#street cleaner truck

[victorysweepers]

[thistransient]

You know the park's been flooded when there are fish on the sidewalk

[vootclean]

https://vootclean.com/product-category/sweepers/indigenous-sweepers/ - The sweeping system includes rotating brushes, suction systems, and air blowers that collect debris, dust, leaves, and other debris and transfer them into a collection hopper

[charleslee-valentine]

I’ve spent a long time now sorting through screenshots, behind the scenes footage, designers portfolios, and I think I’ve deciphered the map of Ambrose.

Starting on the left side of the street, there’s a hardware/outdoor store, noted by the wheelbarrow outside and assorted parts on the shelves.

Connected to that is a small plaza with a Dentist’s office (the window stickers mention denture prices), a diner with outside seating, and what appears to be a bar judging from the bar stools in the window. It may be connected to the diner.

Finally for the end section of the strip, this shop is less clear, but based on the sign that ends in “-ium” and the button tufted display, I’m guessing this is a premium/high end store or some kind of emporium.

Directly across the street from that is a club. The window faces the street, and around back is the entrance. Also in this plaza is the pet store Carly walks to, a drug store, the grocery store (Flannery’s) that Nick goes to, and a barber shop.

Crossing the street again, there’s a large bowling alley.

Surrounding the bowling alley are residential homes as it transitions into neighborhood territory. You can tell from the fences around these homes that they aren’t public property. The one directly next to bowling lanes is the green house that the wax woman looks through the window of.

Crossing the street again, this part was already labeled by the lighting plot, but that’s the garden (really just some dead shrubs and a gazebo,) the cemetery, and the church. There’s also a second building on the church property that shares the same sidewalk. Although it looks completely nondescript, buildings like this connected to church property would usually be used for non-worship activities like Sunday school, community events like meetings, or funeral services (though Trudy’s viewing is right in the main church, so that’s less likely.)

With the church as a reference point, going back down the opposite side of the street, there’s what looks to be some kind of fashion or accessories store. In the window, I see wig heads wearing hats, and maybe some shoes. I found a sketch of a storefront that also reminds me of perfume bottles and shoes, so the idea was at least considered.

Obviously as the two buildings have back to back doors, next to this is the Guns & Ammo store that Nick and Carly break into. This also connects directly to the movie theater.

The theater is also connected to a small electronics store on the other side.

Directly across from that would be Bo’s gas station. There’s a huge advertisement right next to the station for financing loans, but the front of the building it’s painted on shows its a media video/music store. (ps the yellow truck Vincent drives is the “company” tow truck for the station.)

Connected in a plaza with the video store is a dry cleaner and, based on context clues, a furniture store. In the possibly furniture store window, there appears to be rolled up rugs or carpets, and a large wooden shelf. The strange point of view of the shot where these shops are visible seems to imply that the businesses once had apartments over top, or at least that things are being hoarded in the upper floors.

Across the alley street from that is a fire station, connected with city hall. This is where the Miss Ambrose posters were displayed. On each side, there are blue garage doors, possibly with more emergency vehicles for the town.

The House of Wax and the Sinclair house are placed at higher reliefs than the other businesses and homes, symbolizing their importance and once, their wealth and celebrity status.

[whereforarthur]

A Night In

Request: I'm literally begging you for some George smut?? Like something dom and hot but still kinda cute and fluffy? He'd defo talk you through everything and give aftercare

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut and Fluff

Word Count: 4.5k

*****

“You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.” ― Jodi Picoult

George Clarke was a man of meticulous habits. Every morning, without fail, he'd rise with the sun, the faint light from the gap in the curtains tracing a path across his face. He'd blink the sleep away, his eyes focusing on the digital clock's unforgiving display, and then he'd slide out of bed, his bare feet making almost no sound on the cool hardwood floor. His apartment, nestled in the bustling heart of London, was a sanctuary of order and quietude. The only sounds that typically pierced the early morning silence were the distant rumble of a garbage truck or the occasional shout from a street cleaner.

But this morning was different. The air was charged with an electric anticipation that even George couldn't ignore. He'd felt it brewing for days, a tension that coiled tighter with each shared glance, each brush of skin against skin. He knew what he wanted, and he knew she felt it too. The question was, would she say yes? He padded into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, and poured two cups, his hand shaking slightly as he added sugar and milk to hers. He hoped she'd appreciate the gesture, the sweetness to start their day off right.

When Y/N emerged from the bedroom, her hair a wild halo around her flushed face, she looked at him with those big, doe-like eyes that never failed to make his heart stutter. He held out the cup, his voice a low rumble. "Can we stay home tonight so I can fuck your brains out?" The words were blunt, but the tender way he said them took the edge off, leaving only raw, unfiltered desire.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she took the cup, the warmth of the liquid seeping into her palms. She studied him over the rim, her thoughts swirling behind her eyes like a storm about to break. "What makes you think I'd say no?" she replied, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. It was the answer he'd been hoping for, and his grin grew in response.

They spent the day in a delicious dance of anticipation, their every interaction a silent promise of what was to come. Every brush of their hands was a spark, every shared laugh a secret shared only between them. The city outside their windows was a blur of life and color, but all George could see was the siren call of their shared solitude, the unspoken understanding that tonight would be theirs.

When evening finally fell, they settled into their usual routine, the tension thick enough to slice with a knife. He talked her through dinner, his voice a gentle command that sent shivers down her spine. He was always like this, attentive and considerate, but tonight there was an edge to his care that made her pulse race. The way he'd look at her, his eyes dark with want, was almost too much to bear.

After the dishes were done and the apartment was once again bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, George turned to her, his expression serious. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice a low purr that sent a thrill through her body. She nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. He took her hand, leading her to the bedroom, and she knew that tonight would be nothing short of explosive.

*****

Once the door was closed, the air grew heavy with desire. He stepped closer, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered dark promises into her ear, each word a caress that made her knees weak. "I'm going to peel every layer of you away," he murmured, his hands skimming over her body, tracing the curves of her hips and the line of her spine. "I want to see every inch of you, feel every tremble, taste every gasp." His words were a symphony of filth and love, a heady combination that made her melt into him.

As his hands roamed, she felt the heat of his touch like a brand, searing through the fabric of her clothes. His fingertips grazed her collarbone, her breasts, and she arched into his touch, desperate for more. He chuckled, the sound a dark, delicious rumble in her ear. "Patience, love," he said, his teeth grazing her lobe. "We've got all night."

His whispered words painted a picture of debauchery, a night of unbridled passion that she knew she'd never forget. Each syllable was a caress, a promise of the pleasure to come. He knew exactly what she liked, exactly how to make her tremble, and he used that knowledge with the precision of a master artist. "You're going to scream my name," he murmured, his hand sliding down to cup her through her jeans. "You're going to beg for me to never stop."

Her breath hitched as his thumb found her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. She could feel herself getting wet, her body betraying her excitement even as she tried to maintain some semblance of control. But control was a fleeting thing with George, and she knew it. He'd take it from her, piece by piece, until she was nothing but a puddle of want at his feet. And she'd love every second of it.

Her hands found their way to his hair, desperately clutching at the strands as he kissed her. It was messy and hungry, their teeth clacking together in their haste. He tasted like mint and something darker, something that made her want to devour him whole. She felt his cock pressing against her, hard and insistent, and she could feel herself getting wetter, her body eager to take him in.

George's hands were everywhere, unbuttoning her shirt with shaking fingers, pushing it off her shoulders to expose her lacy bra. He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her chest as he took in the sight of her. His eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. He traced the outline of her breasts with his fingertips before deftly unhooking her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze, aching for his touch.

"My little slut," he murmured, his voice a warm caress as he bent his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He sucked hard, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. His tongue flicked and teased, the wet heat of his mouth making her squirm. She gasped, her nails digging into his scalp as he worked her other nipple with his thumb. "You're mine to ruin," he continued, his words a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. "Mine to use and claim."

He pushed her back onto the bed, the mattress giving way with a soft sigh. His body hovered over hers, his muscles taut with restrained power. She could feel the weight of his gaze as he took in the sight of her, spread out before him like a feast. He took his time, savoring every inch of her, his eyes lingering on the juncture of her thighs. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "And you're all mine."

Her eyes searched his, finding the truth in his words. "I'm yours," she breathed, the confession slipping from her lips like a sacred vow. "Only yours." She watched as his pupils dilated, the blue of his eyes darkening with desire. It was a heady feeling, knowing she had that much power over him, that she could make him crave her so desperately.

He kissed her again, his hands moving to the button of her jeans. He tugged them down, his palms skimming her skin as he revealed the matching lacy underwear beneath. His eyes raked over her, a silent declaration of his appreciation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

He slid her panties aside, exposing her to his gaze. He took a moment to just look at her, to drink in the sight of her. Then, with a wicked grin, he dipped his head and kissed her there, his tongue delving into her folds, tasting her sweetness. She bucked against him, her hips rising to meet his mouth. He licked and sucked, exploring every inch of her, teasing her clit until she was begging for more.

"I want to taste you so badly," he murmured against her, his voice muffled by her flesh. His words were a declaration of war, a promise of pleasure that had her body tightening with anticipation. His tongue swirled around her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, and she could feel herself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he devoured her. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that had her body thrumming with need. She was close, so close, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she shattered. "Oh, George," she whimpered, her voice high and desperate.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust, and she could see the smug satisfaction in his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he loved it. "You want it, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her wet flesh. "You want me to fuck you so badly you can't think straight."

"Yes," she moaned, the word a desperate plea that seemed to echo around the room. "Please, George. I need you."

He chuckled against her, the vibration sending a fresh wave of sensation through her. He kissed his way back up her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "Good girl," he whispered, his teeth grazing her skin. "But first, I want to watch you come for me."

With a final, lingering lick, he pulled away and stood, shedding his own clothes with a speed that belied his earlier patience. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she licked her lips, eager to taste him. But he had other plans. He grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and rolled it on, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

"Do whatever you want with me," she whispered, her eyes glazed with need. "I'm yours."

The words were barely out of her mouth before George took action, claiming her with a ferocity that made her toes curl. He slid into her with a groan, filling her completely, stretching her until she thought she'd break. But she didn't. Instead, she welcomed him, her body opening up to him like a flower to the sun. He began to move, his hips a steady, relentless rhythm that had her arching off the bed, her nails digging into his back.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his cock. She moaned into the kiss, her hips rising to meet his, the friction delicious and intense. He felt so good, so right, and she never wanted it to end. His hands roamed her body, touching and teasing, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Your body was made for mine," he murmured against her lips, his words a declaration that seemed to resonate in every cell of her being. She nodded, her breath coming in gasps as he found her G-spot, his strokes long and deep. She felt herself tightening around him, the pressure building until she couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to come," she panted, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold on to the last shreds of her sanity. "Oh, fuck, George, I'm so close."

"Good," he growled, his hips pumping into her with a force that was almost brutal. "Come for me, baby. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words were a catalyst, sending her hurtling over the edge. Her body convulsed around him, her orgasm a white-hot burst of pleasure that stole her breath. She screamed his name, the sound echoing through the room as she clung to him, her nails digging into his back. He didn't stop, though, didn't even slow, his movements only becoming more intense as he drove her through wave after wave of pleasure.

"You're so good for me," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched her come apart. "So fucking good around me." His words were a gentle command, a declaration of his ownership, and she reveled in it. She felt like she was made for this, made for him, and the thought sent another ripple of pleasure through her.

Her body was still trembling when he pulled out, his cock slick with her arousal. He rolled her over, pressing her face down into the pillows, his hand coming down to rest on the small of her back. "Mine," he said, the word a dark promise that had her pussy clenching with need. She knew what was coming, knew she'd never be the same after tonight.

He positioned himself behind her, his cock nudging at her entrance. "Are you ready for me to claim you?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Say it," he demanded, his hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.

"I'm ready," she whimpered, the words barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "Claim me, George. Make me yours."

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a growl of pure lust, he slammed into her, filling her completely. She gasped, the sound muffled by the pillow, as he began to move, his hands gripping her hips tightly. He didn't hold back, his strokes deep and powerful, each one driving her closer to the edge again.

"You look better with my hands around your neck," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. He reached up, his fingers wrapping gently around her throat. The sensation was surprising, a mix of fear and excitement that sent her arousal skyrocketing. He didn't squeeze, just applied enough pressure to make her aware of his control, his dominance.

"And your mouth around my cock," he added, his voice a dark, seductive whisper that made her shiver. She felt him pull out, the emptiness a stark contrast to the fullness she'd grown accustomed to. "On your knees," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. She complied, her legs trembling with the effort to support herself as she felt him line up behind her.

With a firm grip on her hair, George guided her face down to his cock, still glistening with her juices. She took him in eagerly, her mouth stretching around his girth, the musky scent of their combined arousal filling her nostrils. He groaned, his hips bucking slightly as she swirled her tongue around the tip. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate him, and she could feel his restraint slipping.

"Ah, fuck," he breathed, his voice strained. His hand tightened on her neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her aware of his need. "Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me." She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his, and the intensity in his eyes was almost too much to handle. The way he watched her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, made her feel powerful and vulnerable all at once.

He began to thrust into her mouth, his movements growing more demanding with each passing second. "That's it," he praised, his voice a low growl. "Take it all." And she did, eager to please him, eager to feel him lose control. She could feel the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she took him deeper, her tongue working him with a fervor that matched his own.

"You're so good at this," he murmured, his grip on her hair tightening. "So fucking good." He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against her face, and she could feel the beginnings of his climax building. Her eyes watered, her throat ached, but she didn't care. All she cared about was making him feel good, making him come apart the way he made her feel.

Her hands gripped the bed, her knuckles white with the effort to stay still as he fucked her mouth. She could feel his thighs tremble against her cheeks, the muscles in his stomach tightening as he approached his peak. "Don't be gentle with me," she whispered, the words barely audible around his cock. "I like it when you're rough."

It was all the encouragement he needed. His grip on her hair tightened, his hips moving faster, more forcefully. She could feel his cock thicken, the veins pulsing beneath her tongue. He was close, so close, and she reveled in the power she had over him. He groaned, his body tensing, and then he was coming, his warmth filling her mouth as he held her in place, his eyes never leaving hers.

The command was simple but loaded with meaning. "Swallow it," he said, his voice hoarse with passion. "All of it." It was a declaration of his ownership, a demand for her submission, and she complied without hesitation. She swallowed, her eyes never leaving his, the salty taste of him coating her tongue. He watched her, his gaze intense, as she took every drop, savoring the evidence of his pleasure.

*****

"I didn't hurt you too much, did I?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. His hand, still wrapped around her neck, gently massaged the skin there, his thumb brushing over the pulse point. She could feel the throb of his heart against her back, the steady beat a reminder of the connection they shared.

"No," she assured him, her voice a little raspy from his use. "I liked it." She felt his body relax, his grip on her loosening slightly. "Relax," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Let me take care of you."

George pulled her back onto the bed, rolling her onto her back and settling between her legs. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of discomfort or distress. Finding none, he leaned down and kissed her softly, tasting himself on her lips. He was gentle now, his earlier ferocity replaced by a tenderness that made her heart ache.

He slid back inside her, his movements slow and deliberate. This time, there was no urgency, no need to claim or conquer. It was just them, lost in the intimacy of their shared passion. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, his teeth nipping at her sensitive skin as he moved. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she met his every thrust.

Their breaths mingled, the sound of their bodies coming together the only noise in the quiet apartment. The world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feel of him inside her, the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his voice as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "And I'm yours."

His words were a gentle caress, a reminder of their connection, and she felt herself opening up to him even more. He was right there with her, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies moving together as if they'd been doing this dance for a lifetime. She felt cherished, worshipped, and it was a feeling she never wanted to lose.

As he moved inside her, she could feel her orgasm building again, a slow crescendo that started in her toes and worked its way up. It was a different kind of pleasure, one that washed over her in waves, gentle and all-consuming. "I've never heard such a truly beautiful sound," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of sensations. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder, and he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue delving into her mouth with the same slow, sweet strokes that his cock was making inside her.

He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his breath a warm caress that sent shivers down her spine. "You're so perfect," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate deep within her. "So perfect for me." His words were a drug, a heady cocktail of praise and possession that had her clinging to him even tighter.

Her body responded to his gentle touch, her hips rising to meet his, her legs wrapping around his waist. She felt herself getting closer, the pressure building, the tension coiling in her belly like a tightly wound spring. "I'm going to come," she whispered, the words a breathless confession that seemed to hang in the air.

George's eyes lit up, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "Let me feel you come around me." He kissed her again, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock. She could feel herself tightening around him, her body straining for release.

And then it hit her, the orgasm rolling over her like a tidal wave. She screamed, her nails digging into his back, her body arching off the bed. He followed her over, his own climax crashing into her like a meteor, the force of it making her see stars. They came together, their bodies shuddering with the intensity of their shared pleasure. It was a moment of pure connection, a moment where nothing else mattered except the feel of him inside her, their hearts beating as one.

Their breaths mingled, ragged and desperate, as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared climax. His cock pulsed inside her, the sensation making her shiver. "You're mine," he murmured again, his voice a gentle reminder of the power he held over her. "And I'm yours."

He didn't pull out, instead choosing to stay buried deep within her, his body a warm, heavy weight that she never wanted to escape. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs still wrapped around his waist, holding him close as if she could keep him there forever. "Always," she whispered, her voice a soft promise that seemed to echo through the quiet room.

George kissed her forehead, his movements gentle and soothing. He pulled out slowly, the feeling of emptiness making her whimper. He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him so that she was nestled against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took.

"You're mine," he murmured again, his voice a gentle reminder of the possessive need that had driven him all night. She nodded, her eyes drifting shut as she felt the warmth of his embrace envelop her. His hand trailed down her back, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin that had her melting into him even more.

*****

"Bloody hell, George, that was..." Y/n's voice trailed off, the final word stuck in her throat as she stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving.

George, grinning from ear to ear, leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'm guessing you enjoyed it?"

Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Well, it wasn't exactly your typical Tuesday night."

They lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, the room still and quiet. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the bedside table. Y/n's hand reached out and found George's, their fingers interlocking in a silent promise of comfort and care.

George pulled the duvet up to cover their naked forms, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, her eyes fluttering closed. "Just a bit... tender."

He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath fanning her cheek. "I'll be more gentle next time," he promised, planting another kiss on her forehead.

With a sigh, Y/n turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "Thank you," she whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his eyes filled with concern. "For what?"

"For always looking after me, even when things get... intense."

He nodded, understanding in his gaze. "It's what we do, isn't it?"

They lay there for a while longer, their bodies entwined, until the room grew cold and the early morning light began to creep in through the curtains. Y/n shivered and George tightened his hold, sharing his warmth.

"Would you like some tea?" he offered, his voice still a gentle rumble.

"That would be lovely," she murmured, her eyes still closed.

With a soft squeeze of her hand, George slipped out of bed, his footsteps padding quietly across the floorboards as he disappeared into the kitchen. The faint sound of the kettle being filled and turned on echoed through the flat.

Y/n took a deep breath, letting the scent of him linger on her skin. She could feel the tenderness between her legs, a reminder of their passionate night. As she waited for him to return, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. Despite the occasional roughness, their relationship had always been one of care and consideration.

When George came back with two steaming mugs, she sat up and took one from him, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. The scent of Earl Grey wafted up, soothing and familiar. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea and watching the shadows on the wall dance as the sun rose over London.

The moment was peaceful, a stark contrast to the passionate tumult of just an hour ago. Yet, in its own way, it was just as intimate. It was the quiet aftercare that followed the storm, the gentle touches and soft words that stitched their hearts back together, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

And as the night stretched out before them, she knew that she'd never want to leave this moment, never want to break the spell that held them in its thrall. Because in George's arms, she'd found a home, a place where she could be both the soft, vulnerable creature she truly was, and the fiery siren he brought out in her. It was a balance she never knew she needed, but now that she had it, she couldn't imagine life without it.

The city outside their window was a distant memory, the only world that mattered was the one they'd created in this room, in this bed. And as she closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her, she knew that she'd wake up to the same sweet, gentle care that had become their signature. This was their little slice of heaven, and she had no intention of ever letting go.

*****

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Love Bite

6.2k words.

CW: Dead lover (although not seen dead), general zombie/undead activities. While the ghouls are sapient/pass the harkness test, they are made up of an amalgamation of human bodies. If that disturbs you, I would skip this one.

Disclaimer: I haven't seen/played or consumed any Fallout media, these ghouls aren't like those (at least not intentionally). They're more like Frankenstein's monsters,/the ghouls from Tokyo Ghoul with a more spiritual connection.

Summary: A woman goes to the undead base on feeding night to get some answers... And maybe more from their leader.

This was originally written as a script, and I've repurposed it as a short story. I hope the switch works.

The radio had been blaring for hours, warning that it was feeding night. While most of the undead would be confined to hallowed ground, a few stragglers had been spotted roaming the streets. It wasn’t unheard of for a living human to be on the receiving end of a life changing, or ending, bite. The only people out were the Cleaners, driving slowly in armored vehicles, coming out in special suits that, supposedly, a ghoul couldn’t bite through.

You had managed to avoid being seen by both, ducking around corners and sprinting past streetlights. The belt around your waist was heavy, but filled with the items needed to fend off an undead that ventured too close. They had formed a shaky peace with the humans who occupied the town, offering their services as both mediums and mercenaries. Tougher than the average human, with a connection to the veil between life and death. Their prices were never cheap, of course, but it seemed to be something people would pay for.

In return, they were allowed free run once a night to feast. Although if the rumors were true, then the ghouls would also pay for access to fresh meat outside of the allotted date. The same thing that brought them to life wouldn’t last forever, and there were whispers of the undead showing up with fresher body parts than they had previously.

Nothing official, of course. But rumors, like hordes, spread fast and couldn’t be contained for long.

You weren’t sure if them eating the living or using their bodies for… Bodies was worse.

As you passed another armored truck, two Suits scraped up a mishmash of ghoul and its victim. Both had lost the fight.

Pushing it out of your mind, you swallowed and steeled yourself for what was to come.

The moon had reached its high point when you arrived at the cathedral. Iron gates surrounded it on all sides. You could see Roamers out front, moaning in their own language with an occasional bit of the local tongue slipped in. Judging by how human their bodies still looked, they must have been recently turned.

Walking around, you found a hole in the fence and wriggled under it. Your belt caught, stopping you against where sidewalk met grass. Pulling a baton free, you clutched it one hand, and unclipped the belt with the other.

As fast as you could, you crawled under the pickets, wincing as your shirt snagged on one and ripped. With the moaning and groaning in the background, you hoped the sound was masked. Sucking in your stomach, you wriggled under and quickly yanked the belt after you, quickly putting it back on before standing.

A paper fell out of your unbuttoned pouch, and you snatched it up, trying to shove the contents back inside while keeping your head on a swivel.

Keeping the baton out, you stared at the stained glass windows. Once upon a time, they had shown images of doves, holy books, and saints. Now, they showed the undead, brought to life by a mixture of science and a bit of magic. Some said they were the second coming, but you didn’t believe it.

Gritting your teeth, you made a beeline for the side door. The front was filled with the roamers. A few were passed out on the ground, chests rising and falling with the memory of breathing.

It took all your self-control not to turn around and go through the hole you came through.

It was all going well, until you felt a wet spot on the back of your shirt. Pausing, you put a hand to the spot, and pulled away your fingers, heart leaping in your throat when you saw they came away red.

Blood.

A warm summer breeze hit you, and the creaking of ancient bones filled the air as the roamers turned in your direction. Cloudy eyes squinted as nostrils flared. Clutching the baton, you ran to the side door.

The handle felt slick in your grasp as you fumbled with it. As you tugged, the sound of metal scraping on metal seemed so loud, no doubt alerting the hoard of your presence if your blood already hadn’t.

Some shuffled toward you, heads tilted to the side as they seemed to take you in, But before you could get a better look, you yanked the door open and ran inside, slamming it behind you.

A few candles lit up the hallway as florescent lights flickered above enough to give you pause. Panting, you clutched the weapon tighter as you waited for something to burst from the darkness.

Something instead hit the door behind you, spurring you forward. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw a few staring at you through the glass. Sweaty palm prints pressed against the pane as they leaned against it. Black fluid seeped from lips as they sniffed.

Backing away, you had barely turned around when you nearly slammed into a figure in the dark. You took a swing, feeling it connect. A grunt told you it made an impact. The scent of posies and peppermint filled your nose, making your hair stand on end.

Then, a large hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it to make you drop the weapon, Your body turned with it, dumping a few of your belt’s contents onto the floor. Before your arm snapped, you saw the amber eyes, a signature of the resurrected dead.

He sniffed, the ichor seeping from his lips. Unlike the Roamers outside, it was less viscous and more of a dark grey as opposed to pure black.

You brought your hand back to strike him, but he let go, sending you to the floor in a heap. Before you could get your bearings, he reached down and picked up the paper.

“You’re here to see Romero?” His teeth looked like they had been filed to a point. His grey tongue stewed in more drool.

The raspy voice sent another chill up your spine. Sure, ghouls could speak, but it was one thing to hear it over a radio or television, another thing to hear it in person.

“Y-yeah.” You managed to say, eyeing your weapon. As you inched toward it, you felt your stomach drop as the creature’s hand grabbed your shoulder, then slid down to your bicep.

Unceremoniously hauled to your feet, you winced and waited for the bite….

But it never came. 

“Very well….” He started to walk, all but pulling down the hallway. To keep yourself from being dragged, you regained your footing and did your best to match the much larger man’s pace.

When you both came to double doors leading the auditorium, you saw the name plate.

Romero.

The ghoul knocked on the door, his meaty fist making it echo in the empty hall. You squinted, half expecting more undead to come scrambling out of the dark and to devour you.

“Enter.” A voice called from on the other side of the door. It was muffled, but your heart still skipped a beat at how… Familiar it sounded.

Your escort opened the door. The creaking drug out, and your heart skipped a beat to see…

A man you’d never seen before. The scarred, mismatched skin of a ghoul covered his body, along with the split coloring of black and white on his scalp, one half straight, the other curly. His attire was a suit, pressed, with a bright red tie.

He was sat at a desk next to the pulpit, flipping through a file. Classical music softly played on a record player, not audible beyond the room.

“Leave us, please.” He didn’t look up from his file.   

The escort’s grip on your arm loosened. Hot breath stirred at your neck, and you turned at the last second, seeing his opened mouth mere inches from your shoulder.

“Get your mouth away from her.” The file hit the desk, scattering a few loose pieces of paper. Romero finally looked up, eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

Your escort stepped away, wiping his mouth and slurping down the drool.

“How would you like it if someone gave you a plate of food they’d taken a bite out of?” Romero’s eyes narrowed, and he snapped his fingers, pointing to the door.

“Sorry boss, won’t happen again.”

 “Make sure of it.” Romero followed him to the door. The creaking of his joints made you grit your teeth. His movements were just slow enough to look strange. How long had it been since you fed? Your eyes flicked to the desk again, where you saw a plate, only juices remaining of what he’d been eating.

Swallowing, you stood up straight, trying to not show fear.

Romero closed the door, turning the lock and hanging the key on a nail next to it.

“So.” He deeply sighed, closing his eyes. Veins protruded from his skin, slithering across his brow and cheeks. “You’ve come to the cathedral during feeding night.”

He opened his eyes, the veins stopped squirming, and he began to walk toward you, hands clasped behind his back. When he stopped, the scent of peppermint rolled over you. Sweat beaded on your upper lip as you swallowed, trying to not spit as the scent burrowed its way into your mouth and tongue.

“I’m amazed the horde didn’t take you at the gate.” He towered over you, eyes tracking back and forth as he sized you up.

Your breath caught in your throat as memories flooded back. Those eyes… So long ago.

They looked at you with love.  

“Relax.” He turned to the side and waved a dismissive hand through the air, as if trying to rid himself of a bad smell. “I’m not fond of eating someone whose mind would be a detriment to my intellect.”   

“A detriment?” You raised a brow, shaking the thoughts from your mind. Right. The creature in front of you was a thief!

“That’s how I would describe your actions. Too stupid to live.” He unfolded the piece of paper, staring at the flyer and rolling his eyes.  

“If more people like you were in power, the undead would have overtaken the city in months when we first started to walk.”

“Are you going to insult me this whole time?” You clenched your fists. “If this is how you treat everyone, I’m amazed the undead weren’t mowed down when you first started to walk.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the pew in front of the desk, before pulling open a drawer. “Clementine? Cranberries?” 

“What?” You expected to see a few cans or fruit cups, but your mouth watered when he pulled out the fresh produce, along with a bottle of water.  

“You think we only eat the flesh of the dead?” He tossed you the bottle of water, which you caught. Checking to make sure that it hadn’t been opened or had holes in the cap, you slowly opened it. “You’ve got a lot to learn.” 

Finishing the water bottle, you set it next to you on the pew. You heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on you again, now glittering with curiosity.

“You’re too old for your actions to be a dare or some childish foolhardiness.” Romero didn’t sit, but leaned on his desk. It creaked under his weight. “Did a spurned lover put you out? Angry boss threw you here because you fell behind on your performance?”   

You shook your head. Why was he asking so many questions?

Sweat trickled down your neck as you pushed down the memories starting to rear their heads again. Grabbing the water bottle, you made a show of crushing it down until only a small ring of plastic was under the cap.

“Are you in debt? Terminally ill?” His voice was softer, light returning to his eyes. His cheeks and hands started to look less clammy. “Because if it’s the latter, you’ll find no reprieve here. A vampire might be more to your liking.” 

“If I had those problems, then I would have let the hordes in the street take me. Maybe I would have been someone dragging terrified living through the halls.” You put a hand to your bicep, knowing it was likely going to bruise. At least a handprint was better than a bite mark.

“You’ve seen my kind.” The kindness was gone as he all but bit off each word. He held up an arm, showing where his wrist met the rest of his arm. The skin tones were slightly different. “Mismatched and sewn together from the best parts the dead—” He paused, rolling his eyes in a reluctant admittance. “—And occasional living, offer. We pay for the bodies, they pay us for the minds.”

“Yes.” You nodded to the paper in his hand. “I’ve seen it. Flyers around town, teasing them with promises of being able to talk to loved ones who passed on, or helping the police find criminals.”

“Is that why you’ve come?” He smiled, crumpling the paper in his fist and tossing it over his shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, you gripped your pant legs, nails digging into the fabric.   

“Did I hit a nerve?” The smile grew larger, but didn’t reach his eyes. A small part of you was relieved.  

“I take it you didn’t come prepared with money?”

“The flyer didn’t—”    

“I never take clients on feeding nights.” He held up a hand to cut you off, then stepped down the stairs to close the distance between you. “Too grisly. Lots of people upset that I’m eating in front of them.” 

You couldn’t hide your disgust as your lip drew backward and your face scrunched up. Leaning back in the pew, you crossed your arms. So, you’d come all this way for nothing?

“I’ve consumed lots of minds over the years.”  He put two fingers to his temples. “So many memories jumbled together. It’s hard to tell who they originally belonged to. The process to get… Specific can be taxing.  Of course, these things don’t come cheap, but there are many who are willing to pay if it means getting some closure from a loved one.”  

The eyes… They stared at you, trying to gauge your reaction. When your face relaxed, you were rewarded with a clementine. Peeling back the skin, you stared down at the fruit.

“Usually something is needed to trigger recollection. A trinket. A song.”  His voice was a lot closer. Closing your eyes, you didn’t dare look up to see how near he was to your face. Surprisingly, you could smell mint mixed in with his warm breath.   

“A smell…” 

A breeze stirred. And the memories lanced their way through your mind. Even when your squeezed your eyes shut, they remained.

“I can see it now, actually.” Romero’s voice was faint, fading into the ambience of downtown. A train whistled, and you sat on a bench, a suitcase at your side.  

 “You were supposed to meet him at the train station.” Romero’s voice was gone. The cadence… The tone… the speech pattern. You didn’t dare turn around to face him, for fear that everything would fade away. His voice. The one that matched the eyes.

“Both of you wanted to escape to a new city, leave this life behind. A place without the undead. Where you wouldn’t have to worry about the pressures of your families. Somewhere no one knew either of you. A clean slate. Thrive, not just survive.”   

“But his family had debts.” The scene began to fade away as a clock above the train tracks spun, people and other occupants of the station moved by in a blur.

“Ones that buried them worse than the corpses that make up the graveyard. They gave up everything to make it. Gambling on someone that they hoped would be the light at the end of their miserable tunnel.”  

The cathedral returned, and you saw Romero’s mismatched hand out of the corner of your eye.

“He was far from the only one.” The ghoul dropped his hand and shook his head. The pew creaked as he stood back in front of you.    

“His body was the base for my current form.” He ran his hands over his suit, fingers tracing over the buttons. For a moment, you thought he would undo them and show you the patchwork beneath it.

“But, like many, it needed better pieces. Parts had to be replaced. So many minds were absorbed in creating this.” His hands went back to his temples, pointer fingers resting on them.  

 “Of… Me?” He sounded unsure, brow furrowing as his straight hair fell over his eyes. “Us?”

His fingers went from his temples to his eyelids.   

“The eyes stayed, though. His were lovely. Although I suppose you knew that the moment ours met.” 

 You sucked in air through your teeth.

“What…” He shook his head and dropped his hands, placing a hand on his chest. His voice lacked bravado. For a moment, it looked like a tear was shimmering on his cheek. “Who he was doesn’t exist anymore. He’s… sorry. That he left you waiting. But he’s glad to see you’re doing well.”

Your heart fell into your stomach. If you hadn’t been sitting, then your legs would have given out. Panting, you placed a hand on your chest in a mirror of his own pose.  

 “Interesting…” His hand went to cover his mouth, but you would still hear his words. “Memories of the dead… Creating feelings.”   

He made a fist and cleared his throat, body becoming stiff.

“Is that all you needed to hear? I think we’re pushing things as we are.”   

“How did you do all that? Make me see that night?” Your words came out barely above a whisper. Your voice shook with each word. “Is this some trick?”

Your heart fluttered, and you reached out to touch the ghoul, as if that would bring them all back again.

“Forgive me, it was a mistake to refer to him in the present tense.” He started to back away from you, waving his hand in that dismissive way. “I don’t mean to make you angry.” 

 “I’m…” You felt tears slipping down your cheeks, large and hot. They fell down onto your collar and chest. “Not angry…” It surprised you, but you realized it was the truth. You certainly weren’t happy… But far from… The fury you expected.

“Such an expression doesn’t do you justice.” His expression softened, and his hand cupped your soaked cheek.  

“You’re still radiant despite it.” 

“Is this… Normal?”

 “Your presence is pulling him to the forefront. Quieting the others.” He put a finger to his lips with his freehand, closing his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled the minty breath over your face, covering you with goosebumps.

You didn’t dare say anything. Didn’t breathe. Worried that any noise you made would send him back to the hive mind. Losing him forever. A second death after seeing him for only a short amount of time.

How could people subject themselves to this?

“There are a lot of minds I’ve absorbed. Memories.” His hand went from your cheek to the curve of your neck. 

“But never emotions.” 

 “So does that mean he’s… Piloting you right now?” You felt silly for asking. Of course he wouldn’t be. Why would he refer himself to the third person?

“It would be impossible to bring him back, I apologize.” He dropped his hand. The icy cold of your cheek stung, like he’d slapped it.

“And yet…”

You finally sucked in a breath. Your heart slammed against your ribs, a battering ram that threatened to break them. Swallowing hard, you placed your palms on the back of the pew and forced yourself to stand.

“I appreciate all you’ve done. But I think we’re moving past a professional relationship.”

“Right. Yes.” He finally broke the gaze, and it was like a piece of you was torn free. “There is a cot that you can stay on until feeding night is over. Once the sun is out, then you can head home.”

You headed to the door, hand hovering above the key. It was the one thing that would give your freedom, but lock him away forever.

So many questions swirled around in your mind. It was a rare opportunity.

Turning back around, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Romero standing between the pews. Far enough away to give him deniability of following you, but closer than he’d been when you’d arrived.  

“Perhaps it’s these eyes of his.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “But ever since you walked into this room, I haven’t been able to see you as food, but as a thing of beauty. And your smell… Appetizing, but it entranced me further.” 

He took another step closer, eyes flicking to the key. It was slow enough to give you enough time to leave. To tell him to stop.

But you didn’t move.

These eyes of his…

Memories… Feelings… Sorry… Glad to see you’re doing well…

“I don’t want you to get confused.” You blurted. “You aren’t him.”

“I know.” He admitted. “But these memories…” He stopped within arm’s length of you. “I will never be a replacement for him, but perhaps you can find some comfort in that a small part of him will continue to live on.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes. The touch. The gaze. The way he talked… There was no way to convince yourself it was him…

But this was as close as you could get.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around him. The way he felt was… Wrong, but at least the warmth was the same. You expected stiff and cold. But you let your head rest on his chest, expecting to hear and feel the familiar rhythm of his heart.

Only silence answered.   

His fingers went under your chin, and he tilted your head up toward his. Rough lips brushed against yours in a chaste kiss. You closed your eyes. All you could see was the ghoul in the darkness.

“Perhaps we can continue to learn from one another.” His lips scratched against your earlobe. “You’ll find more of your love’s memories, and I’ll explore these emotions and senses…” His fingers slid between yours, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.  

You finally locked eyes with him, looping your arms around his neck. His hands went to your waist, and your bodies pressed up against one another.

Your lips met again, and he grabbed the back of your head and crushed you two together. He moaned softly, his rough mouth wet against yours. Remembering the ichor, you squeezed your own shut and prayed none would get into your mouth.

Then, a growl.

A sharp pain went up the curve of your neck. His hair brushed your skin and you tangled your hands in his hair.

Had it all been an act?

Was this how you died?

Then, he was off, licking his lips and shaking his head. 

“Sorry… Some natures are… Hard to ignore.” He stared at you, straightening his arms to look you over.  

 “Are you alright?”

“It hurts.” You admitted, putting a hand to the bite. It stung, but the skin didn’t seem to be broken. “Will I turn?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s… Just a love bite.”

You swallowed. Your head spun as you leaned into him once again. The surprise wore off, and so did the pain.  

 “Then I’m fine.”

“If I had a pulse,” He cupped your cheek again, bending down to brush his lips against yours in a much more chaste kiss. Guiding your hand to his chest, he let it rest. “It would be racing right now.  “There’s so much of you I want to feel and taste…  When I thought about sinking my teeth into your flesh, I never wanted to break it. Only leave you bruised.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“I suppose… I’ve already done that.”  He tilted his head to the side and winced apologetically, fingers brushing against the bite mark. Each touch made you stand up straight and suck in a breath, crushing your bodies together again, to where only your clothes separated you.

“I wanted… Want to indulge all of my senses with you.” He pulled you in for an embrace again, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “The moans that escape you dancing on the razor’s edge of pleasure and pain.”

A kiss on your forehead.  

“Lips that call out my name toward the heavens rather than cursing me into the dirt.” 

A kiss on your eyelid.

“Fingers that tangle in my clothing.” A kiss on your earlobe again, as his own digits twisted in the back of your shirt. “Pulling me closer instead of pushing away.” 

A kiss on your nose.

“Inhaling my scent rather than twisting away in disgust…”

A kiss on the lips.  

“A flavor that brings us mutual pleasure.”    

When he pulled away, you kissed him again. Your legs trembled, and he brought you to one of the pews and let you lean against it.

“We take parts of other bodies,” His hands roamed, going under your shirt. He found the wound from the fence, but his fingers danced around it with such dexterity that it didn’t hurt.

“I’d love to see one in its base state.”   

 You felt the all too familiar hardness between his legs. The touch almost made you cry out in shock. Sure, they took bodies, but they were… Anatomically correct?

“I’m undead, but I can still respond to stimuli.” He chuckled, then pulled back to give you room between him and the pew. “We may not reproduce like you do, but there’s still some pleasure that can be taken from it…”  

 “Ghouls have sex?”

“Maybe not nearly as often as humans do. But some memories stir… And if there’s a mood…” He titled his hand side to side with a noise of uncertainty.

“But I’ve never wanted to do it as much as I have with you right now.”

“Then surely… You remember how I like to be touched?” You felt your cheeks burn at your own forwardness. This was crazy.

But yet, you found yourself fumbling for your clothes, tossing them behind you on the pew. 

He stared, lips parted slightly as he took you in.

“Perfection…” 

The staring didn’t last long before he was kissing you again.

“I mean it. Truly.” He managed between kisses as his hands continued to explore, finding every sensitive spot and curve on you, his touch only becoming more eager as you let out soft sighs and moans.

“Just as lovely as it was… No… Better.”

Then, he broke the barrage of kisses to loosen his tie and start unbuttoning his suit. Unbuckling his belt, he gave you a sly look as his pants fell around his ankles. He stripped all fabric off him, revealing the patchwork skin beneath in the candlelight.  

“It’s only fair if I’m as naked as you.” 

 Shadows danced across his skin, making it harder to tell where some ended and others began. A strange stitching of flesh that he somehow made look whole.

 “As I said, we take all the best parts… Some for aesthetic. Some for health.”

You ran your hands over his skin, fingers more adept at finding the cracks in him than your eyes.  

 “I try to find a mixture of both.” He let out a soft gasp as your hands trailed lower over his hip bones. “Haphazard, yet coherent.” 

 Then you saw the cock rising and drooling. The fluid glistened in the light, and you sucked in a breath.

“His eyes weren’t the only thing I kept…” He softly moaned as your fingers brushed against it. Somehow, it managed to grow harder and leak more, leaving a glistening trail on your skin.

“It remembers your touch quite well. You appear to be a master of the flesh yourself.” 

 He brought you in for another kiss, moaning into your mouth as you pumped him. Your hands became slick with him, and it helped lube him up more. His hips bucked, hilting into your grip. You squeezed more, increasing your pace as you felt between your legs tingle with the memory of him…

You dropped to your knees, continuing to stroke, the head dampening with your pants.  

“It seems to fit in your hand…” He moaned as you took him into your mouth. “And mouth , perfectly!” 

He moaned, thrusting into your mouth. You opened wide for him, letting him go as deep as he could. It had been a while, but you moaned around him, grabbing his thighs to pull him back in when he tried to back out. When he did manage to get free, you sucked on his thighs and balls, tongue leaving a shimmering path behind you.

His panting and your sucking joined the classical music in the background.

“That’s certainly one way to draw out memories!” He moaned into you, resting his hands on the pew so he could thrust more into your mouth, but not hard enough to slam your head against the wood. You grabbed him harder, forcing him as deep as he could go while still sucking.   

“I imagine a lot more of my kind would be willing to work with the living using this method!” 

You pulled your mouth free, looking at his rock hard length, wet with your saliva. You pumped it a few more times, running your lips across the shaft and lapping at his balls. The taste… the smell.. the sight… You almost felt dizzy with delight at how familiar it all was.  

“I imagine kneeling on a stone floor isn’t terribly comfortable.” He offered his hand, and you took it. With a grunt, he hauled you to your feet. He brought his hands between your legs, the grin returning when he felt the wetness between them.  

“I feel it’s only fair to return the favor.”   

His lips were against your skin, sending more goosebumps over it as your nipples became erect.

 “Go ahead and lay back.”

You balanced on the edge of the pew. At least the sides were large enough to let you sit without it digging too much into your behind.  

 “Probably more comfortable.” He mumbled against your collarbone as he started to slide down, his lips and tongue mingling with your breasts, your stomach, hips…  

“I have a… different hunger that needs to be satisfied.” 

 He drew his tongue across your wetness, swirling around your clit, breath warm against your folds. He rolled his head, drawing out the motion, before drawing it back. His lips rested against your thigh, before he clamped down on it again.  

“Sorry.” His eyes went wide as his mouth continued to nibble across your thigh, before he pulled off with a suctioning sound. Grunting, he pulled off, about to apologize again, before you wrapped your legs around his head and yanked him closer.  

“I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy that.” His muffled voice rumbled through you, and your back arched.  

He continued to lick, parting your lips so he could plunge in deeper. His tongue moved with precision, teeth barely grazing your clit. Warm breath punctuated with moans vibrated through your entire body as he continued to devour you, not even coming up for air.    

Eager lips parted and lapped at your wetness, fingers prying you open and delving deeper as he moved his head side to side, face slick with your essence.

You braced yourself on the pews, panting and moaning as the licks continued to spark the desire in you, then fanned the small flame into an inferno. You cried out, back arching again as your legs locked around his head. Taking shallow breaths, you tried to not fall backward.

“You’re truly on that edge.” He said with another lick, pulling back and running his tongue up your thigh. “A precipice of danger and desire.” 

With no mercy, he licked and sucked more, focusing purely on your clit as his fingers slipped in and out of you, going deep and brushing against your most sensitive spots. Your moans grew louder, your body slick with sweat as the inferno raged out of control. You saw stars, your vision fracturing like the stained glass all around you.

“I want to fill that emptiness left.  Cure an ache I never knew I had.” He murmured against you.  

“I can’t replace him, but…”

You rocked forward, all but collapsing into his arms and sending you both to the floor in a heap. He caught the both of you, his suit forming a sort of cushion beneath the two of you. It still hurt, but you didn’t care, only kissing him more.  

“Maybe… Just for tonight. We can both feel alive, again.” 

You answered with a kiss.

“I can’t do much to make a stone floor comfortable, sorry.” He pointedly looked around at all the scattered clothing.  “I doubt the two of us could fit properly on a pew…”

He sat up with a grunt, still cradling you in one arm.

“The only really cushioned spot in here is my chair…” He nodded to the desk.  

“So. I guess you’ll have to sit on my lap.” He grunted and winced as his joints popped while standing.  

“Come on, up we go.”  

You started to stand, but your body felt like jelly and collapsed underneath you again.

“Having trouble getting your legs under you?” He grabbed your hand tighter and then pulled you into a bridal carry, taking you to the desk.

“You’re not?”

He sat you down against the desk. You leaned on it for support as he sat in his chair, patting his thigh.  

“Have a seat.” There was the glittering of mischief in his eyes. So warm. With a smile that actually reached the edges.  

You straddled his lap, clinging tight to his shoulders as you hovered over him. You could feel the wetness of your entrance and his tip as they brushed against one another. Letting out another gasp, you lined yourself up and finally took him inside.  

“A perfect fit.” His whispered into your ear.

Once you had gotten comfortable, he began to thrust up into you, hands on your hips.    

“ It’s like everything I remembered,” He said between moans. “Despite never having felt it before.” 

He started to speed up, reaching further than his fingers and tongue ever could. Your walls opened up, allowing him inside you. Your synchronized moans overtook the record player, but you didn’t care.  

“Creating new memories…” He crashed his lips onto yours, and you met his movements with your own.  He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as his grip on you only grew tighter.  

“The hair’s width of distance—” Another moan, and his breath caught. Sweat poured down his brow with exertion. “Between life and death growing thinner.”

  He slowed, drawing out the motion intentionally, all but dragging himself inside you.

 “And thinner.” His voice was breathy, shallow breaths warmed your skin and lips.  

He sped up again, hilting you each time and making you cry out. You stopped meeting his movements and clung onto him as he thrust in and out of you.  

“Every kiss—” He once again brought his lips to yours. “Moan…” His voice trailed off into a moan. “Drop of sweat….” His hands released your hips and let you fall onto him.

“Another way to make the barrier dissolve.  And when you lean against me…” He thrust again, the motion lazy and agonizingly slow.  

 “It’s like you’re pushing through…  I guess we’ll have to keep finding holes and make due.” He chuckled and thrust up into you again.  

Then, he clamped onto your neck again. Rather than pain, you only went over the edge in pleasure, nails digging into him as you cried out. You clamped down on him as he released inside you. Fluid and wet mixed on your thighs and his lap, dripping onto the floor.

He sucked, cradling you close and finally pulling off, kissing it apologetically.

“I guess there’s some parts of my nature I can’t ignore.” He whispered against your skin. “We have some medical supplies to treat that.”

You couldn’t help but shoot him a look at you clutched the fresh bite. Your heart fluttered as your legs and between them tingled. Despite the fear, you couldn’t push down the excitement flooding your body.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t turn. Takes a bit more… Finesse to become one of us.” 

 You resting your head against his chest, hand searching for his beating heart. You let out a sigh of disappointment when you remembered there wouldn’t be one.

“I appreciate you indulging me. I hope this brought you some closure.” He stroked between your shoulder blades and nuzzled up against you.   

“And if it didn’t… Perhaps we could try again?” You expected him to laugh or make a joke, but his face was… Hopeful.    

“I feel like I’ve been revived a second time. It’s a phenomenon I’d like to explore more.” He stared at his hands, which were shaking. “New methods to channel the dead and creating memories that can… Coexist with the old ones.” 

“Making breakthroughs?” You managed to say. “Discovering new methods on how things work with your kind?”  

“I think your teaching style differs from what I’m used to.” His hand slid into yours again. “And I’d love to learn more.  Maybe your mind can be of use to me after all.”

[dianadeadwing]

Inktober Day 5- Map

TLDR - Here’s a map of the shops on Bob’s Burgers Ocean Avenue as based on the Bob’s Burgers Movie and parts of season 13. Extensive Notes to follow.

This is the map I alluded to earlier in the week of the storefronts with visible names in the movie. The dimensions of the buildings are based on the aerial shot from the end of “The Plight Before Christmas”.

There are inconsistencies between the movie and the series (as well as within the movie itself) as far as the color and location of some of these buildings. I’ve defaulted to colors used in the series but names from the movie. Several of these shops have had different names earlier in the series so I’m working from the movie onward for consistency’s sake.

1. Hotel- Unsure if this hotel has a name.

2. Reflections

3. Spoke of the Devil (Bike Shop) - Shop is named “Spoke of the Devil” the words “bike shop” can be seen as part of a neon sign in the window.

4. First Oceanside Savings Bank

5. Yours Truly, Stationary

6. Jimmy Pesto’s Pizzeria

7. The Petalphile

8. Unknown store front - This building is usually depicted as blue with a large front window indicating that it’s some sort of storefront but I’ve been unable to find a name so far.

9. From Here To Maternity (Pregnancy Clothes) - The movie depicts this building as being brown but the series almost always shows it as green so I’ve made it green on the map.

10. Fresh Off The Presses (Cleaners) - Shop is named “Fresh Off The Presses” with “cleaners” in a neon sign in the window.

11. Unknown Store Front - This shop has a visible name in several shots from the movie but I can’t make it out.

* Some shots from the movie show an additional pink building at the end and others don’t. It does not have a awning or large front window and could therefore possibly residential or a service (such as a lawyer). This building does not appear in the aerial shot so I did not include it.

12. Ocean Market

13. Needles to Say - This shop as well as the following three also appear in season thirteen and are particularly visible in “What a (April) Fool Believes”.

14. Walk All Over Me (Flooring Showcase)

15. You Were Framed (Picture Framing)

16. For Pete’s Cake

17. It’s Your Funeral (Home and Crematorium)

18. Bob’s Burgers

19. Store Next Door - The often vacant orange store front next to Bob’s.

20. Red building- This building is very visible in several shots but isn’t shown to have a name. It has three front doors at the top of some stairs. Because of its layout it seems most likely to be residential. (As we know this neighborhood has mixed zoning, such as Mr. Huggins’ apartment building)

21. Blue Building - The positions of this building and the beige building are switched in the movie. In the series it’s fairly consistently blue so that’s what I’ve included. It seems similar in structure to the red building and could also be residential, but we don’t get many good shots of this part of the street so it’s hard to tell.

22. Beige Building - This part of the street is most often seen from the alley. It appears to have a loading dock. This where Alice parks her food truck in “As I Walk Through the Alley of the Shadow of Ramps” in season 8.

23. Liquor - This building has been depicted in different colors but has a prominent sign stating “Liquor”. I’ve seen it called “Oh La Liquor” but I’d like to see this in later season materials.

This is just what I’ve gathered as of ep 14.1. Please feel free to let me know if you have any additional information. (Or an official map) I’m absurdly invested in this.

There is also an aerial shot from the movie that shows Wagstaff in relation to Ocean Avenue (it’s also mentioned to be four blocks away) and I just wish I could take screen shots so I could study it better. I’ll make a map of this whole dang town.

[emjiroki]

Bowling Alley Owner! Satoru Gojo x New Employee! Reader

wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: Coercion, workplace harassment, creampie, exhibitionism, suggestive jokes, me attempting to be funny , reader being a little slutty but we love it

link to song playing in beginning

A/N: Hi everybody! my entry to the slimeball collab is finally here! I had maybe too much fun with this one honestly, Gojo is just so fun to write for. Hope everyone enjoys and gets a laugh or two ♡ Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated (and treasured like gold) @bastardblvd

Please go enjoy all of the amazing works on the collabs masterlist》 Slimeball Masterlist

The animated neon signs glowed brightly against the wet pavement and the ‘Help Wanted’ flier in your hand. Having to move to this hell hole of a town was bad enough but trying to find a job in it was worse, at this point this shitty Bowling Alley seemed to be the best option. You pushed the door open to the smell of shoe polish, floor cleaner, and stale pizza; 'Cold as Ice' by Foreigner playing from the overhead speakers. These facts alone made you want to turn and make your way out, maybe try and get a job at the convenience store down the street. 

“Wait! Hold on a minute! Don’t go anywhere” a voice called out to you from behind the shoe counter a few paces from the door as the electric chime of the door rang out. There was a crash of something being knocked over and then the door to the back office opened. A tall man with a shock of white hair, round black sunglasses, and a red “Grab your balls, we’re goin' Bowling” t-shirt stepped out. Yeah, you were leaving. 

“You here for a game or two? We close the lanes at midnight, but the beer tap is open until three” He commented, nodding down to your feet before turning to the shoe rack behind him, “What size are those grippers?”. 

“Uh, actually some guy was tossing these fliers out of his mail truck this morning and I was hoping to get an application,” You said, ignoring his question and handing him the paper when he held his hand out. He glanced at it with a smirk.

“Good! Suguru’s been giving them out, kinda wanted him to tape them in the laundry mat or something but littering is just as good” He muttered almost dejectedly, before tipping his dark glasses down, his blue eyes so bright you thought they might be contacts, “the names Gojo by the way, Satoru Gojo” He stuck a big hand out across the counter and shook yours delicately. You tell him your name when he expects a reply with an arched brow.

“So do I just come and grab my application from the manager tomorrow or something?” You asked, slightly looking atop the shoe rack to see if could see any and then next to the cash register. None in sight. 

“What size shirt do you wear?” Gojo asked leaning into the back office and rifling through a cardboard box. You told him with a questioning tone before being startled by a bright red t-shirt flying at your face. The very obvious grimace at the near-obscene work shirt had the white-haired man busting into a laugh, wiping a fake tear from under his eye.

“That never gets old” He snorted, smoothing his hair back, “I’ll give you a quick tour of the place tomorrow, your shift starts at five”.

“Wait so you’re-”

“The manager? Yeah. and the owner” He replied, wiping a rag against the already shining counter, “Paid the homeless guy that was holed up in here a bag of burgers for the place, never even had to go to city hall”. You were about to question the legitimacy of his business but decided maybe you didn’t want to know. You needed a job and as long as you were getting paid you didn’t care. And well if you admitted it, the boss was pretty easy on the eyes. 

4:56 pm

You might have been less than enthused to wear the “Company” t-shirt but starting a new job always gave you a small bit of excitement, or apprehension, you weren’t really sure in this case. The door had barely shut behind you before you could hear Gojo shouting.

“You know you’re not allowed in here anymore!”

“Awe come on Satoru, the bar and the liquor joint both kicked me out cause of my tabs, just one beer” whoever it was tried to reason. 

“No! Last time I let you in here you sucked on all the nozzles and gave my customers HPV, Get out!”. Your boss and a heavily muscled dark-haired man came from around the corner from where you assumed the bar was, Gojo whipping him with a cleaning rag in precise snaps against the man’s face and arms as he tried to shield himself. You stepped out of the way as he was herded towards the door, braising his thick arms against the doorframe to keep from being shoved out. The man noticed you standing just off to the side, a lecherous smirk forming on his scarred lips despite the onslaught as he gave you a once over with his vibrant green eyes.

“Pretty little employee Satoru should let me break her in for you” He grinned, catching the rag across the mouth.

“Ijichi! Get the broom!” Gojo called, a spindly man with glasses hurrying from the backroom with a wooden janitor's broom clutched in his fists. The dark-haired man was clobbered twice over the head with the thick bristled end before escaping out the door with an “Ow Fuck!��; Gojo slammed the door and locked it behind him. 

"First tip I'll give you sweet cheeks," Satoru said, turning his attention back to you still standing by the counter, "Don't let him in, he'll huff the shoe polish and get you pregnant". You nodded, not knowing really what to say to that bit of information. 

“Aren’t you going to unlock the doors so customers can come in?” You asked as he stepped away, pushing his hair back and adjusting his black glasses. 

“Toji likes to lurk around and hunt for pizza scraps in the dumpster so Ijichi will handle it once he’s gone,” He said, standing nearly toe to toe with you as your heart leaped to your throat. The way he filled out the tight red t-shirt and his dark jeans had your mouth going dry as he leaned down to get even closer to you, did he look this good yesterday?

“Besides,” He said, his breath warm against your cheek and smelling like those pink strawberry gumballs, “gotta show you around and loosen you up a bit before I unleash you to the customers right?”.

“R-Right, guess that makes sense” You stammered, did he just say what you think he did? He straightened himself to his full height before throwing his arm around your shoulders with a grin, practically dragging you around the corner down the short steps toward the lanes. The alley wasn't big. Six bowling lanes, a small arcade with a couple of out-of-order signs, a bar with run-down stools, and a pizza oven barely big enough to fit two pies. Nothing too big or flashy but just enough to be kinda fun, if you’re drunk enough. 

“Lane two has a bump in it from a burst water pipe if you get complaints just tell them we’ve got a contractor coming and give them a coupon” Gojo explained, long arm still draped around your shoulder as he directed you around manually, your feet stumbling a little here and there.

“When will the contractor be here?” You asked, knowing the answer before he even said it. 

“When this town decides to get one I guess,” He shrugged with a smirk, “Oh, and all the coupons are expired but that’s for Ijichi to handle so don’t worry about it”. Maybe some questions are better left unanswered. 

“Now with Lane Five, the balls get stuck in the return shoot, especially the heavy ones. Sometimes you’ll have to stick your hand in to pull them out”. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling. Gojo stood at the control panel and set a one-round practice game, grabbing a sixteen-pound ball from the rack behind him and playfully balancing it on one finger with a grin before slotting his fingers in the holes.

“You any good at the game?” He asked curiously, his pretty blue eyes making your tongue go dry as peeked over the edge of his dark glasses. You shook your head, never really being that great at any kind of sports games in general. 

“Well I am, but then again I’m pretty much good at everything” He boasted with a smile.

“Not very good at being humble” You retorted, receiving a snort from the tall man in return. 

“Give me some time sweetheart,” He said with a wink, lining up his shot when the pins set themselves, “I’ll show you everything I’m good at”. He took two steps to the lane and let it fly, the orange ball turned basically to a blur and crashed into the pins in a perfect strike. The ball return made a soft grinding whirring sound as it struggled, the machine finally stopping with an error message flashing on the screen and the orange ball snugged just at the entrance of the machine. 

“See? Now it's just the suction behind it because the machine’s a little older so all you have to do” He started, pressing the red cancel button on the side of the return shoot to stop the mechanisms, “Shut the machine down and slide your hand around to find the holes and pry it out”. You stepped up to the machine, sliding your hand around searching for the finger holes.

“I can’t quite get it,” You said in frustration when you were barely able to squeeze your fingers around. The words had barely left your mouth before Gojo was behind you, his sculpted arms going around you, one hand going down to your hip and the other snaking down the length of your arm and into the machine.

“Just feel for the holes,” He said so close to your ear that you couldn’t help the shiver racing down your spine. You could practically feel the smirk forming on his lips as he leaned in, his face almost to your throat as he pressed himself against your back, “Pull a little”. You tugged on the ball but it seemed stuck more than you thought. You felt Gojo’s long fingers graze yours, gently grasping your hand and guiding it forward, the tips of your fingers finally touching the hole edges.

“Good, pull harder” The feeling of his warm palm over the back of your hand had your heart thumping, his fingers squeezing yours in encouragement making your breath hitch.

“Harder”. Did he mean for his voice to sound so silky? like you were doing something far lewder than simply removing a bowling ball from a machine. You could feel the ball turning, easing out of the opening just as the edge of your hips met the machine and you could feel his hardening length press against the curve of your ass. This might have been a bit inappropriate, he was your boss after all and you had only just started working here, but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. If he wanted to play this little game then you could too and you’d enjoy it every step of the way, besides, it was hard to deny a man so handsome especially when he was not so keen on hiding his interest in the first place. The soft gasp that escaped him as you arched and pressed yourself back against him had a sly smile breaking across your lips, his hand on your hip gripping just a little tighter. At that moment you tugged just a bit harder and the ball came free, weighing your arm down for a second before Gojo took it from you.

“Knew you could do it, not too hard right?” He asked, moving off your back to set the ball back on the rack.

"Sure, I appreciate you showing me how though," You said, batting your eyelashes to inflate his ego just a bit more. You thought his head was going to swell like a balloon with the wide grin that broke across his lips, his big hand softly pressing against the small of your back.

"Anytime sweetness, now I'm assuming you've got experience with a cash register?" You confirmed that you did, having a few years of retail experience before moving here. Gojo ushered you back the way you had come, the hand on your back guiding you behind the counter you had first met him at and stopping you just before getting to the door you assumed led to his office. 

"Now before we get into the nitty-gritty of all your paperwork, we should probably get your employee physical done first” He mentioned, a smirk that rivaled Toji’s from earlier sending warmth through your belly. 

“Employee physical? Like a drug test and stuff?” You asked, stammering only as he slightly crowded you back, caging you in with his long arms and placing his hands on the counter. 

“No no nothing like that, I couldn’t care less about that,” He chuckled, trailing one of his hands up your arm as if testing the waters before his fingers brushed your jaw, “just wanna see how perfect you are, is that so bad?”. Was this really happening right now? You had never pictured your first day of any job ever going like this. This was like some bad porn scenario, but could you really complain? Not really. He took your silence and burning cheeks as a no.

“Sit that pretty ass up on the counter for me would you?”. You jumped up without having to be asked twice,  your stomach twisting with aggressive butterflies as he walked his fingers of one hand up your thigh while the other gripped your knee, your heart in your throat as one long finger traced the waistband of your leggings. You released the shaky breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, his bright blue eyes glancing up at you over his dark glasses and freezing you in place.

“Nervous?” He asked, slotting himself between your legs and leaning in, his height almost intimidating despite how you squared your shoulders.

“No,” You said breathily with a shake of your head, shivering as he skimmed his nose along your jawline, his skin soft against yours as he inched closer to your waiting lips. Maybe it should have been embarrassing how your panties were already wet. Still, the soft groan that rolled off his tongue when his fingers made contact with the dampness of the material had all thoughts of shame melting away, only to be replaced with the arousal beginning to boil in your abdomen as he pressed against your clit and began turning teasing circles. Your hips bucked up against his fingers, your breaths coming out in heavy pants as you fought any sounds from spilling out through your teeth clamping your bottom lip. 

“Come on now, don’t hide anything from me,” Gojo chided, the thumb of his left hand moving to cup your jaw and pry your reddening lip from your teeth, “I’m your boss now, wanna know everything about you. What you sound like, what you taste like, the spots that make you shake and shiver”. He was pulling your panties down now too, your wet pussy on full display for him as your cheeks burned. Gojo slid his index finger down from your throbbing clit to where it was wet and warm, positioning to slide in when you grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

“W-Wait what if a customer comes in or-” You stammered, getting cut off by his lips pressing to yours, a wanton moan spilling out against his tongue as he pressed in any way, sliding in until the pad of his long finger was nudging against the tingling soft spot inside of you.

“So what? Their money’s not good enough to pass up on this pretty pussy, probably stolen anyway” He mumbled against your lips, barely pulling away long enough to even get the words out before he back pressing against you, your tongue rolling hotly against his bottom lip as your walls clench tight around his finger and dragging another soft groan from him. 

“But what about the other employee?” You asked as you tugged his white hair to pull him away and catch your breath. A devious grin broke across his pretty lips.

“Ijichi! Come here!”. Your eyes widened, your legs clamping around his arm as you tried to move away in time. 

“Yes, Gojo?” the dark-haired man addressed as he left the back room with a can of roach repellent and a bandana in hand, his expression neutral and unchanging when he saw you spread on the counter, cheeks red and pants nearly around your ankles. 

“You don’t care if we do this here right?” Gojo asked in full confidence, casually sliding a second finger in beside the first to stretch you out and pull a lustful moan from you despite your resistance. Besides the man’s neck growing a bit pink he looked completely unphased, never breaking eye contact with your boss as he shrugged.

“No, as long as I don’t have to clean that counter afterward”. Gojo snorted, retracting his fingers and fixing you with a pleased, almost mischievous look as he popped his fingers in his mouth and groaned.

“Guess that means we’ll finish this little introduction in my office then”. He was too damn good-looking, too handsome for his own good and he knew it. Gojo scooped you up in his arms, fixing your legs around his waist the best he could, and practically kicked the door open, your eyes shut tight so you didn’t have to look at Ijichi and let him see the shame on your face. Your boss's desk was cold against your ass he set you down, pulling your pants the rest of the way off and throwing them over his shoulder onto the floor. You leaned forward and rucked his shirt up to his navel, marveling at the chiseled abs you knew had been concealed not so conspicuously. You felt him shudder under your fingertips as you pressed your soft lips just above the waistband of his dark jeans, lashes fluttering as you looked up into his low-lidded eyes. 

“Getting handsy are we?” He huffed as he stripped his shirt and you worked his zipper and button down, shimming the denim until it was down below his knees with his boxer briefs on display. 

“I can’t be the only one getting undressed here, Mr.Gojo,” You said coyly, running your hand across the prominent bulge. A strained moan dragged from his chest, his hands going to your under thighs to lift and press you back against the wood of his desk. 

“As much as that title makes my dick hard, I think we’re long past formalities,” He said, kissing a trail down your throat to your collarbone, “Call me Satoru, please”. You gasped at the feeling of his hand gliding up your shirt to your bare chest, fingers tweaking and delicately pulling at the pebbled nipple. You could feel the smirk against your skin though he made me comment on your lack of a bra, who was he to judge anyway? Satoru groaned when your hands traveled down to pull at his underwear, his own hands assisting you until you could feel the heat of his throbbing cock against your lower belly. You attempted to lean up and push him away, your mouth watering at the thought of him stuffing into the back of your throat but he stopped you with a chuckle, laughing a little more when you gave him a heated questions look. 

“Trust me, you can have me in your mouth all you want later but right now” He trailed off, fingers moving back down to your heat for a moment to play with your puffy clit and making you arch against his touch, “ I wanna feel you, all of you. Think you can handle it?”. You nodded eagerly, your cheeks burning hot as flames as you looked down to the length throbbing against your abdomen. He was bigger than probably any guy had been with, the head flushed a pretty dark pink and leaking against your skin. It seemed to surprise him when you leaned up to lock lips again, your tongue almost immediately invading his mouth as your hands clenched into his white hair to pull him closer as your hips bucked up against his to rub your wetness along the underside of his cock. You both gasped against the other's lips when the head caught at your entrance. He nibbled his pearly whites against your kiss-swollen bottom lip as he eased his hand down between your bodies, slotting your legs against his shoulders. You cried out as he filled out abruptly, the stretching burning for a moment as you dragged your nails against his shoulders. There was a slight bulge in your tummy from how far he reached, barely able to even catch your breath before he was pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. 

“Satoru!” You nearly screamed, your eyes crossing as you slammed your eyes shut, your brain feeling like it was going to melt against the onslaught of his hips rolling against yours and battering that sweet spot deep inside. 

“What is Angel? Too much for your pretty little pussy?” He teased, despite the sensual blush dusting his nose as he leaned back to get a good look at your breasts bouncing and your hands clawing the desk at your sides without him to cling to, “Am I gonna break it?”. You shook your head, moving your legs from his shoulders and wrapping them around his waist to pull him closer, deeper, surprising him yet again.

“N-No, more, please” You pleaded, moaning when you felt him twitch inside of you. 

“Goddamn, I think you might actually be perfect” He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips as he pulled out only to flip you over onto your stomach, kissing across your shoulders and lacing his fingers with yours as he stretched you across the top of his desk, immediately bottoming out again and moaning lewdly into your ear as goosebumps raced up your spine. You could feel your climax throbbing in your belly as he fucked into your ruthlessly, his desk scraping loudly against the floor, but you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed when your mind was filled with cotton pleasure. You were so wet you could feel it splashing up against his abdomen with every thrust; animalistic grunts, and groans pouring from his throat as he ravaged your back in kisses and bites. 

“F-Fuck” You stammered past a broken moan as you clenched around his thick cock, stars bursting behind your lids as your orgasm nearly turned your legs to jelly. Satoru was shaking as you gripped him like a vice, nearly toppling him over the edge before he threaded his long fingers through your hair and pulled your head back. 

“Kick that leg up and lean back baby” He panted, hands encouraging you into the position he wanted as he sucked a bruise up against your throat. He was buried to the hilt again as soon as you had your leg where he wanted and god did it feel deeper than before, your next orgasm beginning to spark on the aftershocks of the previous one as he fucked up into your warmth almost frantically. 

“This pussy’s so good, so fucking good oh my god” Satoru moaned, a trickle of his drool running down the length of your throat as he mouthed the skin. He was impossibly hard inside of you, cock kicking against your inner walls so hard it was spurring you on to your mind-numbing ending. 

“Yes, please fuck me till you cum Satoru, want you to fill me up” You begged, feeling as if you would turn to ash if he pulled away right now, your orgasm growing closer and closer. 

“Cum with me, please gorgeous” He pleaded back, turning your head to lock lips once more as he practically locked himself against you to keep buried in your slick heat. You both cried out wantonly into each other's mouths, drool and heat spilling against your tongues and his cum pumping deep into your clenching body in thick spurts. It felt like you were melting, falling apart in the best of ways and your knees could barely hold you up as he eased down from your position to lay chest down against his desk once more, your sweat-slick bodies pressing together and basking in the thick atmosphere of the office for a few minutes. Satoru had just moved off you and was gathering your clothes when a heavy, deliberate knock came on the door.

“Yeah?” the white-haired man called out, about to go and open the door before you hissed at him and shook your head. 

“Gojo, one of the customers got bit by a rat,” Ijichi said back.

“Did you kill it?” Satoru asked.

“The customer or the rat?”. Satoru sighed, shrugging his shirt back on and opening the door slightly, just enough to not show you but very much showcase he had no pants or underwear on. 

“Now which do you think? Just smash the rat with a bowling pin or something and give the customer a free beer- actually”. Satoru turned to you, a beaming smile on his lips and making you slightly worried.

“Get your pants on sweet cheeks, this is a perfect opportunity for a first day training exercise".

[pinene]

Electric vehicles annoy me. The whole problem with gas vehicles is our DEPENDENCE on them, and thus ubiquity, and thus overwhemling pollution. But EVs are like--"well what if we made what we depend on cleaner? :)" instead of like--what if we didn't have to depend on one piece of heavy machinery per person to get around human cities ?

Idk, I love internal combustion engines, and I think we should all be able to have access to a diesel truck to take camping or road trip with or use out in the country. but when you're in a city.. the whole point of a city is supposed to be--"here is a landscape made for humans, not for livestock or agriculture, not left wild"

I just feel like it would be so easy to engineer like, arterial street cars that would let you take direct paths from arbitrary points of the city by connecting with bigger cars. Does that make sense? I can picture it, but not articulate it

[pfctipper]

[ euphoric ] for a celebratory kiss - for LiebTip?

hello george ty so much for the lovely prompt (tip!) and for your patience! <3 also never has there been better evidence of this post than how i managed to interpret this

[ euphoric ] for a celebratory kiss

Is that you, he says, to the first blurred face, as gentle hands ease him down on to the French cobblestones and someone says his name over and over again in a voice that’s soft even over the machine-gun fire and the shattering glass, until it all fades to black.

The faces that hover over him to change his bandages and lower him on to stretchers to move him from sand to truck to ship to truck again, over and over until he loses track, grow cleaner and clearer; the accents shift, and for a little while they’re almost something he can almost place, brogues like his father’s but sharper, but the only thing that’s ever really familiar is the same carefully-schooled expression they all wear and how they all call him private.  

Three months after the redheaded nurse the Marine corporal in the next bed tells him is pretty hangs up colorful red-white-blue bunting and he watches the vague shapes of people dancing in the street through the window, a doctor stands at his bedside, close enough that Ed can make out his gray hair and the weariness in his shoulders but not the look in his eyes, and tells him you’re going home.

The house in Detroit is familiar, the same broken roof tiles and fence pales his father never seems to get around to repairing, at least until he sees the way his mother looks standing under the hand-painted banner hung over the porch and hears the way she says oh, Edward before she puts her hands over her mouth.

He doesn’t recognize any of the faces in the railcar going west, even though the ways they look at him are familiar: the wide-eyed young man who hurries out of his seat, the woman who averts her gaze and the little girl in her lap who stares, the shamefaced conductor who refuses his money and then lifts his bag when they pull into Union Station in the dark, saying, thank you for your service, sir, solemnly as he sets it down on the platform.

But outside, by one of the battered taxicabs, there’s the orange tip of a cigarette and just enough moonlight reflecting on the rain-soaked sidewalk for him to make out narrow shoulders hunched defensively, in just the same way Ed had pictured when he’d looked at the painstaking handwriting on the letter that had come through the door a month earlier, that had made his chest ache before he’d even read the words.

‘Hope you didn’t turn down any fares for me,’ Ed says, leaning heavily on one of his crutches in the warm light of the streetlamp. ‘A fellow can get pretty used to not paying his way.’

‘Tip,’ says Joe Liebgott, softly, and looks at Ed like he’s the fucking sun.

Joe opens the door of the cab for him, lifts his bag into the trunk and then out again all without asking, and at first Ed supposes maybe it’s without thinking, like he does for all his fares, but then he watches the way Joe stares down the girl at the door of the boarding house when she spares a startled glance over at Ed.

‘You look good, Joe,’ he says, in the cramped twin room, and Joe doesn’t, really, clothes hanging loose on his too-thin frame and hair cut unevenly, patchy stubble on his jaw and dark bruises under his eyes illuminated starkly by the flickering bare bulb, too-bright in a way that reminds Ed of the weeks where he’d blinked awake and not been able to make out anything but light.

He finds he likes looking at Joe anyway, the familiarity of it, only up close there’s a scar on his neck that Ed hasn’t seen before, doesn’t know about, not yet; he leans one crutch against the bed and lifts a hand to rest his fingertips against it, watching how the pink healed skin goes white when he presses down.

‘Fuck,’ Joe says, ragged, and there's a moment where it's as though neither of them breathe. ‘It’s just – it’s fucking strange, Tip. Fuck. Seeing you.’

Ed’s legs are aching and sore, stiffer from the journey; he shifts on his feet and sees the way Joe’s eyes flick down before he closes them. ‘Not – fuck, Tip, they told us –’

‘Joe,’ says Ed, starting out sharp but then softening in the same way Joe’s features had when he’d drifted asleep against Ed’s shoulder in the barns and hedgerows of Normandy, and then he lets the other crutch slip to the ground and presses his hand over the dog tags he knows he’ll still find under Joe’s faded shirt. It makes him unsteady, and he feels the way Joe’s hands come up to his waist to hold him even as he lets Ed fall into him anyway.

When Ed presses his open mouth to the scar on Joe’s neck he can hear the shallow breath Joe takes. ‘Joe, I’m here,’ Ed says, lips moving against the chain of Joe’s dog tags, tasting faintly metallic in his mouth, and then, ‘We’re here.’

And afterwards, when Joe has kissed him the same way he had that last morning in Normandy, mouth hot against his behind the barn as everyone else slept, eyes closed against the too-bright sunrise and hands on Ed’s waist over the webbing and ammo belt, Ed lies in the unfamiliar bed and blinks up at the too-bright light, filling his vision with nothing but white, and it feels somehow like home.

[sneakyblinders]

superstition - modern!tommy shelby x ofc

A/N: hello! this is something i've had brewing in my mind for quite some time! Modern!Tommy Shelby x ofc, Amandine. Based in southeast Louisiana. (If you ever have the opportunity to go... please take it. It's one of the best places on earth.) If you're wanting some ambiance, or getting the vibe of the story... take a listen to this ambiance music on Youtube! warnings: language, cheating, sexual themes. not canon. an au.

1998–Southeast Louisiana

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, don’t you, Thomas?” Polly asked a pink cheeked teenage Tommy as he stumbled in the backdoor, tucking his shirt back into his pants. 

He licked his lips, sweat running down his back. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“That girl, Tommy,” she paused. The ceiling fan whirred, kicking away the leftover smells from dinner. The heat. “Amandine,” Polly shuddered. “Her family is dangerous. Her grandmere is a seer, you know.” 

Tommy nodded. He did know. “I love her, Pol,” he said, straightening his back. 

Polly chuckled. “You’ll see what someone like Amandine Theiriot does with love.” 

2011–Southeast Louisiana

The restaurant bustled. Dishwashers were running furiously, line cooks and waiters bickered over a particularly fussy patron. Amandine rolled her eyes. The heat was overwhelming. July in Louisiana was brutally unbearable, and a heatwave made going into the kitchen every day damn near impossible. 

“Dine!” Gio, the sous chef called out to her. “Dine, there’s somebody here fer ya!” 

Her eyes wandered tiredly to the man in the corner. Her man. “Tommy?” she breathed quietly. So quietly she wasn’t sure if anybody but herself heard her. 

He didn’t smile at her. All joy was gone from his eyes. His lips were in a firm line, hands in his jean pockets, his military backpack slung over one shoulder. The kitchen staff moved out of Amandine’s way as she made her way to Tommy, moving in a trance-like pattern. 

“You’re home?” she asked. He smelled like the bayou. Faintly like aftershave. Smoke and whiskey. He’d not come directly here. 

“Here I stand,” he drawled, the deep baritone of his voice sending a chill down her spine like only he could. 

“I waited,” she said gently as desire filled his eyes. 

“I see,” he responded as she reached out to touch his cheek–touch a scar she hadn’t seen before. “Let’s go home, baby,” he said, her touch filling him with the deepest sense of belonging he’d felt in nearly eight years. 

The staff mumbled under their breath as their head chef walked out for the night, dinner tickets be damned. 

Amandine sensed a darkness in Tommy’s spirit. A darkness that wasn’t there before the war. Before Iraq. She guessed too many tours would do that to a person. Her heart felt heavy as he drove them through the windy southeast Louisiana streets, back to their once shared home. Before the war separated them. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. 

The bayou, their home, was dark. There weren’t too many streetlights on these two lane roads leading them to their home. The home they’d purchased at eighteen and nineteen before the world went upside down. 

Tommy drove his truck, the truck Amandine had been using the last seven years, up their gravel driveway, the motion sensor lights at the top of their home kicking on. It looked a little cleaner than when he had last seen it seven years ago. 

The garage was the entire bottom floor, two flights of stairs leading to the house above. In the swamp, a house on stilts, or raised houses, are normal to aid in air circulation and prevent flood damage when the inevitable hurricanes blasted through the swamp. Tommy tiredly dragged his legs up the steps, Amandine following behind him. 

He fumbled with his keys, finding the right one for the front door and unlocked it, shocked when he saw the difference in the house. “You fixed it up?” 

She smiled softly. “Yeah,” she looked at him nervously. “Daddy and Grandpere and the boys helped. Thought you might like it,” she said. 

He let his dusty backpack fall to the floor with a thud, closing and locking the door behind them before he pushed her up against the door, crashing his lips to hers. 

It was a mess of clothes and sloppy kisses, but they made their way to the bedroom where they devoured one another. 

The next morning they woke up next to each other for the first time in seven years. An uncomfortable silence had fallen between the two of them the night before, causing them to fall asleep with their backs to one another. Something had shifted–something had changed. 

“So,” Amandine began the next morning, sun streaming in through the slats of the blinds. “Who was she?” she asked. 

“Who was he?” Tommy asked, reaching for a cigarette on his nightstand. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” she said, sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. 

“Deal,” he said nonchalantly, exhaling smoke. 

“Vincent Camponi,” she said. She could faintly see his jaw twitch in anger. 

“Grace Burgess,” he said, mind wandering to the blond he fell in love with at war. The one who had almost cost him his life. 

“Will you go to her?” Amandine asked. 

“Can’t,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “The curse,” he exhaled. “The bond,” he said, holding up his palm, the faint scar from where they’d joined themselves together in Gypsy tradition so many years ago. 

The curse he referred to, was also cast that night they made their vow. That if anything should separate them, they would be dually cursed for the rest of their days. Bad luck following. Their children would be cursed. Their families would be destined for doom. Their businesses would decline and their money would disappear. 

“Where’s Della?” he asked to change the subject. 

“With Mama and Daddy,” Amandine said. 

“Let’s go get her. No sense in keeping us all apart for any longer than we have to, hm?” he said, stubbing out his cigarette and walking to the shower. 

“Yeah,” Amandine said softly. “No sense in that.” 

[yetisidelblog]

Trump’s plans to cancel the USPS’s electric vehicle (EV) contracts threaten manufacturing jobs, postal workers’ safety, our communities and our planet. These contracts are already signed, with production underway. But Trump’s transition team is actively exploring ways to derail this progress and claw back the public money for climate investment in the Inflation Reduction Act.

USPS’s green fleet initiative is more than a climate win that electrifies 62% of the mail trucks:

Safer Working Conditions: For the first time, USPS trucks will include air conditioning, heating, and many other modern safety features.

Manufacturing Jobs: Tens of thousands of American jobs depend on these contracts with Oshkosh and Ford.

Healthier for Postal Workers, Communities, and the Planet: Transportation is the largest single source of carbon pollution in the United States. Studies show frontline Black and Brown communities bear the brunt of pollution from heavy trucks with combustion engines. Mail carriers who drive postal trucks are particularly affected from vehicle idling, which releases high levels of localized air pollution.

Canceling these contracts would set the USPS and the country back decades, lock in pollution from gas-guzzling trucks for the next 30 years, and cost jobs and undermine a critical step toward combating climate change. These trucks aren’t just about cleaner air, they’re about safer streets and workplaces, modernizing America’s most iconic delivery fleet, and driving innovation in clean energy.

The USPS is an independent federal agency with the authority to make its own operational decisions, including these contracts. Allowing political pressure to derail this progress in any way undermines that independence and sets a dangerous precedent for future administrations.

Tell DeJoy & Board of Governors, don’t cave to Trump. Protect USPS green fleet investments in the fight against climate change now.

@upontheshelfreviews

@greenwingspino

@one-time-i-dreamt

@tenaflyviper

@akron-squirrel

@ifihadaworldofmyown

@justice-for-jacob-marley

@voicetalentbrendan

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@what-is-my-aesthetic

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@writerofweird

@bogleech

[the-pixel-architect]

[The Town]

Finally, [The Town] is ready for download! KEEP IN MIND this is a very heavy C.C lot, can your machine handle it? LOL think about it. I know it's cute, but she's THICK!!! Anyway, I'm so excited! This one lot is meant to be an updated/cleaner version of a strip mall. Included- A Salon Food Truck in the street (update: add a small outdoor 1-tile table and two chairs next to the truck or sims will walk to the café table to eat, you know sim logic) Electronic Kiosk Small Starbucks A Cafe Grocery store Pet Shop Photo booth This was so fun to make! And yes, every single thing is playable, and what? All together now say it with me "F.U.N.C.T.I.O.N.A.L" always, we love to see it. Enjoy, Happy Simming! Download [The Town] HERE

[mythbustersfacts]

JFK Revisited

The episode begins with Adam gesturing animatedly in front of the camera while holding a replica Carcano rifle.

Adam: “Alright, MythBusters fans, today we’re diving into one of the most controversial myths in history: the magic bullet theory! Did a single gunman really gank JFK? Or was there a second shooter on the grassy knoll? To find out, we’ve going to Dealey Plaza in Dallas—to test it for ourselves!”

Jamie stands stoically in the background, his arms crossed, his hat shading his expression.

Jamie: “This isn’t about conspiracies. It’s about physics. That’s all.”

The camera pans up to show Jamie climbing the stairs to the Texas School Book Depository. He takes position at the window, rifle ready. Adam, meanwhile, stands below on the sidewalk, looking at passing traffic with a mischievous grin.

Adam yells up to the window, “Alright, Jamie, here comes our first victim. Try this blue Honda!”

Jamie adjusts the scope and takes aim. A shot rings out, striking the car’s hood with a loud clang. The Honda swerves slightly and accelerates away.

Adam: “That was beautiful. Let’s go again!”

A silver minivan appears, and Adam waves enthusiastically.

Adam: “Ooh, ooh, Jamie! The van! Let’s see if you can hit that side panel!”

Jamie fires again, this time denting the side of the van. The driver screams and honks angrily but doesn’t stop. Adam laughs and claps his hands like a delighted child.

Adam: “Direct hit! You’re getting the hang of this!”

The camera cuts to Jamie, who reloads with a quiet intensity. The next car, a sleek red sedan, approaches. Adam is practically vibrating with excitement.

Adam: “Jamie! This one! Let’s go for the windshield!”

Jamie adjusts his aim and fires. The bullet smashes through the windshield, and the sedan veers off the road, crashing into a lamppost. The driver steps out, clearly shaken but unharmed. Adam grins nervously and waves.

Adam: “Uh, sorry! MythBusters! Science in progress!”

Jamie is silent, his focus unbroken. Suddenly, a white pickup truck enters the frame. Adam points enthusiastically.

Adam: “This one! This one! Let’s see if you can graze the side mirror!”

Jamie exhales slowly, takes aim, and pulls the trigger. But this time, something goes horribly wrong. The bullet doesn’t strike the truck—it hits a child crossing the street. The boy crumples instantly, blood pooling beneath him. There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then chaos erupts.

Adam: “Oh my god. Oh my god. Jamie, what the hell did you do?!”

Jamie lowers the rifle and stares down at the scene, his face unreadable.

Jamie: “He walked into the line of fire. That’s not on me.”

Adam: “Not on you?! Jamie, someone’s dead! What are we supposed to—what are we—”

The sound of approaching sirens cuts through Adam’s panic. Jamie steps away from the window, calmly unslinging the rifle.

Jamie: “We leave. Now.”

Adam: “Leave?! Jamie, we just killed a guy!”

Jamie: “Correction. I killed a guy. And you’re coming with me.”

The camera shakes as the crew scrambles to pack up their equipment. Adam looks directly at the lens, wide-eyed and trembling.

Adam: “Cut the feed. Cut the—”

The screen cuts to black. The episode never aired, the footage was recovered from an SD card found by a cleaner at M5 Industries and leaked online.

[retropopcult]

Portland, Oregon, 1926.  A Brooklyn neighborhood street scene along SE Powell Boulevard near SE 13th Avenue. Image includes Cafeteria & Confectionery located at 579 Powell next to a general store and Brooklyn Cleaners. A Barker Bread delivery truck is parked out front.