation later, he wouldn’t be able to tell where that strength and will to keep going even came from.

 But he makes it.

 After minutes of agony, finally, he can smell the fresh air from outside, and it’s the most precious thing he’s ever smelled in his entire life.

 Gasping for air, he pulls his shirt back down, and collapses on the ground, just breathing for a little while, keeping the rising panic in check. He’s in a forest, but he’s able to hear the traffic of a nearby street.

 Pulling himself together and up from the soft, earthen ground, he staggers towards the noise, straining his ears and looking around him to make sure no one is following or waiting for him.

 Tony doesn’t think about how terrifying he must look, covered in dirt, clothes ripped and with no shoes on, bleeding profusely from his hands and who knows where else. It doesn’t even register to him, too relieved he actually managed to get out, until he enters the nearest gas station. The cashier looks at him in horror, dropping canned drinks on the counter and almost shierking,

 “Oh my god, are you okay, Sir? Do you need me to call 911?”

 He’s sorry for scaring the poor girl - she looks barely older than 20 at the most, and having a dirty, bleeding dude stumble through the door in a night shift can’t be a pleasant experience.

 “No, no 911. But could I use a phone, please? And some water. Water would be great.” he rasps out, and she’s already handing him a bottle of water before he can finish.

 “Thanks, uh-” he squints at her name tag, “Joyce. Thank you.” His voice is raspy, and he’s coughing heavily from his dry throat.

 Joyce smiles hesitantly, offering the foot stool she just used to stand on while filling up the top shelves for him to sit on, and a few paper towels so he doesn’t bleed all over the place. Ah, shit.

 “Sorry for the mess.” Tony says quietly, and drains the rest of the water. He doesn’t ask for another bottle, but Joyce hands him one anyway, clearly worried he’ll die or pass out on her.

 “What happened to you?” she asks hesitantly, and he cringes, working hard to keep the rising panic at bay.

 “Life.” he says, and then, after a pause. “I don’t remember much but I got out. Kinda need a phone though - I must have lost mine. Didn't have it on me when I woke up. A shame really, it was a prototype… Gotta have to start all over again… Ah, thanks.” he adds, taking the phone from her with a small smile and dials the number.

 The sound of JARVIS voice is the best thing he’s heard all day. He interrupts his automatic greeting, simply calling his name and the AI sounds just as relieved to hear him like any human would.

 “Sir, I am currently tracking your location and sending the coordinates to the team - they’re already on their way and looking for you. We are all very worried.”

 “Thanks, J. You’re the best.”

 “May I please connect you to Captain Rogers, Sir? The team is very concerned about your well-being.”

 Tony slumps back on his seat, leaning against the counter.

 “Yeah, sure.” A second later, Steve's voice replaces JARVIS on the other end, and he sounds equal parts worried and relieved.

 “Tony, are you okay? Where are you?”

 “Hey, good to hear you, too. Okay-ish. Gas-station. No idea where, but you’ll get coordinates from JARVIS.”

 “Okay, okay. We’re on our way, we’ll be there soon. Sit tight, yeah?”

 “Not going anywhere. Thanks, Cap.” he’s tired, and only notices his slip up when Joyce looks at him, understanding dawning on her face.

 When Tony hangs up and gives the phone back to her, she looks shocked.

 “You are-”

 “Yeah. Hi.”

 Joyce blinks. Then, slowly, nods to herself and leaves it at that - Tony is eternally grateful for it. He doesn’t have it in him to deal with anything else right now.

 “You have someone come get you?” she finally asks, and he nods.

 “They’re on their way.”

 A surprisingly short while later, a car speeds up onto the property and stops right in front of the door - Tony feels relief when a familiar redhead stalks out of it, rushing in and quickly crossing the room as soon as she spots him.

 “Fancy seeing you here, Nat.”

 Tony is ashamed to say that his voice is holding a slight shake by now - he’s not sure if he’ll fall apart or fall asleep first - he kind of hopes for sleep, first. He’s really not up for dealing with panic attacks on top of everything else right now.

 “Likewise.” Natasha carefully pulls him up, concern clear on her face. “You look like shit.”

 “Well, yeah.” He slumps into her, and she puts an protective arm around his slightly larger form - it doesn’t look like he’ll be able to do much at this point. He’s really, really glad to see her, though.

 “Thank you for your help.” Natasha tells Joyce, acknowledging her with a small nod and the hint of a smile. It’s not that she means to be rude or dismissive - quite the contrary,  she is immensely thankful for the young woman's help, but she wants to get her friend home and to medical care as soon as possible.

 About a week later, Joyce will receive a check with more 0’s than she’s ever seen at once in the mail. With it, a handwritten note with only a few words on it:

     “Thank you for helping me. Let me know if I can ever help you.”    followed by an email address - she’ll stare at it in stunned surprise, not knowing what to even think about it all but keeping the letter in a safe place.

 When they sit in the car, Natasha helps Tony with the seat belt when his bloody fingers seem to give up - grabbing anything just hurts too much at this point and he’s sluggish and exhausted.

 Then they’re on the way to the jet where the team is already waiting, and when Natasha looks at him, something dark and predatory creeps into her eyes. She doesn’t need to be told what happened - the state of Tony, his clothes, and his hands tells her everything she needs to know.

 Unfortunately, she knows exactly what it looks like when a person needs to free themselves from a buried box in the ground - it had been part of her training when she was young. She still wakes up in cold sweat when she dreams about it, decades later.

 “Who did this to you?” Natasha asks, tone carefully even.

 Tony looks over at her, heavy lidded and too worn out even for panic - he’ll have to deal with that later, but that’s okay - at least, he’ll be home or at least surrounded by friends then.

 “I don’t know their names.” he tells her truthfully. If he did, he would have told her, knowing that it would be their death sentence as soon as Natasha, or Clint for that matter, would find out who and where they are.

     They still find out later, because they’re good at this kind of stuff, and the people who are responsible for hurting Tony end up in a cold grave in the ditch somewhere.

 Tony is not entirely sure what it says about him that he feels nothing but relief at the death of three men, and the fact that he can call two of the most dangerous people in the world part of his family.

 Then again, if this kind of thing ever happened to any of them and he’d manage to get his hands on whoever did it - he, too, would be capable of cold blooded murder.

 As it is, being home and knowing the team is close makes him sleep easier at night, even when he’s still plagued with insomnia and nightmares. Only now, the horrors in his mind wear the face of a dark, tight space and the smell of dirt added to it.

 It leaves him gasping for air, clawing at his throat and panicking for hours on end.

 But the comfort of a warm and clean bed, plenty of breathable air and the occasional company of a friend next to him help more than he could ever tell them.

 He tightly holds onto them, and breathing is a whole lot easier then.

 *+~

     Square 4: Buried alive  

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 11

AO3 link here

Shelby Peterson’s family has been to Disneyland and Disney World, which means she has been on an airplane four whole times. Shelby Peterson has taken pictures with Mickey, Minnie, Pooh Bear, and all seven of the dwarves. Shelby Peterson’s favorite rides is the Rocket Jets, but she likes the Alice in Wonderland teacups too because sometimes they spin so much that her little sister throws up. Shelby Peterson thinks that the Swiss Family Treehouse is so boring that she considered writing to the people at Disney Studios to tell them to come up with something better. Shelby Peterson thinks it’s a real shame that not everyone can experience the most magical place on Earth.

Steve hates Shelby Peterson.

He knows she’s a fifth grader and he knows he’s never met her, but if Nate brings even the specter of her into the house again, Steve’s banning her name.

It’s only because it’s Nate that he hasn’t already. He doesn’t say any of it in a wheedling way, or faux casually while peering up through his eyelashes to see how the information is landing. He doesn’t put it forward as if demanding anything. He drops the comments randomly - after spitting toothpaste into the sink, as he pulls out his math folder in the afternoon, when he asks if the peaches on the backyard tree are still too hard to eat - as if they are always turning over in his mind. His words are always simple and considered, the way Nate is, but there’s a jealousy there, a deep longing that makes Steve’s own brain start working.

“Have you thought about what you want to do with your vacation this year?” he asks Peggy. They have made sure over the past few years that Peggy takes at least two weeks off from carrying too much of the world on her shoulders. “I thought this summer might be a good time to take a trip. Rosie’s going to be starting college in the fall, Drea’s had a pretty tough year, and where have our kids gone in their lives? Brooklyn, up to Howard’s place in Maine, a little time at the beach here and there?”

They stand side by side at the kitchen sink - it’s one of their nights to do the dishes. Steve’s wedding ring (the replacement, which he’s grown quite fond of in its own right) sits on the countertop as he scrubs and rinses a frying pan then hands it to Peggy to dry. She circles the towel over it with an amused expression.

“Is this about Shelby Peterson?” she asks indulgently, slotting the pan into the rack. “Have you finally been convinced to experience Mr. Disney’s dreamland despite the expense?”

Steve finishes the last of the cutlery and hands it off to her, letting the scummy water circle down the drain. “Not exactly,” he says. “But if you can free up some time in August, I thought we might experience something else.”

They shuffle the kids out of bed at 6 AM, dressed in sweaters and comfortable clothing for the car and carrying their own pillows and blankets. The station wagon was packed the night before, its spacious trunk filled with suitcases, and once everyone is tucked in and already dozing again, they set off.

Peggy squeezes Steve’s hand and leans to take a catnap herself. The sun rising behind them, Steve pulls out of the driveway. As they move easily through quiet, empty streets, Steve looks in the rearview at his sleepy family. When he takes the time to consider it, when he isn’t caught up in the day-to-day routine of it all, there’s a strangely tinged sweetness in looking at them. They are the loves of a life he nearly didn’t have, and he is so grateful that he has had the opportunity to know them and be loved by them, for them to know and love each other.

He smiles to himself: he has no idea why Peggy thought this would be a rough trip.

By 9 AM everyone is up again and clamoring for breakfast.

By 10, they’re returning to the car following a nasty fight in the diner between Rose and Drea over whether they should both get pancakes or if one of them should get French toast (Rose: “It makes sense to have one of each! Then we can trade, a taste for a taste.” Drea: “You wouldn’t stop at just a taste! You’d probably eat all of yours and half of mine!”).

By 11, everyone is stewing in the aftermath of the argument between Nate and Drea as they’d returned to the car (Drea: “You can’t have that seat - you know we’re supposed to trade, plus I had dibs on that one and you know I get nauseous.” Nate: “The first part of the ride was short! Trades only count when it’s been hours. And we all know you’re faking because you just don’t like the back.”) and another between - surprisingly - Rose and Emma because Rosie refused to root around under the seats for Em’s sky blue colored pencil (Emma: “But you have the longest arms! They’re so long, it will be easy for you.” Rose: “I’m sorry, my weird long arms are busy.”)

Steve refuses to look over at Peggy, even as they stop for bathrooms, gas, and lunch around 1.

They divide into a kids’ room and a parents’ room at the motel in Indianapolis that night. Through the wall, Steve can hear the four of them bickering about who should have to share beds with who.

“I have no idea whether or not Rosie’s snoring is the equivalent of Nate’s kicking, but if they don’t go to sleep soon I don’t know that it will matter,” Peggy mumbles.

“If they’re tired out, it might make things easier tomorrow,” Steve suggests.

“I’m not certain that you’re in a place to comment,” she tells him, and rolls over to go to sleep.

Peggy takes the first driving shift the next morning, outfitting herself with sunglasses and a determined expression. They’re supposed to make it to Missouri by tonight.

“You look great today,” Steve tries about ten minutes down the highway, but Peggy just raises a waspish eyebrow at him and puts her foot to the gas. He sighs and tries to find a comfortable way to stretch his legs as he takes out his book.

The kids are following his example in the back, having each apparently elected to give the silent treatment to the rest. He isn’t sure how effective it is when they’re all doing it, but at least it’s quiet. Quiet enough that with the road whizzing beneath them and the scenery blurring outside, Steve actually falls asleep.

When he wakes up, Peggy is saying sternly, “No dirty words, Rose,” and Rosie is replying back, “I just said that we should look for signs that have the letters F and U in them! We’ve gone through the whole alphabet already, we have to move on to combinations. It’s just logic.”

“I can do without that logic,” Steve tells her, straightening in his seat and clearing his throat. “Your mother’s right, pick something else.”

“Hello, again,” Peggy says to him as he scrubs his fingers over his eyes to clear them. Behind them, the kids are reminding each other of the rules for Twenty Questions.

“Hey.” He smiles over at her. “I didn’t think I’d slept that long. Are these our same kids from this morning?”

“They are, they’ve simply remembered that they actually like one another.”

“Mom, Emma says that Drea’s pushing on the back of her seat!”

“That’s what happens when I’m all the way back here! My legs need somewhere to go.”

“Well, they like each other most of the time,” Steve says, and points to an awning beside the road proclaiming Dolly’s, the smaller print below reading Hamburgers, Floats, Fries. “And they’ll probably like each other more after lunch.”

Their motel that night has a pool, and the fact that none of the kids beg for a swim before bed should probably be a tipoff that something is up. Steve is still awake and reading at 11 when there’s a splash outside the window. He brushes back the curtain and stretches up as much as he can from his position sitting up against the wall. Rosie and Drea have already jumped in, and Nate is climbing down the ladder. Emma seems content to simply dangle her feet, at least for now.

“Are you going to tell them off?” Peggy mumbles into his shirt from where she’s dozing on his shoulder.

“Nah.” Steve closes his book and puts it on the bedside table. He leans over and rests his face into Peggy’s hair for a moment. “Hey, Peg,” he finally says, kissing the top of her head with his eyes closed. “You brought a swimsuit too, didn’t you?”

The night manager comes out at half past midnight to grumble at them that the pool’s closed, and when they go to check out, a charge has been added to their bill for a noise violation. Steve’s about ready to argue that he isn’t paying for any made up fine, but then he watches Nate and Emma guarding the luggage in the corner, interrupting each other with eagerness as they recall the underwater somersault contest they had with Peggy the night before.

He pays the charge.

They drive past a sign advertising a local square dance in one of towns near the border of Oklahoma, and even though they’re meant to just be driving through, the kids want to see it badly enough that they while away the rest of the day and put together the most appropriate outfits they can find from what remains in their suitcases.

It’s too intimidating for the kids to actually participate. Even Rose, who is usually difficult to embarrass, doesn’t attempt a venture into the fast paced synchronicity in front of her. But they enjoy themselves anyway, clapping along to the beat that echoes from the huge tent which has been set up, trying to translate the unfamiliar language of the dance for Emma, and appreciating the energy of the caller, a grinning, red-faced man whose enthusiasm only increases as the evening goes on, until he’s ending each number with a bellowed “Yeehaw, it’s done!”

For the rest of the trip, whenever something is completed - a meal or a book, the drive through another state - it will be inevitably and solemnly announced, “Yeehaw, it’s done.”

The plan had been to have arrived in time to celebrate Nate’s birthday, but the stop in Oklahoma puts them a bit off. They end up in a joint called Elmer’s for his celebratory dinner, which Steve doesn’t think looks particularly promising, until he meets Myra, the brains behind the operation.

She doesn’t even let them order, just brings out family sized dishes of lasagna and garlic bread and some kind of broccoli dish that all the kids actually eat. When they mention that it’s Nate’s birthday, she nods solemnly and asks how old he is. The cake, topped with eleven candles plus one to grow on, arrives at the end of the meal, so enormous that Myra has to balance it on both arms.

“How did you know what kind I wanted?” Nate asks her, wide-eyed, as they get ready to go. “No one ever guesses that I like white frosting but chocolate cake inside.”

Myra taps the side of her nose. “Restaurant owner secret.”

(Emma won’t leave until Myra’s given up her lasagna recipe, even though she and Steve have been perfecting their own for years.)

“If we’re just going to find a place for the night,” Rosie asks slyly as they return to the car, “why don’t I drive?”

“No,” Steve says firmly, only to find himself echoed by everyone else. Rose is a maniac driver. He’d tried to give her a couple of lessons but couldn’t concentrate on advice when he was consistently formulating strategies for evasive maneuvers - he was certainly getting older, but he could probably still get the two of them out if it came to it. It is common family wisdom that she’d only been licensed to drive because the examiner had interpreted her handling of the test course as a direct threat on his life.

Keeping a tight grip on the keys, Steve says, “I’m actually in the mood to drive a little more. You all go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when I find somewhere to stop.”

He turns off of I-40 around 5 AM. The sun is just beginning to trickle up the horizon. He leans over and runs his fingers over Peggy’s cheek.

“Are we there?” she asks, her voice soft and sleepy. She blinks a few times, slow, groggy, barely opening her eyes, and stretches a bit. “Have you accomplished your latest bullheaded idea?”

“Almost. Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”

“I always will,” she says. “You know that.”

He drives the rest of the way with one hand on the wheel, the other hand holding hers.

They don’t quite make it before sunrise, but that’s alright. There isn’t anyone much there: it’s chilly, a Monday morning. The kids bundle themselves up in their blankets as they stumble from the car. They are still in their clothes from dinner last night.

They stand together on the rim of the Canyon, looking out.

“This is it,” Steve signs when no one says anything first. He wonders if they’re regretting letting themselves get dragged all the way across the country. Maybe this isn’t enough for them the way he had thought it would be.

Then Drea says, “The world is so big.” For once she does not stretch the sign to exaggeration; it is held against her chest in wonder, a whisper. She looks up at him. “Dad, did you know the world is so big?”

He smiles down at her. “I had a bit of an idea.”

They start to drive back at night after two days at and around the Grand Canyon. It’s the only way Mom is going to get back in time for her to start work again, and everyone still has to go back-to-school shopping.

“At least you let us prepare this time,” Rosie grumps as they climb into the car. “No one likes sleeping in their jeans, Dad.”

Dad just kisses the top of her head and says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nate, like all his siblings, falls asleep pretty easily on car rides. But he wakes up a little while later and isn’t sure why. It’s really dark out, even darker than at home, and the stars look pretty from where his head is leaning by the window. Mom and Dad are talking softly up front. He likes when they do that. It makes him feel safe.

“I’ve been thinking,” Mom says. “It seems to me that once the cost of the various food and lodgings, the gas and souvenirs and all the rest have been tallied up, a trip to Orlando might have been more cost effective.”

“Maybe,” says Dad. “But wasn’t this worth it?”

“Hmm,” says Mom in that smiling way she does when Dad makes a good point. “I suppose it was.”

Nate remembers doing handclaps across the car seat with Emma until his palms were sore and they declared themselves world champions, making Rosie laugh until she’d almost peed in the pool, trying to remember the square dance steps with Drea even though he was too short and she was too tall and they kept tripping over each other. He remembers his birthday cake. He remembers Mom leaning over to Dad that first day at the Canyon and asking very quietly, “You really never saw it before? In all that time?” and the way he’d replied, “No. I guess I was waiting to see it with all of you,” and how Nate had felt all lit up inside from hearing that.

Worth it, Nate thinks drowsily, and closes his eyes again as Dad drives them steadily through the dark.

He’ll have plenty of stories of his own to tell Shelby Peterson when sixth grade starts.

[gnusnoteunuchs]

2018 Kia Niro Plug-In

It kinda looks like a hatchback...but those are some big wheels.

What is it?

The Kia Niro is a hatchback for 21st century America, with all of the connotations that come with that. It's billed as a small, efficient, city driver crossover with all the bells and whistles expected of mid-market crossovers in the modern US market. The Niro is a mature, sophisticated car with none of the youthful energy of smaller, cheaper Kia models; it's very clearly a car that you graduate

to

rather than

from

.

The Niro shares the Hyundai Ioniq's powertrain, featuring a 1.6L Atkinson-cycle engine, parallel electric motor, and six-speed dual clutch transmission, but rather than being a Prius-esque fastback family car, it takes the shape of a low-riding crossover.

What is it like? The best crossovers are truly the weird ones; normal crossovers fall into the forgettable intersection of okay fuel economy, okay internal space, and an okay balance between performance and comfort that fails to impress much in either regard. Examples of "weird" crossovers that are hard to forget might be the Pontiak Aztek with...everything about it really, the Cadillac SRX with its fins and strangely ornate interior with glowing crystal-like turn signal indicators, and the Subaru Outback, that was more like a lifted station wagon than anything else. Does the Niro fall here? Sort of. The Kia Niro is really a crossover in name only. It's much shorter than other crossovers, and has a sedan-like wheelbase and turning circle, but it has a somewhat cramped interior that results from its higher floor. The cramped feeling is exacerbated by the thick C and D pillars, made necessary by rollover protection strengthening, itself inflated by the heavy curb weight of the car. The Niro, though a midsize vehicle with a compact wheelbase, weighs 3000 pounds, well above most compact-midsize sedans like my 8th gen Civic. That weight is one of the main things that keeps the Niro from purely feeling like a taller hatchback. Fortunately, the Niro is still somewhat lighter than its competitors, and sits lower, too; it features a fairing under the engine compartment, variable radiator intake area, and a sloped rear roofline that reduce drag and improve highway fuel economy and noise. The Niro is very good on noise; its engine is quiet except when it's in sport mode, and it nearly always shuts off at stops except for when HVAC or electric demands mandate otherwise. Wind noise is not really a concern, the brakes are inaudible, and the suspension damps out most nasty bumps. The interior is very advanced and sophisticated, and has many features I don't fully understand, coming from an outdated car like my Civic. The Niro has adaptive cruise control, lane following, phone connectivity, built in satnav, multiple menus that are controllable through steering wheel buttons, a versatile stereo, and heated steering wheel and seats that, in cold weather, prevent the driver from having to activate the gas engine in order to stay warm, though these heaters obviously cut into electric range. The Niro is quite contemporary technologically, and offers all the strange and confusing connectivity and assistance options that modern cars are expected to. Curiously, though it features keyless start, retracting side mirrors, and one-touch locking, the rear gate is manually actuated, and seems to have no internal release. One of the only complaints I hold about the interior features is that it’s difficult to actually shut off the multimedia display; the owners of this car used the special configurable button on the entertainment console to just turn that screen off; I think Kia should have made it easier to just disable that distracting display straight out of the factory.

I’ve seen flight simulators with fewer buttons than this steering wheel. I was afraid to touch nearly all of these options.

Mechanically, the Niro is a very crowded car; perhaps its most impressive aspect is the fact that Kia was able to squeeze everything they needed into such a compact vehicle. It has a remarkably compact rear suspension setup, squeezed in between the gas tank, batteries, and muffler, and it uses a tire sealant and reinflation kit in place of a spare because the space a donut would take is used instead by part of the extensive battery system. The 12 volt starter battery is placed in the trunk, as all available space under the hood is used by the sophisticated propulsion system. The air cleaner doubles as the decorative cowling over the engine, as the normal location for an air cleaner is occupied by a switching or coolant system casing for the electric motor, as is any space that a battery might occupy under the hood. I'm willing to guess that the main reason the Niro is naturally aspirated is the fact that there simply isn't space for a turbocharger and intercooler.

The Niro’s amazingly crowded engine compartment.

How does it drive? The Niro's driving characteristics point to the fact that it wants to be many different things. It has a fully electric mode that, if you opt for the more expensive plug-in version, gives you about 20 miles of electric range, provided you drive with a light foot and prevent the engine from kicking in. If the engine does kick in, it's no great impact to efficiency; it's a small 1.6L I4 that developes a cute 103hp due to its highly efficient Atkinson cycle; I'm pretty sure I could drive the Niro in sport mode all the time, taking my time on the upshifts, and I would still get comparable or better fuel economy than my 2006 Civic. The electric motor, attached to the crankshaft, develops about 45 hp on the conventional hybrid, and about 60 on the plug-in hybrid, and while this makes for sedate all-electric acceleration, it bolsters the engine's power quite nicely when the driver demands grunt. Sport mode makes the Niro angry; however, it's a heavy car that makes hatchback power and as such, it's pretty easy to manage. Putting your foot down can lead to some entertaining wheelspin, but the Niro isn't powerful enough to scare you. Sport mode also makes the engine much more lively, and its excited exhaust note and faster throttle response are very obvious in sport mode. The dual clutch transmission's manual mode is part of sport mode, and the driver is free to let the transmission do its own shifts or tell it what they want. Either way, the DCT shifts fast and gets power on the road well, but it sometimes makes questionable shift decisions in normal driving. One strange caveat to sport mode is the surprisingly low redline of the engine, at 5500 rpm. For better or for worse, the ECU protects this redline quite aggressively, and is not afraid to upshift or reduce throttle settings to ensure the engine doesn't exceed its normal operating parameters. My guess for this low redline is that it results from the engine's Atkinson cycle operation, and the need to reduce the risk of knock.

Get a load of those taillights and the fake rear diffuser and spoiler. I’m sporty, I promise!

The Niro's brakes are also a little strange; it uses regenerative braking very heavily, which I welcome, but it seems reluctant to begin to apply its mechanical brakes until the pedal is firmly depressed; using sport mode does not fix this. If you have the Niro in sport mode and you're pushing it hard, get used to shoving the brake pedal to get real mechanical braking in addition to the...perhaps unenthusiastic electric-only braking performance. In my opinion, sport mode should bias heavily towards mechanical braking, in order to get more linear and predictable braking force relative to pedal pressure. Additionally, it would be nice if the Niro had a second Drive shifter detent that biased towards regenerative braking very heavily, in order to make mechanical braking in normal Drive more predictable and easier to access; something like the Prius' B transmission mode would be nice. The Niro also doesn't manage the balance between electric and gas power smoothly all the time; fortunately for the driver, there is a "power indicator" needle in place of a normal tachometer, that tells the driver whether they are using regenerative braking, using electric power, or are demanding more power of the vehicle than is optimally efficient. This is similar to the efficiency meter of the Prius, but it mimics a tachometer in appearance. In sport mode, an actual tachometer appears, and lists the revs both numerically and with an unlabeled needle. 

Note the sport mode tachometer that appears between the physical speedometer and power use gauges. It actually helps a lot when shifting manually, even though it’s a little small.

The Niro has decent handling, surprisingly good for a crossover. The suspension is well-damped but responsive, and keeps the car flat and the driver confident in harder turns. There is no jittery feeling at higher speeds, and the suspension seems to manage the considerable weight of the car quite well. When parking, the Niro does not feel large at all, and the electric power steering enables effortless palm-movement of the steering wheel without making the car over-sensitive on the highway. The Niro is no hot hatch, but its well-balanced suspension makes corners fun rather than intimidating, though it obviously shouldn't be your first pick for autocross. Sport mode's fast throttle response, the heavy maximum braking capacity, and good handling make the Niro an enthusiastic car to drive. The huge mirrors reduce blind spots substantially, and for a less flexible driver, blind spot warning sensors and a backup camera make merging and parking much easier. The easygoing nature of the car's normal driving characteristics as well as its many parking and highway driving assistance features all make the Niro a very good runabout for both in-town and intercity trips, though there are many cars I would pick over it for long highway cruises. The Kia Niro finds a medium between the heavy, quiet comfort of well-made crossovers and the light handling and outstanding efficiency of hatchbacks and hypermiling hybrids respectively. Does it do any of these things perfectly? No, of course not. However, it's a car that manages to do okay at nearly everything it sets out to do, and that's more than I can say of most cars.

If you squint, it’s a hatchback. Okay, take your glasses off. It looks pretty small, right?

Who is it for? The Kia Niro is for the driver who wants hybrid efficiency and hatchback size, but doesn't want to be associated with Prius and all the connotations, good and bad, that come with it. The Niro isn't all wheel drive, so it is closer to a hatchback than an SUV, and it has solid handling that makes it feel lighter under the wheel, but the driver can't forget entirely its 3000lb curb weight. The Niro is for the sensible in-town driver that likes to cut loose and have a little fun in the countryside sometimes, but without impacting the comfort of their everyday commute. The Kia Niro is a confused car that tries to be many things, but actually succeeds at being some of them. If you want a sensible hybrid hatchback, but you still want driving fun and a throaty engine that shouts proudly as you pass Prius drivers in sport mode, then the Niro is the car for you. Just remember how heavy it is when it's time to hit the brake.

[magicalcreeks]

can i get a motherfuggin uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh creek 6 ?

oof I hope this is the right prompt I didn’t double check. I also hope you like it because i wrote this in like five mins without proof reading ahhhhh :^)

6. “What are you doing in my bed?”

…

This entire trip was a dumb idea from the moment it was presented by Clyde, to Craig who thought it would be neat for the gang to have one last hurrah before college.

‘Lets all go on a road trip to the Grand Canyon!’ Clyde exclaimed in a glee too exciting for the late hour he called.

Of course, in theory, it sounded like a good plan; they had a car, enough money between all of them, and a supply of food so they wouldn’t have to make several stops at the nearest gas station for snacks.

However, plans can be altered, a tiny bump in the road, a minor inconvenience. “Shit,” Token swore as he lifted the hood of the car to be greeted by a good helping of white smoke. This didn’t look good, and according to the GPS there wasn’t a car repair shop for miles, “I knew I should have taken my car.”

“Your car can’t fit five people,” Craig poked his head out from the window, turning the key on Token’s command only to see more smoke come out.

“At least it’s not a piece of junk.”

“Not all of us are rich, Token,” Craig sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, not in the mood to argue with someone who was right. His car was supposed to get fixed weeks ago when he discovered a leak, now they were possibly stranded on an open road in a completely different state.

Slamming the hood down, Token pulled out his phone to check for a nearby sign of civilization. He raised his phone in the air to hopefully get more than two bars, “if we can find a cheap motel nearby we can leave the car here overnight, rest, then call a tow truck in the morning,” Clyde suggested from the passengers seat, fanning himself with a flimsy napkin that did nothing to keep him cool.

Craig grimaced, “no way, I’m not leaving my car here.”

“C-C’mon C-C-Craig,” Jimmy was sitting quietly in the backseat, but even he was growing hot, hungry, and tired from such an uncomfortable journey. Tweek made a noise next to him, causing Craig to sigh once more when he knew he was outnumbered.

“Help me push the fucking car,” he told Clyde, opening then slamming the car door in frustration.

“Oh, I found a motel. It’s only three miles ahead.”

…

It took them two and a half hours to push the car into the motel parking lot. To say they were exhausted was an understatement. Between the burning sun above them and the thin air, they all felt as if they were about to pass out.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Tweek declared, sluggishly moving on tired legs to follow after Jimmy and Token who decided to go to the front desk to check in. A motel this early in the trip was not apart of their budget. Hopefully, it won’t be too expensive.

“We’re making memories, man,” Clyde nudged his elbow into Craig’s side, earning a glare chilled enough to send a shiver down his heated body. Clyde went to the backseat to fetch them two bottles of lukewarm water bottles.

“Cheers, I know this wasn’t in the plan but it’s still fun, right?”

Craig opened the cap to his water bottle then viciously fought the urge to pour it over his head. Right now he needed a nice shower and a good nights sleep. There was no way in hell he was driving anymore during this trip.

Token returned to them with two key cards in hand, “this one is for you-“

Craig snatched it before he could finish his sentence, already on his way to his room without as much as a second glance between him.

He stopped at the door matching his room key number, opening it up and then turning on the buzzing fluorescent light. The room smelled like wet moss and mothballs; the bed didn’t look any better. He didn’t bother to kick his shoes off when he flung himself into his temporary bed.

The bed was firm and lumpy, much too lumpy for his liking and the sheets were scratchy. Craig only hoped he could get a good enough sleep to figure out what the hell they were going to do in the morning. Worst case scenario he was going to have to leave his car here than have it shipped back to Colorado.

Craig turned on his back now, looking up at a pair of blue eyes staring back at him, “Tweek?” He said calmly even though he was spooked to see him. He didn’t even hear the door open.

“Uh, what are you doing in my bed, man?” Tweek fumbled with his fingers as he always did when he was in an uncomfortable situation. Not saying that he was uncomfortable around Craig, however, ever since they broke off their fake relationship it’s been a little strange being around him.

“I thought this was my room?” Now confused, Craig sat up on the springy bed. Shit, what the hell was Token playing at? If only he could see that smug look on his face.

“I- I can take the sofa if you want,” Tweek offered.

“Are you kidding me? Look at that thing. There’s enough room for the both of us…”

“Are you sure?”

Craig patted the spot next to him as a way to say ‘yes’. Again he laid back on the bed, turning his back to Tweek and facing the stained lamp next to him. The tension between them could be sliced with a knife. He hated how weird it got between them, which was probably one of the many reasons he was so against this trip in the first place.

He knew Tweek sat down when he felt the added weight drop on the bed. Holding in his breath, “this trip fucking sucks.”

Craig could not help but chuckle at his bluntness, “Yeah, it does,” he agreed, turning on his back once more. Now their shoulders were only a few inches apart.

“I’m glad you came. I was worried that you wouldn’t come because of me…”

Craig stared at the ceiling but could feel the nerves in his voice. He was afraid to look over at Tweek and see him picking on the bandages usually wrapped around his fingers, knowing if he saw it he would be inclined to stop him by taking his hand. There were invisible boundaries between them now, at least, that’s what Craig thought.

“And miss this train wreck? No fucking way.”

Now it was Tweek’s turn to laugh. It sounded natural to Craig’s ears. His finger twitched but he shoved it underneath his thigh.

“I don’t even care about rocks.”

“I doubt Clyde does either. It was just an excuse to get us all together again.”

Tweek hummed a response. A strange silence washed over them where the only sounds heard in the room were the faint noises of their neighbors and cars driving past the motel.

“We could have gone to the boardwalk or something.”

Craig snorted, “Are we even allowed there anymore? Token nearly broke that guy’s nose.”

Tweek laughed again, “Dude, you remember that?”

“Of course. That was the day we…” Craig had to stop himself from going too far down memory lane. Clearing his throat he said, “yeah, it was a wild day.”

“Yeah… I missed this. I missed talking to you, I- It feels like you always avoid me.”

Shit. “Uh, Sorry-“ a yawn interrupted him. He was more tired then he thought, but it he slept now he doesn’t know when he and Tweek would have a chance to be together like this again. No one was stopping them… it was… it was complicated.

“You should get some rest, man,” Tweek suggested, shifting his body more towards the edge of the bed just in case he needed more space. Craig grabbed onto his arm with a loose grip. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation that made him brave, perhaps he missed Tweek more than he made himself believe, whatever it was, he did not want to distance himself away from him again.

“Maybe we can try again?” Craig yawned once more, his eyes watering from the stinging exhaustion. He made the question purposely vague just in case Tweek no longer felt the same way. Their relationship meant something at one point; it could mean so much more if they were both ready. Craig knew he was. There was no way in hell he could start his new college life without Tweek.

“I would like that.”

[catmint-sketchbook]

Two weeks ago I was on my way to work and my car died in the middle of the street. The oil indicator light and the draining battery indicator light came on at the same time and then the engine cut out. I pulled to the side of the road, got, help, and got a ride (thanks Mom and Dad) to work. That was the last time I would ever drive that car. My parents had been urging me to sell it, but I had been putting it off because I loved that car. Even though it was a humble-at-best, crummy-at-worst car, I loved the way it looked and the way it handled, and all the things I had done in it. It was on its last legs, but I thought I would at least have time to say goodbye to it, and that it wouldn’t kick the bucket for good suddenly and without any fanfare. The day after it died was July 4th, so all the auto shops were closed and I had to wait for a proper diagnosis. I wasn’t very optimistic, but I still secretly hoped that maybe, just maybe it could still be fixed without much expense.

I was right to not be optimistic. It wasn’t completely done for, but the repairs would cost $1500 or more, which was about as much as the car was when we bought it. The next thing I knew, my Dad had sold the car for $250 to a mechanic at the Toyota dealership who was interested in fixing it for himself. The last time I saw it was when I went to go clean it out and turn in the keys.

Little car, there was a lot going on with you.

I got you in 11th or 12th grade because I needed a replacement car. I had been driving a blue Ford Ranger which before that had been my sister’s, which before that had been my Dad’s. I loved that car too. I lost it, though, when I was hit by a drunk driver. One evening I was returning home from watching that week’s new episode of Lost at a friend’s house and I made a left turn on a green light. There was a white F-150 in the oncoming lane but I judged it to be a decent distance away. I committed to the turn and the next thing I knew there was a huge smash like a crystal chandelier being hit by a baseball bat, and I was pivoting. When I got out to inspect the damage the cab was fine, but the truck bed was crushed like a soda can and one of the wheels had come completely off. People who had seen the collision from the restaurant across the street said the other driver had accelerated when he saw me turning.

Your steering wheel made a strangely emotive moaning noise whenever you were turned. Whenever I would take someone new for a drive in the car, they would always notice that sound right away and it would make them laugh every time. It always made the car sound tired and distressed, which it probably was.

When we first bought you there was a strange interior smell present that was kind of like Fruit Loops or a strong floral shampoo. Later a peach was found deep under one of your seats, mummified from heat. It must have fallen out of a grocery bag of the previous owner. After we got rid of the peach, the strange smell (mostly) went away.

You had a dimple on the trunk hood from a quarter-sized chunk of hail from a summer storm when you were parked outside.

Your sunroof visor came off for no particular reason on our way to or from college, I forget which.

The spring mechanism for the gas tank door was broken, so my Dad fixed it with a binder clip.

The foldout cupholder in the backseat was permanently unfolded and eventually just fell off entirely.

The door upholstery on the passenger side door came loose after a while and got worse and worse every summer until eventually it just hung off limply. The tinting on your windows was peeling.

The check engine light was always on because of a problem with the gas tank seal, so I could never really tell when something was wrong with you.

The lid to your driver’s side sun shield fell off, so I could always see myself in my peripheral vision when I needed to use the sun visor.

There were some weird scratches and dents on your sides that I don’t know where they came from. Probably parking lot door mishaps.

Your front bumper was newer than the rest of you because we were in an accident. I was driving back to Oklahoma from Savannah and another driver merged directly into the left lane without looking, pushing me into the median. I went from pavement to grass at 75 miles an hour and lost control of the car in my attempt to get back on the highway. The car spun around across the highway and we ended up partially suspended over a creek by a barbed wire fence. The other vehicle never touched mine, but the front bumper and tires ate so much grass and mud in the process that it had to be completely replaced. Later I found out that the other driver had just been told over the phone that his wife had brain cancer, and he was rushing home to see her.

In college I changed my first tire.  It was midterms, and I had to present my progress on my senior film. Normally I would have taken the bus to class, but I was running very late and took the car instead. The back left tire had been a little low on air, but I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I was scarcely out of the dormitory parking lot when I felt the tire shred and heard the screech of the axel on the pavement. I managed to park in a grocery store parking lot. I was already nervous about my soon-to-be lackluster presentation, so after I shredded the tire I was beside myself. I don’t remember what I did after that very well, but I guess I either caught the bus or called a friend to drive me to class. I got there an hour late and presented last. I was nowhere close to where I needed to be on my senior film, which barely had a coherent vision. I gave one of the worst presentations I have ever given and received one of the most brutally honest critiques I have ever been given. I just barely held myself together long enough to slink out of the building and into one of the community rooms of the next door dormitory, where I camped out in the dark and pitched an F5 panic attack. It was one of the worst days of my life.

Later that weekend, when things had calmed down and I had started to plan what I would do to clean up the mess I had made, I went back to where I had left the car and changed the tire. My friend Livali held the owner’s manual and read the instructions to me, and between the two of us we changed the tire without incident.

You had a problem which caused your battery to sometimes disconnect unexpectedly. The mechanic who helped me fix it said this particular model of Camry has short connector wires, whereas most cars of this size have connector wires with a little extra give to them.

There was a big scrape on your front right bumper because I was in a hurry to get somewhere and I pulled into a parking spot too fast.

Throughout it all, you had the worst suspension of basically any car, and it only got worse over time. I could feel the pavement through you like you can feel the ground through very thin socks. I didn’t mind, though. Possibly my occasional passengers did.

There was a lot wrong with you but you had a bangin’ stereo CD player and your AC could make the inside of the car go from 100 Fahrenheit to 75 in like 5 seconds flat.  Bless you, little car. And good luck in your new life.

[peaches-of-1]

Demon AU: 666 So Fresh- Chapter 2

Type: Angst, fluff, romance

Taehyung (V), Yoongi (Suga), OC Zula

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of suicide

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It had taken all night and for the three strangers to get far enough for Yoongi’s comfort. She woke up near 10 am when her phone alarm went off. Her hand slapped it off without the rest of her knowing.

Zula bolted up, “Fuck, my paper’s due in two hours!” She then looked around and remembered everything.

Being demon spawn and a killer, she would probably never show up at school again. All that tuition down the drain. Her parents would kill her, but only one of them would be strong enough to actually do it. The one that was an actual demon.

“Sleep well?” Yoongi smirked.

“Y-yeah, I guess.” She shifted in her seat and looked behind her to see the other man fast asleep in the back seat. “So it was real.” She whispered to herself.

The driver snickered, “Taking you a while to realize that, huh, Demi?”

She glared at him, “Not every day you discover you’re half demon. Kind of hard to believe.” Her attention shifted to the window. “How much longer until we stop? I gotta piss.”

“Soon.” He said. “Almost outta gas.” pointing at the dash.

Zula made a sound in reply and then a loud noise came from the back. A sore Taehyung woke up with a roar and a stretch, hitting his head on the door.

“Ouch!”

The two in the front seat giggled.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Her flute-like voice greeted him.

He smiled at her, “Morning. Aish, I gotta take a piss.”

“That’s what she just said.”

Taehyung met Zula’s eyes even as she tried to hide them away. He couldn’t help but thinking she was hella cute. He was kind of run over by a car last night, so he didn’t think much about actually looking at the people he was with.

“We’re getting close to an exit.” Yoongi said. “Don’t you dare pee in this car, or I’ll end you.”

They pulled up to a pretty small gas station in a pretty deserted town. They went inside to handle their business. Bathroom, gas, and snacks. Luckily, Zula’s rapist had left his wallet in this specific jacket that she had stolen. Wow, a thief and a killer. She really was a demon.

She wasn’t brave enough to use the credit card that was in there. Dude carried enough cash for a decent meal, so she stacked up on chips and gummies and sodas while the others got whatever they wanted. Zula opened the wallet to put the left over cash in and noticed his card was missing.

“Yeah, my boyfriend said it was ok to use it.” Yoongi said, flashing the credit card in the cashier’s face. He smirked knowing she wouldn’t dare cause a scene in a place like this.

“Whatever.” The gothic being said and ran it.

Safe.

Zula just went back into the car and left the door open as she opened the first bottle of root beer. The other man was already in the back eating as well. She wondered where he came from and why such a beautiful face decided to launch himself in front of a moving vehicle.

Yoongi handed Zula the card back. “Thanks.”

“No problem, douche.” She replied with a smile and snatching it back.

He chuckled and leaned on the car, opening a beer bottle. Being raised as a human, Zula knew that drinking and driving was bad. However, she didn’t know how many of those rules applied to Hell Spawn. Probably not.

She still didn’t even know their names. Taehyung was thinking the same thing and was itching to ask her. He didn’t want to get to know her, though, if he was never going to see her again. Yoongi threw his bottle in the trash.

“A demon who cares about the environment.” She snarked.

“We don’t need our second kingdom to be filthy, now do we?” He retorted. “I’m gonna check out the trunk. See what I’ve got.”

Singular. Tae thought. He wasn’t gonna let them tag along. He’d be thrown back into reality with nothing to do and no way to end his horrible life.

“Holy shit!” The brown-haired full demon exclaimed.

If something was enough to surprise him, then it was worth seeing. That’s what the two others decided as they rushed to go see what was up. In the trunk, there was a tan duffel bag overflowing with stacks of money. Based on the face...it was...

Zula gasped, “Holy...”

“Fuck” Taehyung finished.

Yoongi closed the trunk. They were all hundreds. They were rich! As an embodiment of greed, this was all that he had ever wanted. But these two kids knew about it, too.

The girls started hopping around and spinning. “We’re rich! We’re actually rich! I can pay off my tuition!” She was almost in tears. It must have been part of her wildest dreams to have so much money. Didn’t seem like she cared where it came from, either.

“You can’t kick us to the curb now. We know your face and your car, and your secret.”

Brown eyes flickered to the guy inside the gas station who was busy playing on their phone and didn’t seem to pay them any mind. Maybe they should die just in case. The girl stopped spinning and looked at him.

“We’ll report your to the police if you don’t take us with you. Do you know how easily it’ll be to convince them that you’re the one who tricked a poor innocent girl into killing some fratboy asshole?” Zula batted her eyes and pouted.

The kid tilted his head, “She’s got a point.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, you can come with me!”

The girl rushed him with a hug and bounced, not knowing her own affect on him. Her squeals held more joy than any angel could ever muster.

“I’m so happy, I could kiss you!”

Yoongi smirked and raised his brows. She was legal, even for something his age. Then she backed up, releasing the strange demon man and looking around herself.

“But I won’t.” Zula said as she blushed.

The boy with the mullet had sat on the curb, “So, names?”

“Yoongi.” Their savior of sorts introduced himself. “Hell Spawn of Greed.”

“Zula.” She followed his lead. “Demi Spawn of Lust, I guess.”

“Taehyung. Call me Tae.” He stopped there.

They nodded and remembered the names of their new companions and decided to drive off before Human Hot Topic remembered they existed. First place they needed to go was to get new clothes. They asked Yoongi what exactly what powers they had. He had no idea. It differed from Spawn to Spawn.

All they knew for sure was Zula apparently could already access her true form which included claws and stuff. She described more of the attempted rape to get a better understanding. Also, Taehyung couldn’t die. Yoongi had a lot of things that he said they’d find out through being around him so much.

Rolling up to the mall, Zula had one more thing to ask.

“Last night you said that I was Hiding. What’s that?”

“You basically don’t exist. It’s a natural response when you don’t want to be seen, you just aren’t. That street last night was bustling with drunk couples and none of them saw you. It’s just to make sure no one, no human that is, knows what you are.”

Tae asked, “So we can’t control it?”

“Not one bit. At least, you two can’t. Not yet. You’ll learn though.”

As Zula started to get out of the car, Yoongi stopped her.

“Where the Hell do you think you’re going?”

“To the mall? I need to get new clothes, Yoongi. Tae, tell him.” She looked towards her attractive companion for back up.

Yoongi shot him a glare, “She’s covered in blood.”

She sighed, “Fine.” In the middle of the parking lot, she took off her bloodstained top and skirt, revealing shorts underneath. “Blood’s only on the inside of the jacket now, and I’m still clothed enough to be seen in public.”

“Barely.” Tae said, biting his lips and looking her up and down.

Yoongi did the same and laughed, “Yep, your parent came from Lust. No doubt in my mind. Let’s go then.”

The three walked into the place like they owned it in order as to not be seen as suspicious since they were carrying nearly $1,000 each. Yoongi got several new blazers and tons of jeans and hats. Tae got scarves, over-sized dress shirts, and a really expensive camera. Zula bought some blazers and several pairs of shoes. A few formals dresses just in case.

She turned around, wavy black hair fanning slightly as she met his dark brown eyes that seemed to glitter.

“Zula, Come with me to put the clothes in the car. He doesn’t trust me with the keys by myself.”

Her eyes turned to Yoongi who gave a shrug. He wasn’t a flight risk, per say, just a bit. Yeah.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you, Tae.”

The other one bought some more things. Apparently, the money was good since no cops or guards had shown up yet. The handsome cashier tried to make conversation about what they were up to. He said he was helping his little brother impress a girl, so they brought her along for a shopping trip.

Said he was using money from his new promotion at some company in the US that she’d probably never heard of. She bought it. And it wasn’t completely a lie. Yoongi had been part of a US company before he scammed them all out of their money and moved back to South Korea.

That was his last big take that lasted him a good while. Yoongi decided to go put his stuff in the car as well. He he had given them enough time.

Tae told her. Everything. How many times he’s tried based on the lipstick stains on the wall. When he started. How he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop. He lit a cigarette.

“I’m just not sure there’s anything I wanna live for, and just existing sucks. So the only other option is death, right?” He turned to see tears running down her face and was confused at the pain it caused in his chest. Not a pain he had felt before.

Zula wiped her eyes, “I’m sorry. I just. That’s so sad.” She held his hands. “Please find something to live for, Tae. Even if it’s superficial like money or whatever, maybe adventure. This adventure. Find it.”

He was confused. No one had been so passionate towards him in a while, at least not in a kind way. Usually, they were just yells and screams about how he could’ve done better. Blaming him for what he was born as. His parents fought a lot, and he now understood why.

“Would you miss me? If one day I succeeded, would you miss me?”

She bit her lip, looked away and then stared into his eyes, “Yes. I would. I don’t know you that well, but we’re stuck like this for a reason. So yeah, I’d miss you.”

A loud voice surprised and embarrassed them for some reason, “Just fuck already!”

The two parted and didn’t look at each other. They weren’t that close and that wasn’t what they wanted...right? At least, not, not yet.

“So, are we going back inside? I think there might be a few more things--”

“Nah, let’s go somewhere else.” Yoongi cut him off. “I think we need party clothing and bathing suits, and I know a demon who has it for free.”

So they all climbed back in the car.

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[raygoodwinmajournal]

Epochal Territories Shoot #8 - 10/2/2021

Two more rolls of Ilford XP2 Super lay dormant in my film storage tub. I suddenly decide to load up the Mamiya 7ii with a roll and walk around Cattedown more thoroughly with the second roll in my bag just in case - just as well - as it was used. This shoot comprises of two rolls of Ilford XP2 Super shot back to back within the space of an hour, all around the area of less than half a mile.

As is tradition by now, the XP2 Super was metered at 320 asa to give it a bit more light so it boosts the shadow detail up. But this time, I developed with film myself with the help of my fellow housemate and film fanatic friend, Aaron Lovelock. Using the Cinestill CS-41 kit, the film was developed at home using the simplistic developing kit, making it a two bath process. This makes developing C41 films a lot easier compared to the usual process, and financially better than giving it to a lab to process.

The walk was a good 5 miles, walking around Cattedown and certainly not in the sea as Google Fit seems to think. The main focus of Cattedown/Friary Mill was to photograph and document the surroundings and the companies/businesses/facilities that inhabit that area, mostly aggregate, gas, scrap and engineering works. These are all important and vital supplies for the modern, industrial and late capitalist society that we live in. Without these, our whole society would grind to a halt, as we need these to keep everything ticking. Since reading Industrial Society and its Future, these things make a lot more sense as to how technology controls us, as well as the more mundane things such as road signs, road markings and traffic lights. We are told what to do, where to go and technology controls almost every facet of our lives now. Without the access to instant communications, energy suppliers and engineering firms, we would simply stop existing as we know it. 

The shoot started with a construction tool hire station. This is a place where one would hire certain construction equipment for their constructing endeavours. This to me seems to be a more profiteering and capitalist way of construction, as you aren’t buying the thing to keep for years on end. You are simply performing a transaction depending on how long you keep the thing for, which in the long run is probably more expensive than buying it in the first place. I also enjoyed how the roads create a cross in the middle of the frame, with the building also taking the centre of the frame. 

Moving further along into Cattedown itself, I get to BOC Gas & Gear; a gas a welding supplier. What first drew me in was the immense gas tanks on the left of the top frame. As I got closer, I could hear a hissing noise coming from the area, and within further inspection there was a truck unloading this unknown gas, seen in the bottom frame. I wasn’t sure what was happening, if it was meant to be relieved of it’s gas or not. The ongoing theme of finding it hard to breathe kept on rearing its head, seemingly being a metaphor within this project about our modern society. The other aspect was, who knows what kind of gas it was releasing and the consequences it would have in the environment or by breathing it in. 

Behind this car park with the rather ominous people developers sign, is Origin, a fertiliser supplier who creates organic and nutritional fertiliser for agriculture purposes. Despite living within a city, one often forgets that we are surrounded by farmland which needs to be fed, so that we can also be fed. Without fertiliser, crops wouldn’t grow (as well), and livestock wouldn’t be fed. Despite the natural way that crops can grow, we have made it in such a way that we have interfered with our own food chain, especially with genetically modified organisms (GMO) when naturally grown food is fine - yet why not make this strawberry bigger?

These large silos are West Country Cement, a joint venture of Fahey's Concrete Ltd and E & JW Glendinning Ltd, constructed in 2017. They mainly deal with mass concrete exports utilising the included wharf, and are weirdly out of place in Plymouth. From my point of view, silos always seem to be very American and rarely seen in the U.K apart from the more industrial areas like this. Without these silos, concrete manufacture and export within the area would be difficult and would have to be sourced elsewhere. With this unit situated here, cement can be made locally and exported. It is strange to see where something is made, before it becomes its specific thing. We often don’t get to see how our modern world is created and where it comes from. Just like out food. 

All of these areas are alienating to a certain degree, and reflect on the industrial society that we live in. Without realising it, we are surrounded by it, in every facet of our lives, and this is especially so within my photographs. But, the only way that you can see this is by deconstructing the image and saying what you are seeing. At first it is a typically banal scene; something you would drive past in a car within a few seconds and not notice it. Yet, with some more time looking into it and taking it all apart, you can see how we are controlled, how we live our lives, our changed landscape and the mess we leave behind. It is only then that you start to becoming estranged from how we live in a modern society, compared to how we used to live. We took over the natural landscape to make way for industrialisation, corporations and globalisation. The natural land becomes swamped with gas refineries, landfill and scrapyards, with effluence and harmful gasses flowing into the water and the air we breathe. We let technology control our lives and making us subjugated and subordinate, with only a small number of people allowing what is acceptable or not acceptable to do within that society. You might think you are free, but you are not.

Another approach to BOC Gas & Gear, with the top image on the corner of Valero Logistics, a global company dealing with logistics, refining and renewable fuel systems. These silos are imposing, especially when one realises that they are filled with flammable or harmful gasses. One has to think what would happen if there was a fault and it went up in flames, destroying the complex. Or the silo developed a pinhole in its metal, and started to leak obnoxious gas into the air causing ailments for the workers or nearby pedestrians. With the amount of facilities and equipment in such a small radius, an accident would be catastrophic. 

On the opposite side of Valero Logistics and BOC, is the Plymouth City Council Depot, where all of the refuse trucks for the city are kept, as well as some offices. One part of the car park is allotted for some council electric vans. This is possibly their way to be environmental friendly by using a vehicle that produces no carbon emissions. The only issue with that is powering the chargers for the vans, which is usually powered by a power station which in turn powers the national grid. In theory, electric vehicles are great, but managing to power how the vehicles charge needs to be more renewable. Other considerations such as how the contents of the batteries are farmed in addition to the range/time of charging would also need to improve. Fully electric cars have a woeful range, harmful contents in the batteries, unethical batteries sources as well as making zero noise, potentially making them hard to hear by pedestrians. 

Nothing was written about this shoot, as this area was already covered in a previous shoot and contains the same alienating and estranging properties about it. These industrial areas are incredibly toxic and dangerous places to be in and around, as one is surrounded by potentially highly explosive and abhorrent substances. Not just that, but you are also reminded on how are all controlled by road, safety and traffic signs. You can also see a lot of the aspects of our modern society which is usually hidden away, such as fuels and building materials - without these our society would simply grind to a halt. 

A coda. This shoot was alienating as always. Every time I seem to go out to a location, it reminds me how strange our modern life is and how technological it is. Everything we see is a part of a system, an organised gestalt of natural gasses and aggregate production. These areas always seem so anonymous, as their location could be anywhere across the U.K, or even Central Europe for that matter. The only giveaway would be certain topographical landmarks such as hills or certain skylines. There is also a level of animosity, as it feels that I really shouldn’t be there despite pavements telling you that you can in fact walk there. Even though we are allowed to walk here, it feels as if I shouldn’t be able to see these things and have access to them. It just enhances the feeling that one doesn’t belong where they stand, but they don’t know where to stand either. These areas can make one see just how industrial we really live, which we don’t necessarily realise until we see the scale of the complexes that power our lives. Without them, our industrial society wouldn’t be able to go on as it normally does. Technology is so widespread, and it makes one think if we control technology, or if technology controls us. Are we really in control of our lives, or are there regulations, systems and licenses to tell us what is deemed acceptable? Despite us thinking that we are free to do as we please, that we have a feeling of free will? This simply isn’t the case. All one can really do is realise that they are controlled by a system, and either accept that this is the way they have to live, or try to change that - the latter being an incredibly difficult option. There is no escape from this way of living, as it is too ingrained into us, despite it causing mass psychological and physical issues. It is no wonder that our modern society has pushed us to the limit where we even become alienated from the very way we live, and seeing how rates of mental health issues have risen in recent years. But its fine, you can take this pill to totally reprogram how your brain functions with these serotonin reuptake inhibitors. 

[himbowelsh]

Bob ships and the night/day they met. How they met but not cute, I want ugly. Crazy stories like who met at the back of a police car? Who was damsel in distress and fell into the lake in the middle of the city or pool at the party? Bar fight or car crash? Accidentally injured the other? Fought over last sit on the bus and ended up sharing it because both sides are too stubborn to move? Always buys last bagel every morning at the coffee shop and the person always one step behind is so done?

WINNIX

dick hasn’t been a police officer for more than a week, and already he gets the feeling that he’s in over his head.

he endures enough hazing from his fellow officers. everyone wants to pick on the rookie, so they send him off for the jobs no one else wants to take. traffic duty, helping homeless people, dealing with drunk idiots – dick finds all those calls falling into his lap.

he’s about to get off-duty for the night when another call comes through, directing him to the wealthy end of town. they don’t have to report up there often, so dick’s first – somewhat cruel, very desperate – thought is that it could be a robbery.

he’s let down a minute later. apparently, a drunk man’s car has crashed into a tree. dick takes a deep breath and prepares himself for a tiring call.

he’s not wrong. he gets to a very prestigious looking mansion at the top of a tall hill, where he finds a man standing outside his house. he’s disheveled, swaying obviously drunk. as soon as dick’s squad car pulls up, he waves and points down the hill.

“my car crashed into a tree.”

dick raises his eyebrows. this guy’s in no state to be driving. “you mean, you crashed your car into a tree?”

“no, no – my car did it. itself.”

the man is insistent; indeed, when dick looks down the hill, he sees an expensive sportscar wrapped around a large oak tree trunk. there’s no way the man is lying. if he’d been in that car, he wouldn’t be standing here talking to dick. the entire driver’s side is smashed in, and the car is empty.

also, the car isn’t in park. that might be something to take note of.

“ohhhhhh,” says the drunk man when dick points this out to him. “knew i forgot to do something when i got home.”

dick purses his lips. “i hope you weren’t attached to that car.”

“my dad got it for me. he’ll be pissed when i tell him i need another one.” the man looks perversely proud of this thought. he hiccups, sways a little bit, and almost falls on his face. at that point dick decides it would be a good idea to get him back inside his house.

once they’re inside, dick has to admit that the scene is a little... depressing. there’s an empty bottle of cognac on the stairs, and a bottle of whiskey lying on it’s side in the hallway. apparently lewis nixon (a name he slurs against dick’s shoulder while dick leads him inside) has been sitting home alone getting drunk all night.

“i think i can let you off with a warning,” dick assures nixon, easing him down on the bed. “just be sure to keep this from happening again. your cars don’t deserve it.”

“ah, i could buy more. i could buy everything, if i wanted it. every damn thing.” nixon waves drunkenly, almost smacking himself in the face. his hand lands on dick’s chest instead. “you’re a good cop,” he tells him. “you’re my favorite cop.”

a little confused, a little amused, and a little exasperated, dick excuses himself and drives away, leaving nixon’s big mansion behind him.

he can’t explain why he goes back to visit nixon his next shift. he justifies it as a welfare check. he’s surprised to find nixon standing, not bowled over and incoherent with a hangover; he’s even more shocked to learn that the man remembers him.

��i’m going to have to make it up to you,” nixon declares, and dick wonders how he’s going to do that. he can’t help but feel curious to find out.

SPEIRTON

it’s two in the morning, lipton is stress-baking, and he’s out of eggs.

there are moments when you really just have to… to just stop. stop and ask yourself what you’re doing with your life, why, and if the world really does hate you. lipton takes his moment to stop in the middle of a parking lot, positioned between a large parking garage and the grocery store. in the middle of the night, he plants his head against the steering wheel, and wonders what the hell he’s doing.

that is unfortunately the moment someone lands on the hood of his car.

his first thought is that someone jumped from the top of the parking garage; he’s horrified to realize his first thought is correct. he’s even more horrified a second later, when a complete stranger swings through the open window and into his car.

“no time to explain, but i need you to drive now,” the man says. lipton is so shocked that he does the first thing he can think of, which is to step on the gas.

he really didn’t want to get involved in an impromptu car chase -- but, well, this night isn’t going according to plan. leaning up from the back seat, his strange new passenger directs him where to go -- around the parking lot, past the garage, down the street. they’re in pursuit of a sleek black convertible, which looks like it costs more than lipton makes in a year.

“do i get to know what’s going on?” lipton demands. the stranger’s fingers drum restlessly against the back of the car, tense with energy he is fighting to restrain. lipton is hyper-conscious of his every movement, from the ragged pants of his breath to the way his dark eyes are trained on the car in front of them.

“it’s my car. it doesn’t belong to them, and i want it back,” the man says simply. this is not an answer at all, not even a little bit, but it’s all lipton has to go on.

so naturally he winds up on a car chase through the city.

lipton has never driven this fast or this recklessly in his life. he’s amazed no police join in the chase; as it is, he’s not sure whether he’s sharing a car with a criminal or not.

it all culminates in lipton nearly crashing his own car. they go skidding, making a full circle before the car comes to a stop. no sooner has this happened than the stranger jumps out of the car and starts legging it after their targets.

on foot. he’s chasing a car. on foot.

and he’s winning

lipton can only gape as the man catches up with the car, latches on to the back, and pulls himself into the open convertible. he sees fists swinging, watches the car skid, and the next thing he knows his new friend is tossing two unconscious men out of “his” car.

it turns out, the wild man is ron speirs, an ex-army captain turned fbi agent. he’s in town investigating a string of recent bank robberies, and did not take kindly to having his car stolen by the criminals.

lipton, instead of being an accessory, was just doing his civic duty. he can’t say how relieved he is to learn that.

“you’re a good man in a storm,” speirs says later that morning, after explaining everything to lipton over breakfast. “if i’m ever in the area and need help again, i’ll give you a call.”

“and what if you don’t need help?”

speirs raises an eyebrow, flashing a smirk that makes lipton feel electrified. “i’ll have to call you anyway.”

BABEROE

it’s been a hell of a day in the ER.

they’ve had to deal with massive traumas, a warehouse fire, and more than one car crash. gene treated a guy with a steak knife through his hand, and stitched up a woman who fell down a flight of stairs. his toughest case was helping a little boy through an allergy attack after he was stung by a bee.

he’s exhausted, to be honest. all he really wants to do is go home and sleep, but there are still two hours left of his shift. he just has to tough it out. two more hours, and he’ll get to go home and sleep.

and THEN the hockey team comes in.

some hockey team straight out of pennsylvania has gotten into a bus crash. there are no major injuries, but a lot of them are banged up, and they need medical treatment.

as if the ER wasn’t already chaotic enough, now gene has to keep a bunch of rowdy athletes under control. 

the team captain, winters, and the manager, nixon, are both rushing around making sure all of the players are okay. one of the players, lipton, has a nasty head laceration and concussion, but another player is looming by his bedside, and the nurses are afraid to go near him. welsh has a sprained wrist, toye and guarnere have got broken legs, blithe needs stitches, and luz needs to stop wandering around the ER before he gets hurt.

it’s an endless stream of names and injuries that gene struggles to remember. he’s feeling more than overwhelmed, and the er is so crowded that it’s like sensory overload. his nerves are at breaking point.

he spins around in the middle of the ER, face buried in his clipbord – only to run smack into a jersey-clad body.

gene hits the floor hard, but the noise the hockey player makes when he falls implies he hit it harder. when gene looks up, he sees a wide-eyed player gripping his nose. his hair is almost as bright red as the blood seeping between his fingers.

“i’m sorry,” gene gasps. “i didn’t mean – god, i’m sorry, are you alright?”

“yeah, yeah…” the injured player waves him off, promising it’s nothing more than a bloody nose. he’s searching for his friend julian – there’s not time to worry about himself.

gene insists on treating him anyway. he’s afraid that he’s actually done something awful to the poor kid, unless the distracted, somewhat frantic look in his eyes is normal for him.

it turns out, it’s not – babe, as he introduces himself, is just really worried, and really stressed out. gene can empathize. as he tends to the kid’s bloody nose, he talks to him in a low voice, telling what he knows about his friends. he seems like he’s putting babe’s mind at ease, at least – and taking a quiet moment, free from rushing around, is helping gene as well.

when they’re done, gene is ready to go, but babe grabs his hand. they both take a moment to just breathe.

gene is taken aback when babe smiles at him. “you’re pretty good at your job, you know that doc?”

gene shakes his head. “i almost broke your nose.”

“ahh, ain’t like it’s the first time.”

babe doesn’t seem bothered, and shakes off the incident with a grin that makes gene’s heart beat doubletime. he’s got a lot to remember tonight, so he’s relieved when babe decides to take one thing off his hands…

he enters his number into gene’s phone before gene even has to ask.

WEBGOTT

david webster is not a criminal.

he’s really not sure how he wound up here. all he wanted was to go to a simple protest for marine life rights. he never expected the protest to turn south, he definitely never thought the police would show up, and he never wanted to get arrested.

(if he wanted to avoid that, he never should have thrown a shark fin at the police. that wasn’t the best idea – but, to be fair, they’re selling those things in grocery stores. that’s inhumane. how can anyone stand for that?)

so, long story short, david hits an officer of the law with a raw shark fin and winds up getting thrown in the back of a police car.

the officer keeps shooting him offended looks. david isn’t sure if it was worth it or not, but he wants to believe it was.

the protest broken up, all that’s left is to haul the most passionate offenders – david among them – away. they speed off in the police car. hunched in the back with cuffs around his wrists, david has never felt like such an idiot. how could he let this happen? what was he thinking? his parents are going to kill him, his friends are going to laugh at him, he’s never going to live this down – he has a record now –

a call suddenly comes in on the radio. there’s a robbery in progress at a nearby convenience store, and the officer who arrested david is the closest.

looks like they have to make a little detour.

so they pull up at the store just in time to see the robber getting away with a bag slung over his shoulders. he freezes as the police show up, and david has just enough time to think that the guy’s pathetic before he’s dropped the bag and started running.

that doesn’t work, obviously. the cops catch up to him, and he’s thrown in the back seat of the squad car.

right next to david.

“well,” the dangerous robber says to him, smirking, “this don’t look like a place for you, pretty boy.”

david feels his face heat up. “i’m not some kind of felon, so no, i guess it isn’t.”

“lemme guess, protestor.” david’s glare is all the answer the guy needs. his laugh sounds like crunching glass. “that’s adorable. this your first time? ooh, you’re going to have fun.”

for some reason, the felon won’t leave him alone. he blabbers on to david the entire car ride – about his first time getting arrested, about the robbery he just commited (”i had a damn water gun. it didn’t even look real, but the clerk just handed the money over anyway. isn’t that amazing?”), even about his own life. his name is liebgott, he’s been arrested three times before but never convicted, and the biggest thing david learns about him in the car is that he’s obnoxious as all hell.

and of course, because this is just the way his night’s going, after they arrive at the police station and get booked, liebgott is put in a holding cell right next to him. he grins at him through the bars, and david feels his stomach sink.

it’s going to be a long night.

LUZTOYE

joe toye works at a bagel shop.

it’s been a family business for a while now, and joe now runs it alongside his sisters. he’s their head chef – he makes really, really good bagels. everyone agrees they’re the best bagels in town, and their shop is sort of a local staple at this point.

joe loves his job.

there’s only one thing about it that he hates, and that’s bagel guy.

they all know bagel guy. for some reason, he’s the dude that comes in once a week and orders an unholy amount of bagels, with the goofiest grin on his face. joe’s sister is still trying to figure out what he’s buying them for; she asks him a new question every time he stops in. are they for a work party? nope. for charity? nope. for his family members to share? not even close.

no one knows why bagel guy does what he does. to be honest, joe doesn’t care. the dude pisses him off.

no one needs that many bagels. why does he need to have that many fucking bagels? they guy’s a damn menace. every time he stops in, with his ridiculous bulk orders of several dozen bagels, they’re always left out of stock, and joke has to bake his ass off to whip up more.

as far as he’s concerned, bagel guy can shove it.

one particular day he gets off of work just as bagel guy finishes ordering. joe is stepping out of the store, fuming because he knows that guy just bought the last batch of bagels, and he kind of wishes he could grab him and shake him (”why the hell do you need so many bagels? why???”)

when a car slams into him.

he’s just stepped out of the store, so obviously he’s not expecting it. joe goes flying.

the next thing he knows, there’s a very alarmed man over him, with a voice loud and fast as a speeding train. he’s freaking the hell out, flapping his arms like he wants to touch joe but he’s not sure how.

“oh my god, jesus, are you okay?? hell, i didn’t mean to hit you, where did you come from--”

that’s when joe realizes.

it’s bagel guy.

fucking bagel guy hit him with his car.

joe is going to kill this asshole -- as soon as he stops seeing three of everything and the world stops spinning.

as it turns out, joe has a concussion. not surprising, considering he got run over by a car.

he has to spend an entire car ride to the hospital in the back of bagel guy’s shitty jeep, listening to him ramble about how it would be great if joe didn’t press charges, this is the first time he’s ever hit anyone, really, he’s so sorry --

joe doesn’t care. joe is not having a good day.

“took all my bagels,” he mutters. “you took all my fuckin’ bagels.”

they get to the hospital, joe gets checked out, and given the all-clear to head home a few hours later. he surprised to find bagel guy still there in the waiting room. he’s tapping his foot, holding a white bag in his lap. when he spots joe, he leaps to his feet.

“thought i’d drive you home,” he announces, then holds out the bag. “i got you a little something... for the trouble, i guess.”

it’s a bag of freaking bagels. joe’s bagels.

“if it helps, they’re delicious. fantastic job,” bagel guy declares, grinning. his grin is infectious. joe isn’t sure whether he wants to smack him or laugh out loud.

this day has been weird enough. accepting a ride home from bagel guy is far from the worst thing he could do.

[fennec-foxxy-blog]

Excessive water drain from AC Forum

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