#How to fix a broken key on a laptop

[techconer]

How to Fix a Broken Key on a Laptop - Tech Coner

If you have a laptop and have ever slammed your finger on one of the keys (or dropped your laptop), then you've likely experienced the pain of having broken a key on your laptop. For those who have never experienced this, I don't recommend that you try it! If you break a key on your laptop, there are several things that you can do to fix it, depending on the severity of the damage. in this article, I will tell you how to fix a broken key on a laptop.

Before You Start:

When you have a laptop keyboard with missing or broken keys, fixing the problem is possible. 

One way to fix your keyboard is by removing the keycap and replacing it with one in good condition. This process can be done by following these steps: 

1) Turn off the laptop and unplug it from the power source if plugged in. Remove any attached devices like mice, external keyboards, or anything else plugged into the computer. 

2) Find an object that will fit underneath the critical cap, such as an old credit card or something similar.Fix a Broken Key on a Laptop

Guide: How to fix a broken key on a laptop:

This DIY guide will show you how to fix a broken key on your laptop using the key retainer. All you need is just one material, which can save you from spending money on a new keyboard or, even worse, starting over from scratch. To find out more, keep reading!

 Once you have your broken key and its retainer, follow these steps: Take off your laptop's keyboard from its base. Insert both retainer pieces between keys to prevent them from falling out. Put it back in place and enjoy your computer as if nothing happened! If you are having difficulties, watch some of our video guides above and pick one that works for you. Fixing a broken key is no rocket science, so don't wait; fix it now!

Step 1 (The before) 

Step 2 (The fix) 

Step 3 (It's fixed!) #3 X5

Customer Support You can also email us or get help at [email protected] if you have any questions or concerns regarding our manuals or parts. Your feedback helps us improve, so we want to hear from you! We hope this blog post has been helpful and if there is anything else we can do, please get in touch with us anytime.

Basic laptop keyboard key structure:

A laptop keyboard is made up of many different parts. The keycaps are the plastic caps that make contact with the keys, and the critical retainer holds the keycap in place. It can be challenging to fix a broken key, but fortunately, there are some steps you can take. First, remove any debris between the two parts of the broken key. Then use a small screwdriver or another tool to pry up both sides of the critical retainer while gently twisting it back and forth.

You should be able to remove both sides of your crucial retainer without causing any damage. Use tweezers or needle-nose pliers, if necessary, and replace them with a new ones. Always make sure you purchase one that's made specifically for your laptop. If you don't want to mess with fixing your keys, contact us, and we can help you with all your laptop needs.

Read More: Click Here

[sapphicdancer]

ah ha i broke broke my backspace key, i think the most important key i have

[dreamwatch]

Looking California, Feeling Indiana

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #28 - Prompt: Back To Indiana | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: chronic illness | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: pre-Steddie, broken dreams, band break up

(I’m laptop-less tonight so hoping typos etc aren’t too bad - I’ll fix them tomorrow 😆)

The logistics of getting home are left to Jeff. They have a van that might get them from California to Indiana, a station wagon that should get them there, but six years worth of possessions and equipment into a van and station wagon doesn’t go. They sell a load of their shit before heading home. It’s not like they need most of it anyway.

It’s a sombre journey, so different to the one they made to Los Angeles six years ago, so full of hope and excitement, one step closer to their dream. They could have stayed and just built lives there, grounded ones, sensible jobs, sensible hours, sensible lives. But Eddie needed to go back, even if it was just for a few months; he’s twenty seven in a few weeks and he feels like a seventy year old. New aches over old hurts, mystery illnesses slowing him down.

(He knows they’re Upside Down related, knows no one can do anything about them, and knows they’re getting worse. He hates knowing things.)

The Welcome To Hawkins sign looks new; Wayne said it still gets vandalised from time to time, a new one in its place the next morning, reckons they’re buying them in bulk.

Jeff drops Eddie off first because Wayne’s waiting around to see him and get his shit inside before he has to get to work. He’s sixty five now. He shouldn’t be working in that fucking plant anymore. How many times did Eddie say one day Wayne, you’ll see. Useless fucking liar.

They hug, they eat, Wayne looks him over with a sigh; he’s too thin, too pale, leaning on that cane a little too heavily. Eddie knows it comes from love but it’s a lot.

Wayne grabs his keys and his lunch box. “Steve called, by the way. Numbers on the fridge.” There’s a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s good to have you home, Bub.”

Bub. Wayne hasn’t called him that in years, and Eddie smiles to himself, surprised at how much he missed it.

He calls Steve, yeah journey was okay, no roads were fine, yeah all settled in. Steve tells him he’s coming to get him, they’re going for dinner, no arguments and he finds he has in fact no intention of arguing.

Steve looks good. He seems broader, hair is longer which thrills Eddie, and the wire rimmed glasses are like a glacé cherry on the cake that is Steve Harrington.

He gets a whistle stop tour of his friend’s lives, Steve so proud of all their achievements. Tells him Hawkins is different now, friendlier, more welcoming. Happier.

They pick at fries, Steve pushing his pickles to the side of the plate for Eddie. Eddie does his best to hide his smile.

“How are you? You look…”

“‘Tired and too thin’ according to my dear, beloved uncle.”

“I was going to say ‘good’, actually, asshole.”

He grabs a fry from Steve’s plate, drags it through Steve’s milkshake. “Don’t lie to me, Steven.”

“Wayne told me, about your health, the band splitting up. I’m really sorry, man. That fucking blows.”

“Thanks,” he says with a wan smile. “It does indeed blow.”

“You know you probably just need some rest. Give it six months, and you’ll all be back in LA, tearing the place up. You were so close, man.”

He snorts, a humourless laugh. “Yeah, not so much actually.”

Steve leans back in the booth, arm hooked over the back

“Bullshit. You had label guys there just a couple of months ago, and it’s slow, remember you said yourself, it takes time, you don’t just get signed overnight.”

“Steve,” and he says it gently, because Steve means well, and he’s supported them, financially at times, when he was too embarrassed to call Wayne. Steve would send a check or wire him money. And even thinking about that makes this so much harder. 

“There was no label guy. There’s never been a label guy. Or girl, for that matter.”

Steve frowns at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

And this is it, isn’t it? This is the moment he has to release it into the world.

“I’m going to tell you something nobody else knows. Not even Wayne.”

Steve leans forward, arms crossed on the table. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“We failed, Steve. We failed. The last gig we played was about nine months ago, some frat house party Gareth found for us. It was shit. Because we were shit.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Steve. We didn’t have a hope in fucking hell. Do you know how many bands there are in LA? How few of those ever get a sniff of a record deal.” He shrugs, casual. The sting from the hurt doesn’t burn quite as much as it used to. “We just weren’t good enough, that’s all.”

Eddie watches as the cogs in Steve’s head turn, trying to lock into place. “But your health…”

“Is not great. I didn’t lie about that. But, I leant into it. It’s easier to blame a bum leg and chest infections than admit you’ll never achieve your dream because you’re not talented enough and you’re fucking delusional.”

“You are talented,”

“We’re not. Or, not enough, anyway.”

“What are you gonna do? What are they gonna do?” 

“Wayne’s trying to find me work at the plant. Jeff is talking about community college. Matt will probably go work for his dad. Gareth’s probably going to go to Indy, find a band there. Good luck to him.”

Steve drives him home, actual home now, not that dirty little apartment in LA, but a place where he’ll always be wanted. Will always be good enough. 

They pull up outside the trailer, and Steve reaches over, grabbing Eddie’s hand. It’s clumsy and awkward, but the intent is clear. Trying to pick things up where they left them.

“It’s good to have you home, man.”

“It’s good to be home.”

He’s surprised to find he means it.

[lost-in-fandoms]

So I'm thinking. Maxiel sort of meet ugly.

daniel has some sort of fancy designer job, max is a web developer, mostly freelancer because the job market is shit. daniel is heading to work in his fancy car, max is heading to the library because the wifi is free there even if it's a bit shit on his bike and he isn't really paying attention and daniel isn't either and they crash.

they're both fine, max has a few scratches and bruises but the biggest victim is the bike, whose front tire is all bent. they get in a bit of a fight about who was at fault, but then daniel is late and tells max "here, this is my business card with my number just call me and we'll sort it out".

max does call him and they do sort the accident out. and then max keeps calling.

"i need to go to a job interview and i don't have my bike anymore, you are contractually obligated to drive me" "i need to go to the library and it's raining i need you to drive me it's your civic duty after almost killing me" "my bike is still broken i need you to drive me to get groceries"

and for some reason, daniel keeps going. drops his work halfway through to go pick up this random guy who keeps pestering him. postpones meetings. interrupts work calls. and max is not even a good passenger princess, keeps commenting on his driving and has terrible taste in music, but daniel goes anyway. (it's only partially out of guilt)

when max's bike is fixed, daniel is expecting him to disappear, and sure max does ask him less to be driven around but he doesn't stop texting. random texts during the day, pictures of things he sees, random facts.

one day he is complaining about some pasta dish he had bought at a cafe and daniel makes the mistake of saying "my mom taught me how to make the best pasta" and max is like "bet. i'm coming over tomorrow night". daniel doesn't even try to argue, just puts the ingredients on his grocery list.

the pasta is indeed pretty good and after they're done max is gracious enough to help with the dishes (passes them to daniel while he's putting them in the dishwasher) and then lets daniel choose a movie.

and then climbs into daniel's lap and kisses him.

daniel for a second is like "whoa what is this???" and max is like "i'm kissing you, you dumbass"

"yes, but why?"

"because you're hot and I want to"

and somehow like most things max says it does make sense, in a weirdly straightforward way, so daniel kisses him back. and then they make each other come with sloppy handjobs on the couch.

and max keeps coming back and one day daniel comes home and simply finds him sitting at his kitchen table, working on his laptop. when daniel asks him how he got there max answers "did you forget my bike is fixed?" it doesn't really answer the question. daniel discovers two days later that max had told his neighbor he was daniel's boyfriend and had forgotten the keys and then jumped in the balcony and broken in.

they have a lot of sex (max is particularly fond of that time they have sex on the sunbed on the balcony, right next to the jasmine, daniel's shirt in his mouth to muffle his moans as daniel fucks him) and it takes more than a month for daniel to realise they're dating and max isn't just "hanging around".

max moves in with his cats two months later and daniel has never been happier (even if sassy does destroy his fancy couch).

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine a modern day au in which Al Haitham kept bumping into his favorite author while he was on a trip.

Imagine the strange coincidence, having your first interaction/meeting the day-dawn at the airport. He, who believe it or not was heart broken upon having his five year relationship with Kaveh, broke up just the day before their anniversary all because things aren't working out anymore. And he who happened to booked a long trip for them overseas now was waiting for the flight alone.

Imagine you on the other hand was the opposite. Although Al Haitham was pretty much well prepared for the trip, his heart was not ready for it. You on the other hand, despite a simple hand bag which contains pretty much your laptop, notebook, favorite pen and pencil, eye mask and important papers. Leaving all keys and phone behind. You're ready.

Imagine the sudden ring of phone that echoed over the silent waiting area. Waking you up from your little nap a little pissed because damn, it's probably three in the morning. Don't they know how to put their phone on a vibrate or silent mode? It goes on for a good five minutes of none stop ringing, almost making ou think it was an alarm but you knew pretty well that was a ringtone.

"Excuse me Sir. Would you mind taking the call if you don't mind? You're waking up the other people as you see?" You sweat dropped as you asked upon seeing his glare at you.

"Mind your own business." Then proceed to hold his phone up, decline the call then shut his phone down. Then ignore you.

"Wow, what a nasty attitude." You whispered to yourself.

Imagine that dawn as the boarding flight was announced, both of you stood up. That dawn, one left with a bit of regret and heavy heart, while the other left everything behind, without an inch of regret.

"Excuse me. Would you mind switching seats with me?"

"Where is your seat?"

"Just right beside yours."

"Sure."

Imagine it does not look like he remember you. Seeing how exhausted his face close up, you could tell he was still pretty handsome despite such appearance. Still remembering his nasty attitude earlier. You decided to shrug it off and continue your nap.

Imagine in the middle of the flight, you woke up with the sound of someone silently crying. Taking off your eye mask, your eyes look around for the source of the sound only for your eyes to land on your seat mate.

Imagine there he was holding a book in one hand while his other was busy brushing off the silent tear that roll down his cheeks. Honestly it was such a sight to see, a man crying because he was reading a book. At least that should have been your thought if you didn't over hear him over the phone earlier.

"Oh?" Your eyes widen as well as him upon your sudden gasp.

"It's been a while since I saw a copy of that." You chuckle, eyes fixed on the book on his hand.

Imagine the way he looks at you, slight dumbfounded beforebe blinks. Looking back and forth to his book and you. He shut it, wiping of the tear on his cheeks, he face you to your surprise.

"You know this?" Referring to the book he was holding.

"Yes? That's one of the first limited edition version of..."

Imagine as you kept going, the more you saw light in those turquoise colored iris. It almost had you chuckle how obvious he is that he was a fanatic of that book he was holding.

Imagine the whole flight you talked about the series of that book as well as the other works of the author in which you found out was his favorite causing you to chuckle over some time. But then fun times were cut off upon the arrival of the plane that both of you did not notice.

"Hey. I'm going ahead now, Mr?"

"Al Haitham." He said offering a hand.

"It's been a while since I saw someone as interested in these books. It was a good time." He admitted like an honest guy causing you to laugh.

"Well Mr. Al Haitham, have you book been signed?"

"Why all of a sudden?? But no. I was busy back in the days, why do you ask?"

"Give it to me."

Imagine the horror on his face as he watched you pull out a pen inhand while his book was on the other hand. Watching you signed the back of the book. You left a little note before handing it back to him who had one of the most interesting dumbfounded look on their face you have ever seen.

"It's been a while since I met a fan of mine. Take care, Al Haitham." You wave him a goodbye as you made your way out the plane.

Imagine the way he stood there for a couple of moments, taking his time to process it all. Things have been going slow for him since yesterday after all, and now this.

Imagine the way he run off the plane despite the warnings he got from the flight attendants. Looking for you as soon as he got out but you were out of his sight. So fast! He thought.

Imagine the on his way to the hotel he was supposed to stay, he opened the book in hand. Looking at the page where you signed, his heart skipped in delight of a fanboy. But then he almost dropped his book in hand as he saw a little note on the corner.

I had a good time.

See you when I see you, Al Haitham.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

: I had the actual story chapters on draft on my other acc on my other sites used but it isn't fanfic. But then Al Haitham suddenly came into mind and I was like.. wtf? Isn't that a perfect story for Al Haitham?

[brellafaun]

TUA SWEET TOOTH AU RAMBLINGS

this is gonna be disorganized as fuck because my laptop is still broken but this is for u @alucardens because you’ve let me yap to you lol <3

the au follows the same general setup as sweet tooth- the sick happens, hybrids are born, and the world gets mega fucky. the main difference is that the brellies are the very first hybrids to be born into this world

each of the kids is a different type of hybrid. Luther is a gorilla for obvious reasons, Diego is a panther because sneaky and knives claws, Allison is a peacock for the plumage, Klaus is a crow because of scavenging and his penchant for shiny things, Five is a black footed cat because small (also lethal. they’re terrifying and i think they’re neat), Ben is a sea otter because it’s the closest to something oceanic that was still mammalian I could think of (to my knowledge all of the hybrid kids are mammals aside from Roy) and Viktor is a white tailed deer solely for the vibes of it all

in this au, Vik is kinda in the role of Gus. i think his mom would’ve fled to the woods as soon as things started going sideways and taken him with. because of this, he’s raised initially with no human or hybrid contact at all aside from her. she does her best to keep him safe from the outside world but eventually poachers find their cabin and she contracts the sick after chasing them off, leaving him alone for a hot minute. poachers eventually come back and catch him, brining him to Hargreeves.

the other kids are still raised by Reggie (unfortunately) and he essentially flaunts having a group of “tame” hybrid children to the other apocalyptic powers/warlords. i don’t think he’d go as far as the Zhangs and the wolf boys, but he’d definitely try to weaponize the kids somehow. additionally, he’d probably keep them around to research if hybrids are the key to curing the sick/understand their general physiology compared to humans

when Vik meets the others for the first time, it’s obvious how unsocialized he is. he’s generally kinda off putting to the others because he’s comparably more “wild” in mannerisms and more connected to his hybrid side than they are. he also has more sensitivities with senses as he was encouraged to use them more than the others (kitt projects her sensory processing issues onto her favs yet again)

at some point, Grace gets the kids tf away from Reggie and starts the au’s version of the Preserve, letting them actually be kids and embrace their wild sides

BEN DOESN’T DIE BECAUSE I SAID SO

at some point in the future, Viktor’s antlers come in

okay yeah that was fairly incoherent but if anyone wants me to come up with an actual plot and write this once my laptop’s fixed i think that’d be fun lol

[shinnith]

Best Sims 4 Script Mods✨

wanted a masterlist on this site of my "cannot live without" mods, so buckle up and get ready for your game to finally become even better!

Note: Playing on basic hardware and think your game can't run this high of scripts? My specs are a laptop with barely 4 GB of usable RAM and the most basic cpu+gpu out there. Go ham.

⭐List is under the cut and includes scripts like "All Worlds/Secret Worlds Residential", "Travel to Hidden World Easily", top notch map/loading screen replacements, ongoing projects like "sims 4 multiplayer" and more⭐

Gameplay Tweaks:

✨Darkmode ★ By: Dskecht

As of making this, both Arnie's Darkmode/Plumfruit are broken and will probably stay that way due to their retirement. Dskecht is currently hard at work with updating theirs though, which you can find at the link above, and their main updates about patch fixes here.

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✨All Worlds Are Residential ★ By: Zerbu

With this, destination type worlds (granite falls, selvadorada/ect) and hidden worlds (sylvan glade/forgotten grotto/ect) become residential or whatever lot type you want them to be. You'll need the creator's Venue Changes mod along with it. Cannot explain how important this mod is.

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✨Travel To Venue/Hidden World ★ By: TwelfthDoctor

Quickly travel to places like Forgotten Grotto and more- all from your cell phone!

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✨OMSP Shelf ★ By: AmoeBae

This "shelf" is basically a placeholder and has many slots, which doesn't conflict on placement and you can then turn invisible. If that sounds confusing, basically: wow shelf/table full of decorations instead of like two weirdly placed objects.

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✨More Traits ★ By: MapleBell

A lot of good traits, that I feel go well with a "maxis match" or "basegame" playthrough.

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✨Photographic Memory ★ By: RSVN

Take better photos with a custom camera and frame them in different frames, polaroids, canvases, calendars, ect. Beautiful work.

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✨Sacrificial's Mods

The creator of "Extreme Violence" brings you a ton of other elements. Armageddon, Zombies, Life tragedies, possessed or murderous children & so much more. Go wild.

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✨TurboDriver's Mods

Wouldn't be a complete list without the creator of "whickedwhims". Kudos, TurboDriver.

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✨Basemental's Mods

Mods which are full o' vices, if you catch my drift. All of their work is amazing and goes super well with sacrificial & turbodriver's work.

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More Scripts:

✨Dershayan & 20thCenturyPlumbob Maps/Loading Screen Replacements

I can't choose a favorite set- both creators have made beautiful work, though Dershayan only offers map replacements.

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✨More Columns in CAS ★ By: weerbesu

CAS UI is incredibly irritating and this helps by giving more columns. You have different choices for how many you want.

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✨Better BuildBuy ★ By: TwistedMexi

Will change your life and TwistedMexi will become like family. Oh, and did I mention it has live camera (tab key) in build mode?

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✨ColorPicker ★ By: Carl's Guides

Hate the game's colors with objects? Carl is here to help.

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✨T.O.O.L ★ By: TwistedMexi

Total manipulation over otherwise locked assets in game (ex. non-editable player items/buildings/terrain like those freaking apartment windows you can't delete or change). This creator is currently working on a huge project for this entire community, and is also another concrete presence.

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✨Big Ongoing Projects✨

🏆Sims 4 Multiplayer

Creator Simsmultiplayer brings you something we've all talked over for years. It's released, but I haven't tested it myself.

🏆Sims 4 Create-A-World

TwistedMexi comes through once again, but this time with the most complex sims mod were seeing being developed. It has years of work already and is currently still in development. Updates at link above.

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Kudos to all mod + creators- big and small💞 This game has been tweaked, redesigned and literally fixed by modders time and time again and our community gets even more vibrant each day with their talents. After almost ten years in this community, I have seen such amazing work and tireless effort to creations of assets & mechanics, fixes to game bugs of all types and providing of technical support. We love you guys💖

[totisviribus]

An ADHD Morning

I set seven alarms so I don't oversleep. I couldn't sleep last night because I was researching ancient Rome on Wikipedia until 2am so I am bleary tired. My coffee maker is moldy from last week's brew and I don't even consider cleaning it, I just know that I won't be having coffee this morning.

I forgot to shower the night before, but now I don't have enough time to do it this morning, I got up too late. I use dry shampoo and hope my hair doesn't look greasy (it does). I scrape it into a messy pony tail that will give me a migraine but it's the only way it looks acceptable. My finger nails are stumps of dried blood because I picked at them all night. The inside of my lip is swollen and bleeding because I couldn't stop chewing on it, thinking about how I could ruin today. My eyebrows need to be plucked. My face is covered in acne because I never remember to take my makeup off before I fall asleep.

My bedroom is a sea of clothes, piled high to obscure the wooden floors. One hamper has some clean clothes in it, I know, but I have forgotten which one. My ironing board is under the piles somewhere, but it's broken, so I'll have to try to use the anti-wrinkle spray on the sweater I fish off the floor and hope it looks okay. It's already been forty minutes, how has the time passed this way? I will be late now, no hope of arriving on time. My sweater is covered in cat hair. Where is the lint roller? I look through the piles and can't find it. I spend ten minutes looking for tape to make a make-shift lint roller and it doesn't really work.

My dresser is filled with empty makeup tubes, used makeup wipes, glasses wipes, and used lint roller sheets. I pick out the products I use and quickly do my makeup on my unclean skin.

Purse. I need my purse. Which purse did I use last? Which has my wallet in it? I walk past the piles on the floor of my apartment, past the dirty dishes, past the mound of art supplies on my desk. I find my purse on the floor under my desk. Okay.

Socks? I need socks. My socks might show when I sit down in these too-tight too-short pants. I have to find matching ones. Clean ones? No, that's too much of a reach. I must just find matching ones. I search, digging through the floor piles. I find two that do not match, but are the same color. Good enough.

Fifteen minutes late. My cat chirps as he brushes against my leg. Oh! My little friend! He's so cute and sweet. My sister loves to get pictures of him, so I'll take one for her. Look up here, Blue! So cute. I should really update the instagram I made for him, I've met so many people who have the same type of cat. I should edit some photos of him today to post. He makes me so happy. I feel so lucky I get to have a cat and such a sweet, loving one like Blue. How many people get to have such a great pet? I'm so thankful for him, and I tell him so while I scratch his face the way that makes him purr.

I text my sister the picture. She tells me to have a good day. I try to find a cute GIF to send her to tell her to have a good day too. Here's one with Snoopy. She'll like that.

I also need to feed Blue. There are a dozen empty, smelly cans on the counter of cat food, but I pick a new one out of the box they were shipped in and put it in his dish with a random measuring spoon because all my other silverware is dirty.

Bag. I need to pack a bag. Laptop, keys, tissues, pens, notebook, headphones, charging cable for my phone. Is that everything? And my wallet, of course! Aha. That would be bad if I forgot that.

My shoes are dirty and scuffed but I don't have time to fix them. What kind of coat? I don't check the weather. I pick out a thin yellow one that I like. I've always liked bright colors. This will cheer me up to wear it. Bag, coat, keys, phone...where is my phone?

I have headphones on, listening to a YouTube video on two times speed, but I don't know where my phone is. I don't have time for this! But I can't leave without my phone.

It's deep in the covers of my bed. I don't remember putting it there between sending the GIF to my sister and now, but no matter. I found it.

It's twenty degrees and raining. I have no umbrella and my spring coat is incredibly inappropriate for the weather.

I've left my car on the street for a few days in an area that is only for 3-hour parking. The parking tickets are stacked on the windshield. I owe the city about $400 in parking tickets and I keep getting letters from the police that they'll boot my car if I don't pay. I messed up the days on my budget spreadsheet, so I won't be able to pay them for another month.

I have no gas. I check the miles my car estimates I can go with the amount left and compare it to what my GPS says. Just enough. Maybe. It'll be okay. I can't get gas now.

I forgot to brush my teeth. I forgot my laptop charging cable. I forgot to take my medication, and I forgot to bring my medication with me to take my second dose. When I finally arrive at my destination, I don't remember that my debit card fell between the seat in my car yesterday while getting coffee at the drive-thru. So I leave without it. I also forgot to put deodorant on.

I wonder what my coworkers would think of me if they knew about my messy apartment, my poor hygiene, my lack of planning skills. Will they notice my teeth aren't brushed? Do I have any gum, mints, anything?

My coworker sees me come in late with in an oddly-fitting outfit and messy hair, but I greet them happily when I come in. They say that everyone forgets things sometimes and lends me their laptop charger. I'll forget to return it, but they don't know that yet. They don't know about my kitchen or my bedroom or my clothes or my unwashed face or my parking tickets. They don't know that without my medication I will be useless for the entire day and get nothing done, making more work for them.

I'm an excellent actress. I pretend to be like everyone else, and somehow I pass the test every time. I'm a shy, kind, young woman - they would never suspect there is a moldy box of forgotten take out food in my backseat that I'll discover in a few days. People socialized as female are expected to be neat, organized, in control. They don't even consider that I might not be those things.

"What did you bring for the potluck today?" my coworker asks.

The ingredients I bought for the dish I signed up to make are rotting in my fridge, forgotten as soon as I put them there after shopping two weeks ago. I didn't think to buy them closer to today. I also didn't think to put the pot luck on my calendar.

I make up an elaborate story about how my boyfriend needed to be picked up from a far-away job site last night. She believes me and I feel I don't deserve it.

I wish I wasn't a good actress.

[moneyloversstuff]

Summary: Natasha cheated on you

----

People say that everything happens for a reason but, you don't see why this happened.

In the past hour, you lost the love of your life to a friend you have known since childhood.

You still remember the look on her face when you saw them together

Steve and Natasha have been extra close lately you thought it was normal the two have been friends forever so you didn't do anything about it and you were too busy to notice planning your proposal th natasha

Now your face staind with tears siting in your car in a burgerking parking lot eating a 40 Dollars worth of food thinking where did it go wrong with calls and text from natasha

You two used to be so happy cooking together well you cooking while nat watched

________

"Darling have i ever told you thet i'm so gratefull that your here, i don't know what i would do with out you" natassha said with a Smile wraping her arm aroun you wais from the back while you were cooking dinner

"Well you would Probably starve" you said Jokingly

"I wouldnt starve" you look at her face her cute pout and Beautiful red hair framing her face, her green eyes you could look in to forever

"our dinner is done all i have to do is put in a plate"

Natasha expresion went from pouty to excited

After plating everything natasha set the table

"It smells so good dekta","thank you natty, so how was your day?"you asked natasha experion went quiet she took a while to think like she was making a up a story or somthing,"babe you okay?"she Immediately changed her expresion to her nomal smile "it was fine what about you detka"

Your worryis slipt away as soon as she called you detka, it was nickname you loved , only she chould call you that no one else chould "it was fine i spet sometime with steve and wanda grabing some food at a cafe, then i did some work listed to some music, and thats it i guess"

________

"You remember that memory vividly, the smell of the chicken cooking filling the kitchen with warmth and promise, a stark contrast to the cold reality you now face. The betrayal cuts deep, slicing through the fabric of trust and shattering the illusions of love you once held dear.

As you stare at the ring you bought her, its glimmering reminder of promises broken, a tidal wave of emotions crashes over you. Doubt gnaws at your soul, whispering cruel questions of worthiness and deservingness. What did you do to deserve this? How could someone you poured your heart and soul into for five years betray you so callously?

Each memory of laughter shared, dreams whispered, and plans made now feels tainted broken

You put the ring away, put all the food in the passenger seat want8ng to go somewhere but not knowing where so you just drive as far and fast as you can,

After a while of drivinh ou stop you look at the apartmen the plave you called home the place you spent years of your life in a life before the avengers before natasha before all that

You grab everything you maniget to pack while in a screaming match with natasha a duffle bag filled with stuff clothes pants shirts exesosorys some importent jewlery and wallet phone keys laptop

The food then go in

To your old apartment before you moved in with nat it is comfy place that chould use some fixing you go to the, looking around the place you remeber the first year of your relation ship with natasha her staying here the memorys the baking the movienight you sheed a tear

Its been 6 hours since it happend and your just supresing your feelings so you don't breakdown

Give me some insite on how i gould do better then thsi

[ani-coolgirl]

I'M NOT DEAD YET!

Hey, y'all. Some of you might have been wondering where I've been. Was I injured? Did I die? Did I simply give up and fall into a black hole so I didn't have to face my failures? Allow me to express they events chronologically:

Saturday the 18th: Start writing the next entry to Every First Time but realize it's kind of late. Go to bed with an incomplete fic but a solid idea.

Sunday the 19th: Starting off the week strong with my A/C breaking down. As I live in one-star review state of Texas, you might come to conclusion that I did which is: This is Very Bad.

Monday the 20th: I accidentally murder my laptop (well, since it was an accident, I guess it's manslaughter). Cracked up the screen right and good. A/C still broken.

Tuesday the 21st: Friend diagnoses my laptop as fixable... after he orders some parts. Guy shows up (at 9PM for some reason) to diagnose my A/C. It's fixable... after he orders some parts.

Wednesday the 22nd: Migraine. So bad I almost barf. Everything still broken.

Thursday the 23rd: Different technician diagnoses my A/C as fixable! He fixes it! It breaks down an hour later. He determines it is fixable... after he orders some parts. Guy also feels the need to share that his friend won the Power Ball a few years back and has invited him to move to Germany because the US is garbage and he's afraid Trump's going to be re-elected. I too wish to move to Germany, in part so I can escape this very weird conversation.

Friday the 24th-Sunday the 26th: Surprise visit from the sister! This is a Good Things but also means that I get absolutely nothing done, especially because I'm staying in a hotel so I don't melt. Dreams of submitting an update in a semi-timely fashion completely die. Everything still broken.

Monday the 27th: Memorial Day! I honor the fallen of my country by ruminating about how all my shit is still broken and won't get fixed because it's a holiday.

Tuesday the 28th: TORNADO WARNING. No whirlwinds of death touchdown near me, fortunately, but I am awakened at 6AM by phone alerts and sirens so, I spend an hour huddling in my bathroom with my loudly complaining cats while severe thunderstorms rage outside. No significant damage, but I am smacked in the face with greenery when I open the door to the backyard when I discover that the tree has decided to spread its leaves (hah) and broaden its horizons... meaning there are several large segments of the tree that need amputating. Everything still broken.

Wednesday the 29th: D-day. Tree has several limbs amputated. All ordered parts arrive. My A/C is fixed! My laptop is fixed! And then... THE POWER GOES OUT (only for five minutes, but it did scare the shit out of me). Buuuuut, my laptop's emergency surgery led to unexpected complications, namely that for some reason, several of the keys aren't working. Luckily, I have a spare keyboard, so I said "fuck it" and am currently dealing with it. I work on an incomplete fic that had a solid idea and I, uh, kinda remember what it was. Mostly.

So, yeah. I've had a wacky week and a half. Really not much to say here but FUCK YOU, CHUCK, YOU ASSHOLE. WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU??

[gazs-blue-hat]

Injections and Ivermectin pt.2 (Small Town UA) Ghost X Reader (Tens)

AN: Continuing the small town UA! This is another chapter featuring our favorite veterinarian and broody SAS operator.

Word Count: 2,382

Summary: After an unfortunate encounter with a goat, Ghost manages to slice his arm open. Luckily you know how to fix it without messing up his sleeve of tattoos.

TW: Blood, Injury, Stitches, Canon typical language, Mention of a dog having puppies (Ethically). Briefly mentioned Bisexual reader (LMK if I missed any)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

The 141 had been on Lamb's farm for four weeks now and you had gotten into a pattern of seeing them. You often went over to help with her leg. Something had been really irritating it lately and she never would take care of it herself. (Stubborn bitch)

You were getting to know the men pretty well actually. MacTavish, or Soap practically followed lamb as closely as Nikon did. He knew a thing or two about livestock to Lamb logically trusted him with most tasks she would have done herself.

Garrick, or Gaz spent a lot of his time at Keys' place. She was in the middle of reorganizing and cataloging her library and she was very thankful for the help. Although, you wondered how much work was actually getting done. Gaz knew all about the series she liked so instead of working, the two were probably gushing over who kissed who and what was going to happen in the next book.

The Captain was no stranger to you (even if he avoided you like the plague). He would give simple head nods in your direction and calmly leave whatever room you had entered. You had no details about the meeting he had with Skip. But there was no broken glass or shattered doors when you and Lamb entered the house again.

The person you probably spent the most time with, however, was Ghost. Ghost was by far the most enigmatic of the group but he was also the most…genuine. You could see how his face would make invisible expressions under the mask and how he was incredibly expressive with his eyes. (That man could murder someone with a side-eye)

Whenever you would be at Lamb's house (Which was more often than you were at your own house), you always managed to be in proximity of the large man. Lamb often sent him over to help with whatever it was you were doing. You mostly came over to check on Moosie and her illness. The prognosis wasn't good and you had even walked in on Soap holding her as she cried into his shoulder.

Today though you were at the office, helping a sweet chocolate lab deliver her second litter of puppies. You watched closely as the lab huffed and grumbled in the large padded box next to you. You had decided to sit on the floor next to her so she would feel more comfortable. She held her head in your lap as you typed on your laptop, finishing up some documenting how many rabies vaccinations you would require for next year.

You turned your head as you heard the small yips of a newborn pup. You beamed down at the lab and pet her head softly.

"Atta girl. So proud of you." You whispered. The dog huffed again and got back to work. After checking on the puppy and documenting its health your receptionist stuck her head in the door.

"Lamb is calling you. Should I send the call in here or should I take it?" Maryanne asked softly. You really liked Maryanne and hired her on as your secretary a week ago. There wasn't much work she could do in town due to her health issues and you were more than happy to be accommodating for her.

"You can take the message, Maryanne. I'm gonna focus here with Debbie." You said while documenting the successful arrival of a second puppy. Maryanne nodded and you heard her wheelchair slotting back to the desk.

"She said someone named Ghost was coming over for some stitches. Said it was urgent." Maryanne called. You nodded and added him to your calendar. You wondered what Ghost could have done to himself that would cause a need for stitches so bad that he or Lamb couldn't do it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour or so later, you heard the little bell above the door of your office ring out.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you?" You heard the soft voice of Maryanne say from the front room. You stood from your seat on the floor and started to scrub up. You sanitized your hands and moved to the secondary room, gathering the materials you would need to do some serious stitching.

" 'm here to see Tens." A gruff voice said. Maryanne made a sound of affirmation and you heard the door to the first room office swing open. Debbie opened her eyes and huffed, only turning over so her six puppies could keep nursing.

"Over here!" You called while putting a layer of absorbent cloth down on the chair's arm. The chair you had in this room was not like one found in regular doctor's offices. This was a modified tattoo chair that you had gotten from an estate sale. Waste not, want not.

Ghost walked into the room holding a blood-stained towel over his left forearm. You winced and made a hissing sound.

"What happened to your lovely artwork?" You said kindly, gesturing to the seat. Ghost said nothing as he sat down, resting his arm on the chair's armrest.

"Was fixin' up the water toughs in the goat pens when this big bastard decided to use my side as ramming practice." He grumbled, making no sound of pain as you peeled away the towel.

"Jesus Christ on a bike." You mumble as you take in the extent of the damage. Six large lacerations dug deep in his forearm. Blood leaked from them and dripped down his arm, being absorbed by the towel.

"Bugger shoved me hard enough to cause my arm to hit the barbed wire next to the fence," he continued to explain. You nodded in understanding. You too had been headbutted by the 'big bastard' as Ghost had called him. He was a rather young goat with the fury of a thousand suns crammed in his tiny body. it didn't matter how big you were or how strong. He would always try his damnedest to knock you on your ass.

"I know how that goes. Frankie always was cantankerous." You say while donning a pair of gloves. These gloves were specially made for you by a medical friend of yours. He had molded them to your hands so they fit absolutely perfectly. It was almost like wearing no gloves at all.

"Oh, Lamb said to give this to you. Said that you deserved it?" Ghost said while handing you a folded note. You nodded and gestured for him to place it on the tray next to you. You didn't want to have to scrub everything again.

You began by cleaning the area of blood as best you could with some gauze. You then reached over for your saline bottle and opened the cap with your other hand.

"Okay, you probably know the drill but I'll go through it anyway. This is just saline, it will sting a bit but not nearly as much as Isopropyl or whisky." You say with a smile. You can notice his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

"I was a combat medic Ghost. We used what we could find." You say with a wink. You irrigate the wounds and watch as he flinches from the pain slightly. The cuts weren't actually as bad as you had thought and that made you smile.

"Do you by any chance have a reference image for what the tattoo looked like before all of this?" You ask while holding pressure on the wound with one hand and grabbing your suturing supplies with the other. Ghost shook his head and you frowned. You'd have to guess then.

"Why does it matter? You don't need a reference to do stitches." Ghost said calmly. You could tell he wasn't irritated, he was genuinely curious about your question.

"Well look at it! I don't want to butcher it with messy stitching!" You say while gesturing to the undamaged parts of the tattoo. It truly was amazing work. The level of detail that went into the ink honestly deserved an award.

"I don't even want to think about how much this cost or how long it took to do. That would be a slap in the face of the artist." You continued, shaking your head at the thought.

Ghost chuckled and you felt your stomach do a little flip thing.

'odd...' you thought to yourself.

"Never had a medic care so much about my tattoos before." he chuckled. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and it took great restraint not to melt into a puddle.

"Perhaps you've been hanging out with the wrong medics." You say softly. You really didn't mean to make it sound so...sultry. You numbed the surrounding skin with some cream and you got to work stitching. You did your best to line up the skin perfectly so the details of the tattoos would be spared.

"Who are the right medics then?" he asked softly. You almost didn't hear him and you looked up, only to meet his piercing eyes.

Oh God

You could have fallen into those eyes. A deep brown that reminded you of freshly tilled earth after a rain storm. They reminded you of the dark bark of a steady spruce tree, green throughout the cold winter. His eyebrows were perfectly molded to his face but just unkempt enough to give him a scruffy appearance.

When you died, would have to slap God for making a man so fine.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you properly. Could you repeat that?" You asked. He leaned over in the seat a bit, getting closer. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest. He smelled divine. Like work and pure man. He also smelled slightly of cigarettes and bourbon with a hint of Lamb's homemade soap.

How dare he smell delicious? How dare he make you salivate at work with his stupidly strong arms, thighs, chest, and-

"I asked, who are the right medics then?" he repeated. You swallowed and hoped he couldn't hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"The ones who give a shit about you I suppose." You manage to say without stuttering. Never had a patient made you react this way. Not even the one time that smoking hot petty officer had gotten a steam burn on her side, showing you plenty of side-boob as you bandaged her up.

He only hummed and sat back, closing his eyes as you worked. It took you about three hours to stitch the wounds up enough to your satisfaction. You gently wiped the area clean with more saline and you put some antibacterial cream on the stitches. You looked up to say something to him but a rough snore caught you off guard. He was sleeping.

Somehow this large man had fallen asleep while you were giving him stitches. You said nothing as you gently wrapped the wound with Tegaderm so he could watch the healing process and come back if there were any issues.

You simply draped a thin blanket over him and turned out the lights. You cleaned up from the procedure and grabbed your laptop from the other room. You didn't want him to be alone when he woke up since you knew how disorienting that could be.

You sat on the floor once more and continued typing your reports, ignoring how the sun had long since set.

--------

It was around midnight when Ghost blinked his eyes open. He was strangely comfortable in whatever seat he was sitting in. He looked around to see where he was and he furrowed his eyebrows when he figured it out.

He was in one of Tens' medical rooms, sitting in a tattoo chair with his arm all bandaged up. He examined the work and was incredibly pleased that you had done a perfect job. The lines of the tattoo were perfectly aligned and the stitches were so perfectly symmetrical that if there even was a scar, it would look like it belonged in the tattoo anyway. Absolutely incredible.

A soft snore alerted him that he was not alone in the room. You sat in the corner, your laptop still on and shining a dull white light on your face. You slept peacefully but not in the cute ways that movies or books would show. You slept with your head on your shoulder, your mouth open slightly and a small splotch of saliva pooling on your coat collar. You still had your coat on that was dotted with his blood. Your hands rested on the keys of the keyboard as if you had fallen asleep while typing.

Simon smiled down at your sleepy form. You had stayed in this office with him so he wouldn't be frightened when he woke up. You stayed way past closing time and even fell asleep on the floor to make him more comfortable.

He stood up, closed your laptop (but not before saving your work), and gently picked you up. He was careful of his stitches and he was shocked when he didn't feel pain as the skin pulled a bit. You had numbed him up, even if you knew he was well used to stitches without pain relief.

You mumbled a bit as you shifted in his grip, nuzzling into his chest. it was a cute action and Simon felt a bit of blood rushing to his cheeks. How long had it been since he actually blushed? he made his way to the other room where he had seen a bed. It was a medical bed sure, but a bed was a bed in his opinion.

"Don't forget to... wash your haaands." You mumbled while making the motion of rubbing hands together. Simon smiled softly under his mask as he set you down. You curled up a bit, shivering in the late autumn air. He returned to the room he had been in and grabbed the blanket you had placed over him. He draped it over you and closed the door behind him.

Returning to the room to pick up your laptop, he noticed the paper that Lamb had instructed he give to you unfolded on the floor. The words written upon it made his stomach flip in the strangest way

'Have fun with Skullface. Don't ever mock me again bitch.'

-Lamb

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @plumteaa-remus @ghostlythots

(Lmk if you want to be added)

[jamiewintons]

Ready & Waiting (Ariel Conroy/F!Reader)

Summary: Ariel decides to have his way with you, by lacing your food with sleeping pills and sneaking back into your flat once you’ve fallen asleep.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Noncon. Somnophilia. Stalking. Non-Consensual Drugging. Fingering. Oral Sex (F!Receiving). Unprotected Sex.

A/N: Please don't read this if it's going to make you uncomfortable. Since it's a dead dove fic, I'll just tag the people I know are okay with this stuff - @pink-booty-butts, @demontoucansam, @thingses-and-stuffses.

Word Count: 1930

*

Tonight was the night, and Ariel was bouncing his leg up and down in anticipation as he watched you on his laptop. He was waiting in your neighbours’ flat - they were away on holidays, so Ariel didn’t have to worry about being disturbed - for you to go to bed, so he could finally have his fun.

Ariel had been in your flat earlier that evening, fixing your computer that had once again broken down. It was strange how that kept happening; almost as if a certain someone was intentionally infecting it with viruses so he would have an excuse to get inside your home. After he was done, you’d bashfully asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner, an offer he initially accepted as a way to get access to your food - he really did wish he could stay there with you - but at the last minute had to make up an emergency that he needed to attend to right that very moment. Something about his mother’s cat being ill and having to take it to the vet.

However, what had actually happened was Ariel discretely lacing your homemade lasagna with sleeping pills when you left the room for a few moments - ones that wouldn’t knock you out right away, but would lull you into a deep slumber a few hours after you’d ingested them. To remove suspicion from himself in case you suspected anything the next morning, he thought it best that he leave your flat before you fell asleep.

That’s why he was currently waiting out those couple of hours in your neighbours’ empty flat, staring at you through the multiple cameras he’d secretly installed around your house. Oh, Ariel had seen some wonderful things thanks to those little cameras - your wet naked body as you emerged from the shower, you lounging around in your underwear on days off when you were feeling a little lazy, and best of all, you touching yourself until you came all over your hand (something that he couldn’t help but do in tandem with you) - and once again they were proving useful.  The time seemed to pass like it was nothing at all, though he ached to finally make you his.

It was somewhere after ten pm when you stumbled into your room and practically collapsed on your bed, your arms wrapped around one of your pillows. You were out like a light a few seconds later, and Ariel knew that it was now time to strike. Far too excited for his own good, he packed up his laptop and and left the empty flat.

When he reached your door, Ariel found that in your dazed state, you’d left it unlocked - meaning the key he’d had made wasn’t needed. He made sure to lock the door after entering, however, he didn’t want anyone who meant to cause you harm finding their way inside. As quietly as he could he walked to your bedroom, pushing open your already ajar door. And there you were laying on the bed, illuminated by the light you’d left on in the hallway before going to bed.

Ariel’s eyes raked down the sight before him appreciatively. You were laying on your side, your arms wrapped loosely around one of your pillows. The positioning of your legs caused the old t-shirt you were wearing to ride up, exposing the cute panties you had on underneath. Returning to your face, you looked so peaceful and innocent as you slept, so pretty. Ariel felt his cock twitch in his jeans, and approached the bed. When you were dressed like that, how was he expected to resist?

Kneeling down on the bed in front of you, Ariel took care to reposition you; taking the pillow from your grasp and rolling you onto your back. After he moved you, his hand came to stroke your thigh, and seemingly on instinct you sleepily parted your legs, opening yourself up to him like you knew what he wanted - and you wanted it too.

Ariel’s cock twitched again at the sight of you, so vulnerable and pliant, just for him. His mind raced with all the things he wanted to do to you when you were like this, but he decided to keep things simple tonight. He could always do this again, a thought that excited him like no other.

He started off by rubbing your clit gently through the fabric of your panties, making you whimper and squirm in your sleep. Ariel wondered to himself whether his touch would cause you to have nice dreams. If it did, he hoped they were about him. Ariel only did this for about a minute, before he ached to see you for real, and so he slipped your panties down your legs - he considered putting them in his pocket and taking them as a souvenir of your time together, but decided against it.

Ariel groaned lowly at the sight of your pussy revealed to him, so pretty and already glistening with slick, just from a few light touches. Though it wasn’t something he usually enjoyed doing, he felt the urge to duck his head down and taste you right from your core, and since there was no one here who could stop him, he decided to do just that.

You let out more cute little whimpers as Ariel’s tongue worked on your cunt - pushing inside your entrance to taste you before moving to tease your clit and then circling back - spreading your legs further even while unconscious. Once his tongue returned to your clit, he decided to slip a finger into your soaked pussy, moaning at how tight you squeezed around that single digit. The next few minutes were dedicated to using his fingers to stretch you out, to prepare you for the main event. Ariel didn’t want to hurt you, after all.

“It’s going to be a tight fit, babe,” Ariel told you, though you were unable to hear him, as he withdrew the three fingers he was finally able to fit inside. “But you’re a good girl, I know you’ll be able to take it for me, won’t you?” He punctuated this praise with a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh, before sitting up and beginning to unbuckle his jeans.

Ariel wasted no time in pulling his jeans and boxers down to free his hard, leaking cock to the cool night air of your bedroom. His hand came to wrap around his length, pumping himself a few times as his eyes fixated on your dripping entrance. This was something he’d been waiting for, dreaming about, for so long, and now it was finally going to happen. He felt a little nervous, almost like he had back when he was a teenager just before his first time. But just like then, Ariel’s excitement overode any anxiety, and knew that it was best to get straight to it.

Lifting up your hips, Ariel pushed forward to sheath himself inside of you. He’d been correct, you felt unbelievably tight, even with how wet you were. But he took it slowly, making sure that you’d take every single inch of him. You whined brokenly, reacting to him stretching you out, even in your sleep. It felt like an eternity to him, but eventually he was bottomed out inside of you, feeling your warmth wrapped around him. Ariel’s hips stuttered against yours, finding it near impossible to hold back.

And so, he didn’t. Ariel’s hands came to your thighs, pushing them even further apart as he started thrusting slow but hard. His pace didn’t stay slow for long, and soon enough the bed was shaking with the intensity of his thrusts as he fucked your unconscious body into the matress.

He took your wrists in his one of his hands, pinning them above your head, even if he didn’t need to. His other hand grabbed at your hip, digging his fingernails into the plush flesh. The only sounds in the room were those of Ariel’s laboured breaths and moans, his skin connecting with yours, and your occasional quiet whimpers and whines.

Suddenly, you stirred. Your eyes moved, almost as if they were about to open. Ariel noticed this, but you felt far too good, and he wasn’t able to keep himself from continuing to fuck you. If you happened to wake up right now, everything would be ruined. He’d be caught, you’d probably call the cops and he’d have to escape before he could get caught. But it’d be hot, wouldn’t it? If your eyes fluttered open as he took you, the look of realisation dawning on your face?

Would you try to scream, forcing Ariel to clasp his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he kept going until he was finished? Or would you moan contentedly, willingly giving yourself over to him and allowing him to use your body as he saw fit?

However it didn’t matter in the end, because you thankfully stayed asleep, pliable beneath Ariel’s body. His moans grew louder as his thrusts got quicker and quicker, knowing that he was getting closer to the edge. But he needed you to come too, to feel your cunt squeezing around him as he fucked you through your climax. To know that he was making you feel good, even though you didn’t know it was him doing it.

Ariel’s hand moved to your clit, beginning to rub it in rough circles, making you sleepily buck up against him. Your sleepy, mumbled noises became more frequent until the pleasure finally overtook you, making you cry out while Ariel struggled to keep himself together as you fluttered around his cock, pulling him deeper inside if that were possible.

Then he fell over the edge too. Loud moans were torn from him as his thrusts became impossibly rough, filling you up with his cum. He knew that he should have pulled out, that he shouldn’t leave such incriminating evidence behind, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, the thought that a piece of him would be staying there with you - inside of you - was very appealing to him. It made him want to do this over and over again.

Regrettably, Ariel had to eventually pull out of you, and he watched with interest as some of his cum leaked from your spent entrance. God, you looked so good like that, and he wait til he finally got to see you like this while conscious. Not wanting to make too much of a mess, he grabbed your discarded panties and pulled them back on you, hopefully nipping the problem in the bud.

Though your cum-filled pussy was out of Ariel’s sight, it was still on his mind. Maybe when you woke up the next morning, you’d find yourself feeling a little bit turned on, and you’d end up touching yourself with his cum still inside you?

Now Ariel knew that he needed to get home and get some rest, because he’d never forgive himself if he missed seeing that little show live. He hurridly tidied up his clothing, tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping his jeans up. 

“Tonight was wonderful, baby,” Ariel told you once he’d climbed off the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. He stroked your hair, pushing some of it off your forehead, which was glistening with sweat. Just as he was about to leave you there to sleep in peace, he turned around to take in the beautiful sight of you once more. “Same time tomorrow, yeah?”

[moonshine-nightlight]

Free Piano: Haunted - Part 2

When you drive by the piano on the way home from a job across town, you almost don’t stop. But your kid’s been wanting to learn how to play—a desire that’s stuck around for the last few months, a rarity—and this one’s free. It needs some TLC and while you’ve no experience with instruments, you’re good with your hands. On impulse, you pull over. Soon enough, you’re loading the free piano into the back of your truck. You barely give a passing thought to the “haunted” part of the sign.

Perhaps you should have.

Inspiration post: Haunted Free Piano Pic

Modern, enemies to friends to lovers, ghosts/spirits/specters, male monster x male reader, M/M, Part 2 of 8

[Part One] Part Two

As you wash your dishes, your shed catches your eye through the window into the backyard. You’ve been busy the last couple weeks, since you picked up that piano and then stuck it in your shed so your kid didn’t see it, but maybe this weekend is the time to see if it's salvageable. 

You’ve done some research online and mostly you’ve figured out that paying to have it restored is definitely not on the table. You’re not broke, but between having your savings wiped out from the divorce and the move and the house and having to save for Kit’s college—you still feel too close to being one month of no work away from panic. And you know if it gets too bad, your ex might try to be petty and go for full custody. So that’s really not an option.

You’ve got time so hopefully, you can take the thing apart, polish it up, fix it up, and then put it all back together well enough that it's playable—then you can spend money on the actual lessons rather than just the instrument.

You stopped at the library earlier in the week between clients and printed out some of the information you need—wifi doesn’t reach to the shed and you didn’t like having your laptop out there. Iit always seemed like putting it down next to powertools was an unnecessarily risky move. 

Today the plan is to assess the damage, see if you have the right tools—drawing up a list of people you’ve worked with who might and might be willing to let you borrow them if you don’t—and make a list of what materials you might need to buy. Tomorrow or maybe even this afternoon you can head into town and start to budget how much all that might cost. You’re hoping spreading all this out over a few months will help minimize the impact on your wallet.

You get all the way to the shed when you realize you’re left your keys in the house. Putting down your papers and some of the tools from your truck at the entrance, you jog back to the house to grab them.

When you come back, you have to put a foot down on the folder with your research in it because the wind has just managed to blow it out from under the edge of the toolbox you’d put on top of it. As you lean down to pick it up, you swear you hear a faint echo of a voice saying, “…stuck in this truly awful little building for weeks…”

Frowning, you look around, but no one else seems to be in their yards. Shaking your head, you unlock the door. Peering inside, it's easy to tell no strange, snotty children have broken in. It must have been the strong wind blowing the sound of the TV from your neighbor’s house—you know Mrs. Mical’s AC is broken and she likes those PBS British shows that are always on. You’ve tried to tell her that the problem isn’t her with her air conditioning unit but rather with the woodchuck that lives under her deck constantly breaking it, but she won’t hear of it.

Setting everything down once inside, you decide to open the shutters for now—the wind’s been kicking up a lot today, but you’d appreciate the extra light. 

First, you survey the wood that makes up the outside of the piano, taking notes on what appears to be superficial damage and what appears warped enough that it might need replacement. You also take down all the measurements and some pictures with your phone, just so you have a record of what you started with. If this goes horribly wrong, maybe you’ll at least be able to track where it all went off the rails.

Eventually though, there’s no delaying having to push on to the actual piano inner workings—the part of this you have the least confidence about actually being able to do.  You flip up the fallboard to reveal the keys and try to take pictures of their condition—try because the fallboard keeps falling back down whenever you get your phone into position. You jump each time it does so, the bang somehow echoing in the small shed.

It always seems to be sitting securely when you flip it up, but eventually you resort to jamming some spare pieces of cardboard under the join to make it stay up. Wanting petty revenge against a piece of wood is stupid, no matter how much it seems like it’s out to annoy you—so the fact that you decide the next step is to unscrew and remove it entirely is just a coincidence.

You know you’ll be needing to deep clean the whole thing anyways so it just makes sense. After struggling for a few minutes and having to reconsult your printed out research and diagrams, you realize you have unscrew the bookend wood pieces on either end of the keyboard first and then you can take them and the fallboard off together. The screwdriver skids out more than it should—or so it seems to you—but soon enough you’re able to remove the whole thing entirely. Once those are off, you carefully put them to the side, sticky noting the three pieces in the process and then taking a picture of them all—the last thing you want to do is get confused over which piece is what. 

With that taken off, maybe it’s best to remove the entire top now too. You’re able to remove the hinges, but not before getting your fingers pinched. You even swear you got some sort of static shock from it which makes no sense whatsoever. Lifting the lid makes you nearly growl with effort, it's not even terribly thick and yet it feels so heavy.

To cap it off, the lid nearly lands on your foot when you try to lean it against the wall. You may not try to take apart a piano everyday, but you haven’t felt like such a newbie since you first became a contractor—no, since you were a kid helping Grandpa. It's kinda infuriating, how many little things seem to keep going wrong. Not to mention how sweaty you are given it's only been like an hour or so since you started. 

You take a deep breath, wipe off some sweat from your forehead, and turn to survey the piano. The inside is grimy—plenty of dust and cobwebs and lint. It looks worse than what had been under your grandparents couch when you first moved it. Maybe you should just be relieved nothing looks like it once was food and that there’s no actual bugs in it. 

At least that you’ve seen so far.

As you removed those other pieces, you noticed it seemed wobbly on its legs. You give it a bit of a shake and realize the legs will either have to be replaced or at least more securely reattached. Between that and needing good access to the pedals, you’ll need to jack the piano up—probably with two jacks. You frown as you make a mental note to borrow Jaime’s since you only have a small one. 

Time to bite the bullet and see if you can remove the keyboard with the hammers from the keybed as easily as some of the videos made it look. You pull on some gloves, not wanting any more pinches or cuts on your fingers. The keyslip is the first thing to remove if you wanna get at the keys and while it starts off a bit stuck, it slides up and out without you needing any tools so that’s something at least.

After at least five minutes of trying to carefully, but futilely, maneuver it out of the rest of the piano, a chill goes down your spine. Cold enough that goosebumps spread across your skin, and you look around as if trying to find the source. It seems to be the wind, which kicks up with surprising strength to blast cold air into your face along with a significant amount of dust from the opened piano.

You let go of the stuck keyboard—you’ve only managed to move it about half an inch out of the keybed—with a cry of annoyance, raising your hands to your eyes only to remember you’re wearing gloves covered in grime at the last second. With a rumble, you head out to go inside your house to clean off.

As soon as you step outside the shed, heat washes over you. You want to look to see if the sun just came out from behind a cloud or something, but your eyes are so watery from whatever just blew into them that you just focus on heading for your blurry backdoor.

You strip off your gloves and wash your hands in the sink before carefully wiping your streaming eyes. After a splash of water, they seem a little itchy but fine. You absentmindedly grab your phone and check the weather app, wondering if there’s some sort of cold front or storm rolling in, but to your bewilderment, there’s nothing of the sort.

You’re annoyed to find yourself frowning at your shed through the window again, just like this morning. And you feel like you havent actually accomplished that much since this morning. You pull your gloves back on decisively—you’re taking this first big step today even if it feels like the universe is against you. You’re nothing if not determined, willing to dig your heels in the second someone tries to shove you in the opposite direction. Spite might not be the best reason to lean into something—certainly not against something as amorphous and uncaring as a little breeze—but it's all you’ve got.

Marching back across your yard, you see the door, which you’d propped open with a rock, has somehow swung shut. You pull it back open, determined to wedge the rock in more securely only to curse under your breath when you see that all your papers are strewn all over the shed—likely by that same big burst of wind.

“Fuckin’ shit,” you mutter under your breath as you let the door close behind you. No more open doors, no more—you close the shutters of the closest windows rather violently—no more open windows. No wind allowed, you don’t care how hot it gets. 

You walk around brusquely, picking up papers and shoving them into the folder they should be in. You gather up the post-its too—blown off from the fallboard and lid, but you don’t bother putting them back on. There’s no chance they’d stick to anything anymore, not after landing on the dirty ground. You’re glad you took pictures and haven’t actually removed anything else yet.

By the time you’ve done that, you’re only mildly frustrated. You’re finally able to look at the piano and find that despite dust and dirt being blown into your face, it looks as dirty if not dirtier than before because of course it does. 

This time, you carefully check to make sure all the hammers are down—remembering that tip from a video you watched earlier in the week, and lift the keyframe with the keyboard, methodically wiggling it back and forth to pull it out. You heave a sigh of relief when it finally unsticks and grin triumphantly back at the piano, as if gloating about winning a game of tug of war. Deflating slightly when you realize how weirdly petty you’re acting to an inanimate object, survey the dirt and dust in the cavity left behind.

You grab a flashlight to see better since you no longer have much natural light and survey the strings. You frown as you run along each one. Unfortunately, keeping in line with the water damage on the wood of the lid, a number of the strings appear to have rusted in multiple places. Some have even snapped—it's likely a miracle that you didn’t manage to press the key for any of the broken ones and hear the damage in the first place. 

You feel some of your remaining hope dissipate as you survey the strings. Restringing an entire piano is without a doubt the most challenging—and therefore expensive—part of restoring a piano per your research. The material cost is not the problem—it's all about the skill and time needed to restring multiple strings without breaking anything.

You pull out your phone to begin taking pictures while you think. Maybe you shouldn’t try to restring the entire instrument. First figure out how many strings would need to be completely replaced, if any of the pins on the ends need replacement, if any can just be retied for the moment.

You have months and the kid doesn’t need a perfect piano to start with, right? If you can replace or retie enough of the main strings, then you can still get it in working order enough that any of the others you can replace as time goes by. This is probably still the cheapest way to give him a piano, it just might not be as functional as you’d hoped. 

After all that, you head over to your tools and pick up one that you think should help you remove a pin—you want to test out your equipment to see if you’ll need to get specialty tools, and how much those might cost if you do.  After checking your gloves and goggles, you select a pin to try. Following a particularly rusty string you know will have to go—and which is also already broken at the end—you start trying to loosen it.

It doesn’t seem to be working at first, unable to grip the pin correctly, so you discard it for a pair of pliers. Eventually that seems to work, but the string snaps in another place, causing your heart to race at the sound, and the pin you’re left with is deformed. You barely have a second or two to notice all that when a roar seems to come from the piano.

A violent burst of wind blows you back against the door with a thud while the lights flicker dramatically. You feel like your heart’s stopped beating entirely, your breath caught in your throat as a rushing, static-y sound builds, the air tight with pressure or repressed energy.

Before your eyes a silvery outline of a person defines itself, with white blue spots of lights where eyes might be. The final sputter of the lightbulb overhead lets them start out more as it opens its mouth to say, ���How dare you defile this magnificent instrument!”

It swops closer and as it yells, the sound has a high-pitched re-verb to it like something sharp and cold has been drawn down your spine. It's enough of a jolt to get you moving though as your hand frantically feels along the door for the knob.

“I do not know where these vile machinations might lead,” it continues, seeming to get larger and more jagged as it grows more furious, “but I shall not suffer them quietly!”

It rears back as you’re finally able to turn the knob. It swoops down as you stumble and fall back onto the ground, bellowing, “BEGONE!” before it dissipates in the afternoon sunlight.

The door slams behind it, the click of the lock audible in the silence of your backyard.

You stay where you are, heart thundering your ears, breath coming in pants—pliers still clutched in your hand.

“Fuck.”

You’ve heard ghost stories all your life, but you hadn’t actually believed one way or another. You also aren’t the type to lie to yourself. And that had definitely been one angry ghost.

For some reason, that stupid sign taped to the piano came to mind and you can’t stop laughing. They’d even tried to warn you. Haunted, indeed. God, and you thought this project had been getting out of hand before. 

Because now you need to figure out how to deal with a ghost. 

Great.

[jellybeanium124]

ok my laptop's "e" key has only gotten more broken. not only is it not typing "e's"e when I need them, it's just typing them 10ish seconds later, and sometimes up to a lot eper timeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I press theeeee eeeekeeteyso now I am using "control v" to typeeeee ok eit's juset not stopping nowe see thieees is howe my text looks ieefe eeeeIe done't eeedelete the "e's" so idk how I'm gonna fuckin write anything until I get this fixed. ok and then sometimes it stops, like it just stopped, so now I just have to never press the "e" key again which is pretty fuckin difficult since it's the most common letter and I sorta touch type. and bc I belong to the apple I just know this is the kinda thing that'll cost so much to fix they'll tell me to just buy a new computer... *deep sigh*

[melancholysway]

Serendipity (2007!Raphael x Fem Reader) 2

Chapter II: Down in the Sewers

Chapter key: --- = a flashback is happening or ending

~ = small time skip

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ or

==== = perspective change

*Warning: descriptive sexual harassment toward the end, you've been warned. 

Down in the sewers, one out of four mutant turtles turned on the TV as he had gotten home from his last party gig and watched the news, in awe over the vigilante.

"Don, whaddya think about the Nightwatcher? He's doing what we used to do. I remember those days. Ya know, the fun, adrenaline-boosting good old days..." The orange-clad turtle groaned in pain as his older brother who wore a purple mask placed an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel on his left temple and handed him an Ibuprofen with a glass of water.

"No comment. He'll be long gone once Leo comes back. Anyway, leave it for about an hour or so, then use a heat compress, okay? And BE PATIENT." Don warned, he knew his baby brother too well- how restless Mikey would get after a mere 20 minutes of keeping the same position, but staying in place didn't sound the worst to Mikey due to his massive headache. 

"Hey, at least you wore the cup this time," Donatello stated, earning an eye roll from Mikey. Donnie his hand out to his brother and Michelangelo caught on; reached into his pouch that contained the day's earnings, and gave it to Don who counted it quickly in his head. He then went back to his little workstation on the opposite side of the living room, muttering something about how he loved money. 

---

It was no secret that Donatello Hamato loved money. The feel, the smell, the touch! It was a rush. The money he made was much more near and dear to him than the money Mikey made. 

However, once upon a time in the Lair, (both Raphael and Splinter can confirm this,) Michelangelo had a bit of a...spending problem. One day, a blender popped out of nowhere, and then a new microwave, and then a new couch...and just, well, the list goes on, dear readers. Donnie was so wrapped up in his own stressful little world that he didn’t notice what Mikey had gotten until he saw 3 new, full-size arcade games in the living room. Yes, THREE. The vintage- are more expensive than Mikey’s entire existence, the ones you see in retro arcades, are rare and can be found on eBay at a HIGH price- yeah, those. Donnie had no idea getting beat up by kids for 8 hours on end would make his brother 6 figures*! However, he had to put a stop to it- and asked Mikey to give him his day's earnings so he’d stop wasting it on pointless items. It worked, but Mikey usually takes five bucks for himself before giving it to his older brother- and hey, $5 a day adds up!

---

    After 10 minutes went by, Mikey groaned. 

"Don, I'm dying-" Mikey was cut off, "You're not dying, you're just in pain.” "But I-" Donny stopped Mikey from whining any further with a simple "You'll be fine." The orange-clad turtle audibly sighed as he winced at the pounding on his left temporal. He looked over the couch and saw Donnie tinkering with his new invention- remembering the times when he had to stop midway because Leo broke the toaster and asked him to fix it. 

Something so small that Donatello actually dreaded doing, he actually...missed. Maybe it was Leo’s year-long and counting absence in Central America, or he was just bored, but he missed it. He missed when he was hunched over a new creation in the living room- perfecting each detail, and programming each feature through his laptop or taking a sip of his 9th cup of coffee to stay awake another, and was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder by a half-awake Raphael to tell him the devastating news of the broken toaster because of Leo. Or only to hear the deafening sound of the smoke alarm that went off in the kitchen (which woke him up much better than coffee)- and Leo’s guilt-ridden face said it all. His chocolate brown eyes looked sheepishly at the back of his younger brother’s shell as he turned around in panic- only to be relieved that it was just Leo being Leo and not an actual fire, just a bit of smoke. Contrary to popular belief- and by popular I mean April and Casey, it was widely known that Leonardo - Mr. Perfect, Splinter Junior (which was voted by Mikey the best name for him, thanks to a clever, angry Raph), O’ Fearless One, or just Fearless- could not cook to save his life. Oftentimes, it seemed if he even touched something in the kitchen, it would burn or break- which made fixing the toaster routine - only because Mr. Fearless Leader wanted some toast to go with his Chamomile Tea.

===

Mikey continued to converse with Donnie as he tried to concentrate- which had started to irritate him- though he was pretty used to it at this point. It was pretty easy to get Donatello irritated- if you’re being complicated, plain stupid, or interrupting him- he got annoyed; (double annoyance points if you're Mikey.)

“You have to focus on your job, Mikey. The good old days are...gone, and won’t be back until Leo is."

“You sure ‘bout dat?” As if on cue, a gruff, Brooklyn-accented voice questioned Donatello as the secret entrance to the lair opened- in which Don merely rolled his eyes.

“For starters, I'm surprised you woke up today. But, it's already 6 in the evening. I’m sure that us contributing around here is much better than you sleeping all day and doing God knows what at night, Raph. Where were you?” Donnie asked. While Leonardo and Raphael's arguing was normal, it was pretty out of the ordinary for Don and the red masked bearing turtle to argue. If anything, Donnie was Raph's favorite brother, since Mikey constantly pranked him, and Leo constantly lectured him, Don hasn’t done much to annoy him- except for the times when one of his inventions explodes at 4 in the morning; then at that moment, he’s no longer the favorite. Ever since Leo left for training, Donatello had acted as the newest leader among the three remaining turtles- and he soon started to act similar to Leo. Questioning- or what Raphael likes to call it- interrogating or harassing him about where he’s been all night and why he’s sneaking back in at 4 am. While Donny was only looking after Raphael- he didn’t take it as such. 

    “I was around None o' ya Business Avenue. But ya know what, Leonardo 2.0? you’re right, I do nuthin’, you got me all figured out, huh? At least the NightWatcher is picking up the slack of all 4 of us while we sit on our asses waiting for Leo to come back whilst dirtbags run free.” Raph stated sarcastically, obviously not giving a flying fuck what Donny thought about him at this point.

    "What? You think the NightWatcher is a hero? It's not Leo's fault we can't go up to the surface, Master Splinter thought it was best for us to stay here than to the surface. And for the record, the Nightwatcher hasn't done anything that the police couldn't do on their own- he's just a vigilante that'll be gone in a few."

    "Donatello, Raphael, enough." The mutant rat and sensei are immersed in his room, not happy with the bickering currently going on. 

    Raph glared at his younger brother, and it was enough for him to plan his escape to the surface in a few minutes. Don merely rolled his eyes and muttered his response, “I don’t have time for this.” As he was now fixated on his invention- tuning Raphael and Michelangelo out.

    "Michelangelo." Splinter stated his son's name. Mikey looked at him in confusion, until he walked up to him and put his paw out, staff in the other. 

    "Wha…Ohhh! Here you go, Master Splinter." Mikey pulled out a small item wrapped in tinfoil- as his sensei's eyes sparkled at the sight. He took it from Mikey's hand and unwrapped the top revealing a cake. 

    "Ah, buttercream frosting" the rat master spoke softly in full nirvana, almost drooling at the sweet treat. Donnie heard this, and immediately his head turned to Splinter's direction as he rushed over and snatched it out of his hand.

    "Ah-ah-ah! Do you remember your last blood tests?" Donnie inquired, watching as Splinter jumped to reach the tinfoil-wrapped delicacy--and lifted his arm higher to make it more out of his master's reach. 

    "I… I- DONATELLO! I am your master!" Splinter stated strictly, hopefully being able to convince the tech-savvy ninja. Donnie looked down dumbfounded, sighing and chuckling at the situation at hand. 

    "Nice try Sensei, you can still be my master, but with low cholesterol." Donnie walked towards the kitchen and stuck the wrapped cake in the freezer--which was far from Master Splinter's reach and threw it in with the many tinfoil wrapped cakes that resided in the cold box. The purple masked turtle's phone beeped, which indicated the ending of his break, and he'd have to continue his invention at a later time; as his I.T job was calling his name for his night shift. He hated taking the night shift, considering people were especially dumb at 3 in the morning--but, he needed the money.

    Donnie went back into his lab to continue his shift, Splinter retreated to his room, and Mikey fell asleep sprawled out on the couch. This only left Raphael- who had actually just come back from Casey’s place- remembering he had a date with busting crime tonight with his bud and he went to his room to retrieve his infamous Nightwatcher outfit.

---

    The day Raphael knew he had to do something instead of nothing like his brothers after Leo left for South America for his training was when he saw the news in the morning. He endured the stories of crimes reported on the news, but this one set him off. The Purple Dragons had allegedly robbed a bank, and kidnapped the bank teller. The news anchor reported that she was raped, and then beaten to death in a nearby alley- All on the same day. He thought that in the event Leo never left, this entire ordeal wouldn’t have happened. Even after Splinter saw the story himself, he continued to order him and his brothers to stay beneath the surface until Leo’s return. This was also the day he went against his father’s wishes and did the exact opposite. 

    He busted crime, yet remained hidden- until a few weeks went by and he’d realized he had a good chance of being seen because he was becoming more known. The news and witnesses called him “The Shadow.” Corniest name to ever exist, right? Until he got his signature metal look. It took some time, but with the use of Donnie’s tools and tech, he was able to take the shape of a persona that made him hard to figure out. 

    Or so he thought. One night, he was busting heads on the roof of the same building his good friends April and Casey resided in. It came to a halt when Casey intervened, who was already suspicious of the “Nightwatcher-” , the new name given to Raphael- and had a gut feeling it was his best friend. When Casey finally said he knew it was Raph, the golden-eyed turtle sighed and took his helmet off, asking and wondering how the hell he figured out it was him.

    “It wasn’t that hard man, you look like a big, metal turtle,” Casey said, stating the obvious.

---

    From then on, Casey would join Raph in fighting crime- but he was keeping this secret from Donatello, Michelangelo, Splinter, and worse- April, his own girlfriend. She sort of knew what they were doing, but had no idea Raphael was the Nightwatcher. Sometimes, Raph would fly solo because he didn’t want to keep Casey out with him all night and not be with April (what a good friend am I right?)

Raphael would never admit it, but he does miss his older brother. Then again, he never speaks his emotions out loud. But, he was beyond pissed that Leo has been gone for damn near a year and about to be more, and told Casey he could care less at this point about him. Secretly, he hoped Leo would come back soon after staying for far longer than his master instructed in Central America. He missed fighting alongside his brothers, but he also would have it out for Leo upon his return. 

~

It quickly got pitch blank throughout the Manhattan sky as you walked, the stars and 1st quarter moon paving their way on it to create the melancholy scenery. The street lights turned on automatically, and neon store signs lit up the night. The nighttime could be calming and stress-free, but in an area around your neighborhood and Jade’s sometimes, it could leave you a nervous wreck. You knew to always leave your earbuds in and avoid eye contact with anyone around this time- who knew what some were capable of. You were now halfway to Jade’s apartment complex until you realized you’d forgotten something crucial and let out the most frustrating groan known to man. 

“I left them on my bed,” you thought out loud, realizing you never put the CDs or movies in your bag to bring. This meant it might be a dull night, which you absolutely could not let happen. Each sleepover had to be if not better than the last! You looked behind you, at the long straightaway you just finished walking on for 10 minutes. It took about 20 minutes (on a good day) to get to Jade’s apartment- which only annoyed you more. You started to use your brain and logical thinking along with “quick maths.” 

“Okay, if I go back and speed walk, it’ll only take like, 7 minutes. It’ll take me 5 minutes to get to my apartment and get everything...and then the 20-minute walk, counting the 10 minutes I just wasted...in total...42!?” It was already 6:35, which meant you wouldn’t make it exactly at 7. 

6:35 (Name)

I’m running a bit late, I forgot the fun stuff! >:( gonna go back to my place to get it and I’ll be there!

6:35 (Jade)

Okay :), I just woke up from a whole nap lol so maybe this is a blessing because I have the worst after nap breath 

6:37 (Name)

Colgate. 

6:37 (Jade)

I’m more of a Crest type of gal- this text isn’t sponsored by them BTW (it should be, I’d be a great spokesperson.

6:38 (Name)

I can imagine it now;

“Have terrible after nap breath? ME TOO! Use Crest toothpaste with activated charcoal and baking powder and watch it go away- See that? Colgate HQ is panicking as we speak. I can hear them screeching in their office seats. Crest, the toothpaste for you”

6:39 (Jade)

You made toothpaste water come out of my nose with that lolololol- it was minty, definitely cleared my sinuses.

You giggled, ‘gross!’ the voice inside your head commented.

So, you walked. Quickly. 

You repeated your exact steps from moments before, the same signs, stores- you get it. As much as you wanted to just call a taxi- it probably would’ve taken more time to get one than walk back. You looked up at the sky and saw the bright moon following- high in the sky- never leaving your sight. It was almost as if time just went by, and you soon found yourself staring face to face with your apartment building from afar. You observed it up and down the 12 floors with windows on the front.. Some lights were off, indicating nobody was home, or someone was sleeping. Others were on- meaning someone was awake or busy. You watched a man under the lamp outside in front of the entrance smoking a cigarette. He stood in place idly, checking his phone without a care in the world. You didn’t happen to notice the group of girls walk by you, laughing amongst themselves about what you picked up to be about a TV series. All you needed to do was to retrieve the forgotten items from your bed. You looked at the alleyway on the left side of the building and stared into nothingness.

“What you lookin’ at?” A familiar gruff voice asked from the darkness, not too far away it seemed either. You were startled, to say the least, so you said nothing. You turned your heels back around and began to walk toward the entrance. 

Suddenly, you feel a cold, big hand wrap around your right wrist, and then an arm goes around your neck, pulling you forcefully. “HEL-” You screamed for help, but it was soon muffled by your mouth being covered by the unknown person’s other hand. 

“Fuck! Now you’ve earned it!” You had licked your assailant's hand to make them lift it from your mouth, but it resulted in you being slapped across the face and pushed onto the ground. Your duffle bag was being pried from your shoulder by 2 pairs of hands that were foreign to you, and it was soon out of your reach and thrown to God knows where. 

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the moon was directly overhead- literally shedding light on the situation. 

Three. Big. Dudes. All of them had to at least be 200 pounds and 6 feet tall. All 3 men stood in front of you, blocking the way to leave the alley, and you were trapped. You looked behind you, only to see that this alley was a dead end. Beautiful. The tallest and biggest one stood in the middle, bearing a purple bandana around his neck. He wore black joggers and a black muscle tee with a purple denim vest on top that showed his large arm muscles. He must’ve been the leader, as he was dressed differently than the two slightly shorter men standing beside him. You recognized the one on the left immediately, as he was wearing the same clothes from earlier today and matched the guy on the far right. Well, you were screwed. You frantically looked around, only to be greeted with narrow decaying brick side walls and a large dumpster behind you, and there was nowhere to turn. You looked up at the night sky and saw nothing. If you had the ability to fly that would’ve been super helpful right this second. You looked back at the 3 men standing before you, recognizing them as a group from the news. 

The Purple Dragons. The largest man was Hun- the leader. The one on the left was Fong, and the one on the right had to be John. 

“I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?” John walked towards you, his hoodie down- so you finally had a chance to match his face with the one you saw on the news. His dead brown eyes angrily look at you. You felt your heart rate quicken and then your heart was about to jump out of your chest when he suddenly pulled out a folding knife that glistened when he unfolded the blade. He placed the knife up to your neck, applying enough pressure that it allowed a trickle of blood to come down and stain the hem of your shirt. 

“Let me tell you something,” You noticed Fong going through your bag on the side, pulling everything out and throwing them on the concrete surrounding him. “NOBODY disrespects me, ya got dat?” 

“Nobody disrespected you! You look dumb.” John has suddenly pushed away, and Hun approached- ignoring his teammates' protest to let him deal with you.

“What, John?” You spoke up, “Couldn’t handle dealing with me on your own so you brought back up? That’s such a cowardly move for someone like you.” You stared at him in anger as turned his head slowly around to look at you, breathing heavily from the internal time bomb you just set off. 

“You bitch! You don’t know what’s about to come. When we’re finished with you...you’ll wish you never disrespected me.” John insulted through gritted teeth, however his mouth soon formed into a snarky grin right before your terrified eyes. Hun suddenly grabbed you by your throat, holding you up like a trophy. You strained as you put your hands to stop Huns, gasping for air, feeling as if your neck would snap at any second. You closed your eyes tightly, turning your head away and fearing the worst. Then, Hun threw you back on the hard, cold concrete as he watched you on your knees cough and try to catch your breath.

“I think we should have a little fun first, don’t cha think?” Hun suggested slyly to his goons- who glanced at him and gave responses of agreement.

“‘Ey boss, lookie here.” Fong dug through your bag and pulled out something very familiar.

Your OneStep SX-70. Your child. Your love. 

In other words, your cherished Polaroid.

You watched as Fong waved it around as if it were weightless. It made you nervous just watching him do that. “H-hey!” You finally gained your voice back, “Put that back!” Despite your current predicament and the possible threat you received during this time, that didn’t stop you from going off pure instinct and speaking up. Hun turned to Fong, and it seemed as if an idea popped into his head.

What happened next actually made this whole thing worse.

It was almost going in slow motion, your camera falling from Fong’s hands as he threw it on the ground. In reality, it was coming into contact with the concrete much quicker than you perceived it.

Crack.

The lens popped out, any extra blank film you had fallen out and sprawled everywhere on the rocky ground.

If you weren’t crying yet, you sure were crying now.

Don’t be fooled, it was from pure anger, but sadness was also present in the emotions flowing through your body. Out of everything they could have destroyed or stolen, they decided to break your camera? How old were they, really? That’s what schoolboy bullies do. 

“Now we got ya, we could do this the easy way, or my favorite-the hard way.” Hun taunted, as John and Fong both snickered behind him, repeating his last two words with just as much hate as their leader.

“I’m gonna keep it simple, get on your hands and knees. Now.” Without a second to react, you felt yourself being turned around by a pair of rough hands that ran from your shoulders all the way down your lumbar. You couldn’t see anything of what was happening behind you, but you heard the clicking of metal, and soon felt something cold touch the back of your neck. It ran down slowly and stopped at the neck of your shirt. You didn’t move, you just...froze. You trained yourself many times before for exactly what you would do in the situation you were in now. But, you couldn’t move. It was almost like your body shut down, but your mind was still conscious. You’d heard the same story on the news time and time again- in a place like New York, it was bound to happen. You, however, never imagined yourself in the situation you always heard about on television. You’d never think you would experience this. Most PD victims had all ended up the same: dead, and now you were next. 

The sound of your T-Shirt ripping mixed in with the laughter of the Purple Dragons added to the loud, busy streets of NYC, all of which tuned out your muffled cries for help in the deep, dark alley. The cool, crisp November air engulfed your newly exposed skin- sending chills and goosebumps all over as you shuttered every time they laid a finger on you. Your cries of protest were soon put to rest as you felt a strong hand cover it, and another tied your hands back, leaving you no way to move them. You felt grimy fingers touch you in places you didn’t want them to. A pair of hands grabbed your behind, and another on your front- causing you to sob uncontrollably as you realized you weren't getting out of this one. The air was thick, and you breathed in the musky, sweaty atmosphere of the bulky trio of men surrounding you and staring at your body hungrily. 

Hun motioned his goons to back away from you, and then grabbed the waistband of your leggings. However, this was a mistake on his end. You managed to have full control of your legs, and kneed him where the ‘sun doesn't shine.’ As his expression changed from smug to looking like he just got the wind knocked out of him, he looked you dead in the eyes, enraged.

*6 Figures - Money amount with six digits. Anywhere from 100k to 999K.

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[magneticsquid]

3 years ago my laptop's keyboard was broken and some of the keys had stopped working or you had to press them a bunch of times and hope you got lucky. So I bought replacement parts so that I could fix it myself, something I've done in the past and felt very confident doing, this way I save money because parts are way cheaper than getting it repaired or having to replace the entire thing. I replaced the keyboard with absolutely no issue, cleaned things up inside, and did some general maintenance. It was a pretty tedious but simple repair and everything went without issue. But when I went to put everything back together I briefly closed the case on the cable connecting the display. I didn't think anything of it at the time and just adjusted everything then finished closing it up. Then I turned my laptop back on to test that everything was working and it booted up perfectly fine, the new keyboard was working, and everything was otherwise fine. Then the screen started blinking. I was kind of annoyed by my mistake because now I have to fix it AGAIN but the replacement cable is cheap and it's not really a complicated repair either. But it's been 3 years now and my laptop screen is still blinking. It's kind of awful to use but I'm only ever dimly aware of it because I've gotten used to it. For anyone else it's the most intolerable thing to even look at and people always comment on it. I've actually had the replacement part for awhile now, it's even moved houses with me a couple times. The fix is sitting less than 10 ft. away from me and it would probably take under an hour to do. But I can't help but think, "what if I try to fix things again and something else breaks?" That's kind of how I feel like my life is right now.