#Connecting water pipes to taps

[tapronlimited]

5 Steps to Installing a Tap

The "5 Steps to Installing a Tap" guide on Tapron.co.uk offers a clear, step-by-step approach to fitting a new basin tap, emphasizing preparation, correct assembly, and installation techniques. It outlines essential tools and accessories needed, including sealing tape and wrenches, and covers everything from dismantling the old tap to connecting pipes and verifying the installation's success. This practical guide is aimed at ensuring a smooth DIY tap installation process. For a detailed walkthrough, check the full guide here.

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

ravish

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: i recycled this old fic and made it a logan one yay! this was written the day after i watched once upon a time in Hollywood in theaters, clearly. haven't written smut in so long ;_;

wc: 2.4k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | age gap,oral sex, masturbation and sexual themes

summary: Y/N was at a festival last night and needs to hit the road again to go on her next adventure. she hitches a drive with someone who might just be that.

au: 1970's

You squirmed as your now blistered bare feet stood on the sizzling hot concrete.

Your arm was out, holding a thumbs up, hoping that one of the roadside drivers pull over and give you a lift. The leather backpack you were wearing was so hot it began to burn your lower back; summers in Phoenix, Arizona were practically unbearable. 

The air was dry and dusty; the back of your throat ached for a gulp of water. You had been dehydrated since you had woken up this morning.

You had gone to one of the biggest parties you had ever seen. You hardly knew anyone, and that was the joy of it; You met people from all over the States, Canada even people from Europe.

You had consumed lots of drugs and fun drinks during the night, all given to you by generous strangers.

You had lost your shoes sometime during the night, but that didn’t stop you from dancing to the music that filled your ears. Guitar strums resonated throughout the field, each chord amplified by the psychedelics you’d taken, making you feel the music deep in your bones.

Lighters were held high, illuminating the dark field. It felt like you were one with everyone in the stars.

This morning, you woke up in the middle of a flower field.

The blazing sun had pierced your vision, ripping through the haze from the pollen white flowers. Multiple ants covered your sugary drink. Disgusted, you tossed it to the side, got up and walked to the nearest busy street, which was farther than you had anticipated.

You were dressed in your crochet crop top and cut-off jean shorts from last night. Your wrists were decked in various friendship bracelets that you had received during the night, an odd custom for a party, but now you had keepsakes. You smiled, remembering the connections you had made.

Cars sped by, giving you somewhat of a  'refreshing breeze' to withstand the scorching heat of today. 

Your arm began to prickle, and the pounding headache of a hangover formed in your temples. You sighed impatiently as you tapped your foot on the ground.

I don't even care who picks me up, just get me out of here,

You thought.

Your stomach growled with hunger, you had only consumed liquid in the past 14 hours.

You observed the people in the cars that passed by you:

Well-dressed women who deliberately ignored your presence.

Families in full cars, with fathers who noticed your needy figure but quickly averted their eyes, conscious of their wives in the passenger seat.

Young men, young women.

New, inexperienced drivers

As you began to lose hope, a dodge challenger pulled over in front of you.

Cracking a smile, you skipped to the passenger window. The unknown man leaned over the console and rolled down the window.

"Whereabouts are you headed?" You asked, propping your elbows on the edge of his piping hot car. "I'm headed through Tucson, then El Paso." He spoke. 

The truth was, you didn't care about where you were going, you just wanted to go somewhere else. You had been hopping from state to state for the whole summer now, and you weren't going to stop.

You were young, wild, and free. 

"Perfect." You grinned and opened the door cheekily.

You sat down, propping your practically black feet up on the dash nonchalantly. The man just grunted and steered the car back onto the road.

You observed him quietly. 

The first thing you noticed was his height; he barely fit in the small car seats. His large hand wrapped effortlessly around the steering wheel, knuckles still marked with dried blood—evidence of a fight from the night before.

He had a tanned complexion, with dark hair that looked soft to the touch. His broad, muscular shoulders nearly brushed against you, and you caught a faint scent of cologne mixed with whiskey and woody cigars.

He wore a white tank top beneath a flannel, paired with worn work jeans. A pair of tinted aviators rested on the bridge of his angular nose, and his work boots, as dirty as your own feet, pressed down on the gas pedal.

 "What do you do for a living?" You continued eyeing him.

The man snorted. 

"I do all sorts of things. Mostly any job with tools." He replied. 

"So, a handyman?" You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"You could call me that." He rasped.

"So, is that why you're going to El Paso? To work?" The car stopped at a red light.  The man reached into the glove compartment in front of you, his arm hair brushing against your thigh as he grabbed a box of cigars.

"You're a smart kid." He mumbled as he stuffed a cigar between his lips. He lit the end and took a drag;

"And you're running away from home," He offered you a cigar.

"Uh-no, I'm just on a solo adventure." You took a cigar from the box.

He lit the end with a swipe of his thumb and you inhaled; a dry scratchy feeling in your throat made you erupt in a coughing fit, trying to catch your breath.

The man found this amusing, his eyes crinkled as he grinned.

"If you don't smoke, kid, don't start now." He pulled the cigar from your lips and placed it in his mouth, where it joined the one he was already smoking. Now, two cigars jutted out from the side of his mouth.

"Jesus, you don't need to out-smoke me, I think you already did that." You crossed your arms with a huff.

"You're too innocent for smokes anyway...Also too innocent to wear whatever you have on now. It ain't covering much." He practically scolded, tightening his grip on the wheel.

Your cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"If it bothers you so much, stop checking me out, then." You rolled your eyes.

"Don't need to when it's all in your face. Can see your whole stomach and half of your ass is hanging out." He flung one of the cigars outside. 

"Perv." You looked out your window.

The man swallowed hard and stayed quiet, driving behind the other vehicles.

You picked up on his silence.

"Oh, you didn't like that did you?" You continued. 

He ignored you as you re-drew your attention to him, he stayed focused on the road in front of him.

You grinned.

This was amusing, you had a man about 20 years older than you all flustered because you caught him checking you out. You were probably his fantasy; young college girl age, petite, adventurous, non-commital. Compared to uptight, old fuller marital women of his age. 

The truth was, you've always liked older men but never attempted to be with one outside of your fantasies.

It was common for younger women to be coupled with older men, but the men from your town were distasteful, not like this man who was sitting next to you. 

You turned around in your seat and laid down to where your head was on his lap, and your feet were sitting on the passenger side door.

"What're you doin' kid?" He grumbled looking down at your face from the wheel.

"You want me to suck your dick don't you?" You met his eyes.

He scoffed and turned his attention to the road again.

"How old are ya'?" He took a drag.

"Pfft, I'm old enough." You replied.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

"Guess how old?" You added. 

"Early-twenties." He blew smoke out the window, cherry wood.

He guessed correctly. A devious smile curled at your lips.

"You sure know your young women pretty well, sir." You chuckled at your own joke.

The man took the hand that held the cigar and cupped your face roughly pressing his thumb on your lips, shutting you up. His cigar burned centimetres away from your face, a faint heat could be felt from the lit tip and the smoke drifted in your nostrils, the smell was intoxicating.

"Don't say things like that." He grumbled. You bit his calloused thumb seductively, giving it a soft suck which earned a raspy "fuck" from the man. 

"What's your name anyway?" He removed his thumb from your mouth placing the hand on the steering wheel. He squirmed slightly in the seat, readjusting his hips, and your head moved with him. He was getting harder by the minute.

"It's Y/N. You?" 

"Y/N?" He tasted your name on his lips. "-Logan." He growled, in a husky voice.

Your hands drifted down to your shorts, and you unbuttoned them. His eyes darted to your hands, and you felt his chest expand against your head as he took a deep breath.

You pulled them under your hips and let them bunch at your ankles. You spread your knees apart, exposing your clothed goods. You were wearing a light blue thong.

"You want to feel?" You lightly stroked your legs, prompting him to go the same.

Logan took one last drag of his cigar and threw it out the window, like the first one; his right hand was now free.

Instead of taking up your offer, he just returned his hand to the wheel, ignoring you.

"Fine then," You whined.

You pulled the fabric to the side, revealing your now wet folds.

You began to play with yourself, slowly. Rubbing supple, soft circles on your clit. Quiet moans escaped your lips as you built a rhythm. You knew where it felt good, you weren't new to touching yourself.

You turned your head to the side, facing Logan's shirt, you inhaled his scent and let out another moan.

Logan let out a low grumble from his chest and lowered his hand onto yours.

He guided your hand to insert your fingers inside of you. You let out a surprised whimper as he worked your hand to fuck yourself.

"Mh- I want- ah- your fingers, not mine- ah-" You managed between thrusts.

He removed your hand from your core and lifted it to his face, he inhaled deeply before mumbling another fuck.

"Taste yourself." He commanded as he brought your fingers to your mouth.

You complied, inserting your index and middle finger as deep in your mouth as possible, looking up at him while doing so. He watched you while biting his lip.

His hand snaked under your crop top, lifting it, exposing your breasts.

"Fuck sake," He breathed out after seeing what was underneath.

"Can't do this here." He jerked the wheel aggressively to the side, pushing you further into him.

He had pulled the car into an off-road wooded clearing a few miles away from the city; of course, it didn't take long for him to get there, he had gunned it the whole way; after all, he had more pressing matters to take care of.

You.

The both of you had made your way into the back seat of the car, your knees hung over his bulky shoulders, his face buried deep between your legs.

You were completely naked and he was fully dressed aside from the flannel that was discarded moments ago.

You gripped fist fulls of his hair as he lapped at your sensitive spot. Logan loved eating you out, your taste was sweet and your smell was intoxicating. Your wetness dripped off his chin as he sucked on your clit, sending you to another dimension entirely. He was skilled with his tongue, he knew how to keep a steady rhythm and when to switch it up. He groaned against you, savouring every second he had with you.

Logan had never been with such a pretty young thing like you before, he couldn't get enough.

He pressed his thick calloused index finger at your entrance while still using his tongue. Slowly, he pumped it deeper and deeper inside you, eventually reaching his knuckle. You moaned into your hand, trying to muffle the noise you were making. The two points of stimulation were too much.

You were already approaching your orgasm; Your hips bucked against his jaw and hand as you escalated gradually to meet that sweet release.

"Logan ah- I'm gonna cum" You exclaimed tightening your grip on his hair. This was the motivation for him to go even harder. He caught his breath against you between his thrusts. Pushing back against your clenching thighs and dove deeper, licking long fat strokes on your swollen clit. His coarse facial hair rubs against your skin, causing a slight burning sensation. Your knees shook as he picked his pace and enveloped your sensitive bud between his lips, sucking hungrily and giving it a slight bite.

Logan groaned as he heard your moan of surprise, you didn't know you like that. But he did.

You felt the pressure begin to pool out as your head tilted back with a loud moan:

Your fingertips and toes began to tingle.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Your back arched instinctively.

Logan sent you over the edge, you fell in shambles of moans and whimpers as he slowly helped you ride out your orgasm.

"That's it sweetheart, good girl." He murmured with his mouth full of you as you caught your breath.

He slowly lapped you clean until you began to feel sensitive. Logan pulled back and looked at you hungrily as he licked your cum off his lips.

"You really like doing that don't you?" You asked breathless.

He snuck his hand down to your slick and now swollen pussy, using his fingers to spread you open. He observes it in awe as if he hadn't spent the last few minutes with his face right up there.

"It's... pretty...n' soft." He mumbled under his breath. Logan ducks down and places a long kiss right on the sensitive area, breathing you in once more.

You flushed a bright pink, embarrassed. You had never had a guy ravish you like this.

"Your turn, let's switch," You said propping yourself up on your elbows.

Logan chuckled."Nah, kid, we gotta hit the road." He tugged on his pants to relieve the pressure of his hard-on against the denim.

"But you-" You start but Logan cuts you off by pulling you in for a hungry kiss. His hand tangled in your hair as he pressed you to him, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. You moan in his mouth again and he pulls away with a smirk.

"Later," He grits, pocketing your panties. "Get dressed," He spanks your ass and gets out the back seat.

"Yes sir," You excitedly find your clothes.

i feel like logan loves to eat out, oops :)

->-> click here for part 2 <-<-

->->click here for part 3<-<-

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[doumadono]

For sinful sunday (I literally pray so my prompt gets some votes lol) - how about showering with Touya/Dabi???

Warnings: smut w/o plot, shower smut, rough smut, pussy fingering, oral (m receiving), fem villain!reader, established relationship, some spanking, quirk usage

A/N: this request got the third highest number of votes during the second Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

It was hard to be a villain. 

The life you had chosen was not for the faint-hearted, and it had taken everything from you, leaving only a raw, jagged determination to fight back. 

Giran had seen that spark in you, the way your eyes had blazed with untamed fury when you crossed paths in a seedy alley one rainy night. 

You had been on the run, a fugitive without a cause, and he had offered you an opportunity — a chance to join the League of Villains. It hadn't taken much convincing. After all, you had nothing left to lose.

Joining the League wasn't easy. You had to prove your worth through countless trials, showing that you could stand your ground amidst the chaos. 

The League was a motley crew of outcasts and renegades, each with their own dark pasts and twisted motives. 

The first time you met Dabi, he barely acknowledged your presence, dismissing you as just another unnecessary mouth to feed. But your persistence, unwavering determination, exceptional combat skills and quick thinking caught his attention.

Beneath the animosity, there was an undeniable attraction, a pull that neither of you could resist.

He was tough, abrasive, and often cruel, but there was something in his eyes when he looked at you — a flicker of comprehension, a hint of appreciation.

You were both broken, scarred by the world, and your shared pain forged a bond that transcended words. 

Your relationship with Dabi had started with friction, but over time, the rough edges had smoothed, revealing a raw and intense connection. You found solace in each other's darkness. 

The hideout was silent, save for the creaking pipes and the distant hum of city life. 

You and Dabi returned after a particularly grueling mission. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, leaving you restless and on edge. 

The mission had been challenging, pushing both of you to your limits. Your muscles ached, and the grime and sweat clung to your skin, making you long for the solace of a shower, to feel clean again. 

Unfortunately, the building's hot water supply had failed. Again. 

Frustration welled up inside you, but the need to feel clean overrode your reluctance.

Stripping off your dirty clothes, you stepped into the cramped bathroom and unscrewed the tap in a shower stall. A shiver ran through you as the icy water hit your skin, drawing a whine from your lips. "Dammit," you muttered, hugging yourself for warmth, already shivering all over the body from the overwhelming cold. The icy water was unbearable, but you forced yourself to endure it, trying to wash away the remnants of the day.

The bathroom door creaked open, and you turned to see Dabi leaning casually against the frame, a smirk playing on his lips. "Cold, huh?" he said, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, no thanks to this shitty plumbing," you replied, teeth chattering.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up in that infuriatingly attractive way. He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered towards you. "Let me fix that for you."

You watched, captivated, as he undressed tantalizingly slowly. His white t-shirt came off first, revealing the patchwork of scars that adorned his torso, each one a testament to his brutal past. Next came his dark pants, sliding down his long legs with deliberate seduction. Finally, he stepped out of his boxers, leaving him gloriously bare, his cock you loved so much resting snuggly against his upper thighs.

Dabi stepped into the shower behind you. The cold water didn't seem to bother him; his quirk made him immune to such discomforts. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "Can't let you freeze to death, can I?"

His quirk activated, his body heating instantly, and the water transformed from icy to blissfully warm. Steam rose around you, enveloping you in a sultry haze. The shower and bathroom felt like a sauna, the air thick with dampness.

You turned in his arms, pressing your body against his, squeezing your breasts against his chest. The heat from his quirk seeped into your skin, and you moaned softly at the delicious warmth. You sighed in relief, closing your eyes as the hot water soothed your aching muscles. But then, you felt his rough hands on your hips, pulling you closer. Your eyes snapped open to find him staring down at you, his gaze intense and filled with hunger.

Dabi's hands roamed over your back, trailing fire in their wake.

"Thanks, I needed that," you breathed, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

His response was immediate and hungry, his mouth devouring yours with a fervor that left you dizzy. His tongue teased yours, a dance of dominance and submission. 

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

As you two kissed, your hand drifted downward, brushing against the length of his cock. 

His breath hitched slightly, a low growl rumbling from his chest as you grasped his cock, stroking him slowly. 

The feel of him, firm and hot, growing hard and throbbing in your hand, sent a jolt of desire through your body, making your pussy wet. You couldn’t stop thinking about having this dick buried in your tight cunt, stretching your velvety walls to their limits.

The desire was so violent it seemed devouring your entire being.

His eyes darkened with lust, and he bucked slightly into your hand, the rhythm of your movements drawing a ragged moan from him. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with an intense, burning need even though his damp bangs fell directly into his eyes. "You’re playing with fire," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"Maybe I like getting burned," you whispered back, your voice a sultry whisper.

You kept on stroking his cock, occasionally brushing its mushroom head with your thumb as the two of you kept on kissing. Your other hand moved to his ball sack, where you gently massaged him, eliciting a deep, throaty groan from Dabi’s lips.

You moaned as his needy hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit with a fierce intensity. Dabi was impatient, and you could feel it in every urgent stroke. Soon, his long, middle finger slipped into your slick entrance, gently brushing your inner walls as he finger fucked you.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck, leaving a path of scorching kisses that made you moan softly. “You’re so fucking wet.” His thumb started brushing against your folds, pressing on them and flicking against them, making you a moaning mess.

Your body arched against him, craving more of his touch, more of the heat that only he could provide. "Dabi, please..." you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Impatient, aren't we?" 

“Please,” you whined, trying to make him slip another finger in your needy hole.

“Suck my dick and you’ll be rewarded,” he cooed, gently slapping your hand, pushing it off his one. as he brought his finger that was previously buried in you to his mouth, licking it clean. “Tasty as always.”

You knelt down before Dabi. The water flowed down your face and body, making your skin glisten with moisture. He looked down at you with a devious grin spreading across his face.

You began by gently kissing his inner thighs, teasing him with soft, wet kisses. 

He let out a soft moan.

Next, you wrapped your hand around the base of his hardening cock, enjoying the feeling of its weight in your hand. The water from the showerhead made it slippery and smooth, making your task all the more pleasurable. 

You then leaned forward, parting your lips to take the head of his cock into your mouth. 

He hissed through his teeth, hissing, "Fuck, yes," as you began to suck on the tip of his cock.

You swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked from his slit. It was a taste you had grown to love, and it only served to heighten your own arousal. You took his entire length into your mouth shortly after, your lips sliding down his shaft as your tongue swirled around him.

Dabi's moans grew louder, echoing off the bathroom walls as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You could feel his hands on the back of your head, guiding your movements and urging you to take him deeper.

You moved your hand in sync with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock as you sucked on the head. You paused for a moment, looking up at him.

His eyes were partially closed, and his head was thrown back in pure ecstasy. 

You knew that he was close to the edge, so you decided to take it up a notch.

You took his cock into your mouth once more, using your hand to massage his balls as you pushed his dick as deep down your throat as you could, gagging yourself. You could feel his balls tighten, a sure sign that he was about to cum.

Dabi let out a loud moan, his cock twitching as he erupted into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah,” he growled.

You swallowed every drop of his thick seed, savoring the taste of his cum as you milked his cock for every last drop. Still on your knees, you looked up at him smiling sweetly, your lips still wet and sticky with his cum.

Dabi smirked down at you, pulling you up to your feet. But then, he lifted you slightly so you could wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your back against the shower wall. 

“Dabi, please, I need you!”

He met your gaze, his turquoise eyes burning with desire. "I love it when you beg," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face. He nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you as his. 

Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on. “Fuck me,” you whispered, biting your lower lip.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmured against your collarbone, his breath hot and teasing as he lined his cock with your tight entrance.

Without another word, he pushed his cock into your pussy with a single, powerful thrust. 

You cried out, your back arching as pleasure and pain mingled in a heady rush. 

Dabi set a relentless pace. His large hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove deeper, harder. “So fucking tight,” he murmured.

The cool tiles pressed against your back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he pinned you in place, fucking you rough, just the way he liked.

Your breaths mingled, ragged and urgent, as the tension built within you. You could barely catch your breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to anchor yourself. "Dabi," you moaned, your voice a mixture of desperation and bliss. "Don't stop."

His lips curled into a smirk at your words, and he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss. 

You could taste the salt of your combined sweat and the faint metallic tang of his tongue piercing.

He broke the kiss to nip at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "I won't stop," he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. "Not until you scream my name." His grip tightened on your hips, and he angled his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you.

You whined pathetically like a cheap whore. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, ready to snap at any moment. 

His hips pistoned into yours, his veiny cock brushing against all your sweet spots as he fucked you rough. 

Your eyes rolled back into your skull whenever the tip of his cock pressed hard against your cervix, making you wetter with every passing second. You were glad he was fucking you in the shower; otherwise, he’d leave you a total mess, too exhausted to clean yourself. You slipped one of your hands between your bodies to rub little circles around your clit for more friction, rolling your head back to rest it against the tiles as the pleasure made you shiver and moan.

Dabi chuckled darkly, squeezing the meat of your ass before spanking it hard enough to leave an imprint of his hand. "That's my little cockslut," he praised, nibbling your earlobe.

When he hit that particularly sweet spot of yours a few times in a row, you couldn’t help it. With a cry, you squirted, your release mixing with the water cascading around you, staining his shredded abdomen.

Dabi chuckled, licking his lips. "That's it, little matchbox, that's my good girl. Is daddy making you feel that good?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, burying your head in the crook of his neck, feeling all shy out of sudden. “I… I wanna cum…”

Dabi chuckled and hissed after feeling your pussy clamping down on his cock. "Daddy's going to make you cum."

With a final, powerful thrust, you both shattered, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave. 

Your pussy convulsed around his cock as if it tried to milk all of his cum, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. 

Dabi held you tightly, riding out his own peak with a guttural moan. Before he cum though, he withdrew from you, and jerked himself a few times, coming all over your abdomen with a loud groans escaping his lips.

As the aftershocks subsided, you clung to each other, the steam slowly dissipating around you. 

Dabi's forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and soothing. "Feeling clean now?" he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Yeah, I guess… I feel even more tired, but damn, it was worth it.”

He kissed you gently, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before. "Anytime, little matchbox. I fucking love you.”

You chuckled, gently stroking up and down his toned chest and abdomen. “And I love you too, my edgy arsonist.”

A frown crossed his forehead, but he let out a soft chuckle. "Well, this time I'll let it slip, but call me that again and I'll have to punish you."

You nodded, and the two of you began washing yourselves.

No matter how hard it was to be a villain, facing it together made it all worthwhile.

[dear-ao3]

well good day to all of you. i have a tale. a classified, certified absolute god tier disaster of a tale.

at the ripe hour of 6:45 am i was awoken from my slumber by a Noise. what sort of noise? you might be asking.

the sort of noise that usually accompanies my father getting up at the ass crack of dawn and trying not to turn on the tap loudly so that he doesnt wake us up.

for one blissful moment i thought that i was at home, in my bed, and all was right with the world.

and then i remembered that i live approximately four hours away from my parents and all is not right with the world.

so i did what any person would do. waited for the noise to go away.

but it did not.

so i investigated. in all my bleary eyed glory.

and found that my bathroom ceiling light was pissing.

not just a little either.

a severe, unauthorized amount of water was streaming out of my bathroom light fixture.

so after banging on katyas door and finding a bucket and throwing on a sweatshirt i dragged my tired ass down to the front desk and reported the tea as it were.

now one thing you need to know about our building is that it is old. the second thing you need to know about our building is that the maitenance guys (we call them the boys) are absolutely incredible, like tumblr funny guy posts but irl, however they take for fucking ever to respond to any situation.

this time though, nothing was in clear danger of exploding or lighting on fire. so we made some breakfast. drank some coffee. watched the bucket that we had put in the bathroom fill up with water. and we waited.

and waited.

and waited some more.

then i noticed that if you stepped on some of our kitchen floor tiles they started squelching.

so back downstairs i went and explained the tea as it were once again.

and let it be known, that i worked for two very solid and very miserable years as a resident assistant in college. i know all about the woes of people complaining to you to fix things that you cannot fix and you cannot tell them when it will be fixed because the person who needs to do the fixing is otherwise indisposed. so my general attitude towards this whole situation was "hey man you can't make this better for me and im really not pressed about it as long as someone eventually comes and sorts out my pissing ceiling." which is a great attitude to have in this general situation. and especially so because it was about to get even more strange.

at approximately 9:30am our apartment was graced by the presence of one of the boys. the maintenance man. we will call him james.

we have encountered james before. he delt with our fuse box nearly exploding. that situation was not nearly as chill as this one was.

hes also incredible.

so he comes in and he goes "hey how's it going" and i say "well you know things are just leaking!"

he proceeds to tell us that the fridge in the apartment above us had a connection pipe that froze and exploded some how and that managed to leak all into our apartment. not nearly what i was expecting but hey! at least they know what's going on!

we tell him about the squelching tiles and he says that he will bring us a dehumidifier after he turns off the water and deals with the mess of the fridge above us. we say ok great! this is wonderful!

and he goes to leave the apartment. out of habit i had locked the door when he entered. he goes "aw man did you lock me in?"

and i say

"oh sorry!"

and he pauses.

and he looks at our door in disbelief. perhaps even utter horror.

and this, my lovely audience, is what he was looking at:

surprisingly. he was not staring at the entertainment for man and horse plaque that katya and i found while thrifting. nay. he was staring at the unfortunate combination of the printed photo of lando norris and max verstappens face.

now why are lando norris and ax verstappen on the back of my door? you might be asking. you might even be asking who they are.

and if youve been following the lore of this blog, you might recognize them as formula 1 drivers. lando norris of course being a mclaren driver and max verstappen being the reigning world champion of team red bull.

and how did they wind up on my door? well at christmas katya thought it would be funny to put a picture of lando norris on top of our christmas tree and so we got one printed at cvs but when you get wallet sized photos printed they print you four of them so we ended up with four of the same photo of lando. one went on the tree, one went to my sister, one is in our bathroom and now one is on the back of our door.

as for max. well. katyas partner drinks red bull and he was on the red bull box so we cut him out and stuck him there. neither of us are particularly big max fans, it was just funny.

but anyway. i digress.

james is standing there staring at this array of perplexing stuff and goes.

"really? him??"

and i go

"yeah..." not knowing what else to say.

and james turns. and he looks at us. and he goes. and i shit you the absolute fuck not.

"now what's wrong with lewis hamilton???"

(sir lewis hamilton being the mercedes f1 driver, 7 time world champion and absolute icon)

and katya and i go

"oh no no! we love lewis hamilton! we just respect him too much to put him on the door!"

which is true

and james goes "now what did you think of him going to ferrari?"

and i say "i thought it was an interesting choice"

and katya says "i was surprised."

and james says "you and me both" and then he shuts the door behind him.

katya and i look at eachother. and we both fall to the floor in fits of laughter.

let it be known that james has come face to face with a giant tapestry of mr worldwide mr 305 pitbull himself that is in our bathroom, on several occasions, and yet, he chooses to comment on our choice of formula 1 driver that is taped to the back of our door.

im still in a state of disbelief. my ceiling is still pissing. my floor is still squelching. and my maintenance man felt the need to call our my choice of formula 1 driver at 9:30 on a saturday morning.

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Fruit Loops and other shenanigans (sfw)

Bay Mikey being a menace :) sibling goofiness! tags: eating noises, I guess? Swearing

I’m picturing Mikey getting bored a lot in the lair.

The guy with endless energy, who doesn’t like to be alone with his thoughts- would gravitate to his brothers, to spend time with them and enjoy their company.

But his brothers want their alone time; they need it to recharge, to rest.

So often Mikey gets doors closed in his face with promises of “later,” as he’s left alone with his thoughts.

And more often than not, those thoughts become mischievous, and a little devious.

One quiet afternoon, before the chaos of patrol prep, Mikey’s sitting at the kitchen table, munching on a box of Fruit Loops as he stares gloomily around the quiet lair.

Bored out of his mind.

He could almost hear the faint sounds of the pipes above as he crunched on the dry cereal; his mind screaming at him to “do something” as he shoved fistfuls of the colorful rounds into his mouth.

So. Fucking. Bored.

Mikey spit a bit of cereal onto the table in his excitement as Leo walked into the living room.

“Fh-sup, man! You wanna play a game or something?” He wiped the crumbs from his mouth with a grin as Leo rolled his eyes, smiling at his little brother’s ever-present enthusiasm.

He raised the book in his hand as he sat down on the couch. “I’m going to read for a bit, Mike. You’re welcome to join me.” Leo crossed a leg over a knee as he opened his novel up, eyes already skimming the pages in earnest.

Mikey grumbled quietly at the table as he stared at the back of Leo’s head. “Yeah. Cause that sounds like soooo much fun.” He stuck a hand back in the cereal box, fishing another handful out-

And smirking to himself as his brother’s shoulders tensed at the sounds of his munching.

Leo didn’t look up from the page, but shifted slightly on the couch cushions as he continued reading.

Ignore him. Just ignore him.

Mikey grabbed another handful of cereal, this time not closing his mouth as he chewed, letting the loud crunching noises cut through the silence.

Leo cleared his throat.

His blue eyes shot an irritated look to the youngest over his shoulder as he glanced up from his book.

“Really?”

Mikey shrugged.

With an exaggerated eye roll Leo turned, and went back to the page he was reading.

The orange-banded turtle tapped a finger on the table for a moment, before looking back at his brother’s head with a toothy grin.

Mikey fished a handful of fruit loops out of the box, eating one quietly to appease his brother-

And then tossed one directly at Leo’s head.

It hit with a soft noise, but the sound Leo made was not quiet.

“MIKEY-“ He jerked in his seat and spun around to look at his brother, who tossed the remaining handful in his mouth with a grin.

“Yesh, Leuo?” He swallowed as his older brother glared at him from the couch. “Are you done reading now?”

As the eldest huffed and rose up from the couch, he mumbled under his breath as he marched off to his room. “Don’t know …why I bothered…read…here…the first place.”

Mikey grinned devilishly as he watched Leo leave, rising from the table with his box of cereal artillery.

Who’s next?

He could hear the sound of weights clinking as Raph lifted in the gym.

Oh, this was too easy.

Mikey grabbed a few fruit loops from the box, and knelt by the doorway, waiting for Raph to finish his set and put the barbell down.

At the sound of the heavy thunk, Mikey flicked the cereal piece into the air, connecting with Raph’s head as he grabbed a drink of water.

His brother sprayed liquid as he sputtered, angry and confused at the sneak attack.

“THE FUCK?!”

Raph looked around wildly, and it took everything Mikey had in him not to laugh as he hid.

“MIKEY-“

The youngest grabbed his box and sped from the gym, laughing gleefully as he tore down the hallway.

Now for Donnie-

His plans were cut abruptly short at the vibration in his pocket.

As he pulled out his phone, Mikey couldn’t help but laugh at the message.

Dee: Don’t even think about it, Mikey.

some fluff for ya: @thelaundrybitch @zombiesnips-blog @4evrdreamin5 @the-cauldron-witch @pheradream-15 @iridescentflamingo @scholastic-dragon @xnorthstar3x @gornackeaterofworlds @sophiacloud28

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! 18+

[twst-drabbles]

Azul and Idia 2

Summary: The winter chills and heavy rains have completely shut off your lights and your heater as a result. You bring out your old board games just to play around with this, and two little pets decided to join.

(Have I ever told any of you that I have a tiny board game collection? I do. Anyways, take a guess as to what board game I am referring to in this drabble. Should be easy to guess.)

There are many things about this house that you really loved. You loved it’s rather remote location, love that it’s not so remote that you needed a vehicle to drive to the store. You loved that there’s plenty of plants to give you fresh air. And mostly, you loved that this house was made to be used by anyone. You didn’t have to worry about being locked out of your basic needs just because you couldn’t use magic to activate them.

What you don’t love is the fact that this is an old house. Because it lacked modern sensibilities, it is prone to fail more often than you’d like.

And right now, you are in the middle of such a failing. Wind and rain have been pelting your roof, pipes and wires like no tomorrow and eventually, your house just gave up. The lights flickered one day and went out like that. Along with your heater.

You already called in advance, but because of the weather, you’d have to sit tight for the next few days until conditions are good.

So, here you are, bundled up in your winter hiking clothing just because it was the closest thing on hand, with you two little pets.

Azul, the little guppy, was no stranger to the cold. His kind are used to being in frigid waters, so he didn’t have to wear anything. Well, rather he didn’t want to wear anything. Hates clothing since it always sticks to him in all the wrong ways. His skin is always wet, so you can understand.

“Nope,” you pushed the little old lady figure back a section on the hallway tile, “can’t move a fifth time, Azul. You already used your two actions.”

Azul went stiff and curled into himself, flushing an array of colors at this small error. You patted his tentacle writhing self on the head. No worries, no worries. He grabbed onto your hand like it was his moral support as he corrected his movement and set his figure–less than half his size but still looking pretty big–at the end of the hallway.

You heard a tiny snicker to your left and blew a strong gust of air towards Idia. His flame aura flickered and twirled back like a wayward leaf, though leafs don’t really yell in distress. He caught himself in time on the battery lamp you had set on a nightstand.

Idia was also bare, though he’s taken to wearing a little embroidered handkerchief like it’s a cape. It’s leftover merchandise you got because you saw Idia really focused on this dark fantasy anime the tv has been playing. Little dork. Mean little dork.

“Don’t laugh at him, Idia,” you said as he hovered back to the main table, low to the ground like was dragging himself, “Anyways, your turn. What do you want to do?”

Idia floated over and tapped a question mark token laid on the entrance tile. He hummed, though it almost sounded like a sad huff.

“Alright,” you woke up your tablet–connected to a power bank–and tapped on the matching question mark, “you want to investigate the painting?”

Idia nodded.

“Then show your character card to me please. It’s a skill check one.”

A slow game for a slow day. Honestly, you’re surprised that these two are staying as still as they are. They both have this nervous chihuahua energy about them, and when they’re together, they tend to amplify those levels. Well, they become less nervous, but they start having too much fun and get jittery like they drank concentrated coffee.

Well, at least you found something that’ll keep them calm until they’re tired.

[runariya]

Three-Shot: Infinity (JJK) • 1

pairing: alien!Jungkook x human!reader genre: alien!AU, dystopian!AU, dark, angst, S2L rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, captivity, MC's cell is the filthiest place in existence, physical harm, MC is a test object, prostitution against will, drugging, death of mentioned friend/family, suicide attempts, pulling of fingernails and toenails, failed escapes, gore, angst, panic attacks, malnutrition, please lmk if I forgot something word count: 3.287

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

MASTERLIST • 02 • 03

Year 3709

You wake to the familiar sound of dripping water, the rhythmic tap of soiled liquid against the stone floor counting the seconds, minutes, hours of your endless captivity. The air around you suffocating with the stench of mildew and decay, continuously reminding you of the cell’s dampness. Your breath forms clouds of mist in the freezing air, visible even in the low light seeping through the narrow slit high in the wall, the only connection to the world outside your prison.

Your cell, a narrow rectangle of concrete and iron, is barely wide enough for you to stretch out both your arms without brushing the icy walls. The rough stone floor is slick with gooey moisture, perpetually wet, seeping through your thin, tattered clothing and chilling your bones for days on end. The ceiling, low enough that you can touch it when you stand on your tiptoes, is a mosaic of black mold and peeling paint—something you learned from the time you resisted being pulled from your cell.

In one corner, a rusted metal bucket serves as your latrine, its putrid stench a constant assault on your senses. The bucket overflows frequently, its contents sloshing onto the floor to mingle with the ever-present puddles. Opposite, a single iron cot is bolted to the wall and the mattress lying on it, is a threadbare remnant of its former self, its stuffing long gone, leaving only a few stubborn springs that dig into your flesh each night. The scratchy, coarse blanket provides little warmth against the biting cold, and you often wake shivering, your teeth and limbs chattering uncontrollably.

The days here are indistinguishable from the nights, a ceaseless parade of darkness day in and day out. The only light comes from the slit in the wall, which is sometimes covered by a thick, opaque sheet to plunge you into total blackness if they see fit. You have learned to hate this darkness, for it brings with it the scuttling of unseen vermin and the oppressive weight of isolation. When the sheet is removed, a sickly, green light filters in, casting eerie shadows that dance across the walls, transforming your cell into a landscape of nightmares you can't escape.

There’s silence surrounding you if it weren’t for the endless dripping. Not even a sound from neighbouring captives is heard. You weren’t always alone. Jenny, once your cellmate, the only other human you had ever seen. She was your friend. Your only family, a fragile connection that scared off the isolation you now have to embrace to stay sane. Despite your efforts to protect each other, one day they took her away. That day, she didn’t return like she always did. Like you always did when they took you. That day, she was gone. And without her, you were alone. 

Your lungs feel heavy today, and each breathe is a struggle, a fight against the encroaching dampness that seeks to claim you. Your captors care little for your comfort or health; they provide just enough to keep you alive, a thin gruel that tastes of ashes and despair, and a trickle of water from a rusty pipe that runs along one wall.

The pipe is the only constant source of noise, gurgling and hissing as if it were alive, mocking you with its endless, meaningless chatter. The water that drips from it is icy cold, and you often have to cup your hands and drink quickly before the chill numbs your bony fingers. Your captors use the pipe to deliver their torturous messages, their disembodied voices echoing through the metal, words distorted and sinister. Only there to mock you. They speak in a language you barely understand, a guttural, alien tongue that makes you want to vomit. 

Kaldreks, you’ve learned. The most vile species known in all galaxies. Towering, gaunt figures with pale, frostbitten skin and luminescent green eyes that pierce through the darkness. Their elongated limbs, webbed for navigating their swampy world, end in razor-sharp claws, also used to inflict the worst wounds you had the honour to experience. 

Jagged, icy exoskeletons cover their bodies, providing both armour and a terrifying appearance. Sharp, serrated teeth protrude from their snarling mouths, perfect for rending flesh. 

Your body bears the marks of their cruelty. Scars crisscross your skin, each one a relict to their unspeakable experiments and tortures. Your muscles are weak from malnutrition and disuse, your bones aching with a dull, constant pain. Each movement is an effort, showing off your frailty and their power. They come for you at irregular intervals, dragging you from your cell to a sterile, white room where the cold is even more intense, biting into your barely covered flesh like thousand needles.

It was at the beginning of your captivity when they started to probe and prod, their instruments of metal and glass invading your body, extracting fluids, inserting needles. You and Jenny were a specimen to them, a curiosity to be studied and dissected. Their faces never hidden behind masks, their eyes devoid of any empathy or recognition of your suffering. They spoke in low murmurs, their voices blending with the hum of their machinery, discussing your fate as if you were dead meat and nothing more.

Your fate arrived sooner than you expected, knocking you over at full force. When they tired of using your body as a test subject, they found other purposes for it. Purposes specialised into the pleasures of other species. 

At first, they seized you and scrubbed you clean with freezing water. Standing naked and chained from the celling, they prepared you with various oils with their webbed claws, as cold as the water, coating your skin. You learned quickly that their touch on your pussy wasn't the worst. No, the worst came after they finished their preparations.

Over time, you were used by all sorts of species in the galaxy. Fucked until your holes bled. Bitten and scratched until you passed out from blood loss. Drugged to be fucked again. Woken only to be violated once more. Choked until you thought you had finally died, only to wake with a dick bigger than your thigh being shoved into your mouth, or worse. 

Even though the Kaldreks subjected you to unspeakable horrors and other species weren't far behind, it is the Nepturians who instil the deepest fear. Their human-like appearance, marked only by bioluminescent markings on their arms and spine, along with their imposing height, makes all the nightmares seem like a fairytale. You learned that Nepturians are typically monogamous, bonding for life. Yet, with their females dying for unknown reasons, the surviving males become the coldest of lovers. Their human resemblance haunts you, affecting you more than the others ever could.

You tried to escape more than once, but each attempt ended in failure, teaching you what the Kaldreks were truly capable of. The treatment worsened over time, more often you were used by Nepturians, yet the routine remains the same, spiralling into infinite torture you’re not able to escape. 

You tried to take your own life more than once, believing it was the only control you had left. You used your fingernails, attempting to pierce your arteries, succeeding briefly. But the Kaldreks' senses were too sharp, 'saving' you before you could fully succeed. After the second attempt, they pulled out your nails with tongs. For good measure, they did the same to your toenails. 

Each time, you are returned to your cell broken, barely conscious, your mind fogging with pain and exhaustion. The cot is a cruel joke, offering no comfort, only a hard surface to collapse upon. Sleep is your only escape, but it is fitful, plagued by nightmares of their touches, of endless moments and cold, inhuman eyes that somehow look human. You wake often, drenched in sweat despite the cold, your heart racing as if trying to escape your chest.

Time has lost all meaning. Days, months, years blend into one another, a seamless continuum of suffering and despair. You have no knowledge of the outside world, no hope of rescue. The Earth as you once knew it only a distant memory, a ghost of a dream long forgotten. The planet has been transformed into a barren, hostile wasteland, and you are its last surviving inhabitant, a relict of a forgotten age and species.

You cling to fragments of memories, half-remembered stories of a blue sky and warm sun, of green fields and the sound of laughter. These memories your only solace, a fragile thread of happiness in a world devoid of light. You wonder if you will ever see the sun again, feel its warmth on your skin, breathe air that is not tainted with misery.

But, your captors are meticulous in their cruelty. They keep you alive, but only just. The silver and pink scars cluttering your body proof enough. You are a tool, a means to an end, a living plaything. They are relentless, their personal gain insatiable, their methods devoid of mercy. You have learned to endure, to survive in the face of unimaginable hardship. Each day a battle, a struggle to cling to the remnants of your humanity in a world determined to strip it away.

Yet, somewhere deep within you, the light remains. A flicker of defiance, a refusal to be broken. You are the last human, the final witness to a world that once was. You hold on to this, clinging to the knowledge that as long as you live, there is still a sliver of hope. The Earth may be dead, but you are not. Not yet.

As the muffled voices echo through the pipes, you strain to discern their words. Hints of a plan for tomorrow seep through, reminding you once again of the relentless cycle that bound you. You know you need to escape now; the uncertainty of time on this planet makes it impossible to know when daylight would bring more torment. The Kaldreks are cruel, but the possibility of freedom flicks in the depths of your mind.

In the dim confines of your cell, you take a moment to assess your surroundings, willing the fog clouding your mind to go away if only for some seconds. Your last attempt to escape through the metal bars had failed, rendering that route impossible now. The chains that hold you are worn but sturdy. The glimmer of moonlight through a narrow vent suggest a weakness—a potential path to freedom, you were too scared to use before. You have watched their routines long enough to understand when they were most distracted. Tonight, you would act.

With caution, you manoeuvre your body, testing the chains for any sign of give. Each movement forcing to be as calculated as possible, the cold metal biting into your skin only moves sporadically and as quietly as possible to not alert the Kaldreks. Their voices fade, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your heart pounding in your chest and ears. Time is slipping away, and you have to move immediately. 

You again focus on the vent, its edges slightly corroded. The Kaldreks had grown complacent, and you use that to your advantage. With a surge of adrenaline, you twist and pull at the chains, feeling them loosen just enough to allow your wrists to slip free. The pain is agonising, but you welcome it; the burn a needed confirmation that you are still alive, despite losing more weight to slip through the chains. 

Quietly, you approach the vent, each step as careful as possible against the wet floor. Your fingers brush against the cold metal, feeling the contours of the cold opening. It is a tight fit, but desperation fuels your determination and you pull yourself up, squeeze through, the sharp edges grazing your skin, but you push on, driven by the hope of escape.

The passageway is dark, the air even more damp and musty than in your cell. As you crawl, the sounds of the Kaldreks fade completely, replaced by the distant noise of the wild outside. You navigate the narrow tunnel, each twist and turn feeling like an eternity, until you finally emerge into the open air.

Outside, the wild of the Kaldreks’ planet, Morthak, sprawls before you, a labyrinth of dense foliage and shadowy figures. The three moons bath everything in an eerie green glow, illuminating your path into a better life. You take a moment to catch your breath, savoring the taste of freedom mingled with the cold of the night.

Behind you, the sounds of Kaldrek chatter is gone, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the calls of nocturnal creatures. With your heart racing, you plunge into the underbrush, the foliage thick and tangled but a welcome barrier between you and your captors.

As you try to run, you feel the weight of the past begin to lift off your chest. Each step carries you further from the horrors of captivity, and with every heartbeat, the fear begins to wane. Tears start rolling down your cheeks with every step, sobs sporadically escaping your parched throat. The wilderness, though just as deadly for you as a prey species, is a refuge compared to the cold confines of your cell.

The terrain is uneven, but you navigate it somehow unharmed. Shadows dance around you as the night deepens, the sounds of nature becoming a chorus of freedom rather than threat. You feel the cool breeze on your skin, igniting a spark of hope within you.

Eventually, exhaustion claws at your limbs, your vision too blurred from tears, but you push through, knowing safety lay just beyond the next thicket. You stumble through the undergrowth, the moonlights guiding you like a compass. Finally, you reach a small clearing, the weight of your journey settling heavily upon you.

In that moment, you collapse to the ground, the cool earth contrasting with the heat of your racing heart. You roll against the soil, desperately rubbing your body to mask your scent as much as possible. The wilderness envelopes you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to breathe deeply. You are free, at least for now, hidden in the wild, away from the claws of the Kaldreks.

As you lie there, surrounded by the sounds of nature, the gravity of your escape begins to sink in. You have taken a step toward freedom, and though the journey ahead remains uncertain, the wild holds the promise of survival.

You wake again in a white room, lying on a bed with a thin, soft blanket covering you up to your torso. Your skin tingles with the sensation of cleanliness, the dirt you covered yourself with gone, and you notice you’re dressed in an oversized black shirt. The unfamiliar garment feels alien against your skin. Though you’ve never worn black nor such garment before and the white room looks different from your previous cell, a chilling certainty grips you—you’re back with the Kaldreks. The realisation crashes like a wave of dread through your body, making your sore and tired muscles tense in fright. 

Panic sets in right after. Heart racing, you breaths come in rapid, shallow gasps, and it feels as though the walls are closing in around you. You scramble off the bed, blanket thrown off you, your heart pounds in your ears like a war drum. Desperation fuels your movements as you search the room for an escape, every nerve ending on high alert. Your hands claw at the smooth, featureless walls, finding no purchase. The air grows thin, and your vision starts to blur at the edges as hyperventilation takes hold. You stumble, your legs barely able to support your weight, driven by sheer terror.

Every corner of the room mocks your frantic attempts to flee. Your fingers trail over the seamless joinery, seeking a hidden exit, but finding none. The sterile whiteness amplifies your panic, memories flashing one by one before your eyes, each failed effort to find an exit compounding your fear. The room spins as you struggle to draw breath, your chest heaving with the effort. Sweat beads on your forehead, trickling down to sting your eyes. Your mind races, a chaotic flurry of thoughts, each more desperate than the last. You press your ear to the walls, hoping to hear something, anything, that might indicate a way out, but there is only silence.

Suddenly, the only door in the room hisses open with a hydraulic huff, and a Nepturian steps inside. Your worst nightmare manifests before you, making your heart stop immediately. He towers over you by more than half a meter, his features disturbingly human. His skin shimmers with a pale blue hue, his black doe eyes feigning innocence. But you know better than to trust them. His hair, a deep vibrant blue, is buzzed at the sides, the top long enough to partially fall over. He’s dressed in a similar black shirt, though on him it fits tightly, emphasising his dangerous physique. Each step he takes, his combat boots fall heavily onto the floor, his face void of emotion. The weight of his presence presses down on you, suffocating in its intensity.

You notice his markings—they look different from those of other Nepturians—different patterns and colour. Stress clouds your mind, preventing you from discerning whether this difference bodes well or ill for you. The bioluminescent patterns seem to pulse with a life of their own, casting faint glows that dance across the room’s sterile surfaces. You try to recall any fragment of knowledge that might explain these markings, but your thoughts are too scattered. The disparity in his appearance lastly only heightens your fear, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty.

You scramble away from him, your body trembling, adrenaline surging through your veins even more. Your breathing remains shallow, and you sense the impending collapse into unconsciousness. Each movement feels sluggish, as if you’re wading through thick, suffocating air. Your mind screams for you to run, but your body betrays you, locked in a state of primal terror. The room feels smaller, the walls collapsing as the Nepturian advances, his expression unreadable.

“Sit down,” he commands, his voice the softest you’ve heard from his kind. But you’re not surprised by his authoritative words, the courtesies of humanity foreign to other species. His words cut through the haze of your panic, grounding you in the reality of the moment. Yet, the command feels like another layer of your imprisonment, a reminder of the control he wields over you and the things that are going to happen to you. Still, you hesitate, weighing your options, the urge to flee warring with the need to survive.

After all, survival courses through you. You assess the possibility of darting past him to escape. But as you glance into the corridor beyond the door, you realise you’re not with the Kaldreks as you feared—you’re on a spaceship. The sleek, metallic walls and the hum of advanced technology signal a different captor. The realisation confirms your doom, multiplied by the presence of the Nepturian. The corridor stretches out, seemingly endless, but each step you might take towards it feels like a step deeper into your personal hell.

Your eyes snap back to the Nepturian as he repeats, more impatiently, “Sit down.” Seeing no other option, and hoping unconsciousness will soon claim you, you comply. As you lower yourself to the bed, he stands before you and, in that same soft voice you first heard him speak, says, “I won’t hurt you.” His words fail to soothe you; you remain terrified, too traumatised to trust anyone, especially a Nepturian. The tension in your muscles barely eases, your mind vigilant and ready to react at the slightest hint of danger.

MASTERLIST • 02 • 03

a/n 2: thank you so much for reading! lmk what you think - also: tag list, drabble requests and character asks are open

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

[captain-tch]

Candy Striper (Eddie Munson x PlatonicGN!Reader)

You help look after the Munson family while Eddie is in hospital

He was here, again. Mr Munson was slumped in the chair beside Eddie's hospital bed, his hand weakly lying next to Eddie's. He looked like a puppet with the strings cut, and from the clothes he was wearing, he hadn't gone home. 

"I don't think I've ever seen him leave." The nurse besides you piped up. "Eddie coded last night and he's not moved since."

Your heart panged for him. You couldn't imagine the pain Eddie's uncle was going through. When Eddie arrived in the hospital only two days ago, no one believed he would make it through the night. But he was still here, after a few cardiac arrests and one major surgery, he was still here. He was nothing like the boy you exchanged awkward smiles with in class, his body lacking the life he always exuded. 

"It must be so hard." You mused, leaning against the counter. You mindlessly smoothed the fabric of your candy striper apron down. "Is there anything I can do?"

"There's some coffee in the staff room. Strictly for staff, only." She enunciated the words, nodding her head slightly to the side. "You look tired, why don't you grab a cup?" 

The pieces fell together, and you nodded your head. "Yeah, I think I will actually." 

You stood up from the desk, striding towards the staff room. The room was surprisingly quiet, the nurses having little chance to get a break with the sudden flood of earthquake victims. Looking over your shoulder, you reached for the coffee pot, pouring it into one of the disposable cups. The cup warmed in your hand. You faltered, before snatching up a handful of creamer and sugar sachets, shoving them deep into the pockets of your apron. 

You felt as if everyone was watching you as you walked towards Eddie's room, knocking lightly on the door. Wayne's head shot up, his eyes connecting to yours. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and guessing from the size of the bags underneath them he hadn't slept a wink since Eddie was admitted.  

"Hi Mr Munson," you sent him a weak smile. "I brought you some coffee." 

"Oh, thank you." He muttered, dragging his hand across his face. 

You placed the cup gently on the bed side table, pulling out all the sachets and dumping them on the sides. "I wasn't sure how you take your coffee so there's some creamer and sugar too." 

He appeared dazed. He looked up at you, something other than sadness spreading across his features. "That's great, I can't thank you enough." 

You smiled, heart breaking at how tired he seemed. "It's the least I can do." 

You bid him farewell, leaving to attend to other patient's. 

That was the first time of many. Like a magnet you were constantly drawn to the room, bringing Wayne a steaming cup of coffee and a smile each morning. The bags under his eyes got darker; he smiled more, and that was something. 

Today was no different. You lightly tapped the door, Wayne gesturing over his shoulder for you to come in. You deposited the coffee on the table, sugar already stirred into the caffeinated drink. You knew by now he hated creamers. 

"You're late, I was getting worried." Wayne joked. You felt lighter - that was the first joke you'd heard him make. 

"One of the patients made me go all the way back to the kitchens to get them a different kind of jello - its wobbly water, how can you tell?" 

A huff of a laugh passed Wayne's lips. 

"I don't mind though," you shrugged, your hand dipping into the front of your arpon. "The nurses told me you've not been eating." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You need to eat." You sighed, pulling out the object in your apron. "I know it's not much... Please can you eat this? For me?" 

Wayne looked at the pudding cup in your hand, then back to you. "Aren't you going to get into trouble?" 

"Food in the cafeteria is free, you know, since everything has happened. Which you'd know if you went there." You waved the pudding cup in his face, sending him a pointed look. He sighed, reaching out and taking it from you. You passed him a spoon immediately, watching him like a hawk. 

"Wait, now?" 

You nodded. 

"I could report you," he grumbled. 

You smiled brightly. "But you won't - you like me too much." 

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed it off, ripping open the lid of the pudding cup. He dunked the spoon in, taking a big mouthful. He raised a brow at you. "Better now?" 

"Much." You glanced at the watch on your wrist. "I've got to go now - but you better eat that whole thing, or I'll tattle on you for bringing in visitors after hours."

He knew it was an empty threat. All of the nurses and staff on the ward knew he helped sneak in Eddie's friends, turning a blind eye when a handful of kids would scurry past. Sometimes the cleaners helped too. The whole ward was in on it - it was the worst kept secret there.  

"Yes ma'am." Wayne nodded, dipping in the spoon again. You tried to hide your smile, grateful he was finally eating. 

"I'll be back at the same time tomorrow." 

Just like you promised, you returned like clockwork with a coffee in your hand. Except this time a towel was slung across your shoulder and determination in your stride. 

"Oh, hey Y/N, busy morning?" He accepted the coffee, slurping loudly as he considered your tired frame. 

"Not really," you shrugged. "Long week." 

"You've been here every morning since I've been here, what about school?" 

You dragged a spare chair into the room, sitting across from him. You could always spare five minutes to talk, even if it meant staying later on your shift to compensate. "I normally only do Saturday mornings but given the whole situation, I thought I was needed here. Besides, the school is shut at the moment. It's the refuge centre." 

"That's very kind of you." 

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You never thought too much about donating your time to the hospital, it was second nature at this point. You finally managed to muster some words. "Thank you sir." 

"Do you know my boy? You're at Hawkins High, right?" 

"Yeah I am." You leaned back in the chair, fiddling with your hands. "I know him, he's in my maths class. He lets me draw on his arm if I get stressed." 

"Those are your drawings?" 

You dipped your head, embarrassment clouding you. "How do you know?" 

"He's always showing them off, telling me how the coolest kid in school is using his arm as a canvas. I'd have to beg him to shower because he just didn't want to wash them away." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, boy did he half stink at times. At least until he figured out he could just take pictures of them, then it didn't matter too much if they faded." 

You huffed a laugh, smiling distantly. "I never knew that." 

You looked at Eddie's still form in the bed. The colour was starting to return to his cheeks, and if it wasn't for the bandages creeping out beneath the covers you would have thought he was sleeping. "You know what Eddie would say now?" 

Wayne raised a brow, waiting for you to continue.

"He'd say you need to look after yourself, just like how you've looked after him all these years. Go home, sleep in your bed, shower and eat a hot meal." 

"My home was torn apart in the quake."

You sighed, slumping back in your chair. As if the earthquake hadn’t hurt him enough, by attacking Eddie and making him sick with worry, he now didn’t have a home either. You wanted to curse whatever higher power had inflicted this level of pain on his family.

“We’ve got some showers here, and the cafeteria. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something.” 

Wayne immediately shook his head no, dead against the idea. “No, I’m not leaving him.” 

Instinctively, you sat up, reaching for Wayne’s hand. You held it softly, forcing his gaze to fall on you. “We need to make sure you’re here and you’re healthy for when he wakes up.” 

Wayne opened his mouth to protest, cut off by your voice. “You need a shower and some hot food. I’ll stay here, and if anything changes I’ll find you, okay?” 

Wayne stayed silent for a moment. He looked between you, Eddie and the heart monitor. Eddie hadn’t coded for a few days, and the doctors had said he appeared to be doing well. They just needed him to wake up. 

“What - what if he wakes up and I’m not here?” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. “He won’t be alone. I’ll be here. And if he wakes up, I’ll run and find you as fast as I can.”

He looked so conflicted, his gaze settling on Eddie. He sighed deeply, retracting his hand from yours and standing upright. He moved towards the bed, gently reaching out and squeezing Eddie’s fingers. “I’ll be back soon - you be good for Y/N.” 

He let go quickly, spinning on his heel. You reached for the towel on your shoulder, passing it to him. You led him out of the room, pointing out one of the nurses who could help direct him to the showers. He looked down at the towel in his hand, his lips curling at the edges. 

“You planned this all along?” 

You shrugged, a small smile on your face. “Just doing my job sir.” 

He nodded, walking towards the nurse. His steps faltered as he left the room, turning towards you. “He’ll be okay, right?” 

A lump grew in your throat. Seeing Wayne’s eyes keep dancing to the figure laying in the bed and how he was twisting the towel in his hands, you knew he was nervous. You were fairly certain it was the first time he’d left the room for more than five minutes. 

“He’s in good hands.” You managed to choke out, watching from the doorway as he seemed satisfied with the answer, following the nurse down the corridors. 

You turned back towards the room, walking towards the chair and falling back into it. This was the longest you’d spent here, and god was it awfully quiet. You twiddled with your thumbs, listening to Eddie’s steady breathing and beep of the heart monitor. The quiet felt suffocating, and soon you found words spilling out of your mouth without realising. 

“So I’m the coolest kid in school, huh?” You laughed, looking at his still figure. “I always thought that title was reserved for you. You don’t care what other people think, you are undeniably you. You own that shit.”

You paused, as if waiting for a response. One never came. 

“I’ve always wanted to be your friend, and not just someone who doodles on you. Maybe once you’re better we can hang out? I bet you’re dying to get out of here.” You winced, realising your poor choice of words. “Sorry, that was insensitive.” 

The silence greeted you once more. 

“You know, there’s this great book store just out of town. They have some tables at the back and you can play board games, they even have D&D. I reckon you’d like it there. Maybe you and your friends can go? I know since you’ve been in here they haven’t played.” You subconsciously moved your chair closer, so you were much closer to Eddie. “Your friends… they really miss you. They all really miss you. Dustin in particular.” 

You waited a beat, wondering if the mention of their names might awake him from his coma. He didn’t move an inch. You sighed. 

“They visit you all the time, which you probably already know.” You breathed a laugh, straightening out your uniform apron. “They bring food for the nurses though. Dustin’s mom makes the best brownies I’ve ever had. I could marry the woman.” 

You looked at Eddie, taking in the bandages and bruises lingering on his skin. You couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him to injure him so badly, unable to wrap your brain around the reasoning his friends stuttered out when he was brought out in the ER. They blamed stray animals; something told you that wasn’t entirely accurate. 

“I know you don’t know me that well, but you need to wake up soon. Everyone is so worried about you.” 

For a brief second, you swore you saw him move. But it was a trick of the mind, as he remained as perfectly still as he had since he was admitted. You tried not to be disappointed, falling into silence as you waited for Wayne to return. Minutes dragged by until you heard fast footsteps thudding down the corridor, Wayne’s slightly dishevelled figure appearing in the doorframe.

“Is he okay?” He asked breathlessly, surging forwards to be closer to Eddie’s bedside. A whiff of the hospital shampoo followed in his wake, clogging your nose with a smell similar to baby powder. You immediately left the chair, watching him flop into his gracelessly. 

“Yeah, watched him like a hawk.” You smiled. “Did you get something to eat?” 

“Not sure what all the fuss was about, it was hot mush.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “But you ate something other than pudding cups.” 

“Eating is overrated.” He looked up at you, a small curl to his lips. “Thank you. For looking after me and my boy.”

“It’s my pleasure.” 

After that the two of you maintained a routine. Wayne would go shower, eat, try to find somewhere to stay while you remained at Eddie’s side, ears always perked for the consistent beeping of the heart monitor. It quickly felt as if you were visiting an old friend. Each day you brought something different to occupy yourself - a book (which you read aloud to Eddie), some knitting (you didn’t talk much these times, just allowing your string of curses to fill the silence as the yarn got tangled), and sometimes you wouldn’t bring anything at all. Sometimes you would merely sit by his bedside, talking into the void and hoping you would hear something back. You never did. 

On one mundane Tuesday morning, you strolled into the room, Wayne’s coffee in hand. You were oblivious to the unusual levels of noise leaving the room, simply walking over the threshold to complete your daily ritual. 

You froze. 

Wayne sat close to the bed, clutching Eddie’s hand as he chatted endlessly. This didn’t take you by surprise, having found Wayne engaging in full conversations with Eddie’s comatose body on many occasions. What did take you by surprise was how he was talking to Eddie - a very much awake Eddie. 

The coffee cup slipped out of your grip. The hot liquid sloshed onto the floor, burning your legs yet you couldn’t register the fleeting pain, gaze transfixed on the boy you had believed would never wake up. 

Both pairs of eyes spun towards you. Wayne smiled widely, frowning as he took in the coffee dripping off of your calves. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

Wordlessly you nodded, gulping nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll go grab a mop.” 

Without uttering another word you turned on your heel, marching down the ward corridor. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw Wayne hadn’t followed you out. You collapsed against the closest wall, body slumping. 

He was alive, he was awake. Suddenly all of the conversations you believed to be one sided played on repeat in your brain. Oh god, you’d told him you wished you two would be friends. A wave of embarrassment washed over you. You prayed he couldn't recall any of it, just so you could save your dignity. 

But you couldn’t avoid him forever. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you pulled yourself upright. You marched towards the supply closet, filling a bucket with some water and snatched up the mop. As you were walking back towards the room, you could overhear snippets of conversation drifting out into the hallway. 

“This entire time?” 

Wayne’s laughter filtered into the corridor. “There wasn’t a day that would go by without them coming in here. I’ve got all the time in the world for them - they helped pull me back in during my darkest hour.” 

“Uncle Wayne…” You could hear the sadness seeping into Eddie’s voice. You didn’t want to interrupt their moment, waiting for a lull in conversation so you could re-enter. After a few minutes you grabbed your chance, walking in with the mop in hand, pretending to not have heard a word. 

“I see someone finally decided to wake up.” You teased, dunking the mop into the bucket, letting the mop soak in the soapy water. 

“Disappointed I can talk back now?” 

You occupied yourself with cleaning up the spilled coffee, hoping he didn’t catch the embarrassment clouding your features. “Guess I’ll just have to find another comatose boy to vent to.” 

Eddie laughed, a noise you never believed you would hear again. It was nice, you took a moment to relish in the sound. “Nice to know I’m so easily replaceable.” 

You matched his mood, a huff of a laugh passing your lips. You finished mopping, tidying away the fallen cup and looked at Wayne, who seemed the most alive you’d ever seen him. A smile curved onto your lips. They didn’t need you anymore. 

“Do you want another coffee Wayne?” He shook his head no. You picked up the bucket, sending the pair of them a bright grin. “I’ll leave you two to it - I reckon you’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do.” 

You retreated from the room, thankful that Eddie was finally awake and his uncle had him back. Deep down, sadness took root. No longer would you sit by Eddie’s bedside reading, knitting or talking. It felt like you had lost a friend. Shame quickly took its place, how could you think so selfishly when Eddie now had his life back? 

You brushed your feelings away, pushing down the pain whilst you attended to the rest of your duties for the day. 

~

Each day that passed, your days were getting less busy. More patients were returning home, the aftermath of the earthquake slowly but surely ebbing away. Beds were left empty in the hospital and eventually, they no longer needed you everyday. You found yourself lost on what to do, having buckets of time and no way to spend it. You were accustomed to spending hours walking the sterile halls, to spreading happiness to patients and trying to brighten their day. It was good work, work you took pride in, and now you had returned back to your usual Saturday mornings you found yourself craving to be back there. 

Your muscles acted with a mind of their own. You found yourself at the hospital, walking the familiar route to his room. You patted down imaginary dust from your jeans, suddenly self conscious. This would be the first time you had seen him outside of your working hours. 

You greeted a few nurses along the route, spending a few minutes chatting to your favourite cleaner. As much as you enjoyed the interactions, you were itching to already be down the corridor and in the room where you belonged. 

When you arrived at his door, your feet no longer cooperated. You wanted to walk in, self doubts suddenly plaguing you. To him, you were a volunteer, someone who was there to complete a duty. He could never comprehend the friendship you had woven with him over your visits. Maybe he would find this weird, you seeing him during allocated visiting times. Maybe he would kick you out. Maybe he would report you to the nurses. Maybe he had forgotten who you were, you hadn’t seen him since last Saturday. 

“Who’s there?” He called out, breaking you from your spiral. “I promise I won't bite.” 

You gathered all of your courage and flung the door open. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, a wide grin quickly overtaking his features. “Y/N!” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding. He remembered your name, he recognised you outside of your candy striper uniform. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever - I thought you’d forgotten about me!” Eddie pouted, gesturing for you to come in. You obeyed, stepping into the room and falling into your favourite seat. “I didn’t realise you owned anything other than a candy striper uniform.”

You laughed heartily, relaxing back into the chair. A bout of silence enveloped the pair of you, and you thought back to the time where you sat here by his side, listening attentively to the monitors. That felt like a lifetime ago. 

Eddie broke the silence, playing with his fingers. “Have you been to the bookstore?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Bookstore?” 

“You know, the one with the D&D tables?” 

Your head fell into your hands. You prayed your hands could hide you from him, you could disappear and he would forget all of this ever happened. You mustered a squeak, unable to face the truth but thirsty to know the answers. “How much did you hear?” 

“All of it, I think.” His hands reached out, gently pulling at yours. Slowly you peeked up at him, your shoulders sagging at the sight of his shy smile. “You know, when I heard the coolest kid in Hawkins wanted to be my friend, I knew I had to wake up.” 

“Oh shut up,” you giggled, averting your gaze from him. “I’m nowhere near the coolest kid.”

“I heard what Wayne told you, you know, about the drawings? God, I wanted so hard to wake up right there and then to shut him up.” He shook his head, traces of a smile on his lips. “I always looked forward to that class, pretty sure that’s the only class I never skipped.” 

“I… I didn’t know.” You couldn’t wrap your head around Eddie’s words, scrambling for an explanation. “Why?” 

“Because it was the only time I could spend with my friend.” 

You couldn’t hide your smile, shaking your head. “Why didn’t we ever hang outside of class?” 

“I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t want to be seen with the town’s freak.” 

“I don’t care about any of that.” You laughed again, shaking your head. “Why are we both so awkward?” 

Eddie joined your laughter, wincing as he jostled his side. 

“You know, I think I saw a pen around here.” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. “What do you say we reminisce about the good ol’ days?” 

You gleefully obliged, scavenging the nurses office for a pen. You were by Eddie’s side in an instant, assuming the position and uncapping the pen. 

That’s how you spent the rest of your night, pen ink sprawling along Eddie’s arm as you talked way past visiting hours, forging a friendship that would last a lifetime.

stranger things masterlist

[scentedstrangercreation]

An Indecent Proposal

Absolutely self-indulgent fluff. Fake proposal trope 🤡

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

The wrench slipped from Garrus’ hand, bouncing off the thanix’s compressors and sliding beneath the cannon.

“Dammit.”

He crouched down and sprawled onto his back to slide under the battery. The opening was too narrow for his carapace, so he could only lean against it and stretch out his arm. His talons just barely grazed the tip of the wrench, spinning it hopelessly in place. Garrus sighed, tapping his head against the cannon’s base. His omnitool pinged on the opposite arm. He turned his head and watched the red light blink in its slow, deliberate rhythm. There was no point in checking who it was from. He’d only just spoken to his father yesterday, and the message had been clear: It’s time to stop playing mercenary and come home. There was a position ready for him on Palaven, a good service role. One that would make his family proud. The past few years would be forgotten—the Normandy, his time on Omega, Cerberus. Even the battle at the Citadel was becoming a distant memory everyone wanted buried. The bottom line was that the council wanted to move on—and Shepard was becoming a liability. The light pulsed again. He wasn’t sure why he bothered putting off his response. Turians didn’t make requests. Garrus was being given an order—an opportunity—and there was only one answer. Yes, sir. The door to the battery hissed open. “Garrus?” Shepard entered the room and the door shut behind her. He tried to sit up, forgetting his arm was still jammed beneath the Thanix, and slammed into the steaming pipes, “Spirits,” he grunted, extracting his arm. “Sleeping on the job?” Shepard crouched down beside him. “We didn’t all get a palatial suite.” He squinted up into the light as Shepard came into focus above him. “How’s the face holding up?” she gestured around her jaw. Garrus sat up, touching the bandages around his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be pretty.” “Thank god.” She offered her hand and he pulled himself up, “Wouldn't want you scaring the children.” He should have laughed, said something quippy back, but he was out of practice. Instead, he just stared at her for a minute in silence. He still wasn’t used to it—to her. Shepard was here. She was alive. He didn’t like thinking about it too much. Part of him was worried that if he wasn’t careful, he might wake up. Garrus shook the thought from his mind and cleared his throat, “What do you need?” Shepard held up a data pad, “Just wanted to go over—” Garrus’ omnitool pinged three times in quick succession. “You need to take that?” “At some point.” he dismissed the messages without looking. She looked at him curiously, but didn’t say anything. “It’s—nothing. Just…” he’d have to tell her eventually. He just wasn’t sure when…or how. She tapped the data pad against her leg and tilted her head slightly. He could tell she wanted to say more. But at Miranda's request, she had been practicing her…restraint. He smiled. It was like she had to physically restrain each word before they bullied their way out of her mouth. “Actually, we can do this later.” She gestured with the pad, “Want a drink?” He waved her off, “I should probably get back to—” “If you say calibrations, I’ll vent the battery.” “Well, I won’t say it then.” “Come on, don’t make me beg.” She turned around and started walking as if he’d already agreed, “have a drink with me.” “It’s actually been more threatening than begging.” “Oh, good. Then you’ll take it seriously.”

Shepard’s cabin was garishly large. He knew she agreed. The fish tank held nothing but water and the entire back half of the room was left untouched. He suspected she didn’t even use the bed, with its corners pulled taut and undisturbed. The contrast against the couch was almost cartoonish. It was clearly a hive of activity, dwarfed beneath a mountain of clutter. There were signs of small, abandoned projects strewn about: stacks of tablets, an omnitool’s motherboard exposed and connected to a desktop by frayed wires, her sniper disassembled and half-polished. His gaze continued about the room before settling on Shepard, rustling around in a small cabinet. "Look what I’ve got.” She retreated from the cabinet, two glasses and a bottle of something dark in her hands. She tossed it to Garrus. He caught the bottle, twisting it in his hand to see the label and released a low whistle. “Guess working with Cerberus has its perks.” He joked, flaring his mandibles and holding the bottle out to her. “Guess so,” she took it back and filled up a glass, passing it over before filling her own. “To the perks,” she said, gently knocking her glass against his. Not hard enough to spill it, but enough to make a sound. A ‘cheers’ she’d called it before. It always surprised Garus how many casual little rituals humans had. They enjoyed the first sip in silence. She released a groan and sank back into the couch, “Don’t tell Chakwas, but this is so much better than brandy.” “Your secret’s safe with me,” he walked over to the empty tank. Even without fish, it was relaxing to watch the light move through the water. He almost forgot what he’d been trying to ignore when his wrist pinged again. He could feel her watching him. Now or never. “My father reached out yesterday.” She made a noncommittal sound behind another mouthful of wine. “There’s, uh…” he struggled to find the phrasing, “He asked me to come home.” “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He cleared his throat, “He just thinks…it’s time.” He knew he sounded foolish. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to a human. There was so much context she couldn’t understand. He watched her reflection. Her expression was carefully neutral. She seemed relaxed, but her eyes had a slightly unfocused, calculating bearing. “Is that what you want?” She asked like there was an easy answer, missing all of the complexities that seemed so obvious to him. “My father—,” he turned to face her. “I don’t care about your father.” He laughed, “You two have something in common.” “You know what I mean,” she rebuffed his joke. “What do you want?” “It’s…complicated. It’s not about what I want.” “Why not?” “Because...Turians—,” He paced a few steps away, releasing a frustrated sigh and rubbing his head. He wasn’t going to explain the intricacies of Turian culture to her. He wasn’t sure he even could. “Garrus, this isn’t some teenage rebellion.” He didn’t understand the phrase but he let it go. “This is for the galaxy. Your people should be rallying behind you.” “The way your’s have rallied behind you? Shepard, we're working for a literal terrorist organization.” “With” she corrected, “...But your point isn’t entirely lost.” He could see she wanted to argue more, but had decided on a more tactical route. “So what’s the situation exactly? You go home or you’re what? Banished?” He laughed a little, “Not with quite so much flair.” It was hard to put words to norms he’d always just accepted, “I don’t know how to explain it. To put yourself before the family, before the colony, is…You just don’t.” “This is the opposite of putting yourself first.” He wished he could say that was true. That if it weren’t for her, he’d still be out here fighting the good fight—but he knew better. Sure, he believed in what they were doing, but he was here for her. And they both knew it. “This isn’t Blasto 6, Shepard. I can’t just ask the Turian Hierarchy to just ‘go with it.’ Even you know how crazy it all sounds: ancient machines culling the galaxy?” He paused but she didn’t counter. “As far as they’re concerned, humans have been the biggest threat to the galaxy since the Geth.” “How flattering.” She gulped down the rest of her wine. “And then, after the Citadel, after…you—you know…” he stumbled over his words, refusing to make eye contact. “Well, they gave me time to grieve, and now it’s time to get back to reality.” “Glossing over the fact that this,” she set her glass down and tapped on the table, “is reality. So, what? You don’t go home and it ruffles a few feathers?” He ignored the turn of phrase.

“It’s more than that. We’re a collective, going against the Hierarchy is…egomaniacal. It goes against everything my people stand for.” She still didn't seem convinced.

“It’s not even really about me.” He sighed, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m...not exactly a model Turian.” 

She raised her brows and tilted her head. He could tell she was fighting a small mirk, but she didn’t say anything. 

“I was a lost cause long before teaming up with the illustrious Commander Shepard—but my family?” Her brows furrowed and he tried to think of an example, “Say a Turian is demoted. It’s not really his fault. The disgrace lies with whoever promoted him in the first place. It’s the same principle in a family. They’re responsible for my actions as much as I’m responsible for theirs.” He thought he spied some semblance of understanding, “and since I’m not married, that means my father and sister would be—,” “Wait,” she held up her hand, “what does marriage have to do with it?” “It’s—,” He exhaled, annoyed by the tangent he’d introduced to the conversation. Shepard’s eyes flickered with a teasing curiosity, and for the umpteenth time since they’d met, he was grateful Turian’s didn’t blush. He rushed through the explanation. “Every Turian is completely tied to their family from birth. Your name, your reputation, your accomplishments and your failures. Everything is shared. That doesn’t change until you’re married. Then it sort of…” he searched for the right word, “transfers to your spouse?” He watched her carefully, trying to gauge her understanding. “Then, when you have kids, they’re tied to you and your partner until they marry—and so on.” 

He caught a flicker in her expression and stopped, “What?” “So you’re saying you’re twenty-seven years old, you’ve no money and no prospects. You’re already a burden to your parents and you’re frightened.” her words sounded strange. It took him a minute to realize she was using a different accent. He wasn’t sure what purpose it served, but he figured she was making a joke he didn't understand. “I guess?” He shrugged. She dropped it. “So if you were married—,” “It was a bad example.”  “No, no, listen. If you were married and your spouse—hypothetically—requested that you fight, I don’t know, the Reapers, you’d have to listen?” “Have you taken a psych eval lately?” She ignored him, “Then, even if the Turian Hierarchy comes knocking, it’s just about you and your partner? No kids, no dad, no sister to worry about.” “How romantic.” “Is that really how it would work?” She pressed. “You’re glossing over a lot of nuance and context—but on a basic level…yes? I guess.” He crossed his arms. How had the conversation gone so off-course? “Regardless, I still need to—” he stopped, “is something wrong with your leg?” Shepard was crouched down onto her knee. “What? No. This is how humans do it.” “Do what?” “Propose.” She said it so matter of factly he almost felt absurd for asking. “Shepard—” “Garrus—” “Shepard, don’t—” “You can just call me Jane now.” “Stop.” He pulled her up, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable fluttering in his stomach. She wore a calm, level expression that frustrated and excited him. “I’m not joking.” Her eyes left his and began to drift across the room as she seemed to consider her words. “Listen. I…need you.” She let the words hang for a minute, as if testing the waters. Her eyes finally settled on a point just over his shoulder, mercifully avoiding his gaze. “We’ve been in this together since the beginning. I trust you and I can’t imagine doing…any of this without you.” She finally turned her eyes to his. Her expression serious. “You're my best friend, and if I’m going into hell, I want you at my back—If you’ll have me.” She added.

“Now you’re begging.” She grinned but continued to push, “I’m serious. Nothing has to change between us. You just get a Turian hall pass to come save the galaxy with me.” It wasn’t that simple, but there was something there. “I feel like this conversation has gone from zero to 100.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He felt like he was watching himself, standing dumbly in front of her.  “Time’s kind of a luxury these days,” she shrugged. “Shepard, I don’t—this is crazy.” He shook his head. She stepped towards him and took his hand, “Garrus Vakarian, will you marry me?” He sighed and she laughed. He was confused, flattered—a little annoyed—and something else he couldn’t quite put his talon on. “I’m not taking your name.” He said, finally. She laughed again, and this time he smiled.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Let's Build an AU Poll #2

A new house.

Drip.

It is something so simple with its four basic walls and sturdy roof, and yet so full of promise. A new start to life. New friends to go on adventures with. Places around to discover and explore. 

Drip.

A place that quickly becomes familiar. Yet seems so strange as one goes about figuring out how to display their life upon its walls.

Drip.

How-

Drip.

“UGH”! screamed (Y/N) as she flung open her white bathroom door. Her face twisted in unleashed fury as she stomped over to the faux-marble sink. Her (S/C) knuckles turned white from forcing the sink knobs to stop the leaky faucet.

But, it didn’t work. The harsh drip continued. Somehow seeming louder and faster than before. Almost like the faucet was retaliating.

Eye twitching, (Y/N) threw her hands against the counter in a hard slap as she sunk to a squat. She opened the cabinets in anger and looked to the pipes. Nothing, not a single puddle or damp spot of wood.

“Great…” She muttered, rocking back on her heels. “Guess, I’ll have to make a call.”

Standing, (Y/N) walked out of the bathroom. A pout on her lips as she reached for her phone that rested on her bed.

With only a couple taps, she was able to dial the one person she knew would help. Her Dad.

The conversation started out as it always does when a devoted father receives a call from his daughter. The quick bit of catching up was interrupted by an embarrassed cough from (Y/N). That was all her father needed to know, something was wrong.

“Well…” She started. “The sink in my master bathroom won’t stop dripping.”

The static from the phone’s speaker did little to dampen the deep hum that he produced. “Did you shut off the water?”

“No.” (Y/N) spoke, wondering if that was even possible. “I’m not even sure how to.”

She could hear her dad’s chuckle; the sound made her both smile and flush in embarrassment as he explained what she needed to do.

His instructions were simple. Find the water valve. To do that one would have to either go down into their basement or their crawl space. Then just flip the switch. The dripping would stop, and peace would exist in her home.

Until she decided to call her father back again on how to troubleshoot the faucet itself.

(Y/N) quickly moved around the full boxes that lay in the barren halls and empty living room. Her steps were light as she bounced down the stairs to her unfinished basement.

Her (E/C) eyes were peeled at the skeletal walls. Picking apart the unneeded wires and filler, until her vision settled on the cylindrical water heater in the corner.

It has to be near that! She thought with excitement.

With a little jog, (Y/N) approached the large heater. Her left-hand slid along the metal as she leaned down to look for the valve.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed together at the lack of a valve. Instead, there was a single, green pipe. It was connected to the back of the water heater and led into a wooden panel on the wall.

She allowed her weight to carry her down onto her knees. Reaching forward, her nails dug into the wooden panel as she tugged on it. It took a couple of harsh pulls for the wood to give. Its sharp crack echoed across the cement as (Y/N) fell backwards with an oof.

She rose back to her knees. Her annoyance at the effort morphed into the open-mouthed look of shock.

Instead of the predictable set of pipes and valves, (Y/N) had expected, the little green pipe forged ahead into a crawl space. It seemed completely fearless; at the monster-like mouth she had created.

(Y/N) peered into the void. There was something felt off. It wasn’t the darkness. Nor the possibility of touching spider webs or bugs. Something more primal, like an unspoken warning that caused the hair on her neck to rise. A promise of a strange encounter that shook her spine with icy shivers.

Drip.

That sound. That damn drip. It was like a lightning strike as (Y/N) annoyance flared once more. It’s heat caused her to cast aside the fear. Blinded her to the common sense of taking it slow as she pulled her phone from her pocket. A simple flick lit it as her flashlight as she charged forward in a mighty crawl.

In her determination to follow the tiny, green pipe to the valve, she brushed off how the floor changed. It was no longer cool cement, but smooth green metal. Its appearance matched the smaller pipe.

She had only traveled a few feet on the metal, when a breeze whipped along her back. Startled, (Y/N) snapped her head back. There was nothing, but the wind picked up.

It had become a vortex as it pulled her forward. Like a dragged dog, (Y/N) tried to maintain her grip. Her hands scrambled for anything to hold on to as her phone disappeared into the large pipe. The smaller pipe felt like a rod of iron as the suction intensified.

It lifted her feet, stringing her back like a flag in a storm. Tears bubbled as her muscles burned and the woman fought to get back to the cement flooring. Desperate to reach the light.

But she couldn’t. Her grip slipped.

(Y/N) screamed.

Down into the darkness she went. The large pipe warped her long its corners. Whipped her hair around like she had gone mad. Pressure crashed around her, almost like the pipe wanted to squish her flat.

It felt both like an eternity of darkness and yet only a second of a pain when she was spat back into the sky.

Her hands once again scrambled in fear as the reality of a fall became imminent. But, there was no harsh pull of gravity. She drifted down like a dropped piece of paper. Floating down to the soft ground below.

She lay there for a second. Taking in all the broken laws of nature. Before shakily, bringing her hand to her face. She gasped at how it looked cartoonish, almost like what one would expect in a chibi videogame.  

(Y/N), though panicked and confused thought she could at least handle it, until she turned her hand.

She screamed at the realization that she was FLAT. As flat as a piece of paper.

She raced to a stand and attempted to look over her new form. Her body rolled like origami as she took in her chibi form.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING!?!

Sobs raked through her as she fell to her knees. All she wanted to do was fix a stupid leak. Now, she was stuck in this…

(Y/N) paused, tears and snot still falling, and looked around. The hills around her were a vibrant green, and tall bushes looked as plush as pillows. In the distance sat swirling pillars that caused her to whimper when she noticed their eyes. They seemed to be staring at her.

What was this place?

The harsh crunch of grass caused her to look behind her as she scuttled to a stand. The bush quivered. Was it a predator? Some villainous human ready to prey on her?

(Y/N) felt her legs tense. Ready to run.

A gloved hand pushed through the bush.

 Its sudden appearance made her jump, but a voice kept her in place.

“Hey, its okay! It’s me –“

TADA~

This build is…

PAPER MARIO!!

Yup, that’s right. The bowser poll from like a year ago is resurfacing in its own way. But in all seriousness, I was playing the rebooted Paper Mario 1000 Year Door, and I was inspired!

Like who wouldn’t like to be isekaied into Papertalia. Then take the place of the hero fighting alongside your favorite nations, using their special skills along the way. Hopefully to get home. Or at least establishing your place in this world.

This week’s poll:

Feel free to comment, reblog, or do whatever.

[keicordelle]

For Better and For Worse

Izumi Mitsuki

"Nii-san, your hand!"

The words came a second before the pain, searing through Mitsuki's finger where it pressed against the oven-hot pan.

"Oh, damn," he said mildly, careful to manoeuvre the tray with its 180° cookies onto the pot holders before pulling his hand back to with a hiss.

"Stay there. I'll go get the first aid kit."

Mitsuki brushed him off. "It's just a little burn." He ignored Iori's instructions, moving to stand before the sink and flip the tap to cold. The water stung where it hit his skin, but the relief it brought was immediate. It'd hurt again as soon as he shut it off, but it wasn't really that big a deal. He'd had worse before, and he probably would again.

Burns were an inevitability as a baker. His hands were covered in little scars and shiny welts where he'd gotten a little too zealous with an overly hot pan or a not-quite-boiling batch of caramel. Grease splatters dotted his wrists and up his forearms, old and almost unnoticeable unless they caught the light just right, and his left index finger still bore the mark from when he was young and trying to chop peppers for the first time.

They looked like his parents' hands. Meant for hot ovens and hard work, nimble fingers on piping bags and strong arms kneading dough. Clean fingernails and shining scars and no adornment. They were a baker’s hands, not an idol's. Even now, when he only occasionally had the time to go over and help with the shop, he still collected burns like Tamaki collected bread stickers.

But that was alright. It was nice to be able to look down and catch a glimpse of his scarred hands and speckled forearms and remember where he came from. He might be an idol now, but he'd always be a baker, whether that was piping cupcakes at the Fonte de Chocolat or making curry and pudding for dinner at the dorm. He liked having that connection to his roots.

Even if he wasn't super fond of the way his hand was going to throb for the rest of the day.

[Ao3] | [Masterlist]

[spectralsleuth]

Candling

(A short preview for the post-movie/apocalypse fix-it fic I'm working on! As a consolation to all the 'Portal Panic' readers, since I'm putting it on hiatus! Love all you guys, I hope you end up enjoying what I come up with. This is WIP, obviously. The working title is 'FLIPSIDE'.)

“Leo, I swear to Gram-Gram, if you do not sit your ass down I will sit it down for you.” Raph threatened, from his seat at Donnie’s medical table. He wasn’t wearing anything but his patchwork canvas pants, red haramaki, and tattered mask. Sitting as he was, tail curled down and off of the industrial strength steel, Raph’s slightly stooped head still almost brushed against the vaulted ceiling, which was studded with rods of sunny yellow chemical lights and inactive bulbs of emergency lighting.

The lab stretched out an impressive distance, as long as a football field and shaped like the inside of a military hangar with its peaked roof, and thickly cabled bridge cranes stretching wall to wall down the length like the ribs of some dying carcass. Electricity hummed everywhere, even within the solid rock walls to either side, which were honeycombed with outgoing connections and wrist-thick cables going to every corner and cranny of the resistance base.

Donnie himself mostly used the front half of the lab, only retreating to the further wide open shop spaces when things needed to be fabricated, or repaired in one whole mass. Right now the back half of the lab was mostly empty- outside of a rack of plant growing projects thriving quietly under the light of a massive UV lamp, and a semi submersible all terrain vehicle that had been made useless by the drying of the oceans four weeks and two battles ago.

Leo held his hands up defensively at Raph’s growling, finally taking a seat on one of the rolling chairs, his feet tapping restlessly from the back heel all the way up to the knee, in an unreadable rhythm. “Yeesh, sorry. I’m just uh.” He scratched under his mask, over one of the double red stripes lining one cheek. “Nervous? I guess?”

“We’re all nervous.” Raph grumbled, shifting to pull a knee up, and brace himself with one heavily taloned hand. “But you pacing and making a mess of Donnie’s lab ain’t gonna help matters any. You’d think one a you idiots was the one having an egg.”

Mikey was hovering peaceably over their heads, swimming as gracefully through the air as any fish through water. It wasn’t always possible for him to fly so easily; but the thought of the day ahead, and the appointment they were all meeting for, had Mikey’s thoughts so happy and light that floating was easier than not at the moment. Leo was half tempted to tie a string to his ankle, and keep him from finding and floating his way up through the exhaust pipes and to the apocalypse-torn surface.

“Raph, one more time. Please.” Mikey asked sweetly, upside down and cape dangling enough that Raph was trying to snort it away from his face in annoyance, like a bull with a fly. “Just let me touch it, I know I can get something from it. My little nibling wants to tell me, we don’t need Donnie’s nasty ole camera-”

“Shut it Mikey; and keep your glowing little paws to yourself.” Raph pushed Mikey away with a hand that engulfed his entire head, and sent him bobbing away across the lab, affront written across his upside down face.

Mikey rumbled indignantly, like a small dog with a bone- and as he did, April, Donnie, and Casey entered the lab.

“WHERE’S MY SON?” Casey demanded, stomping in and giving Mikey’s head a shove as well. It was forceful enough to send him gently spinning back towards his brothers, cape dangling and tilting slightly on his axis.

“Ya don’t know it’s gonna be a boy.” Raph protested, as Leo rolled his chair quickly out of Casey’s way. “It could be a girl! Oh. A little girl turtle…” Raph started to look dewy eyed at the thought, and Casey made a retching noise.

“Don’t be gross! A mother always knows.” She said loftily, moving between Raph’s knees to crowd into the space there. There was plenty of room- even with the egg cradled carefully in one hand, balanced between his knees like a precious jewel, Raph could have fit five more Casey’s in the space she occupied.

Casey leaned up on her top toes and Raph obligingly tilted down to meet her, pressing a toothy kiss to her mouth.

“Now let me see him before one of these morons drops him.”

“Scoff. If you’re that worried about someone dropping it you should have let me make the prosthesis like I planned-“

“You’re not putting my baby in a robot, Donnie.” Raph warned easily, as Casey bundled the egg into her arms with feral eagerness. It was about eight inches across, perfectly round, and colored a delicate creamy yellow that was the same shade as the pinstripe lines on Leo’s throat and chin.

Leo was insufferable about it, even if he was too scared to hold the egg.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

OMG, I LOVE Lambrusco! I would’ve been filling pots and everything for hours! In March 2020, water taps in a village near Modena, Italy started pouring Lambrusco wine for a few hours. Far from a biblical intervention, this was due to an over pressure incident in the nearby winery that connected to the main’s pipe.

https://www.reddit.com/r/Damnthatsinteresting/comments/zc7e4e/in_march_2020_water_taps_in_a_village_near_modena/

[it-me-sannore]

I went to see A Little Life at the cinemas with absolutely zero context and I ended up liking it. I like plays and musicals in general so it wasn't totally unbelievable that I ended up there.

But I'm also not an objective critic with refined taste. As such, here's a collection of my biased and random thoughts about the play (with spoilers):

My favourite part of everything was Luke! Not a surprise. I went to see it specifically for him :P

Did not hate on Luke's American accent as much as I feared, phew!

Though there was one scene where I didn't like Luke's accent - it's the scene in the teaser trailer, that made me all "OMG I didn't realise". But it was limited to that so false alarm, everyone. We good.

I really appreciated how tight the cast was - I believed them in their roles and enjoyed how they portrayed their characters

James Norton - Jude. Man, he was on the stage the whole time. Kudos. I kept thinking, does he get a break?? He carried the lead role well. Also, sings well in German haha

Omari Douglas - As JB, what an irritating hipster bro! I liked the vibe he added to the group of friends.

Zach Wyatt - I was gutted when Malcolm died. So shocked.

I had to pause and reconcile in my brain when Luke (Willem) was raving to modern music and I realised it's cos I wasn't used to seeing him doing anything from the 21st century

Elliot Cowan - all the "bad guys", amazing performance. How he made each character feel distinctly different??? I was so impressed by him.

I was expecting to cry a lot and was pleased when I didn't tear up until the end. I was prepared with tissues. It turns out the torture-porn leans more towards trauma and emotional abuse versus heartbreaking sadness so those aren't tear jerking triggers for me.

I liked how people wandered and stayed on the stage when it wasn't their scene

I kept thinking about how the tap and sink must have some kind of reserve of water beneath it since it's probably not hooked up to pipes.

I also kept (judgmentally) thinking that surely Harold actor (Zubin Varla) does not clean as much at home as he must have to do at work right now, with all this blood on the stage.

I didn't understand Andy's role in Jude's life. I think I missed the set up. Or just didn't connect the dots. Was he... a doctor friend? Actual doctor? Guess I'll have to look it up.

I liked how Ana balanced what was happening on the stage, even though she was now only in his head.

I enjoyed seeing Luke take his shirt off, even though I'm slightly prudish. I totally internally grinned.

Jude and Willem's relationship was... good, bad, conflicting, seeing them "happy" and then not so typically happy. Was Jude really "happy" or was it a trauma response? It really was a rollercoaster ride and my emotions were everywhere.

I enjoyed the intermission in the cinema - how the screen ticked down. I stood up and cracked my back loud enough that the stranger next to me was like, "that sounded like a good one".

All the cool effects - like the blood patches, the screen that came down and took Jude into the sky, the use of light to transition when it was opaque or spotlight when he was being chased by the car, the 360 degree stage.

Yay Luke lol. - Which is jarring due to the subject matter but I really did enjoy seeing a new Luke performance.

[zeeboomblebee]

Post-Merged with the Sea Nya Headcanons

Because you can’t convince me there weren’t ANY lasting consequences of merging with the sea when at least Cole got a scar from being turned into a ghost.

Her irises changed from their original color to an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of blues

She has very faint impressions of the facial markings she acquired from merging that glow when she uses her powers

She always has a faint, vaguely fresh, briney scent that reminds one of the beach

She has a very deep and strong connection with her element compared to the others. Water is quicker to obey, she can command larger sources of it and at a farther range with a lot of precision and efficiency. She also just wields it differently than how she used to; more as if it were an extension of her body. There’s undeniable familiarity with the way water moves that Nya taps into when she uses her powers that wasn’t there before.

She’s more aware of any sources of water around her. Like even without looking, she notices water traveling through pipes, little puddles collected after a storm, etc. She’s also acutely aware of when it’s about to rain. She finds it more distracting than anything else.

Speaking of distracting, she can still hear the ocean’s call. It’s not as loud or consuming as it was when merged, but enough to catch her attention, especially when closer to the sea.

Her general mood lifts when in water. Even if she’s grumpy, the moment she steps in, she’ll cheer up a little. She has a hard time resisting playing around in the water or idly using her powers to make random shapes.

She gets furious when she sees someone littering in the ocean.

She has a really big affinity for whales now and finds it very soothing to listen to them singing. While she can’t understand what they’re saying like she could when merged, she can still vaguely communicate with them. The others call her the whale whisperer.

She’s a wickedly strong swimmer, even in the ocean with its strong currents and not using her powers. She can hold her breath underwater for an impressively long time

I’ve got a few more but I’m not totally sure about adding them. If any of y’all want to add some headcanons, you’re more than welcome to. I’d love to see them!!