abandoned truck stop

Scrub-a-Dub-Dub! - roadrat

Junkrat & Roadhog (platonic or romantic)
junkrat and roadie take a bath~

Showers are, in short, a luxury most Junkers can’t afford.  Any water they get their hands on is drinking water, and if it isn’t, it’s because it has trace amounts (read: vast amounts) of radiation or the remains of some mutated…something.  Certainly not to spray all over themselves.  The only time Junkers stop to actually bathe is when the water isn’t clean enough to drink but not potent enough to grow a couple extra nipples (a couple, just in case you lose one).

Thus, suspicion was natural when the resident Junkers joined Overwatch and found an abundance of water.  Clean!  Clear as crystal and doesn’t even have a lingering smell of urine or gas (and Junkrat made sure there was no gas; he threw a match at it, and only felt vague disappointment when nothing happened).  It was initially a shock when Junkrat saw the crew go through it so quickly.  Really?  Do they have to flush every time?  And 76 takes showers every day, the fuck’s that all about?  Tracer guzzles water down like it’s…water.

Roadhog seems less surprised, which frustrates Junkrat more because Hog simply ignores him.  He hates being ignored almost as much as he hates being wasteful.  Honestly, he’s appalled at how much water is wasted in this God forsaken building.

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Thirteen and Counting

Pairings: Regulus Black x Petunia Evans | Sirius Black x Lily Evans
Words: 2,393
Chapter One/? - Petunia’s POV
You can also read this on AO3.

It all started on October thirteenth. It was the end of the world. Thirteen used to be her lucky number, until it only brought her destruction.

Too many tragedies unfolded involving the number thirteen for Petunia to still consider it lucky. Her parents died thirteen years ago when she was just a girl and left her feeling lost. Her relationship with her sister was forever tainted by the time she was thirteen years old over an argument that would always loom over her in her dreams, and now it was the number that represented the downfall of the human race.

Thirteen minutes. That’s how long it took for you to turn once you were bit by someone you used to consider your neighbor, your friend, your family. That’s what she saw on the news, anyway. It was apparently like clockwork.

No scientist in the world could figure out how this virus came about, but it spread like wildfire.

Petunia was angry, but that wasn’t anything new. She was always angry with the world. She had been for years, but she was now especially angry with herself.

As she watched the world burn on the news and other humans ripping into each other’s flesh, all she could think about was saving her sister. After all this time, that never changed. Maybe she was still hoping the number thirteen held some kind of magic.

And as she now ran through the streets with a shovel in her hand to get to her car, she counted the cracks on the side walk as she cracked former neighbor’s skulls. The only way to save yourself from one of the infected was to kill their brain, to smash it into nothing. All of their memories would no longer be recognizable; their existence would be lost. All they would be remembered for was their last moments, and Petunia didn’t think that was fair. They would only be remembered as monsters.

The first person Petunia had to kill was her seventy-six year old neighbor Lucy. She became infected in her sleep, and she wasn’t even bit. Petunia was hardly spared as tears clouded her eyes and as she gasped a prayer. She cut herself on the kitchen knife she used to put Lucy down.

She had to give herself thirteen stitches.

Petunia thought it was a sick joke, or maybe it was a sign. Whatever it was, it made her stomach churn.

As she made it to her car, she wiped off her shovel on her old ripped Levi jeans and concluded that she stepped on thirteen cracks and officially killed thirteen of the infected.

She hoped Lily would still be at her flat so they could run, but at the same time, Petunia hoped that Lily wouldn’t have to see a world like this any longer. The only problem was that this contradicted her feelings about hoping Lily would have to deal with the chaos she always felt internally.  It was a never ending battle of push and pull.

It took thirteen minutes to get to Lily’s flat, and she was still alive.

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ok but consider magical schools in california:

- sea side schools being carved into rocky cliffs in the north and being at the pier heads in the south
- historically hispanic schools based around brujería
- spells being derived from french, spanish, english, chinese, vietnamese, filipino, japanese, native, and scandinavian witches
- the Los Angeles School of Wizardry (LASW?) being accessible through the metro ‘pink’ line which runs all day but is only accessed by a charmed TAP card
- LASW students having a deep tradition of charming murals around LA to move or sing
- witches and wizards performing on busy streets in LA and hollywood
-enchanted clothes that always fit the way you want
- north california witches and wizards using the marine layer to hide their schools
- northern schools also being hidden by the MASSIVE redwoods and include the vast ecosystems that come with them
- bigfoot and river sirens being humor mascots
- BANANA SLUGS (they’re not cryptids but they might as well be)
- coastal schools having their own groups of mermaids that adapt to their shore environment
-kelp forest mermaids, coastal wetland mermaids, rocky shore mermaids
- coastal schools having outrigger canoe teams, surf teams, and open water teams
- wizards performing acts at venice beach on the weekends
- student wizards and witches pranking each other by giving ridiculous moving tanlines
- mojave wizarding schools being disguised as abandoned theme parks and truck stops but really being gorgeous castles that howl with the winds at night
- other mojave schools being carved into mountainsides with abandoned mine shafts as their entrances
-teachers and students always being weary of first years going riding during full moons when the sky is bright and the wind is quiet
- first years always disappear around those times and never manage to come back, some say they get full moon sickness and never come out of the trance
- mojave schools using buggies and quads to get around
- desert wizards covered head to toe in winter with only their riding goggles showing but wearing only shorts and tanks with dust masks in the summer
- mountain wizard schools who dominate at quidditch because they train in the thin air
- mountain wizards having ski goggle tan lines from staying too long on the slopes
- mountain wizards lowkey being behind bigfoot legends because they have first years put on costumes to try and scare tourist campers
- all the regional schools teaming up every year to have a festival together where they compete at quidditch and lacrosse and celebrate
- the festival being disguised as a big summer fair that no-majs can really never find the dates for
- the destination for the festival being decided by that year’s quidditch champions

(that got really long really fast but there’s so much more that i skipped over)


Southern NJ is full of strange abandoned places that I’ve spent a ton of my life exploring and trying to find beauty in the ways nature creeps back into places humans have left to decay. Today I revised one of my old teenage haunts- a huge abandoned truck stop that once had a gas station, motel and diner but is now a completely destroyed place in the middle of nowhere. Got into so many shenanigans here as a teen but today I went back with some friends to take some photos and look for bones. I got some pictures in the abandoned 50’s style diner and found two awesome skulls! The tiniest deer I’ve ever found and also the biggest skull I’ve ever found- a cow I believe? A rare thing to randomly find around here! A good day!