#put them on the clothesline to dry -> empty the clothesline -> bring them to my room -> sort and fold -> put away -> rinse and repeat

[moonchild-in-blue]

I just want everyone to know that in the span of 3 days, I have made 3 loads of laundry, and have a 4th already sorted and ready to go (which includes towels / blankets / bedding). I still need to fold them and put them away BUT the important part is done 🥹

[starstruckodysseys]

you and me and the worlds in between

(or: ash has been nineteen a while. mia has been nineteen before, and she will be again, and again, and again.)

The end of the world comes in waves, because a single, all encompassing ending would be too satisfying.

Ash floats over the Atlantic Ocean, racing circles around a statue-esque Mia, whose dark hair flows in the wind the debris brings with it. Her perfect, dark skin is marred by ash - actual ash, not Ashleigh Schneider, who can only hope to touch her in such a way - and the bags under her eyes are such a deep purple they almost look black. She stares, unblinking, at the ocean before them, the water drying up and rocks falling around them, like mini meteors. They’re not strong enough to be anything terrifying, just a more concussive form of hail.

Ash has been nineteen a long time, long enough to have seen this play out before. They’ve watched empires fall and cities crumble to dust and the earth itself end and start back up again, like a movie being put on fast forward. It still leaves a bitter, coppery taste in their mouth every time.

They pause their gentle flapping to settle down next to Mia, and though she hardly spares them a glance, she brushes her hand against theirs, tilts her head toward them in silent acknowledgment. Ash has grown past the need for recognition, reciprocation. They’re content to sit in silence, to watch the world fall around them. It’s a strange place for a first date. Lucky them it isn’t their first.

Mia has been nineteen before, and she’ll be nineteen again, and again, and again. Ash has seen this before, too, watched the cycle repeat and repeat like a skipping CD player. They harness the weight of the world on their back and grin like it’s the first time they’ve been here.

Mia winces as a particularly large piece of rock crumbles down into the ocean. What's left of it, at least. She drags the toe of her boot across the dampened sand, drawing meaningless little lines in the grains.

“How come you chose to come out here?” She asks. There’s no judgment in her tone, only a monotone sort of curiosity.

Ash shrugs. “I wanted to see if it was still here, I guess.”

Here is a rotting, abandoned old beach house, one their parents used to own centuries ago. It hasn’t been kept up with - there’s mold in most of the closet corners, a bird’s nest in the rafters of the open living room, decaying blankets strung across clotheslines that can hardly hold their weight anymore. But it’s theirs, in a sense. The only rock they’ve had in their eternal life.

They don’t know why they’d asked Mia to come with them, though it’s not as if she’s any safer at home than with them. To be fair, her “home” is an empty apartment with a dad who hardly recognizes his daughter, and they don’t even know if it’s still standing. It might be better for her if it weren’t.

Another rock falls down, this one leaving a burnt out crater in the ground, scorch marks visible in its wake. Ash leans over, brushes a piece of dust off of Mia’s denim jacket, and stands up, dusting off their own ratty jeans. She looks up at them, finally, blue eyes meeting green.

“We should go,” they say by way of explanation. “It’s not- I don’t think it’s safe here.”

It’s not safe anywhere, and they both know that. Mia still takes their hand, and the only thing Ash notices as she uses it is leverage is how warm her palm is in theirs. She doesn’t pull away once she’s standing up. Ash isn’t quite sure what to do about it.

They swallow. “You ever wanted to see Pompeii?”

“I mean,” Mia hesitates. “Sure? I thought it was destroyed, though?”

“So is everything else,” Ash says with a shrug. “Are you coming or not?”

It’s a rhetorical question more than anything, because they already know the answer. Mia scoffs out a laugh, some semblance of a smile on her face, and Ash bites their cheek to stifle a grin.

For some odd reason, her hand is still in theirs. That’s alright, it just makes it easier for them to fly her away, up and over crumbling cities and fallen communities, evaporated oceans and broken bridges. The world sits in disarray, suspended in discord, dissonant tones coming together to create disaster. It’s almost beautiful, in a horrible sort of way. Ash has seen creation form in the rubble of chaos enough times to stop worrying about how they get there. They quite literally cannot die - you stop worrying about a lot of things once that happens.

Their hair, dark brown and matted and barely held back anymore by their headband, flows freely behind them. Mia manages to look as elegant as ever, even thousands of feet off the ground. She glances over to them, smiles faintly and fondly, and Ash feels the familiar sensation of their stomach swooping to the point it feels like they’re falling.

Mia’s life is tragedy in B minor - Elle had told them about music terms once, decades ago, huddled together on a piano bench in an era where their love was frowned upon, giggling like the schoolgirls walking down the sidewalk outside the speakeasy. It had been one of the first times Ash had met her. They’ve met countless variations now, of course, Janie and Lizbet and Allison and Ginny and Lila and hundreds upon thousands of others. She’s been nineteen a while. She doesn’t usually get very far past that.

She never remembers them. They’ve stopped expecting her to.

Pompeii is beautiful in a way that maybe only Ash can appreciate. After the second time you watch the world end, it kind of gets predictable, repetitious, redundant. So they’ve begun to pay attention to the details, focus on the smaller picture while they still can. It’ll be there, in some version, when they begin again, but for now they have a girl in her final hours beside them and they’ll be damned if they don’t make the time count.

They lead her down cobblestone pathways, through arches and columns overgrown with moss, to sit at the water’s edge. It’s more peaceful than the ocean, rippling calmly around them. The sun shines down on them, warm and comforting, almost like a blanket. For now, they’re content to sit in this peaceful moment. Mia leans her head on Ash’s shoulder, and they stare out at the volcano looming in front of them and ignore the sheen of tears that clouds their vision, internally blaming it on their glasses and heat flow and a million other things that aren’t the case.

Naturally, this is when the volcano erupts.

The sky turns blood red, which feels a little too on the nose for Ash’s liking. They don’t get to focus on that for very long, though, because smoke and ash fill the air, quickly followed by lava, boiling hot and angry. Ash can’t tell if it’s the smoke or the sulfur stench burning their lungs as they stand up as fast as possible. Mia moves to follow them, but she’s only human and can hardly move as fast as they can. They reach behind them to grab her.

They’ve never been fast enough to save her before. Why should they start now?

Her hands graze theirs for hardly a second, but when they turn around she’s lost to the haze surrounding them, caught in the sea of ash - actual ash, again, because Ashleigh’s never been the one to catch her. They’ve tried, of course, but nature has a plan and when there’s a will there’s a way, so they’ve learned what is meant to happen and done their best to prevent it every time, yet to no avail. They don’t know why they keep trying.

Yes, they do, and their reason is a girl who builds walls around her that only Ash has ever tried to knock down, who acts like she never cares until someone actually asks, who has lived and lived and lived and still manages to draw the short end of the stick every time. She’s one of the only things that’s remained consistent in their long life. They wonder if she knows that, sometimes, when she gets a certain kind of glimmer in her eye when she looks at them.

As they frantically float their way through the clouds of smoke, likely burning their lungs, but they’ve dealt with worse, they eventually catch up to the coughing and choking ahead of them. A moth drawn to a flame; they always have been, always hyper aware of her presence.

“Mia?” They call out hesitantly.

“Ash,” Mia chokes out, and when the smoke clears she’s crawling on her forearms toward them, her legs dragging behind her. “Ashleigh! I-” she coughs, “I lo-

“I know,” Ash soothes, because they’ve seen this film a thousand times. A lump forms in the back of their throat as they float down next to her. “I know.”

The funny thing about loss is that it never really gets easier the more it happens.

Two days after Ash turned nineteen, they fell ill. Deathly ill, everyone said, the healers and the scientists and even the gods, according to their parents. It led to them being bedridden for days that turned to weeks that turned to months. They’d accepted that they were going to die, in all honesty. So had Austin, yet he refused to leave their side anyway.

They couldn’t leave him alone, he said, though the tears clogged his throat so much they could hardly make out the words. They’re his other half, the one to understand him in the huge, cruel world.

Ash had squeezed his hand and apologized and danced around the words stuck behind their teeth.

They’d been more sure of dying than anything else in their life, which is why it had been such a shock when their mother came home, one day, a vial of pale red liquid in her hand. Drink, she’d said, and they had. Why shouldn’t they? Nothing else had worked, yes, and they had lost hope months ago, but their mother and their brother looked at them with hopeful, pleading eyes, and so they sipped the whole thing until it was gone.

To no one’s surprise - or at least, not their own, though they’re sure everyone else was less shocked and more hopeless by this point - nothing happened, the same as everything else they’d tried. But they slowly started to feel better, if better could mean not actively dying, and through some miracle, Ash had lived.

…And lived. And lived. And just kept on living, somehow, and it wasn’t until Austin was getting into his thirties - they’d always had good genes - that he noticed the two of them weren’t mirror images of each other anymore. Ash had felt older, but when they looked in the mirror they hadn’t changed a bit, not a wrinkle or graying hair in sight.

Their mother had unfortunately been gone for years by that point, but their father was still around to explain the potion of immortality she had been instructed to give to Ash.

It had been great, at first, not having to worry about dying - from old age, at least, because the thing they don’t tell you about immortality is that it doesn’t make you invulnerable. But then they’d sat by and watched as everyone they’d ever loved died practically before their eyes. Their mother, of course, was first, and then their father, and then, in a moment they try to forget as much as they try to remember, because it was their last with him, Austin. A piece of them died, that day, because he truly had been their other half, their rock in the storming ocean of life.

They’d found Mia - Eve, at the time - near the river in town, years and years down the line. It wasn’t love at first sight, but her long skirt billowed in the wind and her long, dark hair flowed behind her, and Ash had felt a certain kind of magnetic pull they couldn’t ignore.

It was the first time they’d met, but it certainly wasn’t the last. The world had ended and restarted over and over, but they kept finding their way back to one another, as if they were tied by some sort of string of fate. And, through it all, Ash kept on falling in love, helpless to the whims of whatever powers rested above them.

They’ve lost her countless times - she only stays nineteen for so long, after all. Maybe this time, though, they don’t have to.

Ash reaches out a hand toward the girl they swore their life to years ago, a smile on their face.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[kid-blinks-eyepatch]

Ace/Smokes

Smokes gets the flu

A/N: these were two background characters in a sprace fic and i liked the names and i escalated-

(they’re brooklyn b/c we were cheated out of brooklyn)

-Smokes-

  I groaned softly as i walked back to the lodge. I felt lightheaded and my body was exhausted. I was cold and the pouring rain wasn’t helping at all. I shivered, crossing my arms tightly. I walked into the lodge, dripping wet. It didn’t look like i’d been the only one. there were water droplets on the floor. I shivered again and trudged to my bunk, pulling my set of spare clothes out from under it. I tried to keep them away from my body as i went to the bathroom to change. I noted who was back.

Ace was, Graves was drying York’s hair, Dice was lying under a blanket, curled onto a ball, Snoddy, Spot, Bart, Myron, and Lucky were all back. Most of the boys were. I shivered and slipped into a stall to change. I peeled off my sopping clothes, shivering more as the air met my skin. I dried myself off with a towel before pulling on my dry clothes. I put my clothes over the makeshift clothesline before i shivered again and sniffed. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I whined softly and laid on the bed with Ace. He squeaked happily when he saw me and kissed me. I smiled and let out a soft groan, wiggling under the blankets. Ace laughed softly as I clung to his legs. I whined. I really didn’t feel good at all. I moved so i was lying between his legs, my head on his thigh. He laughed and toyed with my hair

“you alright Teddy bear?” he asked. I shook my head, whining as i pressed my face into his thigh

“sicky” i whined “an cold” I added, pulling the blanket over my head. Ace threaded his fingers through mt hair

“you want another blanket?” he asked softly. I peeked out at him and nodded. He pulled the blanket off of my bunk, which was the one above us. I felt it go overtop the one i was under and i squeaked happily, yawning. My head felt so stuffed and my eyes were tired. And his hand threaded in my hair felt nice. I felt myself fall asleep not long after

———

I whined softly when i next woke up. I lifted my head from what I was lying it on, a glance confirmed it was my boyfriend, who was awake. He laughed softly when he saw my sleepy face. I whined and buried my face in his chest.

“sick?” he asked.

“yeah” I rasped, coughing slightly. he rubbed my hair. I raised my head again and squinted at the rest of the lodge. It was empty. I looked at Ace, pawing his stomach lightly 

“why didn’t ya wake me up?” I said, sitting up. I whined as my head spun, bringing a bout of nausea. I clamped a hand over my mouth. Ace gave me a concerned look. I shook my head and stumbled to the bathroom, coughing slightly as it came up. I whined and sank down to the floor, my arm on the toilet seat, my head on my arm.  Ace frowned softly, crouching and rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

“all out?” He murmured. I nodded, closing my eyes. I let out a gasp as i felt him pick me up. he kissed my forehead 

“Thats a nasty place to sleep baby”

“mmmm” I disagreed, burying my face in his chest. He laughed. I didn’t have the energy to open mt eyes, or really move much, I just felt drained. I felt myself be laid down on a bed and helped into a worn jacket. I cracked open an eye at Ace.

“you’re shaking” He explained, kissing my forehead. I nodded faintly as he covered me in our blankets. I yawned softly and felt myself drift off once again.

———

“Teddy” 

i heard Acw before i felt the gentle shake. I whined and opened my eyes. My boyfriend had a can in his hand, the other on my shoulder. 

He helped me up

“how’re we doin sleepy?”

“lil better” I coughed. I felt better, not was worn down as before. 

I watched Ace hold the spoon up to my mouth. I opened my mouth to protest and he put the spoon in my mouth. I gave him a look and he grinned

“eat”

It continued like that, him feeding my what i think was soup as he talked happily. I nodded along. the soup was warm, it felt nice. Once i finished the soup he tossed the can and came back, hugging me against him, kissing my temple

“how ya feeling?”

“better” I yawned. the tiredness was back

“aww” he cooed, squeezing me.

“noooo” I protested weakly as he snuggled us under the blankets. 

“i love you” He said, hugging me to his chest

“I love ya too” I mumbled, burying myself into him

[pyrepostings]

John Gets a Bath

Content warnings: Aftermath of implied sexual assault

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

Masterlist:

Kevin burst into the room to see John still tied kneeling to his bed post. John startled, then looked away. Kevin knelt down, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, examining him from masked eyes that John reluctantly met. 

“They couldn’t even be bothered to let you clean yourself up?” Kevin said with disgust. 

John made to look away again, but the grip on his jaw was too tight.

“I’m alright, sir. It doesn’t matter.”

Kevin grabbed a damp washcloth and started wiping down John’s face and neck. 

“It does matter. Even if you’re a prisoner here, there are lines we don’t cross. Even for what you did, this was not a suitable punishment. I want you to know I not only did not authorize this, but the both of them have been punished, themselves. I didn’t think I needed to make that clear, but I guess I do. From now on, only those who I specifically assign to guard you are allowed into your cell. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” John didn’t ask how Kevin knew what had happened already, or how he was supposed to know who his assigned wardens were, or what he was supposed to do if it happened again. He just closed his eyes and basked in the touch, Kevin’s touch, on his skin. It had been a week since he had been taken prisoner, and in that time his touch was never as gentle as it was now. He missed it. 

“Are these the same clothes you were captured in?” Kevin asked abruptly, his touch just as quickly disappearing. 

“Yes, Sir,” John replied, eyes on the floor.

“I don’t suppose you’ve bathed since you’ve been here either?”

“No, Sir. I haven’t been given the chance.” 

Kevin hummed and reached to untie his hands from the bedpost. “Stay in this room. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

-

Kevin returned with a bag slung over his shoulder. “Stand up, put your hands behind you.”

John did as he was told, and felt the rough rope tie his hands together. 

“I’m going to walk you through camp. You will do exactly as I say and step exactly where I guide you, or it’s going to hurt, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir”

“Good.” Kevin placed a blindfold over the prisoner’s eyes and led him to the door.

The walk was disorienting for John. He knew they were on wooden paths built between the large, swaying, redwood trees, far above the ground, but he had yet to actually see them. He just followed where Kevin’s hand pulled or pushed him to go, grabbing onto the side of the lift as he was instructed to do. Eventually they stopped, and he could hear running water. 

His blindfold and restraints were taken off, and he looked around. They were in a small wooden hut, the majority of the floor taken up by a currently empty, tiled inset tub. Kevin set the bag down on a table and turned the faucet on to fill the tub. 

“The water is straight from the river, after a little filtration, so it’s going to be cold, but should do the trick.” Kevin explained. “There’s soap, and fresh clothes in the bag for you to change into when you’re done. I’ll be right outside, don’t try anything stupid. There’s a clothesline just outside as well, so you might as well clean your current clothes now as well and get them hung up.” 

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” 

As Kevin left, John stripped off his clothes, shivering against the air, knowing the water will probably be worse, and it was. He didn’t even have sunlight to warm his skin as he would if he was on the riverbank itself. Nonetheless, it was effective in washing away a week's worth of grime and sweat and caked on blood, if not his guilt and shame. 

He toweled off and changed into the fresh, dry clothes, and called to Kevin to bring him back to his room. 

Masterlist:

[earthbovndmisfit]

Merman Jonathan trying on human clothes for the first time.

This just gave me some ideas that will yes/yes deviate a little at points (literal ramblings of mine as usual, lol), which means this is gonna be a bit long, but I hope that's okay!

I think Jonathan learns how to do housework and, as a way to repay Speedwagon and help him at home, Jona does most of the chores while Robert is at work. Spw doesn't want Jonathan to feel like he has to do anything to live with him but, seeing Jonathan's stubbornness about "doing his part" along with the fact that its kind of a necessity at this point now that the two are living together and, as a result, the housework has doubled up, he just simply lets Jona work around the house as much as he wants to. It also helps Jonathan keep himself busy when Robert is not home, so that's another good thing.

As such, Jonathan helps Speedwagon with the laundry most of the time, either by washing the clothes himself or taking them off the clothesline when they are dry, folding them and etc. This is how, one day, while he's folding all those clothes and putting them in the clean laundry basket so he can take them inside (basket with wheels and all so Jona can move around with it easily), that Robert's fave shirt catches Jonathan's attention and the idea of trying it on pops in his head. He has noticed how much Robert loves that shirt, so that only makes him want to try it on even more the more he thinks about it. He has never worn any human clothes, so his curiosity is huge. He also knows Speedwagon, and he knows he won't get mad at him for trying it on if he decides to. Again, Jona is curious and just wants to see how the shirt would look on him and he also wants to see how human clothes might feel while wearing them, maybe see why Robert loves that shirt so much? In Jonathan's opinion, it is a pretty shirt after all! Also, human clothes always feel so soft to the touch.

And Jonathan is actually right about Speedwagon being cool with Jona borrowing things from him. What Jona failed to consider beforehand though… is that he is too big for the poor shirt, and this is something he learns only until after he's put the shirt on, accidentally ripping it in various parts and tearing at least two of the seams.

Jona is in absolute dismay, appalled and also anxious as soon as he realizes what has just happened, what he just did to Robert's fave shirt.

With a background deeply marred by all the abuse he got from Dio, Jonathan begins to think about the worse that could happen when Spw finds out what happened. All the worst scenarios start flooding Jojo's mind to the point where he's sure Speedwagon is going to kick him out of the house as soon as he finds out what Jonathan did.

He doesn't want to lie to Robert and play fool and pretend he doesn't know anything when the moment he asks about his shirt comes, but he also doesn't want him to get mad or upset, he doesn't want to be kicked out of the house either. He loves living there and, especially, he loves Robert. And so he comes up with a plan!

He starts finding ways to make money, like selling recyclable stuff he finds around the house (plus stuff of that kind that his sea friends bring him for that purpose whenever they visit). I'm not sure if this is a thing around the world?? but where i live there's people who basically buy from you stuff like empty soda cans/bottles, old newspapers, cardboard boxes and etc and take it to recycle centers where they get paid for it, however, recycle centers don't pay a lot (they pay very little per kg.) and, thus, these buy all this stuff from you for even less than that so they can earn some profit, sooooooo, the money Jona makes from this is usually not a lot, but he does this as often as he can and, sooner than later, he makes enough money to buy Robert a new shirt to make up for the old one.

Coincidentally, shortly after Jonathan gets him the shirt and is ready to come clean about it, Robert finally asks about his shirt, having not seen it in a while. Maybe Jonathan has seen it and knows where it may be? Jonathan suddenly gets all nervous and anxious once more, not just because of what he did and kept a secret from Speedwagon all this time (it's been weeks, maybe a month or a little more?), but also because, as much as he tried, Jonathan was unable to get him the exact same model of shirt that he had and loved, something that he finally reveals to him as he tells him the whole truth of what happened to his shirt (which Jona still keeps, hidden inside a box as, at one point, he even tried to sew and stitch it with poor results). Jonathan apologizes profusely, and he's on the verge of tears because, in his mind, he's convinced that he's about to get kicked out while also getting berated. Again, all this as a result of the years of abuse he's endured, even though he knows Speedwagon is not the kind of guy who would do that to him.

Robert just looks at him in silence as Jonathan goes through the full explanation and hands him the new shirt, the one Jona bought for him. Jonathan hasn't even finished talking when Speedwagon is already pulling him in for a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, reassuring him and telling him how there's nothing for him to worry about (a statement that Robert fully means) and how thankful he is not only for Jojo being so thoughtful to this extent, but also for all the effort he put into mending this little accident, fully aware of all the difficulties he must have gone through to earn the money to buy a replacement for his shirt.

Needless to say: Robert now has a new favorite shirt.

[senseearly]

Batarou Love Languages

Feeling an “in love” mood so some Batarou HCs for love languages!

Garou ver.

i. Sharing

Whenever Garou comes home from his walks, he brings tokens for Badd. A can of coca-cola from a vending machine; a bright blue feather of an uncommon bird; a pouch of marbles from Tareo; a baseball he said he caught out of nowhere. Garou leaves them at Badd’s bedside table to find with no explanation for what or why or how.

Badd doesn’t throw it out. He never does. He drinks the cola but washes the can for another use; the feather gets used as a bookmark for his text books; the marbles he gives on his desk as something to fiddle when he’s antsy or bored; the baseball he puts on the cabinet, along with his family’s antiques, stored away like it’s a token of the past. (Who knows, maybe it is)

Badd never asks. Just accepts. And whenever he does, Garou looks so pleased.

ii. Helping

Badd never asked much from Garou when the latter decided to stay at home. He tells Garou to make the bed when he’s done lying on it; to wash his hands before meal time because who knows what germs are under his nails. To dry his hair before going to bed; to use a glass when he’s going to drink the milk.

Never once did Badd ask Garou to pay rent or do any favors. One can say Badd is kind like that, but Badd also knows Garou doesn’t have any money or won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.

But when Badd has laundry he needs to air out, it’s always folded and stored away even before Badd can get to touch them. They’re off their hangers, the clothesline completely empty. Badd checks his cabinet to see his washed and now-dried hakama hanging along with the rest of his clothes, along with his gakuran, his red sweater.

Only Garou is staying at home today. 

iii. Listening

Badd is a drunk rambler.

That’s what his friends used to tell him when he drank a can of beer once and became intoxicated. He wasn’t drunk that time, only tipsy, and yet his friends told him he almost talked their ears off about random things. I was the one who actually broke Mrs. Hamada’s window, not Tony, or Do you think if plants had feelings, kale would taste bitter.

“Remind us to never drink with you again,” his friends once said.

Badd should’ve taken that into account when he agreed to drink a few cans of beer with Garou that night. And now Badd is stuck crying while telling the story of Finding Nemo to the person least likely interested about a lost fish.

But then, Garou says, “Then what?”

Badd sniffs. “What?”

“The fish gets flushed in the toilet. What happens then?”

“He - “ Oh god, Badd has a hard time trying to talk about what happens. So he ends up letting out an ugly sob instead. “I’m sorry,” he says in a garbled voice.

“Take your time,” Garou hands him a tissue.

iv. Staying

Because he is an S-class hero, Badd is mandated to undergo weekly check-ups.

And it sucks. Not because he doesn’t care about his health or anything, it just takes so long. 15 minutes to get his laboratory request processed; 30 minutes to get the blood tests and the x-rays done; 45 minutes of waiting for the doctor to see him for his physical exam; an hour almost to wait for some of his results to get printed out.

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me,” Badd tells Garou, who’s been seated at the hallway for who knows how long. A hood covering the tufts of his white hair, but his golden eyes are visible, gleaming. Garou must feel so antsy being cooped like this. “I might be here after an hour or so. Have you eaten yet?”

Garou snorts but doesn’t budge from his seat. He lets the back of his head rest on the chair. “We’ll eat after you’re done,” Then he pulls his hood all over his nose. “Wake me up when we can leave.”

v. Touching

And because he is an S-class hero, Badd is no stranger when it comes to wounds and injuries.

The fight is over, the monster unconscious and defeated. But Badd, the clear victor of this battle, feels like he’s about to end up like that monster, too. Bruised and wrung out; lied across the pavement like a dinner for the crows. Badd can’t be like that. Zenko is waiting for him at home.

Badd takes a step and tumbles. The bat clatters from his hands and he slides down to the ground, like an asteroid coming down on earth. But then, his descent stops. His head lolls to a cool chest. Garou cradles his side as gently as he can while hooking Badd’s arm around his shoulders.

His long slender hands feel so comforting against Badd’s hip. Badd never knew hands can be like this.

“Let’s go home,” Garou whispers, gentle as a spring breeze.

Badd nods and lets himself get carried along the rest of the way.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Disaster.

JAVIER PEÑA. ┃ NARCOS.

❝ words: about 1.8k

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language, soft Javi.

❝ summary: Never let Javier do the laundry.

❝ a / n: This is a writing for Javier that has four years or more, but I translated it to English. Dialogues are in spanish, but this work also contains the translations. As always, I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ❤.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST. ⎢ MULTIFANDOM TAG LIST.

The sunbeams through the curtains disturb your peaceful sleep, rolling tangled in the soft sheets to toss an arm over Javier's chest. But it falls over the cold mattress. Growling still not awake at all, you palm his empty side of the bed. Sitting up on your left arm, you glance through the door to the living room. No noise outside his dorm that makes you know he's still at his house. Lying on your back and tilting your head with a puff escaping your lips, your eyes land on a hand-written note on his nightstand waiting for you to be read. Kissing your lips, you stretch an arm to grab it. “Te quiero hablar sobre algo más tarde, me esperas, ¿sí? Te amo, pendeja”.

The first time he called you like that was the day you met him —or more precisely, the day you almost ran over him. You remember him with both hands on the hood of your car, screaming at you “¿qué pasó, pendeja? A caso, ¿no me vió?” You were focused on texting your boss, but when you raised your eyes and made eye contact both you and him fell for each other, a fact that surprised you when his partner told you he was a perro; every night with a different woman.

A goofy smile curves your lips, feeling yet the kisses Javier spread last night all over your skin, just hoping he has left some coffee for you when you decide to get up. Directing your steps to his wardrobe, fully naked, you pick one of his t-shirts impregnated with his heavenly smell to wear it. You don't have anything planned for today other than enjoying your free day and wait for him to come back, so when you see the mess his house is in your opinion, you settle on cleaning it.

After having breakfast como Dios manda, you start for the living room. Except for the documents and the archives from his job, you pick up all the trash around, before sweeping the floor and dust the furniture. Once it is done, you continue with the laundry. God, this man has clothes thrown throughout the house. Putting them inside the basket, you bring them to the kitchen, but you have to leave aside your task when you find the washing machine already occupied. You're starting to tremble. Javier is a disaster, and you don't need to be a genius to realize it. So, when you see a red shirt inside, mixed with your white clothes, you pray for everything you know.

Opening the small door, you confirm your suspicion.

“¡PUTA MADRE! ¡NO JODAS! ¡HUEVÓN MALPARIO'!”

(Shit! Son of a bitch!)

Music in Spanish sounds all around the house, with the kitchen as the epicenter. You're cooking something for dinner, wearing a short chiffon dress —that makes your legs stand out and that used to be white, now is some kind of pink—, stalling till Javier comes back. Oh, he's going to pay for what happened.

“¿Mi amor?” The front door gets closed while hearing his voice calling you. “¡Ya regresé! ¿Dónde te metis— whoa, whoa, whoa…”

(¿My dear? I'm back! Where are you?)

Your boyfriend stops in his tracks as his mouth drops to the floor. Taking off his aviator sunglasses, you find him ogling you with eyes widened. He gulps to wet his sore throat while licking his bottom lip.

“A ver, a ver… voltéate”. He whispers waving his index finger doing circle moves.

(Let's see, turn around).

In silence, you obey his petition in slow motion so he can delight with the views, drawing a gunny grimace on your face. When you face him again, he is crossing himself thanking God. Raising both eyebrows, you take some steps closer swinging your hips to provoke him a little more, having so much fun.

“¿Sí te gusta mi vestido, hm?”

(Do you like my dress, hm?)

He just nods his chin fascinated, not being able to speak.

“Está bonito, ¿verdad? Pero… pues más bonito estaba cuando era blanco”. You reply, lifting both arms at the sides of your body.

(It's beautiful, isn't it? But... It was perfect when it was white).

“¿Cómo así, mi amor?”

(What do you mean, my love?)

Javier doesn't understand what's going on when you practically drag him through the kitchen to the clothesline outside, pointing at your white clothes, now of a strange pink discolored, he has to swallow a giggle. Pressing his lips together, he scratches the bridge of his nose doing his best to not laugh.

“A ver, cuéntame el chiste. Así me río yo también”.

(Tell me the joke. So I can laugh too).

“¡No me estoy riendo!” He feigns to be offended raising his hands to his chest.

(I'm not laughing!)

“Seguro… ¿No es esa tu camisa favorita?” You ask making a soft and brief move with your chin.

(Sure... Isn't that your favorite shirt?)

Putting his brown eyes on the piece of clothing he's wearing, he doesn't have a chance to reply when you ruin it and all its buttons by a strong pull, making them fall to the floor. A proud grin curves your lips up, while Javier tries to babble something. But the response to your action is better than you could think.

Crashing his lips on yours, his fingers move faster than you can assimilate to undoing his belt and the zip of his jeans, as he devours your mouth hungry like a stray dog. His tongue fights yours in a battle for dominance, pulling down his clothes before forcing you to turn and face the counter. Javier ruins your thong as easily as you have ruined his shirt, causing you to moan when he obligates you to spread your legs for him.

Bending over the counter and sticking out your ass, hearing him jerking off his delicious cock, your boyfriend digs his hardness as deep as he can into your soaked cunt. You cry out his name inevitably. Javier spits an animalistic groaning onto your ear. It doesn't matter how many times you two have fuck, you always need a second to adjust to his length, but this time he doesn't give you the opportunity. Not losing time, he grabs your throat with his right hand whilst the other presses your body to the counter from behind. Javier rocks his hips furiously, back and forth, running out of air. Soon, your moans and your whinings fill the kitchen, as the dry noise his pelvis produces when it crashes your limits.

“Si querías coger… solo tenías que decirlo”. He hisses lost in the pleasure, thrusting you harder with every move.

(If you wanted to fuck, you just had to ask for it).

It's not like he's mad at you, it's more like he is trying to compensate you for what he has done. He knows to perfection how to worship your body, how to make you feel loved and desired; but he also knows to perfection that you prefer him to be rougher than gentle —pulling your hair, choking you, biting your neck, making you beg.

“Ah, Javi…”

“Sí te gusta que te… coja, ¿no?”

(Do you like how I fuck you, right?)

“Sí, sí… Más rápido, por favor… por favor”.

(Yes, yes... Faster, please... please).

Your right-hand wraps his wrist, securing a little more the grip on your throat before guiding his other to your legs, straight to your throbbing clit.

“Tan ansiosa, tan necesitada mi gatita”.

(So anxious, so needy my kitten).

His forefinger caresses your finger so softly that he could kill you, quite the opposite of his waist.

“Qué rico…” You gasp enraptured, arching your back and tilting your head to reach his lips.

The fight of your tongues continues, drinking each other's pleasing growls, while the pace of his finger increases too close to the orgasm.

“No pares… no pares, por favor”. You beg onto his mouth, trailing his lips after over your jawline down to your neck.

(Don't stop... don't stop, please).

Nailing his teeth causing you to whimper loudly, your legs start to tremble as Javier digs his twitching hardness into you once and once, not letting you breathe for a second and pushing you to the edge. You can't help but scream his name, just like he loves, feeling the tickles exploding within your belly and letting yourself go. Your boyfriend only needs some more pushes straight to your g-spot to come inside you with a delighted howl drown against your neck. His warm seed mixed with your wetness makes him sigh breathless, collapsing over your back as you need to rest your arms over the counter till recovering.

“Me vuelves loco, mujer”. Javier mumbles, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder before caressing it with the tip of his nose.

(You drive me crazy).

Slowly pulling himself out of your overstimulated cunt, stealing you a disappointed whining for the sudden emptiness, he puts on his clothes as you turn around to face him.

“Te ves bien bonita, así toda hecha un desastre”. His perfect and charming smile gives you goosebumps, leaning forward to you to pepper your lips with so much tenderness.

(You look beautiful just like that, messy).

“Qué chistoso”. You chuckle placing both hands on his neck.

(Very funny).

“¿Arrunche en la tina?”

(Cuddles in the bathtub?)

“Por favor”. You just reply before he lifts you on his arms in the most purest bridal style, making you laugh lively and satisfied.

(Please).

In barely a couple of minutes, your bodies are covered by warm water, relaxing every inch of them and making the tension disappear. Javier is lying back on your chest, smoking with both eyes closed as your fingertips gently roam his chest. You have missed him too much today, being something rare for you to not spend your days off together, but he has been through so much work lately.

“¿De qué me querías hablar?”

(What you wanted to tell me?)

“¿Hm…?” Expelling the smoke through his nostrils, Javier raises his chocolate eyes towards yours.

“La nota”. You add referring to the piece of paper you found this morning on his nightstand.

(The note).

“Pensé en que vinieras a vivir conmigo”.

(I was thinking that you could come to live with me).

That's it. No doubts. No questions.

“¿Vivir juntos? ¿Acá?”

(Live together? Here?)

“Sí, acá”. Javier says puckering his lips, moving his mustache funnily. “¿Qué tiene de malo, pues?”

(Yeah, here. What's wrong?)

“Nada, nada… Está bien, me parece chévere”.

(Nothing, it's okay, I like it).

“¿Te parece chévere?” He scoffs sitting up, turning his head towards yours.

(Do you —just— like it?)

“Sí, ¿qué pasó?”

(Yeah, what's up?)

“Pensé que… no sé… que estarías feliz”.

(I thought... I don't know... You'd be happy).

Raising your eyebrows not believing what he's saying, you roll your eyes moving your arms around his neck to push him back again.

“No seas pendejo, Javi… Estoy más que feliz”.

(Don't be an idiot, Javi... I'm more than happy).

Embracing him tightly to your chest, you sink your nose into his neck taking a deep breath from his scent, almost dizzying you.

“Mírate… de perro callejero a perro casero”. You chuckle close to his ear, biting softly his earlobe.

(Look at you... from stray dog to domesticated dog).

“Pendeja…”

[forever-rogue]

“Why do you know how to get bloodstains out?” with Mando! Maybe something super fluffy and soft?

“One day, my sweet boy, we’re going to live somewhere beautiful. It’s going to have a big yard, maybe in a forest somewhere, somewhere surrounded by trees and lakes and flowers,” you said softly as you poured more soap into the big wooden bucket you were sitting in front of, “and you’re going to be able to play with all the children that live nearby. We’re not going to have to hide away all the time. Just you, me, and Din.”

The Child next to you cooed happily, standing up and looking into the bucket, his big eyes wide with curiosity. You smiled at him fondly, reaching over and gently petting his big ears. You grabbed one of Din’s shirts, holding it up to the light and examining the various stains all over it - mostly old blood, most of which luckily wasn’t his. The Child tried to mimic your actions, grabbing a shirt and tossing it into the bucket and looking to you for approval.

“Very good,” you told him and he grinned at you. You put the one who had grabbed and tossed it in, soaking it thoroughly and making sure it was getting coated in the soap mixture you had concocted. Grabbing Din’s other shirts, you repeated your actions, letting the child help you as much as he could.

“Now we just leave them and wait,” you stood and stretched, grabbing the small creature and picking him up, giving the top of his little head a kiss, “why don’t we go and bake something?”

He looked at you, but ended up yawning, resting his head against your shoulder, “alright, alright, how about nap time for you? We can bake something afterwards...maybe we can even make those cookies Din loves so much...even if he won’t admit it.”

The Child seemed to nod slightly and took him back inside the Razor Crest, heading to his makeshift little room and placing him in the small bed that Din had crafted for him. He fell asleep as soon as you placed the blanket over him, the lightest of snores coming out of his little mouth, “goodnight for now.”

Walking away, you sighed contently to yourself, deciding to go back outside and sit in the light, trying to soak it all up before the end of the day. You checked on the shirts and pants that you had already washed and hung out to dry, proud of your handiwork when you realized that they were good as new. Holding one, you held it to your chest, almost as if hugging it and giving a good sniff; even though it had been washed, Din’s smell clung to it. It was already familiar, and made you feel safe, even if he wasn’t there.

You folded the shirt and tossed it into the clean basket to bring back inside later before sitting down next to a tree, leaning against the thick trunk. A large shadow suddenly loomed over and you looked up to find yourself face to face with your favorite Mandalorian.

“Hi,” you said as you gave him a small smile, patting the empty space next to you, “I was wondering when you’d be back.”

“I wasn’t gone that long,” he said, a tone of amusement coloring his voice as he sat down next to you. You shrugged as you scooted closer to him, your hand brushing lightly against his. He hesitated for a moment before slowly taking off his gloves and tossing them to the side, gently placing his hand on top yours, followed by a light squeeze.

You smiled to yourself as your face heated up at the light touch. The two of you hadn’t ever expressly said that you fancied each other, but you didn’t have to, everything came so naturally and organically. But recently, things had become more intimate, accidental touches became more purposeful, intended touches lingered, words more were gentle, and new conversations were had. Slowly, ever so slowly, you were breaking him out of his shell, causing him to experience all sorts of feelings he never thought he’d feel.

“It’s always too long when you’re not here,” you said quietly, feeling his gaze on you. He was thankful for the helmet in that moment, otherwise you would have seen the biggest of grins on his flushed face, “but you came back just in time. I was going to make cookies, but the my little assistant wanted a nap. Perhaps you’d be my assistant instead?”

“Yes,” he answered almost instant and you tried to contain the grin on your own face, eventually giving it up and letting it be, before resting your head on his armored shoulder. His breath hitched lightly as tried to remain calm and ignored that warm feeling spreading through his whole body, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you responded, closing your eyes as you listened to the soft wind rustling the leaves in the trees around you, “anything.”

“Are you happy?” it was a simple question, laced with so many others as you turned to look at him.

“Yes,” you gave him a smile as you slowly reached up and put your hand on the part of his helmet where his cheek would have been. You hadn’t seen his face yet, but you didn’t mind; you already knew you were a sucker for him a long time ago, “I’m very happy, Din. I know things aren’t conventional, or what most people consider perfect, but I’m happy. Everything happens for a reason, things play out how they’re meant to; the force makes everything work.”

“You still believe in the force?” he asked as you nodded. You’d talked about it before, how you held onto your steadfast belief that it was all around you, that it connected everything and everybody, while he didn’t...not that he didn’t per se, his belief just wasn’t nearly as strong as yours.

“It brought me to you,” you reminded him, dropping your hand and grabbing his, lacing your fingers through his and pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. You had found him lying in a darkened alleyway, halfway to death, during your first encounter. You don’t even know why you had been drawn to going home down that pathway that night, but something had told you to do it, and you were glad you had. You had saved him that night, nursing him back to health over the next couple of weeks. Little did he know that he had saved you, in other various ways, just as much as you had saved him, “of course I believe in it.”

He made a small sound, almost laughter, but also one of adoration as he reached up and touched your cheek, running his thumb over it gently, “I’m happy too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed and you felt yourself turning warm under his intense gaze, “can I ask you something else?”

“Yes.”

“W-why do you know how to get bloodstains out?” you followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at his shirts on the makeshift clothesline. You laughed and looked and he looked back at you, “what? I’m being serious.”

“It’s really not that hard, my love,” you said without even thinking about it. It was lost on you, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Din, whose eyes widened as his jaw dropped, heart started to thump around rapidly. He felt as nervous and shy as ever and he wondered if he you had meant it (of course you had), “maybe one day I’ll show you my secret. I had a lot of weird tips and tricks, that one just happens to come in very handy.”

“I...ugh...you-”

“Come on,” you said as you stood up, holding out your hand to him. He looked at you, a goofy grin on his face as he took your hand and you helped hoist him up, “let’s go and bake those cookies. Your favorite are chocolate with chocolate chips, right? Please tell me I remembered correctly!”

“Yes,” he said happily, experiencing a rush of emotion all at once, so much that it was almost overwhelming as he followed you, listening to your soft laugh, “Y/N?”

“Yes, Din?”

“I...” he started but found himself unable to say anything else, frozen when he found you looking at him with curiosity, one eyebrow raised in question. He made a few small sounds, but couldn’t form a proper sentence, instead watching you silently.

“I know,” you said, almost as if you could read his mind, a smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t say anything else as you continued walking to the kitchen, Din quickly following behind you.

Nothing else was needed in that moment, no more words needed to be said. In that moment it was perfect; you knew exactly what he meant and how he felt and he knew just how you felt too. The force had a funny way of things letting you know everything you needed without even trying.

[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (9/13)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER NINE

Mulder rode Hercule into the village alone, as stipulated by the menacing note. Byers, Frohike and Langly had taken Byers' carriage to the edge of town just after they all broke their fast that morning and were set up at strategic locations around the village church. They were watching and waiting. For whom, no one was quite sure.

At the appointed hour, Mulder stabled his horse at the village blacksmith and walked to the church, opening the gate, according to his pocket watch, at precisely 3:00. He walked through the small graveyard and on to the door. Quiet seemed to expand all around him; no horses or carriages passed by in the street, no villagers seemed to walk by, nor call out greetings to each other. All he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the sound of his own heart. He stepped through the door under the tower.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find. Some swarthy-looking brigand or even Spender himself. Instead, the church was empty.  

“Hello?” he called out. His voice seemed to echo coldly against the stone walls. His call was met with silence. He made his way slowly through the nave, the box pews on either side of him empty. He approached the chancel, passing the steps to the empty pulpit, and stopped when he got to the rail before the altar. He turned slowly until he was facing the pews and again called out, “Hello?”

It was then that he noticed a sheet of parchment sitting on the bench of the first pew. He hurried toward it and picked it up, flipped it over. It was blank. When he looked up, there was a gentlewoman standing just inside the south aisle. When he took a step toward her, she turned before he could see her face and rushed out the door of the south porch. He gave chase.

She was wearing a light green frock with a matching bonnet, the sides of which flopped low over her face. She hurried through the gravestones and around the back of the building. When he rounded the corner, he nearly ran into her. She was standing, holding out a piece of parchment like the one still clutched in his hand.

When he took it, she raised her head and he finally saw her face.

“Miss Spender?” he asked, his voice croaking in surprise. “Are you-”

She raised her hand higher, holding the paper almost up to his face.

“Take it,” she said, insistently, “you’ll need to give it to the proprietor of the coaching inn just south of town.” Mulder slowly took the paper from her, his face still frozen in surprise. “He will give you a trunk in which you will place the 20,000 pounds. Once the trunk is secured, he will give you further instructions. You have… you have one week exactly to comply, my lord.”

She turned to go. Shaking himself, he grabbed her arm. She startled but turned.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

She smiled sadly. “You have made your choice in this life, Lord Wexford,” she said, “and I have made mine.”

Anger flared in him and he gripped her arm a little tighter.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “You could have just as easily given these instructions via the post. Why have you implicated yourself in an act so heinous as this?”

“I suppose I wanted to see you, one last time,” she said. “I wanted to say to you… I could have made you happy. We could have been happy together.”

“I am happy,” Mulder said simply.

“But I am not,” she replied in a voice devoid of feeling.

His anger coiled into a snake of rage, fangs bared and ready to strike. He squeezed her arm harder -- hard enough to leave a mark -- and she winced.

“We are going to the constable, you and I. Right now,” he said, his voice low and angry. He turned to leave and pull her along but she resisted.

“If I am not back to my father by an appointed hour, he will hurt Lady Wexford. I swear it.”

Mulder released her and took a step back, gasping. The hand that gripped the paper she had given him was curled around it like a vice, the paper crumpled and crushed. “Tell me where she is,” he whispered.

Diana nodded toward his hand. “Take care with that token, Lord Wexford,” she said, “your wife’s life depends on what you do next.” With that she turned and walked through the back gate, disappearing under the branches of a tree in the village center.

When Mulder emerged onto the street, walking in a daze, Byers, Frohike and Langly all came trotting up from different directions.

“What happened?” Frohike said. “I saw no one. Langly?”

Langly shook his head. They turned to Byers.

“I saw no one but a gentlewoman praying over a grave,” Byers said, a little out of breath.

Mulder couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes.

“A gentlewoman in a light green frock?” he asked. Byers nodded, his brow creasing in concern. “It was Miss Diana Spender,” Mulder said without inflection, “I have one week to put together 20,000 pounds.”

He turned toward the blacksmith’s and walked away from his friends.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning after bringing her breakfast and a fresh chamber pot, Duane Barry came to clear her plate and stood in the doorway of her room, hovering.

“Mr. Barry?” she asked, looking at him in question.

“If you care to follow me?” he said, “you’ll want to grab your washing.” He then turned on his heel and marched out the door. She grabbed her clothes and rushed to follow him before he could change his mind.

He hastened through the house, and she looked around her, trying to memorize the layout. The house was well appointed, but not necessarily well kept. There seemed to be a layer of dust that lay over all the furnishings, reinforcing Barry’s stance that he was indeed the only other person (or at least the only staff) in the house. She listened for any other movement but heard none.

He led her down a hallway and a staircase, turning left, then right, and down a small set of stairs to the kitchen, through a scullery door and out into the blazing sunshine. He turned to her expectantly and she gathered her wits, looking about her.

Several feet away sat a large copper boiler atop a small fire, which steamed in the sunlight. Next to it sat a tub, a two foot long wooden paddle and a short table upon which sat lye soap, chalk, a lemon, and a small bottle of clear liquid. She approached the table and gave the bottle a dubious sniff. Kerosene.

“The kerosene is for bloodstains, ma’am. My lady,” Barry amended, looking away. She nodded. “Has a lady as fine as yerself ever done the washing, ma’am?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and decided honesty was the best policy. She knew the basics, but...

“I have not,” she said, “But I am a woman of my time, Mr. Barry, eager to learn anything and everything.”

“You’ll boil the clothes first in the copper kettle,” he said, then pointed to the paddle, “you’ll want to agitate them for a quarter hour. Then into the tub with the lye soap. Once washed, you can treat for, uh, stains… Again, the kerosene is for blood,” his cheeks colored, “the chalk for grease, the lemon for any bleaching as it may need. Should you, uh, ever need to do laundry again, nearly every kitchen is outfitted similarly.” She nodded. “Then you wring out excess water, and hang to dry. There is no clothesline here, but some fine bushes and hedgerows. If’n you’re lucky, they’ll be dry by evening.”

Scully looked about her, taking the opportunity to scan the area around the small kitchen garden. Beyond the garden gate, there was a decently sized but unkept lawn and beyond that, the iron fence. There was a back gate in the fence, likely used by household staff.

She looked back toward Barry, who lowered himself onto a three-legged stool by the kitchen door and watched her warily. She turned toward the few pieces of clothing she needed to wash and dumped the lot of them into the boiling kettle. Picking up the paddle, she swirled it through the water, tentatively at first, and then with more force, careful to keep the hem of her skirts away from the small fire beneath it.

Once she got into the rhythm of it, she turned to Barry, stirring all the while. “Is this your first kidnapping?” she asked, peering closely to gauge his reaction. “Or is it your main profession?”

He had the decency to look abashed.

“It is my first time being abducted,” she went on, and with that word, he got a queer look in his eye. “I suppose we shall get through it together,” she finished. She turned back to her washing. Her arms were beginning to ache and her brow to sweat, but she was too proud to do anything but carry on.

“I am sorry for it, ma’am,” he said, “my lady,” he corrected.  

“Are you?” she challenged him.

He took a deep, bracing breath, and then he looked away.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“I care not about the money. I will pay it,” Mulder said, as they sat around the dining room table later that same evening. The Wexford fortune was large enough to weather a 20,000 pound blow. “But I’ll not let the Countess be imprisoned by that man for another minute. We must find him. We must find her .”

The other men around the table grumbled their agreement. Suzanne was so distraught by what had happened that she’d taken to eating all of her meals in her chambers.

Mulder pushed the food around his plate for one more minute and then rose quickly, startling the footmen who stood about the room, ready to serve. Food tasted like ash in his mouth. The world had no flavor and less color without his wife beside him to enjoy it with. “I cannot countenance this,” he spat and turned to leave the room. “Alex!” he said -- his own footman had been helping serve the meal.

“My lord?” Alex said, stepping forward.

“With me,” Mulder said and strode from the room. Alex followed obediently. The footman had been extremely helpful; going out of his way to assist Mulder with nearly all of the searches for the Countess. Mulder thought that perhaps he felt guilt for not being able to identify the rider who had returned to the estate with Easterly the day Scully had gone missing. When pressed, Alex did admit that it could very well have been Duane Barry. Alas, there was nothing for it, Mulder concluded, but to carry on.  

“Get a coat,” Mulder said, making his way to the door of the manse, “and meet me in the stables. We’re riding into the village.”

[lifepros]

#13118

If you ever have to live in your car... How to save money & be comfortable!

Bring Milk Crates For More Surface Area: If you have a small car like I do, you probably won't be able to sleep comfortably in the back seat due to the lack of surface area. In reference this video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_Usqf7aNxg), you can place milk crates in your backseat and cover them with blankets to increase your sleep surface area. You might even be able to extend your legs all the way! If you still can't, like me, it's still quite comfortable. I cycle through 3 sleep positions:

Back against the seat, head facing the windshield, legs 90% extended over milk crates. This is known as the "J Sleeping Position" in the YouTube video Butt resting against front seats with most of body on the milk crates, head facing the direction of the rear windshield. Leg extension will probably be about 70%. Face down with right leg near a 90 degree angle on top of the milk crates, and left leg 100% extended into the crevice between the passenger seat and the door.

How To Wash Dishes: When you finish your meal, use paper towels to wipe out all the food scraps that are left on your utensils, plates, and bowls. After it looks completely empty, use a dish brush, a bit of water, and some dishsoap to lather up all your things with soap. After they're all lathered up, use a squirt bottle of water (to direct and conserve water) to wash off all the soap. Ideally, you would use very hot water, but that's not always realistic.

Cover Your Windows: You should cover your windows, not only for privacy, but so you have an easier time sleeping at night without as much light coming in. You can cut out black plastic to cover your driver-side windows & place them by rolling up your window to trap the plastic so it dangles down. Your windshield can easily be covered by a traditional sun cover, usually used to block the sun's heat from getting trapped in your car. Your rear-windows are best covered with a window sleeve that acts as a bug net, this way you reduce the transparency of the window, but more importantly you can open the windows a crack and get ventilation without risking any bugs from coming in. The best way I found to cover the rear windshield is with black plastic placed from the interior of the car, and using strong magnets to hold it (placed on the interior and exterior of the car). This is all partly shown in this Youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_Usqf7aNxg

Getting & Storing Water: Some people recommend asking businesses to use their water supply (visible outside the building) to fill up your water tanks, but I haven't had success with that. It's hard to find, the employees usually don't know the water supply exists or if they're allowed to allow you to use it, and I usually just get told no. Instead, I fill up a 5 gallon jerry can with water at the grocery stores, which is great because this water is meant for drinking. This means you can get clean water super cheap for both drinking and bathing. For storing your shower water, you put it in a 5 gallon bucket with a waterproof sealing lid. For drinking water, you can keep it in your 5 gallon canister and pour it into water jugs (using a funnel) whenever you run low in your bottles.

How To Accessibly Cook Quickly & Easily Anywhere & Store Fuel: I can't give tips on how to cook quickly and easily without making product recommendations, which is not allowed in this group. As for storing fuel, I can't make this recommendation blatantly for all fuel as they have different temperature storage requirements. For the fuel I use, which I cannot mention due to the rules, I've been recommended to store it under the passenger seat (to minimize exposure to heat) and I haven't had any problems. When storing fuel, make sure you park your car under shade whenever possible (during hot days) and put the sun visor up in your windshield to block some heat.

How To Find Work: I can't recommend specific places to find work due to the rules, but what I can do is recommend freelancing and/or independent contracting gigs (which let you choose your own schedule, who you do business with, and where you work). Although, it seems the US may pass legislation to remove most (accessible) contractor work and consider it employment, which would remove contracting's beneficial, flexibile qualities. Keep an eye on that!

Eat All Your Meals at Once (Unless You Eat Out): If you're working while you live in your car, it's really impossible to cook 3 meals a day due to all the prep-time, eating-time, and clean-up-time it takes. You can fall into a pattern of eating one meal a day without feeling hungry, but please ensure you're eating enough calories for your age, weight, etc. You should probably also see a doctor to make sure it's safe to do for you. It saves a lot of time and makes the day's routines so much easier.

Do Your Own Laundry: Laundromats can get expensive if you go frequently, and you may not have even brought enough clothes with you to get through a few days without doing laundry. Some people do their own laundry in buckets, but it seems like too much set-up and too much water. I had success doing 1-2 loads of laundry per day in a "wash bag." It takes literally 5-7 minutes to wash & rinse each load of laundry. To dry it fast, you can "squeegee" the clothes with your hand to get any leftover water out, then place it with maximum surface area exposed onto a laid out towel. After all your clothes are laid out onto the towel, you can roll up the towel with the clothes in it until it looks like a long snake. Then, you can squeeze, press, and even put your knees all across the towel a few times to get as much water absorbed from the clothes into the towel's fibers. After this is done, you can hang a clothesline with paracord in the woods from tree to tree to hang your laundry by clothespins in the sun. Personally, and this might not be healthy, I hang my laundry on a clothesline in the back seat of my car with a towel laid underneath, and I try to park my car in locations where the clothes will be exposed to sunlight. By the end of the day, the clothes are almost always completely dry, even on cloudy, rainy days.

Go To A Real Laundromat 1x a Month: The towel you use to dry your clothes should definitley be washed, but it's probably too big to fit in a wash bag. Your blankets are also likely too big. This is why I take all my stuff to the laundromat for one "real" wash a month. Just because I'm going, I also include all my clothes which are ordinarily washed by the wash bag, as well as my pillowcases and anything else I can find that might need a wash.

The Cheapest & Most Accessible Shower Option: Some people use gym memberships to have consistent access to a shower, but gyms can be expensive and if you're traveling, you won't always have access to the same gym, and you probably don't want to have 10 different gym memberships.We're going old-school and using a bucket full of water. I take my jerry can full of water and fill up a 5 gallon bucket about halfway. I go out into the woods with a "shower tent" (for privacy), a change of clothes, flip flops, a bucket of water, shampoo/soap/hygiene items, a small towel, a bag (holding most of this), and a canteen. I set up the shower tent and fill up my backpack full of all the clothes I was previously wearing. I then put my bag of clothes and shoes outside the tent, while I'm nude wearing flipflops inside the tent. Then, I use a canteen to pickup some water from the bucket and do 1 big dunk of water over my head, trying to get it to run over my whole body. I take a 2nd canteen full of water to wash over areas I missed (armpits, groin, etc). 1st thing I wash is my hair with shampoo. Then I lather up with soap all over my body. After that, I take about 5 or 6 canteens full of water to wash off the soap with water. Most of the time when I wash my body, since I'm pretty tall, I do it in a crouched position so I can hold the canteen above my head in the shower tent. After I'm all washed off, I dry off with the small towel and start putting on my clothes except my socks. I go outside the tent to sit down on a rock and dry off my feet and put on my socks and shoes (without getting the socks wet). I usually try to shower around 6 or 7am when there's less people around and there's daylight (and there aren't mosquitos everywhere). If you have leftover water in your bucket, you can put a waterproof sealing lid over the top of it to store the bucket safely in your car.

How To Be Covert: It's hard to be covert about sleeping in your car because you'll have black plastic hanging on the outside when you're sleeping, and during the day you'll have laundry in your back seat. I don't have a solution for any of that. But, in the morning, when you shower, you might have some serious stage fright if there's people around. What I like to do is pretend I'm going for an early morning workout into the woods (usually of a park or hiking trail). My backpack carries all my hygiene items so no one sees them. I carry the bucket full of water with the lid on as if I'm going for a workout carrying heavy stuff into the woods. Over my clothes I'm wearing an overlay warm-up/workout jacket and pants. That way, when I shower and change clothes and come back, I'll still have the overlay jacket and everything over it, so people won't see the change of clothes and won't be suspicious. Also, in the event someone comes across you in your tent and asks what's going on, you can make up a lame excuse (and see if they accept it) that you saw a tick on your body and wanted to do a quick tick check before you return to your car (so the tick doesn't escape into your car). I haven't had anyone come across me before. One of the most important parts of being covert when showering is actually going deep enough into the woods, off the hiking trail, to be away from people for the short time you'll spend showering.

Where To Sleep: You can sleep in most Walmart parking lots without having to buy anything. Some Walmarts don't allow people to park there, so you might consider calling the Walmart before you come. You can also sleep in truck stops, but I'd recommend doing your research to make sure it's popular and big enough so that you'd feel safe. There are apps with listed places you can park for the night, and some truck stop apps tell you how many parking spaces their truck stops have (so you can guage popularity).

Security: Never tell anyone where you're sleeping or even that you're sleeping in your car. If you feel unsafe where you're parked, find a new place to park for the night. I recommend carrying a knife and/or pepper spray if you feel comfortable. At the very least, carry a loud whistle. Always lock your doors at night. Have a flashlight/lantern accessible and nearby. If you're exceptionally worried about getting mugged or things stolen from you, I've heard a tip where people wear a fly fishing vest underneath their clothes and keep all their important possessions in its pockets. If someone mugs you quickly, they'll probably just ask you to empty your pockets and it'd be too difficulty/long to have you take off all your clothes and then unzipper your pockets and empty them. Other than that, always make sure someone knows where you are and where you're going, checks up with you in the morning to make sure you're safe, and are "on-call" in case you call or text them in an emergency.

​

NOTE: I do not sleep in my car full-time. I go every once in a while for 5-7 day (or so) bouts because I find it enjoyable. The 1st thing I wanted to do when I started this was find strategies to make car-living comfortable and easy. I really hope these tips find someone in need and helps them strategize a way to do so comfortably and frugally.

​

Updates:

Charging Electronics: You can get a power bank that holds a long charge. Use this to charge things like your fan, phone, smaller power banks, laptop, etc. The best place for charging things that I've found are public libraries. A great way to access wifi, get work done, keep in touch with people, etc, all while your power bank charges. Look for power banks that can charge a laptop 2-3+ times.

Staying Cool In The Summer: Getting an electric car fan (that works by USB) will save your sanity in the summer. You can place it between the driver and passenger seat at night and direct it either at you, or at the ceiling to circulate the air. I don't think living in a car can be comfortable in the heat without a quality fan.

[lesbianshinobus]

the lodgers, part two ;

tanjirou, zenitsu, inosuke, nezuko & reader, kimetsu no yaiba. you had prepared for house guests, but nothing could have prepared you for them. part one / read on ao3.

heads up, this fic is different from others in that the reader interacts with all four characters (including nezuko), with romantic hints sprinkled in. this is because i’m conflicted on which pairing should be the “true” one, plus this way you all can enjoy your favourite pairing.

i’m not sure how many parts this series will have, but if there’s interest, i’ll do my best to write more. :^)

It begins as a regular morning. You awake, freshen up, and start on your chores. It isn’t time for breakfast just yet, so you let the demon slayers be.

It’s easy to forget you have house guests this time of day. You balance a basket of clothes on your hip and step outside, into the courtyard, to wash them. You had done laundry the day before, of course, but this bundle was for the demon slayers. Their uniforms were durable, but there was a faint odor to them that could be removed with a wash. Soap suds slip through your fingers as you wring the fabric; once you’re done, you hang them along the clothesline to dry.

Just as you’re hanging the last item, though, you hear the door to the courtyard slide open violently.

“THERE YOU ARE!” booms a voice from behind you. “THIEF!”

You swing around to see the boar-headed boy. Inosuke. He’s in the yukata from last night and his boar head is missing, revealing pretty features and intense eyes. It makes sense, you think to yourself even as he advances on you, since he must have been sleeping just moments ago.

As Inosuke closes the distance between you, seething, you hold your hands out in supplication. “Inosuke-san, I’m not a thief,” you say as calmly as you can. You’ve dealt with angry demon slayers before, but none that suspected you to have stolen something. “What did you lose? Maybe I can help you find it?”

“HAH! It’ll take more than that to fool me!” Inosuke jabs an accusatory finger at the clothesline. “Clearly! You stole my clothes!”

You stare at his finger and follow it to where his uniform hangs, fluttering in the slight breeze. Slowly, you turn back to him. “...Inosuke-san, I took those to clean and dry them. Just like I did with Tanjirou-san and Zenitsu-san’s uniforms.”

He blinks, the enraged expression on his face freezing. “You stole them...to clean them?” You purse your lips at ‘stole’ but nod. “Oh.” After a moment, he turns to the clothesline and inspects it with a frown.

You scowl, affronted. Is he not gonna apologize for wrongly accusing me of stealing? You’re quickly learning that this boy has no manners to speak of.

“Why’ve you put our uniforms on this thing anyway?” Inosuke says instead.

Does he not know what a clothesline is? Or the concept of basic hygiene? “I hung them on the clothesline so they’ll dry in the sun,” you say, before you raise an eyebrow. “How do you clean your clothes?”

Inosuke shrugs. “I just toss them in a stream then put them out over some rocks.”

It’s clear he’s not from a privileged background, as some demon slayers are. That...explains a lot. “It’s the same idea, pretty much.” You lean down to pick up the empty basket. “We should head inside. Grandmother will be finished making breakfast soon.”

He perks up at that and hurries inside the house, as if the confrontation never happened. You shake your head as you follow behind at a more sedate pace.

The morning is already off to an interesting start.

✧

Even before you slide open the door to the demon slayer’s room, you can hear Zenitsu’s anguished cries. You’re greeted by his teary, snot-filled face once you do. He’s still lying in his futon, blankets wrapped snugly around his body.

“IT HUUURTS!” he yowls to no one, fat teardrops falling down his cheeks in rivulets. “That’s it! I quit! I can’t do this anymore!”

You stare at him, stupefied. He wants to...quit being a demon slayer? Demon slayers only retire when they can’t swing a blade decently, or so you thought. You turn away before your gawking is noticed.

“Quit your whining already! I’m going deaf!” Inosuke says, yelling at the same volume as the other boy. You force yourself not to deadpan at him and instead bring in the foldable trays one by one, breakfast balanced atop them.

Tanjirou, who looked miserly when you came in, rises to his feet eagerly. His brow furrows with pain, before it smooths out moments after. “Here, let me help—”

You set the tray in your hands down carefully, ignoring his offer. “Tanjirou-san, you need to rest. Too much strenuous work will only further aggravate your injuries.” You’ve heard Grandmother say this to demon slayers so many times, it’s as if you’re reading the lines off a script.

“Right...okay...” He visibly wilts. You almost feel bad for reprimanding him. Almost.

You straighten up once you’re done. “If you need anything else, do not hesitate to inform me or Grandmother,” you say, bowing your head.

Tanjirou bows back, before he presses his hand to his injured ribs. You frown at him, displeased. He smiles apologetically. “We will. Please thank your grandmother for making us breakfast. And thank you for bringing it!”

You purse your lips before nodding and making yourself scarce. As you walk down the corridor, you marvel at these house guests. They are so...strange.

You don’t know what to make of them.

✧

You stay out of the demon slayers’ path for the rest of the day. You throw yourself into work, being excruciatingly thorough and taking your time with every chore. Grandmother takes their lunch and dinner to them, while you clean out pots and pans and wait for her to return so you can eat together.

At dinnertime, Grandmother pauses while eating, her chopsticks inches from her mouth. “Oh dear,” she says, lips pressing into a thin line. “I didn’t give the demon slayers the desert I made.”

You chew your food, making sure to swallow before you say, “It’s okay. They can have some in the morning.”

But Grandmother shakes her head. “It should be enjoyed while it’s fresh and hot,” she insists. When she moves to put her chopsticks down and stand up, you stop her with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, alright. I’ll give them the desert.” So much for keeping your distance.

You take a single tray to their room, balancing three bowls on it. The demon slayers had been loud and raucous all day, but they’re silent now. You wonder if they’re sleeping. You would leave without disturbing them, but you know Grandmother would be disappointed to see you return with the desert uneaten.

So you slide open the door with a foot, announcing yourself, “Demon slayers, I have brought you—”

Tanjirou shouts your name. “W-Wait! Don’t come in!”

He sounds so horrified, you think you walked in on them changing. But all three of the demon slayers are wearing their yukatas. They’re staring at you in shock.

You blink at them, confused.

Then you notice the girl.

She has wide, pink eyes, and she’s blinking back at you innocently. A bamboo stick is strapped between her lips. Thick, dark hair cascades down her back. All things considered, she’s really pretty. Except for the fact that she’s a demon.

The tray slips from your frozen fingers. “D-D-D—” You fall onto your behind, stammering and pointing. “Demon!”

What is going on? How did a demon manage to stumble into your home? Why haven’t the demon slayers killed it yet? Why are they just watching? Your heart is in your throat, beating furiously.

You stare at the three boys, then whip back towards the demon. “What are you doing?”

“It’s...It’s not what it looks like,” Tanjirou says weakly.

“It’s not what it—” you sputter, before growing firm. “Is that not a demon?”

“Well, yes—”

“Are you not demon slayers?”

“We...We are—”

“And is it not your duty to kill demons?”

“Technically, yes—”

“Then why aren’t you killing it?!”

Zenitsu jumps in front of the demon, his arms splayed out. At first you think he’s—very stupidly—trying to protect the rest of you. Then you realize he’s glaring at you. “How dare you! No one is killing Nezuko-chan!”

“Nezuko...chan...” You feel faint. A demon slayer...is protecting a demon...from a human. What in the world is going on? Have you fallen asleep in your dinner again, and this whole confrontation is a dream?

You turn to Inosuke, hoping that he will be the rational party at least. He isn’t even paying attention. He’s crouched, inspecting the fallen desert with a thoughtful frown.

On second thought, you shouldn’t have expected Inosuke to be the most rational out of the three of them.

Tanjirou steps forward, sweating. “It’s okay! Really!” he says. “This is my sister, Nezuko. She’s a demon, but she hasn’t eaten anyone. She’s safe, I promise!”

You stare at him. “That makes no sense,” you say slowly. “It’s a demon. All they do is eat humans!”

“I’m telling the truth,” he insists. “It’s been two years, and during that entire time, she hasn’t harmed a single human!”

You want to run out the room screaming. You want to force them to leave. You want the demon gone. Then you realize, looking around Zenitsu’s shoulder, that the demon has yet to attack. It’s just staring at you with its wide, pink eyes.

Is Tanjirou not lying?

While you try to process this information, Zenitsu coos over the demon. “Are you alright, Nezuko-chan?” he asks. “You must be so frightened! Don’t worry, no harm will come to you. Not while I’m here!”

The demon—Nezuko—turns to him. You get the feeling she has no idea what he’s saying.

You realize you’re still sitting on the floor. Slowly, you stand up, dusting yourself off. “I...I must speak with Grandmother about this,” you stammer.

“Then speak,” comes Grandmother’s voice from behind you. All of you jump at the sound, whirling towards her in surprise.

“What did I say?” Zenitsu whispers furiously to Tanjirou. “She’s a monster! A real monster!” He earns a punch in the gut from his friend. Good.

You race to her side. “Grandmother, they have a demon with them,” you explain quickly. “They’re claiming that she hasn’t...she hasn’t eaten a human since she turned.”

“I heard,” she says. “You all were quite loud.”

Tanjirou blinks. “Oh. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Grandmother says. Her expression remains serene. “You can continue to stay here, demon slayers. If you say that she is not a threat, then we believe you.”

Your eyes bulge. “Do we?” you hiss at Grandmother. She nods her head.

“It’s late,” she continues. “We’ll let you turn in for the night.” She turns to you. “Could you clean up the mess, dear?”

You sway on your feet, shocked by the turn of events. “S-Sure, Grandmother.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, everyone.” She leaves without another word.

Slowly, your head turns to the other occupants in the room. “I’ll...pick up the desert...” you say, your voice devoid of emotion. “I apologize...for the mess...”

Inosuke stands to his feet, licking his lips. “That desert wasn’t bad,” he says. “Tell the old lady I want it tomorrow too.”

You look at the ground. It’s spotless. He must have eaten the desert off the ground while the rest of you were talking. “...Right...”

You collect the tray and bowls, but before you can finally leave, Tanjirou stops you. “Are you...okay?” he asks, concerned. “I’m very sorry for not telling you about Nezuko earlier.”

You stare at him. It would be easier for you to parse your thoughts and feelings about the matter if he wasn’t so goddamned nice. “It’s just as Grandmother said,” you say eventually.

His pinched features clear up, and he grins. “Thank you for believing in us! I promise, no harm will come to you as long as we’re here!”

You’ve had enough of these guys. “Uh-huh. Goodnight, demon slayers...and demon.” You walk out the room on shaky legs, wondering what the hell Grandmother signed you up for. If you’re lucky, when you wake up tomorrow, this will have been a terrible, elaborate dream.

Of course, because your life is just a series of misfortunes, it’s not.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[threnodygrimblood]

The Family that Shouldn’t Be

Summary: With Muriel and Eustace dead, Courage finds himself all alone at the farmhouse. Fortunately or unfortunately for Courage, the villains he faced in the past begins to make themselves at home at the farmhouse, bringing with them much fun and mayhem the small pink dog can handle.

Rated T for just in case

I was originally going to introduce the Clutching Foot into chapter seven but I couldn't think of a idea so I wrote this one up.

Fun fact: I never saw Toy Story 4 and so a few days after posting my chapter with the dummies I rented Toy Story 4 and saw the four dummies in the movie and all I could think about was what a coincidence.

All Courage the Cowardly Dog character belongs to John Dilworth

The Dream that Became A Nightmare

֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍

Sunlight fell across Courage's eyes, waking him from his sleep. A groan escaped his mouth as the sunlight made his head throb. Why was his head throbbing? What happened last night? What did Cajun make to give Courage a pounding headache? Courage slowly opened his eyes and blinked them a few times. He slowly turned his head towards the window to see the sun high in the sky, and he wondered why he overslept. Another aspect that confused Courage was he was back at the foot of the bed and not in Muriel's place.

I must've moved here in my sleep. Courage thought.

He jumped down from the bed and headed for the door. He stifled a yawn and wondered if there was any breakfast left. Courage walked down to the living room, and the first thing he noticed was how empty and quiet it was. How unusual. He heard a noise as he neared the door to the kitchen, a very familiar humming noise. He opened the door, walked in, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Courage's eyes widen, his mouth hung open, and he could feel his heart beating fast in his chest. Muriel hummed a happy tune as she busied herself at the sink. She turned and smiled at Courage.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you have a good sleep?" she asked.

Tears blurred Courage's eyesight as he ran over to Muriel and hugged her legs.

"What's ever the matter, Courage?" Muriel asked, concerned for the little dog.

Courage tightened his grip on Muriel as tears fell from his eyes. It was a dream — all of it. Muriel and Eustace's deaths, being alone, and then the villains coming to the farmhouse and staying. Nothing but a dream. Here Muriel is alive, and the villains aren't living at the farmhouse with him.

"I had a dream. A terrible dream that you died suddenly, then Eustace died afterward, and I was alone. All alone." Courage wept.

Muriel pat Courage on the head. "There, there, Courage. Everything is all right now. How about we chase those tears away with some happy plums?"

That sounded perfect.

"Mmm-hm." Courage agreed, pulling away from Muriel and wiping the last remaining tears from his eyes.

Muriel resumed her humming as she headed for the refrigerator to get the plums. Courage sniffed and watched with a smile on his face, happy to have Muriel back. Something flickered out the corner of Courage's eye, he turned towards it but didn't see anything. Courage shook it off as the sun reflecting of a tear in his eye and went to help Muriel make the happy plums.

Courage and Muriel sat down at the kitchen table to eat the happy plums, and Courage observed that Muriel didn't have a third cup out for Eustace.

"Where's Eustace?" Courage pondered.

"Oh, that man's outside working on his truck. You know how he doesn't like having any of the happy plums." Muriel told the dog.

That makes sense. Courage thought.

"Be a dear and add the sour cream to the plums," Muriel told Courage as she went to place the baking pan into the sink.

Courage took up the spoon and heard something behind him.

"Huh?" he looked over his shoulder but didn't see anything.

"Is something the matter?" Muriel asked.

Courage shook his head and spooned sour cream into the two cups. The dog tried not to think about what he heard, but he could've sworn he had heard his name called out.

After eating the happy plums and washing the dishes, Courage and Muriel did the laundry and took the wet clothes outside to hang.

"I tell you, Courage, sometimes it's nice to let the clothes air dry," Muriel said.

Courage agreed as he helped carry the basket after Muriel. The older woman hung a blanket onto the clothesline, and Courage gave her a

clothespin.

"Co. . .age. . ."

The dog held up another clothespin to Muriel when he heard his name behind him. He looked back and thought he saw something flicker in the distance. He shook his head, believing it's his imagination and handed the clothespin to Muriel.

They did a few more chores around the house until it was time for lunch. Courage sat at the table tail wagging as Muriel brought the contents of their lunch over.

"Here we are, steak and mashed potatoes. I put a wee dash of vinegar in the potatoes." Muriel whispered the last part to Courage.

Courage didn't care if there was vinegar in the potatoes. Courage was more than happy to eat them.

"Co. . .ur. . .age. . ."

Courage had taken his first bite into the steak he had cut off when the voice came back. He ignored it when he realized Eustace wasn't at the table.

"Where's Eustace?" he wondered once more.

"Taking a nap, I imagine. It's no use waking him since he'll no doubt be cranky. I've saved a plate for him to eat once he's awake." Muriel explained.

Courage saw no reason not to believe Muriel and went back to eating his lunch, but that nagging voice kept making itself known.

This was wonderful, this was peaceful, and Courage sighed happily. The rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair as Muriel rocked back and forth was music to his ears. The warmth of her hand as she stroked his head and back was soothing that it made him forget all his worries. The dog was so happy to have Muriel back, and nothing scary happened the whole day.

"Isn't this lovely?" Muriel asked.

Courage made a sound of agreement as he lazily blinked his eyes.

"Doesn't it just make you want to stay like this forever?" Muriel inquired.

Yes, it did. Courage let out a yawn and began drifting off to sleep. The dog was on the verge of dozing when a faint voice pulled Courage out of it.

"Cour. . .age. . .!"

He attempted to ignore the voice and focus on Muriel's petting, but the voice wouldn't let up.

"Snap out of it, stupid dog!"

"Ignore him. That's just Eustace trying to get you to open your eyes so he can scare you like he usually does," Muriel reassured Courage.

Courage agreed that Eustace would do something like that, but his brows still furrowed with a frown. That voice didn't sound like Eustace's voice. And why did he tell Courage to snap out of it instead of wake up?

"Courage!" the voice was growing louder.

"Shh, Courage." Muriel hushed softly. "You need to rest. Just go to sleep, and it will all be over."

Courage wanted to do what Muriel told him, but that pesky voice wouldn't let up.

"Don't give up, Courage!"

Give up? Give up what? All this was becoming frustrating for the dog. It was driving him mad as he tried with all his might to remember why that voice is so familiar.

"Open your eyes, Courage!"

Courage's face twitched. As much as Courage wanted to fall asleep in that warm, loving cocoon, he just couldn't because that voice seemed to echo throughout the room.

"Fight her, Courage!"

Fight her? Why would he want to fight the woman who saved him? Who loves him?

"Shhh." Muriel shushed again.

Courage turned his attention away from that invading voice and tried to focus on Muriel's voice and hand. But the stroke along his back was no longer gentle and warm. It was harsh and pulled at his fur, and why did Muriel's hand feel clammy?

That voice had gotten louder, almost like it was in front of Courage, and it was shouting.

"Don't listen to anything she says!"

Katz!

Courage's eyes flew open as he realized it was Katz's voice he was hearing! His eyes darted left to right, but he didn't see the feline anywhere in front of him. The cat's next words made Courage's blood run cold in his veins and his breath catch in his throat.

"That's not Muriel!"

Heart beating slowly with dread, Courage turned to look over his shoulder at Muriel, and an audible gasp came out his mouth. Muriel's hair became long and wiry, her skin looked dry, and her teeth became longe and sharp.

"Courage?" growled the creature.

Doing what Courage does best, he jumped into the air letting out a loud scream in the creature's face. Courage bolted for the front door and fumbled with the door handle.

"Don't go, Courage!" the creature cried out.

Courage whimpered as he heard the creature lumbered towards him and was able to pry the door open. He ran out the door and kept running straight, using Katz's voice to guide him. The dog didn't know how far he ran until he came to a skidding halt. He stopped at a ledge. He looked around him. He noted that much of Nowhere had disappeared save for the farmhouse and the land around it. Courage shook and wondered how he was going to get out of this nightmare. Did he dare jump?

"Courage!"

Turning back, Courage saw the creature gaining on him. Any minute it will reach him and pull him back. He turned and got ready to jump.

"Courage?"

Muriel's voice caused Courage to pause, and he turned back to see Muriel completely normal again, and the sad look on her face made the dog's heart ache.

"Why do you want to leave? You can be with me safe and sound forever." Muriel pleaded.

Muriel held her arms out, and Courage so desperately wanted to run into those arms. He wanted to stay here with Muriel.

"Courage, please come back to me!"

Katz's desperate plea brought Courage out of his daze. The dog turned back to the edge and with his eyes screwed shut, took the plunge. Courage's eyes snapped open, and the first thing he felt was a pain in his arms. Looking ar them, he caught sight of two different hands holding onto his arms, one belonging to Cajun and the other to Katz's who's claws dug into his limb. His gaze followed the arms to the cat and fox. Both had a determined look on their faces, their teeth bared and clenched tight, and Cajun's sunglasses were slightly askew. Looking closely, he also saw that Le Quack held onto Katz, and Cajun had a rope tied around his waist, and Weremole was at the end of the rope.

"Don't let go!" Katz cried out at the same time as Cajun yelled, "Let go of him!"

Something tugged on Courage again, he looked back and wished he hadn't. He realized his body was half-submerged in water, and he was soaking wet. He also realized Katz and Cajun were equally damp. Looking behind him, Courage saw that they were playing tug-o-war with a considerable emaciated creature with aqua-colored skin, unkempt wiry hair. Two large round black eyes dotted with other eyes above those eyes, and rows of long jagged teeth pushed out from the creature's large lips. It had its long thin arms wrapped around his waist. It was trying to pull the canine into the murky depths of the diminishing pond.

"Aaaaaahhh!" screamed Courage and grabbed onto each of Katz and Cajun's wrists.

"Pull!" Katz shouted.

"I am pulling!" Cajun exclaimed as his feet worked to find footing on the desert ground.

With a mighty tug, Courage was free of the creature's grip, and Katz and Cajun toppled back with Courage landing on top of them. Courage groaned weakly and quickly perked up when he heard the creature shriek. The creature reached for them as its pond grew smaller still. Another scream worked its way to Courage's mouth, but Le Quack had wiggled his way out from under Katz, pulled out his favored mallet, and swung it down onto the creature's hand. It shrieked loudly and retreated into the depths of its pond as it dried up. Courage and the villains stared at the spot the pond was moments before when finally Courage asked, "What happened?"

The villains stared at Courage.

"You don't remember?" Katz asked, concerned.

Courage's brain throbbed as he tried to recall. He was about to tell them he couldn't remember a thing when it came flooding back. The pond appeared on the farmland, and Cajun and the others thought it was the black puddle Queen coming for a visit. Courage, as usual, was hesitant to go near the pond. He wasn't sure what the black puddle Queen would do to him, not since their last encounter, and also because not only did it not look like her puddle, but it was large enough to be a pond, and the water was a different color.

Movement in the water caught Courage's attention, and he saw the creature moving towards Cajun, who had gotten closer to greet the black puddle Queen and unaware of the danger. Without a second thought, Courage rushed passed the others and pushed Cajun out the way as the creature grabbed for the fox.

He looked at the villains and asked incredulously, "You saved me? Why?"

"Some of us owe ya for saving our tails," Cajun answered.

"And it would be, how do you say, boring without you around." Le Quack added.

"But you should've seen it. When that thing grabbed ya and dragged ya into the water, Katz rushed over and grabbed you." Cajun turned to Katz. "I thought all cats hated water."

Katz was miffed, "I can tolerate water when I need to."

That was true. Courage thought as the dog remembered Katz donning scuba gear when he attempted to blow up the submarine.

"I joined in with Katz and grabbed hold of yer arm. Then Le Quack and Weremole came in to help us when the thing started pulling us in as well." Cajun continued. "We didn't know what it did to ya. You were limp and unconscious, and we were calling out yer name, but ya didn't seem to respond. Not until kitty cat called ya a dumb dog did ya react."

"How did you know it wasn't Muriel?" Courage inquired.

"The water must be enchanted. It was reflecting your dream world in its surface." Katz answered.

Once Courage had gotten all his answers, he realized he was cold from the water despite the desert heat bearing down on them, and his arms ached. Moreso, the limb that Katz had dug his claws into.

Katz must've noticed, for he said, "Let's go inside and get you cleaned up Courage."

Courage was ready to get to his feet, but Katz picked him up instead. Courage wasn't sure what to think as Katz took him into the house and up the bathroom on the second floor. The cat placed Courage on the toilet, and the dog watched as Katz turned the water on. When the tub filled up, Katz turned the water off and put Courage into the tub. Courage sat there in silence as the cat bathed him. Courage would protest, stating that he could do it himself, but his arms still ached and throbbed, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to move them without wincing. Wince he did when Katz washed at the scratches on his arm. The feline's face betrayed no emotions as Katz focused on his task of caring for the dog.

Once Katz was sure Courage was thoroughly washed and cleaned, he pulled the plug from the drain and wrapped Courage in a towel. He set Courage back onto the toilet. When Courage was mostly dry, the dog watched as Katz pulled bandages from behind the mirror. Katz knelt in front of Courage and took hold of his arm. Courage could see concern etched into the cat's face as he looked at the scratches.

"I do apologize for scratching you, dear boy. I kept losing my grip, and I couldn't think of any other way to hold onto you." apologized Katz as he dabbed at the wounds with a gauzed pad.

Courage was amazed at how gentle Katz was to him as the cat wrapped the bandage around his arm. Of course, Courage didn't like the feel of the gauzy material around his arm and wanted to chew on it. But glancing up at Katz's narrowed eyes made him pause.

"I will place a cone on you if you even think about chewing on the bandage." Katz threatened.

Courage gave him a nervous smile, and weakly promised not to. Convinced Courage wouldn't, Katz then said, "Now if you will excuse me. I'm going to. . .bathe myself."

Courage's brows furrowed as Katz left the bathroom and wondered for a moment why Katz seemed embarrassed until he realized what Katz meant about bathing himself. The dog felt a flush form on his muzzle, and he tried to think about something else. Luckily Cajun poked his head to inquire if Courage was done getting washed as he too wanted to take a bath.

Courage had slept deeply that night, and by morning his arms ached a lot less, but the bandage still itched, and he wanted to bite at it, but Katz's threat about the cone was still fresh on his mind. The dog sat before the altar Katz had erected in memory of Muriel and Eustace for him. He stared up at Muriel's picture and noted the flowers in the vase were starting to wilt and will need to be replaced soon. He whined softly as that empty feeling came back.

"Aw, don't be sad, pup!" Cajun exclaimed. "I know just the thing to cheer you up! Ice cream topped with my homemade chili chocolate sauce."

Cajun held the bowl before Courage, and the canine could see the fox had drowned the ice cream scoops with his chocolate sauce that it resembled more like soup than ice cream.

"Non, non. What the dog needs is to beat something up." Le Quack stated as he held up a bat.

Weremole walked over and spat a live trembling bunny next to Courage.

"Yuck!" Courage exclaimed in disgust as saliva dripped off the rabbit on to the floor.

As the villains, or at least Le Quack and Cajun were arguing while Weremole growled and hissed, about the best way to cheer Courage up, the dog caught a whiff of something in the air. Leaving the villains to continue their bickering, he followed the smell to the kitchen, where he found Katz pulling a baking tray of plums out

the oven. Katz glanced over to Courage as he asked, "Are those happy plums?"

"'They put a smile on your face' is what that woman wrote in her recipe," Katz said as he began spooning the plums into cups. "Go ahead and spoon as much sour cream into your cup as you want. There's plenty."

Did Katz go to the store to get the ingredients to make the happy plums to cheer him up? Katz's kind gesture touched Courage. Courage didn't know what to say when he realized that the villains were trying to cheer him up in their ways. A smile graced the dog's face as he spooned a lot of sour cream into his cup, and then the other three villains came in to have a cup of their own that Katz denied making extras for. Courage concluded that his life might not be the same when he had Muriel. However, living with the villains still had the same dangers and terrors Courage dealt with daily, but the dog can say for sure he was happy as he chuckled at Cajun teasing Katz and Le Quack grimacing as Weremole inhaled the cup and chewed loudly. A family. He had a family again. It may not perfect, but Courage was happy to have this preculiar family, even if it shouldn't be.

֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍

I know this sounds like the end of the fanfic, but I assure you that it's not. I just wanted the villains to be the ones to save Courage from peril I still have plenty of chapters to write up especially since I have yet to put Courage and Katz together.

[petersmparker]

Such is Life (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter takes a bit of a day off to spend some time with the girl he loves.

Word Count: 1628

A/N: just a quick little drabble because i literally cannot get snuggling out of my touch-starved hell brain (although this isn’t even that snuggly smh). listen, I’m already 2/3 starting fics with Peter getting rained on while being spider-man so when do i get to declare that My Thing?

Despite the storm occurring across much of New York City, the air is warm with midsummer comfort, and Peter Parker finds that he doesn’t mind getting soaked nearly as much as he normally would have. The rain is hard and the wind a bit strong, but the sky is kindly devoid of thunder and lightning. With the weather’s almost-blessing, he had taken to the streets in his regular routine of patrolling as Spider-Man. By now, it’s been about two and a half hours since he had departed his apartment through his bedroom window. In that time he’d stopped no muggings, prevented no break ins, and gotten soaked to the bone in the downpour. Crime didn’t want to go outdoors today, apparently.

He’s taking a couple seconds of rest on top of the community center in Hell’s Kitchen when Karen’s voice breaks through the sound of rain and city noise.

You should head home, Peter, she suggests with a tone not dissimilar from that of a caretaker, Being out in the rain for extended periods of time can weaken your immune system and put you at risk of illness.

Peter lifts his arms to examine the red fabric, darkened with the moisture. “I was kind of enjoying it,” he responds, “But you’re probably right. I’ll head in. Thanks, Karen.”

You’re welcome.

He figures that Karen has a point-- even if today’s weather had been providing an odd kind of delightful discomfort, as if he was in a sun-heated pool fully clothed. The clock situated on the face of the building across the road, however, informs him that it’s still a whole lot earlier than he would typically turn in. Which would mean that today is the first time in a while he’d be able to spend the day with you.

Suddenly motivated to be done for the day, Peter makes his way across Midtown West toward Queens. His apartment building appears in his view after a good few minutes, but he passes his own fire escape and swings around to the other side of the building. The clothing that hangs from your little clothesline drip onto the metal floor of the fire escape, and Peter can’t help but smile when he sees them. Your window is open, allowing the rain to blow in onto your windowsill. As he climbs through, pulling off his mask, he’s quick to give you a humoured look.

“Your clothes aren’t quite dry yet. I checked,” he says, reaching up to release his suit and begin peeling it off his moistened skin.

You’re at your desk, a thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a movie playing on your laptop. You suck air in through your teeth, eyebrows raising, as you say, “Yeah, I forgot to bring them in again. Decided there was no point in bothering now. You’re done for the day, right?”

“Yep,” Peter agrees, as he goes about closing the window behind him and turning out his suit, “Not much going on. Normally would have spotted a few things by now, but it’s pretty lazy out there. So, I thought I would come in early for once. Spend some time with my girl.”

He pads across the room to your closet and puts his suit on an empty hanger to dry, before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple.

“Karen told you to go home, didn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” he admits.

“I knew it,” you laugh, poking his side, “You would have stayed out there all day.”

When Peter hugs you from behind, he’s still very much wet from being outside. His hair drips onto your cheek when he curls into you. Despite the discomfort of having the water run down your skin, his presence has immediately harkened a shift in your mood. You feel softer, warmer, sleepier. Peter is like a cushy pillow or a fuzzy blanket; he’s returning to your own bed after a week away from home. It’s impossible not to melt into him.

“I might’ve stayed out there,” he contends, “but I would have been thinking about being here.”

He turns his head to press a kiss to your neck, and you reach up brush a hand through his hair. “Uh huh,” you murmur, “Go dry off, you’re gonna soak my whole room.”

Peter laughs, but does as he’s told. “A bold accusation coming from the person who left the window open during a storm,” he teases, searching through the bottom drawer of your dresser for a dry pair of his boxers and sleep clothes.

“I like the sound,” you defend, “Only the sill is wet, anyway.”

You watch as he continues to crouch in front of the dresser to search through the drawer. His skin gleams a bit as the string lights hanging around your room reflect off the moisture. He’s a bit too beautiful for your heart to handle.

“Where’s my Midtown sweatshirt?” Peter asks, dropping a pair of boxers onto the floor next to him.

“I’m wearing it.”

Peter glances up at you. “Oh. You are,” he confirms, “What’s wrong with your own?”

“I’m sure mine is doing just fine, thank you. I’ll let it know you asked.”

He comes back over to bend down and give you a kiss, grinning. “Yeah, alright,” he humors you, grabbing the bottom of the sweatshirt to pull it off of your body, “My turn with the sweatshirt now. Wear my decathalon one from last year. It’s too tight around my arms.”

You allow him to take back his property, but voice your support of him perhaps going shirtless. The fact that he continues into the bathroom without even responding elicits a delighted giggle from you. Though you can’t see his face, you know all too well the expression he wears; faintly pinked cheeks and an exaggerated roll of the eyes. Such is the nature of your and Peter’s flirting.

Each teasing comment or joking touch, which at one time served to fuel your high-energy honeymoon stage, has matured in the year and a half you’ve been dating. In the most positive way, your relationship has become a routine.You know that this is something that a lot of couples try to avoid, but with Peter, there’s nothing better to be hoped for. He’s unpredictable, he’s busy, and the world around him has a tendency to get messy. Despite this, your dynamic is forever the same. You adore it. You adore the familiarity.

You adore Peter.

Peter takes his time toweling off his body and hair in the bathroom before he pulls on the clean set of clothes, and returns to find that you’ve put on the grey decathalon sweatshirt as suggested. You’ve left your desk to sprawl out on your bed on your stomach, legs kicking absently behind you. You’re scrolling through your phone and haven’t noticed him, so he takes the opportunity to just look at you.

As time passes, the amount of time Peter gets to spend in your company lessens. With the increasing difficulty of your school lives as you begin to prepare for college, and Peter’s ever-consistent commitment to operating as the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man (in addition to some extra responsibilities occasionally passed down by the Avengers). . . there is less and less time for you to appreciate one another face to face. The love is still there, of course. The affection Peter holds in his heart hasn’t dimmed a bit since the day you first exchanged “I love you”s-- and he’s found that, perhaps, it’s gotten a bit brighter.

Peter does all he can to find time for you, and yet, doesn’t feel the need to punish himself when he simply can’t manage. You’re the pinnacle of understanding and encouragement. The point which he gravitates around. The apartment across the hall may be the place where he lives, but you are his home.

“What’s up, space cadet?”

When you look over your shoulder and call out to Peter, he’s shaken out of his thoughts. The teasing smile that graces your features is a familiar one. This isn’t the first time he’s drifted off like this.

“I think I miss you,” he professes.

Despite the laugh that escapes your lips, your expression softens. Peter responds immediately when you beckon him over to the bed. It’s old hat the way he settles into the left side of your bed, pillow still situated the way he’d left it nearly two nights ago. You don’t sleep on that side of the bed anymore, whether or not he’s there. He rests his head on his arm and uses the other to pull you closer. You pet your thumb across the skin of his cheekbones, coaxing him further into the comfort of the space.

“You’ve been busy lately,” you start, voice delicate, “I’ve been a bit busy too.”

Peter reaches out to pull you forward by the back of your head. The caress of his lips against yours is soft, but a bit needy. For several long moments you’re suspended in time, attentive to nothing more in the world than the gentle press of Peter’s lips, the tangle of his fingers in your hair, and the movement of his body as he shifts to hover slightly over you.

“I kind of hate being busy sometimes,” he sighs once the world starts turning again, lips still brushing against yours.

“That’s just how life is, Pete,” you respond, once Peter pulls fully away to lie back down, “We’re going to be occupied, and then eventually we won’t be. But we’re here. It’s still us. It’ll always be us at the end of the day.”

When Peter envelopes you in a hug, there’s something about it that feels very much like a ‘thank you’.

“That’s all that I need.”

[vannahfanfics]

Hello! I stumbled onto your Luffy x Nami fic "Natural" last night and absolutely adored it! I was wondering, if you take fanfic requests, could you write a cute friendship one shot for Law and Chopper? Their interaction in your fic was just so adorable that I'd love to see you do more. Thank you for your hard work!

Thank you so much for requesting this; I had a lot of fun writing it! Chopper is the best boi, don’t try to change my mind~

EDIT: My dumb ass forgot Chopper was in Zou during the Dressrosa arc. We’re gonna pretend he wasn’t. :D 

Just Another Day in Crazy Land

Law squinted slightly as he stepped out into the morning, raising a hand to his eyes to shield against the persistent and bright rays of the sun shining in the clear sky above; it was quite a difference compared to the dank, gloomy shack he had just exited. Really, it was only so dark because the windows were shielded with thick, dark curtains, staving off any prying eyes that may discover the crew of pirates recovering within its unordinary wooden walls, a tangle of limbs and blankets and bandages. In the distance, Law could see the also-recovering capital of Dressrosa Kingdom; the jagged rubble of collapsed buildings made ugly peaks against the blue sky, like some sort of twisted mountain range. It had only been a night since Law had accomplished his goal of putting a bitter end to Donquixote Doflamingo, with Straw Hat Luffy’s help, and he really ought to stay inside and continue recuperating; however, if he spent another minute amongst their snores and snorts and mumbled lunacies, he was liable to go insane. Additionally, Law had never been one to laze around and sleep all day, even when he had sustained injuries such as those he bore now. Thus, bored and wide awake, he had been lured outside by the rising sun. With a small sigh, he leaned against the wall of the building with his sword propped up beside him, watching the sun paint the sky of dawn.

“Um… Mr., um, Law, sir?” The Heart Pirate captain glanced down with raised eyebrows as he was addressed by the unmistakable, high-pitched, shaky voice of Tony Tony Chopper the reindeer; the little pirate doctor was standing in the threshold of the ajar cabin door, looking like he was trying to peer out from behind the building but was oddly in the complete opposite direction, his entire body sticking out with half his face hidden by the wooden structure. He stiffened as Law turned his gaze on him. Law had discovered he was a skittish thing, and Law in particular intimidated him. He didn’t fault him, really; Law hardly ever smiled and knew he had an intense demeanor about him.

“What is it, Chopper-ya? Do you need something?” Sweat began to bead down his furry face as he debated continuing the conversation and his gaze flickered about before settling on his hooved feet.

“I was, um, wondering if you would take me into town to get more medicine… My stores are pretty low…” That was no shock; Luffy and Zoro were more bandage and salve than person at this point, and the rest of them hadn’t escaped unscathed, either. Chopper stared at him hesitantly, likely expecting a blatant refusal. It’s not like Law wanted to do it, but in the state of disrepair that the city was, with some of Doflamingo’s minor goons still running about and the entire place a construction zone, it likely wasn’t a safe place for the little reindeer to wander by himself, either. No doubt, the rest of the Straw Hats were still passed out on the floor, otherwise Chopper wouldn’t have come within ten yards of him and asked him a favor. Besides, he was awake anyway, so he might as well give himself something to do and hang around one of the loons he actually had something in common with. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself up off the building and grabbed his sword, swinging it up to prop it on his shoulder, and then looked intently at Chopper.

“All right, then, let’s get going.”

“Wah! Okay!” he squealed, darting inside to scramble around and gather up his money and take inventory of what he needed. With all the banging and bumbling happening inside, Law was amazed that none of the slumbering pirates awoke, but as the reindeer scampered out breathing heavily and shut the door behind him, Law heard no signs of life from within. He turned on his heel to set off across the rocky landscape towards the shell of the capital, and heard Chopper’s hooves striking the rocks as he scurried to keep up with him. Law didn’t pay much attention at first, his dark eyes sweeping across the uninteresting rocky steppe of bleak, muted tones and scrubby grasses and shrubs, but eventually he became aware of Chopper’s labored breathing and unsteady gait and he glanced over his shoulder to see him lagging behind, so he took more care to match his stride to the little reindeer’s. Zoro-ya would kill me if I lost him. Law wasn’t afraid of him, but he also didn’t care to have to go up against him, either.

“Wow. Look at it; the Birdcage did so much damage,” Chopper breathed as they came upon the outskirts of the city, the first to be sliced to ribbons by Doflamingo’s power. Since Law had slowed down a little, he had lost the touch of exhaustion to him, and flitted about Law’s feet as he drank in the mass destruction with a mixture of awe and horror. The road was not so much a road, as the dirt path had been eclipsed by the corpses of residential buildings. Law carefully picked his way across the labyrinth of carved stone and shattered glass with Chopper hopping along behind. At first it was easily navigable, but as they headed deeper into the capital, the destroyed shells of the building became more densely packed, spilling over the road in mountainous heaps. Several times Law had to clamber over collapsed sections and pause to grab Chopper by the back of his shirt to haul him over, and every time to little reindeer went limp in his grasp, freezing like a cat held by its scruff, until Law set him down again and he would hop up blushing and rubbing the back of his neck while he sputtered gratuitous remarks.  

After about half an hour of picking their way through the ruins, they entered the area where the pirates and the citizens had made their stand against the birdcage; aside from the deep scores in the ground and a few clipped-off sections of a few buildings, the area was relatively unharmed. It was here that the two pirates finally stumbled upon signs of life- clotheslines strung between adjacent buildings with drying fabrics fluttering in the breeze, houseplants and barrels and decorative items bringing color into the otherwise colorless roads and buildings of stone and wood, a few people strolling about or chatting idly across the way to each other. Chopper got all flustered again when he had to ask a young woman where their marketplace was currently set up, and then he shyly related it to Law, pointing down the street before trotting ahead of him, face scrunched up as he set himself into mission mode. Law strolled along behind the reindeer, his dark eyes creeping into every alleyway and dark corner; it was common knowledge now that he had been instrumental in Doflamingo’s downfall, and the lower-ranking brutes that were still skulking about would no doubt like to get their revenge against him for ruining their paychecks.

They must have been going the right way, because it wasn’t long before the air was filled with the hum of countless voices; shouts and calls and chatter bounced off the buildings as they approached, and through the gaps in the structures Law could see colored fabrics of tents and banners flapping about in the wind. Lights were strung between lampposts, indicating that the market still had a very active nightlife, and the simple stone beneath his feet gave way to elegant cobblestone arranged in a concentric circular pattern throughout the marketplace. He came up on the entrance, where Chopper was perched up on a barrel with one hoof held to his eyes as he scanned the throng for a suitable stall. Law hovered on the edge of the crowd, having no desire to venture within; the place was packed with people. Apparently neighboring islands had heard of the struggle within Dressrosa, and vendors had thought it quite the money-making venture, to bring their wares to the recovering city. Law heard them shouting above the cacophony, offering food and clothing and other things for cheap, good-luck charms and talismans and other scams, “buy-one-get-one” and “half off for five minutes!” The corner of his mouth twitched at the thought of diving into the chaos, but there was no way he could let Chopper go in there by himself, because he would be trampled for sure.

When Law looked at the barrel, there was just empty air where Chopper had been sitting a few seconds ago, and his heart stopped as he realized he was dead meat.

“Shit! Chopper-ya, where did you go?” he shouted and shoved his way into the throng of people without another moment’s consideration. He used the scabbard of his sword to make himself a wider berth in the crowd, and though he got cold looks and affronted gasps from the people there, he righteously didn’t care because he was too busy looking for the doctor. He stumbled out of the writhing crowd on the right side of the market, dashing from vendor to vendor gasping “Haveyouseenatalkingreindeer?” and before the person had even finished refusing and tried offering his wares he would be scrambling off to the next. Law had made a half-circuit of the marketplace and was descending further into a panic as he realized he would be on the receiving end of Zoro’s katanas until he heard distinctive wailing amongst the crowd.

“Wahhhhh! Lawwwww, where arrrrrrrrrre you?”

“Hold on, Chopper-ya, I’m coming!” Law called out before climbing up onto a barrel beside a stall, snapping at the vendor, “Shut your damn mouth, can’t you see I’m busy?!” when he sidled over to the edge of the stall to try to sell him some girly-ass necklaces. He straightened up with his hand held to his eyes to block that annoyingly bright damn sun while he surveyed the gaps in the crowd, looking for any sign of the crying reindeer. His shoulders sagged as he searched for a minute or so to no avail, until finally he caught a glimpse of brown fur and curved horns; his eyes locked onto a sniffling Chopper, who was miserably talking to a brawny man who definitely did not look like he was concerned for Chopper’s well-being. Oh, fuck, he’s gonna bribe him with candy or something and make off with him! he thought in fear, and practically swan-dived off the barrel into crowd. He shoved his way through the men and women frantically, ignoring the cries and curses, and just as the man was reaching down to grab Chopper, Law threw himself out, slid on his belly across the cobblestone, and wrapped Chopper up on his arms while he glared savagely up at the very confused man. “Fuck off. My reindeer.”

“Um, look, I don’t think-“

“I said fuck off! My reindeer! Mine!” Law hissed, practically rabid from his period of heightened emotions, and the man knit his eyebrows as he leaned back and looked at Chopper hesitantly.

“It’s okay! This is who I was looking for! Thank you very much, mister!” the reindeer laughed as he repeatedly squished down the top of Law’s fluffy hat, and which each movement his fur brushed against Law’s cheek; that’s how closely he was holding him. The man looked a bit disgruntled, eyeing Law suspiciously, but the Heart Pirate just continued to glare savagely at him until he shrugged his shoulders and disappeared back into the crowd. Heaving a sigh, Law slowly sat up and brushed the dirt of his black clothes before his intense glare flickered to Chopper. The reindeer instantly stiffened and tears up again, quivering. Law debated yelling at him for a moment, but decided that it wasn’t worth the effort and just settled for flicking him hard in the forehead. “Ow!” he yelped while tenderly rubbing the spot.

“Don’t do that again.”

“Okay… Sorry…” Chopper mumbled obediently as he continued to rub his forehead despondently. “You looked like you didn’t want to go in the crowd, so I thought that maybe I could just be quick, but there’s so many people here that I got swept away…” Law exhaled sharply out of his nose as he looked away awkwardly; he made a mental note to not let his emotions and thoughts show so easily to the little reindeer, lest they end up in more near-disasters like such. He pulled himself to his feet, using his sword as leverage, before propping it on his shoulder again and looking at him pointedly.

“Look, I said I would take you to the market, and I meant it. Now, from this point on, hold onto my cloak so you don’t get lost,” he ordered.

“But-“

“Hoof. Cloak. Now.” As the harshness descended into Law’s voice, Chopper squeaked and hurriedly clutched onto Law’s cloak with his little hooves, nervously gulping. Once the reindeer had securely latched on, Law groaned slightly and let the tension melt from his body; when he opened his eyes, he noticed that he had gathered quite a crowd of concerned-looking people. “What the fuck are you all looking at? Mind your own goddamn business. I’ve got shopping to do!” he snapped with bristling shoulders, and they hurriedly dispersed, not hasty to incite more of his rage. He heard Chopper giggling and he looked down with grinding teeth. “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just kinda funny. You remind me of Zoro.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? He’s an idiot.” Law pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping that the circus of clowns he had been traveling with was not rubbing off on him too much. He glanced down at Chopper out of the corners of his eyes to see him still grinning, and Law allowed his lips to curl into a faint smile. At the very least, he wasn’t bored anymore. “All right, Chopper-ya, let’s get back to what we were doing, yeah?”

“Mhmm! Y’know, you’re not as mean as I thought you were.” As Law lead him out of the middle of the crowd toward the outskirts, he laughed bitterly as he hung his head, admittedly a little sad that the reindeer had been so scared of him.

“Thanks, Chopper-ya…”

“Will you teach me some stuff about medicine sometime? Pretty please? I still have so much to learn!” the reindeer asked with sparkling eyes, and Law could not help but smile in bemusement.

“Sure. Medicine first, though,” he smirked as he led him over to the proper stall, and when they were close enough the reindeer let go of his cloak to scamper over to the stall, a small skip in his step as he beamed in glee. As Law watched him, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly at the mental image of being the apparent caretaker of the excitable little creature, no matter how hard he tried he could not wipe the small smile off his face. Just another day in Crazy Land with the Straw Hats.

They’re a headache sometimes, but they’re not that bad.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

[queermarzipan]

Okay so I said "clothesline" bc that Seemed Right At The Time (like two seconds ago) but actually it's a clotheshorse. Which is like a clothesline in that you hang your clothing on it, usually with pegs, in order to dry it, but also unlike a clothesline because it's a solid metal structure that you can move around, fold up when it's empty, and have inside or outside as you will.

I can't actually remember what we did with the clotheshorses (we have two) before we had the Music Room (which is an "extension" we've had for years that's actually it's own seperate HOUSE in our garden, containing a Music Room (where the piano is kept), an Office (which is in the corner of the Music Room), a Laundry Room (which is a seperate room accessed through a door leading off the music room) and a Bathroom (which is accessed through another door, as well as being a magnet for Daddy-Long-Legs and therefore a source of the Heebie-Jeebies). What we do now that we do have it, though, is keep the clotheshorses in there when the weather is bad (so, like, all the time except in summer, and even then under pain of Checking periodically that it hasn't started to rain), and when it has been deemed Safe, we bring out the Big Clotheshorse and do some fuckery with the swings to make it not fall over if it gets windy. The "ehh, maybe, maybe not" in between Inside, Door Closed and Outside, Tangled In The Swing is, naturally, Half-In-Half-Out Of The Door.

Also: When we need things to dry quickly, we put them on the radiators. This is also where the reusable wax strips are put when they're wet.

Ok, so something I've noticed that is utterly baffling to me is that all the Americans I know primarily dry their clothes using a machine called a dryer. I don't even own a dryer. So, I need to know:

[d-noona]

AERO

SUMMARY: In a future of political, economic and moral collapse, a genetically enhanced superhuman prototype named Y/N escapes from military confines and dwells amidst the decadent underground street life of *Seoul* to avoid government agents who want to bring her back into the fold.

WORDS: 1992

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

M.LIST | CH. 06

CHAPTER 05 - SQUATTERS

Flashbacks

Dreamlike, stroboscopic images of military regimentation. As before, drained color. Y/n, Taehyung and Hoseok in long lens stack. One of your group, a girl with blonde hair, pitches forward onto the floor wracked by a seizure. Y/n and the boys only reacting with their eyes, not breaking ranks as the convulsing blonde girl is dragged away by uniformed orderlies. Flashing moments through your old barracks, Y/n in rows of steel bunks. All beds are filled except one. Y/n lying in the night shadows, stares at the empty bed. She looks down at her own hand with a look of fear, watching her hand shake as she stuff it under the sheet.

Y/n walks down the hall in grey boxers and t-shirt. The corridor is dark but light spills through a door ahead. She approaches slowly, hearing tech sounds and a low murmured dialogue. The high-pitched sound of a medical saw. In a pool of halogen light, the blonde girl lies naked on a stainless steel table surrounded by doctors and med-techs. She doesn't see exactly what they were doing, but she hears the bone saw and realizes that it's an autopsy. Y/n's left standing in horror. It is clear she thinks that they have killed her and are dissecting her like a frog. Standing silhouetted between Y/n and the pool of light is a man in a suit, not in medical greens. He turns and picks up a cup of coffee off a steel cart with one black gloved hand...White. Y/n backs away, as she is yanked by Taehyung and Hoseok with the same fearful expression. Hoseok rubs her shoulders full of concern in his eyes for what may happen to Y/n, him and Taehyung. Taehyung leads Y/n and Hoseok back in their barracks slowly as he tucked her in bed. He looks at her lovingly as he kisses her forehead and heads back to his own bunk just on her left side. Hoseok does the same, plants a kiss on Y/n's forehead and returns to his bunk bed to her right, reaching out for Y/n's hand attempting to ease her worries away.

Y/n attempts to snap out of her flashbacks, hands yanking off a bottle cap, slapping pills into her mouth. She slams her back into the bathroom corner, hugging herself as she slides to the floor, wracked in spasms. Her body shakes with muscle tremors as she clenches into a ball, eyes shut in her own world of pain and memory. Wishing that the two men whom she cared for dearly were with her at this moment. Opening her eyes. The morning light is painful to her as she gets unsteadily to her feet. She leans over the sink and pours water over her head from a plastic jug. Y/n heads out into the living room. As Y/n emerges she stopped in her tracks by the sight of her motorcycle, the handle bars of which are draped with Choon-hee's collection of thong panties hung there to dry. After a beat, Y/n crosses to her bike and removes the confections as she speaks "Choon. This is a motorcycle. Again, its sole reason for its being is to go fast. Very fast. It was not put on this earth for you to use as a clothesline. I love you make no mistake, but I love my motorcycle more. DON'T-TOUCH-THE-BIKE, Okay?"

As Y/N tosses the handful of panties at Choon's sleepy form huddled under a blanket across the room, the form shifts, then sits up revealing Jackson Wang. One arm wrapped around Choon-Hee who's snuggled next to him, still asleep. "What time is it?" Jackson stirs slowly waking from all the noise Y/n was making. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, then, after a beat recognizing Y/N. "What are you doing here?" he asked confused as shit.

"I live here. Guess I don't have to ask what you're doing here" as Y/N stares into the messy bed that laid over her with Choon slowly stirring wake. "You're roommates?" asks Jackson.

Choon-hee wakes up annoyed at the racket both Y/N and Jackson were making. "Some of us are trying to sleep." Jackson slowly gets up and starts running his hands through his hair nervously. He looks at Choon "You didn't tell me you lived with her." As he whispers to Choon-hee. Y/n quirking an eyebrow up obviously hearing the faint statement Jackson gave Choon.

Choon-hee stands up in her night gown, stared at Y/N confused "You guys know each other?" Y/n nods and replies "He's a mistake I made about six months ago before you did. But don't feel bad. Kim made the same mistake, along with Jada, Valerie, Tia and Brooke." Choon-hee recoils from Jackson "Eww"

Jackson immediately stirs to hold Choon-hee, pleading her to not listen to Y/N. "Nothing happened between me and Tia babe." Choon-hee hits Jackson with her thong laying on bed "Leave. Now!" Jackson collects his things in protest "Can I say something in my defense?" In unison y/n and Choon-hee responded with a resounding "NO."

As an aerial police drone hovers just outside the window, Y/N and Choon-hee dives for the floor, and pulls Jackson down as well. "What is it?" Jackson immediately follows the girl as they squat to the ground. "Police drone" as Y/N takes a peek on their window waiting for the drone to leave. Y/n watches the drone float, past the window, its TV camera sweeping the interior. Finally, it sails off but before anyone can register relief, they hear a squawk of a police loudspeaker outside the hallway. Y/n grabs Choon-hee "It's a sweep". As Y/N and Choon-hee haul Jackson to his feet, he grabs a hat or a magazine to cover his nakedness as they propel him toward the window. "Guys, come on. Let me put some clothes on." He pleaded the girls. Choon-hee replies back in a serious note "No time babe. Move it." Then with that Y/N open the window. Jackson has a shocked expression on his face not believing the girls are trying to get him through their window in all his nakedness "Where?" he still asks in disbelief. "Out there." As Y/N points out. "Unless you wanna end up in jail, let me and Choon handle the cops. Go!"

As the girls bundle him out onto the ledge "Im afraid of –" the poor man trails but Choon-hee responded "Don't look down!" Choon-hee slams the window shut and closes the blinds. The two girls crack up. "What a creep" says Choon-hee.

But the hilarity is short-lived when they hear the football out in the hallway of a police platoon sweeping the building. "All unauthorized individuals vacate the premises or face immediate arrest." Declared the platoon officer.

Suddenly, the makeshift door is kicked in and two cops in full riot gear enters. The first cop enters as he lifts the visor of his helmet, revealing the face of a pale faced handsome Lieutenant Lee Jungshin, with him is a much more dashing man whose face is as white as snow Min Yoongi. Yoongi rolls his eyes at his superior then smirks at both Y/N and Choon-Hee, then he salutes the two leaving them with Jungshin. "Ladies" then Y/N and Choon-hee suddenly relaxes. "Morning Yoongi, Jungshin. What's the good word?" Choon-hee the opposite of Y/N begins to roll her eyes, seething in anger and hate for the police officer standing in front of them.

"Just doing my part to keep the homeless problem from getting out of hand." Says Jungshin, who was now alone by himself as Yoongi leaves the bulding, smirking at Choon-hee eating up the sight of her in just her night gown. With this Choon-hee grabs a robe and covers herself up with her cheeks turning red. "Coffee?" Y/n goes to the counter to grab a cup. "You read my mind" Jungshin responds not looking away from Choon-hee, as Y/N pours him a cup and hands it from his back, Jungshin then turned to Y/N "You haven't seen anyone trespassing around here have you?"

"Gosh. No." Y/n responds as she throws Choon-hee a look, who retrieves an envelope and hands it over to the cop with obvious irritation. The cop takes out the cash, counts it, then reaches for his walkie-talkie.

"Seventh floor is vacant and secure" while Jungshin pockets the money he turns to Choon-hee and winks "Have a nice day" he goes. Choon-hee turns to Y/N with an annoyed expression on her face. "What's with you? Every week this scumbag puts out the squeeze on us and every week you roll out the welcome wagon like he's family." Y/n just shrugs and smirks at her best friend. "Just thought maybe he'd like a little coffee with saliva?" Choon-hee shocked with the revelation that her best friend shared with her.

"You didn't..." she says.

"Every week." Then Y/N makes a hawking sound, the two girls crack up.

After the very eventful morning the girls had, Choon heads off to work, Y/n wheels her bike down the corridor headed for work as well as Lita cracks the door open and peers out.

"It's cool." Y/n says to Lita as she opens the door. Y/N fishes in her jacket "Before I forget, Felix's check. I got in late last night and I didn't want to bother you." She hands the check to Lita, who manages a smile which only momentarily conceals the concern evident in her face.

"Thanks" says Lita. "How's he feeling?" as y/n surveys her face. Lita gave out a loud sigh "Took him to the hospital again, they gave him some medicine but he says it's not helping." Y/n gave out a comforting smile hoping to lighten her a bit. "You know how it is. You or I get sick, life goes on. A guy gets the sniffles and the world's coming to an end." Lita nods, wanting to believe it's nothing serious then –

"That you Y/n-ie?" Felix calls out for her friend. She enters the room to see Felix who lies on a mat, too weak to prop himself up. His breathing is labored. Attempting to conceal her growing concern for her friend Y/n speaks up "Playing hooky at work again Oppa?" as he smiles weakly at her, while attempting to play with his son Oli.

Felix looks up at Y/N "Feel like the dog's dinner. I know what I got, Y/N. They put me back on that drug they're giving the other vets. Only the guy that does those cable hack says the stuff's no good." Y/N sees that the fear in his eyes is real. Y/N immediately gets up "Don't believe everything you hear on TV." Concealing her concern, thinking that this is also a way for her friend not to panic. "What if he's on the level?" as Felix coughs.

Y/N sighs remembering her last encounter with the Informant Net. "Here's the dealio with the Informant Net. He's probably some wack rich dude sitting around in a trick ass apartment, bored stupid, So he gets off on scarin' the poop outta folks like and me. Listen I gotta blaze." Y/N starts gathering her bag. Felix reaches out for Y/N's hand "Tell everybody I said hey." Y/N held Felix's hand "You can tell em yourself tomorrow."

Y/N turns to go. As she passes Lita she smiles at her "Like I said, guys are the weaker sex."