#drawer knife insert

[caughtinahustle]

San Francisco L-Shape Small modern l-shaped dry bar design idea with no sink, glass front cabinets, black cabinets, solid surface countertops, and black countertops.

[msbarrows]

The scarf I finished last night - a long scarf worked in bean stitch using Red Heart claret yarn. It's kind of stiff and doesn't really drape; I have to fold it back like a collar. I really like the texture of that stitch though; if I do attempt something like a crochet hoodie at some point I'm going to be strongly tempted to work it in bean stitch (though obviously I'd need to use a yarn with more drape).

Also a scarf I finished ten days ago but hadn't posted photos of yet. It's another infinity scarf, this time made wide enough that it can be pulled up like a hood. It's been worked as a single very long row of netting made using Mary Maxim's Prism yarn in the wildberry colourway, and came out very soft and drapey. It's a roving type yarn similar to the Red Heart one I used for the rainbow infinity scarf, but with considerably more consistent yarn width. Also a tendency to curl at the edges, but that works out pretty well in this scarf.

I'd been given the gift of shopping for Christmas, and some of what I ordered arrived today; a ton of teas (not shown) and a knife block drawer insert which is a huge improvement over the tray full of loose knives that used to lurk in this drawer.

[eagledovetail]

Have a Knife Block Drawer Insert, from Eagle Woodworking. This is a custom dovetail drawer to keep your knife and can be custom fit to any size under 16” wide. You can install it in a 4-inch high drawer to keep your knives stored, and you will not have to keep searching when you need it the most. We make each drawer with Appalachian clear maple and other hardwoods.

[victorbutnotreally]

SCREAM!

A/N: This is intense, so if you're not comfortable with anything given in the warnings, i'll see you in the next fic <3 CNC/Consensual Non-Consent is communicated, and consented to beforehand. warnings: boypussy!minho, CNC, role-play, mask kink (ghostface), knife play, threats (consensual), reader is a bit mean?, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, overstimulation, manhandling, rough sex, size difference, belly bulge, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, clit slapping (once), face slapping (once), dacryphilia, handcuffs, swearing, nicknames, established relationship, aftercare

You've done CNC before, but not like this.

Not this intense.

It all started with an innocent Halloween party…Minho dressed as a playboy bunny, and you as Geto Suguru. Both of your costumes were pretty low effort, but you can't deny you guys looked good. Especially Minho who looked absolutely delectable in a black latex babydoll with bunny ears and a pretty collar. When you got home, you still had the Ghostface mask someone handed you during hide-and-seek.

"Be really scary." "Fine, but only if I get to spoil you afterwards."

"I'll kick and scream but don't you dare stop, okay?"

The words rang in your head even on the way home. The words which made you leave the party early. Hell, you didn't even dance to conserve your energy.

As soon as you got home, you locked the front door shut and wearing your Ghostface mask, carried Minho over your shoulder. Minho, who was as light as a feather, as small as a kitten compared to your towering frame, kicked and screamed as he said he would. You heard him scream, and you could only smirk behind your mask. You trusted him to use his safe word if needed, and he trusted you to stop if he does.

You toss him onto bed and hovered over his small body, pinning his hands above his head. He looked at you in terror…god, he was such a good actor.

"P-Please…what are you doing? Let me go.."

"Let me go!!!", he yelled as you took out the knife you had as part of your Geto costume and pressed it against his throat. Thank god it was blunt.

"I'll slit your fucking throat if you make a sound", you said, lowering your voice to up the scare factor. He wanted scary, you'd give him scary.

Minho's eyes widened in feigned terror, although his heart was racing with excitement beneath his skimpy costume.

"Oh god oh god, please don't hurt me!" He whimpers loudly, tears welling up in his eyes for effect. "I-I have money! Take my money, just let me go!" Despite his pleading words, he arches his back as the cold blade pressed against his skin.

You toss the knife aside and grab both of his wrists in one large hand to pin them above his head while the other ran up his thighs, sliding the soaked panties to the side.

"I bet you're enjoying this, you slut." You spat, slapping his clit harshly, making him cry out.

"A-Ah please…no," his protests start to turn unconvincing as he bucks his hips upward.

He squirms and writhes under your grip, face flushed and chest heaving. Despite his protests, his dripping arousal is evident, juices glistening on his inner thighs.

"You're hurting me! This isn't what I wanted!" He cries out, voice cracking. He tries to clamp his legs shut but you easily part them further. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't do this! I'm begging you!"

He played it well. You almost felt bad. But you remind yourself that this is what he wanted. You knew he'd use his safe word, and that was all the reassurance you needed to proceed.

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, you whore."

You say in the same lowered tone. You release his wrists only to cuff it with the handcuffs you grabbed from your nightstand drawer. Your hand which was now free from holding Minho's wrists went to wrap around his neck, putting light pressure, making him gasp and cry as you took off the lace panties and inserted two fingers in, scissoring roughly while your thumb pushed back the hood of his pussy and rubbed harshly against the extremely sensitive clit, making his milky, plush thighs shake and squirm.

Minho thrashes and bucks wildly as your long fingers invade his sopping cunt, scissoring roughly, thumb abusing his aching clit. Tears stream down his flushed cheeks, drool escaping the corner of his mouth as choked sobs spill forth.

"No! Aahh! S-Stop! You're r-ruining me!" He wails pitifully, even as he clenches greedily around the pumping digits. The handcuffs clink as he yanks fruitlessly at the restraints, only to spread his legs wider for your harsh touch.

"Am I? Good." Your tone was harsh, and you could see Minho fighting back a smile.

He was in heaven. Not being able to see your handsome face and hear your actual voice made the fear factor go up exponentially, but it was just as arousing since he knew that it was none other than his beloved boyfriend.

"I'll ruin you, you slut. I'll fucking do that."

Just as those words went past your lips, Minho came undone, sobbing as an intense orgasm took over him.

"You say you don't like this, but you're cumming so fast."

Tears run down his face as he looks up at you with glazed, half-lidded eyes. You reach out, breaking character for a second to run your thumb over his cheek.

"That's a good little slut," you whispered, pulling out your fingers and licking them clean. But you didn't intend to stop there. You undo your pants and boxers, revealing your erection. You gasped as the cold air hit your warm skin. "Let's see how well you can take dick."

"It won't fit! You'll tear me apart!" Minho whines, a pretty pout on his glossy lips. Despite his arousal, he finds himself shutting his quivering thighs, playing into the act. And god how you wanted to kiss those pouty lips you loved so much. But you were enjoying this too much, a big part because of how pleasured Minho looked from this.

"Shut up, whore."

You say harshly, slapping him across the face. You throw his pretty thighs open forcefully with your hand, gazing at the glistening folds through your mask before sliding your dick in, the process easy due to the arousal fluid as well as the previous orgasm's remnants on Minho's pussy.

"So fucking tight, little bunny."

Minho lets out a whimper as your cock spears into his tight heat, stretching him wide. His velvety walls clench and spasm around the invading thickness, moans and curses slipping past his plush lips. Tears run freely down his contorted face as he throws his head back, dark hair splayed across the pillow. His feet flex and toes curl from the intensity.

"P-Please…too big…gonna break me…"

"Stop resisting or it'll hurt more." You say menacingly as you thrust in roughly, every thrust making a bulge in Minho's belly, visible through the tight latex babydoll. He looked so pretty like this, his little hands reaching out to touch you but not being able to because of the restraints.

He whimpered between ragged breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. The brutal pounding of your cock is merciless, each thrust sending waves of excruciating bliss crashing through him. A wet squelch echoed with each snap of your hips, his pussy drenched and gaping around the invading shaft.

You wrap your hand around his throat, moving the index and middle fingers past his lips.

"Y-You fucking whore. Made for taking dick," you groan between thrusts. The words and your relentless abuse of his g-spot made way for the second orgasm which was signalled by his walls clenching around your cock, milking it for all its worth.

"Cumming already like a bitch in heat and you have the fucking nerve to resist me."

His tongue swirls around your fingers obediently, his loud screams muffled by them as he came again. His whole body seizes up, back bowing off the bed. His vision blurred by tears, he looks up at you again, knowing you won't stop.

You smile behind the mask, wanting to kiss his pretty face, but thrusting regardless. You bring his legs up, throwing them over your shoulders as you slam in with more force. Your grip on his thighs was bruising, and the sight of your large hands on his thighs made him clench around you. The assault on his senses made Minho let out the prettiest, most pathetic sounds. You could tell he was sensitive from the two orgasms, but you also knew he had good endurance.

His legs bring you in closer, heels rubbing against your back as he tried to stay still. His tiny hands fist at the sheets the best he could with the cuffs still on. Your thumb rubs at his clit and he bucks his hips, his walls fluttering and clenching around you.

"F-Fuck…"

You felt your climax approaching as your thrusts grew erratic.

"Gonna fucking breed your cunt. Show the whole world who owns you."

He makes a sound between a sob and a moan at your words, mumbling unintelligible protests in a weak attempt to stay in character, but his body screamed otherwise as yet another orgasm overtook him. Tears ran freely down his cheeks as he squeezed your back with his legs. As if on cue, you climaxed as well, riding out your high as you moved in and out of his heat weakly. His small frame trembles beneath yours, slick juices dripping down his thighs as he's pumped full of cum. He pants, not a single thought behind his eyes as his walls flutter around your softening member.

You pull out slowly, watching the beautiful sight of his pussy coated in cum and arousal, dripping wet and fluttering. You remove your mask, pulling your clothes up to wipe the sweat from your face. You pulled him onto your lap and wrapped your arms around his waist, taking off his babydoll and pulling him close to your chest.

"Baby?" Your voice was tender, a stark contrast to the menacing tone from earlier.

"Hm?" Minho melts into the embrace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. He looks at you, a contented smile playing on his lips. "You did such a good job, Mnie," he giggled softly, pressing a kiss to your pulse before continuing. "You scared me half to death and filled me up so well."

"And you did such a good job taking it, darling," you say, kissing his forehead. You wiped his tears and kissed his soft cheeks, a protective instinct taking ahold of you as you see how tiny he is in your arms.

"My pretty baby…my Minnie did so well, hm?"

A warm blush spread across his cheeks at your praise, his heart swelling with affection. "I try," he said, trying to be demure and modest, bringing a fond smile to your lips. You kiss his lips for the first time since you came home, humming at the taste of his chocolate lip gloss.

"I love you baby," you say, looking at him adoringly. He smiled. He would get so overwhelmed by the look in your eyes sometimes, whether it be tender or intense. You nuzzle his nose, tilting your head to give him another little kiss on the lips.

"I'll run a bath for you, okay princess?"

"I want burgers afterwards."

"And curly fries, I know."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Mother, I am hungry☹️ could you please give us a list of Kinks you think Konig would have to satisfy my hunger?🙏🏾

Hooooo boy!

CW: PURE FILTH below the cut, 18+ only. Light dom/sub, disciplinary/power play, exhibitionism, light bondage, domestic servitude, somnophilia, yandere!König killing someone who saw you naked, squirting, porn, M/F/F/F

Nature lover. The blowjob in the forest fantasy wasn't a lie! König thinks it would be romantic to make love to you in the middle of a dreamy glade, rut you against a sturdy tree, or have you take him in your mouth on some picturesque beach empty of other people.

He would also love to "warm himself" during a nice little wintertime walk, perhaps push you on your belly in the snow and tug your pants down just enough for him to slide inside your wet heat. The contrast between the frigid air and your warm, wet pussy drives him over the brink in mere minutes, and it's cute to watch you pout all the way back home – he knows his cum is spilling out of you, staining your underwear. He should give you a wash when you get back to turn that frown upside down ❤️

Powerplay. König loves to be in control. He would like to set a few rules for you and punish you when you "accidentally" break them. Those rules would be nonsensical and superficial – such as that you must greet him in nothing but your underwear when he comes home, ensure he always has clean clothes in the drawer, cook his favorite meal on Sundays, things like that. "You know what this means, Schatz," he mutters on your neck upon noticing you've broken his Sacred Rules, much to his delight – because the disciplinary action is that he's allowed to take you right then and there.

It's even better if you beg him not to punish you, explaining that you're tired or that you forgot. It's too bad, because only a safeword will save you. König is already getting his leaking cock out while you're on your knees, asking him to be merciful, just this once. "You know I have to do this… It's the only way you'll learn," he says before commanding you to either open that pretty mouth or turn around and bend over.

Squirting. He would be overjoyed if he got you to squirt. König has mainly watched amateur porn because regular porn is too emotionless and unnatural in his opinion. His preference is women doing solo – that's when he learned what squirting was and immediately vowed he would make his future wife squirt one day.

Exhibitionistic tendencies. This kind of ties in with the sex in nature fantasies: König would secretly love to get caught while having sex. He would particularly love it if the one catching you was a man, so that a "rivaling male" could see 1. how a woman is supposed to be fucked 2. how much you enjoy being fucked by him 3. what they can never have, i.e. gorgeous, whimpering, devastated you.

Yandere König would also kill the one who witnessed you two (and what's worse: witnessed you in a vulnerable, naked, quivering state), and I mean kill him right away, then come back to continue the session as if nothing happened 💀 In his mind, it's all very simple: he has to get rid of the one who laid eyes on you, then give you and himself an orgasm. In that order.

For him, there's nothing odd or wrong with striking a bloodied knife on your nightstand when he returns from his quest for blood. He'll insert his still hard cock inside you while speaking sweet nonsense in your ear, cooing how tight you are in a shaky, adrenaline-filled voice. You try to ignore the fact that he now has dried blood on his muscles, but it's no use. König reminds you of what he just did when your face distorts with tight pleasure. "No one is going to see you like this and live," his voice is almost a growl when you cum around that torturingly long cock.

Dominance and prisoner play. König would love to tie you up and use you as his personal fucktoy. And not just for one session… But for a solid, good 24 hours.

He wouldn't tie you too tight, just enough to prevent you from escaping the bed while he goes about his day, drinks a beer or two, comes to you every few hours to either make sweet, slow love to you… or fuck you with pent-up lust.

You being tied and helpless like that makes König attentive and tender one minute, and needy and greedy the next. You never know how it's going to be when he walks through that door, all you know is that he's going to pump you full of his cum.

He stays to watch it ooze out of you – it's actually one of the main events of this whole show because it means he'll have to fill you up again soon. He might also give himself a fap if you look too used and miserable or if you beg for mercy and whimper that you're sore. It's no problem: he's more than happy to cover your body with his seed. He's merciful like that.

When the day is done, you're a mess – inside and out – and he's fucked you stupid more times you can count, giving you so many orgasms that you feel soft in the head. What's fun though is that the man himself is in no better shape: you notice his legs are shaking when he finally comes to release you, looking like he has lost more than a few brain cells due to breaking the Guinness record of fucking you and himself senseless.

If you ever want to fulfill this fantasy, you will receive abundant aftercare. And I mean abundant. Bathing, cooing, pampering, treats, praise, and cuddles galore!

Mirrors. Fucking you in front of a mirror is like watching the best porn ever. Anything with a reflection will do, as long as König can watch you come undone, helpless and needy for his cock while he gets to display his strength. This man will probably install a mirror to your bedroom ceiling without asking your permission, but he prefers doing you from standing, prefers to do the lifting and the work.

Ballet dancer from behind and a stand & carry variation of Nelson are his favorite positions when using mirrors. All you have to do is enjoy... and obey when he tells you to watch what he's doing to you. "Look at that... You like being fucked like this?" he pants in your ear with strain and love while you both can see just how much you like it – his cock is practically glistening from how wet you are.

I'm sorry, were you busy? God forbid if you're wearing a dress or a skirt while making an important call. It doesn't matter if you're sitting: König will approach you, gets on his knees and then starts to kiss his way under your skirt.

Good luck trying to concentrate on that call when there's a horny giant forcing his head under your cute little dress. Soon he's sniffing at your cunt and tries to pull your underwear aside with his teeth. Try keeping your voice normal when he actually succeeds and you feel the first lick sweep over your pussy, flat tongued and hot.

You don't dare to fight him or tell him to stop in the middle of your serious, official and important call, which means you can feel the smiles on your poor wet heat. Of course König notices you're starting to sound like you're half crying... It only spurs him on!

You're a bit disoriented and don't register it at first that this hulking man is already climbing on top of you. It's rare for him to beg, but as he continues to dry hump you and then forces his cock between your thighs in search of your wet heat, you can hear him whisper: "Engel? Bitte... I have to put it in. Don't say no…"

Somnophilia kink. Yep, he has it, because the more helpless you are, the more "loving" he gets. König loves to watch you sleep, safe and secure there in his bed and in his arms. He caresses you like you're the Sleeping Beauty and if you happen to sleep naked (like he always does, this guy is a bit of a nudist at home), his fingers soon drift down to tease your clit, his hips start to slowly grind against your leg until you stir.

Gangbang fantasies where he's the one doing all the banging. One of his fantasies is to have multiple women all to himself. König would never seek to fulfill these fantasies in a committed relationship, but when he was lonely and only had his hand to keep him company, König used to dream he could have a row of women waiting for him when he returned from a mission 🙄

Usually three ladies who all want to worship and touch him and tell him how big he is, how heroic he is. He will command them to all fours, and they obey happily, ready and willing to be used. He does these ladies from behind, switching between them until everyone, including him, is on the brink of an orgasm. In these fantasies he always makes those women cum first. No one can say our King lacks manners! (How cute that he's so sure of himself... Would König even have the willpower to switch from one pussy to the next, not to talk of outlasting three women? I highly doubt that.)

Or how about these girls getting on their knees to suck his cock? In König's desperate, lonesome fantasies, these cute ladies love him so much that they start to fight over who gets to take him in their sweet wet mouth. They will eventually solve the fight by forming a queue – every woman gets half a minute with their King before changing. The long seconds when his cock is bouncing there in the cold air, devoid of a warm mouth, are torture. But he would stand strong!

Our brave soldier falls asleep while imagining how these purring, warm babes would cling to him for warmth and cuddles. Everyone is happy and pleased and he has been loved and worshiped thoroughly. In truth he just came in one minute, then tries to curl into a fetal position in a bed far too small for him. Cooling down from the day's highs, this Goliath is all alone, his last thought being that if he could get just one real woman to admire and love him and hug him before they go to sleep together, he would be the happiest man in the world.

[petermorwood]

Hi there I have an arms question for you that I'm hoping you might be able to help me with. So it is commonly accepted that swords should not be kept in their scabbards long term, especially wood and leather ones as they absorb moisture and can end up trapping moisture on the blade and cause it to corrode. Which makes sense and is why most museums seem to try and store their swords out of the scabbard. My issue is I haven't been able to find any hard sources about if this is true or not. Whenever I try to find any sources I just find forum posts and nothing with research to back it up. Are you aware of any sources on the proper care and storage of historic swords?

Storing any carbon-steel blade - kitchen knife or antique sword - for a long time in a possibly damp container - drawer or scabbard - is not a good idea, and the kitchen knife is far more likely to be taken out for use and any incipient corrosion dealt with.

The sword is likely to just hang there, being admired from a distance, until one fine day it's brought down, drawn and OMG Look At The State Of It...!

But, am I aware of any (reliable) sources for care and storage of historic swords?

Unfortunately, no. :-<

*****

What I know is the care and maintenance of modern reproductions, so rather than give incorrect information which might potentially cause irreparable damage to some genuine artefact, I recommend that you send this same question to:

The Royal Armouries, Leeds, England (enquiries@armouries.org.uk).

The Wallace Collection, London, England (enquiries@wallacecollection.org).

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, USA (enquiries@metmuseum.org).

Conservation advice from any of those sources will be reliable and, based on past experience, they'll all respond.

*****

NB - I've seen "how to restore..." info on-line which is destructive to both historic and monetary value, and I can't shake the feeling that some - though not all, though THEY often require fully equipped workshops - YouTube channels deliberately create "aged items" which they then "restore".

*****

Japanese shirasaya ("white", i.e. undecorated) scabbards are used for storage and transport, though blades stored that way would certainly be inspected on a regular basis.

Blades in museums are frequently displayed "bare", with neither scabbard nor hilt furnishings, though that's as much to exhibit tang / blade inscriptions and hamon (edge pattern) detail as to avoid corrosion, like so:

AFAIK most "complete" swords alongside bare blades exhibited like this...

...are the blade's hilt and scabbard mounted on an insert to hold them together and show what the weapon looks like when fully assembled.

*****

A scabbard's function is threefold:

To carry the sword in a convenient manner.

To protect the blade from adverse conditions.

To prevent the blade from doing accidental harm.

Re-enactment back-carry scabbards which work by having big slots in one side or being hardly there at all ignore (2) and (3) in exclusive favour of (1). They never existed IRL.

*****

I've read a few articles by museum staff about conservation of old swords and when to stop - how much cleaning is enough, how much would be too much, preservation rather than removal of patina etc. - but nothing about the whys and wherefores of scabbard storage.

This may be because as history goes further back, original scabbards become much rarer than original swords, and often when a sword and scabbard ARE found together, they've corroded into one another to such an extent as to be inseparable.

This Etruscan bronze sword and its bronze scabbard are very unusual, not just two separate items but almost completely intact, with only the organic (horn or wooden) parts of the grip missing:

It helps that the Etruscan example is bronze, which doesn't degrade in the same way as iron or steel.

This iron or steel Iberian falcata shows the more usual fate - organic material like its hilt scales are gone, as is the wood and leather of its scabbard, leaving only metalwork behind. Despite that, the blade is in remarkably good condition.

Here's a repro showing how it would have looked when complete. A small utility knife mounted on the main scabbard wasn't unusual, and was also done in the late Middle Ages and Renaissance.

The same happened to this Roman gladius: its blade and scabbard frame remain, but the leather, wood and horn of the rest have vanished, taking most of the tang and deep bites of blade with them.

Again, a repro showing how it would have looked when new.

*****

However, sometimes scabbards survive.

This sword was found a few years ago (2020) in the Oder / Odra River in Poland, and though the grip - wood, probably bound with cord then covered in leather - has rotted away, its scabbard is in a remarkable state of preservation.

What the blade's like, and whether it will ever see the light of day without destroying the scabbard, is another matter entirely up to the museum staff dealing with it.

I suspect non-invasive methods such as X-rays or ultrasound will be used: intact period blades are (reasonably) common, intact period scabbards are not.

Scabbards for Important Swords owned by Important People, including - supposedly - saints are another thing, often far fancier than what originally went with the sword, and tend to be looked after appropriately...

...although a couple of these (centre and right below) have survived remarkably well despite just being entombed with their owners.

The non-metal parts of any working sword were, of necessity, replaceable.

If used in battle they would get stained, sticky and smelly. Over the passage of time they might get chipped, torn or broken. Or they might just be "great-grandad's old clunker", not thrown out yet but not maintained any more, because the style of swords has changed since his day so why bother?

Take a look at this drawing by Albrecht Dürer. That's a one-handed arming sword at least a century out of date and maybe two, while the state of the scabbard speaks for itself.

However though definitely not an elegant hand-and-a-half longsword as seen in other Dürer illustrations...

...that old clunker will still work as intended if sharp enough, and the tatty scabbard means bumping into its uncovered point will not be fun.

Been there, done that, Ouch!

*****

Storing / displaying swords out of their scabbards is sound, for the reasons you mention in your Ask.

However this recalls scabbard purpose (1) as listed near the top, since it exposes the bared metal to other risks such as humidity or inquisitive fingers, so some sort of coating is a good idea.

Oil or grease is messy and wipes off too easily, frequently on things better left without it such as clothing, cats etc., so try "Renaissance Wax" which I believe is used on original pieces by actual museums.

I've even read that it was developed by the British Museum though have no solid proof of that so YMMV, but I've been using it on my own repro swords for years, and can confirm that when properly applied (rub on, let dry, buff lightly with soft cloth) it adds a near-invisible layer of protection and does no harm.

*****

Hope This Helps!

*****

ETA (1) - Thanks to @librarianmouse and @pagecommando for reposting this with links to, respectively, the American Institute for Conservation and Forde Military Antiques Sword Cleaning Guide, links I've added here for completeness and my own convenience.

NB that the Forde Guide is very rightly peppered with warnings about what restoration can do to an antique, and that the swords it deals with are (mostly) mass-produced army-issue sidearms rather than one-of-a-kind weapons.

ETA (2) - @dduane asked "Why didn't you mention Blood Rust Guy?" I mentioned him very thoroughly Right Here. If you want an example of sword "care" not to follow, that's a good one.

[earthdance]

method acting - fox mulder

mulder is back after you've come to terms with his death.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

note: i'm not new to fanfic but i am new to x-files fanfic! i hope this isn't too terrible! this is inspired by the first two episodes of s3 because how could scully just accept that he was back that quickly. like he just showed up and she was like "ok" like WHAAAAT. anyways i just kind of reimagined that plotline because it seemed so insane to me.

content tags: SPOILERS for epsisodes 3x1 "the blessing way" and 3x2 "paperclip" , canon compliant but also canon divergent, reader insert, use of y/n and y/l/n (i think it's only y/l/n actually), angst, fluff, mentions of death and mourning, reader and mulder have shared dreams, reader is sad, mulder is sad, everyone is sad but it's okay cause there's a happy ending, this wasn't proofread.

word count: 1,394

cross-posted on ao3 if you prefer to read there!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

i put the knife in slowly

through the ribcage to your heart

i don't know how we got here

but it's tearing me apart

you don't seem too surprised

i guess that it's become a chore

every tuesday on the hour

you don't feel it anymore

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

you couldn’t handle it. so much was going on and you couldn’t handle any of it. 

you try desperately to recall your lessons at the academy, about compartmentalizing and shoving unwanted thoughts or feelings into the darkest filing cabinets of your mind. 

but right now, all of those neatly closed and sealed drawers were flying open at breakneck speed, undoing years of hard work and meditation to keep yourself stable and able to do your job. 

he was here, in front of you. looking at you with his leafy green eyes with a crazed look as if he had just come back from mars. standing in the archway where the threshold meets the living room of his apartment, soft lamp light beaming off of his face. you’re in your pajamas, work clothes strewn over his floor, throw blanket and a pillow from his bed crumpled on the couch.. you had come here to sleep, as you’ve been doing since he’d been gone. 

it had been 2 months. you had weeped, screamed, sat in sad silence, broken things around your apartment, all to try to close the gaping wound his absence had torn in you. 

it had gotten somewhat easier. you were just on the precipice of acceptance. just on the precipice of finding some sort of strange peace in the storm that you were caught in. your body was tired, and it was begging you to let go of the pain. and you were about to.

but he was here.

“mulder?”

your voice was hollow like a bone. at this quiet utterance at his name, he steps forward, as if approaching a frail deer on the side of the road. prepared for it to dart at any second. he reaches a hand out, too fast.

you flinch hard. he jerks his hand back to his side.

“wh-” you start, willing yourself to make sense of the apparition in front of you.

you were hallucinating. you had to be. fox mulder was dead. you saw the smoke. the remnants. you saw evidence. 

“who are you? what kind of sick joke is this?” you ask, gasping for breath. 

“y/l/n…” he says. sad, regretful.

at his voice, something inside you crumbles, and you crash.

“don’t! what the hell is going on? what is this? why- why is this happening? why now?”

“ i couldn’t risk contacting you. not until they were sure i was dead. not until they had absolutely no doubts.”

“i- i don’t-”

“i want so badly to explain it all to you. what happened to me. but i want to give you time to process-.”

“process!?” you shriek, “i’ve already processed! i processed for 2 months! and now you want me to process more? to believe you’re alive? how do i even know it’s you, mulder? we’ve encountered people that can change shape, that mimic. they’ve fooled me before, i won’t let it happen again-” you’re hand twitches subtly toward your gun, lying on the coffee table. 

he straightens at this. “y/l/n! y/l/n…”

you freeze, ready to grab the pistol if he makes any sudden movements.

“just.. just listen. ask me something, i’ll prove that it’s me. ask me something only i would know.”

your eyes narrow at him. trying to search for any sign that he’s going to switch up on you. 

you try to calm your mind, to think of a sacred situation that you and mulder shared. something embedded deep in you. that you never told anyone about. 

“i- um…” you run a hand over your face, still breathing shakily. 

“what did i confess to you at the hotel in montana?”

his eyes glaze over in sadness. prepared to recite the story you told him. 

“you joined me on the x-files because when you were 13, you saw an apparition of your grandfather three days after he died. he told you someone was waiting for you. and you told me even though you thought it was just a dream, you’re still searching. searching for whoever’s waiting for you. wherever they are.”

you exhale for the first time in what feels like hours. tears prick at your waterline as you struggle to breathe. 

he’s there, then. arms encircling you, hand on the back of your head to pull you into his chest. and you wonder, how you ever could’ve doubted that it was him. he has never been more him than in this moment. his smell, his touch, his voice as he whispers in your hair. 

it’s okay, i’m here now. i’m not leaving again.

still embraced, he leads you to his couch. sits down gently so you can lean into him more. 

he rubs your back, sweeping those beautiful hands up and down your spine. in spite of yourself, you shudder at the feeling. 

“mulder i don’t-”

“i know-”

“no, you don’t.” 

he lifts your head from his chest and holds your face in his hands, wiping free falling tears away.

“you really don’t know.”

he bites his lip, searching for something to say, but you don’t want to hear anything from him right now. you need him to know. to understand. 

“fox,” 

he sucks in a breath at the use of his name.

“i have gone through countless deaths in my life. friends, family, pets. death follows me everywhere i go. i know the routine. i know how to grieve and come out the other side. i know how to be unfazed by it.”

you stop, to make sure he’s still following. he nods. strokes your hair.

“i-” you stop again, to try and gather yourself the best you can with his thumbs on your cheeks.

you look in his eyes now. you need him to know

“i’ve never felt so much pain. your absence… it was- it was so suffocating. so dark. no one could tell me anything. i didn’t have any closure. it was like i was walking in a tunnel, and i kept expecting to see the light. the end of it. but it never came. until last week. i was- i was getting better, mulder. i was starting to feel okay. i was starting to accept, however painful it still was. i- and then you're here?  you're just here all of a sudden? and now you being here, is almost even more painful then before because it doesn’t feel real. my brain can’t make sense of it. deep down i know it’s you. but it still feels fake. i’ve spent two months coming to terms with your death. it’s like a dream.”

you drop your head into his chest once more. he drags a shaking hand down to your arm and pinches you softly for good measure. a very mulder thing to do. 

you breathe a laugh out of your nose.

“see? not a dream” he says gently, lifting your face back up to meet his eyes once more. 

you give him a sad smile to show him you’re trying to be present with him. 

his fingers tuck your hair behind your ears. he takes a deep breath.

“i’m not going to try and pretend that i know what you went through. thank you for telling me.”

he bites his lip and contemplates his next sentence.

“i went somewhere. i didn’t necessarily die but i was close”

his hand holds your wrist, soothes your pulse.

“in the place i went, i saw people. people i knew that had died. but the last person… the last person was you. i wasn’t worried because i could tell you weren’t like the others. you weren't planted in this afterlife, you weren’t dead. you were just there to tell me something.”

you breathe shallowly.

“what did i tell you?”

“that you were waiting for me.”

you purse your lips and close your eyes, overwhelmed. 

“i know”

mulder looks at you, puzzled.

“you know?”

you nod, and open your eyes.

“i had a dream. my grandpa was there. he told me that i had already found the person that was waiting for me. and then i saw you. and i told you what you just said. i didn’t think it was real. i thought it was just another dream. i- i didn’t know it was your dream too.”

he smiles and presses his forehead to yours.

“were we both waiting on each other?”

a kiss is your answer.

[spookynaught]

Come to think of it, Vincent had everything under control. He was pretty much aware of Rody's intentions, but preferred to observe, just to wait and see. And once things went too far, he made his move. When Rody stole freezer key, Vince appeared right after with a knife behind his back. He knew Rody was snooping around (he got himself busted when asked Vince about photograph in a trashcan), so spotting this guy standing right next to the drawer where key to all answers was, mildly speaking, tensed him up. But still, Rody walked out in one piece. Not thanks to half-ass excuses for sure (If you see someone entered your room without permission, would you believe that they only wanted to doze off or were looking for the bathroom?) Seems Vincent just played along. But from that moment on he was ready to strike if situation were to escalate. He took a knife to the restaurant. He was spying on Rody through hole in the wall. One wrong step and Rody's little investigation would end once and for all. Even after obtaining the key Rody still can finish the shift like nothing happened and Vince won't do anything. He signed his death warrant upon inserting key into the keyhole, upon reaching the point of no return for them both. This is when Vince switched to extreme measures. He swiftly knocked Rody out almost immediately after he entered a freezer, because he knew what waiter would do. He saw him leaving serving area. He probably noticed his tension. He may have even heard a click of the freezer doorlock. Only when Rody found chef's skeleton in the closet, Vince dropped the act and came into play, "reminding" who is in control. So far everything went smoothly only because Chef let it slide. But we all know what happens when he's dissatisfied. 

[mysticalcycleblaze]

Rantaro Amami x Fem Reader lemon 🍋

A Misunderstanding Scenario

Warning ⚠️

Sexual Content

It was going to be the first winter that I was going to spend with Rantaro, my boyfriend. Both you us we were living together.

I was the Ultimate martial artist.

From the first time I saw him, I felt something. Then I realized that I fell in love with him.

He is very clever, cunning, and cute.

However recently we got into a fight.

I saw him with Miu but he never mentioned anything about meeting her. So I revealed it to him but he didn't say anything.

I was jealous. But I didn't want to admit.

Today I decided to go out.

"Y/N are you going somewhere?"

"Yes,a classmate of mine from middle school wanted to meet with me. See you later. "

However, I was still thinking about my boyfriend. I decided to go on a walk with my former classmate until we were surrounded by some random people.

They were street punks.

I started beating them. Suddenly, a guy with brass knuckles appears, and he knocks out my former classmate. Suddenly, he freezes. He drops his brass knuckles. He faces him, and he gets beaten.

"My lady I came to pick you up. " it was Rantaro

He was hiding a pocket knife.

So he grabbed me by my hand. My former classmate he backed away.

My boyfriend was worried about me.

Both of us went to our home. We went upstairs to our bedroom.

Rantaro revealed that he met with Miu to give him some ideas to give me a present.

I felt awful. He wrapped me in his arms and I apologized.

"Rantaro, will you show me your present?"

"OK... but it isn't something great. "

He hid it under the pillow. It was a black little box. He gave it to me. I opened it.

It was a necklace with a crystal on it.

"This is so pretty. Thank you Rantaro. "

My boyfriend blushed. And he smiled at me. I let the box on the drawer.

Rantaro leaned closer to me. My boyfriend kissed me with passion. Both of us laid down to the bed. He inserted his tongue in your mouth, and I gasped.

He bit my ear bole. We kissed again. Then I removed the t-shirt Rantaro was wearing. His chest was exposed.

I blushed. I tried to look away but when he called my name I looked him back. He removed my shirt.

After kissing my neck he removed my red bra. Then he kissed me softly. Both of us removed our pants.

Suddenly Rantaro inserts a finger inside me.

I gasped. My mind went blank. But I couldn't hide the fact that I like it. Suddenly, he inserted another finger.

He looked into my eyes and we kissed.

After a while he removed his fingers.

So, I changed the positions. I started licking and biting his neck.

I went lower and lower until I reached his boxers. I removed them.

I touched his member, and he started groaning.

So I put his member inside my mouth.

Rantaro was groaning. I felt his hand on my hair.

Until I have reached my limit. I drank every bit of his cum. Rantaro changed positions. He embraced me and kissed me.

He bit the left side of my neck and kissed it.

He started licking my nipples. I couldn't help it. I wanted more. Later, he put his member inside you.

Rantaro kissed me. Then he started thrusting inside me.

Little by little I started losing myself. Bliss, that was the feeling both us were feeling.

I couldn't stop moaning. I was grabbing his hair.

"Rantaro!!!"

Sometimes we would stop for a little. I looked into his green eyes. We would exchange soft kisses.

Both of us have reached the climax.

He thursted inside me one last time. After that, we collapsed, and Rantaro embraced me.

I fell asleep into my boyfriend's arms.

The morning arrived. We woke up. My boyfriend smiled at me.

"Y/N how about we make breakfast? What would you like?"

"Some waffles please."

Rantaro gave me another kiss and later we had breakfast in bed.

[lexthemuppetsfan]

Welcome home movie idea!

Note: It would be placed in 2010

Main Character: Blaye dills. She is a 10 year old girl with brown hair and blue eyes.

Blaye just moved into a neighborhood in Texas.

She is lonely since all the people living there are older people. Blaye's parents moved in because it was cheap, which is suspicious to Blaye. As Blaye unpacks her stuff into her room, she sees a dresser with an old tv on it. She thought, "Maybe the last people gave it as a gift for us.. Or mom and dad bought it, and I didn't know...." Then she looked through the drawers and found some cassettes that say: "Welcome Home" on it. Blaye was confused, so she put the cassettes on her bed.

Time skip a day later:

Blaye was just chilling and decided to search up the show that was labeled on the cassettes. She found a website all about it. She was amused and decided to look through it.

She looked at it for a while and then decided the next day while her parents were gone, she would look at it.

Time skip another day later:

Blaye's parents left her home alone for the whole 24 hours since it was a safe neighborhood, and they were going to a one day hotel stay. Blaye was watching tv, eating, and doing normal stuff. Then she decided to watch the cassettes. She put the cassettes in the player on the old tv. She saw the show introducing the main characters in the theme song. Wally Darling, Howdy Pillar, Eddie Dear, Poppy Partridge, Sally Starlight, Barnaby B. Beagle, Frank Frankly, Julie Joyful, and home. The whole episode had parts with the characters (like crafts with Eddie, shows with Sally, Ect.). Blaye was so intrigued, so she watched more. Then she got a text from her mom saying, "Me and your dad are staying a second day hun. Please be safe." Blaye then sighed, It was obvious her parents didn't care for her that much. So she kept watching the episodes. The weird part is that every episode it gets more fuzzy. Blaye just brushed it off, though, because she was certain it's because they are just old.

1 hour time skip:

Blaye went into the basement to get paint to pant a drawing. And then she saw something weird. It was the real puppet of the Mailman from Welcome Home: Eddie Dear. Blaye saw that it had dirt all over it and looked old. She then picked it up, and Eddie Dear stared at her as he said, "Stop playing the tapes...". Blaye was shocked, so she threw it on the ground in fear. Blaye then brushed it off as a hallucination.

1 day time skip:

It was 11:00 pm and the next day her parents were coming back. She kept watching the tapes and she saw one that was named "Homeworming". Blaye turned it on. She watched the whole 22 minutes (insert her watching the awayfrompryingeyes.net video). She was so scared at the part where Eddie was in fear that she turned it off. Blaye then heard talking outside. She walked outside and saw that she was in the Welcome Home neighborhood. She knew she was not sleeping because it hurt when she pinched herself. Then Eddie Dear the mailman grabbed her and went into her house with her. He then said, "I told you not to watch anymore of the tapes!!! It's dangerous.. Stay in your house with me.." Blaye was in fear and started crying. Eddie hugged her. "As long as Wally ain't here, we will be fine.." Wally then comes in.. "Hello, Neighbors.. It's nice to meet this new face.." Wally says,"Go away!" Eddie says in anger

Wally then snaps his finger, and they appear in a dark room.

"No! No!" Eddie screams. Blaye then curls up in fear. The room goes dark, and Eddie screams in pain... The room lights turn back on, and Eddie's legs are missing... Blaye screams in shock. "I'm okay, kiddo... I'm just a puppet. A sentient one.." Blaye sighs and keeps crying. Eddie pats her head. "It will be okay, kid.. I hope.." Eddie says. Then Wally comes in with a knife. Eddie stands in front of Blaye. "MAKE A RUN FOR IT!!!!!" Eddie says as Blaye then runs out, and Wally chases her. "Get back, neighbor!!!" Wally says manically. Blaye then runs into her house, and just before Wally can kill her, she turns off the tape, and then Wally dissolves into nothingness. Blaye looks out her window and sighs in relief when she sees her normal neighborhood out the window. Blaye immediately hides the tapes back in the drawer. She then rushes to the basement and sees the Eddie Dear puppet.

"Keep me in a box in your closet, and when you ever want to watch those tapes again, please tell me first!!! I can tell you how to watch them without getting transported to Home.." Eddie says in a calm but firm tone.

"You're actually alive!!!" Blaye says.

"I've always been.. When you saw me get hurt, that was a hallucination.. But home is a real place.. you were transported to another world.." Eddie says.

Blaye then puts him in a box and takes him to her room.

"Untill your parents come back just keep me on the bed so I can protect you if Wally somehow gets out..." Eddie says looking at her.

A day later:

Blaye's parents come back and Blaye hugs them but her parents obviously don't care about her. Blaye goes back to her room, sighing. She puts the puppet of Eddie Dear in the box and puts him in the closet.

The end.

[urhoneycombwitch]

lulu I experienced a moment of hubris that almost took me out eating spicy food. I was too confident... I bit off more than I could chew... I thought the devil was going to take me from my seat and now my tummy hurts

anyways I also imagine that Eddie gets in similar situations where he pulls his pants up high, puffs out his chest and is like 😤💪🏻I can do *insert thing here* and then leaves the situation whimpering like a scared dog with his tail between his legs

like it's such a Thing™ that people will go "Eddie, NO!" or "don't you think that's a bad idea?" but he does not listen

“what do you have?” “A KNIFE!” “NOOO!!”

yeah Eddie is such a dumbass (affectionate) who lives to show the fuck off. he gets one (1) sangria in him and is dancing on tables. you’ve had to pry open his mouth and pull horrifying NON-food items from between his teeth like a giant toddler on MULTIPLE occasions bc Dustin dared him to eat something sourced from the ground or a desk drawer.

tbh I really think Eddie’s the type to play it cool bc he’s got such dorky swagger but he’s only fooling like… 5% of the group each time. and then when it’s just you and him later he’s sniffling and begging for cuddles because him tummy hurts 🥺🥺🥺

[losfacedevil]

Change // SFK (Pt14)

a/n~ What even is an update schedule? Here’s this weeks installment of the market realm!

Unintentional giggles erupted from Sophia’s chest as she watched Sam jump back, his feet turned in pigeon toe style and hands up in surrender as the pan of molten blueberries hit the floor. His head fell back and he reached up, dragging a hand down the length of his face. Sophia but down on her bottom lip, stifling the giggles as she realized he was truly upset over the spilled blueberries.

“It’s okay babe, there’s no use in crying over spilled blueberry guts.” An exasperated sigh slipped past Sam’s lips as he bent at the waist and picked up the pan before it scorched the linoleum flooring.

“But it was the last of the blueberries, that was for your blueberry bars.” His tone held a hint of a whine, his disappointment evident in his facial features. A soft smile caressed Sophia’s lips as she reached out and placed a hand against his shoulder, her eye never leaving the mess on the floor.

“Let’s wait for it to cool so we don’t scorch our skin off and we’ll clean it up. It’s okay, I promise. Let’s start working on something else, teach me something else.”

A defeated look washed over Sam’s face as he tossed the pan he was holding in the sink and turned to face Sophia. A sad smile kissed his face as he looked at the mess, turning his attention to the counter and plucked the roll of paper towels off of the free standing holder.

“Lemme show you how I slice the apples to make them cook more evenly for the apple jams and then I’ll clean the mess I made.”

Sophia’s eyes lit up as she made her way over to where he stood, selecting her favorite paring knife from the knife block and pulled the cutting board in front of her. Sam couldn’t help the chuckles that slipped past his lips as he dug the apple corer out of the utensil drawer and with a raised eye brow, held it out to her.

“You gotta core it before you peel it and cut it, you wouldn’t want any straggler seeds to sneak into your jam - those aren’t nice to bite down on.” He shrugged as memories of the first time he made apple jam crossed his mind, how the small seed had somehow gotten through all of his precautions to remove them and he had bit down on it hard.

“Kind of like when you’ve missed some of the strawberry seeds in your strawberry jam?” She asked, carefully inserting the device she held into the middle of the apple. Sam’s brows furrowed and he turned his head in Sophia’s direction.

“Excuse me?” He said, eyes growing wide at her statement. She giggled softly, cutting the apple in half and picked it up, running the peeler over the outer layer of the fruit.

“When I first started buying your jam the strawberry one was always kind of grainy? Then I realized there were seeds that had slipped through into the jam but it’s okay it was still good jam. Now how do you cut this?” She asked, placing the now peeled apple half down against the cutting board. Sam’s jaw fell slightly agape, his eye never leaving her side profile as he scooped up the knife off of the counter and rested his hand against the fruit.

“So what you’re saying is, is that I’ve been selling gross jam and no one’s told me?” He quipped, raising his eyebrows and pursed his lips in her direction. She turned her head slightly, cutting him a side long glance and giggled as she took in the expression on his face.

“No, it’s not gross it… it gives it character is all. It was still good jam.” She leaned forward slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his dramatically pursed lips. He shook his head lightly and turned so he was facing the counter. He sliced the apple very thin and placed the knife down in favor of picking up an apple slice.

“It gives it character, what is it the official jam of fucking Camp Green Lake? See how thin this is? Try and slice the rest of the apple just like this, it’ll boil faster and cook evenly.”

Sophia nodded her head gently and picked up the knife off of the counter. Sam’s eyes brightened as he stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her body and shadowed her hands with his. She watched as he took her hand and placed it gently against the apple, curling her fingers in just the right manner.

“Now cut it, place the blade right up against your nail and cut.” His voice was soft as he spoke directly into her ear.

Sophia’s eyes fluttered shut as her body reacted to his breath fanning across her neck and his voice dancing directly in her ear. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before moving the hand that held the knife and sliced the apple just as thinly as he did.

She placed the knife back down on the counter and rested her head back against his shoulder. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Sam’s lips as he took the knife and gently removed her hand from the fruit.

“See, just like that, sweet girl. The thinner you slice it the easier it cooks so instead of boiling the whole apple for forty minutes you can boil the slices for half the time and get the same results. And then you blend it, strain it, jar it and voila! Delicious jam.” Sam rambled, placing the knife down against the counter as he finished cutting the apple.

A soft smile tugged at Sophia’s lips as she spun where she stood and reach up, wrapping her arms gently around Sam’s neck. He rested his hands against her waist, the apple they had been slicing clearly forgotten. Sam’s eyes found hers and a soft chuckle escaped him at how her eyes were glazed over and she looked almost drunk.

“I love when you talk about your passions, y’know? I love that you share them and take the time to teach me things about them. It’s almost like… you want me to share your passions.” She said, letting her fingers dance lazily over the back of his neck.

“Of course I want you to share in my passions. I want to be able to turn to you and say oh we’re making this jam or this pastry today, are you in?” Sam chuckled, resting his forehead against hers.

“I mean, that’s why I started making all the little goodies for Rosie. I may not fully understand your jam but I can make Rose a mean meal and some snacks.” Sam’s eyes lit up at the mention of her dog treats and he lifted his head, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

“I want you to start selling at my booth - I’m sure the patrons would love everything you’ve made for Rosie for their own furry friends. We just have to figure out a cat treat and you’ll be in business. And then in the winter you can sell your crochet rather than the pet goods.”

Sophia’s eyes grew wide and a sheen of tears clouded over them. She reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands, running her thumbs over the apples of his cheeks before pressing up onto her toes and capturing her lips with his.

“Say that again.” She mumbled against his lips, disbelief of what she heard washing over her. He chuckled lightly and nodded against her.

“Sell the pet goods you make, at my booth. Cmon it’ll be fun!” A wide grin spread across Sophia’s face as she nodded enthusiastically.

TAGLIST: @gretasmokerising @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @tommie-gvf @vanfleeter @sunfl0wer-power @aintthatapity @twistedmelodies @gvfpal @psychedelicsprinkles @gracev0609 @runwayblues @hellowgoodbye

[armybrat-lucas]

Lucas Walsh my kick ass, little army brat. He may have a baby face but he’s tough as hell.

He has issues PTSD and battle scars. Despite being young and relatively chill, he’s more than willing to throw hands with anyone who wants to square up.

Get in his face and he’ll punch you in yours, quite literally. He’s always going for a run or hitting the gym, to help keep away the nightmares, which can be crippling. Sometimes he swears he can smell the scent of his flesh and skin singed as a bullet tears through his side.

Others, he feels like he’s fighting for his life in Iraq, a knife buried up to the hilt as he screams.

It’s so vivid and real that he cried out and thrashes. Sounding like a wounded animal drenched in sweat as his hands check for injuries and gulps down a glass of water. The cold liquid chasing the pills he's hastily put in his mouth, as he tries to not have a full blown panic attack. Sides heaving as his lungs work overtime to keep up with his racing heart. It's hard to breath despite his nostrils flared as he gasps for air. The young man checks the drawer by his bedside and finds his glock, the clip not fully inserted. He shuts it and hums one of the many songs they would sing during training. Using a pleasant memory as a balm as he swallowed down all the pain that brimmed in his eyes and threatened to spill over down his cheeks.

[lucydixon]

Firestarter - Chapter 5

10k Znation x Original Female Character

Summary: The gang heads west, and Torch opens up a little more

CW: Swearing, Cannon typical violence, Zombie apocalypse typical weapons, Violence, Death

Spoons

With no further instructions, the truck headed West at an agonizingly slow pace.

Between the traffic jams and destroyed stretches of road, it took over twelve hours just to make it across West Virginia and into Ohio.

Torch seemed to be finished with her blank staring off in the distance and was slowly re-inserting herself into the conversation going on in the bed of the pickup, which she refused to leave everytime it was her turn to sit in the cab.

“What about you Torch?” Addy asked, “What food do you miss the most from before?”

“Bread.” The girl nodded solemnly “I ever see another loaf of bread, Best hope y’ain’t standin’ in my way.”

“Oh god,” the older girl groaned, “I would kill someone for a croissant.”

“Fuck is that?” Torch shot her a weird look “A Crust-what?”

“A croissant.” She annunciated “It's a pastry. You’ve never had one?”

“Think I made it clear that I ain’t.”

The girls blinked at each other for a good minute before laughing.

10k was alternating between sitting with them and staring out over the roof of the truck, not speaking much but glad that Torch was.

At some point, she’d put her hair into two braids and he tried not to stare but found it hard not to notice a jagged scar on the back of her neck. He figured it wouldn’t go over well if he asked her where she’d gotten it, but he badly wanted to. Instead, he bit his tongue and listened.

“Christ,” Torch cussed after they wound up having to re-evaluate their route due to roadblocks for the fifteenth time “gonna take fuckin’ forever to get to California if shit keeps goin’ like this.”

“Once we find someplace to stop, we’ll reorganize.” Warren assured her from the front seat “We’ll hold up for the night and rest.”

The girl sighed in relief, desperate to get up and walk around for as long as she could. It would be nice to sleep indoors for a change, maybe even in a bed if she was lucky.

It had been days since she’d killed anything and she was getting visibly antsy.

Before the truck had even fully stopped in the neighborhood that Garnet had found for them, her boots hit the ground and Torch stretched, sighing in relief when her joints popped. She couldn’t believe how good it felt just to stand.

She spotted a Z on the next lawn over, while everyone grabbed their gear and went straight towards it even though it hadn’t noticed them yet. She tore her buck knife from her belt and twirled the blade in her hand, palming it as she approached with a steady grip.

The Zs head snapped to the side when he heard her coming and it immediately started barreling towards her.

The girl stepped to the side and kicked the back of its knees the second it made it an inch past her. Her blade skewered its brainstem before it could so much as reach for her. Its body hit the ground and she took a step back, surprised she hadn’t gotten any gore on herself.

The rest of the group was staring at her while she wiped her blade off and tucked it back into her belt.

“What?” Torch shrugged when she noticed, feeling her cheeks warm “Y’all ain’t never seen a Z go down?”

“Nothing.” Doc shook his head as she approached “Just wondering if you were some kind of assassin before all this?”

Everyone else got back to unloading the truck before clearing the house and settling in.

The sun was setting fast, so they rushed to get set up before losing the light.

“Found some candles,” Addy grunted, dropping a box on the dining room table, “all we need is a lighter.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Torch, who just pulled one from her pocket and tossed it across the room without looking up from the drawer she was going through, oblivious to the amused stares.

“Anything good?” 10k asked her, peering over her shoulder.

“Shit.” She gasped, holding a hand over her racing heart, not having heard him come up behind her. “Like a fuckin’ cat.”

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly, “That happens a lot.”

“S’alright,” She chuckled “and nah, there ain’t anything useful in there, just a shit ton of spoons.”

“Spoons?” He frowned, looking at the four open drawers “Why would anyone ever need this many spoons?”

“Fucked if I know.” Torch shrugged “But I ain’t never seen so many all together like that. Some weird shit.”

“What are you two doing?” Doc asked after watching them stand side by side scratching their heads for a good few minutes.

“Y’ever seen so many spoons?” Torch asked, waving him over and gesturing to the drawers.

“No,” Doc joined them “Can’t say I have.”

“Alright people” Warren pulled their attention away from the spoons finally “I’m gonna take the first watch, then it’ll be Garnet. The rest of you, find a spot and get some sleep. I don’t know when we’re gonna properly stop again.”

Torch nodded with a yawn, climbing the stairs in search of a comfortable place to sleep.

She left the rooms for the rest of the group and claimed the home office and its fancy leather couch for herself. The blanket draped over the back of it looked warm enough to get the job done, so she dropped her gear and wandered around the room, not quite ready to sit down after spending so much time in the truck.

Torch paced the length of the small space, flicking her lighter over and over until she felt her eyelids get heavy. She finally curled up on the couch, wrapped in the sherpa blanket, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Torch woke up with the sun.

She sat there for a moment, confused. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up on her own, without somebody shaking her awake or screaming or the truck jostling her till she was torn from sleep. Now, the steady stream of warm light that flooded in through the windows felt so normal that it almost made her panic.

The house was far too quiet and it quickly put her on edge.

She poked her head out the door and peered into the hall, sighing in relief when she heard soft snoring emanating from the bedroom across from her.

Unsure how long they were staying, Torch brought her bag downstairs with her and set it down next to the front door. Garnet was up and his head snapped to the side while his hand rested on the butt of his gun.

“Torch.” He sighed, clearly tired “sorry.”

“S’alright.” She shrugged, not having flinched. “I don’t mind keepin’ watch if ya want to go up and try gettin’ more sleep.”

“Could you?” His shoulders slumped over in relief as he peeled himself out of the chair. “Thanks. Wake me up if anything happens.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute before settling in the now-empty armchair. It was angled towards the window, so she could see the front half of the house.

Torch enjoyed the peace and quiet for a good hour before hearing light-footed steps walking down the stairs. She didn’t have to look up to know that it was 10k.

“How long have you been down here?” He yawned, plopping down on the couch to her right.

“‘Bout an hour.” She shrugged, finally looking at him. “Thought I’d let Garnet get a bit more sleep.”

“Did you sleep?” He frowned, trying to gauge if she’d been up all night.

“Like a baby,” the girl hummed, cracking a small smile.

“Where?” 10k’s brows pulled together. He’d seen her go up the stairs the night before, but wasn’t sure if she’d actually stayed. He’d heard her lighter flicking on and off before falling asleep “Down here?”

“There’s an office upstairs.” Torch glanced out the window at the empty road “Good couch.”

“Cool,” He bobbed his head before taking everything out of his bag and re-packing it to his liking.

“Ya did that yesterday.” she muttered without looking.

He wasn’t sure if she’d meant it as a question or a statement so he just blinked at her.

“Your bag.” She clarified as if she could feel the confusion “last few days, ya unpack it, then put it all back. Been wonderin’ why.”

The boy was glad she wasn’t looking because there was nothing he could do to stop the grin that stretched across his face. She’d been paying enough attention to him that she could recognize his routine. It was reassuring in a way to know that she might be looking at him just as much as he did at her.

“It’s so I know what I have in it.” He said after a moment, “I like to see all of it out in front of me.”

“You mean to tell me that ya can remember exactly how many headshots ya land, but ya can’t remember what’s in your bag?” She finally turned to look at him with a raised brow.

“It’s just something I’ve always done.” 10k shrugged before his lips curled up into a smirk “What about you?”

“What about me?” Torch frowned.

“Your shoes.”

Her cheeks warmed.

“I’ve watched you untie and re-tie them a hundred times over the last few days. What’s with that?”

“Don’t wanna trip over ‘em.” She shrugged, “I try not to make the same mistake twice.”

“So, what?” He looked incredibly amused. “You tripped?”

“Somethin’ like that.” The girl bit back a laugh. “Went down a flight of stairs runnin’ from Zs and knocked myself out cold.”

“How’d you get out?” 10k’s brows pulled together “Were you alone?”

“Went through the floor, but took a bookshelf with me, landed just right and kept ���em off me.”

“You’re lucky.”

“If I was lucky, the fall woulda killed me” Torch scoffed “Was stuck under that damn thing for hours, wasn’t even any good books. Stumbled outta there with a concussion and wearin’ more guts than I had left in me.”

“But you got out.” He shrugged, looking smug “Still lucky.”

“Can’t help yourself, can ya?” Her lips curled upwards when he went back to looking confused “You’re a real ‘every storm runs outta rain’ type, ain’t ya?”

“What does that mean?”

“Think on it.” She sighed, standing to stretch when Mack and Addy came padding down the stairs.

A few minutes later, the rest of them trailed along and within the hour, they were piling back into the truck, slightly more rested than when they’d gotten out. Torch settled across from 10k and Cassandra, burning the frayed edge of the bottom of her tank top so it wouldn't get any worse.

“You’re gonna set yourself on fire doing that” Cassandra warned, looking wary.

10k watched her intently as she looked up with a raised brow, lighter still going.

“Are you outta your damn mind?” Torch narrowed her eyes “Y’all watched me make a bomb outta a bag of flour, and ya think I don’t know what the hell I’m doin?”

The lighter was flicked off and she pinched the burnt edge, sealing the melted polyester.

“Alright, sorry.” She held her hands up in surrender.

“I ain’t mad.” Torch cracked the tiniest, amused smile, and 10k laughed. “M’just fuckin with ya.”

Cassandra’s look of regret morphed into one of relief and she found herself chuckling softly.

“Christ” The girl shook her head “You’d think I’d killed a whole army in front of y’all. I ain’t no assassin, ain’t some super soldier or nothin’.”

“Just a girl with a knack for everything flammable” Cassandra scoffed “You might not have killed a whole Army, but you seriously saved my ass back in Philly, okay? That took guts and a whole lot of skill. You’re badass girl. It’s not a bad thing.”

Torch’s cheeks warmed and 10k nodded in agreement.

“It was pretty cool.”

“I know ya think it was cool.” She rolled her eyes at the boy “Course it was, it was a fuckin’ bomb.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Cassandra asked, same as 10k had ten times over the last few days.

Torch went back and forth inside her head a few times before sighing heavily.

“Fine.” She breathed and 10k grinned, clearly beyond excited “Was an accident. Back when I was a kid, there was this old lady who lived ‘cross town, her house was right at the edge of the woods and sometimes I’d be out there, hangin’ off trees and fuckin’ around with lighters. The trees out on my end were no good for climbin’.”

The boy and Cassandra were both listening intently.

“She had a grandson ‘round my age and he didn’t like me none 'cause we got into it at School one time, so he’d hurl things at me whenever he saw me ‘round there. One day, both of us were supposed to be at school, and obviously, ain’t neither of us actually made it out to class. He saw me and came runnin’ with a bag of flour.”

“Guess it was the closest thing to ‘em.” She shrugged “Anyhow, I didn’t see him comin’ and he tripped. Had the lighter goin’ and this big ol’ cloud of flour just went up outta nowhere.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Cassandra.

“Didn’t get me too bad” Torch frowned, able to smell the burning hair as if she was there, standing in the woods again. Ten years old frozen in shock. She shuddered “Gave me one hell of a haircut and fried the arm off my favorite sweater, but I got lucky. Didn’t get the skin all that bad.”

They could both see where this was going and suddenly, 10k felt bad for badgering her for the story.

“Him?” She shook her head and grimaced “Wasn’t so lucky. My sweater melted, his went up. If it was the summer, he mighta brought the forest down with ‘em. But it was fall and the ground was still wet, so he rolled around till it went out, but his grandma was in town, grocery shoppin’ or somethin’, I dunno.”

“Waited in a tree till she got back after draggin’ him up to the porch. She screamed up a storm and whisked his ass straight to the hospital, but I didn’t see him no more. Wasn’t dead, just gone.”

“Wasn’t the first fire fuck up I had and it sure as hell wasn’t my last” Torch shrugged “got the name years before all that, but that was the first person who was unlucky enough to get caught up in it.”

“That’s awful.” Cassandra looked at her with so much sympathy that it made her skin crawl “you were just a kid. You couldn’t have known.”

The girl shrunk back and looked almost confused.

“Course not” She muttered “What's that gotta do with anythin’?”

“I just mean that it’s not your fault he got hurt.”

“I know,” Torch frowned “I wasn’t the one tossin’ shit. He was bein’ a dumbass”

“Right-”

“We ain’t gotta talk ‘bout it anymore.” the girl waved her off.

“Okay.” Cassandra sighed in defeat while 10k blinked at Torch, a little shocked.

She didn't say anything else until the next time they stopped.

[ghost-skull-trash]

Within this hell, tear out your heart to survive. (ch 2)

SEVER is looking for supplies to bring back to Rain, not expecting the hours of bloodshed that will befall them.

Here we have the second chapter! as expected, written entirely at 4AM, and also VERY BLOODY! and Violent too, so you have been warned!

Chapter 2 : Compartmentalised Violence

I have not broken your heart - YOU have; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

.

.

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SEVER sifted through the rubble, looking for anything of value, bending small pipes to reach deeper into the collapsed wall, finding nothing but a dead janitor's mangled arm, some loose wires and a singular screwdriver sticking out of said arm.

Pocketing it, SEVER stood back up, their metallic legs clinking on the dented metal floor as they began their search for supplies again.

Their rhythmic walking was a constant ambience, next to the constant violence in the site, opening drawers, emptying closets and breaking vending machines added to the cacophony, that and another set of footsteps.

SEVER kept walking, listening out to try and figure out who their mysterious pursuer may be, it was obvious whatever it was was trying to be stealthy, matching their footsteps up with SEVER’s , slowly growing closer .

The rooms ahead were pitch black, no windows to the ocean, nor working emergency lights, just endless void, picking up speed SEVER briskly ran into the darkness, this form disappearing almost instantly…

The wall dweller quickened it’s pace to keep pursuit, SEVER’s footsteps seemingly disappeared just as they had entered, leaving the bizarre creature confused, it kept walking hungry for its next meal.

In the darkness of the room the wall dweller slowed its pace, feeling watched, looking around for any sign of predators or its prey, it looked around dumbly, turning around just as a technology advanced knife was embedded in its upper torso.

SEVER dug the knife deep into its chest, having manoeuvred themselves up onto the ceiling they waited to get the jump on the wall dweller, hoping to quickly decapitate it at the back of its neck, narrowly missing their mark, they shoved the creature to the floor with their body weight and took out the knife, pushing the dwellers head up exposing its fragile neck, SEVER  repeatedly stabbed it in the jugular, not stopping even as the knife shattered after destroying the dwellers spine, blood splattered over the floor and their armour, a sickly metallic stench as the dwellers head was eviscerated, there was nothing left of it.

SEVER stood up again, clicking a button on their knife releasing the broken blade, shards clattering to the floor, scattering over the body, putting the hilt into a compartment attached by their shoulder, a new blade was inserted, good as new.

They wiped the blackened blood from their visor as a door opened to their left, turning their head to see six “expendables” standing there, all in different states of shock and injury.

SEVER stared at them for a few seconds before raising an arm and waving, “Howdy!”.

One of the expendables raised their arm to protect their crewmates while another let out a quiet “what the fuck..” as they stared at the soldier in horror and confusion.

“Anyone need a screwdriver?” SEVER took the screwdriver out from their satchel and held it out to the expendables, much to their bemusement.

They all took several steps back as SEVER took a single step forward, recognising their fear, SEVER turned and headed to the other door, the expendables trailing behind like curious little fish, anytime SEVER tried to make small talk they would be met with silence or mumbling hostility, calling them a freak, or telling them to "get lost"… even though they are following them.

Continuing their supply hunt a thought popped into SEVER’s head “ what if they are dangerous , what if they try to KILL Rain?”, this thought made them pause in their tracks, crunching up the paper they held in their hands as they rummaged through a desk, this sound didn’t elude their unwanted travellers as they paused and huddled around in a circle, speaking quietly in hushed tones to not let SEVER know of what they were talking about. This made their paranoia grow, several thoughts in the back of their head making them imagine the worse, that they would shoot Rain for a bonus reward or take her hostage, these thoughts made their head spin, but they couldn’t  let them know they suspected them.

Two of the expendables died along the way, they couldn’t get into a locker in time before one of the anglers rushed through, catching them and dragging them in their sharp toothy maw down through the corridors their screams echoing for miles on end, leaving bright red streak marks along the walls and floors, little bits of drenched fabric stuck to doors. The four survivors grew even more angsty, their hostility more apparent and appalling as they continued their grim march further through the facility.

“ Some soldier you are , letting them die like that, what did they do to deserve that?” One of the expendables yelled angrily as they trudged along.

“ Nothing !, they did nothing to deserve that but there was nothing I could have done, we all would have died!” SEVER defended themselves , waving their hands in front of themselves for emphasis.

“Don’t fuck with me you drone, we saw you standing over the body of that wall dweller! I bet you say that to everyone you let die here!” One of them stomped forwards, much to the dismay of their crew, they begged him to stop.

“I saw you grabbing food and bandages but not once have you offered any to us, nor have you told us who you are!, you just say you “ are just a survivor ” or “ I’m looking after someone”, BULLSHIT ! You’re hoarding everything for yourself!”

SEVER stammered , trying to find something to say to defuse the situation as it grew tenser.

“Fuckers like you are why we are in this joint, your too lazy and pathetic to do your job, letting others die so you can get your own sick kicks, people like you are why I’m here suffering here to find some stupid “ magic ” crystal, MONSTERS LIKE YOU ARE WHY IM IN PRISON IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

The expendable screamed at SEVER as they stormed up to them, their teammates screaming at them to stop all before they pulled something out of their pocket and SEVER’s vision went stark white.

In less than a second that the flash beacon went off, SEVER’s normally black visor turned a bright glowing red, the perpetrator looked on in confusion for barely a second as their hand separated from the rest of them as SEVER sliced it off with their knife before smashing their head into the cold concrete, killing them instantly.

The three survivors barely had a chance to scream as SEVER charged at them with lightning speed, throwing one over the railing into the murky depths, kicking the other one in the back as they tried to run, shattering their upper spine, the last one trying to defend their companions picked up a nearby metal chair and flung it at SEVER’s head, it bounced off to the side as SEVER turned their head sharply to their attacker before throwing their knife dead into their skull.

The paralysed expendable laid on the floor in tears, they couldn’t feel anything, they couldn’t move their arms nor legs as they saw the life leaving their companions eyes.

SEVER retrieved their knife before setting their sights on the last survivor, walking over they crouched above them like a worn down machine, before suffocating them with their cold hands.

SEVER woke up in a different room several hours later, covered in blood, their visor returned to its original black they looked around in confusion, they had no memory of getting here or what happened to the expendables only the bright flash of a beacon and … oh… looking down at their bloody form they could only hope they either got away or didn’t suffer a painful death..

They continued on their supply search and to try and find Rain again, walking through doors until they found lush green gardens, with trees that reached the ceiling.. and hedges that resembled human form.

[punkbakerchristine]

“First night of Hanukkah” babka

inspired by the “Christmas morning” chai latte from Dutch Bros, one of my favorite drinks from them (white chocolate chai breve, or a chai made with half-and-half instead of milk). I originally had an idea to do a chai latte flavored babka, but preppykitchen beat me to it 😅

I tweaked with his filling to keep it more in line with Hanukkah tradition (especially since it’s most definitely not their version of Christmas); his calls for 3 tablespoons of a.p.f., mine uses a little potato flour as a nod to the frying of a latke. Since potato flour is nearly identical to instant mashed potatoes, it doesn’t need a ton of moisture to get going, so keep the times in mind!.

yes, this is absolutely going into my catalog!

275g plain flour

5g fast-action dried yeast

25g granulated sugar

1/2 tsp kosher salt

2 eggs, beaten

50ml milk

80g unsalted butter, cubed and softened

1 1/2 teaspoons of black tea leaves

1 tablespoon of ground coffee 

Filling:

1/2 cup (110g) firmly packed dark brown sugar

1/2 cup of half-and-half or heavy cream 

1-1 1/2 tablespoons potato flour 

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cardamom 

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg 

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Make the chai filling: boil the cream in a saucepan. Once it gets going, whisk in the flour for about 2 minutes until bubbly and smooth. Combine in the dry ingredients and whisk for 1 minute (think: a béchamel sauce slightly to the left). Turn off the heat, and set the pan on a potholder for 5 minutes to temper it down before you spread it over the dough.

Tip the flour into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook, add half the yeast to one side of the bowl and half the sugar and salt to the other side. Make a well in the center and pour in the eggs and milk, then mix on slow speed for 30 seconds just to get it going. Pour half into a separate mixing bowl and set to finish mixing, 2–3 minutes, until firm.

(In the other bowl, you’ll combine the tea leaves and the coffee powder and mix afterwards).

Increase the speed to medium and add half the butter, a little at a time. Mix well between each addition, allowing the butter to incorporate before adding more. (Do the same for the other half of the dough). Once you have added all the butter, continue kneading with the dough hook on medium speed through the sticky stage, until you have two balls of smooth, silky, shiny dough. Combine the two and then lightly flour a work surface and roll out the dough to a 40 cm x 30 cm/16” x 12” marbled rectangle. Keep the long edge closest to you.

Spread the chai mixture over the doughs, leaving a 1cm/0.5” border all around. Starting from the long edge closest to you, roll up the dough into a tight spiral, with the seam underneath.

Trim about 1” off each end to neaten, then turn the roll through 90° clockwise so that a short end is closest to you. Using a large, sharp knife or a pastry cutter, slice lengthways, down through the middle of the dough, cutting it into 2 long pieces.

With the cut-sides facing upwards, gently press the top end of each half together to seal, then lift the right half over the left half, followed by the left half over the right half. Repeat, twisting the dough to make a two-stranded plait, then gently press the bottom ends together to seal.

Carefully lift the loaf into the lined tin and cover with a clean tea towel (or place in a proving bag, if you have one). Leave at room temperature for about 2 hours (or in a proving drawer for 1 hour), until doubled in size.

Fifteen minutes before the end of the proving time, heat the oven to 190°C/375°F.

When the babka has proved, bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 170°C/325°F and cook for a further 25–30 minutes, until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean.

Let the babka rest on a wire rack, and enjoy ✡️