#old wagon r

[spinnyinfo]

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[sharethisindia]

You can take home the Maruti Suzuki Wagon R for only ₹9,000 per month, as easy as buying a mobile phone, with top-notch features!

The automobile industry has witnessed tremendous growth, and to maximize earnings, all car companies are crafting their vehicles according to user needs. Users are looking for features that cater to their requirements, and cars are being designed accordingly. Maruti Suzuki Wagon R In this article, we are excited to share information about the Maruti Suzuki Wagon R, which is now available at an…

[kisses4reid]

date night | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you’re late for date night after your own kindness distracts you, but aaron doesn’t care as long as you’re with him.

genre - fem!reader x aaron, reader has a job not at the bau (you can decide), fluffy fluff, date night, selfless reader, angst if you squint really close??

warnings - light swearing, r being rained on, blabbering and near crying, haley doesn’t exist neither does jack

w/c - it’s short. trust me.

a/n - pov: pia asks for requests, starts writing those requests, and instead uploads an original fic. enjoy!!! (this is from a year ago so beware the writing. i just need to upload something before the engagement goes down 😭)

It got dark quicker this evening. A storm was approaching, you could tell by the drizzle outside of your office window. Your colleagues were already packed up, waiting for you, and you shot them a small smile and scurried to pull on your jacket.

In the elevator there was a rumble, a girl you had begun to get close with gripped your arm obviously scared and you looked at her concerned. Her eyes batted at you and all you could do was squeeze her arm in reassurance - you weren’t going to point out her fear in an elevator of office men. She looked great, a nice dress shirt, hair done nicely. You recalled her giddy whispers from that morning, I have a date tonight!

The excitement felt weirdly familiar, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

And although the restaurant she was going to was close by, you still worried about the rain.

See, you often opted for the outdoor afternoon stroll, but now the dark clouds had rolled over and it felt more like walking home at night with no moon as your guide.

You waved your friend goodbye and stepped out from the covers of your office building, into the rainy street with a thin pink umbrella overhead. Your small heels clicked against the roads, your jacket barely saving you from the chill, and you set off to your fiancé’s apartment. Your apartment now, you reminded yourself.

The trees lining the avenues and backroads swayed in the rain that was starting to pound harder, and the puddles you avoided started to get, well, unavoidable. You had always loved rain. Spending the weekend snuggled against the large window of your apartments living room with a good book and a warm drink was one of your favourite things to do, but right now you slightly cursed the storm and wondered why you didn’t check the weather app this morning like you always do.

Your sole focus was seeing your fiancé, and yet when your attention catches on a struggling older lady, you can’t help but step through mud to help.

“Shit.” A shorter lady, maybe in her late 50’s, was pull a wagon of flowers and plants along the sidewalk, and each step she took, the back left wheel would spin uncontrollably or not spin at all.

You scurried over and approached the woman, talking from across the wagon, “Can I help you with this?”

The woman’s face crinkled with relief and she nodded furiously causing you to smile back.

Helping people was your way of paying back the world for how well it treated you (most of the time). Your parents were constantly helping others and you had no choice but to follow suit. And at times your friends had to tell you to calm it down, saying you were being selfless and sometimes even a pushover.

That didn’t stop you.

“Thank you so much! My legs are getting too old for this.” You pulled the wagon up by its back legs and moved with the woman to pull it under cover, closer to what you assumed to be her flower shop. She locked up the store promptly and thanked you again but you stopped her.

She was dressed in a lovely floral dress, a thick cotton apron and small ballet flats and you just couldn’t stand to see that outfit go to waste. You held out the handle of the pink umbrella, rain immediately dampening your hair.

The lady held a wrinkled hand to her heart and placed a red-lipsticked kiss on your cheek. Your heart sank slightly, realising you would not be coming home in the state you wanted to. It wasn’t like Aaron would care, it was your own worries about ruining the apartment’s carpet and probably the elevator too.

You started down the street, not attempting to avoid puddles or mud anymore, just attempting to hide under bus stop covers when you could. The rain was truly heavy now, but luckily you were only a block away from your apartment.

“Hi Aaron Hotchner.”

“Hi Y/n Hotchner.” His hair was combed nicely and he was still in his work suit, he looked stoic and so manly - you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His large hands took your jacket off and a cheeky smile slipped on his face. “Why are you drenched?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He definitely remembered you taking your umbrella before you left for work.

“Oh I,” you sighed, knowing you would get a small scold for your actions, “I walked in the rain.”

Aaron sighed, knowing you were lying for your and his own good. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You pouted, “I didn’t know if you’d be home.” You moved yourself further down the hall, Aaron trying but failing to keep you back. He clenched his fists as you stopped at the end of the hall in shock, you were supposed to close your eyes.

You held a hand over your mouth and let your eyes wander the room. Your dining table was decorating with candles and petals, there was an amazing smell coming from the kitchen and suddenly you felt the whole world crash onto you. How could you forget about date night?

“Oh my god, Aaron. Aaron, I am so sorry I completely forgot, oh my god.”

Aaron moved in front if you, a small smile adorning his handsome face, “Hey it’s okay, I understand it was raining and your umbrella magically disappeared. I only got here 10 minutes ago, I wasn’t waiting or anything.”

“Aaron I ruined it I mean- Look at me!” You looked down and extended your arms to motion at your whole being. Drenched dress, stuck hair, a shivering disaster.

“What do you mean-“

“My makeup is trashed, and- and my hair. There’s leaves in my hair! I’m wet and now your suit’s wet and- oh Aaron I’m so sorry, I don’t look like a good date at all.” Shoulders slumped, eyes tearing up, you looked down at your feet and felt your heart attacking your ribs.

“You don’t have to be sorry honey. I should be the one sorry, I didn’t think to come find you so you wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain.” He placed two fingers under your chin to lift your gaze back to his, and moved his other hand to pluck out a leaf from your hair.

“I ruined our date.”

“No you didn’t.” Aaron talked smoothly and low, as if you coming home looking like you’d been to hell and back wasn’t concerning him at all.

“Aaron I look horrible.”

“You look…”

“Awful? Hideous? Like Poseidon put me on a hit list?” You brought a hand up to wipe your eyes of slightly smudged mascara before Aaron’s larger hand caught it.

“You look beautiful. You look gorgeous, like always.” His eyes stared deep into yours, his hand squeezing around yours.

“… Thank you.” You sniffled, “You should just break up with me now.”

“Eh, that engagement ring was too much to let you go that fast.” He twisted your hand slightly to smile at the dazzling ring on your left hand. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and leaned in to place a loving kiss on your trembling lips before he caught a glance of something and paused. “How’d you get that red mark on your cheek?”

“Oh- I helped a lady out with her flower cart because it was stuck in the rain. And then I gave her my umbrella, and she kissed me on the cheek.”

He pulled back, sighing, “Y/n…”

“Her dress was very pretty, and I could tell her hair was freshly permed, okay. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.” You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled cheekily.

“You’re unbelievable.” He couldn’t help but smile, he knew his girl was unforgivably selfless. Aaron took your hand and lead you to your bedroom so you could change for your date.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He leant against the doorframe, “I meant it as a good thing. Let’s eat, and then we can shower, and you can tell me about your day was.”

You opened your closet and sighed, “I’m really sor-“

“Don’t say sorry. You can apologies but wearing something nice and complimenting my subpar cooking.” He shot you a charming smile that warmed your heart and exited to set up the food, all you could think of is how lucky you were to have him.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover

[f3mme-f4tale]

which witch

part one

word count: 4k potential warnings: potential depictions of violence, sexual content, fingering (r! receiving) adult themes (explicit language), tension, angst, world building, more to come... pairing: rebel!ellie x princess!reader (categorized within the knight!ellie aesthetic)

authors note: there are some influences from game of thrones! :))

A cloud of gray smoke lingered above the vine-infested concrete walls of the booming city, machinery roaring to life and wildering conversations floating in the thick air. A war was looming over the Sovereign City, an invading force from the south eagerly plowing through the skin-biting tundra. The hundreds of guilds within the city's walls fed the economy, although some whisper that underground trading of magic folk is what really fuels the financial state. A spy for the rebellion circled the local market, running her hands over the bruised fruit and eyeing the common folk cautiously, trying her best to go undetected. The city center was preparing for the Sun Festival, ironic given the smog that shielded nearly all sunlight.  

A local fruit stand was at the center of the market, an older gentleman staffing the exotic fruit from outside the city walls. Bright, intricate starfruit and jelly-filled strawberry papayas littered the concrete mosaic ground. A small goat with a blue bell was tied haphazardly to a post, the yarn fraying with every slight tug from the animal. A group of children dressed in muted shades of brown and green played a game of dice on the other side of the courtyard, daring each other to steal blackberries. The butcher’s son was pushing a small wagon of discarded meat and small fish bones towards an alley, likely to discard the leftovers.  

The spy was adorned in local fabrics, muted mismatched stitching holding together a quilt-like material that resembled a shawl. Her deep maple hair cascaded down her neck with a simple silver pin holding some pieces out of her face. Her fingertips were stained with nightshade, her left-hand concealing a small dagger. The weapon was known for immediately striking down any foe, its metal laced with poison. Magic folk and creatures were no exception, despite their enchantments. An abstract fox decorated the handle, a symbol of the rebellion against the empire. On her hip was a small satchel containing various assortments of herbs, sliced plum mushrooms, and powdered oleander seeds. Being a spy, a magic one at that, had its benefits.  

The spy detected a woman pocketing something from a guard across the courtyard. She watched her scurry away down an alley, not before stealing a fig from one of the stands. With the day being as slow as it had been, she reasoned that any mischief became her mischief. As she made her way towards where the other woman went, her grip tightened on the weapon. Upon turning down the alley, she seemingly vanished. It was not often that the spy’s prey escaped her sight, not since she was a child at least. At the last possible moment, a speck of red disappeared through a doorway fifty feet in front of her. Swallowing a sigh, she followed. 

Inside was a desolate old factory, broken machinery sprawled across the floor and spray paint covering the walls. Sigils were marked on the concrete ground – emblems and allegories from The Blackmoor Book. She questioned how someone within the walls could have such knowledge, risking the high court finding such symbolism.  

What was this place?  

  She did not dwindle on this apprehension long, sinking into the shadows and scanning the place for that woman. A crackly, high-pitched laugh erupted from the other side of the room. Before thinking twice, the spy was across the room in mere seconds, her knife pressed firmly against the mystery woman’s throat, as if in reflex.  

“Ya know for as skilled as you are, I figured you’d recognize me,” the woman pestered, her dialect thick. The spy could place the voice, but the face was distant from her mind. The blade stayed against her throat, the pressure never wavering.  

“Ellie,” she cooed, “it’s me.”  

There was nothing I could do. My feet were lodged between the large stones that decorated the bottom of the fast river, the murky sand blinding my vision and setting my lungs on fire. I was becoming weak, fighting a losing battle with the force of the water. I wanted to give up, to let the depths swallow me whole and my mind run blank. My fingers just barely reached the surface, scratching at the sliver of life that was never fully mine. The anxiety was bubbling up from my stomach and began to make me tremble with complete fear; I wasn’t getting out of this.  

Once, when I was young, I would swim in streams and small rivers just like this one. Uncle would be back at the village, father out with the council. My older foster brother would often join me, teaching me how to catch the fish and which plants could be used for medicine. When it was a quiet day, we would read books to the frogs and small insects. Now, at the precipice of death, I can only focus on the day he showed me how to fashion an arrowhead. On how his fingers made sharp movements and the glimmer in his eyes was its purest. He was the mouth of God; I took his words as religion. But he wasn’t there.  

My arms grew numb, my body losing sensation. This was it. This was how I was finally going. I screamed against the current and inhaled the river. As my vision darkened and I began to accept defeat, I remembered the reason I was trying to traverse across in the first place; the heaviness of the guilt weighing me down. I made a promise, I swore to him. They were going to die, and it was all my fault. It was a mistake to think I could perform this journey alone, inexperienced.  

And then I could breathe again. My fingers dug at my chest, eagerly gasping for air. My eyes burned from the sunlight, my right ankle adorning a jagged cut from the rock that once imprisoned me. My savior hovered above me, breathing just as heavily as I was. Where did they come from?  

“T-thank you,” I managed to get out once the anxiety subsided, my throat still burning.  

Hesitantly, I glanced up in their direction. They were drenched in luminance, a godliness highlighting their physique, black paint dancing across their nose. Meeting their enticing eyes, I realized I recognized them. A local girl a year older than me from the village, her hair tied tight against her head and half of her body soaking wet. She offered me a curt nod, adjusting the straps on her satchel and securing a few stray pieces of hair. The outfit she wore was jarring, nothing like the large tunics the women wore at home. The breeches and sleek overcoat were skin-tight, a throwing knife strapped securely to her thigh. She did not say anything back, leaving me as fast as she appeared.  

“Dina,” Ellie mumbled, her voice rough against the soothing nature of Dina’s. Her eyes scanned the other's face, the memories of her childhood friend rushing back to her like a tidal wave. The same black paint was decorated across her nose, symbolizing her coven. Ellie let her guard down, the blade dropping to her side. The sigils made sense then – she grew up in the same village beyond this city within the Withering Woods, learned from the same potions master, and drank the same Mistmoor river water. Their village Jackson’s Crossing, surrounded by the White Mountains and often disregarded on official cartographer maps, was a cloister of small families from varied ethnicities. 

Dina’s fingers were also stained a dark purple – evidence of witchcraft. The last time they had seen each other was years prior, back when Ellie was recruited to fight against the tyranny of the High Ruler, who came into power with varying degrees of support from the public. The last she heard of Dina was that she had joined a coven, practicing magic in secret.  

She had grown a lot since their last encounter, her scarlet hair now many inches longer and herself several inches taller. They spared each other the formalities in catching up, Ellie reaching for the item Dina snatched from the unsuspecting general just beyond the door. She let her, Ellie’s mind working through possibilities as she brought the ring of keys closer. She should have known; such an item was predictable. Although, what did Dina need them for?  

“Trying to sneak someone out of the dungeons, hmm?” she finally spoke, placing her dagger back into the depths of her clothing. Dina smiled at Ellie again, raising her eyebrows and letting her face do the talking. “Ah, well, sneaking into prison seems more your speed anyways.” 

“The council has been very unyielding in my request for an audience,” she began, walking a few steps away from Ellie. “So, I’ve had to find my own ways.” 

“Why do you wish to speak to them?” Ellie questioned, puzzled as to what her companion could want with them. Dina’s gaze meant nothing but trickery, her smile growing wider and wider. Whatever her intentions, Ellie considered leeching on, her own assignment from the Rebellion creating a need to be inside those palace walls – although for a quite different reason.

“Remember Jesse?” she smirks, running a hand through her locks. Ellie snorts at this – because of course she remembers Jesse, how could she not? They were practically joined at the hip before Ellie left Jackson. 

“He’s gotta learn to keep his mouth shut in front of the guards. He’s so pretty, but he can be pretty thick headed sometimes,” Dina scolds, shaking her head. “So, naturally, they’ve finally decided to sentence him after years of causing mayhem.”  

“Well, I want in,” Ellie says coldly, adjusting with the fabric that covers her shoulder. Dina squints at her friend, questioning her motivations. “I’ve got orders to relocate a member of the royal family, per the Rebellion's bequest.” 

-

Deep viridian ivy covers the cobblestones and beige pillars of the courtyard, dark shadows stretching up the walls. Rain litters the ground, the damp air an inviting aroma. Billowing clouds darken the sky, the thunder a welcoming presence. 

You’re sitting at a desk, candlelight framing your face as you attempt to read the book in your hands. It’s no use however, as your mind is swirling with a million different thoughts. The betrayal of your father cuts deep; all that remains is the stark reality of your pain. You trace the outline of the candle's flame with trembling fingers, its flickering dance mirroring your thundering heartbeat. 

A knock at the door interrupts your spiral, haphazardly setting down your book and the weight of the chair creaking as you stand. A woman is on the other side, her curly black hair cascading down her back. The servant's uniform does her no justice, her figure cloaked in a tunic two sizes too big. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the intruder at such a late hour. 

“Yes?” you ask, voice wavering slightly. You know she can see the dismay in your face, your eyes all too forgiving. You instinctively hunch your shoulders, nails pushing into the meat of your palm, knuckles turning white.

“Lord David sent me to draw you a bath, my lady. He wants you to be clean and fresh for your engagement tomorrow,” she responds, bowing her head. She holds clean linens and a sponge in her hand, a slight look of sorrow crossing her face that you almost miss. You step aside begrudgingly, letting her through. 

Large buckets of water make their rounds over the fire as the servant works to untie the laces of your bodice, making quick work of the material. The cool air filtering through the partially opened window makes your skin grow cold, the woman helping you out your chemise, body bare to her wandering gaze. Her hands were warm, a stir emerging within your gut. You always disliked having other people bath you, yet you found yourself straightening your back, showing off. She made eye contact with you, half slitted pupils devouring your form. You welcomed this, using your left hand to remove a pin that was keeping your braids in place. She steps behind you to begin dumping the contents of the bucket into a metal tub. 

And then suddenly the servant is several inches away, hands agonizingly tracing your shoulders, her breath hot on your neck. She places a small kiss just underneath your ear, a shudder escaping your lips as you tentatively close your eyes. You’d never had someone approach you this way, not unless you count the several forty-something year old male suitors that you had declined since you turned sixteen years ago.

The servant uses one hand to pull your hair over to one shoulder as the other palms your bare stomach. You suck in a breath, not pushing her away. You knew this was wrong, save for the fact that she was another woman. What would your father say? What would the maids whisper to each other when they thought no one was looking?

Despite protests shouting against your very core, you remained still, leaning into her frame. You could feel her breasts pressing into your back, her right hand dancing dangerously close to the space between your legs. Her left hand dragged across your chest, fingers grazing and pulling. When her right hand plunged into your slick, you leaned your head back against her shoulder. 

“Lay down, my lady,” she murmured, gently moving your already wrecked body towards the bed in the corner. You obliged, sitting on the edge. She pushed you down, immediately dropping down to her knees. You were new to this, not even daring to touch yourself. Her mouth felt foreign on your pelvis, but you bucked up into her face regardless. 

Her tongue slid across you, pink bud becoming raw from the friction. When she pushed two fingers inside of you, a borderline scream escaped your delicate lips. The swell of your breasts bounced as she began to pick up her pace, rocking your body against the frame of the bed and adding another slender digit. Her tongue continues its assault on your clit, forcing you to take it, to take all of it. 

It’s over before you realize, her face covered in you. You pull her up by the collar of her uniform, forcing her lips against yours. She’s taken aback at first, but then melts into the embrace. She’s sticking her tongue into your mouth, the taste of you invading and arousing. 

“As much as I’d love to continue Princess,” the woman says suddenly, breaking the kiss. “I did come here to bathe you.” You nod, suddenly extremely aware of your surroundings and how easily you folded under her touch – a woman’s touch. 

As she dumped another bucket of hot water into the metal tub, you gazed off absentmindedly. Her coarse fingers work through your locks, detangling the pieces that frame your face.

“You’re so beautiful, but you have to keep him happy. He gets bored easily.”

You glance over at her, noticing the way the fireplace behind her makes her skin glow. 

“I don’t want you to end up, well, like the others,” she sighs, moving to grab a rag to clean your skin with. You were so used to the mindless handling of your body that sometimes you forgot how vulnerable you could be. 

“W-what others?” you croaked, tension once again creeping up your spine and through your fingers. You felt her movements stiffen, realizing she spoke out of turn. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t, it’s all hearsay. I apologize, my lady,” she replies, her actions becoming more disorderly. You watch her closely, her sudden discomfort adding another layer of unease to the already heavy atmosphere. Despite her attempt to backtrack, your curiosity is piqued, and you press further.

"No, please, tell me," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper. She hesitates, torn between loyalty to her lord and a desire to warn you. Finally, she speaks, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

"There have been others before you," she begins, her words careful and measured. "Women who were... chosen, like you." Your heart pounds in your chest, the implications of her words sinking in. You swallow hard, pushing down the rising sense of dread threatening to overwhelm you.

"What happened to them?" you ask, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain composed. She hesitates again, her gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet your eyes.

"They... disappeared," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "Some say that he grows tired of his playthings, discarding them when they no longer amuse him, banished to distant lands never to return. Others whisper darker tales of rituals and… well," she clarifies, her hands shaking as she runs her nimble fingers through your hair once more. 

You struggle to process the implications of her revelation, the realization dawning on you with sickening clarity. "You mean... they're dead?" you whisper, the words feeling foreign and surreal on your tongue. You turn to her fully, putting on a show of false confidence. “This is my home. He can’t frighten me.”

“Of course, my lady. Forgive me.”

You nod, still reeling from her earlier words. As she finishes bathing you, you're left alone with your thoughts once more. The warmth of the water does little to soothe the chill in your bones, the weight of impending responsibilities pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“Will I see you again?” You mumble, eyes pleading with the woman as she’s half way out of your chamber, a robe now draped around your figure. A frown catches her lips, a sigh is all the answer you need.

“I’m afraid not,” she finally answers, yet doesn’t move from her place at the door. You feel your stomach drop, reaching out to catch her lips in a kiss once more. This one is less aggressive, a plea for more. She cups your cheek softly, kissing you back. “It’s not safe. We live in a world where desires are often sacrificed for duty.”

As she finally steps away, you watch her silhouette fade into the dimly lit corridor beyond your chamber. A sense of loss washes over you, as you're left in the silence of your chambers. The flames of the candles flicker ominously, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You try to shake off the unease settling in your chest, but the seed of doubt planted by the woman’s words grows with each passing moment.

You know you should rest, to prepare yourself for the challenges that lie ahead, but sleep eludes you. Instead, you find yourself pacing the room, the echoes of your footsteps mingling with the whispers of your own fears.

This union is a death sentence, a promise made to satisfy your fathers requests. Your older sister was the next in line to rule, your brother already married off to a Duchess in the East. You would never sit on the throne; the pressure of said title always out of reach but forever a taunt. You could taste the longing for power – a snake wrapping around your heart, squeezing. 

By marrying Lord David, you help ease the emerging tensions between the East and South kingdoms within the empire. It had long been kept secret that you were a bastard, a lie living a life of luxury. Guilt ate away at you from every inch of your skin, your real mother a ghost of your past. Of course, maids and servants talked. That said, the effort to uphold the ruler's dignity and honor reigned supreme; Those who were caught gossiping would meet a punishment worse than castration. 

You understand the importance of maintaining stability within the empire, of ensuring peace between rival factions. But on the other hand, there's the gnawing fear that grips you, the fear of being trapped in a loveless marriage, of becoming just another casualty in the game of power and ambition.

You remember the stories you heard as a child, tales of kings and queens whose lives were dictated by duty rather than desire. You used to dream of a different fate for yourself, of finding love and happiness on your own terms. But now, as the reality of your situation sinks in, those dreams seem like distant echoes of a naive past.

Tomorrow, you will be betrothed to a man you hardly know; a union forged by politics and alliances. When morning comes, you will rise with a sense of resignation, steeling yourself for the path laid out before you.

-

Dawn breaks upon a canvas of melancholy, the sky adorned in swathes of slate-hued clouds. You dress in a gown of regal elegance, each layer of silk and lace feeling like a shroud closing in around you. Your reflection in the mirror is a stranger's face, masked behind a facade of composure that belies the turmoil within. As you fasten the intricate clasps of your necklace – a delicate chain of platinum interwoven with strands of glistening rhodonite and sunstone – you can't help but wonder if you're adorning yourself for a wedding or a funeral.

Downstairs, guests mingle in clusters of polished nobility. Their smiles are as artificial as the flowers adorning the tables, masking the alliances and rivalries that simmer beneath the surface. You navigate the crowd with practiced grace, exchanging pleasantries and feigned enthusiasm.

In the grand hall, where sunlight filters through stained glass, illuminating the opulence of the surroundings, you stand amidst a sea of faces, each one a mask concealing clandestine desires. At the center of it all stands Lord David, a towering figure of authority and ambition. His gaze finds yours across the room, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you before he turns to greet another guest. 

His eyes, like shards of obsidian, pierce through the veneer of social niceties. As he acknowledges your presence with a nod of his head, you offer a polite smile, concealing the turmoil churning within your breast. His lips curve in response, but there is a hardness in his gaze. With unspoken haste, the sea of guests transitioned into the next room, organizing into rows. 

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of color upon the assembled guests. The delicate lace of your veil cascaded like a waterfall around you, framing your face in a halo of soft radiance. Lord David, regal and imposing, awaited you at the altar. 

As you drew near, the murmurs of the crowd fell silent, and all that remained was the steady rhythm of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. With each step, you felt the weight of expectation pressing down upon you, the gravity of the moment settling like a cloak upon your shoulders.

At last, you stood face to face with Lord David, your hands trembling slightly as you clasped his in yours. The officiant's voice filled the air, the solemn words of the vows binding you together. His grip tightened at your wrists, thumb pressing into your pressure point. You fought against the sinking feeling in your chest, the fear washing over your features. 

Concealed behind a pillar, at the room's farthest edge, stood a guest with a blade, its hilt adorned with an abstract fox; A silent sentinel amidst the opulent chaos. Their gaze, like a river's current, flows over your form, lingering on each curve and contour with a cautious reverence. The bodice of the gown hugs your frame, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist before giving way to a voluminous skirt that pools around your feet in a sea of soft fabric. Layers upon layers of tulle and organza lend an air of weightless beauty to the ensemble, each fold and pleat catching the light in a mesmerizing dance.

The spy stole a final glance at the princess, and for a brief moment, she could've sworn she saw a glimmer of fear entrenched in your gaze. Rancorously, Ellie envisioned taking a blade to Lord David's throat and smiling as the congealed mess of his arteries betrayed him. She shoved the wrinkled piece of parchment into the confines of her satchel. Her mission began.

Secure the youngest daughter of the sovereign. 

taglist: @seraphicsentences @onlinelesbo @yumimak @elliewilliamsblunt @bready101

[rinstrumental]

ellie gf headcanons

# modern au. im in luv with her. this is so long oh my god its an illness

did karate from 1st grade all the way up to high school and basically considers herself your bodyguard

immediately offers you her hoodie without a second thought when you show the slightest signs of being cold. she lets you keep it too, of course. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn’t ???!!!!

she needs either your hands on her or her hands on you at all times. sosososo touchy and BIG on pda her kisses are inescapable. constantly has an arm around you or resting on your waist… the whole world needs to know. she’s actually insufferable i’m sorry but in the most endearing way ever how can you resist

“would you still love me if i was a ____???” she wants a serious answer too

genuinely thinks ur the prettiest person alive. which is kind of the bare minimum but she worships you truly

happy with any sort of date as long as it’s with you. fancy dinner? this is the only reason she keeps a suit and tie. staying in? what movie do you want, babe? running errands? she’s already waiting for you in the car!!!

speaking of cars she drives an old station wagon which used to be joel’s. ellie used to moan about how lame it was until you said that the back was perfect for sitting together during camping or stargazing…. and other activities too ;) wink wonk

gets flustered when she makes you flustered because you’re telling her that SHE did that?? she made u nervous??? shit man now shes blushing too

her love language is gifts she loves to spoil you with your favourite snacks and soft toys and even homemade gifts. she just wants you to see her in your room and have her on your mind as much as you’re in hers!!

it’s no secret that she’s an artist and it’s also no secret that her favourite subject to draw is youuu!!! her favourite thing to do is just have you sit across from her and draw what she sees

of course naturally that means she takes tons of pictures of you… to study for her drawings… and keep in her special photo album of you… and to look at when she misses you. Ofc

makes fun of you/teases you sometimes. she can be a mean bitch to other people but she would never actually hurt your feelings and you know that

ellie hates goodbyes. even if it’s after spending a full day together and you’re going to see her soon anyways… i just know she’s the kind of person who feels empty after hanging out with someone.

calls and texts about everything… and it’s always so cute :( she definitely has autocaps on

ellie: I drew you again!!

ellie: Hey babe I saw this funny bird it reminded me of u

ellie: I miss you so much. When can I see you again?

ellie: These cats r like us lol

keeps a pet gecko or something like that for sure. it’s you guys’ baby

her top two movie genres are horror and romance after that. the only reason romance is that high up is because it reminds her of you

does stupid romcom shit like hold a boombox outside your window. makes you mixtapes even though CDs are basically extinct (joel has a player thank god). corny pickup lines. asks you to be her valentine publicly. runs to your house in the rain. dances with you in said rain.

when she gets sick it’s like the end of the world omg… she needs u to be at her side 24/7 and hold her and keep her company and give her get well soon kisses, it’s essential to her recovery. doctors orders. he said it not her!

gets along so well with your friends and family. she does her research and takes this shit seriously! whatever it takes to make you happy because what’s better than watching your girlfriend get along with the people you love

she also takes her own family seriously - family time is important to her and she spends a lot of time with joel. it’s even better when you can join, some of her best memories are with the two of you

“i’m happy as long as you’re happy”

pet names galore. her personal favourite is just babe (classic) but when she likes others too (sweetheart, honey, darling etc she’s so cheesy it’s awful)

in conclusion she’s just a clingy sappy lesbian who’s absolutely head over heels for you. and you wouldn’t have it any other way <33

bonus: (these tweets that are so ellie)

[beautification-tales]

The Farmer’s Daughter

A Getting Fit Tale

The sun was just beginning to rise, its pale orange light casting a warm glow over the rolling hills of Daisy's family's farm. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and peered out the window of her little room in the farmhouse. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the sweet smell of freshly mown grass and the earthy scent of soil turned over for the planting season. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and threw on a t shirt and overalls, her favorite old sneakers already waiting by the door.

Daisy padded downstairs, her feet sinking into the softness of the worn carpet. The smell of coffee filled her nose, and the sound of her father's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Morning, Dad," she called, pushing open the swinging door and stepping into the brightly lit room. Her father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face and kind eyes, looked up from where he was pouring coffee into a mug.

"Morning, pumpkin," he replied with a smile. "Ready to tackle the day?" Daisy nodded, taking a mug of coffee from the counter. "You know it," she said, feeling a surge of energy from the warm liquid. "What's on the agenda today?"

“Well me and Billy will fill the barn today. I think maybe you can take it easy today.” Daisy's father said, as he took a sip of his coffee. Daisy shook her head, "No, I'm fine, Dad. I'm more than able to help." She replied, as she headed for the door. "Let me just get my jacket."

The air outside was crisp and cold, a light breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Daisy zipped up her jacket, pulled her hat down over her ears, and made her way over to where her father and Billy were already hard at work. The two men were standing beside a large wagon, filling burlap sacks with fresh hay from a nearby field. Daisy took her place at the front of the wagon and began to pitch the hay into the sacks, her movements efficient and practiced.

After just a few minutes Daisy was already feeling fatigued. Billy noticed immediately and smiled. "You sure you're alright,Miss Daisy? You don't have to do this if you're feeling tired." He offered, pausing in his work to look at her. Daisy shook her head, not wanting to admit she was struggling. "I'm fine, really," she insisted, her voice a little less steady than usual. "I just need to catch my breath, that's all."Daisy’s Dad stopped his work and noticed Daisy’s labored breathing. “Honey, that’s enough for you today. Why don't you go inside and rest up ok?” He said, concern etched on his face. Daisy hesitated, but the exhaustion was becoming overwhelming. She nodded reluctantly and headed back to the house, her steps slower and more sluggish than before.

Daisy kicked a rock as she went up the stairs to the house. She looked back and watched Billy and her father do the work with ease. Billy’s shirt was drenched with sweat as he removed it and put his baseball cap on his head. Daisy gulped as she watched him work. They hired Billy to help work the land as her father got older. She had hoped to be the one to help but Daisy had been petite all her life. Her father also treating her like she was fragile didn’t help either.

Despite being 20 years old she felt like a child as she went back inside the house. She slumped into a chair as she struggled to catch her breath. Life had been so cruel to her. She was born prematurely as her mother passed away giving birth to her. Her father raised her single-handedly and she was always trying to repay him. She tried to be strong for him. Daisy felt like a burden as she always needed to be taken care of. So many times her weak heart caused long hospital stays and her father would stay by her bed every night. Sometimes she wished she could just be normal. She wished she was still outside helping her dad and flirting with Billy.

Her father came inside and noticed how pale she looked. He went to the kitchen and returned with a cool glass of lemonade. "Here, sweetheart, drink this and get some rest. You'll feel better soon." Daisy took the lemonade gratefully and sipped it, the cool liquid helping to ease her throat. She looked up at her father, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad. I tried to be strong, but I just couldn't do it today." He knelt down beside her chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Shh... shh... it's okay, pumpkin. You're not a machine. You don't have to be strong all the time. We'll find a way to manage, okay?" She nodded, the tears spilling over and running down her cheeks. "I love you, Dad," she whispered. "I love you too, Daisy. And remember, no matter what, I'll always be here for you."

The conversation was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She couldn’t let her father down again. She ran to her room and opened the gift box she received from her cousin. She read the note again. “Hey Cuz, this steroid changed my life. I had to share it with you. Trust me it works. Love Courtney. P.S. tell Billy I said ‘Hi’” Daisy's hands trembled as she took out the small vial of steroids. Her heart raced, but she knew she had to do it. For her father, and for herself. She hesitated for a moment, but then steeled her resolve.

She pointed the syringe at her thigh and slowly injected the steroids into her skin. It was a cold, hard prick that made her wince. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe. The steroids were supposed to make her stronger, but right now, they felt like poison coursing through her veins. She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

The next few day Daisy jumped out of bed at the sound of the rooster. Daisy ran downstairs to make coffee for her father and Billy. She felt rejuvenated and her chest didn't hurt as much. She could breathe easier and felt stronger. She wondered if it was just a placebo effect or if the steroids were actually working. As she filled the coffee pot, she glanced out the window and saw Billy working on the field. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his muscular frame. Daisy couldn't help but stare, her heart racing. She quickly turned away, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Good morning baby girl. You're up early today." Her father smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You want some eggs or something?" He asked, motioning to the stove where a frying pan sizzled. “Dad, don’t worry I got it.” She moved gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The energy she felt was almost intoxicating. She wondered if the steroids were really making her feel this good. She felt her heart pumping faster and faster but it didn’t ache as it usually did.

“Daisy can you tell Billy to take care of the chores solo today. I pushed myself too hard yesterday.” He rubbed his neck wincing in pain. Daisy gave her father a worried look that he understood so well. “Aw don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m… just not as young as I used to be. Plus Billy can handle it.” He looked out the window and smiled. “Boy is strong like an ox.”

Daisy went outside as her father went upstairs to rest. She knew that Billy could handle it but so much more could be done if she helped. She approached Billy as he was carrying a bale of hay and smiled shyly. "Hey Billy, I'm sorry to bother you but I just wanted to say that I'm here to help if you need it." He looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Oh, it's okay Miss Daisy. I've got it under control." He said with a small smile, trying to reassure her.

“Well I’m helping anyway.” Daisy said as she began to assist with chores. The sun beat down on them, making the air thick with humidity. Sweat trickled down their backs as they worked side by side. They didn't speak much, but there was an understanding between them. They were both trying to help her father, in their own ways. And somehow, with Daisy's newfound energy, it felt like they were making progress.

Billy had a look of surprise as Daisy was usually exhausted and inside by now. He was hoping she didn’t push herself too hard and pass out like she had done in the past. Daisy smiled as felt amazing as her heartbeat raced, not from fatigue, but from excitement. Daisy was beginning to breathe heavily as she took a moment to watch Billy at work. He was so strong and muscular, it was hard not to stare.

Daisy felt her heart pound within her chest as she gasped for air. She put her hand on her chest as she felt her heart jumping like it would explode. It was harder for her to catch her breath as she looked at Billy. She could feel the heat spreading across her face as she felt a bit lightheaded. “No I can’t pass out again.” She thought to herself as she tried to calm down.

She felt like a passenger in her body as it was out of her control. She gasped for air as if she was having an asthma attack. Billy noticed and rushed over to Daisy. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, concern etched on his face. Daisy nodded, but she couldn't speak as her chest still heaved for air. Billy helped her sit down on a nearby bale of hay and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I’ll go get you some water.” He said before dashing off toward the house.

Daisy didn’t know what was wrong with her. She had never felt this way before. As she sat there, trying to catch her breath. She felt her breasts push out as her labored breathing continued. She looked down as she could see they had kept increasing in size as she felt a new weight on her chest. Her t-shirt was stretching as her overalls pressed into her bigger bosom. Daisy grabbed one as electricity flowed from her breasts throughout her body.

“Ohh God!” She moaned as she felt her arms and legs grow. Daisy noticed her labored breathing was starting to sound …. Different. In a matter of moments Daisy was a taller frame with toned muscle filling out her appendages. Thick thighs dug into her Jean shorts as her fatter ass filled them out more. It all happened so quickly that Daisy didn’t know what to think. Especially when Billy came back with three bottles of water.

She looked down and gasped. She had grown several inches, her breasts were easily twice the size they were, her ass was fuller, and her thighs were massive. She couldn't believe it. Billy placed the bottles of water down on the ground, looking up at her in shock. "D-Daisy?" he stammered. She tried to speak, but no words came out. She felt a strange weight in her chest, almost like a new organ had grown there.

Daisy felt thirsty as she grabbed one bottle as it rolled to her. She twisted the cap off as she guzzled the bottle as water trickled down her chin and wetting her chest. Daisy repeated this again with another bottle as Billy looked on with his jaw to the floor.

“What happened to you? A..are you ok? Miss Daisy?” Billy stammered, struggling to find the words. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Daisy's chest had grown immensely, her once small breasts now filling out her overalls and straining against the fabric. She looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes, her face flushed from exertion and excitement.

“Billy, I feel really good” Daisy managed to say between gulps of water. Her voice was deeper and more feminine than before. Billy couldn't help but stare at her chest as she spoke, taking in the sight of her full breasts spilling out of her overalls. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Because you look, well, different."

Daisy set the last bottle of water down and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. Her muscles rippled beneath her skin, and she felt stronger than ever before. She looked down at her body, taking in the curves that had emerged overnight. Her hips swayed as she walked toward Billy, her thighs rubbing together with each step.

“I think my heart might be in trouble. I need you to help me.” Daisy said, her voice still deeper and more feminine. Billy swallowed hard, his eyes still locked on her chest. He nodded, trying to focus on what she was saying. "Okay, what do you need me to do.” Billy said with a concerned tone.

Daisy got close to Billy and grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. “Do I feel ok?” she asked him with a coy smile. Billy's heart raced as his hand touched her soft, warm skin. He could feel her heart beating strongly beneath her breast. It was a strange sensation, but it felt nice. “Umm yes” he stammered, looking into her deep blue eyes.

She guided his hand onto her breasts as her nipple hardened and brushed up against him. "Then you feel my heartbeat, don't you? It's so strong." She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. "I feel so alive, so… powerful.” She looked up into his eyes, her expression a mixture of wonder and desire.

Daisy grabbed onto Billy’s chest and bit her lip. “Billy, take me to the barn and fuck me.” She whispered. Her voice was husky and commanding, and it sent shivers down his spine. He could feel the heat emanating from her body, and his pants grew tighter as he became aroused. He nodded dumbly, unable to form any words as he followed her back to the barn.

Inside the dimly lit barn, they found an old haystack in a corner. Daisy kicked aside some of the hay, revealing a soft, warm surface beneath. She pushed Billy onto his back and straddled his hips, her chest heaving with anticipation. She reached down and undid his pants, freeing his erection. She undid the straps of her overalls and let her panties fall down.

With one smooth motion, she guided his cock into her pussy. It felt so good to finally feel him inside her, filling her up. She began to move her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding against him as their skin slapped together. Billy wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the heat emanating from her body as she rode him.

Daisy leaned forward, her breasts swaying in front of Billy's face. She reached down and pinched her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body. "Oh god, Billy..." she moaned, her voice husky and demanding. "I need you to touch me."

Billy wrapped his hands around her hips, feeling the smooth, firm skin beneath his fingers. He pressed his thumbs into her hipbones, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Their rhythm became faster and more urgent, as if they were both trying to reach some sort of climax. He grasped her melons as she felt another jolt of electricity pass through her body. She arched her back, her breasts spilling out of her t- shirt, and let out a moan that seemed to echo through the barn.

As they moved together, Billy could feel the muscles in her thighs and ass tighten, and he knew that she was close. He thrust harder, driving himself deeper inside her, wanting to feel the heat and the power of her orgasm. Daisy cried out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as her body tensed and she came, her pussy clenching tightly around him.

He continued to thrust, lost in the sensation of her body moving against his, feeling her orgasm wash over him. His hips bucked wildly, and he groaned in satisfaction as he felt his own release building inside him. She reached down, took his cock in her hand, and began to stroke him in time with their movements, urging him over the edge. She knelt in front of him as Billy twitched in her hands.

“I want you to cum on these big beautiful tits Billy.” Daisy whispered into his ear, her breath hot and heavy. His thrusts became more erratic as he felt his climax approaching. She arched her back further, offering her perfect breasts to him as he reached down and grasped one, squeezing it tightly. His hips bucked wildly as he released his seed onto her breast, coating her nipple and the surrounding skin with his warm cum.

Daisy took her finger and tasted his seed. It was salty and sweet on her tongue. She looked up at Billy, their eyes locked together.

“Billy? Stacey? Are you both in here?”

Their hearts stopped as they realized her father was looking for them. Billy got dressed in a flash and met him and lead him outside.

“Trust me Mr. Culver, don’t worry about Daisy today. She is definitely working hard. Yes really! Of course she milked me… I mean the cow… the cow”

Daisy laughed as she hears Billy distract her father as she got dressed and tiptoed to the cow.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Kobe: Oh my god, are you serious?! Oscar: Nah, I’m just pissing around-.. ‘course I’m serious. Kobe: I can’t do it, dude! They’re worth a fortune, I’d-… Oscar: I bought it with dirty D-R-U-G money, Kobe.. it’s the last thing I wanna get rid of; call it a favour. Kobe: What’re you gonna do though? Oscar: I dunno, buy another one? You got any old bangers lying around? Kobe: Oh, oh-.. let’s swap! You can have my car! Oscar: A shitty little Golf ain’t much use-… Kobe: No, the station wagon! Oscar: That? Kobe: I’ve done it up real good, I swear. Oscar: A pink station wagon? Kobe: It’s maroon. Oscar: Uh-huh.. alright, why not! Courtney will love it. Kobe: [claps] Ahh, awesome! How bout you, d’you like “pink”, lil man? [Robin stares at Kobe silently] Oscar: He prefers green. Kobe: I could always wrap it for ya agai-.. woah! [Kobe fails to catch the keys Oscar suddenly threw at him, scrambling to pick them up with excitement] Oscar: Don’t kill yourself, it’ll be worse on my conscience than it already is. [Kobe yells something inaudible, already slamming the door shut on his favourite car EVER] … Oscar: Whaddya think? [Robin wriggles into a comfortable spot, nodding approvingly; noticing the steering wheel, he points toward it] Oscar: I don’t think so, pal. [Robin pouts, pointing at the radio instead] Oscar: Sure-.. cover your ears first though, there’s probably a subwoofer in the back knowing Kobe. [Perplexed, Robin glances at Oscar and pants like a dog] Oscar: [guffaws] It’s a speaker, not a doggy! Go on, try it… [Robin’s eyes widen as said speaker bursts to life with a thumping bass track loud enough to vibrate the seats] Oscar: [yells] Neat, huh?!

[jungle-angel]

The One With Royal's Old Firebird: Part 1 (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: It's almost Royal and Cece's 37th wedding anniversary and you and Rhett are trying to do something extra special for them, but your little venture isn't without plenty of shenanigans in between

Warnings: Not really, just a bunch of typical man shenanigans, references to "The Sandlot"

Tagging: @floydsmuse @floydsglasses @withahappyrefrain @attapullman @rhettabbotts @sorchathered @callmemana @delopsia @lewmagoo @kmc1989 @cowboybarbie

It was probably the hottest day that Wabang had ever seen, made hotter still by the fact that Memorial Day was well around the corner and that a heatwave was beginning to hang over the Rocky Mountain states.

Rhett, Wes, Billy, Rip Wheeler, Kayce Dutton and the others had been combing Hank Hewson's junkyard since nine that morning and already the heat was beginning to settle over the place. Even after twenty something years, the place was still a chaotic mess.

"Hey ya'll think that old Ed, Edd n Eddy shag wagon's still at the other end?" Kayce asked. "The one we all used to hide out in?"

"Wouldn't doubt it," Rhett chuckled. "Thing's probably a literal rat's nest by now."

"Remember when we all used to play 'Smokey and the Bandit' in that thing?" Rip reminisced.

"M'fuckin surprised the CB radio still worked," Teeter laughed, chewing on a piece of Ice-Breaker gum.

All of them laughed and reminisced about the childhood memories of when Hank would let them play in the junkyard. He had always been good to the local ranch and reservation brats who often came traipsing in, the neighborhood misfits who didn't belong to a particular clique or group and who had formed a tribe of their own. His razor sharp tongue had earned him the admiration of the neighborhood miscreants who came before Rhett and the others and the utter disdain of local hag, Gale Burch.

They followed the sound of a slide guitar being played and sure enough, there was Hank and his dog, an old English Mastiff named "Hercules". Hank sat in his rocker on the porch, guitar in hand, picking away and a pair of aviators on his face as he sang along to the familiar sound of "Boom Boom Boom" by Big Head Todd and The Monsters. Hercules howled along as Rhett and the others listened, bobbing their heads and their hands beating along on the porch posts. When he had finished, all of them applauded.

"Now if my ears don't deceive me, I'd think it's been close to fifteen years since I heard my favorite miscreants show up at my doorstep," Hank laughed.

"How's it goin Hank?" Rhett asked.

"Never better Rhett," Hank answered. "Whatcha lookin for this morning?"

"Uh.....we heard ya'll might have a car body we're lookin for," Rhett answered. "Seventy-six Pontiac Firebird?"

"Got it!" Hank exclaimed. "C'mon, ya'll can follow me."

Hank grabbed a walking stick that leaned near the front window. Normally, his wife Cecily, would have showed them where it was, but she had gone to help Joy and Martha with a project for the day. Hercules was right at his side, acting as Hank's eyes when others couldn't.

He led them to a part of the yard, not far from the house where piles and piles of rusty car bodies were neatly lined up or stacked in some cases. Hercules stopped and put his paw right up on the frame of one of them, barking to signal that he had found it.

"And here we go," said Hank. "One 1976 Pontiac Firebird. I'll see if I can call Howie Kavanaugh and have one of his brothers tow it for you. Where's it goin?"

"Gonna have it stored at my Uncle John's place up in Montana," Rhett explained. "Tryin to keep it a surprise for Dad."

Hank laughed as memories of Royal, John Dutton and their own gang of merry misfits came flooding back to him. "In that case I'll give ya'll the frame for cheap," he said. "How's fifteen-hundred? No more, no less?"

"I've got sixteen if you'll take that?" Rhett said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Fifteen-fifty and you've got a deal," Hank offered.

"Done!"

Rhett shook his hand and paid him the money up front. Hopefully his earnings from the last ride of his career would be enough to cover it.

Howie Kavanaugh, one of the only tow truck guys in Wabang, came by before they left and towed the rusted body and frame away for them, Rhett and the others following them all the way up to Bozeman where it was stored in one of the garage barns where it would be safe. John didn't say a word about it, wanting to keep it a secret for Royal.

"Alright, let's look at this beast and see what's up," Rhett remarked, lifting up the hood.

Needless to say, what met their eyes was pretty nasty.

Everything was completely rusted out, the engine block black with oil rot and rust while grasses and rodent droppings lay throughout.

"Jeebus, Mary and Joseph!" Rhett gagged.

"Oh that shit's nasty," Rip said, making a face.

"I'm afraid to open up the oil tank and smell it," Kayce shuddered.

"Holy fuck," Teeter half laughed. "Guess the mice made this place their personal shitter."

Sure enough, Rhett and Kayce opened up the oil tank and the smell hit them full force, the two of them gagging as hot bile rose in their throats. The rest of the car wasn't much better, the trunk full of so much junk that it really should've been a trash compactor. The fabric of the seats had been chewed and torn by the mice while the carpeting on the floors was completely gone.

"We're gonna be here a while aren't we?" Kayce asked him.

"Yep," Rhett said with a nod.

[howlingday]

Jaune Halen

*Team (J)NPR enjoying a relaxing, normal, and not at all crazy day. Until...*

BANG!

Team RWBY: HAVE YOU SEEN JAUNE!!!

Pyrrha: *Surprised* No? What happened? Is he HURT!?!

Nora: *Excited* Did he break some legs!?!?

Ren: *Raised Eyebrow* I don’t think he did, Nora.

Nora: Pfffft! I know that, silly! I mean OTHER people’s legs!

Weiss: Humph! As if! We merely sent him on a few simple errands, but he’s been gone for HOURS! Just how incompetent can Arc be?!

Pyrrha: *Defensive* Well, what exactly did you have him do?

Blake: I needed Jaune to get me a library book.

Weiss: I asked for his assistance in acquiring some old music.

Yang: He promised to pick up Dad’s old station wagon...

Ruby: And I needed red spandex!

Teams (R)WBY & (J)NPR: ……

Ruby: I-it’s for my CAPE!!! (>///<)

Team RWBY: *To Team JNPR* SO WHERE IS HE?!?!

SMAAASSSHH!!!

How does Team RWBY react? Team (J)NPR? What happens next?

Inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plG_OrgcQvk

---------------------------------------------------

Ren: ...

Nora: Ren?

Ren: Just one day. Just one god damn day where you assholes don't break a fucking wall.

Pyrrha: J-Jaune?! What happened to your hair?!

Yang: What happened to the car?!

Ren: WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WALL, YOU ASSHOLE?!

Nora: Shshshsh! Calm down, Renny... Calm... Calm...

Jaune: I did what you guys asked. I picked up XXX4 from the library, the station wagon, some kickass music that Yang's dad left, and I got Ruby's spandex. They fit real nice~, by the way.

Ruby: Oh, I bet they do~. I MEAN, WAIT-!

Jaune: Ah, that was fun... Kinda wondering what a Panama is, though.

[lostintimenl]

A video from this railcars: https://youtu.be/k3kacMbUGkc

Abandoned wagons (Old trains R) Belgium June 2021

[mae-cohl3]

Unfinished The Passenger Fic - Part 1

The bones of a story really

I don't usually write fics (this is one of my first real tries), but this movie made me want to try.

Let me know what you think.

-R-

Randy sat looking at his hands. His nail beds are an urgent sort of red and the skin puffy from endless biting. It’s starting to hurt, but he can’t stop.

The motel room is silent and looks uninhabited, save for their shared backpack on the floor and Randy hunched over on the bed.

He can feel Benson, even when he’s not in the room. He hates that he doesn’t really mind it — the cold tingles down his back, the stone sinking deeper into his stomach, and the heat filling his cheeks. The feeling of Benson’s calloused hand grasping his face is ever present. He can still feel the heat of the large hand swiping away the tears from his cheek and blurry eyes. It’s become ingrained in his mind.

Is liking Beson even an option? Is like even the right word? Why does it feel like I do? Am I fucking crazy? I mean he’s out of his mind, so maybe it’s the only way I could feel this way about him.

Heavy footsteps sound from outside the worn down motel door. Randy wants to sink into the floor. No, he wants to run into Benson’s arms and hold tight. Maybe he  wants to beg him to go home, to be set free. God, no, he wants to taste his mouth.

Fuck just kill me already.

The door opens and Beson walks inside, his movement slow like usual, as if every step is thought out and calculated. He moves like a shark conserving its energy. Randy stays still and looks up at Benson through his sparse lashes, his hands gripping the shitty motel quilt like it’ll save him. From what, he’s got an idea — the cold mouth of a shotgun pressed to his temple.

“Pack up ur shit kid, we gotta go.”

Randy’s breath hitches in his throat. “Wh-where are we going?”

We. It’s become “we” now.

Benson’s eyes sharpen. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it and frowns. He looks frustrated, it’s not obvious whether it is with himself or Randy. “ I don’t fucking know Randy, just get ur ass up and moving.” 

——-

A silence fills the air, one that slithers beneath Randy's skin and grinds against his bones.

How much longer do I have?

The old station wagon shook with every slight jerk of Benson’s hand on the steering wheel. Randy sat hunched over in the passenger seat. His head rested on the window, his body pressed against the door as if hoping that it would consume his form. 

“I can hear your thoughts from here Randy.” Benson tilted his head towards Randy’s hunched form. The silence that followed felt like an offer, an offer to speak. Randy had no idea what to say. He sat for a moment, pulling at the neck of his too large t-shirt, one formerly belonging to Benson.

-B-

Benson gave Randy a quick once over, taking notice of how the boy shivered as the wind from the open window blew onto him. The clothes Randy wore didn’t do much to hold against the biting wind. The shirt hung off the boy’s neck, showing a bony clavicle and even the pants he wore seemed to hang off his hips. Benson tried to damper the thought, file it away in a cabinet deep within his mind, but he couldn’t — he liked the way Randy looked in his clothes, with his tear stained eyes, and slight pout. The clothes seemed to swallow the boy, just like he wished that he could do.

He flicked his cigarette out the window and shut it with the rusted hand crank, hoping to give the boy some relief from the chill.  A sort of unspoken apology.

Sorry for kidnapping you. Sorry for scaring you. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for wanting you…

He didn’t know how to proceed, but he knew that he wanted Randy by his side. He’d always kept an eye on the boy when they still worked together. At first it was just a passing glance at the pretty boy who seemed far too fragile for their rural Louisiana town. But then he started getting bullied at work, and Benson couldn’t stop himself from watching as the boy stared at his aggressor with tear filled eyes. The tears never fell, they sat steadily on his bottom lids. But now Benson has seen those tears be shed, as he was the root cause of the boy’s cries of sadness and terror. Seeing the boy’s tear filled face and frozen form in response to the murders of his manager and coworkers had been the moment Benson knew that the boy would either be his everything or his end.

Randy didn’t respond to him, but Benson understood. The boy was scared, most likely thinking that he was next in Benson’s list of murders and attacks. This hurt Benson, but he’d hurt the boy and scared him senseless in the last few days. He didn’t deserve the sound of Randy’s shaking voice, but he craved it. He just needed to get them away from that town and those people, somewhere he could show Randy a better version of himself. 

After he beat his former teacher to near death, they fled, or at least Benson made them leave town. They were on the run. Maybe this (forced proximity) would move the boy towards warming up to him, he could become his friend rather than his forced passenger. Maybe, maybe they could become more.

I want more, no, I need more.

[seat-safety-switch]

Recently, the news has been full of folks talking about waterproofing perfectly good cars. This is insane folly. Let me lay it out for you: keep your car out of the water. I don’t care if it’s creeks, rivers, oceans, local tributaries, or even a suspicious-looking puddle.

Let me explain why: every time you get your car wet, the chances of it rusting go up by a little bit more. Then, in a few decades, someone like me will own your car. It might not seem like a big deal to you that you are introducing moisture to the rear fender liner that will show up as a small paint crack when the car is 16 years old, but it’s a big deal to me. This is because I’m the guy who will buy it from the guy(ess) who buys it from the guy(ess) who buys it from you(r insurance company after the car is totalled.) Maybe insert a few more middlefolx in there.

Things get worse if you try to get crafty about it. I met a person a few years ago who thought that he could avoid rust by filling the rocker panels of his car with spray foam insulation. Big mistake, fucko: now the moisture has nowhere to go. His car looked like a parade float dedicated entirely to the natural process of steel oxidation within a year. Oregon Trail lied to you when it talked about being able to caulk your wagon. Besides, have you seen the price of DAP® silicone bathroom caulk lately? I can’t even afford to shoplift it from Home Depot anymore.

So, you may be asking yourself, is this asshole telling me never to drive my new car in the snow or rain, and also to move into the desert and preserve it in a hermetic perfect bubble before selling it to him for $600? No. If you’re asking $600 I’m not gonna fucking pay it. I can’t afford to, what with all the money I’ve been spending on rust repair.

[king--of--ducks]

DAILY— or— er— I guess I can’t really call it a ‘daily offering’ anymore because they don’t happen daily… I kinda fell off the band wagon w/ that one, my bad.

*ahem* uh— anyways! I’ve been passively following the recent events for some time now trying to think of something to help, and I think I’ve got something.

I made these! They’re two necklaces, one for you and one for Charlie when u get her back (cuz u will I bet, cut urself some slack, u and everyone u know r trying your best). But they’re not normal, each of them has a button in the middle that when it’s pressed activates like… almost a GPS. Um… you know those like— old people ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ necklaces? Like that! When one is activated, the other vibrates, and will be able to tell you where the other is. That way if ur ever in a situation like this again where one is in danger, all they gotta do is press the button, and your necklace will bring you the last location that person was. (The golden part on the apple and the middle circle on the sun are the buttons 😉)

So, I guess it doesn’t rlly help now. But… Just… it’s an investment for the future I guess. Good luck boo, and please take care of yourself. You really are better than you give yourself credit for.

🍎Thank you! They’re beautiful and helpful!🍎

[usafphantom2]

SAC Crew Dog Shenanigans: A Cruel Prank on the Aircraft Commander

It was late May in 1989, a time of year when the sun barely goes down in Fairbanks Alaska. Our crew, R-122, with the 42d Air Refueling Squadron, had flown from our home base, Loring AFB, Maine, to Eielson AFB, Alaska in our KC-135 A model for an Alaska Tanker Task Force tour.

The Strategic Air Command (SAC) was still in control and the KC-135s still used “hard crews.” That meant, you got put on a crew and you stayed there. They were the only people you really flew with. You got to know them well, for better or worse.

We were a young crew, the Aircraft Commander (AC) was a newly assigned Captain who’d previously been a FAIP (First Assignment Instructor Pilot). FAIP went straight to the left seat and never flew as copilots. Our Copilot, who was more experienced than the AC, had around 1,000 hours. The Navigator and I were pretty green, only being recently qualified. Three Officers, AC was a Captain, the Copilot was a 1st Lieutenant and the Nav was a 2nd Lieutenant (or Butter Bars as we called them.) I was a lowly A1C, Airmen First Class.

After arriving, we settled in, getting all our localization briefings. These were so that we knew what we could and could not do while in town, both operationally and just in general. Stay away from the moose which were taking care of their newly born calves, don’t mess with the bears, avoid a DWI at all costs, and of course, don’t screw up any airplanes. We were staying at the BOQ, or quarters, on base for the TDY crews and the one thing I noticed about our quarters was the blackout curtains in all the rooms. We found out, over time, they were definitely needed. Another thing we found out; the unofficial State Bird of Alaska is the Mosquito. Those things were brutal.

Getting around on base wasn’t a big deal as you could usually get a ride, but getting off base could be a problem. There was a “shared” vehicle that a local Boom Operator maintained for the crews to borrow. It was a beat-up old station wagon with wood paneling and sharks’ teeth painted on the front fenders, like they do on fighter aircraft. It worked, if it was available, but demand was high.

We were allowed to take an Air Force vehicle, usually an AF blue 4-door pickup truck, but there were restrictions because it was an “Official” vehicle. One of the more important rules was that you could not park at a bar. Sneaky aircrews had figured out a way to get around this rule. While you couldn’t park at a bar, you could park at a restaurant that happened to have a bar. This was our loophole.

One day, we ventured out around town. The guys wanted to sample the local cuisine, so we found a place with freshly caught and cooked salmon for lunch. Then, we drove up the road to visit the “North Pole”, not the real one, but a very small town north of the base that took about two minutes to drive through. Remember that Garth Brooks song, “Nobody Gets Off In This Town”? Pretty much described the entire area, with one exception… most people actually like it up there, even with all the hardship.

One of the things that amazed us while we were driving around was how much junk was laying around. Along the highways you could see piles of cars, airplanes, equipment and just plain junk, but the scenery was still awe inspiring, even with all the trash.

Towards the evening, we decided to head to a local restaurant that “happened” to have a bar. We planned on having dinner and then over to the bar for a few drinks, maybe even finding some suitable company. Well, most of us anyways, the AC was married and a pretty strait-laced guy, so he was just enjoying the scenery.

Driving under the influence of alcohol was a very big no-no, and the Air Force was really cracking down around that time. A DWI was a career ender for officers and enlisted alike. So, I was elected to be the Designated Driver. It was tradition that the Boom Operator drove and the Officers liked to be chauffeured around. This night, I didn’t mind not being able to drink and was happy to drive the crew around.

So, we sit down to eat, and everybody orders beers, Coronas to be precise, and the conversation turns to drinking stories. I’m not sure why he wanted to tempt fate, but the AC started bragging that he had never been drunk. He drank, he wasn’t a teetotaler, but he’d never gotten drunk.

The Copilot, who was a bit of a prankster, took this as a challenge. So he decided that the AC had waited long enough. He left the table, and grabbed our waitress ask her to add a shot of vodka to every beer given to the AC. She obviously didn’t have a problem with it. Our poor commander never suspected a thing.

Fast forward an hour or two and our prim and proper AC is lit up like a Christmas tree. So much so, he asked me for the keys to our pickup so he could go pass out. Thinking it was unlocked, I told him so, and off he went stumbling out to the parking lot. Unfortunately (for him), I was wrong, the truck wasn’t unlocked, but he was so drunk he decided to just pass out in the bed of the truck. Of course, before he passed out, he’d gotten sick and threw up all over the side of our nice clean, blue “Official” Air Force pickup. Remember that salmon we’d had for lunch, yup, the side of the truck was covered with it. Pink shows up really well on blue.

A few hours later, with the sun still lighting up the sky, we come out and discover him, wake him up, razz him for a bit, and climb in the truck to head back to the BOQ. He takes the normal AC seat when driving, which is the front right seat, with the Nav and Copilot in the back, and, still drunk as a skunk, proceeds to constantly ask us what happened. A few minutes into the drive, a moose walked out on the road ahead of us, but we were in no danger of hitting it. It was still several hundred yards in front of us, but our fearless leader started screaming “Watch out for the moose, watch out for the moose”. Nearly scared me right off the road. He spent the rest of the ride apologizing like only drunks can. He kept saying, “I ate dinner, and I only had a few beers, why am I so drunk?”

He was thoroughly confused and a bit embarrassed for the next few days. He was constantly asking us what had happened and how he had gotten so drunk. He really had no clue. Finally, feeling bad for him, I let him know what had happened. His reaction was priceless, but he really was a good sport about it. He did vow to return the favor to our mischievous Copilot, but in the end, he never got his revenge. Fortunately, he didn’t hold a grudge either.

We had a great six weeks on that trip with many accomplishments. We were able to go to Shemya AFB, on the Alaskan Aleutian Islands. While there we got to fly on an RC-135S, and the AC was able to get his first experience at Receiver Air Refueling. Later, we flew a Russian Bear Bomber intercept mission, and then on the day before my birthday, we flew a mission over the International Date Line, so I got to experience my 21st birthday twice.

We returned to Loring six weeks later, having learned a lot about ourselves, our aircraft, and our jobs.

Note: I didn't take any pictures on this trip, I don't think I even owned a camera at the time, so I've included some relevant patches.

@tcamp202 via X

[shittypeople34]

Rick of 12 years old saw Jeffrey Dahmer masturbating in a park in Milwaukee.

INTERVIEW

Host:  you were 12 at the time and and you were with a buddy right?

Rick: yeah ,l was with a friend named John.

H: you encouraged an old lady an  and a senior citizen to call the cops, she did call , the cops came they couldn't find him  you go back to the area where he was and he starts chasing you?

R: that's correct.

H: finally the cops get him?

R: yeah, they didn't, l was surprised because the cops actually went into the parkway to look for him which normally no one will because it's so hard to find people or anyone in that parkway.

H:finally they get him and as he's being hauled away in the  wagon. Does he shout at you ?

R: yes, he's threatened to come back and kill us but we didn't believe him at the time because l figured it was a empty threat. but we mocked him because we came out to a bridge and we seen him down there and we mocked him you know he was done because he had his pants down and was ejaculating so we teased him because i knew by the time he got his pants up we'd be gone because we had our bikes and  he never had a chance.

After  having been arrested for the behavior that young Rick cohen describes Jeffrey Dahmer was charged with lewd  behavior convicted of disorderly      conduct and sentenced to one year probation.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 16: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should offer to help the travelers with their broken wagon.....

~

After much internal deliberation (and some zoning out staring at butterflies), The Adventurer decides it would be best to offer his assistance. Technically, he IS still following his goal of not getting distracted, because theoretically it would make his journey much faster if he were able to catch a ride on a carriage. So really, this is all an ultimate big brain genius strategy for maximizing efficient travel.. Or, at least that sounds like a good enough justification to him.

Gathering up all of his social courage, he approaches one of the travelers fiddling with a broken wheel near the far end of the carriage and meekly asks if there's anything he could do to help.

The man was so focused on his task, he seems initially startled to look up and find someone near him. "OH..! Oh, uhh.. help? With the wagon?", he smiles pleasantly, gesturing towards a few wooden boards that are just out of his reach, "Sure, kid. If you could just hand me th-"

"Apologies, but we actually won't be needing your assistance, stranger." A taller man, surprisingly almost matching the stature of the Adventurer, suddenly slinks out from somewhere behind the carriage, sternly placing himself like a barrier in front of the man working on the wheel. Wheel Guy nervously averts his eyes, making himself smaller, silently resuming his work.

The Adventurer tries his best to maintain composure against the weight of the tall man's bitter gaze, but can't seem to muster much of a response "Aeughh,,, uh… b-but, h- Bu--HHHh,,?.."

"Look, disregard whatever my father told you, he's old, never has any clue what he's talking about. It'd be best for you to simply move along." ('Father'? They don't look alike at all, and seem to be nearly the same age..)

"W-well.. he.. he didn't really tell me anything, I me-hhH,,.. I mean, I literally just got here, s-so...."

"Good. Even more reason to be on your way."

Placing a gloved hand firmly on his shoulder, the tall man begins to motion the Adventurer away from the wagon, but a strange noise interrupts, echoing from inside. Perhaps some sort of animal sound? Or a person faintly yelling about something? Or… both?

"WH-wHggg… whAT was t-that???!!" The Adventurer immediately stops in place, pausing to listen as the tall man keeps trying to push him ahead.

"I didn't hear anything, stranger."

"No, t-there.. was dEFinitely, UHH, a-"

"Likely something in the forest."

"Wh--aah... d.. do you think it was an animal?"

The tall man continues a dramatic struggle to 'subtly' drag him further down the road, whilst the Adventurer mindlessly digs in his heels, too distracted to even notice he's being so strongly prompted to leave.

"Many animals do, indeed, exist within forests. This should not be suprising."

"...It's just.. ..eughh… s… so weird…"

"I assure you, it is not."

"I-it really sounded like.. like it came f-from insid-"

"Yes, from inside the forest. Now, please, if you would.."

The noise interrupts again. It's definitely someone, or something, in some sort of distress.. And definitely from inside of the cart.

"wHoAAGH, aa!!! T-tHat's NOT from the f-forest, that-"

The tall man fully just shoves him now, sending the Adventurer toppling across the dirt, clumsily rolling and landing just past the other side of the carriage. A mother and young child who seem to be part of the traveling group simply stare down at him with empty blank gazes, wholly unconcerned about helping him up.

As the Adventurer fumbles back to his feet (still confused as to why he was even pushed in the first place), the tall man looms by the carriage, diligently watching to ensure that he leaves.

"Travel safe, stranger."

Despite his initial obliviousness, the Adventurer begins to piece the situation together as he stares back at the man, now fully convinced something suspicious might be going on...

…What should he do next??

~

~

~

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has