#one on the right is boiling laundry detergent

[iliothermia]

chemistry

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️��

[noyzinerd]

Derek's Journey Into House Husbandry

Listen, Derek's inheritance was $117 million, same as Peter's. Derek's childhood was spent in a multimillion dollar mansion, with his multimillion dollar family, and he's had an affinity for expensive muscle cars. Then, all the places he lived in after the fire were decrepit safety hazards.

What I'm saying is this boy was a pampered little rich kid for most of his life before living as a hobo for the rest of it.

I like to think that for the first few months of Stiles and Derek living together, Stiles learns very quickly that Derek isn't exactly well-acquainted with "middle-class living".

Just imagine:

When Stiles gets home from work, he asks if Derek could start boiling two cups of water so that Stiles can make rice for dinner after he takes a shower. To which, Derek says "Um...sure."

However, once Stiles finishes and comes to the kitchen, he's met with this:

So, okay, that's on Stiles. Sure, he noticed Derek ordered food a lot and ate out constantly, but it had never occurred to him that he was literally living on takeout because he could afford to. The only reason he wasn't right now was because Stiles had cracked down on takeout (Stiles still had to stay relatively healthy for his job, afterall).

Unfortunately for Stiles, this isn't a one off.

When it's time to tidy up the place a little bit, Stiles tells Derek that he'll vacuum the carpet if Derek will sweep the hardwood.

Unbeknownst to Stiles, Derek hasn't ever needed to sweep before. So, about a half hour later, Stiles checks in, and Derek is just-

sweeping side-to-side, kicking up dust in the air and just spreading it to different areas of the room like a cartoon character because he doesn't know that you're supposed to use the broom to gather the dust into a centralized area (the dust pan) to be thrown away.

But Stiles doesn't have it in him to find it anything other than endearing. It's hard not to when Derek is so fucking earnest. He wants to be helpful. He wants to know how to take care of a house of his very own. Fortunately, Derek's eager to learn and a very quick study.

He learns that dish soap does NOT go in the dishwasher. He learns about the difference between laundry detergent and fabric softener, about emptying the lint trap, about changing the A/C filter, about ironing, about all the vacuum attachments and how to change the bag.

And every time Derek succeeds a little bit at adulting, Stiles sees this spark of joy and sense of accomplishment that is absolutely adorable.

It's not long before Derek takes to being a house husband like a fish to water. Which, honestly? Suits him. It isn't unusual nowadays to find Derek baking bread and watching telenovelas while Stiles is at work, or comparing cantaloupes at the grocery store in a cable knit cardigan and sweat pants.

Watching Derek do a little fist pump to himself every time he earns gas points on his rewards card at the grocery store makes Stiles want to melt into the floor.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 12 [River]

"My toaster was definitely talking to me this morning" - 1k

CW: River gets injured - burns (no blood or graphic description)

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

River had been a chronic patient in the infirmary under Omega’s care. Always doing something that ended him back laying in a bed in the medical wing. Between him and his brother Lake, River was somehow always the one ending up on the wrong side of a prank, or pulling the short end of the stick.

This week had been no different.

It had started out harmless enough. Hiding all of Terzo’s left socks, switching out Alpha’s shampoo with lube, turning a whole row of books to have the spines facing inward in the library - top to bottom I might add, it took two and a half hours for the Sisters to turn everything back the right way.

Yet that was all elementary. The terror twins were simply not satisfied.

They had upped the stakes as the week went on. Putting laxatives in the Tuesday chilli, they hid a smoke generator in Secondo’s office, activating it when he was alone and causing everyone to think there's a fire. The whole Abbey had to evacuate while the two ghouls snickered wickedly in the corner. They had simultaneously replaced Sister’s masterkey with a similar-looking, non-functional one, causing her to be locked out of everywhere she needed to go - including the security office to shut off the fire alarm.

River had put itching powder in Dewdrop's laundry detergent, causing the little fire ghoul to be miserable all day until he finally snapped. He had marched all the way to River’s room, leaving a trail of black smoke in his wake as his little legs quickly ate up the distance.

Dew had found River sitting casually on the couch in the den. His carefree expression and body language made the former water ghoul’s skin boil.

“Can’t you prank somebody else, River? I’ve got enough shit going on.” Dew snarled, closing the distance between the two of them.

River couldn’t help but look at the little ghoul with his face scrunched in confusion before remembering what he had done a few days prior. All Dew got in reply was a little snicker.

“It’s not funny! I feel like my skin is crawling!” He had ripped his shirt off and River could see that he might have put a little too much. Dew was covered in red scratches all over, clearly trying to use his claws as carefully as he could to relieve some of the itch.

River felt a little bad, but Dew had done pranks of this calibre to him before he was a fire ghoul.

“Okay, maybe I put a little too much? But it’s kind of funny.” River chuckled, which only angered Dew more as he moved to stand right in front of the larger water ghoul.

“No. More.” Dew hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers working tirelessly to relieve the discomfort all over his arms and chest.

River stood, towering over Dew as he took in the sight of his red, raw skin.

“I’m sorry, no more…. Maybe just the harmless ones?” River smirked.

That was the final straw. Between the insatiable itching, the lack of sleep that night due to the itching, and now River’s incessant taunting. He was about to explode.

And he did.

Dewdrop’s fire element was unstable on a good day, but today it was well fed on his sleep deprived brain and untapped rage as the little ghoul had burst into flames, sending River flying back over the couch.

And that’s how he ended up in the infirmary this week.

He had bandages covering his many burns and blisters as he laid back in the bed Omega had almost permanently labelled with his name.

“You’re lucky water ghouls have a protective mucus in your skin to protect you from this kind of stuff. Otherwise this would’ve been a lot worse.” Omega had said, along with something about consequences of actions? He couldn’t remember. Or more accurately, he didn’t want to hear it.

Lake had come in to see his brother every day. Letting him in on all the gossip and things. Those two were absolutely insufferable around the Abbey, and Secondo had threatened to send them back to the Pit on numerous occasions. Yet somehow they were still here.

“Hey Riv? Can I tell you something scary?” Lake’s voice was low with a sinister tone.

“Oh I’m all ears– ah. All ear.” River joked, patting his one ear that was bandaged against his head.

“Okay, you know how we’ve been debating whether the den is haunted?” River nodded, leaning in to listen more intently. “Well, I was laying in my nest last night and I heard voices.”

River’s eyes went wide. “Really? What did they say?”

“I don’t know but the TV turned off without me touching it. There were knocks coming from your room. You haven’t heard anything like that have you?” Lake asked as he tried not to burst out laughing as he saw River shake in fear. He really shouldn’t be taking advantage of his brother while he was high as a kite on pain meds, but it was just too easy.

River pulled the covers up to his face and hid behind them. “You don’t think they’re following me, are you?”

Lake tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“If you were hearing voices…. Then my toaster was definitely talking to me this morning.”

Lake couldn’t help it, he burst out with laughter before being grabbed by the scruff of his neck and forcibly removed from the infirmary by a rather large, rather annoyed Omega.

“Can’t even let your brother recover without causing a ruckus?” The quint stood with his arms crossed, the scariest look on his face. It was much like the look you’d get from a very disappointed mother as he effectively took up the space within the doorway, blocking Lake’s every attempt to get back inside.

“O-Omeg…ahaha! Please!” Lake wheezed, clutching his side as he got a stitch from laughing so hard. “Come on! His face was priceless!”

With two large hands on the water ghoul’s shoulders, Omega effortlessly turned him around and gave Lake a loving boot in the ass out of his infirmary.

“Scram, you leech!”

A/N: Not proofread, sorry it's so short.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Direct Message - TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[2K Followers 'Clue' Special]

SUMMARY: A healthy relationship means you trust each other but the healthiest relationship is poking fun at anyone trying to hook up with either of you... right?

WORDCOUNT: ~0.5k

In a miraculous turn of events, your kitchen did not burn down due to Peter’s actions. No one lost a finger and neither did the recipe turn out to be bogus. The veggie stock with dumplings was simmering on the stove, filling the flat with a mouth-watering aroma. Your stomach grumbled quietly. The fifteen minutes of waiting were going to be torture.

Sitting on the counter, you were silently watching Peter putting away the dirty utensils and ingredients. He still had his sleeves rolled up from cooking. There wasn’t anything, in particular, you were thinking about - school, family, the plot of the book you were reading… Just passing, unimportant thoughts. Judging by his expressionless face, he wasn’t any more troubled than you were.

Your phone vibrated on the counter, eliciting a low thrum. Rather out of habit than genuine interest, you looked at the lit-up screen. A message. Reading the less-than-savoury text, a grimace appeared on your face. “Dear Lord, what on God’s green Earth is this.”

“What’s up?” Peter asked walking to you. He leaned against the counter with one hand. His curious gaze studied your profile.

"Remember that guy that hit me up like last month?” Peter gave you a confused look. Truthfully, neither of you paid much mind to people interested in the other. “The basketball dude?”

His face momentarily lit up. "Yeah, what about him?"

"He hit me up again."

Peter burst into laughter. A lovely sound. "What?!” he asked in disbelief. “Show me."

You opened the phone and Peter leaned his head against yours to get a good look at the screen. An enticing fragrance of spicy cologne mixed with flowery laundry detergent filled your nostrils. Unknowingly, you took in a deep inhale.

"See?“ You vaguely pointed at the newest text. “Your boyfriend doesn't have to know',” you said in a mocking voice. “The Hell do I look like? Secret Service?"

He looked at you with a strange glint in his eyes. "I mean, he's got good taste, gotta give him that."

You entertained him with a giggle. Taking a step forward, Peter found himself standing between your legs, hands lingering around your waist. He gave you a playful grin.

“You too." Enjoying this sudden intimacy, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter leaned in explicitly close but before he would indulge in this lack of personal space, he simply had to murmur something cheesy. “Oh, please. He’s a fanboy, I am a connoisseur.”

His warm lips gently moved against yours. One of his hands travelled from your waist to your jaw, firmly cupping it. The surrounding world, like mist on a summer morning, seemed to dissolve.

The repetitive sound of the lid slamming against the pot made you divert your attention. You turned your head slightly to the side to free your mouth but Peter was hardly affected by that. Feverishly, he continued peppering your face with kisses.

“Babe, aren’t the dumplings boiling over?” you whispered to him.

He didn’t even glance in the direction of the pot. Peter’s warm breath brushed against your cheek as he chuckled before kissing you again. “Nah.”

I've got one Bad News and two Good News. The Good News: 1) We're a handful of souls away from hitting 2k. 2) I'm 4k words into a sci-fi novel. The Bad News: I don't know if I have depression or ADHD but one of those for sure

[balkanradfem]

So, since the gardening season was unsuccessful, and really sad, I've been dreaming of starting new seeds. I've decided, this time, I'm going to plant so many tomatoes that nothing will be able to prevent the tomato harvest. It's gonna be all tomato garden, 40+ tomato plants, I'll build shelters for them in case of hail, weave nets, I'm ready, let's do this.

However, it's October, and there's precious little I can do in October to start plants; if I germinate anything right now, there won't be enough sun for it to grow, and it will pout and die </3. It happens every year when I stubbornly plant basil and it checks out the daylight levels and decides to nope out of that situation.

So, instead, what I'm doing, is still learning about mushrooms! I'm going to the forest regularly and collecting anything that could possibly be edible, and trying it out. I've been lucky to find so many edible boletes, I've been drying them in the summer and I have a great dried mushroom stash, which will prove very valuable during the winter.

Now there's a mushroom that grows when nothing else is really available, the latin name is 'Neoboletus luridiformis' and it looks like this:

Cool, right? A red bolete mushroom. She's called Scarletina Bolete. Looks poisonous. However, sources claim that this mushroom is edible, granted it's cooked first. I've been sheepish to try it because it's so red, and there are red boletes that are 100% poisonous, so this is just a health risk. You can check if the mushroom is this one because it stains blue and black when you cut it, and mine do. This is how it looks like cut:

I mean that does look extremely unappetizing but it says right there on wikipedia that it's edible:

hmm so anyway, I've finally decided to stop being a coward, and I cooked the mushroom and had some yesterday! It's still not been a full 24 hours, but I'm faring well for now. If this turns to be a good food source, I'll be set for the entire year because this baby grows at all times in the forest.

Another cool thing I'm trying out is acorn pancakes. I discovered some people on youtube who are making acorn flour and then baking pancakes out of it, and I've been curious about acorns before, but now I'm set with instructions and knowledge on how to process it. Acorns were used as a source of flour before wheat was in use, and it was pretty great, because they didn't need to cut down forests, or plow the fields, or turn bunch of soil to dust; people can just collect acorns because oak trees are everywhere here. The only issue is that the acorns are filled with tannins, which is a chemical that produces a very bitter taste, which makes them not very tasty. However, people have also figured out how to ''wash the tannins out', and there's a process of boiling and throwing water away, or leaving them buried next to a riverbank for a year, in order to get them to taste good.

I haven't yet decided what route I'm going to take, but I collected some acorns last time I was in the forest:

I have to admit they feel very good to hold in hand. They're so nicely brown, almost chestnut in color, they're shiny, pleasant oval shape, and very heavy. It felt like I was holding something valuable, rich. Since they're a wild food, I know they have more nutrients in them than anything we developed ourselves, wild food generally has 3 times more nutrition than anything growing in a human-made garden.

I've also stumbled on a few acorns that have sprouted roots! I've collected them as well, and put them in a soil-filled container on my balcony, let's see if I can grow an oak tree. That would feel extremely cool to grow.

I'm also collecting and curing walnuts (apparently you can make a walnut butter out of them I did not know that), conkers (for the laundry detergent, I love them), nettle (drying into powder, using as a calcium supplement) and I've also found some violets growing at this time, so I collected the leaves for tea; they're medicinal for colds, flus and fevers.

I'm going to the forest again tomorrow, and hopefully I'll write another update about fun things I've found and trying out! Stay safe and don't follow my lead to eat weird things, unless you research them yourself.

[corundumb]

Professional cleaner and cooking lover here!

Use dish soap and a sponge for cleaning your bath tub/bathroom tile walls. It's cheaper and SAFER than using chemicals.

Go to Goodwill often for pans, plates, glass cups, etc. Just clean them well and you'll have enough for what you need, however INSPECT them thoroughly. If it's ceramic, even a little cracking in the finish is enough to reject the item.

Barkeepers Friend is the BEST cleaner for very dirty items, ranging from stainless steel to glass. Beware, it's abrasive.

Have two sets of rubber gloves- one for cleaning, one for dishes. Make sure they're different colors!!!

I cut a corner off of sponges for when they're not for dishes. Makes things easier to identify.

CONSUME DENTED CANNED GOODS FIRST. ANYTHING DENTED CAN CAUSE BACTERIA TO GROW INSIDE OF THE CAN OVER TIME. If you're really unsure, just don't eat it.

When looking at new recipes, compare the number of stars vs number of reviews. Why trust fifty people over a few thousand?

Pick a veggie you've never cooked with before, start looking at what specifically uses that veggie. Experiment for like a week.

Have a notebook in the kitchen, copy recipes you like. Bonus points for adding the average cost.

Vinegar + baking soda in a bag, use a rubber band to secure, your faucets should run better. Including shower head. Unscrew your faucets once a year to clean, sediments gets caught in it.

Clogged sink? Sometimes just pouring boiling water is enough. Sometimes not, you'll have to purchase a drain snake. Avoid washing products like sugar scrubs down your drain, and flushable wipes don't disintegrate they're bad for your pipes they'll clog.

Have different colored rags for different cleaning chemicals/surfaces. Do not wash these rags with anything else, they need their own cycles. Have specific rags for in the kitchen to dry your hands while you're cooking. It's extremely important to wash your hands during the process several times.

HAVE ONE CUTTING BOARD SPECIFICALLY FOR MEAT, EVEN BETTER ONE FOR EACH TYPE OF MEAT TO PREVENT CROSS CONTAMINATION. HAVE ANOTHER CUTTING BOARD FOR FRUITS/VEGGIES ONLY. I cannot stress this enough.

Powdered laundry detergent is cheaper, to prevent bleached spots on clothing premix the powder in some water then add into the laundry machine. DO NOT LEAVE WASHER WITH LID CLOSED UNLESS YOU LIKE MOLD/MILDEW. Most manuals will tell you to leave the lid open so it can dry from the inside properly.

Do laundry on a specific day every week. It helps to have a specific podcast or show you like to watch, only listen/watch it when doing laundry as a motivator/reward.

Once a year, have your landlord check the lint exhaust pipe from your dryer. If your dryer isn't drying very well this may be the reason. IT'S A FIRE HAZARD IF IT'S NOT CLEANED OUT.

**IMPORTANT** ALWAYS take pictures pictures of literally everything at any angle when you first move in/out. Shelves, tops of the shelves, inside of the dryer/washer, anything you can see inside and out. Scummy landlords have many tricks to claim you did damage they did after you moved out. ALWAYS protect yourself. Nobody is your friend in the apartment world. Be wary having room mates, even if they're friends. I've personally been horribly scorned by a friend turned room mate. Also, always look into your RENTERS RIGHTS for your state, and if one party consent regarding recording conversations is in your state.

You can remove and clean the trap for the air vent above the stove, I soak mine in the vinegar+baking soda combo. Check this regularly.

You know those Pumice stones ads will tell you to use on your feet? GOOD NEWS EVERYONE! They're great for Glass, Porcelain, and the inside of your ovens! DO A TINY TEST SPOT FIRST because it can scratch your shit up baaaaad. But if you have hard stains, such as on your glass stove, in your oven, and TOILETTE it's a life saver.... just, please, ffs keep the toilette one separate from everything else!!

It's important to take a bit of time for yourself, don't allow chores to build up to the point where it'll take an entire day to deal with it over five minutes. Start small like with the bathroom mirror, you'll gradually progress.

Vacuum, dust, mop, and sweep more often than you think you need to. Work from top to bottom.

Most stoves have this feature where you can lift the flat part on top to clean underneath from overboiled food stuffs. Do this unless you want cockroaches.

Degreaser helps clean the inside of fridges so well! If you must clean the freezer.... have this be a 'moving out' task, unplug the fridge and let that shit thaw, have towels ready for the melted ice and then use the degreaser.

MAGIC. ERASER. Use this for baseboards (that trim on the bottom of your walls), wall stains from your hands, cabinets and whatnot, just please wear gloves this stuff RUINED my hands when I didn't. It's way more abrasive than you think and I managed to accidentally strip paint off of the walls and stripped the sealing in the bathtub so be careful.

Use your vacuum tube extension where the base of the wall meets the edge of the floor, it does more than you think. You can also use this tool to 'dust' the baseboards.

If you're cooking something, and there's time you're waiting for something to boil or whatever, take that time to prep other veggies and foods to make the next meal that much easier.

Go to Asian Markets, buy rice in their biggest bags. It's cheaper over time, just store the open bag in a big ol tub that doesn't have holes to prevent bugs. Unless you're needing the extra crunchy protein.

Cook large batches of food, not just one meal a day. Make breakfast casseroles, big ol servings of rice, bake veggies, have meat already cooked. People used to eat leftovers for breakfast before sugary cereal, and it's soooo much cheaper/healthier than cereal! All you gotta do is store it and reheat when ready.

HAVE A PHYSICAL, PAPER CALENDAR for when you've made food. Food poisoning is the worst. Don't heat leftovers more than once unless you feel like being a geyser from both ends. Typically food shouldn't be in the fridge for more than a week at most a few days, always smell it/small taste test. If it's even a little off, it's not worth taking the day off of work.

Feel free to send asks to me directly about things I may have missed, I'm always the Mom Friend in the group and if I don't know an answer to something I'll at least help do some research to give you a head start. It does not bother me in fact I'm so happy to help others. Please take care of yourselves young loves💙

Dear people living on your own for the first time:

Here’s some advice I wasn’t told from the myriad of posts before that I wish I’d been given before

Wash the OUTSIDE of your pots and pans as well as the cooking surface. I’ve had a few roommates now who have only cleaned the inside and I’ve had to replace a $150 set of cookware twice.

“its only one time, how bad could using metal on nonstick cookware really be?” very bad. don’t do this.

Buy a rice cooker. Buy the middle tier rice cooker. Cheap ones will burn your rice, high tier ones are too expensive. Rice is good and cheap and, really, you don’t actually have to wash it if you don’t care about making gourmet food.

Buy band-aids. You don’t think you need band-ads until you need a band-aid, and by then it’s too late. (if you don’t follow this advice, a paper towel and some tape is an acceptable solution while you go get real bandages and neosporin)

You are on tumblr, which means you probably spend most of your time in one spot on a computer or phone. if this spot doesn’t have a trash can in arm’s reach, put one there.

 I spent 4 years piling trash on my desk in increasingly precarious ways until I had a designated area to put it. Trash cans can and should go anywhere there is a frequent generation of trash, typical locations be damned.

If you live with one or two roommates, discuss placing empty boxes in the back of your fridge and freezer. You probably don’t need all the space that the standard 5-person-family fridge provides, and tupperware will be shoved back there and left to stink up the entire appliance.

Get a wall calendar, put it somewhere communal, and have everyone put their household-relevant schedules on it. Communication is by far the weakest link with roommates (even good ones!) and having something to reference for appointments is always good

[queenslanddrycleaners]

HOW TO DECIDE WHICH IS BETTER: Dress Dry Cleaners Abu Dhabi

HOW TO DECIDE WHICH IS BETTER: Dress Dry Cleaners Abu Dhabi

For individuals who do laundry, debating whether to wash or  Dry Cleaners Abu Dhabi

  fabric is a frequent worry. Some clothing items come with comprehensive instructions, however, this isn't always the case.

There are advantages and disadvantages to both washing and Dress Dry Cleaners in Abu Dhabi

 . You must make your decision based on the fabric. Certain materials can be cleaned with water or with dry cleaning, although dry cleaning can harm some materials due to the usage of various chemicals. So which one is best for you? Let's investigate.

HOW TO DECIDE WHETHER TO WASH OR DRY CLEAN CLOTHES?

Making a decision regarding soiled clothing may be challenging.  For instance, you can try a straightforward cold wash to get rid of a tea, coffee, or food colouring stain.

Stronger stains, including those brought on by chemicals or grease, can be difficult to remove. Some stains may respond best to dry cleaning. Before choosing the same, check with your Dry Cleaners Abu Dhabi

  about the potential for the chemicals used in dry cleaning to leave stains on your 

clothing.

DIRECTIVES FOR WASHING AND DRY CLEANING CLOTHES

Fabrics such as cotton, linen, rayon, silk, and wool can be washed in water. Others, including leather, suede, and the majority of synthetic textiles, need to be Dry Cleaners Abu Dhabi

Employ the ideal detergent and water temperature.

Use the right water temperature and detergent when choosing how to wash or clean clothing. When washed in cold water, fabrics might shrink and are susceptible to harm from boiling water. See the ideal temperature for your material.

Employ a detergent that is acceptable for your cloth.

Choose Hand Washing or the Gentle Cycle: Use a moderate cycle and cold water to wash your clothing by hand. This will protect the cloth and maintain it.

Wash specific items separately: Before washing a fabric, see if the colour has faded. To see if the colour of the clothing fades, dab some water on the edge and brush it against a white piece of cloth.

Should the colour fade, hand wash it separately.

Air-drying knit garments is preferable to using the dryer.  Knitwear should be laid flat to prevent stretching. If there is a woven item, hang it to drip dry.

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[tahdashi]

11:00 pm + suna rintaro

+ roommates to lovers

knock, knock, knock.

no response.

you knock on his door again, but silence faces you instead of your roommate.

perhaps he's asleep, or doing god-knows-what in there. with a slight turn of the door handle, you take a peek to see what he's up to. a sigh of relief leaves your lips when you see suna with his headphones on, typing rapidly on his phone.

"can i help you?" he asks you with an uninterested expression, as if you hadn't just knocked on his door repeatedly.

"are you texting your crush right now? i know i saw a smile somewhere there," you tease. he huffs, rolling his eyes at your comment. he's looking at you with those beautiful pear-colored eyes. the ones that lock with yours when he asks you where you put the tv remote, the ones that widen when he catches a glimpse of how you look before going out, the ones that are drawn to you every so often (more than he'd like).

"i'm not," he mumbles. "why are you here?"

it doesn't come off as rude, though. his words never do. they're always laced with a sliver of affection. and perhaps he know's he's fallen for you, your habit of blasting music when you're in the shower, your detailed coffee order (which is committed to his memory), your soft laughter when he tells you about his friends from high school.

"i'm hungry," you state. "and i need food or you'll be dealing with the crankier version of me."

"oh, was this not the crankier version?" his lips curve up into a smile.

"shut up. i'm hungry."

"you already said that," he sighs. and he won't tell you now, but bickering with you is one of his favorite things to do with you. "there's probably food in the fridge. go eat an orange or something."

you cross your arms at his words, knowing damn well suna didn't get the groceries like he promised. that's why you two had to eat cereal and clementines for dinner. of course, he got an earful from you. something about how you always get the groceries on time, how he should start being more responsible, how there's only one packet of ramen left in the cabinet.

but suna wasn't listening (completely, at least). the exasperation in your voice translated to passion, fervor, and radiance in his head. he needed to know what else could elicit such ardor from you.

"can we make ramen?" you lightly pull on his arm to get him out of bed.

and even though it's approaching midnight, and he should be asleep soon, suna gets up with a groan. he tells himself that the only reason he's doing this is to make up for your disappointing dinner.

"who's we? you're gonna be on your phone while i make it," he looks at you as you push yourself onto the counter. you're crossing your legs and resting your chin in your hands while he places the pot on the stove.

he's right, and he knows that. he can feign nonchalance, but he can't fake the breath that's caught in his throat when he hears you laugh at his words.

suna hums as he boils the single packet of ramen that's left in your apartment, watching the seasoning bubble in the water with tired eyes. you've learned that he hums when he's sleepy, and it's never a song that you know. you've also learned that he's particular about laundry detergents — he doesn't like lavender scented ones. he's always extra cautious when you're by the stove because he remembers how his sister burnt her hand when she was younger. come to think of it, you've gotten to know your roommate quite well over the past eight months.

"so, who were you texting? you seemed kinda focused. never seen that before."

he takes a deep breath, thinking back to the texts he got from her.

"it was my sister. she was just helping me with something," he tells you.

suna recalls her words: “just tell them you like them more than just a friend or roommate. it's now or never, dumbass.”

and even though he’s worried it’ll ruin things, suna waits for the noodles to boil, he waits for you to happily take the bowl from his hands, he waits for you to offer him a bite or two like you usually do.

it's not until then does he say the words that have been sitting on his tongue for the past eight months.

♡︎ ; 🕯 anon

[aggravatetheaxe]

Headcanon that Bo likes to do it anywhere, the laundry room? On the washing machine, the kitchen? On the counters -Ghoul

I tried to rein in the length of this one but it sure as hell isn't 5 sentences. Anyway...

Bo is down for whatever, whenever. On his terms, of course.

NSFW below the cut, minors please don't interact, contains Bo acting like a dickhead and some light punishment play. Gender neutral reader!

Masterlist

***

You take a deep breath as you fold the last everloving towel and set it on the pile atop the dryer. How two men can make so much laundry, you have no idea, but you’re not even half done and you’re already drenched in sweat and grumpy.

You figure most of what you’re washing now has been lying around for a while, just waiting for someone to throw it in the washer. But of course, Vincent is always too busy hyperfocusing on his projects, and Bo is just an asshole. So the task falls to you.

You take a deep breath to center yourself before bending and transferring the wash to the dryer, then pause, fiddling with the lint trap. Stupid fucking thing. The washer and dryer are probably older than you, and they shake the whole house apart when they get going.

As you slam the dryer closed and move to load the washer, you stop dead. The man himself is standing in the doorway, leaned across it with his arms crossed and that typical smug smirk on his face.

You look away quickly, returning your attention to the laundry. You don’t like the way his gaze makes you feel right now—butterflies in your stomach, shivers. You’re trying to be angry at him. “How long have you been standing there, Bo?”

“A minute. Why, am I seein’ something I shouldn’t?”

Oh for the love of god. Your nose wrinkles as you shove clothes into the washer and begin to measure out the detergent. “I mean, you’re seeing me do your laundry. Does that get you off?”

When he doesn’t answer, you straighten up and glance at him, shutting the washer door and starting the machine. He’s staring at you again. His smirk has subsided just slightly, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that borders on dangerous. You realize that was perhaps more attitude than you can safely get away with.

He uncrosses his arms, taking a couple steps toward you. “You’re soundin’ awful uppity, sweetheart. You got a problem with doin’ your part around the house?”

“No, I don’t—”

“Too good to do some dirty hick’s laundry, that it?”

“No! It’s not that…” With a sigh, you push some hair out of your face and school your tone, hoping to cool him off. “It would just be nice to get some recognition now and again … for what I do.”

Bo snorts. “What d’you want, a ticker tape parade?”

“A thank-you would be a good start.”

You shrink back when that narrow, intense look creeps back into his pretty blue eyes. This time, though, something joins the threat behind the gaze … a little sparkle, something volatile like the lit fuse of a bomb.

“A thank-you, huh? Well ... sure, darlin’.”

Before you know it, he’s on you, gripping your hips like a vise. In one swift movement, he spins you around and pushes you up against the washing machine.

The corner of it digs between your legs, the whole thing shaking violently under you. The vibrations instantly make your knees feel like jelly, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out.

The next moment, his heat is fully against you, his back on yours, hips flush with your ass, one thigh pressing against the back of yours. Your skull feels like it’s full of cotton as he pulls your head back by the hair at the nape of your neck. His nose brushes between your ear and cheekbone, breath hot against your face.

“Let me show ya how grateful I am.”

All you can do is whimper as he uses his body to press you harder into the washer. You can barely feel your bottom half anymore, all the blood and sensation clustered in your pulsing core. It’s getting to him, too—it’d be difficult not to notice how hard his cock is getting at the small of your back.

“You come down here,” he grunts in your ear, “you beg on your fuckin’ knees for me not to kill you…” He looses an incredulous laugh. Not a good sign. The only time he laughs like that is when he’s really pissed. “But you get all prissy about havin’ ta pull your weight? Suddenly you’re a li’l princess?”

As he was talking, he eased up a bit on you, but now he slams you into the corner of the machine again, pulling a scream from the back of your throat.

“Well, Your Highness, I think you need to remember”—he pauses thoughtfully—“how … let’s, uh, say delicate your situation is.” You can hear the malicious grin in his voice, feel him nod slowly. “I think you need to remember your place.”

A jolt of boiling desire shoots through your stomach, an unwanted feeling given the circumstances. He’s threatening you, for Christ’s sake, and yet…

“What d’you say to that, sugar?” He takes his other hand off your hip and cups you from behind unceremoniously, rubbing as he lifts you onto your tiptoes, forcing the shuddering washing machine against your most sensitive spot. “Maybe I need to take you down to the garage, strap you back in the chair … yeah. I think that'd get me off more than you doin' the laundry. That what you want?”

“No— Bo—”

His grip on your hair tightens. “Then I don’t wanna hear you bitch again.”

Suddenly, his weight and heat are gone, and you slump against the washing machine. For a second, you think you’re free—that this was just some of his sick torture and he’ll leave you alone now. Then, you feel his fingers in your belt loops, and your shorts are tugged roughly to your knees.

“Bo!”

“Shh.” He presses close again, fingers finding you from behind, and laughs cruelly in your ear. “Fuck, you’re ready. Were you actually gettin’ off on the washer? Slut ... you'll rub one off on anything, wontcha? I know you will." His voice becomes a whisper. "Miss playin' with you..."

You’re not sure if he actually wants you to respond, so you stay quiet for now. You’re not certain anything you said would be coherent anyway. You’re molten under his fingertips as they stroke you, rough skin meeting your tender spots with a surprising softness. You know him well enough now to know that it’s not for your benefit—he wants you leaking all over his fingers.

He can be brutal, and he probably will be.

Sure enough, the sound of a zipper is barely audible over the thumping of the washing machine. His fingers leave the apex of your thighs and press you against the corner again, making you writhe. You know what’s coming next. The swollen head of his cock is already throbbing against your entrance...

A breathy laugh in your ear, a maddeningly casual tone: “Talk about doin’ a load.”

Dumbass.

[heavenunderthemoon]

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

"Y/N."

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would've done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren't forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father's life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother's.

"Dad."

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father's abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn't particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father's face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn't and who was to say that it wouldn't happen to you too?

"Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?" He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father's voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn't composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn't afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

"I know, I love you too." You didn't know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn't done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would've said.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug." If you hadn't been so worried that you might die soon you might've found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn't mind it. You didn't mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn't mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It's funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

"Remember when I taught you to drive?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn't learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. "There's no use learning to drive when your mother's here, sometimes me, and the metro, it's useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun."

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

"Yeah."

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother's features and the amusement playing on Foyet's, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

"I'm a terrible driver." You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn't seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn't been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn't miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

"You're good enough."

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

"I think that's good enough, right, Y/N?" The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of...mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father's stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn't smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn't ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn't hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

"Don't touch me." You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn't expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Wow, you've got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner." He chuckled to himself like he said the world's funniest joke, and you glared.

"Leave them alone." Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. "How about this, how about you go hide, I'll give you a head start, and then I'll come find you."

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. "No." You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother's flesh, yet, you couldn't just leave your mother. You couldn't leave her to die.

"Ah, come on. You're a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren't you guys supposed to be fun?" His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn't have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father's height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn't think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy's girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the 'bad guy' in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn't think you would ever be able to ignore that.

"Y/N, go." Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother's lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. "Mom, no." it came out shaky, and you didn't have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn't been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That's how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley's ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother's lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl's cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. "Go, baby. I'll be okay."

No, you won't. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother's arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother's hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn't care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

"I- I love you." It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

"I love you too." Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn't feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father's nightstand. It hadn't been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother's quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

"Y/N!" A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother's body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack's old room- eye's scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn't have much time until he was coming after you.

"I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are." He sang out. He must've taken your mother- your mother's body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn't difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn't it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

"I think I'll lay your body right next to your Mom. You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can be together?" He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack's door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn't known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn't have given the man much thought. You wouldn't have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that's what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father's team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could've been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family's suffering once and for all. You weren't sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren't there before.

"You bitch!"

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn't look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that's for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother's dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn't hear anything that was going on. That he didn't hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn't dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn't died now. If anything, you might've made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That's why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn't really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn't want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that your mother was dead. It wasn't fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

"Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me."

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn't realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek's. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed...feral.

"Y'N, it's me. You're safe. it's me, it's Derek. Put that gun down." It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn't hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother's body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"He's dead. Y/N, he's dead." The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who's blood was that? Was that your mother's? Was that Foyet's? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?' He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man's waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

"Y/N!" Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn't been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn't see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn't even been home very often. Then, you didn't have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

"I'm fine." You took a hand, running it through the boy's ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

"Let's get you checked out, yeah?"

[waka-chan-out]

Sorry for spam liking your stuff. ;-; and question bc genuinely curious what do you think the captain's smell like? Tbh for some reason I've always felt Bokuto smelled like sweat... But clean? Does that make sense? ❤❤

what the captains smell like

since i have no self control i’m once again doing every single captain i can think of

post-timeskip.

content warnings: none :) all fluff

omg never apologize for that! love watching people make their way through my stuff. it makes me so happy. this is a great question and you’re 100% right about bokuto. i love this idea.

Sawamura Daichi

laundry detergent and a really nice, earthy body wash. he smells really clean but when you get really close to him, like hugging or kissing distance, there’s something about him that smells really down to earth and comforting. it’s just a really subtle smell that stays on his skin, but it’s the best part of getting close to him.

Ennoshita Chikara

fresh, straight off the plant herbs. specifically lemon balm or mint. he’s sharp and fresh and like a shock to the system. his hugs can reset a day completely, because they feel like they’re recharging and refreshing you.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

he smells like opening a magazine or comic book for the first time when the ink still smells really fresh and is kind of sticky. it’s a really unique scent, but not an unpleasant one.

Oikawa Tooru

i really had to think hard about this one, but i’m gonna give him vanilla. not necessarily baking vanilla, but vanilla mixed with something else so it’s not so sickly sweet. it’s a familiar, almost sharp scent, and fits him perfectly.

Kuroo Tetsuro

cologne, but the twist is he doesn’t really wear any. he just naturally smells really good, and it drives the people around him crazy. bokuto can’t keep his big mouth shut and asks him all the time “did you spray something? we’re having a practice game! you don’t have to smell good for this.” and kuroo responds with complete confusion because he has no idea what anyone is talking about.

Bokuto Koutarou

you’re right about sweat, but good sweat. i think he just smells like activities? he smells like he’s been running around outside and jumping on a trampoline and doing summersaults in freshly cut grass. he smells active, but not bad.

Futakuchi Kenji

harry’s bar soap, specifically in the scent redwood. this is the same kind of body wash i use, and it just screams kenji to me. it’s definitely a scent for men, but it’s cool and refreshing and just smells really good, and it lingers on the skin for a long time afterward so he smells fresh-out-of-the-shower clean for most of his day. he’s the kind of guy that you stay too long in a hug with because it’s almost surprising how good he smells.

Daishou Suguru

cologne, but opposite to kuroo, he does actually wear it. swears he doesn’t, but everyone knows. i feel like he will buy it to suit the tastes of a girl he’s interested in. like if she mentions she really likes how a candle smells, he’ll scour the internet for a cologne equivalent.

Terushima Yuuji

pine. like walking through a christmas tree farm, sticky fingertips, throwing a pine cone at your friend’s head just for fun pine. it’s a combination of body wash, deodorant, and just the natural way he smells, but he’s pine all the way.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

i saw a headcanon somewhere that said he smelled like irish spring and icy hot and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. something about that is so comforting to me and i agree 100%.

Kita Shinsuke

i could go on for years about him because i’ve been writing a long fic and have literally paragraphs describing how he smells, but i’ll boil it down here.

kita smells like dirt, in a really good way. like when you’re repotting plants and open a new bag, or you’re weeding and pull up something with deep roots and the soil goes tumbling everywhere. his grandmother gets worried about his hands since he’s a farmer, so she either buys or makes a handmade hand balm that smells like lemon or some kind of herb. he smells like the water in a lake when it’s being splashed at you and a little bit like dish soap, but only sometimes. i am in love with kita shinsuke and i think the universe is too.

Meian Shūgo

meian is the kind of ex boyfriend you have where the thing you miss the most about him is how good he smells. you buy matching deodorant, cologne, detergent, everything for when you miss him, but it somehow just can’t recreate his smell. it’s one of those indescribable man smells that you can’t put your finger on, but it makes you want to bury your face in his chest and never leave him. it’s fleeting and never stays on his clothes for long, so you need the real thing there with you so you can appreciate what you’ve got.

Hirugami Fukurō

rain, but the nice, thunderstorm rain in the middle of the summer where all the color in the world looks neon for a few hours before and after. you can feel something electric in the air, and even though it’s summer you can put on your coziest sweatshirt and just watch it pour down outside. he smells just like that.

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tag list: @ohno-otome @brittmg13-blog-blog @stationery-store @tanzaniiite

want to be added? send me an ask!

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--" 

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

[henrycavillobsessed]

A Christmas Distraction

Henry x first person reader

Summary: When your mother visit for Christmas, Henry finds a way to distract you from the ensuing stress.

Words: 1552

CW: smut (sex), overbearing mothers/strained mother-daughter relationship

Notes: Here’s a little smutty one-shot I wrote this evening, the last of my own ideas before I start on my 1000 follower celebration requests. Enjoy and Merry Christmas everyone! 

“So darling, we’ll be round for about 12pm. I expect lunch will be nearly ready then will it? I could bring the turkey, save you the trouble. Yours is usually a little dry anyway…” My mother’s voice droned on in my ear. I was still reeling from the news that she had just invited herself and my step-father round to mine and Henry’s house for Christmas. I honestly thought I’d gotten away with it this year, having heard nothing from her until now- now being the 22nd of December with only three days to go- so I thought it’d just be me, Henry and Kal this year. Small, intimate, relaxing, just perfect. Why did I pick up the phone? Why did I say yes? I finally come round to my senses and replied to my mother. “Mum, I’m a chef for a living. I’m more than capable of cooking the turkey.”  “Well yes love, but I don’t want you to get stressed, we both know what you can get like,” I only get like that around you, mother, I thought, and then sighed. “Mum, I’ll do all the cooking, see you on the day. Bye -bye now,” I hung up before she could say anything else. 

Kal suddenly started barking madly. I looked up and saw Henry walk in through the front door, home from the gym, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and grinning at me whilst ruffling Kal’s fur. The sight of my man all damp and in his work-out gear was usually enough to launch myself at him and have him there and then on the living room floor. But my most recent phone call had seriously affected my mood, and Henry noticed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he said, frowning, joining me on the sofa and wrapping an arm around me. I leant into his embrace. “My mother.” I said, my voice glum. “Oh no, what’s she done now?” I nearly laughed at his response. Henry was no stranger to how strained mine and mum’s relationship could be. Thankfully, he was supportive, always had been. “She’s coming for Christmas dinner, with John.” “When did she lay this on you? Doesn’t she know it’s three days until the 25th?” “Of course she does, she just doesn’t care. She rang me not long ago. Didn’t even ask, just invited herself. God why didn’t we go to your parent’s house again like last year?” I said, fondly remembering the festive season the year previously where Henry and I had spent an incredibly enjoyable week in Jersey with his parents and brothers. “Oh love. What can I do to help?” Henry asked, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I sighed again, and then reluctantly got up from the sofa. “I suppose I’ll have to go shopping. Care to join?” “We’ll take the Range Rover. We’ll need the bigger boot for all the extra wine you’re sure to need. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the car keys.

Three days later and it truly was worse than I’d imagined. John, my step-father, had driven over, which meant mother had already started drinking, no doubt opening a bottle of Bucks Fizz before the sun had even risen on Christmas morning. She hadn’t been here ten minutes when she started in on my appearance, commenting on how my new hair cut just wasn’t flattering on a woman my age. She even insulted Henry, saying and I quote “don’t they pay you enough to afford nicer clothes on these little movies you do?” Henry’s fame didn’t faze her in the slightest, if anything it made her even ruder, but Henry, the perfect gentlemen as always, just smiled in response, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Once I’d got mum and John settled in the living room with drinks, Henry found me in the kitchen opening a bottle of red wine with every intent of just necking the whole thing. He reached up and grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard above the sink and gently took the bottle out of my hands and poured for me. I sat down, rubbing the spot above my eyes where a headache was forming. Henry sat down next to me, handing me the wine. “I’m so sorry, this wasn’t the Christmas I had planned for us,” I said to him. He squeezed my leg, and smiled. “Any Christmas I spend with you is perfect. I just hate seeing you like this, so stressed. It’s not fair.” “You can say that again,” I mumbled, sipping my wine. Henry stood up and leant against the counter top. He suddenly looked very mischievous. “I have an idea. What you need is a distraction.” “I don’t have time for distractions, I’ve got to do all this cooking because God forbid I get anything wrong or don’t serve it on time…” I replied, waving a hand towards the stovetop where multiple pans were boiling away. “Come on, it will take five minutes…” “Henry I can’t-“ I started, but was interrupted with a shrill “Y/N!” coming from the living room, accompanied by what sounded like a fork being tapped against an empty wine glass. “Changed my mind, a distraction sounds fantastic,” I said, necking my wine and taking his hand. I was surprised when he led me to the room just next door, the utility room where I did the laundry. “What are we doing in here?” I laughed. Henry slid a box of laundry detergent across the door, essentially locking us in. He straightened up and turned around, licking his lips with a twinkle in his eye. I stopped laughing immediately. I knew what that look meant. “I told you, baby,” He walked towards me, slowly backing me up against the wall. “What you need is a distraction. And I am more than happy to be the one doing the distracting…” I swallowed, awareness coursing through my body. He was everywhere, his muscular arms caging me in, his scent threatening to overpower me as he leant in slowly and took my mouth with his in a smoldering kiss, the effect of which I could feel pooling down below. I was instantly wet and wanting for him. “And what type of distraction,” I panted. “Did you have in mind Mr Cavill?” “The type where my cock is deep inside of you.” I almost came there and then listening to his voice, my arousal building. I didn’t know how much I needed that until he’d said it and now, I was desperate. “And what if our guests hear us?” “Hmm. Maybe I should gag you.” He smiled the smile of the devil as he reached into the clean laundry pile and produced one of ties. Staring into my eyes, he asked wordlessly for my consent. I nodded clearly, my mouth dry, my pussy soaked. He rolled the tie up and pushed it into my open, waiting mouth, using another tie to hold it in place which he knotted at the back of my head. “Turn around,” he commanded, and I obeyed. He leant down and placed a tender kiss on my neck, then another, and another. I moaned; the sound muffled. I felt his smile against my neck. His hands roamed downwards, one sliding into my trousers and then into my panties. His breath hissed as he felt the evidence of my arousal. He circled my clit, the feeling exquisite, and it wasn’t long until he brought me to a gentle, rolling orgasm. I could feel his dick hard against my back, and silently willed him to put it inside me, and, as in tune as we always were, Henry complied. He pulled us away from the wall, turning us to face the dryer. One of his beautiful hands pushed slightly against my back, urging me to bend forwards. He grasped both of my hands in his other, placing them on top of the dryer with a whispered don’t move and then suddenly, finally, he was inside me, easing himself in gently, his groan echoing mine as he filled me up. And then he was moving, each thrust hitting me inside just right and suddenly I could feel that pressure building again, I was coming, I was coming hard around him, and he was emptying himself hotly into me, our joint orgasm exploding through us and at that moment I had never been more grateful for the gag. Gently, Henry pulled out from me and removed my makeshift gag. “Jesus, Cavill…” “I hope that helped” He winked. After we finished putting our clothes back on, he kissed me quickly on the lips and flashed me his award-winning smile. Shaking my head with a smile of my own I followed him out of the utility room back into the kitchen, timing it near perfect as my mother walked in just after. “Y/N! I was calling you! Now, where are we at with this food? Oh, that turkey looks awful, dry as a bone! I keep telling you, the secret is- “ “Oh, mother, do shut up,” I said, shocking her into silence. Henry winked again as he left the room, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, as I turned back to the stovetop, ignoring my mother’s outraged commentary, feeling thoroughly relaxed and distracted.

[softholand]

snowed in - t.h

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: you and tom are neighbors but you don’t get along very well, what happens when you’re forced to spend christmas with him?

warnings: some curses

words: 3.3k

a/n: this is my gift to @uglypastels as part of @peeterparkr​ ‘s secret santa 🤍 Z, i’m sorry this took so long but as you can see, i got a little carried away with the story lmao anyway, you’re actually one of my favorite writers so i’m kinda nervous to post this but i really hope you like it!! merry christmas ✨

You hated snow, that was a fact. But, since it was Christmas you were willing to face it, for the sake of your sister, that was hosting her first Christmas dinner at her and her husband’s new house.

Before you faced the snow though, you had to wash some of your clothes since your laundry basket was full. So, taking your dirty clothes, you made your way to the laundry room, which thankfully, was empty.

You were putting the detergent in when your phone rang and of course, it was your sister, already asking where you were. Just as you were about to answer, you heard the sound of the door opening, before your neighbor, the one you didn't like very much, entered the laundry room.

As always, you tried your best to ignore him and answered your still ringing phone. “Hello?” You said, already listening to the sound of chatting on the other end of the call. “Yes, I’m coming, I just had to do something first.” You told your sister, closing the machine and pressing start. “No, Maya! I’m not bringing anyone, you already know that!” That phrase caught the attention of your neighbor, which made you roll your eyes, both at him and your sister.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, bye!” You ended the call, stuffing your phone back into your purse, before taking your keys off. Then, just as you turned to leave, Tom’s body came crashing right into yours, knocking you off your feet.

“I’m so sorry!” He said, quickly helping you get up. “Fuck! You don’t look at where you’re walking?!” You hissed, and he immediately stopped his movements. “I said I’m sorry! And if there’s someone to blame here, it’s you!” He retaliated, making you widen your eyes.

“I’m sorry, what?!!! You came crashing into me like a fucking truck and I’m the one to blame?!” You practically yelled, you just couldn’t believe this boy. “As if! You turned so fast that it gave me no other option!” He scoffed, making you even angrier.

“Okay, it’s Christmas and I don't want to stress myself right now so can you please help me find my keys so I can go?!” Taking a deep breath, you asked your not so friendly neighbor. “To finally get you out of here? With pleasure!” He mocked and you had to restrain yourself from slapping him.

You two looked everywhere and when you were starting to lose hope, your neighbor, whose name you recalled being Tom said, “I found them but you’re not gonna like it where it is!” Rushing to his side you saw what he was talking about. He indeed found your keys but they were inside the floor drain, with metal bars locking it pretty safely.

“No, no, no! I need those keys!” You whined, getting on your knees to try and get them out of there but it was a failed attempt. “Can you help me, please?!” You yelled, outraged Tom wasn’t doing anything. “What do you want me to do? There’s no way we’re getting them out of there.” He exclaimed. “I don’t know, get a stick or something. I’m gonna try to fish them out.”

After a couple of minutes trying to look for something, Tom came back with a toilet plunger. “Seriously?!” You asked, to which he rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not?” He questioned, crossing his arms, making them look even bigger than they already are, which it’s completely not to the point here.

Your attempt to rescue your keys was not successful, since all you ended up doing was pushing them further into the drain until you couldn’t see them anymore. “Fuck! No, no, no!” You cried, desperately trying to take them out. “Just accept it, they’re gone!” Tom stated.

“How am I supposed to get to my sister’s house now? And my house keys were there too!” You groaned, which made him laugh. “Stop laughing! That’s not funny!” You finally gave up and got out of the ground, standing beside him. “I’m sorry but it is kinda funny!” He continued to laugh and you couldn’t help but slapped his arm. “It’s all your fault!” You scolded.

“Not this again, it was your fault too!” Tom retorted, making you even angrier. “Fuck! What am I supposed to do now? I have to get to my sister’s.” You paced around the small room, feeling your anxiety starting to build up in your chest. “Okay, I’ll call an Uber, stay at her place tonight, and tomorrow I can call someone to take care of this, right?” You asked, mostly to yourself.

“I guess…?” Tom answered, to which you rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you!” With long strides and without saying another word, you made your way out of the laundry room. “You’re not going to thank me for my help?” Tom smirked, making you stop. “Of course, how could I forget to thank the person who caused all of this in the first place?” You mocked. “Oh, c’mon!” Tom insisted. “Goodbye, thanks for nothing!” You jeered, completely dismissing him.

Once you were out of the room, you thought your problems were gone but once you got to open the door, it didn’t move. You tried again, and again and again and again. Nothing. Snorting, you tried one last time before giving up and kicking the metal thing with your boot covered feet.

“Yeah, about that…” You jumped at the sudden sound of Tom’s voice. “Fuck! What do you want now?” You questioned, losing your patience. “It seems like we’re snowed in, it’s all over the news, apparently there’s another snowstorm coming and the roads are all blocked.” He informed you while leaning on his door frame with his arms crossed.

“You’re kidding me, right?!” You exclaimed, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “Nope!” He shrugged, making you panic.”No, no, no! You’re playing with me, I don’t believe you!” You practically yelled. “Well, see it for yourself!” Tom offered, mentioning for you to come inside his house, where he had the tv on.

You hesitated, after all, you had never set foot in any of your neighbor's houses, but eventually accepted his offer and went into his house. And of course, just like he said, the snowstorm was all over the news with big headlines saying: “All the roads are blocked, for your safety, stay home!”

You groaned loudly, putting both of your hands on your head, and just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any worse, your phone started ringing again. “Fuck! She’s going to kill me!” You took a deep breath, before finally answering your sister’s call.

“Hey, Maya! No, I’m not! I’m stuck here, the door won’t open because of the snow! Yeah, I know! No, there’s no one working today, Maya! And the roads are too dangerous to drive. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make it to lunch tomorrow. I’m sorry, I love you! Bye!”

Ending the call, you realized you were still in Tom’s apartment, while he looked at you like you were some type of alien. “Just so you know, you ruined my sister’s first Christmas dinner at her new house.” You informed him, to which he scoffed, plopping himself on the sofa.

“For the last time, it was your fault!” He said, taking the remote control, looking for something to watch. You felt extremely uncomfortable so you made your way to the door, wanting to get out of this asshole’s house. “Well, it’s been a pleasure but I think I’m gonna head home now. Again, thank you for ruining my Christmas.” You grumbled, opening the door when you heard him clear his throat.

“What now?” You snapped, raising your voice. “You sure you’re not forgetting anything?” He inquired, leaving you confused, but all it took was a couple of seconds for you to realize something. Your house keys. They were gone. “Fuck! No, no, no! There’s no way I’m gonna find a locksmith on Christmas eve. What am I supposed to do?” You groaned, feeling frustrated.

“You could always… stay here?” Tom offered, making you laugh. “Funny! There’s no way I’m spending Christmas with you!” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Well then, good luck staying outside or with another one of our neighbors. Oh, right! There’s no one else here, it’s just us.” He smirked, making your blood boil.

Here goes your Christmas.

Sitting in complete silence in Tom's living room, with him watching a golf championship, while his house looked everything but Christmassy, you regret ever complaining about your sister’s Christmas party. “Do you want anything?” He asked from his side of the sofa. “No! Thanks!” You stated, crossing your arms.

“Oh, c’mon! We’re stuck here until God knows how long, don’t you think we should start to, at least, get to know each other? I’ll start, my name is Tom!” He said, to which you, once again, rolled your eyes. “Oh, I know your name!” You exclaimed, annoyed with his sudden enthusiasm.

“Look at that!” He smirked and you quickly realized how that must’ve sounded for him. “Yeah, the girls you bring home aren’t exactly discreet, and believe me when I say that these walls are very thin.” You declared, watching his smirk only grow in size. “What can I say? I know how to pleasure women.” Tom bragged, making you want to throw up. “Please, I don’t wanna hear it!”

“I was joking! What about you though, I still don’t know your name and we’ve been neighbors for what? Two years now?” He asked, completely forgetting the tv, now focusing solely on you. “I don’t know, something like that. And my name’s y/n!” You said. “Cute! And what do you do?” He questioned.

“I’m a personal chef!” You acknowledge, Tom instantly raising his eyebrows. “Fancy…” He teased, making you chuckle. “There’s nothing fancy about being in front of a stove twelve hours a day, serving people who sometimes don’t even know what a reduction is.” You added and Tom raised his eyebrows even higher. “You also have no idea what a reduction is, right?” He shook his head, to which you scoffed. “What about you?”

“I work as a personal trainer!” He exclaimed, clearly excited with his position. “That explains a lot!” You whispered to yourself, thinking about the size of his arms, shoulder, back… “What?!” Tom smirked, having listened to your words. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything!” You stated, to which he laughed.

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, Tom cleared his throat, before asking, “So… bringing no one to your sister’s Christmas dinner?” You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even tell me about it, she’s been bothering me about it since her wedding.” You blurted, suddenly realizing your mistake. “And I don’t know why I just told you this because you’re practically a stranger and this was very personal information.” You commented, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“It’s alright, don’t worry!” Tom assured, making you smile. “Well, it seems like I’m doing all the questions here, do you wanna ask something?” You didn’t even think about it for too long. “Why’s your house not decorated? I noted that your door is the only one without a garland.” You asked, dying to know the answer since you stepped foot in his house.

“Oh, it’s just… I live alone and my family is not here so, I don’t know, it doesn’t bother me.” He shrugged and you felt your heart sink hearing him said that. “Not even a tree? I mean, c’mon… everyone loves a Christmas tree!” You stated, to which he chuckled. “I actually have one, I just haven’t put it up,” Tom mumbled.

“What?! Can we do it?” You exclaimed. “Do it, like… right now?” He questioned, confused with your sudden burst of energy. “Yeah, if I’m going to spend Christmas here, I want to at least feel festive.” You stated, getting excited. “I mean, yeah, sure! Go for it!” Tom nodded, getting off the couch to pick up the tree.

When he came back with a giant box, you got up to help. “Can I take my coat and boots off? They’re very uncomfortable!” You asked and Tom nodded. Once you had everything off, you guys started to adjust the tree branches one by one, until it was perfect to start decorating.

With a box of ornaments by your side, you started arranging them on the tree, while Tom disappeared in the kitchen, making you think he just didn’t want to help. But, once he came out of the room carrying two mugs of what you assumed was hot chocolate, you couldn’t help but smile.

“For me?” You teased, to which he chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, it looks like we’re going to be here for a while so I thought, we better have something to drink.” He resonated, watching you take a sip of the hot liquid. “It’s perfect, thanks, Tom!” You smiled and he reciprocated.

“You wanna watch something?” Tom asked after a couple of minutes of silence. “Well, since now we’re all in, a Christmas movie would be great!” You said. “Why was I sure you’ll say that?” He grunted, making you smile.

With Home Alone on the tv and mugs of hot chocolate in hands, you and Tom kept decorating the tree and it didn’t take much for it to start to look festive. Since the tree had the lights already in, all it took was Tom plugging the power on for it to lit up, showing all the ornaments you and him had put and making the house feel instantly more festive.

“It looks beautiful!” You beamed, while from the corner of your eye, you saw Tom looking at you. “Stop!” You protested, hearing him chuckle. “What?” He asked, feigning ignorance. “I can see you looking at me and not the tree.” You crossed your arms, finally taking a look at him. “Well, everyone looks at what they find the most beautiful, isn't that right?” He smirked and you swore you felt little butterflies on your stomach.

“You’re such a flirt!” You scoffed, deciding it was best to play it off rather than acknowledging what he said. “I told you I know how to pleasure women.” He blinked, to which you groaned, mimicking wanting to throw up.

“So… what now?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, I’m kinda hungry though. What were you going to have for dinner?” You asked, and he instantly widened his eyes. “I… didn’t really think about that. I was probably going to order something.” He shrugged, making you roll your eyes.

“Well, that’s not possible anymore, so what do you have in mind?” You questioned, leaning beside him. “I mean… you’re the chef here…” Tom snickered, to which you scoffed. “You’re seriously going to make me work on Christmas?” He pouted and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Fine! What do you have in this house?” You sighed, making your way to the kitchen. “I think I have chicken, some potatoes, frozen peas, eggs, milk, and a couple of oranges,” Tom informed you while looking in the fridge. “Let me think… I can make mashed potatoes, sautéed peas, and roasted chicken with… orange sauce. What do you think?” You said, matter of factly.

“I think it’s way more than I could do in my entire life.” He exclaimed, making you laugh. “So… care to help?” You asked and he nodded, making his way to your side. “What can I do?”

You instructed Tom to peel, dice, and boil the potatoes, while you seasoned the chicken and put it in the oven. You two kept working side by side in the kitchen and the more time you spent together, the more you got comfortable around each other.

Tom put on some Christmas music, per your request, and even took your hand, making you dance to one of Mariah Carey’s songs until the smell of something burning hit your nostrils. Once everything was ready, you set the table, and you two finally seated down to eat the improvised Christmas dinner.

“So… what do you think?” Anxious, you asked Tom as soon as he put the fork in his mouth. “Don’t tell my mom I said that but this is the best meal I’ve ever had. Holy shit!” He exclaimed, making you smile. “C’mon, you’re exaggerating!” You tried to reason but he wasn’t having it. “I’m not! This is so good!”

“Well, thank you! I appreciated it! Cheers!” You raise your glass, which was currently filled with the wine Tom found in one of the cabinets. “Cheers!” He repeated, raising his glass.

Tom got a FaceTime call from his family In the middle of your dinner and after asking if he could take it, he answered the call. “Hi, baby! Merry Christmas!” You could hear a feminine voice saying. “Hi, mom, Merry Christmas!” Tom responded with a smile on his face.

“We’re just about to eat, what are you doing?” The same voice asked, to which he answered, “Oh, I’m eating… takeout.” Tom said, making you feign being offended by his words. “Oh honey, I wish you were here with us! We all miss you so much! Promise you’ll try to come next year, please?”

“Yes, mom! I promise!” Tom said, passing his fingers through his brown curly hair. “Okay, we’re gonna leave you now. We love you so much, Thomas! Merry Christmas!” The woman on the other side of the call said, making him blush. “I love you guys too! Merry Christmas, everyone! Bye!” Tom gave his phone a little wave, before ending the call.

“Sorry, she can be a little… persistent!” He apologized, to which you shrugged. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” You assured him, taking a sip of wine. “But why didn’t you tell them about me?” You added, making him smirk.

“Trust me, if I told them I had a girl with me, they’d expect you to go home with me for the next Christmas,” Tom explained. “Is this an invitation?” You smirked, raising your eyebrows. “Only if you want to.” He winked, to which you rolled your eyes.

“You guys are not from here, right?” You asked. “What? The accent gave it away?” Tom inquired, making his british accent even stronger. “A little bit!” You answered and you both laughed. “We’re from England, I moved here about two years ago.” He told you. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking.” You said. “I had a pretty rough breakup back then and I don’t know, just wanted a new start.” He explained, seemingly saddened.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized but Tom was quick to dismiss. “It’s alright! What about you? Is your family from here?” He asked, to which you nodded. “Yeah, they’re all from here.” You answered, taking another sip.

After a couple of hours, you and Tom were finally finished with dinner and cleaning the kitchen. Now, you were both seated on the sofa, watching yet another Christmas movie. You had no idea how, but as time passed, you and Tom got closer and closer, until you were both cuddled up in the middle of the sofa, with both of your legs covered by a blanket.

You were close, your faces were almost touching and when you were about to close your eyes, Tom whispered, “Look up!” And you did, finding a mistletoe hanging loosely on top of you. “When did you do that?” You asked, failing to contain a smile. “I mean, since you’re all about Christmas traditions, I thought it was only fitting.” He smirked and you finally closed the gap between you two.

“You know, my Christmas wasn’t that bad after all.” You joked, to which he laughed, “Mine either!” He agreed, kissing you again. “Merry Christmas!” You smiled. “Merry Christmas!” Tom exclaimed, before going right back to your lips, where he stayed for the rest of the night.

tagging some of my mutuals ✨ @stuckonspidey @definitely-not-black-cat @missnxthingg @bi-writes @screamholland @peeterparkr @duskholland @wazzupmrstark @tomhollandthing @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @mrs-hollandstan @allyz @hazinhoodies @hollandcreep @worldoftom @whatevsholland @geminiparkers

[geeses]

What shade of green do you want to paint your house?

Personally I've always dreamt of having a house covered in ivy.

These are the ones i'm thinking of for various rooms in the house. right now every single wall is painted with "agreeable grey" and it's killing my vibe. I also want to go for a terra cotta in my office.

I love the idea of a house covered in ivy, but being the horticulture bitch I am.... I cannot in good conscious allow it to get out of hand because its hella invasive. Also the tendrils are a bitch to get off the siding. If I had a shed or barn though...

fun fact: English ivy contains lots of saponins, which are soapy, and you can boil the ivy to make your own laundry or dish detergent :-)