#boom lift repairs

[accessequipmenthireau]

Rise Above with Confidence: The Versatility of Cherry Picker Hire in Australia

In the dynamic landscape of construction and maintenance, the versatility of cherry picker hire in Australia stands out as a game-changer. These elevated work platforms offer a range of benefits, making them indispensable for various industries seeking efficient and safe solutions for working at heights.

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2. Enhanced Productivity:

The agility and speed of cherry picker trucks for sale significantly enhance productivity. Workers can efficiently navigate through complex structures, completing tasks with precision and speed.

3. Safety First:

Safety is paramount in any work environment, especially at heights. Cherry pickers are equipped with safety features such as guardrails and harness points, ensuring a secure working platform and not need boom lift repairs. This minimizes the risk of accidents and enhances the overall safety of the work site.

4. Versatility Across Industries:

Cherry pickers find applications across diverse industries, showcasing their versatility. Whether it's construction, painting, electrical maintenance, or even film production, these elevated platforms adapt to various needs, offering a cost-effective and efficient solution.

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Opting for cherry picker hire eliminates the need for significant upfront investments in purchasing specialized equipment. Businesses can access these versatile machines as needed, resulting in a more cost-effective solution for both short-term and long-term projects.

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Many modern cherry pickers incorporate environmentally friendly features, such as energy-efficient systems and reduced emissions. This aligns with the growing emphasis on sustainable practices, making cherry pickers an eco-conscious choice for businesses.

7. Training and Expertise:

Cherry picker hire often comes with trained operators, alleviating the need for additional training expenses. This ensures that the equipment is operated efficiently and safely, with operators well-versed in handling the specific requirements of different tasks.

From flexibility and enhanced productivity to a focus on safety and environmental considerations, these elevated work platforms provide a comprehensive solution. Businesses that embrace cherry picker hire rise above challenges with confidence, delivering results that are both efficient and safe.

Source

[bridenore]

HD Party Games fic recs

Here are a few drarry fic recs in which party games play an important part. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Back to You by @aibidil & daisymondays [8k]

The eighth years make Harry and Malfoy go head to head and back to back in a question-and-answer drinking game. The worst that can happen is they end up drunk, right?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [39k]

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Erase the Shame by FleetofShippyShips [6k]

An Inter-House unity party is the last thing Draco wants to go to. It's not long into a game of Truth or Dare when he is reminded why. But maybe his dare is worth it after all.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Games Night by @agentmoppet​ [6k]

Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?

How to Handle an Enemy by who_la_hoop [7k]

Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate… Turnbout Is Fair Play by who_la_hoop [10k]   After a – cough – revealing game of truth or dare instigated by  his fellow Slytherins, Draco Malfoy finds himself in possession of a).  the interesting knowledge that a certain Gryffindor horror may not be as   immune to his personal charms as hitherto suspected and b). the   password to the Gryffindor Tower. But Draco makes a fundamental error   when he decides to make use of these facts.

Love, Harry by Zzzara [26k]

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can’t tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too.

Never Have I Ever Thought That You Might Want Me, Too by @drarrymyheart [8k]

“When it’s his turn, Ron gives Harry an ominous look. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of the boys in this room.” Harry freezes. Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Hannah, Pansy, and even Blaise are all immediately lifting their drinks. Malfoy moves to pick his up as well and Harry tracks the movement as if watching in slow-motion…The ridge of Malfoy’s bottle of cider pushes against his lower lip as he takes a sip. Harry nearly groans. Steeling himself, Harry drinks.” Harry and the crew take a ski trip. Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes and thoughts off a certain blonde.

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore [41k]

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers. 

A Perfectly Valid Dare by kitty_fic [5k]

“It’s a perfectly valid dare,” Pansy says, and somehow she looks like she actually believes what she says. “I am not doing that,” Draco insists. He really has no idea when daring someone to wank in Harry Potter’s bed became a perfectly valid dare?

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Silk Scarves and Enchanted Handcuffs by TommyLane [28k]

It was only supposed to be for seven minutes and then the blindfold would come off and he'd be free from the dark cupboard and his mystery partner - only Harry was no longer sure he wanted it to end.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine [119k]

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

Truths, Dares, and Love Affairs by @ronbinary [17k]

NEWTs are approaching, Mind Healing is mandatory, and something is wrong with the castle. And then, there’s Potter.

When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara [31k]

When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It’s the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now? His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum. As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too. Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[mountainficss]

hello rae how are you i hope your day is going well🥺🥺

you probably saw the cheol’s videos from rimowa event, he was very impressive and charming🥲 seventeen posted a video on ig and the part where he holds a champagne glass in his hand 🫠

he gives the ex vibe watching his ex girlfriend from afar. it was like they had been separated for a while, it would be exciting to imagine that when he saw that she was dancing with another man in a club, he couldn't stand it and he grab her by the hand, pull her out of there and the two have a hard time resisting each other…can’t imagine that sexual tension😩

(english is not my first language sorry😘💞🥺)

!! mentions of: drinking, jealousy, slight angst, oral sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

hi there, my love! my days have been going well, i hope you are doing great <3 i actually haven’t seen the videos, but i can totally imagine the ex boyfriend vibe. it’s so seungcheol.

he’d be seated at the bar, watching you with envy as you dance with another man. he was gripping his champagne glass so hard he was sure it would shatter beneath his fingertips. you two had broken up a few weeks ago, but seungcheol had never truly let you go. he thinks about you almost daily, but his pride gets in the way of reaching out to you and trying to repair what you had. even though he hasn’t spoken to you, seeing you with another man would cause jealousy to bubble in his stomach. he wondered if you had moved on, and the thought almost tore him apart. he needed you, needed you like he needed to breathe. he knew no other man could love you like he did, could give you what you needed. he knew he could truly make you happy, and that caused him to set aside his pride and shoot up from his seat at the bar. he’d slam his glass down, dodging all of the sweaty bodies on the dance floor and making his way towards you. your eyes would widen as you see him standing in front of you, and you’d feel his hand grab yours, wordlessly yanking you away from your dance partner. “seungcheol?” you’d fume over the booming music, the loud sounds of the club becoming faint as he drags you towards the exit. he doesn’t answer, and you don’t fight him, just let yourself be dragged along as he throws open the door and pulls you outside with him. the night air is cool, and it creates goosebumps on your exposed arms. “what do you want?” you’d bite at him, scanning his face for any hint of emotions. his expression was cold, but his eyes softened as he studied your face. you were still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, even with your face twisted into such a displeased look. and you were wearing his favorite dress too, your silky short one that hugged all the right places. he was a fool to ever let you go. “he was sketchy. i didn’t want you around him,” seungcheol would answer simply, watching as you roll your eyes at him. “it was a dance, cheol. i don’t know what the big fucking deal is. i was having fun,” you’d retort, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly. “you can dance with me next time,” he’d mumble quietly, receiving a loud scoff from you. “you’re unbelievable.” you’d scowl, ripping your gaze from him and staring at the concrete below your heels. as much as you want to stay mad at him, you do miss him. it’s not something you’d like to admit, but you would rather be dancing with seungcheol. “i’m sorry,” he’d apologize gently, his eyes never once leaving your face. you didn’t answer, still focused on kicking at the pebble beneath your heel. the pout adorning your lips was adorable to him, but he did feel a slight guilt knowing he upset you. “can i take you home?” he’d question cautiously, knowing you were still a bit irritated with him. he was expecting you to decline, but a part of him hoped that you would let him. this would give him an opportunity to make things right with you, and he’s not sure if he’ll get another chance again. “fine,” you’d huff, arms still crossed around your chest as you lift your gaze from the ground. you wouldn’t look at seungcheol, would just stare in the direction of the parking lot and wait for him to lead the way. “let’s go.”

he’d offer you his arm to grab, and you’d reluctantly take it after a few beats of hesitation. you wanted to ignore him, but your heels were starting to hurt your feet and you missed the feeling of clinging to his arm (even though you won’t admit it). once he guides you to his car, he’d open the passenger side for you and help you settle in. you’d cross your arms over your chest again, pouting cutely in his front seat as he closes the door for you. everything you do is so endearing to him, even when you’re trying so hard to stay mad at him. he’d sit down into the driver’s seat and start the car, backing out of the parking lot in silence. after a few minutes on the road he’d glance over at you, head turned towards the window and watching the blur of buildings pass by. “i’m sorry,” seungcheol would start softly, finally building up the courage to break the suffocating silence. “for everything. i’m sorry we didn’t work out. i’m sorry i didn’t try harder to fix us.” he’d inhale deeply, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “and i’m sorry i ruined your dance. i know you were enjoying yourself, and i’m sure you’ve moved on by now. i can admit that i haven’t though, so seeing you with someone else made me jealous.” he’d see you slightly crane your head towards him out of his peripheral, and he’d swallow nervously. “you mean so much to me. i never really stopped loving you, and i wish i didn’t let so many weeks pass before i told you all of this. i’m so sorry our relationship turned out the way it did, and i don’t want you to think i ever stopped thinking about you even after we broke up.” by the end of his confession, he had pulled up to your driveway and switched his car to park. he’d unbuckle his seatbelt, turning towards you and shooting you a sad smile. “thank you for letting me get this off my chest. i’ll walk you inside, okay?” he’d turn away from you to reach for his door handle, but before he can grab it you’re fisting his shirt and pulling him in for a heated kiss over the console. his body would freeze with shock, but would soon snap out of it and kiss you back eagerly. he’d bring a hand up to carefully cup your face, tilting his head so he can kiss you deeper. you’d both only pull away to gasp for air, and in between breaths you’d answer him. “i’m sorry too, cheollie,” you’d whisper against his lips, receiving a peck from him. “if it makes you feel better,” you’d continue, undoing the buttons of his shirt lazily. “i never really stopped loving you either.” hearing you say those words would make him go feral, smashing his lips against yours once again with a newfound fervor. his free hand would travel to your chest, groping and squeezing over the fabric as you whine into his mouth. “missed this,” he’d growl, sending shivers up your spine. without a word, you’d completely detach yourself from him, clumsily climbing over the console to his backseat. as you climb back he’d catch a glimpse of your panties underneath your dress, setting a fire off in the pit of his stomach as he ungracefully follows you.

you didn’t care that the backseat was cramped, didn’t care that you were parked in your driveway sitting in your ex’s car, didn’t care. all you wanted was your cheollie, and now you were finally seated on his lap again as he kissed down the curve of your neck. you’d pull his hard cock out of his pants, giving it a few pumps as he whined into your neck. he was aching for you, missing the feeling of your body on top of him and your warm hole enveloping him. you tugged your panties to the side, sinking down onto his erection as you both let out wanton moans. you were positive his car was rocking back and forth as he fucked into you, but you both could care less. “l-let’s make up—ngh—for all the time we missed,” he’d groan as you bounce on him harshly. you’d nod eagerly, tangling your fingers into his hair. “mhm,” you’d agree with a fucked out smile. “let’s fuck again in my bed after this,” you’d choke out, receiving a breathy laugh from seungcheol. his hands would travel eagerly from your waist to your ass, grabbing and caressing every part of your body he could reach in the restricted space. your eyes would roll back into your skull as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, almost abusing it as he feels you tighten around him. he’d stare up at you with glazed over eyes, his mouth open slightly as lewd sounds escape him. “let me sleep over tonight?” he’d plead, puppy eyes begging you to let him spend time with you. you couldn’t help but smile at his cuteness despite him fucking you stupid in the backseat of his car. “i’d l-love that,” you’d breathe, wondering if it was possible to love cheollie any more. (it was possible when he had you pinned to your bed after your first round in his car, eating you out like a starved man <3)

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[queenpiranhadon]

Could you possibly do a ninjago Cole x Baker reader

A/N: We're going to ignore how late this is LMAOOOO I'M SO SORRY ANONNNNN IT'S HERE NOW!!! Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Reader owns a bakery, reader's kinda clumsy- falls into a sack of flour, reader makes scones with flour (whichever type is left to imagine for my celiacs🤍), Cole accidentally wrecks the bakery, serpentine arc kinda? I don't watch Dragons Rising, cursing, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, reader thinks of Cole like a puppy, Cole calls reader Master of Flour, reader hits unnamed serpentine in the head with a frying pan, Cole "asks" reader out on a date, mentions of nagas, not proofread!!

Pairing(s): Cole Brookstone x Baker!Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏꜱ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It was your day off.  

So obviously, you’d spend it working.  

Your days off, Sundays in particular, were when you closed the bakery you owned for the day to restock your inventory of baked goods to sell. 

Most people would call you crazy, saying that you worked too much and that you shouldn’t work on your breaks.  

Thankfully, you weren’t most people. You loved to bake, especially from scratch (those who used mixes were not only lazy, but the results were always artificial to you). 

It was 6:47 AM, and you stretch out your arms, cracking your knuckles and get to work, spreading flour over workspace. 

Then, you take the same flour measuring it precisely before dumping it into the porcelain bowl you grabbed earlier. You walk over to the giant pantry storage unit you had in the back to grab the sugar and baking powder you needed, humming to yourself softly. 

Music flowed through your headphones, the tunes lifting your mood as the sun’s rays peek through the windows, a golden hour in the dawn of the morning.  

You grab your measuring cups, pouring the right amount of sugar into your bowl and then twisted open the top of the baking powder container.  

Yet the damn thing wouldn’t budge.  

“Come on...!” you groan the corners of your lips turning down. “You weren’t doing this last week!”  

You knew you sounded extremely stupid, talking to inanimate objects and trying to persuade them to cooperate with you – but you were alone, so it didn’t matter.  

“Stupid. Little. Piece. Of.” you grunt, smacking the lid against the edge of the countertop, but you didn’t anticipate the lid of actually pop off, the force you were exuding into the can made you bang your chin onto the countertop, and you fell backwards onto a sack of flour you hadn’t opened up yet.  

“Ah Shit!” you yelp, white powder billowing up around you from impact.  

You frown as the flour settles onto your form when you sit up– making you look like a humanoid snowman. 

Your body aches and you plop down, but you moment your head sinks into the grating fabric of the flour bag, a loud boom is heard throughout the cafe.  

You bolt right up, scrambling to your feet and sprinting out of the kitchen to find a big gaping hole in the place where the door of your precious bakery was supposed to be, along with 2/3s of the wall. 

“What the actual- AH!” you squeak, ducking down behind a table as a large chunk of drywall is sent sailing over in your direction.  

“Ah shoot sorry!” you hear a male voice call out from a little bit to your left.  

You wince as you see a man dressed in a black gi punches the tiled floor of your bakery, a large chunk of the earth from underneath shooting out of the floor.  

Your insurance sure as hell wouldn’t cover for this.  

You watch as the man tackles some weird serpent-like creature, almost like a naga, with humanoid hands, but had a head that resembled a snake.  

Your heart pounded as the man in black was thrown across the room, hitting one of the walls as the pictures hanging there fell, glass shards now litering the floor.  

You want to tear your hair out at this point, knowing that you’d probably be fifty by the time you could ever repair the damage- but in the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t your biggest concern.  

You needed to do something, and fast.  

Sprinting to your kitchen again, you size the possible weapons you had, choosing a wide frying pan that was evenly weighted in your hands. Quickly making your way back to the mysterious stranger that your door and then some, you see him wrestling with the snake-thing, attempting to trap it in a large boulder.  

Perfect. 

You creep on behind them, slowly and carefully, raising your frying pan. 

“TAKE THAT!” You yell, swinging the pan at full force as it contacted the serpent’s head, a loud clang resounded through the almost demolished building as the creature slumped forward, unconscious.  

The two of you stand there, in shock before the man before you lets out a low whistle.  

“Wow.” he says, removing the cloth that covered his face to reveal a head full of chin length black hair and honeyed amber eyes. 

Oh. 

Shit. 

You knew this face- you'd seen it on TV more than you’d like to admit. Cole Brookstone, one of the Masters of Spinjitsu, Master of the Earth. 

But, however, ninja or not, your store was still in shambles.  

You laugh wryly and raise an eyebrow. “Care to explain why my bakery is now a Borg Store after Black Friday?” 

The man snorts and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah...sorry about that. We’ve been trying to catch this guy for months now- stupid rat’s been trying to steal Pixal’s blueprints for some new mechs. Can’t believe all we needed was a frying pan.” 

You snort at that and wave your pan mockingly in his direction, and he feigns a look of terror on his face, stepping back and sighing dramatically. 

“Woe is me! Why is fate so cruel that I must die at the hands of the Master of Flour!” He cries in an ostentatious manner. 

It was then you realized, embarrassingly, that you still looked like a humanoid snowman. 

“Ah shit... sorry! I fell on top of a bag of flour when I was trying to make scones earlier before you...” you motion to the wreckage, not needed explanation. 

His eyes widen and his head droops in guilt. ‘Awww, like a puppy’ you think. 

“I really am sorry... maybe once I help you fix everything up, I can try one of those scones for myself?” he said, smiling slightly.  

Your heart warmed at this kindness, relieved that you wouldn’t be swallowing yourself in probably every job you could think of to repair the damage.  

“Is that a date?” you tease, thinking he’d playfully flirt back, but a boyish smile creeps across his face.  

“I mean, if you want it to be.” he says bashfully, looking down at the floor.  

You grin, grabbing his hand in your flour covered one.  

“I hope to see you soon then.” 

[3unnyceleste]

Accidents happen

CG! Eggman x Little! Metal Sonic (special request!)

Poor metal sonic got beaten by sonic and his friends, and he just needs his papa for some love and care!

Tw: mention of changing and nappy, mild violence mention.

Metal sonic stormed into Eggmans base, his metal feet making loud clanks across the floor as he limped. He shoved the door to his base open, and Eggman turned his head, looking irritated as usual.

“Who dares interrupt a genius in his work?” His loud voice boomed through his lab. However when he saw the state of Metal Sonic, he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.

“Metal! What happened to you? Was it that blasted blue hedgehog and his pesky friends?” He clicked his tongue softly as he examined the extent of the damage on metal.

“What have they done to you, my poor little Metal….” His voice softened significantly as he stroked his metal head. Metal sonic let out a rev that sounded like a purr. He felt weak and vulnerable, a rare sight for such a powerful and evil machine. Eggman scooped Metal up and carried him to his laboratory.

"Let's take care of you, shall we?" Eggman laid Metal onto a work table, a soft mat underneath him as to not ruin his paint finish. Eggman set to work analyzing him for dents or breaks. He found that Metal Sonic's legs were weakened, making him limp, and he had a few dents, and an unfortunate oil leak. Eggman began crooning over metal sonic as he worked. He'd always seen Metal Sonic as his greatest creation, and a little son to him. His little baby villain.

"Poor baby, did that wretched rat hurt you? He wouldn't know art if it hit him square in the face! You hit him right?" (~referencing IDW comics~)

Metal sonic lifted a thumbs up in response, uttering a robotic chirp.

"That's my boy. Now let's get you fixed up." He began repairing Metal, and pulled out some of the accessories he'd made for his special baby:

He pulled out a special Blue and yellow pacifier that had a charging property in it's teat: It would provide Metal sonic with comfort, and recharge him as well. He put it in Metal's mouth and pulled out a sweet star coated onesie and little baby nappy for potential oil leaks. He wrapped the nappy around him and slipped the onesie over his head, all the while Metal Sonic purring and his stomach engine revving. He picked Metal back up and held him close to his chest while patting his back.

"That's my baby boy...." He cooed softly. It was a rare moment of gentleness that Eggman displayed. The evil doctor was usually cackling with pride or irritated, but with his little metal creation, he couldn't help but be uncharacteristically soft. He carried Metal Sonic to his room and sat him in a little bouncer on the door. He let him bounce around on it for awhile while he beeped and made little happy noises. Eggman stole the opportunity to go and grab him a baby bottle full of hot oil, since he'd need it to recharge. He came back over to him and scooped him up.

"Alright, my little star, let's get you fed shall we?" Metal Sonic didn't necessarily need nourishment, just the occasional oil refill. Eggman held him up to his chest and took his pacifier out before putting the bottle in. As Metal Sonic began taking in the oil, his jet engines began quieting down. Everything was calm and well for the little one and his caregiver....

Until Eggman felt oil leak onto his legs.

He glanced down at his legs and the onesie Metal was wearing and gasped a bit. He was taking the oil in alright, but old oil in his metal body was leaking out due to the extent of the damage sonic had done. Eggman picked poor Metal up and carried him back to the work table.

"Oh dear! Would you look at that? My poor little villain needs to get cleaned up..." He quickly got the oil-blackened onesie off and got him changed into a brand new onesie and nappy. He could see the discontent in poor Metal's eyes, so he quickly grabbed him his favorite plush rabbit, Reaper. He rocked him gently and patted his back. "There, there, papa's here." He cooed gently before tucking him into his own bed. He turned on a nearby nightlight and white noise machine. However he saw metal beginning to claw at the pillows, and Eggman grabbed his hands.

"No, no, where are the mitts I made for you Metal?" He scolded. Metal let out a chirp, and Eggman waggled his finger;

"You naughty little one, don't get smart with me. I don't wanna have to put you back in time out. that'd make twice today. Now where are those mits?" He searched around the room and the lab until he found them stashed under a box of tools. He grabbed the pink mits and returned to Metal Sonic. He tied them on firmly and put his pacifier back in.

"There we go.... now dream well. May you kick sonic's butt in your dreams." He spoke softly, pressing a gentle mustache kiss onto metal's blue metal head. Metal sonic let out a tired chirp before his jet engines fell quiet. He was asleep.

~END~

Thank you, Metal Sonic, for this reccomendation!

[ribbonsaikeaux]

A High Cost

Page wasnt a bad doll. Oh no, she was quite good at serving her Miss. Taking great care in each task, completing it perfectly. Its only (big) issue was ignoring its tasks to write. You see, Page absolutely adored writing. Creating new worlds and beings through its words. It made that one feel powerful. It was always eager to share its stories with its fellow dolls and its Witch.

For the most part, the Witch enjoyed Pages passion and found its writings a delightful diversion. However, she did often have to chastise it for shirking its duties in favor of putting quill to patchment. Truth be told, it was getting more irksome as time went on, but the Witch knew Page to be a capable doll and let it go about its writing as a reward.

That is, until one day Page was given a most important task. You see, the Witch was working on a potion. A very volitile potion. A potion which, if not watched carefully in the brewing process, would have catostrophic consquences. Being the most well learned of her dolls, the Witch entrusted Page to watch the process to make sure nothing went wrong and the concoction remained stable while she went out for a moment to run some errands.

Page dutifully accepted this responsibility and was on its way down to the brewing room as the Witch left. However, inspiration struck it just as it was about to open the downstairs door. It just had to write this down this instant! That ones mind raced with descriptions and story; its quill furiously quivering in its hand.

Its thoughts were interuprted by a house shaking boom. The dolls eyes widened in fear and realization.

"No no nononono" it kept repeating as it ran down the stairs. The room was destroyed, bricks falling from the wall, centries old volumes scorched to naught but ash. The smell of burning wood from the still burning bookcase reaching its nose.

"Oh no oh no oh no. This is-" Page stopped mid sentence. Amongst the rubble there laid a doll. Twisted and mangled. One arm missing, the other shattered, its legs bent and cracked. Its face a spider web of fractures. Its gears werent moving.

"L-lace?" Page gasped, its hand over its mouth, running to the broken dolls side, trying its best to frantically clear the rubble. "Lace! Oh no its so sorry! Nonono please no! Lace! Answer me!" It shouted, a hand on Laces face, fragments of its porcelaine falling from its face.

Page sobbed, tears flowing like a river down its face, backing away and curling up in the corner, knees to its chest. Just then, the Witch came down the stairs. "What the he-" she stopped, dumbstruck. Eyes darting over the scene. Her equipment destroyed, irreplaceable tomes burning, and a shattered doll sprawled on the floor. Her face briefly took an expression of sorrow before her eyes settled on Page. At that moment her look twisted to pure rage. In a flash, she was in front of the sobbing doll, lifting it up by its neck and screaming

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?"

"Its so sorry Miss! It didnt- it shouldve-" the doll choked out through sobs.

"YOU WERE WRITING WERENT YOU?! WERENT YOU?!" The Witch shrieked, shaking the doll with every other word.

Bawling and ashamed, all it could do was nod. The Witch howled in rage and tossed the doll across the room and into the opposite wall.

"YOU STUPID LITTLE RAT! I indulged you. For HOW LONG DID I INDULGE YOU?! Look at this mess! Look at what youve done! Centuries of studies DESTROYED! I now need all new equipment! On to top it off LACE IS FUCKING BEYOND REPAIR!" The Witch stormed up to the doll, fury engulfing her eyes.

"MissitssosorryMissitdidntmean-"

"I DONT GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU MEANT!" The Witch took a deep breath, steadying her voice, though it still seethed with rage.

"I do not want to lose two dolls today," she started through clenched teeth "so I will not destroy you." Page looks momentarily relieved. "HOWEVER, much as it pains me to do so, I will be taking your passion." She says grimly.

Pages eyes widen in terror. "N-n-no Miss please-"

"YOU DO NOT GET A SAY! YOU DO NOT GET TO BEG! THIS IS YOUR ATONEMENT FOR YOUR CARELESSNESS!"

The doll glanced quickly over at Laces shattered body and nodded, whimpering in resignation.

The Witch places her hand on the dolls head, a searing white light shining from it. Page screamed in pain as the knowledge of reading and writing were literally burned from her mind. The witch, shedding only a single tear at what she'd just destroyed turned away, still shaking in rage.

"Now clean up this mess and salvage what you can." She said before storming up the stairs, not giving the doll a chance to respond.

Page continued sobbing, its whole body shuddering as it stood, legs weak, head hurting. It started cleaning, sweeping and moving rubble as best it could. It happened upon a book that had not been completely destroyed, half of the title remaining on the cover. That one tried to read it, the symbols now foreign to its mind, it simply looked like gibberish. The doll sobbed with renewed anguish, continuing to clean.

[alocon]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [3] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Max Verstappen x Mercedes Driver ex! Reader

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko

Chapter Summary: The new season has finally arrived and you already have some more celebrating to do

Warning: Fluff (calm before the storm perhaps?),

[The Masterlist] [Part One Here] [Part Two Here]

64.media.tumblr.com

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [Part Three] - MV¹

Getting drenched in champagne had never felt so good. As you stood on the podium, your teammate spraying you down in alcohol on one side and your ex-teammate on the other, you realised just how much you had missed winning without the anxiety of the consequences. You turned your champagne from the two drivers to Toto, who you got on with like a house on fire. You were determined to ensure that your new team principal would leave the podium absolutely soaked with champagne. George had clearly got the memo, as he turned his attention to Toto too, Max soon following suit. After your very alcoholic shower, you took the photo, before feeling a tap on your shoulder. You spun around to see Max smiling sheepishly.

Over the winter break, Max and you had spent some time talking, even going as far as to hang out on a couple of occasions, once to go to the gym together and once to eat dinner at yours together. Safe to say, the pair of you had gone from civil to friends. It made you happy. Max really seemed to be trying to repair your friendship and to make up for his radio silence after your break up all those years ago. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” You asked, realising you’d just been looking at him, instead of listening. 

“I said congratulations but don’t get your ego too high because I’ll be back to winning soon enough. Also, do you want to grab dinner at this restaurant nearby tonight, before we all get drunk? We all know we’re both lightweights if we haven’t eaten first.” You happily agreed. 

You laughed at the cockiness coming from his mouth, causing his face to twist into a grin too. You watched as he held his hands out for a friendly hug, which you gladly accepted, taking the opportunity to lift the champagne bottle from behind his back, dousing him in some of the drink that was left. He gasped dramatically, leaning down to get his, but you were gone the second his arms released you, sprinting away, champagne and trophy in hand. You passed the trophy to your press officer so that it would be safe before you bolted towards the Mercedes garage as quickly as possible. “I’m so getting you back for that,” he declared as you stood just out of reach in the Mercedes garage. And that he did. He waited until you were in the media pen, speaking to the sky news reporter when you felt a cold trickle of the familiar alcoholic beverage pour down your back. You didn’t even need to look to know that it was Max, having heard his soft giggle as he passed you, whispering a soft ‘see you later’ on the way. That made you roll your eyes before going back to your interview.

—-

“Really? I thought they weren’t together anymore. What happened?” Max asked, suddenly a lot more intrigued in the gossip you were telling him than he was only a few moments prior. You were both using the pre-party dinner to catch up on everything that had happened in both of your lives and friend groups since the split almost 7 years earlier. 

“Oh they did, and then they got back together, and then they split up ‘for good’ in their words because he was travelling in Indycar for work and she is in F1 so it was like barely seeing each other most of the time. And then they got back together and got drunk at a party and slept together without protection, and boom. Parents.”

He gasped, taking a bite of his food. “Got any photos of their baby?”

You nodded, getting your phone out to show him the photos of your goddaughter / non-biological niece. You had a lot of photos and videos because you babysat a lot when you were home in Monaco and spent a lot of time with them. “Oh, and Jamie moved to being an engineer in F1 now. Apparently, his contract with his Arrow in Indy was over at the end of the season so in a couple of races time, he came over to McLaren here to work. He said he wants to be with the two most important people in his life a lot more often”

“Awwe, bless her, she’s adorable. And that’s great! I haven’t seen Jamie in a while, it’ll be nice to see him again.”

“Pre warning,” you said, causing Max to look back at you. “He may not be super friendly straight away because he did sit in on a few girls' nights over the years so he did hear quite a bit of, I guess, shit-talking.”

Max swallowed the bite of food he had taken before shrugging. “Honestly, I completely get it.” He paused, looking up at you. “So, girls’ night, huh? What does that entail?”

Some would consider Jamie Bell to be “overprotective” just from hearing the fact that he went to girls' nights sometimes, assuming that he was being controlling of who his girlfriend could see. However, that was not at all the case. Jamie Bell and Rachael Hall met in school, becoming friends quite quickly and then entering a relationship. To say the pair were childhood sweethearts would be an understatement. You had met the pair on holiday in Monaco the year after they got together, becoming close friends almost instantly. They split up due to work being difficult however, luckily, they managed to get back together. When Rachael got pregnant a few months later, they moved in together. Pregnancy took quite the toll on her in 2024 and, as a result, she couldn’t attend some girls' nights. So Jamie tucked her into bed and when she drifted off, came along to girls’ night for the evening without telling her, catching up on all of the gossip and having a drink with us and then, the next morning, made a PowerPoint presentation to show her to catch her up on all the gossip that she had missed from over the previous month. And that's exactly why you adored their relationship so much. Jamie was never previously interested in the girls’ night gossip until Rachael was upset about missing out on the gossip, which meant he was there in a heartbeat.

The dinner was good. You went out to a little restaurant in Australia that you used to go to together pre-break up. You hadn't been there since because it was yours and Max's place. He felt the same, opting to never go there unless it was with you.

After eating, and Max insisting on paying, you both went straight to the club, having got ready before you went to dinner.

It turns out that you and Max had the same general idea. The club you were going to had a Red theme, including red lights, so what better to do than wear red, match the lighting.

You wore a red slim fitting, thin strapped mini dress, a leather jacket and black knee high boots. You had a dark red glittery smoky eye and red stained lips with some red lip gloss on. Similarly, Max was wearing a dark red dress shirt and black dress pants.

Upon turning up to the party, it didn't take long for you to be dragged away, Lando claiming you weren't drunk enough for his liking so opting to change that. You waved goodbye to Max as he was similarly dragged away by Charles. So that's how you ended up absolutely pissed a few hours later, having spent an unhealthy amount of time doing shots with the younger British McLaren driver, your teammate, and your wife's boyfriend (also known as Alex). 

You were dragged away from the group for the 6th time tonight to be pulled away to dance with someone. Turning around, you saw Lewis grinning at you. “I haven't seen you in ages, congratulations on your win,” he said to you as you danced together in the corner of the room. 

“Thank you, Lew. I'm sorry your race didn't go as planned today.”

Lewis shrugged. It was something that had been completely out of his control. When he was lapping Nico Hulkenberg earlier, Lewis being up in 3rd place at the time, Nico’s breaks had failed and the pair had collided, taking them both out of the race. “There's always the next race, aye?” You nodded in response to him as he spoke. It was a shame, really. However, seeing as Charles came 4th, Ferrari were seeming really strong this year. He had only been behind George by a few tenths, basically having had a drag race to the finish line, George luckily coming third place. You finished up your conversation with Lewis when you spotted your team principal across the room, causing you to head over to see him and his beautiful, kind wife Susie. 

You joined them in the booth they sat in, George soon following suit, along with a few mechanics and members of the team. You were happy. For the first time since you had joined Red Bull all those years back, you had a team who unconditionally supported you. Your race engineer, who had been one of your main supporters in Red Bull, was one of the only 3 members of the Red Bull team that you told about your move before Abu Dhabi.

You told him because, with Lewis and Bono's move to Ferrari, you couldn't imagine anyone more fitting to do the move with you. And, of course, he had happily complied. 

[February 2024]

“BG!” You said happily, seeing him walk into the quiet, small café in Monaco that you had invited him to. Benjamin Green. Nicknamed BG/BeeGee in your debut season of F1 when he became your race engineer because his favourite song is More Than A Woman by the Bee Gees. 

“Hey, kiddo, what's up?” It was kind of amusing that he called you kiddo, considering that he was only 3 years older than you. Becoming your race engineer when you were 17 and he was 21, fresh out of university (his birthday was before the start of the season). He was your first and only race engineer and you, honestly, couldn't imagine having another one. He saw how Red Bull treated you and so he made it his goal to make you feel a lot less lonely in that team along with your press officer and your trainer. 

“We're just waiting for Gem and Kai now,” you said, and it didn’t take long for them to turn up.

Malachi Alexander was the first to walk in. He had been your trainer since 2021, after your old trainer left for another championship, due to it meaning that he would be away from his family for less time. Soon after that, Gem arrived. Jemimah Akhurst had been your Press Officer since 2017 and was also your friend since you were 16. They both sat at the table. No-one said anything until after they had got their drinks. “What’s going on? Why have we been called here?”

“I’m leaving Red Bull at the end of the season and I’m going to Mercedes.”

Kai looked at you, shock on his face as he hadn’t expected that. Despite everything, he hadn’t expected you to leave Red Bull because he knew how loyal you were to your teams. You had even found it difficult to leave Sauber for Red Bull… well, until Charles threatened to “make you regret being born” if you didn’t take this once in a lifetime opportunity. “So… I won’t be your Race Engineer anymore?” BG asked. He sounded kind of sad when he said it. You looked at him, noticing the kind of sad look on his face.

You placed your hand on his comfortingly before removing it to speak again. You took a sip of your drink. “A few of Lewis’ lot are going with him, including one of the press officers, Angela and Bono. That means that there are 3 openings at Mercedes which, coincidentally, are all three of your job roles and, after talking to Toto, they are more than willing to hire all three of you with better pay and benefits than you get at Red Bull.” It didn’t take much for them to agree.

—-

“You know,” you said to Max as you both sat in silence outside of the club, both completely drunk out of your minds. He turned to look at you. “I always used to question why you never stood up for me when Helmut and Christian were berating me for not giving you a place.” You paused, looking at him and then looking back at your hands when you saw his eyes already on you. “I know that you had absolutely no obligation to but, seeing as I stood up for you, and you stood up for others, I wondered if maybe one day you would stand up for me too. It kind of hurt in a way when you didn’t. I know it shouldn’t have but… I don’t know.” You chuckled softly, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t really have a filter when you were drunk. “I’m not mad about it anymore. I think, at least. I’m trying not to be. My therapist is still yet to open that bucket of worms.”

“You know, I always regretted not treating you better. We would’ve been together 14 years if I hadn’t been an idiot.” Max leant his head on your shoulder as you began to talk quietly, not saying much but, when you did, it was heartfelt, emotional, meaningful. “When did you start doing therapy? If it’s okay to ask.”

“The start of 2019.”

“Was it… because of the breakup?” His voice was quieter now, his tone indicating that it was okay not to answer if you didn’t want to.

“No. It was because of something else.”

“Is it okay to ask what?”

You shrugged, leaning your head on top of his. “That’s a conversation I’m only willing to have when I’m sober.”

-The End-

[Word Count - 2,361]

Hi All, It's official!! This story will now be becoming a story/series!! That means that I am planning on uploading more parts. I am unsure how long this story will be but I know for a fact that there will be a couple more chapters coming up in the near future. If you wish to be on the taglist, please do let me know. Have a good day x Alocon

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 36

Hey guys! Been super busy with other stuff. Check out my Ao3 if u wanna see more dpxdc siren content!

also masterpost!

INTERNATIONAL OUTCRY AS AMERICAN AGENTS TEAR THROUGH PANAMA

GIW agents harass civilians and destroy property in pursuit of supposed siren supervillain Phantom, only for no trace of said villain to be found. Is this yet another sordid chapter in American interference on South American soil? Lois Lane reports.

That was a welcome sight to see in the morning. Jazz Fenton placed her phone face down, and rolled back into bed; it was a bad idea to look at screens for too long while concussed, as much as she wanted to dig into the article lambasting Amity’s least favourite government workers. A small weight lifted off her shoulders. For the moment, her brother and Damian were scot free. Her parents were still hard at work on repairs. They’d spent the whole night in despair along with Bruce Wayne after Skulker had escaped without telling them any info on the missing boys, then the next morning, boom! Back to work. Never let it be said that the Fentons gave up easily. The GIW seemed less likely to bounce back, if the backlash against them was any indication. And Skulker’s ship was at the bottom of the sea.

As for what Danny and Damian would do next, Jazz had no idea. They could be trekking through Brazil on foot, or planning to swim back up north to Amity for all she knew. All she could do was hope Danny got himself a phone soon to call her, and let her know they were alright. Speaking of which…

Jazz got up and moved to the side of her door, where the spare mattress was propped up. She dragged it over the door, sealing it shut. With her room once again soundproofed and secure, she went back to her bed, and tapped a group call contact on her phone. She had texted them the brief details last night, but was too busy comforting her parents to give them the full report.

It answered in two rings. Tucker spoke immediately. “What’s your status?”

Sam picked up right after. “Where are the boys?”

“Everything is fine, for now. They managed to escape Panama before the GIW could catch them. But Skulker got them soon after.”

“Shit. I never even knew! I wasn’t there to hack him. What happened?” Tucker asked in panic.

“Mom and Dad came back last night, told me and Bruce that ‘Phantom’ made off with his little green friend. So at least they’re safe.”

“So that means they’re safe, right?”

Jazz squeezed her hairband. “For the most part. There’s one issue, though. Mom and Bruce saw Danny running at the beach in Panama. They didn’t see him go into the water or anything.” She was always careful not to say anything that would connect Danny with Phantom, just in case there was still somehow someone listening. It was never ‘transform’, it was always ‘go in the water.’ It was never Danny and Damian swimming in the ocean, it was Phantom and his friend, or just ‘they.’ “They don’t suspect anything catastrophic yet, but the situation is sensitive.”

“Well fuck.” The sound of a fist on wood came through Sam’s end.

“Sam, are you training?” Tucker asked. Jazz internally questioned if there was a reason to his surprise.

“Just a bit. Need to be in tip top shape.” Another series of punches. “You got a problem with that, Tuck?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

Jazz pursed her lips. “How are you guys feeling, outside of paranoid anxiety and crushing fear?”

“Like I want to cave someone’s face in right now.”

“I’ve got some good news!” Keyboard clacking followed his announcement, and a text from him appeared on their group chat. It was an internal order obviously gained via Tucker’s illicit means, directing operatives to pack up and hit the seas for Phantom. “The Gankers in Wetwipes are screwing off in the next couple weeks. That means less property damage. Woo!”

“But more people chasing Phantom, Tuck.” Sam let out a guttural growl as she kicked something, by the sound of it. “They’ll be licking their wounds for a while with his GTA stunt in Panama, but for how long?”

For how long indeed. If they were as determined as they ever were, probably not long at all. “What’s the status at Fentonworks?”

“All clear for now. I already gained access to the system aaages ago, back when we needed to disable the detection systems for Danny.” A few keys clicked in the background. “Still nothing. I have a program to alert me and Sam when a certain someone shows up.”

“And then what?”

“Hopefully, blast him to fucking bits with the house defenses.”

“There’s also plan B, Jazz, but we’ll save that for later,” Sam added. “How are you feeling?”

Jazz sighed. The last few days have been nothing but anxiety, uncertainty and stress. Slowly, she breathed in again, and her sigh became a calming exhale. “Honestly? Relieved. The future is uncertain, and people are naturally inclined to dislike uncertainty, but I have faith in Danny. He’s one of the strongest little brothers a woman could hope for.”

She just needed to have faith.

Damian chewed a piece of Sargassum. The stars coated the night sky once more in a mesmerising dome, while Danny laid beside him, fins flicking lazily, as he retold myths. Currently Danny was going over Herakles, who was brought to the teet of Hera to suckle, only for the baby Herakles to nibble too hard, causing the goddess’ milk to spill out into the stars, forming the Milky Way.

“Incidentally, galaxias literally means milky! Can you believe it?” Danny concluded.

The whale pod was fast asleep at this moment, floating near the surface of the ocean. Danny’s body was already mostly dried out, scales replaced by pink skin. The older boy tipped his foot into the water, which morphed it into a fin, before splashing the water onto Damian’s body.

As much as Damian wished to be able to continue swimming, he was still in recovery, and he and Danny had not finished gathering supplies yet. Instead, he laid his head on the mother whale’s body and on Danny’s, and listened to another story.

“This isn’t about any constellations, but here’s the hillaarrious misunderstanding for why some Greeks thought the god Pan was dead…”

Damian fell asleep to the rhythm in Danny’s chest.

He woke up feeling better than ever, and the whale calves seemed to feel the same. As soon as he rose, a group of them with Dorothea at the helm ambushed him. Dorothea bumped her nose onto him, and Damian instinctively grasped her fins to hold on, while she dashed away from her friends. Three calves followed Dorothea’s tail, while another two flanked her left side.

The two from the side dove for Damian, aiming to knock him off Dorothea’s back, but she swerved upward and dodged their advance. So the game was to claim Damian as their rider. He could get behind this. Dorothea’s friends approached from the rear. Damian secured his position atop her back, and scanned his surroundings, which were mostly featureless sands and dozens of whales. He clicked a command, then nudged her in the downwards direction. Almost by telepathy, Dorothea angled downwards underneath the belly of one of the adult pod members. The three chasers followed closely.

“Giddy up, Dorothy! We can still outswim them!” He called out to his friend. However, his glee was cut short by the reappearance of the two flankers. One seemed like a young male, with three spots on his head. Damian dubbed him Cerberus. The other had a white patch on its fin. Damian called it Todd.

Cerberus went low, while Todd went high, brushing against the underbelly of the adult they were swimming under. With Damian holding on tight, Dorothy dashed forward. She and Damian aimed to swim up the side of the adult and lose their tails (curse you Richard and your infectious disease). However, the three chasers from the back had returned. A smaller runt rammed Damian by the side. It was not painful, just startling. Damian yelped at his new captor and the current winner. “Be careful, you dolt! And start swimming!”

Runt clicked an answer back, and the chase was on. Damian took the helm at Runt’s back, and chirped a challenge back to the other calves, who crooned back with renewed vigour. Runt wasn’t as big or strong as her friends, but she was small, and that made her a more difficult target, as well as granting her greater nimbleness in the water. Try as her pod mates might, they were unable to catch her. Runt twisted and zig-zagged through the water, and around the bodies of the adults. Dorothea managed to glance by Damian’s sail, but she had aimed too high and left Damian firmly seated on his current noble steed.

As enemy forces closed in on them, he had to wonder what the victory condition had to be for this game, and if there weren’t, how he could make one decisively. His gaze turned upward.

“We need altitude, Runt. On the double!” He commanded. Damian ducked under another capture attempt by Cerberus, then jerked Runt to the side as Todd dove for another attempt. Runt sped toward the surface with accelerating pace amidst the growing resistance. In a rush of motion, the pair broke the surface and launched into the air, almost six whole feet up. Runt sang a triumphant tune. She blasted water out of her blowhole, which happened to be right underneath Damian’s face, but Damian couldn’t help but laugh even as he was pelted by high-pressure water. His stomach lurched and his heart jittered with the thrill of free-fall, celebrated with a pump of the fist.

He and Runt plummeted back to the deep blue sea with a magnificent splash, right before the whale calves surrounded them with playful nuzzles.

A click interrupted their celebration. Behind the shifting bodies of the whale calves, a grinning Danny floated, camera in hand. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Damian glared with dignity. He did not pout. “I was getting in my recommended hours of physical therapy. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. And it wasn’t just because you wanted to play with the whales again?”

“It was training.” Damian put his hands to his hips. “I am learning how to be a whale whisperer and trainer, for any future encounters where that skillset might be useful.”

“Well…” Danny rolled his shoulders back and grinned. “Is the budding whale trainer ready for a lunch break?” The older boy offered a helping of brown kelp. “Today our chef has prepared a special three-course dinner comprising of kelp, kelp, and a mystery desert for later!”

“It is kelp, is it not?”

“You betcha!”

Within the clean white walls of a private jet, a man picks up a glass of champagne. Poor Jasmine, all alone in Fentonworks, her parents having gone off gallivanting across the waves once more. Poor Jasmine indeed. Well, having set affairs in order back at home, Vlad Masters was finally coming to check in on his dear, dear goddaughter.

“How long until we reach Amity, pilot?”

“Just another hour, sir. Hang in tight.”

“Excellent.”

And if he completed a few errands around Amity Park in the meantime, who could blame him?

[the-purity-pen]

Lights Out

Santiago Garcia x AFAB!Reader (no y/n)

rating: EXPLICIT (NO MINORS)

warnings: oral (afab receiving), fluff and feels (be warned)

words: 2.9k

a/n: this comes from a request from my lovely bestie @flightlessangelwings. it uh... well it got away from me a bit and therefore is a full fic. talk about coming back to tumblr fanfic writing with a vengence. sorry not sorry.

The storm outside was loud. So loud that every boom of thunder felt like it was shaking your entire house. You held your cat on your lap while on the couch, curled up with your favorite blanket, and the television turned on to the romance movie you had started earlier in the week. The plus side to working for the small town bar was that your boss, your best friend, didn’t force you to come in during storms.

The unexpected night off meant you got comfy in a large oversized t-shirt and soft cotton sleep shorts. Which was the call for the blanket as the temperature outside cooled down more than you were expecting. Your calico Ellie also helped keep you warm as she purred on your lap.

The lights flickered, but nothing else seemed affected, so you ignored it and returned to watching the movie. After months of built-up flirting, the male protagonist had just gotten the nerve to kiss the female protagonist. His hand on her chin made goosebumps rise along your skin. You were hopelessly romantic and loved all those movies and seeing the characters kiss for the first time. It was electric, and you always dreamed of having that for yourself.

The lights flickered three more times in rapid succession before everything went dark. Even though your heart rate elevated with anxiety, you managed a breath before muttering, “Damn it,” and getting up from your comfortable spot. Ellie gave a soft chirping meow to let you know that she didn’t like being moved, but she managed to get to the other end of the couch and curl back up to sleep. You shook your head at her before heading to the kitchen. In one of the drawers, you dug through the piles of receipts and take-out menus, rubber bands, and scotch tape until you found the little purple sparkly flashlight.

Just as you pull it out to turn it on, a loud knock at your door makes you jump—your heart races as you try to steady your breathing. You get the flashlight turned on just before you reach your front door. You peeked out the top window from your tiptoes just enough to see the top of a head covered in onyx-colored curls. You opened the door to find Santiago, your neighbor, soaked to the bone and panting.

“Santi,” you sighed as you lowered the flashlight and stepped back to allow him inside. His head is lowered as he steps in but remains on the indoor welcome mat, seemingly trying not to drip water all over your hardwood floor. You closed the door, rushed to the oven to grab the hand towel, and handed it to him. He offered a soft “thanks” while drying his face and arms.

“Well, I see you’re out of power too,” Santi mentions as he stands up straighter and looks around your living room with a soft chuckle, then back to you.

“Just lost it. Interrupted my movie too,” you offer with a soft laugh; turning off the flashlight as the moon glows from outside is enough to see Santi as you converse.

After an awkward silence, Santi hands the now-damp towel back to you, and you put it on the counter beside you.

���Didn’t know if you and Ellie needed anything,” he finally spoke after clearing his throat. His brows lifted as he looked at you. Even in the dark, there was no denying how handsome Santi was. Add in how wonderful of a neighbor he had been over the last year since you moved in, and he was pretty accurately the perfect man.

He had helped change the spark plugs in your car, repaired the front gutter, helped build your back deck, and replaced the upstairs bath’s faucet. All for free. He never asked for anything in return except for some free pastries when he’d stop by your bakery. You couldn’t say no. His sweet tooth was like no other, and for the rugged man he appeared to be, knowing he had a soft spot for your cupcakes and brownies made you just that little bit mushier.

“It’s fine. We’ve survived worse,” you commented, a wry laugh being pulled from you. The words and meanings were heavier than you intended them to be. Santi seemed to catch on as he stared after you, watching you move further into the kitchen.

“Did you want some water?” you offered as you reached into the cupboard for two glasses. The fridge, thankfully, still worked for a few minutes after a power outage. You knew it would eventually run out of the reserved energy to keep things cold, but at least you had the water jug in there.

“Sure,” Santi answered, wiping his feet before venturing toward you over at the sink. But as he waited, he did so very close to the side of the fridge. You turned after filling the first glass and bumped into him with your elbow, causing the cold water to splash onto you, eliciting a shriek.

“Oh! Shit, I’m so sorry,” Santi started apologizing and immediately grabbed the towel from the counter you had let him use. He started patting you down with it, but the dampness of the towel from his usage and the cold water already absorbing into your shirt caused you to shiver and shake your head. You set the glass on the counter by the fridge and mumbled to him that you were okay. He handed you the towel but stood dumbfounded as he watched you.

“Are you sure? Can I get you something else? Where are your other towels?” he asked rapidly before hurrying around the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets to find something else to dry you off.

“Santi,” you said with a laugh. “I’m good. Let me get changed. Help yourself to the water, though. I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared around the corner and down the hall. Stripping off the T-shirt once in your bedroom, you opened your wardrobe to find... nothing else in the comfort level to be worn. Your dirty laundry was still in the washer in the basement, and you hadn’t switched it over to the dryer before the storm. You mentally and physically facepalmed. “Great,” you muttered before closing the drawer and moving to your closet. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it would have to do.

Walking back out toward the kitchen, fiddling with the buttons on your ex’s dress shirt, you didn’t notice Santi had moved, and you ran head-first into his solid chest. “Whoa,” he laughed, his arms coming out to steady your shoulders. His hands were warm on your cold skin, even through the shirt's material.

You swallowed thickly as you looked up at him. The moment was fleeting, but it was there, and you swore you saw the sparkle in his deep brown eyes. But perhaps that was just the lights flickering back on. You heard all the machines in your kitchen turn on, and it must have cleared Santi’s mind because he, too, backed away and cleared his throat.

“Well, look at that,” he said and nodded slowly, looking around to see everything turn back on - including the television. The movie must have paused when the power went out because it picked right back up where it had left off. The two main characters were getting into their kissing, and the music was swelling, indicating which direction things were going in.

“Oh!” you shouted as the moans from the actors started to fill the room and romantic close-ups of their bodies began to show on the screen. You practically fumbled and ran from Santi to find the remote. The moaning and panting got louder, and you swore the remote was on the couch. You bent in strange ways, trying to see it, lifting the blanket from where it had crumpled, and felt your heart racing faster and faster with each passing moment.

Santi looked on, bemused, a smirk on his lips, taking a mental note of what kind of movies you enjoyed. Was it because he wanted to know you a bit better? Yes. Was it also because the noises from the tv sounded erotic and affected him? Also yes. And how you bent over at one certain angle, perhaps giving him the slightest hint of the bottom of your backside? Absolutely yes.

He walked over after you seemed to be failing at locating the remote. “Can I help?” he asked, standing closer to the tv, the actors getting into the steamy sex scene now. You could barely hear him over the thumping in your ears from your heart. Where the fuck did that little remote go, and why was there so much moaning on the television now?

You turned and saw Santi watching the tv as the sex scene played. It was rather raunchy for being a romance film, but it was steamy and sexy, and you swallowed thickly. You cleared your throat, staring at how Santi watched the scene play out.

“What movie is this?” he asked before facing you and noticing you staring at him.

Caught off guard, you stumbled through an answer. “Oh, uh, it’s just some romance movie based on a book series.” Vague, yes. Keep it vague.

Santi’s smirk took over, and your knees would buckle if it were a romance movie like the one on your screen. He was so ruggedly handsome, and you were brought back to just a few minutes before when his hands were on you. The feeling had this moment of staring at each other, turning you into a puddle. Especially as Santi moved away from the tv and toward you, his head cocked to one side, seemingly studying you.

“Do you like romance novels? And movies?”

There was no judgment, no mocking in his tone. He was genuinely asking. You quickly ran through the scenarios of what a yes answer and a denying no answer could look like. You opted for honesty. After all, other than your crush on him, your neighborly friendship with him had always been honest and straightforward.

You nodded as he moved closer and now stood directly before you. His nod was much slower than yours, thoughtful, and you noticed all of the stubble along his jaw. That hadn’t been there the last time you had seen him. But it suited him. His hand gently came up in front of your chest but paused, his eyes searching yours. Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back as your head gently nodded.

His rough, calloused hand ghosted in front of your chest and to your jawline. The contrast of the feel of his hand against your jaw and your skin caused both of you to take shuddering breaths in. “So you enjoy the idea of being kissed… softly?” Santi asked, his soft, graveling tone sending a shiver down your body.

Your heart felt like it had jumped into your throat, making words hard to come out. Instead, you nodded and breathed in, holding it. Your gaze on Santi was soft but begging him to move even closer. You had wanted to feel his kiss for so long, but you didn’t know that he even had an inkling of romantic feelings toward you.

“May I?”

The question surprised you. Santi didn’t seem the type to ask. You had seen him with women at the neighborhood picnics and gatherings. He always seemed so in control and cocky. The first time you officially introduced yourself to him, his smirk nearly made you hate him because he looked so full of himself.

But it was becoming more apparent that that was a facade, and with that, you nodded and mumbled a soft “please” in answer. His look was pure contentment as he leaned in, his hand sliding over to hold your chin and lifting it ever so slightly. He leaned in, his lips nearly at yours before he spoke, causing you to whimper.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for six months.”

You blinked and looked up at him. Your face did a slight double take, blinking harder.

“What?”

“I came over to help you fix more stuff because I had this ridiculous fantasy of coming over sometime and finding you half-dressed. I’d take you on the couch and devour you, tasting all of you. Like some romance movie,” he admitted, and your entire body became alight with lust. You couldn’t even stop your hands as they lifted to his fitted t-shirt and gripped the front of it, pulling him to you so that his lips had no choice but to land on yours.

The groans he let out let you know that you had done something right in taking the first move. His free hand slid down the side of your body to your hip, where his rough fingertips dug into your flesh, crumpling the shirt. You took a step back, tugging him with you until your knees buckled at the couch, and you both landed, Santi’s knee on the left side of you on the sofa.

Your hands moved up to his face, cupping his scruffed jaw. His lips chased yours, but you had other plans as you held his face and moved your lips along his cheek and to the soft spot behind his ear. Your tongue played against it, licking him before moving to his jugular. His hand on your chin slid down to cup your breast through the shirt, and you moaned, arching your back into his touch.

“Oh, that’s what you like, hm?” he breathed out, moving his face down to echo the licking and nibbling at your neck that you had just done to him. His smirk could be felt against your skin as you mewled in pleasure.

Hands moved all over; mouths continued to explore the upper parts of your bodies until they were reunited again in a heavier, hotter, more passionate kiss. Santi’s hand trailed down your body to between your legs, where he found your moist center. He groaned, his thumb pressing gently against the sensitive button that had your hips wildly thrusting toward him. His hand continued to move but in such a teasing manner that it was starting to frustrate you. Just having his body on yours was better than anything, but having his hand at your most needed part was already better than all your nights with your toys.

His mouth ventured down, suckling at your breast through the shirt, moistening it before moving down until he was on his knees on the floor in front of the couch and you. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the oversized shirt out of his way. He leaned in, kissing up one thigh, then, when he barely reached your apex, his mouth moved to the other, starting the trail north.

“God, Santi, please,” you murmured, a mumble. Your brain was working on overdrive that this man would do this to live out the fantasy he had admitted to you.

His hands worked down your shorts and panties in one fell swoop. A master at undressing you already. Either that, or you were just that needy and desperate. He leaned in the moment he saw the glistening of your sex. His tongue swiping along your slit, bottom to top, your hands nestled into his curls.

“Santi.” You breathed out his name in pants and moans, and he was done for. His mouth closed over your warm cunt, lapping at you before stiffening his tongue and pressing into you. The curl of the muscle of his tongue pushing into you had your breath catching in your throat. His mouth was magic, and you were sure to come undone quickly.

But just as your peak nearly hit, your hips pressing up against his face, he pulled back, his hands pushing your hips back down. “Oh, baby. Not yet. I want to see you crumble and hear you scream, but I want to keep tastin’ you. I want to know that I’m making you shudder and shiver from pleasure. Okay?”

You whine, but if the last few minutes were any indication, Santi had no plans to leave the space between your legs soon. His tongue gently licked at you, to which you shuddered from sensitivity. His hands worked in slow circles on your thighs, and when his mouth wasn’t against you, his eyes were studying his fingers played gently against your clit, watching the way you would tense and clench around nothing.

And you were right. Three orgasms from his lips and mouth alone later, Santi finally comes up for air, his scruff glistening with your wetness. You reach out for him and pull his head up to you so that you can lean forward and capture his lips against yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and in his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

When you broke the kiss, Santi leaned his forehead against yours to catch his breath. “I.. am not done with you,” he grinned as he kissed you chastely and pulled back. Showing you the wicked grin on his lips and the devilish glint in his dark eyes. You laughed and shook your head.

“You really shouldn’t wait six months to kiss me next time,” you quipped. His chuckle seemed to rumble deep into his chest.

“Oh, so you’re sassy too, huh?” he laughed as his hands gently tickled your sides before sliding one up to hold your chin again to you could look directly into his eyes.

“I’m never waiting to kiss you ever again. Ever,” he told you sternly, the laughter dying off as his lips retook yours in a soft, gentle, but firm kiss.

[ltwilliammowett]

How were ships' bottoms cleaned in the Age of Sail?

Hi, the ship was laid on its side, which is also called careening. Careening, is the turning or rolling of a vessel around its longitudinal axis so that one side of the lower hull and keel - the lowest part of a watercraft - is exposed for cleaning or repair. Incidentally, the term "heaving down" was used in the past. This required either a beach, a shipyard or a careening shipyard. If this was done on a beach, the ship's guns could be moved to the shore and used as anchor points, but a wharf in a shipyard was preferred because it was equipped with the capstans and rigging needed to haul the ship in.

HMS 'Formidable' careened in Malta Dockyard, 31 January 1843. The second rate warship ‘Formidable’ is shown being careened at the dockyard in the Grand Harbour at Malta. By Quintanas, J, 1843 (x)

The next step was to lighten the ship by removing unnecessary materials and putting them into temporary storage ashore. After all the sails, running rigging, ropes and most of the yards had been removed, the ship's three-part masts - consisting of lower mast, upper mast and topgallant mast - were dismantled down to the lower third. Then the crew members lifted the sledge-mounted guns from the deck, fastened the main and fore hulls with ropes and cordage, laid them on the quay and rolled them into storage. All the cargo and barrels of provisions were also lifted from the ship's hold and rolled ashore. The crew members who were in the bottom of the ship passed the iron shot and most of the ballast stones to a number of shipmates, who passed them on and stacked them ashore. Only a portion of the ballast, determined by the captain, was left in the hold to maintain the ship's balance. The lower gun ports were sealed, reinforced and made watertight. Numerous thick wooden booms were also installed, up to 61 cm in diameter and 12 m long. The ship was then pulled with ropes, blocks and the capstan to lay it on its side.

Now, standing on a floating platform connected to the ship, the carpenter could inspect the hull and determine the extent of repairs needed.

This work could include removing rotten or damaged planks and installing new ones, or replacing the sacrificial keel that protected the actual keel from damage.But also all the livestock that had settled on the hull was removed.And the chaulking was done, with ship's caulkers with special hammers tapping dense stands of tar-soaked oak into the seams to keep the water out. When all the repairs and cleaning were completed on one side, the ship was put back into the water, turned around and the process repeated on the other side. when all the sides were finished, everything could be loaded and reassembled and the ship was put back into the water.

So, I think that should be it for the moment, if you want to know more just let me know

[sarawritestories]

Stressed Out

Harry Wells X Fem Reader

Flash Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has been feeling stressed at her day job along with being one of Central City's Heroes. At her breaking point she storms away after having enough of Harry and Cisco criticizing her every move. As she sits at Jitters, Harry pays her a visit.

A/N: I'm so sorry for my lack of posting and getting requests out. Writing has been hard as the stresses of the real world so my inspiration has been low. However I have now gotten a wave of inspiration so there will be an influx of stories

Content Warning: Stress, random outburst of anger, Low self esteem (in the form of not feeling good enough)

Word Count: 1730 words

Tags: @eonash @yetanotherwells @twilightlover2007 @achromaticerebus

Emails flooded Y/N's inbox, all from Captain Singh, breathing down her neck about getting paperwork done and micromanaging how she responds to emails. She had been making small mistakes, typos on files, forgetting to sign document or dropping a piece of evidence and it shattered on the floor. No matter how careful she has been a mistake on her end pops up racking up anxious feelings.

Harry and Cisco have not helped her in anyway in S.T.A.R labs critiquing how she is not moving fast enough in the field, that her take downs are sloppy and causes too much damages. That they are tired of repairing her suit. The constant nagging coming from all fronts was beginning to cause a storm cloud of doubt to loom over her head. She felt uneasy and the stress and pressure she put on herself to do better and move more efficiently , all the while taking the criticism and swallowing the sinking feeling that settled in her stomach.

 Her computer pinged with a new notification, pulling her from her thoughts, that Captain wanted to see her in his office. She closed her eyes and count to ten before she responded that she would be right down and closed her laptop grabbing it and heading down the stairs to his office. Joe, Barry and Singh were in the office grim looks on her face. “Shut the door, Y/L/N.” Y/N felt bile rising in her throat as the door clicked shut.

By the time the meeting met its end, Y/N had to utilize all her will power to not cry. She made a beeline for the elevator, “Y/N, Y/N wait!” Barry's voice boomed in the bullpen. She slowly turned and saw Barry feigning that he was catching up his breath, holding up his phone with the notification a fire was happening, “Duty calls.”

In a blink of the eye they were at the fire of the high rise builder, hero attire on. “I'll take care of the fire, you clear the building to make sure everyone gets out safe.” Y/N nods and Barry speeds into the top floor of the building and Y/N began her descent down the floors, clearing each floor there was a scream on the third floor and she made her way there. A crying child was curled up in the corner, with speed she grabbed the girl and as she turned the whole floor caved in. The girl screamed.

Y/N held the girl close and whispered soothing words. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she took a running leap to get reach the doorway. She sped through the floors making sure there was no one left into the building before she got out of the building the young girls face tucked into her shoulder. A weeping older woman takes a look at the young meta with the girl in her arms and makes a dash toward her. “My baby!” She held her arms open as Y/N whispered to the girl causing the child to lift her head and squeal with joy and leap into her mother's open arms. The mother cradles her child's head rocking her soothing her sobs. The mom meets Y/N's eyes, “Thank you so much!”

Y/N gave her a small smile, “She'll need to be checked on by the paramedic.” She squeezes the mom's shoulder as she walks away and reaches her friend. “Everyone is out.” Barry's eyes widened and begin patting at her only then realizing her suit was on fire. “Can't wait to hear about that when we get back to the labs.” She mutters as Barry zooms them into the cortex of the lab.

Team Flash, begin talking stats about their current rescue mission. Y/N took off her mask, getting lost in her thoughts. As she takers off her jacket Cisco's voice boomed in the cortex, “Seriously, Y/N, can you go out, and maybe not destroy your suit.”

Y/N grips the chair tightly as she closes her eyes. Through clenched teeth, “Get right on that, Cisco.”

“I mean these materials are not cheap you need to be more careful.” Cisco keeps prodding on and on. Y/N kept counting to keep herself calm.

The pit in her stomach began grow as Harry walks in. “Who was in the lab last?”

Y/N groaned, “I was.”

Harry's steps approached her, “All the tools that I spent an hour and half sterilizing were on the floor, would you happen to know anything about that?”

Tears began to form and Y/N's resolve began to shrink opening her eyes to meet his, rage bubbling over, “Yes, Harry, I was running late and was so frustrated I decided to pull a you and throw everything on the floor.”

“That's cold, Y/N,” Cisco muttered as he began to clean the suit on her jacket.

“I was being sarcastic, you ass!” Cisco and the teams head snapped, “Harry, it was an accident, I'm sorry. I never intend to make you grumpier than you already are. But hey Barry got to watch me get suspended today because as much as I fuck up at being a hero, I can barely do my day job right.” Harry took a step back as Y/N took a step forward. She was about to explode and took pause, “You know, with the way everyone gets a pass for the mistakes they make, I apparently make so many that just causes everyone more problems and more work. I think I'll take myself out of the equation.” She looks at Cisco, “Keep your suit,” her gaze moves to Barry, “You can have the lab to yourself,” She finally meets Harry's intense gaze with his furrowed brows, “You'll never have to worry about me causing you any more problems, Doc.”

She makes her way out of the cortex elbowing Harry, and Cisco out of the way and left the labs tears streaming down her face. Leaving Team Flash taken aback by the sudden outburst.

 Not wanting to go home she made her way over to jitters. Y/N placed her order and waited for her drink to be made. She wiped her tears as she thought about how useless she feels. She grabbed her drink and sat at one of the high-top tables and let her thoughts her.

A tap on the table caused her to jump where her eyes met familiar blue ones shadowed under a cap. “Hey, Princess. I had a feeling you would be here.” He took the seat across from her interlacing his hands together, “What's going on with you?”

“Was I not clear? I was suspended from work, and when I'm not getting my flaws pointed out at work, my shortcomings are getting pointed out by you and Cisco. I can take a hint, the team is better off without me.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink.

Harry's furrowed his brows, “How long have you been feeling this way?”

Y/N shrugged, “It comes and goes but that feeling of usefulness has been elevated this past week. I make too many mistakes, I'm human its going to happen I work hard to not make them again, and I feel like if I lash out or defend myself, I’m not taking criticism well. If I keep making mistakes I'm not growing, I just feel stuck and that I can't say anything without some form of backlash.” Her eyes began to water, as the words are pouring out of her. “I am not perfect, and I feel like I’m not even wanted anywhere or by anyone.” Y/N realized how much she was dumping all her feelings onto him “I'm sorry. I know you have gone through worst things and that you're probably only here because the team made you. Its just the stress builds up and I explode.” She stood from her seat and tried to muster up a small smile, “I’ll catch you later, Harry.”

Harry grabbed her arm, “Sit back down,” he looked up at her and muttered, “Please.” With a reluctant sigh she sat back down. “Princess, listen to me very carefully,” Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. Harry rubbed his hand over his mouth averting her gaze for a moment to figure the right words. “I’m not the best at bringing comfort, I am not the best in dealing with conflicts. Jessie is the first person to call me out on this and holding me accountable,” He placed his hands over hers on the table, “I do know one thing, you are something special.” She met his gaze, his eyes holding a level of intensity. “You work hard, and you are the Team’s beacon of light when all hope seems lost. We would be lost without you and probably would have fallen apart if it wasn’t for your optimism and kindness. Even when we don’t deserve.”

Y/N cast her eyes down to their hands and Harry gave Her’s a comforting squeeze. “If that is how everyone feels, no one ever treats me like I’m valuable. Not at work, not anywhere. Harry, you have been the hardest on me,” she sniffled, “All I have wanted these past few weeks was a friend to tell me that it was going to be okay.”

Y/N heard the chair move and suddenly she felt a hand under her chin and lifted her head up to meet his blue eyes sadness flooded his gaze. “Princess, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. She took a moment to register that she was in his arms before she wrapped her arms around his waist and let the emotions of the past of the few weeks release and sobbed into his shoulder.

Harry leaned his head against hers rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I know I’m not the greatest friend. But I need to you know that I care for you extremely, Y/N.” Y/N’s sobs were slowly turning into soft hiccups. “I promise I will do better to be there when you need me.” He softly pushes her away and rubs the tears from her cheeks and leaves his hands resting on her cheeks, “Just tell me what you need.”

Y/N nod and without thinking twice she reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, “Thank you, Harrison.”

His cheeks flushed and gave her an awkward smile, “Anytime, Princess.”

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ Surreptitious God ✦ 」

[ Mha x God!Reader ]

↳ The summary is; your a God, the God of balance—the Yin and Yang. You can bring life or death to anything and everything. But when it comes to war...could you really be called the God of balance?

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

War. The bloodshed is unbearable—left and right, below and above is death. Nothing but destruction in it's path. You'd live for hundreds of years but still couldn't bear the weight of the losses on the battlefield.

During your lifetime, you've experienced countless of battles from the moment quirks were brought into the world. But nothing could prepare you for this..

The destruction around you was nothing like you've ever encountered. Life forms were dimming almost to nothingness as the unraveling wrath spreaded like wildfire.

"How amusing, a God-related quirk user on the ground, their life dependent on the outcome of what I decide. How ironic isn't it? For all of time, everything known to exist were at your mercy. But how the tables have changed." The voice was rasped as his white haired danced from the ashes of destruction. "Y'know, we've been watching you for so long, but guess what? You're not the only powerful being of destruction." He sneered, following with a chuckle which then boomed into a manic laughter.

As the man grabbed your chin, he harshly forced it up before moving it to the side. "Look at all of this..all the blood-shed and destruction..and it wasn't just me who caused it." He chuckled sadistically, "your quirk controls anything destroyed as well can repair, so in contrary, this was your doing as well."

Your eyes gazed around the collapsed and burning buildings, the ashes that flickered throughout the wind—the fires that had spread all around—that dance in the wind almost seeming to taunt you.

As you watched your chin was roughly turned, as your eyes landed on blood-lusting red ones. The kind that can send chills just by a meekly gaze, ones that sadistically taunt you with no remorse.

"So tell me, descender of the God of Balance, how do you feel? Remorse? Guilt? Maybe even fear?" Tomura questioned amusingly before sighing as he shook his head. "No matter, in honesty I don't give a damn. I'm going to end you along with all those revolting 'heroes'."

His face etched a manic grin as he brought his hand closer towards your head.

For most of your life, you've never felt or shown fear..but this, this was different. For the first time, you weren't just scared, you were beyond mortified.

You've grown so close to everyone thats hurting—fighting to protect everything and yet, here you were...a literally fucking God, whose on the ground unable to even stand. How pathetic—a God who sustains unimaginable power at will is at mercy of others, a God who has control over life and death itself can't even help those around them, instead, watch as some succumb to their wounds.

Can you really call yourself a God? Nonetheless the God of balance.

Tears of fury, sorrow and fear all clouded your vision as the on slaughtering background noise diminished to only white as your ears rang. And then it finally dawned onto you,

You were useless..

.

.

"You don't really think that do you?"

You head slowly lifted. Your eyes widened as you no longer the midst of destruction, instead, you laid on bright grass as nature gleamed around you. Water rushed down a small rock formation into a minor lake, glistening. You got up with ease which confused you. Looking down at your body, you noticed you barred no scars.

As you looked around, your memories start fading back as you recalled this plain being a sacred meet up spot.

Your head shot towards a light chuckle, only to be met with the Goddess of nature, Kami.

"Worry not {name}, this plain is a conscious escape." She reassured. Your muscles relaxed as you walked towards her before sitting down at the makeshift-rock table. You sighed as you felt calm as weren't in midst of battle, yet in a place of solace. Though you couldn't help but feel anxious of what was happening in real time.

You were snapped from your state of worry as the Goddess began to speak. "You've done so much and worked quite the ways to get to where you are. Why would you think your useless?" She cocked her head to the side with a light smile.

"I..theres war going on. I'm the one responsible and the one in control of destruction and creation itself, to keep it all in balance, no? If I fail to do my job correctly..who am I to be called a God?" You looked down, fidgeting with a small carving of a star within the rock.

"But you are fulfilling your role. You aren't the God of peace, you are the God of balance. War is one of the factors—the other side of the positives. If destruction doesn't occur, then theres nothing life can contrast to." She informed, reassuring you as well. Getting up, she made her way towards you, a light smile of reassurance and encouragement placed on her lips as she sat down next to you.

"You may not see it yet, but even with your doubts you'll be able to find a way to tip the scale to make it equal. With this war, you'll find life, one way or another. Trust me on this."

You sighed before looking up towards her. "Thank you for this. I know you can't help physically but your words are just as encouraging."

Her smile seemed to brighten, "of coarse." She nodded.

...

You quickly summoned a dagger before quickly stabbing it through Tomura's hand. The man retracted his hand as he staggered back, clutching it in pain as the dagger dispersed. You were thankful time in the plain turned to be nothing int he overworld.

"You bitch!" He hissed, but as he looked up, you were gone. As your blade was about to strike down to his neck, he quickly countered it, grabbing ahold of it as it crumbled to dust.

...

A/N:

[Hi! Soooo as you can see this is clearly unfinished and quite sloppy towards the end. And thats because it is unfinished. Honestly might go back to this later but in the meantime I don't have a clue how to finish this off. I cannot write fighting scenes for my life without it sounding horrid. If you have any ideas on how this should end, please comment it and if I can use it, i'll tag you along with credits! ^^ Also rq, about shigi referring to her as a 'descender of the God ___' and her being a God isn't a writing error. Anyways, yea, use your imagination to however you'd like the ending to be.]

(I haven't watched or read the war-arc yet so I have no clue of Shigi's fighting style.)

......

[ Masterlist ]

[dimorphodon-x]

Sleep hasn’t been very easy the last few days so last night I wrote something silly.

—

—

The Decepticon higher ups weren’t entirely sure where to put him when they first took him in, but after his recovery, Razorfin was lumped in with a seeker team. Everyone was already aware of their roles in the upcoming mission, a relatively simple yet dangerous one.

Razorfin didn’t allow himself to react as red eyes turned to him, a rainbow of twitching wings signaling to neighbors in a silent language he never would be able to understand or speak. But from their faces he could assume they couldn’t make heads or tails of him either, the segments from his alt mode made little sense to them.

There were turbines on and behind his shoulders, those they recognized, but there were no obvious wings (“come now, you can hardly call those little nubs ‘wings’!”), and he had what they could only assume was a tail or weird rudder hanging from his back. Ugly.

The newcomer ignored the seekers scrutinizing stares as he took a seat and quietly waited. Razorfin could handle their stares, it felt familiar to him, and it was better than being alone anyway.

They didn’t need to wait long before the hatch opened, and the seekers poured out, Razorfin joining them. The fliers changed to their jet alt modes, flying in formation. Razorfin’s altmode joined in unison, tailing the jets.

[What the frag are you supposed to be??] one seeker sputtered over the coms, disgust laced in their tone. Razorfin groaned softly in mild irritation.

[Stay focused.]

He could almost hear their grumbles over the sound of the passing wind and explosions down below. He briefly glanced down at the battlefield, watching mechs fights. He didn’t recognize any of them, yet there was something rather foreign about fighting against familiar beings in such a violent battle. He didn’t like it.

However there was little he could do about it, and Razorfin turned his attention back on his teammates. They’d very soon send down a barrage of missiles to break the Autobot’s defenses, allowing the Decepticons to overwhelm them.

Of course not one of them would be going down without a fight, it was only natural. Their weapons were suddenly turned upwards, aiming for the biggest target.

An anguished song echoed from Razorfin as bullets showered his underside. His eyes widened and tail lashed in shock, panic tugged at his beating spark.

Trapped in the mind of a terrified beast, he could only try to swim faster to escape his pursuers. In the air or underwater, he was not safe. Spears pierced his hide and encouraging shrieks and cries from the crowds urged his predators to continue their sport until the beast fell from pain and exhaustion. He would be dragged away to be repaired, but he never knew if he’d survive to see the next day.

Razorfin wobbled in the air, a sudden realization striking him. He was not helpless as he was before. He had the mind to fight back.

A newfound anger bubbled up within his core as he turned his attention downward, the seekers having already scattered and abandoned him. He was not prey today.

Razorfin opened his mouth, wails and booming songs of vengeance spilling out into the air as he turned and dived. The pointed snout of his altmode acted like a battering ram as he plowed through the mechs that were shooting at him just moments ago, their frames exploding upon impact. Those who ducked ended up crushed underneath.

Pink showered his face and dragging underbelly. His tail slammed the ground, knocking those nearby off their feet. His thrusters slowed, leaving Razorfin beached on the ground, but he was still fighting.

He arched his back with a wailing cry, lifting his massive head and tail before slamming back down, crushing any who had gotten too close.

A shower of bullets from the air warded off survivors. Razorfin looked up. One of the seekers had returned and was circling overhead.

[Get out of there you idiot! We’ve done our part!]

With a huff, Razorfin shifted to bot mode, briefly looking around at the carnage before running from the scene. He needed a good jump to get back into the air, his tail grazing the ground as he climbed back up into the sky after the seeker.

They flew in silence for a while as they left the battlefield. The seeker then spoke over the coms.

[So… what is your alt mode? It looks… beastly.]

Razorfin grumbled. It took him a moment to remember.

[Fin whale.]

[That's an Earth creature, right? Why choose that form?]

Another grumble, air hissed from his vents [I don’t know. I think I’ve always had it.]

The seeker flipped over him, Razorfin allowed the mech to examine his form.

[A flying whale. How silly.]

[Tell that to the guys I just demolished.]

The remainder of their flight was silent.

[cedarxwing]

crying and throwing up thinking about you writing this

Brownham

Mamihlapinatapei

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

It’s late winter when Will comes home from the hospital, still hobbling with a cane from his gut wound. 

Matthew is sitting on his front steps, playing fetch with Will’s dogs. They pant with excitement around him, eyes trained on the slobbery old tennis ball until they notice Will’s arrival and rush to his side. They jump for attention, but bending down would set his stitches on fire.

He plays absently with the tips of Winston’s ears. “Out on good behavior?” 

“Yup,” Matthew says, glancing guiltily at Will’s cane. He’s not dressed for the weather, wearing only a light jacket and track pants, but he isn’t shivering. “They put me on mood stabilizers.”

“You feel more stable?”

“Not really, but I’m good at fooling the nurses.”

Will isn’t feeling particularly stable either. There’s a cavern in his chest where his heart used to beat, darkness heaving and coiling within. “What will you do now?”

“Not sure. I’ll probably go back to drifting. Pick up some work at a prison out of state.” 

The thought of Matthew going under cover as that lisping dullard again doesn’t sit right with Will, but he shakes the feeling off. Not his business.

Matthew helps him up the porch steps, a steady hand at the small of his back, careful not to let him slip on the black ice. Will’s instinct tells him to push him away, but the support is… surprisingly nice.

It takes a while for Will to open the storm door. The lock always sticks when it’s cold, and he only has one hand to fumble with the key.

“Here, I got it,” Matthew offers. He deftly unlocks the door and holds it open. The living room beyond is dark and dusty.

Will pauses at the threshold, his dogs milling around at his feet.

Matthew has that fresh-out-of-jail look: pale, jittery, hair grown out over his forehead and ears. He’s rumpled and scarred and could use a bath. It’s kind of cute in an ugly sort of way—Will’s worst weakness when it comes to strays.

The obsession is still there. His eyes are too wide, too fixed on Will, like they’re trying to absorb him entirely. But Will’s used to obsession, knows how to handle it. Hell, he has a bit of it himself these days. And it’s not like he has much left to lose. 

He rolls his tongue across his teeth before asking, “Do you know anything about boats?”

***

It takes several months to repair the Nola, but it would’ve taken much longer without Matthew’s help. He does all the heavy lifting for the first few weeks, hefting engine parts and sailcloth, operating the boom at Will’s direction.

“This is just like Castaway,” Matthew says as he watches Will rewire the bilge pump. “You’re Tom Hanks, and I’m the volleyball.”

Will wants to say that volleyballs don’t talk half as much as Matthew does, but the truth is he appreciates hearing a voice coming from outside his head.

Sick of the draft, Matthew takes care of the shattered living room window (“What the hell kind of mutant stag crashed through here anyway?”). In the evenings, he runs the dogs around the backyard until they’re too tired to jump all over Will. Once, when Will slips off the deck and lies face-up in the snow, paralyzed with gut pain, Matthew runs to him, carries him indoors, and frantically checks his stomach for tearing. Will isn’t allowed outside the house for three days after that.

Matthew cooks when Will doesn’t see the point of eating. Ham sandwiches, boiled hot dogs, and Kraft mac and cheese in cartoon shapes (“The extra crevices trap the sauce better”) are a welcome change from what he’s used to being served. Will doesn’t complain when his pancakes are burnt or when they have instant ramen for the fifth time in a row. He’s just happy to be completely sure of what he’s eating.

Mostly it’s nice to have someone else making noise around the house. The clatter of kitchen cabinets and the rat-tat-tat of video game gunfire keeps Will from getting lost in Hannibal’s kitchen, where he lies bleeding out on the floor, hands scrabbling uselessly at Abigail’s hemorrhaging carotid, distant footsteps echoing down the hall before the front door slams shut.

Matthew’s constant attention reminds Will that he’s not a ghost, especially in the middle of the night, when life is most like a dream.

Sometimes he comes down from the upstairs bedroom for a glass of water and finds Will staring out the newly-fixed window.

“Are the shadow people creeping around again?” he asks, peering over Will’s shoulder. For him, there’s nothing out there besides the gnarled hickory leaning over the driveway.

Will knows Hannibal isn’t really there, standing knee-deep in the snow, scarf snapping in the wind. The real Hannibal is done chasing. He wants Will to find him instead.

He glances back. Matthew’s shirtless—like always—except for the bathrobe he found buried at the back of Will’s closet when he first moved in. This close, he can feel the heat emanating from Matthew’s chest. He’s like a fucking furnace.

He’s tempted to reach out on a chilly night like this, if only to feel something, anything. He wants Matthew to press him against the mattress and make him forget. But Will’s teeth are growing sharper by the day, and his hands remember snapping Randall Tier’s neck mere inches from the bed. If he lets himself get too close, if Hannibal appears, sitting in the armchair by the fire, watching them…

Matthew places a warm hand on his shoulder. Sniffs subtly, checking for whiskey on Will’s breath, but he hasn’t had any tonight. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed.” 

Will wants to protest whenever Matthew plays the orderly—this isn’t a nursing home, and Will isn’t his patient, for Christ’s sake—but he can’t find the energy. He lets Matthew guide him under his covers and swallows a pill with the water held up to his lips.

Matthew sits on the floor, head resting on his arms crossed on the mattress. He studies Will, unblinking. No one has ever cared this much about Will without asking for anything in return. It’s an awful feeling. He doesn’t deserve it.

Right before Will drifts off to sleep, he feels gentle fingers brush through his hair.

***

Come June, Will’s all healed up and the boat is hooked up to a truck, gleaming with a fresh coat of paint, ready for launch in the nearest marina. He does the final checks in the early morning, when he knows Matthew is still asleep. Once he’s sure she has no leaks or loose wires, he hops off the stern and pulls out the keys.

Matthew is leaning against the truck door, blocking his way. “Thought you’d sneak off on your own, did you?”

Will squints at the empty green field and over the trees, toward the sun rising in the east. “Listen,” he says awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “Thanks for all the help.”

A muscle in Matthew’s jaw twitches. “It’d be easier sailing with a second hand. We could sleep in shifts.”

Will doesn’t trust himself alone on the open sea with Matthew, not for the full month it’ll take to cross the Atlantic. Already, he struggles with perception. People are flatter, washed out, like watercolor illustrations in a children’s storybook. He looks at Matthew and sees raw material. He sees meat.

“I only packed enough food for one.”

Matthew lets out a disbelieving laugh, voice thick with pain. “You still think about him, don’t you? All the time. After everything he did.”

It hurts to say it, but Will won’t lie. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, but—” He scuffs a foot in the gravel. “Stuff like that doesn't really go away, does it? Part of me probably will always think about him.”

Matthew’s face screws up, tilting to the side as he processes that. Will wants nothing more than to draw him into an embrace, but how cruel would that be, when he doesn’t know if he’s ever coming back?

“I’m going to kill him, Matthew,” he murmurs. “I’ll cut him out of me, one way or another, and then I’ll be myself again.”

Matthew nods, but he doesn’t seem reassured. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a hunting knife and folds Will’s hand around it. The wooden handle has a pleasant heft.

He pulls Will’s head close to his, forcing him to look into his bright green eyes. There’s anger there, but fierce determination, too. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here when you get back. Me and the dogs. Remember that, okay?”

Will swallows. “Okay," he says, but it feels like a promise he can't keep.

[heckinconfusedparade]

@sr200916

The First Thunderstorm

It’s been 2 weeks since Robotnik’s attack on Green Hills. The Wachowski’s just got the giant hole in the house and fence repaired, and there’s a new garden shed shipment coming in any day now.

Tom and Maddie didn’t expect they’d be taking in 2 more kids, so there’s been stress on them to get all new things for Tails and Knuckles, and figure out the rooming situation. Lucky for them, the rooming situation was easily solved; it was literally one of the first things the boys talked about after Tails and Knux decided they were going to stick around and join the family. Knuckles decided he was going to stay in the basement, and Sonic and Tails would share the attic for a “really really long sleepover” as they call it. Tom and Maddie were a little iffy with those two sharing a room due to Sonic being a 14 year old teen who needs privacy, but those two didn’t budge on their decision. The two agreed that privacy was important for both of them, so Tails decided to make a retractable wall in the attic so that they would have that privacy whenever they like.

At this current moment, Tom, Maddie, and Knuckles are all in the basement cleaning things out and making space for a bed n stuff.

Sonic and Tails are up in the attic. Tails saved Tom and Maddie money by building his own bed. Sonic convinced him to have a plane bed to match his racecar bed because he thought it’d be cool. He’s right, it is cool! Tails already transferred his belongings to the attic faster than anyone thought he would because he was just so eager to get out of that orphanage. Now he’s happily making that wall. Sonic is helping where he can, but he’s mostly just watching. He’s amazed with how easy the kit makes it look; almost like it’s second nature.

Sonic notices the dark clouds rolling in through the ceiling window, and waves to get Tails’ attention, “hey buddy, can you just check that ceiling window is locked?“ Tails’ gaze follows Sonic’s pointed finger up at the ceiling, seemingly just now noticing that was there. Tails flies up and makes sure it’s locked, and once he’s sure he stares out at the clouds for a moment. The kit feels uneasy, but he forces it down and says “it’s locked!”

“Thanks! One time I forgot to lock it and the wind blew it open in the middle of a storm. It was like someone attached a shower head to my ceiling!”

“Do you have to run up the wall to reach?”

“Sometimes. Other times I drag a big ladder through the entire house.”

Tails laughs at the thought of Sonic’s tiny self dragging a giant ladder up 2 flights of stairs, and the loud banging it would make. He flies back to the track he’s fixing onto the ceiling that he later plans to fit the moving wall on.

Sonic is passing some tools up to Tails when they hear a loud boom from outside. Sonic and Tails both react to the thunder by lifting their heads to look out the window. Then they go back to what they were doing. Sonic notices that Tails is looking very tense. The smooth fluent movements Tails had before was replaced with tense rigid movements as he begins to rush through the project.

“Uh, Tails, are you ok?” Sonic never thought to ask Tails about his thoughts on thunderstorms. He’s not too fond of them himself, but he’s gotten a lot better since he moved in with Tom and Maddie. Tails looks like he’s trying really hard not to crack, and it’s worrying the blue hedgehog. Tails only whispers “I’m ok..” in a way that makes it seem like he’s telling it to himself, rather than as a response to Sonic’s question.

There’s another boom, followed by a flash of lightning that fills the room. That startles Tails enough to drop his wrench on Sonic’s head. Sonic grunts as the cold wrench connects to his noggin, and he holds his aching head in pain. Tails swiftly floats down to him, “oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” he inspects the damage from above, really hoping Sonic isn’t mad and doesn’t want to be his friend anymore. That worry alone freaks Tails out even more than he already was. Sonic winces and looks up at the fearful fox “I’m ok, don’t worry about it. I’m not bleeding, am I?”

“…no.”

“Then I’m ok!” There’s a genuine tone in Sonic’s voice. He’s really not upset, which puzzles Tails. With that worry out of the way, that leaves behind the other worry.

The worry comes in the form of another flash of lightning. Tails tries to hide his fear, but Sonic noticed the look in his blue eyes. The hedgehog gently holds Tails under his arms so he’d stop flying. Once the namesakes had dropped, Sonic places Tails on his feet. Tails’ efforts to hide his fear is completely ruined because his tucked tails give it away. He avoids eye contact with the elder, now also embarrassed. Sonic’s expression shifts to worry, “you’re afraid of lightning, aren’t you?” he asks as softly and as comforting as he can, trying to not make it possible to mistake his tone for a teasing one. Tails is about to deny this ridiculous accusation when another boom of thunder and lightning sends the kit up into Sonic’s arms. Sonic his heart begin to hurt feeling this poor kid tremble in his arms. Tails realizes how vulnerable he just made himself and quickly retreats under his bed.

Sonic, who is now shocked and confused heads to the side of Tails’ bed and peeks underneath it. The fox had curled himself into a ball.

“Buddy?” The ball of fluff doesn’t respond, so Sonic keeps talking, “why are you hiding under the bed? It’s dusty under there.”

“‘cause.” Says a a little voice.

“‘Cause why?”

“Because you’re just gonna tease me…” Tails’ tone is defensive, but his voice is shaking, indicating he’s started crying.

Sonic blinks and lets out a small nervous chuckle “what? Why would I tease you for being afraid of lightning?”

“Everyone else at that place did… they all told me to suck it up and that I’m being ridiculous.”

Sonic sits down on the floor next to the bed, now wondering how much more to Tails’ story there is. Everything he’s heard about where this kid came from sounds absolutely awful. “You’re not being ridiculous,” he says “I was afraid of lightning too. I spent most of my life living outside, so I had to sit through a lot of storms like this one. I’ve seen what lightning can do. I would never, ever, make fun of you for being afraid.” Sonic sticks his hand under the bed and soon feels a little hand hesitantly hold it.

“I’m still not great with storms, I’ll admit that.” Sonic normally doesn’t admit to being afraid, but he has a new responsibility that he didn’t have 2 weeks ago. He now has a little brother to support, comfort, guide, and protect. He never had someone to hold and comfort him when he was scared until under a year ago. Sonic is going to make sure this kid knows that someone is always going to be there to hold him when he’s scared.

Tails slowly crawls out from under the bed with his blue eyes now red and puffy from his tears. Sonic pulls a blanket off of Tails’ bed and wraps it around the little fox.

“Thank you,” Tails manages to crack a small smile, “you’re the bestest friend ever…”

“Hey, you’re not just my best friend. You’re my brother. We’re family now, Miles.”

Tails looks at his brother with wide eyes, “you consider me..” he pauses “y-your brother?” Tails is aware he’s part of the family now. It was a big discussion with everyone involved, and yet the reality that he has brothers now hasn’t quite set in fully. Sonic calling him his brother made that reality slap him him in the face. He has a family now. A real one who loves him.

Sonic almost laughs, “of course, buddy!”

“Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you please?”

“Cmere, dude.” As soon as Sonic opens his arms, Tails dives right into them. Those golden arms squeeze Sonic like if they were to let go he’d disappear and never return. Tails is still scared, that hasn’t changed, but he is so very grateful for all of this. He wonders what he did to deserve such kindness..

A few moments later, Sonic is sitting crisscrossed with his blanket wrapped little brother sitting in his lap, snuggled up to his chest. Tails has decided that bro cuddles is his new favourite thing. With the way Sonic has his arms wrapped around him, Tails has never felt more safe and secure. He feels like if he stays here, nothing can hurt him.

Sonic has tasked himself with keeping Tails distracted from the storm. He already feels accomplished because the kit has stopped trembling and he’s gotten Tails to smile a few times, and even laugh with jokes. The lightning and thunder is bothering him less and less.

Sonic has no idea how to be a big brother. But with what he’s doing right now, he’s sure he’s finally doing something right.

[slxsherwriter]

Find You Here

Fandom: Heartstopper 2006, Robert Englund characters

Pairings: Sheriff Richard Berger x female reader

Word Count: 2,947

Warnings: Mentions of previous robbery/assault

Author's Note: I couldn't not write for this character. The character doesn't really fall into the realm of things here, but the movie certainly does, so here is Richard. Apparently, there is something about RE characters that hit the sweet spot of my brain for writing. Gif made by me (on my phone so please excuse the cruddy quality) Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

Flipping the closed sign to open felt like a small victory itself, even if you were a little jittery and nervous about it. The incident two weeks ago had left scars both physically, mentally, and financially. The small bakery that you ran was repaired, your body was healing physically, but your mind was taking a little to catch up. Still, you couldn't stay away forever or let them have that power over you. It was that fierce determination that had led you to open your shop in the first place and you couldn't let go of it now.

An extra set of hands in the form of your neighbor and best friend, Tony, helped in the back since you couldn't do much with one hand in a cast. Manning the counter and making the occasional cup of coffee was what you had been relegated to doing. You would have much rather been in the back to avoid the stares, murmurs, and passed along sentiments of sympathy. At least for a little while. But, it was what it was, and maybe it was just part of the process of healing post robbery and near death experience.

“Everything's gonna be fine, doll.” Tony slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a side hug. “Business will boom like it did. You'll see. Know it ain’t back to normal, but it will be soon.” You smiled, returning the squeeze in a silent thanks.

“We'll get there.”

“There's that tenacious spirit.” He kissed your temple and headed to the back once the oven started to alert. “Until then, I'm your humble servant.” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. Trust him to bring a smile. If it wasn't for him, who knew when you could have reopened.

Slowly, business began to trickle through the door. Mainly, it was a few regulars that were surprised to see you open again. They passed along a few sympathies, but most were far more supportive and angry on your behalf. It actually felt good to know that you had made such an impact within the community and were so supported. A familiar routine soon overtook everything else, and the smile that rested on your lips felt more genuine and less forced. There were still moments when the door opened that your breath caught, and your hand shook just a little. A reaction that likely would take a long time to fade. If it did at all.

It was just prior to lunch time when the door opened, and you found yourself feeling a bit nervous for an entirely different reason. In walked one Sheriff Berger. You hadn't seen the man since the last meeting at your home, just a few days after you got out of the hospital. He had been kind, compassionate, and understanding throughout the entire ordeal. Check-ins throughout the recovery process had been routine, including the meeting at your home. Most of it for whatever part of the investigation that needed to be finished. But, it had also felt like there had been a genuine concern about you. He had also been the one to respond to the shop during the initial incident. If it hadn't been for him, who knew if you would have survived everything.

He pulled his hat from head and made his way to the counter, a smile appearing on his face.

“Glad to see everything back up and running. How are you feeling?” There wasn't anyone else that needed to be seen to, so you had a few minutes to be able to talk to him.

“Hi, Sheriff.” You lifted your hand in the cast. “Feeling a little bit useless but all in all, it's nice to be back to something that's almost normal.” He nodded, as if it had made the most sense in the world.

“Routine is a good thing, helpful.” You imagined that he was speaking from experience. Dealing with what he had couldn't have been easy, even if he dealt with it more often than you did. There was some sympathy there for the man, and you realized that as much as he helped, did he have someone helping him?

“How are you?” He seemed a little surprised, brow raising for a split second. Well, there was the answer to that question.

“I'm doing fine. Things will hopefully be a bit quiet for a while.” You moved to start a cup of coffee for the man. While you didn't know how he took it, you had seen him drink it. The least that you could do was provide him some free caffeine. “How much longer are you stuck in that?”

“Another three weeks. But it could be worse, at least it isn't my dominant hand. And now I have some use of my fingers.” You paused and glanced up. “How do you take your coffee?” You nearly laughed as he set his hat down and seemed unsure how to answer. It wasn't a difficult question, but maybe the anticipation of you being ready for the request had thrown him.

“Black, four sugars.” You nodded and set about adding the sugar to the steaming cup.

“On the house.” Really, it wasn't a huge loss of revenue between a cup of coffee and whatever sweet he may have wanted. “That and whatever treat you want.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I want to. So, what will it be, sheriff?” There was an argument on the tip of his tongue before his shoulders dropped, and he gave in.

“How about one of those chocolate chip cookie sandwiches?”

“Hmm, good choice. I gotta admit, those are definitely a favorite.” They often sold out quick, so you made a mental note to have a batch sent over to the department as a whole. Assuming that he had to run, you packed it up so it was ready to go. He pulled out his wallet as if testing your resolve and you shook your head. A sigh came from the man before the wallet was once more tucked back into its pocket.

“Thank you. You need anything, just call.”

“Will do. Have a good rest of your day, Sheriff.”

******

He started stopping in the shop daily. Some days, you were able to talk uninterrupted for a bit while on others, his business or yours kept the interactions brief. But the routine was there. He had gone from Sheriff or Sheriff Berger to Richard at some point. You found yourself looking forward to seeing his face. Even the quick hellos and see ya tomorrows on the days when you couldn't spend time talking brightened your day. Enough so that Tony started to tease you about it. Yeah, there was a bit of an age gap, which he found hysterical. But he also encouraged you to say something and go for it, trying to give you the confidence to say anything. The worry was, did he simply see you as someone who had been saved and was a friendly face or something more? That concern gnawed away at any chance of building confidence.

It was a Thursday that he missed his usual stop in time, and you were worried. He had a dangerous job. Did he get hurt? Was he sick? A million thoughts flew through your head, leaving you more than halfway distracted for the day. Yet another thing for Tony to tease you about, but it went in one ear and out the other for the entire day. It felt silly on one hand. He was a friend at most and a polite customer, at the least. Nothing more. Even if it would have been nice. You didn't exactly have any right to call up the department and ask if he was okay. Maybe there was something planned. He didn't have to tell you.

Friday rolled around, and you found yourself a little more bothered by it than you cared to admit. If he didn't show today, you weren't sure what you would do.

The cast was finally off, and you had clearance from the doctor to resume light activities. Apparently, there was a concern that you would have a little weakness and risk hurting it by jumping right back in. That was taken as allowed to be back in the kitchen and moving carefully with heavy things. You could take sore and sorry. So, you were doing your best to focus. Slipping and hurting yourself now would be embarrassing and damage your pride.

The act of baking had always been soothing to you, even on this sort of scale with timetables and deadlines. There was a flow that you could lose yourself in until the rest of the world melted away. That nagging worry about Richard, though, kept you from falling completely into the zone. No mistakes yet, but it was frustrating, to say the least. Tony had decided to stick around and help out up front until he was sure you were one hundred percent back on your feet. You were so thankful to have him. It meant the front was handled while you found your rhythm again in the back.

Tony came back around noon, looking for you. Something you missed as you cursed, dropping the hot pan in the sink. Thankfully, it was empty. Burning yourself was a commonplace injury on the job, and after a while, you were able to ignore or work through most minor things. This? Well, it hit the tender part of your forearm that had been in the cast.

“Shit,” he laughed and moved over to you as you cursed yourself for the silly mistake. The laughing caught your attention, and you flipped him off as he pulled your arm gently towards his body. “It doesn't look that bad. You gonna treat it?”

“No, it isn't that bad. I'll put something on it later. What's up?”

“Ah, right. Well, there is someone up front requesting to see you. A certain someone in uniform…” Richard was here? Well, shit. Your head shot up, the burn forgotten about for the time being.

“What?”

“You are seriously adorable when you are crushing on someone.” You smacked at him. Brushing some flour off of your hands and your apron, it was the best that it was going to get. Oh, well. Letting out a small sigh, you double-checked that there was nothing that needed your immediate attention. Everything was cooling or had time still in the oven. “Go, there isn't anything back here that needs you. I'll make sure to take care of other customers. Go.” He shooed you up front. Richard was standing at the counter, hands in his pocket, and glancing around.

“Hey, Richard.” The greeting may have been a little too bright, but it was what it was. You were happy to see him. So what? He smiled, face brightening up as you leaned against the counter.

“Finally back there again, huh?” He propped his hip against the counter right where you were leaning. “Good thing for the product, little sad for all of us up here.” There was no denial that there was a blush. Your cheeks felt hot.

“Oh, I'm sure my customers will be far happier to have me back there and not up here, causing problems.”

“And miss that beautiful face every day? I hardly think that is the case.” By far, that was the most direct he had been, and the heat increased. Maybe Tony was right. Because right then and there? You felt like a teenager with their first crush.

“Or you'll just miss your free coffee and treats.” His smile faltered for just a second. “Missed you yesterday. Everything okay?” You watched as a hand moved from his pocket to rub at his cheek. Whatever the first comment had done seemed to be erased by the fact that you noticed he hadn't shown up yesterday.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Had to be in court most of the day. Wasn't able to get away for anything.” You made a face.

“That sounds miserable.”

“One of the least enjoyable aspects of the job but necessary.” He paused and seemed to be debating just something as his eyes wandered the little seated area that you had. “Are you doing anything tonight?” You swore you could have heard Tony made some sort of sound behind you, but you didn't dare pull your attention off of Richard.

“Didn't have any plans after closing the shop.”

“I was wondering if you would want to have dinner with me…” It took your brain a second to catch up to the fact that he had asked.

“Tonight.”

“That was the thought.”

“I would love to.” His body sagged just a little bit against the counter, and it was hard to miss the sigh that came from him.

“How long do you need to close up?” You glanced back to the kitchen and tried to think how quickly you could manage your usual closing routine. Tony was watching, and that was obvious as you saw him walk by the entrance of the kitchen. As if he could have made it any more obvious.

“I would say, depending on how busy it is, I could be done about a half hour after close.”

“So, seven could work?”

“Yeah, that would be perfect.” It would give you enough time to get home and get yourself properly cleaned up.

“Would you mind if I picked you up, or would you prefer to meet me?” A considerate question and the mark of a gentleman. Given that he knew where you lived, it wasn't like you had to give him the address.

“I don't mind at all.” His knuckles rapped against the counter, and he offered a bigger smile.

“All right. I'll see you around seven tonight then?” You nodded, fighting back a sound that would be rather embarrassing.

“I'll see you tonight.” He headed off and it was only when the door closed that you realized he hadn't gotten his coffee or his treat for the day. You could make up for that tonight, but for now, it was a countdown until seven tonight.

*********

Tony had insisted on cleaning up the little bit that was left as it ended up being far past the expected time for you to leave. He hadn't wanted you to miss getting ready for your date. Not that you needed a lot of time, but you also didn't know where you were going, and you wanted to look nice.

Cutting it close, you were just setting your shoes by the door when the knock came. A quick check told you it was the man you were expecting. Out of uniform for the first time, he looked nice dressed in a nice sweater and blazer.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening. You look lovely,” he complimented before anything else. “All ready?”

“Yep.” He offered his arm, and yours slipped through his as you stepped out the door. The evening air was cooler but not unpleasant. Leading you to his car, he opened the door and waited for you to get in before shutting it. It may have been quite a bit since you had last been on a date, but this was worlds better than what you had last experienced. Not that you expected every moment to be like this, but occasionally, it was nice to be treated by a man who had some manners.

All seated in the car, you did your best to relax despite some of the nerves bubbling in your gut.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?” He shot a smile in your direction. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” A jab at his own age? You decided to let it go for now, instead of bringing it further to the surface by pointing it out.

“It would ruin the surprise. So, I won't ask again.” You kept your tone light and teasing, not wanting him to think you were at all upset with the fact. The drive was nice, the windows down just enough to let the cool air in and not leave the car stifling hot. He asked about the rest of your day and you about his. Stories traded back and forth of various occurrences. Mundane sort of things but entirely comfortable.

It seemed you were leaving the city. If it were anyone else that you were with, you probably would be a little concerned, but with Richard, you felt safe.

The car stopped at the end of a dirt road, an opening to a small lake. The sky was clear, and the moon danced off the water, creating a gorgeous night-time atmosphere. This had been very planned out.

“Wait here, one minute.” He slipped from the car and rummaged in the truck for a moment before heading off towards the edge of the lake. The headlights were off, so you couldn't entirely make out what he was doing, but after a few moments, a fire blazed to life. Manners and thoughtfulness on top of every other quality you had found out about him so far. How was this man not taken?

He was back at the car and opening your door.

“Few tricks indeed.” He chuckled softly and once more offered his arm.

“Gotta do something to stand out a bit.” Homemade food and wine on top of a little campfire lake side. A lot of thought had gone into it. How could you not let your heart melt for the man a little more than it already had? There was no doubt that you had it bad and this would simply seal the deal.