#coffee maker repair

[neververy4]

Just replaced the coffee maker switch 🐲😎

The old one broke after 2 1/2 years, and I was able to source a replacement switch on DigiKey (My options were Red/Orange/Green/solid black, I went with green :) )

$5 dollar saved this $25 coffee maker from the landfill

[dragon-in-a-fez]

right so last week @mothinthegutter asked me how my washing machine tried to murder me, so here we go.

scene: it's 2022. my ex and I have just moved into our new house. we brought our washing machine with us, and I've just finished hooking it up. I haven't pushed it all the way in under the counter yet, because I want to make sure none of the plumbing is leaking. so I put some clothes in and start a wash. a few minutes later I'm squeezing past it to get to the coffee maker, and I put my hand down on the top of the washing machine and hey, ow, what the fuck

now, I've been electrocuted enough times to know it when it's happening. I grab my multimeter and sure enough the entire outer casing of the washing machine is live with 120 volts. okay so maybe I won't touch that.

except, here's another thing I wasn't counting on: the load in the machine is also unbalanced. and the spin cycle is about to start.

oh, and the only way out of the kitchen is on the other side of the thing.

so now, I am trapped in a corner with an electrified washing machine vibrating slowly in my direction.

panic sets in. definitely the weirdest kind of panic I've ever felt. also the realisation that, if this is how I die, no one will be surprised. I consider my options carefully and decide the only way out is to parkour over the counters. given that I have no parkour skills whatsoever, this ends up looking more like lying prone on the counter, belly sliding around the corner, and then falling onto the floor on my face.

I'm alive. I'm free. I call the washing machine manufacturer and report the weirdest problem their repair team has ever heard of.

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[mistercrowbar]

Step 1: Repair coffee maker Step 2: ???? Step 3: Drink a delicious coffee.

[sundeathh]

Random HEADCANONS

MASTERLIST

Featuring: Aizawa • Words: 865

CW: Mentions of anxiety, overprotectiveness that comes off as possessiveness, stress and burnout, insecurities, physical discomfort (nausea and mild bleeding), jealousy, potentially toxic relationships, emotional neglect.

Aizawa hates to drive, seriously. He'll likely just let you drive his car when you two go somewhere together (if you know how to drive and don't mind doing it yourself) since traffic makes him stressed. He gets anxious in traffic jams and might even get nauseous if stuck in one. He also tends to speed. If you don’t know how to drive, he’ll still drive for the two of you when needed, but you’ll have to bear with these manias of his and may want to find a way to make him less stressed while driving. 

He often gets overprotective of you. He tries his best not to but his anxiety gets the best of him sometimes, and he may act on it and make you feel like he's being possessive. If you’re more of an independent and self-sufficient person, you might get annoyed by it sometimes too, as it may seem like he doesn’t trust you enough to take care of yourself. That happens when he doesn’t voice out his concerns properly (which he often doesn’t), but in reality, he's only worried and wants to keep you safe.

He’s a devoted partner but may hurt you unintentionally, especially if you’re not good at voicing your concerns out loud too. He benefits a lot from someone straightforward about feelings that helps make it more clear to him.

He likes to sleep with his head on your chest. It makes him feel secure and it's one of the very few things that puts his mind at ease.

Aizawa has a knack for fixing things around the house. Whether it's a leaky faucet or a malfunctioning appliance, he's the go-to person for household repairs, preferring to handle things himself rather than calling a professional. (Once, he fixed the coffee maker that had stopped heating, for which you had already accepted the fate of simply buying another one.)

Despite his gruff demeanor and rough, calloused hands, Aizawa has a surprisingly tender touch. He's adept at giving soothing massages or comforting hugs, which always makes you feel loved and cared for.

He’s not naive, but because of his fierce loyalty and sense of responsibility, he may get himself stuck in toxic relationships if paired with such people. It might take him a while to get out of it and recover, since he may give in to manipulations for feelings of guilt and responsibility. (Even when he’s just being coerced into believing so). Rationally, he notices when he’s being used or manipulated but struggles not to fall into the trap anyway. But when he’s done, he IS DONE for real. ~shit might get ugly. 

Honestly? He likes to be called 'baby' or 'babe'. He gets all fuzzy inside. (It comes from a deeper need to be cared for that neither he knew he had, due to all the stress he undergoes). But he'll never admit that. “Darling” and “sweetheart” also work sometimes.

Likewise, he'll melt whenever you refer to him as "my man." If you're married, it'll also happen with "my husband."

Shota has a sensitive scalp. If you caress his hair in the right spot, he shivers and goosebumps erupt all over him. It is also a trick you can use to make him fall asleep pretty fast.

He's touch-starved. Really. Just give the man some hugs. (He'll shove anyone that's not that one person off, though).

Aizawa is a man who keeps his hygienic needs in check, but honestly, tidiness is the first thing he neglects when he’s overwhelmed with work. He’s not overly messy, but things will start to pile up if he’s working extra hours. Some not-so-obvious things may also end up going unnoticed by him. (He doesn't remember when it was the last time he washed his capture weapon).

Shota tends to bite or pick on his lips when he is nervous or stressed out, which can cause them to crack and bleed a bit. He gets self-conscious about it from time to time and usually doesn’t notice he’s doing it until it’s already bleeding and he feels the metallic taste in his mouth.

He is jealous of his favorite mug and might get pouty even if it’s you who is using it. He’ll try his very best not to let it show. (It is still clear anyway). Leave the poor man’s mug alone.

He is aware of his good looks but he still feels insecure about his worn out appearance. That's why he gets embarrassed easily if you compliment him about it. (Call him handsome or sexy and you'll have a tomato in front of you).

If he had to choose a flavor, he would say bitter, but he has a slight secret sweet tooth. (HE ATE THE LAST PIECE OF CHOCOLATE CAKE).

Aizawa is good at cooking but he prefers to eat the food you make (he always helps you clean up the dishes after dinner, though). However, if you're sick or feeling more tired than usual, he will refuse to let you do either of those things, and you better not defy him when he tells you to sit your butt on the couch and let him cook for the night. 

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

I don't know if I have many teenagers following me, but if I do, I want to tell you a story.

Way back when I was in high school, more than half my age ago at this point, I did a politics class mostly because my other two classes were with the same teacher and if I took that one it meant I didn't have to leave the portable in the winter. Which gives you an idea of how seriously I took my education.

For extra credit, our teacher wanted us to attend a local city council candidate's meeting. And he wanted us to treat it like an old 1930s election campaign trail situation. Posters, candidate ribbons, noise makers, the works. Now, he was also bribing us with pizza for after and for a fair number of us that meant a free meal instead of having peanut butter on a spoon for dinner.

So four classes worth of twelfth graders rocked up at this thing armed with campaign slogans we'd made up for our chosen candidates, posters, one kid had a bunch of glow sticks. And we freaking roared whenever someone would step up to the podium to start their pitch.

And most of the politicians ate it up. These meetings usually got fifteen little old ladies looking for something to do on a Tuesday night. We outnumbered them. We were taking up the whole back half of the room. Most of us, that would be our first year eligible to vote, and I guess seeing us there lit a fire under them. It went from 'This year's holiday light display should be blue and white themed, all in favour?' to 'This town is pretty nice, but it could be better. Let's figure out how!' Instead of the meeting ending after the last speaker and everyone grabbing some sugar cookies and coffee, it turned into a question and answer period. They wanted to know what we wanted from them.

We discussed how our little town turning more and more into a bedroom community or commuter town meant that job opportunities were leaving. How that lack of prospects for us was contributing to the rate of drug use and suicide. The epidemic of teen pregnancies was costing so many young women their education because they were encouraged to drop out of school. And how we needed things to do that weren't just sitting in the mall food court.

Over the next few years, things started to happen. The community centres started doing career training programs. Everything from engine repair to nail technician. The adult learning centre had a class that was all young mothers getting their high school diplomas. They built a skate park. There were outdoor concerts and music events. The hockey rink and outdoor performance stage got fixed up. A pretty big company came along and brought tons of jobs with it and suddenly we had opportunities that weren't either a burger joint or shovelling icing in the cookie factory.

This is all a long, slightly rambling way to say that while voting is absolutely important, if you really want your voice heard, show up to meetings. Make some noise. Tell your elected officials what you need to thrive in your community. Especially if you're in a small town.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

⚡ - Goodbye Fossil Fuels, Hello Renewables: The Energizing News You Need

1. Fungi discovered that can eat plastic in just 140 days

Australian scientists have successfully used backyard mould to break down one of the world's most stubborn plastics — a discovery they hope could ease the burden of the global recycling crisis within years. 

It took 90 days for the fungi to degrade 27 per cent of the plastic tested, and about 140 days to completely break it down, after the samples were exposed to ultraviolet rays or heat. We really see a solution within five years, according to environmental scientist Paul Harvey, an expert on global plastic pollution.

2. Topeka Zoo welcomes new African Lion as female sprouts mane

The Topeka Zoo has welcomed a new African Lion to its pride, a male, as one of its females started to sprout a mane following the 2021 passing of the pride’s last male.

The Topeka Zoo and Conservation Center announced on Thursday, April 13, that Tatu, a 4-year-old African Lion, has arrived in the Capital City. He comes to Topeka from the Denver Zoo and his arrival marks a time of growth for the zoo.

3. This barber opens his shop on his day off for children with special needs – and all of their haircuts are free

On his day off, Vernon Jackson still goes to work, opening up his Cincinnati barber shop, Noble Barber and Beauty, for VIP clients: children with special needs. 

It's something he's done since 2021. "I was hearing so many horror stories that parents were going through with other barber shops and just the barbers or stylists having no patience with their child," Jackson told CBS News. "So I figured I would compromise by coming in on my day off so there were there would be no other barbers or stylists in the shop and I could give them the full attention that they need."

4. Renewables break energy records signalling ‘end of the fossil age’

Experts are calling time on the fossil age as new analysis shows wind and solar power produced a record amount of the world’s electricity last year.

The renewables generated 12 per cent of global electricity in 2022, up from 10 per cent the previous year, according to the report from clean energy think tank Ember. Last year, solar was the fastest-growing source of electricity for the 18th year in a row, rising by 24 per cent from 2021.

5. New nuclear medicine therapy cures human non-hodgkin lymphoma in preclinical model

A new nuclear medicine therapy can cure human non-Hodgkin lymphoma in an animal model A single dose of the radioimmunotherapy, was found to quickly eliminate tumour cells and extend the life of mice injected with cancerous cells for more than 221 days (the trial endpoint), compared to fewer than 60 days for other treatments and just 19 days in untreated control mice.

To explain it in simple terms because this is so freaking cool: There is a radioactive atom attached to a drug. The target cell eats the drug and the energy coming off of the radioactive atom kills the target cell

6. Colorado passes first US right to repair legislation for farmers

Colorado farmers will be able to legally fix their own equipment next year, with manufacturers including Deere & Co obliged to provide them with manuals for diagnostic software and other aids, under a measure passed by legislators in the first U.S. state to approve such a law.

Equipment makers have generally required customers to use their authorized dealers for repairs to machines such as combines and tractors.

7. When a softball player falls after hitting a grand slam, this is how her opponents reacted

----

That's it for this week :)

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[anna-hawk]

Dexterity

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having some quality time on your own when Frank pays you an unexpected visit.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 4,1k

Tags and warnings: masturbation, finger fucking, teasing, praise kink, hand & finger kink, dirty talk

Always time for Coffee series

⚠️ If you follow me on AO3, this is NOT a new fic! ⚠️

A/N: This month will mark five years since I posted my very first Frank x Reader fic. I made a small post for the series a few years back, but never a dedicated one for the first ever fic. After the news and pics of getting Frank back today, even if it's only for a small role, I was thinking back to the time I got first inspired to write and actually post something for once. It's been quite the journey since then and this series has now 16 parts, but most importantly, this fic played a big part in me joining the beautiful fandom that I've been a part of these past 4 years and getting me to meet incredible people. So I figured, let's be nostalgic and officially post it on here too.

Ever since meeting Frank Castle, you’ve been obsessed with his hands.

You know they have killed numerous people and could do cruel things to the ones deserving it, but you also know how kind and gentle they can be. When he would come to your shop as Pete, you’d seen how he would talk to one of your employees' kid, the boy having always had a short fuse, and manage to calm the boy down by simply putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The couple of times when he’d handled the fragile elements of your ice cream maker while repairing it with those deft hands had also shown how gentle they could be. 

Yeah, you really have a thing for his hands and the guy himself.

The first time you'd met him, you'd met Pete Castiglione the construction worker, who’d been visiting your Café for the first time. You had followed the whole Punisher debacle on TV and had been very intrigued by the man’s story. Yet even though you'd thought that Pete looked familiar, it had taken you a few weeks of him coming in every other day and helping you out with an electrical problem, to realize who had actually been hiding under all this wild hair and beard. That had been the first time you had come into contact with his hands, too. He had taken off his baseball cap, looked at you to ask where the problem was while standing really close to you, and something in his expression had finally made it click inside you. You'd breathed out, “Frank Castle,” in stunned realization a moment later. In the next second, he'd had you by your throat and against the opposite wall, asking who’d sent you. You had been so startled that you’d just started laughing at the absurdity of you being able to hurt him. Okay, so maybe not really laughed as much as choked, since he’d had his fingers squeezing rather hard around your windpipe. But you'd managed to wheeze out your thoughts, and he'd released you enough for you to tell him why and how you had recognized him. He’d deemed you trustworthy enough, apparently, because he'd let go of you and apologized for overreacting.

You had promised him that you would never tell anyone about him that same evening.

As weeks passed, and he’d still come by your Café, you'd managed to build a rather close friendship. After a while, though, you'd noticed that he was coming by less and less until he stopped coming altogether, making you worried. Finally, after the day everyone had found out that Frank Castle was still alive through live TV, he'd come to your shop when you were closing. You had been even more scared for him since the news and beyond relieved to see him unscathed. You had been touched to learn that he’d wanted to make sure that no one had found out that you knew about him and come to hurt you to get to him. He'd also told you that he would have to lie low for a while. You'd suggested that he should come to your place and hide there. He had declined, too worried about what could happen to you. Still, as you'd accepted his concern, you'd told him that he could come to yours whenever he needed to, no matter the time of the day or the night. You had never been more glad about giving him your address because weeks later, he had come to hide for the night and had done so several nights until the whole thing with Billy Russo had been over.

Nowadays, he still shows up every now and again. Mostly nights because he has some business to take care of, or just to say hi. You both grab a drink (mostly coffee) and chat. You enjoy his company a lot. Okay, more than a lot. You’ve had a thing for the Punisher even before meeting Frank, but since knowing the man himself, you couldn’t help being attracted to Frank and his beautiful large hands and agile fingers. Among other things. You don't know where he stands with romantic or even only physical relationships considering his past, but you do kind of flirt with one another. You know that Frank likes you a lot; otherwise he wouldn’t come to see you regularly. But even if you want him, badly, you feel that it’s more like bantering to him and nothing more.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming or fantasizing about him and the filthy things that you’d love him to do to you or you to him, though. And that's actually exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re lying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, one hand inside your sleeping shorts while your breaths come harder and faster. You’ve been teasing yourself for what feels like an hour, fingers alternating between circling your clit languidly and pushing three deep into you to mimic the size of two of his, getting yourself closer and closer to one spectacular orgasm. You’ve got your eyes closed, face flushed, bottom lip between your teeth, while your middle finger is rubbing faster and faster over your slippery clit. Harsh breaths leave you as you picture Frank spreading you wide with his fingers and whispering dirty nothings into your ear. You’re right there, on the brink, ready to fall, when there’s a resounding knock at your door.

You yelp in surprise and flinch so hard that you nearly hit yourself in the face with how fast you remove your hand from between your legs. You’re trying to get your bearings back, your body still trembling from being strung high for so long and not getting what it wants, when there is another knock. You groan in frustration and get up on wobbly legs to go check on who wants to see you so badly at that time of night. You look through the peephole and gasp when you see Frank’s face. He'd been here only last week, and he usually shows up only once a month at best, so you’re completely thrown when you open your door to the smirking man.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greets in his signature gruff and deep voice, upper body pressed lazily against the door jamb.

He’s looking calm and carrying no signs of a recent fight. Meaning that this isn’t an emergency call. Good. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal Henley with his usual combat boots, three days worth of stubble on his face. He looks mouthwatering, and you valiantly try not to let anything show on your face.

“Was in the neighborhood visitin' Curtis and thought I could come check on you too. Sorry it’s so late,” he continues, confirming your earlier thoughts on there being no immediate danger.

“You’ve come by way later, Frank,” you remind him with a snort and motion for him to follow you inside.

You notice that your voice came out a bit strained, and hope that he doesn’t see how your knees are still shaking after the near orgasm and the effect his unexpected presence has on you. Well, turns out that you’re out of luck. 

“You okay there?” He asks, as he follows you into the kitchen.

You groan inside, of course he noticed. You still try to play it off.

“What? Of course, I’m okay.” You hate how your laugh sounds off. You’re usually better at faking stuff like that.

“Yeah?” he says, coming to stand right before you to give you a once over. “'cause you’re all flushed and breathin' kinda hard.” He even lifts one hand to feel your temperature, but you dodge it and turn to the sink, reaching over it to get two coffee mugs out of a cupboard. Anything to avoid him see you blush even more.

“I’m fine, Frank, don’t worry… Coffee?” You desperately hope that he’s going to let it go. You need to put yourself back together and slow your breathing.

“Can never refuse your coffee.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief when he seems to accept your answer and smile at how fond he sounds of your coffee making skills. You’re about to reach for the coffee beans when he says, “Seriously, though, am I makin' you this nervous or what's goin' on?”

You put your hands back down and groan in defeat, hanging your head.

“Could you just let it go, Frank? Please?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t turn around to look at him while you wait.

“Did I interrupt somethin'?” He finally says, amusement clear in his voice. Damn him and his perceptiveness.

You hide your face in your hands and whimper in embarrassment.

“Oh God, just shut up, Frank!” Your voice is muffled by your hands. He barks out a laugh, making you lower your hands again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, hey, `s okay Sweetheart, there’s nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells you gently, though you can tell that he’s still grinning, the bastard.

“Yes well…” You still refuse to turn around, even though you can hear him move closer behind you.

“'could always show me, y'know,” he says, and even though the words hit you to the core because the thought alone sends a new wave of deep arousal through you, you can’t place his tone. 

That's why you do the only thing that comes to mind and gasp, turning around to backhand him in the chest and play into the joke.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”

You meet his eyes and see that there’s something there, lying just under the teasing glint. You suck in a breath, holding it in, while your heart beats a nervous tattoo against your rib cage.

“Or… I could help 'course,” he finally says, voice low, after what feels like minutes and not seconds, his piercing eyes never leaving yours.

You stare at him, still barely daring to breathe. The idea of him helping you out nearly sends you to your knees. Eventually, you exhale in a snort because come on, he doesn’t mean it, and go back to facing the counter, taking the coffee beans out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, right… Let’s get back to that coffee, yeah?” Bonus points for sounding offhand.

You hear him taking another step and then see his hands coming to rest on the counter, one on each side of you, effectively caging you in. His voice is a rough whisper against your left ear, making you gasp.

“Is that a no?”

Your hands, now inches apart from Frank’s, are gripping the marble beneath them, hard. You close your eyes and swallow.

“Don’t play games with me, Frank.” Your voice goes deeper and colder in warning. You might not expect anything romantic-wise from him, but you won’t be made a fool of.

“‘m not playin', Baby.”

To confirm his words, he glides his nose along your nape and bites you lightly on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

You moan, all need. That nickname. He's never used it before, but it does something to you. Babe you’ve never liked. But Baby? The way Frank says it, just gets to you. You incline your head to the side, a silent surrender, and feel him grin against your skin. Your eyes are closed so that you don’t see his right hand leave the counter, but feel it settle on your hip and slowly glide down your thigh to the hem of your shorts. To your dismay, his mouth leaves your neck.

“Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart,” he rumbles into your ear.

You oblige instantly, parting your legs and leaning slightly forward to accommodate him. Frank hums in approval. You can feel his fingers on your skin now, just beneath the hem of your shorts, slowly making their way under your right butt cheek and to your center, the touch light and measured. How is it that he's barely touching you and making your breathing speed up again? You try to relax your hands because you’re still gripping the hard kitchen surface like crazy; anything to anchor you. But Frank chooses that moment to push the short’s to the side, hooking it between your ass cheeks and the left side of your outer lips, to grant him easier access. One large finger slides through your still wet folds. One lazy pass through your slit and up to your clit, and your hands lock into place again, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth.

“Shit, already so fuckin’ wet, huh? Guess I did interrupt somethin' good.”

You say nothing, you can’t right now.

Frank keeps up his slow and torturous pace, sometimes staying over your clit and circling it with a featherlight touch that has you nearly screaming in frustration. You try to get a bit more pressure by pushing down on his finger every time he does this, but he just goes back to teasing your slit. Your arms are trembling from the strain, and you murmur a nearly silent plea for more. He seems to hear you though because he chuckles kindly and applies enough pressure for you to moan in satisfaction for a few seconds, before he stops again, too soon. When you fantasize about him, you usually picture him as the teasing kind of lover, but your imagination could never have reached this level.

“Tell me… What you been thinkin' about earlier?”

You’re kind of put out to hear that his voice is still steady, so you decide on the truth. In for a penny and all that.

“You,” you breathe softly.

His movements stop, and you’re satisfied with his reaction, when you realize that you might have overshared. His hand is moving again a moment later, and he growls deep in his throat. He presses his chest to your back, left hand coming up from the counter to grab your jaw and pull it to the side to press biting kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you keen.

“Me, huh? Fuck, now I really want ya to show me sometime…,” he pants roughly into your neck, index finger rubbing tighter and harder over you. “And what was I doin’?”

You have to concentrate to answer him, the pressure on your clit so delicious now. Your voice ends up breaking on each word.

“Something… like… that…”

“Something?”

“Finger-fucking… me.”

He inhales sharply, and you feel him adjust his position behind you, his clothed erection brushing against your ass for a second.

“Something like that?”

Two of his large fingers plunge deep into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out in bliss and go up on your tiptoes for a second as your body rises. Your back bows backward, resulting in your head coming to rest on his shoulder, while your eyes close, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good for me, Baby,” he groans into your temple. He withdraws slightly before pushing back all the way in, setting a steady rhythm as the way his name keeps falling from your lips keeps him going.

The hand on your jaw slackens after a while and travels down your neck, over your collarbone and a covered nipple. He’s stroking down your belly and to the junction of your thighs before he finally stops directly over your clit. He rolls it between index and thumb with just the right amount of too much and not enough pressure, or flicks quickly over it repeatedly to keep you on your toes and not know what to expect next. The rhythm of his two hands are completely different. Where his left hand is teasing you slowly but mercilessly, his right hand still has two fingers fucking you fast and deep, making you whimper brokenly. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, yet you know that it’s to keep you on the edge of release. You love and hate it at the same time. The dual sensation has you removing your head from his shoulder to take your weight with your hands on the counter again, leaning forward a bit more to push your ass out and give him even better access.

Frank grunts his approval and keeps up the pace. You feel him resting his forehead on the nape of your neck.

“Holy shit, girl, look at ya takin' my fingers so perfectly,” he says gruffly. You squeeze down on said fingers at the praise, resulting in a groan of appreciation from him.

Eventually, no matter how long he’d intended to keep you on the brink, you’ve been strung so high for so long, that your orgasm is building inexorably, your body ready to crash back down again. His continuous praise is speeding it up as well. Your legs start to shake and a light sheen of sweat is covering your skin. Your harsh breaths are intermingled with moans and gasps of please mores and yesyesyes.

“Frank, please,” you beg one last time. “Please!”

“I gotcha, Sweetheart,” Frank answers finally and starts upping his pace on your clit.

“Yes!” you hiss, elated.

But Frank is apparently not completely done with you because he removes his two fingers from inside you, only to push back but with a third one, this time. You can only cry out in surprise and deep pleasure as he gives you half a second to adjust, before he starts an intense rhythm again. You’ve never felt this full with only fingers, and you can now feel as your release starts curling hotter and tighter in your belly.

“F-f-f-frank, I’m so, so close,” you manage to breathe out.

Frank keeps a litany of words spilling out of his mouth against your neck, “So fuckin' perfect for me” and, “Takin' me so beautifully”.

Suddenly, you're right there again, just like before, ready to take the leap. You feel the shivers running through your whole body and centering where Frank is rubbing tighter and tighter circles. Frank lifts his head from yours and growls deeply into your ear. “Now come for me, Baby. Come on my fingers.”

“Oh fuck, Frank!” You mewl, high-pitched, and that’s it. Everything in you snaps at his words. The intensity of this so long to come orgasm hits you like a freight train driven by Frank Castle. Your body curves back against his, your head back on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hold on the kitchen worktop becomes deadly again after having slackened somewhat, and you cry out in pure, unadulterated bliss. You dimly feel Frank stopping the fingers inside you and taking them out to circle your waist and push you even more back against him. His focus is on his left hand, index finger still stroking your bud with intense precision, prolonging your release.

As you’re slowly coming down, your body begins to tremble and Frank tightens his hold on you to prevent your knees from giving out on you. You finally release the worktop, fingers a bit stiff, and put them over Frank’s arm to hold on to. His finger hasn’t stop working you, though, and while it’s sending you nice aftershocks, which have you jerking and gasping against him, you finally reach down with one hand to grab his wrist to stop his movements and rest it against your waist with the other.

“Too much,” you mumble into his throat.

You stand like that for a while, both not saying anything while you try to get your breathing back under control. As the seconds trickle by, and you process the last fifteen minutes, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and escapes your lips.

“What?” Frank asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“That was so not what I was expecting from your visit… Not that I mind, of course,” you grin, all relaxed limbs and all.

Frank chuckles, “‘m a man full of surprises.”

You reach down to tug at your shorts and make yourself presentable again, and snicker.

“That you are,” you say and turn around in his arms to look at him, your hands coming to rest on his strong chest.

Your heart misses a beat when you see his face. He’s a bit flushed, and he’s still breathing rather deeply, but it’s his eyes that capture your full attention. They are still dark with arousal, the gaze intense and fixed on yours. Frank’s lips break out in a smirk as he catches you staring. You swallow and clear your throat as you finally take in the hard outline of his dick against your body. You’re about to open your mouth to inquire about it, but he beats you to it.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart.”

“But-”

“‘m good,” he cuts in again, kissing your temple to take the sting out of his rebuttal before letting go of you.

You stay quiet and lean back against the counter as you nod vaguely. Frank takes a few steps backwards away from you, one hand coming up to rake through his hair and down his neck in a nervous gesture. He doesn’t look at you, so you decide to break the silence. You’re still floating on your high a bit and don’t want things to get uncomfortable between you two.

“So… coffee?”

You see him take a small breath and look back at you with a smile. His eyes are kind but unreadable, like they so often are when he’s thinking about something.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.”

You smile and get back to grab the things you need, Frank going to sit on the couch. The silence is only broken by the coffee grinder for a small while. Your apartment is one large space with an open kitchen that gives on a big living area. A comfortable couch and a coffee table, that are framed by two armchairs, face a flat screen TV and huge floor to ceiling windows. Your bedroom with en suite bathroom is on the opposite side from the kitchen. You adore this place. From where you’re preparing the two mugs, you only have to turn your head to the left to see Frank sitting on the couch, arms thrown over the back of it, legs spread wide. He stares unblinkingly at the darkness and buildings outside your windows. You bite your lip and sigh softly. Once you’re done, one mug with strong dark coffee for Frank in one hand and in the other one with decaf because you definitely don’t need any more excitement tonight, you make your way over to him.

You walk around the back of the couch to sit at the opposite end, your back resting against the armrest. You extend your hand with Frank’s mug toward him. He blinks down at it for a second before taking the mug. He turns his upper body to face you, and you relax a little more at the half smile, half smirk that he usually wears and that he gives you now.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully and hums in pleasure when he takes his first sip.

“Anytime,” you chuckle warmly. You had been proud to find out that Frank had initially come to your Café because he had heard people talking about the quality of your coffee.

You sit there without saying anything, but this time it’s a comfortable silence, both savoring your drinks.

“So how’s Curtis?” You inquire after several long minutes.

It’s an honest question, but you also want to show Frank that you can still talk like you used to. You’ve never met Curtis, but you’ve heard a lot about him and how he has always been there for Frank. That alone means a lot in your book. You end up talking for a small amount of time, conversation becoming easier, before Frank decides to bid you goodnight. You walk him back to the door, and he envelops you in a hug that you hadn’t been expecting at this point. He kisses you on a temple like he often does, making you smile into his neck fondly before returning the kiss but on one cheek instead.

“Take care,” he rasps into your ear, before letting go of you and opening the door.

“Be careful,” you counter with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look.

Frank chuckles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”

He walks off to the elevator, which opens for him immediately when he pushes the call button, and steps inside. He lifts a hand in a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him, and then he’s gone.

You close your door and lean against it, heaving a heavy sigh. You don’t really know what to feel right now. You’ve just had one of the most memorable orgasms of your life, but still don’t know where you stand with Frank. If you go back to how things were before tonight, that’s fine with you. You’re kind of afraid that you might have scared him off, but the way he behaved before leaving makes you feel confident enough that you haven’t. The ball is definitely in Frank’s court now. You would have to wait and see.

[hxneyfarm]

have a little father's day blurb about complicated father-son relationships. 1k. cross posted to ao3

steve's relationship with his parents has been complicated at best his entire life but it's only after he and eddie have an apartment together in chicago that his perception of of the father-son relationship shifts.

for the past decade or so, he's watched eddie's relationship with wayne and ached a little bit. because that's the kind of father-son relationship he wishes he could have had with his dad.

it wasn't always great, especially after his dad realized steve could mostly fend for himself and started leaving him alone more and more often for longer stretches of time. but it wasn't all bad either. his dad used to take him to ball games and he taught him how to ride a bike without the training wheels. he taught him how to change the oil in his beamer and how to bullshit his way through a book report.

mostly, though, he taught steve how to be lonely.

over the past couple of years, steve has slowly been trying to repair that stilted relationship with his old man. the guy isn't going to be around forever, and if nothing else he owes it to steve to leave him with some good memories after he's gone.

father's day has always been a bit of a weird day for steve, because his dad has always kept his feelings close to the vest, so steve's never had any idea how to navigate the day around him.

he thinks about the year he was thirteen; they'd gone to a cubs game together at wrigley and his dad let him have a cup of beer with his hotdog. he thinks of the year he was sixteen, before hawkins turned itself upside down; his dad was out of town at the condo in indy for some work conference the following week and he'd sighed when steve called him to wish him well, thinking there'd been something wrong at home.

this year is going to be different, steve tells himself.

he and eddie have invited both his dad and wayne to their apartment in chicago for dinner, and his dad is going to be here. steve's already bought a card for his dad, and his mom sent him her lasagna recipe, and he splurged for a good bottle of red wine.

hopefully this year will begin to repair the distance between steve and his dad.

steve finds himself hovering over the coffee maker at the kitchen counter, staring off into space while it brews, and eddie startles him a little when he comes up behind him to wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek.

'you good?'

"yeah. little nervous.'

'it'll be fine. i made him laugh at christmas last year. remember?'

steve does remember. it was a good christmas.

it took steve's parents some time to accept steve and eddie as steve and eddie, but it's been so long now that it's not something that the harringtons can just ignore. if they want to be a part of their son's life, they need to get used to eddie. and this past christmas felt like a win - the harringtons had gifted them concert tickets and a fancy toaster oven for their apartment.

that night, after the sunday chores have been done and the laundry has been folded and put away, richard and wayne show up within moments of each other. steve and eddie's beagle mix, ozzy, greets them at the door, his tail thumping against the floor as he resists jumping up to beg their visitors for pets.

dinner goes really well; richard doesn't say anything offensive about their little apartment and eddie doesn't goad him into a discussion about politics. together, the four of them reminisce about steve and eddie's childhoods around the table, their plates overflowing with noodles and red sauce. wayne tells them stories about eddie that steve's never heard before, and richard tells stories that steve had completely forgotten about.

it's giving steve hope, this father's day dinner with his dad and his boyfriend and his boyfriend's uncle-dad.

until steve and richard are at the sink washing up the dinner dishes together, and everything crashes down around them.

'you're still young,' richard says. 'there's still time.'

'for what?'

'for you to come to your senses.'

'dad...'

'no, i mean it. there's always a job waiting for you at my firm. plenty of pretty girls in administrative roles there, too.'

'dad...' steve says again.

'i'm just saying, steven. it's time to stop playing house like this and settle down.'

'i am settled. we have a good life here. i love my job at the school. i love my life. i love eddie.'

'don't you want kids of your own? he can't give you that.'

steve scoffs.

'why would i want kids of my own? i didn't exactly have the best parental role models growing up. i'd fuck a kid up, just like you and mom fucked me up. besides, i have my students. that's plenty for me.'

'we gave you everything, steven.'

'everything except your presence. i needed you guys, especially as a teenager. and you guys just... didn't give a shit. why would i want to keep that cycle going?'

the silence in the kitchen is so loud.

'it's late. you should get going. eddie's got work in the morning.'

richard sighs.

'the offer stands. the firm is always there when you're ready.'

'just go. happy father's day.'

it comes out bitter. snappy. steve doesn't apologize.

richard goes. steve stays in the kitchen and tries not to think about it. he pops open a second bottle of wine - cheap, sweet, white, the kind of wine his father would mock him for drinking if he gave him half a chance.

he feels stupid for thinking his father could change, for thinking it could ever be different. people his dad's age are so stuck in their ways that there's no getting through to them. it's not easy but it's reality.

after wayne leaves, eddie comes into the kitchen to join steve and pour himself a glass of that cheap riesling steve's been working his way through. he doesn't say anything because he doesn't have to. ozzy curls up at steve's feet and the three of them sit together in a comfortable silence. eddie holds steve's hand atop the table.

at least steve isn't lonely anymore.

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

Alex kralie getting into ceramics after everything happened. Taking a class for 50$ a month. Now that he and Tim have a place and arent blowing all their money on motels, they can sort of afford it. Tim encourages it, even if Alex sees it as a waste. His argument is, Alex needs something to get out of the house for. Hes too much of a disaster to get a job, and before this he had just been laying in bed, still as stone and staring at the wall for all the hours that Tim was working. At least now he moves.

For the first few months, he makes nothing good. Mishapen pots and ugly mugs. He mushes so many projects together before they can even dry. Hating his work, disgusted by the crap his useless hands push together. When he first starts getting things back out of the kiln, he takes them home unglazed and throw them against the concrete of the parking lot. Tim arrives at their place to find Alex surrounded by broken hardened clay, and wonders if maybe this wasn’t the right thing to encourage. If maybe Alex wasn’t ready to re-enter society yet. Was he damaged beyond repair? Was there no fixing what the Operator had done to him both mentally and emotionally? Tim could feed him, make him sleep, keep him clean- repair the physical wounds. But he couldn’t fix Alex’s brain if it was already too broken.

But Alex went back to the studio again the next week. And after another month or so, Tim wakes up for work one morning, and is met with hot coffee, presented in a bumpy, shiny black and brown mug. Alex holds it out to him, one of his hands in the pocket of Tim’s sweatshirt that he must have put on.

(Neither of them have many clothes. Might as well share what they did have. Same reason they just used the same bed. Not like they could afford a two bedroom apartment anyway.)

“Thanks.” Tim stares at him, takes the mug. “Did you make this?”

“The coffee maker did,” Alex says, rubbing the back of his neck. Avoiding Tim’s eyes. He sits on the edge of the bed, near Tim’s legs. “Same brand we always buy.”

Tim raises a brow. “Right.” On the inside of the handle are the letters ‘AJK’. Tim feels a warmth fill his chest that has nothing to do with the coffee. He takes a sip.

“What do you think? Of the coffee.” Alex scuffs his socked feet on the carpet.

“It’s good. Really good. Thanks, Alex.”

The corner of Alex’s lip twitches like it does when he wants to smile but physically can’t bring himself to. Tim considers it a win.

“And it’s for me?” Tim asks to clarify.

“I gave it to you, didn’t I?” He mumbled.

Tim’s heart warmed some more.

He was right from the start. Tim was glad he encouraged this. It just proved his point- no one wasn’t worth trying to save.

[silentcartoonist2018]

Chapter 8: The Redo Date

With the rest of the school week about to become a pure nightmare, Mr. Krupp almost felt inclined to call in sick for the rest of the week. But knowing Edith, this potentially runs the risk of her having to reschedule their Redo Date. Plus, payday’s just around the corner and he needs the money to pay for food and tickets this weekend. 

Mr. Krupp kept asking Mr. Ree for updates on the hypno ring, but the janitor kept saying there were none. 

All he could do for now is to put himself on complete lockdown. Which means he’s gotta repeat all of his preventative maneuvers on Monday…four more times. Worst of all, there’s no rain to act as a safety net for him. 

Tuesday

In preparation, Mr. Krupp brought in a plastic water basin and extra hand towels to keep his face wet. He essentially had to beg Ms. Anthrope to clear his schedule for the rest of the week, except for an appointment for repairing his office window, that he just noticed, had a crack on the sill, stemming from where he slammed it closed a little too hard. 

He made an extra attempt to ask Mr. Ree to leave the sprinklers out front, but the janitor warned him that this would max out this month’s water bill. 

To Mr. Krupp, it was worth it. 

Mr. Ree, meanwhile, had nothing new to report on repairing the ring. 

Today’s music playlist was Amadeus Mozart.

Wednesday 

Mr. Krupp insisted that Reid stop delivering his morning coffee for the rest of the week and take a break from reporting misbehaving students. Reid reluctantly agreed, but her usual unsettlingly, disapprovingly cold glare became 10 degrees icier. It thawed out shortly after she was told she was still allowed to use the coffee maker in the teacher’s lounge. 

Mr. Ree reported no new developments except he started to identify some serial numbers on the Hypno Ring’s incredibly tiny components.

Today’s music playlist was Vivaldi. (He quit Mozart after listening to —and looking up—“Lich mi….” Um….well….ask someone who knows a lot about Mozart, he’s a bigger rascal than you’d think.)

Thursday

The window repair guys came at the worst possible time—during recess. Krupp was able to clearly hear the kids playing outside and feared for his life that whoever it was he turned into would jump out the window and run amok through the entire neighborhood. While the window sill was being repaired, Mr. Krupp excused himself from his office to give the workers some room and attend to other duties. 

And by “other duties” he meant hiding inside the library. Ms. Singerbrains (Yes, she’s still working, surprisingly) found it odd that Krupp sandwiched his head between two beanbags for an entire afternoon. 

Mr. Ree was too busy to work on the ring last night because he was going out to see a movie with Ms. Yewh.

Today’s playlist was Hans Zimmer. (Krupp got bored of listening to classical music)

Friday 

Mr. Krupp triumphantly accomplished having gone through all five days of school without a blackout and felt a significant increase in his confidence. 

Plus today was payday and he planned to pocket $300 for his weekend budget. 

Unfortunately, amidst his emboldened confidence there was a significant slip-up.

All that could be said was that the office window was completely broken through, and the other red curtain had been ripped off. 

In the dreamscape, Krupp had caught Wiseguy having a spat with someone who seemed to be trying to get through a strange booth that popped up out on the water labeled “Unnecessary Cameo”. He could have sworn he could see something yellow and flat with a black top hat.

Wiseguy, finally having shooed away the stranger, closed the door, pulled out a ridiculously large hammer and hit the extra door back into the water.

He adamantly insisted that it was no one important. 

In the short 10 seconds he spent stuck in his head, he would later wake up in front of the school half-naked again.

The good news is that the sprinklers did their job and almost everyone went home. 

But the bad news is that the office window had completely shattered. 

Today’s playlist was supposed to consist of Kenny G, yet somehow, he completed the entire playlist and it automatically started playing songs by some lesser known Japanese comedian. 

And guess what? To Mr. Krupp’s utter frustration, he would later find out that it was a song that was LITERALLY about finger snapping!

………………………………

Saturday

He woke up this morning only to realize that He overslept. 

Of all days, it had to be on his redo date. 

She was probably waiting for Him right outside His front door. 

Somehow He got himself fully dressed and yet He couldn’t shake off the notion that He might have just spaced out for too long. 

Maybe it was just brain fog?

He reached out for the front door intent on getting to His car and driving over to Her house. 

But before He could unlock the car with His key fob…

…something caught His attention off the corner of His eye. 

She was walking away from His house…

…with someone else….

…someone who dresses the same way He does…

…even His hairstyle. 

At least, that’s what it felt like to Him. 

“Uhh…*****? Who is that?” He thought he said to Her. 

But She just laughed. 

Seemingly as if She were answering His apparent doppelgänger. 

He ran over towards Her and “Him”. 

“What are you talkin’ about? It’s just us right now.” He thought She said, holding “His” hand. 

“Ah, of course!” He said in an uncharacteristically jovial manner. 

He stopped in His steps with His mouth covered. 

That answer came from His mouth.

But it wasn’t what He said.

Not just that, it sounded like “He” answered at the same time He did. 

She laughed again.

And “He” started laughing too. 

They were laughing the same way He and She did on their first date. 

It wasn’t fair. 

He ran up to them just trailing behind like a third wheel. 

He reaches out to grab “His” shoulder, but in half a split second “He” vanishes and His hand is in Her’s. 

He looked behind, but no one was there. 

Suddenly, She grabbed onto his arm affectionately. 

“I dunno why, but you’re so much fun to be with when you have a blackout!”

He felt frozen up until the point He felt His foot landing in a puddle. 

He looked down at His reflection. 

He didn’t see Himself….

He saw a silhouette with a long red shroud with black stars.

…..grinning right back at Him. 

“It” grinned at Him.

Mr. Krupp sprang up in his bed breathing heavily, the events of that night’s dream still fresh in his mind. Once he settled, he slid his hands down his face.

………………………………

Real Saturday

Wallet. Check.

Keys. Check. 

2 32-ounce water bottles attached to belt. Check.

Belt to carry water bottles with. Check.

After giving it a lot of thought, Mr Krupp realized that going out in public is a lot more precarious than he previously thought. There were too many OTHER factors he’d forgotten to consider. 

He was about to enter an unpredictable environment beyond the scope of his authority as a principal where there will be an unpredictably large crowd and there is absolutely no telling when or how he was going to encounter a finger snap, unpredictably. 

So he spent time gathering up a “Sanity Survival Kit” to bring along with him, consisting of two filled jugs of water bottles and a cooling towel of course. 

He judged that he would most likely be safe at the science museum. Museums are boring and there is absolutely no reason for anybody to snap their fingers there. 

But the Farmer’s Market is going to be a triple threat. One, he hasn’t been to one since he was a kid. Two, he’s going to one to actually buy all sorts of delicious food and will likely let his guard down. Three, the market is outdoors, which is a lot noisier and all the more terrifying for a man in his situation. And just being outdoors in general is already risky enough. 

For this specific circumstance, he decided to carry a pair of earplugs. Edith was the one who wanted to go to the farmer’s market and will probably be too busy to talk to him. 

And yet, despite being well-stocked, something disconcerting from that night’s nightmare still stuck with him. He doesn’t even want to entertain the notion….

But what if….?

DING-DONG!

After feeling a split-second episode of Deja Vu, Mr. Krupp managed to make his way to the front door to welcome Edith into his home, only to realize just then that he forgot to unhook the newly installed door chain that he bought 2 days ago. 

“H-Hey, Edith! J-just give me a sec!” The principal stammered. 

“Uh, no worries. Take your time,” Edith said, slightly put off by how frantic Mr. Krupp was behaving by repeatedly trying to open the front door while his door chain was still hooked. 

“Um, maybe you should—“

*insert onomatopoeia for the sound of screws being ripped from wood. And the sound of metal subsequently falling to the floor.*

Of course, Mr. Krupp accidentally ripped off his new door chain, which he would have to replace later. 

“So….ready to go?” He asked while kicking away the now broken chain. 

………………………………

About 10 minutes south of Piqua

The two lovebirds just spent the entire drive having a one-sided conversation, particularly started by Edith, who was talking about a conversation she had with the other lunch ladies at work. She sounded lively at first, talking about some recipes she plans to try in her free time, then at some point, Mr. Krupp stopped paying attention as the radio started playing some lively sounding commercials. 

"…and coming right up, our monthly giveaway for $1000! Just call our toll-free number and snap your fingers as fast as po--"

*Click*

"Well, it's tough to be at the top~"

*Click*

“Is everythin’ ok, Principal Krupp?" Asked Edith.

"Nope—I mean, Yes! Uh, it’s nothing!" Mr. Krupp stammered. "Just feeling like, uh…not listening to music, that’s all!”

“I heard you’ve locked yourself up in your office…and the other teachers say the few times you did walk out, you looked like you were walkin’ on nails.“

“Oh….did they?”

“Did somethin’ happen recently? I-I mean, I don’t mean to pry, but I haven’t seen ya all week.”

“It’s….complicated.”

A brief silence fell between them.

“Does it…involve that towel ‘round your neck?”

“……..Again……Complicated….”

Another silence. 

“Was it because of last—“

“Please don’t guess.” Mr. Krupp interrupted.

An  even longer awkward silence fell between them.

“So…a science museum and a farmer’s market?” Inquired the principal, who wanted to break the ice. 

“Yeah,” Edith replied. “Weird combination, huh? There was a movie at their theater that I really wanted to see and it was only in that one science museum in Daytona. So the Farmer’s market’s gonna make up for all the possible boredom.”

“Sounds good. Sounds good. What’s the film about?”

“Well, it’s in a planetarium. So….Space stuff.”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Duh! Of course space stuff. What else would they be playing?”

“Well…since the planetarium doubles as an IMAX theater. And it’s in a science museum so….”

“Right! Science stuff! What’s wrong with me today!?” Mr Krupp chuckled. 

“A lot apparently.” Edith said under her breath.

“What?”

“What?”

………………………………

A few minutes after getting off the exit near Daytona, the farmer’s market could be seen the next road over. The venue probably covered about 5 or 6 blocks so there was bound to be some difficulty finding a place to park. There were a few spots available near the planetarium, but it was practically 5 rows away. Better than nothing, right?

After getting out of the car and re-wetting his towel, the two started making their way across the parking lot. However, Mr Krupp, starting to lag behind, noticed something about his surroundings that he didn’t expect. 

About every other light post along each row of parked cars had a banner advertising an exhibit. He couldn’t really read what was on banners but he took notice of an awful lot of bright looking colors on the graphics. 

He then noticed the sound of high pitched voices and small footsteps…and something else…

Laughter…..

It was most likely from families who had to park at the museum. 

Mr. Krupp double checked the signboard of the museum that he never had the chance to look up. 

And then he started screaming inside his head:

A CHILDREN’S SCIENCE MUSEUM!?!?!?

No!! NOOOOO!!!!!

“Somethin’ wrong, Principal Krupp?”

The principal took one of his water bottles and completely drenched his toupee and put it back on his head, gathering back his resolve. If this was where Edith wanted to go, then he’s got no other choice.

“Nope! Let’s go right in!”

He was going to make this the best date ever!

However….

…as they were waiting in line for tickets, a security guard approached them.

“I’m sorry sir, but could you perhaps dry yourself off? We don’t want to get the floor wet.”

A VERY cold chill went down Mr. Krupp’s spine. 

The security guard motioned over to a nearby giant fan that was apparently airing out the building. 

For the next 15 minutes, Mr. Krupp stood in front of the fan to dry himself off. It was slightly embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrassing as waking up half naked in public, that’s for sure. 

“Oh no, I messed up again,” cried Edith. 

Mr. Krupp looked up to see Edith looking at the movie schedule. The one listed “Exploring Life On Another Planet” looked to be the only space-related movie that was showing that day and it was scheduled for 10 AM. 

He looked at his smartphone.

8:30 AM. 

“I’m sorry, Principal K. I was counting on traffic being a lot busier coming down here, but maybe we could grab some tickets to see the exhibit for a while? It looks fun and interactive too!”

Krupp was about to clench his fists with rage, but held back when Edith looked at him with puppy dog eyes. 

“Shhhhhhhhhhh-sure! Not a problem!” Mr. Krupp seethed through his teeth.

Today….is going to be the worst day ever. 

[wonnieaura]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. College essentials

Are you moving to a college dorm for the first time and don’t know what to bring? Don’t worry I got you. Here are a few things you can get yourself ready for a new chapter 🫶🏻💗🎀🌱

COLLEGE ESSENTIALS

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Bedding and Comfort

• Twin XL sheets (common dorm bed size)

• Comforter or duvet

• Pillows and pillowcases

• Mattress topper (memory foam for extra comfort)

• Throw blankets

• Decorative pillows

Storage and Organization

• Under-bed storage bins

• Closet organizers

• Hangers

• Desk organizers (for pens, notebooks, etc.)

• Drawer dividers

• Shoe rack

• Storage ottoman (can double as seating)

Kitchen and Dining

• Mini fridge

• Microwave

• Electric kettle

• Coffee maker

• Reusable water bottle

• Plates, bowls, and utensils

• Mugs and glasses

• Tupperware (for leftovers and snacks)

• Snack stash

Bathroom Essentials

• Shower caddy (for transporting toiletries)

• Shower shoes/flip-flops

• Bath towels and washcloths

• Toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, etc.)

• Robe

• Toilet paper

• Laundry basket and detergent

• Bath mat

• Mirror

Study and Technology

• Desk lamp with adjustable brightness

• Laptop and charger

• Power strip with surge protection

• Extension cords

• USB flash drive or external hard drive

• Noise-canceling headphones

• Desk chair cushion (for added comfort)

• Notebooks, pens, and planners

Décor and Personal Touches

• Wall art or posters

• String lights or LED lights

• Rug (to make the room cozier)

• Plants (real or fake)

• Photo frames or a corkboard (to display memories)

• Command hooks (for hanging items without damaging walls)

• Curtains (if the dorm allows)

Health and Wellness

• First-aid kit

• Reusable face masks

• Hand sanitizer

• Disinfecting wipes

• Vitamin supplements

• Water filter pitcher

Miscellaneous

• Fan or space heater (depending on climate)

• Tool kit (for small repairs)

• Umbrella

• Bicycle lock (if biking to campus)

• Reusable shopping bags

• Sewing kit

[cream-and-five-sugars]

Jaune’s daily to do list:

disastrous lighting of the morning lantern (stop the first fire)!!!

save PP from the residual water from stopping the first fire

BRUNCH!

patrol the town - check-in on individual PP

stop the pebble tower from toppling!!

secure the dam

save Ren from falling into koi pond

watch out for tearable twos!! >:(

keep away from shredder!

if any traveling salesman / traders come through, check for hazardous goods

if you wouldn’t give it to a baby, DON’T give it to the PPs!

help w/ daily construction / beautifying projects (so PP don’t get injured)

LUNCH!

no more fried foods (too much grease)!

tea shop fiasco

stop the second fire

save PP from the residual water from the second fire

check-in at sandpaper knife-shop

help rake the sand (*you’d be surprised how dangerous a rake can be!)

keep Oscar away from anything that can be used as a kite string

STOP. THE. GOOSE.

repair scarecrows in rice fields

**if late, fight off giant crows / make new scarecrows (Ruby will help)

stop carts from crashing --> east marketplace

stop the coffee maker at the café before it EXPLODES

[call? get all?] paper indoors before DAILY WIND SURGE

stop Nora from climbing pebble tower during the storm (trust me, this one ends poorly :( )

take the scissors from Neptune

stop the “bandits”

stop the third, and final – hopefully? – fire

help Pyrrha w/ her hw :)

stop the un-foldening (*you’ll know it when you see it)

take away the makeshift lightning rods during the storm

get Paper Pleasers to bed

final rounds

find a way home...

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 7-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,543 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language, health concerns, foul language, mild mention of abuse, brief mention of infertility. I guess just all the usual slasher fucker warnings? Use your own discretion.

A/n: I went into the ZONE for this one, I spent all day on it, ALL DAY. In this chapter I round out some characters a bit more and I get Y/N to push some boundaries. I'm falling in love with this little world. Check the masterlist for some home layout references if you're interested in the layout of the property. As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag-List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 7

A week went by slower than molasses as you stayed in Luda Mae’s room the entire time, only leaving to get a little bit of movement. You were generously allowed to stay at the Hewitt house until your home could be repaired, the entire time you stayed at the house you were weak with a persistent cough from the smoke, so you slept most of the time you were there so that you could recover; Today, you finally feel back to normal.

You had made a call to a company in the next town over who specialized in reconstruction from fire damage, they let you know that the work would take at minimum 4 months to complete and the cost was fairly high; You were fortunate enough to have a large sum of money from Tilly, who left you a dragon’s horde of wealth in her will, so money was not a stressor for once in your life.

Waking up to the sounds of a farm everyday was comforting, the wind blowing through the tall grass, crickets and birds singing songs, chickens and cows going about their business, it was extremely pleasing to hear these sounds every morning. The more you explored the property, the more beautiful you realize it was, despite being banned from viewing certain rooms and areas, there was still so much to see; you could tell that this family was once quite wealthy, they had a large mass of land and the home was enormous, there were fixtures which only the rich could have afforded, they were old and a bit damaged but the extravagance was still there.

You made your way to the kitchen for some coffee and see Luda Mae frying some eggs, she turns to see who entered and smiled when she saw you,

“Mornin’ sweetheart! It’s real nice to see you up and movin’ around this early. Want some eggs? I just been fryin’ some up for breakfast, there’s also coffee in the pot over by the stove.” She turned back to her frying pan and grabbed a plate to place the eggs onto.

You accept her offer and make your way to the coffee pot, you had been so drained of energy the past week that you always woke up so late and were unable to walk around much without coughing up a storm, today you felt strong. You place your coffee on the table and sit down, the kitchen was quite a decent size much like the other rooms in the house, American houses in the south had such massive rooms, they all felt so spacious.

The kitchen was full of mixed technology from varying eras, the stove and fridge were from the 50’s while the coffee maker and the smaller appliances were all from the late 90’s or early 2000’s. There was a theme to this kitchen which tickled your brain, strawberry themed. The kitchen window was situated in front of the tub style sink, it had white curtains with a red strawberry pattern which just added to the coziness. The walls were colored a salmon pink which beautifully accented the white laminate countertops, you saw that the molding was painted that same soft eggshell white from Luda Mae’s bedroom but the floor was still that dark walnut wood which ran throughout the house.

You turn to Luda Mae and say,

“I feel really bad for staying in your room, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch or somewhere else so you can get your space back.”

She laughs and replies,

“Funny you mention that ‘cause I have a surprise for you. Been workin’ on it the whole time you been here.”

You were wondering what she got up to everyday, it seemed like she was nowhere to be found whenever you were awake. You even rarely saw Tommy while you stayed at the house, but Luda Mae assured you it was just him wanting to give you space to recover; apparently, he asked about you every day, and would keep watch for whenever you emerged from the room.

You quickly finished your breakfast in the anticipation to see what this surprise was,

“Ok Luda Mae, I want to see what you have in store for me and then I’ll come back and do those dishes.” You didn’t want to seem like a lazy freeloader, it was the least you could do. She responds,

“You ain’t wasting time doing no dishes while you have your first day of full strength. After I show you what I been workin’ on, you best go outside to get some fresh air.” She smiles at you playfully and takes your hand to guide you to where the surprise was.

You pass the main foyer and make your way through the dining room to reach the edge of the living room where there was a door. You were not allowed to go in the room past that door so you were curious to see what she was hiding, she stops you before you go any further and says,

“Ok Y/N, I know you been wonderin’ what’s behind this here door, and I don’t blame you. I want you to close your eyes and don’t peek ‘till I say so.”

You agree and cover both your eyes with your hands, she guides you through the door and walks you into the room,

“Ok now open ‘em!” she says excitedly.

You open your eyes to reveal a large bedroom, there’s a queen size bed still covered in its original plastic in the far corner of the room, and a writing desk by a large bay window overlooking the meadow. Large cabinets and wardrobes fill up space on the walls while another set of doors can be seen on the opposite end near the bed leading to the outside patio; The walls are a very old white color with one good size chandelier in the middle of the room dangling from the high ceiling, still with all its crystals in-tact. Your eyes widen and you are struck with awe, Luda Mae squeezes your hand gently and says,

“This was bein’ used as storage, it was meant to be my daughter’s room from a very long time ago but, I was never fortunate enough to have her.” She looks down at the floor,

“What happened?” You ask, not realizing that it may be a touchy subject,

“Oh, I’ll tell you that story someday. I want you to know that this room is yours to have, regardless of when your home is fixed, it’ll always be here for you.” She smiles at you endearingly and then continues, “And you can call me Mae from now on hun, no need to say its entirety, just don’t call me Luda.”

You nod and follow with, “How come you don’t like Luda, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shakes her head,

“Me n’ Charlies Pa used to call me that, he was as mean as a starvin’ coyote, liked to hit and berate us both.”

You understood and dropped it, “I’m sorry you went through that, I’ll make sure to just call you Mae then.”

Luda Mae smiles and hugs you with one arm from the side, you match her and hug her with your arm and you both look at the room together side by side.

“I have no words for how grateful I am to have you in my life Mae, you have been like a mother to me and I feel like I could never repay you for your kindness.” You start to feel tears well up in your eyes, overwhelmed with the generosity of this woman.

“Theres’s nothin’ to owe dear, I did this of my own volition. I want you to enjoy it, all I ask is that you start feelin’ like family, because you are.” Her sincerity was enough to make tears stream from your eyes, which she wipes with her handkerchief.

You give her a hug and hold her tightly; you don’t know how to thank her but you promise yourself to make her as happy and loved as she has made you feel.

“You’re such a sweet girl Y/N, I want you to make this here room your home, do whatever you want with it, paint it, move the furniture, hell, whatever your heart desires!” She kisses your head and you release the hug saying,

“Will you help me decorate?” you ask.

Luda Mae looks at you with an excited smile, “I was hopin’ you’d ask!”

-

After the incredible surprise, Luda Mae left to go clean the kitchen and she sent you to go outside to get some sunshine, she handed you a straw hat and said,

“Go on now, explore a bit. Maybe go bug Thomas for a bit, he’d like that.”

You laugh and make your way outside; you start looking around the property and notice a whole lot of things. In one end of the property, behind the house near your new bedroom was the meadow for the cows to graze, next to the house across from the barn was a wheat field, in another end behind the small forest there was what looked like a vehicle graveyard which spooked you a little; there were cars with license plates from all over the U.S. and many different kinds of vehicles in varied states of decay. You decided not to explore that section due to potential hazards; you make your way through to an unexplored part of the property behind the forest which was between the meadow and car graveyard.

This area of the property had some trees around it which gave it privacy, in the middle of this tree perimeter was a large swathe of tall green grass, you found this odd since most of the land you saw was covered in dry, yellow grass. You tried to make your way through the bush, ensuring you don’t step on something dangerous, the further in you went the more wet the ground got -this must be where all the ground water is rising up- you felt a sense of excitement as you got closer to the center.

You finally reached a pond; it was fairly large and was surrounded by beautiful native plants. The water was crystal clear; you could see right to the bottom which was modestly deep, there were lily pads dispersed throughout the surface, and tadpoles played in the shallow zones. You felt an overwhelming desire to swim in it, the water was so pure looking that it was like a dream. So, you did.

You took off all your clothes, the surrounding forest shielded you and the Hewitts were all too busy with chores and farmwork to bother coming by, so you felt sure that you would be left alone. The water was a refreshing temperature and it felt amazing on your skin which was sweating from the heat of the day, as you made your way into the deeper parts of the pond you see small fish bolting out of your way, you decided to only go as deep as your shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the pond for, it was too incredible of a sensation to pass up spending time in. The birds sang for you and the water felt so comfortable, the shine of the sun passing overhead left a shimmer effect on the pond surface. You kept your hat on to protect you from the intense rays and you could not have been more relaxed, the small fish now were coming up to your toes and nipping at them which tickled you. Nothing could be better than this, it felt magical.

Back at the house, Luda Mae checked the clock on the wall and called out for you, when she didn’t hear a response, she went to ask Charlie if he had seen you.

“I hadn’t seen that sweet piece of ass nowhere Luda, I been busy as hell fuckin’ with this damn broken fence.” He was mending the fence by the road all day which had some damage from cows messing with it, he followed with,

“Go ask that kid of yours, I bet he knows where she went. He’s always tryin’ to get a peep on her. He needs to let off some of that pent up frustration, the boy’s brain is already like mud we don’t need him fantasizin’ all day.”

Luda Mae rolls her eyes and heads toward the barn where Tommy was feeding the chickens, she walks up to him and rubs his back asking,

“Son, have you seen Y/N today? She isn’t responding when I holler.”

He shakes his head and looks worried,

“Can you go check to see she hadn’t gone too far out? I worry she got herself lost. I have lunch ready for everyone too so both of you come on back to eat when she’s found.”

Tommy nods his head and immediately heads out from the barn to search for you, he began looking around in the wheat field which didn’t take long because of his incredible height he could see over all the wheat. He goes to check the meadow but doesn’t see you, the car graveyard was next which worried him. When he looked around all the vehicles and didn’t see you, he grew more concerned, the forest area had human traps still left in it from the bad days in the past, he was scared that you were stuck in one.

Tommy carefully made his way through the forest, cautious to avoid trap areas, he still didn’t see you and this made his heart race. He didn’t want to find you hurt and there was a very real risk of that, he paused and tried to listen. The sounds of humming could be heard in the distance, that’s when he remembered the pond and he bolted towards it as quickly as he could.

When he got to the pond area the humming was just you singing a song to yourself, he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He decided to quietly make his way through the reeds so he wouldn’t scare you and stop your singing. For such a bulky man he was incredibly quiet, and with his hushed footing he got past the reeds and saw you in the water, naked.

Tommy immediately turned his head away; he was already intoxicated by your body from the night he saved you from the fire where you had so little clothes on already, and now your body was completely bare. Tommy tried his best to be gentlemanly but his aroused curiosity got the better of him and he just sat there gazing at you like a lion hiding in the tall grass watching their prey.

You looked like a mermaid, your singing was like a siren calling to him, putting him under a spell, he didn’t want this moment to end. He couldn’t see anything much below your shoulders thanks to the sun illuminating a glittering glow around you, he wanted to black out the sun for hiding your beauty from him.

Tommy couldn’t resist moving in for a closer look, he had never seen such beauty in his life, all he wanted was to be with you in this pond sharing in the relaxation and freedom. He wasn’t careful where he stepped and his weight was too much for the soft mud shelf to bear, so he fell in the pond making a lot of noise. You let out a scream and turn around to see a large splash, you try to think if there’s alligators in Texas, and panic sets in.

Tommy got his footing and stood up in the pond, the water in that area was deep for you, but on him it only reached under his pecs. You felt relief at the sight of him, his hair was slick and stuck to his face, he looked like a dog with long fur who was getting a bath, it was cute. Tommy gasped for air and moved his hair from his face pushing it back away from his eyes. You were so taken by him revealing his face again that you didn’t move, his dark green t-shirt clung to his chest and revealed erect nipples underneath. You couldn’t help but giggle a little bit after he turned his head to you looking embarrassed.

You had the biggest crush on this behemoth of a human, every day last week was like agony not being able to see him, he was all you could think about which helped keep your mind off the memory of the fire. He didn’t move from where he stood, he also couldn’t stop staring at you, a devilish smirk appeared on your mouth. You move your wet long hair over your chest for modesty and call out to him,

“I didn’t know you guys had a paradise hiding on your property.” He rubs the back of his head and looks around nodding, you follow,

“Why don’t you come out of the pond this way, it’s a gradual incline here so it will be easier to get out for you.”

He shakes his head and tries to turn back to get out the way he came, so you push,

“Thomas, I can move out of the way if you are too scared to look at my body. Don’t put yourself at risk of drowning, just come out this way.” You felt so bold, the magic of the pond gave you a strange confidence, and Tommy being so shy was endearing and only bolstered your sudden jolt of extroversion.

Tommy hung his head and covered his eyes as he made his way past you, he slipped on the slick mud underneath and fell backwards into the water right next to you, splashing you as he went down. You giggled as his head slowly came up from the water, a very annoyed and embarrassed expression on his eyes. He was able to sit with his butt on the pond floor and his head was able to remain above water, he didn’t move from being too scared of further making a fool of himself.

Seeing him so close to your bare body made you incredibly aroused, you couldn’t help but swim up to him and get between his legs so you could hold onto his chest. You smiled at him and said,

“Don’t be embarrassed, I don’t think this pond is very friendly to such… impressively large men. Why don’t you stay a while and just relax in the cool water with me?”

Tommy’s eyes were so wide you thought they would fall out of his head, you saw his cheeks flush and he was breathing heavily, you were close enough to hear his heartbeat which was racing. He had never been this close to a woman before, well, a woman who was alive and willing to be near him, let alone a naked one. You stare into his eyes, they were so full of emotion and deeply blue like the Pacific Ocean on a summer day reflecting the light of the sun on the water, you were mesmerized, you said,

“You have the most beautiful eyes, Thomas; I could get lost in them.” You reach out to move some stray hairs away from his face.

Tommy was overwhelmed with carnal desire; it was taking a lot of restraint to not touch you and he was worried that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had never felt this way before, he thought his heart was going to explode from pumping so fast, he could feel his veins throbbing and a very specific organ was painfully pressed against his jeans. When you touched his face, he couldn’t take it and instead of just grabbing you and taking you, he got up and ran out of the pond towards the house at lightning speed. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you, or overstep a boundary you didn’t want him to cross, his head was so full of new swirling emotions, he was drunk on the desire you put in him and it was too alien of a sensation for him to handle.

You watched as Tommy got up and ran away from you, it made you laugh seeing him flustered like that. You knew you were tempting a beast but there was a deep lust and longing inside you that wanted him to let loose and ravish you. You were so erotically excited that your groin was aching for touch, it didn’t help that you noticed a massive snakelike shape pressing through his jeans as he got up to escape your spell, the prospect of his size was enough to make you bite your lip thinking about what it looked like freed from the bonds of his pants.

You got out of the pond and put your clothes back on, you made your way back to the house feeling proud of yourself -at least now he must know where I stand- you were looking forward to more overtly flirtatious encounters in the days ahead.

Next chapter-