#long-haul driver tips

[artisticdivasworld]

Managing Stress on the Road: A Guide for New Truck Drivers

If you bought it, a trucker hauled it. As we celebrate National Truck Driver Appreciation Week, it’s important to not only acknowledge the hard work and dedication of drivers but also to address the challenges they face on the road—especially the stress that comes with the job. For new drivers, adjusting to long hours, unpredictable schedules, and the isolation that comes with being on the road…

[mariahcarreyyy]

max making u wear a pendant with his initials/driver's number engraved around ur neck coz he likes to watch it swing when u ride him

# 📝 send a prompt and a driver for me to write a short blurb or scenerio ! nsfw 18+ below beware⬇️⬇️

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

"Where's the necklace?"

Max's words had made you halt. He placed a gentle hand on your collarbone, pushing you gently from where you were mouthing at his neck and stroking his thumb where the gold of his initials should be.

With furrowed brows, you craned your neck down to follow his disheartened glare. The absence of the cool chain around your neck didn't seem quite as important as the growing need for max, max, max.

"Dunno," you mumbled dismissively, rolling your hips from where you were straddling his legs on the bed. "Ah—bathroom, 'think, t-took it off to shower."

Your boyfriend hummed sweetly before lightly tapping the side of your thigh. "Get it."

Barely forcing down a whimper, you bit your lip, tugging on the hem of his baggy shorts. "Max, please, just—"

A taunting, raised brow was enough to have you huffing and hauling yourself off of his lap. The walk from the bathroom and back to Max's arms, barely ten steps, made your eyes glassy and the pleasure stirring in your stomach boil.

You made the mistake of catching your reflection in the mirror: flushed cheeks, hair sprawled in various directions, and an evident pout etched onto your face. The necklace was expensive; you'd known that, but had Max really needed to stop you mid-foreplay to run and get it?

Judging by his cocky smirk and the fact that he'd fumbled out of his clothes in the ten seconds you'd left, you guessed so. Your eyes drifted down his body, past the sweaty abs, and onto his hand, lazily stroking his hard cock. You wanted it inside you, in your mouth—fuck, he was making it really hard to stay annoyed.

"Happy?" you grumbled, your facade slipping when Max swiftly pulled you into his lap, shivering slightly as he nearly ripped the shirt off of your body, the cold air hitting your nipples and Max's wet tongue trailing kisses down your neck.

Moans slip past your lips, and you slide a hand down to the angry, red tip of Max's length. You grin wildly when he groans, the vibrations rippling against your skin and shooting straight down to your core. "More than." He cups the swell of your ass with his massive palms and lifts you up to hover over his dick. "C'mon, shatje, make y'self feel good on m'cock."

And who were you to deny Max that?

The stretch of his cock burned like it always has, spikes of pleasure overcoming the momentary pain. Max's desperate moans mixed with yours, echoing across the room. After a few seconds, Max's palm impatiently striked at your ass, making you jolt and bite your lip to avoid the embarrassing sound that would have left your lips. "M-Max, oh, fuck."

You lifted your hips, almost slipping Max's slick-covered dick out of your wet pussy before dropping back down. Max's eyes were half-lidded, a hazy grin plastered on his face; he watched the gold swing recklessly, worrying his bottom lip at the fast pace you'd set.

Max rolled his hips upward to meet your movements, and the loud yelp that left your lips made you flush. "Fuckk, s'good, baby—ah, all mine, yeah? All. Fucking. Mine."

Punctuating each word with a sharp thrust, Max almost came when your wet pussy clenched around him. "All yours, m'all yours, Max."

That was what the initials on your collarbones stood for, didn't they?

authors note. i havent written in so long pls forgive me everyone

[vinvantae]

for the bringing the f1 grid to a nascar request!! would u do george, lewis, charles, and lando? thank u sm!!

Okay so I know nothing, nada, zilch about NASCAR so I turned to my fave American @formulaforza who wrote some prompts for me. Thank you Mackie 😘 x

Got a little carried away with George at the end 👀

*************************************

Lewis

When you suggested taking Lewis to NASCAR, you expected him to turn his nose up - the sport just wasn’t as refined and delicate as Formula 1. But he was ecstatic, and within days a paddock pass was draped into your lap. He wanted to get up and close and personal with the action before the race, have you close by his side as he listened to overcomplicated lectures from members of the team.

And when the race finally started, he was enthralled- shouting louder than you think you’d ever heard him as the cars fought on track. Cheering and whooping, the brightest of smiles on his face as he leant down to whisper - well shout with how loud it was - into your ear.

“This is brilliant! We should do this more often!”

You grinned at him and playfully smacked the brim of his cap. “If I had known you’d be such a NASCAR nut I would’ve bought you waaay sooner!”

“It’s definitely our thing now.”

The two of you shared one more playful grin before turning your attention back to the track - just in time to see two cars wipe each other out and gasp with the crowd.

Charles

“It's not too dissimilar to F1.” You explained, as the two of you climbed the steps of the grandstands to find your seats. “Friday is practice, Saturday is qualifying and Sunday is the race.”

“Yeah but… we don’t do hundreds of laps.” He frowned, “What did you say this was, 200 laps?”

“Yeah, this one is, but some are up to 400. But it’s in stages.” You hummed softly, bursting out laughing when you caught the shocked look on his face - the most laps in F1 being at his home circuit, a measly 78. “You’ll understand it, love I promise.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, nodding - still as confused as before. You linked your fingers with his. “Okay, so the first two stages are 65 laps long - the top 10 get points. Winner gets 11, 2nd 9, 3rd 8 etc… the winner of the third stage gets 40, and all the way down to 40th gets points. Well most of the time”

“Wait Forty? How many cars are there?”

“Forty. They all get points in the 3rd stage. 36 of them are reserved for drivers of teams that own charters.”

His eyes flickered across your face. “I don’t think I’m ever going to fully understand this… but if it’s important to you I’ll give it a go.”

“Thank you baby. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Lando

“What are you doing, Lan?”

You watched with a playful smile as your boyfriend stood up to peer over the track into Victory Lane. “…I was kind of hoping we’d see a fist fight or two. I was told people are always fighting each other.”

“Not always.” You laughed, tugging at his wrist. “Sit down. Besides, they’ve gotta race first, you idiot. They need a reason to fight each other.”

He whined softly, plonking down in the seat beside you - resting his head on your shoulder. “Are the fights good?”

“Oh yeah, sometimes people do shit during races too - like this guy hit someone else and took off most of his door so when the guy came back around he literally threw the door at him.” You hummed, squeezing his thigh. “I hope there’s a fight just for you.”

His smile alone was worth it. “Hell yeah.”

George

“Georgie, are you even paying attention?” You whined softly, using the tip of your finger to redirect your boyfriend’s longing gaze back towards the track.

“Sorry, darling, you’re just very distracting.” He teased softly, looping his arm around your middle so he could haul you closer. “What did I miss?”

“Depends, how long were you staring at me?” Your voice had a teasing lilt.

His cheeks flushed a little. “…uh, longer than I care to admit. Fill me in?”

George watched as you explained, gestating wildly and pointing to the cars on the track - and he found himself getting lost in you again. Although most… all of it was going straight over his head, he loved how passionate you were about it and that was enough.

He blinked a few times when he realised you weren’t speaking anymore, your brow raised. “…what did I just say, George?”

“Something about Joey… lasagna?” He winced.

You burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Logano! My god, Russell, I’m going to have to get your ears tested.”

“Love, my ears aren’t the problem.” George pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I’ll make you a compromise. You name three drivers by the time the race is done - I’ll let you do that thing you’ve been asking for in the bedroom.”

His breath hitched before he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one more intense. “Deal.”

He managed to name all 40, and turns out there was more than one thing he’d been asking for… and who were you to deny him?

[lady-z-writes]

Oxytocin

Request from the lovely @bobabilbil

SubmissiveReader! x Butcher

Based off of Oxytocin by Billie Eilish.

Posted this on my main blog in our little Butcher community and it grew on me so I wanted to share here too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A job. It's just a job.

Waitress at some hole in the wall diner. Nothing special. You're just trying to pay off some bills. Asshole manager put you on the shittiest shift and you never get enough tips.

But then he stumbles in.

Literally stumbles.

Looks like he hasn't slept.

And it's 2am.

He doesn't talk much, but he's always eyeing you - always has some expression on his face like he's contemplating something sinister and it makes you melt a little inside.

He comes in twice a week now.

If you were bold you'd leave him your number on a receipt.

He's clearly here to see you. Turns down any other wait staff. Sips black coffee.

Waits.

You should be scared when he grips your wrist one night as you're leaving his bill.

Instead you feel heat rise to your cheeks.

And you let him take you to the back room.

Of course he'd been eyeing up the layout. Of course he knew where the employee only area was.

Of course he kept the door unlocked as he lifted you up, shoved you against the wall, and kissed you like you'd never been kissed.

It ignites something in you. Something long buried.

Weeks of this. Devastating when he doesn't show up. Embarrassing when the cook can hear you moaning. But you like that no one says anything. The patrons aren't regular and you find trust in the silence of the two staff that step up when your lover shows up to fuck you in the back room.

But some nights he's leading you to his car, tying you in knots in his backseat. You love to let him control you - strip you of your uniform, play with your body as his practiced hands bind you in rope. It's relaxing letting him control you - having someone else take over for a little while. And you love the possibility that a patron can see you like this. That you could get caught.

You think you're addicted.

You want his number so badly; to be able to call him when the lonely hits, when you're stressed, when you want him in an actual bed this time.

He shows up with a gift one night. Clasps a collar around your neck as you proceed down the hallway to your usual spot.

You're shocked as he hauls you out the back door.

He's in the driver's seat, you're in the back.

"Now strip, lovey."

He doesn't usually speak to you. Hell, it took weeks for you to even get a name.

But you obey.

And he loves that.

Breasts heaving with every breath, you're in a bra and panties by the time he pulls up to some building.

You're not really sure where you are but he makes you walk in your heels, practically naked.

You should feel ashamed.

Instead, you're eager.

It's an office he opens the door to. You don't see much else because a blindfold is placed over your eyes.

And then a night of the most intense pleasure follows.

You have no idea if anyone else is in the room watching him tie you up and edge you until you're dripping down your thighs. You're unsure if this building has tenants that may hear you screaming his name as he pumps his cum inside of you.

All you know is he calls you "his" and that's enough.

[sanjoongie]

Mile High Club

ღPairing: Reader (f) x Jung Wooyoung ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu: mile high club au, biker au, rich ceo au, established situationship lmao ღWord Count: 1,347 ღWarnings: public sex, exhibitionism, dom! wooyoung, sub! reader ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: Wooyoung has to leave the city but he's not leaving you behind and he certainly does not fly economic either. ღDedication~ in conjunction with @thelargefrye who is writing mile high club! seonghwa, @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland for beta reading ღA/N: Happy birthday woo bb, my spirit animal, light of my life

Wooyoung's eyes followed you as you sat hesitantly across from him on the private jet the both of you had boarded. Wooyoung had to fly to his offices on the other side of the country and that's why the two of you were here. Wooyoung refused to leave you alone in this city without him and your work was used to Wooyoung yanking you from your life by now. What he did love was pampering you with everything he had to give. And that included a private jet.

"Okay?" Wooyoung raised his eyebrows in question to you. He grabbed a water bottle and opened it. He tipped his head back to give it a swig. The wonderful line of his jaw and adam's apple and neck wasn't something to laugh at. His eyes slid your way and was happy to report that you had crossed your legs anxiously. He knew it had nothing to do with the flying.

"Did we have to come on your bike instead of the car?" You bit at him which he let fly over his head. You often bit at him but he liked it. All Wooyoung wanted in a partner was someone to verbally play with.

Wooyoung laughed silently, his shoulders shaking. "I won't be able to drive in the city, it'll be mostly drivers."

Your hands twisted as well, and when that wasn't enough, you began to dig half-moon's into the palms of your hands. "Pretty, come sit over here," Wooyoung suggested.

You said "ha!" mirthlessly. "I don't think so, Woo."

Wooyoung cocked his head 'innocently'. "What's wrong?" He leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs, hands covering his mouth. The bill of his cap barely hid his inquisitive eyes. 

"Do not, Wooyoung," You bit even harder.

Wooyoung was happy his hands were over his mouth or you'd see his smirk, and then he was pretty sure that meant not getting what he wanted during this flight. And he really, really, really wanted to get this.

"Come on, sit with me. I'm a spoiled rich guy who still hates flying. Come hold my hand." Wooyoung held out his hand and waved his fingers.

You sighed loudly, well aware that this was a trap, and Wooyoung was luring you in. But if you could have resisted him, you wouldn't have even been on this plane. You lost your ability to say no to Wooyoung a long time ago. 

So you stood up and sat beside Wooyoung. He took your hand, placed it high on his thigh, put his hand over yours and sat there, eyes toward the nose of the plane, waiting eagerly for the staff to tell them to prepare for assent. And the bugger didn't do a damn thing… until the plane was miles high in the air and the staff receded.

Once the staff closed the folding doors, Wooyoung's hands wrapped around your waist and hauled you on top of him, straddling his body on the bench seat you two had been sitting on. "Hi," He said cheekily, like he didn't just put you in a very compromising position.

"Wooyoung!" You hissed, head snapping towards the doors that had just finished shutting.

"No one will hear us," Wooyoung grinned. His tongue was between his teeth and he was doing nothing to hide his grin now either.

"I am not--Wooyoung!" You slapped his chest.

Wooyoung began to chuckle and it went straight to your core. "I'll rip your jeans right now if you keep that up; expose the fact that you have no underwear on and take full advantage of that."

Your nostrils flared at Wooyoung's gall. "You wouldn't give me my underwear and we had to rush out because of your antics, Jung Wooyoung."

"I still have them in my pocket. I like the red." Wooyoung smiled teasingly.

You gripped Wooyoung's face between your thumb and forefingers. It squished his cheek together comedically. "Stop running your mouth." Wooyoung simply puckered his lips and made kissy noises.

You made a noise of disgust and moved to get up but Wooyoung's arms locking behind the small of your back made it a bit impossible to leave. Your thighs lifted your ass up and then you landed back on Wooyoung's thighs, except this time you were higher up Wooyoung's body and your eyes widened. 

"Come on, pretty. Fuck me. Let's join the mile high club."

Like you said, you had lost your ability to say no to Wooyoung a long time ago. 

Your pants had been discarded, Wooyoung's down by his feet, but there was a blanket drawn around your waist to hide your nakedness. Wooyoung's hands were around your waist, sometimes skimming up your ribcage to admire the body in front of him. You already had him fully seated inside of you, something that was never done easily with Wooyoung, who adored suddenly bucking up into you and causing you to gasp. 

"Where the hell did you find condoms that say mile high club?!" You demanded incredulously. 

Wooyoung's head was tipped back on the seat, eyes glimmery under his hat. "I know a guy."

You were about to grumble under your breath that he always said that, when Wooyoung rolled his hips against you, and turned the grumble into a groan. It didn't take long before the two of you were earnestly fucking each other. To Wooyoung's greatest glee, you were unable to keep your noises to a minimum so the staff--maybe all the way to the pilot!--knew you two were fucking on this plane. 

Wooyoung was having a hard time deciding where he wanted his eyes at. Watching his dick drenched in your wetness continuously pound into you was making his hand itch to film but he knew you would shriek at him. You wouldn't put it past him to leak it 'accidentally'. But he also wanted to watch your eyebrows furrow in pleasure and you bite down on your forefinger, your hand raised to your lips in an effort to keep yourself quiet--and failing. Your boobs in the high collar t-shirt were bouncing gloriously in front of him and he just wanted to lean forward and capture your pert nipple in his mouth. 

"Fuck, Wooyoung, shit," You cursed him. Your hand slapped onto the slanted ceiling above you in an effort to brace yourself as Wooyoung waved his body between your thighs. 

Wooyoung's hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing them ardently. "Feels good, pretty, bouncing on my dick this high, huh?"

Your eyes snapped open, part angry, part horny, and Wooyoung couldn't have been more turned on at this moment. "Stop gloating."

A slow, smug smile pulled across his lips as he raised his head. "Why don't you worry about coming first?"

You opened your mouth to scold him again but this time Wooyoung snapped his hips up into you, pushing a fervent noise from your throat. You clapped your free hand over your mouth and Wooyoung knew you had embarrassed yourself. Wooyoung let loose one "I told you so" and then tensed his pelvis and fucked you at just the right angle to have you coming apart above him immediately.

You collapsed against Wooyoung's chest completely and bonelessly, twitching and fluttering around him. Wooyoung had come once your walls started squeezing down on him. He had filled the condom and was regretting keeping this clean. He wanted to lick a creampie out of you suddenly. He knew you would never let him on the plane, but it was nice to think about. 

"Wooyoung," You panted into his neck, giving him goosebumps. 

Wooyoung was running his finger tips up and down your spine, returning the favor of goosebumps. "Pretty?"

"We are--NEVER--doing that--again!" You said into his slightly damp skin. 

Wooyoung's chuckles reverberated in his chest and you felt them through your own body as well. "I can't promise that."

You bit down on Wooyoung's neck, teeth threatening lightly. Except now Wooyoung was groaning. "I give up," You groaned in frustration.

Wooyoung patted your butt lovingly. "At least the staff don't have to clean up after us." Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @pyeonghongrie @k-pop-ology

[lavendersubs]

she tells me come on, puppy, we’re going on a road trip, and to pack a bag of essentials, maybe a change of clothes, it won’t be terribly long. she hauls her own couple of bags she packed over her shoulder, and heads out to load them up.

we get in the car and i can tell something is off, but i don’t press it and she certainly doesn’t betray anything to me. as we drive she asks me how i’m feeling, about my day, although she draws her words out quite a bit, and is awfully smile-y this afternoon….

our first stop - a nondescript empty parking lot, and she orders me to take my panties off. i’m a bit taken aback at first, but am not one to disobey her, and quickly begin to do so. she thoughtfully considers letting my skirt stay on, for a moment, but ultimately decides i don’t need that, either. she admires my body, her property, and gently draws lines and shapes on my thighs with the tips of her fingers.

we start driving again, and she keeps her hand firmly on my upper thigh the entire way to our next stop - another parking lot, this time near the woods, keeping us in seclusion.

without any hesitation, she pulls up one of her bags from the backseat and brandishes…. restraints. i gasp a little, and she laughs at me, like i’m silly. after all, it’s not safe to drive if you’re not safely strapped in, she insists, with a twinkle in her eye that i can’t resist… and i know that she’s right, because i’m dumber than her, and she binds my elbows and wrists to the car seat’s armrests.

the seatbelt already holds my body down quite well on its own, but she does the same for my torso, tying it to the back of the seat. i attempt a struggle when she asks, and with the exception of kicking my legs uselessly, i am stuck there. when she secures the last restraint, she sits back a bit, taking in the sight of her bondage work, and her good puppy looking back at her with begging eyes, after spending the ride so far teasing me with her fingers tapping tantalizingly on my inner thigh.

and then she finally begins rubbing my pussy, reaching over from the drivers seat to give me soft strokes, and leaning over to place loving kisses to my neck and my cheek as i squirm as much as i can into her fingers, desperate for her touch.

she speeds up, upping the intensity of her kisses on my neck and bringing her other hand to squeeze at my tits through my shirt. when i start to get close, and am moaning uncontrollably, i begin babbling to her. and then, just once, i beg her to cum, and she instantly pulls away from me entirely, a look of faux disapproval on her face when i meet her gaze again.

such a bad dog, asking me for an orgasm, she tuts, pulling something from her bag, and fishing… something else… from the backseat. she demands i open my mouth, which i do, and in go my panties she’d made me remove - and she gently pushes my jaw closed with her hand, smiling condescendingly in my face.

but luckily, mutts don’t really need to speak, do they, she asks me; before continuing on to tell me she would’ve gagged me with her panties instead buuut that would require her to strip out here, and that might be embarrassing! which is suuuch a shame because they’re sooo wet from seeing me like this… so mine will stand in… besides, she doesn’t think i deserve her wetness on my tongue, anyways.

and i see now that the second item is a roll of thick, clear tape… she tears a nice, long strip, flattening it against my closed mouth with her hands, pressing it fully into all of the creases of my lips, caressing my face once she’s satisfied, telling me i’m such a pretty toy for her, giving me scattered kisses on my face.

she returns to touching me, coaxing several more edges out of me with her lovely fingers on my clit, until my thighs are shaking from the pleasure, while i can do nothing but cry through my panty gag and attempt to writhe away.

finally she says we ought to get going, or we’ll be here all night… and we can’t have that.

she pulls one last item from the bag, her eyes on me the entire time - one of my favorite vibrators. and i start to struggle against the restraints, pleading as best as i can with my attempts at words as she places it snugly against my clit and ties it there - so no matter how much i kick it will always stay put…

she switches it on, seemingly the lowest it can go, and i blank out from the lust clouding my vision. she begins to speak to me, though i don’t entirely hear her, and then starts backing out of the lot, continuing our drive as i moan in the passenger seat.

maybe i’ll turn it to high at the stoplights or something, she laughs, or every time i see a buggy, i’ll bump it up juuust a little… i’m sure we’ll see plenty on the way to the hotel, it’s quite a way away…

my ears perk up, despite my state of mind, and she pulls out the map to show me.

see? here we are, right here, and it’s here, in this city… it’s about… she smiles at me, and that twinkle is back… four and a half hours away, give or take, puppy!!

i throw my head back against the headrest and whine in frustration… 💞

[ashbub]

it's you

leo (rottmnt) × gn!reader

contents: mild cursing, bullying, harassment [9.6k]

IN WHICH: you find a strange turtle as a little kid and develop an odd friendship

Subway cars coated with a fresh coat of paint clanged softly across the rusted tracks, rocking rhythmically back and forth as your mother hauled you with one hand through the bustling streets of New York.

You had just returned from a long baseball practice, the ends of your hair plastered to your prickly forehead from all the sweat as both chubby cheeks shone with the freshly colored coats of your little league's sports colors.

"Gosh, I barely made it in time, huh?" Your mama's apron was still tightly snitched around her waist from her shift at the local diner, patterned with your favorite foods to finely stitched with your colors. Whenever you would see her apron, the aromas of her fresh scent of freshly flipped pancakes after her long day came flooding into your thoughts. 

"Had to take my break a little early!"  She weakly smiled while continuing maneuvering through the brushing shoulders of afternoon shoppers, small wrinkles furrowing as her lips warmly stretched, "I missed you, Bud." 

Your mom worked hard every day, balancing her two part-time jobs and raising a loud-ass 10-year-old in the mix of it all to add the cherry on top. You glanced up at her as her nimble fingers tightly laced with your stubby ones, a few strands of her hair sprayed grimly across her face, most likely from dashing across the city to pick you up from the park on time.

Sure, you guys weren't filthy rich by any means. You lived in a tiny cramped apartment in downtown New York that barely could handle the worn-out mattress you guys had tossed on the wooden floor, the creaky mailbox filled to the brim with thick late fees and threatening electricity bills crammed inside. 

Regardless, your mother would always manage to scrape enough together for food in both of your bellies and somehow to pay for your freshly ironed baseball uniform when the blistering summer rays rolled around.

"Stay here just a quick second by the door where I can see you, alright?" Your mother firmly spoke to you, placing a light hand on your shoulder before fiddling her fingers through the small pockets of her purse for a few wrinkled dollar notes. "Just gonna pick up some veggies for dinner, it will just be a moment."

The cracked store bell that hung from the top of the door softly rang along with the faint click of her sneakers, watching as your mother spoke to the shop owner with a quick greeting and a small smile. The metal bat that stuck out from your patched-up backpack peered at the harsh sunlight before you carefully unwrapped the lollipop you had stashed in your uniform pocket and stuck it in the corner of the inside of your cheek.

The air was thick with exhaust and the sun beating down as the sugary watermelon sweetness hit the tip of your tongue. You looked at the line of traffic on the two lanes that ran between the rows of brownstone houses before your eyes flickered toward a colorful cardboard cut-out.

"Lou Jitsu!" Your lips curled into a bright smile, the hot pink sucker rolling to the other side of your cheeks in adoration of one of your favorite movie stars that were in a shimmering display across the street.

Cars were lined up behind one another creating a long snake-shaped traffic jam as gas fumes from the exhaust pipes filled up the air, making the atmosphere stuffy and clotted. Your eyes noted the bus driver that had stopped at the flickering traffic light pulling out his handkerchief and wiping away the sweat on his forehead for the third time that day. 

Looking both ways like you had been taught by the local crossing guards, you scurried across the street and eagerly plastered your grubby fingers across the display case. Skipping proudly, your nose practically smeared on the glass.

Sure enough, your idol smiled back at you with a flashing printed smile and beaming orange-tinted glasses. Behind him were all of his commercially produced toys & action figures stacked neatly in their plastic glory.

Digging through your pockets, you managed to fish out a couple of single dollar bills that your mother had stashed for you on the kitchen counter every morning for lunch at the school cafeteria. Instead, you had been saving up the cash and skipping out on lunch for a month to buy an extra figurine for your little shelf.

You heard a faint echo of laughter while running your fingers over the last remaining dollar bills, a few chuckles accumulated in the air as your ears perked up from your excitement.

"God, what is that thing doing here?"

Peeking your head towards the noise, you took a glance while bending your knees which were notably trickled with band-aids of cartoon superheroes. 

You had wandered into a garbage-strewn space between two shops. The crumbling brick walls had bowed with age, and laundry hung from lines strung from second-story windows across the gap overhead. Their footsteps echoed as they dodged around loud laughs.

Your eyes finally took in the scene in front of you as a group of no more than four boys was tightly huddled around something while snickering. They were smacking on bright pink bubble gum and the tip of their sneakers was busted up with faint scratches. 

You squinted at the sight, barely making out what they were surrounded by till one of them bent down to poke the huddled figure with a crooked tree branch.

They had been surrounding a dark green shell, barely the size of your bookbag from what you could tell. For a moment, you could see two dark eyes peering back at you, the faintest red marking etching the turtle's face.

They continued to snicker, one of the boys proudly placing their shoe on top of the shell with a snarky grin etched across his lips as if he had won the biggest trophy.

You had truly considered turning back to get your mother from the store to help or tell the boys off, your sneaker tips flickering from the scene in front of you to the glass display of the local bodega before a faint 'crack!' whistled harshly by your burning ears.

The bully continued to press down on the surface of the shell as all the kids continued to chuckle in encouragement at the sight.

"Hey!"

The group of pre-teens all turned to look at you in acknowledgment, their pudgy faces becoming clearer to you under the flicker of the exposed light bulb. They looked maybe a year or so older than you, their oversized jerseys wrinkling over their baggy basketball shorts that seemed a few sizes too big.

Whom you could assume was the leader of the group opened his crooked mouth to acknowledge and take in your presence as his lanky legs were freckled and coated with scabs, "What do you want?"

Taking a few steps forward, you allowed your shivering shoulders to relax as your voice was ever so slightly quivering, "Just leave the turtle alone, it probably just got lost from its owner." You retorted with a light spat, your strawberry-flavored lollipop hitting the roof of your mouth lazily.

"We just found the thing wandering on the street." One of the boys snickered back, colorful metal braces glimmering on his jagged teeth before sneering at you, "Doubt it has an owner." The kid finally mused dryly, his dirty sneaker still resting its sole on the smooth surface of the shell.

You felt fear in the feathery hair on the back of your neck like invisible fingers running along the length of your spine, a few inches in height over you outnumbered you if you decided to pick a fight. 

You weren't a bad kid by any means, but you sure as hell had your share of times sitting your ass in the principal's office waiting for your mom to pick you up.

Regardless, your mama taught you better than to leave anyone on their own- You straightened up with a slight jut of your chin towards the small circle, eyeing the turtle carefully through the corner of your eye.

"Just leave it alone-"

He took a casual step forward with a lazy grin before lifting a single bushy eyebrow as you swallowed the lump that had swelled up in your throat, "And what are you gonna do?" The boy mocked with a fat jutted bottom lip in your direction.

As he grew closer, his outstretched fingers landed harshly on the edges of your tightened shoulders. You whirled your arms frantically at the sudden movement, a sickening sense of no longer being supported by your feet as your stomach did a flip. 

Stumbling back, your thick shoe dug quickly into the cracked cement of the alley as the clique crackled laughter amongst themselves at your light tumble.

Your eyes had squeezed tightly. Ten seconds passed, later twenty, thirty, and finally, the pain started to pull back like the tide going out. It left your tightly curled-up fingers first and then slowly worked its way up your stiffened arm sprinkled with faint cuts across your skin, the lollipop that had sputtered out of your mouth crushed underneath his muddy shoe.

What did your mother say to you? You wondered while examining the fresh scratches that flickered across your wrists- That a punch was fair game if they threw the first one? If they hit first, at least make sure you win? It seemed pretty applicable to the situation you were currently in. 

Heart drumming against your chest, you're frozen on the floor. The seeming leader of the group began to stare at you boredly, your other stiffened hand lingering over the soreness of your right cheek before staring back into black eyes with wide ones. "Don't-"

Your cracked voice got caught in the dryness of your throat, and your bottom lip slightly cracked before something cool brushed against the area of your bare neck from your bookbag. 

The eldest of the group once more took another step towards you while his patchy eyebrow curled upwards- Right as he could lay another hand on you, you swiftly yanked out your metal bat from the carefully tucked away spot in your bag. Your scraped knuckles had run across the cooled surface briefly in consideration before you had slammed it across his pointed knee.

The initial shock of it all is passing, and you feel your shoulders hike up with the tension. Your light fingertips fumbled with the grip of the coolness of the handle of the bat as it clattered harshly across the smoothness of the concrete underneath you.

The hit was quick, imagining that in any other scenario that your baseball coach would have been grinning ear to ear at how nimbly you adjusted to hold the bat. The pain, however, was seemingly like fire burning up his legs. The boy winced as his reddened hand flew to further cradle his leg with a scrunched-up expression close to his chest. 

Before another word or threat could escape his curled-up lips, you had snatched up the turtle shell frantically into your arms with a hurried swipe. The smoothness of the distinctive shell now brushed on the grim of your striped uniform as it huddled to the warmth of your sprayed-out hands.

You stumbled over the muddy laces of your sneakers, and the steady pound of your footsteps echoed into your crackling ears. You felt a thick bead of sweat roll down your forehead and splatter to your wobbling chin with each stride. The soles of your shoes hit the cracked pavement of the alleyway with each thundering step.

The boys had huddled around their friend from the corner of your eye, a faint trickle of purple hues already blooming across his freckled skin where you had ever so precisely struck him.

"Metal doesn't taste too great, huh, amigos?" A voice had trickled out with a mingled laugh, unfamiliar but full of childlike wonder and teasing fluttering in the air, "Oh! I wish you guys could see your faces right now!"

You couldn't focus on the sudden voice or give it a second thought about where it may have escaped. You had fled away from the cramped alley, your eyes desperately scanning across the bundles together shops & boldly printed signs exclaiming exciting daily new deals. You spend around a tight shop corner, nervously bouncing off one wall, arms flailing to keep your balance. 

There was a harsh sting in your hand as you were stumbling through the crowd of shoppers mingling across the sidewalk through the building, passing by each shop display and ignoring the worried looks passing buyers shot at you. A person calls out to you as you accidentally brush shoulders against them, whispering following your jagged path.

You scurried behind a couple of dumpsters that had begun overflowing with plastic trash bags stuffed with rotting leftovers from barbecues and old pizza boxes, holding the turtle shell close to your chest as you pressed your sore back against the brick wall with a faint breath.

The crowds gradually disappear as the afternoon market starts operating in the late evening. The crowds once again had begun swarming around for the evening snacks at the various food stalls and restaurants near the theater or to pick up some refreshing drinks. 

Peeling your eyes away from the stream of people once the coast was clear from any scrambling bullies, your slumped shoulders pressed against the surface of the dumpster before hazily examining the detailed shell in front of you, lightly tracing the lines with your warm fingertips.

"Are you okay?" You tiredly mumbled to the turtle somewhat absent-mindedly with a shrug, wiping away the dirt that smeared across your puffed-out cheeks. Your tightened knuckles were grazed with faint scratches as you let out a raspy chuckle. "Seemed like you were handling yourself just fine."

You briefly thought about the voice that had seemingly called out to the bullies during your escape, tilting your face to observe the delicate details of the firm shell a bit more closely before finally setting down the heavy figure between the wobbling feet of your muddy shoes.

Your eyelashes fluttered a moment to a close, grazing across your cheeks before bringing the edge of your thumb off your nose to wipe it half-mindedly.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing." A voice had trickled back finally, a youthful laughter mingling in its tone.

Your posture changed almost instantly, like a cracked whip, and you straightened up at the sudden unexpected response. Your lofty, schoolboy pose quickly transformed while your crossed feet had now spread apart as you backed slowly away from what lay in front of your brightly colored shoelaces.

 A sharp face was staring back at you with a wide-eyed expression and rather expectantly. His brightly shimmering green skin scribbled with huge yellow markings as his eyes shone like pebbles washed by the ocean waves. To finish it off, he had a smile that rested coyly on his lips that ignited an inner laughter of mischief.

No longer refrained from having to remain in his shell, the figure crouched in front of you was a few inches shorter in comparison to you. He couldn't have been much older than you as the grinning turtle sported a baby blue bandana that wrapped carelessly over his forehead that was scrunched up with a few lines.

"Holy fuc-" 

His lanky hand hurriedly clamped over your mouth at the possible escape of a curse, the three fingers lightly covering your lips before motioning with his other hand- His seemingly pointer finger pressed over his slightly outstretched lips.

The turtle's brightly colored crimson streaks coated the corners of his face as his expression tilted towards you to the side, eyes furrowed in mild disapproval.

"Raph doesn't like those sorta words-" His smile never diminished, though his shoulders lowered a bit and his look fell into something more curious before carefully removing his hand from your mouth slightly. "Says it'll rot our brains."

Your brain seemingly stutters for a moment as your flared-up eyes begin to take in the faint hue of light from the flickering neon store lights nearby, every part of you going in a sputtering pause while your thoughts catch up.

"You talk-?" You finally choked out.

"And you just pulled a fat metal bat on those guys, amigue-" He retorted back with a slight chuckle, his smile lazily spread across his face along with the casual shrug of his shoulders. "I'd say we both had our fair share of surprises!"

Blinking a few times at his chipper joke, you tentatively patted for your bat with your open palm as your fingers lingered over the empty spot in the gaping pocket of your ratted bookbag. 

"In case you are looking for your lil ole bat to clobber me with-" The red slider mused while eyeing the notable panic of your hands but deciding to give off a dramatic shake of his head to refute you. "Dude, you dropped it while getting us away from the bullies that I was handling on my own just fine, remember?"

You blink. The freshwater turtle wordlessly gestures to your bag, eyes flitting down to your back before coming back up again as if to say, 'go ahead', and you do.

Shit. You buried your hands into your palms with an exaggerated sigh seeping across your lips. Your mom had bought you a nice bat at the second-hand store and to arrive home empty-handed to practice would earn you a fat scolding surely.

Peeking between your fingers, you stared at the turtle staring expectantly back at you blankly with a snort- "You were totally handling it back there?"

"I was!" He declares, finger raised in the air. The turtle then leans down comically, hand pulled up against the side of his mouth as if he were sharing a secret, and 'whispering' in a loud manner that only he can do. "Leonardo never admits defeat to a bunch of chumps-"

"You were quite literally getting stepped on."

"I was giving them a fake sense of confidence!"

At first, you blink dumbly at him, then you snort after the goofy smile he has is contagious. Light sarcasm comes naturally to him, you assumed.

"Leo-" You nodded, his name carefully rolling across your tongue as you sounded it out. You give a half-hearted shrug, mouth downwards into a frown, eyebrow raised. "What were you even doing? How did you even get caught by those guys?"

He leans back, hands clasped together lazily. His eyes turn downwards towards the floor before wiggling his feet, smile softening, "Sorta got lost, it's actually the first time I've been up here." One of Leo's fingers nervously circles over his bare knee, drawing little stars across his freckled skin.

You fiddle with your uniform's pockets as your hands are stashed away before blinking at him curiously. "Here?"

"The surface-" Leonardo glanced at you before he clarified, signaling outwards with one of his hands. As if to emphasize, Leo's smile widened with a row of sharp teeth revealing a few of his baby teeth missing, his lanky fingers coming to the side of his mouth in a grin with a slight twist, "Handsome guys like myself kinda give people the creeps here, sorta like with you just now."

You pause for a moment, still, then the slight sway of your intertwined hands wiggle as you press your back further to the wall. "I thought you were a turtle. A pet one with a cute lil tank and stuff." You lightly scratched the back of your neck before blowing a dragged-out raspberry defensively, "The talking part caught me off guard, bro."

Leo's demeanor is still cheerful at your response, the voice lighthearted for being in the stance of someone unbothered by being mistaken for a domesticated pet. "Touché."

The ongoing flow of pedestrians talking on their cell phones and drinking some coffee was still lingering as you quickly peeked your head around the rusting dumpster. The constant commotion of conversing voices rages up and down the streets as someone calls for a fast taxi.

"I am not even allowed to be up here yet-" Leo goes to speak, then halts before doing, leaving the air hanging with his realization. His enthusiasm dampers a bit, molding into a flash of confusion before his bandana flattens and his look turns deadpan.``My brother's totally make it sound like such a scary place! So I sorta snuck out just to point to them that nothin' scares me.``

Your eyes flicker over to Leo's hand specifically, his fingertips almost aggressively tapping on his knee for seemingly a semblance of comfort despite his beaming smile. You open your mouth to bring this fact to his attention before deciding otherwise as to whether he noticed your hesitation, you couldn't tell.

Cupping your chin into the palm of your hand, your eyes shimmered in a light glint, "Your brothers, huh?" You muttered out, admittedly more so to yourself but Leo simply grins at your slight dabble of comfort.

"They are probably losing their minds right now, especially Raphie-" Leo chuckled, the blue bandana he wore slipping down his face before hooking his finger around the fabric and eagerly tugging it upwards. "Bet ya in 30 minutes they are gonna be calling dibs on my room though."

You couldn't believe you were engaging in a conversation with a talking turtle. You probably had pinched yourself through the fabric of your baseball uniform a couple of times throughout the conversation to remind yourself that this was your current reality. Still, though, you found yourself incredibly intrigued by the life Leonardo had with his brothers.

Getting up with a small grunt escaping your curled-up lips, you calmly dust off your pants with your fingertips before offering Leonardo a grin of your own, "We should go find them." You announced before extending him a friendly hand where he was crisscrossed on the floor.

Smiling widely, Leo reached out for your hand contently before pulling himself up. Taking a few steps back at the light stumble at his sudden closeness, you scratch the back of your neck before glancing at star-struck turtles, "How exactly do we find them?"

"Easy, muy facil-" Leo's eyes flickered before he managed to snag a tree branch from the top of the creaking dumpster, comically bending down a bit and doodling the start of a rough map.

You peered over his slim shoulders as the turtle sketched out an extremely neat underground network of New York on the muddy concrete floor. Thick lines had been sketched crossing over smaller ones as some blocks indicated subway stations nearby while others displayed local pizza restaurant locations. 

"You've never been up here," You noted lightly  with crossed-over arms as the turtle scanned your puzzled yet amazed expression that likely had little sparkles captured in them, "How do you even know the layout of New York so well?"

Finishing up his sketch, Leo wiped his hands over his padded knees before carelessly tossing the crooked tree branch to the side in satisfaction, "Pizza takeout menus." He proudly admitted through a light rub underneath his nose and a cocky glint in his eyes.

The tip of your fingers lingered over the drawn-out display of New York's network system before hovering over a particular drawing at the very edge of the illustration.

It was a doodle of four distinct figures. One of them was bulkier in comparison to the other three with an exaggerated sharp tooth, the other sported a pair of thick glasses while the third had cute drawn-out paint splotches across his chubby face. "Your brothers, I'm assuming?" You quipped to Leo before tapping at the final drawing: A hefty and unkept rat figure with a fluffy bathrobe swallowing his pudgy figure. 

Lips pursed, you wiggled your pointer finger curiously with a small waggle, "And your?-"

"Well, my dad!" Leonardo's eyes twinkled brightly and matter-of-factly as if this revelation was a rather obvious aspect of his family tree. 

"I see." Your eyebrows stitched together in confusion before curling up your bottom lip. You decided against questioning Leo's parental figures since before this day, you would have busted your ass laughing if someone insinuated you would have met a talking turtle. The idea of him having a rat as a father should not be as far-fetched as a concept.

Placing his finger on the map, Leo motioned at one specific area where the lines crossed and intertwined. "Bro, here it should be perfect!" Leo moved his shoulder after that sentence passed his lips just a bit with an excited thumbs-up shot in your direction. 

Before you could even open your mouth to offer any sort of protest, Leo already had elegantly swung himself onto the surface of the abandoned dumpster and gripped onto one of the metal handles of a rusting ladder that was bolted to the side of the creaking brick building. 

His three fingers maneuver to a lazy surfer sort of gesture as his slightly ripped bandana flickered back and forth at his swaying movements, "Plus, I got someone who can build you a way better bat, no charge since you are my plus one!"

"He's been gone for nearly an hour!" Donnie fumbled with the frames of his thick glasses that were propped on his face before glancing back toward the tablet that illuminated his scowl. "Raph, we have literally no clue where he could be."

The brown dirty water squashed inside the hollow cylinder-like tunnel. Grizzling walls of this tunnel-sewer sprinkled dust due to their age perhaps. These walls were like the inside of a circular tube and were swollen and soft due to wetness. Two parallel platforms were raised in the hollow of the tunnel to serve the dual purpose of forming a cavity, a way to maintain the water flow in the form of beds, and also serving as the footpaths if one had to walk inside this sewer tube.

The place reeked. Light seldom traveled in this tunnel and that too in scraps--now and then when a manhole is opened. The structures like ladders that were kept on the platform, the pipes on the wall, and the steel garters to support the tunnel; all were crowded by gossamer spiderwebs.

Raphael brought his cramped hand to the surface of his scrunched-up forehead, his shimmering yellow tooth peeking out as he spoke to his younger brother. "C'mon Don, you are great with stats!" The snapping turtle warmly smiled towards his sibling, placing a light yet comforting hand on Donnie's bare shell, "We surely covered tons of ground already! Share the facts, little bro."

"Statistically speaking," Donatello stared boredly at the concrete ceiling with sarcasm mingling in his voice as he admired the faint cracks that decorated above the group. Donnie began smiling blankly back toward Raph, his purple mask wrinkling at the sides of his face. "We are screwed." 

Before Raph could protest Donnie's foul mood during their search, Mikey gingerly took the opportunity to tug on his older brother's spare arm for comfort. 

Mikey trudged along the path with his little coloring book & a thick jumbo-sized orange crayon jammed between the clutch of his chubby fingers. "Raphie? It has been a while-" The youngest turtle questioned with the slightest tilt of his head, baby blue eyes widening at the increasing amount of time away from his older brother. "Is Leo really missing?-"

Raph fondly rubbed Mikey's head with a slight ruffle, a hearty chuckle brimming at the ends of his toothy grin. "C'mon? Leo? Y'know our brother, Mikey." Adjusting the sleeves of Michelangelo's bright orange hoodie warmly as his sentence dragged out any sort of lingering worry. "He's just out and about, our job as the Mad Dogs is to check up on him!" 

Mikey, seemingly convinced, nodded before holding his Jupiter Jim coloring book closer to the comfort of his chest. His nimble fingers looped tightly around one of Raph's.

"And when we do find him, we'll give him a big hug." The snapping turtle curtly plucked up his youngest brother before swiftly tossing him onto his shoulder with a slight tug of the lips. "And I'll strangle the blue outta him for thinking that leaving without telling us nuthin' was a brilliant idea."

Donatello's eyes flitted to offer a sideways glance at his oldest brother in curiosity, his fingertips remaining on the faint hue emitting from his tablet. "We should at least tell Splints." 

Raphael paused his hurried pace as Mikey innocently looked up at his brother's sudden stern expression, his usual friendly tone constructing into something more adamant. More serious.

 "No-" He finally retorted in response before scratching the tip of his muzzle in earnest frustration, "The last thing we need to tell dad is that our mutant baby brother is wandering the streets of New York right about now alone." 

Finally reaching a thin metal ladder leading out of the sewers once more, Raph began climbing up the rigid steps as his small claws began sharply curling around the metal bars. 

"Donnie!" Raphael's voice carried across in a faint echo as Mikey's small arms tightly looped around his eldest brother's neck for support, "Which stop is this one?"

Donnie gripped tightly onto his tablet as his glasses began sliding down his snout. He didn't necessarily agree with Raphael's objections to informing Splinter of the situation. Rather, it seemed almost essential for him to be aware of the lack of knowledge of Leo's whereabouts. "Our 45th stop, Raph!" Donatello blinked before gripping the rusting handles that led toward the surface.

"We'll get him home before dinner time." 

You both sat contently on a curb of an abandoned street. Your stiffened fingers warmly cupped your chin in between the palm of your hand as the other dug contently into a half-empty bag of cheese puffs you had bought from a local convenience store with the extra cash you stashed away in your pocket. 

"Leo- You barely left any for me!" You muttered through furrowed eyebrows, plucking one of the cheese curls from the plastic bag with a scowl. 

Leonardo had never tried cheese puffs before this moment so his eager gobbling of the snack was to be expected from him. Ten whole years of his life had gone by and had never even gotten to try such a delicacy before living in the sewers. His smile was comically smothered with orange stains that coated his fingers.

"Can you possibly blame me? It is delicious!" He proclaimed victoriously with a gurgle of delight at the discovered snack before placing two cheese curls at the corner of his outstretched mouth to mimic a walrus. "I can even do tricks with this snack!"

He's only slightly disappointed that you only snort in amusement rather than drop your jaw open, overcome by unmitigated awe, but that sliver of dismay is swiftly knocked out of him once you reach over and lay your palm flat over his wrist.

Leo stares at you quizzically with the two curls hanging oddly from his agape mouth before you manage to snap one of them in half and toss it into your mouth contently.

"Dude! Not cool-" The red slider attempts to reach for another chip with an extended hand gingerly fishing for more. "It just tastes cheddar than anything else!" 

You paused with a few blinks, stifling a loud chuckle with your other free hand that wasn't attempting to keep your cheesy snack safe from Leo's grubby hands.

A cheese pun?

"Leo!" You hum warmly before taking a swing of your grape soda can that crinkles underneath the pressure of your lingering thumb, "That was a bit cheesy, no?"

"Finally!" Leonardo hummed before taking a sip of his can of orange soda while peeking in your approval. "Someone who understands my comical and untapped talent!" 

To his dismay, you don't even bat an eyelash at the turtle's cool, unfazed act. You only tut softly and side-eye him with a gentle reprimand creeping to the front of your tongue.

You had both enjoyed each other's company. Had anyone decided to walk upon the both of you, from a distance it most likely would have appeared as two friends hanging out after the movies? Tossing snacks playfully at one another and taking exciting sips of their fizzy drinks.

The color of the sun was now a light creamy yellow, and it was easy to distinguish it from the light blue color of the sky. There were few clouds, but they were far away, so the sun was taking up all the space above the horizon. As the sunset was starting, the sun was going down slowly changing its color from creamy yellow to shades of glowing orange.

You almost would have forgotten the true reason the both of you had resided for so long at the abandoned street. The rusting pothole wiggled a bit from the concrete surface by your sneakers before being pushed aside to reveal a tentative green head peeking out to examine its surroundings.

"Raph, he's not here- Why on earth would he be so close to Staten Island." An annoyed voice whined out.

Leo's face perked up instantly at the looming complaints. If he was a dog, you could quite literally imagine his ears stiffening upwards dramatically at the familiarity of the voice.

The end of his blue bandana loosened at the seams ever so slightly. "Donna! Is that you?" The turtle stumbled before he quickly rose from the side of the curb with one sole cheese curl propped in the side of his puffed-out right cheek. "Only you, mi hermano, could be the voice of such cynicalness." 

You decided to stand up as well to introduce yourself at the mention of his brothers with an embarrassed cough brushing past your lips before flinching at the light blur of orange that had managed to eagerly tackle Leonardo to the ground.

Having dropped his unfinished coloring book to the side with a thud! the youngest turtle's lanky arms had snaked around his brother's waist with a loving warmth. "Leo!" The little turtle sniffled out in relief, small bubbly tears brimming the corner of the brightest baby blues that were rapidly blinking. "You are okay!"

Carefully placing the tip of his chin onto his brother's shaking head, Leo had softly run his three fingertips across the brightly colored surface of his brother's shaking shell before chuckling. "Mikey!" He whispered with a toothy grin as Michelangelo's fat tears continued to leak over the fabric of Leo's shredded top. 

As they shared a warm embrace, a larger figure emerged. In comparison to the previous three brothers, who were shorter and lankier, this figure was frankly the opposite as you swallowed the gasp you had been quietly holding. He was truly massive in size, his thick scales decorating his body a potent mossy green, lightly glistening under the faint hue of the descending sunshine. A sole yellow fang revealed a row of jagged teeth encasing around it.

Of course, Raphael's size was hardly intimidating to any else except yourself or your sudden squeak at his thundering approach. "Raph! Hey big guy." Leo perked up from his hug with Mikey with a devilishly wide grin as the eldest brother placed a warm hand over Leonardo's lazy shoulder. "Don't get emotional on me now"

Raph wrapped his bulky arms around Leo's waist- A gentle yet rather nervous Leo whispering hurriedly almost squawking at the sudden tightening grip of his older brother's hug. "A little t-tight, no?"

You hear another hiss of air escape from between his gapped teeth, snout gruffly wrinkled at his baring claws that began digging almost threateningly. "Next time, you decide to go prancin' about on your own, I will personally ensure that it is your last time." Raphael's steel grip loosened just as swiftly at his humorously loud chuckle, sharp features softening to something you could only assume was an actual smile. "Other than that, I'm so relieved to see you, little bro."

Finally sinking into a more genuine touch, Raphael's crimson mask crinkled before smothering Leo into his chest with a jagged sigh. "Please don't ever scare me like that again." 

It takes Donatello a moment to find the right steps to bring his legs back into motion, trailing after his brothers like a titanic, unsettling shadow and only halting once he's standing far distance to avoid being hurled into the affectionate embrace.

"This is good!" Donnie finally heaved in shallow gasps before placing his large palms on the surface of his knobby knees, his glasses threatening to slip down his gasping expression. He had seemingly taken the brunt of the travels under the sewers, meticulously peeling off a worn-out sock that had sloppily stuck across his leg with a furrowed frown of disdain. "And you didn't get discovered by any humans-"

It seems at that selective moment, the group had finally acknowledged your presence that had been standing cautiously behind Leonardo. The reunion clouded their vision from the very obvious human kid who was fiddling with their fingers and suddenly very interested in the pattern of their shoelaces.

So even when Raphael takes a step towards you, rising to his full height while towering over you and lifts one enormous claw towards your chest curiously, causing you to lock your shaking knees and refuse to budge.

He's glaring back down at you, his dark crimson eyes somehow piercing right through the red sheen of his mask. "And what were you doing 'round my little bro, kid?" 

You could admit that the situation itself didn't look the best out of context. You and Leo had been peppered with jagged scrapes & bruising across both of your skin. Both of your clothes are slightly tattered and rustled up.

Leonardo takes this opportunity to hurriedly step in between the both of you and the sudden tension, casually sliding in with two hands raised defensively in the air. "They are cool! They are cool!" He proclaims with a coyly posed grin all the while placing a soft hand on your shoulder, "They saved me-"

The snapping turtle's eyes narrow to thin slits at the claim from his younger brother. He scans you diligently for a moment, searching for any ulterior motive behind his brother's statement defending your honor. He finds nothing but genuine curiosity instead. Your tone was rather nervous and your eyes refused to properly meet his.

Blinking slowly, he remains quiet for a long time, but when he does speak, his voice is softer than you've ever heard it. "Introduce us." Raphael finally remarked.

"Ah-" The red slider turtle chuckled heartily with a light wheeze, nervously twiddling his fingertips. "Their name, what a great question-"

You offer him the courtesy of thinking about his answer first, brows knitting together and your nose scrunching up at the thought that you hadn't actually revealed your name to the squirming turtle.

Donatello is the first to break the silence, obvious disapproval fixated on his scowl, "Nardo! Have I taught you nothing about talking to strangers on the internet?" The spiny-shelled turtle muttered with two fingers pinched together before sharply waggling them at his slumped-over twin. "You learn their information while I stalk their internet presence and search for their address! God, I'm surrounded by amateurs-"

"[y/n]." You return, resisting the ingrained compulsion to reach out and shake the brother's hands, instead opting to keep your hands chummily into the pockets of your stained pants.

"Well, [y/n]," Donnie began repeating your name, pushing his glasses up his scrunched-up snout in almost annoyance that the conversation was even being held before blankly clapping his hands together. "We are quite frankly gonna have to kill you for discovering us. It's just protocol, so really, nothing personal. No hard feelings?"

Stiffly, the eldest turtle peels his lips back and pushes a low, guttural challenge from his throat, twisting his neck around to glower at the younger turtle. "What Donnie is tryna say-" The snapping turtle corrected, his eyes softening ever so slightly into something more genuine. "We can't have you talkin' about this to anyone, alright? We got a family to look out for, if humans started stickin' their noses out for us-" His voice quivers before finding strength again as little Michelangelo clings lightly to his leg. "-It would be unsafe for all of us."

A cool summer breeze blows lightly through your hair and whistles past the grouped turtles, causing goosebumps to arise on your crossed arms. With your eyes closed and facing toward the final glimpses of the sun, you welcome the little warmth you can gather and breathe in the salty air.

"Lips sealed-" You hummed out finally in agreement as your soft lips stretched out smoothly before mimicking a pretend key with your nimble fingers, a lingering chuckle rushing past your smile. "No one would believe me anyways."

Your delicate fingers touch Leo's curled ones and you step around the blue-tinged turtle, peeking timidly at Raph as you venture a little closer to his face.

"Donnie, I promised [y/n] you would whip them up something for them?" Leonardo pressed his pointer fingers together sheepishly before his palms tentatively skimmed over the back of his neck with a small laugh. "They totally lost their baseball bat 'cuz of me. I owe em-"

Truthfully? You had forgotten all about your missing bat. You probably wouldn't even have mentioned the fact that Leo offered a replacement earlier even if you had a recollection of him encouraging you to accept a new one.

Rolling up his sleeves figuratively, Donatello seemed to genuinely light up at the challenge as his glasses glinted with a cartoonish shine. His seemingly stoic face perked up rather quickly before fishing into his pockets with a hurried and rather maniacal giggle.

"You truly do underestimate my skills, Leon-" The masked figure remarked coyly with the waggle of a mini screwdriver he had stashed away with other random metal scraps and trinkets. 

You toss him a quizzical glance as Donnie's back remains turned away for a moment of tinkering at the flickering light that started to emit from his hand, though just as quickly your eyes meet his, he abruptly halts in satisfaction. He tilts his head down before tossing you a small rectangular shape box about the size of your palm.

Holding it up to your squinted eye, you rotate the small box carefully to examine it further. You truthfully had no idea what you were looking at. It was a compact box with a thick button at the very edge that the surface of your thumb curiously teetered around. "Thanks?-" You muttered, your teeth carefully gnawing at your bottom lip.

The box easily sprung in size at that very moment, almost defiantly to make up for your mellow dramatic reaction. Gears faintly churned inside the tiny structure before reconstructing themselves into the size of a narrow bat. A little gasp escaped your pursed lips as it snuggled into your fingertips, fitting perfectly in the grip of your hands.

Afterward, everyone began giving their goodbyes before submerging into the warmth of the sewers. Michelangelo had given you a comforting embrace, the very top of his head reaching barely your hips and leaving you with his prized orange crayon in your possession. Raphael offered an embarrassed smile, shaking your hand contently with the slightest scratch at the back of his neck. Donatello kept his distance from you during his goodbye with a light nod of acknowledgment, though the slick metal arm from his shell carefully gave you the smallest head pat, ruffling up your hair at their departure. 

You were left with Leonardo, his dark eyes shifting over to yours carefully, revealing the soft swirls of light brown amidst them. His expression was no longer pulled into a snarky grin, but rather a smaller and oddly more sincere smile.

"Thank you-"  Leo softly remarked, his head sinking warmly into the crook of your shoulder, his blue bandana slipping once more down the length of his forehead. He didn't specify what exactly he was thanking you for. Had it been for finding him in the alleyway? Traveling across New York and reuniting him with his family? The cheese curls he had scrummaged for himself? Strangely enough, you didn't need an answer to any of those questions. His warm arms encasing you into a light embrace was answer enough.

Pulling away, Leonardo's eyes ever so slightly widened at your fingertips softly brushing against his cheek. You had pulled down the fabric he had tied lazily around his forehead. Gently pressing enough force with your thumbs, you tore two symmetrical holes with a content hum lingering over your curled back lips. 

Tying the fabric once again as you bit down on your tongue, you brought the mask over his eyes tightly. His eyes never left yours before you gingerly patted the cloth down with a satisfied hum tickling the back of your throat at your work.

"There." You murmured contently to him, "You look like a hero."

His face felt a bit warmer. Perhaps it had been the earlier summer weather that led to such heat across his face or perhaps it had been the expression of pure admiration etched across your softened features for him, little was certain. Regardless, his half-lidded eyes flickered with a delicate shine at your tentative praise. He had never quite met someone like you, had he?

Taking a moment, Leonardo allowed his legs to take off at a hurried pace. He stumbled a few times through his dash before allowing his body to dive into the opened pothole, his charming smile still bright. 

"See ya on the flip side, [y/n]!"

The streetlamps that weren't burned out projected little circles of white light onto an empty, cracked sidewalk. The traffic light swung in the breeze, telling all the nonexistent drivers to stop.

The wet, desolate streets of the city rested in silence as the starry black sky wept over it. The water in the portholes shimmered by the glow of the bright, yellow street lamps at every corner.

It had been raining for hours now, the steady patter of water against your coat long since faded to a dull rush in the back of your mind. 

You were clutching the handle of a tiny plastic bag, pulling your coat closer around your shaking frame. Roaming around the streets of New York City in the middle of the night was the last thing you were planning on tonight, but after your roommate had caught a fever, the idea of staying inside was tossed out the window. Before she could even protest through her weak cough, you had already tugged on your sneakers & hooked your keys through your fingertips with a soft jingle. 

Glancing down into your wrinkled bag as you strutted, you hadn't bought much on your trip to the local pharmacy. Some Tylenol clanged happily in the plastic, a few different Gatorade flavors & a couple of cans of chicken soup that had been discounted at the clearance section. 

You tramped your way along the rutted, muddy trail in irritated silence. It was supposed to be a full moon tonight. Not that you could tell; the clouds above you grouped grayly. You had your cracked cell phone to emit some light in your bag-any good man does-but God knows it wouldn't light in this weather.

A piercing gust of wind shook the trees above your head, showering your already miserable frame with a fresh deluge. You wiped the water from your eyes with a wet sleeve and tucked a lock of hair back under the protection of your hood. What you wouldn't give for an umbrella.

You continued your walk home with your hands stuffed into your pocket for an added bit of warmth, only a few more blocks till you were home at your dingy apartment and could badger your roommate for not bundling up properly. 

You pulled the black hood over your saturated form as you sauntered in the soft rain, small pellets of water spitting on your hands as the remainder of the drops quench the scattered puddles decorating the asphalt.

Though, in one of the pools of rainwater on the street, an oddly familiar flash of blue lingered in the reflection of the puddle that earned your attention. You managed to lift your head just a bit, craning stiff your neck to the flickering streetlight instead. 

Squinting- The flicker of blue seemingly disappeared into the shadows. 

"Crap," You mumbled to yourself before your half-lidded eyes adjusted back as your phone slipped from your quivering grasp. The cellular device skittered a few steps in front of you across the smooth pavement, faint curses escaping your warm breaths loosely. "Just my luck, huh?" Placing your shopping bag carefully on the sidewalk before closely inspecting the possible damage to your phone, the surface of your thumb inspecting for new cracks on the busted-up screen protector. 

Looking relatively unharmed under your inspection, you gently wiped off some of the raindrops that had smeared across your phone screen during the tumble with a satisfied hum and dropped the phone into the pockets of your sweatpants for safekeeping.

"Are you done with these then?"

Startled, your head turned around at the sudden voice that lingered behind your crouched figure. Two young men in thin, dark jackets were inspecting your abandoned bag near your muddy feet. Their black shoes were shimmering from the trickles of the rain. One of the guys, in particular, was handling the crinkled receipt paper that you had mindlessly tossed into the bag after purchasing any items of higher value. His sausage-like fingers skim down the items.

Your eyebrow quipped upwards at the blunt question, carefully peeling back some of the hair strands that clung to your warm forehead before staring rather dumbly at them. "What are you even talking about?" 

"These," One of the men answered gruffly as his large nose wrinkled up at your confusion, still rooting around the food you had just recently purchased from the store with his gloved fingers. "Your bag, kid." A gold ring gleamed softly under the pitter-patter of the rain.

Honestly, if these men thought you had any cash on you at the moment and targeted you for that reason, you were flattered. Perhaps even start chuckling at how amusing the situation was. You were lucky to have enough money for the weekly bus fare to your part-time job on the other side of town every morning, much less to hand these guys over any currency.  

Stumbling upwards to your untied shoelaces, your narrowed eyes glanced carefully around your surroundings at the street corner you were on. Fat blobs hit the display windows of many empty stores hard before sticking for a moment, then oozing down toward oblivion. Businesses were seemingly and hurriedly packed up for the night, the neon sign that spelled 'open' at the local Chinese buffet burnt out to only a soft flicker in the hue of the rain.

 "No." 

"You left them," Suddenly the other man said, his soft jaw-dropping before releasing a hollow laugh that's about as far from friendly as one could get. It's bitter and mocking.

Digging your curled-up fingertips into your pockets casually, your fingers began twisting the fuzzy fabric of your pants. You kept your cool, your usually softer eyes firmly holding both of their gazes with a stiffened expression. "I put them down for a second." You clarified quickly and matter-of-factly, remembering to bite down on your tongue to stop any sharp retort from escaping your curled-up lips.

"Same thing, if ya ask me," The first man responded with a blank chuckle, peeling his lips back to reveal rows of sharp, jagged teeth. He pulled one of the dented cans of soup out of the bag he was holding that had a slapped clearance sticker on it, lazily throwing it back and forth between his tight grip. "You don't mind if I take one of these, do you?"

"Fine," You rasped out in a small spat. A weary sort of resignation crept into your stomach at the sight. You wanted nothing more than to snatch your bag away from them, your white knuckle grip tightening at your phone that lingered warmly in your pocket but you stayed frozen in place with no sudden movement. You didn't want a fight.

"What kind of bitch buys this cheap shit anyways?" The second man chimed in under the dim light with a wrinkled-up expression, casually whipping out a fat cigarette from his pocket and rolling it between his fingertips. He was a bit larger than the first man with a round stomach that chunkily jutted over his leather belt, standing a good head taller than you even in his slouched-over position.

As the minutes pass in silence though, you continue to hold your ground, albeit with trembling hands that sift through your pockets slowly. "Look, I don't want any trouble," You piped up, trying to attract the attention of anyone who may be passing by. You purse your lips before chewing a welt into your lower lip, stealing a glance towards the deserted street.

Though your request seems to fall with little reception. The shorter of the pair slips forward with a gapped smile, his greasily slicked back hair sparsely covering the bald spots that revealed from his head. "No? Good," He hissed out contently in an attempt to seem friendly, extending his waggling fingers. "You won't mind giving us your wallet then."

"What?"

"Your wallet." The pudgy thief remarked with a low spat, picking at his crooked teeth with the edge of his pinky boredly. "Hand it over. You gotta have some sorta cash on ya."

"I don't have any money," You remarked plainly, your voice creeping up higher than expected before coughing. "Just take the bag." You tiredly dug for your wallet in your pockets, fishing for it and tossing them your wallet anyway to their satisfaction, knowing full well the only things they'd find in it would be a few mostly used-up gift cards and the wrinkled-up change for the food you had bought earlier.

Rustling through your wallet once more, both of their faces melted into pure disgust. Their thumbs hovered shakily over the few crinkled dollar bills that they had managed to tug out from the depths of your wallet. Their rough faces begin to dip into a heated scowl with a rough breath, licking the frantic sweat off their upper lip. 

"Grab 'em'."

As soon as the order was made, your eyes widened before you felt two sturdy hands wrap firmly around your wrist in a sharp snatch. Long nails harshly dig into your supple skin as you begin thrashing your arms to loosen his tightening grip.

Blanching, you immediately try to back up, but your head knocks painfully at the wall behind you and you realize, with a sinking sensation in your gut, that you're well and truly trapped as a behemoth of two men closes in on you, their motions far more ungainly.

Wincing, with your other free hand, you managed to swipe the final object deep into the crevices of your pocket. A black little box with a small button gleaming proudly at being pulled out for this moment. Granted, the paint had chipped away over the years and a few scratches had been added.

The metal baseball bat rose to life, the little gears gleefully turning at a rapid speed to be used once more before reconstructing contently into your shaky palm.

Before anything could happen though, around you the room had begun to pulse, the blue-ish illumination flickered in front of you burning brightly as you felt a faint pressure in your perked ears, the walls and floor cement vibrating intensively.

Both the men had scrambled to the ground at the sight, their gruff voices beginning to croak at the lingering silhouette that had slowly stepped out. "Get the fuck away from me, freak!" 

Magic roared from the sudden appearance of two narrow blades and rebounded with a savage eruption that smashed the two men down.

Before you, you saw the faint outline of a figure, coyly hanging in the dark with only the white glint of their eyes sharpening. Plunged back into darkness, the sound of a sword's sharpened tip began sliding sweetly across the cement floors sending chills down your spine. 

Even in the dark, you could tell that the figure moved with perfect control. Their movements almost toying with the two men boyishly in boredom, doing quick backflips over their slumped shoulders as their playfully chipper laughter began mingling the air.

"C'mon, boys, it can't be that easy, now?"

You urgently fumbled to get a better look at the silhouette. When you looked back up, the outline was gone, and cold footsteps echoed around the empty street. 

As you inhaled deeply, you heard a loud crash of thunder, feeling a small, cool raindrop hit your bruised cheek, and flow down your quivering face to your neck. It was followed by one more raindrop, and then yet another. A gasp passed through your lips, as they curved into a tremulous smile. 

That voice sounded so- familiar. Deeper, but familiar.

The drops of rain hung on your lashes and then ran down your cheeks, kissing your pursed lips. Behind you, a large figure in a blue bandana looms protectively over you. His almond eyes scanned you carefully as his grip tightened on the hold of his swords that were still emitting a soft blue light.

His eyes widen the smallest fraction from behind the mask in a glint of recognition. Turning your head just a bit, your eyes wander over his bright green scales and the blue bandana that harshly flowed behind his hesitant step. Leonardo's breaths had become jagged at the soft droplets that beaded through the tuffs of your hair.

"It's you."

[wheatnoodle]

part 2 to⬆️

— wednesday —

there have been more than enough shit people in eddie’s life for him to care when his so-called “friends” don’t turn out to be who he thinks they are.

and honestly, this time, it’s on him. he’s a firm believer in second chances but even he should’ve known that steve harrington would always be steve harrington. he needs to start believing people when they show him who they really are, not try and see, try and find, try and create the good in them.

he’s hurt, he’s embarrassed, but he’s not surprised. so he turns up his music and he strums harder and headbangs faster and drowns out the sound of his brain until his friday show. he channels his feelings, his anger and betrayal, into making it the best damn show indiana has ever seen.

he wasn’t going to let some jock like steve harrington stop him from doing what he loves. steve and his stupid hair, and his stupid moles, and his stupid big brown eyes, and his stupid pouty lips, and his stupid muscles, and his-

great, now he’s blushing. because he was also dumb and he let himself get a stupid fucking crush on a stupid fucking jock who used to be bitch and seemingly still is.

besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen steve go out of his way to support his friends. he’s at every single one of lucas’s basketball games and will’s art shows and drives robin to her marching band practice. sure, he doesn’t stick around for that last one, but he still drives her. and yet every time eddie asks him to come to his practices, or come to his concerts, or anything related to his band, steve conveniently has to work or has some excuse ready on the tip of his tongue. eddie doesn’t even care if steve likes his music, he just wants him to show up. to pretend he cares even a little bit about eddie’s music.

and the look he gave him! like he couldn’t believe what eddie was saying to him. that was just the icing on the cake. he was done. so he brushed off dustin’s pestering to ask steve to come to the movies with them, he avoided his uncle wayne’s concerned looks, and he was ready to move on with his life.

— friday —

over the years, the party had accepted that being a passenger in steve’s car wasn’t like how it used to be. when they were just in middle school, they’d laugh and bicker and they’d rope steve into their conversations or he’d look at them through the rear view mirror whenever they said something that they probably shouldn’t have.

now, post-freshmen-year, they still laugh and fight in the backseat, but steve doesn’t talk. doesn’t even look at them. robin says he’s just focusing on his driving or blames herself for turning the music up so loud. not at all because he can’t hear them anymore, no no.

so he’s in his driver’s seat, wearing his lovely family video vest, and hauling dustin and robin to the hideout for corroded coffin’s show before he heads to work. robin has her billy idol tape playing and she’s turned around in the front seat, raving with dustin about the latest nerd movie. sometimes steve is glad he can’t hear.

he pulls up outside of the bar, parks near the van where eddie, the band, and his kids are all stood around dragging equipment out of the back. mike and lucas are shoving each other around with smiles on their faces and they all seem to be wearing some kind of handmade corroded coffin tshirts.

they turn at the sound of the gravel crunching under tires. eddie’s jaw sets at the sight of the familiar beemer and he’s rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. steve gets out the car, doesn’t look up as he circles around, opens robin’s door, and grabs dustin’s bag from the backseat.

eddie is making his way over, long, drawn out steps. he’s clapping too, slowly and loud, and the van gang are staring at him, confused and quiet. steve happens to look up just as eddie gets a few feet away and begins to shout for all to hear.

“here ye, here ye! make way, make way!” eddie throws his arms out to the side, a grand gesture as he sweeps a hand across the rest of the group. “he has arrived to grace us with his presence! all hail king steve! would you like us to bow for you, my liege?”

he doesn’t get the reaction he had hoped.

there’s no anger in steve’s eyes. no fire. no promise of a fight. no clenched fists ready to make contact with eddie’s cheekbone the way high school steve would.

instead, he’s met with silence.

and steve’s quickened breathing.

and the glossing of tears building in his tear ducts that he’s trying to blink back.

steve’s eyes flick to the party behind him. they’re all looking at him. nobody is saying anything. he hands dustin’s bag back to its rightful owner. doesn’t say anything as he stumbles to his car door. his hands are shaking trying to get the key in the door. it fits in the hole, it’s made for this door, why don’t not it go in, why cant this just work for him, why him, why now-

he drops the key, spitting a hushed “sh-shit” that his voice breaks in the middle of. robin walks over, picks up the key ring and unlocks his door. her eyes are huge as she looks at him. filled with shock, with worry, with anger. he can only manage a quick glance before he’s in the car and speeding away.

eddie is still standing where he was, rooted to the spot. he stares straight ahead, arms dropping to his sides.

“eddie…what the fuck is your problem.”

[artisticdivasworld]

Staying Healthy as a Long-Haul Truck Driver: Straight Talk

Hitting the open road as a long-haul truck driver isn’t just a job; it’s a lifestyle. And let’s be real, it’s one that comes with its fair share of health challenges. With the long hours and endless miles, staying healthy might seem like a battle. But with a bit of know-how and discipline, you can keep yourself in top shape. We talked about this before here, but feel it bears repeating because…

[revasserium]

*runs in* ISAWYOURAUPOSTNAJSJSJSJJS Omg hiii

I really like your blog! It's like yummy food for my tired brain, so I got really excited to see you're making aus!

Can I ask for roommate au with Jamil? I'm down bad for him;;;

for my 31 days of au challenge @bakedgrape

a story in reverse

jamil; 3,571 words; fluff and slightly suggestive themes though it's never actually nsfw; college roommates!au + implied fwb...; you can read the story top the bottom or bottom to top ;)

day 273.

on the last day of term, you say goodbye for the very first time — and it stings like an unsuspecting papercut found by a thoughtless dollop of hand sanitizer, sharp and bitter with the pang of betrayal.

“ah… i guess this is it, huh?” jamil’s voice is lighter than it usually is, and just as forced.

“you say that like we’re not coming back next year…” you say, though there’s a twist in your stomach that makes your throat seize at the thought, even if it is just a thought.

“s-sorry! i just meant —“ he clears his throat and tries again, “i meant that i’ll see you soon, hm?”

for a second, you don’t know what to say — you can feel a torrent of unsaid words pushing up against the back of your throat like an insistent tide, crashing against the shore of your tongue. but then, jamil is reaching out to tip your chin back, brushing his lips to yours.

“soon. i promise,” he whispers, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, gray and bright as the breaking dawn.

“yeah — i’ll see you soon, jamil.”

you pull your lips into a smile and watch as he jogs towards the curb, kalim already waiting there for him with their family car (rich boys, ugh), a dark-suited man in shades dipping his head in your general direction before slipping into the driver’s seat. you wave as jamil and kalim both turn towards you, raising their hands.

“see you next year!” jamil calls even as you nod.

“yeah, see you!”

and then they’re pulling away from the curb, leaving you standing there amidst your three rather large, well-scuffed suitcases. you let out a long sigh, plopping down on the largest one, the shell painted red and gold, though the colors barely peak out now from beneath the countless travel stickers to places that you’ve never been to (but jamil had promised he’d take you to all of them, didn’t he?)

well. there’s always next year.

day 212.

“are you gonna dorm again next year?”

“hm? i’m not sure… kalim says that we should just get a place together, so that’s what i might do.”

“oh.”

you pause over your half-eaten tub of haagen-daz, licking your lips of the mint-chocolate flavor. jamil glances over, reaching out to dig his spoon into the melting icecream.

“don’t worry though, wherever you’re staying, i’m sure we’ll be able to find a place nearby,” jamil says, flashing you a smile and a wink even as you duck, your cheeks flooding with color.

“that’s not what i was thinking about!”

“no? hm… i could’ve sworn that’s what you were looking so upset over but… well, if i’m wrong…” you can hear the mock-seriousness in jamil’s voice as he shrugs and heaves a melodramatic sigh.

“you’re the worst…” but you can’t keep from grinning as he cocks a challenging eyebrow in your direction before pouncing on you, pinning you beneath him on the sofa, the springs squeaking beneath you as the nearly drop the nearly empty pint of icecream.

“j-jamil! the ac’s still out —“

“mm… but isn’t that why we got icecream?”

his lips chase fire over the plains of your skin and despite everything, you find yourself shivering.

“y-yeah but —“

but your words die on your lips as he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, tearing a gasp from your throat as your head tips back.

day 196.

he’s always running high after his dance competitions, and this time it’s not different. so when he comes home, his eyes limned in glitter and khol, you’re not surprised to feel yourself being hauled out of your chair and into his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you purse your lips, card your fingers through his hair and hold his face steady with a teasing grin.

“i’m guessing that you guys won?”

“course we did,” he says, his breath still coming in short enough pants, his irises blown nearly black as he leans up to nip at your jawline, “we swept.”

“mm — i mean, you guys are pretty damn good.”

“how would you know? you never come to our competitions, even when i ask.”

you pull back with a dainty smack of your lips, pressing a finger to his frown.

“you guys could try to have competitions that aren’t either overseas or during exam weeks — then i might actually be able to go.”

jamil rolls his eyes, readjusting your in his lap even as he lets his head fall back against the sofa cushions.

“stupid exams…”

“just because some people are geniuses doesn’t mean we all are —“

your breath hitches as he narrows his eyes, a quicksilver glint flashing behind them as he hoists you up into a bridal carry and makes a beeline for the bedroom door.

“but since some other people finished their most stressful exam today… don’t you think they deserve to be… rewarded?”

a delicious shiver races down the length of your spine as you allow yourself to be plopped down on your too-narrow bed. jamil grins like the devil as he tugs off his sweat shirt and you can’t help the way your stomach clenches at the sight of him — so lithe and muscular, his skin smooth and perfectly sun-kissed. you’d never get tired of looking at his body, not in a million years, you think.

“i… i suppose one night off wouldn’t hurt…”

“mm, that’s what i like to hear.”

day 120.

“dance practice again tonight?”

“yeah. every monday, wednesday, and thursday —“

“— and sometimes fridays and sundays —“ you grin as you watch him shove a towel into his sports bag.

“here,” you say, holding out his water bottle, “i — uhm — you said you wanted to try liquid iv’s the other day so i put a packet in for you — i don’t know if you’d like the flavor but…”

jamil blinks as he pauses over his half-tied shoes.

“thanks.” he reaches out to take the bottle from you, giving it an experimental shake, “i — uh — i’m sure it’ll taste just fine. that was… really thoughtful of you.”

you hate the heat creeping up your cheeks as you turn back to your studies.

“it’s nothing. they had them at the farmer’s market i passed by this morning so…”

“uhm… will you be… up… when i get back?”

your head snaps up as you turn to look at him, eyes wide. fire courses through you, followed quickly by the sobering cool of uncertainty but still. you gulp and lick your suddenly very chapped lips.

“i — i don’t know… may… maybe?” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, casting your eyes back at your half-written notes, your mind already spinning over the calculations of how long it’d take for you to finish them properly.

memories from the past few weeks flood through your mind and you can’t help the twisting coil of tension thrumming at the base of your belly.

“well… i’ll text you later when i’m on my way back then,” jamil says, double-knotting his sneakers and flashing a grin your way. he gives you a two-fingered salute before he’s off and out the door, leaving you very nearly squirming in your seat at the mere thought of ‘later’.

day 101.

the third time it happens, neither of you can blame the alcohol. there was no party this time, no crush of ill-dressed bodies, no too-loud music and too-cheap beer. this time, there was just you and him and a shared bowl of under-salted popcorn, the lights off, a rerun of some movie both of you have watched at some indefinite point in time.

you don’t quite remember who made the first move — maybe it was you, when you’d coiled your legs under you, pressing your knee to the outside of his thigh and leaving it there. maybe it was him, when he’d rested his arm along the back of the sofa and let his fingers tangle absently in your hair.

maybe it was the moment of breath between one scene and the next, when the screen had gone miraculously dark and left nothing but the imprint of light behind both your eyes and before either of you could blink it away, your lips had found each other.

there’s nothing to blame this time but yourselves and each other, no questions to ask but the ones you’d already answered — right here, right now, because it feels good, because it feels right.

you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs, half beneath the silken covers of jamil’s brand new sheets.

and when you both wake up this time, it’s to the warmth of each other’s arms, the steady of one another’s breaths. jamil doesn’t pull away and you don’t try to think of something casual to say. instead, you both just look at each other and jamil grins.

“so… breakfast?”

you laugh, letting your head thump back onto his uber-plush pillows.

“yeah. that sounds fantastic.”

day 75.

the second time it happens, you blame the alcohol. you blame the crush of ill-dressed bodies, the too-loud music and the too-cheap beer. who’s idea was it to host a house party in your dorm room of all places anyway? and why is jamil’s entire dance crew suddenly here? hooting and hollering and grinning knowingly in your direction, a few of them even tossing you obvious winks.

as if they knew.

do they know?

you curl into yourself, press your body against the cool of the wall and toss back your drink, grimacing at the taste. whatever jamil had put in the punch bowl originally, there’s no question that it’s since been spiked with maybe a dozen different alcohols. and the mixture is fowl as it burns through your chest into your stomach.

the room spins, and eventually, you find yourself being pressed up against the back of your bedroom door, the party still booming along outside.

“f-fuck —” you fist your fingers in jamil’s long hair and tug; he lets out a hiss as his head jerks back, but even in your alcohol-induced haze, you can see the desire burning bright within him.

“sorry — did i —?”

“no — just f-feels good —” you bury your face in his shoulder, your body going soft and languid in his arms even as he slots a leg between your thighs to keep you still against the too-thin door. your hips ruck down against him and he lets out a thick groan at the way you shake against him.

“yeah? g-good… i like that —” he tugs you back with him and the pair of you topple onto your bed, all desperate fingers and dirty hands, sloppy lips, taking what you can, each from the other as if your bodies were endless things. and like this, with his hand pinning your wrists above your head, his gasping breaths bursting by your ear, you think they just might be.

the next morning, you wake up to an empty bed and cold pancakes on the kitchen counter.

day 47.

“why don’t you just talk to her about it?” kalim asks.

jamil frowns, running through his cooldown stretches, his eyes focused on his own form in the mirror even as kalim glances over at him.

“because — what’s there to talk about? i mean — it was just… one of those things.”

kalim shrugs, turning back to the mirror as well.

“if you say so but… it seems like you wanna talk to her about it.”

“it’s fine.”

“till it happens again.”

“it’s not gonna happen again.”

kalim slates him a look; jamil scowls even harder.

“if it does —” kalim’s voice is light as they both pack up their stuff and click off the lights to the dance studio.

“i said its not gonna happen again,” jamil snipes, readjusting his bag on his shoulder and digging out his phone. your message thread is pulled up and he’s halfway through the sentence — on my way back — before he catches himself and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

kalim grins, looking a bit too smug as jamil clears his throat and tries to play it off as if nothing’s happened.

“if it does… you should make her breakfast the morning after.”

“w-why the hell would i do that?”

kalim laughs, “because! then she’ll know that you might want to spend more time with her — time when you’re not —”

“okay! okay — ugh… but like… what do i even make her for breakfast anyway?”

kalim looks much, much too pleased with himself as he peers into jamil’s face.

“how about pancakes?”

day 31.

the first time it happens, it’s barely more than a month into your co-habitation. it��d been a not-quite-accident kind of accident. it’d been one of those rare nights when jamil doesn’t have dance practice and you’d finished all your work early.

“wanna play a game?”

jamil’s smile had been viper-sweet and just as dangerous.

“only if drinks are involved.”

you roll your eyes but agree.

“never have i ever.”

jamil shrugs, “sure. we drink if we’ve done the thing, right?”

you nod, pouring a row of malibu shots. jamil grimaces.

“why malibu?”

“cause — it’s sweet and it’s cheap and it’s the only thing we had in the cabinet.”

“fair. alright — you go first.” jamil pulls a glass towards him, his eyes fixed on you. he watches as you swirl your own shot glass with a contemplative look on your face, and he wonders if you know how terribly tantalizing you look.

so… he might’ve caught himself staring a few times right after you’d gotten out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, your hair tracing water down the bare skin of your shoulders and back. and he might’ve lingered over your uncapped bottle of perfume, swallowing hard as he catches a whiff of the vaguely floral fragrance, the base warm and woody and dizzying.

“never have i ever… gone to three different countries in one month.” your smile, when he finally fixes his gaze on you again, is nothing short of wicked.

he narrows his eyes as he takes his shot, “that’s not fair — you know i have to travel for my dance crew’s international competitions.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’ve never been to half the places you’ve been so…”

“i’ll take you with me one day,” he says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop himself. you cock your head as you stare at him, and then you raise your already refilled shot glass.

“i’ll hold you to it then.”

jamil refills his own glass and downs the shot.

“never have i ever… been walked in on after taking a shower.”

“hey! and who’s fault is that?”

jamil smirks, shrugging nonchalantly as you take your shot, quick and vindictive.

“fine — never have i ever walked in on someone after they’d just taken a shower.”

jamil takes his own shot in stride, swallowing down the burn with a wide, satisfied smile.

so it goes on like this, the never-have-i-evers getting more and more ludicrous till you’re both drunk and laughing and more than a little hot beneath the collar.

“never… have i ever… hm…” you muses, your head lolling back as you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, as if an interesting thing not to have done might be written there.

“what’s something… super cliché?” jamil wonders aloud, letting his gaze flicker up as well.

you pause for a moment before dissolving into a pile of red-faced giggles.

“oh! never have i ever hooked up with a roommate! there — that’s a good one.” you smile wide and sure, looking proud of your own accomplishment in thinking up this thing that you’re certain he’s done.

jamil licks his lips and swallows, his eyes meeting your as he lets out a breath.

“i haven’t either.”

the air between the pair of you thickens as your eyes flash down towards your empty shot glass.

“oh.”

“but i guess it is kinda cliché, huh…” he says, setting down his glass and dragging a thumb along his bottom lip before popping into his mouth.

he hears rather than sees the way your breath hitches and he can’t help the pleased purr rumbling through him at the thought of being able to do this to you.

“y-yeah… i guess it is…” you lick your own lips, “makes you feel a little left out, doesn’t it?”

jamil hums in response, and it isn’t till you look up again that you realize he’s leaned over the graveyard of now-emptied shot glasses, his lips hovering inches from your own.

“but how about we change that, hm?”

day 15.

it only takes two weeks for one of you to walk in on the other in the bathroom, and all things considered, it was kind of a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner. the bathroom door doesn’t really lock and jamil had been too preoccupied with scrolling through the music for their next showcase to see the tell-tale strip of light beneath the door that usually indicates that the bathroom is currently occupied.

when he pushes through, it’s to find you stepping out of the shower, the steam still rising from your skin in thick, white wisps, your hand reaching for the towel on the rack.

“wh —”

jamil stares, drop-jawed and dumbstruck as his eyes rake over your very, very naked body, the music still thumping from his large headphones as he blinks.

you scream.

he slams the door shut.

15 minutes later when you leave the bathroom, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon, your hair still damp, but your body now covered in a long t-shirt and sweats, neither of you says a thing.

day 3.

three days in and you have to admit that it’s kind of nice, having a super rich trust fund boy as your roommate. if nothing else, all the furniture he’s brought along is gorgeous — from the thick persian rugs to the tasteful suede sofa, you very quickly find yourself living in a dorm that looks like it might have belonged in the pages of a crate & barrel magazine spread.

“but apparently, his cousin’s family is even better off —” one of your friends had informed you after you’d looked up jamil’s family online, very quickly finding the wiki page that links him to the al-asim family.

“oh yeah? what do they even do?” you squint at the wikipedia page detailing the al-asim family legacy.

“i think something to do with… water filtration?” your friend peers over your shoulder as you scroll through the page before clicking back to google. she tugs your phone out of your hand and quickly types something into the search bar before making a gagging noise and turning the phone results back towards you.

“holy shit.”

“holy is right,” your friend had said.

“with a net worth like that… what the hell are they doing in school?” you ask, your eyes wide as you look back up.

your friend shrugs, a wicked grin twisting her lips as she leans over the library table and whispers in your ear —

“but y’know if you can bag jamil you’ll be set for life!”

you flush and shove her away, “shut up! we’re just roommates!”

your friend tuts, “plenty of people end up hooking up with their roommates — it’s a literal cliché at this point.”

you roll your eyes, “well not for us, it won’t — and e-even if we do… there’s a long way between ‘hooking up’ and bagging someone for life.”

your friend giggles, batting her lashes floridly at you, “never say never!”

day 1.

“o-oh! hi — sorry, you must be…”

jamil frowns, turning around at the sound of your voice.

“jamil viper…” he says as his eyes land on you for the very first time, taking in the three large suitcases gathered around your legs, and the light blush dusting your cheeks from what he assumes is the exertion of having wrangled them down the too-long hallway.

“yes — right…” you purse your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

“and you must be my new roommate, right?” jamil says, recovering from his momentary shock to offer you his hand.

pretty, is his first thought, smells like flowers, is his second.

you beam up at him, nodding.

“it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Day 5 - Held at Gunpoint/Hostage

I couldn't help myself at this point. Starting a new little thing for whumptober!! New little mini-series!

Ping list: @ailesswhumptober and @whumperofworlds

TWs: hostage situation, guns, robbery, kidnapping, threats of collars

Maybe his mom was right, Mariano thought. Maybe bad things did happen in threes. At this point, it was almost funny.

He felt the hard metal press to the side of his head and took a deep breath. If he walked out of this bank alive he'd have quite a story for his therapist. "All you have to do is relax and do what I say, and you'll be fine." The man said. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I understand." Mariano said. His heart was racing as the man looped an arm around his neck. At least, Mariano thought, if the guy had a shaky trigger finger then it wouldn't be his problem for very long.

"I've got you big guy. Just don't do anything stupid." The robber said, calling back towards his partners. "Hurry the fuck up, Tommy, the police are probably just a minute or two away!"

"Jasper--you fucking took a hostage?"

"I need to make sure the guards don't do anything stupid!"

"Well now he's coming with us, since we're gonna get charged with kidnapping anyway!"

Mariano felt himself get tugged along. "Actually, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't get kidnapping if you just let me go now--" He tried before Jasper, the one with the arm around his neck, tightened his hold to cut him off.

"Shut up." He snarled into Mariano's ear. They hauled him to the back, through the emergency exit, and towards a little sedan with someone already sitting in the front seat. He was shoved inside and onto the floorboards, and Jasper climbed inside, one foot planted on his upper back and one on his thigh.

The driver sent the car screeching out onto the street and Mariano grimaced as they lurched and swung around. They didn't know how to handle a car with an engine like this one--it'd be a miracle if they didn't fishtail at least once. At least if they crashed, he wouldn't go through the windshield.

"What're we even gonna do with him?" The driver barked. "Kill him? Because I'm not about to do that."

"If anyone kills me you'll all be charged with murder." Mariano spoke up. "Even if you didn't kidnap me to kill me. You might get lucky and get second degree with a plea deal though."

"I'm not about to be charged with any degree of murder!" The driver squawked, throwing the car into a turn too quickly. Mariano felt the chassis roll and threaten to tip over. "You fucking idiots, why didn’t you just leave him?!"

"I tried!" Tommy shouted, his voice filling the small space. "Jasper fucked us!"

"Shut up!" Jasper shouted louder. He pressed down on Mariano's back with his foot, forcing a wheeze out of him. "It doesn't fucking matter anymore, we can't un-kidnap him. Do we still have that shit from your dog, Darrel?"

"Uh, I think so? Jasper--shit, you aren't gonna put--" Darrel, the driver said.

"If he behaves, it won't even hurt him, and it'll give us time to think." Jasper growled. "Now Darrel, slow the fuck down so we don't get pulled over before we swap cars. And you," He started unbuckling his belt. "Hands above your head, palms together. You are gonna be quiet and not try anything, 'cause I can hit a beer can from a hundred yards away with this gun."

Mariano took a breath and did as he was told. He felt leather wind around and around his hands. The pressure from the boots never let up. No sense in destroying goodwill on an escape attempt that might just get him shot or turned into a smear on the road anyway. He was going to just have to wait and see what he was working with.

[tooti-fruiti]

WATCHFUL EYE [CHAPTER SEVEN]

Before the battle

You were sleeping in your bed, until you were scared awake when Soldier blew an airhorn in your face.

You screamed and covered your ears with your pillows.

"Wake up maggot!" Soldier yelled. "It's your first mission!"

Soldier marched out of your room and you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

You changed into your uniform and walked downstairs.

"Good morning, Miss Driver." Engineer said.

"For your first mission, we'll be on the offense. So that means we'll drive to the battle."

"Are all my weapons in the van?" You asked.

Engineer nodded and you saw a little duffle bag.

Inside was a pistol and an pump.

"You know how to drive don't you?" Demoman asked.

"Of course I do." You smiled and rolled your eyes.

The men crowded into the back of the van and Sniper decided to sit with you up front.

He sighed as he sat in the passenger seat. "It feels weird not driving to the arena. But hey, I don't mind being chauffeured around."

You smirked at his comment. "Okay, so tell me where to go."

Sniper pointed to a curtain. "Drive through the curtain."

"Okay?"

You drove through the curtain and stopped right in front of the road.

"Turn right."

You nodded and turned onto the empty road.

"You are going to turn left about a mile or two ahead, I will let you know when."

"Alright." You said as Sniper kicked up his feet and relaxed.

"So how long do battles normally take?"

"Usually an hour, if we don't fuck up in any way."

"And if we do?"

"Usually takes fifteen minutes longer than it should each time."

"Does it usually take the same amount of time for both defense and offense?"

"Mhmm."

"So basically, what we do is kill all the enemies and steal a blue briefcase?"

"Yup."

"Do you know where the briefcase is?"

"Nah, I usually just stay up somewhere high and kill off people. Turn left up here."

You nodded and took a deep breath.

"Nervous?" He asked.

You nodded as you turned the car.

Sniper chuckled then told you to park the car outside of their base and turned to you.

"Can you aim?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Can you aim precisely and accurately?"

"...yes?"

"Then you'll be fine." Sniper said before giving you a pat on the back.

The others started hauling out of the back and pulled out their guns, yelling and screaming as they shot at random things.

Sniper chuckled at their antics before getting out of the van himself.

Then he turned to you. "Just kill as many blokes as you can, alright?"

You nodded as he grabbed his rifle.

"Good luck to ya, Driver."

You smiled and nodded. "Good luck to you too, Sniper."

He gave you a tip of his hat before sneaking away.

[Hope you enjoyed. Stay tuned for more and have a good day]

<-Chapter Six

Chapter Eight->

[lostlegendaerie]

How to care for your new truck

The Honda-Days are a time of celebration, spending time with family, and exchanging gifts. But as popular of a vehicle as they are, trucks are actually a fairly specialized type with their own specific needs! Here are some tips to make your truck's life long and fulfilling.

Space - contrary to what you might see, trucks do not do well in cities. They need bigger parking spaces (especially the extended cab varieties) and gobble up lots of fuel. Keep them in areas with at least 50 feet of driveway and adequate ventilation to ensure their fumes aren't building up around them.

Exercise - trucks are working breeds, meant to be hauling trailers and driving through deep mud. Try to spend at least a few hours each week filling up the bed with feed, furniture, dirt or other heavy objects to be delivered several miles away to give your truck the enrichment it needs.

Grooming - the natural state of the working truck is to be covered with a fine layer of dust and mud to the midline or higher. The occasional small crack in the windshield from gravel or tree branches can look alarming, but is quite common and moderately normal. Most trucks love having small children write on their sides and backs with their fingers. Excessive washing may make your truck look nice, but it is actually unhealthy for them and will make them very unappealing to other trucks.

Socializing - trucks do best driving alongside other trucks, tractors, and trailers, but a well behaved truck can share the road with vehicles of any size. Stickers are welcome, especially ones that warn other drivers that your truck is a bootlicker, racist, or otherwise shouldn't be approached by children and other vehicles.

These are just a few tips I can share from raising a couple mixed-breed trucks of my own. I know it can look really appealing to get one - they look so cool in commercials!! - but there's lots of other more compact (and even hybrid!) vehicles out there that would love an urban or suburban home with you. Happy Honda-Days and take care!!!!

[godlizzza]

If you’re still taking fanfic prompts, I’d love to read more about Dan and Herb training or teaching Piper about their work, I’m curious as to how that could have gone down over the years, no pressure though! Your work is really good! 😁

"Where are you?" Dan hissed into the phone.

On the other end of the line he could hear the blaring horns and revving engines of traffic. Herbert's voice crackled in his ear.

"Calm down. I'm on my way home now. Try not to let your blood pressure spike in the meantime."

Dan huffed in irritation. He ran his free hand through his hair before leaning heavily against the wall, the landline squished against his ear.

"Well, can you hurry up?" he urged.

"I'm going as fast as the road laws of this country allow me, Dan. Look, it's not my fault that meeting at the school went overtime. If that idiot art teacher would've stopped arguing with me sooner than none of this would be happening," Herbert said, his voice quickly following by the passing blare of another car horn.

When Herbert had informed him he'd be attending the elementary school's open meeting to discuss the budget, Dan had argued that really wasn't necessary but Herbert had been adamant.

"Have you seen the lab at that school? Even a roaming drug cartel would turn their noses up at it," Herbert had said, pulling on his coat in the foyer. "I won't have our apprentice learning science in such conditions."

Then he'd been out the door before Dan could get out another word.

"Piper's already here," Dan hissed, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder at said apprentice, who was spinning around on one of their bar stools. "What am I supposed to do?"

"She's eight, Dan," Herbert drawled. "I'm sure you can handle it. I have to go now. You're distracting the driver."

"Herbert-"

But Herbert had already hung up. Dan let out a long, aggravated sigh as he hung the phone back up on the wall. He was granted only a moment to compose himself before Piper chirped up from her seat.

"Where's Dr. West?"

Dan turned to find Piper staring up at him with her impossibly big blue eyes. He shuddered. It was like being stared at by an owl.

"He's running a little late but he'll be home soon," Dan replied.

"Okay," Piper said, jumping to the floor. Her pink sneakers were caked with dry mud and Dan cringed as they squeaked against his clean floorboards. "Can we start now?"

Dan began, "I don't think-"

But Piper took off before he could finish the sentence. She raced down the hall and Dan hurried to try and catch her. She unlocked the basement door and was flying down the steps in seconds.

"Wait!" Dan called after her, hopping into his work boots and nearly falling over in the process. "Piper."

"I'm not doing anything," Piper called back sweetly. "I'm just looking."

"Well, stop," Dan ordered, finally pulling his left boot on and straightening up. "You know you're supposed to wait for us to open the lab before you can come in."

He stomped down the stairs to find Piper balancing on a chair, stooped over the head of their latest cadaver. She had her hands braced on the operating table, bent so low her nose nearly brushed that of the corpse. Dan's heart seized in his chest as visions of Piper losing her balance and tipping forward, straight into the open chest cavity assaulted his brain. He rushed down the last few steps to grab Piper's arm and yank her back.

"Stop it," he snapped, hauling her back to the ground.

"I'm just looking," Piper said again, a whine creeping into her voice. She stared daggers at Dan's hand locked around her upper arm until he let go.

"Stop just looking then," Dan told her but she was already scurrying off, poking her nose into the latest barrel of reagent.

Dan's temples throbbed as he tried to corral her, but Piper didn't pay him any head, no matter how many times he told her to stay still. Herbert never had this problem with her. She hung off his every word and would never dream of directly disobeying him. It seemed she reserved this defiant streak only for him.

"Piper," Dan warned as she picked up a pair of forceps from the tool tray, "if you don't put that down right now, you'll be banned from the lab for a week."

Piper narrowed her eyes at him, clutching the forceps like a dragon guarding its treasure. "You can't do that."

"Oh, really?" Dan shot back, his tone seeped in faux cheer. "Well, why don't I call Dr. West right now and see what he thinks?"

Piper went still, her eyes growing wide and fearful in an instant. "No, no- Don't!"

Dan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cellphone, flipping it open. "No, no, I think I will. If you're going to break all of our rules I think he should know about it."

He began punching in keys and Piper dropped the forceps with a clatter. She flew across the room and clutched at his shirt, tugging desperately.

"No, please!" she begged. "I'm sorry. I'll be good. Please don't call him!"

Dan looked down at her beseeching gaze. When he didn't say anything, she threw her arms around his legs and buried her face in his side.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cain," she sniffled. "You know you're my second favourite doctor."

"Gee, thanks so much," he deadpanned, but put his phone away anyway. He gave Piper a swift pat on the head.

He'd seen Piper hug Herbert on multiple occasions, and while Herbert always looked a little disgruntled, he never pushed her away. Sometimes he even hugged her back. When Herbert had suggested- well, more like informed- Dan that Piper be their apprentice, Dan had thought he'd just been excited at the thought of having a willing ear to impart his theories onto. He hadn't anticipated seeing an odd paternal side of Herbert emerge.

He wasn't sure he liked it.

Actually, he definitely didn't like it.

When Dan was younger, in the days before he knew Herbert, he'd always thought kids would be a part of his future. But after Herbert and the reagent had been introduced into his life- after they'd stumbled into love- thoughts of a quiet life with a wife and kids had quickly been erased. It had always plagued him though. What would having a child be like? Was he missing out on something amazing?

Piper's entrance into his life wiped away any lingering doubts he had. Dan thought he much preferred it when it was just him and Herbert.

Herbert came home about fifteen minutes later. He descended the stairs to find Dan standing watch over Piper while she dutifully wrote out the lab rules.

"Hello?" Herbert said with some confusion.

Piper perked up at the sound of his voice. She let her book and pencil fall to the floor as she raced across the lab to throw her arms around him.

"Hi, Dr. West!" she greeted cheerily. She was almost glowing with happiness at the sight of him and Dan thawed slightly to her.

Herbert grunted but placed his hand softly on the back of Piper's head. He looked over her at Dan and raised an eyebrow. Dan just shrugged in answer. While he didn't think he'd ever have that same warmth with Piper that flowed between her and Herbert, he thought he could learn to live with her presence.

After all, they shared one thing in common: a love and devotion to Herbert West.

[clatterbane]

The wheelchair setup on city buses that I've been on here so far, btw. Thought to get a few photos on the way home.

Also featuring an incidental Mr. C, who grabbed one of the jump seats on the other side, to take a load off his own bad knee. That bus was also really not very busy at 3 p.m. on a Monday.

I can't say that I much like the manual deploy ramp setup, though these buses do at least kneel and I don't really need the ramp to get on and off as long as someone else is along and doesn't mind giving the occasional boost/making sure I don't tip over backwards on the way out. (Not that I wouldn't risk it on my own, tbf--being the person I am--but backup is unfortunately handy on occasion.)

It would suck a lot worse if you were in a power chair or otherwise just really couldn't navigate that for whatever reason. Getting on and off a bus (or train) really should not be made into such a production, with the driver needing to deploy the ramp as required. If you don't want people who need that using your public transportation, sure.

OTOH, they are definitely getting it right in terms of available parking spots. Very much unlike the double decker London bus layouts, where they do at least have a passenger operated push-button ramp, but there is a grand total of one (1) shared wheelchair and buggy space. And the driver is liable to just not stop or let you on if it's already taken up by a stroller. (Not to mention the folks who will try to wedge one in up against your knees, then act shocked and put out when they need to move so you can get back out of there. No, I am not a piece of freaking furniture, and if I could fly I would probably leave the damned chair at home.)

Anyway, I like rarely having to worry if there is a single space I can use available on a bus rated for hauling like 200+ people around at a time. That's fucking absurd, other logistical considerations aside. Take out a few of those downstairs seats if you have to.

Being a little more serious, I really don't like those folding out bars. Otherwise I would be parking up against the padded backrests. As it is, I usually just turn things around and take up a designated stroller space!

(Again, I am an otherwise fairly fit manual chair user. That may not be as feasible a an approach to take in other circumstances.)

Anyway, that's the situation on the green buses here in Malmö. I have yet to get on any of the longer-distance route yellow Skånetrafiken ones to see.

Toot toot, motherfuckers!

[capnmachete]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks so much for the tag, @davycoquette! Tasty word choices LOL Instructions: Post a snippet from your writing containing each of the chosen words. Mine (from previous poster) were SHINE, DELICATE, TEETH and SCREAM; yours are at the bottom of the post. SHINE: I turn on my side, resettling on the saggy mattress.  It's dark, but I can see the shine of his eyes in the moonlight, coming in through the gap in the threadbare curtains.  "Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

It's the first time he has admitted to anything like fear. 

Context: Two friends, one terminally ill, are on a bucket-list roadtrip across the US. *** DELICATE: And in a minute he’s showin’ you how to put the helmet on.  “It’s just for safety, awright?” he asks, another Camel lit up and stuck in the corner of his mouth.  Shows you how the buckle works; it’s like the ones on the strap you used for carrying your schoolbooks back in the day.  “I’m gonna let you put it on by yourself, ‘kay?  I don’t wanna mess up your – “  He waves a hand at your hair, Royal-Crowned and plaited down tight under the pink headscarf Gus makes all the girls wear.  Hard to mess up, not all that delicate.  But he’s a man, so what would he know about that?  You put it on, and it’s heavier than you expect.  “You good?” Ray asks you, seeing the surprised way your brown eyes pop wide. “I’m good,” you say, once you’re used to it.  “Now how do I get on this thing?”  you ask, eyeing the bike. And trying to work it out like a math problem, one involving short legs and pink skirts with crinolines underneath, tryin’ to come up with some solution that don’t involve showing your panties or falling on your backside in the gravel. Context: Ray, a long-haul truck driver from up north, has -- over the course of years -- gradually befriended Nadine, a plus-size late-night truckstop waitress in tiny Camden, Arkansas. One night he shows up on a motorcycle and offers her a ride. And after a little bit of dithering and indecision, she accepts. (Period piece, 1950s-1960s.) ***

TEETH: In addition to his hideous Christmas jumper and enormous trainers, Mac wears his usual unsinkably cheery smile, teeth astoundingly white against his deep brown skin, surrounded by a thin and regrettable scruff of beard he has apparently decided to grow.  He reaches down with a hand the size of a small frying pan and pets George’s head, smoothing a palm over the spiky damp hair as though gentling an oversized, sweaty and ill-tempered dog.  “There there, little bear,” he croons. The temerity.  “I am not your little bear,” George says, with all the dignity a man in the fetal position and wearing a bit of yesterday’s luncheon can muster. “And you are fucking insufferable.” It doesn’t phase Mac.  Nothing ever does.  It is, George long ago decided, part of the man’s undeniable but perverse charm – he is utterly impossible to offend.  The vilest imprecations roll off his broad back like water off a duck, leaving him unscathed and still flashing that stunning but immensely annoying smile. Context: George has given himself a whopping case of food poisoning through an absent-minded act of inattention, and wishes to be left alone to die in peace. Mac arrives to save the day. *** SCREAM: We are passing through an area of glaciers today.  They are so brilliant and blue, they seem lit up from the inside.  I wonder if they glow in the dark.  No way to know, not right now at least, as it never gets dark -- only a little dusky, like twilight, then it's midday again.   One calved as we steamed past today -- a spectacular sight, with a loud crack like a bullwhip.  The waves rocked the boat so hard that the galley boy screamed, and everyone's tea tipped over, and Renni threw up over the railing for half an hour afterwards.  A mess, but sort of comical now that it's over.

Context: Leo, a medic on a commercial fishing boat in the North Sea, writes a letter home to his partner. *** No-pressure tag list @bouncydragon @morning-alfie @x-w1ng @morganxduinn @hoodeddreams13 @lexywrite and anyone else who wants to jump in! Your words are WHISPER, SUMMER, TOES, PROTECT