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[raajrajasharma]

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[ebodebo]

Nuts And Bolts

—mechanic!ghost with psychologist!reader…MDNI

Stepping out of your office and onto the town's bustling streets, you admire the Christmas decorations the city has set up. But, it does nothing to settle your soured mood.

Simon and you had gotten into an argument the previous night, and you haven’t heard or seen him since. You assumed he went to his car garage to let off some steam, but, as his wife, why the hell were you left to wonder about your husband’s whereabouts?

To set the scene, it had been an ordinary night. You had gotten off work before Simon, so you thought you would prepare a nice dinner with a glass of red wine.

Simon swings open the door as you season some vegetables, dawning an unpleasant expression. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, setting your tongs down to walk over to him. He simply shakes his head and heads straight for your shared bedroom.

You tilt your head and head straight towards the bedroom after him, unable to let him writhe in his agony alone.

“Simon.” You stand in the doorway, observing him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, making you worry.

You make your way to him and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You want to talk about what you’re feeling?” You insist, making him finally look at you.

“Stop it.” He firmly states. Your eyes widen at his tone.

“What?” You ask, keeping your tone soft to avoid antagonizing him.

“You’re tryin’ to do that shit again.” He scowls, standing up to walk back through the bedroom door. You quickly follow suit as he continues.

“Trynna’ pick my brain.” He walks over to the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of whiskey.

“Like I’m a fuckin’ patient.”

“No. I—” You intently pause, thinking. “Okay, you seem upset, stressed even.” You watch him grab a glass and pour some whiskey into it.

“Alcohol isn’t a good way to cope.” You say, adopting your signature calm voice you use on your patients.

He laughs dryly, even though the burning amber liquid coated his throat.

“And, there you go again.” He sighed, looking up at you.

“I’m trying to help you, Simon.” You insist, reaching out to gently grab his forearm, though he quickly retracts from your touch.

He lets out another dry chuckle before setting down his glass and walking to the coat rack to grab his coat. You attempt to question his whereabouts, but he fills in the space first.

“I don’t need a shrink. I need my wife.”

And, with that, he left. Leaving you to stare helplessly at the front door, not knowing where you went wrong and not knowing where to go from there.

You recounted yesterday’s events in your mind all day today, even during patient sessions. You always left your personal matters at the door, but this was different because you were genuinely dumbfounded.

Even walking out of work, you still thought about the whole ordeal. However, your thoughts were absolved when you saw the familiar mechanic shop sign out of the corner of your eye. They would be closed about now, but, knowing Simon, he would still be there.

You walk into the garage part to see a body under a truck, working on it. You delicately press the little bell, you insisted he get, on the desk closest to the doors.

“We’re closed.” God, it had only been a day, but you missed his voice.

“Even for me?” You question, feeling a little shy. He paused his movements before scooting himself out from under the truck. Your eyes shamelessly glazed over his body, looking at what he was wearing: an old white shirt covered in grease and gray sweatpants with oil marks.

“No, not for you.” He stated, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he grabbed an old rag to wipe his hands clean.

You gave him a half-smile. “Been working overtime, I see?” You try to keep your tone playful, but judging by how he slightly frowns, you can tell your voice has defiled you.

“We should talk.” He stated, with almost a cringe on his face. You nod and sit on a chair adjacent to him as he leans on the hood of the truck he was working on.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs out, clearly disappointed in himself. “Was havin’ a shitty day and brought it onto you.” You look up at him and give him a frown.

“I’m sorry, too.” He snaps his eyes to yours, a puzzled expression taking over his face.

“For what?” You gently tug on your bottom lip before answering.

“For treating you like a patient and not my husband. It’s not fair to you.” You sigh, avoiding his gaze.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He lightly demands. You bring your head up and bring your eyes to lock with his.

“This isn’t your fault. I was bein’ a dick.” He walks over to you and reaches for your hand, which you grasp. He guides you from the chair so you’re standing before him, looking up at him.

“Are you gonna come home?” You softly question as he stares into your eyes, mentally kicking himself for making them look so sullen.

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” He says, bringing his hand up to sweep a stray piece of your hair away from your face, leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly. You could feel your skin sizzle from only a slight touch, internally sighing as he pulled away to speak.

“Should get goin’ then.” He says, walking over to the truck's hood and gently slamming it shut. “Johnny’s gonna come check the exhaust.”

“When’s he coming?” You absentmindedly ask as you watch Simon slip off his white shirt, observing his toned body.

“Eh, half an hour.” He casually says, turning away from you to walk over to the cabinet to grab a clean white shirt.

“So, we’re alone?” You question, bringing your hands up to untie the front of your blouse.

“Uh, huh.” He agrees, still rummaging through the cabinets, back towards you. You hum a sign of approval as you open your blouse, then move to unclip your bra, your breasts spilling out as soon as you do.

He finally finds a clean shirt and turns toward you, eyes widening as he sees you, chest bare. Your pulse quickens as he stares, unsure of his thoughts. When he doesn’t speak for a moment, you start to lose the confidence you had garnered.

“Is it too much?” You shyly ask, starting to feel insecure. He can’t speak; his mouth has gone dry at the sight of you. He drops the shirt in his hand and walks over to you, bringing his hand up to trace the curve of your breast.

“Fuck.” He manages to get out as your breathing becomes more ragged and your pupils dilate at the sensation.

“It’s never too much.” He answers your earlier question, cupping the bottom of your breast, making you sigh. You bring your hands up to grip his shoulders as he caresses your breast.

He leans to press a hot kiss onto your lips as he rolls your nipple between his pointer and thumb, making you moan into his mouth. He roughly grips the back of your thighs and picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he hauls you over to the hood of the truck.

He hikes up your skirt and hurriedly connects his lips back to yours before kissing down your neck, gently sucking on the tender skin, making you whine. He sinks to his knees in front of you, bringing one hand up to grab ahold of your calf, raising it slightly so he can slip the heel off your foot.

Once he gets one heel off, his other hand drifts to your other foot, slipping the heel off as he plants kisses up your ankle, and calf, stopping at your mid-thigh before nipping at the pantyhose encasing your cunt with his teeth, making a tiny hole. He slightly raises his hands and uses his pointers to split the pantyhose further.

“Hey! Those were Falke.” You urge, referring to the German-made, almost three-hundred dollar silk tights he had soiled.

“I’ll buy you more.” He amends, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, slipping them down simultaneously. His cock immediately shot up, so visibly hard. You brought your hands to gently pump him up and down as his hands went to massage your tender breasts.

He groans at the contact, gripping your breast a little firmer. You moan at that contact, pulling his cock a little firmer.

“You’re killin’ me, baby.” He chokes out, gripping the back of your neck as he roughly kisses your lips. With your hands still on his cock, you gently pull him closer by it, making him hiss as you guide it to your slit.

“I need you in me.” You whine as he brings his hand to twirl in your hair. In one swift motion, he thrusts into you. You both groan at the swift contact, even throwing your heads back.

His movements continue; over and over again, he thrusts into you, making you dig your nails into his skin, desperate for stability. You knew you wouldn't last long and could tell Simon wouldn't either. It has been only been a God-damned day, and you ached for him. Nothing but him would suffice your craving.

“So, fuckin’ good, baby. So, fuckin’ good.” He gruffly repeated, making you clamp around him tighter until you felt that familiar all-consuming euphoria you had so ached for.

As you reached your peak, Simon followed suit, coming with your name on the tip of his tongue. You were both panting, even after both of your orgasms subsided. You looked up at him as he tied your blouse back so your breasts were concealed, bra be damned.

“You did good.” You praised as he reached down to pick up your abandoned skirt from the floor.

“Yeah?” He lightly laughed out, finding humor in your statement.

“Yeah.” You nod as he grips your waist and pulls you off the hood of the car.

“Can you walk?” He questions, his hands still on your waist to help steady you as he carefully slips on your skirt.

“No. Might need you to carry me.” You sigh as you bring your hand up to fake an anguished expression.

“Uh, huh.” He rolls his eyes, though they contain no actual annoyance, as he goes to pick you up bridal style.

“Let’s get you home, Drama.”

a/n: this is the pipeline i’m here for

ur honor i’m just a girl

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Apple Pie

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by @curious-trickster

Synopsis: you start baking to cure your boredom of being cooped up

“Do you smell that?”

Sam looked up from the book he was reading and hesitantly sniffed the air.

“Yeah…it smells good.”

The boys put down their research and began to search the bunker, heading first to the kitchen.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were up,” Sam frowned when he saw you, your crutches leaning against the counter as you hobbled around the kitchen.

“Yeah, I was going nuts cooped up in my room,” you shrugged, reaching around Sam’s arm to grab the flour.

“So…what are you doing?” Dean glanced around the mess in the kitchen.

“Baking.”

Sam scoffed, “You can bake?”

“We’re about to find out,” you opened the oven and reached down inside, but Dean stopped you when he saw you wavering on your one good leg.

“Let me,” he insisted, grabbing the hot pad and pulling the pie out of the oven.

“I’ll be glad when I’m out of this stupid thing,” you grumbled, glaring at your cast like that would do anything.

“Yeah,” Sam cringed. “Again, sorry about that.”

You’d think, given the dangerous lives your big brothers led, that your injury would have a cool story. But no, you’d walked into the bunker with Sam right behind you, and the Moose had been walking a little too fast and had accidentally knocked you down the stairs.

“What is this?” Dean asked, turning your pie this way and that to get a good look.

You rolled your eyes, taking it from his hands and laying it on a cooling rack.

“Apple pie. Get a plate and I’ll cut you some.” You stared in surprise when Dean hesitated. “What? I’ve never seen you turn down pie in your life!”

“Just…you made this? Like the whole thing? From scratch?” Dean was staring at the pie like it might explode.

“Yes, I did. Oh don’t be such a baby, try it!” You waved a fork under his nose, and he took it reluctantly.

“Fine, but if I get food poisoning, I-“ Dean froze the second the forkful of pie touched his mouth.

You held your breath. It was your first time baking anything, so you really weren’t sure if it was any good.

“Well?” You asked.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever put it my mouth,” Dean breathed, snatching up the pie and digging his fork in it again.

“Really?” You squealed.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean enthused, backing away when Sam tried to reach for it.

“Let me try it!” Sam demanded, and Dean turned and bolted out of the kitchen, Sam following right behind.

You laughed and shook your head, turning back to the bowl of ingredients you were mixing.

Maybe they’d have a fist fight over the cookies next. You were totally ready to sit back and enjoy the show.

[blue-sadie]

Trick Or Treat

Halloween Special~based off this vote

Ghostface Anakin Skywalker x Nerd Reader

Summary: his blood lust intensifys

Warning: modern day au, knife play, marking/carving into skin, wall sex

Yn/3rd person pov

The thumbing music made my ears ring, and the close proximity of people made me feel dizzy I don't know why I'm here but here I am dressed up for the occasion.

"Are you new or something" my eyes flickered over to one of the cheerleaders I think her name was charlotte as she stumbled towards me her speech slurring from her drunkenness, "um y-yea sort of" I murmured nervously fumbling with the plastic cup I had in my hand.

"What shit are you drinking" she muttered giggling to herself as she grabbed it and downed it in one gulp I grimaced as she almost choked slamming the cup down.

"Your drinking the fucking punch" she yelled out laughing to much for my liking "y-yeah" I whispered she quickly put her hand on my shoulder and leaned in, my nose crinkled as I smelt the alcohol on her breath.

She only stopped a few inches from my face her drunkly wavering as her eyes wondered over my face "I'mma tell you something if you want boys..... you gotta be more out there.. not like that bitch what is her name" she paused racking through or nut brain trying to remember my name.

"Yn" I murmured she nodded her head furiously "wait how did you know" she questioned tilting her head in confusion I shrugged my shoulders "just a hunch" I didn't fear affected by her words well not anymore at least.

She quickly turned to the fridge and opened it up, a shiver ran up my spine making me to look around my surroundings I felt someone staring at me, my eyes flickered around seeing a glimpse of white outside the window 'must be the reflection' I kept going till the landed on the jock and coincidentally charlotte's boyfriend 'jake'.

He smirked as he saw I caught him staring and he licked his lips as his eyes wondered over my body, my stomach churned in disgust "i-i think I'm gonna go" I mumbled leaving the room before charlotte could protest.

I wondered through the rooms trying to get away from people after a while everything seemed to quieten down "police" someone screamed and everyone started to bolt out the door.

I tried squeezing through but it was mer impossible "come follow me" I was grabbing buy someone and pulled in the opposite direction of the doors "where are we going" I yelled out but didn't get an answer, the person who was dragging me was in a black robe with the hood up and a ghostface mask.

I didn't recognize the voice because of the voice changer he was using, I tried pulling away as i heard the police starting to bang on the door he tugged me towards him pulling me into a room I haven't gone into yet "we have to get down there" he pointed at the basement hatch as he locked the door.

'I didn't know houses still had these things' I felt uneasy "i-i think I better go" I tried pushing past him but he caught my wrist "do you want under age drinking on your application for college" he stated tilting his head as he spoke.

I shrunk back pulling my wrist out of his hold as i was thinking about it he does have a good point, I let out a sigh "your right" I murmured and slowly started making my way down into the basement with him close behind me.

He flicked on the light to reveal a big room which was only lit by a dim flickering light I walked a little ways from him looking at the surroundings it wasn't much to look at "who are you" I asked looking back to the man.

He straightened up as I asked the question "ghostface of course you like 'do you like scary movies' he murmured pulling a knife out his robe I stepped back out of fear "I think the police s-should be gone now" I said backing away from him as he slowly came towards me.

"Oh they won't be" he chuckled darkly as he backed me into the corner of the room "h-how would you know" I asked as my heart beat quickened he chuckled again and put his arms on either side of my head using his body to cage me in as he leaned down to whisper into my ear.

"Because charlotte and jakes bodies are in the shed and I left a good amount of a blood trail to lead the police there" my breath hitched as he spoke it felt as if my throat was closing up "w-why" I panted as tears started to well up in my eyes.

"Aw your to cute" he chuckled moving one of his hands to grab my chin forcing me to look up at him as if on impulse I slapped him across the face making him stumble and curse in pain.

I gasped in shock and tried to run past him but fall as he grabbed my ankle "l-let go" I screamed trying to kick him but he grabbed both my legs hard his nails digging into my skin "don't make me kill you too little bitch" he spat as he hold slowly moved up my body in till he could reach my hands.

He grabbed both of my hands in one of his and held them down above my head "fuck your going to pay" he muttered my eyes widened as I saw apart of his mask was broken "a-anakin" I whispered out of shock he grinned widely.

He huffed taking off his mask letting his curls loose "your always to smart for your own good" he muttered tightening his hold on my wrists as his other hand brought up the knife to my face softly pressing the tip against my cheek.

I let out pants and crys of fear "please no" I cried and he cooed down at me and dragged the knife from my cheek down to my neck "you'll look so pretty covered in blood" he whispered and slowly started to dig the knife into my skin drawing a little bit of blood.

I screamed in pain pushing my head back into the concrete floor "perfect like I always imagined" he murmured laying kisses on my neck "please stop" I cried "but I only just began".

The knife slowly lifted from my skin making my body shiver "see yn your already shaking in anticipation" he grinned and slowly used the knife to cut away the dress I was wearing, he let out a shakey breathe and placed more kisses on my stomach and chest.

"Anakin stop please" I tried to wiggle my way out his hold but he held fast and let out a low growl as he moved back up my body to look into my eyes his eyes were dark and full of lust.

"Why don't you just let me have you" he moved the knife to cut off my bra and panties leaving me bare "just let me take care of you" he whispered I held my breath as I felt the knife against my stomach "let me mark you" he breathed out happily as he slowly started to drag the knife against my stomach carving his name into my skin.

"Stop" I cried he sighed pulling the blood aways fron my skin showing me the blood that dripped from the tip he then threw the knife to the side and leaned down kissing away my fallen tears "no one else can help you make you feel like I do your mine" he voice was low and deep as he spoke.

"Stay still" he said slowly letting go of my wrists I was petrified and to scared to move my eyes followed his movements as he slowly moved his way down my body in till his head was by my core "let me taste you".

His eyes locked with mine as he moved in closer opening his mouth and dragged his tongue up and down my slit my legs shifting and my soft breathes turned into silent moans he wrapped his arms around my thighs bringing me more onto his tongue.

"F-fuck" I whispered biting my lip hard as to not show him how he was making me feel he sucked on my clit harshly making my legs tremble and tease underneath him, he pulled away with a pop, licking his lips to collect all my juices "your so sweet baby" he praised kissing his way back up my body making sure to avoid the wounds he inflicted on me.

His hands on my thighs slowly started to move me against him as he slowly started to pick me up "there you go baby" he smiled and pressed me back up against the wall I tried avoiding his gaze and tried to escape his hold but I just didn't have the energy.

I felt him maneuver some of his clothing in till I felt his hard cock pressed up against me "be good for me baby" he smirked and slowly lifted me up to sink me onto his cock "fuck" we both cursed breathlessly "your so tight for me" he groaned.

He pressed he against the wall hard as he started to thrust up into me my moans started to gradually get louder as he increased in speed his thrusts making me body jerk, anakin moved his head into the crook of my neck attaching his lips to my skin sucking harshly.

"Everyone better fucking know your mine" he grunted against my skin my breathing started to quicken as I felt myself close to climaxing I slowly moved my hands to clench down on his shoulders "c-cumming" I moaned arching my back into him, "that's it baby let go for me" he growled as he continued to thrust into me, cursing at how tight I was getting.

I cried out in pleasure as I cam on his dick and my moans only began to heighten as he continued his thrusting "fuck I'm cumming to baby" he groaned as hid cock began to pulse and his thrusts began to fulter in rhythm "s-shit" he growled out as he released inside me coating my insides in white I started to feel light headed and dizzy making him coo at my half lidded eyes.

"Don't worry yn I'll make sure your right as rain by tomorrow because your mine now and I look after my things"

Tag.List

@sweetirilly @neteyamyawne @greekgods15

[obsidiancreates]

You Can't Crawl (Let Yourself Stop Trying)

(Major character death, undead, body horror, zombie-esque, tragedy, sad ending.)

Shawn got a call from Jack a week ago. Gus said not to go. Shawn was still mad about Bouchard's treasure, anyway. And Shawn agreed it was probably a bad idea, but... that's his Uncle. He had to go make sure the guy didn't get killed.

When he leaves he doesn't really let anyone know when he'll be back, just because it slips his mind. He remembered to tell them he's leaving, though, so that's Something. More than Henry got in 1995

And then, one week after Shawn’s leaving.. someone breaks into Henry's house. He wakes up to a masked figure about to kill him, and a stench in the air. They bolt when they see Henry is awake.

The next night, someone breaks into Gus's house.

Then Jules.

Then Lassie. Someone is targeting them. 

Everyone goes nuts because, well, the last time this happened it was Yin

But there's no leads. No demands. Nothing. Just a masked figure who... reeks. It's the reason they all woke up.

A decaying, rotting stench.

Of course they reached out to Shawn as soon as it became clear there was a pattern- which is to say, after Gus.

The phone went to voicemail. They got a text, though. To Gus's phone. All it said was "It'll be fine buddy."

Weird, and uncharacteristic. They called the police department where he was headed to see if anything had been reported matching the break-ins, or anything happened to Shawn that the local police had to get involved in. Negative on both. 

Maybe he's just busy? 

But too busy... for Gus? 

It doesn't seem possible.

And then Jules. "It'll be fine." Lassie. "It'll be fine." 

Someone has Shawn's phone. They have no doubts.

Someone might have Shawn.

That figure is following them. Only at night. Jules notices it first. In the distance. Very Micheal Meyers-esque.

One day Jules gets a call. Middle of the day, in the busy precinct. She answers. 

"I'm not alone, right?" 

Jules drops her pen. "Shawn?" 

His voice is ragged, rough, cracking. His breathing haggard, like each breath has to be dragged in and forced out just to make the words come out of his mouth. "You guys are here for me? Right? I'm not alone?" 

"N-no, Shawn, you- oh my god, Shawn, where are you?!" 

"You'll come with me?" 

"Yes, yes anywhere, anywhere ever just- just tell me where, Shawn!"

Lassie is there, waving McNab over, The Chief is rushing over, they're trying to trace the call. Shawn lets out a wheezed laugh that turns into a racking, wet cough. "Promise?" 

"Shawn-" 

"Love you." 

The call ends. The figure is in Jules's house again that night. She expected as much. Why else would Shawn be given the phone? Whoever is doing this has him drugged, hurt, delirious. This was a power move, but they're not stupid. Lassie hiding in the closet with his gun. Gus wormed his way into this, because when they find out where Shawn is Gus has to be the one to make sure Shawn is okay, ASAP.

Jules gets ready for bed and lays down. 

The figure is so... quiet, as it comes into the bedroom. Quiet, and careful... but so, so rancid. Gus, hiding in the bathroom, has to swallow his vomit. Lassie himself can barely stand it.

The figure, as quiet as it is, doesn't move well. It's... slow. It's steps are careful, precise, experienced in this kind of thing, but heavy.

It draws a rattling, wet breath. There's a... flapping, sound. Like wet meat. Like... like the breath is disturbing something that shouldn't be disturbed.

It crouches down by her bedside. Reaches for her hair...

Lassie bursts out of the closet. "FREEZE!" 

Jules sits up, her own gun in her hand, hidden under the sheets before! 

Gus peeks out of the bathroom.

The figure barely reacts. It looks at Jules. It's eyes are- 

She almost drops the gun.

Milky white. It’s eyeballs are milky white. The skin visible through the mask eye holes is mottled, discolored. There's strands of greasy and blood-clumped brown hair poking the eyeballs. The figure doesn't even blink. But worse… "STEP AWAY FROM HER!" Lassie puts his finger on the trigger. 

"Carlton, wait-!" The figure puts a hand on Jules's face and the glove is wet and sticky and smells like death- Lassie shoots.

The bullet rips through the figure's shoulder.

It. 

Doesn't. 

React. It's not fresh blood that splatters across Jules's bed. It still has it's hand on Jules's face. She swallows, both to steel her nerves and to fight the rising vomit from the awful, awful stench and idea taking hold.

She gently lifts the mask off. Pieces of skin lift away with the fabric.

But not enough to obscure who it is.

He has blood around his mouth. Dried, and wet. Thick brown-black sludge that was also once blood dribbles out from his slackly-parted lips. With the bits of skin also come hair, clumps of it stuck to the inside of the overhead mask by more than just blood.

Gus collapses over by the bathroom. Just... down. Not unconscious, but oh, how he wishes he was. 

Lassie throws up. 

Jules reaches closer. 

And cups Shawn's face despite the feeling of sticky decaying skin clinging to her fingers.

"You won't leave me alone," he gurgles out. "You promised." 

"Shawn..." Her voice breaks. His hand, rotting inside it's glove, moves to wipe tears off her cheek. "We can't follow you here," she whispers. Shawn's eyes meet hers. "I need you guys." Each breath is forced, and this close Jules sees a strange movement in his chest- like it's hollow around his ribs. 

The flapping sound. 

Whatever skin is left in his torso being sucked in and out of a chest cavity that shouldn't be drawing breath anymore. 

Jules nods, pressing her lips together to try and stop the sobs that want to overtake her. "I know." It comes out a gasp. "But you don't want to kill us." 

His vacant, whited-out eyes leave hers for a second. Fix somewhere over her shoulder. "I... don't."

"We can find who did this," she says, each word broken by a sob. 

Shawn blinks. Tries to. Parts of his eyelids are missing.

"Jack... got caught. Tried to get us both out of it, and... they didn't... bite." 

He gurgles out a laugh. "I did. ... After." 

Lassie is sitting against the back of Jules's closet, shellshocked. Gus is still on the floor in her bathroom. Shawn is still kneeling by her bedside. She tries to rub his cheek, comfort him, but the skin slides around loosely under her touch. "So they're gone?" 

He nods. Slowly. She can hears pops and cracks as he does. He's stiffer than he was moments ago. 

"Shawn." She sucks in a breath despite the tang to the air from Shawn's cor- Shawn. "We love you. And... and we'll see you again. Okay? We'll all bother some new psychic together." 

Shawn's mouth... moves a little. Almost a smile. Not quite, but... close enough. "Love you." He has to strain to get the words out. "All... of you." 

"... We know. We love you too." He pulls his hand away from her face. It leaves behind things she'd rather not think about, the consequences of decay. 

And he lays down. 

And rigor mortis sets in. Later, when Shawn's body is collected, a story is spun that's more believable, and they've all gotten together and just... sobbed,... They do investigate. They find Jack. He's wasted out of his mind, wearing bloodstained clothes, sitting outside a shelter in the same city Shawn went to meet him in.

They get a story out of him.

He made too many of the wrong people partners again. Went after something old, and very storied- he won't say what. But there was a fight over it. Shawn tried to handle the situation. 

Shawn got killed, with whatever they'd been looking for. 

Shawn got buried. 

Shawn got back up.

He won't say what happened after that. Just that he ran as soon as he could make his body move again.

They never find whatever was used to kill Shawn, or where it had happened. Shawn gets cremated, not buried. 

They give Henry most of the ashes, keep a vial each. They told Henry the fake story. He wouldn't believe the real one.

They're never sure, though, if the figure they see standing in corners or across the street is a good sign or not. 

Shawn could be watching over them. Just waiting. 

... They hope, he's just waiting.

[tracksterman]

But, for now, it's the Easter weekend: maintenance Sunday....

Looking ahead to a bike trip in May, if not April, thoughts turn to luggage carrying. While the Aeroe system looks good, there are already far too many people spending hundreds of pounds on future landfill to facilitate their once-a-year bike holiday. I don't want to be part of that problem. I'm constantly trying to divest myself of 'stuff,' not add to it, so I intend adapting gear I already have: the Old Man Mountain rack on the commuter, and the fork racks on the mountain bike.

Remember when all frames used a single standard method of attaching the rear wheel, allowing you to easily swap components between bikes? When MTBs weren't one trick ponies, so they'd come with a variety of mounting points...? The old OMM rack went on the Cannondale monstercross quickly and easily with the aid of a couple of quids' worth of 10mm aluminium spacers and extended bolts from eBay.

My little Carradice panniers stay on well (better than Ortleib) but the bottom clip can pop out on rough ground, and they rattle around a bit like many such bags. Easy solution: mount the fork racks such that I can strap dry bags either side of the rear wheel, leaving the top of the OMM rack free for supplies picked up en route. Loads of heel clearance for my mahoosive size 50 feet, zero rattle and movement. Cost on eBay? Less than a tenner for a bag of 12mm p-clips, bolts and nyloc nuts.

That'll work.

[thepoeticbubble]

The sky awakens , blurred by the fog of darling bruised hearts ,overgrazed to an extent of incorrigible erosion. With every tarnishing heart beat,the flesh slides down to Plaines from steep hills of love

Life's slowly being dethroned , cryogenically stuffed among the sparkling stars .

My abhorrence for such surrounding atmosphere of loneliness elongates, my Mind cold-worked by frequent forging Carried out with the hammers of longings for the lost , miniaturizing my grains to mimick what people call heart of stone - rigid and brittle

Meanwhile The earth has been succumbed under the carpet of snow,the soil refrigerated, the world in dire need for sunbeams .

I wonder when when summer subsides the atrocities of winter, does any arm raise to salute to deliver the gratitude for such unbiased distribution of light in soft beams ?

I crawl in , back to incised trunk of chinar, peep through the void where every banjaxed insect , tensed and frost bitten mutters freedom. Maybe the branches were never agreeable to the departure of leaves in tortoise like trains, but since no one agreed to see them off to a metro station ,leaves bid oblong farewell , with no visible signs to retreat and jewel the branches again swiftly. I mean, the winter has been long!

The unending braid of cockroaches stretch out , in the court where no one stands ready to present the alibi,pretending as if sun was never seen before its burglary, the winter grins like shark with conical teeth ,for its successful dominance over all earthlings by injecting strong dozes of indolence .

My sight shrinks , the icicles droop , clinging down my eyelashes, the weight shuts down my eyelids, the darkness spreads over the half burnt toasted life.

The weather exhumes my hope , Fetches it in morbidly sealed vessels, a vague hint of being metaphorically disembodied. I'm claustrophobic !

I envision the rooftop becoming stale, nut bolts relaxing to loosen, like a loaf of bread decaying gruesomely on exposure to chunks of moisture laden ache. I choke at the thought of sky falling down without any resistance to offer overhead, my cartilage stretches out open drenched in blood to write a prosaic to at least Guarantee a journal to whoever rambles in an around that domicile.

Sometimes, I become apprehensive at a small thought of being put in rack full of dusty documents entitled "missing", in a congested junk room, unopened from an era.

To be missing ! I don't even have slight expectation that in my lodged case anyone could present satisfactory sketch of my existence, that anyone could have Any possible approximation of my last location so the document could read with detailed description of where I was last found. I will disappoint all the detectives appointed on my search, I'm sure,

It's a horrible experience to feel like a ciphertext that people can't decipher. To feel like you are written in bold but nobody can read what's written. A heart with a password that nobody has access to.

So, I write myself in red, It's cumbersome to read your own thesis then compile yourself, put references at end. But i love it, swear by the God who pronounced white snow as my slate.

Snow as slate! Hah

How could my chalk work any other way , the winter is for a reason, god created a vast white cold notebook for me, I see at 360 degree angle and every where i see is a ground where I can write, write and write in unending verses of rhymes.

I do not diplomatically conform my perception of cold winters, my admiration is still bare minimum, but I am writer! I recollect

I can be the carpenter who fixes the sun with the timbre of my art during this season and elicit a warm blanket of words for my self.

I rephrase myself , world is just in dire need of a poet -who is sunbeam in itself.

-tabish.j /excerpt from book/

[somediyprojects]

DIY Kitchen Cart

Project by Chris Gardner:

today the curbly team was kind enough to let me share a project from the ebook so i’ve chosen my favorite: converting a secondhand file cabinet into a cute kitchen cart. we’ve all seen a few sad and lonely file cabinets discarded on the street, so the next time you do, grab one and you can follow these instructions to create your own colorful (and functional) kitchen cart. thanks so much to bruno, chris gardner, and everyone at curbly for sharing this project with us. 

We’ve never met anyone who couldn’t use more kitchen storage and counter space. This rolling kitchen cart offers both – drawers for storage of tools, spices, or root vegetables, racks to hang towels and utensils, and a butcher-block top for food preparation or appliance storage.

The main structure is a used filing cabinet, which are plentiful in secondhand shops, garage sales, and online classified listings. We found ours for less than three dollars at a charity shop. Look for a filing cabinet whose drawers and hardware are in working order, and for a case that has no major dents or damage. The color and finish are of no consequence, as it’ll be painted.

Materials:

Secondhand filing cabinet

Spray metal primer

2 cans spray paint

Two rolling casters and two locking casters

A cutting board or piece of butcher block that’s at least the size of the top of your filing cabinet

Two inexpensive horizontal towel racks

Tools:

Mineral spirits or sticker remover

Electric drill

1⁄8” and 1⁄16” drill bits

24 1⁄8” bolts, 1/2 – 1” long

24 1⁄8” nuts

4 #8 short screws

Washers (if necessary)

Steps:

1. Remove the drawers, and use mineral spirits or sticker remover to get rid of any tape residue, labels, or grime, and wipe clean. Remove any hardware will come off easily, and cover remaining hardware with painter’s tape. Then, spray the cabinet case and drawers with a coat of metal primer, followed by two coats of spray paint.

2. Mark the location of the holes of your casters on the bottom of your filing cabinet, and drill 1 ⁄8” holes for the screws. If the cabinet bottom is not solid, use a piece of scrap wood under the ledges to prevent them from bending under the drill. If the metal is thick, you can use a blow torch to soften the metal, but most drills should be able to get through. Then, screw in the casters using the included screws or 1⁄8” bolts and nuts.

3. Attach the towel/utensil racks to the sides by marking and drilling holes as in step two, and securing them with short bolts and nuts.

4. Place your cutting board on top of the cabinet, and mark where the screws will need to go to secure it. Drill 1⁄16” pilot holes, then attach the 1” screws from the underside of the cabinet. You can use the washers to prevent the screw from going all the way through the cutting board.

5. Now, insert the drawers back in the case. Then fill the cabinets, hang your utensils using S-hooks, and make something delicious for dinner!

[lackingspace]

Lesson in Silence (Vicrul x Reader)

Lesson 5

Word Count: 4.6k

Author note: UHHH yeah. So this happened.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

AO3 Link: Lesson 5

Prev Ch: Lesson 4

Sliding your access card across the scanner to the private workshop slink open. This is what you needed– really needed– quiet, full of tools, and a sexy gun waiting to be manipulated. The deserted space was an added side benefit.

After your panic-induced mini breakdown in the gym, you'd picked yourself up with the renewed conviction that everything hadn't collapsed around you, that you'd be fine. 

Your situation had always been precarious, nothing changed. If anything, you'd grown too comfortable. Too hapless in your routine. The brush with danger should be your expectation but instead, it'd come as a surprise. 

Vicrul served as a good reminder that luck wasn't on your side because that concept– luck, the word dipped of derision in your mind– was just the force implementing its will. There was no real good or bad, just your interpretation of it according to your perspective and own desires. 

It wasn't a coincidence that the Commander stepped into the turbo lift with you and even less of a coincidence that Vicrul was in the gym. You could call it bad luck or a bad day all you'd like, but it changed nothing in the end– the force willed it. That ghostly master had said as much, no matter how you dismissed it. 

No matter how unwilling, the force made a participant out of you of its own volition. Today just happened to be your number in its game– an insignificant player in its colosseum of dangers. How fun.

Thinking of it that way did nothing to push down the want and desire the Knight of Ren had sparked. Thankfully, your plan to dull the edge of lust was working out. After changing back into your uniform in the locker room and grabbing your assigned datapad, you sent a message to Fero asking if he wanted to meet up. 

It wasn't even a full five minutes before he'd answered eagerly, saying something about always being game. You'd followed through on your plan of grabbing something in the canteen while sending him another message that he could find you in the workshop after his shift and whatever else he needed to do.

Sliding the card back into your uniform pocket as you stepped into the haven of weapons. Tools, durasteel panels, bolts, nuts, and a variety of wires faced off with cases of factory-issue rifles, blasters, and artillery of different sorts. The door slid shut behind you with a soft click sound. More air rushing between the panels than anything else. Looking around it seemed like Gu'il hadn't been in today. 

Your tools were still where you'd left them earlier in the day. Orderly, but strewn across the workbench, which never failed to annoy the weapons master. If he had stopped by, they would have swept into a side drawer for 'safety reasons'. Truthfully, you only continued to do it just to see how long it took before he snapped. So far he hadn't, but you couldn't wait for the day he cracked.

Someone else must have been in though because the small firing range within the workshop was already set up. They hadn't left a mess but hadn't taken down the booth either. You weren't mad though, made it easier for you when you'd test the weapon. Pursing your lips in thought, being a sniper, it'd likely pack a punch. Hopefully, it couldn't blast a hole in triple durasteel, but you'd have to check the caliber. Maybe you'd stack a few more panels to be sure. 

The weapon sat locked behind a transparisteel casing situated in the overhead rack of your current workbench– gun on display through the glass. The sexy sniper was like a tall glass of bourbon after everything. You'd been dying to get your hands on it all day and from the looks of it, you wouldn't be disappointed. Fingers twitching in anticipation, this would be the perfect distraction for the next few hours. 

Even if you had a plan, your mind tended to wander. And you realized long ago that you tended to be overly pensive. A fault, sure, but with your upbringing it seemed unavoidable and necessary. The prospect of being able to lose yourself in modding a gun instead of floundering in anxiety was a breath of fresh air.

The casing had a locking mechanism in the lower right corner, number pad built directly into the transparisteel surface. Most technicians had access to the workshop in case something ran out of stock in the front it could usually be found here. Generally though, the space saw only a few people daily, and even fewer had Gu'il's permission to actually utilize it after hours. 

Maybe the lock seemed like overkill since the area didn't get much traffic, but if a request like this went missing or got lost, someone's ass would be on the line. And being a VIP? Gu'il wasn't about to put himself in that line of fire. So individual locks were the answer. This rack's code only known to Gu'il and yourself. 

Inputting the combination had the soft fluorescent light flicker to red as the lock disengaged. A hiss of air released as the casing popped open.

Taking a moment to fully admire the gun under the red lights was a special sight. You hadn't really been able to look at it earlier when Gu'il assigned it, already on your way out when he'd shouted. Could tell it was a sniper from the quick glance, but nothing else. 

If you'd known earlier what you could tell looking over it now, maybe the whole mess with the knights of Ren would have been avoided. Your ass would have been glued to the seat the moment you were off shift. It wasn't just a sniper. 

The size and extra barrels meant it had some kind of pump action to it. Shotgun sniper? interesting. This was going to be so fucking fun. Hopefully there'd be a datapad in the rack with it, blueprints, specifications, something. It'd save you some time in thinking up a mod for it, but if not, that just meant more quality time with this sweet piece of metal.

But like the rest of your day, no dice. No pad or specs anywhere. Quality time it was. 

Lifting both hands toward the weapon the air became electrified stopping you short of touching the metal. The hair on your arm stood on end with the sudden static in the air. Temperature plummeted, the chill wafting from the weapon directly to your fingertips. That gave you even more pause.

This gun was bathed in power. Whoever owned this was certainly a killer. Not just the run of the mill soldier, but something different. Darker. The slow agony of the screams pouring off the sniper rang in your ears as clear as if you were causing them yourself. They were high-pitched, resounding, and spine-chilling. 

The sound was startling for how unexpected it was, but after a moment your heart palpitations calmed. Most artifacts or weapons with a dark affinity wailed like this if you listened. This one was just more intrusive. Hesitation was bubbling in your chest. The screams turned to blaster fire– if the force rang off it this clear, this aggressive, that gave you a pretty good guess on who owned it.

Honestly, you didn't know much about the knights– as a group or individually, aside from your interaction today. Their group had a reputation, of course, rumors you didn't place much stock in– connections to other crime syndicates? Maybe. Mercenaries? Probably. Killers? Absolutely. 

All you knew for sure was they were able to use the force. Were they sith? You couldn't say. Weren't even sure what was really defined as sith. According to your master it constituted any dark force user, but the truth didn't always align with her teachings.

Whatever their group dynamics were, this gun definitely fit the bill for their aesthetic at least. It wouldn't be far-fetched that one of them owned it. Surprise overtook the hesitation, maybe Albrekh had actually spoken of you then? Just not to Cardo. 

The ghostly sound of blaster fire drew your attention again. Something else danced at the edge, hidden underneath the past kills, something more… your thoughts trailed off. Too many vague feelings to really grasp for translation into proper thoughts with how you held back from connecting to the force.

Fingers attempted to pull back; you could probably get away with touching, but it'd be better to further blunt the connection with gloves. It shouldn't cause a ripple if you saw something, but if it did, it wouldn't be drastic. You were surrounded by the dark side already and the amount of force sensitive in the area only amplified that, which at least provided you some camouflage. It'd conceal you if something happened. Should be. Hopefully.

Unless they were walking by or right into the room with you, it'd be difficult to differentiate between the weapon's roiling cries and you seeing whatever it wanted to share. Gloves wouldn't stop it thrusting visions on you, but it'd be less…consuming. 

Not as vivid or disorienting. Trying to turn away had a shock zapped through your system freezing you in place. The echoes quieted the moment the shock hit your system. Electricity morphed from pain into a soft curling tingle beckoning your senses closer. It didn't want you to pull back, it wasn't going to let you.

Another jolt rushing from nerve to nerve until it swelled in your chest culminating in the urge to pick it up. The compulsion was a heady tonic– Want, desire, need, all a seductive voiceless whisper against your psyche. Urging for compliance, your submission.

This was the intoxicating pull of the darkness. 

The force curled around you in a swirl of chaotic allure. You'd felt the pull on most days, but this one was exceedingly inviting. Force caressing you like an owner would a pet, gentle, guiding, encircling your senses to hear its directive. Its want was a simple thing– just a touch. A small touch. Even the brush of your fingers would do. You could feel how the force lapped around it, quivering at your proximity.

It was your experience that objects begging as fervently as this were never a good idea to touch. It'd gotten you into trouble before and was about to again because it seemed you didn't have a choice.

At your turn of defiance, it changed from a seductive plea to a pull against your mind. Drawing you in, pulling you down, crushing, overwhelming you in a whirlpool of temptation. 

Drowning in its buzz until your own voice chimed inside your head. A ghostly mockery filled with what sounded like angry distress, 'Commander, wait! Comm– Kylo! Damn it, Kylo no! You kriffing prick, stop!' you could hear the distant sound of blaster fire, the familiar hum of a saber, and muffled shouting too unintelligible to clearly interpret. Your voice cut through again more desperate than before, 'No, no, no. Fuck! Oh fuck! Vicrul!'

Weariness settled like a knot in the pit of your stomach as the auditory assault died– a brief flash of a potential future? Or one already set? Who knows how likely a possibility this was, but why the kriffing hell would you be yelling at Commander Ren? Especially like that? You'd called him by his name…

The frantic plea for Vicrul had the knot twist deeper. You'd never heard desperation like that in your voice before. Doubt clouded everything. Visions were a complicated business– a delicate balance between chance and certainty. From your experience the future seemed to have a degree of malleability– some visions never came to fruition. Certain things would change depending on your actions…but if the force wanted something enough, those events were set.

You hadn't found a way to tell which category any vision fell into, not really anyways. Usually went with how strong the pull in your gut was. And this one was strong. But your own fear could be clouding it… It did imply something you were trying to prevent. 

There wasn't time to digest your thoughts further as the force was teasing against your mind. The doubt and worry amplified the seductive whispers. Made it easier for them to curl around you, pulling you back into its crushing icy waves. Without your conscious intent, solid metal drained the warmth from your fingertips.

The sensation was a strange mix. Both a zap like you'd grabbed a live wire while ice simultaneously bloomed in your veins. The chill tore through you, seeping deep into the marrow of your bones. The world around you swirled, energy a steady pulsing behind your eyes, colors melting until your vision turned black. 

Blinking in panic had color return, but you were no longer in the armory's workshop. Instead, it was a misted area covered in dark gravelly soil. Cliffs cut the skyline with giant rock faces jaggedly cutting up through the ground making up the terrain. The smell of decay and blood met your senses, a combination that soured your stomach.

Looking down, you were taken aback momentarily, frozen seeing your old apprentice robes. Black linen with a leather wrapping cuirass. Your arms hung at your sides covered in smooth black beskar bracers with your gloves covering your thumb, fore, and middle finger.

Gripped in each hand were sabers– your sabers. The sight pulled the breath from your chest. You'd deconstructed them before joining the first order. You still had the parts stashed away and kept your kyber close at all times, but you hadn't seen a constructed lightsaber in years, much less your own.

It'd been even longer since you'd felt them in your grip. The weight of them, both familiar and foreign. The metal's warmth permeated your ring and pinky finger speaking of recent use. But, this wasn't right. You'd never been to a place like this.

Blaster fire rang in the distance. Gaze lifting towards the noise you saw an illuminated orange saber through the mist, "Master." You were moving before you'd realized. 

The closer you got to the scene the more confused you became. Something wasn't right, this place wasn't right. Everything felt wrong. Even the dirt beneath your feet felt off. More like ash than life-bearing soil. A buzz that took residence at the base of your skull, like white noise sunk into your mind. A gnawing that tried to grow if you focused on it. Death radiated from everything like a festering wound.

Rounding a rock face to be greeted with the scene of your master slicing through a figure clothed in crimson. You felt the words echo from your lips, "Master?" 

She swirled towards you with her saber ignited, pointing the blade towards you. A cruel smile painted her lips, "Finally, little Sith." 

You took a step back, "What?" This wasn't right. This never happened. You'd never been here and your master may have been harsh but she'd never called you that.

Her gaze was cutting, "Never harsh enough." You hadn't spoken, or projected, gaze hardened in your response, "This isn't real." 

She stepped closer with a flourish of her blade. This time she leveled it at your chest, "Perhaps, devourer." Your jaw clenched at the name. She sneered, "Ah, there it is. Your anger." She changed her grip as she walked closer, tone curdling into a mocking lit, "Brings it out doesn't it? Makes it rise to the surface." 

You chose silence as she continued to snicker. A sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. She didn't know about that, couldn't have when she was alive. But the force did. So her mirror image did too. Either way, this conversation needed to end before it began.

"Don't you feel it gnawing?" Twirling her blades she closed her eyes, "Clawing, biting, rotting inside you?"  Head tilting as if listening to something unheard by yourself, "Of course." Her eyes opened with an exaggerated roll, "Always so foolish. There is no suppressing it." 

Your spine straightened. She spoke of things you kept a tight leash on, smothered to the best of your ability. She had to stop, you needed her to stop before it breached the surface. The mist blanketing the area grew thicker. Turning into a fog as your agitation grew. She cackled, "Need? You always were so needy." Your jaw clenched, but didn't rise to the bait, "You take." Her grip tightened on the hilt turning away, "And take."

You watched as she turned back to you, blade raised horizontally leveled to your neck. "It was always your nature to devour," A twisted smile lit her face, "that hunger…is a plague you will never escape."

The heat of her blade warmed your frozen skin. It felt so real, but this wasn't. A slow smile unfurled across her lips. It painted her features more crazed than you remembered. Or maybe the force only reflected how you really viewed her– Cruel. Unhinged.

Her gaze held you as she tutted mockingly, "It's persistent, isn't it? Always so hungry." The light of her blade reflected in her eyes, adding to the manic appearance, "Yet you resist. Why?"

This isn't a conversation you wanted to have. Not even with the force itself. Not acknowledging the question, what fell from your lips instead was a flat impassive, "You're dead."

Her pale green eyes narrowed and the silence stretched as she regarded you. It ate away at her manic visage and left something cold and harsh in its wake, "Yes. By your hand." The blunt truth might as well have been a punch to the gut, "Moth-"

Before the title was even fully formed her blade pushed closer to your throat, "Never." She growled through clenched teeth, "We are nothing." Then she pressed the saber against your delicate flesh.

The pain seared through you before the scream could leave your lungs. Barely registering her words as the burning intensified. Training kicked in and instinct took over. Pulling back to get away while igniting your own blades.

You could hear your voice darkened with anger but didn't register uttering the words, "If it's my nature," Stabbing both blades into the false image of her chest, lavender beams easily ripped through her torso. Dragging them down towards her stomach, your voice cold, "Then I'll take again." 

The scream she let out was the same you heard at her very real death. A sound imprinted on your soul, the force recalling the wound. Sabers disengaged when the noise slowly died. Deadweight dropped to the ground in a heap.

Backpedaling a few steps when the realization hit. This was a fabrication, a false image, created by the force for what? To antagonize and provoke? Or just call to the darkness in you? Make you face it? If so, you'd performed beautifully.

On your next backpedal something solid blocked your path. Twisting to face whatever stood behind you revealed the Commander, red saber ignited but lowered at his side. Your grip tightened on your own weapon ready for a fight. 

"This planet is dead." Your brow pinched in confusion. Why him? Why here? Wherever here was? His blade deactivated, "Drained."

A wrenching pull in your stomach was the only thing you felt before the vision went black. And then just as suddenly back in focus. Gone was the dead planet and instead, you were knelt looking down at a durasteel floor. This time clothed in your First Order uniform. The cold from the metal easily felt through your black pants. 

Lifting your gaze, you meet the sight of Commander Ren sitting upon what could only be described as a throne. There were knights flanking his chair and other officers in uniform dotted around the room.

High-ranking officers at that, if you trusted the quick glance of accolades decorating some uniforms. The crowded room didn't seem to have an effect on the Commander though– looking beyond relaxed if not slightly bored. 

Cloak off, draped across the back of the chair with his legs spread wide. Leaning to one side, elbow resting against the throne arm and masked chin resting upon a gloved fist. Your thighs clenched at the sight. The only thought that permeated your consciousness was, 'Fuck, Ky, you look good.' 

A smooth chuckle sounded in your head before a deep voice coiled through your thoughts, 'Maybe I'll keep you on your knees more often.' heat bloomed on your cheeks as you sent a snarky response, 'Only if it's between your legs.' 

The mental discussion left on pause as the Commander's deep modulated voice rang around the room, "Stand, officer." You felt yourself straighten before another command issued, "Report." You felt the words reverberate in your chest, "Of course, Supreme Leader." 

Shock coursed through you, mind slow to wrap around what you'd just experienced, 'What…?' The scene dissolved as quickly as vapor slipping through your fingers as you tried to hang on for more. Rapidly spinning in the darkness only overshadowed by a falling sensation. Then something solid wrapped around your middle, stabilizing you but pulling. Down and down until you landed on a soft, warm, and exceedingly comfortable bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice was smokey, sensual, and had the place between your legs pulse. His arm tightening across your middle as if in response. Rich olive skin dotted with a few tattoos covering corded muscle held you snugly. You heard a chuckle escape your throat, "Ky messaged. Said he needs me for something." 

A huff of air blew against the back of your neck as he nuzzled closer. It was then that you realized your nakedness– judging from the feeling of a bare chest against your back, you weren't the only one. Panic didn't set in though, it wasn't even a thought. The only thing that filled you besides a spiking heat was the comfortable feeling of belonging. 

His arm untucked from your waist to grip your hip instead. He growled, "Fuck Kylo," he pulled your hips back until your ass rested against a decidedly hard length,"He can wait. You're with me and I need you." 

He ground against your ass and placed a kiss beneath your ear before teething along the shell. A breathy gasp left your parted lips, "Besides," his tongue teased against the lobe making your toes curl, "You're practically screaming at me to fuck you." 

You pressed your hips back into his with a groan, "Now that's unfair. You're the hypersensitive one," He laughed at the petulant tone in your voice while placing more kisses along your neck. "You're the one projecting." You tilted your head to give him more access, "And you're the only one who can feel it like that." 

A broad tongue licked along your neck to the sensitive area below your ear, "Gets me so fucking hard too. Feeling how fucking needy you get for Daddy." Between the feel of him, how easily he coaxed airy moans from you, and his dirty mouth, it was more than enough to have you closer to the edge than you'd willingly admit. 

Even if he tried to force it out of you– His nip cut your thoughts short, the sharp pain in a sensitive area said he was listening, "Careful. I just might make you beg thinking like that." Sighing out another moan while grinding back into him, "You're trying to get me in trouble." His cock twitched against your lower back, "Kylo expects me at some point, but if you keep talking like that…" you trailed off. Thought didn't need to be said out loud to be shared.

He hummed deep in his chest before his hand released your hip and snaked its way between your thighs to cup your bare mound. Fingers tracing along the cleft of your lips lightly, "Don't start, just enjoy it." A single digit split your lips to slide down lightly brushing against your clit and then further to your wet center before dragging back up to the top. 

With his other hand, he pushed himself up to come face to face with you while he continued the slow back and forth glide of his finger. He was a fucking sight. If you hadn't been breathless already, his face would have knocked the air from your lungs. 

Pitch black hair sheared short on the left while slightly longer on the right side. The top longer still and hung down across his forehead, a few strands making their way into his right eye. Eyebrows defined and arched, a scar slashed through the right, but stopped midway down his lid. Smaller scars cut above his right cheekbone below the outer corner of his eye and next to his temple. They didn't detract from him at all, if anything they added more allure.

His jaw was defined, sharp, and cleanly shaved. Lips perfectly plush with a soft cupid's bow that lead up to an aquiline nose. A black hoop pierced through the left side nostril matched by the small black studs in each earlobe. 

Dragging your eyes up to his, you were met by a piercing blue that you knew could read you like a book. Amusement and desire battled in them. He was handsome, so kriffing handsome. He smirked, and his features took a mischievous twist as his finger swirled around your clit causing you to gasp a sharp inhale. Gaze still locked with yours, there was a visceral change at hearing your desire. Something darker, dangerous, and full of his own need came closer to the surface.

His smokey voice cut through the haze his finger was stirring, "And you like trouble, brat." The sole finger left your clit to become two that slipped down to your center and pushed in. His thumb came to press against the abandoned place while his fingers curled inside you. 

Your back arched and a deeper moan was pulled out of you. His free hand repositioned until it could thread through your hair to grab a fistful, "Kylo's a domineering little prick." You snorted and sent him the thought instead of voicing it, 'Aren't you all?' 

Smirk widening was his only reaction before continuing, "It's barely even daylight, if he wants you for a deal, it can wait." His eyes were so expressive and they were looking at you with a dark possessiveness, "He can wait." Thumb circling before pressing down in emphasis, "You're not leaving this bed until my cum's dripping out of your perfect cunt."

Your teeth bit into your lip while groaning for more. He lowered his mouth to your chest and placed a kiss between your breasts, "Kylo forgets he's not part of the bond." Teeth nipping a bud before his tongue soothed it. His grip pulled your hair taut, forcing you to arch your chest into him more, "Just us." A keening whine of a moan was his reward. Legs parting wider pressing against his hand for more. You were panting, moaning, and filled with a desperate need for him, "Fuck, Vicrul."

His name echoed as the scene crumbled, dissolved like sand in water. The vision was gone, but his name resounded in your mind. Echoing in your whining moan, layering on top of each other, rolling into each other. Too lost in it to register that you were back at your workbench, soldering the firearm you'd been so excited to explore.

…bond?

There was no telling how long you would have sat there, back in the present, but mind miles away in a trance-like state. Lucky for you the solid weight against your shoulder paired with the sound of your name ripped you back into the here and now. A yelp left you as you dropped your tools and spun on the intruder with a high-pitched, "Holy fucking stars!"

[bargainshouse]

#UKDEALS JJWNMLL T track bolts 8 pcs - roof rack bolts M6 x 35 mm with thumb screws m6 with nut washer 20x20mm square sliding blocks for roof rack rail carrier https://www.bargainshouse.co.uk/?p=112759 https://www.bargainshouse.co.uk/?p=112759

[dankusner]

Jasmine Crockett named national co-chair of Harris-Walz campaign

WASHINGTON — U.S. Rep. Jasmine Crockett’s rising star got another boost this week as she was named a national co-chair for Vice President Kamala Harris’ presidential campaign.

The Dallas Democrat, who has enjoyed internet fame for her energetic confrontations with Republicans, anticipates a busy fall travel schedule as she rallies support across the nation for Harris and her running mate, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz.

“Any state that is a battleground state, I will be there,” Crockett said Thursday after a Dallas Regional Chamber congressional forum at the Hyatt Regency Dallas.

“I will be on the ground. I will be talking to organizers. I will also be talking to large crowds of just kind of everyday people.”

Crockett said she’s begun racking up frequent flier miles for the campaign, traveling directly from last week’s Democratic National Convention in Chicago to Michigan, where she visited several cities. She said she’s also been to Georgia, Arizona and Pennsylvania for the campaign and was about to catch a flight to Los Angeles to headline fundraisers.

Serving as a national co-chair does not typically involve participating in the daily nuts and bolts of running a campaign. Rather, it identifies trusted surrogates who can speak on the candidate’s behalf and attack an opponent.

Crockett joins another Texas Democrat on the list of Harris-Walz co-chairs, U.S. Rep. Veronica Escobar, D-El Paso. Escobar carried over that role from the Biden-Harris campaign and served as the closing night co-chair of last week’s national convention.

Escobar has been a prominent voice pushing back on Republican criticism of Harris’ record on illegal immigration and border security.

In Crockett, the Harris campaign is getting a dynamic up-and-comer who has not hesitated to throw elbows at Republicans.

Crockett, 43, emerged as one of President Joe Biden’s fiercest defenders after his stumbling performance in the June debate with former President Donald Trump. After Biden bowed to mounting pressure and stepped aside as the nominee, Crockett quickly pivoted and embraced Harris’ candidacy.

Crockett was tapped for a high-profile speaking slot at last week’s convention, delivering a speech that combined affection for Harris with stinging barbs directed at Trump.

She went for viewers’ heartstrings as she recounted questioning her decision to go to Washington shortly after joining Congress last year.

“As I approached Vice President Harris for our official photo, she turned to me and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’ … She saw the distress. I immediately began crying,” Crockett said. “The most powerful woman in the world wiped my tears and listened.”

While Crockett cast Harris as a dedicated and caring public servant, she rhetorically savaged Trump as an entitled, crooked creature of inherited wealth.

“She’s lived the American dream, while he’s been America’s nightmare,” she said, adding, “Kamala Harris has a résumé, Donald Trump has a rap sheet.”

That kind of no-holds-barred rhetoric has helped Crockett make a name for herself as clips of her confronting Republicans in Capitol Hill committee hearings have spread on social media platforms.

The most viral was her May showdown with U.S. Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, R-Ga.

The House Oversight Committee was considering whether to hold U.S. Attorney General Merrick Garland in contempt of Congress for withholding audio recordings of Biden’s conversations with special counsel Robert Hur.

The proceedings went off the rails after Greene told Crockett, “I think your fake eyelashes are messing up what you’re reading.”

Democrats objected, but the panel’s Republican chairman, Rep. James Comer of Kentucky, ruled Greene did not violate rules against personal attacks.

Crockett posed a question to Comer.

“If someone on this committee then starts talking about somebody’s bleach-blond, bad-built butch body, that would not be engaging in personalities, correct?” she said in an obvious reference to Greene.

The moment created an online firestorm that included a string of parody songs incorporating what Crockett quickly dubbed her “B6″ alliteration.

Her campaign filed an application to trademark the six-word phrase. She began raising campaign funds by selling branded merchandise featuring the phrase as part of a “Crockett Clapback Collection.”

Crockett served one term in the Texas House, representing a district that includes portions of southern, East and West Dallas. When the late former U.S. Rep. Eddie Bernice Johnson announced her retirement, she endorsed Crockett as her successor.

[bsauto9876-5]

A Simple Guide to Installing Famous Royal Enfield Accessories

Riders can easily personalize their bikes due to this detailed guide, which offers step-by-step directions for fitting some of the most popular Royal Enfield accessories. This site provides detailed installation instructions and practical advice for anything from crash bars and windshields to seat covers and luggage racks.

whatever your level of skill, this guide will provide you with the knowledge and self-assurance to customize your Royal Enfield and improve your riding.

Important Equipment and Safety Measures

Make sure you have all the required materials before you start:

Socket wrench set

Allen key set

Screwdriver set

Pliers

Wire cutters

Commonly Used Royal Enfield Parts and Installation Manuals

Saddle Stay

Purpose: An integral component that joins your bike's saddle to the frame, providing stability and a secure mounting point for accessories.

Installation:

Identify the mounting locations that are specified on the frame of your bike.

Make sure the saddle is in line with these points.

Use the included bolts and nuts to secure it.

To stop the movement, tighten the fasteners.

RE Bullet Crash Guard

Purpose: Boost safety and visibility, particularly in low light.

Installation:

Keep your motorcycle parked in a level area.

Remove any extras or crash bars that are currently in place that might get in the way of the installation, if any.

Make sure the crash guard is exactly in line with the mounting points by placing it onto the motorcycle’s frame.

Using the included bolts and nuts, attach the crash guard. To stop them from moving, tighten them tightly.

Make sure the crash guard is securely installed and does not obstruct any moving components. Make any required adjustments to the mounting components.

Conclusion

You have the knowledge and self-assurance necessary to install well-liked Royal Enfield accessories by yourself thanks to this instruction. Keep in mind to put safety first, refer to your bike’s handbook, and take your time installing it. You can make your Royal Enfield uniquely yours and improve your riding experience with a little work.

Hey, if you would like additional details regarding the installation guide for Royal Enfield accessories, please visit:

[findxbuy]

Monster Racking T-Rax 5 x Extra Wide Storage Shelves, Blue, 160cm W, 60cm D

This sale is for 5 x blue extra wide and extra deep shed shelving / garage racking storage unit from the quality T-Rax range. At 160cm wide and 60cm deep it is much larger than industry standard shelving and like our other garage racking these units are easy to assemble as they do not require nuts and bolts… all you will need is a rubber mallet. T-Rax heavy duty garage racking units can support a…

[dalviesystems]

Behind the Scenes: Understanding the Process of Racking Inspection

Introduction:

Racking inspection is a critical aspect of warehouse safety and maintenance, ensuring that pallet racking systems remain structurally sound and compliant with safety regulations. Understanding the process of racking inspection is essential for warehouse managers and personnel to identify potential hazards, mitigate risks, and maintain a safe working environment. In this guide, we'll delve into the intricacies of racking inspection, covering its importance, methodology, best practices, and key considerations.

The Importance of Racking Inspection:

Racking inspection plays a crucial role in warehouse safety and operational efficiency. It helps identify structural defects, damage, or wear and tear that could compromise the integrity of pallet racking systems and pose safety risks to personnel and stored goods. By conducting regular inspections, warehouses can proactively address issues, prevent accidents, and ensure compliance with safety regulations and standards.

Understanding the Process of Racking Inspection:

Pre-Inspection Preparation: Before conducting a racking inspection, warehouse managers should gather relevant documentation, including installation records, maintenance logs, and manufacturer specifications. They should also ensure that inspection tools and equipment, such as tape measures, levelers, and safety harnesses, are readily available. Additionally, it's essential to schedule inspections during off-peak hours to minimize disruptions to warehouse operations.

Visual Inspection: The first step of racking inspection involves a visual assessment of the entire racking system to identify any visible signs of damage, deformation, or misalignment. Inspectors should carefully examine upright frames, horizontal beams, wire decking, and other structural components for cracks, dents, or corrosion. They should also check for missing or damaged hardware, such as bolts, nuts, and anchors, that could compromise the stability of the racking system.

Measurement and Testing: In addition to visual inspection, inspectors may perform measurements and testing to assess the structural integrity and load-bearing capacity of pallet racking systems. This may involve using tape measures or laser levels to verify dimensions and alignment of racking components. Inspectors may also conduct load capacity testing by applying weight to selected pallet positions and observing for signs of deflection or instability.

Documentation and Reporting: Following the inspection, inspectors should document their findings and observations in a detailed report. The report should include a summary of the inspection results, identified issues or deficiencies, recommended corrective actions, and timelines for implementation. This documentation serves as a record of compliance with safety regulations and standards and provides a basis for prioritizing and addressing maintenance needs.

Best Practices for Racking Inspection:

Regularity: Racking inspection should be conducted regularly, ideally on a quarterly or biannual basis, to ensure ongoing compliance with safety regulations and standards. Additionally, inspections should be scheduled after significant events such as facility expansions, equipment upgrades, or changes in inventory profiles that could impact racking systems.

Training and Qualifications: Inspections should be conducted by qualified personnel with expertise in warehouse safety and racking systems. Inspectors should receive specialized training on racking inspection techniques, safety protocols, and relevant regulations and standards. Regular training and certification ensure that inspectors are equipped with the knowledge and skills necessary to perform thorough and accurate inspections.

Thoroughness: Inspections should be thorough and systematic, covering all aspects of the racking system from top to bottom. Inspectors should pay attention to detail and carefully examine each component for signs of damage, wear and tear, or structural deficiencies. They should also follow a standardized checklist or inspection protocol to ensure consistency and completeness in their assessments.

Prompt Action: Upon identifying issues or deficiencies during inspection, prompt action should be taken to address them effectively. This may involve implementing corrective measures such as repairs, replacements, or reinforcement of damaged components. Timely action helps prevent accidents, minimize downtime, and maintain the integrity of the racking system.

Key Considerations for Racking Inspection:

Compliance: Racking inspection should be conducted in accordance with relevant safety regulations and standards, such as OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) guidelines, SEMA (Storage Equipment Manufacturers' Association) codes, or local building codes. Compliance with these regulations ensures that racking systems meet minimum safety requirements and reduces the risk of liability in the event of accidents or injuries.

Risk Assessment: Inspection findings should be used to conduct a comprehensive risk assessment of the racking system. This involves identifying potential hazards, assessing their likelihood and consequences, and implementing control measures to mitigate risks. Risk assessments help prioritize maintenance needs and allocate resources effectively to address critical safety concerns.

Continuous Improvement: Racking inspection should be viewed as an ongoing process of continuous improvement rather than a one-time event. Warehouse managers should regularly review inspection findings, track trends over time, and identify opportunities for enhancing safety and efficiency. By implementing lessons learned from inspections, warehouses can proactively address emerging issues and prevent future incidents.

Conclusion:

Racking inspection is a critical component of warehouse safety and maintenance, ensuring that pallet racking systems remain structurally sound and compliant with safety regulations. By understanding the process of racking inspection and adhering to best practices and key considerations, warehouses can proactively identify and address issues, mitigate risks, and maintain a safe working environment for personnel and stored goods. Regular inspections not only enhance safety but also contribute to operational efficiency and regulatory compliance, ultimately supporting the long-term success of warehouse operations.

[tracksterman]

After the promise of late November and the first half of December, the last four weeks of pish have been an utterly demotivating kick in the nuts. But, finally, the sun is back, if only briefly.

Before heading out today I fitted the Old Man Mountain rack I've had kicking around for years. It's going to get a bit of a hammering with stuff I intend doing in the coming weeks and months, but I wanted to test ride it first. The rack attaches to the frame via struts that bolt onto the V-bosses, plus an extended QR through the hub axle. With some frames (including this Lava Dome and my old Trek 8000, but not the Inbred), the clamping forces of the rack mean you have to slightly adjust the rear disk brake and gears once it's in place. Five minute job, but it does mean it's not a totally faff-free exercise. Job done, rides fine, bigger trip tomorrow.