#for whatever reason this stopped in the road as I was turning into the lane

[hellsbroadcaster]

Bro I haven’t been out five minutes and I thought I was gonna fight somebody.

[snipersfucker]

request from @infintyfandoms: Thought! Mirage is always so reckless, well what if one time he went too far and hurt his friend or s/o (either)?? I feel like he’d blame himself so bad - even if he was blind sighted by a distracted driver. Never drive crazy again or not drive around again or what??

angsty mirage x fem!reader times. thought of making it a headcanon thingy but nah. this one might need a warning that there are descriptions of serious injuries. and im also writing this on 0 hours of sleep thank you very much

A silver Porsche parked in front of the vinyl store you just walked out of was catching the attention of every passerby. Both men and women's eyes were stopping on the vehicle for a bit longer than they would on any regular car, their heads turning slightly to allow them to do that.

Mirage loved that. He loved transforming in different models everyday, the next one even more prestigious than the one before. Just to get that attention every single time.

You noticed a couple of teenage girls staring at your boyfriend, and even though you were fully aware they were doing so only because he was a good-looking car, you still rolled your eyes at it.

Your feet led you to the Porsche and you hopped in. Before getting the chance to point out the shameless staring of the group of teens, Mirage spoke up, "Whatcha got there?"

Your gaze had shifted to the vinyl case before you placed it down on the passenger's seat without much thought.

"Music," you responded casually in a light tone, putting your hands on the steering wheel, even though you knew Mirage would be doing the driving. "You got fans," you murmured under your breath but Mirage could obviously hear it. Your eyes landed on the girls again, and although you weren't particularly jealous, you still didn't appreciate it too much.

"Hell yeah, I do, baby," he said proudly, the grin in his voice palpable, even though you couldn't see it at the moment. And then, he added, a little bit more quietly as if he was saying this to the man who literally stopped in front of the car to admire him, "You wish you looked like that, huh?"

You let out an amused snort, and patted the gear stick with your palm to give him a sign to drive out of the parking lot. "C'mon."

"Let me honk at him," he'd asked for your permission seconds before doing it anyway without you allowing him to, causing the man to jump in his spot and then walk away. You just smacked the passenger's seat in disapproval, not even going on a rant about his behaviour because it was a daily occurrence for Mirage to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended by your sudden reaction, as if he wasn't used to it, "I'm all for violence unless it's directed towards me," he muttered, sounding like an annoyed child. Then, without any warning, he revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. You only rolled your eyes without a word but then, you noticed how fast he was passing all the other cars in his lane, which he would usually cuss out for being slow, as if their owners weren't driving under the speed limit for safety reasons.

"Mirage…" you warned him, using his full name instead of a nickname, which he did not appreciate but decided not to speak on it and just change the topic.

"Jus' tell me it's not George Michael," he said with a short sigh, as if it was very important to him that it, in fact, was not George Michael.

"Mirage..." you warned him once again, ignoring his words, gripping the steering wheel with much more force now to hopefully get him to slow down.

"Nope," he said simply, understanding what you meant without you even having to say it. If he was in his humanoid form, he'd probably cross his arms on his chest and shake his head with that signature smirk indicating that he knew he was in control of the situation. "That's what you get for hitting your poor boy," he added, sounding very content with himself, revving the engine once more just to show you that he, in fact, was not planning on slowing down.

You scoffed. "You deserved it."

"For what?" he began talking in that specific, overly innocent tone, and you just knew he was going to say something sarcastic that would only annoy you even more, "For being so cute and funny?" He asked rhetorically, as if he wasn't aware that he really needn't have honked at that man, and then drive as recklessly as he normally would when you weren't inside him.

But he was very much aware. It was just that his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

"For being a little shit." You decided not to banter with him as per usual, but just to get straight to the point. Even though you were possibly risking starting an argument between you two, you just needed to reprimend him at the moment, especially now that you noticed how nonchalant he was about it.

"Ouch," he pretended to be hurt by what you just said. And although he wasn't actually offended, he still wasn't really in the mood to let you win.

So he sped up even more.

Noticing the opportunity presented right in front of him, the almost empty road ahead of you two, he floored the gas pedal, making you let out a short, quiet noise at the impact in which you got pushed back into the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked him with anger in your voice, not raising it just yet, and not actually expecting a response. But you got one anyway:

"Takin' you on a ride date, baby," he answered sarcastically, his overly sweet tone making him sound even more annoying than before.

"Mirage, I—"

If he wasn't as sure in his abilities as he was, he'd never drive over three times faster than the speed limit allowed, never wanting to actually risk you getting hurt in any way.

And it wasn't even his fault, when a sport's car drove right into his left side, before you could even finish your sentence.

It wasn't his fault that the car ran a red light, that it was supposed to stop and wait for him to just drive away without getting thrown to the right by the impact.

It wasn't his fault that he was now rolling over for the fifth time, his roof and sides hitting the hard asphalt every single time.

You weren't even making any noises anymore so that he would know that you were with him, conscious, alive. He ignored the sound of his glass shattering, his metal body getting scratched, bent and painfully ruined, just to be able to hear your breath.

The other car was in a much worse condition, but he didn't care. The only thing occupying his mind was you, your heartbeat he would do anything to hear again. He needed to make sure you were still there.

He felt it all. He felt the pain that came with getting drove into by another car, with flipping over with unimaginable speed and force. But he needed to make sure you were alright.

And he couldn't even do anything to stop his worst nightmare from beginning to play right in front of his very optics.

Then, after a few moments that felt like hours to him, everything finally came to an end. The hiss coming out of him was still hearable, the hot steam, the liquid pouring out of his fual lines threatened to mix with the flames growing with every passing second. But it was finally quiet; no noise of metal hitting the asphalt distracted him from listening to your body.

His spark nearly exploded with relief when he heard the faint sound of your heartbeat. He wanted to transform, to be able to hold you, to get you out of him so that his bent roof wouldn't be pressing against your wounded head.

When people began to gather up around him, he realised he had a decision to make: to transform and risk getting hunted down just like it happened to Bumblebee, or to stay there and pray to Primus, pray to the people now surrounding him that they'd help you and make sure you were okay.

He wanted to scream at them to hurry up, to get you out, to make that heartbeat of yours sound more promising. To let him know that you weren't going to—

The idea of losing you forever crossed his mind for a split second before he could even stop it.

And it was his fault that he was going a lot over the speed limit, too distracted by the need to tease you, to win the argument, and show you that you had nothing to say in the way he was behaving.

It was his fault that there was crimson running down your forehead, the drops rolling past the hairs of your eyebrows, all the way down to your jaw, then staining your shirt with your own blood.

It was his fault that your body felt lifeless against his ruined upholstery, the only motion it was making was an almost undetectable rise of your chest every couple of seconds.

His train of thoughts got interrupted by the distant sound of sirens getting closer and closer to him. The people were talking, someone was yelling, it all making an irritating mixture of human noises he didn't need to hear at the moment.

Mirage felt his left door being opened or rather being torn out of him in a couple painful motions. He didn't care.

He just wanted them to take you away from him.

When he no longer felt your weight on his driver's seat, he almost let a sound of relief through his radio, but just now noticed that it's been ruined, making it impossible for him to do so. He hadn't paid attention to it earlier, too stunned to be able to say anything to you, even though your name and endless questions if you were okay wanted to escape him.

Cold liquid hit his hot metal body, the lower temperature of it somewhat helping him get in a clearer state of mind. Even though he felt deserving of being on fire, he appreciated the slight relief it gave him.

Somebody placed you on a stretcher, put you carefully in another vehicle, and then closed the door. He couldn't see you anymore but was sure the humans would take good care of you. Better care than he was able to offer.

The loud sirens hit his audio receptors before he registered the ambulance leaving the crash site.

And the sound was still bouncing against the interior walls of his helm every single day since the accident. The imagine of your limp body, his steering wheel covered in your blood, your head pressed uncomfortably against the remains of his left window...

Two whole weeks passed and he couldn't think of anything else but you. You in that horrible state he put you in himself.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though he'd make Noah visit you everyday in the hospital to make sure your condiction was stable, he still couldn't help but beat himself up and be worried sick.

"Concussion, five broken ribs, broken arm and nose, and she was fucking bleeding from her liver, man," your mutual friend told him after leaving the hospital for the first time, after the doctors allowed anybody to visit you, even though you weren't conscious yet.

It affected Noah nearly as much as it did the robot. The only difference was that the human had no reason to blame himself for it, because it wasn't his recklessness that nearly killed you.

Mirage fell silent.

He got quiet, very quiet, unusually for him. Every Autobot he used to hang out with knew what happened, how much you meant to him, and how affected he was by the accident. They noticed the sudden shift in his behaviour, the once bubbly personality disappearing just so he could dwell in guilt in peace.

The thing that bothered him a lot among others was that he couldn't see you. He couldn't walk into the hospital you were being taken care of in. He couldn't sit next to you and tell you how painfully sorry he was for doing it to you, for putting you in danger, for hurting you so much your pain radiated off you body and made him feel it, too.

Noah insisted on repairing him, and he agreed purely because then he'd be able to park in front of the hospital to be as near you as possible.

But he was a wreck, both physically and emotionally.

And it still didn't change when you finally got discharged. He was not the one to pick you up from the hospital, it was Noah and Bee. He couldn't face you.

You asked about him when you woke up from the coma, your friend sitting next to you on the uncomfortable hospital chair only shrugging in response, telling you he didn't know anything about Mirage, where he was or how he was.

It was a lie. The robot was spending his time either in the garage, getting fixed by his only human friend, or out on the road, hoping that maybe, just maybe someone would crash into him again, making him feel that pain again. That pain he thought he deserved for harming you.

And when you insisted on Noah taking you to the garage to see him, after getting the information about his location out of the poor human, Mirage couldn't help but feel even worse than before.

You were alive, of course you were alive, but he also did notice the way you winced with every step, how dull the colour of your skin was compared to the times before the accident, how fragile you looked, standing there in front of him with Noah not leaving your side in case you'd collapse onto the floor.

You were alive, but also in so much pain he couldn't even look at you without feeling a strong sting in his spark.

His optics shifted to Noah in an instant, as if he was trying to bash him for taking you here, which he responded to out loud with his hands raised in a defensive gesture, "She threatened me."

You didn't even know what you were feeling at that moment. A mixture of sadness, annoyance, impatience, and hurt made you unable to say anything, forcing you to just stand there in silence. Suddenly, a short wave of pain washed over your right side, making you grimace and put your only free palm on the area surrounding your liver.

As soon as Mirage noticed your movement, he made an involuntary step towards you, his servos extended in your direction, as if he was trying to both comfort you and catch you if you were to fall.

Noah immediately asked, "You okay?" His eyes shifting between your hand on your side and your pained face. You just nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the three of you, and the other human was close to replacing it with whistling just so that he wouldn't have to stand there awkwardly without a word.

"Imma just leave you two, yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck, his feet already leading him in the direction of the exit. "Jus'... scream if you die or somethin'..." he added, the awkwardness making him joke about things he normally wouldn't joke about.

And then, he left. He left poor Mirage with even poorer you. Alone.

You let out a grunt, making your way to the nearest chair to sit down. He was ready to help you with everything, but he didn't know if you even wanted him to, so he just stayed in his spot.

"You look bad," you commented, lazily motioning to his beaten-up body with your hand. The raspiness, the weakness in your voice almost made him drop to his knees.

He responded unsurely after a pause, a forced, unamused smirk on his face plate, "...You should see the other guy."

It was awkward. Awkward as never before, you two having always found it pretty easy to communicate with each other. But now... Now he couldn't help but feel that unpleasant feeling in his tank when you spoke up and made him say something back to you.

And it was his fault.

Your reaction to his little joke wasn't something you could control. A short, quiet chuckle left your mouth, causing you to grab your right side even more tightly and a wince of pain on your face to deepen.

She can't even laugh.

He felt so excruciatingly bad he had to fight himself not to transform into a car and just drive away.

You wanted to tell him that you've been told the other driver didn't make it. But you knew the war it would start in his mind if you shared that information with him, so you stayed silent.

"You look terrible," he muttered after a few moments of observing your body, as if to himself to comment on the damage he'd done.

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement. "That's exactly what every woman likes to hear," you responded, deciding that a little banter would be better than sitting without any words being exchanged.

Mirage's eyes widened slightly as he took a step towards you, his servos up in the air again in a specific gesture that indicated that he didn't actually mean it like that.

He had this tendency to make things worse with his words, and normally it wouldn't bother him at all, but this time it was you. He didn't want to make thing worse with you.

"No, no, you're pretty. Gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Walking perfection even," he wanted to correct himself, spurting word after word just to show you that he didn't want you to be mad at him. "Geez, I'm sorry," he added, bringing his servos to his face plate to cover it in... embarrassment.

Something new for him.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I do look kinda ter—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he said with much more confidence now, "...For everything."

He rarely apologised.

But you deserved to hear it. Even if you weren't ready to forgive him just yet, even if you were to never forgive him, he just needed you to know that he regretted it.

You frowned, opening your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you again, "Maybe I shouldn't have be the fastest car in Brooklyn that day. Maybe I should've listened to you and not be a little shit," he recalled the way you called him these few weeks ago, just minutes before the accident. With determination in his tone, he continued, "You can hate me, I can take it." But then, he changed his mind as soon as he realised he would prefer if you didn't hate him, "Actually. Hate me for the next three days at max. Please. If you don't want me to rip my vents out."

You snorted weakly once more, the movement of your body making you wince in pain again.

He finally found enough courage within himself to get closer to you. With a couple of steps, he kneeled down in front of you and extended one of his servos in your direction, as if non-verbally telling you to stop laughing and not cause yourself even more pain.

"'m sorry," he whispered his apology again, the sincere look in his optics showing you just how much he cared for you.

"It wasn't y—"

"It was," he interrupted you in a much more serious tone, but it was still filled with softness, "I was stupid..."

"Nothing new," you managed to blurt out before closing your eyes shut and grunting, a grimace on your face as you felt another sting of pain, which you were kind of used to now.

You opened your eyes and looked up at his worried optics observing your every move, his servos desperately wanting to touch and help you but he knew it'd only make things worse due to his size.

You let out a short chuckle at your own joke as soon as your body allowed you to.

"Not funny," he reprimanded you with a serious face, not finding your apparent discomfort amusing at all, even though he agreed with your words.

"You were just making jokes ab—"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Child," you insulted him, fully aware how much he hated being called out on his childishness.

"I'm older than your cute little Earth, please," he scoffed.

"No, you're not," you deadpanned.

"...So?"

"I hate you," you said, although a small smile on your lips betrayed you.

"That's the spirit," he sighed but the corners of his lips curled up as well. A beat of silence passed and his gaze went back to your face, "I meant that."

You frowned slightly.

"I am sorry. For being the..." he was about to say something that would hurt his pride and ego, but decided it was worth it, "...the dumbest machine there is. Even a hairdryer is smarter than me," he insulted himself, hoping the sacrifice would make you like him again.

"You're right." You nodded, fighting back a chuckle.

He raised his arms in a playfully offended, confused gesture. "You could at least disagree, damn."

You shook your head in amusement.

After another beat of silence, he said seriously, "You're never coming inside me again."

"Wow."

"Should've worded it better, yeah..." he trailed off, "Primus, woman, give me a break." He let out a small laugh when he noticed your amused reaction to his sentence. "No, seriously... I... You're my girl, yeah? Don't want you to... You know, be in pain."

Why did he have to be so awkward about his feelings? Now that he finally had the chance to show you how much he loved you and never wanted to see you hurt again.

"I still have your..." he wanted to say that he still had your blood on some of his parts that didn't want to come off, but then decided it wasn't the best time to tell you that, "I almost lost my mind when I couldn't hear you," he confessed, his tone regaining its sincerity, the look in his optics describing his guilt to you without words.

He was referring to the moment he was so desperately trying to silence everything around him just to be able to find your heartbeat.

"I'm okay..." Your tone was soft, quiet, as if you were trying not to scare a lost, disoriented puppy.

"You're not okay," he disagreed with a slightly clenched jaw, angry at himself, not even for a second at you, "You..." He lowered himself so that he'd be able to whisper to you, as if saying these words more loudly would make them come true someday, "You almost died... I almost killed you..."

His face panel was close enough to your body for you to put your hand against his warm, metal cheek. Mirage immediately melted at the touch, his optics closing slowly just to allow him to savour the softness of your palm as much as he could.

"It wasn't your fault..." you started your monologue, this time the robot allowing you to continue, "I didn't die. I might have a broken bone or two..." He opened his eyes at this sentence, giving you a sad look. "...But I'll be alright. I didn't die," you repeated, which gained you an unsure nod from your boyfriend, who was now avoiding making eye contact with you.

You didn't force him to look up at you.

"I promise..." he trailed off, not wanting to show you how weak he felt, "I promise I'll never do that again..." His gaze went back to meet yours as you smiled softly, your eyes filled with love you had for him. "I'll never be dumber than a hairdryer, you have my unreliable word. And I'll never argue with you. I'll just say that I'm sorry, and that my woman is always right, and I'll shut up for as long as you want me to. And I... I'll never drive over twenty-five. Yeah, it hurts. But guess what hurts more. Seeing you with a broken bone or two."

Joking might've been the only way he would be able to overcome the sorrow he felt within himself. But it worked both for you and him. You really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tell me," you whispered with a slight head tilt, slowly closing the gap between your faces.

He frowned, not understanding what you meant by that, but then the small smirk on your lips explained it to him.

He rolled his optics, the remains of guilt still evident in them, although with every passing second and every joke, they seemed to disappear bit by bit.

"'m sorry. My woman is always right," he repeated himself, pretending to find it very boring, as if he didn't really want to admit that. But he did. He did want you to know that he meant every single thing that rolled off his glossa.

Your smile widened immediately, your eyes closing as you minimized the gap between your and Mirage's lips completely.

And then, after long weeks of not being able to forgive himself for hurting the only woman he loved, he was finally able to feel relief.

[waywardxwords]

5. No Time

Chapter 5 of Little Secrets

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,312

Warnings: Case, talks of family death *this chapter and case is based on the episode "Red Sky at Morning"*

MASTERLIST

The case in Cicero was exhausting once the trio realized it involved the safety of the town’s children. Dean was concerned about Lisa and her son, Ben. Meanwhile, Sam and Y/N had done whatever they could to get to the bottom of the situation with the victims’ families. It had felt like forever, but the case was solved and taken care of within three days. This was the first instance of Changelings any of them had seen, but John’s journal had certainly come in handy while solving it.

“So, I don’t know about you but I could use a long weekend in Vegas,” Dean piped up from the front seat as a playful grin graced his lips. Y/N managed a small smile, and Sam had one to match from his spot on the passenger’s seat.

“Dean, Vegas? Really?” Sam laughed, his tone full of sleep. Y/N knew they had only gotten about three hours of rest the night before, if that. There was no reason to waste a day in Indiana; once the case was closed, they were back on the road. It was always like clockwork.

Dean seemed to be the only one content with just a few hours of sleep. That, or he was really good at faking it for the sake of the two other people in the car. 

“Deanie, if we’re taking a long weekend then I just wanna sleep,” Y/N groaned from the backseat. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the Impala’s back passenger window and closed her eyes for added measure. “So take me wherever the hell you want, but please God, let there be a bed.”

Dean chuckled. “See what it’s like playing in the Major Leagues, Y/N?” His eyes gleamed back at her in the rearview mirror as he managed a wink. Y/N’s eyes opened as she narrowed in on him with a scowl.

“Alright, alright,” Sam laughed, playing referee yet again as his eyes glanced over a few different newspapers he held on his lap. They always picked up the major papers from stops along the way to keep an eye on anything strange happening in the world–specifically supernatural strange. “Dean, it looks like there’s some weird stuff happening in Washington.”

“Ah, come on, Sammy. Things in the northwest are always a little weird. Doesn’t mean we have to chase every cat that barks,” Dean groaned. Dean rarely complained about the lifestyle, as far as Y/N could tell. In all honesty, she never really met a hunter who complained. It was the way things were; they had a job to do and they knew it wouldn’t get done if they didn’t do it. But every person needed a vacation every once in a while.

“We just chased after a fall on a power saw because you wanted to get laid,” Y/N laughed from the backseat. “What’s in Washington, Sam?” It was unavoidable; her tone had softened when she directed the conversation back to the youngest Winchester. She hoped Dean hadn’t picked up on it. She truly felt like if she and Sam could keep this from everyone around them (over-protective big brothers included), that maybe–just maybe–they would have a shot at making this work. Whatever this was, exactly.

“There have been three cases so far of people drowning,” Sam began as he turned his attention back to the newspaper in his hands. Before he could continue, Dean cut in with a grunt.

“Oh yeah, because drowning just screams our kinda job.”

Sam eyed him with his eyebrows raised. “Even drowning in the shower?”

Dean didn’t have a response. Y/N pulled her lips between her teeth to keep the laugh bubbling up her throat at bay. “Sounds like our kinda game…” 

Sam glanced back at his brother. Dean leaned his head back and groaned. “One day off, is that too much to ask for?” He asked no one in particular as he switched lanes. Sam laughed and smiled back at Y/N. He managed a subtle wink before he turned back to face the road.

X

Y/N smoothed down her black pencil skirt as the trio approached the modest, yet beautiful home in the suburbs of town. She felt for her fake police badge nestled in the inner pocket of her blazer jacket and took in a deep breath of the cool, autumn air. The air was brisk against her lungs, but she loved the chill it brought–it was refreshing.

“Alright, so Sam is my partner and you’re an intern, Y/N,” Dean explained as they walked along the sidewalk path leading to the stairs of the front porch.

Y/N looked at him incredulously. “An intern?” She snorted and shook her head. “Nuh uh, nice try, Deanie. I’m your supervisor, tagging along on the case for investigation purposes.” She planted her feet on the sidewalk and folded her arms over her chest to show her refusal to move until he agreed.

Dean laughed loudly and stopped to pivot back towards her. “Yeah, okay,” he said sarcastically. “That would mean the department was undermining mine and Sam’s–”

Sam interrupted Dean before he could finish his thought. “Okay, okay,” he held up his hands. Y/N looked at him, her eyebrows cocked in a manner that asked him: Well, referee?

Sam glanced between his brother and his newfound romantic interest–his eyes were wide and his mouth was suddenly very dry. “Uh…” he tried to think it over for a moment. “Okay, so Dean and I are partners and Y/N is tagging along because she’s investigating a similar case. Deal?” He glanced between the two of them.

A smug smile stretched across Y/N’s face, completely satisfied. Her black pumps clicked upon the cement sidewalk as she moved past the pair towards the porch once more. Dean looked at Sam in shock.

“Seriously?!” Dean’s frustration was evident in his tone. “Whatever happened to bros before hoes, Sammy?” Sam knew Dean wasn’t insinuating that he knew something was going on between him and Y/N, but it still made his cheeks flush red.

“Just…let’s go,” Sam sighed as they followed Y/N’s steps towards the home.

She had already rung the doorbell, so there was no room to argue any longer. Before long, an older woman–probably in her early 70s–opened the dark wooden door with a smile upon her lips.

“Hello, can I help you?” She asked sweetly as she eyed the three people in business-attire before her.

“Hi, Mrs. Case,” Y/N began with a kind smile. “We’re sorry to bother you, but my name is Y/N L/N, and these are two of my fellow detectives, Sam Angus and Dean Young.” The three of them flashed their badges for the woman to look at. “We’re here to assist in the investigation involving your niece, Sheila.”

The older woman’s smile fell slowly as her eyes traveled towards the ground, signaling for the three of them to stash their badges back in their suit jackets. “Oh good, I’m glad to see those good-for-nothing officers decided to send detectives after all. Please, come in,” she held the door open and stood back. Y/N smiled at the boys and walked ahead of them past Gertrude Case into the living room.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dean flipped the switch for his infamous Dean Winchester charm and it was game on. The elderly woman eyed him with a wink.

“Oh, please call me Gert,” she beamed flirtatiously. Y/N and Sam both had to bite the inside of their bottom lips from laughing. Dean seemed slightly disturbed but cleared his throat and managed a smile.

“Gert, can I ask you something?” This was Y/N’s tactic and the boys loved her for it–especially when it came to women they were questioning. Gert seemed interested and nodded. “Why are you so open to us doing an investigation when your niece’s death was ruled a drowning?”

It was a valid question; they had all wondered how Gertrude would react to having three investigators going over the details of her niece’s death once more when the autopsy had ruled it to be accidental.

Gert managed a small smile. “My niece was not suicidal, and she was a fantastic swimmer,” she explained. “And even so, have you ever heard of someone drowning in the shower before?” She glanced between the three hunters. They all shook their heads ‘no’. “Exactly. Bathtub, maybe. But in the shower? Standing up? Even if she passed out and fell on her back, it would be nearly impossible. I know there’s something more here…” she trailed off.

Y/N watched her inquisitively. There was something she wasn’t saying. “What do you think happened?”

The boys seemed confused by her question. The fact that this woman believed in the supernatural was highly unlikely. But Y/N asked, or prompted her, anyway.

After studying the understanding expressions of the three people in front of her, she continued. “Have you ever heard of a ghost ship before?”

Y/N hadn’t, and neither had Dean by the shake of his head. Sam glanced between the three of them and then back to Gert before nodding tentatively. “Like the Flying Dutchman.”

Gert’s eyes almost managed to light up. “Exactly!” She exclaimed. “Are you sure you’re associated with the officials?” Her question made Y/N’s throat run dry–was she about to have them made? “No one has even listened to me so far. They all look at me like I’m crazy.”

“Well, we’re listening,” Dean leaned forward with a smile. “Trust us, we know crazy.”

Gert seemed hesitant at first, but heaved a sigh before continuing. “Well, there’s this tale of a ship that sailed in the 1800s, a merchant sailing vessel. It was called Espirito Santo. In 1859, one of their sailors was accused of treason and hanged.”

To any other person, it wouldn’t seem like much to go off of. Even to Y/N, she was a bit confused. In her mind–the man who had been hanged could be a spirit, but wouldn’t he just haunt the vessel he was on? What would bring him to Sheila Case’s bathroom?

“Sheila had said she spotted the ship off the coast on her run one evening just a few nights ago along the port,” Gert seemed skeptical about the information she was providing them, but anything could help.

“So, you believe in all this? The ghost ship?” Dean asked curiously after she finished.

“Is there a better explanation?” Gert asked, exasperated. “I know my niece didn’t drown in the shower. I know she was spooked by a ship she thought she saw a few days before. I don’t know what to believe in, exactly.”

Y/N glanced at the boys. “Thanks for all the information, Gert,” Sam offered the elderly woman a friendly smile.

“Oh, my pleasure,” she beamed, winking at Dean as they all stood so the three of them could leave. “Please, if there’s anything else I can do…”

Dean cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. The thought made Y/N want to laugh; Dean Winchester? Uncomfortable because of a woman’s advances? She never thought she’d see the day.

“Thank you, Gert, “Y/N grinned. “We appreciate it–and we’re sorry for your loss.”

They said their goodbyes and headed out the front door, back down the sidewalk path. As soon as the door had closed and they knew Gert was no longer in ear shot, Sam and Y/N let out the laughter they had both been holding in.

Dean grimaced, a small pout over his lips. “God, I feel dirty.”

Unfortunately for him, this only made his brother and hunting friend laugh harder.

X

There was another victim’s sibling who had come forward to the police department requesting an investigation, but still so many newspaper clippings to attend to. Y/N headed to the home of the vic’s family to question them while Sam and Dean headed back to the abandoned shack they had decided to squat in to try and find a motive. The victims had to have a common denominator somewhere. They just weren’t quite sure where yet.

Y/N mulled over the conversation she had just had with the victim’s family. There had to be a connection somewhere, but why couldn’t she figure it out? As she walked along the bridge overlooking the water back towards Baby (she was still surprised, herself, that Dean had trusted her with his most prized possession), she heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

Her eyes pulled from the wooden bridge below her feet and up towards the sky. It had become bleak and gray, puffy fog-like clouds had rolled in and covered the sun that had only been there moments before. Another low grumble sounded from the sky and Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together. That’s when her eyes saw it; it was clear as day.

On the horizon where the dark blue water met the now gray sky, a ship sailed forward. Lightning crashed against the gray of the sails that whipped in the wind of the oncoming storm. Y/N’s throat ran dry and her eyes widened in fear. Maybe this wasn’t the ship everyone had spoken of; maybe this was different.

But almost as soon as she had seen it, the ship suddenly vanished, taking the looming storm with it as the sky suddenly cleared and the thunder rolled out to sea.

Her heart pounded against her chest. She tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. Her mind played games with her; had she really seen it? Or maybe she was imagining things from lack of sleep and her involvement in the case. She had nightmares about cases sometimes; maybe that was happening.

She fumbled with the car keys in her hand and hurried to the Impala. Y/N knew what she had seen, and she needed to get back to Sam and Dean now more than anything.

She barely knew what she was doing as she was driving. Her mind took over and her foot practically pressed through the gas pedal as she floored the Impala all the way back to the shack. If Dean could see her now, he would kill her.

She screeched the brakes and threw the car into park. She clambered out of Baby and took hurried, wobbly steps towards the shack. Her hands found the white door as she knocked three times hurriedly, and then three more times when no one answered.

Y/N heard the lock click and the door handle move and stepped back. Without realizing, her breathing had become heavy and her eyes had filled with tears. Sam stood behind the opened door, his face broke into concern when he noticed how upset she was.

He reached out to touch her arm, “Y/N, you okay?”

She hurried past him into the room where Dean stood, his brow also knitted together with worry and confusion. “What happened?”

“I-I…” she couldn’t get the words out and her throat ran dry again. “I saw it.” Her eyes darted between the two brothers. They still seemed confused. “The ship. I saw the ship.”

Sam’s jaw tightened and his eyes moved quickly to Dean. “Wait, you saw it? Like you actually saw it?” Dean seemed angry.

“Yes, I saw it and then it disappeared,” Y/N responded hesitantly. She was terrified. She knew they would be terrified now, too. Everyone else who had seen the ship had died. Her fate was now on the line.

Dean eyed Sam closely, but Sam remained just as tense as he had moments before. “Son of a bitch,” Dean breathed as he ran his hand over his face. “Y/N, we love you but we have to ask you something.” He seemed nervous approaching whatever he was about to ask.

Y/N looked between both of them quickly. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. All she could think about was that damn ship, what could they possibly need to ask her?

Sam pulled Y/N gently to sit down on the end of one of the beds in the room. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and watched him closely, her eyes still full of uncertainty and questions. “We…we found what the spirit’s motive is.” He started carefully. She looked back at Dean who now stood before her with his arms folded across his chest.

“And?” She urged him to continue, the pause in his voice almost unbearable as she tried to process why he sounded so cautious. A bundle of nerves tangled in the pit of her stomach; she had no idea what they were about to say or what it would potentially mean.

“The sailor who died,” Dean began, his eyes now on Sam before glancing back at Y/N. “He was hanged for treason.”

“Right, we knew that already,” Y/N looked between them once more. “Guys, I can’t take it anymore. What are you getting at?”

“He was hanged by his brother,” Sam quickly said as his eyes bore into hers with sympathy and compassion. “We’ve realized that the spirit is targeting people who have been involved with the death of one of their family members.”

There was a silence in the air that felt suffocating; Y/N suddenly found it nearly impossible to breathe. Her eyes pooled with tears of hurt and frustration. Her mind was filled with flashbacks to a time she never wanted to remember.

“Hey,” Sam whispered delicately, his hand suddenly on her hand. “It’s okay. Just talk to us, alright? We’ll figure this out.”

Y/N begged the tears not to fall. Once the lump in her throat felt under control, she found that both brothers were watching her intently. They needed her to explain.

“The brothers killed their dad for his inheritance,” Dean explained while she stole a few more moments to gather her thoughts. “So yeah, that was pretty screwed up. But Sheila–Sheila’s cousin was killed in a car accident. The accident was her fault, but it was still an accident. It doesn’t mean Sheila deserved to die.”

Y/N nodded with a grim smile at their attempt to make her feel better and took in a shaky breath. “It happened when the vamp nest raided my family’s home. It was after I had been hunting with Jeff and Lily, a vamp escaped when they raided my roommate’s nest–the one I was telling you about,” she looked at Sam. He nodded, urging her to continue. “Lily, Jeff and I got to my parents’ house as soon as we could. But they had already had enough time to attack my family. They…they turned…” her voice dropped off at the end as tears threatened to fall.

“It’s okay,” Sam rubbed her arm soothingly. Y/N brought her hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear that had slipped.

“They turned my dad,” she cracked. She officially broke and didn’t even try to fight it anymore. “There was nothing we could do; it was too late. I…I had to kill my own father.” Her body shook with sobs as her head fell into her hands. Sam instinctively pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if holding her so close would keep her body from shaking so badly.

Dean reached out to rub her back in a pacifying gesture. The boys exchanged a look over her head; they had one option, considering the body had been cremated after the sailor’s death. Without any other remains that they knew of, they had to move quickly with the only possible solution Sam had–to resurrect the sailor’s brother who murdered him and hope that would end things. There was little to go off on, but they had no time.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello! I’m a road.

Ok perhaps it’s a little more complicated than that. My spirit, or soul, or inner being -whatever you want to call it- inhabits a stretch of country lane in rural Yorkshire. I think I’ve been here longer than the road itself, but if I’m honest centuries tend to blur after a while. Definitely longer than cars though. Which is where my problem comes in.

I need a change. I’m not the same person I was a hundred years ago and being stuck as the same stretch of tarmac for so long is really starting to bother me.

I can have (and in the past have had) a wiggle around. You know, try a new bend here, a bit of incline there, but this time I’m worried about the effect it will have on the local population. Some of them have been driving along me for decades so imagine the chaos when they go to turn left like they do every day and and instead find themself in a hedge that *definitely* wasn’t there before. Plus the tourists in the summer will be an absolutely nightmare when their satnavs don’t line up with what I’m actually shaped like. And goodness knows the farmers are stressed enough without hundreds of lost hikers showing up at their doors because their maps are wrong.

So, what can I do? I really can’t bear being stuck like this much longer, but I just can’t figure out how to enact the change I really need without at the very least causing a lot of confusion and at the worst, causing some serious accidents too.

I think a bit of change sounds like a wonderful idea, reader. It's easy to get stuck in old habits long past the point when they've stopped serving us. I commend you on recognising your own needs and being willing to take action to see those needs are met.

I recommend writing to your local council and informing them of the upcoming changes. Let them know in plenty of time to make whatever preparations they require and to get the word out to local drivers.

This would mean you'd have to decide on what changes you'd like for yourself beforehand. I hope this lack of spontaneity won't dampen your excitement, or lessen the satisfaction of finally having your long-awaited “wiggle around”.

Besides, you might find that there are still some changes you can leave to the last minute. Provided you stick to the basics of the plan you've submitted to the council, I think there's room for a little creativity – some bumps here, a little widening there.

Finally, your letter hits upon a rather common issue for the people who write to me. Specifically, I can't help but feel you are taking on responsibility for matters which rightly belong to other people.

I am, of course, all for taking care of your community. But there is a point at which drivers – and hikers – need to take responsibility for themselves. If someone takes a corner of yours too quickly to be safe, or fails to prepare properly for a walking holiday, that's not your fault.

Do your due diligence, and take reasonable precautions to limit the risks. Any more than that is simply not your concern. Focus on planning an exciting new route for yourself, and enjoying the changes to come.

[bomberqueen17]

back to work

So I drove the new Subaru on its maiden thruway voyage yesterday. Dude had helped me turn off the Lane Excursion Warning or whatever, when it beeps at you for going out of what it thinks is a lane? I found it wildly distracting in Tonawanda with the gratuitous roundabouts whose markings confused the cameras, and it drove me nuts. I know where the edge of the road is! Please let me drive the car, if I am over there it is usually for a reason, and that reason means I probably would not like you to beep to distract me.

Anyway. That's off and I can see the indicator that it's off. Great! Also the one where it seizes control of the car if it thinks you're going to get into an accident, that's off. Because that would not have saved me any of the three? times in my life I've been in an accident, and it WILL cause me to get into an accident I super don't need to when it stops the car dead in a driving lane for some reason. (it is probably that "feature" in a car ahead of us in traffic that caused the chain reaction rear-ending that totaled the last Subaru, someone stopped TOTALLY DEAD in WILD overreaction at being cut off at 55 mph, and now I know, some cars will helpfully do that for you, and while it will keep you from rear-ending someone it will also ensure that you in turn get rear-ended, but because of insurance this is of course infinitely preferable. One would think no accident is preferable but that is not now insurance works.)

So anyway. More bells, whistles etc wittering behind the cut.

Dude's mazda has the kind of cruise control where it keeps you a safe following distance behind the car in front of you in preference to actually adhering to the speed you asked it to go, which means you have to be constantly vigilant so that you don't wind up going 40 in a 65 because it so nicely and gradually slowed you down to follow the boat in the slow lane when the passing lane was perfectly open. But I don't mind that so much now that I know to expect it, and I at least figured out how to shorten the following distance so that I was within reasonable passing range as I came up on very slow cars, to prevent my having to camp in the left lane the moment a truck appears on the horizon.

(Guess what people do, now. yeah they just pick a speed and camp in the left lane. fortunately traffic is usually light enough on the thruway that you can pass these idiots on the right. Yes I have a low opinion of most drivers but it is warranted.)

The feature I was not expecting to like so much was Lane Keep Assist. Yes, this is using the same features as the Distracting Lane Beep, but on the Thruway, which is flat and straight and unending, mostly the car can in fact find the lane edges, and it will then mostly steer itself to be between them. this is ENORMOUSLY helpful at avoiding shoulder strain, and at letting you take the cap off your water bottle whenever you like.

The thing that's annoying is that if you don't occasionally attempt to wrestle control gently back, it decides you don't have your hands on the wheel, and will abruptly turn itself off in a huff of beeping. The way my steering wheel is positioned, I can't actually see the bit of dashboard display where it first warns you, so I don't know it's starting to feel neglected until it turns itself off. For the record every time it did this I did in fact have my hands on the wheel, so I was easily able to correct it, but it was very annoying. I guess most people have the steering wheel up higher or lower, so they can see the part of the display where it tells you things, but that might as well be a blank screen for me.

Still, though, i much enjoyed having the car occasionally steer itself while I opened packages of crackers and such.

The downside is that I hydrated well in my delight at being able to open my water bottle whenever I wanted, and they still have fully 3/4 of the rest stops on the Thruway shut down, so I told myself at 9:30 that I'd stop to pee at the next rest stop, and it was 11:00 before I finally made it to the blessed land of Indian Castle Service Area which was actually open and was a fucking zoo because there's nowhere else for 150 miles to fucking pee. WTF.

Anyway. (The Thruway had rest stops every 40 miles or so for my entire lifetime, until the pandemic, during which they decided closing them was the thing to do, and then they decided to demolish and replace all of them with other different but similar buildings, and they decided instead of like, idk, working from one side to the other or something, they'd just close all of them at once so that the entire purpose of having rest stops became moot. It's now year 3 of this project and you can't fucking stop to pee anywhere but you think you're going to be able to so you don't get off the highway because now most gas stations have "out of order" signs permanently affixed to their bathrooms so they won't have to clean them, which is why the rest stops are so useful-- one certainly doesn't purchase fuel there, it's much more expensive than if you get off at an exit, and gas stations mostly don't turn their pumps off. Just their bathrooms. So the rest stops have one job, which they're not doing.)

I got used to several of the car's quirks. It has a weird little chime it does, which I eventually worked out was it letting me know it had acquired or lost a target in its following distance calculation. Ah this is how you're supposed to recognize that it might change your speed, or not. Now I know what the chime means it doesn't bother me.

It was a bit like having a cranky astromech.

So, I got over to my mother's house and we did autumn chores, mostly moving furniture and pots and washing windows and putting in storm windows. Farmsister and BIL spent a lot of time on ladders, fixing gutters, cleaning roofs, etc.; Farmsister even got to don her chainsaw chaps and take down / cut up a tree threatening the driveway, which was undoubtedly good enrichment for her.

I got back to my cabin after dark, and walked in the door and smelled... death or... something stale, idk. it wasn't nice. I checked the mousetraps and nothing was in them, but went out and looked and the bait block had been partly eaten. I think a mouse might have died in my roof. I checked my gas stove all over and decided the smell wasn't leaking gas, the pilot was still lit, so that was okay. So I lit some incense, and lit the stove, and it warmed up the house quite a bit. I was just settling in, the temperature at 61 beginning to approach that of a normal room, when the fire went whoomph and went out.

I decided the gas must be out, and indeed the cylinder felt light. It's a 100-lb cylinder, and when it was installed I could barely move it, but now I can rock it easily. Phooey. So I shut off the handle where it comes into the house, and lit a few candles.

The mice were undeterred by the smell of death and made a racket in the ceiling much of the night. i don't know how they can be so loud. I don't know. You'd think they'd eat the dead one. Maybe they have, the smell is faint.

Today I have a lot to do but maybe I can get my propane cylinder refilled, it's not going to be that cold this week but it's not going to be warm either.

It's 52 in the sleeping loft, which could be worse, but I'm nerving myself up to 1) go use the loo outside, and 2) get dressed downstairs where it'll be significantly colder than 52....

[sequencefairy]

Disclaimer before I tell this story: I like to drive fast, I know the dimensions of my vehicle, I know what gap I can fit into, I commit to my choices when I'm in care and control of my vehicle. Second-guessing yourself will get you killed, so decide quickly, and then make your move. Fast and accurate, people.

Couple of weeks ago, I was driving to the city from home. Home is a small town, and the city's the city. Lotsa traffic. I regularly get frustrated with people in the city who don't use their signals, or who try to change lanes into the side of me, or who run lights, etc. But the drive in is nice at that hour of the morning, usually! It's county roads and then the highway and usually I'm leaving early enough that I miss most of the traffic.

So, I'm past halfway, and I'm in a little group of cars and we're stretched out doing like, I dunno, a buck fifteen (speed limit is 80km/h, roads were dry, sun is rising, no one is following too close), and behind me, on my left, I see this pick up truck.

He probably did eight of us, hauled in two cars ahead of me, and then popped out again to do three more, and then two more, and then i lost him over the crest of the hill. If we were doing a buck fifteen, he had to have been pushing a buck thirty going by me. Where's a cop when you fuckin' need one, right?

So, I'm like whatever, he'll get his someday. Firm believer in the balancing hand of the universe, me.

We come up to this lone traffic light, which is usually green, but today, someone must've been coming up from the other county road, and that's chill, it's green again, but we're slowing waaaaay down because at the head of the line is a full grain truck. He's getting himself going and shifting through his many gears to do it, and it takes a while! It's fine, I know he'll get up to speed and I know we're coming up to a town where the speed limit drops to 60km/h halfway up a hill and then 40km/h through the centre of town, so I am not minding that we're taking our time.

This little Chevy SUV roars past me on the left, and he's making stupid passing decisions. The pickup truck earlier wasn't making the best choices, but he wasn't passing going up a blind hill or nipping in and out without a signal which is making everyone in our little column nervy, which means brake lights and people bunching up, and I'm like, okay, well, this is getting dangerous, so I'm backing off and off and leaving a bunch of space between me and the SUV in front of me, you know, just in case we gotta stop suddenly 'cause the idiot has caused a wreck further up.

At this point, I'm really starting to wonder why I haven't seen a single fuckin' cop this whole trip. There's usually at least one, and sometimes also a ghost car doing a speed trap, but there's been nada today.

We get to where the speed limit drops, and the grain truck turns into the feed mill, as I figured he would, and then traffic slows to a fuckin' crawl. Sure, it's 40km/h on the other side of the lights, but like, it should still be moving. So I'm like, what has happened? Is there a farm implement? A horse and buggy? (I do this entire drive through Mennonite country after all).

Then, I notice debris on the road. Bits of car. And I'm thinking oh no.

And then, I see it.

On my right, pulled over to the side, out of traffic, I spy the little Chevy SUV. His driver's side rear quarter panel is mangled, his tire's gone. The guy's out of the car gabbing on his phone so he's clearly fine. And THEN, on my left, on the shoulder, as we all crawl through town, in front of the private school that is the reason for this speed limit, is the pickup truck from before!

His right passenger front quarter panel is scraped to shit, his front bumper is hanging off. He's standing in front of his truck, hands on his hips, looking very put out by his circumstances.

I have never in my life seen karma applied with such a precision edge. No other vehicles were involved. Just the two idiots who were in such a fuckin' hurry they were probably playing leap frog chicken in a school zone. Truly, a thrilling conclusion to that drive.

[final-girl96]

STOLEN HEARTS CHAPTER TWO

☆

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April 18, 1984

When I got home I did my homework and then headed downstairs to the little studio where I knew my dad was. The sound of his 1965 Fender Stratocaster filled the air. I stood in the doorway watching him play. It was the first guitar he bought himself after spending two summers saving up the money to buy one. He always said it was his lucky guitar.

It was the guitar that he was playing when he met my mom. It was the guitar that he played at The Hideout when he was discovered. And it was the guitar he played during every concert. It still had the I love you my mom wrote and a heart with their initials inside it. And beside that was my footprint and handprint from when I was born.

The first thing he did when he got his first check was have the guitar glazed with a clear paint or whatever it was where the foot and handprints and my moms hand handwriting were so it would last forever. When he looked up and saw me he stopped playing and put the guitar down. "Hey kid, how was your day?" I shrugged, walking over and sitting on the couch. "I was asked to tutor someone who needs help passing math to graduate."

"And did you say yes?" He asked. I nodded my head, "for some stupid reason I did. So I will be home late tomorrow because I'm meeting him after school in the library." He raised his eyebrow, "so it's a boy you're going to be tutoring?" I rolled my eyes, "don't worry, dad, nothing is going to happen." I stood up and started for the stairs to go back up to the kitchen.

"What are we doing for dinner?" I asked starting to ascend the steps. "Um…just order something. Do we need to have the…um…the talk?" I laughed, shaking my head. "Oh, my god, no!" Once in the kitchen I went to the drawer with all the take out menus.

"Look, dad, nothing is going to happen. I grew up on the road with you touring and all that. So that's educational enough. It taught me that drugs, alcohol and sex are bad. Especially when mixed together. Besides, I'm a virgin so you can calm down."

"Okay! It's good to know that but boys can be…pushy and at this age very consistent. Trust me I know. How do you think your mom ended up pregnant with you?" I held my hand up to stop him. "I don't need or want to know how I was conceived. But I can assure you I won't be getting pregnant any time soon. Especially not to Eddie Munson."

"Munson?" I hummed as I leafed through the take out menus. "I went to school with two Munson's. Wonder if he's the son of one of them," he said. I shrugged, "Chinese good?" I asked and he nodded. "Whatever you, sweetheart." I picked up the phone and called in the order. "261 Turner Lane. Thank you." I hung up and walked into the living room where dad was picking out a movie.

After we finished dinner and watched a couple movies I headed upstairs to my room, showered and got ready for bed. There was a knock on my door and I looked up from my book, "come in!" The door opened and dad walked in. "Just wanted to say goodnight," he said, coming over and kissing my forehead. "Don't stay up too late reading. I love you." I nodded in understanding, "love you too." Then he left, closing the door behind him.

April 19, 1984

After school let out I went to the library and sat at a table in the very back where it would be quiet and out of sight from anything distracting. I pulled my notes and math book out along with the folder Ms. Adler had given me. After setting everything up I sat back and waited. Five minutes went by and Eddie still hadn't shown up. I opened my notebook and started drawing random things.

Five minutes turned into ten and ten turned into twenty. I sighed and started to pack my stuff up. This was a mistake. I was stupid to offer my kindness and help someone who clearly doesn't want help. "Blood Red Vipers." I looked up to see Eddie Munson standing in front of me on the other side of the table. "Amazing band. One of my favorites."

"You're late," I said. He smirked and sat down. "Yeah, I had some…business to take care of," he said and winked. I wrinkled my nose up in disgust and scoffed. "I don't need to know what you were doing or why. Just be on fucking time." He held up his hands in surrender. "Do you even know any songs that they sing?"

I took a deep breath and closed my math book. "So, what…because I'm a girl I can't listen to The Blood Red Vipers or AC/DC, Queen, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Kiss, Rolling Stones, Iron Maiden, Dio, Judas Priest, Slayer, Guns N' Roses, Aerosmith, ZZ Top…please stop when I there is a band I'm allowed to listen to." His mouth was hanging open and he didn't didn't say anything for a couple seconds.

"Damn. Okay, sorry, it's just some people wear shirts with bands on them and know nothing about the band or never even listen to the band. But you…fuck! You fucking surprised me by rattling off all those bands." I just gave him a deadpan look. "Look, I don't want to be here when the cheerleaders get out of practice so how about we just make up a schedule today and start studying on a day we're both free again." Of course I'm free everyday but he doesn't need to know that.

"I'm free any day but Fridays. Hellfire meets on Fridays," he said. "Okay, what about weekends?" I asked. "As long as we're done before eight. I play at the Hideout on Saturdays and Sunday I spend time with my uncle since he's off work. If I have any other plans during the week I'll let you know. Can't keep the girls waiting, right?" I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "Right. So how about since tomorrow is Friday we meet on Saturday at your place say…. One?"

He shook his head, "one is fine but not my place. How about your place?" He said. Absolutely not. "Umm…what about the diner?" I asked. He shrugged "you gonna buy me lunch?" He smirked, and leaned over the table. "Just don't be fucking late." I packed my stuff up and walked out of the library. When I was unlocking my car I saw Eddie coming out with one of the cheerleaders and going to his van.

I got in my car and had no choice but to drive past them to get out of the parking lot. And surprise surprise, they were sucking each other's faces. She'd wake up in the morning to regret her decision and would never admit that she let him touch her. When I got home, I walked in and straight to the kitchen for something to eat. "How did the tutoring do?" I turned around from the fridge to see dad leaning on the counter.

[youthbled-12]

Happy Father’s Day (Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader)

(Reader is a Gender neutral spider person and an ✨artist✨)

Summary: **You give Miguel a gift for Father’s Day :D

General Content Warnings: Uhhhhh Fluff? Spanish translations using spanishdict (feel free to criticize translations)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I HAVE NOT WRITTEN IN SO LONG- HAVE THIS LITTLE FLUFFY CAR RIDE AND FATHERS DAY BASED STORY TWO DAYS LATE AS A LITTLE GIFT

One car ride. That is what Miguel O’Hara (unwillingly) promised you in exchange for the solo capture of a particularly difficult Green Goblin variant. That’s how you managed to get a startlingly quiet Miguel into your universe, into your hometown, into your car, and into normal civilian clothes.

For the first twenty minutes his tense state made the drive.. uncomfortable, a small tick in your spidey sense which never seemed to subdue. At a red light you began to tap at your radio, trying to find a station to land on, ending up unsatisfied as a horn behind you signaled the change to green. 

A few mumbles and taps on the radio from your passenger later, he finally found something you both could listen to. It took only a few minutes of the meaningless white noise for him to relax (only slightly), and finally your senses calmed, just in time for the exit.

“America’s Favorite Journey.” He sounded skeptical as he read the sign leading up to the Purple Mountain Way. “What have you signed me up for?” The first proper sentence he had spoken to you all day. Glancing his way to respond you note that both his tone and face were laced with annoyance.

“A nice calming drive to get you out of your dark musty office-“

“It’s not musty-“

“Shut-“

“But-“

“SHUT- out of your dark, angsty office-“ 

Your change of words received an unintelligible grumble.

“And into a fresh environment so that maybe you can stop sulking and snapping at everyone. Does that sound acceptable?”

You were once again met with annoyed, almost mocking, mumbling.

“You need to speak up, boss man.”

“Fine! I said fine!” From the corner of your eye you could see him pinching the bridge of his nose before he reached for the buttons embedded into the door, rolling down his window. Your window fell soon after

You let the silence fall upon the two of you again, turning the radio up just a notch so it could still be heard over the wind blowing around the car. His hair was even more beautiful after having the wind ruffle it about.

You each took turns humming or tapping along to different songs you knew, making the simple cruise down the winding two lane road something more enjoyable.

Your peaceful ride was interrupted by whatever no-name radio host was running the station. “Y’all miss me? Hope all you listeners out there are enjoying your Father’s Day, be it as a father or for the fathers in your life, make sure to give-“ The radio host was interrupted by a new random channel, Miguel’s calmed demeanor shattered by the unknowing and unknown man through the radio waves. A few more channel switches later before he landed on another one, leaning back into his seat tense once more.

LYLA, the wonderful AI she is, had given you the full rundown of what had happened to Miguel. His search for a universe with his happy ending. His takeover of his own identity. His daughter. The collapse of the universe. She even showed you the heartbreaking footage.. needed a day to recover after that one.

In turn that meant that many topics were off the table for casual one-on-one discussion. Non-spider-person alternate selves, children, daughters, fatherhood…

That was the reason you had brought him out here. To pull his mind away from the day. Fathers Day. Or at least.. an attempt to make it less shitty.

“You alright over there?” You glance once more to Miguel, who was now staring out the open window at the rolling hills and giant trees. Taking a moment to adjust your driving grip you hold your right hand out to him. An offer of the only small comfort you could give him at this moment.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t even bother to turn to look at you, only doing so after you tap him in the chest a few times, turning to at your hand almost bewildered. “What are you…” 

“Take my hand asshole.” All it took was another vaguely aggressive shake of the hand before he obliged, hesitantly hovering his hand over yours. You waited a moment before properly grabbing it, messaging his knuckles in an attempt to ease some of his tension. A fruitless attempt but not an unwelcome one.

After what felt both like an eternity and a second he pulled his hand away, leaning closer to his door, as if he was yearning to throw himself out of the moving car, stopped only by the knowledge of the steep mountain cliff to his right.

“Miguel.. if you want to-“

“No.”

You were silent for a moment. “Alright.. well. Open the glovebox.” Feeling him turn to look at you, you reached over to roll the windows back up.

“What?”

“I have something for you Miguel. Open the glovebox.”

“Dios mío, ¿por qué estuve de acuerdo?” [My god, why did I agree?] He took a moment to think about it before actually opening the glovebox, finding a small package wrapped in blue wrapping paper. “Seriously?”

“Open it!” You began to slow down near one of the outlook spots, pulling into the small parking lot which belonged to the scenic view, parking notably horrendously, and turning to watch him.

Squinting at you for a moment, eyes asking if he really has to, Miguel sighs and finally opens the gift. 

~~~~~~~~

You had been pouring every single skill you had ever acquired into this work. It had to be perfect, and it had to be done soon.

Somehow, someway you managed to get LYLA to give you one photo of Miguel and his daughter. It took alot of quiet conversations, and promises, and a hell of alot of missions, but you finally got it. After discovering his past you had decided Miguel needed something… different to decorate his dark office. Art. Not just some meaningless color splotches titled with philosophical one liners, but something personal, and this was it.

Almost too invested in the craft, your spidey sense had to notify you to the opening gold portal behind you, giving you barely enough time to hide the image and turn to face the very man you were drawing, his mask dematerializing the second he entered. Exhaustion was etched into all of his features, the dark circles more prominent, his stance more relaxed, his suit glitching in a few places revealing scratches and scrapes.

With a sigh you stood to fetch your first aid kit. “You know you have a med bay for a reason, right?”

Miguel gave a stifled chuckle as he fell back onto your couch, closing his eyes as he attempted to relax, allowing his suit to reveal his injuries, “You stole your aid stuff from them, it's basically the same. Plus they would put me on bedrest.”

“Maybe you need to be.” Sitting beside him you began cleaning and tending to his wounds, squinting in the dim light. “You know you should give me a warning before you just show up. I'm a busy spider.”

“You can sacrifice a few minutes to patch me up, can't you mi vida?” [my life] His head had tilted just enough for him to gaze at you through squinted eyes.

“Of course, I always would but- i have to have at least a little privacy, yeah?” You finished patching up his wounds, gently patting the bandages that had been applied before returning your supplies to their rightful place.

“Como deseas querido.” [As you wish dear] His suit materialized once more, small glitches where the bandages were placed. Once you returned he slowly stood, taking a deep breath as he opened another portal, one which you quickly moved to stand in front of.

“Hell no! Guest bedroom. Now. You need rest.” 

“But-”

“No butts. Guest room. Now. A change of clothes is in the top drawer.”

Miguel smiled a bit, nodding as he slowly trudged down the hallway to a room that had basically become his personal hospital room. He was followed shortly after by you with a few glasses of water and a take out menu. 

The artwork would have to wait for a later date.

~~~~~~~~

That later date had come and gone, and the artwork was now resting in Miguel's hands, in the specially built frame for it which you had made ensuring it was protected on all sides.

Miguel was silent for a long time, staring at the gift. A shaky breath and a few teary eyed blinks he finally looked up to you, a small smile on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Miguel nodded, reaching to grab one of your hands, Pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, accompanied with a whispered “gracias, cariño,” [Thank you, my dear] was enough to tell you how grateful he was.

“Happy fathers day Miguel.” Your grip on his hand tightens as you bring his hand up to reciprocate the back of the hand kiss.

~~~~~~~~

Epilogue One: The large gold portal appearing in the Parker residence was normal, but the individuals exiting it… not so much. 

Of all the people to attend Peter B’s spider person fathers day barbeque, he least expected Miguel O’Hara to show up, although with the sight of you dragging him through the portal, everything made a little more sense. The new arrivals wandered, having small conversations here and there before finally reaching the host. You turned to MJ, whispering something about drinks, or maybe about Mayday, whatever conversation you two were having was interrupted by Miguel speaking to Peter B directly. It was something simple, a little grin and a “Happy Fathers Day.”

The simple declaration made something new shine in Peter B’s eyes as he pulled Miguel in for the tightest hug he could muster. “Happy Fathers Day to you too, bud.”

~~~~~~~~

Epilogue Two:

Jess typically has good timing when it comes to Miguel. At least when it comes to catching him at the perfect time for mission reports. This time, though, she dropped in during his lunch break. Lucky her- she got to explore, and the first place she went was that incredibly slow descending platform.

Upon hunting for the elevator button she happened upon a framed drawing of Miguel and his daughter, and a little handwritten note, definitely not in Miguel's messy scrawl.

“You're doing amazing cariño, you always do.”

A/N: I have not written an x reader in AGES but I had this idea I needed to share. If anyone would like another one feel free to request and ill see what I can do,

[baberoe-archive]

my good friend who literally always comes correct. tell me your thoughts how would baberoe handle a zombie apocalypse. pitch me the movie in your mind's eye

HI BEL!!!!!

first of all. might i be so bold as to suggest that of any pairing, baberoe are probably one of the most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse. they r both pretty handy, and they r resourceful in ways that complement each other so in any given situation one of them is probably fairly well equipped to resolve it. gene has first aid and health covered, is probably a decent shot, and can probably survive well enough off natural resources if society collapses. im going modern au w this, so there is no reason babe would know how to shoot, but he’d pick it up fast enough, and he can get pretty creative in using whatever’s lying around to help him, plus he’s so naturally friendly and charming he can probably worm his way into any settlement or group and is adept at maintaining connections with care networks. they would slay at a zombie apocalypse to be honest.

before i give my further 2 cents i should say im no connoisseur of zombie media so forgive me if i plagiarize or fail to obey established tropes or whatever. but anyway heres what i got for a movie:

so. i’d like to pitch a journey to bayou chene. when i was thinking about a zombie apocalypse situation, my first thought was if they start in the same place, they are going to want to go back to their families and make sure everything is okay. i dont see either of them being able to stay away from their family if they know they are in danger. so this springs out of that. in this pitch, gene came to philly for school, met babe and they started dating. they are living there together when the zombie apocalypse starts. there is a desperate need for health workers, so there is no way gene can get away. as the time wears on, communication systems fail, and eventually he stops hearing from his family in bayou chene completely. it is maybe a year or two before there is some semblance of normalcy and gene does not feel guilty for stepping away. when he says he is going back to louisiana, babe insists on coming with him. i think, during this journey, they realize how much they’ve drifted apart — gene has been so busy at the hospital and at shelters, and babe has been volunteering himself, as well as taken care of family, and between the trauma and grief, they have had no time for each other. this journey gives them the opportunity to meet each other again, to fall in love again. the ease in which babe inserts himself into communities, the way he insists on helping in the kitchen, how when he gets kicked out of the kitchen, he falls in with the kids, playing soccer and laughing at the weird jokes children tell. the love he has for everyone, for the world. his unrelenting optimism, how he holds onto hope like it’s a weapon. babe, for his part, sees anew gene’s single-minded focus, his determination. the gentleness of his hands, a gentleness that comes from his grandmother before him, her grandfather before her. he’s not optimistic, not really, but he will do what he can, he would stand before god and chew him out if he could, and babe loves him for it. by the time they get to louisiana there is something light within them, a renewed vision of the world. gene is feeling almost hopeful as he drives a stolen pick up down familiar state highways, then local roads, deeper and deeper into the bayou. they pass a sign that says they are entering st martin’s parish. a few miles later, they are stopped by a tree in the road. they get out of the truck and climb over, failing to notice the tree was cut down with a chainsaw. another tree blocks the road a few miles later. there’s another before they reach the church at the center of town. the windows are smashed, the pews overturned. every building is empty. they turn down the single lane road leading them deeper into town. gene is silent now, not bothering to call out to former neighbors, friends, family. when they reach the house, babe recognizes it from photos. the white washed siding is dirtier now, the garden overgrown, the door off its hinges. inside it is a wreck — sofa cushions turned over, drawers pulled out and emptied, picture frames without pictures. when gene makes his way upstairs to his former bedroom, he finds a rosary on his bed. it is his grandmother’s, the one she used when she was healing, her favorite. with shaking hands, he picks it up, then looks back to babe. there is something sad and resolute in babe’s expression when he nods. cut to black.

[everygame]

City Connection (NES)

Developed/Published by: Jaleco Released: 14/8/1985 Completed: 26/12/2022 Completion: Beat all the different maps (saving after each level). Trophies / Achievements: n/a

Right, so here’s a wee bit of personal history. I have such strong memories of playing a version of this on the BBC Micro at a school fair. Paying 5p, or whatever, to be allowed to have a go on the BBC Micro until you run out of lives, I remember thinking that I wished I had an endless supply of 5ps. So after finishing this off I had to look up what the game was.

Now. I might be wrong, but I’m almost completely certain the game I was playing was Daredevil Denis, which is literally nothing like City Connection other than it’s a platform game with vehicles. I mean, it doesn’t even scroll! (Which is the part that makes me think maybe I was wrong, as in my memory the game 100% scrolled. But I can’t find another game on the BBC Micro that fits.) 

Anyway, Daredevil Denis came out in 1984 and this didn’t come out until July 1985 even in the arcades, so it’s not even like it’s a version of this. 

If you’re asking “what was the point of this trip down memory lane?” there isn’t one, so I’ll just smoothly move onto describing what City Connection actually is rather than what it isn’t, which is a BBC Micro game I once played at a school fair or possibly completely imagined. City Connection is Jaelco’s entry into the then burgeoning “What if Pac-Man was a platform game” genre along with Mappy and Flicky, but here rather than playing a policemouse (boo) or a bird that needs rescuing off Sonic (yay?) you play a Honda City (yesss!) that’s attempting to colour in all the roads of various cities in the world.

It does this by driving on them (obviously) but all the cities have built precariously high multi-story highways that have loads of holes in them, the cops are determined to stop any shenanigans, and the feral cat population is out of control. So the Honda City is able to do a couple of things: jump, and pick up oil cans which it can chuck at the po-po (cats, sadly, are invincible to cans but not cars.)

The real challenge with City Connection actually comes from the Honda City’s unusual requirements. You see, although the car moves constantly, it’s really not much of a problem that you can’t stop, and most police cars (for some reason) are actually driving away from you. The issue is that after a jump or a turn the Honday City must do a wheelie before it can jump, meaning that you can have a lengthy cool-down between jumps. This can be disastrous because the game moves fast and you really don’t have a lot of look-ahead, leading to a lot of murdered cats (or even worse, a death spiral where you just keep turning around to try and avoid hitting a cat on either side of you, but never get enough distance to actually wheelie.

To be honest, this factor really had me wishing I was playing Daredevil Denis instead. I know that this is a fairly beloved port in Japan–considered especially faithful to the arcade version–but you die so unfairly, so often, that I found this terribly exhausting to play, even though I found the graphics and setting extremely charming (I mean, who doesn’t love a Honda City?) I wish I had nicer things to say about this, but I’d rather play Mappy (and I’d definitely rather play Flicky.)

Will I ever play it again? I’d be happy to try the arcade version. One thing I didn’t mention here is that the scrolling on this NES version is just a touch too jerky to be anything other than headache-inducing.

Final Thought: City Connection is a really good example of the “why?” school of game localisation; the original game in both arcade and Famcom actually casts you as Clarice, a blue haired teenager generally considered one of the earliest female protagonists, but on NES you play a blonde dude. The star’s the car though. Disappointed there’s no Motocompo power-up.

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month.

[tittyinfinity]

I can't stop thinking about the pedestrian 2 days ago.

I was leaving a parking lot and had to turn left. There wasn't a center lane to pull into, so I had to wait until both lanes on the right side of the road cleared. (American roads)

As I was waiting, a person stopped on the sidewalk to wait for me to go. I waved them on, saying to go ahead and cross in front of me.

For some reason this pissed them off??

They started waving their arms at me gesturing for me to go. I waved my hand again, signaling for them to go again. They start making angry faces, yelling, and waving their arms. "GO! GO! GO!"

I roll down my window and say "I can't go, I'm turning left! There's no open lane!" And at this point, I'm annoyed because the driveway is only 2 cars long; they could have crossed in front of me 10 times in the time they took to yell at me.

They finally walk in front of me, throwing their hands up and yelling "WHATEVER."

I.....I still don't understand it. Why did they want me to get in a wreck instead of just crossing in front of me. Sigh.

[valdestrate]

I've started working at a certain thrift store known for its values. I was texting my mother about how I might not be cut off out for people pleasing retail and people yes people, not just therapists, have been telling me to write/ keep my writing more. So I decided to save this text and I'm not sure what to do with it so I'm saving it here. If by some reason another person ever reads this I would appreciate any character building you can give me!

The main example of why I'm not cut out for this. The Tardilious! This lady that came to donate today who passed right by the line up, stopped in the middle of the enter/exit lane and got out of her car. I told her she couldn't stop in the road but I'd pause traffic in our unloading lane and she could cut in quick. She gave me this smarmy "the guy ahead of me did '' and I said I told him it wasn't allowed either. He had one item in his hands already so he threw it to me over his truck and immediately left. So she gets back in her car And pulls into the area that I asked her to. Well then she just stays there in her vehicle and I kinda like walk over to the window to look at her. She's on her phone tap tap tapping life away and I'm busy. If she's not ready, I keep moving, to the vehicle behind her, see if any of them need a hand with anything. I recognize they are more easy going people as soon as they comment how busy I look and they're fine unloading into the bin themselves. 90% of the time most people do. Either it's a two person job, they're in a hurry/trying to hurry for my sake, or it's an old person dealing with a awkward, heavy, or a large load, but people like showing they're doing something. Maybe they feel their good dead or "charity" doesn't mean as much if they pull up with a bunch of garbage AND sit on their assess while a minimum wage employee frantically unloads their vehicle. I dunno but long story longer while they unloaded into the bin I turn my attention to the lady ahead of them that was on her phone but now was out of her car walking towards her trunk. I have a bullshit meter that's fairly low. My fuse has always been short but I make Buddha lament in sackcloth and ashes his inadequacy of patience compared to mine so it usually stays pretty balanced between the two and she had not blown my bullshit fuse. Yet. So I start with my apolowing (apologize explaining, not to be confused with Apolloing, which is blowing up. Usually in space on live TV) and she cuts me off "do you guys not go in order?".

Bullshit meter climbing.

"Pardon me" I am genuinely confused at what she possibly could mean

"The sign in front of me says to wait on your vehicle and an attendant will come do it"

Right! I forgot about that sign. But it doesn't say anywhere that we will just start unloading your vehicle, just that we will come AND ask if you we can help

"Yes of course Miss! I tried but your window was up and you were busy on your phone" I happily and confidently respond

"Whatever"

She throws back like verbal pancake covered in syrup

"Well is there anything I can do for you now? Can I help you unload?"

Pancake --dodged

"No, I can do it myself"

She throws out to the crowd of Facebook followers in her mind like Rocky might throw out to the crowd in response to his challenger telling him he can't. That is if Rocky was about a beauty pagant instead of boxing and played by Honey booboos mom instead Sylvester Stallone.

She immediately whispers useless under her breath. I cheerily say

"Well in that case how about a coupon?"

Pancake? Eaten

Coals of fire? Smells like burning hair

She snaps around with her hands outstretched, sees my big grin hiding my sweaty flushed face and the line of traffic, half a dozen people unloading their own stuff looking at this failed suburban mom in the very unflatteringly horizontal bright striped shirt berating a thrift store grunt working for a charity after she just cut in front of everyone. She pauses, stammers a "no thank you" and takes off.

I'm immediately back to work. Tell the whole thing to my supervisor later and he doesn't seem bothered. I feel like I need write a book about the different types of people I meet dropping off stuff. Need to create classes to assign them to, highlight the general different types and differences/nuances, and combine that with individual stories and "highlights"

[trainsandcoffee]

04/26/2024 - Incomplete.

I decided yesterday that I’d be coming home today, and it feels right AND wrong at the same time.

I’m happy to be back in a real bed, instead of trying to sleep in my car; I’m happy to be home with my cats; I’m excited to start on the next step on my reading nook project.

I already miss it, though. The feeling of being free and independent, doing whatever I want whenever I want, on my own terms. I can’t quite pinpoint why I felt like I had to cut my trip short, why I had to come home early. Being in Kamloops didn’t feel right, and once I was there, being in Revelstoke didn’t quite feel right either. It was disappointing, really - two places that I’ve always considered my safe havens, where I could escape to physically or mentally and just turn my brain off… but this time was different.

I originally left on this trip hopeful and excited to find some kind of mental clarity. Now that I’m home, I feel twice as confused as when I left. I expressed to Megan that I felt maybe one small, brief moment of clarity throughout my trip, but in hindsight, the only moment I felt calm and relaxed was the first morning I woke up in Kamloops and drove down to Buse Lake in Barnhartvale. I had never been to Barnhartvale (or at least not that I had remembered) and wanted to see the area that my dad grew up in; I found myself in love with the beautiful landscape - farms and acerages scattered throughout a long, twisting road - and I stopped at Buse Lake to admire the sunrise. I ended up staying a bit longer than I had anticipated, and I would’ve kept on driving down that road, but my gas tank was low and I wasn’t sure how much further I would make it.

After I turned around and headed back towards downtown Kamloops, I just drove. Drove trying to find a reason to stay longer, to do more, but my heart was inexplicably yearning for home. Funny how driving in to a place you love is so much more different that driving away from it.

I felt whole again once I got to Revelstoke, but only momentarily - the thrill of driving around and exploring this small mountain town wasn’t as exciting as it had been in the past. I drove past his house once on my way to Kamloops, and again once I was on my way home. After dinner at the Regent and a beer that I would definitely never drink again, I drove past again as the sun set. Truck in the driveway, wood split and stacked up to the roof along the whole length of the carport, but no lights on. I wondered where he was, and then suddenly felt frustrated that he obviously wasnt here. With Revelstoke being such a small town, you would think that I would get the chance to see him again at least once in the past eight years? All I want is a chance to see his face, to remember why I feel this way about someone I barely know. I remember the tiny trivial things about him - how he thanked me for making coffee then gave me a one armed hug, how he threw his leg over the chain blocking off the cafe to get his Irish creme coffee creamer from the fridge, how he told me that he was a Capricorn too and that his birthday was January 11th, how he told me that I was too good for the railway, but if I ever did get into it, I should let him know (or something along those lines, I don’t remember exactly).

I just want answers. Why do I feel this way? What drove me to feel this way? Was it the guilt of never getting the opportunity to tell him that I was leaving for Cranbrook? Or is it the regret of never being able to tell him how thankfu and grateful I was for his kindness and late night conversations? He was always happy and smiling. I’d give anything to see that again, and more than just a glimpse in my rear view mirror of him in his truck, following behind me up the passing lane, but never actually passing me. How did I spiral so far down from this? Why didn’t I take the chance when the job was offered to me? How come I haven’t ever actually taken the plunge and just done it?

[shinxeysartgallery]

Based off that one reblog you did recently, what would you say are the worst drivers you've seen?

Oh boy where do I even start? I've seen a TON of horrible drivers in my nearly three decades on this planet.

Here's some that come to mind!

At one point when I was working, I parked my car and then I had to cross a street to get to the building. I was in the crosswalk and some dude that wasn't paying attention to where they were going nearly ran me over. Legit if I hadn't jumped to the sidewalk right when I did, I would've been under the car's wheels.

There was a time when I was around 13 and my mom was taking me to a local museum. This car drove past us going easily 30 over the speed limit and their trunk was wide open with stuff flying out of it all over the road as they drove.

Another time I had to go with my mom to take the car into the shop and nearly got t-boned by a semi-truck that ran a red light.

I went out with my dad to get pizza and we ran into this car that randomly stopped in the middle of the highway and just sat there for a minute before turning. No turn signal, brake lights didn't work. Nothing. My dad nearly crashed into them.

Another time I was sitting and looking out the window at around 9pm or so at night (so it's pitch-black outside) when I barely see this car speed down the highway. Dude had NO lights on and was driving a dark-colored car. The only reason I saw them at all was because their tail light reflected off something else.

There was another time when I went to go get take out after getting off work and I turned down this one street. Looked both ways before turning; all clear. Went down the road a bit and checked my mirrors; all clear. I turn on my turn signal and start to inch into the other lane when this car comes out of freaking nowhere and speeds past my car so close to me that we were nearly touching. Like there was literally only a few inches of space between the cars. Dude was going so fast that they showed up within the mere SECONDS that it took me to glance away from my mirror and back to the road. LITERAL SECONDS. And then because of how fast they were going, they were gone pretty much as soon as they showed up. (That one still freaks me out a bit.)

Another time this guy ran a stop sign and nearly got t-boned by a car coming from the side road.

There was also this one time when I was at the store with my dad and while we were loading the groceries into the car, this dude wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and backed out of his parking spot without looking. Crashed into a car coming down the lot aisle so hard it crunched up the driver's side door. That was unironically one of the worst sounds I have ever heard. Then the guy who caused the accident got out of his car and started screaming at the guy he crashed into. I'd hate to be the cops/insurance company/whatever dealing with that mess. (Afaik, the other guy was fine.)

I can think of a lot more, but these were some highlights! It's like my driver's ed teacher said: "it's not your driving that you have to worry about so much as it is everyone else's". Now I think we all know why.

[horrorstreet]

Trouble!

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Request: Thomas Hewitt with a (female) pudgy dairy farmer who lives up the lane? That sometimes needs help with dealing with trespassing teens that harass her cows and their calves?

Request sent in by: Anon

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death/murder, animal abuse (not by Thomas or reader).

A/n: Sorry it took so long :( enjoy . Please inform me of any mistakes! (Reasonably) Also I'm sorry that this is so shitty T^T

Thomas was quick to run to his front door after hearing multiple frantic knocks on the tough wood. The rest of his family was asleep and it wasn’t unusual for Thomas to still be up and in the basement skinning his latest victim so it was easy to deal with since he already had a weapon in hand. What he wasn't expecting to see was you in your nightgown and your farm jacket wrapped tight around your body with tears in your eyes. You looked so panicked and desperate and that startled him a little. You dealt with large animals that caused quite a bit of trouble but it was nothing that you couldnt handle, so whatever this was that was bothering you had to be pretty serious.

“Tommy, they are back.” Your voice shook a little as you spoke. At hearing those familiar words, the man stabbed his knife into the wooden frame of his door and walked outside with you, screen door carelessly slamming behind him as he rushed out and over in the direction of your farm that could be seen from down the road. He looked back at you questioningly, wiping his palms off of any dried blood and placing his own over your fidgeting hands that couldn’t seem to stop moving. Thomas could feel you trembling and it angered him to think that this might be about the previous problem you were having.

“They have rocks and won’t leave the calf alone. I-” You broke to let out a small sob that you failed to push down your throat. “I tried to tell them I would call the police but I knew they would have killed one already if I waited. Please, you have to help me. I know it’s late, I know.” A sob ripped its way out of your throat again, stronger this time thinking about what they could be doing to your cows right about now. Thomas removed his hands from your own to lift his apron off of his body. He threw it to the side and pulled you into a quick hug before opening his screen door and pulling the knife out of the wall before storming off across his front yard and up the road, you hot on his tail.

Troublesome teenagers in town had recently taken to torturing your cattle, usually just chasing after them and playing chicken with them. Recently ,though, it escalated to getting physical with them but never had they pulled something like this. Throwing rocks at close range at the poor animals and making them bleed was the last straw. “Thomas, what are you going to do?” You asked him, catching up with his long strides the best you could. He gave you a small glance but did nothing to answer your question and kept on. You were fixing to ask once again and demand an answer until you felt a rock slam right into your back. You yelped in pain and turned to the fence that separated your cows from the main road to find the group of teenagers holding arm fulls of large rocks and big grinning faces.

Tommy didn’t hesitate to rush to the fence and climb on over with minimal struggle, leaving you to watch as the teeagers faces dropped and the rocks that pooled in their arms tumble to the plush grass. They tried turning on their heels and sprinting to the other side of the large field but it wasn't easy when they had a few angry cows chasing them as fast as they could. “NO!” Screamed one of the teen boys after Thomas's large arm wrapped around his neck and dragged him back away from the rest of his running friends who didn’t give two shits. “LET ME GO! PLEASE!” He kicked and thrashed around as hard as he could but was no match for your cowboys strength. With his other hand, Tommy gripped the boys arm before letting go of his neck to wrap around his waist and carry him back across the field to the fence.

There was a moment in his head where he seriously considered stabbing the sharp knife that he had dropped earlier in the chase and had just previously walked over into the teenagers skull. If this was his farm… If he knew you werent watching, he would have done just that. It was no secret that Thomas had a big ol’ crush on you and seeing you hurt and a mess over some dangerous teenagers had him seething. He should go back for the rest of the group in his familys truck but knew the police didn’t exactly favor his family. Infact, they kept their distance. Too much trouble and one too many missing officers.

You watching in worry as Thomas came up over the small hill that blocked your sight. Goosbumps rose up from your skin, partially from how the cool night breeze swept its way under your nightgown that hugged your soft curves and partially from how Thomas looked walking his way back over to you. He looked angry and the aura that surrounded him was one that put you into fight or flight. A natural survival instinct peaked as the sight of the anger that dripped from your good friend. Like prey to its predator.

Red and blue lights had just come over the bend in the long, straightshot road that led to where you had been standing. You called the cops right after watching Tommy dart off after the teens and were surprised to see them get here so fast. Thomas had already thrown the teenager over the fence, the boy being too scared to run off knowing Thomas would be right back behind him and saw the flashing lights, ready to take off but saw a familiar face behind the windshield of the old, beat up cop car and outdated cop uniform. Thomas picked the teen back up and waited for Charlie to come pick him up, putting on the theatrics before driving on back to their house where he would be kept before being skinned alive.

As the car drove off into the distance, Thomas turned back to you only to be met with a strong hug. “Oh my god, are you okay? You didn’t have to chase them. I was just looking for you to scare them off or something.” You giggled, a few tears running down your face. The man wrapped his own arms back around you, picking you up after noticing your bare feet that had grown red from the gravel. “Thomas! Put me down!” You shouted, slapping his arm but only got a sharp grunt of refusal in return. You hid your face in embarrassment, doing your best to hide the red blush that had dusted your cheeks. You could feel his strong muscles move against your body that his strong arms held close to his own. Thomas thought to himself how he could get used to holding you like this. He didn’t mind taking you for his own, even if it was against your will, but from the way he noticed how you looked at him, he didn’t see that to be necessary... But a chase was always fun...

[yeh-spookey-betch]

Murdock x Reader: Felony Evading

Description: Murdock takes you with him on a high speed chase. Gender neutral reader.

Tags: fast driving, gn!reader Murdock x reader, SFW.

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You smiled as you got into the passenger seat and pulled your seat belt until it clicked into place. "I really liked dinner, Murdock. I can't wait until next week. Date nights are a great break from everything else."

"That they are, darling. The perfect end to a lovely week. Anywhere you need to stop before we go home?" He said in that silky deep voice that you loved so much.

"Not that I can think of. I'm looking forward to a glass of wine and a bath." You chuckled at him, reaching to hold his hand.

"That does sound nice." He smiled and pulled out of the parking lot.

You had been driving along just fine when you happened to glance into the rear view mirror for no particular reason. But what you saw made you stiffen. "Murdock… twelve." You used the street term for the police, telling him they were trailing behind you. But they weren't doing anything yet. They didn't even have their lights on. "Murdock please tell me you didn't leave anything in this car from the last time you hunted." You kept your eyes on the cop cruiser trailing you.

"Easy, darling. They don't have their lights on. Maybe they just happen to be behind us." He soothed you.

And it worked! For all of a block. Blue lights started to flash behind you. But instead of pulling over, Murdock floored it, your heart leaping to your throat as the car jerked forward, going up in gear quickly as he just held the pedal to the metal.

"Murdock–!" you pressed into the seat, one hand on your seatbelt and one hand on the panic bar.

"There's something rather… incriminating… in the trunk. And I'm not letting either of us go down for it." He said a little bit louder over the sound of the engine.

"WHAT?!?" You glared at him. The pig behind you turned on his siren and started pursuit. "You do fucking realize, darling, that if we get caught after this, we're going down for whatever you've got AND felony evading???"

"If we get caught you tell them you were in this car against your will. You cry and scream as hard as you can and you immediately get a lawyer, don't tell them anything else." He said firmly, dodging in and out of traffic, sometimes going onto the shoulder to get around cars.

An intersection was coming up fast and the light was already yellow. "M-Murdock!"

He didn't answer. What he did do was move his hands on the wheel, getting g ready for a sharp turn. As they approached the intersection he whipped the wheel to the left, making the tires screech and smoke and the car's back end skid into a fish-tail maneuver. Other cars screeched to a halt, and suddenly you were on the four lane cross road that was perpendicular to the one you had just been on. You were shrieking at the top of your lungs. The cop, which had now turned to several, skidded after you.

As he straightened the car out he glanced at you. "Are you alright?"

You were speechless. "Uh… yeah." Was all you could say. He chuckled.

The chase went on and at the next intersection coming up there were blue lights. They were trying to cut you off. "Hold onto something." Murdock ordered.

You obeyed without question. He, again, whipped the wheel to the left, drifting into a u-turn that landed you on the far side of the oncoming lane, facing the opposite way and bouncing the bumper against the guard rail. You tried to close your eyes, but immediately realized how terrifying it was to not know what was coming, so you opened them again. You were pale and felt like either fainting or vomiting. But you kept it together. You let out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding. He careened down the road, until you spotted something.

"Murdock!" You pointed to the road. "Stop sticks!!" going over those at this speed would without a doubt pop your tires and end your merry chase.

"I see them." He said, jerking the car to the right down the shoulder, around a cop who dived out of the way. Avoiding the spikes. He turned into a construction access road, kicking up a huge cloud of dust and rain of pebbles that sounded like hail on your roof. He kept speeding along until he came to a largely empty parking garage for a new apartment building that was being worked on. He went into it. "The security cameras are out on the fourth level. We're switching cars there." He slowed as he reached the fourth level. He parked nicely and then hurried out of the car to pull you into a different one. But not before you looked at the back of your car.

"Murdock… your fucking tail light is out."

He laughed. "Well, shit. Guess we could have taken the ticket without all this. But I'm still glad I didn't risk the search." He grinned and grabbed your hand and dragged you along.