#buy fume hood

[santechlabs]

Quality Matters: Best Laboratory Fume Hood Manufacturers in India

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Santech Labs has established itself as a premier manufacturer of laboratory fume hoods in India, catering to the diverse needs of research institutions, educational facilities, and industrial laboratories. With a focus on precision engineering and superior craftsmanship, Santech Labs delivers fume hoods that meet the highest international standards for safety, performance, and durability. Their comprehensive range of products includes ducted fume hoods, ductless fume hoods, and specialized hoods tailored to specific applications, ensuring that customers can find the perfect solution for their laboratory requirements.

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Central to Santech Labs' success is its unwavering commitment to customer satisfaction. The company places great emphasis on building long-term relationships with its clients, understanding their unique requirements, and providing personalized solutions that exceed expectations. From initial consultation to installation and ongoing support, Santech Labs ensures a seamless experience for customers, offering expert guidance, timely assistance, and responsive service every step of the way. This customer-centric approach has earned Santech Labs a reputation for reliability, trustworthiness, and excellence in the laboratory equipment industry.

In conclusion, Santech Labs stands out as one of the best laboratory fume hood manufacturers in India, thanks to its dedication to quality, innovation, sustainability, and customer satisfaction. With a comprehensive range of high-quality products, advanced technologies, and unparalleled service, Santech Labs continues to set the benchmark for excellence in laboratory safety and efficiency. Whether you're a research institution, educational facility, or industrial laboratory, you can trust Santech Labs to deliver fume hoods that meet your needs, exceed your expectations, and contribute to a safer, more sustainable future for scientific exploration in India and beyond.

[susanlabnic]

Labnic Ductless Fume Hood Ductless Fume Hood is a high-efficiency product. with ergonomic features that provide excellent containment. The ductless fume hood consumes 400 watts of power. The ductless fume hood is equipped with temperature and humidity sensors that can detect indoor parameters. 

[thargelalia]

Love at first shot - pt. 1

jason todd x fem!reader

adulting is hard, especially when you need to deal with Gotham's misadventures and its crazy ass vigilantes

or alternatively, this is how you meet Red Hood for the first time

-> +5k words

-> slight dark content, mild angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

-> warnings: violence; guns; blood; lots of swearing; mentions of drug dealing, and organized crime; poor attempt at humor; reader is unhinged, don't mess with her; jason looks like could kill you, and he could, but he's also a cinnamon roll <3

The hospital’s fluorescent lights contrast sharply with the dim orange glow of Gotham’s street lamps as you step outside. The cold autumn air nips at your face, a welcome break from the stuffy, sterile environment of the hospital. You’re exhausted but find a small sense of accomplishment as you reflect on your day. 

Dr. Joshi had pulled you aside earlier to express her satisfaction with your work performance so far, and you couldn’t be happier. She did warn you, though, to ‘take it easy’ because professor Chinwe apparently had a chat with her about your tendency to forgo any sense of self-care in order to achieve perfect results. 

Or whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

There was no sleeping on a scholarship before, and there’s certainly no sleeping on a residency now. No time for slacking off. You’re not going back to counting pennies to buy subway tickets again. Or choosing between having lunch or dinner because you can only afford one. Or mending shoes countless times until the soles effectively fall off and there’s nothing else to be done. Sure, you’re still not rich. But you’ve managed to successfully move from the dorms into a small apartment in Burnley. That’s a hell of an accomplishment already.

These are some of the thoughts that accompany you home during the bus ride home.

Desperate for a hot shower and yesterday’s leftovers, you climb the stairs leading to the second floor with what energy is left in your body. A yawn escapes your lips as you trudge through the corridor, feet stopping at the mat saying make yourself at home (but remember you’re not there). 

Much to your horror, the door to your apartment is ajar. 

Light escapes through the crack. 

Muffled sounds of struggle and stuff breaking are coming from the inside. 

Also, another thing.

You live alone. 

Shit.

Now, a reasonable person would probably back away slowly and hide, immediately calling the police. 

A reasonable person would be desperate and frightened to the core. 

But you’re not exactly a reasonable person. 

You’re a first year medical resident that spent the day busting your ass off only to come home and find… your cousin fighting – or better, trying to survive – the Red Hood in the middle of your living room.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” You eye the mess of broken vases, dirt spread on the floor, chairs thrown across the room, fallen paintings and shards of glass everywhere, until it stops on both figures at the center of the chaos. Red Hood’s hulking frame is hunched over your cousin, grasping his collar. His other hand freezes mid punch in the air. “Ezra???”

Ezra, your cousin, muttered a weak response akin to your name and a plea for help. Black eye swollen shut and multiple contusions of equal color all over his slender body. You’re surprised he’s not passed out yet. He’s close, though. 

Red Hood drops your cousin to the floor, straightening his posture. He looks twice as big now – if that’s even possible. Dark suit, accents of red on his chest and helmet, looms over you. You’d certainly be intimidated had it not been for the fact that you were fuming. 

These motherfuckers thrashed your entire place.

“This fucking dirtbag is dealing stolen meds and guns through my turf. To kids. He’s lucky I’m not dumping him in the harbor.” A deep modulated voice speaks menacingly.

Oh, yeah. Right. Your family’s aware of Ezra’s illicit activities. Just not the true extent of it. As it’s well known, whoever looks for trouble in Gotham, finds it fast. Or even if you don’t go looking. Like you at the moment. In any case, everyone had already tried to put some sense into Ezra’s head several times, but ultimately he’s a grown man. Dropped out of high school, told everyone to fuck off and said he was now going to do his own thing. 

Sometimes you felt guilty for not trying harder but over the years you realized it’s impossible to help someone who doesn’t want help.

“I can’t even—” you try to process his words, only for your lips to draw back in a snarl. “And what the hell makes you think you’re entitled to kick his ass at my place?!”

“I only followed his tracks here.” Red Hood has the audacity to shrug. “Got the drop on him before he could steal your shit. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Not much to steal now, huh? Is this your way of stopping house robbery?” you’re seething, gesturing wildly around like a madwoman. “Can’t steal what’s broken into pieces, jackass!”

“Your boyfriend told you that?”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did.”

A moan of pain snags your attention to the floor. Damn. You’d forgotten about Ezra. Red Hood approaches him again, seemingly wanting to finish the job.

“Wait!” You hold your hands out to stop him. “Don’t do this. Let me handle him.”

“Nobody fucks with me and lives to tell the story, doc.”

You choose to believe he knows your profession only because he’s seen the graduation pics before getting into action with Ezra. And not because he already had intel on you. Or had stalked you before due to Ezra’s stupidity. 

“Oh, yeah? And how about me? You fucked with me!” Whole face is now burning as you practically yell. “You’ve no idea how long it took me to finally be able to rent a place and buy my own shit! You self-righteous vigilantes need to get off your fucking high horses and actually see the amount of damage you cause under the excuse of ‘helping’! So do me a fucking favor and fuck off!”

You’re out of breath by the end of your outburst. There’s a beat of silence before Ezra starts contorting himself on the floor while coughing out blood. Red Hood looks between you and him, seemingly contemplating his next move.

“As you wish, then. He’s your fucking problem now. But if this son of a bitch shows his weasel face near my turf again, I’ll get him clipped.” You crouch down next to Ezra as the vigilante backs away and swings one leg over the windowsill. “One more thing, doc.”

You snap your head to him. “Play it smart with your words next time. Not everyone will be nice like me.”

Unfortunately, he’s out the window before you have a chance to flip him the middle finger.

“Shit. What am I gonna do with you now?” You heave a sigh, beginning to assess the damage in your cousin’s body. 

There’s a brief moment in which you consider just leaving him there like that and deal with everything in the morning. After all, you’re exhausted and it’s not your fault he got what he went looking for. 

The only thing left to do is to patch Ezra up and get him off the floor and onto the couch as he’s completely out now. His heartbeat and breathing are slow but steady despite everything, so he’ll live. Probably going to need a trip to the hospital to check for internal bleeding tomorrow, though. That is if he wants to, which you doubt. And also if you don’t decide to dump him in the river yourself until then. 

Grabbing a broom, a trash bag, disinfectants,  and other products, you clean what you can from the mess strewn across the place, not forgetting to scrub the small pool of blood off the floor. Good news is apparently Red Hood managed to catch him in the living room and kept the destruction there. Sadly, you’ll have to replace your brand new TV, three of your poor plants, an armchair, a few portraits and chairs. 

Tidying everything up as much as possible, you left to go straight into the shower; falling into bed face first afterwards, not even bothering with blankets. 

Walking into the living room the next morning and discovering you hadn’t dreamed at all about last night shattered your inner peace, anger rushing back in tidal waves. You were supposed to be getting ready for work now but instead you’re calling Dr. Joshi, bargaining to work an entire night shift in order to deal with family business this morning.  

After that, you’re dumping a whole bucket of cold water on Ezra for him to “wake the fuck up, bitch”.

You give him several pieces of your mind, threatening to bestow his face with another black eye to match the other one when he dares to intervene. The only reason why you won’t press charges against him is solely to prevent your aunt and uncle from having a heart attack. 

When you’re done, Ezra only provides a half-assed apology about things going out of his control, arguing that Red Hood is a “deranged psycho on steroids”, and that you should be more understanding of the situation as a family. But when he actively calls you selfish, saying you always got it easy as a student and now as a doctor, and thus have no right to be bitching about money, you lose it completely. 

The feral scream that comes from the depths of your soul is enough to make him bolt out the door without looking back, injuries be damned and all, as you let yourself drop into the wet couch cushions with a sniff.

–//–

It’s the middle of the evening on another day off when your apartment is yet again invaded. 

This time by an enforcer claiming that Ezra listed your name as someone who could pay his trafficking debts. Wonderful. He gave this gang both your home and work address. 

The criminal barged in with a kick to the front door. Not even a peep heard from your neighbors. Not then, not now. 

Rather you than me. It’s the Gothamites way of life. 

You had just finished cleansing and moisturizing your face inside the bathroom when you heard the noise of wood splintering. Not fast enough to hide, the enforcer soon found you, pulling roughly on your upper arm and shoving you into the living room with even less care. 

So, yeah, now there’s a gun to your face. 

Despite your heart beating faster than a hummingbird wings, the knees wobbling, and sweat starting to coat your back, you try not to let desperation completely cloud your judgement. 

The criminal was demanding the cash, threatening to shoot in case you don’t hand it to him, stating he knows you got it, so there’d be no way out of this. Meanwhile, your brain tries to come up with a solution. 

Think. Think. Think. Think. 

Skimming through several mental philes in a flash.

Ah. 

Krav Maga. 

This one might work.

If it doesn’t, then… well. 

Let’s just say it was nice sticking around long enough to watch Beyoncé’s Coachella performance.

Through Delilah’s 144p resolution FaceTime call. But still.

“Oh, my God!” Looking past the guy, you exclaim. Mouth wide open. “Batman?!”

Instant terror cascades his features, eyes bulging out of their sockets, as he snaps his head to look behind him.

In a rush of adrenaline, you act quickly to disarm him by twisting the barrel away with one hand while the other simultaneously pushes his wrist down. You slide back swiftly as the criminal cries out in pain — thumb got caught in the trigger, most likely being broken now. Good. 

“You bitch.” Hand cradled to his chest, he glowers at you in fury from a hunched position. “Got the guts to shoot me now, huh? Aren’t you supposed to save lives?” 

“You know what I do but you don’t know me.” Mustering your best sinister smile, you try to keep a steady grip on the weapon, adding another hand to its bottom. “Hands up behind your neck, asshole. Slowly.”

Doing as told, he winces, trying to plead through gritted teeth. “Put down that gun, sweet cheeks. You don’t wanna do this.” 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you start, cocking the pistol. Eyes never leaving him. “You are getting lost. Now. And if you, or any other piece of shit, ever come back, you will pay.” 

“You’ll regret this.” 

“Not as much as you.” A click of another gun. 

Red Hood. 

You’ve no idea how he got here unnoticed but instant relief floods your system. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

Two guns point at the enforcer who’s now positively shaking and sweating buckets. Looking like a helpless sheep cornered by two hungry wolves.  

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

“C’mon, guys… Two against one? Not fair.” A nervous laughter reveals his yellow teeth. “I was just following orders, I swear! Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say.” 

“Just shut the fuck up.” In a swift motion Red Hood swings his gun upward, the solid metal butt striking the enforcer’s forehead, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then he turns. “You okay?”

Unable to come up with words, you simply nod. Lowering trembling hands, trying to take deep breaths as Red Hoods watches on.

“I’ll deal with this bastard outside.” He informs and you nod once again, extending your hand as a silent invitation for him to take the criminal’s glock. 

Tucking it into one of his holsters, he then picks up the unconscious body, throws it over the shoulder like a sack of rice and leaves through the window.

You waste no time in scrambling to the bedroom to find your phone. 

Delilah picks up after a few rings and you feel bad for waking your best friend up as her tired voice sounds through the speaker. 

“Hon, you okay?”

“I-can I..can I crash at your place?”

“Of course… What happened?? You’re scaring me.”

You fill her into all the crazy shit you’ve been dealing with, thanks to your stupid ass cousin, while leaving the details for later. She’s absolutely horrified as expected. Since you’ve both been super busy recently, there hasn’t been a chance to talk about all this. A text seemed inappropriate. 

Delilah asks how you’ll get to her apartment since she’s taken her car in for a revision, and you just tell her not to worry, promising to be there shortly. Ending the call, you hurriedly grab your stuff and throw everything necessary for a couple of days inside a backpack. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you pay no mind to the chilling wind, intending to run as fast as possible to Delilah’s block. 

Out of a sudden, a prickling sensation spreads through your arms, making all the hairs stand up. 

Somebody’s watching you.

As you turn around, you jump when spotting a familiar figure leaning on their shoulder, arms and legs crossed, almost fully concealed by shadows. “The hell you’re still doing here?!” 

“Just tryna scare you. Good to see it worked.” Before you can open your mouth to curse him, his entire bloodline, every vigilante in Gotham city and their predecessors, Red Hood continues on a more serious note, “That son of a bitch won’t be a problem anymore.”

The enforcer. Right. 

“D-did you kill him?” You hate the way your voice wavers. 

“Sure you wanna know?” He leans away from the brick wall and saunters in your direction, causing you to instantly take a step back.

“Seriously, why are you still here?”

He ignores your question, pointing at the backpack strapped on your back. “Where you’re going?”

“Fuck off. That’s none of your business.”

“I just made it my business.”

“I’ll knee you in the groin.” 

At that, his modulated voice makes a weird strangled noise that almost sounds like… 

Wait. Is he laughing at you?

“Tough words for someone wearing a sleeping cap and Snoopy pajamas.” Yep. He’s definitely laughing at you. “There’s more holes in your shirt than in the assholes I...”

You drown out his last sentence, focusing on your lower body. Old white cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt with Snoopy prints adorned your frame. Clearly, in your haste to get away, changing clothes was the furthest thing to mind. 

That means you faced the criminal that broke into your house like this, too.

Placing a hand on your head, you also feel a smooth fabric there.

Immediately, you rip it off.

“I-Fuck. Listen, these actually—” A pause. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. Fuck off!”

“Pretty sure you already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until–stop staring!” 

His amused chuckle fills the air.

“How do you know I’m staring?” There’s a 99% chance he’s smiling behind that helmet and you just wish you could slap it off his face.

Instead, you huff and walk away, leaving him standing there. More out of frustration and sheer annoyance than to actually ditch him as this would be impossible. Indeed, he manages to catch up easily with his long legs. 

Then, turning on heels briskly, you brandish the pink satin fabric in front of his face. “By the way, this is called a bonnet.” 

“Duly noted, Snoopy.” He’s closer now. Not too much to make it uncomfortable, but enough to fully enclose a large gloved hand around yours. Somehow, he manages to soften the modulated voice. “I know you’re scared. But lashing out at me isn’t the answer, alright? I’m only here to make sure you get to your friend’s place in one piece.”

“I’m not–Wait. Never told you where I was going.” 

“Mmm, you did.” 

“I didn’t.” A gasp of realization leaves your lips. “You were spying on me!”

“My hearing is just sharp.”  

“Unlike your brain, apparently.” 

“Hilarious.” Judging by the flat tone, he must’ve rolled his eyes. “But seriously, let me walk you there. The streets are dangerous at this hour.”

Much to your dismay, he’s actually right. Being out in Gotham by yourself as a woman in the middle of the night is a terrible business. Best not to take any chances. 

“Fine…” You tug your hand back and start walking again, mumbling sarcastically, “what a gentleman.”

“Nope. Not even close,” he drawls, falling into step behind you. 

You don’t say anything back and neither does he. To his credit, he actually keeps a respectful distance. Even when the cold is too much and you halt to produce a jacket from the bag. Only the sound of your backpack rustling echo in the empty streets. Not a single soul in sight. 

This whole predicament is just so uncanny to you. Only a month ago your only knowledge of vigilantes came from sensationalist news outlets or frequent whispers and gossip at work whenever criminals were admitted to the ICU in a coma. 

Like most people, you’ve also seen the bat-signal reflected in the night sky multiple times.

But you’ve never actually seen one of them right in front of your eyes. Twice now. 

You chance a furtive glance behind. 

Thumbs hooked in his utility belt, Red Hood has his attention to the passing houses, leisurely putting one foot after the other as if he’s taking a stroll at the park. 

One would even think he’s distracted. But you know better.  

Feeling watched, he tilts his head in question, prompting you to immediately avert your eyes to the front. 

At some point, he offers to carry your backpack, but gets impatiently dismissed. 

The rest of the walk to Delilah’s block is silent.

“This is it.” You announce when you reach the familiar beige stone building. He patiently waits as you climb the first two steps of the entrance and turn to him, standing eye to eye. “I appreciate your help tonight but I hope we won’t ever see each other again.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest in feigned hurt, wiping an invisible tear off the glowing white eyes. “How will I survive?”

“I don’t trust you, Red Hood.” You narrow your eyes, voice coming out more stern than intended. 

Silence. 

“You’re smart.” His tone is neutral. 

“Of course I am.” 

Again, silence.  

He lifts his fingers. 

And flicks. 

He flicks your forehead, completely catching you off guard.

Aside from your pride, nothing hurts, though. 

Then, he’s gesturing to your worn out pajamas. 

“You know, too bad I don’t have my wallet on me right now or I’d give you twenty bucks to replace those rags. Seriously, not even the homeless in Crime Alley—” 

“YOU—”

“I know, I know. I’ll gladly fuck off this time.” He cuts in, leaving the range of your clenched fists by gracefully sliding back. Hands up in mock surrender.  “Take care, Snoopy.”

–//–

After the entire ordeal of being held at gunpoint, nearly robbed, having your place broken in and thrashed, you decided to move to the other end of the neighborhood. A more busy but still fairly calm street. 

That doesn’t stop you from investing in sturdy locks for the windows and front door. 

No uninvited — and highly dangerous — guests this time.

Delilah let you stay with her for the days necessary to pull everything together. Despite the close ties you share, however, you really don’t like feeling like an intrusion. Not that she’s ever been unkind, quite the contrary actually. She loves having people over. The thing is once you get used to having your own space, it’s hard to live around others again.

Amidst the chaos of packing stuff and moving, you managed to take some time to visit your aunt and uncle. According to them, Ezra’s been arrested for drug trafficking, theft, and extortion. They were obviously crushed but understanding that there was nothing else to be done. You tried to show your support while hiding the relief of having one less problem to worry about. 

It’s a Tuesday night when you decide to get cozy on the sofa after an ordinary shift at the hospital. 

You’re tired, but not entirely exhausted. Just an ache in your bones. 

After a relaxing shower, you make some hot cocoa, pick up a book and dim the lights a little until sleep comes to find you. 

Contrary to your expectations, something else does. 

Trouble. 

In the shape of a black suit with a red bat insignia. 

A frantic knock on the glass window scares you into dropping your book to the floor. Scowling as you identify the source of disturbance. 

“Seriously, dude? What happened to fucking off for good?”

You reluctantly slide the windows open before he manages to crack them with his knuckles. He ducks his head in and drops unceremoniously to the ground, arms spread open.

“How did you even find me??” 

Noticing his chest heaving, you cross your arms and wait for him to catch his breath. 

“Need... a.. minute.” It’s all he manages to get out. 

Huffing in disbelief, you close the window and get comfortable on the couch again. No one’s keeping you from enjoying the little free time you haven’t had in a while. 

There’s a sound of careful footsteps. “I swear to God, if you dirty my house with those boots I’ll—” 

“Shhhh.” He lifts a finger to where his lips are, behind the helmet. “Don’t worry, Snoopy. I’ll leave soon.” 

“Still haven’t told me what you’re doing or how you found me.” 

He looks around and points at your armrest. “Mind if I sit?”

Tsking, you shut your book and drop it on the coffee table. “Go ahead. Not like I can stop you anyway.”

A deep sigh comes out as he flops down onto the soft cushions. He adjusts himself on the seat, legs widely spread, evidencing chunky meaty thighs. That’s definitely not a bad sight. Not that you’ll ever reveal this to him or anybody else whatsoever. 

“I know you’re not happy to see me again. But I actually needed to ditch someone. Some people. If you can actually consider them people.”

You lift an eyebrow as he says the last sentence almost inaudibly. 

“Why not just gun them down?” Your question drips with sarcasm. 

He hesitates. “They’re.. fast.”

At that, you shoot up from the couch. “And you risked bringing them here?? What the fuck?!”  

“What? No. No. Easy.” He tries to sound gentle and not make any sudden moves. As if dealing with a hostile cat. “I made sure they lost my tracks on the other side of town.” 

“How can you be so sure??”

“Trust me. I’d never endanger you like that.” 

You fall back onto the couch. Head stuck between hands. Can’t believe you’re in this mess again.

“As for how I found you,” he goes on, thinking as he says, “uuh.. let’s say I asked around.”

“Asked around?” You eye him suspiciously, getting a vigorous nod in return. “To whom?”

“Mmm, I’ve my sources. The same that also let me know your jackass cousin went to jail.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” A sigh leaves your lips at the reminder. “But being privy to my life without consent is called stalking, you know?”

“I understand. But, hey, I needed to know if you were alright so I could sleep at night.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Felt bad for destroying your things the other day.”

“Well, if you really want to compensate for the damage, start by getting me a new TV.” He laughs and stops when he sees you’re not following along. “I’m serious.”

He clears his throat. “Any preferences?”

“No less than a sixty-five inch screen. 4K resolution. Feel free to choose the brand.”

“Got it.” You’re not sure he actually means it. “Does that mean I get an invitation to visit you again?”

“Ha! Unbelievable. Just order it online or have someone else deliver it at my door.” 

“Why do you even need that big of a TV anyway? The previous one you had was fifty inches.” 

That’s shockingly accurate. How does he remember that? Why did he pay enough attention to that when invading your place to whoop your cousin’s ass? So many questions pop up inside your head but you decide to let them go for now. 

“Okay, creep. You don’t get to call the shots here. I’m the one being compensated, remember?” 

“Fine.” He sighs in defeat, dropping the back of his head against the armchair. Then, he’s looking at you, or rather, your clothes. “I see you finally got new pajamas. Snoopy will be missed. RIP.”

Unlike the long sleeved Snoopy one, this set is composed of light blue polka dot shorts and shirt.  

“For your information, that wasn’t my only pair.” A flush creeps up your cheeks as you grab a throw pillow and place it on your lap, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I own a lot of pajamas.”

“So you willingly choose to dress like an apocalypse survivor?” 

“You’re not really in a position to critique my fashion choices.”  

“Hey, what’s wrong with my suit?”  

“The person behind it.”

He tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “You’re a really irascible lady, huh?” 

“You learned that word today?”

“Yesterday, actually.” His attention is drawn to the book you were reading. He grabs it and examines the pages curiously before closing them. Moving on to the cover, he reads the title out loud. “A Scandal of Bohemia. Sherlock Holmes? You like mystery books? Should I call you Scooby Doo instead of Snoopy?”

“I’m surprised you can even read.” Your eyes roll at his foolishness. “And stop calling me cartoon dogs names!”

“Can’t you just play nice for once?” He puts the book down and reclines, arms braced on the armchair. “Yes, for your information, not only can I read as I actually enjoy doing it very much.”

Contemplating his words, you decide to indulge yourself him by asking, “Well, what do you like to read?”

“Finally curious about me?” The smugness in his voice earns him a dirty look. “Careful. One might even think you’re starting to like me.”

Maybe you are, in fact, irascible. 

“I take it back.” 

“I read pretty much anything as long as it’s interesting to me.” He reveals honestly, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having a civilized conversation with you for once. “Most of it is fiction. Classic, Gothic, Horror…” He stops listing on his fingers to make a dramatic pause. “Romance…”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“What what?” 

“You said Romance.”

“Yeah, I did. Why?” Jutting his chin out, he crosses his strong arms in a playful attempt to intimidate you. “Got a problem?”

“Nope. It’s just… hmm, unexpected?” You offer with a shrug. “I’m not much of a Romance reader myself, to be honest.”

“I can tell.”

Something about the way he says it so earnestly elicits what could be considered a witch cackle from you. Red Hood watches this whole display in stunned silence until you’re wiping a tear off the corner of your eyes. 

“Oh, wow. Didn’t know you were capable of that.” 

“Laughing?”

“Being human.”

Just like that, your expression closes up again. “Ha-ha. Don’t get used to it.” 

“Right. Back to cranky default, I see.” His words are colored with amusement as he cranes his neck to look at the wall clock near the kitchen entrance. A gasp leaves his lips and he’s suddenly up on his feet. “Shit. Didn’t mean to stay this long. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” You stand up and check the time as well. It’s almost midnight. 

“Thanks for everything, Snoopy. See you around.”

“See you.” A strange feeling of disappointment settles into your chest after his departure. 

You enjoyed his company tonight more than you’re willing to admit. 

—//—

Not even a week later, you arrive home to see him there again. 

Now, installing a new television in your living room. 

Seventy inches screen. 4k and all that. Just like you requested.

“Honestly. I’m not even surprised anymore.” You say while taking off your coat and hanging it on the wall hooks. “Don’t know why I bothered with getting better locks in the first place.” 

Despite the jab, your voice lacks its usual bite. Only a teasing lilt present in them. It’s nice to see he listened to your demands. 

“No, you did the right thing. The locks are actually great.” He comments absentmindedly, engrossed in the task at hand. 

“Not enough to keep you out, obviously.”

You take in the scene in front of you. There’s a cardboard box and some plastic wraps placed in the corner. At the center of the living room, Red Hood is assembling the TV to its mount on the wall, deeply concentrated. It’s a big heavy object that to anyone, would be awkward to lift alone. Not to him, though. He holds it almost like a freaking tablet. 

That also begs the question as to how the hell he managed to climb up to the third floor and pass through your window while carrying a seventy inch television. 

A lighthearted chuckle diverts you from your thoughts. 

“I’ll leave if you want, though. Almost done here.”

“Oh, no, please be my guest.” You wave him off, going into the kitchen for a glass of water. Then, coming back to watch him work. “You know, I’d offer you something to drink but… the helmet, right?”

“Sorry, Snoopy.” He’s fishing for the TV remote inside the box now. “Secret identity and all that shit.” 

“No, yeah. Absolutely. ” The bitterness within your words seems impossible to be contained. “It’s not like you know my home and work address, my occupation, my family and friends relations, my routine…”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He winces, fiddling with the remote in his hands. It’s the first time he appears awkward standing in your apartment. “For what it's worth, I’m really sorry.”

After making sure the TV is working properly, he makes his way to the window. 

“Thank you.” You say suddenly, causing him to freeze. 

He turns his head slightly and gives a curt nod. 

“Anytime.” 

Then, he’s gone.

A/N: in case anyone's wondering how Jason managed to get the big ass TV through a window on the third floor, he asked Dick for help. No questions asked.

remember to reblog and let me know your thoughts if you like this!

pt. 2 will be posted soon!

thanks for reading <3

divider

[funnynumberofbeans]

That time you passed out (Dr. Ratio x gn! reader)

You’ve been forgetting to take care of yourself and the consequences of that is blacking out during an important research project. Luckily your lovely partner, Dr. Ratio is there to help you feel better.  Reader is gender neutral, hurt/comfort, established relationship, reader is slightly dependent on Dr. Ratio, about 2k words, Dr. Ratio is a bit ooc Trigger Warnings: mentioned disordered eating patterns (caused by stress), depression (implied), brief mentions of blacking out, use of a lab shower (a rather gross one), Dr. Ratio is kind of a dick to you (he insults you but in an affectionate way)

The alarm on your phone started playing, waking you from the light sleep you had drifted off to. Checking the time you saw that it was the equivalent of 7:30 am. You slept for about eight system hours, though you still felt exhausted.

You looked to the side where Veritas slept only to see it empty, placing your hand under the duvet, the temperature of the sheets told you he’d been gone for a while.

It’d been a while since you’d last spent meaningful time with him. The papers he was grading, and the project you were working on forced your schedules to become misaligned. When Veritas wasn’t grading his students’ work, he was sculpting the resulting stress away. This took up more time that could have been shared together. You didn’t mind having more time to yourself, it meant that you could sleep for longer. Though the stress of your project kept you continuously exhausted no matter how much sleep you got. 

Another unfortunate side effect of not having much time together was that you started to have your meals separately. Leading you to lose the motivation to cook balanced meals for yourself. You’d eat simple microwavable meals and energy bars to sustain yourself. Unfortunately you’d mismanaged your time and forgot to buy more energy bars, leading to your current problem.

Your second alarm rang noting that it was 7:40, and if you didn’t start hurrying you’d be late to the lab. You pulled off your sleep shorts and grabbed a clean? pair of pants. Grabbing your bag with your lab coat and putting your shoes on, you ran out the door. About five minutes into your frantic dash, you remembered that you didn’t grab your keys, phone, or breakfast, and that you had no clue the last time you’d drank water. It's fine, you thought, lack of water or nutrition hadn’t stopped you before.

You reached the lab around ten minutes later than the expected meetup time of 8 am. You wave to your research partner, Angel, and apologize for the delay. They shrugged it off with an understanding wave. You put on your lab coat and PPE and went to prepare the samples.

About thirty minutes later you weren't feeling great. It wasn’t too bad, just some shortness of breath and general dizziness. Deciding the safest option was sitting down you grabbed the stool near you and plunked down. Fiddling with your gloves as you waited for the symptoms to alleviate.

Unfortunately sitting down didn’t seem to help you much, your head felt hot and you began feeling distressed. There were too many sensations around you and you wanted everything off. It was fine you thought, maybe sitting on the floor would solve things.

As you sat on the floor pressing your google into your skull trying to stop the forming headache, Angel inquired why you were sitting on the floor. You explained that you weren’t feeling great, and that it was probably just that you locked your knees. They nodded to your explanation and began taking on more of the experiment.

You felt bad for not helping Angel in the experiment so you offered to take the acid you were working with to the fume hood to combine it with the sample. They nodded and passed you the beaker. You slowly got up and made your way to the fume hood. The latex gloves on your hands felt off, and your hands were sticky and sweaty underneath. As you approached the fume hood and began adding the necessary amount of sample for the trial, you started feeling faint. You began walking to your lab table to place the beaker down when you began to stumble. The low sound of electrical buzzing in the background cut out and your vision went dark. You tried to feel around to put the beaker down, but you bumped into something and toppled over.

“y/n!!” was the first thing you heard, though it felt like your head was underwater. Your vision cleared and you saw Angel kneeling down next to you, a puddle of liquid was seeping into your left lab coat sleeve and you felt a burning sensation erupt on that arm.

“Get to the shower station, you spilled the acid on yourself, I’ll clean the floor” Angel said pulling you up by your PH neutral arm.

You stumbled over to the emergency shower and pulled the handle. Ripping off your gloves and lab coat you were doused in gray water. As you stood under the freezing water it got in your mouth and nose, clogging it with the dusty taste of stagnant water. The shock of the water didn’t make you feel any better, only stopping the painful burning on your arm. You felt wrong, you were too hot and too cold, and constricted and all you could do was cry, fogging up your goggles. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, you fucked up, and Angel totally hated you for this stupid mistake.

“Y/N I think you should go home, I can finish today's experiment and share the results. Okay?” Angel offered, patting you on the back.

In response you burst into tears, you blubbered through an explanation that you couldn’t go home since you left your phone and keys behind and that you could still help out.

Angel nodded and suggested that you sit in the hallway since you weren’t wearing your PPE. You agreed and slowly walked into the white tiled hallway of the lab building. Sliding down against the wall you rested your head on your knees and continued to cry.

This entire situation was embarrassing, and you felt sick. The only thing keeping you from lying on the cool tile floor was your pride. You wanted to be in bed with Veritas, in something other than your soaked clothing, your hair to be dry and clean, and you wanted to have a long cry session until you felt better.

Angel seemed to be talking to someone, probably your research supervisor. Oh Aeons, this was going to be a write up for sure. You had ruined this day's experiment and pushed back the progress on the paper, you were going to be written as ETC on the paper weren’t you.

Your sobs had quieted down to soft sniffles and you were feeling slightly better. You were too distracted doom spiraling to notice the familiar click of heels on the tile flooring.

“Y/N? Your research partner called me to alert me of an accident you were in.” the oh so familiar voice of your boyfriend rang in your ears.

Looking up you saw a rather disheveled Veritas. His perfectly styled hair was slightly drooping, and a fine layer of dust covered his clothing. Sweat dripped down his neck and it was obvious that he had rushed here from his sculpting room. The alabaster sculpture he wore as a helmet was cradled in his left arm.

“Oh thank Aeons you’re here Dr. Ratio. Y/N collapsed and spilled the sample we were working on, I'm unsure if Y/N sustained any chemical burns as I was too busy to check.” Angel supplied when you just silently stared at Veritas.

“Get up Y/N, we’re finding you medical care for your mistakes.” Veritas stated, offering you his hand, the annoyed look on his face was betrayed by the amount of concern in his voice.

You tilted your head to the side, not wanting to move from your spot. The idea of getting up when your head felt full of cotton was not something you wanted to do.

“Ugh” he scoffed, bending down to scoop your drenched form off the floor. “We’ll be taking our leave, I believe you can handle the rest?” Veritas said, walking away from Angel

If Angel said anything you were too out of it to hear. The familiar warmth of Veritas’s strong arms was enough to make you feel sleepy and safe. The alabaster head he was carrying rested on your stomach as you buried your face further into his neck.

“We will be discussing what led up to this event” Veritas started, “after you bathe. You smell dreadful and are quite drenched.” he finished, scrunching his face in disgust when he caught a whiff of your soaked hair.

You hummed into his neck and closed your eyes. Beginning to drift off to the slow rocking of his stride and familiar scent of ink, paper, and stone.

You vaguely recognized being placed down on a cold surface before the rumble of water gushing through pipes filled the room. A large hand carded through your hair and you leaned into the touch, humming in satisfaction from the comforting sensation.

The deep voice of Veritas sounded in your ears asking something about a bath and clothes? You nodded trying to grab at the familiar figure of your boyfriend. All of a sudden your soaked clothing was delicately peeled off and you were placed in warm water. Releasing a sigh you leaned against the hard planes of your boyfriend’s chest.

“Have you returned to your normal intellect yet, or shall we soak in silence for longer?” Veritas asked, lathering shampoo into your hair.

“Do we need to talk about something?” You asked, tilting your head backwards to better look Veritas in the eyes.

“You’re no simple minded buffoon, that stunt you pulled, collapsing while carrying a corrosive substance is new for you. So tell me, what happened?” Veritas asked, rinsing out the shampoo and grabbing the conditioner.

You stayed silent as he rinsed the conditioner out of your hair. Once he had finished you turned to face him, midway through your turn he lightly gripped your left arm and moved it on top of his dry shoulder. Looking closer you could see a rather large red burn stretching your elbow to your hand. It wasn’t painful but looked bad.

“I don’t know what happened, I was feeling gross and I passed out okay?”

“But how did it happen, have you been feeling sick? Was it the fumes from your experiment?” Veritas asked, looking you in the eyes.

“I really don’t know I just felt gross” you shot back turning your head away from him.

“I know this project has been causing you great stress, was it because of that?” he pushed further, concern seeping into his voice.

“Can we not talk about this” you whined, the incessant questioning was getting a bit stressful.

“We have to in order to diagnose the issue at hand.” Veritas pushed harder, lightly holding your face in his hand.

“I already said I don’t know”

“Then think”

“Veritas I don’t fucking know. I’m tired and I want to sleep. If you want a reason we can just chalk it up to stress. Just please stop asking.” You shouted, growing more quiet as you continued.

“Ugh” he groaned, “Do you need help drying off, or shall I fetch you your clothing?” He asked slowly stepping out of the bath and drying himself

“I can dry off and get dressed on my own” you stated, leaning over the lip of the tub.

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better” he replied, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

You hummed in response, Veritas leaving the room to grab your clothes. He returned with some soft sleep shorts and a shirt handing it to you once you finished drying off. The burn on your arm was beginning to itch, taking note of this Veritas spread a soothing ointment on it and wrapped it in bandages. The two of you walked into your shared bedroom and got into bed.

“Can we eat dinner together?” you asked, burying your nose into Veritas’ neck.

“Of course, but first you’re going to sleep.”

“Goodnight”

“Its noon, but fine, good night”

You drifted off to sleep in his arms, the discomfort and anxiety you felt earlier had dissipated, and the only thing you felt was the excitement to have dinner together.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Please Please Please

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.1k

Summary: Someone is in trouble

A/N: 💋

Warnings: angst, fluff, exactly what you expect

You sigh as you lean back against the hood of the car that’s still uncomfortably warm from the ride over. You glare up at the stars as you shift to get more comfortable in your impractical outfit. Well it was perfectly practical for what you had planned for tonight, but that wasn’t meant to be apparently. 

You pull your leather jacket tighter around you and fight the urge to shiver from the cool air. You had only wanted to get drinks with some friends tonight since it was Friday.

You knew that Wanda was busy with work, but you were used to this and you’d just told her to be safe as usual when you saw her off this morning. Wanda had promised you to be careful and return to you unscathed despite what she had to face today. Recently, you have become relatively unaffected by thoughts of Wanda’s work when she said the right things. There were certain words that were red flags to you that could spike your blood pressure instantly, and she'd learned to avoid those quickly.

None of these were used this morning though when you said goodbye to your wife. When you’d asked what was on her agenda for the day, she’d told you no more than ‘nothing too interesting’. The use of the word ‘too’ should have made you suspicious, but then again hindsight is 20/20 after all. 

Not to mention, the fact that you are waiting outside of police headquarters is a pretty good indicator of how your wife’s day had gone. 

You weren’t given details when Steve had called to tell you that Wanda was arrested. You hadn’t wanted them, but after you heard that she was booked and they were buying their time to see if they could hold her, you’d cracked and asked Bucky to explain it. 

Now here you were fuming at the fact that your wife was arrested for getting into a fist fight like some common criminal. You were told that a deal had gone poorly, and that Wanda had gotten a little roughed up which only made your irritation at her apparent recklessness increase ten-fold. 

You only have to stew for a few more minutes before the sound of doors being pushed open catches your attention. You look up from your inconspicuous spot in the parking lot to see your wife, Bucky, and Steve walking out of the building with a disgruntled Wanda leading the way. You roll your eyes and clench your teeth as you watch your wife look around for you only to have Steve point in your direction. 

You keep your expression as neutral as possible, but it’s a little difficult given your annoyance, as Wanda hurries down the stairs and across the lot with a smile. 

“Hi detka.” 

Usually a greeting like this would make you smile, or even melt depending on how sweet Wanda’s accompanying smile is. However, you’re upset with her for a couple of reasons, the first of which that she didn’t give you any indication that she would be in danger today. You study her as she stops in front of you and even under the dim lights you see that she has a bruised jaw and a small cut underneath her eye. You are irrationally annoyed that despite being locked up all afternoon, and punched in the face, she still manages to look beautiful. 

You shake your head at her before uncrossing your legs with a sigh. You wave her closer so you can get a better look at her, and Wanda doesn’t waste any time leaning in with a wider smile that shows off her perfect teeth. You reach up and grab her chin before her lips can meet yours and you hold her still as you glance at her bruised skin. You shoot her a disapproving look that makes her eyes drop from your lips to the hood of the car. You ignore your friends as they head to their car, saying something indiscernible to Wanda on their way.

“You’re trouble Mrs. Maximoff.” 

Wanda prepares to make an excuse, but you cut her off as your fingers press uncomfortably against her jaw. You only feel bad instantly when she winces, and you sigh in defeat before leaning in to kiss the discolored skin gently. You notice the smile creeping back on her face, but it doesn’t stay there long when you slide off the car as gracefully as possible in your dress. Your heels smack against the pavement, and for once you’re a little taller than Wanda so you can look down at her as you flip your hair over your shoulder.

“I hope you like the couch, Wanda.” 

You walk toward the driver’s side of the car and almost beat Wanda to it. You watch wordlessly as she reaches out to open the door for you, and you meet her disappointed look with one of your own. You think that maybe you’ll feel more merciful in the morning, but for now you’re upset that your wife failed to keep herself safe. You reach out for her again, stopping just short of her bloodied eye before you roll your eyes again. 

“You’re going to be sleeping there until this heals.” 

You duck into the car before you can see Wanda’s pleading look, but you know it’s there and if you look now you’ll crack before morning. You wait until she shuts your door and moves to the other side of the car which you’ve started before she’s even gets in. You take a deep breath before you get buckled and wait for Wanda to get settled. You reach out to shift gears, but you pause when Wanda’s hand covers yours. You turn to see her, expectedly, looking contrite, and you’re not at all surprised by what she says. 

“I’m sorry, detka. Things just got out of hand.” 

You don’t doubt this and you just nod silently before turning your hand over and squeezing hers. Your lips quirk before you can stop them and you bring your joined hands to your mouth as you turn to meet your wife’s gaze. You turn away quickly so her pouty expression doesn’t weaken your resolve. You release her hand and shift into drive before turning to follow your friends home. You reach out blindly and pat your wife’s thigh with a smirk that she definitely sees this time.

“I know, babe, but you’re still couched.” 

You hear a quiet thud as Wanda’s head falls back against her headrest with a sigh of defeat or exasperation. You’re not sure which, but either way, you hope your wife learns from this. When you ask her to do something for you, you expect her to do her damned best to make it happen. Still your displeasure with your wife won’t stop you from tending to her wounds and kissing them better later. 

On the couch, of course. 

Masterlist

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the busted engine

lilac, chapter one

a/n: the plot of this series came to me like fucking lightning, essentially all at once with how quick it fell into place. sometimes it's like that, sometimes magic happens in your brain. I hope you all enjoy this ride as much as I am having writing it. get ready for everything, because I've got twenty chapters planned out and ready, and spoiler, they aren't all just gonna be insanely wholesome small town cuteness... we getting angsty... we getting the drama.... but most of all, we be getting slutty. strap in folks.

summary: “I, um,” your eyes briefly flickered to the bundles of firewood needly stacked in the back of the pickup, “my car broke down and my phone conveniently also decided to run out of battery, so, uh, could I perhaps borrow yours just a moment? I just need it to make one call, that’s it.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, car trouble, meet cute

word count: 2674

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Your vision couldn’t help but linger every time it drifted over your hands gripping the steering wheel. The immense weight the sight of your bare ring finger lifted off your shoulders was so overwhelming that you found yourself fighting tears from blurring the road before you. 

The sun was beginning to set as you had been driving all day long, not stopped for even a second to let the gravitas sink in of what you’d done at the crack of dawn. 

The fear of Preston stirring from his slumber and finding you in the midst of sneaking out still hadn’t settled within your gut. Your paranoid brain still compelled you to check the rear-view mirror every couple of seconds just in case the sleek sportscar of your former fiancé would appear.

You had finally done what he had drilled into your mind you weren’t capable of. You’d left him for good. 

Equipped with only a small backpack of your belongings, the last thing you’d done before sneaking out of the apartment had been to toss the ring he had so insistently forced upon your finger into the trash. 

Ripping you out of your cloudy thoughts, your car suddenly began to cough like a mythical monster that was dying. 

“Oh shit…” you felt the vehicle begin to slow as ominous smoke started to billow out from under the hood. Mindful of the bushy pine trees framing the road, you guided it to the edge just in time before it gave out. 

Stepping out with an exhausted sigh, you promptly cracked the front open to take a look, though what you saw within didn’t soothe your worries as all of the fumes oozing out only made the broken engine look like that much more of a mess. 

“Fucking great,” you mumbled heatedly, fiercely slamming the hood shut in an effort to relieve some of your abundant stress. Curving back around, you swung the passenger side open and rummaged for your phone, though when you located it, the only solution it flashed you was a blinking red battery icon before the screen went completely black, “seriously?” 

Not knowing if you were about to scream or burst into tears, you chucked it back inside before hurling your spine against the side of the car, leaning against it as you cursed up at the grey sky. 

Was this the universe showing its true bias? You’d hoped that was the one thing money couldn’t buy, but perhaps you were wrong, just like he always said you were. Perhaps it would be best if you went back to the city. His reaction towards a stunt like this couldn’t be that bad compared to what you had endured before, could it? 

The sound of another vehicle cresting the thicket on the rural road caught your ears and you turned your head to see a navy-blue truck appear.

Your hand shot up to wave it down before you could even ponder the action. Fearing that it was a lost cause by the speed the driver was going at, it caught you by surprise as it suddenly came to a halt a ways in front of you. 

“Are you alright, ma'am?” the driver asked as he slammed his door shut behind him. The tall man certainly looked like the type to call the area his home. Dark beard scraggly and hair in unkept waves long enough to tickle the furrow lines decorating his forehead, his wide palm traced the lines of the truck as he made his way towards you.

“I, um,” your eyes briefly flickered to the bundles of firewood needly stacked in the back of the pickup, “my car broke down and my phone conveniently also decided to run out of battery, so, uh, could I perhaps borrow yours just a moment? I just need it to make one call, that’s it.”

Eyeing your busted vehicle a moment, his low timbre then rumbled out once more, “sure,” as he reached into his pocket and fished out his telephone.

“Thank you so much,” seizing it, you swiftly clicked it to life, “you have no idea what a lifesaver you are–, oh fuck,” your vision zeroed in on the lack of bars in the uppermost corner, “of course there’s no fucking services out here,” your eyes briefly screwed shut and your jaw clenched in an effort not to scream, “it’s fine, it’s fine! I’ll just walk then!” you tried not the throw it as you handed the phone back to the helpful stranger, “I’m sorry that you had to stop for nothing, but thank you anyways.”

Swinging your door open to yank out your stuff, the stranger’s feet stayed fast, “what direction are you headed?” 

“Dunbrook,” you answered as your body folded to reach your tossed telephone.

“You wanna catch a ride?” he unexpectedly offered, causing you to bump your head on the roof of the car.

“Ow–, what?” you blinked back at him through the windshield as your hand shot up to rub the top of your now sore head, “no, I couldn’t… I–, uh, I kinda recognise this area, the town is not too far from here, so I can walk, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, but it’ll properly still take you all night. Please, it’s no bother, I’m headed in that direction anyways.” 

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you slowly retracted out of the vehicle, “you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, attempting a faint smile in order to soften his gruff and intimidating features. 

“Alright,” swinging your backpack on you slammed your busted car shut, “thank you.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, you clicked on the seatbelt and slotted your bag between your legs. Fiddling tensely with the straps for a moment, it dawned on you how your sleeves were still rolled all the way up to your elbows from when you had checked under the hood. Pulse instantly picking up and thumping in your ears, you hastily tugged them back down to cover the lavender bruises peaking out. 

Had he noticed?

Hearing the door slam to your left, being too caught up in your own mess, it only caused your form to jump in the seat.

Trying to play it off as nothing, you attempted a casual, “I’m Y/n by the way,” though your voice came out much more strangled than you’d intended. 

Catching your flickering eye a moment before turning the key, he likewise enlightened, “Pete.” 

Your bottom lip didn’t escape the prison of your teeth the entire ride, gnawing subconsciously at it as you purposely stare out at the wild flora you passed in order to not look at the advantageous stranger. 

Though after you passed the crooked sign welcoming you back to your small hometown, Pete’s gruff voice broke the silence.

“So, where can I drop you off?”

“The inn,” you turned your head to inform him, “the Lilac Inn, if you know where that is.”

“Yeah, I know it,” he nodded, sucking in a knowing breath as if he didn’t need any more information to figure you out, “so you’re a tourist? One of those nature people who come out here to hike or something?”

“Not exactly,” was all the explanation you offer as you watched the familiar scenery come into view. 

Dunbrook. To call it a town was very generous indeed as the whole population could properly fit under the same roof if they really wanted to, and they often did. The rolling fields of wildlife that surrounded the village also divided and broke up the infrastructure of the old settlement, causing most of the homes and businesses to not all the clustered together as you had grown accustomed to seeing after moving to a metropolis as vast as New York. 

Every familiar structure rolling by evoked memories long ago buried and forgotten. The corner where you fell learning how to ride a bike. The quaint general store where you once stole a lollipop, walked for all of 48 seconds before turning right back and apologising to the owner with tears in your eyes. But most of all, the large Victorian structure at the bottom of the tiny town by far held the fondest of memories in your heart. 

The dust puffed up around the truck as you rolled down the narrow dirt road, the bushy lilac trees that flourished all over the property haven not quite yet come into bloom, yet still forewarned your destination that already peaked over the tops. 

“Here it is,” Pete exhaled as the car came to a stop before the vast veranda, “the Lilac Inn.” 

Eyes glued to your childhood home, you stepped out of the truck, “thank you,” slamming the door shut, you turned to add awkwardly through the rolled down window, “and also thank you for not turning out to be an axe murderer or something,” a nervous laugh swiftly bubbling out at the notion.

Glancing back at your bumbling form, he simply flashed you a tight-lipped smile and said, “you have a good trip, ma'am.” 

“You too–, I mean, you have a good, uhm, rest of your life,” you fumbled as your feet slowly backed up, “it was nice meeting you, Pete.” 

“Yeah, you too,” he just managed to reply before you spun your mortified flush away from his stare and scurried up the steps of the porch. 

Pushing the creaky, stained glass adorn front door open, you tiptoed inside. 

The lighting dim and the atmosphere nothing short of comforting, a smile finally bloomed upon your lips as you let out the breath you’d been holding for who knows how long. 

Peeking around the corner into one of the sitting rooms, you only spotted one patron sitting by the small round table next to the crackling fireplace, working away at a puzzle. Either the others had gone to bed already or this fellow was the only one staying here. 

“Excuse me,” you gently interrupted from the archway, “would you happen to know where the owner, Harvey, is–”

Though before you managed to get out the remainder of the sentence, a bustle from the kitchen answered your question for you, “every time I forget to whisk long enough and every time I say it’s gonna be different, but this time I mean it!”

Sharing a knowing look with the guest, you chuckle, “never mind…” 

“This time I won't just stop when my arm feels like it’s gonna fall off,” even though it was clear he was talking to himself, his usual vibrato still carried, “oh no, no, you just wait and see how light and fluffy you turn out this time, cake!” 

Poking your head through the ajar door, you spotted the familiar greying man grumbling into the contents of the bowl he was furiously beating with a whisk. 

“Dad?”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, your father gasped, whisk jolting upright as he laid his eyes upon you, subsequently splattering some batter across the kitchen, back near the sink, “Y/n?” he exclaimed, his eyes growing to the size of saucers, “is that really you? Is my little baby girl really standing in my kitchen or is this a hallucination?”

“Hi,” your head tilted in a soft chuckle. 

Staring at you as if you were just a newborn puppy, “oh, come here, munchkin and give your pops a hug!” the moustachioed man’s arms went wide and pulled you in, dropping whisk still in his hand as he blubbered into your hair, “ah, I’ve missed you so much,” squeezing your form in the magical way that only parents could, “I haven’t heard from you in, well I don’t even know how long, that’s how long and if you ask me then that’s too long,” he pulled back, cupping your cheek as he gazed at you, “you don’t write, you don’t call.”

“Not true, I do write,” you corrected him light-heartedly, “and you don’t have a cellphone.” 

“Well, there’s the telephone out in reception, why would I need more?” he shrugged, lending you to then slip out of his grip, swiftly boosting your own form to hop onto one of the empty counters, “also, your last letter was 10 months ago.” 

“No, it wasn’t, was it?” you gasped, thinking back.

“You can check the date, they’re still in the cookie tin up there,” he gestured to one of the top shelves before reuniting the whisk in his grip with the large bowl on the table. 

Only briefly glancing up at the enamel box, you already knew that you didn’t wanna revisit them. However vague the letters were, which they always were, you were still certain that they’d have the power to send you right back there into Preston’s iron fist, even though you’d never even mentioned him once in all the years you’d been with him. They only ever really contained small talk and pleasantries, never about something so personal as to whom you were dating, but you also didn’t share at all as things took a turn for the worse, when you were in so deep that you felt like you couldn’t escape. Perhaps it was out of pride, perhaps it was to shield him from the truth, or maybe even in a way yourself, not admitting to the fiend you had welcomed into your own bed, creating some false reality as a coping mechanism. 

Averting your gaze, you then uttered softly, “I’m really sorry dad,” gliding your right thumb over the jagged edge of the counter as you gripped onto it with both fists.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he waved a hand, “you’re young, out there living your life. You shouldn’t have to check in with your father every few seconds. I am aware that you’re 29 after all. Although, you know I wouldn’t be a pose to just a little bit more…” he winked, playfully bumping the side of his hip against your shin before picking up the speed of the whisk once more, “so, did I forget it’s my birthday or did you just miss your old man?” his jovial glance flickered between you and the batter. 

“Can I stay here a while? I just need some place to,” lay low, “figure things out, you know?”

Whisk halting, his gaze upon you grew in concern, “of course you can, honey. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay, I just–, uh… needed a change,” not looking him in the eye, you spoke, “I don’t know to where or what I’m gonna do next, but I do know that I don’t wanna go back,” you felt a lump of emotion swell up in your throat, “and I won’t just stay here for free, I’ll pay you rent,” you tried to appease the stubborn sensation of being a nuance to everyone, even to your own kin, “though I don’t really have any money right now, so I’d have to get a job first, but that’s fine, I’ll figure something out–” 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” your father cut you off, “you can stay here as long as you want, it never stopped being your home even when you moved away. Still keep your room exactly the same, just in case,” he offered you a warm smile, his silver moustache stretching wider, “how about you just give me a hand around here, huh?” 

“Alright,” you exhaled, “deal.”

His grin turning more mischievous, he then noted slyly, “you know I’ve always dreamed of you taking over this place one day, running the family business…” 

Rolling your eyes, you chuckled, “not this again…”

“Just think about, you could–”

“Dad, I’m not gonna take over the inn! Running a place like this isn’t what it used to be back when your parents opened it up. You might have always been dead set on taking over it, but I haven’t.”

“I know, I know,” he gracefully backed down again as he always did, “you want adventure, isn’t that what you called it when you went away for college?” 

Adventure… it was that kind of philosophy that had sent an innocent young girl into the arms of a devil…

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[stealingyourbones]

Hello

I just finished reading the chemistry teacher Danny phantom post and saw you and your twin mention a really chaotic chemistry teacher you had

It's fine if not, but I was wondering if you had any more stories about that teacher?

They sounded really fun and I am now curious what other antics they got up to.

Sorry if I'm asking too much.

Oh no absolutely I can! That man was my chemistry teacher for two years and was my favorite teacher of all time.

Ok sO.

- The Fume Hood Incident (twin shall explain @bonebrokebuddy)

- making an absolute SHIT ton of thermite when we couldn’t inhale boron gas as our last chemistry club experiment. We initially wanted to melt a hole in a junk car with it but the dude who offered his car backed out :(

- did the “exploding gummy bear” experiment that made a lot of very toxic gas for shits and giggles. We had to stay in another teachers classroom for the next class period because the room had ventilate for a while.

- once burned some extra magnesium for fun DIRECTLY UNDER THE FIRE DETECTOR and made the entire school leave because the fire alarm got set off in the dead of winter. Things akin to this happened two more times.

- since the first incident, he found out how to TURN OFF the fire detectors in his room whenever he’s doing experiments involving fire. Evidently he failed twice in this exercise.

- self medicated ADHD with coffee and drank at least 3 pots of the stuff during school hours. He had his own coffee machine in the classroom. Once did a presentation on potency stuff and brought in espresso for the class to drink. That man drank a whole pot of it before the end of the school day.

- during said coffee drinking experiments, he broke his one mug he used and used a new beaker for 2 weeks until he bothered to get a new one. Rinse and repeat this exact scenario from the beginning of his teaching until he left.

- would buy pure chemical or whatever un watered down esque chemicals are and would lower the molar count himself because “he didn’t want to pay for water” and did it IN THE CLASS ROOM BY HIMSELF WITH NO FUME HOOD. (Chemistry terms are bad I haven’t had a chem class in 5 years)

- this man is now a college professor I think. Where he rightfully should be because there is no way the experiments we did with him were given a green light through the wavers we signed.

- he bought the school a blast shield with the rest of the chemistry club funds to encourage the next chem teacher to do more dangerous experiments. (They never did :( )

These are just annecdotes. If @bonebrokebuddy wants to add onto it they’re free to do so :)

[mha-cuties-pls]

Incel!Shigaraki x reader Headcannons

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader | Rating: M | Words: n/a | genre: smut

A/N: Soooooo, writing these actually gave me the best idea for a scenario 🥴 just in love with the idea of touch starved and incredibly horny Incel!Shigaraki fixating on a girl and attempting to force her into submission, only to find out she had been craving him just as much as he was

Incel!Shigaraki that notices you in public one day when he was out at the mall buying a new video game, unable to tear his eyes away from your suggestively lewd outfit, deciding that a beautiful girl dressed like that in public wanted, no needed, his greedy eyes to objectify you. Shigaraki couldn’t usually have cared less about other people when he went out in public. They didnt share the same intelligence level or tenacity he did, and besides, they would all submit to The League of Villains in due time anyways; there was no point in trying to converse with any of them. That was, at least, until he stopped by the mall one day to pick up the newest edition of a game that had just been released, and his eyes couldn’t help but lock onto your voluptuous figure. It’s not like it was his fault he was staring, in that short skirt and tight tank top you were practically naked. He could even tell you weren’t wearing a bra as his eyes followed each bounce and jiggle of your chest as you walked over to the Nintendo Switch games. Still mesmerized, he watched you from across the store, and his heart began to pick up when you bent down to retrieve Cooking Mama on the bottom row, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of your underwear. Feeling the twitch in his pants, he was unable to tear his eyes away from you- even when your gaze met his. What really sealed your fate, however, was the fact that upon meeting his eyes, you had the audacity to smirk at his actions. It was then that Tomura decided you needed to be taught a lesson.

Incel!Shigaraki who begins to stalk you in his free time, watching with distain every time he saw you talking to another guy he had never seen before Watching you giggle and playfully hit the male companion who sat next to you at the food court made Shigarakis skin boil. He knew that there was no way you were actually laughing that hard at anything that guy had to say; You were just being the slutty little girl that you were, probably craving and aching between your legs in ways that you should only be doing for him. Shigarakis grimace continued as he fumed from the corner where he sat watching, scratching at his neck and trying not to let his explosive anger get in the way of his careful planning.

Incel!Shigaraki who finally, after observing you for weeks, makes his move when he sees you alone one day buying bubble tea, and despite his inexperience, actually does a phenomenal job playing the part of a charmer. “Why don’t you come back with me for a bite to eat?” He says, voice laced with something that you can’t quite put your finger on. “I know this great hole in the wall and besides,” pulling his hood back a bit so you can more clearly see his features, you saw the ghost of a smile that was almost sinister tugging at his scarred lips, “we’ll be able to talk more privately there.”

Incel!Shigaraki who has never had sex, but wastes no time fulfilling his darkest and roughest desires, living out fantasies he had only ever seen on porn, never imaging he would be blessed with such a beautiful, obedient little whore of his own He stared down with an almost incredulous look on his face as he watched you slink down in front of him with your beautiful ass perched high in the air, your slick entrance shining in the low light of the room just begging for him to finally enter. He shoved himself inside clumsily and with force you weren’t expecting, making you cry out as he filled your aching cunt. You heard him breathing heavily, and he declined to move at first. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw his eyes basking in the sight before him. His hands were gripping your ass and shaking it, even giving small slaps watching your fat jiggle in a way more delectable than he ever could have imagined. When he watched porn he always imagined what it would actually be like to have a beautiful woman under him, complacent and begging for his touch; But the reality proved to be so much better than he ever could have thought. Seemingly coming back to reality after his quick daydream, he pulled out ever so slowly, before slamming into you with even more force than before. “____,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “scream my name.”

Incel!Shigaraki who stares almost too intently at your stark naked form, just drinking in the erotic sight of your curves and soft skin, making you blush a bit and serving to make you feel sexy and a little more confident than you usually would

Incel!Shigaraki who talks a big game, but ends up inevitably going too hard too fast after he finally stuck it in, involuntarily cumming inside you with delicious whimpers of his own Shigarakis ferocious and sporadic thrusts culminated suddenly with an almost violent stop, and he laid his body across your back as you stayed on your hands and knees on the bed. Feeling his dry lips brush your neck with a sloppy kiss caused you to relax, and you felt his length beginning to soften inside you. “Fuck, ____.” His whispers danced lightly across the sensitive skin behind your ear, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the proximity between you two at the moment. “Your pretty pussy was squeezing my dick so good I came faster than I expected.” Then, he snaked his arms around your waist, grabbing your hips, and flipping you two so you both lay on your backs with you cuddled up to his side snuggly. Though just as you were about to let the aftermath haziness of your release lull you into a deep sleep in Tomouras arms, he brushed some of your messy locks behind your ear as he whispered, “I hope you’re ready for round 2.”

[britcision]

So it’s weird to come back a couple years after you leave a place and see how it’s changed, right?

In my first year of college, a group of friends and I were the first iteration of our college’s Makers Club. The tech teachers helped us get set up, taught us to apply for funding, got us a room for meetings

And, y’know, for most of the year what we in the club had access to was the room, a projector, and the xbox one of the members brought in for our weekly Smash Bros tournament

(Before the xbox came in the Makers Club did vitally important and scientific activities like taping a member to a chair with painter’s tape to see how easily he could break out)

And as we did the budget request, we all made jokes about stupid things we could buy, because we needed to have an itinerary of everything we wanted to submit with the budget, and the teachers advised us to ask at least double what we actually wanted

(So, 10’ diamond coated charger cables, better tape, a 3D printer to print a trophy for the winner of the tournament each week, etc.)

It was basically a lunch club, almost entirely of people from our software development classes, where we all hung out and dicked around

I graduated a couple years later, and the year after that snuck back to the Maker’s Club because we’d finally gotten a 3D printer the year I graduated and I wanted to get a sneaky print cuz we charged for the filament and not much else

And gang

I saw this club when we had A Room

We didn’t even claim it full time for two years there were still other classes in it

I saw it when we had one printer, when the coolest thing we could buy was a programmable robot kit for one of those cute lil guys you can program to move his cube around and we all had to share one

The goddamn budget request must have gone through as we all fucking left, because the next year they had not just the room permanently set aside, but the closet next door set up with TWO 3D printers and a laser cutter

I booped in and out over the next year too, mostly for curiosity (and to use the printers cuz the people now running the club were members when I’d been a founder and so long as none of us admitted I wasn’t paying tuition anymore it was fair game)

The last time I saw it, they had FOUR 3D printers, two laser cutters, three more craft machines I didn’t recognize, a working fume hood, and one guy had used club resources to build a working robot hand and was teaching it to pick locks

It was. It was amazing. It was a proper, actual piece of school infrastructure, providing benefits to the whole student body

And I was there when we just played Smash and helped each other with our homework

[seat-safety-switch]

Kids these days may not think it's "cool" to hang out at a municipal building at all hours. Bribery is way down nowadays, and so is journalism, so there's no supply nor demand for lurking in the parking garage all night just to catch a glimpse of a package stuffed with cash changing hands. Most of that stuff is fake internet money now, anyway, like flooz. Where do you even buy a manila envelope these days?

The thing is, political scandal hasn't gone away. Believe me, I'd like to think it is. Whenever I work for The Mayor Hisself, it's easy to overlook the large quantity of favours rendered to himself (and very infrequently, to me) in exchange for some small judgment or gentle steering. Surely his friends would have been just as generous with money, business partnerships, and fresh-off-the-lot Porsches if he did nothing at all for them? Of course they would. That's what makes them true friends and not seedy business associates that I'm around just in case one of them needs to be put back in line.

Now, you might think it's easy to monkey-wrench a homebuilder or someone who owns a used-car dealership. It is, but that's not the point. You have to be subtle about it: it doesn't make re-election look good if The Mayor's somewhat-esteemed childhood maybe-friend gets caught on camera using violence. No, you have to get creative about it. Deniable.

One of my favourite not-confessing-to-anything techniques is what I like to call the "smoke-out." You may remember some articles in the news recently about how Volkswagen got in trouble for making cars that produced too much exhaust. They were just running regular old passenger diesel fuel! The fumes off that stuff won't even make your eyes burn, not like high-test nitromethane being shot out the hood-exit exhaust of a half-fibreglassed Dodge Ramcharger doing donuts on your lawn. Sometimes I didn't even have to do a full spin: they'd be on the phone, tearfully apologizing to The Mayor, just because their wallpaper started to melt!

In my own day, they used to make corrupt business people tougher. A higher class of manufacture. That's why I think today's kids need to get involved. Build a new and even more dirtbaggy semi-organized semi-crime architecture, because these folks are just getting lazy with it.

[phantoms-lair]

You wanted Red Hood vs Overhaul, you got it

Eri clutched Deku tightly and he sped away, Overhaul right on their trail leaving a swath of destroyed objects and people in his wake. And as soon as he caught up to them, that was going to be Deku. He was going to die because he wanted to protect her.

Deku was wrong. She was a curse. She clutched his shoulders tighter, tears welling in her eyes. Her horn began to glow as her quirk subconsciously activated. Because of her Daddy disappeared, and then Overhaul used her to make his bullets to steal other people's powers. She'd caused nothing but pain and misery, she was the one who should disappear!

Her horn grew as her quirk tried to activate. But much like you can't uninstall a computer program that's running, Rewind couldn't erase itself or it's user while it was activated. Eri's despair tried to force it over and over again. Just as Overhaul's outstretched hand was about to brush Deku's back Rewind divided by zero and they all vanished.

~

It was the smell that hit Midoriya first. The air around him had been full of dust and the scent of blood. Suddenly there was none of that, but an almost nauseating amount of fumes and unwashed humanity. Also they were in free fall.

He quickly assessed. He wasn't in Tokyo anymore. The cars were on the wrong side of the road and the signs in English. But all that quickly was overshadowed by the horror that they were in a residential area.

He had to get Eri to safety while luring Overhaul away from the area. He did his best to get they lay of the land before he'd fallen enough for buildings to block his view. Looked like there was a harbor. Maybe if he could get him there, there'd be less people for him to destroy. And hopefully some local heroes would come to help.

Path set, Midoriya used Full Cowling to kick off a building and launch himself away.

~

"Anyone have eyes on what the Hell is happening?!" Hood demanded over the coms.

"Two metas, Boss. One Robin-aged, one adult. Robin-aged one has what looks to be a small child. He's fleeing from the adult and heading towards the harbor. Small child looks to be injured."

Hood adjusted the route his motorcycle was going in order to better intercept. "How badly injured?"

"Bandages on her arms and legs, but it's hard to get close enough to see more, sorry." His lieutenant sounded apologetic, but from the sounds of Hood could hear from back where he was he couldn't blame her. "Powers?" Might as well know what he was getting into.

"Robin-aged seems to have some green lightning around him, but he's not projecting it. It seems to give him either a strength or speed boost, hard to tell when all he's doing is running. Adult looks like he can destroy or remake anything his touches and - Gah."

"Did you get hit?"

"Negative, sorry for scaring you, sir, Adult caught a piece of his own shrapnel in his eye. He then touched his face with his hand and half of it exploded, then reformed. I wasn't expecting it."

Good to know. Especially because she might have just told him exactly how to take this guy down. "I'm going to intercept the kids. Deploy Code Beta Omega on my mark." Hood's helmet switched modes from camera to radar as he pulled his bike even with the fleeing kid (who was definitely getting a speed boost out of his power if nothing else) as his people set off numerous bright flares right in front of the adult meta's face, followed by wide area smoke bombs. "Need some help?"

"Are you a local hero?" The older kid asked in very heavily Japanese accented English.

"I'm the protector of this area." Thankfully Japanese was one of the languages he was fluent in, so he could speak to the kid in his own language. "Get on."

The boy hopped on, the smaller kid strapped to his back and Hood had to respect his sense of balance. The green lightning vanished as the kid took a breath.

"Can you get Eri to safety?" the boy asked. "I can buy some time with Overhaul. Lure him out to the water where fewer people will get hurt."

The way he said it, it sounded like the cost of that time would be his life. And the littler one, Eri, seemed to pick up on it. "You don't have to do that Deku." she said in a shaky voice. "He won't hurt you if I go back to him. And I'll be fine. He won't kill me, even when he accidently takes too much of my blood, he can just take me apart and put me back together again."

The words were brave but the fear and remembered pain in them was palpable and Hood saw green in a way that had nothing to do with Deku's hair, outfit or lightning. He sharply turned the motor cycle into an alley, where he knew a group of his people would be evacuating civilians. "Get them to the clinic. The girl needs help and the boy probably does too."

The boy looked panicked. "But Overhaul-"

"-is Done." Hood finished. "Overhaul is done."

For a moment the boy looked like he'd bluescreened, then "Overhaul is mysophobia, destroying his mask should get a panic reaction. Especially if you spit on him or something. He's arrogant, sadistic, and enjoys psychological manipulations. He also have some bullets that destroy quirks, so be very wary if he uses a gun over his hands."

"Quirks?" Everything in Hood's soul wanted to get going and destroy the man who'd hurt a child like this.

There was a split second of panic on the boys face as he tried to reword "Powers? His lets him disassemble and reassemble anything he touches in any configuration he chooses."

"Power destroying bullets? Hood laughed. "Kid, I don't think you know where you are. This is Gotham." And with that he left the kids in the hands of his crew and stalked back to where Overhaul was about to meet his end.

The smoke was beginning to clear as Hood strode to Overhaul's location. Deku had given him what information he could, and he appreciated it, really he did. Any other Bat or Bat-Adjacent would have made good use it, especially the mysophobia.

Hood was not going to. He'd already gotten all intel he needed earlier. He took a good look at the man. Huh, when Deku said he had a mask Hood was expecting a standard supervillain mask, not a honest to goodness plague doctor one. He's sure the doctors at Arkham would have a fun time pulling apart this whackjob's psyche.

Not that he was going to give them a chance. Not after hearing a little girl talk about repeatedly being ripped apart and pulled back together.

"Where did they go?" asked Overhaul, in a tone that suggested he was in charge and giving up the intel was the only way Hood would live through the next few minutes.

Cute.

"Doesn't matter. You're never going to see either one ever again." Hood smirked under his helmet. "In fact, enjoy your view of the ass-end of Gotham. It's the last thing you're ever going to see."

Overhaul sneered. "Eri will be so upset. Another person dead because of her. She really is a curse."

The green was overwhelming. The only thing keeping Hood in control was the knowledge that he was going to give the Pit exactly what it wanted.

Overhaul touched the ground and it exploded, rearranging itself as large spikes erupted from the ground. Most people would have been impaled. Most people weren't trained by the Bat, the League of Assassins, and the All-Caste. "You heroes are so annoying. Like any one of you would be able to properly use an asset like her."

"SHE IS A CHILD." Hood roared. One of the spikes nicked him, but only caused surface damage, naturally. It would have been embarrassing to do more than was entirely when one gets hit on purpose. He needed two things. Overhaul provided the presence of absolute evil, and he provided his own blood. With two flashes the All Blades appeared and two hands fell to the ground.

Overhaul stared for a moment. He'd lost arms before and it was easy enough to replace one using the other, but he'd never lost both at once. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution, and his knees began to buckle.

He never hit the ground however, as Hood caught him by the throat with one hand. With the other he ripped off the mask before pushing Overhauls face into some street sludge. This being Gotham and Crime Alley in particular, who knows what it might have been. Guess he was going to use the kid's info on mysophobia after all.

"It's tempting, you know, to keep you alive just long enough to watch infection set it. But people like you do tend to find a way of rebounding and I'm not going to risk it. I do want to catch up with those kids and make sure they're okay, so I'll give myself...ten minutes? Yeah, ten minutes sounds good. Ten minutes to show you exactly what happens to people who hurt kids in my territory. Ten minutes to make you beg for death, then - like the kind soul I am- answer your prayers."

Overhauls eyes were wide with terror. "But...but you're a hero?"

Hood grinned cruelly under his helmet. "I haven't called myself one of those for a long time. And Babs," he said, seeming to address no one. "I don't want Daddy Bats or any of his crew interfering."

For the next ten minutes, he was going to enjoy himself.

[virtuouswhitehatorganization]

Coyote Finally Ages Out

(Continuation from "Coyote's Backstory As A Foster Kid")

[Brian Z. Romero/Coyote was in his room getting prepared to move out after he turned finally turned eighteen. He was packing his clothes into his suitcase as the cruel words of the director still stung in his head as they got into probably the last verbal match they would ever have. Even when with his plans to get into vocational college, the man didn't believe he could make anything out of himself.]

(flashback to director's office)

Director (cruelly mocks at a visibly angry Coyote/Brian) : You are a worthless hood rat. You were born a hood rat, you'll die a hood rat, and you will be lucky anybody will mourn you!

(flashback ends)

[He slammed his suitcase shut in anger as he really wished he could let the bastard have it, but since he was an adult now that meant big boy prison and not just juvie as sometimes people said he would end up in.]

Coyote/Brian (fumes): I'm not worthless, and I won't die alone.

[He continued going around his room picking things up to put in his boxes from metal band posters to books on Rutherford Springs/Atom City's history. All the while picking up a movie he's had ever since he was a kid that almost remind him of his situation and melancholy reminisced on it.]

Coyote/Brian:

Riffraff,

hood rat

I don't buy that.

If only they'd look closer

Would they see a poor boy?

No siree

They'd find out

There's so much more to me

[He sighed to take a short break as he looked down at the vocational school pamphlet he had on his desk and saw it as his only hope in life to better himself and to prove to everyone that he wasn't destined for failure.]

Brian/Coyote (tries to be optimistic) : Someday, things are gonna change. I will be successful, live in a nice home, and never have any problems at all.

[cgcstainlesssteelfabrication]

https://cgcstainlesssteel.com.au/what-products-should-be-under-the-hood-in-a-commercial-kitchen/

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Buy Commercial Range Hoods Brisbane, Commercial Range Hoods Melbourne, Commercial Range Hoods Sydney

[labspaces1]

Prime Lab Spaces for Rent in Baltimore: Your Gateway to Innovation

Baltimore, Maryland, is a vibrant hub for scientific innovation and research. With its close proximity to leading academic institutions, medical centers, and a growing biotechnology sector, Baltimore has become a prime location for startups, research organizations, and established companies looking to expand their operations. For those seeking Baltimore Lab Space for lease, the city offers a range of flexible, state-of-the-art facilities to meet your unique research and development needs.

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Additionally, Baltimore’s lower cost of living compared to other innovation hubs like Boston or San Francisco makes it an attractive destination for startups and mid-sized companies looking to optimize their budgets without sacrificing quality.

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Several neighborhoods and innovation hubs in Baltimore are renowned for their focus on scientific research:

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Finding the Right Lab Space

When searching for Baltimore Lab Space for lease, consider your specific requirements, such as square footage, technical infrastructure, and proximity to collaborators or funders. Partnering with local real estate experts or lab space providers can help streamline the process and ensure you find a location that meets your operational and strategic goals.

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Baltimore is more than a city; it’s a community of visionaries working toward groundbreaking discoveries. Renting lab space here positions your business or research team at the heart of innovation, providing the tools, resources, and networks needed to succeed. Whether you’re a startup launching your first product or an established company looking to expand, Baltimore offers the ideal environment to fuel your growth.

Don’t miss the opportunity to join Baltimore’s thriving scientific landscape. Explore lab space options today and take the first step toward shaping the future of innovation!

[rebathroom]

Choosing the Perfect Kitchen Appliances for Your Home

Selecting the right kitchen appliances is essential for creating a functional, efficient, and aesthetically pleasing kitchen. With countless options available, it's important to consider your cooking habits and space requirements. This guide will help you navigate your choices and ensure you select appliances that meet your needs and lifestyle. Whether you're designing a new kitchen or upgrading existing ones, we’ll explore the key factors to consider when choosing the perfect appliances for your home.

What Should You Consider Before Buying a Built-in Oven?

An oven built-in is a fantastic option for a seamless kitchen look. Before purchasing one, consider the size of your family and your cooking habits. A larger oven might be ideal if you bake frequently or host gatherings often. Think about the placement—do you prefer the oven at eye level or below the countertop? Moreover, ensure the oven has multiple cooking functions to accommodate your needs, such as convection cooking for even heat distribution.

Energy efficiency is another crucial factor. Look for models with high energy ratings to save on electricity. You’ll also want to ensure the oven fits into the allocated cabinet space. Lastly, pay attention to maintenance—easy-to-clean interiors and self-cleaning options will save you time and effort.

Why is a Built-in Cooker a Smart Investment?

A built-in cooker combines the benefits of both a stove and oven, making it a practical solution for those who need versatility in their kitchen. It seamlessly integrates into the kitchen layout, saving counter space and enhancing the overall design. When selecting a built-in cooker, consider how many burners you need. Some models offer up to six burners, which can benefit families that cook large meals regularly.

The material of the cooktop is also essential. Induction and ceramic glass cooktops are modern and easy to clean, while gas burners provide precise temperature control. Safety features, like flame failure protection and child locks, should also be on your checklist, especially if you have young children at home.

How Do Microwave Ovens Enhance Kitchen Convenience?

A microwave oven is no longer just for reheating leftovers; today’s models come with advanced features, including grilling and baking. Microwaves are ideal for busy households, offering quick solutions for cooking meals and defrosting ingredients. When choosing a microwave oven, consider the size and capacity. Compact models are perfect for smaller kitchens, while larger units can accommodate family-sized meals.

Many modern microwave ovens come with sensor cooking technology, which adjusts time and temperature based on the type of food being prepared. This feature ensures optimal results without requiring constant monitoring. You may also want to opt for a built-in model to save space on your countertop while giving your kitchen a sleek, modern look.

What Role Do Built-in Hoods Play in Kitchen Ventilation?

built in hoods are essential for keeping your kitchen fresh and odor-free. They extract smoke, grease, and fumes, ensuring a clean environment while you cook. A well-functioning hood also prevents the buildup of grease on surfaces, making maintenance easier. When choosing a built-in hood, consider the suction power; higher suction rates are recommended for kitchens with heavy cooking, particularly those that involve frying and grilling.

Noise levels are another aspect to look at, as some hoods can be quite loud. Opt for models with lower decibel ratings to maintain a peaceful kitchen environment. Additionally, many built-in hoods come with LED lighting, which can brighten your cooking space and improve visibility. Look for designs that match your kitchen's style, ensuring both functionality and aesthetics are well balanced.

Choosing the right kitchen appliances requires a blend of functionality, aesthetics, and practicality. From the sleek integration of a built-in cooker to the convenience offered by a microwave oven, each appliance uniquely enhances your kitchen’s efficiency. A built-in oven provides flexibility for your cooking needs, while built-in hoods ensure the space stays clean and fresh. By carefully considering your needs and preferences, you can create a kitchen that looks great and serves as a perfect culinary hub for your home.

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The Best Guide to Buy Commercial Deep Fryer (Frityr)

In a fast-paced commercial kitchen, having the ideal equipment is vital for delivering quality dishes to the customers. One such equipment piece is a commercial deep fryer (Frityr).

Deep fryers are important for preparing fried food items rapidly and effectively, making them a must-have for any restaurant or food service establishment.

Investing in a quality commercial deep fryer (Frityr) is a prudent decision for any food service business or restaurant. It can assist to enhance productiveness and lessen food preparation time, leading to a better customer experience.

In this post, we will discover the commercial deep fryer types available in the market, their attributes, deep fryer recipes and what to consider before purchasing one. We will also provide some tips on how to maintain and clean the deep fryer to make sure it stays in top condition for years to come.

Commercial deep fryer types

Speaking of deep frying in the commercial kitchen (Storkjøkken), having the right type of deep fryer can make all the difference. There are various types of commercial deep fryers to select from, each with their own unique benefits and features. Check out some of the most common types:

Countertop deep fryers: Countertop deep fryers are the perfect option for you if you want something that isn’t too big and is easy to use. It is perfect for a business that doesn’t prepare a big number of fried dishes or that consistently creates only a small amount of product overall. It lessens the amount of space required and is easier to maintain over time. Mobile food vendors, concession stands, bars and small restaurants will benefit most from this product.

Ventless deep fryers: A ventless deep fryer is basically a countertop model with some main differences. The most notable difference is that it is enclosed, enabling fumes to be expelled through an internal venting system instead of being released into the surrounding air. The most vital benefits are that it doesn’t require an external ventilation hood and it keeps the oil quality at a higher level for a longer period of time. Food trucks, taverns, small restaurants and concession areas are the perfect settings for this product.

Commercial general causes for commercial deep fryer trouble shooting

Rancid or burnt oil: This may cause food to taste bad and might also be a safety risk. Changing the oil regularly and cleaning the fryer regularly can assist to prevent this problem.

Undercooking or overcooking: This may happen if the fryer temperature is not calibrated properly or if the cook time is not modified for the food size being cooked.

Buying a top quality deep fryer can be excellent additions to any commercial kitchen (Storkjøkken), no matter you are running a small café or a big restaurant. With right care and maintenance, a deep fryer can last for years and assist you to accomplish seamlessly delectable and crispy fried foods every time.