#How to Fix Clogged Drains

[funfooter]

Plumbing Problems and How to Diagnose Them

Common Plumbing Problems and How to Fix Them

Plumbing problems can be both frustrating and costly if left unattended. We understand the importance of identifying and resolving these issues efficiently to avoid further damage to your home. Below, we provide a detailed guide on the most common plumbing problems and practical solutions to fix them, ensuring your plumbing system functions effectively.

1. Clogged Drains: Causes and Solutions

Clogged drains are one of the most frequent plumbing issues homeowners face. Over time, debris like hair, soap scum, grease, and food particles can build up, leading to slow drainage or a complete blockage.

How to Fix Clogged Drains

Boiling Water: Pouring boiling water down the drain can dissolve some blockages, especially soap scum.

Plunger: A plunger can dislodge most clogs by creating pressure to push the debris through the pipe.

Drain Snake: For deeper clogs, a drain snake can break up the blockage or pull out obstructions.

Chemical Cleaners: While effective, chemical drain cleaners can damage pipes if overused. Use sparingly.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Shout out to the guy who read:

"I keep trying to warn you where this will lead.

It isn't about what I want or what I think should happen, I'm not endorsing anything, let's be clear, it's about what will happen, really, it's about human nature.

This isn't about what's moral, or what's reasonable, or what you think you can stoke a divisive culture war against, it isn't about my opinion, I did not invent the nature of need, it's about what people have always done when faced with no good options, guns in their hands and staring up at the people sentencing them to suffering and death."

Interpreted it as me saying "gun violence is the appropriate solution" and then threatened me with gun violence for saying it was the solution...

And then deleted his reblog when I pointed out his lack of reading comprehension and blocked him.

Leave alone that he is exactly the kind of disillusioned right wing supporting gun toting reactionary who I was trying to point out will be the ones actually enacting the gun violence [not so much the staunch leftists who believe in the value of human life]... As has actually already been proven at least 3 times now.

I'd like to remind him that I do report people for threats of physical violence and for harassment.

And I'd like to recommend stepping away from the internet and having a nice hot bath or something every time he feels the need to try to make a nasty comment... Before he makes an ass of himself again.

I'd also like to reiterate that I am not endorsing gun violence, I am merely pointing out that this will continue to happen if we stay on this trajectory, and you can't reasonably expect another outcome.

Look at history's example.

You are fucking so deeply with human rights and everyone being able to meet their basic needs that the angry incels who used to be taking aim at women and students, are the exact group who are now looking angrily up at billionaires and politicians, having finally seen who they should be mad at [not an endorsement of them seeing gun violence as the solution], and wow I bet THEY -the largely rich white men who are 'calling the shots'- don't like it when the guns are being aimed at them instead of the women and children they can usually scapegoat...

Maybe try not to literally threaten to shoot the messenger?

I mean, I can also predict that suddenly gun reform will start to seem okay or be dropped as a main talking point by the political right once enough billionaires, CEOs, and politicians are shot/shot at... That's just me pointing out what's a near inevitability... Not me exerting some power to try to make it happen. [I have none]

I'm not the one with the gun, and I'm not the one stripping people of their basic human rights or denying their needs for survival. I have no power to tell people what to do and I have about as much influence as your average tumblr shit-poster at best. That is in fact the MOST power I have in any facet of my life. I'm just telling you what I see happening. If you think lashing out at me solves anything, you are misdirecting that energy, buddy.

[elprupneerg]

i need to find the people who "inspected" my new place and said it was in good condition and i need to beat their ass so hard they quit their job and never leave any other tenants with a place as weirdly fucked up as this one ever again

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Hi, I don't know If you take requests, but could you please right about the reaction and thoughts of the bat boys toward finding out their partner was pregnant? Please and thank you

A/N: I do take requests, love. And I've got you ❣️

Bat-boys find out you're pregnant🍼

Dick Grayson's first thought is worry. He doubts how he'll make it work; crimefighting, his job, then his relationship with you. And he'll wonder how Nightwing will interfere with his life, and how Bruce will react (he'll spoil the child endlessly).

Reassurance from Donna, Alfred, or Bruce will part his fog of worry and distance. He'll hit the ground running to rectify his isolation. I mean breaking the news to friends and family, arranging play dates with Roy and Lian.

"I'll be safer on patrol," he whispered," I promise, hun." You had broke down after so long of trying to remain calm. But seeing your lover return home with bruise after bruise would weigh anyone down. Especially one pregnant.

Dick's hand would always be on your belly, reminding himself that you both are safe and he's doing a great job. It's what he needs to hear, that he's making the city safer for you both.

He is 100% a handyman. Dick will build cribs, changing tables, repair toilets, fix creaky cabinets. And he'll baby proof the house." Don't worry, babe," he assured you." Just relax. It's just a clogged drain."

Jason Todd's first thought is if he'd be a good father, after everything he's been through and done. He even wonders if he deserves to be a father, or if he deserves a nameless grave. However, leaving is never and will never be an option for him. I truly think he'd be the most active out of the bat-boys.

Jason's love language has always been acts of service, and it would thrive during your pregnancy. Your house would be booby-trapped and SECURED. He'd teach you the basics of a gun, and he'd ensure your pregnancy cravings are stocked. Jason would also wash your back when your belly grew too large.

Jason would let you shop for baby and maternity clothes with his card. His only request is that you don't get the baby anything too vibrant because it's an eyesore. If anything, he'd prefer neutral tones or black on the baby.

The weather becomes his interest after the baby's birth." Do you think they need a jacket?" Is his favorite line." Don't you think it's a little hot for them to be wearing long sleeves," he'll wonder. Or the baby is swaddled and he'll question," do you think he's overheating? I'd be hot if that were me all wrapped up like that."

A child is the only thing to make him stand steadfast on his refusal to kill. Not Bruce, not Dick, not even you. Your child brought forth a new mindset, one of not wanting to see a killer reflecting in the innocent and chocolate eyes of his child (Jason's eyes are brown. Argue with a wall).

Tim Drake isn't as present as one would believe. His activity is inconsistent, and it's harder to reach him because he's usually working. But he wants you to sit with him, to bring the baby and let him play around in his office.

It warms his heart to return from a meeting and his baby is sprawled out on his pastel blue teddy bear blanket and cooing. You're dangling a rattle over him, and Tim would strut over and kiss you on the cheek." How's it going, love?" He'd ask and rub the baby's cheek." They being good?" His eyebrow would raise playfully.

The baby would be raised around Bruce and Alfred more than his actual parents. I also see Stephanie caring for the baby and even babysitting if you work or just need rest. Cass would swoon over it, so prepare for tons of peeled oranges and Cass making your bottles.

Alfred would surely read your baby literature. He'd be sitting in the library, baby on his lap while y'all rest, reading from a dusty and old book that's sure to ignite your allergies.

Damian would try his hardest to be a fun dad because he never got that. It's been well documented that he wouldn't dare put a child through his life. So I think the farthest he would go is teaching you enough to defeat the average Shadow/Assassin. But he would not want you killing.

I think he'd lean into Bruce's "No-Kill" mantra after having a child. If you even want to enter vigilantism; he'd understand if you choose not to. It's a thankless job; it's isolating and bruising.

But I think if the kid did continue training, that's when they'd truly bond. Damian and he/she would laugh and joke between rounds; he'd show them the best way to throw a punch, and he'd teach mercy. That's also when they'd meet the other side of their family---the Al Ghuls. But Damian would have strict stipulations on what they learn. No instant kill moves, no brainwashing, none of the narcissistic sentiments Talia filled his head with.

I also think you, Damian, and your kid would lead fairly healthy lives. Not overboard, but the occasional protein shake or morning run; maybe even a little weight lifting. Or if cardio is your speed, he'd install a home-treadmill or a pool.

Bruce Wayne's first thought would be his age. How he's climbing in age and his job usually doesn't lead to gold and sunsets. He'd be happy because he sees it as a second chance. His first two sons saw the angry and vengeful side of him, so that's how they grew up; Tim sought him, and Damian came stained with blood.

But with you and the baby, he could actually be a father. He could raise the baby from infancy and make bottles and hush cries, like he wanted to with Dick and Jason. He could show the baby his favorite movies and just talk to them, even though the baby would respond with drool and coos.

He wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Bruce would set his child on a straight path; the world has enough Bats and birds. They could just...be. They'd would carry on the Wayne name.

Bruce would spoil you and his baby rotten. He'd watch over the baby like a hawk; each cry, each coo, each babble would send Bruce into a fit of worry. He'd leap up from his seat and check the cradle, only to find a giggling baby with his feet in the air. Then he'd chuckle, which would make the baby giggle even more. " You got me, little one. You got me," he'd utter and return to the Bat-computer.

[charliemwrites]

Talked about this with @ceilidho last night and it’s making me Insane,

Neighbor!Johnny.

His parents have moved to be closer to his sisters and their children, leaving him their gorgeous house to crash at during leave.

When he moves in, you bring him a batch of cookies, welcoming him to the neighborhood and telling him to stop by if he needs anything. Something in his eyes flickers as he takes you in, sundress and sneakers.

“Cookies aren’t the only sweet treat here,” he drawls, grinning.

Your neighbor Johnny who leans folds his massive arms over your fence when he catches you out by the pool. You don’t have your towel or a coverup because it’s your own backyard, but it’s fine! There’s a fence between you two and anyway he’s just coming to say hi.

Johnny who tsks when you tell him your husband went on another business trip without fixing the AC. You don’t want to call someone over while you’re home alone. Not to worry - Johnny is handy with wires and he’ll fix it for free. And while he’s here… that cabinet too, aye? And the shower drain that’s a bit clogged?

You don’t notice that a couple of your photos are missing from an album you keep in the basement with the heater. Or the lotion from your cabinet is gone - your husband probably tossed it. Definitely don’t notice the very very slight change in consistency of your body soap.

One day you’re just home from groceries and Johnny stumbles out of a taxi. He’s got a big black duffel bag, still in uniform. There’s dirt in his mohawk and streaky paint on his face.

“Bonnie,” he sighs, making a beeline for you. “Missed you. Give us a hug? It was a rough go.”

And of course you hug him - least you can do for a man risking his life to keep the rest of the world safe!! You dont notice the smudges he leaves on your cheek until your husband points it out when he gets home.

Your husband…

Johnny doesn’t let Ryan call him Johnny; he introduces himself as “Soap.” You figure it’s a guy thing, giggling about the callsign while Johnny grips bruises into your husband’s soft white-collar hands.

He doesn’t like Johnny. Says it’s weird how he’s always hanging around.

Not always, you correct, he only gets a couple weeks of leave at a time.

And he spends as much of it as he can with you. It’s nice, though, to have company while you futz with housewife chores and pretend to anticipate your husband’s return home.

Johnny’s good company! He listens with rapt attention to the rambles your husband barely even pretends to hear. He doesn’t call your crime podcasts creepy, or your tv shows noisy.

(In fact, he listens a bit too closely. If you paused while cooking or cleaning, you’d notice the feverish light in his eyes. Certain turns of your tongue make his thighs twitch).

When you’re having a bad day, venting to Johnny about it over a cup of coffee, he listens, nods, clicks his tongue.

“He best take care of that when he gets home.”

You don’t get what he means, and the next day when you’re still annoyed, he shakes his head.

“All pent up still, eh? He not taking care of you right?”

You fluster and swat at him, remind him you’re not one of this army bros he shouldn’t be so crass. He keeps making those comments. You just roll your eyes and wave him off - but never correct him because it’s true.

One day your husband is home when Johnny stops by. You got something stuck in the sink drain and need him to get it - knew Ryan wouldn’t call in a reasonable time to save it.

When he comes in, Johnny drops a kiss on your cheek before going for the kitchen. Knows exactly where it is, you two have a standing brunch date there.

Johnny listens to you talk while he works, fusses at you for trying to hand him his dirty tools. Goes into your fridge, grabs a can of soda and a peach. Reminds you that you’re running low on yogurt while he licks juice from his fingers.

When he’s done, he drops one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, big hand anchoring you by the hip. You walk him out, promising to let him look at that rattling noise your car has been making the next day.

It starts a fight. Ryan is furious that Johnny is so comfortable in “his” house. You shake your head, tell him that you’re just as comfortable at Johnny’s but that only seems to set him off more. He tells you that it’s not normal, that Johnny is being inappropriate and you’re letting him.

You scoff and roll your eyes, tell him that he’s being insecure, that you only have eyes for him. He ends up storming out, presumably to go stay at his brother’s.

Thirty minutes after he’s gone, there’s a knock at the door. You know it’s Johnny. You almost answer it. But Ryan’s accusations ring in your head and dig a guilty pit in your stomach. You go upstairs, pretending you didn’t hear it. Or any of the others for the half hour after.

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap three/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Mr. Fix It

summary: when your kitchen sink breaks, you ask your new ‘friend’ for help.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. lots of pining, and steve opens up a little about his past.

authors note: this chapter was a struggle for me, lots of overthinking and rewriting. I hope you guys like it though 💗

🌇 chapter one | chapter two -> chapter four

Series Masterlist/Playlist/The tune:

Early June - A Thursday

Your first week as a waitress at The Whale was a whirlwind, long hours on your feet leaving you exhausted every time you climbed your staircase each night. Dishes and laundry piling up around your apartment, so when you finally have a day off it is dedicated to playing catch up. The smell of coffee fills your apartment as you stretch looking out your living room window. New curtains ready to be hung leaning against the wall.

His car is gone, the normal work day in full swing for most of the city. You haven’t seen him since that night in the alley, your schedules seeming completely opposite now. Part of you hopes maybe today you’ll at least catch a glimpse of your new friend and his cute dog.  

Most of the day is spent going up and down your stairs to the shared laundry room in the basement of the building. In between loads is filled with distractions of things to do in your room and whatever you left playing on your TV. Your eyes actively avoid the dishes that have piled in your sink while you actually fold your laundry. It is only when you don’t have any more excuses that you finally drag your pink fuzzy slipper covered feet over to the one chore you’ve been dreading all day.

“I gotta get better at washing as I use,” you grumble like every other time you find yourself here.

You only get two plates and a bowl deep when the sink starts to clog, groaning annoyedly you flip the switch of the disposal only to be met with the sound of metal grinding against metal. A smell resembling burning plastic hits your nose and you’re quick to flip it off, the water still refusing to drain. Slamming down on the faucet handle, you wait a couple of minutes before daring to reach in to see if a piece of silverware got stuck in there. When your fingertips meet nothing but warm water, panic starts to set in. 

You flip the switch one more time out of curiosity, and the same unbearable sound drowns out your TV. You huff turning it off, hands finding your hips as you look around for a solution you know you aren’t going to find without calling someone. Bandit’s bark catches your ears, and you hate that all your frustrations seem to disappear at the thought of seeing him.

You pad over to your window, eyes going big and head dropping at the sight that’s waiting for you.

Of fucking course.

It’s obvious he barely got home from work by the black slacks that still cover his long legs, but the dress shirt is missing. Instead the white tank top he wears underneath is all that’s there. Tucked in so it fits tight across his torso, his dark chest hair peeks out the top with a silver chain shining against his bronzed skin. His forearms flex tugging on the tennis ball trapped in Bandit’s tight grip, his sock and slide covered feet plant on the ground for added balance. The smile on his face you swear is brighter than the sun that isn’t hidden by any clouds today and you didn’t realize how much you missed it. 

It’s somehow even hotter than it looked outside, and you immediately regret not changing out of your warm slippers, but he’s already spotted you with an offering of a friendly wave with his big hand. He gets the ball away from Bandit, losing his footing surprised, shock painting his features before the dog starts jumping on him. Steve raises it over his head, keeping Bandit too distracted to see you at the gate that he’s signaling for you to let yourself in from. 

Your hand shakes a little when you unhook the latch, nerves from never being at his house before and not seeing him for the past week try to get the best of you. He smiles when he looks at you from over the rim of his sunglasses letting Bandit win finally but it’s too late for toys when he spots you. Bounding over with big paws, Bandit wastes no time jumping on you, making you stumble back a little before catching him in your arms.

“Bandit! Come on, don’t knock her down,” Steve scolds, but those pretty giggles that he loves so much come out when his dog starts licking your cheek and it tells him all he needs to know.

“Hi buddy, I missed you too.” You grin, your animal voice coming out only a little when you feel Steve’s stare fixated on you.

Bandit wags his tail jumping down satisfied before grabbing his ball again bringing it back to you to continue the game you interrupted.

“Hey tough girl.” Steve smirks shoving his hands in his pockets watching you accept his dog’s invitation. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

You play with Bandit’s ears to try and distract him as you do your best to get the rubber ball out of his iron tight bite, completely losing focus on why you came over here in the first place when you succeed and throw it towards their front door.

“Oh my god, my sink!” You gasp, your hand covering your embarrassed grin.

Steve’s eyes widen, his eye brows marrying together in the middle with concern. 

“Is it flooding?!” He asks incredulously as Bandit trots back over carefree. 

“No, not flooding.” You assure him going back in for the toy, and you can tell your nonchalance is getting to him. “My disposal is making sounds and it smells like plastic burning every time I run it, so the water won’t drain.” You get the ball away from Bandit cause he lets you, only continuing your explanation after you throw it again. 

“I was hoping my good friend and neighbor could come check it out?” You try to lighten the mood with a smile but the concern never leaves his face, the pink that dusts his cheeks tells you he’s not unaffected by your ‘charms’ though.

“It’s probably something stuck in the pipes, let me get some tools and I'll come back with you.” He speaks like he’s sure he knows that’s it, snapping his fingers at Bandit to get him to wrap it up.

“Are you sure? I’m not interrupting anything tonight?” You hope he doesn’t pick up on the hidden ulterior motives in your question, but the smirk he gives you tells you he does.

“No honey, I’m all yours.”

It’s strange having him in your apartment again, and god you wish he had put on a real shirt when he got his tool box. The tops of his shoulders are covered in even more freckles, the tint of redness from the sun becoming obvious in your harsh kitchen light. The muscles in his arms twitch in the cold air of your AC that works harder with the heat of two bodies in your small space. 

His gaze falls on your full sink and you immediately regret going to get his help. Silently cursing your hormones for getting the best of you. 

“Sorry, obviously I was trying to do them. It’s been a long week, I started a new job serving and-“ embarrassment makes blood rush to your cheeks as you go to move past him in an attempt to clean some of it up.

“Hey, you’re fine.” He grabs your arm before you can make it, long fingers wrapping around you in a firm grip but still soft enough for you to pull away if you really wanted to. “I’m not judging you.”

His lips tug into a warm smile when you don’t try and break away, the gold specs in his eyes lighting up while his thumb brushes against your heated skin in a soothing motion. It only grows wider watching how your shoulders give in to his whims with a slump.

“Just know I was about to do them!” You argue weakly with a point of your finger and he just nods, the corners of his mouth twitching in an effort not to laugh at your distress. 

“How else would you know your sink is broken?” His voice wavers when he tries to play along with a straight face, but it becomes impossible when he catches the roll of your eyes. You do that a lot to him. He likes it.

“Better watch yourself Steve,” you warn with a grin wrapped around your words that hold no real threat, but it’s hard to fight it when he still hasn’t let you go. 

He’s closer now, and you notice his five o’clock shadow is as dark as it was the first day you met. Salt and pepper covering his sharp jaw. The faded fresh scent of his deodorant mixes with the spice of his cologne, and the sweat that kissed his skin outside. You want to bury your face in his shirt and inhale.

“You shouldn’t threaten the guy that’s here to fix your sink honey. That’s not very smart,” he tsks looking down the edge of his nose at you with squinted eyes, “you’re lucky I’m so nice.” 

You immediately feel the loss when he drops your arm and if it wasn’t for the wink that followed, you would have missed it more.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease trying to play off how flustered you are but the slight shake in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed, confidence smoldering in his stare before his teeth come out in a blinding smile.

“Let me go take a look, see what I can do. Your dishes aren’t offending me, I promise.” He does his best to ease the last bit of self consciousness still hanging onto the way you look over at the small mess before walking away with tools clanking in the metal box loudly behind him.

It had been almost an hour with him like this.

He’s on his back, long legs extending over the small space of your kitchen tile. Slides kicked to the side, white sock covered feet wiggling with his movements under your sink. The top of him is hidden, the tank top that was tucked in now loose and pulling up, giving you the hint of his happy trail. You try not to stare at the way the muscles in his arm harden with each twist of his wrist, or the grunts that leave him every now and then.

You find out he works in marketing for The Cubs and used to play baseball himself in high school, laughing when you confess how much you don’t like sports. He promises to take you to a game sometime saying he knows you’ll have fun and you try not to think too much into it. He knows you're rolling your eyes again when you answer “sure” with a smile in your voice. He lets you complain about your first week as a server, surprising you when he asks questions because he’s actually listening.

Metal clanks loudly, cutting you off and drowning out the playlist you chose to fill any empty gaps in conversation that never seemed to happen. An “I’m fine” coming out from under the sink just a little too even to really sound ‘fine’.

There’s a beat before you see him reach for the pliers at his hip, readjusting like he’s set his sights on the culprit.

“Wait, I don’t think you ever told me - hmmpf - what - come on - restaurant you work at?” He readjusts again.

“The Whale,” you give him an answer, hypnotized by his ability to multitask like this.

“Oh, my wife loved that place.” He says it casually like he didn’t just drop a Hiroshima sized bomb on you, or maybe he does and that's why he chose to do it hidden from sight. 

You're thankful he can’t see the way your jaw drops, or the disappointment that fills your eyes. There’s a beat of silence before you answer, trying to hide the shock in your voice.

“Wife? I didn’t know Bandit had a Mom.” You look up at the ceiling, mouthing the work ‘fuck’ into the void.

There’s another clank of metal followed by a ‘there you are.’

“Erm - I mean - umm, technically I got Bandit after - I didn’t want to use ex wife, I just don’t know the proper term to say I’ve been widowed for five years.”  He grunts one more time before he starts shimming out. “I do think I found the source of your clog though.”

Your favorite stray clings to his forehead when you get to see his face again, a pleased smile pushing his cheeks up despite the new information he just told you as he holds the ring you thought you lost during the move.

“My ring!” You gasp, jumping off your couch, the opal stone catching in the setting sunlight. 

“Clearly, you do, do your dishes.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you laughing when you shove his shoulder lightly snatching your jewelry back.

“You’re hilarious Steve.” The tightness that had formed in your chest relaxes, his smile becoming contagious.

He likes the way you say his name and the way your lips twist up every time you do. It’s sweet enough to ease the guilt that he’s fought with since the day he met you.

“I know,” he huffs as he pushes himself up, reminding you how broad he is when he’s back on his feet. “You should’ve seen my speech at the Legends of the Ball gala last year.”

He gets that eye roll he didn’t get to see earlier, and god he doesn’t want to leave yet but when you slip the ring onto that finger he knows it’s time to go. For now.

He clears his throat before turning around to test his work. Flipping the switch, the sound it’s supposed to make returns, the water in the sink draining quickly.

“Annnd, all back to normal.” His grin is proud when he turns it off. “‘Now, let me clean my mess up and I’ll get out of your hair.” Mirroring his own words he finally pushes his back and you see the dusty pink that covers his ears when he slips his feet back into his slides.

“I feel like I can’t let you leave without offering you a drink or something?” You know all you have in the fridge is some rosé you got on sale at Aldi, but you needed a reason for him to stay.

“How about this, you can bring me back some of those fish tacos one night this week and we’ll call it even.”  He can’t look at you when he suggests it, hoping his ploy to see you again wasn’t obvious while he busies himself with putting all his tools away.

“I think that’s more than doable, I need to thank you for finding my favorite ring too, maybe you should pick a dessert while we’re at it.” You bite your bottom lip when his eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin.

“I’m a big fan of cannoli’s.” He snaps the clasps of his tool box closed before doing a once over to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind. Not that, that would be a bad thing if he did, you’d have to bring it back to him. 

“Consider it done. Seriously, thank you Steve.” All your teasing from before is gone, making his  face soften at your sincerity and he wants to tell you that’s enough for him.

“Anytime, that’s what neighbors are for right? It’s always just me and Bandit anyway. It’s nice to feel useful again.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, like he wouldn’t help you with anything you asked of him despite how he hardly knows you.

You walk him to your door where you both stand on either side of the threshold, toe to toe. Neither one of you is sure of the proper way to say goodbye.

“Give Bandit an extra treat from me for letting me steal his Dad for a few hours.” You break the ice leaning against the door frame, crossing your arms making the decision easy.

“I’ll be sure to tell him it’s from you.” Steve’s eyes gleam from the evident admiration you have for his dog. 

“You better.” The threat is empty, the smile on your face to prove it. 

“Have a good night honey. I’m always just next door if you need anything else.” He loiters a little bit unsure of himself before finally turning to make his way down the stairs.

“I’ll try not to lose any more jewelry down the drains!” You call after him, relishing in the laugh it gets you that echoes down the narrow hallway. 

You wait till he’s out of your sight before you shut your front door. Your mind racing with everything you’d learned about him tonight, sleep was going to be impossible. 

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beta’d by @superblysubpar & @newlips 💗

dividers by @newlips 💗

chapter four

[dewsgremlin]

Kevin is absolutely annoyed by ghouls and would like to send them all back to the pit

cw: Kevin hates ghouls

(he would prefer any other demon because ghouls cause so much chaos)

Kevin hates ghouls with a passion.

Not because he's afraid of them, no, on the contrary, you can't have less respect for them than Kevin. He just thinks they're annoying little beasts, like particularly vicious chihuahuas from hell. Dewdrop, Phantom and Rain especially get on his nerves. Phantom because he's always clinging to Kevin like a leech. Dewdrop because he's a little gremlin who just causes chaos that Kevin then has to clean up. And Rain isn't that bad but he isn't good at speaking human language that Kevin usually doesn't understand what the water ghoul is stammering anyway. Well, Kevin could speak ghoulish if he wanted to, but in the end these pests would annoy him even more.

The worst is when he has to fix something in the ghoul wing.

For example, the other day, when he just wanted to clean the clogged drain in the kitchen sink, he was surrounded by ghouls within a few minutes. They reminded him of a bunch of starving cats, the way they stalked around him and cast curious glances over his shoulder.

Phantom was immediately glued to him again, practically tugging at Kevin's hair and clothes. Then Aether, who kept his distance but intermittently gave advice that Kevin hadn't asked for. "You should unscrew the drain pipe first" and "Are you sure you've mixed the cleaning concentrate sufficiently? Otherwise it could damage the pipes."

Kevin wanted to hit Aether in the face. But instead he contented himself with glaring at the sink while he worked.

At one point he accidentally hit Rain's forehead with his knee because Rain was squeezing himself on the floor between him and the bucket that Kevin had used to catch all the muck from the drainpipe. With an annoyed look, Kevin noticed that the water ghoul had started collecting small pieces that had landed in the drainpipe from the bucket.

"Stop that! You're just making everything dirty," he growled as Rain pulled his hands back and placed a marble, dripping with dirt, on the ground.

Rain just babbled incomprehensible things as he began to dig in the muck again.

"Why do you forbid Rain that?", whispered Phantom and came so close to Kevin that he felt the ghoul's warm breath brushing over his ear.

Kevin sighed with the burden of a man who would rather tend a sack full of fleas than a handful of ghouls.

Why couldn't the clergy have chosen other demons? There were many species that were less unruly than ghouls. Kevin even had the feeling that chaos ghouls not only enjoyed themselves, but that they actually drew their energy from it. He had once expressed this thought to Sister Imperator, but she had just laughed at him and said that he just had to learn to assert himself. That could only come from someone who didn't have to deal with these plagues on a daily basis.

Annoyed, Kevin stuck the spiral into the drain to push out the last bit of snot, while at the same time swatting away Rain's fingers that had appeared on the edge of the sink.

Since Copia had risen to the top of the ministry and had a bit more say, Kevin was no longer even allowed to sprinkle holy water on the ghouls to keep them away. After all, that would hurt the ghouls, the youngest Emeritus brother had explained his decision. Simply ridiculous. When Kevin had started working for the clergy, ghouls had just been treated like ghouls. But since Copia had shown up here, Kevin had to treat these creatures as if they had more feelings than lust, hunger and thirst.

Finally, the resistance in the drain was released and with a slap, a pile of mud landed in the bucket.

"Is that...sand?" asked Aether, astonished. Kevin shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "How do I know what kind of crap you always pour down the drain?!" He pulled the spiral back and knelt under the sink to screw the pipe back on.

Phantom also knelt down next to him and grabbed one of Kevin's long strands of hair to chew on.

"I'm clearly not being paid well enough for this," the brown haired growled, shooing back first Phantom and then Rain, whose hand had already disappeared back into the bucket.

Under the curious gaze of the ghouls, Kevin screwed the pipe back on, sat up with his aching back and picked up the bucket.

"It would be nice if you could just stop breaking or clogging anything for more than three days," Kevin grumbled, looking sternly at Aether. The quintessence ghoul had spent the last few minutes watching with his hands on his hips and a critical expression. "I'm doing my best, but you know what they're like." Kevin only snorted in response. He watched as Aether disappeared into the living room before he too turned to leave. The ghoul was talking to Kevin as if they were eye to eye. Kevin shook his head.

Ghouls.

He was about to close the door behind him when Rain slithered through and tugged at his sleeve. His big blue eyes bored into his.

"What?" Kevin asked slightly suprised. Rain's mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out. Then, finally, when Kevin's already extremely thin thread of patience was about to snap, Rain managed to say a word.

"Encore."

He had always thought that Rain simply didn't speak human language, but apparently the ghoul was just stupid. In a good-natured tone, as if he was talking to someone particularly retarded, Kevin replied. "I know you did a great job on the ghovie. We're all very proud of you. But I," he pointed to himself, "have to go now," he pointed to the door.

Rain tilted his head, confused. He's probably doing this so that the few brain cells he has will slip into the same corner, Kevin thought spitefully.

The water ghoul tugged at his sleeve again, this time more frantically. "encore, encore, encore Dew."

Confused, Kevin turned around and froze.

Dewdrop stood at the sink and calmly poured a thick liquid into it. Kevin now also noticed the penetrating smell of ammonia. The damned ghoul poured wall paint into the sink. Kevin blinked. The man was too stunned to even utter a word.

He definitely needed a bottle of whiskey tonight. Better yet, two. And brandy. A lot of it.

[bruisedboys]

can I request a James x reader where he comforts a reader who struggles to connect with people and make friends? Thank you!

gosh this ask is so me. I find it so so so hard to connect and make friends I’m really glad I’m not the only one. it’s tough out there fr!!! love u anon

fem!reader 1.6k words

You get home from work and the only person you want to see is James. Your eyes sting when you realise he’s not home yet. You should’ve realised earlier, but you were too focused on getting home without bursting into tears on the way here. He’s working late today, meaning you’re alone. For another whole hour.

You manage to get out of your shoes, put your bag down, and get half undressed before you start crying. You’re halfway through pulling your blouse over your head when the first tear dribbles down your cheek. There’s no stopping it from then.

The tears come and they don’t stop. You slump down on the bed in nothing but your underwear and cry until your chest aches and then some. It’s hard being a quiet girl, even harder being a quiet girl at your work. Everyone’s friends with each other, everyone’s fun and cool and no one ever has to think twice about what they want to say. You try and try to make friends but nothing ever comes of it. You’re too much, or maybe not enough, you can’t quite decide. Whatever it is, it hurts. And if you keep doing this any longer you think you’ll be drained of all your energy.

You’re crying so much you don’t even hear the door open. It’s only when James calls down the hallway that you realise he’s home.

“Y/N? Where are you, honey?”

You’ve no time to make yourself look presentable. All you can do is wipe the hot tears from your wet cheeks and then James is stepping into the bedroom. He looks lovely as always but his face falls horribly when he gets a good look at you.

“Sweetheart,” he says, panicked. He throws his bag down and crosses the room quickly until he’s right in front of you. He puts his big warm hands on your shoulders. “Honey. Are you— what’s the matter? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

You’re too busy trying to get your breathing back to normal to answer. James checks you over for any signs of injury and when he finds none he somehow manages to look even more worried. It’s not something he can fix with a band-aid and a kiss, he must realise. Though you would quite like a kiss right now.

“I th-thought you were working late,” you blubber uselessly, your voice all clogged with upset.

James frowns at you. “I wanted to see you, shortcake. Boss let me off early.”

More tears come before you can stop them. He’s so nice and you’re so upset and he’s come home early to see you and he’s met with this. You cry that awful sort of crying. The sort where you can’t really seem to stop no matter how much you want to. The sort that starts small and gets bigger and bigger until your throat burns like fire.

“Aw, sweetheart,” James coos quietly. He pushes he hands around to your back and pulls you into his chest, arms locked around your shoulders. His big hand finds your hair and he strokes from the top of your head to the bottom over and over again. “Shh. It’s okay, lovely girl. I’ve got you.”

You appreciate that he doesn’t tell you to stop crying. You don’t think you could if he did. And besides, this breakdown has been a long time coming. You’ve held it in for days now and you know you’ll probably feel better afterwards. James stands and holds you for as long as you need, as long as it takes for your tears to slow.

When they finally do come to a stop, you suddenly remember you’re wearing next to nothing. James is still rubbing your back, his big hands smoothing lines into your skin, and suddenly you’re hot and prickly all over. You go to pull away.

“James,” you say thickly, speaking right into his chest.

James hums and you can feel it vibrate through his chest. He lets you pull away but only slightly, moving back about an inch so he can see your face.

“Yeah?” He asks softly. He’s got this look on his face that makes you want to cry all over again. Fond. Pitying but in a nice way. “You ready to talk about it?”

“I should put on a shirt,” you say instead of answering.

“What?” James looks at you like you being in such a state of undress is the last thing on his mind. Like he hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in helping you to feel better. His eyes flick from your face to your chest and back again. “Oh. No, honey, you’re okay. Unless you’re uncomfortable.”

Your heart does this funny backflip that makes you feel better, or maybe worse, you can’t tell. He’s so lovely. You might cry again. “I— no. M’not uncomfortable. I just thought it was weird. For you to be hugging me like this.”

James huffs. A sweet but quiet smile pulls at his lips. “S’not weird,” he says softly. “It’s fine, baby.”

He pulls away but only for a moment, only so he can sit down next to you on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. He gets an arm around you shoulder and one on your knee and then drags you into his lap with ease. Normally you’d squeal at being manhandled like this. Now you just melt into him.

James keeps one hand on your lower back and the other finds one of yours, weaving your fingers together in your lap. “You wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?”

You’d rather just hug him forever, if you’re being honest. While he’d like that too, you know you should probably tell him.

“Um,” you say, and then stop as soon as you start because your voice is all thick and thinking about it makes you want to start crying again.

James rubs your back. “Take your time, sweetness. M’here all night.”

You wheedle your arms around his waist and bury your face in his shoulder. It’s easier like this. Where you can’t see his face, where he can’t see yours. You talk into his shirt.

“It’s just. I— I try so hard to be friendly and I feel like it all goes to waste.” It feels both embarrassing and relieving to say aloud. You push your face further into James’ shirt. “Nobody likes me at work, James. I’m awful at making friends. I can’t— can’t keep a conversation or say more than two sentences without getting … awkward.” You say the word like it’s a curse. It sure feels like a curse. “I don’t know. It’s just hard.”

James doesn’t say anything for a moment, though his hands don’t stop where they’re smoothing over your skin. After a beat of silence he manages to encourage you from his chest. He pulls his hand from around your back to take your damp face in both hands. He’s looking at you all melty and soft. Looking a bit like he might cry himself.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and he says it like it’s your name. “You’re not awful at making friends.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”

You frown. Partly because you don’t believe him. Mostly because he’s calling you lovely and it makes your chest ache.

“That doesn’t mean I’m good at making friends, Jamie. It’s— they’re so hard to talk to. I can’t make myself do it.”

James sighs. His thumbs drag under your eyes carefully and come away wet. “You’re being too hard on yourself, angel. You’re doing your best and that’s all that matters.”

You almost believe him. Almost.

“I feel invisible, James,” you admit quietly. “Like I don’t even exist.”

He sighs again and drops his hand to your hip, squeezes and then grabs your thigh so he can pull it over his lap so you’re straddling him. It makes you equal parts melty and shy. You’re barely clothed and he’s making you straddle him. You think he’s doing it on purpose, because he knows you’ll listen to him like this. It’s practically impossible not to.

“Darling,” he says. His hands finds your waist and push around to your lower back. Warm and firm. Grounding. “If they can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their fault. But I see you. I see how amazing you are.”

Your eyes sting all over again. You blink rapidly. “James.”

“Seriously, angel,” he insists. “You’re incredible. My favourite person in the whole entire world. I love you so much. You know that.”

You don’t want to start crying again. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes and will the next ones not to come.

“Give it time,” James says quietly. “Give it time, honey, and they’re sure to warm up to you. And if they don’t …” He shrugs and gives you this devilish smile that makes you feel about a million times better. “Well, they’ll have me to answer to.”

You giggle because he’s an idiot and you’re in love with him. “Thanks, James,” you say. You meant it with your whole heart.

James kisses your forehead and then both your cheeks. “You’re welcome, sweetness. If you need to talk about it more later, we can.” He chucks you under the chin with a gentle hand. “But for now, how about a nice warm shower?”

You smile up at him. Your chest hurts less now. You feel a lot better. Enough at least to say, “Together?”

James grins wolfishly. “Obviously together.”

-

[mag200]

good day to think about sebastian skinner. guy gets called for a plumbing job out in the middle of the forest where no people live. pays double, nice. theres a factory full of mannequins there. he checks out a drain thats clogged with “dark red water” (definitely not blood and hair and fat and bits of people) while a clown tells him how much she wants to pull the skin off his body, and as hes listening to this he’s just like, huh, not my business. and he just gives her the invoice and drives away. they call him back the next day to fix another drain and hes like yeah sure i’ll come right over. he gets there and the clown leads him into the mannequin factory where they’re all cutting up human heads (which are still alive and in pain, btw) and they all turn to attack him. he runs away, aided by jude fucking perry of all people, who burns the shit out of his shoulder but lets him drive away before she burns down the entire forest and all the mannequins. and this guys just like, well, thats saturdays for you innit? legend icon behavior.

[riririnnnn]

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TW: Child Abuse, Kaiser's Backstory Spoilers, Physical Abuse, might seem graphic.

Reader (10 years old) is the younger brother of Kaiser (12 years old).

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

Your fingers plunged inside your ears tightly and you fear that if there were an inch more of pressure, you'd pierce your ear drums with your fingernails. Your eyelids were closed shut as if you were trying to stop your mind from visioning whatever was going outside the closet where you were hidden. Your heart thumped inside your chest so loudly that you literally felt your lungs straining against your ribcage—it ached, it ached, it ached a lot.

Punch.

Slap.

Cuss.

"Hush, hush," you shakily tried to console yourself. You wanted to completely forgot what was going on outside.

"Please, please, stop. Please," you pleaded, but to whom? You didn't know—was the man outside really your father? What father treats his child like this?

Punch.

Slap.

Choke.

"No, please," you continued to blabber to yourself. Your throat was completely parched and it hurt everytime you hiccuped. All you could taste one your tongue was a disgusting mixture of your own tears and saliva.

"Stop, stop."

Choke.

Choke.

Choke.

"Stop, please."

Choke.

Choke.

Choke.

You shook your head from side to side as if you were trying to deny what was going on outside.

Cuss.

Cuss.

Cuss.

"Please..."

Worthless.

Worthless.

Worthless.

You were trying so hard to shut down the voice of your father— no, the voice of that vile man, but you could still hear it echoing; so gross. You were grossed out. You felt nauseated. You wanted to rip apart your skin and drain out the blood you happened to share with that man. You wanted—

Thud. Thud.

You heard some heavy footsteps.

Thud.

You heard a door closing and your arms immediately fell to your sides—your muscles became limp as the adrenaline slowly seeped out of your body and you finally gathered enough courage to breathe in a breath through your nose.

Shakily, you supported yourself to peek through a gap on the closet's door and what you saw was an everyday scene which you never got used to—it hurt your heart the same everytime: lying on the floor was your big brother. Your selfish big brother who you loathed with every inch of your soul.

You quickly wiped your tears and fixed your tattered clothes before stretching and flexing your muscles to regain movement. You cleared your throat and took in a deep breath to clog open your nostrils.

"1... 2... 3...," you counted till hundred to make sure that that man wouldn't return again. Otherwise, your selfish big brother would dive in again to save you and be your hero.

"...100."

As soon as the last number escaped your lips, you escaped out from the closet too. Your legs stumbled a bit to stand straight but you managed to make your way towards him without tripping.

"Mihya," you called out as you sat down beside his beaten up self. "Come on, how long will you sleep?" You poked his cheek and he winced. "Lazy boy."

"Mrm," he grunted and weakly slapped away your hand.

"Woah, your face is so swollen," you teased. "Like a balloon."

His eyelids fluttered as an attempt to open up.

"If I poke enough will you burst?"

You chuckled at your own lame joke.

He groaned weakly, "Shut up." His hand reached out to pinch your nose making you indeed shut up and yelp instead, "Ow!"

One corner of his lip twitched upwards. "Little rascal."

"Whatever," you rolled your eyes seeing him smirk.

"Crybaby," he jabbed back.

You became defensive very quickly, "I'm-I'm not!"

It was his turn to roll his eyes—the swelling forming on his eyelids were giving him a hard time to do so. "Whatever," he mimicked your whining voice to mock you as he wiped your freshly forming tears with his sleeves. Your whole face was already red from crying in the closet anyway.

"I'm— I'm n— not," you hiccuped and pushed his arms away; you didn't want him near you.

"I'm not," you covered your face at the crook of your elbow as you brought your knees close to your chest. "Not a crybaby," your voice sounded muffled. "Not a—" you hiccupped, "Not a crybaby."

Your big brother sighed. "[Name]," he whispered softly and you hated it. You hated everytime he called you so softly. You just hated it.

"Come here," he tugged your arms before gently pulling you in his embrace.

You hated his hugs. You hated how warm they felt. You hated his warmth.

"Hush," he rubbed your back and the itch inside your skin to push him away became stronger. You didn't want him near you.

"I'm not a cry-crybaby," you sniffled as you held onto his shoulders. "I'm n-not, I'm not!" You seethed as your hands found their way around his neck.

"YOU ARE THE CRYBABY!"

The grip of your fingers tightened and his neck's vein pulsated against your palms.

"YOU ARE THE COWARD!"

Your fingernails dug into his skin.

"YOU ARE THE WORTHLESS ONE, MIHYA!"

You screeched against his chest and you heard your own heart's lub-dub inside your ears—you were tired.

"You are the worthless one.."

Your grip loosened.

"You are the worthless.."

Your body became heavier in his embrace.

"You are..."

Your voice died down and got replaced with your low cries. You were exhausted.

"You..."

Your body shivered in his embrace. You curled up in his arms as if you were trying to seek the same warmth you hated so much. You wanted to stay close by the same big brother you had came to hate so much.

"Shh, [Name]," his voice was soft as ever and unlike yours, his fingers were gentle as they stroked through the knots of your hair. "It's okay," he murmured while his lips pressed against your forehead. "It's okay," he slowly rocked you back-and-forth. "It's okay," he cradled you close to him as you became heavier in his arms.

"It's okay."

You were the only one because of whom he learnt what the meaning of family is. You were the only one whose voice murmured his name. You were the only one who was keeping him sane. You were the only one who was keeping him a human.

"It's okay."

He never wanted to let go of you. He wanted you to stay close by him.

"It's okay."

His own selfishness made you hate him—it wasn't your fault at all.

"It's okay."

He never gathered enough courage to walk away from that man.

"It's okay."

He wasn't brave like you.

"It's okay."

He was the reason why you couldn't walk away too.

"It's okay."

You would never leave the brother you loved so much, would you?

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

I hope no one relates to this piece of writing.

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[livelaughloveloak]

━ CLOUDED . . . ! 🦢

short fic

(sorry photopea isn't cooperating rn so I'll fix the header when it's working)

summary: Neteyam almost dies after getting shot, only with your help he'll survive.

a/n: sorry had to make a fic to this song because I love jhene Aiko 😩 This is a really short fic for my liking so ig it's more like a drabble? 1.1k words.

warnings: near death experience. angst to fluff. She/her pronouns. Reader is Navi

we do not exist in any other instant.

here in this dimension you and I are meant to be.

If you were to tell people about love, you'd tell them about you and Neteyam. Neteyam was your pillar, the only thing holding you up when you were at your lowest. Neteyam was there for you. He would always say "With every beat of my heart, my love grows even more for you" Oh how you adored Neteyam. You have chosen him and he has chosen you, but how you wished life was this simple.

"That was crazy cuz!" Lo'ak yelled and high fived you and Spider when you guys finally emerged from the water. You tried your best to stay afloat, all of your energy has been drained from fighting the sky people. Your eyes scanned around until you spotted red growing in the water, worried you looked down at your body trying to check if you've been hit anywhere. You were fine and the two seemed fine so that leaves Neteyam. You quickly looked at him breathing heavily, almost drowning from the waves, barely keeping his head up. "Oh no Neteyam" The other two boys heard you and quickly looked your way only to have the same shocked face as you had on.

"Shit!! Help him" Lo'ak was now yelling in fear rather than excitement. You called for your ilu which came quickly to your aid. You put Neteyam behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he slumped on your back breathing heavily into your ear. Your heart was pounding so roughly that you swore even Neteyam could feel it. "Watch his head!" You said out loud as you all carried his limp body on the small island which his dad was on. If someone would tell you that one day you'd be here watching your beloved mate die you'd probably laugh at their face. "What happened?" Jake asked panicking before lifting Neteyam's body up to check his back. There was an exit hole, Neteyam was bound to bleed out. "Shit!" Jake looked around frantically trying to find something to clog the wound before it was too late.

You sat beside Neteyam with his head in your lap, tears falling down your face almost landing on his. "Stay awake for me" You begged him. Neteyam's eyes were scrambling everywhere as he was also panicking, he was so young with dreams and ambitions. He didn't want to die. His eyes settled to look into yours. You cupped his face, softly caressing his cheek. "Tìyawn" He croaked slightly smiling, glad to have you with him at his final moments. "I'm here Teyam do not worry." "My love don't look at me like that, I don't want your last memory of me to be like this" More tears came out of your eyes after hearing his words.

You didn't want to lose hope as it was all you had at this moment. You heard a rip before Jake finally spoke again "Quick shove this in the wound and swim back to the village fast" He passed you a piece of cloth which you put on top of the wound. "I'm sorry this is gonna hurt" And with that you shoved it in, your heart shattering after hearing Neteyam's screams of pain. You picked up Neteyam slightly struggling due to his weight and the fact that he was taller than you.

Lo'ak came to your aid and the both of you put one of his arms around your shoulders before carefully placing him in your ilu. Lo'ak decided to stay back since the fight was not finished. After bidding him a farewell you quickly rode your ilu towards the village where the Tsahik is, surely she can help.

You arrived at the shore screaming for help which thank ewya the Tsahik Ronal heard. Ronal looked at Neteyam limped only standing up with your support. She took him inside her hut and commanded you to stay outside while she tried her best to keep Neteyam alive. A thousand questions flooded your head. ‘Will he be alright’ All you wanted to do was be within your Neteyam's arms again, laying on a tree branch or maybe staring up at the sky naming every star. You wished you didn't have to walk around in the future hearing strangers say “Ewya did it for a reason” or “He is in a better place now” If ewya had a reason, what could have it possibly have been? To teach you a lesson? No person should die this young.

Soon enough the flap to Ronal's healing hut opened revealing her. You rose to your feet hoping you were not about to hear a "I'm sorry" come out of her mouth. "He is alive thanks to you, just very weak." You trembled as relief washed over you after hearing the Tsahik's words. "You can come inside now child" She stepped to the side to make space for you "Thank you." You bowed to her and walked in to see Neteyam lying peacefully with bandages wrapped around him. "Wake up soon my love." You sat down next to him and picked up his hand, kissing it.

A month. A whole month has passed and still Neteyam was in his deep slumber. The war is over and the sky people have lost. A party was set to celebrate the great ordeal of winning against such demons. Normally you'd be dancing around and singing within the light of the bonfire but you couldn't. You couldn't have fun and laugh knowing that Neteyam was still in a coma. Often you'd find yourself sitting beside him having some sort of physical touch with him. In fact that was what you were doing right now.

You had fallen asleep next to him by accident, obviously tired after many sleepless nights. Before the war you'd always sleep within Neteyam's strong arms. “Neteyam the mighty cuddler” you'd joke. You were lost in sleep almost ignoring the fact that you felt someone's hand on the back of your head caressing it ever so softly. You would've kept your eyes closed before you heard a quiet. "Ma y/n." Your ears twitched trying to process if you were just dreaming or not.

After a few minutes you opened your eyes to see bright yellow ones staring at you. You pulled him into a hug carefully avoiding his wrapped up wounds. "You're finally awake" you sobbed as Neteyam rubbed his hand against your back trying to comfort you. "shh calm down, I will always come back for you even if I were to die we'd meet again in ewya's paradise."

[buriedpentacles]

hi! since i've really leaned into witchcraft and spirituality, i became much more appreciative of the earth and i've been talking to her lots but i want to also become more sustainable in my daily life to help the environment even in small ways. do you have any ideas for simple things to do or habits to change to be more sustainable?

I do indeed!!

I think some the best things you can do for sustainable living is develop sustainable skills:

Learning to sew allows you to:

- fix holes in clothes

- adjust the height/seams/etc of clothes

- crop or add to items of clothing

Which means that clothes have a longer lifespan in general!

Learning to garden (even if its windowsill gardening!) helps you:

- spend less on certain herbs or plants (an easy way to start is regrowing spring onions in water)

- grow more native plants in your area

- encourage more insects into your garden

Learning to cook and bake can actually be super helpful because:

- you don't rely on takeaways or ready meals as often

- you can have more control over where your food is sourced and what you're eating

- you can meal plan and prep which saves time and money

- you can learn how to make your own jams, pickles, syrups etc! And you can get pretty creative with it!

Learning simple diy skills is super beneficial as you can:

- make things unqiue and suited to yourself (I.e. perfect sized shelves or a cabinet that fits perfectly in that gap between your bed and wall)

- restore thrifted furniture (staining to a preferred colour, cutting off legs to shorten it, fix the wobbly door etc)

- recycle old furniture, cabinets or similiar unused items into something else (I've turned a old cabinet into a small outdoor storage unit) rather than throwing them away

Learning basic maintenance for things you own is a money saver and:

- means you can fix your bike chain or replace your car's oil and filter without needing to call anyone or spend extra money

- can keep you safe and at a lower risk of motor accident (knowing how to do basic maintenance checks can help you see warning signs for damage)

- means that simpler things like clogged drains, non-flushing toilets, leaky taps etc no longer require calling and paying for a plumber

Of course you don't need to be an expert in any of these, I'm certainly not! But I can cook myself a decent meal, sew some new buttons on an old shirt or fix a hole in my jeans and restore an old wardrobe into something usable.

I love Pete Seeger's quote:

"If it can’t be reduced, reused, repaired, rebuilt, refurbished, refinished, resold, recycled or composted, then it should be restricted, redesigned or removed from production."

Basically it's so important to be aware of your consumption - avoid overconsumption, buy quality over quantity, thrift and reuse things, trade with people. Throwing things away should be a last resort or a necessity, rather than a "I don't know what else to do with it".

And, while recycling isn't quite the saviour people think it is, it is so important to get into the habit of sorting your rubbish correctly!!

Other important sustainable habits include:

Changing your eating habits. If it's feasible for you, try:

- reduce meat and dairy consumption (including fish, as they're massively overharvested)

- prioritise locally and ethically sourced animal produce (local butchers can be a great place to start for this)

- eat more seasonally (its not really feasible to only eat seasonal foods, but try to learn about them and incorporate them more)

- reduce food waste with composting, food donations, meal planning/prepping and learn to love leftovers

- invest in a tap filter and reusable water bottle (drinking tap water is not always safe depending on where you live so research first!!!)

- use public transport (or walk) where possible!

- connect with other people near you who also care about sustainable living: trade services and items and knowledge!

- learn about your local area and ecology!! I sound like a broken record saying this, but the BEST way to start living with nature, is to understand it. You can't help your local wildlife if you don't know it, you can't take steps to protect your environment if you don't know the threats.

All of these are just a few tips and ideas, they may not be feasible for everyone for numerous reasons but it's important to remember that it's not about being perfect, it's about *trying* and doing what you can.

There's so much more I could get into here, from foraging to activism to how and what to thrift vs when to splurge on new items but I think this post is long enough! Let me know if there's anything you want expanding or going into more depth on!!!

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

I really like the idea of Billy and Steve settling into a neighborhood populated mostly by older folks. Billy is the guy that gets called when simple home repairs like clogged drains and busted flower beds need tending to, and most of the time he doesn’t charge, but he winds up being paid anyway. Even if money has to get shoved at him.

Regardless of whether or not it’s realistic considering the time period, I love to think about how both boys are admired so much within their little community that they become the boys. Billy and Steve. Steve and Billy. A matching set. Never one without the other, and if there is just one for some odd reason, his presence is sorely missed.

If Billy’s outside mowing the lawn, Steve brings him iced tea, and it’s not unusual for the brunet to stand a little too close. To put his hand on Billy’s lower back and fix fond eyes on him.

Sometimes they go on walks in the evenings or in the early mornings, shoulders bumping together. Sometimes they hold hands, and it doesn’t stop Mr. Taylor on the corner from inviting them to a cookout that weekend. Sometimes Billy will kiss Steve goodbye on their porch before he heads to work and Mrs. Adley from across the street later tells them that they remind her of her and her late husband — something that Billy cries about after the fact because I just realized I’m gonna get to grow old with you, Stevie.

Whatever prejudices still exist at the time, probably in the mid to late nineties, they’re outliers to it. Of course, they still tend to keep it subtle when they’re in town.

Maybe when someone gets offended at the fact that Billy kisses Steve’s cheek, they have an angry elderly woman swatting the person away with her cane. Leave the boys be, is what she yells, and it warms Steve’s heart until she then promises to haunt the person when she dies.

Which, yeah. These folks have definitely been spending too much time around Billy.

[flameraven]

Very thoughtful commentary about artists, Neil Gaiman in particular, and parasocial relationships more generally. Excerpt:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire the skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

[octuscle]

The Bet

I hate my neighbor. An arrogant, homophobic, fat asshole. Minor employee at a bank, but thinks he's better than me. Craftsmen like me are only second-class people for him. The fact that I certainly earn more than he does not matter to him at all, he wears a tie, so he is the winner.

But when he needs help in his tawdry house, he's suddenly right back at it. Pisses me off. The last time I had to fix his clogged drain, we get into an argument. And I bet him. I bet him $10,000.00 that after a week of temping at my company, he'll quit his job and come work for me. He laughs and makes the bet.

The next morning I'm at his front door at 06:00. And bark at him to get dressed, we have to go. I notice how reluctantly he complies. But what won't you do for $10,000.00. But he has to do a lot. At the end of the day he is exhausted. I drive him to the trailer park where my other employees live. And throw him the key for the rusty pickup truck that is parked in front of the door.

At 05:00 the neighbor is at my door. And asks if he can accompany me on my morning jog. We run for an hour, change into our work clothes over our sweaty bodies and drive to the construction site. Today, my neighbor is much more skilful. And while he had kept his distance from his colleagues yesterday, he now drinks a beer with them after work. My plan works.

The next morning, I smell my neighbor even before he knocks on the door. He smells like he hasn't showered in two weeks. And he looks like he's been pounding iron for two hours every night after work. At the construction site, I let him lead a construction crew. After all, he knows the site inside and out. His buddies respect him. And so do I. After work, we both head to the gym. In fact, I can't get enough of the smell of him. I've created a monster. With a monster cock. I can't wait to get fucked by him in that trailer.

At the end of the week he comes to me. Grins at me and asks if he can join me in the company. I couldn't get a better partner. Actually, that wasn't quite the plan. But I'd rather be fucked by a partner than an employee. Welcome to the company, partner!

@changinghumans, excellent choice for the challenge!

[choccyhearts]

Clogged Drain (Eddie Munson x Reader) (18+)

Note: I've had this idea buzzing around my head for a while ^_^ not sure when part 2 will be posted tho

CW: 18+!! Oral sex (m & f), recorded sex, talk of pornos, looots of dirty talk/innuendos, fem!/afab!reader

You and Eddie have always had a healthy sex life. Always willing to try anything, you guys have discovered things about each other you didn't know were there!

A few years into marriage, you anticipated the inevitable dry spell to happen, but it never did. You both came up with spicy ideas to keep things interesting.

So, one day you came up with an interesting fantasy that Eddie immediately got on board with.

A sex tape.

You joked about how silly, but also really hot, it would be to film a sex tape. Eddie thought it was a great idea, but you wanted to take it a little further. You told him you wanted to shoot it like a real trashy porno movie -- a stupid plot, bad acting, euphemisms and innuendos aplenty, and a variety of camera angles.

Eddie was a little skeptical, worried you wanted to film an actual film in front of people, but you reassured him the two of you could pull it off.

You already owned a video camera and some tapes, so your fantasy wasn't too hard to create. All you had left to do was get some costumes and a basic outline for a script and you were set.

And that's how you ended up standing in the kitchen wearing a skimpy dress and an apron with heels pretending to wash dishes. The video camera was pointed at you as it sat on the counter behind you.

Eddie walks in wearing an unbuttoned shirt with a white tank top underneath, a pair of old jeans, his pair of work boots and clutched in his hand is his tool box.

"'Scuse me ma'am," Eddie drawls.

You turn and face him surprised.

"Oh! Hello! You must be the plumber!" He nods.

"Yes ma'am. Sorry I let myself in, door was open", his eyes scan your body.

"Oh it's no problem at all!" You stop "washing the dishes" and take off your rubber gloves.

"So, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well", you bend over and open the cabinet under the sink. "This has been having trouble draining, I think it's clogged." You turn to him and innocently bat your eyes.

Eddie stares at your ass as it peaks out from under your dress. Already, he's sporting a semi just from looking at his beautiful wife.

He clears his throat," Clogged drain? That's an easy fix. Shouldn't take me too long..."

You move out of the way and let him kneel down to inspect under the sink.

"That's so good to hear! I guess it must've been a while since I had my...drain snaked. I would do it myself but...I think other people do it best." You twirl your hair as you gaze down at Eddie. He looks up at you, a smirk on his face.

"Of course, ma'am. Sometimes it takes a new set of hands to reach the right spot." Eddie winks and you walk over to the camera to turn it off.

Immediately, you both burst into giggles. Eddie waves for you to come over to him but you shake your head.

"Mm-mm, save it for the video."

"Ahh, baby, please. I need to touch my wife", Eddie pouts.

"And you will", you begin to set up the camera in a different angle. "Later."

Once the camera is ready, Eddie lies under the sink on his back. You press record before bringing over a glass of lemonade.

"Here you go, sir. Thought you might be thirsty from working so hard."

Eddie crawls out from under the sink and takes the lemonade.

"Ah, thank you ma'am." He takes a swig and smiles. "So sweet. Ya know, I love tasting...sweet things."

You giggle in character which makes Eddie almost break. You take the glass away from him and kneel down beside him.

"So, have you made any progress?"

"Almost. This clog seems to be a big one. Must've been a real long time since you had it fixed, huh?"

"Yes sir", you blush.

"Well, in the future, you should call me. Don't want it getting to the point of frustration, would we?"

"No sir", you shake your head. You feel your pussy throb as you begin to get turned on. It was hard not to, honestly. In this shot, Eddie now has his button-up off and a little grease on his face.

You feel ready to pounce on him but decide to wait it out just a liiitle longer.

Eddie goes back under the sink and pretends to work. You begin to play with the collar of your dress and eye Eddie's body.

"So, do you work out for the job or is that something you do for fun?"

Eddie chuckles, hearing the way your voice wavers a bit. He can tell you're slowly getting needier and needier.

"Actually, I don't work out at all. The job keeps me in shape enough."

You sigh dreamily and gently place your hand on his stomach.

"Wow, your wife must be happy."

"Nah, don't got a wife."

"Oh...a girlfriend?"

"Nope, no girl in my life."

You hum and rub his stomach softly.

"What about you, ma'am? Pretty little thing like you's got to have a man who'd kill me if he saw me alone with you."

You giggle and slowly lift his shirt up, admiring his torso. Eddie wasn't ripped or toned, but he still looked reaaal good. He had a nice stomach with enough pudge to show he definitely ate his fair share of your cooking. He also had a gorgeous happy trail that always made you feel flushed when you saw it.

"Nope, I don't have a man. I'm all alone here...that's why I needed to call you to fix my drain."

"Aw, that's quite a shame. Bet'cha if you had a man, you'd know how to treat him right, huh?"

You notice how his bulge grows larger. You delicately run your fingers along the outline, biting your finger on your other hand.

"Yes sir. I would keep him very happy." You press down on his bulge with more pressure and he shifts his hips, wanting to just ravage you immediately.

"Hmm...seems this drain issue is bigger than I thought. It might take longer than expected. That okay?"

You nod, "Yes sir."

You go back to rubbing his dick through his jeans as he tries his best focus on not moaning just yet.

"Is there anything I can do for you while you work?"

"Mmm", he hums. "I think you know what you could do."

You smile and begin to undo his belt. Eddie feel excitement pool into his stomach. He knows what's about to happen, I mean of course he does, but for whatever reason this time is even more exciting.

You undo his pants and slide them off, leaving his underwear on. You palm him through the thin fabric and feel a wet spot soaking through.

"Wanna show me how you would keep a man happy?"

"Yes, sir."

You pull down his underwear and gasp at his size. While he knows you're doing it for the camera, Eddie can't help how much his ego swells. You slowly begin to pump his cock,face shocked by the size.

"That's a good girl", Eddie mutters.

You speed up your pace, rubbing your thumb over the tip. You can't help but marvel at Eddie. This is definitely not your first time, but just getting to sit back and really get a look at him makes you truly drink in his beauty.

"Think you could suck it?"

"Mmm, yes, sir."

You let a glob of spit fall on to the head of his cock, using your hand to lubricate his size. You slowly lean your head down before sitting back up.

"Wait!"

"What's wrong?", Eddie struggles to quickly get out from under the sink.

"Need to change the angle!" You get up and stop recording. You take the camera off of the tripod and hold it out for Eddie. "Here!"

"You want me to...?"

"Yeah, it'll be interesting, like 'POV'!""

"Alright, as long as I'm the only one who sees this 'POV'." You giggle and nudge Eddie before sitting back on the floor.

Eddie leans his back against the cabinet and begins recording.

You wrap your hand around his cock again and slowly lower your head down. You kiss the tip before opening your mouth and taking him in. Eddie sucks his teeth as he watches you.

He's seen you do this countless amount of times but seeing it through the viewfinder makes it feel sexier.

He gently sets a hand in your hair.

"Ooh, such a good girl. Mmm, you suck it so nice."

You hum in acknowledgement and continue hollowing your cheeks around him. Eddie brushes your hair away from your face and strokes your cheek. You continue stroking the length you can't fit in your mouth, your other arm propped up on his legs for balance.

"Oh, christ. Your mouth feels so good, baby." Eddie is usually a dirty talker during sex, so this isn't much different than your usual times together. However, since it's now on camera, recorded forever, you think his dirty talk is hotter. Despite the fact that this tape will never see the light of day, if someone were to see it, they'd know how good you take care of Eddie. How quickly you can turn him into putty in your hands.

After a few more minutes, Eddie begins to get antsy.

"You're such a good girl, lemme show that pussy of yours some lovin'".

He turns off the camera and sets it down. You sit up and try to fix your hair but Eddie pulls you by the throat into a kiss.

"Mmm, shit, you're so hot. I just need to fuck you now", he moans into the kiss.

"Mhm...not yet." You pull away and Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers before picking up the camera.

He presses record just as you begin to untie your apron. You pull it off and throw it far away from you.

"Such a sexy body, I need to see what's under that dress."

You blush and slowly pull the dress over your head, tossing it over to the apron. Now you're sat in a new set of lingerie, bought specifically for this occasion. Eddie nearly drools at the sight.

"Oh ffffuck, that's so sexy." You slowly pull down your panties and toss them at him. With the camera, he looks down at the panties in front of him. "Oh, sugar, they're so damp."

He lifts them up to his nose and sniffs them offscreen.

"Eddie!", you whisper shout to him, breaking character.

"What, I can't have some fun?", he says before tucking the panties in his back pocket. He points the camera back at you and you spread your legs wide open for him.

"I know you said you like sweet things, so why don't you come here and give me a taste?"

Eddie dives into your pussy, setting the camera on your stomach. You quickly hold it and angle it towards him as he eats you like a starved man.

"Oh! God!" He leans away and spits on your clit before going back in, tongue twirling around. He gently nudges his index finger against your entrance, checking if it's safe to enter. "Please, sir."

He chuckles and slips his finger inside. The wet squelches and obscene squeaks are a bit embarrassing, but honestly you couldn't even pretend to care. If there's anything Eddie's amazing at, it's eating pussy.

Your hands shake as you try to hold the camera steady. Eddie glances up at it occasionally, smirking into the lens. He'll stare straight into the camera and over enthusiastically lick your pussy, as if making sure the imaginary audience understands that this is his territory and only he gets to be down there.

After Eddie has slipped a second finger into you you're ready to hit your climax. He doesn't slow down, instead keeping a steady pace, ready for your sweet juices.

"Oooh, fuck! I'm gonna cum! Fuck, I'm gonna cum, sir!"

"Yeah, that's it, sugar. Cum for me. Cum on my fingers."

You do just that, tensly holding on to the camera while Eddie helps guide you along. Once you come down he pulls out his fingers and pops them into his mouth.

"So fucking sweet, baby. I need to get a drink from the source." He leans down and sticks his tongue inside your pussy. You whine and pull at his hair, overstimulated but loving his touch.

He slurps and kisses your pussy, eyes closed happily.

"So delicious. If I was your man, I'd have to eat you up every morning for breakfast." He sits up and licks his lips.

You smile up at him and mouth "I love you". He winks at you, letting you know he means it back.

"Well", he pulls off his tank top. "Looks like we've made some progress in that clogged drain. However, I think I need to get deeper in there to help."

"How deep, sir?", you say innocently. Eddie has to hold back a grin so he doesn't break character.

"All the way, darling."

(Part 2)

Stopping this here for a breather ^_^