#free pet turf

[goturff]

High quality artificial pet turf services

Introduction

A beautiful, pet-friendly lawn is a dream for many Houstonians and their pets. Artificial lawns solve mud, allergies, and maintenance issues with traditional lawns. In place of natural grass, this landscaping option is clean, safe, and low-maintenance. A Free Pet Turf Quote tailored to your needs, budget, and Texan climate is the first step to realising this dream. In this detailed guide, we'll discuss Houston pet owners' artificial lawn benefits and why a free quote is essential.

Chapter 1: Houston, Texas Artificial Lawn: Its Appeal

Houstonians love their outdoor spaces for family gatherings, sports, and pet playtime. Houston's heat and humidity can make natural grass unsuitable for pets.

For year-round green, pet-friendly landscapes, Houston residents are turning to artificial lawns, also known as synthetic turf or fake grass. This lush, attractive alternative can withstand harsh Texan conditions.

Chapter 2: The Artificial Lawn

2.1 What's artificial lawn? Artificial grass mimics real grass in appearance and feel. Its durable materials can withstand the elements, heavy use, and, most importantly, pet wear.

2.2 Artificial Lawn Benefits: PET owners in Houston benefit from artificial lawns' durability, cleanliness, and low maintenance. In this water-scarce region, they conserve water.

Chapter 3: Getting a Free Pet Turf Quote

3.1 Comprehensive Assessment: A free pet turf quote lets homeowners assess their landscaping needs. The area size, turf type, and pet needs are assessed.

3.2 Budget Planning: The quote helps homeowners stay within budget by explaining the cost of installing artificial lawn.

Chapter 4: The Consultation Process

4.1 In-Depth Consultation: Homeowners will meet with specialist artificial lawn providers to discuss their needs. Experts evaluate the area, make recommendations, and discuss pet-friendly artificial turf solutions.

4.2 Customised Solutions: The consultation is used to customise the artificial lawn solution for the homeowner and pets. We consider pet traffic, animal size, and turf style.

 Chapter 5: Selection Process

5.1 Turf Types: Artificial lawns vary in style, green level, and pile height. Pet-friendly and aesthetic turf types are available to homeowners.

The durability and drainage of pet-friendly artificial lawns are usually enhanced to withstand heavy use. Efficient drainage systems prevent puddles and odours, keeping pets safe and clean.

 Chapter 6: Installation Journey

6.1 Expert Installation: After homeowners consider their free pet turf quote, a team of skilled professionals will install it. It involves preparing the surface, carefully installing the artificial lawn, and securing it.

6.2 Post-Installation Care: Artificial lawns require less ongoing care than natural grass. To keep the lawn looking great for years, providers provide care instructions.

 Chapter 7: Benefits of a Free Pet Turf Quote

7.1 Making Informed Decisions: The information in a free pet turf quote helps homeowners choose a landscaping project that meets their needs and budget.

7.2 Peace of Mind: Knowing the project's cost and scope beforehand helps homeowners plan synthetic lawn installations.

 Chapter 8: Pet-Friendly Artificial Lawns

8.1 Happy and Healthy Pets: An artificial lawn gives pets a clean, safe, and comfortable outdoor space. Pets can enjoy the outdoors year-round without mud, allergies, or maintenance.

8.2 Family Fun: Artificial lawns improve outdoor family fun beyond pet benefits. For rest, recreation, and pet time, they create a paradise.

 Chapter 9: Environmental Concerns

9.1 Water Conservation: Artificial lawns provide water conservation in areas with limited water resources.

9.2 Reduced Carbon Footprint: Artificial lawns last longer with fewer replacements, making them environmentally friendly.

 Chapter 10: Houston's Reliable Artificial Lawn Provider

10.1 Research: Quality artificial lawn installation requires the right provider. Choose an experienced installer with a good reputation.

10.2 References and Reviews: Check references and online reviews to ensure the provider consistently delivered excellent results and customer satisfaction.

Chapter 11 concludes

Make your Houston, Texas outdoor space a pet-friendly oasis by requesting a Free Pet Turf Quote. From durability and cleanliness to low maintenance and environmental conservation, artificial lawn hauston texas have many benefits. Once you have the quote, you can plan and execute your artificial lawn project to meet your needs and budget. Give your pets a year-round playground in your backyard by replacing natural grass with a pet-friendly paradise.

[on-leatheredwings]

Secret Admirer

Yandere! Dick Grayson / Yandere! Green Lantern! Gender Neutral Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: yandere behaviors. Kissing. Heavy petting. > rated M > summary: You should stop playing with fire. Because when you do, you make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And Dick’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. > a/n: wow nothing truly despicable in this one i’m so vanilla now <3 the reader is male to me but feel free to imagine what you want. I rlly like writing pre-yandere + pre-relationship stuff, it’s so fun . may write more for actual smut possibilities > word count: 1472

Newly-acquired powers or not, you are really poking the bear here. 

Dick has known you've been following him since yesterday. He allowed it because who was he if not a performer? He thrived on attention, and especially yours. But today, you had gotten too close to a fight. Sure, you had stayed an appropriate distance away, but the fact it had happened at all was worrying. It made him distracted. Distracted enough that he wasn’t pulling his punches on criminals like usual. 

“Now that it’s getting quite late–” he begins, to which you audibly gasp. An adorable sound. “–how about you finally come out and let me help you?”

He turns around to a swath of darkness that paints the rooftop’s entry door in black shadow.

Behind the corner, you curse. Damn it, he caught you. … Well, you could’ve told yourself this would happen. Dick, the fine friend he was, surely said it would. No one really ‘sneaks up’ on one of the Bats. And definitely not Nightwing, the most tenured of them all aside Batman himself.

You got caught, and lord knows what Nightwing will do to you. You bite your lips, mind running wild. Who knows what Nightwing will do to you, indeed? You feel a pang of arousal at the thought. 

You step out of the shadows, trying to act natural. Nightwing’s eyes lock onto your humble form, and you find yourself warming over every inch of your body. You want him bad.

His body stiffens, for reasons you can’t discern. It doesn’t seem like hostility… you think?

You adjust your domino mask, cursing silently that the adhesive is finally starting to give after a long night of following him around. Stealth isn’t really a natural gift for a Green Lantern, either. Turning down your glow while using your powers to maintain soundless stalking was hard. Harder than expected. 

“What are you doing here?”

You smile, hoping your giddy expression is hidden by the hoodie you’ve chosen to wear on your escapade. 

It certainly is not, which makes Dick pleased.

Now that you've made contact with him, his first thought is that he ought to tell Batman about this. And the rest of the team, while he’s at it. Dick Grayson knows that Nightwing is your 'celebrity' crush, and that you're enamored with the rest of the Bat Family. What if you confronted them someday as well?

On the Batcomputer is a file on John Stewart, complete a footnote that is you. Said footnote has graduated to its own page, now that you have your own hero exploits to document. They'd be less welcoming and more wary of a hero on their turf. He has to protect you.

“I… I…” you croak, tongue heavy with anxiety. You can’t help but be nervous. 

“Sometime tonight?” he teases. 

“You’re beautiful,” you blurt.

He is taken aback, before he recollects his wits. 

“I really like you,” you say again, stepping forward. He lifts his hand in warning. Stay back. You get chills, but don’t stop treading forward. You can tell his eyes are narrowed beneath his mask.

When he’s finally in arms’ reach, you are pushed against the wall. And not roughly at all, you notice. You smile with delight, your hands immediately landing on his shoulders. Nightwing’s glare doesn’t feel hostile at all. Suspicious, maybe. But not hostile.

“... What do you mean by, you “really” like me?” You suspected that he probably wouldn’t believe you.

“Well,” you fluster, “I mean that I really like you.” Dick’s heart jolts. “And I want you.” It nearly flatlines.

Oh, don’t say that, don’t say that, Dick thinks, despite the elation that begins to tighten his throat. You? Want him? If he had known all he needed to do to grab your attention was put on the suit, he would’ve done that ages ago. He felt nearly invisible to you during the day, all his flirtation falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.

At Nightwing’s silence, you lick your lips. An action that makes his eyes dilate behind his mask. 

“I-I’m serious!”

Nightwing leans in closer, as if inspecting the truth in your expression, raking over every atom. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he breathes.

“It’s not a game at all to me,” you say, feeling lightheaded from the small distance between you two. This doesn't feel real.

To love and be loved is all you’ve ever wanted. You’d think that would give you the violet ring of Love. Instead, the ring that had appeared in your hand one fateful night was acid green, sparkling and mesmerizing. Apparently, instead of embodying love, you simply were driven enough to seek it at any costs. Driven enough to never be alone ever again.

You have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, it said. You had taken it without hesitation.

“Kiss me,” you say, hands rising to cup his jaw. As if he’s not already leaning in.

Your lips meet in an unabashed frenzy. You’re nearly blown away by the pure amount of feeling in his kiss – that's quite a lot of emotion for a stranger. Not that you aren’t equally impassioned. You feel so raw and naked, kissing him. You hope he can't feel all your insanity, your obsession, your infatuation.

However, Dick certainly does, so much that he moans openly, the sound making both your lips buzz.

You make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And he’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. 

You shudder, feeling the pressure of his cup press in between your thighs. God, you wished you could feel the real thing. Your hand slips in between you two, tracing the lines of his abs. Dick shivers. He peels off your domino mask, but you don’t even flinch. You don’t care if he knows who you are. You want him to know everything. Inside and out.

Your eyes flutter open as you gyrate against his hips, sinful and frustrating. You peer up at him, cheeks blazing. You want him.

He looks into your eyes, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wants to swallow you whole. He wants to map every inch of your body. His cock is painfully straining against his suit. You are not a want, but a need.

But Dick is trying to be good, he really is. The night’s not over. He’s still on patrol, technically. You may want Nightwing, but do you want Dick Grayson? If he fucked you on this rooftop, throwing restraint into the wind, would that be taking advantage of you? Do you just hero worship him? All the questions fly through his mind at rapid speed, and he wants them to quiet, before the Angry Orphan inside him decides to just stop caring completely. 

But he… he’s strong. We don't have to be, his mind interjects, screaming at him. But he quiets it. He whimpers at the tightness against his groin, a sound that makes you look at him curiously. You are completely blissfully ignorant to his inner strife. Completely innocent.

Dick narrows his eyes, channeling his best Batman impression.

“You should go home.”

You balk almost comically. “W-wait.” Nightwing retreats, but not before you can grab his wrist. “At least– at least, can we go on a date? Or even hang out? Or–” His thumb traces the curve of your lips, silencing you with a shiver.  

“Go home.” Firmly said, yet gentle.

You frown, though it’s more like a pout. Man, you’re cute, he thinks. “When can I see you again?”

Dick certainly isn’t strong enough to be responsible and say “You can’t.” 

So Nightwing just stares at you, looking… hesitant. The pieces click in your mind. Ah, so he liked it. Your lips curl, like a cat with cream. You take that as a victory.

“... I-I’ll come back tomorrow night,” you state boldly, stealing a chaste kiss before he could argue. Dick has to basically pull himself away, despite his desire to keep your bodies flush and perfectly fitted against one another.

You slip your ring onto your finger, and your entire body glows, rampant with Lantern light. You begin to float.

“Tomorrow!” you blurt, already wanting him again. You zip away, flying home. All the while, you slap at your warm cheeks, trying to see if this is a dream, laughing with glee, mind going haywire with heated fantasies. You kissed Nightwing. You basically groped him. And he didn’t stop you. Oh god, wait until you tell Dick. 

The confrontation went better than expected. At worst, you figured Nightwing would shoo you away, reject you. Despite the abrupt ending, he at least seemed… interested? You try not to dwell on it too much. It doesn’t matter.

You’re a Green Lantern. You’re powerful. Willful. He will be yours, someday.

[entities-of-posts]

do you have an idea for what a domain or ritual for the Dull could be?

An office job with a perfect grid of grey cubicles, bright halogen lights and hidden ceiling speakers that play only a quiet drone of white noise. Each come with a small, perfectly identical plastic plant and the same empty corporate motivational poster as only decoration. You are not allowed to decorate them yourself. There is a strict business formal dress code. You are always busy, but the purpose of your work is inane and vague. You fill forms. You push your pencil. The workload is not necessarily enough to make you feel crushed, but enough that you don’t have time to chitchat. Enough that you stay a little late every day. It’s strongly encouraged by the blankly smiling faces of the managers. You start to feel like you never have time for yourself when you get home, even though you work perfectly reasonable hours on paper. The cafeteria is free, but everything tastes so bland. Everything you cook yourself starts to taste the same way. On your days off the weight of the week that passed and the week that’s coming oh so soon keep you glued to your sofa, apathetically scrolling social media or watching empty reality tv, until it’s time for another week, again, again, again. But you’re lucky to have a job that pays well enough, and you won’t find any better. Your coworker Carlos’ name is spelled as “Carl” on his cubicle. But it doesn’t matter, you hardly know him anyway.

An idyllic suburbia. 2,5 children per home, good Christian marriages. An HOA that makes sure no one breaks the dream with any colorful paint outside the identical house, any colorful paint inside them, anything less than a perfectly manicured turf lawn, any decoration, anyone out walking past sunset or other irregular hours, any car too cheap or too old or in another color than a pleasant muted grey or an unapproved model, any children’s lemonade stand, any children drawing in chalk on the sidewalk, any children yelling, any children outside the houses, any fruit tree, any flowers, any bird, any bug, any pet, any backyard party, any inside party, any overnight visitors, any daytime visitors, any flag but the star spangled banner, any words but the right kind of English uttered, any lights on past nine, any unusual outside furniture, any unusual inside furniture, any unhappy faces, any noise, ever, ever.

[bloop-bl00p]

Are the suffering and consequences in the room with us?

For a place that is supposed to be Hell, there’s little to no effort into showing that these people are punished. Not necessarily by the Hellborns, I very much like the approach of “Hell is other people” but the writers failed at showing us this aspect. Vivziepop's version of Hell feels more like L.A. painted in red. And that’s disappointing.

It’s still a messed up place but outside of episode 4, there’s no real investment in making sure we understand that this is HELL. We see people do drugs yet we see nobody in a zombie-like state on the street. The closest we had was a randoe in Happy Day in Hell but it was a joke.

This is something very blatant with HH, most of the time, when something serious is presented it’s a joke (Sexual assault, drugs, etc...) It’ll depend on whether you're Viv's favorite character or not.

*cough*

Sir Pentious was not.

*cough*

You also see this in how they approached the crimes committed by characters, most of them did messed up things but Charlie never tries to address these despite being the one supposed to care about redemption.

Vaggie participated in genocide, she was angry but for one episode only, and her rant to Alastor was too light-hearted to be taken seriously (again a joke). Rewatch the scene, with an Alastor that doesn't give a damn, the funny music in the background, her goofy facial expression and tone, that’s not taking it seriously narratively.

Alastor was a serial killer and took pleasure in torturing his victims. Currently, he’s a cannibal and slave owner, Charlie does nothing about it. I’m not asking her to free Husk and Nifty we don’t know if she really can, but she could have had a conversation asking Al to not torture people during his stay at the hotel or treat his employees like humans and not pets.

Angel Dust was part of the mafia. From what we’ve seen he isn't against killing people, in fact, he seems to like it.

Every time we see him fight he’s smiling and enjoying himself, it’s said in the pilot that he’ll never miss an opportunity to help Cherry fight in those turf wars of hers. But his problem is druUuUUugs (this is an issue but that’s the only thing pointed out.)

That’s even more noticeable with the cannibals… who are nice? Whoa… you’re saying that the people whose whole culture is to jump you at your most vulnerable, tear through your flesh with teeth and hands just to feast on you in the middle of the street are actually silly guys and gals who like meat a bit too much. How charming ☺️

She was more annoyed that guts and blood went into her eye than anything.

There isn’t enough effort to showcase the horrors of living in a place where your only chance to survive is to be physically stronger and a good manipulator. When we’re shown something awful like “murders or cannibalizing someone” it’s presented as quirky, and funny, and nobody really mentions it. Aren't we supposed to believe that Hell is a bad place as a whole? Is Extermination really the only thing we have to worry about?

What’s the point of adding concepts like forced labor, addiction, and an unfair hierarchical system if you’re not going to show the viewer the horrendous reality of these things?

Vivziepop needs to pick a consistent tone for her series, there’s nothing wrong with joking about murders and EdgyyYyy humor, but that makes the audience detach from the reality of these things and they will have a hard time caring for a character the second they are portrayed as bad. Especially when the transition between funny and serious is from one episode to another.

“Angel and Husk are suffering!!!!!”

The characters that are supposed to be addicts are sober every time we see them on screen. We see Husk drink alcohol directly from the bottle and rather than showing that the toxins are affecting his body by making him sluggish and/or on the verge of vomiting he’s still able to stand still and hold a conversation perfectly. Even if Husk drank like a sailor, there’s so much alcohol your liver can take before eventually letting it affect your system.

But maybe we could use his addiction in a way to reinforce the fact that he isn't free.

Think of it like this, show a few scenes where Husk is excessively drinking experiencing bad hangovers, and not doing his job correctly as a whole. Vaggie complains about this to Alastor saying that til now he has done nothing significant to help the hotel and the employees he brought aren’t even behaving properly. She threatens him saying that he might get kicked out if this continues.

To that, Alastor could later threaten Husk saying he better fix his drinking habits or he’ll broadcast his scream or whatever. Later Husk would still be drinking but you could have little details of Alastor side-eyeing him and him just letting go of his bottles. He’ll still be sluggish but he’ll make sure he’s sober enough to keep The Radio Demon happy.

We never really felt like Husk’s movements were controlled by Alastor, he was just brought into the hotel without his concent, that sucks, but he can still converse normally with the others. In the Pilot, he insulted Deer Boe in his face with no repercussions. A few more scenes like the one in episode 5 to reinforce the power dynamics between him and Al wouldn't kill.

And Angel Dust how many scenes do we see him do drugs yet his body is able to take it all?

He’s supposed to be an addict, there are few mentions of him hiding things in his room but it's all talking! Talking is not bad, you can talk, but it’s boring and holds NO substances when there isn't SHOWING. Imagine this:

Charlie is worried because it’s been an hour and Angel hasn't come back to the Hotel, she knows his schedule as a sex worker is extremely busy but she usually knows when he comes back and he didn't respond to any of her messages.

Before she could go out to search for him, Cherry burst out into the room, a beaten and knocked out Angel on her shoulder. She was barely standing herself as she was also injured, with many cuts freshly bleeding mainly on her arms and face.

Charlie and the other help her get Angel to his room to tend to his wounds and Cherry’s. When she asks for an explanation Bomb explains that Angel couldn't buy his usual stash of drugs at the local store he went to anymore, as it got plundered right after the end of the extermination, the owner was killed and the shop was vulnerable to thieves.

Angel was looking for a very rare type of drug, made in the Gluttony ring, usually, the things made there take you quickly to cloud nine practically knocking you out in the process. The store he bought it from was the only one with prices affordable enough for him.

He eventually found a gang that was willing to give him a very small portion of drugs in exchange for money. Except that he didn't have nearly enough for what they were asking but he still went with it just after his work in one of Val’s clubs, already a shitty idea since he was exposed to many illicit substances when working with the moth so he wasn’t clean.

Obliviously the gang didn't accept a slip payment and tried to rob and take advantage of him. Cherry stepped up, fought a bit, and escaped with Angel, thanks to her smoke bombs, before things could get too serious. She goes on a small rant about how she and Angel are friends and they mutually help each other, when her wounds are patched up she leaves not before asking Angel to call her when he wakes up. Before she could go Charlie proposed to her to stay at the hotel but Cherry refused stating that there were people in the street who probably needed her help, but she might send people to Charlie’s hotel if she felt like they couldn’t survive in the street.

There’s probably a lot I could fix with this story but that’s just a quick example. What did I manage to convey without blatantly saying it? Angel Dust isn’t in a great financial situation, his addiction is so bad that he’s willing to put himself in danger just to get his hand on the strongest dope and Hell is a fucked up place. I didn't say it I showed it and since you’re smart you understood the subtext.

Some will say that there’s Extermination, but first, we just learned that they can fight back and they have a year to prepare themselves so the stakes are lesser.

Second, it’s surprisingly easy to get angelic weapons.

Someone like Striker managed to get multiple angelic weapons to kill Stolas and a rope that neutralized his powers.

An imp, the cockroach of the society, either his killing business is extremely successful or Carmilla’s prices aren’t that high. And don’t go tell me “Stealaa bought it!!” that’s never implied or stated.

Plus the angel leaves these in the open, I’d say it’s quite easy to get one of those right after an Extermination, nobody was surprised Vaggie has a spear so it feels like it’s common for someone to have them.

[absolutebl]

10 BLs That Are Not About Coming Out

Also... doesn’t really even have a coming out sequence. 

Ready? 

1. Kinky mafia dudes (KinnPorsche) 

2. Cinderfella crossdressing historical romance (Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding)

3. Grim reaper falls in love with a doctor (Dear Doctor I’m Coming For Your Soul) 

4. I’m not gonna explain, just watch Color Rush (Viki) 

5. Catfishing assassins on opposite sides of a turf war (Long Time No See Gaga) 

6. Time travel romance might be poly (Tinted With You Viki) 

7. Boys shack up with ghosts and each other (Ghost Host, Ghost House YouTube) 

8. Mafia + doctor team up to investigate MURDER, have lots of hot sex (Manner of Death) 

9. Gang of anarchists takes on corruption + identical twins (Not Me YouTube) 

10. Doctor vs time via seduction (Triage)

More but might not be quite BL or end happily: 

Smart boy in love with zombie incubus, keeps him alive with sex (Eternal Yesterday Gaga & Viki)

Man in poly relationship with reincarnated pets (Choco Milk Shake - YouTube)

Dystopian gay Dexter meets Judge Dread (Devil Judge Viki) 

Polycule murders bad guy goes on run from mafia assassins (3 Will Be Free YouTube)

Bodyswap goes on a road trip (Cupid’s Last Wish YouTube)

Bodyswap goes to boarding school (Great Men Academy)

Boys ARE ghosts, still kissing (Peach of Time Viki & Something In My Room YouTube) 

Very little Korean BL (because it exists in that alt-reality bubble) has coming out sequences. Most Thai BL, because it is set in high school and college and around friends/family does contain it. Here’s my:

BEST Coming Out Sequences in BL 

(source)

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: So That’s What It Means

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Steve finds out something he’s been wondering for awhile

Word count: 3,594

Content/warnings: Kissing, thigh grinding, nice det. Lang, mean det. Walker, soft!Decks, strong!Decks, mentions of death and murder, light mob themes, secrets, old ladies who love to objectify young men, swears, misogyny, pet name usage like one singular time

Author’s Note: Hehehe I’ve been waiting for this one. Turn it up!

I’d love it if you dropped a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think!! (Otherwise, I’m just screaming into the void by myself, which is fine, but I like it when the void screams back)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

Just when Steve thought things couldn’t, they got worse. At least on the business end of things. Lloyd seemed like he was closing in. The previous death of that employee from his salon was followed by a string of half a dozen, all working for him and Bucky in different capacities. It included their civilian services, as well as those involved in the undercover operations. This was bad, and was only going to get worse if there wasn’t a plan to step up and put an end to the series of turf wars they’d found themselves in.

On the bright side, which still wasn’t technically great under the circumstances, all these occurrences meant he got to visit the precinct more and see you.

Yours and Lang’s desks were stacking up with cases. They all seemed related, but you weren’t quite sure how yet. And for some reason, you kept seeing Steve coming in for quick interviews. It’s not like you really wanted to complain, though. You wanted to see him, and you were happy for it to happen since this increased work load was making you too exhausted to do more of it outside the station.

As you were doing data entry in your lab with the door cracked open, you saw a tuft of blond hair move into your field of vision above your computer screen. A smile instantly graced your face, but you kept your eyes on the results.

“Steve. Hi. Get into trouble? It’s like you’ve got permanent residence at Lang’s desk.”

Steve laughed and came in, closing the door behind him. “Eh, not quite, but if I’m being honest, as much as you know I like Scott, I wish I were here more often just for you instead of these unending cases. Speaking of which, you have a minute?”

You nodded, still typing on the keyboard while you listened to him. “Yeah, let me just get this in really quick, then I’m all yours.”

His fingertips tingled at that and a warmth rose from his chest to his throat. Oh how he wished that was true. He wished you were his, but more than that, he wished that he could be yours. All of him. But that wasn’t something he was ready to discuss yet. You knowing his whole self. Things were going too well right now for him to mess it up by dropping that bomb on you. It wasn’t the right timing.

As you slipped your gloves off and went to wash your hands, Steve locked the door behind him and took a step forward. You dried your hands and came over to meet him, looking up into his eyes. Oh how you wanted to swim in them; a pool of peace amongst the craziness outside. Despite how busy Steve always seemed, time with him made everything else go away.

“So what do you want to ask me?” You rocked forward on your toes, happy to focus on anything but work for a second. Right, that’s what it was, definitely not excitement to see him, even though your heart was racing and your legs felt restless.

“I wanted to know if you were busy this weekend. Maybe you and I could do something.” He looked between your eyes with a smile, but it was slowly falling in anticipation for your response.

You winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Unfortunately, I am really busy this weekend. I’ve got some guests I’m hosting. But you’ve at least caught me right now. And I’ve got a bunch of free time next week. I can text you my schedule later.”

Steve nodded, leaning closer to you. “You’re right. I’m happy to at least have you for right now. Even if it’s just a few seconds.”

You couldn’t help the way your body was drawn in just like his. Or the way your hands traced up the front of his suit, which was honestly growing on you, the feeling of the expensive fabric surprisingly pleasant. Or how your fists gripped his lapels tightly and pulled him close, down to your level. Or the way your lips hovered closely to each other.

Steve whispered in the closing space. “Seeing you sometime next week for much longer would be great. You let me know as soon as you can.”

In your affirmation of his request, your lips brushed against his while his one hand snaked around your waist and the other came up to your cheek. Your fists grew tighter, needing him infinitely closer.

Normally, Steve would mind the potential wrinkles of his designer suit. He was wearing his favorite today, mostly because he knew he’d run into you. But if that damage was coming at your hands? Hell, that made it all better.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, which Steve took as his signal to do the same, his lips softly pressing against yours. The kiss was sweet and careful, tentative, yet venerative. It was short, and interrupted way too soon for your liking by a knock on the glass of the lab door, where you had luckily closed the blinds before.

The two of you pulled away with a breath of a laugh, looking down at your feet before looking up again with a smile at the other. Steve spoke first.

“I, um, I should probably go.”

You nodded, mouth still slightly agape as a remnant of the moment. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot of work to do. And you’ve got…”

“Meetings,” Steve finished for you. You forced a small smile.

“Yeah, always meetings.” It was true. Every time a moment was cut short, it was meetings, but this small talk was also so you could make it seem like you weren’t just kissing a civilian in your lab. Whoever was on the other side would at least hear voices, not lip smacking, although the kiss was nothing like that. Steve slowly backed the two of you towards the door to start heading out, but he still wanted to take advantage of you letting him hold you for as long as possible.

“But to double check, you’re really not free this Saturday?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m totally booked. But if I’m remembering correctly, I could probably swing something in the middle of next week. Like Tuesday? Maybe Wednesday? Is that too weird? I’ve got all evenings off, so any time that’s good for you is good for me.”

Steve smiled, or more like beamed at the thought of you offering up all your free time to him, but still spoke softly, breathily, a hand still on your back. “Yeah, that works. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” You didn’t even realize the way you bit your lip when you nodded, the slightly harsher sensation holding nothing to that of his soft lips. You were granted another soft smile under sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Goodbye, Sweetheart.”

Steve gave you a kiss on your hairline, reaching behind him and unlocking the door as quietly as possible so whoever was on the other side didn’t know it was locked in the the first place. Goosebumps took over your body at the whole thing. The pet name, the forehead kiss, the actual kiss. Luckily, they were under your lab coat, so he couldn’t see how much he truly affected you. Steve dropped his other hand from you, the warmth from them replaced by the air conditioned lab environment too quickly for you liking, before turning and opening the door. He excused himself to walk past the two detectives on the other side, Lang wearing a smirk and Walker, a scowl. Once he passed though the two-person wall, he turned back to wave goodbye to you with a wink and a salute.

You did your best to hide your smile at that, biting at the inside of your cheek and focusing on the detectives in front of you. If there was one thing Walker could do, it was kill a mood.

“Detectives. How can I help you?” You opened the lab door all the way for them to come in. Lang stood in the middle of the room with a file folder while Walker leaned up against one of the tables, something you’d told him not to do several times. Well, it’s his problem if a solvent eats though his ugly collared shirt, not yours.

Lang handed you the folder, still barely smiling at what he knew he’d interrupted.

“Got another case, Decky. Sorry to keep piling them on like this, but we just can’t figure out who’s doing all this. Or at least we don’t have enough proof yet.”

You grabbed the folder, flipping through the pages, before you dropped it over on the desk by your lab computer, the one surface in the room that was lean-safe, but Walker didn’t seem to care about that. You let out a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms. “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll get back to work, then. I’ll let you know when I have the time to get though that.”

You gestured towards the case with one of your shoulders, but Walker slammed a fist on a table. You didn’t even care about his quick anger and poor intimidation attempt. He probably shouldn’t touch that surface with his bare hands, either, but you guessed he’d find his own punishment for it sooner or later.

“Is something wrong with that, Detective Walker?”

He walked over to you, his looming presence replacing the same space where Steve previously was, but this time it was much less enjoyable, so you took a large step back, holding out your hand. “Chill for a second there, buddy. Give me words.”

Walker huffed before looking at Lang, not even you. “Do you seriously trust her with this string of cases when she was just in here privately talking with one of our suspects? This case is important and I’m not gonna let her screw it up because she can’t keep her legs closed.”

That sent you over the edge. This entire time, Walker had been trying to undermine your abilities. He’d been doubting you, and blaming you for every one of his responsibilities that went wrong. And now, not even directly addressing you for the unfounded accusations.

“Walker, I’m sure there’s good re-,” Scott began to speak up before you cut him off.

“What I do in my lab is none of your business if I still serve you the data you ask for. There has never been a single occurrence where I’ve fraternized with a true suspect of an open case, and this is not me starting now. Plus, that is absolutely inappropriate for you to insinuate. Some of us take our jobs seriously and hold the law with regard. I kindly suggest you fuck off unless you want to know what the floor tastes like.”

Walker stood still, continuing to face Lang through your entire monologue, which may have been smart for him, because if he looked into your eyes, he would’ve turned into dust from the burning glare. Scott looked at you with a smile, content with the way you were able to shut Walker up and shut him down. He simply nodded in a thankful gesture, before guiding Walker out of the lab and giving you a thumbs up.

Before you knew it, Saturday was here and you were preparing to host your guests. You’d set out a veggie tray and everyone was arriving one-by-one until a single person was left to wait for. She was coming late, probably after dinner, anyway, so the rest of you got to it for a few hours, laughing and snacking in your apartment.

Steve was busy like there was no tomorrow, because if he didn’t keep working, there might not be. He was constantly relaying commands and shifting things around. The weekends were a busy time for him in general, so he was lucky when he’d gotten the time to spend with you before, but now it was seeming impossible. Luckily, he was sure he’d make it work to line up with your free time next week. He had to.

Steve was racing through city streets to another meet-up when his phone rang. It was Bee. She hadn’t called him too often at all. In fact, all he’d really been getting from her recently were short, sporadic texts. This had to be important, then, so he picked up right away.

“Hey, Bee, what’s going on? Long time no talk.” He was expecting to have a good conversation with a good friend. Someone he got along with, but she seemed frantic.

“Hey Steve, no time for formalities, I need your help.” Steve instantly locked in at that statement. Was she in danger? Why would Bee call him and not Bucky?

“Okay, shoot.”

“I just got off the phone with Bucky, but do you know where Decks is? I’ve been calling her all evening and she hasn’t picked up.”

He continued weaving, but started to slow down due to his focus on the conversation.

“Last I knew, she was having a weekend in. She’s hosting a bunch of guests at her place. Some sort of party I think. Why? What’s going on?”

Steve sent a short message to Sam to either take over or reschedule the meeting. If something was wrong or Decks was in danger, he needed to rush to her. Personally.

“Um, I kind of need her to clear her schedule for next Saturday to come back and win a game of pool.”

Steve wanted to stop in his tracks at that but kept going just in case.

“What? A game of pool? Why just for that? That’s so random. And even so, you don’t think you could win? Or me? I think we both could play pretty well.”

Bee laughed on the other end of the line. Sure, there were a lot of details she was leaving out, but there also seemed to be a lot he didn’t know for how much time he’d been spending with Decks lately. “Oh Steven, you sweet, naive, summer child. No, and I’ll tell you more about it in a second. But are you getting close?”

“Yeah. I’m in the car now. Just a few blocks away from her place. What does this all have to do with? Why does Decks have to play? Is she really that good?”

“Just move quickly. I need to know if she can do it because otherwise I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to find someone just as good. She’s actually the best. Bucky will fill you in on everything else, but the farm kind of hinges on it. And for your information, Decks is good at all games. I thought you knew that. She’s like, literally a pinochle world champion and a great card dealer and definitely would’ve beaten you at pool that night at the bar if she wasn’t trying to be nice. We used to always say she should’ve gotten a PhD in game theory.”

Steve was taken aback at the onslaught of information. “Wait a second, you bet the farm!? And Decks plays pinochle? That well!? Is that-“

He was sprinting up the steps to the apartment now, not wanting to take the time to wait for the elevator. He reached the door finally and knocked, faintly hearing ‘come in, Marge’ from the other side. Who on earth is Marge?

He cracked open the door to hear the loud sound of chattering, but not before he smiled at the vase of flowers sitting on the kitchen island. The ones he had sent the past week. His head turned toward the dining room table and all sound stopped as he was met with several pairs of eyes.

Steve gasped and dropped his phone from his ear in shock, seeing a familiar woman in a green visor at the table surrounded by old ladies, dealing cards. “Oh my gosh. Card games. Deck of cards. So that’s what it-“

He pulled the phone back up to his ear again. “Hold on, Bee. I’ll call you back later. I’ll take care of all of this...just. Let me tell her, okay? I’ll handle it because I don’t think I can get into the details without telling her everything. And I want it to come from me.”

He hung up the phone and put it in his jacket pocket before looking toward the table again with his grandest, albeit partially forced this time, smile.

You were focused on dealing cards to your game group, the old ladies surrounding you at the table like they did every so often when you had the time to meet up. A few rounds had come and gone, but your partner, Marge, still wasn’t here since she had a family event that she said she’d be coming from. That was fine, and now you’d be expecting her any minute.

You heard a knock on the door, which must’ve been her. Upon seeing the door open, though, you could tell it definitely wasn’t a little 70 year old lady with white hair in her signature yellow cardigan. It was a tall blond man about your age, decked out in expensive black material.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Your eyes were wide in surprise. He was on the phone, but promptly hung it up after taking a survey of the room.

The old ladies piped up. “Yeah, Steve.” “Hello, Steve.” “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

Steve sheepishly waved at the women sitting around the table across from you. You turned to your sides to see them all making flirty eyes, especially the lady sitting to your left who still hadn’t stopped waving. “Janet, hop off. He’s here for me.” You looked back at Steve. “Wait, you are here for me, right?”

Steve looked around before looking at you again with an awkward chuckle. He was still partially out of breath from how quickly he got here, but it was finally settling. “Hi ladies, um, yeah, it’ll just take a second, though. Can we talk in another room?” He pointed over his shoulder.

You nodded and took off your hat, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your bedroom, softly closing the door. You stood with your back against it, palms pressed flat as if when you moved, the ladies on the prowl would come flooding in to steal your man. Steve turned around back towards the door to look at you. “I’m sorry for just showing up.”

You straightened from your slouched position on the wall, placing a hand on his chest. He seemed a little stressed. “No worries, I just wasn’t expecting to see you today. Is everything alright?”

Steve didn’t want to ruin your day, so he held it in for now. “Um, yeah. Was just in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d take a chance and visit. I realized you’ve never seen it, so would you wanna come over to my place this week? Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday? We’ll play some pool? Bee’s asking if we can come back to the farm this weekend. Figured you and I could practice so we can win with our eyes closed.”

You laughed and smiled, leaning closer to him. “Sounds good. I’ve got this entire coming weekend off, too, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Probably a mercy schedule with the hours I’ve been pulling lately.”

Steve couldn’t help but lean in, matching you, as he nodded. “I bet. I can’t wait to spend more time with you this week, though.”

His arm was bracing him above you on the door. He knew he should’ve held back, not pushed it farther until he could lay everything on the table for you to see, but how could he resist when you were looking at him like that. Eyes wide and wanting, happy almost, even though he dropped in unannounced, something he knew you historically weren’t a fan of.

He was close enough to share a breath, so you leaned on your toes and were met by him leaning down. As the two of you kissed, Steve knew he should stop it in the back of his mind, but it all just felt so good, so he kept going, tongues dancing. He needed more, kissing down your neck and nudging his thigh between yours as you began to grind against him, gasping for air and moaning softly at the pleasurable sensations surrounding you. You wanted to keep going, too, until you remembered the several people just in the other room, waiting for you. “Steve, I, uh… as much as I really, really like this, I have some guests to host. Also, I thought I had told you this was a no-work-clothes-zone, but since you’ve got to go anyway, I’ll let it slide. Pick this up Tuesday?”

He pulled away and nodded, a somber softness in his eyes, taking in the last time you might look at him like this before he had to tell all. He loved the way your were poking at his suit jacket, playfully scrunching your nose, but still locking eyes with him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem. Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

You grabbed his hand and walked him to the door as all the ladies in your dining room whistled, and oohed and ahhed at him. As he stood in the hallway, the door just cracked enough for you to fit through and hopefully deter the wondering eyes of your card group, Steve left you with a kiss on the cheek.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Did you catch it? Did you catch where the nickname came from? Yeah, I knew you would. Smarty pants.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[kaycode1999]

Hazbin Hotel as Brooklyn 99 quotes pt.10

*Some crazy turf war ends up destroying a good chunk of hell so Charlie offers to let the citizens stay in the hotel for free hoping it will create a good connection and people will choose to stay. It gets really crowded putting everyone on edge. One of the citizens has a dog causing Alastor to have an anxiety attack from his trauma*

Charlie *after listening Alastor complain about the citizen and their dog*: He shouldn't have a pet just running around in the hotel. It's already so crowded.

Alastor: It's a "service animal" that he has for made-up reasons.

Random citizen *from across the room*: I have mild foot pain, okay? Francie helps me with that.

Alastor: How?

Random citizen: Legally, you're not allowed to ask me that.

Alastor: *scoffs angrily*

Later

*said dog goes right up to Alastor*

Alastor *tensely*: Oh, can you at least put her on a leash?

Random citizen: She's a medical professional. Okay? Would you keep a doctor on a leash?

Alastor *with growing anger*: That dog does not help you with your foot pain. You just want an excuse to bring her everywhere! Your dog is a fraud.

Alastor *banging angrily on the table*: Fraud dog! Fraud dog!

Vaggie *joining in banging on table*: Juice Mimzy!

Alastor and Vaggie *banging on the table in unison and chanting*: Fraud dog! / Juice Mimzy!

Later

*The group all huddled together in a corner*

Charlie: So, if we're gonna start a secret refuge on the roof, we need supplies. That means chairs, snacks, entertainment, and electricity. But we gotta sneak it out, so we need a distraction.

Alastor *seething*: Okay, here is what I'm thinking. We give that dog a bunch of chocolates. It dies. While everyone celebrates-

Charlie: Okay, Alastor's too close to this.

Charlie *turning to Vaggie*: Vaggie, you got any ideas?

Vaggie: Pentious and the egg boys just set fire to the kitchen sink.

*yelling and chaos in the background while everyone notices the fire*

Charlie *happily*: Perfect! Let's use that.

[liminsendhelp]

Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

Tags: slight description of reader (chubby, muscular, strong, denying gender as a concept), possibly slightly sociopathic/autistic reader, profanity, denial of authority, evil scientist on the way to becoming.

tags and warns are the same as in the last post, srry, I don't have time to make it more civilized and readable

Enjoy

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

The draft work plan, as well as the topic, was approved a week ago. Dr. Moon didn't see fit to announce it for fear of your reaction. It was a smart move on her part. You'd just push the paperwork, which was wrong, too. After all, what could tell you more about the changing mental and physical state of the fighters than the fighters themselves?

Dr. Moon looked at you menacingly again in the morning. This night you lay down at 4 a.m., knowing you'd be up in two hours so you could intercept your test subjects early.

No interceptions. Dr. Moon smugly tells you that she's already hammered out an agreement for you to meet in person with their chief.

You actively pretend it doesn't bother you. Neither his agreement, nor her interference. Nor the fact that the situation is completely out of control.

Kudos on your paranoia and your irrepressible desire for adventure. You're prepared.

You had nowhere to start your investigation and no time at all. So at night, you tried to accomplish another feat. For the sake of experimentation with the local idiots could be socialized.

Going out for a smoke at three in the morning, you pretended that you couldn't light your lighter. You hoped that at the opposite wall your acting was taken for granted. The recruits on duty, watching you especially hard that night, pulled cigarettes out of their ugly mouths as you got closer.

I wonder if they've killed before or if they're just getting used to blood?

"Got a light?"

The soldier silently held out his hand with a lighter to your cigarette. You responded with a precisely calculated amount of gratitude in a smile so he wouldn't think you were flirting.

You took a couple puffs under their harsh stares. Your neck was starting to itch from the extra attention. You need to finish before you start blushing.

"Can you tell me who I was rude to today?"

"No."

You nod. Okay.

You stand in silence until halfway through your cigarette.

"Captain Price." Another voice. Slightly higher and calmer than the first. "You can automatically add to it a list of those who sat at the table with him."

"And the rest of his wives."

"What?"

Idiotic. Don't get me started, they wouldn't understand anyway.

You sigh, letting the smoke burn your throat before letting it out.

"In my defense, I apologized immediately."

"And still just as rude. You've been sheltered here. We have our rules on our turf."

You look him clearly in the eye for the first time all evening.

"We didn't ask. We were put on the spot, just like your management. That's one. Second, the territory here is not yours, it's theirs. Save your moralizing and lecturing, okay?"

You clamp the smoldering cigarette in your teeth, leaving your hands free. You're not yelling, judging by your tone you're just making conversation.

"I didn't do anything wrong, I even came to make up with you, even though you had nothing to do with the situation at all. So don't get worked up, lady."

The calmest of them all squeezes the shoulder of the guy breathing aggressively in your direction. Nice.

You throw the cigarette butt in the trash can and smile at the soldiers the way you smile at successful death jokes. As you walk away, you don't turn around, feeling your legs grow lighter with each passing second.

The unquenched thirst for the fight they've stirred up in you scrapes beneath your skin.

You do push-ups, squats, standing planks, wanking, brushing your teeth while you wash, and finally expel the unstoppable energy inside you. Closing your eyes you know that tomorrow you'll hate your decision to sleep in rather than spend two hours looking for information.

So at seven in the morning, Dr. Moon looks at your drained face with disapproval, and you stare at your laptop screen with annoyance.

There's no information on this Price guy.

Not even a Facebook page, not even a snippet in some archived newspaper.

You don't have access to local records yet, and--

You have to drink your coffee and take the first flight to the gym.

You think back to your high school days, standing here, behind the Captain's back while he lifts weights.

You're sure he must have sensed your presence, as long-serving military men often do.

But, since he decided to call you here (which by the way, caused you a lot of questions), you'll stare.

"Be polite. First impressions, dear. I beg of you, don't scare them off. The fact that you've been given a chance is already a huge breakthrough." Dr. Moon spoke. All day yesterday, before going out today.

But they already thought you were a stranger, didn't they? They've already seen the obvious fact that you don't fit into the narrow confines of the norm. So why try?

The muscles in his back were encased in a long-sleeved sweatshirt, his legs in loose athletic shorts pulling the fabric taut as he squatted with the barbell on his broad shoulders.

God, is that monster pumping his ass?

You snicker as he finishes his approaches. He catches your shameless stare in the mirror-you have nothing to hide. Let him not think you're better than you are.

His smirk lifts the neat bush on his face called a beard. He looks like a walrus.

You picture him in the shoes of that poor guy from 'Tusk' as the Captain wipes the sweat from his face with a towel.

"You're not in the database. I mean in yours, the institute's. You know about that?"

You don't answer, continuing to watch him walk. He reaches for the water bottle, apparently leaving you room to respond. You reluctantly take his offering.

"I cut myself out of it."

"Hacker, huh?" He grins skeptically.

His demeanor only triples your opinion of his treatment of you as entertainment. You bite your lip from the inside out, chewing on a piece of skin a little harder to taste the tang of blood.

"Can't find you either."

"Have you gotten to ours yet?"

"Negative, Captain." Blue eyes sparkle approvingly.

"Talked to someone, though. Good. I wouldn't have hoped so, given your performance the day before yesterday."

You remain calm. Expectedly, you need to settle things definitively now.

"I don't like the attention. I get nervous, I get creative. I find it easier to talk to work, not people." A little acting, a little honesty, a little understatement. He probably won't dig any deeper.

You step away from the wall, handing him a thin folder. There are literally two sheets in it, one of which is the cover page.

"A more detailed work plan, if you agree. I understand you'll be here for a couple more weeks." He pulls away from the text and looks into your eyes with a mute question. Even though he likes your idea, he's still deeply unconvinced of you himself. You flip to the first page and point your finger to the bottom corner. Right under Dr. Moon's signature.

"Yours?"

"Name, yes."

That's the payoff. A little information about you in exchange for your cooperation. Never mind that he could have gotten your name just by asking the guys who let you into the base a couple months ago. Or even easier, by approaching Dr. Moon directly, she wasn't exactly hiding, all loud and stern and friendly.

But, now that you've told him the name like that, like you're apologizing... He's gonna go along with this project, right?

"How's it gonna go down?"

Oh, yeah, like a sweetheart.

It's not going exactly as expected. You had hoped that, after yesterday's brainstorming session with Dr. Moon, where she criticized you to the hilt, your work wouldn't be questionable for at least some of the required research points. But, you argue while you walk to the shower, argue while he washes, argue through the locker room door.

You're easily obsessed. Work in particular.

And when someone tries to cut your already flawed work list down to two items, you can't stop. All calm goes to hell.

Although, it's worth noting that the Captain's not as hard-headed as you'd expect. It's like he's genuinely interested in getting results.

Why, then, is he trying to take the tool away from you?

You've been sitting in his office for an hour. You've finally gotten the real reason out of him for refusing certain interviews, certain data from the archive, and the amount of time to talk to you.

If you give in to him, you'll be left with two days of interviews, unable to observe his fighters or communicate with them outside of the interview on the officially approved form. Moreover, he's not willing to give you access to official paperwork other than medical records for the last seven years.

And you're not willing to do that. You're not a fortune teller. You can't take information off the top of your head. You're already conceding on your own, unable to verify everyone's word on a polygraph, and unlikely to be able to get videotapes of their interactions over the years within the walls of the base. For all that, you're delineated by geographic boundaries. Both facilities and countries.

And so, you can be lied to, miscommunicated, kept out, overlooked, disregarded, uncooperative, not tolerated for more than two days, and even with all of that....

"What do you mean they won't let you talk?"

"He won't, your max is his medical records. And that, he's cleaning up his information too."

Okay. Minus one. Whoever this Ghost-guy is. It's all the same.

"I need three days for an interview. I'm willing to chase you and your boys all over the place, But I need more time." You watch him scratch his chin. "Tell me who I don't need to approach and..."

"You won't believe this, missy, they're not exactly sociable either. It's easier to name the ones who won't be stressed by your meddling. Two days will be more than enough."

It was starting to smell like shit.

"How many."

"Five."

No yelling. No emotion. He's just probing you. Putting a price on you.

"Okay. Five people then, but a day each."

He whistles. His eyes sparkle like he's watching a lumbering animal. In that shitty uniform of his and his gleeful confidence. Santa fucker on steroids.

"Or, you give me three days and a group of fifteen men."

"What makes you think that..."

"Oh, I roughly understand how this works. You have a core squad and those who are on the backup. You can keep my head, but leave the tails. I need more data." Toward the end of your sentence, you speed up, biting your tongue to keep from saying too much.

"Ten."

"We're not in the bazaar."

The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes smooth out a little.

"And I'm not haggling. Ten fighters. Two days."

Fucker.

"Okay, what about the archives?"

"Nothing. You're not getting them."

"Put a watcher on me! Have someone control what I look at and what I report."

"There's no such person, missy. They're all busy."

"One day. I don't have to eat, I don't have to get out of my seat. Just the paperwork."

"Do you think a watcher can do that too?"

"I thought the military are supermen, sir, aren't they?" You say it so seriously that he's almost ready to start answering the question. Instead, he relaxes again, letting out a chesty chuckle.

"You'll need more days. At least one to organize all that pile of information."

"I'm a child of the internet. It'll all fall into place in my head."

"Still."

Price is looking at it, pricing it. You can hear the hands of the clock on his desk ticking. Your gut feeling is that it's about 9:00 in the morning. Give or take an hour, over your argument you weren't really keeping track of time.

"I'll give you three days. But from five to seven in the morning and maybe in the evening. With a condition."

"All ears."

What does he want? For you to do a backflip?

"You'll be eating in the common room this week."

"That's..."

"It's a prerequisite. If you're working with me, it's not appropriate for you to chase your mentor to carry your own food."

"It's not a matter of business. Don't think I'm going to consider it extra time for data collection. I'm not going to talk to them while they're eating. Suddenly they'll choke and I'll be charged with state treason."

"That's not the point. You want this to work out, don't you? Then don't separate yourself from them. They'll tell you more, and they'll give me less to think about. You come with me after morning at the archives, sit at the same table with us, explain to the guys what this is all about. If they agree to cooperate on their own, I won't interfere."

It sounded reasonable, actually. But you couldn't escape the feeling that he was just bossing you around.

"Coming with you so the other soldiers can smother me with a pillow out of jealousy?"

"I go to training from seven to eight. Suppose I took the little scientist under my mighty wing, eh? Besides, that's the way it is so far."

"Thinking of killing my sleep, then my body, and then my soul while I try to talk to your sharks?"

"I'm considered a worse shark than they are, and you're doing a great job so far."

You clench your fists under the table, bite your cheek, lean back, rub your face, and sigh. The blue of his stupid eyes hover on the back of your eyelids.

"You look like a walrus." You quietly bleat into your palms on your face. He laughs.

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 04

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Y/n is sitting at the desk inside the garage. It was a fairly quiet day and Leff was sitting in the office with his feet on the desk, talking on the phone to someone making new import deals. Sicky came busting through the door so hard, it hit the wall.

"I've fucking had it! I'm done babysitting this kid. He's been complaining nonstop all fucking day and I'm going to kill him." Sicky threw his hands up and Mike came in behind him shaking his head.

"Did you do all the drop offs?" Y/n looked at her watch and Sicky growled.

"No because princess over here has to stop every ten minutes to piss or get cigarettes or jerk off." Sicky looked back at him.

"I had to piss twice and it's not my fault these places are smoke free. This is fucking New York. That's stupid." Mike argued.

"I can't handle it Y/n. You take over or I'm going to skin the kid." Sicky lowered his voice so only Y/n could hear him knowing that threatening Leff's blood loud enough for him to hear would always be a no no. She stood up from the desk and chuckled.

"You remember this the next time I have to do a shipment at the bar." Y/n put a gun in her ankle holster and grabbed her jacket off the hook.

"Come on loverboy." Y/n grabbed the collar of Mike's leather jacket and he gave Sicky the finger.

"Do you care if I smoke in your car?" Mike asked hopeful.

"You can smoke in my car but to answer your question earlier, you can't smoke at client's establishments unless they offer you a smoke. It's disrespectful. These are business partners and when we enter their home turf, they have the advantage. We must show respect to keep business relations on the up and up." Y/n explained as Mike lit his cigarette.

"I fucking hate this job. Honestly, I almost wish Leff would have left me to figure my own shit out. At least that way I wouldn't be stuck being his little bitch delivery boy." He blew smoke out of the cracked window.

"What would you rather be doing?" Y/n asked honestly and Mike looked over at her to see if she was being serious.

"If I tell you, you can't laugh." Mike said making Y/n smile.

"If you say male stripper or rancher, I'm going to laugh." She warned making him chuckle.

"I want to be a musician. Start a band and get the hell out of here. The music scene in New York is dead unless you're a rapper or making a techno pop set in someone's basement rave." Mike explained.

"Musician? Do you play an instrument or are you a singer?" She asked. Mike could see she was genuinely interested in his answers and he tried to hide his blush.

"I play guitar but I definitely would need a singer. I'm not much of a vocalist." Mike took another puff from his cigarette and ashed it out the window.

"Well you could absolutely find a singer in New York but you'll want to go South if you want to get any sort of band off the ground. Everyone knows Texas is where aspiring musicians go." Y/n pulled up to a stop light and looked at him.

"What's your sound? Despite the cowboy look, the leather daddy that accompanies it gives hard rock or grungey alternative." Mike had to laugh out loud.

"Did you just call me a leather daddy?" He asked furrowing his brows.

"Shut up, don't act like you don't love when I give you pet names." She teased from behind the steering wheel. He noticed something he hadn't really noticed before. She had a tattoo on her neck behind her ear. When she smiled wide, he could see a little black rose etched into the skin.

"If only you would take me up on my offer to use them with less clothing and more privacy." Mike flirted making her shake her head at him, putting her hand out to take his cigarette and take a puff. He watched her suck the smoke into her mouth, let it out of her nose and back out again.

Every thing she did turned him on in the weirdest way.

"Get some furniture first and we'll revisit naked hangouts." She teased. Mike took that as a promise and motivation to get a couch.

"How do you know so much about the music scene in Texas?" Mike asked curiously.

"I used to work at a night club. A lot of guys would come through and tell me their life stories and dreams of making it big but what they don't realize is New York is more for performing arts. Classical musicians and acting are on the rise but places like Austin are where all the big music producers pick and choose people to throw together to make an album. Plus the food is superior." Mike kept his eyes on her.

"The night club...were you a-"

"Yes Mike, I used to be a dancer so if you have any stripper jokes, keep in mind that I'm currently behind the wheel and you aren't wearing a seat belt." She glanced over at him.

"I mean we're literally pushing drugs and weapons. I don't think being a stripper is some sort of classless gig. We're clearly doing a lot worse." He shook the duffel bag.

"You aren't wrong." Y/n pulled up to the drop location and put the car in park.

"Besides, Sicky said you own a bar now so that's cool." Mike added making her grin at him.

"You're talking to Sicky about me huh?" She teases and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up." He finished off his cigarette before getting out of the car and when Y/n handed him the duffel she held onto it.

"Hey, this shit is only as temporary as you want it to be. You want out, you have to find something that will get you out and keep you straight. All Leff needs is reassurance that you'll be able to take care of yourself. That's all he wants." She said sincerely.

"I'll keep that in mind while I'm peddling this cocaine to a biker gang." Mike said making Y/n scrunch her nose.

"Sicky's right, you're being a princess." Y/n teased making Mike take the bag from her and give her a mocking middle finger. She smiled giving him one back and watched his back as he knocked on the door. She moved her gun from her ankle holster to her lap and watched him carefully.

He didn't know it but Y/n was already willing to kill for him if she had to.

[giulolosblackmail]

Willow's Bio

Though Willow is over a century old, he has still lived most of his life in Finsel and formed many meaningful relationships with the humans that live there. It is, perhaps, because of his love of individual humans that he despises humans as a whole. Around eighty years ago Willow came to know a boxer and his daughter living in the slums. The boxer’s daughter fell ill and they couldn’t afford to pay for her treatment, so the boxer began to gamble his life for a chance at saving his daughter, going up against opponents that were far larger and stronger than he was. Inevitably, he was beaten nearly to death and could no longer work. Willow, having not nearly enough money to help them himself, began writing poetry about the boxer and his daughter in a desperate attempt to bring attention to his friend’s situation. The poems became wildly popular among nobles, but the real-life inspirations behind the poems were ignored and died in poverty. Willow decided that humans don’t care about tragedy in the literal, only the theoretical where it serves as entertainment, and - finding the pen to be useless - turned to his much more reliable fists and fell into the Gang Territory. Willow’s worldview changed, and he came to believe that, “although the power of art leads to eternity, but to grasp the present, we must have force. Without the present, there would be no eternity.”

Taking his anger, grief, and frustration out on all those who stood before him by throwing himself recklessly into every fight he could find, Willow created a legend in the Gang Territory and amassed wealth and power. His symbol became the emerald studded brass knuckles that came to be known as the Legendary Seal of the Gang Territory, the weapon of the undefeated Champion of the Underground Arena. Legend has it that when the Gang Territory fell into a turf war fifty years ago, the battle raged for three days in what would later be called the Battle of Gang Territory. And from the chaos rose the victor, the Champion, the man with the ability to command wind and lightning, the strongest warrior in the Gang Territory. Willow won the right to rule, but found that it brought him no joy to amass power or wealth, and so he gave away his wealth freely and shied away from the spotlight; eventually the legend faded into obscurity after the Champion vanished, and now only rumors remain that that once great man has ended up working for a noble. There are many in the slums who remember the Champion not as a warrior, but as a man who gave away everything he owned to friends and strangers alike, who defended the weak with his own fists, bleeding for anyone who could not fight for themselves. It had never been his intention to help, only to find relief for himself. “I just thought they needed those things more than I did. Fighting made me happy enough.” Perhaps that is why he was eventually lured away from the Gang Territory.

A hollow life spent ever in fear of the next conflict and wounded from the last is difficult to maintain, who knows what the Duke Bavlenka of the time promised Willow to buy his loyalty, but Willow has been working under the Bavlenka Family ever since. He became something of a fancy pet, only ever seen draped in finery and singing sweetly for nobles at luxurious balls filled to the brim with wealth and excess. He lived well, but it was a life that made him sick. To cope, he spent all his free time sneaking away to the Slums to drink and fight to excess, even disguising himself to return to the Colosseum in secret. “Singing makes me feel less alone. And fighting, I feel as if I'm truly alive. When your life is almost eternal, time loses its meaning.” It was not until he met Magda Ellenstein that he began to find the dull routine of his life new and exciting again. Striking up a friendship, Willow found himself chasing after Miss Ellenstein as she caused trouble and shook Finsel by its roots, even going into battle during the climax of the Sulla War to help her. The Finsel that emerged from the rubble of war was changed, though it was unclear if it was for the better.

Whatever promise Willow had made with Duke Bavlenka all those years ago must have been somewhat shaken with the late Duke’s death, for Willow began to hide himself away from the new head of house, well enough that it took some time before Duke Gaelan Bavlenka learned of his existence. Willow seemed to hold a particular disdain for Gaelan Bavlenka, though was not alone in his dislike for the man attempting to navigate Finsel’s political landscape with entirely unearned confidence. It was not just Willow’s rebellion chipping away at the Bavlenka family’s united front and social prestige, though his was one of the first to be ended. Eventually Lou Bavlenka dragged him back to his duties, though Willow did not go gently. The first song he sang under the new Bavlenka head was the infamous Cursed Aria, a legendary song among the elves that had largely been lost to time, as no one wished to gamble their life just to perform it. Dedicating his performance to Lady Magda Ellenstein, Willow told her, "Once life loses its meaning, we must find a new one. I never cared about the future. It's unpredictable,” before confessing his love for her in no uncertain terms. It was his conviction and passionate love for Lady Ellenstein that weathered him through the song’s curse, and until his love for her fades, he can sing it as often as she will listen.

Like many others, Willow found himself falling for the charming Miss Ellenstein soon after making her acquaintance, pledging to come whenever she called so that he could fight her battles for her, this being both something of a confession and an attempt to keep Miss Magda from getting into trouble in the Gang Territory. He could only fall for her more as he watched her monumentous rise to power, and would continue to be enthralled by her care for people and her stubborn drive to improve Finsel, bridging the gap between the nobility and the Slums. In an ultimate act of passionate love, Willow placed his life on the line to sing Lady Ellenstein the Cursed Aria, though when she could not find the words to respond, he instead asked her to listen as he kept singing for her and her alone. Regardless of the direction Lady Ellenstein’s heart will follow, Willow will continue to be inspired by her, striving to improve himself as a man and a singer, and go on to dedicate himself to improving the lives of elves in Finsel.

link to wiki page

[nexttonaturalturf]

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[inkantation]

NAME: tsunaomi seisma tierra

AGE: 24 years old.

SPECIES: inktoling ( blue ring octopus / squid )

GENDER: nonbinary woman.

ORIENTATION: bisexual

PROFESSION: graduate student / captain of paramilitary organization .

—————————————————————————- { PHYSICAL ASPECTS }

BODY TYPE: tall, athletic from years of being an acrobat. pear shaped.

EYES: originally topaz, but her right eye is stained teal with a slightly unearthy glow.

SKIN: medium toned, dotted with blue scars and blue ring freckles. teal scar over her right eye.

HEIGHT: 180cm ( 5'11" )

—————————————————————————- { FAMILY }

FAMILY: her mother, dr. ida tierra. they are incredibly close and share everything together. has familial like connections all throughout her neighborhood. otherwise, she has extended family back in takotsubo, whom she's not quite close with. has no connection to the other side of her family.

SIBLINGS: none by blood; considers eden and rayne like family.

ANY PETS?: none.

—————————————————————————- { SKILLS }

medical training, general scientific knowledge, acrobatics / gymnastics, stealth, and combat. in general, think of her as fast: fast thinking, fast moving. she also paints, sketches, and does photography in her free time. in terms of turf war, she mains the splattershot pro, the octobrush, and the bamboozler.

—————————————————————————- { LIKES }

COLORS: orange, green, blue, cream.

SMELLS: cinnamon, cloves, chiles, jasmine, tea tree. in general, warm or woody smells.

FOOD: enjoys a lot of everything - has a strong attachment to tamales and onigiri for sentimental reasons.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: yes [ ] || rarely [ x ] || no [ ]

FAVORITES: live music, photography, spending time with her friends and community, coffee, tea.

—————————————————————————- { OTHER DETAILS }

SMOKES?: yes  [  ] || no [ x ] || occasionally [ ]

DRUGS?: yes [  ] || no [ x ] || occasionally [ ]

DRIVER LICENSE?: yes [ ] || no [ x ]

EVER BEEN ARRESTED?: no [ ] || yes [ ] || almost/detained  [ x ]

—————————————————————————-

DONE. now tag other 15 people to do it.

Tagged by: absolutely no one, i stole it from @lunafool Tagging: steal it from me!!

[worldly-diversity]

          ⤷  『  @burning-fcols  』

When Valentino had come schmoozing like the slippery prick he is, his favourite worker on his arm, Husk had resigned himself to a boring night listening to the fucker prattle on about how lucrative a joint operation would be, how he could lend out some of his staff for Husker's use both business and private.

Husk wanted nothing to do with it as usual, but Val had gotten daring, challenging him on his own turf and Husk's not the kinda guy to take that lying down. So when Val had tried to goad him into betting the casino, he had to respond in kind. Except he has all of zero interest in the sex industry and Val can keep it for all he cares. So instead his focus zeroed in on the bastard's greatest asset instead.

It was a fair deal, and a not so fair game. His entire overlord persona was built on the gambling den, to challenge him on his home turf was the height of folly, as Valentino shortly came to discover, having lost his contract with Angel to the gambler instead. He'd tried to rage, to exert control and use his powers but Husk had taken none of his bullshit and promptly exerted his own authority to shut the bastard down and kick him out, leaving Angel behind and now serving another master.

"Good fuckin' riddance to bad rubbish, eesh." He grumbled as he dusted himself off and accepted a drink from one of his staff, turning instead to look at Angel and consider his options. He's got no use for a porn star, but setting him loose meant Val would exert his power and get him right back, which he's not about to give that prick the satisfaction of subverting their deal. So keeping him it is.

"Y'alright there, pal?" He offers instead, approaching with a relaxed gait to communicate a lack of aggression. He's seen what Val's like behind closed doors on occasion, no doubt he'd have left his favourite pet with a myriad of invisible scars as a result. He sits down across from Angel and wonders how best to approach this.

"You're safe here, that lousy prick can't touch you anymore." He murmured, idly rolling some dice in his free hand; a distraction for himself that serves to help him think more often than not. "That means you're workin' for me now. I've got some ground rules, basics really. Respect the other staff, don't pick fights with them or the clientele but don't take anybody's shit either. They try and do anything to you, you get one of the others or me and we'll handle it."

"This place has a strict no touching the staff policy, so any moron with a couple too many drinks in his system will be regretting ignoring that one in short order." He pauses to take another sip of his drink.

"You get room and board if you want it, all I need from you is to use those charms 'o yours to pull in the clientele and encourage them to bet. If they're dumb enough to bet their soul, take the opportunity."

Guess that should do for now… He's not too sure what Angel is used to or what kind of apprehensions he might have, but they could work through that in due time. "Feel free to ask me whatever you want, I'm not gonna get pissed over it. Best you know what to expect than to make assumptions, yeah?" With that he leaned back in his chair, allowing the other to process and ask said questions.

[wabuup]

A Dime A Dozen, But Only One Nickel - Borrower Story, Chapter 1

hi, this is my first time posting to tumblr so im a bit nervous... i hope you enjoy...

Nickl was lucky. Sure, he was an orphan, parents disappearing when he was only two. And sure, nobody was willing to let him into their family, training him in the ways of borrowing but leaving him to fend for himself. But other than that, he had a relatively easy life, for a Borrower at least. The apartment building he lived in was full of humans but no pets. And most humans followed consistent schedules and were pretty oblivious to his borrowing. 

He was athletic and fast, never being seen and able to get whatever he wanted. And if things ever got tough, he could visit another floor for a bit, or trade with the other Borrowers for resources. Nickl had such an easy life, he often had lots of free time before he next had to scavenge. So he would spend this time doing things to make his life even easier, carving out his tunnels, cleaning, mastering sewing, and learning to read. 

But of course, there’s only so much he could do to ease his life. Eventually his tunnels didn't need to be carved out any more, having three or more well hidden entrances to every apartment he visited, each marked with Borrower symbols for any visitors. And he had mastered reading and writing quickly, even big words were no problem, but he never risked reading a human book, despite how badly he wanted to. Getting lost in one could get him caught. 

Tinkering always held his attention, but he already had everything he could ever need. So with nothing else to do, Nickl began to borrow more often. Both for the supplies, the excitement, and to hone his skills. Yet he never had an overabundance of supplies. In fact, he often ran low. 

At least two times a week, Nickl took his gathered supplies to the other Borrowers to trade. Sometimes he wouldn't even trade, he would just give his stuff away. He was receiving less than he gave with the trades anyways. Especially by trading away his inventions, like rope reels and flashlights. He hoped that his efforts would convince them to let him stay with them, but this never happened. They were thankful for the supplies, especially the gadgets Nickl made, but after the trade was over he was told to get out of their turf. As upsetting as it was Nickl understood. Their family was already big. Too many Borrowers in one place would lead to human attention. So after Nickl did his trade, he went right back to borrowing, preparing for the next exchange. He was fine on his own, after all.

But he still wanted to help. He wanted to be useful. So he took things a step farther. He wasn't sure when he started doing this, but he actually began to help his human hosts. Humans tended to drop and lose things, and that was good for borrowing. But sometimes they lose something valuable to them. And when that happened, they would find it back out in the open sometime later. It was the least Nickl could do for them. He relied on them for survival, and even though they were completely terrifying, he might as well thank them for their help.

Life went on like this for years and years. It was good, and Nickl was content.

And then it all came tumbling down.

~~~

It was a normal day for Nickl. He needed a few paperclips so he headed into apartment 6D to get some. The desk was really close to his entrance and he had made this trip a million times. He didn't bother bringing his bag, it wouldn't help him on this particular trip, just weigh him down. All he needed was his climbing hook and some extra thread to tie the paperclips to for easy transport.

The human that lived here, Ms Rose, had her daughter Abigail back for the summer. The younger human went to something called College and was gone for most of the year. Nickl remembered a few years ago this wasn't the case, but it made his life easier so he didn’t question the sudden change. The humans were at work and shouldn't be back for a few hours. Plenty of time for Nickl to get what he needed and get out.

Nickl scaled the desk and began looking for the paperclips. They were kept in a red box, but for some reason Nickl didn't see them. It took a moment, but eventually he spotted the box on the shelf above. Nickl sighed. He hated when things were misplaced, but there wasn't much he could do. 

Nickl threw his hook up, tugging the rope a few times to make sure it was secure, and began to climb up to the lower shelf. He had plenty of time to spare, he might as well play it safe, climbing one shelf at a time. Once he reached the top, he threw his hook to the upper shelf and soon was on top of it. He left his hook where it was, allowing him to easily get back down to the desk. He walked over to the paperclips and pried the box open.

As he examined his metal prizes, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Panic raced through the Borrower as his head shot up. What?! He thought desperately. They- no one should be home yet! The footsteps were quickly approaching the room, and Nickl could hear Abigail’s voice getting closer and closer. Panicking, the Borrower scrambled behind a book.

“Yeah, the lady spelled my name as “Abbygale”, like a gale of wind. I'm not joking.” Abigail said as she walked into the room. Nickl flinched as the desk beneath him thudded and the chair at the desk creaked. He risked peaking out and inhaled sharply when he saw Abigail sitting at the desk, staring at her phone. God, he was so close to her, and his proximity to her reminded Nickl of how small and powerless he was compared to the human. The person on the phone said something which made Abigail slam her hand on the desk, laughing loudly. Nickl had to hold back a yelp of fear, feeling the shelf shake from the force. Humans were terrifying…

Suddenly, Abigail stopped laughing, expression becoming confused. “What's this?” she mumbled, reaching over to the shelf. Nickl ducked behind the book, heart beating a million times a second. But Abigail wasn't reaching for him. A small metal “tink” told Nickl what she had just picked up. He looked out to confirm his suspicions and his heart dropped. Abigail was holding his hook.

No no no! Nickl thought, eyes wide. His hook! How was he supposed to get down now?! His spare hook was in his bag, which he didn't have right now. He was trapped up here, with a human in the room. A human who might realize she wasn't alone at any second.

“Hey Peter, look.” Abigail said, pressing a button on her phone. Nickl quickly hid behind the book again. He knew from experience Abigail had flipped her phone’s camera. Which meant he was now in the view of two humans. “What’s that? Some kind of budget fishing line?” Peter laughed. “I don't know, but it was hanging on my shelf, like this.” Abigail said. Nickl watched her shadow as she placed the hook back on the shelf, showing Peter where it was. Leave it there. Leave it there. Nickl silently begged.

“Weird.” Peter said. “Yeah. My mom must have put it there… for some reason.” Abigail said, not sounding convinced. “Maybe it's her way of telling you she wants to go fishing with you again.” Peter said. “Maybe. It's a weird way of asking, but maybe.” Abigail shrugged. Nickl stifled a groan as Abigail removed the hook again. “I’ll keep it and ask her. It's a nice fishing hook.” She said, putting it in her jeans.

~~~

Nickl had no idea how long he had been up on the shelf. Time seemed to drone on and on as Abigail did the same. She wouldn't get off the phone, nor would she get up from the desk. Occasionally she would reach into her bag below the shelf to get something, but that was her only major movement. At least this gave Nickl an opportunity to formulate a plan of escape. He eyed the thread around his shoulder, the one he brought for the paperclips. He quickly unrolled it and measured it. It was 5 inches long, he wanted to make sure the paper clips were well secured and having extra was always a good idea. But was it long enough for a rope? 

Nickl couldn't scout out the room while the human was present, so he had to go by memory. 5 inches wasn't enough to get him down from the shelf and onto the desk. But perhaps it could get him onto the lower shelf. He still couldn't reach the desk this way, but it should be enough to lower his fall height so he wouldn't break his legs. Then, he could use the corner created from the desk and the wall to inch his way down to the floor. Then he was home free. Yes, this could work! All he needed was a paperclip to make a new hook. But to get that, he had to wait for Abigail to leave.

It took a while, but Abigail eventually stood up. “Right, I should probably get ready for the party at Kerry’s.” she said. “Oooh right!” Peter said. “I nearly forgot! It's at 6, right?” Abigail nodded at her screen. “You're coming, right?” Abigail asked as she walked out of the room. “Yeah, I might be a bit late though…” Peter’s voice faded as Abigail walked down the hallway. Nickl was ready to execute his plan, already eyeing the paper clips box. He just wanted to get out of here already. But he didn't dare move until he knew Abigail had left the house. 

Finally, after around 10 minutes of Abigail walking up and down the hallway, occasionally entering the room and leaving, Nickl heard the sound of the front door slamming closed. This house had a very loud door, which Nickl had never been more thankful for. After waiting for a minute to make sure she was actually gone, he shot up and ran to the paper clips box. He examined them closely but quickly. If the paperclip was going to be a hook it needed to be sturdy. He didn't want it snapping on him when he tried to climb down. 

The paper clips were piled on one another, making them tough to remove. If the paperclip even gave a tug of resistance, Nickl abandoned it. He couldn't waste any time. As he tugged at a paperclip, he noticed one pressed against the edge of the box. It looked sturdy and wasn't touching any other paperclips. Perfect. Nickl thought. He would have never been able to get this while Abigail was here. Reaching it put him on the edge of the shelf, in plain view. She would have noticed him in a second.

 As Nickl began pulling the paperclip out, there was suddenly a massive BANG. Nickl yelped and stumbled backwards, and found himself falling. Before he could cry out, he landed on something soft. Suddenly he was rolling, and then he was falling again. He only fell a short distance, but this time he landed on something hard. Nickl groaned as he sat up, rubbing his back. He froze when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching him. Nickl looked around frantically for a hiding place. He had fallen on the desk, he should be able to duck behind the stapler. Hopefully that would be enough to hide him. But when he looked around he saw he wasn't on the desk. Nickl’s blood became ice as he realized where he was. He was in Abigail’s bag.

Before he could react, the world around him shifted. “Gah!” Nickl couldn't stop himself from crying out in pain as he was slammed into the side of the bag. “I can't believe I forgot my bag!!” Abigail yelled, her deafeningly loud voice easily covering up Nickl’s. Nickl looked up in horror to see Abigail right above him, slipping her bag over her shoulder. Never before had Nickl been so close to a human. From this angle, she towered above him like a skyscraper. The Borrower had never been more terrified in his entire life. “I'm lucky the door is busted and only needs a good shove to open.” she laughed. “You really should get that fixed.” Peter sighed, making Abigail laugh again.

~~~

Abigail talked with Peter as she made her way down the stairs, her bag swinging back and forth on her shoulder. She was completely oblivious to the tiny person she had accidentally kidnapped. Said person was in hell. Each time the bag moved, Nickl was tossed around like a ragdoll. 

This can't be happening. Nickl thought as he scrambled to get a hold of something. He needed to get out of here. She could see him at any second. He needed to HIDE. But he wasn't the only thing being tossed around. Whenever he managed to grab something, the stuff in Abigail’s bag would hit him and make him lose his grip. Pennies, dimes, and ironically nickels, pelted him from every angle. A pencil slammed into his leg when he tried to stand, knocking him over just in time to avoid Abigail’s keys taking off his head.

As Abigail reached the bottom of the stairs, her bag swung once more. Nickl was tossed once again, and couldn't react in time to avoid the tube of lipstick twice his size that slammed into his chest. Nickl gasped for the air that had been knocked out of him. He tasted blood in his mouth and was worried he had broken something. He was barely able to register the humans talking above him. “Talk to you later, babe!” Peter’s voice said. “Love ya!” Abigail made a kiss noise as she wished him goodbye. She opened the bag and slipped her phone in. Nickl was barely able to scramble out of the way to avoid being crushed by the massive object.

Nickl attempted to rise to his feet and grab something before the world began to swing back and forth again, but unfortunately he couldn't even take a step before he was sent tumbling over the lipstick case. I'm going to die here, aren't I? Nickl realized as he was slammed into the floor of the bag again, tears in his eyes. He had always known he was going to die, this was a fate Borrowers could only avoid for so long. But he never thought it would end like this. Crushed and pelted by coins and makeup containers at the bottom of a dirty bag. What did he do to deserve this?

After what felt like hours of torment, he was given some relief when Abigail rested her hand on her bag to keep it steady. It still bounced up and down with her steps but the world became relatively still. Nickl felt like he was about to throw up. His head was spinning, making the world spin too, despite its newfound stillness. The Borrower sat up and dizzily removed himself from a hair tie that had wrapped around him in the chaos. He stumbled to the corner of the bag, collapsing against the fabric, breathing deeply and shaking like a leaf. Tears ran down his face, stinging the gash in his cheek, but Nickl didn't even notice. Nickl clutched his head tightly, trying to get the world to calm down.

After a few moments, Nickl had recovered enough to be able to think again. The first thing he did was grab the wall of the bag. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold on when the bag began its roller coaster ride again, but god dammit he was going to try. He was going to try even if his fingers broke before his grip did. As he gripped the fabric, he noticed his arms. They were badly bruised and even had a few small gashes that blood was trickling out of. Nickl just laughed, still unable to believe this was actually happening to him.

Suddenly light rushed into the bag and Nickl looked up to see Abigail’s hand reaching in. “Now where are they?” Abigail muttered, and Nickl felt like he couldn't breathe. Did she hear him laugh? Nickl let go of the bag in favor of pressing himself as far into the corner as possible. He could only watch helplessly as Abigail’s hand drew closer and closer, feeling around her bag. Feeling around for him. It wasn't long before Abigail’s hand was right next to him. Those towering fingers that were bigger than his entire body were only a single centimeter from his face. He wasn't even touching them but he could still feel the heat radiating off them. It's a good thing he wasn't breathing because Abigail would have most certainly felt his breath. Nickl wanted to scream, but his voice wasn’t working.

“Ah, there it is!” Abigail said. Nickl watched as the gigantic fingers curled tightly around the keys next to Nickl’s feet. Abigail pulled the keys out of her bag and as soon as her hand was gone, Nickl’s legs failed him. He crumpled to the ground, hyperventilating. He hugged his body tightly, trying to get his heart to slow down. Despite how fast it was beating, Nickl felt like his blood had stopped flowing. His tail squeezed so tightly around his leg that it was going numb. False alarm… it was just a false alarm… she wasnt after me… I’m ok…

Just as Nickl was starting to feel calmer, narrowly avoiding a panic attack, he felt the world shift again and he looked up to Abigail taking off her bag. Then she tossed it, Nickl just barely able to hold back his shocked yelp as he was thrown into Abigail's mascara case. He rubbed his shoulder in pain as he heard the sound of a door closing and keys rustling. Is she back home? Nickl hoped. Please. Please, I can't do this anymore…

There was suddenly a strange sound, sounding a bit like someone clearing their throat, but not human sounding at all. With a loud roar, the bag began to shake softly. Nickl waited for the shaking to stop but it didn't, neither did the constant humming noise coming from all around him. What was going on? He suddenly fell over backwards as the world lurched in the same direction. Nickl curled up in the corner of the bag and grabbed hold, waiting for the next lurch.

This time, Nickl was tossed to the right, or he would have been if he wasn't holding on for dear life. As Nickl waited for the next shift of the world, the bag lit up as music suddenly blared right next to him. “Agh!” Nickl was unable to stop himself from yelling in pain. His hearing was far more sensitive than a human’s, thanks to both his minuscule size and mouse-like ears, so the loud music was like someone had placed industrial speakers over his ears. He grabbed his ears but that did nothing to muffle the ear splitting music.

The music was coming from the phone, the word “Kerry” on the screen. Nickl held his breath as Abigail reached into the bag and pulled out her phone. “Hello?” Abigail said as Nickl collapsed with a sigh of relief, despite the blaring sound still echoing around his skull. “Hey Abby!” another voice said. “Hey Kerry!” Abigail said with an audible smile. “I just got into my car, and I'm on my way!” Wait- car?! Nickl knew what cars were, kinda. He was familiar with them, how could he not be? He lived in the city, and cars were on the road outside 24/7. Their honking sometimes kept him up at night, the humans inside frustrated for various reasons. But, was he really inside one?

Nickl could see Abigail was distracted with her phone. Although he was still shaking, bleeding, and could barely hear anything, he slowly climbed to the lip of the bag and peered out. He knew it was stupid and risky, but it was the only way to assess his surroundings. The bag, and by extension himself, was sitting on a cushioned chair. Abigail was sitting on another one of the chairs, towering over him, making his pulse quicken. She was holding her phone with one hand and a large hoop in the other. The hoop was connected to the wall of the room, and on top of that wall was a large window.

The scene outside the window was shocking to Nickl. Buildings, entire worlds in themselves for the Borrower, were flying past from how fast the car was moving. He had seen how fast cars were from watching them from the safety of the building. But being inside one was terrifying. Yet he couldn't help but be fascinated. He looked at Abigail, still talking on the phone. She’s controlling it, right? Nickl thought. how?

“Yeah, I'll be there in 30 minutes.” Abigail said. 30 minutes? Nickl thought. With how fast the car is going, she must be going somewhere pretty far away- Nickl’s eyes widened. I'M going somewhere pretty far away! Oh god, where are we going?!

The human turned the hoop in her hand, rotating it to the left. Nickl saw through the window as the car turned the same direction. But the force of the turn caused the bag to slide to the right, Borrower included. He lost his grip and tumbled back down into the bag. So that's how she’s controlling it… Nickl thought as he got to his feet. Thankfully, when the human wasn't turning the car, the only movement of the bag was the soft shaking and vibrating. It actually felt kinda nice.

Nickl shook his head. He couldn't get distracted by the wonder of the car. He needed to figure out what to do in this moment of peace. He needed to get out of the car before he became too far away from his home, if it wasn't too late already. Nickl shook that possibility from his mind. He refused to accept it. He climbed back up to the lip of the bag and looked around. Abigail was focused on both her driving and her conversation. Unless she looked over, which Nickl prayed she wouldn't, he was safe from the human.

The car, as Nickl was expecting, was an enclosed space. Nickl licked his finger and cautiously held it up, hoping Abigail wouldn't notice. He felt no wind, so there weren't any gaps around him. And even if there was an opening and he tried to jump out, the speed it was moving at meant he would die. 

“Sorry, I can't talk anymore. I'm about to get on the highway.” Abigail said. Knowing she was about to hang up, Nickl dropped back into the bag and hid under a mascara case. The bag shook as Abigail tossed her phone in. After a moment, Nickl left his cover and began to pace beside the device. What in the world was he supposed to do?

As Abigail got on the highway, she was still completely unaware of her passenger. She was also unaware of the approaching speed bump. She hit it, moving fast, and her head hit the ceiling. “Owww!!” she cried. But the Borrower had it way worse.

Nickl had no warning as suddenly the world jumped and he was flung backwards. The back of his head collided hard with Abigail’s phone and he crumpled beside the screen, groaning in pain. White spots filled his vision, which was becoming dark. Nickl tried to pull himself upright, but his arms felt limp. Nickl tried to stay conscious. He was already so vulnerable, he couldn't risk being any more so. But his efforts were in vain. As the world went black, Nickl had one final thought.

I'm going to die here…

Chapter 2 - https://www.tumblr.com/wabuup/714504077988560896/a-dime-a-dozen-but-only-one-nickel-borrower

[0ptimist0utsider]

Splatoon 3 Fan Theory

So in the opening of Splatoon 3, during the customization & tutorial phase, we see the “Eiffel Tower..”

That much is obvious. But I propose a theory. This ISN’T the “Eiffel Tower,” more accurately, it’s not the French one.

Splatoon 3 is located on the same land mass as Splatoon 1, and Splatoon one has been confirmed to have taken place in Japan, specifically Tokyo, given the Turf War hubs resemblance to Tokyo Tower.

This is China. More specifically, it’s Tianducheng, a city in Hangzhou, China . It owns a replica Eiffel Tower, which would put it closer to the Splatoon Main Continent

That’s just my personal pet theory though. Feel free to believe whatever.

[starksvinyls]

Title: Scar Crossed Lovers Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Tags: Kissing, AU - No Powers, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Gangs Summary: Tony and Bucky are part of rival gangs, they really shouldn't be together. Key word: shouldn't. Notes: for @bingowinteriron for my Free Space AO3 Link

Tony curled his fingers, where his hands were cupped on either side of his lover’s face, letting the strands of Bucky’s dark hair get tangled in the creases of his knuckles. Using the soft grip he had on Bucky’s head, he pulled the younger in for a heated kiss. It wasn’t their first of the night, they had been trading kisses for several minutes, tucked away in the back corner of a dark alley, just over the border into Hydra territory. 

He was risking a lot by being here, not just on his rivals turf, but by being with Bucky. As the son of the leader of Shield, there was quite a lot of expectations of Tony, even now in his 20’s, and sleeping with the enemy - literally - was definitely not on the list of approved activities. 

Bucky was the brother of the leader of Hydra, and at 21, he was now expected to step up into more prominent roles within the gang, but Tony knew his heart wasn’t in it. Much like Tony’s wasn’t for his own family, and these stolen moments were the only time either of them felt like they could be themselves, like they could let their guards down for just a moment to be with someone else who understood the need for more than dirty money and bloodshed. 

“Tones,” Bucky breathed, breaking the kiss. 

Smiling, Tony whispered, “Yes, la mia prugna?”

Tony rubbed his thumb across Bucky’s cheek, feeling the slight warmth of his blush at the pet name. 

“I love you.” 

It was said simply, like Bucky was so sure of those words, of what they meant. Tony’s heart nearly skipped a beat, they had never said that before. Hearing Bucky reveal his feelings so openly, knowing he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, had Tony’s mouth open to reply before he even knew it. But it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t an automatic response. Tony knew his own feelings were as genuine as Bucky’s, he knew it the second Bucky said those three words. 

“I love you, too.”