rust panel

Landslide: Part One

                                             SUMMARY:

Dayton White (Logan Lucky) x Reader

When a tragic accident happens in the heart of your hometown - you’re forced to go back to the countryside you’d sworn to forget. In the midst of your world turning upside down you find yourself in a state of panic when the familiar face returns in your life, Dayton White. From the time you were young he was labeled in your mind as the man who got under your skin, with the past brimming to the surface - will you be able to fight off the landslide of love?

Word count: 3,804

Notes: Cursing, Character Death, Funeral

Let me know what you think! :) if this gets to 100 I’ll maybe do a part two. :)

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4

I offhandedly mentioned to my mom that i’m hunting these grid cubes, like literally just this month- and the first set she found at our local thrift was far too heavy and missing its connectors– but the VERY NEXT DAY she found these???

16 panels, ALL THE CONNECTORS YOU COULD EVER WANT… 

for 4.99.

all i had to do was give them all a good wipe down bc they were likely used as a dog/pet corral. but i just…. and putting it together was shockingly easy compared to the horror stories i hear about these. maybe it’s because they’ve been ‘broken in’ for who knows how long? maybe it’s the brand? who knows!!!!

FIVE DOLLARS!!!!!

i just love it when bargain-finders -fist clench- find some bargains

À Triomphe - BTS AU

AU:  Art Thief!Bangtan

Description: You are a curator at one of the many museums in Paris, and have finally earned the bosses trust.  But after a strange meeting with a new coworker and his friends, you begin receiving messages from an unknown party.

Part:  Six / Five / Four / Three / Two / One

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive Situations.

Originally posted by jitonic

Your emotions had settled down, leaving you on the opposite side of Jeongguk’s room as you stared at the floor. You hated being here, and the worst part was no one would tell you why.  Jimin had been missing for over a week, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth as you thought of all the things that video, that nightmare, entailed.

Who was it that kept sending me warnings? And why the fuck didn’t I listen? You thought.  All of which had led you to this moment, cowering in the corner of a room foreign to you, various chunks of your memory evading you as you tried to make sense of it all.  You had begun to bite your fingernails, again; a habit you had dropped ten years ago.

Jeongguk sat on his bed, drawing in a small notebook, taking small glances out the window every once in a while to capture his muse; a small bird perched on a tree across the yard.  

There was something off about him, but you couldn’t pin it.  He was reclusive but extroverted.  He was egotistical and charismatic, but also frigid and distant.  His index finger rubbed against the paper, creating a shading effect.

If it hadn’t been for the fact he almost crushed your hand, you might’ve wanted to make small talk, but fear enveloped you.  And every second you spent in that room with him was every second you wished you were dead.

You swallowed your pride, voice cracking with anxiety as you spoke up, beckoning for him. “Please tell me,”  He turned his head to look at you, eyebrows corrugated as he wondered what you wanted.  “Please tell me what happened,”

You looked up from the floor to match his gaze, your breath hitching as you saw his warm glare begin to ice over once more.  “It’s not my place to tell you anything.”  His voice trailed off as he turned back to his work.  

“I feel like I have a right to know what the fuck happened—“ you barked.  Jeongguk tightened the grip on his pencil as to try and evade a rising temper.  “I would appreciate it if you just shut up, okay?”

You let out your breath, unsurprised to his answer.  Jeongguk groaned, tossing his book across the bed as he began to stand up, sauntering towards you.  “If you want to talk, Hoseok is across the hall,”  He gripped your bicep, pulling you up forcefully as he stared daggers at you.  “I don’t like to talk.”

Jeongguk opened the door, pushing you out into the hall before slamming it behind you.  You stumbled, catching yourself before hitting the wall adjacent to his door.  You rubbed the flannel shirt gifted to you by Taehyung before you had left the hospital before he had restrained you.  Your sweatpants were loosely fitted, almost falling down.  You quickly tied a knot in the drawstrings before knocking on Hoseok’s door.

You heard indistinct swearing and objects clattering as footsteps trudged closer to the door.  The man named Hoseok quickly opened it, slowly looking up as he exclaimed disapproval, “Look, Jin, I’m sorry—“

His beg for forgiveness paused as he looked at you, hair riding just above your ear.  “When’d you get a haircut?”  He slowly opened his door wider, giving enough space for you to enter. “I—I need to ask you some things,”  you mewled.

He closed the door behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at you.  He bore an oversized blue and yellow letterman sweater, a white shirt, and black sweatpants, various stains covering his outfit. Hoseok sighed, walking away from his door and through his messy floor back towards his computer seated in the corner of his room on a small black desk.  

The walls to his room were painted dark, mimicking a beige tone.  His floor, although hardwood, was barely visible as clothes, magazines, and other miscellaneous objects were strewn across it.

God, how can someone live like this?

“Jeongguk didn’t want to talk, I assume,” Hoseok snickered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he scrolled through an online forum.  “He’s a wild card, isn’t he?”

His attention stayed glued to the screen, not once turning back to look at you as you stood, unsure of what to do, unwilling to invade his space.

“What did you want? I’m a little busy,”

You fidgeted, remembering why you had been sent across the hall.  “What happened to me?  Why was I in the hospital?”  Your mind began to trail off as question upon question sped out of your mouth.  “Where’s Jimin?  Why can’t I leave? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”  Your voice grew higher in pitch as you became more panicked, falling back onto Hoseok’s bed as you began to tug at your hair.

Hoseok turned in his chair, staring at you worriedly.  “Hey, calm down…” he murmured, slowly standing up as he walked over to you, promptly sitting beside you.  “Stress won’t help your head, you know?”

His half-handed attempts at consoling you, as expected, didn’t work.  He let out a long sigh, resting his elbows on his knees as he began to fiddle his thumbs.  “Our boss told Taehyung to take you to the hospital—he used a pseudo name, so please don’t try to go back and get records—and he was instructed to keep an eye on you for as long as you stayed there, posing as your husband.”

Hoseok began to unravel the story, keeping his voice down.  You could feel the fear he had; he knew someone had to be listening.  “Jimin is away on business, in Spain.  He goes there often; please don’t worry about him.”  

Hoseok stood up, walking towards his door as he turned the knob.  “You can’t leave. Just leave it at that,” he growled, forcing himself to open and door and walk away from the conversation, leaving you alone while he walked across the hall. You heard him open the door to Jeongguk’s room, and promptly closing it behind him.  You were alone once more.

You brought your knees to your chest, clawing at the fabric wrapped around them as to save your sanity.  “I want to go home,”  you wept.

Ding.

The music note rang throughout the room, a voice following behind it.  

“You’ve got mail!”

Hoseok had a fairly new computer, one in almost pristine condition, you would say.  But there on the screen was a graphic every adult was familiar with.  A small letter danced in the corner of the pop-up, ‘One New Message’ dancing across the screen.

You stood up, walking slowly past a window placed between the bed and desktop.  You bent over, pressing your palms against the edge of the small desk as you glanced over the dated graphic.

You’ve got mail!” It sang.

You clicked okay.

In a matter of seconds, an abundance of messages popped across the screen.  Amidst the middle of the turmoil was a small video.

Press Play To Download iMovie

You glanced over your shoulder, hoping Hoseok had busied himself enough not to walk in as you prompted through his private computer.  You turned back to the screen.  You clicked play.

Noise erupted from a desktop as a grainy film began to play, slowly clearing up to reveal an image; a young man sitting in front of you, grinning as he began to speak.

“I didn’t want to show my face, but you’re not the best at following directions.”

He sighed, cupping his face in his palms as he began to tap his cheeks. “Maybe I can get through to you this way?”

You furrowed your brows, your breathing picking up the pace as you grew confused.  “I’m not going to tell you my name because you don’t need to know it,”  he quickly ran through his lines, “but you need to know that they’re lying.”

He leaned in closer to the screen, his cat-like eyes glaring at you behind a curtain of black, flimsy bangs.  “You’ll end up like Jimin.”

Images of the shootout followed suit behind him, following with flashing headlines dated October 31st, November 2nd, November 3rd.  All read the same, disgusting line.  “Jimin Park caught by cops, trial process to begin soon.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat as the cat-eyed man continued with his tale.  “He asked me to help you, and I am… although I wanted to help you in the first place,”  his voice hummed.  “He risked his life for you.”

Cat-eyes stared at you, his eyes narrowing.  You felt that he saw through you completely; he seemed to know everything.  “The least you can do is get out.”

You watched as his eyes lingered to the left, leading you to follow them; the window sat there, unlocked.  A perfect time.

“Let’s see if you’re as stealthy as him.”  You heard him laugh, a sense of delusion resonating within.

The screen glitched for a moment, before quickly residing back to Hoseok’s previous page.

‘The Newest Pet’

You, although feeling disgusting, continued reading through the page

BigBoy287: God I’d rail her. [9:23]
J-Hope:  i’m sure she wouldn’t like you, kyungmin [9:25]
SirBdsm:  like u kno her taste asshole [9:26]
J-Hope: i took the picture, did i not? [9:30]

You felt your stomach flip as you realized just how much you knew about these men; nothing. You felt dirty, itching at your skin to wash away the filthy memory. You abruptly pushed yourself away from the desk, walking backward as you tried to gain some sense.  

You could do it.  It was as easy as opening the window and crawling out.  You could run for help, and never have to deal with this again.  It would all be a nightmare.

You fidgeted with the lifting mechanism on the window, slowly pushing up the seemingly rusted panel.  It showed signs of age as paint chips began to call upon moving.  It was clear it wasn’t opened for a long time.

You held the window up, bringing your foot up to the edge, taking one last breath in this hell house.

The door quickly opened, Jin walking in with his phone in his hands, “Yah, since you ruined my playtime, you should buy me th—“  Jin looked up at the scene before him, watching you as your legs were out the window, hands still holding the panel above your head.  You cursed under your breath, hastily fighting your own strength as you tried to push yourself out.  

Jin laughed to himself, rushing towards the window as he wrapped his arms around your chest, pulling your back into his.  Your hands lost grip, causing the window to fall abruptly onto your hip.  You screamed as a wave of pain washed over you.

Jin pulled you back into the room, tolerating your writhing beneath him.  His strength level was miles above yours. Jin chuckled to himself, tightening his grip on you as he buried his head into your neck.  “You weren’t going to leave me, were you?” His low, threatening voice coated your skin in goosebumps.  You pressed your palm against his head in an attempt to push him back; he merely mocked you.

Hoseok and Jeongguk opened their door, staring at the scene before them.  “Jin, do you not fucking learn anything?”

Jin rose his head from your neck, smirking as he pushed you towards Hoseok.  You fell to your knees, panting before Hoseok’s feet as you held your waist, wincing as the pain grew worse.  “Our little girl here tried to run away,”  Jin cackled, clapping his hands together at the thought.  “And to think, haha, that you could outrun us!” Jin began cackling, an end seeming to be nowhere in sight.

Jeongguk grunted, staring down at you.  “Now you’re just begging for it, (Y/N).” His voice haunted you as it replayed through your thoughts.  “Jin, can you watch her for me?  I’m going on an errand.” Jeongguk took one las, heated look as he towered of you, before turning on his heel.

A sadistic smile crept across Jin’s face as he stared down at you.  Hoseok’s face contorted in humility as he watched Jin close in on you.  “Oh, Hoseok,”  Jin spoke softly as he lifted you up, careful not to touch your hips.  “Try not to cause a scene this time, okay?”

Jin placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward as you both left Hoseok’s room.  Hoseok stood in silence, watching as you slipped from his small, insignificant net of safety.  

Hoseok knew he was the last sane one in that house, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.


Jin pushed you into his room, closing the door behind him.  You backed yourself into a corner, watching as he paced across the room, gazing at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes.  “Who are you?”  You whispered.

Jin sneered, sighing as he threw his head back, rolling it side to side.  His neck popped twice.  “I’m Jin.  And who are you?” He took a step closer, his hands in his pocket.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“What? Can’t I be a little playful? I told you, I’m not the kind of guy you think I am,”

Another step.

“I thought you were a friend,” you muttered.  Guilt soaked your tone of voice.

“There are two types of friends in my life, (Y/N)—“

Another step.

“—The type I hug,”  

Another step.

“and the type I hurt.”

He glided his crooked fingers across your cheek, reaching around the back, bearing pressure on your head wound. You winced, sucking in air sharply. Jin removed his hand, combing his fingers through your hair. “I’d really like it if you were both, baby.” Jin leaned in, his lips targeting yours.

You turned your head, your cheek pressing aginst the wall as you tensed up. Jin groaned, “God you’re a fool.” He moved his hand to your neck, pressing his thumb against your throat.  “You’ll realize sooner or later that you’re safer with me than any of the others.”

Jin yanked his hand back, stumbling backward as he brushed his fingers through his hair, and falling onto his bed.  His feet stay grounded as his back pressed into the mattress. His chest rose and fall under his pink sweater, which had ridden up to give a peak of his sculpted stomach on the impact of his fall.

You hastily reached for the door, turning the knob as efficiently as possible before rushing yourself out of his room.  You panted as you pushed yourself against the door, hoping that the more forceful you shut it, the quicker you’d wake up.  You pressed your head against the coated wood.  

“Please wake up, please wake up.”  You begged.


The orange jumpsuit pressed against his skin, the uncomfortable fabric causing a mild itch.  His hands were bound before him in metal, a headache washing over him.  

“The trial of the century is about to begin as we hear from Jimin Park, the criminal behind the burglaries and murder’s plagueing—“ The reporters gave their speech remarkably as cameras zoned in on the disgruntled man.  His hair was a shaggy mess, and his eyes were swollen from nights spent awake in his cell.

“Let us get this hearing started,”  A woman cloaked in an all red, deeply embellished fur robe sat in her seat.  She hit her gavel against the wood before her, calling for attention.  “Mr. Park, it’s nice to finally have you in our midst.  You’ve made quite the name for yourself,”

A guard cuffed Jimin’s hands to the table before him, assuring no lofty escape would be made.  

“Do you have anything to say before we begin?”

Jimin, who had been staring at his sweating palms, gained a wry smile spreading across his cheeks as he looked up.  His eyes were watering.  “No, your honor.”

Downfall [15]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7,908

Genre: Assassin AU

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21


Two hits in one night—now it’s starting to look like a party.

The first stop at the dance studio did nothing but confirm your team’s suspicions that there’s something meaningful to be found with these map points. Although you’re not sure what exactly the enemy is trying to accomplish, you can still deduce that the information is critical enough to be kept a secret at such high stakes. Why else would the man have decided that it was better to take himself out than to let himself be taken by your team?

A bullet to the head was definitely the easy way out, especially compared to the other options awaiting your captive if you had been able to bring him in.

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Black Sheep (Part 5)

Originally posted by ageofsuperheroes

Summary: While Peter and Tony are having their talk, you find yourself speaking to an unlikely ali

A/N: You thought it was already intense

Pairing: Peter x reader   Part 1 {x} 2 {x} 3 {x} 4 {x}

Warnings: Mentions of death, one swear, SPOILERS

You found yourself standing outside an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of The Bronx, looking at the broken glass panels and rusted metal exterior. The roof was made of concrete and had a hole in the center. The hole seemed the only source of light was the moon. You cautiously opened the door, peering in to see an empty room with a large platform in the middle. The floor was tarnished wood and there were steel tables along the sides. You closed the metal door behind you and walked around. There were guns with glowing stones in the center, knives with a neon blue handle, and crates of yellow gems.

You reached for a box to open, it glowed white through the wood, when you heard the sounds of a helicopter above you. Lights peered through the empty roof and you ran behind the crate, watching and waiting. Instead of the aircraft, a pair of iron wings flew down, and crashing on the platform with a large thud. A gust of wind knocked you off your feet behind the crate, and you fell to your butt with a slight bump.

“Who’s there?”

You held your breath, scampering up to the edge of the crate. You reached into your pocket and finding the knife from earlier. Peering over the side, you saw a man unclip himself from the wings and take off his oxygen mask, stepping slowly down the steps.

“I know somebody is in my hideout…”

The man began looking in the shadows of the house, sauntering ever so slowly to the crate you were behind. He stopped in front of yours, and you gripped the handle to your knife tighter. As he turned on his heel, you jumped up and over the crate, bringing your knife up to slash him.

He was prepared, and before you even made it to the jump, he had your shirt and threw you across the room to his the diagonal steel wall. With a shrill ring coming from the panels and your ears, you fell to your knees, the knife falling from your fingertips. He walked towards you, chuckling lightly.

“Well, well, well. Look what the rat dragged in.”

You stared up at the man, shuddering in your spot. He leaned down and gently grabbed your chin.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before. Let me think… Oh! You were that former vigilante who tried being a hero, but decided to murder a few idiotic robbers. Little did you know, those were my men.”

The grip grew tighter as he finished, and you gulped heavily.

“I-in my defense, the first two were a total accident and the fire wasn’t-”

The man let go of your chin and outstretched his hand, waiting for you to grab it. With caution, you grasped him and he pulled you up.

“Might I say, you’re the only person I’ve ever known that could take down my men. Congratulations…”

“Oh, I’m (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N). What a charming name, I think my daughter talked about you recently. Liz?”

You gasped. No fucking way.

“First the murder, then taking down the school bully. I like your style.”

He turned away, stepping towards a table holding a large, green glowing gun.

“Who are you?”

He picked up the gun, admiring the weapon in his hand.

“Adrian Toomes, but I typically go by Vulture in the media.”

He turned back to you, holding a smaller, handheld version of the larger gun. Adrian began walking towards you with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“I crave a boon.”

“What boon?”

“I want you to be my partner, (Y/N). Help me take down this so-called Spider-Man, and-”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“No way, killing those people were a one time thing, I’m not doing that again.”

Adrian kept the smile glued to his face.

“You didn’t let me finish. We kill Spider-Man, and you get a title. No longer the freak in school, or the villain on the streets. You get a name, fortune, a life.”

He slowly handed you the gun, waiting for you to grab it. You stared at the glowing green, thinking of Peter. His smile, him wanting to help you so bad. His justice and wanting peace. You almost declined when you remembered when Peter looked away all those times. The memories of Flash tormenting you, how he averted eye contact. Biting his lip from intervening. Speeding ahead to avoid any communication.

You looked Adrian straight in the eyes and grabbed the gun from his hand.

“Excellent. Let’s start training now.”

Arian kicked you to the wall of the warehouse and punched you straight in the face, grabbing your gun and pointing it directly at your forehead.

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anonymous asked:

17 bunnyribbit w/ efi and the three omnic characters please

Hoo boy that’s a lot of characters! But this prompt is really cute so I’m gonna do it!

17. Gardening

Efi was perched on Orisa’s shoulders as D.Va and Lúcio gave the grand tour of the Watchpoint.

“So this is the launch tower,” said Lúcio, gesturing upward, “We don’t use it all that often, but there’s a really great view from the maintenance platforms.”

“I still can’t believe Winston won’t let me launch my MEKA into the stratosphere,” said D.Va, putting her hands on her hips. She turned on her heel to face Orisa and Efi, “Welp! That’s about it for the tour! As you can see the Watchpoint’s totally safe!”

Efi smiled, “See Orisa? Totally safe!” but Orisa’s photoreceptors narrowed skeptically.

“My neural mapping indicates that there is a section of the watchpoint that has not been covered in this tour,” she said, folding her arms.

D.Va and Lúcio exchanged glances, “Well… we just gave you the tour we got when we first got here,” said Lúcio, “It should have covered everything.”

“Not everything,” said Orisa, turning around and walking off with Efi protesting atop her shoulders.

“Orisa, you can’t just walk away, that’s rude!” Efi folded her arms and pouted.

“Your safety is my primary concern,” said Orisa, “We must investigate this area to be sure that this Watchpoint is indeed safe.”

Lúcio and D.Va quickly followed after Orisa and Efi as they headed off around the main hangar of the watchpoint to a fenced-off area. One area of the fence however, was flattened.

“Huh,” said D.Va as Orisa walked over the flattened point in the fence. She stepped over the flattened chain-link as well and took a few steps into a heavily grassy and overgrown sunlit area that received a nice breeze off the sea despite being further inland than most of the watchpoint. There was a small fence lining what must have been a garden at some point, with rusted and oxidized solar panels and a dilapidated greenhouse. Lining the area were several overgrown citrus trees, their branches groaning with fruit.

Lúcio whistled behind D.Va. “Man, Winston’s been holding out on us.”

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How Cars changed my life

Gonna gush a little about personal stuff here…

Let’s see, I was 11 when Cars first came out. I didn’t get to watch it before it came out on DVD, but when I did, hoooo boy did I watch it every. single. day. I loved it from the beginning. And at that age, you know kids are super impressionable. I felt so connected to the characters, and the more I learned about the American car culture, the more I appreciated the little details in the movie that perfectly paralleled real world automotive culture. I would spend hours watching the Barrett-Jackson auctions on TV, practically drooling over all the pristine classics. I grew to love the muscle cars of the late 60s and early 70s more and more (especially the Mopars). I knew I had to get closer to the culture instead of just viewing it through a screen. I started asking to go to car shows, which my parents agreed to, as they’ve always been car people. The Carl Casper Custom Auto Show was always the closest to where I lived, so I went to several of those and met a lot of really great, friendly people that were just as passionate about automotive culture as I was and still am. I had to be a part of this.

Fast forward 3 or 4 years. I think I was 14 (15 maybe?). I had the opportunity to invest in a car. Some dude wanted to sell his 1986 Pontiac Fiero for $300. I’d previously taken apart an old motorcycle and sold the parts on eBay, so I had the money. The car didn’t run when I got it, and it had water damage. Pretty rough. After a month or so of working on it in the dead of a Midwestern winter, my dad and I got it running. And it was fast. It had the 6 cylinder engine, which was hella impressive for a two-seater fiberglass-bodied car. Too fast for little ol me, according to dad. So I sold it and made a profit. I began looking for something else.

A year later, I was able to buy a reliable Ford Escort for $300. Nothing fancy, but I was able to complete my driver’s ed training in it. A fun little car, but again, nothing special. And I needed something that was gonna set me apart and exclaim to the world that I was a car enthusiast and belonged with the culture.

In the beginning of the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school, my prayers had been answered. It wasn’t a muscle car, it wasn’t even a Mopar. It was an old rusted 1983 Chevy pickup truck. The fenders were pretty far gone, but mechanically, it was in pretty good shape. I spent 3 months in my garage with my dad’s assistance replacing rusted panels, installing a new carburetor (the old one had the butterflies being held open by a paperclip – not the best of solutions), adjusting the timing, and doing more body work. 

I was having bouts of depression along this same time, so it helped a lot to get out of bed and have something to do, and keep my mind occupied as I fought against it. I would talk to this truck, sing it songs, just anything to feel like someone cared and knew what I was going through. It became more than a project, my Scotty became a friend (he’s a Scottsdale, get it?). A place I could go to and get away from the things I needed to run from.

Here’s what it looked like at the beginning of all this (I can’t find the picture before I stripped the grill and trim off) - 

Three months. Midwestern summertime (90+ degrees and humidity you can practically swim in). I was a 16 year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have something of her own to be proud of. I was still watching Cars nearly every night (trying to hide it from my parents because I didn’t want them to know I was/am so obsessed with it) and still noticing new details I’d never noticed before. Every day I’d go work on this truck. For 3 months. 

Piece by piece it came together. Every day he looked a little better. And every day I would feel better. There would be relapses occasionally, where I just couldn’t bring myself to go outside, but every time I was able to pull through. Because he was there, and he was my purpose.

And, boy let me tell you, was all that work worth it. This was the finished product, and I have never been more proud of anything.

Yep, that’s the same truck. No professional help whatsoever. You should have seen the look on the boys’ faces when I pulled up to school in this! I finally had my classic truck. It might not be a 60s or 70s classic, but it was mine and mine alone. 

I didn’t beat the depression for another 3 years or so, but Scotty was right there with me the whole time. And maybe it’s weird to find solace in an inanimate object, I don’t know. Occasionally he’d bust a line or something, and I’d have to fix that piece of him, and occasionally I’d have a break down and choose to go for a drive to try and feel better. He never let me down when I needed him most. And he looked good doing it.

Throughout all of this, I learned a lot. 

- First, automotive work like this is not easy and it takes a long time without the proper tools (especially if you have no idea what you’re doing to begin with). Still, it is incredibly rewarding.

- Second, if you want something bad enough, you will work harder than you thought possible to attain it. And it might take a long time and have its ups and downs, but don’t lose sight of your goal. 

- Third, a single event, no matter how small it may seem to others, can change your life (for the better!). Pixar decided to release a movie in 2006 about anthropomorphic cars. One kid saw it, and was able to save a vehicle like this from rusting away. One kid saw this movie, and loved it so much they adopted a life time love for something they previously held no interest in. One kid saw it, and used its inspiration to defeat a mental illness.

Now it’s 2017. Cars 3 just came out and was the sequel I’d been hoping for since 2007. And you can bet I drug my adult self to the theaters to see it all by myself. It’s 2017, and I still have my Scotty sitting at home, well taken care of, with just a few more miles on him than when I bought him and fixed him.

All because I saw a movie when I was 11 years old.

Rearview.

“Back in fifteen,” I said.

I closed our front door and twirled the car keys around my finger. Through the giant bay window I saw my beautiful wife sidling a chair up to the table. Our two boys, four and eight, sat dutifully on the same side waiting for dessert. It was a decent home. It was a decent life.

Most days.

I tried to ignore the rusted panel van as it passed by in the cul de sac. Couldn’t resist, though. The driver gave me a nod. Two men piled out in my driveway, pulling masks over their faces. The corner of my eye caught the last of the sun glinting on their axes in the rearview.

Faded

Title: Faded (Part 1)

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary: After a witch steals Dean’s memory of you, ten years of your life along side him is ripped away. In a desperate attempt to protect your heart, you beg Sam not to tell Dean about your relationship. You have sentenced yourself to watch in agony as Dean unknowingly breaks your heart.

Word Count: ~4,500

A/N: There should only be two parts and I’m working hard on the second now! I’m hoping it can be out in a few days (Sunday maybe!) Hope you guys like it! It’s pretty narrative heavy, but I wrote it at my desk at work on my iPhone so hopefully it’s not too bad lol. Let me know what you think!!! 😊

A sinking feeling filled and consumed your chest as Sam weaved in and out of traffic in suburb just on the outskirts of Kansas City. He nearly clipped the impala’s side view mirror as he cut off a rusted pickup truck turning onto the adjacent street.

Sam didn’t let up on the gas as he raced through the neighborhood, plowing through the roads at nearly twenty over the speed limit, the roar of the engine rupturing through the silence. There was an ominous nature to the fog clouding over the sky as it was illuminated only by the dim light of stars painted in distant freckles upon the darkness. It sent chills down your spine.

Sam’s knuckles gripped paper white against the steering wheel as he swerved around a skateboard lying in the center of the street. You held back the growing lump in your throat that had been threatened to suffocate you ever since you learned of Dean’s disappearance. His absence in the impala left a gaping hole in your chest.

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Skyrim: Dungeon Crawl

I’m sorry but…I really like writing about @nikanono ‘s OC, I haven’t written my own character in years and having Vi around really brought Fey to life in such a great way. 

So here is Fey and Vi drawn by Nika

And here is part 1! 

If I continue this, it will most likely be rando adventures with the two of these nerds 


“Let’s see we got that good old fashion ten layers of dust, spider webs for days, burnt stuff, broken stuff, more spiders and oh! Just that wonderful rotting flesh smell”

Vi stopped for a moment in the middle of what was once a small library that contained a wealth of knowledge but was now a decaying pile of ash, probably the scene of a fire or mage fight, it was hard to tell. There was nothing left but broken furniture and books burnt beyond repair, most likely due to one too many thieves and other adventurers alike. She took a deep breath, as if to enjoy it like the fresh mountain air but proceeded to cough and hack as dust promptly flew into her throat.  

“G-gotta love it” Vi groaned, doubling over and continued to wheeze.

Fey rolled her eyes but found herself chuckling lightly.

“You’re an odd one”

With one last sigh, Vi stood back up and huffed, clearing her throat of any other foreign specks of dust or ash, “If I had a coin for every time you said that so far I’d earn back what I fronted you”

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