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dyaz-stories · 10 months

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a house, not a home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, hyun-su needs a hug, unresolved tension, mentions of blood

a/n: okay so, for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman though if people are interested i could definitely write that 👀 I hope you'll like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if you'd like me to write more, and consider reblogging!

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The hardest thing to get used to, after what others called the Monsterization Outbreak but you labelled, more simply, the Apocalypse, was the silence. You were the type of person to always have music playing, back when you were a high schooler studying hard to get into your college of choice. Now, music was wasted electricity and, worse, could be a death sentence if anyone — anything — heard it play, or if it dulled your senses and got you killed.

At the beginning, there had been lots of sounds. Screams. Cars colliding. Stores’ alarms, blaring when the looters broke in. Sobs. In your house, for a while, there had been your father, humming quietly as he worked.

Then he’d gotten a nosebleed, left the house, and never returned.

Now it was just you, and you’d learned not to make a sound. So when there’s a knock on your door, it echoes through the rooms and rattles you to your core. For a second, you clench your trusty baseball bat. You took hours and cut your fingers planting nails into it, but it’s worth it, if only for the feeling of confidence it gives you. Truth is, you rarely had to use it. Your strategy relies on avoiding confrontation at all costs.

You release it when you realize that there are very few people who can come knocking at your door.

After all, monsters don’t knock.

You rush to the door without letting go of the bat. Your habits are ingrained in you well enough that you still check the peephole — and when you do, your heart somersaults in your chest.

You keep the hinges well-oiled and the door doesn’t make a sound when you open it.

“Come in,” you whisper, not daring to break the silence with actual words.

Cha Hyun-Su stares at you, looks like he hesitates. He always does, looks like he wants to give you a chance to slam the door back in his face. He’s covered in blood now — ‘not mine’, you know he’d say if you asked —, clutching his wrist, lips chapped, eyes hollow.

“Come on,” you say again, and this time he does, walking by you without a word. Then he goes still once more, there in your entrance, while you close the door behind him. He always does that, until you give him explicit permission.

“Are you okay?” you ask when you turn around, hands reaching for his arms, his torso, trying to check on him, though you cannot see whether or not he is hurt.

“I’m fine,” he replies with that deep voice of his, catching your wrists before you can feel for yourself. “It’s not my blood.”

It never is.

“But are you hurt?” you press, still.

He frowns, and confusion sparks in his eyes.

“I told you. I’m fine.”

You shake your head.

“No, I mean— Does it hurt? Does anything hurt?”

Hyun-Su’s lips part. He closes his eyes. His body sways towards yours, and you freeze. You feel his breath against your cheek, and his grip on your wrist becomes lighter— a caress, at most. You just stay there, not wanting to scare him away, but not wanting to leave him to himself either. You feel a pull towards him, the urge to wrap your arms around him, and you resist it, knowing that he’d flee.

Finally, he snaps out of it, lets go of you, takes a step back.

“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time.

You don’t push it.

“Do you want to take a bath?”

Clean water isn’t easy to come by these days. Fortunately for you, you have a complex system designed to retain rain water as well as morning dew, put in place by your father, when he was still around. It’s rained recently, and with the help of solar panels you’d stolen with him what feels like a lifetime ago, you’ll be able to have hot water. Showers, you haven’t mastered — though you’re sure your dad would have figured it out by now — but you can at least offer him a warm bath.

Hyun-Su’s eyes are on you, wide and focused.

They’re ever so slightly warmer than they were when he came in.

“I would like that.”

Hyun-Su comes out of the bathroom some thirty minutes later, clean and looking more like himself. He’s wearing clothes he’d left there on one of his other visits, which you’d washed by hand among some of your stuff.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice firmer than it had been earlier.

“It’s not a problem,” you reply, and you have to stop yourself from grimacing at how fake your nonchalance sounds to your ears.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Have you been okay here?” he asks instead.

You bite the inside of your cheek. The answer is complicated. You’ve been safe, physically that is. You have barely caught sight of a monster since he’s last been here — nine days ago. You can’t say you’re bored, either. There’s always things to do, to fix, to figure out around here.

What you are, is alone.

And, though you don’t want to admit it, lonely.

It might be the kind of answer he’s looking for, yet you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. It’s not even that you don’t want him to know.

It’s that you’re scared that if you did, if you asked him to stay or to take you with him, he would still leave you behind.

“I make do,” you reply, which at least isn’t a lie. “I keep myself busy.”

It’s your turn to freeze when Hyun-Su leans forward, trying to meet your eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

A smile escapes you at his cautious tone as he repeats your words at you. You look up, and there he is, inches away from your face, checking on you in the very same way you’d checked on him when he’d arrived — now that he’s had the time and space to collect himself. For half a second, the corner of his lips lifts clumsily to form a smile in response to yours, and then it’s gone, as he, too, realizes how close he is.

You see him sucking in a breath, then swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Your heart beats so loud in your ears, you can’t even hear the silence anymore.

“I’m not hurt,” you say, and it is true for now, at least.

Hyun-Su nods without moving away. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’re not used to, a spark, a craving.

His eyes drop to your lips.

Your whole body is tingling with anticipation, yet you don’t move, no matter how badly you want to close the gap between you. You can’t rush him. You’d never forgive yourself, if he didn’t come back.

He leans forward, just by an inch, then closer again, so close and—

He turns his head at the last moment, late enough that his cheek brushes against yours, before he pulls himself back.

That hurts. It makes your heart ache more than you’ve let yourself hurt in forever.

“Sorry,” Hyun-Su mumbles, stumbling back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure if he’s apologizing for trying to kiss you, or for not doing it.

“I’ve brought you food,” he says in a rush, picking up his backpack by the entrance door.

You watch him as he does, and you can’t help but note the many wounds on his body. Most of them are half-closed, and you know that they’ll be gone by the next time he comes back, but that new ones will have had the time to open and heal halfway.

He hands you his offering of food, without meeting your eyes this time, and you take it from him. Your fingers brush against him, and he moves his hand away like you’ve just burned him.

“It’s late,” you say, your voice quiet even to your own ears, even now that you’re so accustomed to the lack of noise. You don’t want him to go, not just yet. “You should sleep here.”

But, just like you expected, Hyun-Su shakes his head and closes his backpack with shaky hands.

“I need to go,” he says. Then, when you don’t answer — can he tell you’re fighting back tears? —, he adds “I’ll come back. I promise.”

You nod. It’s your turn to avoid his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting,” you say.

You open the door for him, and you force yourself to look at him as he steps back outside, into the unknown, into the danger, and away from you.

He looks back, right before disappearing in the night.

“Stay safe,” you say, though you know he won’t.

“You too,” he says, knowing you will.

And then he’s gone, and you’re alone with the silence again.

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#hyunsu x reader #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home #sweet home netflix #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #sweet home season 2 #hyun su x reader #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader

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imaginedanvrs · 10 months

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my demon gave me everything

part 4 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 5.2k

warnings: established kidnapping, abuse, power dynamics, degrading, strap on sex, manipulation

Natasha was proud of herself when she heard you cry behind the very much not soundproof door. For one, she liked how you looked when tears were streaming down your cheeks and she could imagine it picture-perfect just from the sound, it was too pretty of a sight not to have glowing in her head. For another thing, she had been worried she broke you too soon.

The way you had let the redhead fuck you the night before was…different. None of the other girls had given in so quickly, not to mention been so soaked. You hadn’t even been with her a full twenty four hours and you were practically begging to have Natasha’s fingers inside you. She wasn’t necessarily disappointed in that because it had been quite the sight to be the first one to touch you, but if anything that should have made you even more wary about it.

The spy had wondered if perhaps your lack of experience with relationships and intimacy had made you too innocent, that you were so naive that the first sign of physical affection was one that you perceived as good. But then again, that hadn’t been your first impression. You had fought back only hours beforehand. Then the following morning, nothing. The numb look plastered across your face in the shower was one that Natasha only saw once she had completely broken someone down to nothing, void of all sense of self or hope. But you weren't wet so Natasha didn’t pursue, there was no fun in that for her. She much rather enjoyed making a woman wet so that they could be far more ashamed after.

Yet even after that, giving yourself to the Avenger and becoming so broken after, you still wanted to leave. She hadn’t gotten to you yet, she wasn’t sure why, but Natasha was glad of it. She had put a lot of work into getting you in that building with her, what a waste it would be if her fun was over so soon. She could only hope your turmoil lasted at least another month. It was hard to tell. Usually Natasha could precisely predict how long someone would last after the first day, but for you she just wasn’t sure.

A single chime from Natasha’s phone pulled her from her thoughts, knowing what it meant before she even took a glance at her device. A brief message from Tony explained S.H.I.E.L.D were having some transportation issues and needed the Widow to assist them. The redhead sent off a confirmation text before putting out her cigarette and heading towards the bathroom where you were still sitting on the shower ledge.

You didn’t look up when Natasha opened the door and strolled in, observing the burn you were nursing with concern. So precious. “I’ve got to go out.” The redhead announced. You kept your attention on your leg. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be but if I’m not back by the evening don’t bother trying to make some dinner, most of the electricity is turned off when I’m not here.” She continued, you listened carefully to that but showed no signs of acknowledging. Natasha knew you heard. “There’s crackers if you get hungry.” She said finally as she walked away, leaving the door wide open so you could hear her retreating footsteps and the beeps of her unlocking and relocking the main door behind her. You figured you should at least try and get a general sense of her security system but knowing that so much power went out when she left was definitely a blow. You scowled at the irony you were sure wasn’t lost on the redhead.

Once you figured you had put the burn under cold water for long enough, you left the bathroom and studied the apartment before you. Still adamant on finding a way out, you strolled around the wide space scanning for anything you hadn’t spotted before. You knew the kitchen and the bathroom were a bust and the living room was too vast to provide any help to you, so you set your eyes on the impressive stairway and made your way up. The steps were especially chilling under your bare feet but you tried to ignore the sensation once you reached the door and examined the thick barricade.

You tried the handle for some dumb luck and was unsurprised to find no lean way so you scanned the keypad for any signs of continued use of specific keys. Again, you went to try the first combination you could think of but on the first number the light flashed red and an abrasive sound of denial came from the lock. Confused, you tried every number but every time you were met with the same sound and light. Defeated, you carried on down the steps, knowing it was useless to wait outside that door in hopes of surprising Natasha when she got back.

Continuing back into the bedroom, your gaze fell to the balcony door and you immediately rushed to it thinking it would give way but it was of course locked. You sat back on the bed, feeling defeated and emotional again. You were just so tired and homesick and cooped up. You began wishing you hadn’t pissed Natasha off before so that you would have enjoyed more time outside but swiftly denied myself to ponder on that. I will not strive to make that psycho content just so she can give my ‘outside time’.

You despised the feeling of being some common animal that was being kept in a cage to adjust to a new life. You weren’t her pet and you refused to stay there any longer, so with a sudden burst, you charged at the window and kicked it as hard as you could. Nothing. So you kicked again, and again and again. Not even a scratch. You kept going until your legs and foot grew undeniably sore and collapsed against the glass in a heap, beginning to sob once more.

You spent the entirety of that day on the sofa wrapped up in some blankets you had found in the bottom of Natasha’s wardrobe. You had wanted to stay in bed, but laying there only reminded you of what you had done in it with the redhead, stirring up feelings and thoughts you didn’t want to process. So instead, you stayed on the sofa and watched how the sky and city transformed throughout the day, too tired to grow bored of the sight.

The TV didn’t work and you genuinely weren't sure if it was because the spy had turned the power off or if she had just never used it and therefore hadn’t ever set it up. You assumed the Avenger had an excessive collection of computers and electronics in the flat, but none of them were anywhere you could access them so you were limited to the windows for your entertainment.

You had thought about asking Natasha for a clock or watch of some kind. You hated not knowing exactly what the time was as you were only able to make a rough assumption based on the sun’s position. The time you had spent wondering had started to make you irritable. You aimed to bring it up to the redhead organically although how easy that would be you weren’t sure.

It was strange not having her there. Even when she was out of sight, Natasha’s presence filled every inch of the space in the apartment and without her it almost felt like there was too much space for yourself. You had no idea what to do with it, so you confined yourself to one spot and strived to not let her overtake your thoughts. You knew you needed to keep thinking of a way to get out but you just wanted some peace from anything to do with her.

The sun was setting when Natasha got back, so it must have been at least seven. You didn’t lift your head in her direction when you heard the two beeps and locks opening, or even when her boots thudded against the staircase as she made her way down. You made a point of keeping your eyes trained on the city while hers examined your state as she trudged across the room towards you. You wondered if she was tired.

You finally looked up at Natasha once she stood in front of you within arm’s reach. She had a white plastic bag in hand that seemed to have two small boxes within it. “I’m back.” She announced. You clenched your jaw and looked away, wishing she could’ve given you peace for an hour longer. “Come eat.” She made it sound like an invitation, but you both knew she wasn’t really offering so after a beat you dragged yourself from the makeshift security of the blankets and towards the table.

Natasha had put the food onto some plates that she laid on the table and went to grab some cutlery while you sat down to inspect the contents. It looked to be an italian salad with a small amount of dressing drizzled over without touching the croutons or tomatoes. Just how you liked it. A large part of you was suspicious of the dish in front of you, especially as you hadn’t seen the redhead prepare it and had no clue what could be secretly hidden in it, but you hadn't eaten all day and the colourful salad was undeniably tempting. But also, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care what could be in the food. You were too tired to play Natasha’s mind games and timidly roll the dice she put before you. So as soon as she put your cutlery down you dug in and finished the meal in a matter of minutes.

You felt perfectly fine after you swallowed the final bite and took the time it took Natasha to finish to study her as subtly as you could. Her auburn hair was plaited with a few loose tendrils hanging loosely infront of her face. Any other time you would have admired it. Apart from that, she looked no different and while of course you had no idea what she had been called away for, she had been gone a long while so naturally you were curious. You wondered how often she would be away for such a long period of time and if it would ever be longer. Would it be something you might be able to see a pattern in after a while? Unlikely. Threats to national, international and intergalactic security wouldn’t be so threatening if they had a rota to abide by.

“Clean up for me, malysh,” Natasha said with an unexpected gentleness. She didn’t look at you as she said it, nor while she walked past you but there was no doubt it lacked her usual demanding undertone.

You took both your plates and cutlery and brought them up to the sink to begin cleaning but caught sight of the kettle before doing so. You didn’t have any bad intentions with it, you genuinely just wanted a cup of tea for some familiarity but the last you had looked there had been no tea bags anyway so you sighed and continued to wash up. By the time you were done Natasha was back though you hadn’t seen her walk past you and once you stepped away from the kitchen you found her sitting on the sofa in the exact spot you had been lying in. You glared at the back of the spy’s head but eventually began trudging over.

The closer you got, you noticed that the redhead was reading a book she must have been keeping upstairs. The cover of it suggested it was a French murder mystery set in Paris, not usually your thing but you were so eager for something to do you would read any similar novel she might be keeping upstairs.

You perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa as far away from the spy as you could while her eyes ran across the page swiftly. You glanced at the TV and wondered if it worked now that Natasha was back so you picked up the remote you had left nearby and tried the main button. A blank screen stared back at you so you looked to Natasha to see if she had acknowledged it. Her attention stayed on her book.

“Could you turn the TV on?” You asked after half a minute of awkward silence. Natasha turned over another page. “Please?” You forced out after a beat but the redhead continued to ignore you. You sat back slowly and pondered your next words. “You know it’s pretty hard to tell what the time is…” you started. “Maybe I could have a small clock or watch or…something,” you suggested but it fell on deaf ears. You stared at Natasha for a short while longer, waiting for any indicator she had even heard anything you had said because you knew she had just like you knew she could feel you watching her.

As soon as you could feel yourself grow frustrated again, you got up from the sofa and headed for the bathroom, figuring that putting space between yourself and the older woman was the best way to stop yourself from doing something reckless. So instead, you started brushing your teeth and washing your face as you knew you weren't going to be doing anything else, you might as well go to bed. You didn’t really want to, but you also didn’t want to be near Natasha and that made your options very limited.

Some time later you heard the Avenger enter the room though with your back to her you were confused by the sound of a heavy thud followed by Natasha dragging something across the floor. You frowned but didn’t turn to look, aiming to appear asleep. Even when the redhead disappeared into the bathroom you didn’t dare sneak a glance and what she had brought in and felt the ever present sense of unease grow, like a child during bedtime convinced there's a monster in their room.

When Natasha returned you could hear the sound of a lock turning, helping you imagine some kind of box the redhead had brought in. You strained your ears more and just about caught the sound of a buckle and something else being tossed on the bed before Natasha removed her clothes and put them for the wash. More shuffling and eventually she was moving the covers back and shuffling towards you. You froze until you were suddenly being shoved onto the floor. You braced yourself for impact just in time but still dazed nonetheless. This time, you gaped back at Natasha just as she grabbed a handful of your hair and dragged you up to your knees to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for you to kneel between them and stare openly at the black harness she wore and sizeable dildo attached.

“Get it wet for me, detka.” Natasha instructed, her voice as husky as it was the last time she had you in such an intimate place. Your eyes snapped at hers and you could immediately sense that she wasn’t going to be taking no as an answer. Her eyes were dark and drunk on a power she knew she held every second that you were in that apartment but particularly when she had me like this.

She grabbed the silicone toy with her other hand when you were too dazed to respond and slapped it a little across your cheek impatiently. “I- I don’t know-” you stammered at the unpractised scene you found myself in. Of course you had watched porn and read smut with this but you had never done it and now that you actually could you found yourself intimidated by the toy presented to you. It was bigger than anything you had ever used on yourself and you were suddenly very unsure of what you were even meant to do.

“It’s not hard, malysh,” Natasha huffed and pushed the head past your parted lips without any warning. “Even a dumb mutt like you can do it,” she said before taking both hands to the back of your head and forcing you down on her strap. You immediately tried to brace yourself by grabbing at Natasha’s thighs but this proved no help when the toy hit the back of your throat and you began to cough and gargle. Through tear filled eyes, you tried to look at the redhead pleadingly for some leanway, not understanding that this only worked her up more and she continued to push you down until your nose was against her stomach.

You hit her thighs with as much strength as you could muster as she held you in that position, desperate for air and a break on your burning throat, until she pushed you off her toy and let you gasp for air while she kept you close. You coughed and wheezed in a panic, not even noticing the tears streaming down your face or the spit on your chin. All the while Natasha soaked up the view until you had gotten enough oxygen back into your body. Your breathing still wasn’t normal and you weren’t ready to try again, but the more experienced woman forced her strap into your mouth once more, this time guiding you to roughly bob your head on her toy. She didn’t make you take the whole length every time, easing the pressure off of your throat and instead making your jaw ache from the unfamiliar action.

Her fingers had a hold of the majority of your hair and tightened every so often just to make you whine at the painful sensation of her pulling on your scalp. Just because she could. “That’s it, we just gotta loosen up that sensitive little gag reflex of yours, don’t we?” Natasha cooed and bucked her hips just to hear you gag and prove her point. You gave a muffled protest around the toy and the redhead chuckled.

“God, I could keep you like this for hours,” the spy breathed out as she watched a fresh set of tears start up in your eyes. “I bet that would just turn you into a cockdrunk whore, huh?” She spat and when you didn’t even try to respond she pulled the strap away and slapped you. Your head didn’t spin too far to the side due to her unwavering grip. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you said, voice hoarse and weak.

“That’s yes daddy,” Natasha corrected and your cheeks heated up.

“I…” you started but one warning look from the redhead was enough for you to correct yourself. “Yes daddy,” you said and was ashamed to feel your cunt clench around nothing as the words left your lips. Natasha smirked and hauled you back onto the bed before pushing your face into the pillows and lifting your ass up. You went to squirm away but she placed a firm hand on your waist as she lined her cock up with the other and ran it through your embarrassingly wet folds.

“Wait!” You tried but Natasha was already dragging the dildo up and down your slit, allowing you to hear just how wet you were for her and making you bathe in shame before she pushed the thick toy inside you.

It was a strike of blazing hot sensations. Every inch of Natasha’s cock was thrust inside you within a split second and just like that, she was anchored inside you and you were bound to her. Every nerve in your body was ablaze while not a single cell in your brain could respond. Everything was alight and it was blinding yet you could do nothing to stop it and would do anything to keep it. Then suddenly Natasha withdrew and forced herself in again and you became entirely too aware of the stretch, of the size, of the fullness. It was all far too much but you were trapped between the redhead and her bed and not a single muscle within you was strong enough to even attempt to move.

To add to it all, you could feel your slick on your thighs and heard yourself moan into the pillow. You couldn’t help it. Any of it. It hurt so much but it felt so so good. It was entirely too easy for Natasha to pump her cock into your cunt, stuffing you to the brim every time and sending your nerves into a frenzy.

“I knew you’d fucking love this,” the redhead grunted as she planted her hand into the back of your head and used it as leverage to fuck you better with. You clenched around the toy the moment she did and she smirked, thrusting her hips wildly against you and revelling in the mess she had made you become. You were a puddle in her bed and could only rely on Natasha to build you back up again. Not yet though. She wanted to play with you first and took her time in doing so.

Natasha was insatiable, never getting enough of your desperate whines every time she pulled back too far or waited a moment longer to push her cock back into your cunt. She edged and teased you relentlessly for hours, making you beg for things you never dreamed you would. You gave yourself to her and allowed the spy to do whatever she liked with you under the illusion that she would make it all better if you did, that she would set you ablaze in the most euphoric way imaginable. She was everything.

You passed out after cumming numerous times, collapsing in a heap and letting the exhaustion clock you out for the night. Luckily, Natasha was too and content to let the rest of her attention to you be for the sole purpose of cleaning you both up, not wanting to have to deal with it the next day. She was amused to find she was even able to change the bed sheets without you stirring. Granted, it was your first time in some sense of the word and the redhead had worked you far past my limits as she had intended to.

Natasha watched you sleep for a while before she even considered it for herself, knowing you were going to be flat out for a long time. She was glad that you weren’t still numb to sex, that that morning had just been some disassociated state that she wondered if she would find you in the next morning. She didn’t much care if she did, but she was still curious to know because Natasha was still finding you challenging to predict. She hadn’t expected you to become so willing again so soon yet seeing that you were allowed her to think about how she could take things with you. There was still some trial and error to be done, but Natasha was gradually figuring out the best ways to break you.

You felt nothing but achy when you woke up. You grimaced at first until you realised the main area of the discomfort and sunk further into the bed and found yourself more mortified than you had been the morning before. How had you let that happen again? Except it was far worse than last time because Natasha really hadn’t had to use a knife to threaten her way into your pants.

You were grateful to find she wasn’t lying next to you but listened out for any signs of her in the bathroom or kitchen, getting nothing. You hauled myself from the bed, set on the shower as quickly as possible to try and feel clean again and hoping it would be more effective the second time around. Thankfully it was, though that may have been partly due to the absence of any unwanted company as you lathered myself in soap, even washing your hair as swiftly as possible.

Staying in the shower, you felt your muscles start to relax under the steaming water and were able to focus on the sounds and feelings surrounding you for a few moments of bliss that you wouldn’t end up regretting later on. It was only once the heat started to make you light headed that you dried yourself off and headed back to the bedroom.

That’s when you noticed the notepad left on Natasha’s side of the bed. You started towards it with some apprehension and as you got closer you noticed there was a HB pencil and square rubber laying next to it. No sharpener. The notepad had no lines inside and was the type that was held together by two thin pieces of cardboard on either side.

“Behave and I’ll get you a treat.” That was what Natasha had said. “Like a notepad.” You scoffed and threw the ‘gift’ back down on the bed next to the clothes the redhead had lain out for you. Instead, you made your way over to the wardrobe to get something else and rummaged through all the options.

You were tempted to piece together an outfit with the spy’s leather jacket and combat boots, just to piss her off, but you thought it best to try and stay on her good side for a while until you could figure out a stable plan to get out. Sure, not going through her clothes would be a good way to do that, however you were getting tired of walking around without trousers so you grabbed the first pair of sweatpants you saw and paired them with the shirt and fresh underwear Natasha had left out. You yearned for the comfort of your own clothes and headed for the kitchen.

There was still no sign of the redhead as you searched her cupboards for something to eat and settled on some fruit left in the fridge. As you began eating, you wondered if you would be able to use the pencil as a weapon. Sure, it wouldn’t be as good as the knife, but used with enough force it could be something promising. Natasha clearly didn’t deem it much of a threat or she wouldn’t have given it to you. Then again, you figured she had left you the knife just so she could use it against you. You couldn’t underestimate her again.

When you finished your breakfast and washed up the bowl, you paused next to the oven for a moment, remembering that Natasha said the power would be off whenever she wasn’t there. You turned the dial and waited for the sound of something igniting and upon hearing nothing determined that the redhead was out. You smiled at the small victory of knowing you could use that method to determine her whereabouts in the future. It was progress.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for your mind to wander back to your night with the redhead, replaying the very vivid memories of the degrading ways she touched and talked to you. And how you had reacted. So you soon caved and went back to the bedroom to retrieve the notepad and supplies and brought them back to the sofa that still had several blankets over it but had since been folded neatly. At least you could both appreciate tidiness.

You tapped your pencil against the notepad as you studied the city before you. You already spent countless hours staring out at it, you just weren't used to sketching landscapes. It took several attempts to start, but once you realised you weren’t going to be sharing the final result with anyone, you allowed your hand to roam freely across the page and began collecting the buildings together with your pencil, eventually becoming immersed in the art the way you often did.

You gave voice to the chaos of the city and the confidence to the skyscrapers that acted as the foundations and the awe of the people below. You sauntered around the apartment to get all angles and different insights, different stories, different ages. All expressed across numerous pages in the notepad until the sun dispersed behind the buildings and the true nightlife got to shine across new pages.

You didn’t even realise Natasha was home until her shadow fell over the notepad. You jumped, knocking everything off of your lap and backing away from the redhead who watched you with a bemused expression. Her hair was still in a plait. You liked it like that. She trudged over to the kitchen and put a pack of beers in the fridge, keeping one for herself and taking it through to the bedroom where you heard the balcony door slide open and partly shut.

Trying to ignore the redhead’s presence, you turned back to the notepad and put pencil to paper only to see the stump of lead had come out. You tried to put it back in like you used to when you were too lazy to fetch your sharpener but the lead was too short and kept falling back out. You huffed and glared in Natasha’s general direction before gathering everything and taking it to the balcony with you where the Avenger sat smoking.

You leant against the sliding door, facing the side of Natasha’s profile, as you spoke. “Thanks for the notepad and pencil,” you wondered if it sounded as forced to her as it did to your own ears. “And the rubber,” you added dutifully. “The lead just fell out of the pencil though so…” She didn’t respond so you let the statement hang in the air as you tapped the notepad against your leg and thought of something else to say and realised the redhead hadn’t acknowledged the additional clothing you were wearing. You glanced at her and registered a far away look across her face and wondered if she had a bad day.

No. You refused to feel bad for her if she did. She deserved it. Well…wishing a bad day on her felt uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be upset, you just wanted her to stop making you upset.

You didn’t know what else to say. Small talk was never a strong suit of yours. “Shall I…make some food?” You tried. You weren’t hungry yourself, you didn’t have the biggest appetite at the best of times and the past couple days didn’t make it any better. You also weren't planning on making a meal for the redhead out of the kindness of your heart. You just wanted something to do after a day of nothing but drawing. Natasha didn’t reply and you realised you didn’t really know what dish you could make out of the ingredients the spy had anyway. Cooking wasn’t one of your strong suits either. At least you could draw buildings.

Figuring there wasn’t much more you could do or say, you went back inside and got yourself ready for bed, surprised to see that Natasha fell shortly behind and you were somewhat thankful that she didn’t want a meal prepared. Perhaps she had had dinner with the Avengers. The thought almost made you bitterly laugh.

As soon as Natasha was in bed, she was on you. Mouth everywhere, hands everywhere. She made swift work of your clothes and despite yourself, you helped her. Not because you wanted to be on her good side, not because you wanted to distract her, but because as soon as she made her move you forgot you hated her and only knew you wanted her.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel #dark!natasha x reader #natasha x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff smut

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onskepa · 13 days

Note

Sorry about what I writed earlier at my request you can delete my request but can I suggest to write a story with mother Neytiri and spider Gwen reader where she user to be abused by skypeople for her powers before she met Neytiri who took her under her wing and you can create the rest yourself because I am curios how you will end it:) but of course only if you want to.

Oooooooooooohhh spider man back to back! I love it! Okie, I have a lose idea for this. I type as I go. Hope you like it!

P.S: reader will also be able to breathe pandora air!

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Ghostly bruises

Spiders are scary creatures. Multiple legs and multiple eyes. Small yet strong. Never underestimate their size. Many carry venom and that is enough to take down anything. Their webs to lure in prey, create a home for themselves. Their eyes to see in many directions and legs to crawl faster.

Many underestimate what they can do. What they're capable of. When push comes to shove, spiders will attack. And when they attack, you better hope that you make it out alive. They may be small, harmless, but a spider does what it does best. Lure you into their web and trap you to meet your demise.

Your pov

“HEY! GET UP BUG!”

Damn it. Damn it all. I just want at least 1 hour of sleep. Is that too much to ask? Apparently not for these people.

I don't really have a choice. I should be grateful that they didn't pour cold water to wake me up. So that is something.

Putting on that skin tight suit I wear, I get ready for another mission.

The suit, while tight in every way, was one the few comforts I have. Personally designed it to my liking. I'm just glad they did not force me to wear what they wanted me to wear.

Wearing all my favorite colors, and a hoodie as a plus.

I make my way to general Ardmore. That old cranky woman. How is she not retired is beyond me.

“Rise and shine bug, got a new mission for you” she tells me. There is always a new mission. Once I'm done with one, she quickly gives me another, leaving very little to no room for rest. Even my advanced stamina needs to recharge!

“What is it this time?” I ask, as patient as I can.

“An import train will be passing the valley in the south in 15 hours. If you don't know already, there is a cave the train has to pass through. Clever blues hide in the dark to amish. Your job is to cover any holes, edges, corners, and nooks with your webs. You have 10 hours to get it done. We don't want any surprises”

Is she serious?

“10 hours? Do you have any idea how large that cave is? I will be dry within 5!” I argue.

Ardmore just rolls her eyes, that bitch.

“Not my problem. Get to it, now”

“Now hold on there-AAARRGGHH!!” I felt that familiar electrical hit on my back. Falling on my side, I see her goons got that shock stick. They continue to shock me, my sides, neck, hip. They love to torment me.

“Get up bug, I don't want you wasting time”

“Y-yes ma’am” I said weakly.

I hate sounding weak. It only enforces their view on me. A bug, a mere insect they can step on.

Third pov

There was a tip given from the science guys that a train would pass through the starlight cave. Within a few hours it would pass but the steam the train releases would damage the nocturne creatures living in that cave. They were rare creatures as their way of life is rather fragile. Anything can easily ruin their environment and their lives.

Neytiri took the stand to lead a group of warriors to protect the cave and set up traps before the train would even make an appearance. Neytiri was not afraid, she would trample down any machine or demon that dares to hurt her planet.

This mission would be no different.

Norm said they had only a limited time to set up defense areas and traps. So no time is to be wasted.

So neytiri goes with some trusted warriors.

Upon arriving at the cave, there was already the sight of sky demons. Lying low, neytiri and the other na’vi would silently scatter as they took aim at the entrance of the cave.

From what they can see, 6 humans were guarding the entrance, from time to time turning around to talk to someone that was inside. So there were more. Its fine.

Neytiri has taken down hundreds within minutes. This would be nothing.

“HEY BUG! GO FASTER ON THOSE WEBS!” one of the humans shouted.

Two of them muttered to each other, grinning in a sickening way. Then two of the 6 guards went inside the cave while pulling out two electrical rods.

Neytiri hates those rods. She has been hit with those once, never again does she want to feel that painful experience. Seeing them again, she wonders who will be receiving the end of those shocks.

Shaking her head, she signals the other na’vi to strike.

Pulling back her bow, neytiri takes aim, and like a silent rain, all arrows landed perfectly onto their targets. Good, 4 down, few more to go.

Signaling the other warriors to go inside the cave, Neytiri runs towards the entrance. She notices there is a small light blue flickering light deep in the cave. Along with evil laughter and someone screaming. They sounded to be in so much pain. Not wasting another second neytiri and the other na’vi ran further into the cave and saw a horrific sight.

The two humans use their electrical rods to shock and torture a young person. They laugh as they poke the person around. Clearlying enjoying the person's suffering.

“STOP IT!! STOP IT!!!” It sounded like a young girl. Her voice cracking, trying to get away from the two humans but they only get closer.

“COME ON BUG! GET BACK TO WORK!” one of them shouts, aiming for her wrists.

Her whole body shakes, unable to say any words of protest.

Neytiri couldn't handle to hear the painful screams anymore, letting out a war cry she aimed right at the heart of the human who brings pain to the young girl. With one swift move, the arrow went right through, making the first human fall to the side, bleeding out.

The second human didnt react in time as one of the other na’vi shot their arrow through the human’s head, an instant kill.

The rods fell from their grips, neytiri kicks them away.

“See if there are anymore” she says, the other na’vi comply and scatter for any more humans.

Looking down at poor girl, neytiri oddly couldn't help but feel terrible for her. Looking at her body frame, she looks to be very young.

The girl was in a fetal position, her arms sprawled out, her wrists having terrible bruises. And not just the wrist, her face filled with scars and more bruises. Neytiri can tell she went through some terrible things.

“Mawey…” she whispers, reaching down to touch the girl but hears a whisper.

“Please….no more….I cant…” was all the girl said before she passed out.

Neytiri looks at her, after witnessing what the other humans have done, she cant let the girl be alone. Who knows what she has been through, and what more she could go through if more humans come soon. So making a quick decision, neytiri gently picks up the girl, cradling her like she would with her other children.

“Neytiri, there are no more but we noticed something” one of the na’vi returns to report to neytiri.

“What is it?” she asks.

“There are white strands on the other end of the cave. They feel a bit sticky, and light. Almost like the kinglor silk, but different. We don't know what it is or what animal could cause it”.

Neytiri wants to take the girl back to the village, but there is a goal to meet.

“Come, we will return to the village for more help” she says

Your pov

I woke up strangely on something soft. Like cotton. No one screamed to wake me up. I felt well rested. Scanning my area, it looks like Im in a tent. I can see the sunlight peaking in, unfamiliar smells I never smelled before. Most of all, its noisy, but not a bad noisy. I can hear distant animals, vague chatter, leaves brushing against each other.

Clearly, I'm not at the RDA base.

I dont remember what happened, just that I was webbing one side of the cave and then-

Oh.

Thats right.

Steve and Greg were torturing me again. Using the rods to poke at me. They must have been that bored if guarding the entrance to the cave was easy.

That still doesnt explain how I am here.

“Oh good, you are awake, I was worried”

A female voice spoke, slow english words but with a heavy accent.

I turned to see a na’vi. Oh my god.

She was so tall! Like really, really tall!

“Its alright, I am not going to hurt you. My name is neytiri” the na’vi tells me. Keeping a distance between us.

Is this really happening right now?

Third pov

Neytiri really didn't understand why she brought the young human into her village. After explaining to her mother what she witnessed, mo’at believed it was good that neytiri saved the young girl. They know humans don't treat their own kind well.

Yet neytiri can't help but feel slightly skeptical about the girl. When the girl was passed out, she observed the girl in great detail. From the odd clothing she was wearing which almost looked like a second skin, to her mask, her stature, everything.

Using herbal medicines, thankfully the nasty bruises were fading but her complexion seemed pale, not a healthy pale. As if she hasn't been exposed to the outside world that much.

So many questions neytiri wants to ask, some no doubt would be sensitive to ask the young girl. She can wait, for now she just wants to treat the girl, no mattering why the need to do it.

Is it her motherly instincts perhaps?

Neytiri worries for her children a lot, especially her youngest. Maybe it is projection as her husband would say. Who knows, what she does know is that the girl is safe from those who harmed her.

Your pov

“Are you feeling alright?” the na’vi asks me.

I guess I didnt respond fast enough, still trying to process what I am looking at.

“I…um…wait, you speak english?” I ask.

The na’vi nods, smiling a bit.

“Yes, I know how to speak it. I was taught very young”

I honestly don't know much about na'vi. I have only seen a handful and most exposure I get is from the newly awakened recom avatars.

“W-why am I here?” I hesitantly ask. Hoping she doesn't end me or hurt me any further.

“I saw you getting hurt, they laughed at your pain. I had to stop it” she tells me.

Looking down at my hands, remembering the cave.

Wait, the cave!

Quickly I got up, walking a bit wobbly towards her. She has to know!

“A train! There will be a large train machine going through the cave! Its going to carry a lot of weapons and other things!!” I said rather a bit fast.

She holds me tightly so that I dont fall, seeing the comparison of my arm to her hand, she can easily pick me up like a doll if she wanted to.

“Yes, we know. Thank you for telling me. We will put traps to stop it from going”

I shake my head, “no no, they will surround the train with shooters! They wanted me to also set traps and cover the cave! They don't want anything to interrupt it! Please! I don't know how much time has passed but its going to arrive soon!” I plead.

Urgency was all I felt and thought of. Ardmor would kill me if she knew I was spilling their plans to the na’vi. At this point, I dont care, if the na’vi can stop the train, it would piss off ardmore, something I would love to see.

“Cover? What do you mean cover?” the na’vi asks.

Oh god, do I tell her? I already confessed a big chunk.

“D-dont…dont freak out ok? I can do this….I raise my wrist, aiming at the tent pole and shot out a web string.

Third pov

Neytiri has never seen any human do that. Ever.

It was the same thing the warriors found in the cave. And it comes out of her arms??

“I have…powers. I can shoot these things called webs. They are strong, sticky, and durable. I can do things no human can. At the cave, the RDA wanted me to use my webs to make traps and clear the way for the train” the girl explains.

Neytiri slowly nods, taking in this newfound information.

In her conclusion, the humans were using her like a tool. What happened at the cave, clearly the girl isnt saying a whole lot more. They probably dont see her as an equal in their species.

“I hated doing it….please dont take me back! Please, I can help! I can show you what more I can do but please dont send me to the others!” the girl begs. Tears ready to fall from her eyes.

“Sshhh….its alright, I won't sent you anywhere you dont like” neytiri comforts the girl. Bringing her in for a tight embrace. She is so small, so thin. Do they starve her? Restrict her food access?

“You are safe here. I won't make you do things you dont like. My home can be your new home if you like” neytiri offers.

The girl looks up at her, hope twinkling in her eyes.

“R-really?”

Third pov

“This is ghost. I have my eyes on the target, they are closing in” the young girl whispers into her mic. Observing RDA soldiers walking through the forest.

She stands upside down from a tall tree branch, a web sling already out stretched to move to the next tree.

“They are making their way to the spot” she reports. She swings to the other tree, landing with no sound. Eagerly she sees the soldiers walking right into her trap.

6 soldiers walking on foot, 10 in their new AMP suits.

Easy.

One of the soldiers stepped on the trigger, the ground they stood on was false as a camouflage cover moved to reveal spikes at the bottom. The soldiers fell into their deaths. Arrows began to fly towards the amp suits just as they were shooting at random.

She can see her fellow na’vi moving around in the foliage to avoid the bullets. That is her cue.

Swinging around in circles, the girl shoots at the glass windows and the guns. Covering their vision and aim. But she does more, carefully she aims her webs at the foot of the amp suits so that they dont move, some tripping themselves.

“GO GO GO!” she shouts, the na’vi aims their arrows at the windows of the suits, going straight through the humans that were inside. While a lot, the fight lasted a few minutes with her and the na’vi winning this fight.

Landing down, the girl looks for anything salvageable to bring back home.

“Well done my daughter”

Smiling, the girl turns to her mother, neytiri.

“Thank you my child, however I would prefer if you just stayed home,” neytiri says as she places a kiss on the girls head.

“Im fine mom, besides, with my webs, we took them down way faster. Plus, no one got shot. Less injures and more success”

While that was true, neytiri knows some raids or fights remind her daughter of her past.

“I understand, but I cannot help but worry for you. Those machines almost got you” she tells.

“Almost, but I am fast”

Chuckling, neytiri holds her daughter close, “yes, you are very fast my love”

The girl happily basks in her mothers embrace. She likes this, being held, it never gets old. Since that day, the girl loves physical affection, her new mother proves abundance and never rejects her.

Life has been easy for her, enjoyable and makes her look forward to tomorrow. Yes, the girl would sometimes think back on her past. The things she went through, at times she can feel the phantom pains from her tortures. Would rub her arms or face where the bruises used to be. But its less now.

The girl loves her new life and is forever thankful of her mother saving her. Having a new family, love, a home, it is all she ever wanted. To hell with Ardmore and her plans with the RDA. The girl for sure cant wait to see that old hag and rub it on her face. That she is more than a tool, than a bug. Ghost is more than Ardmore can ever know.

Aaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! Hopefully I managed to get as much gwen personality as I can. Kinda tricky ngl, but either way, I kinda struggled how to end it but I hope you all enjoyed! Until next time! See ya!

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beatingheart-writingwoes · 1 month

Text

Electric Heart

Description: Sequel piece to Water in my Lungs and Guilt in Your Bones. La'hare is struck by a lightning spell and things go downhill from there.

Warnings: Breif depiction of electrocution and seizure, fantasy setting

“Zephyr move!” The cleric called, but the rogue just didn't have the time. He threw his shield up and rushed forward, sliding to a stop directly in the arc of lightning's path just before it met its intended target. His body snapped rigid. As the spell dissipated, he collapsed into a heap, body shaking and twitching with residual energy.

La'hare should have just let it happen.

At least that's what the Tiefling was thinking as he tried to keep the convulsing cleric on his side.

“Van, I need help!” Zephyr cried.

Van made quick work of the wizard that vast the accursed spell, and was currently yanking his dagger free of their chest cavity. He looked over his shoulder, then cursed at seeing the rogue struggling with the spasming cleric.

He sprinted over, dropping to his knees by the young man's side, just as the oldest's convulsing started to slow to a stop. “Put him on his back.”

Gently, the two laid La'hare onto his back. Now he wasn't so much as twitching. Van pressed his fingers to the pulse point in the man's neck just under his jaw. His eyes widened. “I can't feel anything.”

“What?”

“Lift him up. We can't do chest compressions with this in the way.” The Warlock wasted no time starting on undoing the straps to the cleric's chest armor.

La'hare was limp as Zephyr hoisted him upright enough for Van to finish undoing the straps to his chestplate. The Reborn pulled the armor piece off after what felt like ages of fiddling with the thing and tossed it aside. Zephyr gingerly set the cleric back down before stacking his hands, pressing the heel of his palm to the center of the Elf’s chest. He rolled his shoulders over his hands, arms locked straight, and pushed down. He let up, pushed again, and repeated in a steady, quick rhythm.

And to think just a week ago, the rogue was doing anything but taking the lessons in life saving seriously. To think that over a month ago the rogue was the one being worked on.

La'hare's chest sunk under the Tiefling’s hands, his stomach pushed outwards in opposition and his shoulders shrugged inwards. Each thrust downwards forced a small huff of air past his blueing lips.

“Come on, La'hare, come on,” the rogue grit out as he continued pumping the Elf’s chest. “Breathe, Hare, breathe!”

“Zephyr, that's thirty,” Van stated, his voice knocking the young man out of his near frenzy. Van then gently tipped La’hare’s head back, pinched his nose shut, and sealed his mouth over his. He breathed out, the cleric’s cheeks rounding and chest rising with the breath. He pulled away and the breath was released with a passive exhale. He gave another breath with much the same result, then leaned away for the Tiefling to restart compressions.

“How many cycles again?” He asked as he continued to beat down on the other’s ribcage, voice wobbling.

“Four, then we switch.”

Zephyr could feel his arms start to burn, but it didn’t matter. He still had enough energy to keep going, even if all he wanted to do was start screaming and crying. If this was how everyone else felt when he drowned, he was treating everyone to a free meal and drinks for the next year. Especially La’hare, because the cleric was coming back. There was no question about that.

“Do we have anything that can help?” he asked once he reached thirty again. He watched the Reborn breathe for the other man again.

“No, just keep going.”

“Fuck.” He restarted compressions.

Van idly ran his fingers through the Elf’s hair. They'd gotten lucky with Zephyr. This was different, though. Lightning magic was dangerous, and even if they did manage to drag the cleric back to life, there was no telling what damage would be left behind. He was thankful that the man's eyes were closed. He didn't want to see how lifeless they more than likely were.

Zephyr wrapped up the fourth cycle and quickly took Van's place in giving breaths, leaning down and tilting the Elf’s head back before pinching his nose and pressing his mouth to his. Van slid his hands stacked one over the other into place, feeling the older man's chest rise and fall artificially twice. Mentally bracing himself, he rolled his weight forward and started compressions.

Halfway through the cycle, there was a pop and something gave under his palm. Van winced, readjusted slightly, and continued shoving down against La'hare's chest.

“Was that a rib?” Zephyr asked.

“It happened to you, too,” the warlock replied. Better a rib or two hurting than dead.

Another two breaths, and another cycle started anew. Instead of the small huffs of air being forced out of his lungs, though, La'hare let out a weak groan that was punctuated by each thrust. Van paused, brow furrowed. Zephyr beat him to the pulse check, fighting his fingers into the spot under the cleric's jaw.

“I got a pulse!” the Tiefling announced. “There we go, Hare. Knew you wouldn't stay dead.”

Van didn't feel the rise and fall of the other's chest signifying breathing, though he did note the faint, quick fluttering behind his ribs, like a trapped bird. “He’s still not breathing. Zeph–”

The rogue was on it, repeating what he did before and breathing into uncooperative lungs. The first breath was met with no resistance, La’hare’s cheeks rounding and chest rising. When Zephyr pulled away, it was released with a passive exhale like before. Another breath, just the same.

On the third breath, La’Hare gave a small cough and the rogue paused. He didn't attempt the inhale on his own and, with a curse, Zephyr breathed into him again. This time when he pulled away, the other let out a harsher, ragged cough and gasped.

Van finally lifted his hands and rocked back onto his heels with a “God's above” as he raked his fingers through his hair. Zephyr carefully rolled the hacking and wheezing elf into his side.

“You ever do that again, I swear on your god specifically that I’m kicking your ass,” the Tiefling said. Not that the cleric could hear him, slipping back into unconsciousness. But he was still breathing. That's all that mattered.

“I'd love it if you both would stop trying to die for more than two months,” Van added. Zephyr reached over to pat his shoulder. Be shrugged him off. “We should find a safe spot to set up camp so he can rest.”

It wasn't until hours later that La’hare awoke. He groaned softly, wincing at a twinge of pain in his ribs. Dark eyes fluttered open, flicking over to where he heard a crackling campfire.

Zephyr was curled up, fast asleep, while Van sat next to him, perking up when he noticed the cleric stirring. He then nudged the rouge, who sat up with a tired “whuhuh?”

La’Hare gave the two a small smile. “Hello.”

The rogue nearly flung himself at the elf to pull him into a hug, only stopped by the warlock grabbing hold of his tail.

#cpr #resus #male resus

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 10 months

Text

Okonomyaki (leeminho)

The ache on your lower back and in between your legs really doesn't stop you from climbing on top of the chair and reach for the highest shelve in your cupboard so you can retrieve your two favourite mugs. Because that glorious first sip of coffee after a rather rough night deserves to be from the silliest Pikachu mug or else it is wasted. You grab the bright yellow Pokémon shaped mug and another pink one with a little silver enamel owl depicted on the side, and then turn on both the electric kettle and your coffee machine so you can make yourself coffee and tea for Minho.

Minho. Just thinking of him sends shivers down your whole body, the vivid pictures of your intense night still burning in the back of your head, your muscle memory still making your arms and your legs twitch a little. God. He was a fucking God. He literally looked like some Greek statue of a divinity, he ravaged you in the best way possible. You could not stop thinking about him and and the way his arms muscles flexed and throbbed and the strain and effort on his face giving way to the utter bliss as soon as he relieved himself and the wild look in his eyes and the sounds he made and the way his veins popped to the surface of his skin on his arms and hands as he gripped you and - the loud whistle of the kettle signaling the water's boiling over abruptly makes you snap out of your daydreaming. You chuckle to yourself as you shake your head, only now realizing you were gripping the edge of your kitchen counter for no apparent reason, and proceed to pour the hot water in the pink mug with the little tea bag hanging from it.

After filling up your cup with coffee you sit on the counter top and gently stir the warm, delicious liquid mixing in with the little splash of milk you had preheventively poured in as well, and as soon as you put down the metallic spoon on the marbled surface of your counter you hear light footsteps coming down the hall and soon enough Minho enters the kitchen, still damp hair from the morning shower, a soft smile and tired eyes as he acknowledges you, his stare quickly taking in you just sitting there in just a pair of boy shorts and one of his plushy cardigans he must've left behind sometime ago, "good morning, I made you some tea", you greet him lazily, pointing at the pink steaming cup near the sink, "Oh, tea but no food? You're a princess aren't you? Not just a pillow princess, a real, proper one", he says smirking, picking up the cup with one hand and placing the other on your exposed thigh, then leaning in to kiss you as you giggle and nuzzle against his face, tasting the minty toothpaste on his tongue, breathing in the aftershave and shampoo scent lingering on him, "I'll make us some quick breakfast, are Japanese scallion pancakes okay?", he asks politely and you nod enthusiastically, your mouth already watering in anticipation.

You're not sure if your boyfriend is more skilled in bed or in the kitchen, he moves so swiftly and with so much confidence it seriously makes you question just where and when he learned to be so fucking good in both fields. Alright maybe you were feeling just a little too needy for him, like you just could not get enough of him. He got you wrapped around his finger like that and you secretely loved it. You stare in awe, quietly sipping on your now cold coffee as Minho whips up the eggs and flour in a bowl, his trained arms making fast progress on the batter, his veins bulging out as he cuts up the scallion, his strong hands pressing down the blunt, smooth edge of the knife as he chops up his ingredients and expertly flings them in the frying pan. There's just something about his prominent muscles and his black tshirt moving against his torso as he sautees the pancakes, flipping them up and down with just a twist of his wrist, the focused look on his face as he checks the fire and oil crackling around the food: "those look incredible, you look incredible, you know that?".

You chew on the inside of your lip, eyeing your breakfast being elegantly plated right in front of you as Minho smirks, he cleans up the edges of your plate with a paper napkin and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively," mmh thank you sweet cheeks", he stands in between your legs dangling from the counter and then cuts up a piece of pancake and feeds you, placing his arms at your sides so you're basically trapped in between him and the counter, he stares at you expectantly, his lips slightly parted and his eyes intent on your face, "mas-iss-eo? Is it delicious?". An explosion of flavour and earthy richness settles in your mouth and you nod frantically, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head as to emphasize just how good it tastes, "I'm hiring you as my private chef, these are just as incredible as they looked", you finally say after swallowing down the last piece of food. Minho clicks his tongue on his palate and cuts up another piece of pancake, stabbing it with the fork and bringing it up to your lips, "are you not gonna eat breakfast with me? ", you ask confusedly and he smriks again, directly placing the food in your mouth and then proceeding to kiss your jugular right as you swallow, "oh I am gonna eat. I'm just having a little appetizer first",he whispers along your collarbone which he kisses ever so slowly.

You wish you had the time to react but before you can even realise it Minho is pulling down your cardigan in one swift, super fast move, leaving your bare skin exposed and in the direct line of his eyes which become big and black and hungry by the second, his hands squeeze your breasts in a firm but not painful grip as an exhilarated sound escapes his lips, "you have the best boobs in town I fucking swear", he groans, his mouth then quickly finding your nipples which he sucks on avidly. You gasp. Thankfully you had already swallowed your food or else you would have probably spit out at least two pieces of scallion as the air leaves your lungs and you instinctively reach froward for him. Your run your fingers through the silky soft tufts of his dark brown hair that he had been growing out a little longer and you absolutely love it, particularly so when he buries his whole face in your chest and it tickles your ribcage.

You tingle. You start to tingle all over as he works his mouth and his tongue on you, his hands now pressing down your thighs to keep you as still as possible even when you pant and squirm and try to press yourself against him, "Min-", you breathe out, feeling your cheeks burning up and your lower insides throb, "you can eat, I don't mind", he mumbles, still not really detaching his mouth from you , his hands blindly reaching for the fork and platter that clink against the counter, and you find yourself chuckling, your eyes closing in delight as you savor this random outburst of lust and love and hunger and think you could easily get used to this.

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roboticbuild · 26 days

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My name is Anas Al-Sharfa. Since October 7, 2023, we have been suffering from a brutal war that has destroyed our dreams and hopes, exceeding the limits of human comprehension. During this savage war, we have endured hardships that mountains could not bear. We are facing severe water shortages and a critical lack of food and nutrition due to the blockade in northern Gaza for the past 10 months, preventing essential supplies like meat, vegetables, and fruits from entering. This situation has forced us to eat animal feed, leading to weight loss, various diseases, and a significant weakening of our immune systems.

We also suffer from severe water shortages, often walking nearly 1 kilometer to obtain a single gallon of water, which is approximately 16 liters, barely enough for five family members. As a result of the war, our home and agricultural land, which used to provide our daily sustenance, were destroyed and completely bulldozed, leading to major disruptions in our lives. We have also suffered from repeated displacement, moving from one place to another and from one area to another due to the horrific and brutal bombings.

Additionally, we have been deprived of education and the opportunity to build a future. I was studying to become a doctor to help people, but fate did not allow this as my university, where I dreamed of studying, was destroyed. I have been overwhelmed with thoughts during this war—how will I build my future? How will I complete my studies?

We also suffer from fear and terror due to bombings, fire belts, and explosives. Hospitals, which are the lifeline for every sick and needy person, have also been destroyed. We face a shortage of medicines and vaccines while diseases increase and ravage us, with no solution in sight as there are no hospitals or medical supplies available here in Gaza. We live in constant fear for my younger siblings because they haven't received their general vaccinations, particularly after the widespread outbreak of polio due to the lack of cleaning supplies and the massive accumulation of waste in the streets. The streets are also flooded with sewage, posing a grave threat to our children. My brother suffered from jaundice, battling it for about two weeks with fatigue, dizziness, and other symptoms. It's a deadly disease, and as mentioned before, there’s no treatment available due to the destruction of hospitals and health centers.

We are also suffering from the absence of cooking gas, forcing us to use wood and plastic to start fires, which could lead to poisoning. We've been without electricity since October 7, spending days in darkness, causing immense fear in my younger siblings. This has also made it extremely difficult to charge our phones and batteries for lighting at night. We had to travel kilometers from our home to find places with electricity, incurring high costs to charge our phones and batteries.

Moreover, we have had no stable income since the beginning of the war after our agricultural land was destroyed.

I kindly request assistance for my family so that we can live a better life.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/7fn48y-gaza-palestine

https://www.tiktok.com/@anas.alshrafa8?_t=8pE6rwceXIG&_r=1

https://www.instagram.com/anas.2007667?igsh=eXZrcDg3ZXYzbXNr

I wish desperately I could donate to help you, but I do not have any money to my name. At the very least, I can spread your story, and beg everyone with money who sees this to please, please donate. You and your loved ones never deserved to be put through such hell, and I hope so desperately that you can find help, love, and safety and peace. Everyone please, please do what you can to help.

#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free gaza #free palestine #free rafah #stop the genocide #stop the occupation

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factorialsotherfandoms · 7 months

Text

TW: homeless children, sick children.

Pac is thirteen, and Mike is finally asleep. His best friend got sick a few days ago, the pair having been caught out in the rain. Pac had avoided the worst of it, only to be up all night anyway, keeping track of Mike's fevers.

It broke last night, but then they had had to run - the owner of the cafe they were sheltering behind had returned from her holiday, and released a pair of dogs to scare them off. Thankfully they did not get close to either child, but the running and the searching for another place to sleep had it return.

Maybe it would be better, to try and beg there way into the keeping of another orphanage?

... Pac takes four seconds to remember why that is a bad idea.

Mike whimpers, sweating more than their water supply allows for as he shifts under stolen blankets. Pac brushes his forehead, and gently, mentally shushes him.

Pac is thirteen, which means that Mike is eleven, which means that Pac has to be the one to look after them both.

The dogs? He would have fought them. When they steal? Pac is the distraction, the one starting a showpiece of a fight as Mike scoops up the bags. When they are sick?

When they are sick, Pac pretends he does not feel his own fever, and dedicates himself to looking after Mike.

He isn't really sure what to do, but he knows someone is supposed to watch people with fevers when they sleep. They don't have enough water to waste on wetting a rag, like people do in books, but he puts one on Mike's forehead nonetheless. Mike gets the blankets, and the cushion they found lying in a puddle, and the driest spot under the overhand. Pac, meanwhile, has scraps of fabric, and cold concrete, and a very sick best friend.

It is very hard to stay awake, sick and exhausted as he is from days of looking after Mike. He would give him the world - has given him the world - but it is very hard to keep his eyes open.

Pac needs to do something, else he will fall asleep. And he is not sure why that is bad, but he knows that it is.

... One of the bags they stole was not a bag at all, but a sewing box.

Inside are threads, and needles, and buttons, and little scissors and offcuts of larger pieces of fabric.

Really, Pac should use them to fix their clothes, or save them for when things are even worse. He remembers just enough of the right classes to know that both he and Mike have growth spurts still to hit, and that will mean needing to lengthen their clothes.

But...

Pac is thirteen, and Mike is eleven, and also in the sewing box are a couple of small glass circles, like teddy bear eyes.

Pac looks at the missing button on his coat, then looks at Mike, sleeping and distressed and reaching for something that is not there.

Pac picks up the fabric, and begins to sew.

Sewing is not one of his greatest skills, but Pac knows a little about it; when Sister Isabela has been in charge of discipline, she had tended to making him help her with repairs rather than the usual punishments. Pac had been in trouble a lot, and so he had learnt to fix many things - clothes and buttons and electrical sockets and plumbing and all sorts. He had not been allowed to help fix the gas stove, but he had been made to watch it happen.

Fixing things is not quite like making things, but... but Mike is eleven, so Pac has to look after him, and the books he learnt to read from say sick children are supposed to cuddle toys.

Pac thinks it might be wrong - even before his parents hated him, he did not get to cuddle toys, and the Nuns and the Priest certainly never gave them any. Still, he has no water to make the rags wet, and he needs to steal some energy drinks in the morning and force Mike to drink them, and it's late and if he does nothing he will fall asleep too.

So, he grabs the scraps of fabric, and the needles, and the thread, and does his best.

None of the scraps are the right shape, and he is scared to cut them. Working fabric in 3D is very different to flat, but Pac does his best. The head is two approximately round shapes stitched together, with bits poking out for ears. It has a body and two arms and two legs, even if all of the limbs are different sizes and the stitching stretches a bit too much. It is a patchwork of colours - and an actual patch where some of the fabric tore, Pac does know how to patch things - stuffed not with proper stuffing but instead the remaining fabric scraps.

It is an ugly, ugly thing.

Pac, desperate for some way to help, tucks it under the blankets with Mike anyway.

In feverish sleep Mike clings to it, and clings to Pac's sleeve too. In the morning, still sick, Mike holds it even tighter when Pac has to go.

Pac comes back to their camp with a bag of stolen energy drinks, and a few sandwiches grabbed from the same rack, to find that Mike has named her Alegria.

Alegria does not survive the winter.

But two boys do, and that is what matters in the end.

#qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp fanfic #i wanted to mention mike still keeping the eyes from the bear in his pocket but it didn't flow nicely #so just have that #maybe pac doesn't know about it #i'll probably add this to an au on ao3 when i upload it in the morning #but for now it can be by itself #this is like the flip of that fic where mike was looking after sick pac #but without the resources for a shitty hotel room #also with the toy idea i mentioned earlier

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 20 days

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There's reason I don't prefer to interact with people I deem as trolls (most of the time)

Because they come at everything as if you are an idiot. And you'll see this. You know who you are. But for everyone else who needs this info, it's here for you.

Nuclear and Hydro are the cleanest forms of energy that we have access to right now. For 1, Hydro is a consistent form of power that uses turbines and the elevation of the water to consistently turn those turbines to create power. The plus side? Little to no waste. Unless of course the dam is destroyed in which case everything the Dam is made out of becomes pollution and debris in the surrounding waters.

Nuclear is a bit of an interesting case because the amount of power that it produces is quite a lot for a fraction of the used material. What's more, removal of nuclear waste is already a thing that has been sorted out. And while yes you have to treat it with care, we don't live in the 60's anymore. We have casks that we use. And the raw material that gets used up not only takes a lot of time to use up, but it's also not a large amount of waste and doesn't take up space during disposal. So while not recyclable in a normal way, there are bunkers that are used for the disposal of. And again, it takes a long time to use up the materials.

NOW Solar and Wind on the other hand are different. Neither produce large amounts of electricity, they don't always work, and to make each of them, it takes a number of years to offset the cost in both pollution and in raw materials. Most wind turbines take around 8-15 years to offset the pollution used to created them. Granted I'm not sure if this is WITH the pollution caused during the material mining process. Which could put it in the market of a Wind turbine having to work for nearly 18+ year to produce enough energy and use time to offset the pollution used to make JUST ONE. And that's not counting also the transportation costs of all the materials, specifically the propellers. What's worse, is that not only is it a lot of material to make them, most of that material can't be recycled at all. Moreover, they tend to kill a lot of animals and large swaths of land have to be cleared in order to make a wind farm. Meaning clearing out woods, farms, animals etc, etc. (*Additional note that must turbines have to be decommissioned after a few years due to wear*)

With solar panels it's very similar, except not only are the not recyclable, they have a the ability to spill toxins into the environment. Due to the internal composition of them, especially the cheaper ones, they can poison the soil and ground water with any leakage caused by damage. Notably they are significantly easier to break than most of the other renewables. And not only that the offset for them as well is quite a long time. Not as long as it is for wind turbines, but it's more stressful on the environment initially because of the need for rare earth metals. And the places we get it minded from are almost beyond healing at this point. Both the soil and the water. And that's not counting the health of the locals having to mine all of this stuff.

So in the short and long term, Wind and Solar are both bad for environments and are both significantly more fragile than Hydro and Nuclear. Like with the advent of Micro Reactors.

Less space is taken up, but lots of energy is still produced. Meanwhile Wind farms and Solar farms need far more land area and have damaged agriculture and forests over. And even more fun, Wind Turbines have killed an number of sonar based animal life in the ocean as well if reports hold true. Granted many reports try to refute this because god forbid WIND be dangerous at all. We can't have that. (If you ask me personally the vibrations probably mess with quite bit of wildlife in the ocean.

But for the land area they take up, they produce trash amount of energy. Mind you, I'm not any solar. I am anti wind however. But with solar I believe that we need to tweak the tech so as to make sure we are not worrying about inability to recycle. What's more, I think we should only be using solar in cases of person or enterprise use. And bring back tax credits for a lot of places that got rid of them. Adding to that, EV's are actually a danger to the roads more so than regular vehicles. And the stress they add to the grids can't be kept up with using wind or solar. And with few Nuclear reactors, we have to up use of fossil fuels to meet demand. Also the other factors are worse. Like battery pollution, higher burn temps, and having to equip fire trucks to be able to handle that. Not to mention the damage the roads would also take in the process.

#nuclear #wind #solar #hydro #Energy #discourse #discussion

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quirkwizard · 3 months

Note

Quirk: corruption; allows the user to spawn a red, fleshy substance from their hands/feet which attaches to any surface areas, be it inanimate objects like walls and rubble to organisms like plants and people. It functions like a slippery surface for normal people but can be manipulated by the user for mobility and offense, like controlling the substance's adhesion to them in order to climb, scale, skate on it, and attach some of it to them to make weak whips and slingshots with rocks as ammo.

It's other pontential uses include being as glue for cracks in surfaces and damaged areas, binding objects and people in the fleshy substance to temporarily imprison them, cushioning hard surfaces to break people's falls, and countering heat-based hazards like fires by covering them, among other hypothetical uses for the quirk: corruption. It's weaknesses, however, make much more limited in what it can do than it what it's pontential shows.

The user is limited in the amount they can spawn, only being able to cover 1 football field and less depending on how much reserve they have left to spend before they're able to replenish again. It takes them a day to replenish their supply of the red fleshy substance, provided they aren't able to reabsorp the substance back into their body to shoot out again, which isn't sustainable in the long run since the recycled substance comes out drier than before due to the body reusing water to excrete it

The red fleshy substance itself is 50% water, which normally if the user hydrates daily, but when reused/they dont hydrate good, it's amount is halved, meaning it becomes drier, which eventually causes it to fall apart all cracked when it normally should reattach together by the user when damaged. The substance is impervious to heat based attacks but can backfire on the user if it's dried; electricity conducts when it's normally hydrated, damaging the user;substance can't on most liquids besides water

Corruption also can't make conventional weaponry other than elastic weapons like whips and slingshots, so the user has to rely on slingshotting rocks and close-quarters combat and binding to deal any sort of damage when by themself. It's durable enough to handle extreme tension forces, which gives it a good elastic quality, provided it's well-hydrated, but it can be cut, pierced, and punched through. Speaking of binding, the substance attached to the person can be ripped of if dry or by the user

Overall, corruption is a quirk only used by it's user talented enough to put it's full capabilities to good use, either through support means, covering the area with the red fleshy substance to hinder opponents in mobility, blocking off entryways and doors, and binding enemies in the substance from far away via contact, or through offense means, skating through the substance and dealing damage via slingshot skills and makeshift whips, which also bind enemies. It's only weakened by "imagination".

There's something in here, but not like this. There's is way too much going on with this power. The user can do so much with this substances and there is not a lot holding it back. The user needs to be hydrated. And what do they need in return? They can form weapons with it, cover massive areas, seal and hold things together, it can put itself back together when damaged, and they get around it just to name a few. They don't even have to worry about wasting it because they can absorb it into them in they wish. It's all a lot for one Quirk to do without a lot of flaws holding it back. I would suggest taking take one of the benefits, make it the main focus of the Quirk, and build the Quirk around it. Maybe have it be this hard to destroy mass, but it slowly pushed out of the user's body, making it hard to use proactively or in a fight. Maybe have it be this flexible mesh they make, but they have a limited supply of it. The hydration drawback could still be a part of it, it just needs more holding it back. I would remove a lot of the strength of the goo production as well, like the user being able to recover it, having access to so much of it, and it being able to heal. Stuff like that could be the focus of the downsides.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Quirk Reviews

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leebrontide · 2 years

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One thing about our new garden is that the soil is shit.

I am begging people not to rake up all their leaves in the fall and all their grass clippings in the summer. Every time you dispose of this organic "waste" you're taking the nutrients those plants pulled up out of the soil and throwing it away. Plus, you're destroying habitat for loads of important insects and fucking with the whole ecosystem.

The people who owned the house before us clearly raked and removed loads of leaves and clippings for the 30 years they lived in the house. The soil is practically sand. Just no nutrients left in it and very little ability to retain water.

People used to ask us why our soil in our old place was lovely rich nearly-black soil. The answer was that we didn't take our leaves up till mid April, after most insects didn't need them for hatching and hiding anymore, and they've broken down a fair amount of their nutrients into the soil. Then we'd mow up as much as possible and leave the chopped up leaves all over the lawn, to further break down and return the nutrients to the ground.

I've been looking for a rotatable compost bin for the new place, even though we're all small enough that rotating them can be sort of a pain in the ass.

But I'll confess that an ad-algorithm got me. I go on YouTube for 3 minutes, because my usual music streaming service was down and I do enjoy the "17th century villain" playlists on there, and I got an ad for an electric countertop composter.

This is not some kind of supported product placement on my part. The Lomi, which is the thing I saw an ad for, is a good $500 bought new, and I just flat out wasn't gonna do that.

But, I was curious enough to read some reviews, and then check craisglist. Lo and Behold, I found one for cheap, for sale from someone who bought and liked one, but also has an honest to god farm, and decided to go back to larger scale outdoor composting.

So, now we have a Lomi countertop composter.

You take the food waste from the day (our kiddo, Starling, eats a staggering amount of fruit, and a lot of eggs, so there's always shells, cores and peels and stuff laying around) and you put it in the bucket, and lock the lid, and push one button.

In two hours you have totally dry, totally broken down compost that smells almost like dry hay, ready to drop on the yard to put back in nutrients.

I'm a bit in love with it.

And, on top of that, it can break down dairy and meat. You shouldn't ever put cooked meat in your outdoor compost, because birds will try to forage it, and get cooked fat grease on their feathers, which they can't clean off and can lead to illness. They're not evolved to handle cooked meat. But this way the meat is all broken down and safe to put outside. Which means throwing less away, which is great.

I will say, we didn't put in the charcoal the first time, and it had the used up charcoal from the previous owner in there and THAT was a mistake. Made the whole house smell like sweet vinegar. Which could be worse, considering this is food rotting down, but it was terrible when it's too cold to even open a window.

You can get Lomi brand charcoal filters, but it's just little charcoal pellets, so I'll probably just buy some from the aquarium store when we run out. But this batch should last us several months.

The thing also came with Lomi "tablets". So far, we've used them. But I'm going to experiment with not using them at some point, since the webpage for the Lomi says you don't NEED them. They do genuinely add helpful bacteria and fungi to the soil, which is great, but I can buy soil improvers that can do that, much more economically, from my local urban farm supply in the spring. No branded little pellets required. Plus, with the lawn being under snow, and the processed compost having to go on top of the snow, I'm not sure how much of that bacteria would be surviving right now, anyways.

#Stormbrew House #compost #gardenblr #organic gardening

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owlsandwich · 8 months

Text

The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The Mechanics of Magic is a multiple-pov fantasy novel set in an original world where magic exists openly alongside early internet-level technology.

The book follows the surviving prince of a deposed magical royal family, who has been living in secret for two decades, trying to rescue his son whilst uncovering the truth about his family's murder.

Chapter 2 is below the cut!

Calling it ‘backstage’ would have been generous. The area where Alex sat was hidden by little more than a black sheet printed with the band’s logo, flung over the wooden beam above. His mother had arranged it through her business; the factory-made fabric had been imported from Vailberg, along with the T-shirts Eira had ordered for what small fan base existed outside of their classmates.

It was an uncharacteristically hot summer, and the field of yellowed grass at the edge of town was not benefitting from the swarm of final year students that had descended upon it. Alex’s clammy T-shirt clung uncomfortably to his tan skin, the usual waves of his dark hair flattened by sweat. He licked his chapped lips and reached for his magic, intending to at least dry off his clothes, but then thought better of it. It wouldn’t cost a lot but he didn’t want to risk the over-exertion, not after dumping so much of his power into his generator that morning.

Colourful lights flickered above as the heavy bass resumed, bright enough against the darkening sky to be visible through the cloth, but Eira was too skilled for him to sense any radiating magic. It hurt to miss the display. Watching countless practices hadn’t dulled any of the splendour of her routine, but as the band’s unofficial technician, he needed to be here.

Alex crouched down, ignoring the dry grass spiking his knees, and put a hand on his machine. It could almost pass for a guitar amp — a metallic box with a panel of buttons and wires running out of it towards the stage. The cool metal hummed under his fingertips as the electric generator whirred inside, but Alex explored the device with his magic instead, probing the passive spell he had cast there. The spell within the machine enabled the turbine to move, and Alex was disappointed to find its power running low. Even with all the magic he had stored inside it, the generator could only run for around three hours. Still, his framework of instruction was holding and should produce enough electricity to power the various amps and lights for one more song.

It was perhaps an indication of his inexperience that he could sense the generator’s passive spell so readily. A more focussed will as he formed the spell would have meant less waste energy as it ran — less radiation for his senses to pick up. Alex knew the generator shouldn’t have required as much magic as it did. His father could have done better.

With a sigh, he pulled a crumpled envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. It was still sealed, and his eyes passed over his name without reading it, drawn instead towards the logo printed in the top left corner.

Aedemeer City University. The letter had come from the capital that morning. It was the best place in Ardveld to study engineering, almost on par with the great universities in Vailberg. That’s if he’d made it in.

A sputtering from the machine behind him broke through his rumination. Shoving the letter back into his pocket, he spun around, sucking air through his teeth in frustration. The spell was dying. It took only a thought for Alex to draw on his magic. The passive spell within the generator glowed in his mind, accepting the gush of his remaining power. He wasn’t sure how much it would need; there must be less than a minute of show time left. But the electric lights, the speakers… Alex cut his connection with the spell and hoped for the best.

Reality replaced the feeling of magic, sharp and loud, as though he had emerged from deep water. His ears rang over the sound of the music, and Alex couldn’t separate the thumping of the bass from the beating of his heart. Black dots danced across his vision when he tried to stand, and he sunk down into the dirt as quickly as he had risen, trying to quell the shaking in his limbs.

Deep breaths usually helped to soothe away the dizzy sensation of magic over-exertion. He leant against the metal casing of the generator and closed his eyes.

A cheer from the crowd startled him back to consciousness. Blinking, Alex saw letters shining in colourful sparks across the velvet sky, but it took a moment for him to realise they were backwards, clearly directed at those looking at the stage: Thank you and goodnight! Alex groaned as he forced himself to sit up straight. His right shoulder ached where he had been leaning against the hard surface, and he rubbed at it while summoning the strength to stand. His generator had stopped its whirring, and he didn’t need to check to know that his passive spell had expired along with it. Stupid, really. If he’d bothered to add a fail-safe loop, he wouldn’t have to recast the framework. Again.

In the absence of the meagre light the electric lamps had provided, Alex saw the bobbing glow of magelights rising from the crowd, brightening the paths out of the field and illuminating those bothering to clean up. Wincing, he rotated his shoulder and pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the machine for support. This time, his vision mercifully stayed clear.

A rustle of fabric told him someone was approaching.

“Alex?” The dark blonde of Eira’s hair was hidden as usual by one of her illusions, this time cycling through a rainbow of colours that cast a hypnotic glow over her pale face in the fading light. Like the magelights he’d seen earlier, it was an active spell, requiring constant focus even if it didn’t use much power. If it was distracting her, Alex couldn’t tell.

“Is it all right to unplug the stuff now? We’re packing up.”

“Sure.” Alex bent down and started pulling the wire connectors out of the generator, hoping the movement would disguise the weakness he felt.

“You had to shut it off in the end then? I thought you’d leave the lights on at least,” Eira said as she wound the cables up. Alex passed her another, but this time she paused as she took it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine!” Alex shook his head and immediately regretted it, trying to blink away the woozy sensation that had rushed back.

To his relief, Eira didn’t seem to notice. “You’ve been quiet all day.” She hesitated, then placed her hand on his shoulder. “Did you hear yet? About Aedemeer?”

“Oh.” Alex’s thoughts jumped to the crumpled paper in his pocket.

“Sort of. Well… I mean, I got a letter. Here.” Standing up straight, he pulled the envelope from his pocket and held it out.

Eira just looked at him. “You haven’t opened it?”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

“Want me to do it?”

“I guess someone’s got to.”

His weak smile faded under Eira’s scrutinising gaze. Then she took the letter, slid a thumb under the flap of the envelope, and tore it open. Alex watched her face out of the corner of his vision, trying not to guess from her expression what she was reading.

“Hmmm. Interesting.” He made a grab for the paper, but the wooziness from his magic exhaustion made him slow, and she danced back, laughing. “I thought you wanted me to tell you!”

“Hurry up then!” He grinned. Eira wouldn’t tease him if it was bad news.

Her own suppressed smile broke wide across her face. “You got in!” She pushed the letter into his hand, sweeping him into a hug that almost knocked him off his feet. “You’ve got to let me be there when you tell your mum. I bet she’s gonna cry.”

“Happy tears, I hope!” Alex replied. The thought of how proud she’d be almost felt better than knowing he’d been accepted.

“You’re still coming to the pub, right? We should head back to yours afterwards. Maybe just stay for one drink, then get going. I can’t believe you had the letter on you all day and didn’t open it!”

Alex listened contentedly to Eira’s excited rambling as she collected up the last wire. “You said your dad’s got a mobile phone, right? Wanna use mine to call him? Tell him the good news?”

The question broke him from his happy daze. “I—” Alex hesitated before continuing quickly. “I mean, he’s coming down at the weekend. For my birthday. We’ll tell him then.”

“Well, I guess you can do a double celebration.” Eira’s careful response told him she hadn’t missed his deliberate avoidance. She pulled him into another hug, the fruity smell of her clothes reminding him how much he needed a shower. “You should be really proud.”

“Thanks.” Now that the excitement was wearing off, Alex realised how exhausted he was. He reached for the strap to lug the generator over his shoulder, but found his limbs shaking as he attempted to lift it. “How about you? Did you get anything from Beiriant?”

Eira flinched, and for a moment he wondered if he’d said something wrong. Then she reached across him, laying a hand on his machine.

“The spell… You didn’t— Alex, I knew you weren’t okay. Do you think I can’t spot when you’re magic sick? Why didn’t you just let it die? Or ask someone for help?”

“I’m fine, really,” Alex replied. “And I didn’t have time to ask anyone — it only needed another minute. Anyway, I sat down for a bit afterwards and now I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Eira said. “Let’s get you home. You should rest.” She gently tugged the strap from Alex’s hand, but he snatched at it.

“I can carry it!”

“Yeah, if you want us to take half the night.” She laughed. “I know it’s your baby. Trust me, I’ll be very careful.”

Alex frowned but stepped back, allowing her to hoist the generator off the ground, strap over her shoulder and both hands on the handle that stuck out from the top as she leant away from the weight. Together, they shuffled down the path from the field, Eira’s magelight ahead of them. The few stragglers that remained waved as they passed, and Alex focussed on standing as straight as possible to hide his weakness.

“They can’t tell, you know,” Eira whispered beside him. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“What about the pub?” Alex asked suddenly. “You wanted to go. And Karla’s going to be there, right?” He might not be able to manage drinks tonight, but Eira shouldn’t have to miss out because of him.

“There’ll be other nights.” She took one hand off the generator to punch his arm, earning a disgruntled oof in return. “Hopefully the guilt will stop you pulling this again.”

“It’ll probably be the last night out for a while, though…” He appreciated Eira’s words, but most of their peers would leave for a career soon, the rest heading off to university. Either way, it meant a long time until another event like this. That’s if the field was even here when he came back. He’d heard it had been bought up, likely by one of those rich guys from Vailberg his mum was always complaining about. After so long dreaming of leaving, Alex was surprised by how sad the thought made him.

“Your health is more important than any night out. You need to rest.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Eira was probably right. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. At least if he slept in tomorrow, he’d be back to normal by the time his father arrived.

@teacupsandstarlight

#writeblr #fantasy writing #themechanicsofmagic

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atherix · 1 year

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hello aci, critically important midnight lore question. what are everyones (mumbo, scar, grian, and anyone else you would like) favorite chores to do? (cooking, laundry, dishes, etc) and what chores (if any) would they rather dive into life threatening danger to avoid? on the off chance this is a repeat question sorry orz

Hi Chel!! <3

Oh this is a fun question :o Hmmm

Scar likes cooking, as we know by now, and would rather punt himself into the sun than do laundry (technology is pretty set back in this world so most laundry is done by hand, which Scar despises, but redstone machines are notorious for the redstone failing if the machine gets wet so redstone washers are generally seen as absolute rubbish). He hates how his hands get all pruney and go numb and afterwards they're all dry and stuff from the detergents and he ALWAYS manages to burn himself on the iron when ironing the clothes and he just despises laundry, really...

Mumbo enjoys dusting and sweeping/mopping and organizing things- he finds it calming and gives him time to think- but would rather set himself on fire than put his hands in dishwater. (He is determined to design and make a dishwasher that won't destroy the redstone components but everyone knows redstone + water is usually disastrous...) Dishwater is yucky, we all know this, but he's loathe to waste water by keeping the tap running.

Grian actually likes laundry- his talons means less wrinkly prune-feeling and his talons don't go numb from running the clothes across a washboard, and he likes the sound it makes. Because laundry's a long process at this point (again, pre-machinery, electricity is still relatively new in this world and redstone + water = bad) he likes to do it at a time when Mumbo is still asleep and Scar is either also asleep or working. Unlike Scar and Mumbo, he actually doesn't mind any chores- as long as he's not the only one doing them. Unless it's laundry, he will actively shoo the others away from laundry. It's the one chore he thoroughly enjoys. (Luckily Mumbo isn't overly attached to laundry bc the moment Grian moved in he took over LMAO)

Mmm as for others... Tubbo doesn't like doing ANY chores, but if he had to pick one it'd be taking out the trash- quick and easy. The one chore he absolutely hates, though- the one he would rather go back to Midnight Alley than do would have to be cleaning the bathroom. Scrubbing the sink, the bathtub, the toilet- he despises it. Definitely bribed someone else to do it when it appeared on his chores list for the week when he was a teen.

Cub doesn't particularly enjoy any specific chore (partly because, you know, he's the King's assistant and doesn't DO chores). This man here does less chores than a literal PRINCE (Scar) and LORD (Mumbo) and GOD (Grian) what the fuck

Lizzie is an "all the chores!!" type person but in reality she, too, enjoys cooking and hates washing dishes. Joel is indifferent to chores in general, and would rather help Lizzie cook, but he washes dishes bc Lizzie doesn't like doing it. So I guess his favorite chore is "help Lizzie/make Lizzie happy" 😌

Jimmy and Scott...... absolutely hire someone to come and clean their house once a week. They're old enough to have enough money to rival Mumbo, I think. Not Cleo, but at least Mumbo. All their chores are done at their bakery, and their favorite chore is definitely setup for the next day. Their least favorite chores are wiping down the counters where the dough was BEING prepared (Jimmy) and washing the dishes (pans and mixing bowls and stuff) (Scott).

Cleo... has other people to do chores. She's there to conduct business, manage the Coven, teach younger/newer Vampires, etc, household chores are generally performed by second, third and fourth tier Coven members (Lord's Turnlings/children, Coven Vampires (unrelated to the Lord) and Coven non-Vampires). However if we include the above among her "chores" then her favorite is teaching new Vampires how to... well... Vampire. And she would rather wrestle a basilisk than deal with the fucking Council-

BDubs likes gardening, of course. He loves maintaining the grounds of their Coven house and connecting with his Fae side. He basically helps support Cleo in his day to day life and also highly dislikes dealing with the Council, but I don't think he'd rather put himself in mortal danger than do it

Etho fucks off so much that he gets away with doing pretty much nothing one might consider a chore. Mans is just "peace out *gone*" and the sweeping's still not done. He brings new seeds home for BDubs' garden and unique and new food for the Coven Humans, though- he enjoys that.

Joe is banned from doing chores.

Ren loves doing ANY chore because he makes a game out of it, and often drags Martyn into it with him. Martyn enjoys anything to do with Renchanting and at least tolerates all other chores, but he hates cleaning the bathtub after a full moon because Ren is such a fucking puppy that when he transforms into a feral wolf with no sense of humanity left in him, instead of trying to hunt he demands Play In Water/Bath Times and thE DRAIN IS FULL OF FUR REN WHAT THE F-

Pearl hated sweeping and mopping. She just did, no real reason. She would rather fight god than sweep. Her favorite chore was to run errands, bc it got her out of the Palace for a few hours.

Grim is a typical 14 year old and groans any time you ask her to do anything (but she's also traumatized responsible and does it anyway). She haaaaaates making beds, because sheets just don't cooperate and you have to do them every day and even change them out which means fighting with sheets again and just- yeah.

Anyway I hope this vitally important Midnight Lore serves you well my friend <3

#ask #midnight series #MidnightLore #posting with friends #The Vault #<3 #long post

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snowyknight-17 · 4 months

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Jake had too much to drink and this is how it went.

Featuring Jake Evans and my sole survivor, Annie.

A tad NSFW under the cut, but nothing too much. Long post

TW: alcohol consumption

Annie looked out over the docks of Egret Marina. The sunsets here were out of this world.

Natural orange and purple mixed with the green haze of the glowing sea.

This was her favorite settlement.

Pastel colored, sea-side cottages lined the docks and each with little unique touches by the folks who lived in them. The tiny decrepit diner has been revamped with outside seating and working neon. A sweet old fisherman runs it and serves the best fried fish sandwiches.

Annie has been putting so many resources into this location. The water access alone has been rewarding to say the least.

A couple of water wheels were put up to charge the generators; supplying enough power to keep the marina running with a surplus that gets rerouted to HQ.

Water was being collected, boiled and filtered; with enough cans of purified water gathered to send out on caravans for thirsty settlers.

The shops in the main building were slow to build, but coming together. A small garden was cultivating tatos and cabbages, they call it a ‘slaw garden’ for the fish sammies.

Tomorrow she would join the locals in finally setting up an intricate invention of nets to catch lots of fishies.

A new food source would be incredible! Especially if it’s this close to HQ.

There Annie sat, on the roof of the boat house, looking out over a great settlement on a great evening about to turn in with dogmeat. Nothing could rui-

*Loud electrical frequencies reverberate through the area. Like a microphone adjustment after being plugged in*

“Eh hem. Well hheelllooo there commonwealth. This message is for little Miss Annie.”

‘What the…’ Annie checked her pipboy and saw the relay tower OSC-527 was sending out a signal.

“Darlin if you can hear thiss…”

“Jake?”

“I know I don’t alwayss s-say was on my mind, but I have to tell you you somethin…”

‘Was he drunk? He sounds wasted!’

By now the local fishermen were standing outside waiting to hear what the announcer was gonna say.

“You are somethin else! I g-get so worried when you’re gone…”

Annie tuned in to the relays channel swearing under breath,

“I *hic* think you’re the bes pardner a man could ask for, HEY! GET OFF!”

Sounds of a shuffle followed by the distinct voice of McTavish,

“There you are, crazy drunk! Give me that!”

More sounds of a shuffle followed by fast paced footsteps. Running?

“Nnnoo! Aiden’s just jealous of what we got darlin! He thinks-“

“Hold him Theresa! Gods you’re such a bastard sometimes…”

A long pause filled in with muffled movements, finally Aiden came back,

“Um…everything’s fine. HQ out.”

Silence.

Relay tower OSC-527 lowered its disks and went offline. Egret marina folks looked up at a bewildered Annie who could only shrug in response.

Annie lifted her pipboy receiver to her mouth and dialed in to hers and Jake’s private frequency,

“Jake? Everything ok?”

Nothing.

Annie lowered her arm and looked out in the direction of HQ, not sure what to do next. Before she could hop down from the boathouse, static came through her pipboy,

“Hey. Lupe here. You still there chief?”

“Yes. Oh my god is everything ok? Is Jake ok?”

“Um yeah he’s fine, just um, he’s been drinking and I think he had too much.”

A huge smile spread over Annie’s giddy face,

“Yeah it sounded like that. Everyone ok?”

“Mmhmm, except for Aiden. Jake elbowed him in the nose when we tried to get him offline the relay. But he’s fine… I think. Any way are you still at the marina?”

“Yes ma’am. Need me to head back?”

“Do you mind? Jake won’t stop asking for you.”

“On my way. It’s about a 30min hike, so hang tight.”

“Copy that.”

It was getting late by the time Annie made it to the cafeteria. Only a few tables were occupied by staff getting in last call drinks. Aiden was glowering against a wall, arms crossed, a rolled tissue stuffed up his left nostril.

He was staring daggers straight at the bar where sat a lonely Jake.

His vest clad back was turned to them, hunched over with his head on his arms.

Annie couldn’t help but smile. Does he really worry about her when she’s gone?

“Humph. Finally. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“Everyone ok? Minus you of course.”

He said nothing just dead eyed stared her down.

“Well I’m here now, what can I do?”

He leaned off the wall, arms still crossed and motioned to Jake,

“See if you can get him to bed. He won’t listen to anyone.”

With a nod, Annie was off with slow movements to the bar. “Hey partner.”

Jake lifted his, no doubt heavy head and lit up like the sun poking through clouds,

“Darlin! Oh boy am I glad to see you!”

He had her wrapped in a bear hug in one quick sweep. Last time they were this close, they shared a passionate kiss after the gunners were defeated.

He felt the same.

A thin layer of daddy fat over the sturdy build of an all American fix it man. He smelled good too. Engine musk, coffee, beer and a hint of his evergreen soap. His beard was ticklish against her fair skin causing her to giggle,

“I’m glad to see you too friend. I hear you’ve had some drinks…”

He smiled coyly,

“Sshhh I need you to keep a secret, I hid one of the boxes of sasparilla that came in today. Shh.”

He has one finger to his lips and boyish grin in his eyes.

“Uh huh. Hey Frank you short a case of sasparillas?”

The young bartender walked up to them, a rag over his shoulder,

“As a matter of fact I was short one case. Whelp glad that’s cleared up.”

“Huh.”

“Snitch.” Jake looked a little hurt, but his hands were still on her hips.

“You gotta give that back ok. The beer is for everyone. He eat anything yet?”

“I have not seen him eat at the bar.”

“Ok put a Salisbury in the oven and deliver it to his room please.”

Jake began to protest, releasing his wonderful grip from her center,

“Nuh uh, her room. Bring the steak to her room.”

“My room?! Mr. Evans you need food to absorb all that alcohol and you’ll sleep better in your own bed.”

“Oh darlin I’m hungry but not for ssteaks…” a firm grab to her ass emphasized his point.

Thank god for the low lighting in the bar, cuz her face was as red as a beet.

Jake would never be this forward in a sober state, it really was time to get him to bed.

Aiden was at their side, he looked amused.

“He getting to be too much? Need me lug him to his quarters and lock the door till morning?”

“I thought locking doors was against the rules?”

Aiden no longer looked like he wanted to play, so Annie continued,

“No I’ll take him to my room to eat and sleep it off.”

“Fine but come get me if he gets too handsy.”

Annie spoke about her future man like he was dogmeat,

“Aww this guy?! He’s such a teddy bear! He would never do nothin. Come on big guy let’s go eat.”

Jake turned to look just to the right of Aiden and pointed,

“Yeah and you ain’t invited!”

“I’m over here dufus.”

Jake blinked, obviously seeing more than one Aiden.

Jake ate slowly, taking the occasional swipe at Annie’s thigh. Being this close, this alone was starting to be too much. It wasn’t right for Annie to be having the thoughts she was.

Jake was drunk. Not in the right head space and any follow through would be morally icky. Time to wrap this up.

“Alright cowboy, time to turn down.”

As she cleaned up his dinner, Jake watched her with hooded eyes. His vest and scarf were off, shirt unbuttoned to reveal the top of his chest hair. He began to undo his belt buckle as he kicked off his boots,

“Come’er Annie. Lay by me.”

Annie had to gulp her passions down. It really was time to leave,

“That ain’t a good idea Jake. I’d feel better if you slept.”

“Sleepin is not what I was thinkin of doing in this bed…”

His hands were on her hips, sliding further up her torso. His head was in the crook of her neck leaving wet, soft kisses…

DAMMIT ALL TO FUCKING HELL!

Why was this so hard? Just leave!

“No one kisses me like Annie kisses me…”

His accent was thick and lusty and perfect…

Staying for kisses would be fine right?

Annie cursed whatever sex demon followed her around and gently pushed Jake back into the bed,

“No Jake. It’s bed time. Time for bed.”

His big brown eyes looked hurt, but he nodded and asked if she’d at least lay there till he fell asleep. Annie agreed and turned out the lights.

Morning was bright! Too bright…

Jake opened his crusty eyes and tried to blink away the sleep. Why was his room this bright?

As he fumbled around trying to find the light source, the room became clearer.

A big bed with a soft yellow quilt. A slight breeze coming through the window, the washing machine was sloshing on a low level…

‘Annie’s room? Did I sleep in Annie’s room? HER BED?!’

Jake began to panic, ‘had they…?’

He patted down his body and realized he was still in his jeans and buttoned shirt, one sock still on. Jake noticed he was a little sore, but thankfully, not in the fun way.

Not that that would have been bad but…well definitely not how he envisioned their first union being.

Annie was nowhere to be seen, sadly. Would have been nice to at least wake up by her.

“God I hope I didn’t spook her off, say something gross…”

Jake made slow attempts at getting dressed and looking for his other sock when Annie walked in, with a big plate of breakfast.

“Morning partner! Hope you like omelets.”

“Ooo too loud darlin too loud.”

Smiling and in a softer tone,

“Sorry Jake. But you need hangover food and a can-do attitude to start the day.”

“Smells good,”

Jake was dressed and in better spirits since being with her again,

“Whatcha bring me?”

“An omelet with diced tatos, brahmin cheese cooked in plenty of butter. A thick slab of deathclaw bacon and coffee with lots of cream.”

“You tryin to fatten me up darlin?”

“Sober you up honey.”

At that Jake turned red, utterly embarrassed by last nights behavior.

“I can’t remember everything that happened yesterday, but for what is worth, I’m really sorry Annie. I hope I didn’t do nothing that can’t be repaired. That won’t happen again. You have my word.”

Annie smiled as she filled her own coffee mug,

“You were pretty entertaining, but have no worries my dear. You did nothing that would make me care for you less.”

“Gosh you always know what to say. I’m a real lucky man to have you as a friend.”

The quiet built as they ate and it gnawed at Jake. He had to know,

“Did we…”

Annie tensed inwardly,

“No. Nothing happened. You did get a little grabby but I can handle that. Once you fell asleep I went to your room and slept. I’m…not sure I could have stayed virtuous laying in your arms all night.”

Jake nodded, he understood. Annie was so pretty and so popular and loved. Everyone who met her was enthralled. He constantly felt reminded how lucky he was to have her affection. Even if it was a distant affection.

Both were picking at their breakfast now, not sure what to say, until Annie spoke up, tears poking in the corner of her eyes

“Will we…someday?”

Jake chuffed,

“Course we will darlin. I want to be with you, you with me. Us against the world…it’s just…my little girl. I need to find her first.”

Jake had tears of his own threatening to bead down his bearded cheek

“I can’t give what you need right now. And you deserve all I am as a man.”

“Hey Jake. Please don’t get upset. I know how you feel about me. But the thing is, I can care for myself, Laura can’t and she needs her daddy. And that’s something I adore about you. Your loyalty. Your word. You are a wonderful man Jake Evans.”

“I adore your bravery, your patience…”

Annie had her hand running through his hair. Nails running along his scalp, he leaned into the touch so starved for attention.

Annie kissed his forehead and left. She told him she had to head back to the marina to oversee the fishing nets. Something about how HQ could have fish fry Fridays and left him alone to finish breakfast.

And there Jake sat.

Alone again.

She was right here. They were in her bed. This morning could have been different. But like always, he felt he was ruining his chances, and wondered how many more he had left.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #sim settlements 2 #jake evans #SS2 Jake

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thessalian · 3 months

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Thess vs Progress

Not to say that things are necessarily going well in the grand scheme of things (I mean, shit, just look at ... all of that ... out there - or don't if you need a break from unrelenting horror), but from a personal-life perspective, there are good things to note.

For all I promised myself this week off was supposed to be about relaxing, I did Do Things. Well, I Made Things. So far - chicken stew, potato salad, and brownies. I have plans in the direction of cereal bars, potato soup, sweet potato soup, beef stew, and risotto. Need to get out to the shops soon, though, because I need courgette for bolognaise and some more vanilla extract for any further baking I may wish to do. Like I said - month of batch-cooking. Though my appetite's on the decline at the moment and I'm not doing great pain-wise, so today might be a tin of soup, some potato salad, and maybe a sandwich if I'm feeling up to it.

The better news, though, is about my living situation. Long story short: there are two flats in this building, and my mother owns both, and both require renovation in a major way. So I'm shuttling around like the ball in a shell game between the flats. Or ... that was the plan, anyway. I moved into this flat from the other flat ... a little more than four years ago, I think? And for most of those four years, very little seemed to be getting done. My stepfather didn't get near the place. So the longer he waited, the longer I was stuck in the flat I'm in now - the flat which, while better laid out than the old flat, has the most atrocious plumbing it has been my privilege to experience. By which I mean:

No shower pump (so it's been baths in a tiny-ass tub for four years and I would commit a minor felony for a shower)

Leaky tub, in the carpeted bathroom. (Well, I think it's just that the tub is this cheap, badly-installed piece of plastic crap and because the cold tap leaks when I turn it up higher than a trickle, it seeps through the very bad grouting and onto the floor. The carpeted floor. IN A BATHROOM. I don't know what the people who designed this place were smoking)

By "bad grouting", I mean that some of the wall tiles literally fell off the wall and into my bathwater when I was taking a bath a couple of years ago.

Wonky boiler (though at least my stepfather installed a working timer on the damn thing so I don't have to switch on the day boost for two hours to get enough hot water to bathe)

Leaky faucet in the kitchen which has been half-assedly patched with electrical tape. (Literally. My stepfather thought this was even a vague solution.)

The kitchen sink drain doesn't have a U-bend, so using drain cleaner on it is a waste of fucking time (which is great when it's the drain that probably sees the most overall debris and gunk of any drain but the toilet)

Also the place is just ... grungy in ways I can't fix. There are cracks in various of the walls. The carpet is well past its best. The light fixtures ... the only ones that give light worth a damn are the bare bulb in one end of the living room and the kitchen lighting that my stepfather put in when I told him I didn't have enough light to make sure I was washing the dishes well enough. The others are gaudy-ass chandeliers. The less said about the curtains, the better. I don't generally complain because, I mean, it's a roof over my head that I don't have to torture myself to pay for, and my stepfather replaced the non-functional heaters last year so I'm not freezing my ass off trying to be mindful of the electricity bill like I was during that cold snap in 2022. So I was willing to wait and cope with the problems of the place for as long as necessary because you don't go being a choosing beggar in this kind of situation.

My mother, however, has been over for dinner a few times, and while I try to downplay it, she knows I'm struggling with the whole thing. So I figure she's the one who lit a fire under him, and he's been working himself ragged on the other flat for a few months now. I've been gifting him with baked goods every so often, partly because I can never eat a full batch of anything on my own before it gets stale but mostly because I appreciate the work he's putting in, especially with his back issues.

Which is when we come to today. Despite a bad pain day (weird agony in my outer left thigh and some grip strength issues on top of the rest of the increased OW), I made brownies, and I brought him some while he was working. He showed me the work on the kitchen (SUCH an improvement over when I first lived there, you have no idea!) and told me the current plan. Apparently, the goal is to get that flat liveable - not necessarily finished, but just done enough for someone to be able to, like, cook and bathe and sleep and everything - and then move me into it so they can start doing this flat. No real timeframe given on the work here yet, but I figure it's going to be a lot because if nothing else, they want to move a whole wall to give me a kitchen worth the name, size-wise.

Point is that if everything continues according to plan, the other flat will be liveable in about a month. I could be living in a flat with access to regular showers by mid-August - early September at the latest. I give a little extra time on that because I'm going to need to be able to book time off around then, since my stepfather's going to want me to move all my stuff in one day again and I will hurt for days afterwards. That and I have to get my phone and internet transferred and that might take a day or so, and I obviously can't work without it. Thus, better to be sure it's all organised for maximum efficiency. Either way, actual showers soon.

It's a nice thing to think about to keep from dwelling too hard on the election tomorrow. I've already voted, and the final results won't be in until Friday morning, but ... honestly, given that Starmer's been making noises about how trans women don't belong in single-sex spaces and how he wants to meet with JK Rowling at some point and is actually trying to arrange that (like TERF-In-Chief is a front-bench cabinet position now or something), and how he's almost certainly going to win, it's depressing. That's ignoring the rest of his so-called policies. It's not as big a mess as what's going on in the US, but it's mess enough. The US still has a chance to turn its would-be dictator away; we have "meet the new boss; same as the old boss" - damn near literally.

I'mma play Tavern Talk or something for awhile. It's fun and cute and will probably cheer me up at least a bit.

#Thess cooks #Thess has a living situation

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