#free plumbing courses

[alphabses-blog]

Unlocking Skills for Free: Dive into Plumbing Excellence with Free Courses in London!

Introduction

The demand for skilled plumbers is experiencing a significant surge, and for those looking to enter the plumbing sector without breaking the bank, free plumbing courses are proving to be a game-changer. In this article, we'll explore the advantages of pursuing free plumbing courses, with a specific focus on the offerings of Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd in the vibrant city of London.

Advantages of Pursuing Free Plumbing Courses

When it comes to accessibility and affordability, free plumbing courses take the lead. These courses not only provide a cost-effective way to learn but also focus on skill development, ensuring graduates are not just knowledgeable but industry-relevant. The end result? Increased employability in the ever-growing plumbing sector.

Curriculum Highlights

The curriculum of free plumbing courses is far from basic. It covers a broad spectrum of modules, offering not just theoretical knowledge but also practical training and hands-on experience. This ensures that graduates are well-prepared to tackle real-world plumbing challenges with confidence.

Finding Free Plumbing Courses in London

Discovering free plumbing courses in London involves tapping into various resources. Online platforms, local training institutions, and networking can guide aspiring plumbers to valuable opportunities that align with their goals. The dynamic nature of London's education landscape makes it an exciting playground for those seeking free plumbing education.

Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd: A Leading Institution

In the heart of London, Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd stands out as a leading institution offering free plumbing courses. Boasting a stellar background and reputation, the institution provides state-of-the-art facilities and resources dedicated to plumbing students. Success stories of previous graduates who have emerged from the free courses further underscore the quality of education provided.

Application Process for Free Plumbing Courses

Prospective students considering free plumbing courses at Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd can navigate the application process with ease. Clear eligibility criteria, straightforward application procedures, and support services ensure a smooth entry into the world of free plumbing education.

Career Opportunities Post-Course

Completing free plumbing courses at Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd opens doors to a myriad of career opportunities. The institution has established partnerships with industry employers, offering students placement opportunities and a stepping stone into their desired roles. Success stories of individuals securing employment post-free course exemplify the practicality and success of the programs.

Industry-Driven Curriculum Design

Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd takes pride in its industry-driven approach to curriculum design. Collaborating with industry experts ensures that the curriculum is not just comprehensive but also aligned with the latest trends and technologies in plumbing. Graduates emerge not just as students but as professionals ready to meet the dynamic demands of the plumbing industry.

Student Support and Mentorship

Beyond the classroom, Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd provides comprehensive support for students pursuing free courses. From mentorship programs to networking opportunities, the institution is dedicated to creating a supportive learning environment that goes beyond textbooks and lectures.

Challenges and Solutions in Free Plumbing Courses

Recognizing the technical nature of free plumbing courses, Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd has implemented support systems to address common challenges faced by students. From tackling complex coursework to providing resources for overcoming obstacles, the institution is committed to helping students succeed in their academic pursuits.

Testimonials from Free Course Graduates

The real success of any educational program lies in the stories of its graduates. Testimonials from free course graduates share personal experiences and success stories, offering valuable insights for prospective students. These narratives highlight not just the quality of education but also the transformative impact of free plumbing courses on their careers.

Opportunities for Further Advancement

The journey doesn't end with free plumbing courses; it's just the beginning. Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd provides pathways for further education and specialization post-free courses. Graduates have the option to pursue advanced certifications and continuing education, offering a trajectory for a successful long-term career in the plumbing industry.

Future Trends in the Plumbing Industry

Staying ahead in the dynamic plumbing industry requires foresight. Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd ensures that its students are well-prepared for technological advancements, emerging job roles, and the importance of continuous learning. The institution doesn't just train plumbers; it shapes future leaders in the plumbing sector.

Conclusion

In conclusion, free plumbing courses in the bustling city of London, particularly at Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd, offer aspiring plumbers a pathway to a fulfilling and lucrative career without the burden of financial constraints. The advantages, curriculum highlights, and success stories of graduates make these free courses not just an option but a valuable investment in one's professional journey.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Are free plumbing courses as effective as paid ones?

Yes, free plumbing courses at Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd are designed to be just as effective, providing a quality education to students.

What are the eligibility criteria for enrolling in free plumbing courses?

Eligibility criteria vary, and details can be found on the institution's website. Generally, a high school diploma or equivalent is required.

How does Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd support students facing financial challenges during the courses?

The institution offers support services to assist students facing financial challenges, ensuring that education remains accessible.

Can graduates from free plumbing courses expect assistance in finding employment?

Yes, Alpha Building Services Engineering Ltd has partnerships with industry employers, providing placement opportunities for graduates.

What opportunities for further education and specialization are available post-free courses?

Graduates have the option to pursue advanced certifications and continuing education to further enhance their skills and career prospects.

Get In Touch!

Phone: [phone]

Mail: [email protected]

#free plumbing courses #plumbing

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’

Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.

“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.

People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.

“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”

You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.

“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.  

You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.  

“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”

You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.

.

.

That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.

Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.

“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.

“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.

You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.

“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”

Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.

“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh come on, he did not.”

“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.

“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”

“I beg your pardon.”

You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—

“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—

‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.

“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”

Ouch.

“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”

‘I’ll just go then.’

But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.

.

.

“My goodness, are you alright?”

You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?

Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.

“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”

Do you know how to get home?

You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.

“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.

You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”

So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.  

“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.

“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.

“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”

You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.

‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.

Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.

You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”

.

.

.

Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.

He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?

And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.

But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.

He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.

This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—

He looked back at the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick—

His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.

“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”

“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”

Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.

‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’

“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”

The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.  

“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.

Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.

“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”

.

.

.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #NRC Staff #NRC Staff x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting #Heroes vs. Villains #Crewel x Reader #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 1

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for leaving an unflushable poo in someone's toilet? ....This one is gross. Sorry.

I have diverticulitis, which is... a bathroom issue. They thought it was Crohn's for a long time, and many incompetent doctors + health complications later, they found out I had an enormous abscess and a golfball-sized fistula growing inside my colon. As you can imagine, this comes with a plethora of issues I am too embarrassed to divulge in their entirety.

This event happened before I had the abscess surgically removed, so I was mid 20s at the time. A friend set me up with this guy I had met once before at a party (J). It was practically a blind date. Things went well and we went back to his house.

Then it happened.

The gurgling. The pain. I told him I needed to go to the bathroom. As luck would have it, this was the WORST bathroom emergency I have ever had in my entire life. I shat more than I have ever shat. I was worried parts of my body would escape out of me and I would somehow reverse-hungry-caterpillar myself into nothingness.

I spent so long doing the deed and trying to clean it up, it must have been around 2 full hours, and we were both reasonably drunk - so when I went to peek my head in the living room, he was asleep. I tried again to plunge this beast back from whence it came. I was crying. It's quite funny in hindsight but as you can imagine, easily one of the worst humiliations I have ever endured. At one point, I had my HAND and FOREARM down this guy's toilet trying to set free the freakish poobaby I had just conceived in his otherwise impeccable loo (a fancy one with BUTTONS instead of a flush handle!). I even took the top off the toilet and tried to... hand-pump the water, I guess? Desperation.

I finally gave up. The whole room stank like sulfur and purse-sized citrus bodyspray so I cracked the window and cleaned up the best I could. I realized that it was, at this point, best left to a professional plumber, or perhaps an exorcist. I was younger and embarrassed and opted to go home, leaving nothing but a foul scent trail and a very small note (Later referred to by my friends as the Ghost Shitter Calling Card) written on a toilet paper square that said "oops" because I guess I thought that would be funny and maybe soften the blow. It was decidedly Not Funny, however, and to my surprise, he never made me foot the plumbing bill, but he did politely tell me that he was uninterested in going out again. Not that I blame him.

Lots of crying and shame later, and after getting my issues fixed via surgery, I am now wondering if there was a better course of action here. My friends do love this story but some of them have mentioned they would be LIVID if somebody did that to them. I know I am probably the asshole for leaving it like that. I really did try my best, and I do believe any people on here with less-than-ladylike health issues will at least partially understand what it's like, and what I was thinking at the time.

TLDR I clogged my date's toilet and left it like that since he fell asleep. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

[wistfulcynic]

the inn is a metaphor

They are terrible at running an inn. 

In the beginning. 

They don’t know the first goddamn thing about the hospitality industry. Or carpentry, plumbing, invoicing, logistics. Anything, really. They know nothing. 

They learn. 

There’s a lot of trial, even more error. But by the first time the Revenge returns for a visit they have something. A roof that doesn’t leak. Un-rotted floorboards. Nooks and crannies free from feral beasts of any kind. Zero spiders. Twin armchairs in front of the fire and a bed just big enough for the two of them. It’s a start. 

The Revenge comes bearing gifts. Wee John has knitted them some afghans and Frenchie sewed an enormous quilt, which takes pride of place on the bed. They’ve towed in another ship as well, a wreck whose timber they all pitch in to rebuild into an extension and some outbuildings. Roach helps them plant a kitchen garden and a medicinal one. 

Jackie gives them business advice and contacts for her old suppliers. Lucius has a guestbook for them, with marginalia he drew himself. Some of it at least is appropriate for guests to see. The rest…

“Are you planning to have guests who’ll faint at the sight of a cock?” Lucius inquires innocently. “Because I’ll be honest with you, that seems unlikely.” 

The idea of guests of any kind is still a long way off, but they’re getting there. They can envision it now, and not just as a wild fantasy they spin each other at night as they lie entwined with sweat cooling on their skin. They have actual plans, concrete ones, and a decent understanding of how to realise them. 

They get to work. 

Jackie’s contacts prove invaluable. Soon they have a liquor supplier, deals with local butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers, and even a reliable fisherman to give them first dibs on his haul. 

(It’s not Pop-Pop.) 

A few survivors of Zheng’s old crew hire on as housekeeping and kitchen staff. The soup is phenomenal. Ed learns how to make it and how to cook a fish without burning it. They have fresh-smelling towels, expertly folded. They have guest rooms, and soon they have guests. 

It’s an adjustment, having new people in their space. Some of the guests are gawkers, eager for a piece of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate. They reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, namely those particular assholes. But other guests are much more pleasant. Locals looking for a bit of a mini-break, people from nearby islands wanting a getaway, even the occasional European who doesn’t know who they are. 

The guests are mostly happy with their stay. There’s excellent soup and decent fish, fresh linens and great views. The walls could be a bit thicker, perhaps, for everyone’s comfort, but the hosts are always most apologetic in the morning and offer copious marmalade in exchange for good reviews. 

The Revenge returns frequently, each time with some new trinkets and finery for their former co-captains. In exchange, they host bonfires on the beach with music and dancing and wine, until they all fall asleep together in a pile, so like the old days on the ship that Stede watches them in the soft light of the embers with tears in his eyes. 

“All right, love?” Ed asks him. He slips an arm around Stede’s waist. Stede tugs him in until Ed’s head is nestled against his shoulder. He strokes Ed’s hair. Ed sighs and snuggles closer. 

“I’m all right,” Stede says. “A bit nostalgic is all.” 

“You miss it.” 

“I miss the crew. I wish they could visit more often. I suppose I miss the sea, though of course it’s right there in front of us. But I’m happy, Ed. I have no regrets.” 

“Really?” The whisper of doubt in Ed’s voice has Stede pulling back to look down at his dear face. 

“Yes really! Do you doubt it?” 

“Kind of.” Ed shrugs. “It’s easier for me, I think. I was ready to be done with it, Stede. Desperate to do anything else but be Blackbeard. But you—you had just got started. You could be out there now with the crew, pirating away. You could be famous. You could—” 

“Ed Teach, you listen to me.” Stede’s got his Captain Voice on now and the sound of it has Ed’s stomach turning cartwheels, his dick leaping to attention. “I don’t care about any of that. I only wanted to be a pirate for the freedom. To escape my old life. But I have a life now that I would never want to escape. Do you know why?” 

Ed shakes his head. 

“Because I chose it. I chose you. I love you and I would be happy anywhere you were.” He cups Ed’s cheek in his palm and kisses his forehead, his nose, his lips. Ed moans and presses closer but Stede pulls back, just far enough to whisper, “You make Stede happy.” 

They spend that night alone in the inn, no guests, far enough from the beach that when they serve breakfast to the crew the next morning not a single smirk or smart remark is sent their way. 

They wave goodbye to their friends that evening and stand together on their porch to watch the ship sail off into the sunset. Stede turns to Ed with a smile. “New guests checking in tomorrow,” he says. “We should probably fix the creak in the door hinge of Room 1.” 

“I’ll do it,” says Ed, “if you polish the candlesticks. Fuckin’ polish makes my nose itch.” 

“Deal,” says Stede. He turns to head inside. “What’ll we have for dinner?” 

“Got a nice turbot we could roast.” 

“Ooh, fab.” 

The inn’s front door closes behind them. 

It’s still a bit rickety, their inn. It’s old, it creaks, it springs leaks from time to time. It’s hard work, keeping it going. But they are devoted to the task. Whatever it takes, they will see their inn thrive. 

It’s what makes them happy. 

#blackbonnet #blackbonnet fanfic #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fanfic #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #our flag means death #post season two #profdanglais

[marlynnofmany]

Starseed Apples

“Here you go,” I said, putting down the last box. “Uncut fabric, plumbing supplies, and three cases with a fungus biohazard label. Do I even want to know what’s in those?” I cast a curious look at my fellow human as I handed over the signing pad. She was shorter and rounder than I was, dressed in a crisp uniform of a type I didn’t recognize. Big pockets everywhere.

She signed with a wry grin. “Those are dirt.”

“Dirt?” I repeated, looking around the admittedly spotless loading dock of this particular space station. “Dirt warrants a biohazard here?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, handing the pad back. “Organic mulch that could contain anything from decomposed animals to fungus to poop? With uncountable amounts of bacterial life and potential germs? We’re lucky they only focused on the mold aspect!”

“Hm, good point,” I said.

Zhee, who was busy moving boxes off the hover sled, muttered something disparaging. I expected him to complain about how gross it all was, since he was always the first to point out when humans did something to offend his bug-alien sensibilities, but it sounded like he was griping about the strict station rules this time.

The human continued. “We have to keep a clean room between the greenhouse area and everything else. Even there, most things are in pots. We’ve got a great crop from Johnny Starseed right now!”

I’d heard that name before. “Oh, was he the one who sells little potted—”

“Apple trees, yeah,” she said. “Tiny and convenient, but they make an impressive number of apples as long as you feed ‘em quality dirt.” She bent down to pat a box.

Zhee finished freeing the sled. “Reasonable business plan,” he said, sounding almost complimentary.

“The guy named himself after Johnny Appleseed,” I told Zhee. “A human from centuries ago who got famous for traveling around and setting up apple orchards on Earth. Everybody likes a guy who brings food wherever he goes. And drink — I think some of those apples were supposed to be the cider variety.”

Zhee flicked his antennae. “Sounds like a very human thing to do,” he said drily.

“Have you tried the Starseed Reds?” the other human asked. “They’re very good.”

“No I haven’t, but I’d like to!” I said. “I’ve heard good things. I was kind of hoping to cross paths with him at some point. I wouldn’t mind a tiny apple tree in my quarters. Of course, the cat might get at it, and I’d probably have to find a grow lamp…”

She opened a boxy hip pocket, and pulled out the shiniest red apple I’d seen in a while. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!” I said, taking it eagerly. “That’s very generous!”

She waved it off. “Like I said, we’ve got a big crop. And I’ve got a different one that I’m saving for when I get off shift.” From another pocket, she produced a red apple with distinct orange stripes. “Which should be as soon as I get the supplies back to base.”

I laughed. “Is that the booze kind? I didn’t think those were real!”

“Oh yes,” she said with relish, putting it back in the pocket. “Starseed Cider Apples, no fermenting required!”

Zhee cocked his head, faceted eyes looking at both of us. “Poisonous apples?”

“Alcoholic apples,” I corrected, knowing full well that he considered that to be the same thing.

Zhee pushed the hover cart back toward the ship with a dramatic head tilt and antennae swirl. “Now that sounds like a human thing to do.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” I said with a smile. I thanked the other human and followed him, taking a bite of my non-alcoholic apple. It really was good.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

#hm new posting interface #not a fan #SURELY there's a way to do this without having to add in the paragraph breaks manually #good thing today's story is a short one #annnnnyways... #my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #science fiction #short stories

[daydreamgoddess14]

Hot Water

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent xF!Reader

5 Times Roy Kent ends up on your doorstep even though you know it can't keep happening.

~~~

I feel like this was dragged from me kicking and screaming. It started out just a little smutty one shot and now it's a slightly longer one. I do hope you like it, I'm not sure I do but hey ho, there's always the next one! 🙃

~~~

Well. This was really fucking inconvenient. 

You’re literally laying on the bathroom floor. Underneath the fucking bath. Something, somewhere, somehow has sprung a leak and you’re resolved to fix it. You’ve even got your dad’s old toolkit out in the hope that wielding a tool might help. It hasn’t so far. It doesn’t help that you know approximately zero about plumbing. This is all just capping off a pretty fantastically awful couple of months to be honest. And although it’s a work day, and therefore your biggest problem is at the forefront of your mind, you’re going to have to forget the main reason behind your shitty time recently. Because this leak ain’t going to fix itself. You’re doing a masterful job so far - real professional. You’ve remembered to turn the stopcock off which is a big bonus. You nearly broke your hand doing it, but it’s done. You give your spanner an experimental jiggle over what looks like a loose nut, but as you do so, a spider runs over your hand. That little fucker is the catalyst for everything else. You squeal and pull your hand back, whacking first the pipe and then dropping the spanner onto your forehead. Whacking the pipe leads to the spider's little spider buddies coming out to find him, and you soon have one on its way up your arm and one in your hair. All limbs and spanner and spiders, you’re dragging yourself out from under the bath and shaking the little bastards off. Crying, of course, because what else are you meant to do when there are 3 spiders on you and you’ve just hit yourself in the face with a metal tool? 

It’s already 7am, you need to be getting ready for work so there’s nothing else for it, you can shower at work. Luckily, luckily , if you head out now you should be early enough that you’d be alone there. The lads won’t be there til 9am anyway, so it’s only the staff and possibly coaches who might be there any earlier. The showers should be free. You try and give yourself a spider once over, throw on a pair of joggers and a jumper over your PJ shorts set and shove half your life in a bag. You’re only a 10 minute walk from Nelson Road so you don’t bother driving. You head straight in through the side door and shout hello to the cleaner who’s at the top of the stairs to Rebecca’s office. Passed the locker room, and into the depths between the gym and the training pitch are the showers. You put your bag on the bench and pull out a towel and some Richmond kit to wear afterwards. As one of two sports massage therapists for the team, you live in joggers and Richmond vests. Boring but functional. You’ve seen no one, heard no one, but you’re still not keen on the idea of stripping off in a men's shower room so you’re absolutely keeping the knickers on. One less area to have to cover up. You hang up the stuff you need, put away the under bath grimy stuff you’ve just taken off, and switch the shower on. Colin was not wrong about that water pressure. You’re OK. It's OK. This was the right thing to do. A scalding shower with pressure hard enough to feel like you’re being clapped on the back by The Rock sounds like bliss. While the shower heats up, you strip off (except the knickers, of course) and grab your shampoo. That little bastard spider is not leaving babies in your hair. No fucking way. As a second thought just before you get under the water spray, you switch Spotify on your phone so you can drown to the angry sounds of Olivia Rodrigo. You’re getting pretty good at the speed on Good 4 U, though sometimes scream singing it does leave you feeling like you’ve run a marathon. You’re better at the unhinged wail you can really give to ‘bloodsucker, famefucker’ on Vampire, it just hits different at the moment. The hot water hits your body and you finally relax. 

 

~~~~~~

 

You wish you weren’t so outwardly affected. It was always going to go this way, you could have done more to protect your heart though - it would have saved you looking so foolish, and it would have saved a ruined friendship. That was the hardest part to deal with. You’d joined the staff under Ted Lasso and had built a great rapport with the players and the coaching staff. You considered them friends - all of them. Sure, you harboured a pretty big crush on Roy Kent, but it didn’t affect your work. You ignored those feelings, trampled over them and focused on getting on with your job. Notoriously slow to win over, he eventually became as good a friend as everyone else. The night of the West Ham game was insane. Ted was leaving, everyone was bouncing between elation over finishing second in the league and the prospects that would bring, and losing Ted. There were tears of joy and laughter one minute and tears of devastation the next. Ola’s could barely contain the emotion everyone was feeling. You’d decided to hit the road, everything was winding down anyway and the players were going on to an exclusive club which they’d invited you to as well - and you knew full well you wouldn’t have to buy a drink all night, they’d never let you do that when it was £25 for a double gin, but you didn’t want to carry the party on. You’d kissed whoever you could reach, hugged as many as you could see and air high-fived Sam from across the way. You stepped out into the late May night, it was still warm so you lingered outside with your drink while you waited for the taxi. 

“Oi, how come I didn’t fucking get one?” Roy asked, stepping out to join you by the window.

“Hey, you going to the club? Get what?” 

“A hug.” He nudged your shoulder.

“That’s my taxi. You always get a hug.” You slipped your arm across his back and leaned up a little to reach him better. “See you Monday.”

“You can’t go back in a taxi on your own?”

“Course I can, I always do.” You laughed, pulling open the door. He held it open while you sat in the backseat and slipped in after you.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure it gets you back ok.” You haven’t moved quite far enough along the seat so as the taxi driver rounds each corner, you're pushed further into Roy. “So everyone else gets hugs and kisses eh?”

“Only the people I could reach. Also, you just had a hug, stop complaining.” Another corner taken at a higher speed than necessary smushed you into his side. “Jesus, is this guy ready to finish or something.” He put a hand on your thigh,

“You ok?”

“Yeah fine.” The heat of his hand lit up your skin, the addition of far too many drinks made you feel flushed. You both looked at his hand on your leg and then back to each other, the streetlights illuminating you both and then sending you into darkness again. You didn’t know if it was an unconscious move or deliberate, but his thumb brushed gently in small circles on your bare skin. You’re sure he must be able to see your heart pounding through your dress. As he leans forward into you, his hand moves up just another inch and as you gasp at the sensation, he lightly kisses you.

“Here we are. That's a tenner please, love.” Roy goes for his wallet but you push his hand out of the way and hand the driver a note from your bag. He has to open the door to let you out, “you coming back in, fella?” the driver asks. He looks down at the hand which he held out to help you from the taxi to find he’s still holding it.

“No thanks, mate.” You’ve barely got the front door closed behind you before he’s pushed you up against it and kissing you with a fierceness you hadn't realised you were so desperate for. Your hands worked fast, pushing his jacket down his arms and onto the floor with a thud, and pulling him back to you by his t-shirt. The dress Keeley suggested for you is flattering, but a little more revealing than you’d usually wear. Shorter than you’d normally go for and with a low neckline too. He’s got one hand up in your hair and the other is back on your leg, halfway up the skirt while he kisses your jawline. His body presses against you and you can feel him, hard through his jeans. You bring up the leg he’s got a hand on and he hooks it over his hip, it tilts your lower body further into his and he is so close to where you need him it sends you dizzy. It's impossible to disguise the neediness of your moans and the hand that's up your skirt is moving further up to grip the fleshy soft spot between your hip and thigh. 

"God, Roy -," you whine, you rock your hips towards his,

"Sure you want this?" You nod against his shoulder, "Talk to me, babe," he asks. 

"Yes, yeah I'm sure," you're pulling at his t-shirt, dragging it over his head.

When he mutters "good girl," against your collarbone, you're certain you could come there and then. He traces the line of your knickers with his fingers, feeling just how ready you are for him, "fucking hell," he says, wrecked. He slips his fingers inside you and presses his thumb to your clit. He seems to know exactly what you need and just when you're at the brink, grasping for the release that's just out of reach, he kisses you. It's hot and rough and sends you right over the edge. He gives you a minute, a slightly softer kiss, but you don't need it, you only want him. Your shaking hands fumble with the button of his jeans until he takes over and does it himself, he's dug out a condom from his wallet. You're still fully clothed, still wearing the high heels that, with his help, have you at exactly the right height for him to push into you. It's everything. Everything you've fantasised about since the day you were introduced, he's the only thing that stands out from your first day at the club. In a room full of high-profile, well-paid, gorgeous footballers, he's the only one you see. He thrusts into you using your hips as leverage, the spike of your heel grazing the back of his thigh. Your hands hold fast to the back of his neck and his shoulder, 

"Roy, fuck, you feel so good." Your name is reverent on his lips as he comes and on hearing, you're there too. His pace slows as his hips stutter, and your head rests in the crook of his neck while you catch your breath. All at once, he's gentle again, carefully bringing your leg back down and making sure you're steady on your feet. He looks a little sheepish as he steps back away from you, taking you hands to help you stand up away from the back of the door, 

"You ok?" He asks, while you straighten your dress and pull it back down into place. 

"Yep, all good. You?"

"Yeah, yeah fine." He looked like he couldn't get out of there fast enough, his hesitation and unease rubbing off on you. "I should go though,"

"Yeah, no I figured as much."

"It's just been a fucking long day, y'know?"

"I know. Lots of crazy emotions." He must have seen the look of hurt cross your face, 

"Not that it was a mistake… but maybe, probably shouldn't have happened? Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a fucking dick-,"

"I get it Roy. It was fun but it didn't mean anything." It didn't mean anything . Probably the biggest lie you've ever told and it's out of your mouth like you knew it had to be said all along. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

On Monday morning, you were all notified that Roy would be named as the new head coach for Richmond. He obviously knew beforehand, so within 36 hours you'd gone from sleeping with a colleague to sleeping with your boss, and the sudden distance and desperation to get out of your flat became clear. Along with the knowledge that it definitely could not happen again. Not that he gave the impression that he wanted it to. The following week, you took yourself on holiday for a week with some of the team and friends, just a big villa and a private beach in southern Spain. You'd relaxed, eaten your weight in fresh seafood, and consumed more sangria than you should have. All week, Instagram was full of you and your sunkissed friends having a whale of a time. You returned feeling better about yourself and ready for a few easy admin weeks before the start of the season. And then Roy had shown up at your door. 

"Nice holiday?"

"Not bad… can I help you?" You're on your guard, holding the door closed against you. 

"Right. Thought I should check in, see how you are?" 

"As my boss, or?"

"Can I fucking come in or not?" You hold the door open but keep your arm in the way, childishly making him duck to get through. "Did the lads behave?" He asked from your kitchen. 

"Oh yeah. I slept with Jan in the pool, Richard on the beach and shared a bed with Moe and Tommy all week."

"Fucking funny," he didn't look amused. 

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" He did a momentary double take. "Course I'm joking. Bad enough that I've fucked the boss, isn't it? Jesus if word got around I might as well quit."

"Don't say that." He growled. 

"True though isn't it? You knew, and that's why you left in such a hurry. Quick and dirty. What was it? You'd wondered what it would be like, so thought you might as well give it a go before you started the top job?" He didn't say anything. "And now you're worried that I've been off having too much fun with one of the lads? Like you have any say whatsoever?"

"No. Fuck no. You can do whatever you want."

"I know."

"See whoever you want."

"I know."

"Will you stop arguing with me on this?"

"I'm agreeing with you. Boss." Somehow, you'd managed to square up to each other like you were about to hit him. It was still a reasonably high possibility until he closed the gap and kissed you. Horny traitor that it is, your body gives in immediately. "We shouldn't do this again," you hiss as he bites your shoulder. 

"So tell me to fucking stop." He grabs at your loose sleep vest and pulls it off, surprised to find you don't wear anything underneath. "And if you really do want me to stop, then you'd better tell me right fucking now." Instead, you walk him back a step to the sofa and push him to sit down. As soon as he does, you straddle him. 

"Do not fucking stop." You warn him, pulling off his t-shirt. It's the same needy, desperate and hot sex that you'd both craved last time, at least this time you already know that it shouldn't be happening. The difference is that it makes it even more intense. He does the same disappearing act as last time, leaving you doubting your life choices and questioning your sanity. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

It happens again the next week. With so many people on holiday, Keeley organises a karaoke night for those who are around. It's lairy and a lot of fun, you sing a few songs including a duet with Nate. Soon, the challenge becomes choosing songs for other people. You can't even place the song Keeley has picked for you until the music kicks in, it's not until you're singing it and reading the lyrics that you realise how apt they are. 

"I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl

But I do bad things with you

So it goes

Come here, dressed in black now

So, so, so it goes

Scratches down your back now

So, so, so it goes"

 

You catch his eye as you're singing without meaning to, and it's like lighting a fire in your belly. You know it's going to happen again. You still don't make it to a bedroom. Instead, you get to your knees for him just inside your flat and this time he's the one sounding needy and desperate. You've never heard Roy Kent of all people sound so wrecked and affected. Ever giving, he's utterly confused when you reject him afterwards and send him home without letting him touch you at all. 

 

It's this which brought him back to your door the last time, just over a month ago. You've been in a bit of a downward spiral ever since. It had been over a week since the karaoke night. Pre season training was due to start and you knew you'd be busy with rusty footballers who tried to rush their first decent stretch in weeks. You were exhausted after the first day back, your hands ached and you'd half forgotten what it was like to be on your feet all day. You're yawning your way through a takeout menu when the door goes. Once again, Roy is on your doorstep, but this time he has a bag of food with him. He brushes straight past you and into the kitchen where he manages to plate up two meals despite not knowing where anything is kept and you becoming mute. 

"Why are you here?" You mumble.

"I saw the appointment list for today. Thought you'd be fucking knackered." Once you’ve finished eating, he leads you to your own bedroom where he sits you on the bed. "This ok," he asks. 

You nod first, then follow up with a hushed, "Yes." He undresses you slowly, taking his time in a way he hasn't any of the other times before. He lays you back on the bed and settles between your thighs, you're in pieces even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him with a whispered "fuckkk," he gives your thigh a bite,

"Hold fucking still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking, your hands are in his hair, dragging through the curls that have grown out over the summer break. You practically wail his name as you come, and if you've learned anything from the hurried, rough trysts you've had so far with Roy, it's that you definitely weren't prepared for the time he actually gets to take his time with you. He's watching you come down, boneless from your first orgasm, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling back up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences, speaking only in single word requests, "clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs. He's equally as eloquent, but out to take an agonisingly long time with you. He pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. The closeness is both intense and intimate, and when he kisses you it feels so much like a promise your heart could break. Unlike the previous times, you don't part immediately while you both catch your breath. He shifts off you slightly but stays with his nose against your jaw and his hands coveting your body. He's the first one to say it. 

"This can't keep happening."

"We both keep saying that and yet here we are again." You sit up against the headboard, mindful to cover yourself up. 

"I know."

"But, you're right, we can't." You decide you need to be firmer, "I can't keep doing this." He nods and gets up to dress. 

"I'm sorry." He mutters as he leaves. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Roy is always consistently early for work. A byproduct of being awake at stupid o’clock to train Jamie, yes, but before that, he’s just always been early. Now he’s head coach, he uses the time to get the coffee going or makes sure Will is on top of everything in the boot room. Has a wander around and checks the gym or the showers for lonely socks, earbud boxes, or hats. More recently, he's just sat at his desk and moped for an extra half hour before anyone arrives and calls him out on it. Today, though, he puts the coffee on and starts in the gym where he straight away finds Isaac’s favourite sweatbands, Moe’s sunglasses, and one of Dani’s socks. It’s like picking up after a bunch of fucking kids. He dumps the loot in the middle of the locker room and carries on. He can hear singing as he gets closer to the showers and assumes that Jamie must have chosen food over cleanliness and has decided to save time by coming straight to Nelson Road after breakfast. 

 

“Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath!

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you”

 

Yeah. That's not Jamie. But it's already too late, he'd been rounding the corner as he'd heard the singing and now, well… thank fuck you've got your back to him. He tries to back out of the room, but manages to crash into the bench and sends your phone crashing to the tiles, the music stopping abruptly. The noise has you covering as much of your body with your hands as you can while you scream like a banshee, the sound echoes off the tiles, and what the hell is the lump on your head?! 

"Roy! Fuck me, turn around!" His brain manages to click into gear enough to let him do that at least, but then it goes manic on what he's just seen. Or not seen really, his memory fills in the blanks though. "Fucksake what the hell are you doing?” You’re shaking, he can hear it in your voice. He truly scared the shit out of you. “I need to finish washing my hair, can you be trusted for 5 fucking minutes if I move my hands?" You ask, a little calmer.

"I heard singing, thought it was one of the lads."

"Oh so jumping them in the shower is also fine? Don't move. I'm nearly done. Ouch, cocking shitting fuck." Your voice catches and he thinks you might be crying.

"Jesus, are you alright? I've never heard you swear like that."

"I'm fine," you reply quietly. "Hit my head." He turned quickly, too quickly for you to cover back up, "Oi!" His eyes initially went exactly where you’d expect, then they flew up to yours and didn't move, but it didn’t stop you covering yourself up with your hands again.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" he crossed the room and brought a hand up to your temple which was sporting a painful looking purple bruise. “Was it me, did you hit your head when I came in?” You shake your head with a grimace,

“No, it’s been a fucking awful morning. I just-,” he’s close enough now that he’s going to be right under the shower head in a minute, and he can see that you are close to tears. “You’re gonna get soaked. Could you just go away please?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he goes back to the bench and retrieves your phone from the floor. He has the good grace to look ashamed that the screen is smashed to bits. “Fuck, sorry.” he kicks off his sneakers and turns back to you, “turn around.”

“No, I want to be left alone. Let’s not pretend you give a shit, Roy. Just go.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting stupid.

“Of course I fucking give a shit. Please. Turn. Around. You’ve hit your head, you’re freezing cold, you-”

“Fine.” You glare, “fine.” You turn to face the wall, no idea why. It becomes clear as he comes to stand right behind you, under the stream of water.

“Head back.” You lean your head back as he asks. His height over you means he has a direct line of sight down your body so you keep your hands in place as he washes the shampoo out of your hair. He avoids the lump in your hairline far better than you did, and now you’re back under the water, you’re warming up a bit. He takes his time, and as you close your eyes, his are drawn to the path the droplets of water follow over your skin, like memories of where his mouth had been. “Did you need to do anything else?” he asks softly. You shake your head, moving your hands and arms so you can still cover yourself but also bring a hand to cover your face, trying not to cry. He reaches past you to turn the shower off. He moves away but he’s only gone long enough to get your towel from the hook. He holds it out for you and turns his head so you can move your arms and step into it. Then he leads you to the bench and pushes your shoulders gently to sit you down. He disappears and comes back a couple of minutes later with a towel for himself and another smaller one which he passes you for your hair. You use it to blot the majority of the water out of your hair, breathing in the soothing lavender softeners Will uses. He’s busy watching you but you’re staring at the floor. With your hair a little dryer, he brushes his fingers through it to move it away from the bruise and take a better look. “That looks really fucking nasty. What did you do?”

“Spanner.” You mumble. He’s not speaking so you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I have a leak under the bath I was trying to fix. A spider scared me so I hit the spanner off my head while I was trying to get out and then there were like three other spiders all over me and I fucking hate spiders and… I just feel like shit.” Saying it all out loud, you realise it all sounds a bit feeble, that you’ve overreacted. 

“Get dressed before you get a cold. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll shout this time before I come in.”

 

~~~~~~

 

You don’t rush. You sit for a minute and try to gather your thoughts. Of all the people in the entire club, he was the one you’d least want to see you half naked in the shower. He’d have probably been top of the list only a month ago. You’re not even sure by this point what he actually did see, but it’s also too late to care now. It’s done so there’s no undoing it. And it's not like he hasn’t seen it all before anyway. You dry off and pull on your sweats, you’re just reaching for your Richmond t-shirt when he calls out to let you know he’s on his way back. He’s been to get changed, 

“I’m fine, you might as well get back to work. Everyone will be here in a minute.” He goes to challenge you again but you just don’t have the energy. You haven’t even had a coffee yet this morning, let alone breakfast. “Please, Roy. I’m fine.” You throw your wet towel in your bag and check you’ve got everything before squeezing past him and back up to the treatment room. You avoid everyone all morning, Katie offers to go outside for training so you can stay in. She goes out just before 10am, meeting Nate in the corridor. You have to pop to the main office to sign for a delivery and when you get back, there’s a mug of coffee and a paper bag with a pastry inside on your desk, along with some painkillers. The rest of the day seems to settle down. You work your way through the list of players who need some time with you. Jan Maas is last on the list with a niggle he picked up in training that morning. You’ve got your hands high up on the back of his thigh when Roy taps on the door,

“Hey coach.” Jan mumbles from face down on the treatment bench. You manage to get your thumb right where he needs it and he lets out a low groan. Roy raises an eyebrow,

“Alright Jan. You good?”

“Yes, she’s a genius” He hops up from the bench with a big smile. “You should let me buy you a drink, to say thank you.” 

“I’m fine thanks, Jan. Take it easy on your leg.” When he leaves, Roy moves to sit on the bench. He takes your wrist as you walk by him, pulling you to stand in front of him where he can check your forehead again. 

"How's it feel?"

"Like I hit myself in the head with a spanner."

"Are you done?"

"For the day or generally? Because the answer is yes to both. I'm going home. I need to… not be here." Not be around you . Is the follow up you'd like to add. I can't ignore it like you can, can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. It’s getting harder every day. 

"I think you have a concussion. I'm pretty fucking sure you didn't want to vocalise those thoughts?" You go to slap your hand to your head, but he stops you just in time. "Don't make it any fucking worse." He rolls his eyes when you glare at him. The off season was so much easier. The need for contact between you both has steadily increased over the last month with the team returning. Daily meetings and progress reports on injuries old and new, the only saving grace is that he's stopped coming to you for his own recovery sessions.

"I'm going home." 

"Let me drive you."

"I'd really rather you didn't. Look, I'll be fine. I'll get over it, I just need to do it in my own time." You don't wait for a response. You take your bag and leave him sitting on the treatment bench alone. 

 

The first thing you do is fix the leak. It would be much easier if you were in the right frame of mind, which you're not, but you manage. There are no more spiders, but you end up soaked from the water left in the pipe which bursts out when you loosen rather than tighten the nut. You really don't know whether to laugh or cry from the calamity of it all. You're about to go for cry, but the doorbell goes and you're surprisingly unsurprised to see Roy. Again. 

"You know, it would be a lot easier for me to get over whatever this," you motion between the two of you, "is, if you could just fuck off and leave me to it?"

"Can I come in?" You turn to let him in, looking expectantly for him to continue. His hand rubs his beard and up through his hair, cut shorter since the last time he was in your flat - the curls gone. "Fucksake. You act like this is easy for me."

"Well you make it seem like it is." 

"It's not. It never fucking has been. Why do you think I kept coming back even though I knew, I knew it was a bad fucking idea?"

"You tell me? You're the one who walks out of here without a care in the world once you've got what you want?" A look of hurt flashed across his face, you knew it was a low blow, you had no idea why you'd even said it. 

"Is that really what you think?" He asked quietly. You shook your head. "All this coaching job has done so far is make me fucking miserable."

"It's only been a couple of months. You'll figure it out."

"It's making me miserable because I lost you in the process. You said earlier that I shouldn't pretend to care, but I don't need to pretend. I do care. Too much, that's the fucking problem." He sighed heavily.

" We can't keep happening, you're my boss now."

"Well, I've been feeling like this a lot longer than I've been your fucking boss, and I don't regret any of it."

"Feeling what, exactly? Because if you're about to fuck up your future-"

"I love you." You close your eyes. Your head is pounding again.

"Roy, think about what you're doing -"

"Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll go." You shake your head,

"I can't," you whisper. "I can't. I'm in love with you too." He crosses the room and cups your cheek, checking the bruise on your forehead again before he kisses you. You sigh into him, "What are we going to do?"

"I'm the boss. As long as I'm not fucking you in the treatment room, I think it'll be OK." 

"That's a shame. Not even after hours?"

"Don't tempt me. Any objections to me waking you up every couple of hours to check you really don't have a concussion?"

"Depends how you plan to wake me?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." He smiles, letting you lead him to the bedroom. 

 

~~~~~~

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent imagine

[pianokantzart]

Hi Piano! I love your posts and your comics! I loved the idea of ​​making a Luigi's mansion film, I even posted some ideas, do you have ideas for a Luigi mansion film?

Thank you! I have touched upon the idea a bit, with @keakruiser adding some thoughts of their own. But I do have more...

Mario and Luigi start off the movie having money issues despite the booming business. Maybe they accidentally caused some sort of serious damage that they need to pay for? Maybe there's a family emergency? Or maybe they've been too generous with free plumbing repairs to the point that the bills are catching up with them. Either way, I want all the gold and cash that Luigi vacuums up to have some sort of serious significance.

Luigi tries to talk to his father and uncles about the plumbing business at Sunday dinner, but they all speak over him in favor of talking to Mario. Mario tries to nudge the conversation in Luigi's direction, but Luigi eventually gives up and goes to the kitchen to help his mother with dishes. There he has a little heart to heart with his mom, similar to this scrapped scene from the SMB Movie concept art, but with Luigi instead of Mario:

Please please please make The Dark Moon an element! Establish that it isn't just Mario's life on the line, but an entire world at risk of being swarmed by angry ghosts under King Boo's control.

And of course we need to have Polterpup! Let's say that "animals are the among the few spirits who don't need to be soothed by the dark moon," but unfortunately that matters very little to Luigi, who has an established fear of dogs. So we go into why! Maybe he got attacked by a dog as a young child and needed Mario to save him? This would feed into both Luigi's sense of helplessness, and guilt about being so frightened while his brother is so brave and selfless.

As Luigi gets more victories under his belt, and as Polterpup follows him around and helps out, they start to form a bond. Eventually we get a Puss In Boots 2 esque scene where Luigi has an anxiety attack after loosing radio contact with E. Gadd, before Polterpup floats over and helps calm him down enough to keep moving.

Have Luigi's semi-canon mechanical prowess come into play! At some point, midway through a particularly grueling fight, the poltergust gets damaged. Between running for his life, hiding in various locations, and knocking things over to buy himself time, Luigi steadily fixes the damage enough to pull through the fight.

Luigi and Elvin Gadd bond over being two (vaguely autistic-coded) weirdos. Luigi is surprised that Elvin Gadd doesn't mind trusting him with his equipment, that he doesn't get annoyed with his fear, and doesn't mind walking him through every tiny step. Meanwhile Elvin Gadd is like "Patient with you??? I love walking you through things step by step! You're one of the few people who'll actually listen to my ramblings! And yeah, you're clearly scared, but you've stayed! That's way more than most."

I imagine the people trapped in paintings are able to speak and move around, but King Boo can set their painting to a sort of "stagnant mode" if the captive gets too rowdy or mouthy. Mario's picture is mostly kept in stagnant mode for obvious reasons.

King Boo's confidence visibly wavers the further along Luigi gets. King Boo goes from "Why should I be worried? E. Gadd's a decrepit fool and his new 'apprentice' is a sniveling coward!" to "Okay so Luigi can use the poltergust... he's no match for my forces!" to "What is wrong with all of you!? Why can't you catch a simple plumber!?" to "I'm going to tear this man's soul apart with my teeth!"

Bowser was heavy metal, so I want King Boo to be operatic with a Gothic/Baroque ballroom aesthetic. Of course we've got to have orchestral version of the Luigi's Mansion theme, but I also want a cinematic revamp of the SMBW "Night At Boo's Opera" song.

You know how Luigi broke down laughing and sobbing when he finally saved Mario in the original Luigi's Mansion? That. I want that, with an extra dose of Mario hugging Luigi and reassuring him that he's alright.

#long post #Luigi's Mansion #Super Mario Bros #professor e gadd #Luigi #Mario #King Boo #Mario Movie #again I could go on but those are my main ideas #dragon-fly34 #askbox

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Misc. Masterlist - Masterlist

Chapter 1

Words: 1939

Summary: the fate of yours and Hades' is bound but the Fates advise caution while Aphrodite is meddling in the Lord of the dead's affairs

Chapter 2 - Prophecy

Hades rushed down the steps, seething with anger towards Pain and Panic for neglecting to inform him of the Fates' arrival. The most important inhabitants of the underworld, aside from himself of course, were waiting for him and his good for nothing imps were too busy with hell knows what to even tell him. They had one task, just one damned task. Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before swinging open the doors.

"Ladies. Hah. I am so sorry that I'm...", he began, attempting to apologise, but the Fates cut him off.

"Late", they finished in unison.

"We knew you would be", Lachesis chuckled.

"We know everything", Clotho proudly stated.

"Past."

"Present."

"And future", Atropos added, nudging Pain, "indoor plumbing. It's gonna be big."

"Right, anyway ladies, I was at this picnic kinda thing and I lost all track and wanted to ask abou-", Hades tried to explain, only to be interrupted once again by the Fates.

"We know!"

His hair momentarily flared up in a deep red before returning to its usual blue flames as he took a series of deep breaths, attempting to regain his composure. He knew that losing his temper in front of the Fates would be counterproductive, despite how frustrating they could be to deal with. However, Aphrodite's words continued to swirl in his mind, leaving him wondering if there was any truth behind her teasing remark.

"I KNOW, you know. Anyway, Aphrodite... Ms. Lovey Dovey, Ms. "Hey I always know when someone's in love", now she has told-"

"About the mortal being in love with you. WE KNOW!", the Fates interrupted him yet again.

Hades couldn't help but slam his hand against his face in exasperation, a painful reminder to himself to maintain his calm and charm.

"I KNOW YOU KNOW! I got it, I got the concept!", he clenched his teeth, forcefully contorting the twitching corners of his mouth into a distorted smile, "so let me just ask. Is Aphrodite telling the truth about that mortal? Will she love me back? What do you think?"

Clotho released a sorrowful sigh, parting her lips, but before any words could escape, Lachesis seized the edge of her robe and swiftly turned her around.

"We're not supposed to reveal the future!", she reminded her sister, fixing a stern gaze upon her, despite the absence of an eyeball.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hades that a disagreement was brewing between the Fates. He found himself in the perfect position to extract information from them, all it would take was a touch of his usual charm and he would attain his answers.

"Ladies ladies", his voice was smooth and alluring, "time out, please. Can I ask you a question by the way? Did you cut your hair or something? You look fabulous, like a fate worse than death."

His slender fingers gently touched a strain of her hair, which popped out and wound its way along his arm like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. Hades' expression briefly contorted into disgust before he regained his composure and tucked the hair back into its rightful place. Clotho couldn't contain her giggles, resembling an infatuated teenager, prompting Lachesis to nudge her in the side, causing their shared eye to pop out and roll towards Hades. He swiftly retrieved it, plucking a hair from it before gently taking hold of Lachesis' hand and placing the eyeball on her palm.

"Ladies, please", he purred with a seductive voice, "my fate is in your lovely hands."

Lachesis and Clotho looked at each other, sighs of awe leaving their lips.

"Alright", Atropos grumbled, taking hold of the eye and letting it hover among the other Fates before transforming it into a radiant dark blue sphere.

"In 18 nights precisely, the hearts will align ever so nicely. The time to act will be at hand, free your aching heart, bodies to bend."

"Mmm-hmm. Good, good", Hades chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he attempted to push sudden thoughts of your naked form out of his mind.

"The once lonely receives all and her heart be yours to call!"

His heart skipped a beat. After eons of torment from his lonely, aching heart, trapped in the desolation of the demanding underworld, he caught a glimpse of a flickering light—a small flame ignited by a glimmer of hope deep within him.

"But a word of caution to this tale", the Fates' tone darkened.

And there it was, the usual punch in the face, the cruel reality swirling around him, teasing him with the notion that all the beauty and happiness in the world was meant for every god except himself.

"Excuse me?", Hades spoke, his voice cracking with sorrow.

"Should Zeus deny, love will fail.", the Fates cackled before disappearing.

The Lord of the Underworld screamed, his furious roar echoing through the realms of darkness like a wave of scorching flames from the depths of hell, threatening to consume and obliterate everything in its path. His fists pounded against the table in the chamber before he hurled it against the wall, the stone shattering into countless fragments as the sound of his frantic breath filled the room, while Panic and Pain slipped away silently, hoping to avoid being maimed.

You finished work, helping your boss cleaning up before you headed home. Daily life had become more bearable since that night with Hades. With a joyful tune on your lips, you happily skipped through the streets towards your humble abode. As you collapsed onto your bed, a gentle sigh escaped your mouth, your mind filled with thoughts of when it would be fitting to reach out to the god once again. You yearned for his presence and the ache you felt in your belly while laughing at his silly puns.

"Thinking about the Lord of the Gloomy and Grumpy?", someone chuckled.

You jumped up from your bed and turned towards the voice, its origin being the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on.

"Are-are-are you?", you stammered as every muscle on your body tensed.

"Aphrodite, goddess of love and desperately needed in this household", she smiled warmly at you.

"Do you?", your hands waved around, unsure what or how to ask.

"Know about the blooming love between you and the Lord of the dead? Of course my dear and I dare say that I wasn't even involved in all this. He fell for you loooong ago on his own. Whoops!", the goddess threw her hands up and laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "shouldn't have said that."

You blinked in disbelief at the goddess' statement. Could it be that Hades felt the same way? That you actually charmed a god? Capturing his immortal heart even before you met him? It felt surreal, your head was spinning at the speed of light, different thoughts pestering your mind while a thousand questions whirled around demanding answers and all while your heart seemed to beat so fast that it almost felt painful.

"Poor little mortal", with an air of amusement, she paced around you, her voice dripping with curiosity, "but I'm not surprised, Hades is one of kind, thankfully, I think everyone on Olympus would scream if there were more like him."

"What will happen now?", you hesitantly asked.

"You two are linked by fate, my sweet little mortal", the godess whispered in your ear, "but only the Fates can tell what fate was, will be or will become."

A surge of emotions swirled within you - excitement, anticipation and a tinge of fear. Your lips parted to pose more questions but Aphrodite had already vanished, leaving only a faint trace of her delicate fragrance behind. It felt as though you were running in circles, every new piece of information throwing you back to the exact same spot you had started from. Unable to find solace in this confusion, you resolved to seek answers from the only god you felt comfortable talking to, so, the next day after work, you made your way back to the shrine in the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Hades had been expecting your arrival, his piercing eyes watching you from the underworld. He paced around in the throne room, cursing at Aphrodite's involvement. The revelations from the Fates had deeply unsettled him, he now also had the goddess of love meddling in his affairs, as if his situation wouldn't have been bad enough. He didn't know of what exactly and how he had to convince his brother to prevent a tragedy from happening, but he was determined to find a solution in due course. He possessed a certain resourcefulness and would not allow his brother to ruin his life any further. But that would be for another day, one absurdity at the time. For now, he had to devise a plan to counter any inquiries about his...what did mortals call them again? Ah, yes, feelings. He intended to conceal his emotions for as long as possible.

As he frantically sought a solution, his train of thought was interrupted by the faint whispers of your prayer. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he materialised beside you.

"You heard that sound? It was the sound of your little prayer fluttering all the way down into my realm and babe, you wished for it and baboom, here I am", he exclaimed, a smug grin hiding his nervousness, wiggling his eyebrows.

"So", you mumbled, avoiding his gaze while nervously shuffling your feet on the ground, "Aphrodite..."

"Yeeeeah I know I know", Hades said, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between you and the ground.

"Is it...?", the question lingered unspoken for a moment.

"True? I would guess so", he sighed.

"So what...uhm...now?"

"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy. If you want to of course, unlike my dear brother, Mr. High and Mighty, I'd actually prefer if we were on the same page for those kinda things."

You chuckled at that, feeling your heart flutter at the prospect of a date with the Lord of the dead.

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his typically stoic expression - a mix of affection and apprehension. It occurred to you for the first time that even a god like Hades might be plagued by insecurities. After all, living under the weight of a notorious reputation for eternity, while the other gods lived their best life on Olympus, didn't leave much room for love. Perhaps he had even given up on it altogether, until you wiggled your way into his immortal existence. He grasped your hands, intertwining them and raising them towards his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss. The sensation elicited a soft sigh from you, his unnaturally warm lips against your skin sending a delightful, tingling feeling throughout your body. A blush crept up to your cheeks as your gaze remained fixated on his thumb, softly caressing your flesh.

"The full-time job my brother so charitably bestowed upon me is waiting. I'd really love to stay but I can't. I'll pick you up tomorrow night for a proper date. Be here at sunset."

With those words, he vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of smoke. A real date with a real god...tomorrow...you internally screamed of joy, trying to keep a stoic expression, just in case he'd be watching. You strolled back home, thoughts racing around what he could possibly come up with for tomorrow evening and what a mere mortal like you could wear to impress the Lord of the dead.

Chapter 3

#disney #disney hades #hades #disney hercules #the fates #disney villains #disney x reader #hades x reader #hades x female reader #disney villain x reader #hades x you #aphrodite #disney aphrodite

[mcmookiemeal]

With the mere existence of your blog I already adore you, I loved all your writings and I wanted to make a small request, how about DK with an s/o who loves mechanics (the kars scene drove me crazy with emotion) and speed? (extra points if she is a little sister of mario and luigi)

forgive my bad english! <3

Donkey Kong x Reader who likes cars

You were the younger sister of Mario and Luigi, but you weren’t in their little plumbing business.

Unlike your brothers you had taken a little more interest in cars.

Your parents also weren’t to happy about your choice, but they knew you wouldn’t change your mind so they just let you do your own thing.

But with the three of you being seen as the “disappointments” of the family, you were always together.

You even tagged along for their plumber appointments just in case their van had any issues.

On the day Brooklyn was flooding and your brothers took it upon themselves to fix it, you decided to come along since you had nothing better to do.

But you really wished you stayed home because getting sucked into a sketchy green pipe was not on the bucket list.

You and Mario had the fortune of staying together but sadly, Luigi did not.

You were pretty freaked out upon landing in the Mushroom kingdom, you were in an unfamiliar place with talking mushrooms.

It was hard not to freak out.

But the little mushroom you met by the name of Toad agreed to help you find your brother by taking you to the princess.

When you entered the actual kingdom part you realized they didn’t seem to use cars around here, instead they used the kind of pipes that got you here in the first place.

Pretty cool.

Toad crawled inside the clear pipe and you watched him flow through at high speeds.

You were curious on how the pipe worked, was some kind of machinery operating it? or was it magic?

Well there was only one way to find out.

You followed behind Toad in the pipe, flying through it smoothly with intense speed.

“Isn’t this fun Mario?!” You giggled having the time of your life with this new way of transportation.

Things weren’t going as well for Mario as every turn he would roughly smash against the side of the pipe.

Eventually the three of you made it to the top of the hill, approaching the castle.

Toad had to distract the guards for you and Mario since the guards were trying to play with your mind and redirect you somewhere else.

But even inside the castle the guards caught onto you guys pretty quickly and began chasing you through the maze of hallways.

Running into the princess was…interesting.

She threw Mario to the ground and turned her attention to you, but before she could get you the guards had tackled you to the ground as well.

“Wait wait! Let them speak” The princess demanded and the guards let you and Mario free.

“Princess we need your help. I need your help to find our brother.” Mario explained.

After a little bit of talking with the princess you guys sorted out a deal.

If you and Mario helped her take down Bowser, Then your brother would be found.

But first, you had to train.

You and Mario were taken to a course with lots or crazy jumps and obstacles, but you were pretty confident in your skills so you decided to go first.

You finished first try, But poor Mario worked himself until the sun went down.

Next morning The princess along with Toad traveled with you and Mario to the Jungle kingdom.

You enjoyed the travel part. This place was so much than Brooklyn, you wished you could stay here forever.

The arrival to the Jungle Kingdom came up fast.

And you were excited.

You wondered what they were like in this kingdom. Was it more mushroom people? Humans? And did they drive fast cars?!

The residents of the Jungle Kingdom turned out to be gorillas, but much to your happiness they did in fact drive fast cars.

You pestered the gorilla who let you guys inside the kingdom to let you drive his cool car but he grumbled every time you opened your mouth.

You sat in the middle seat, between Mario and Peach.

What’s the point of a younger sibling if you can’t third wheel the two love birds?

The ride was unlike anything you’d felt before, no rollercoaster could compare to all the fun you had riding on the twisty roads at high speeds.

You were sad when it was over, cause after that you had to have a serious talk with the king of the apes.

Peach talked about forming an alliance with the army but the king wasn’t gonna let her have it just that easily.

Instead we would have to do it by winning some stupid fight.

“I’ll do it.” Mario offered

Long story short Mario ended up kicking Dk’s ass.

And Dk was not happy about it.

You honestly felt a little bit sorry for him as he felt his whole reputation was destroyed by a plumber.

So you decided to take some personal time with the gorilla to assure him that it’s okay to loose every once and a while, you used the plenty of street races you had lost in the past as an example.

“Wait you race?” He asks, interrupting your story.

“Uh yeah? I love cars!” You gushed.

He smiled at you and pulled off the ground, now seeming very eager to show you something.

He brought you to the huge workshop where all the karts around the Jungle Kingdom were made.

You looked around as you saw all the other gorillas working on karts and vehicles of all kinds.

“This way.” Dk said placing his large hand on your back to guide you around the place since it was easy to get lost in.

He brought you over to a wheel with different options for a car, wheels, and a parachute of some sort.

“Go ahead, take your pick.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and looked back at all the options for your car.

“This doesn’t cost anything right?” You asked wanting to make sure before designing your dream car.

“You’re with the almighty Dk, of course it’s free.” He smirked.

You nodded and looked through all the options, making sure to pick all the fastest things on the wheel.

After about 10 minutes of looking you finally decided on your karts final design.

It was pretty sick, It was your favorite color and It was supposed to be the fastest kart combo here in the Jungle Kingdom

You squealed excitedly as you watched your kart being made from behind the glass

“Pretty cool huh?”

“Its amazing! We don’t have this stuff where I’m from.” You said, sounding slightly disappointed at the end of your sentence.

Dk thought you were pretty cute, never had he seen someone so interested in cars.

You and Dk didn’t notice but while you two were caught up in your own conversation you didn’t notice Mario and the others enter the workshop.

When Mario laid his eyes on you and Dk laughing together he was pretty mad about it.

“Are you kidding me?! You’ve been with him this whole time?!” Mario exclaimed angrily at you.

“Yeah and he helped me get my kart ready!” You smiled at your brother and pointed to the now finished kart in the window behind you.

Dk and your brother scowled at each other while you were off in your own world, staring longingly at your kart.

“Make any moves on her and I wont hesitate to beat you again.” Mario threatened.

“I’d like to see you try plumber boy.”

“Oh oh! It’s finished c’mon let’s go!” You interrupted their little banter by pulling Dk with you to come pick up your Kart.

When everyone was done with their karts, they made their way to line up in front of the door that would lead them to the path of rainbow road.

You and Dk were next to each other while you waited for the doors to open.

“Is Rainbow road an actual rainbow?” You asked.

Dk chuckled at your question but answered nonetheless.

“Yes its an actual rainbow.”

“Awesome!”

When the doors opened you sped off in your kart, the wind violently whipping through your hair.

You enjoyed the scenery around you, the beautiful floating islands off in the distance and the waterfalls that seemed to go on for miles.

Dk pulled up next to you and matched your speed so he could watch you experience driving with your new custom kart for the first time.

He saw how happy you were and couldn’t help but smile.

“You know…I know a lot of roads with cool views like this.” Dk said still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Really?! I would love to see it!”

“How about after all this is over, we’ll go drive through them together?” He asked you.

He was asking you on a date.

You smiled at him and accepted his offer.

“Yeah I would like that a lot.”

A/N: Sorry it came out kind of late I was busy today!!

#donkey kong #donkey kong x reader #mario movie #mario x reader #nintendo x reader #super mario movie

[pudding-parade]

So, I'm now curious...

There's a bit of a discussion going on about Sims players and their sex/orientation, particularly on TheBleedingWoodland's blog, who has now, apparently, blocked me from replying or perhaps from his blog as a whole, but whatever. I'm still curious.

In my experience -- which is mostly participating here on Tumblr and before that on the Modthesims forums for the past...16?....years or so -- Sims fandom seems to me to skew female and fairly strongly queer in some way, and, of the players in the fandom who are male and who've talked about their orientation at all, they seem to also tend to be queer in some way. There also seems to be a good number of enbies, or at least people who, according to their profile blurbs, use or are OK with they/them pronouns. But perhaps I am experiencing some sort of ongoing sample bias. So, I thought I'd do a poll and see what shakes out. (Which, of course, doesn't necessarily escape inherent bias at all, but it's the best I can do. 😊) Maybe the results will be educational for some folks, but mostly I'm just curious. So here we go:

Note that for the purposes of this poll, I've lumped orientations together and that "gender" refers to your identity, not what your physical plumbing is. So for instance, if you're a trans man who's generally attracted to women as romantic/sexual partners, such that you'd label yourself "straight" in that regard, you go in the "heterosexual man" category. If you're a straight-ass cis guy, you, too, go in the "heterosexual man" category. If you're a pansexual cis woman like me, you go in the "non-heterosexual woman" category. If you're an ace trans woman, you go in the "non-heterosexual woman" category, too. And for this poll, it doesn't matter what your orientation is if you're non-binary, so y'all only get the one option. It's not that your orientation doesn't matter. It's just that for the purposes of this poll, it's not something that's being measured, but I am curious as to the percentage of Sims players who are non-binary. And, of course, if you're not sure about any of this stuff and/or you don't feel you fit in any of the listed categories, you go in the "Unsure/Other" category.

Clear enough, I hope? I'm hoping that by condensing categories this way we can get results that aren't all over the place, with perhaps some meaningful percentages.

For those who have sims blogs (or even if your blog isn't sims-dedicated), please feel free to reblog this, so that as many Sims players as possible, hopefully across the entire franchise, see this and have the opportunity to participate.

#poll #the sims community

[elexuscal]

ficlet prompt: Trinh POV of like. All Of That

'There's danger out there in the stars,' Granmeme always said. 'Maybe it'll be in five years, maybe fifty, maybe in five hundred, but don't doubt my mark, there's danger out there.'

'Yes Granmeme,' Trihn would always say, and then, 'Can I get you some coffee?'

And it wasn't that Trihn didn't believe the elders, exactly. How could anyone who paid a modicum of attention during history lessons? And even if you hadn't, the Adamantine Logo stared back at them from almost every other surface in the colony. Adamantine, the company that had founded the settlement, the company that had abandoned them, and the company which had, maybe, protected them?

Maybe, maybe not. And maybe the colony's existence was still listed out there, on some sort of spreadsheet 20 systems away. Maybe one day people would come looking for them.

But that was literally such a distant concern. Not when the plumbing on level 4 was still intermittently leaking green sludge, not when there were caterpillars in the bok choy beds, not when the lights in the south wing kept flickering.

No, if danger was going to come form anywhere, it would be in their own backyard, first and foremost.

Well, well, well. No doubt Granmeme was wagging mer finger at them from beyond the Great Event Horizon.

"We're so glad to have found you," Supervisor Leonide said, her voice oozing compassion even through the tinny translation software. "When your cousins at the initial base-camp first told us of a splinter group that had gone to found a secondary colony... And that it had been so long before any contact... Well, we were just so worried that something might have happened to you!"

"Why would you have assumed that?" asked Jerail, who's face remained impressively impassive as ze sipped the rich fresh coffee Barrish-Estranza had brought as a gift.

"Oh of course. You wouldn't know." A shocked and concerned expression. "I understand you left due alien remnant contamination at the initial site?"

"In part," agreed Trihn. That's the simple answer, at least. (She sipped the coffee. It was very good. It came from actual beans, not flavoured powder.)

"Well, you made a good choice! Over the last five years, the contamination became much more severe. Physical deformations, behavioural alterations... It's a terrible situation. That's why we're here, to help before it gets any worse."

It could have been a trick. They wanted it to be a trick. But Barrish-Estranza had pictures, videos. Even their expert didn't think they were faked. And this corporate envoy, they'd brought someone from the original colony to vouch for them. That person could have been an actor, except they spoke with a perfect Spirliet accent, and there was something of the Niziral clan in the bridge of the nose, in the shape of their cheeks.

Their claims were real. Some of them, at least.

Others were likely to come, Leonide said. While reasonable people could tell this planet was a wash, some people weren't reasonable. There were always those willing to take risks as they pushed the envelope of science. One needed to be careful when dealing with such risk-takers, lest you get sliced on the cutting edge.

And sure enough, another group came. From a university, they claimed. A smaller team, only four. This one did not come in two shiny fancy hoppers, loaded down with delicacies for the adults and toys for the kiddies. No, the university envoy saddled up in one of the colony's own pilfered hoppers, worn and wary.

The university envoy said that Barrish-Estranza were dangerous, that they were looking for an indentured work-force, that they would enslave the Adamantine colonists so severely that even their children's grandchildren would still be slaves. The university instead offered the colonists ownership of their own planet and/or safe relocation, free of charge.

Barrish-Estranza said that the university's offer was too good to be true, that they had clashed quite awfully with the other colonists and were looking for revenge, that they were looking for a naive population willing to stay behind as lab rats. Barrish-Estranza instead offered fair, gainful employment.

The only thing either group of strangers agreed upon was this: It wasn't feasible for their colonists to stay where they were.

But Trihn didn't want to leave. Of course she didn't. No, their underground bunker wasn't exactly luxurious. It was all grey steel and concrete, everything cobbled together from extra equipment. Yes, there were caterpillars in some of the hydroponics bays, and yes, some of the lights flickered. But wasn't it theirs? Hadn't they built it up over the past thirty years? Hadn't they carved out this sanctuary among the ice and snow? Didn't they have a sleet-ball court, and music recitals, and movie nights?

Wasn't this their home?

Could they really just be expected to leave it?

Opinions were all over the place, the leadership starting to splinter, just like it must have back at the original colony site. Lucia and his faction liked Barrish-Estranza, or at least liked the lifeline they offered. Zenchal's faction didn't trust any of this, didn't trust it one bit, thought they should shut the hatches and burrow deeper. Magnolio's faction went one step further, arguing that they should be opening up the armoury and preparing for a fight.

And Trihn. Trihn just didn't know.

{What do you think, Addy?} she asked the AI which was the heart and lungs and nervous system of the entire colony. It (she, Trihn liked to think of Addy as a she) had been watching monitoring both groups since their initial arrival, as much as she could.

{Hard to say.} Her servers whined slightly under the effort of generating plain human speech. {But I like the university team better.}

{Why?}

For a few second, the only sound was the hard-drives fans in overdrive. {Their SecUnit is friendly. Or acts that way.}

{What does that mean, 'SecUnit'?}

Addy couldn't define it, not really, though she pointed the SecUnit out from their surveillance footage. The tall, serious one with the splicing. Trihn didn't think they looked particularly friendly, but Addy had a different way of judging such things.

This information probably wouldn't do anything to sway anyone. The others were unlikely to be swayed by Addy's opinion; she was just a computer, after-all. But Trihn was less quick to dismiss her, and regardless... It made no sense to reject the university without even speaking to them. She would have to keep pushing the other leaders for a meeting.

In the next meeting with Leonide, though, she did ask, in as casual a tone as she could muster. "What's a SecUnit?"

"A SecUnit?" Leonide blinked, off guard, a rarity. Then she smiled that brilliant white smile. "Oh, just a type of robot, with a little extra something-something for oomph. They're here to keep us all safe." She gestured to her entourage, the armoured soldiers carrying large guns.

Trihn had not thought they were robots. And certainly, the "SecUnit" which Addy had pointed out did not look like a robot.

So that was at least one lie Barrish-Estranza had fed them.

How many more were there?

#murderbot diaries #system collapse #murderbot spoilers #fanfic

[angry-trashcan]

Things We Don’t Say.

Part two of Hair Holds Memories

CW: MENTIONS OF UNDERAGE DRINKING, SELFHARM, PAST ABUSE, let me know if I missed anything!

2K WC

First

There are things the chain doesn’t say.

They don’t say that Twilight kicks in his sleep.

They don’t say that Four is a bad singer.

They don’t say that Sky is a terrible whistler.

They don’t say that Wind shouldn’t have that flask of rum in his pouch.

They don’t say that they notice Wild favors his right side.

They don’t say that the nightmares keep Time awake, which is why he always keeps night watch.

They don’t say that Legend’s wrist is covered in deep crisscross scars.

They don’t say that yours is covered in burn marks.

It seems to be better that way.

“Will we be there soon?” Wind complained, throwing his head back towards the sky.

“We should make it in the next hour or so.” Wild chimed back, leading the group up the path. The group had landed in Wild’s era. It often disoriented the whole lot at how massive the place was for a few days. Wild was always ecstatic though. “I’d say we should stay in Kakariko for tonight then head the rest of the way to Hateno in the morning. It’s not far, but a good day trip with all of us. We can stay in my place there, of course.” He looked to Time for permission and confirmation in his words to be met with a happy nod.

“It will be nice to not have to pay for a bed for once.” Time noted.

You noticed as Legend fell into pace with you, coming closer to listen to the conversation as well.

“I didn’t say anything about letting you stay for free, Old Man. The only one who gets that luxury is Y/N.” Wild shot back a smile and winked at you, causing Legend to smack the back of his head and Time to chuckle.

“My apologies, innkeeper.” Time shook his head as he laughed.

Wild grabbed the back of his head, “Man, what the fuck!”

“Shut up and get us to the inn already. I’m exhausted.” Legend grumbled back, putting his arm over your shoulders.

The whole interaction only caused a snicker to come out of you as you leaned into Legend’s arm. It had been a long day. Waking up in Rulie’s Hyrule, being thrown through a portal, and being forced to walk all day through the hills would certainly wear someone out. Even the more seasoned travelers were hitting their limits.

As promised, the group reached Kakariko in just over an hour. As soon as your group reached the inn they began discussing rooming arrangements, which you, admittedly, only half listened to. After paying the inn keeper and getting keys to five rooms, you went up the stairs with the one that was plopped in your hand.

“Room 3, room 3… where is it...” You mumbled to yourself wandering down the hallway. You finally found it at the end of the hallway. While putting the key in to open the door, someone came from behind you, putting their hand next to your head, boxing you in. You froze.

“You just ran off on me like that, trying to get rid of me?! I’m hurt, truly.” Legend’s voice came from behind you.

“Goddesses, Leg.” You whispered, finishing unlocking and opening the door, making your way inside.

He followed behind, “Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. It’s not my fault you frighten like a fucking squirrel.”

You simply hummed in response, removing your bow from your back along with your pack. You didn’t look up at him as he examined the room.

“As much as I hate the champions Hyrule, I gotta admit he has nice inns.” He was digging in his pack for a moment before pulling the fire rod from it, lighting the fresh bundle of wood in the fire place.

You looked around from your place at the end of the bed as light flooded the room. He wasn’t wrong. A bed was pushed against one wall with a small table with candles up against it. On the other wall was a bath tub with a faucet. The fact that the place had plumbing was incredible.

“Does your era even have indoor plumbing, Y/N?” He looked over at you, laughing a bit.

“It does, thank you. Does yours have indoor restrooms?” You shot back, smirking a bit. The jumpiness from earlier wearing off a bit.

“Well, no, actually.”

You laughed at his shocked expression for a moment.

He made his way to the bed, leaning down towards you. He put a hand on your cheek, the light from the fire framed his face as he spoke. “Time asked me to go speak with him. I’ll be back but it may be a while. Don’t wait up.”

You simply nodded; Time’s meetings had a tendency to drag on into the early morning hours. He didn’t need sleep like the rest of them.

He slipped away from you and out the door with a soft click before you could even let out a breath. How long had you been holding that?

You stared into the fire for what seemed like an eternity. Though in your mind you were replaying what happened at the door. He didn’t mean to scare you. It shouldn’t have scared you. You played it again. He put his hands on either side of you, boxing you in. You couldn’t escape. You were trapped.

He slammed his hand into the walls on either side of you. His anger was practically dripping off of him.

You shook your head. No. That wasn’t Legend. None of them would do that to you. You thought the same of him.

You shook your head, attempting to shake the thoughts away as you stood. The fire was still burning bright and there were candles on the nightstand that needed to be lit. You took both and carried them over to the fire place, using the small fire to light the quicks. The small glowing flames were carried back to the nightstand and placed on their holders. While placing down the second one, your hand slipped, catching on the edge of the table. In a thoughtless instinct your other hand tried to catch the lit end of the candle, resulting in the small flame burning the palm of your hand. You let out a quick gasp before settling it onto the stand.

You examined your hand in the light. The burn was barley there, would probably be gone by morning. But the feeling was all too familiar. It will be gone by morning. The thought echoed in your head. You looked back up at the small candle. It was hardly enough light to read with.

Sighing, you stood from the bed and went to the tub. Maybe a bath would get the thoughts out of your head. You pushed the small faucet up only to be met with icy cold water. Immediately turning it off, you looked around. There was a pot and a hook hanging over the fire. Perfect. You ran water into the pot before putting it to boil. It wouldn’t be enough to fill the tub, but maybe it would be enough to at least warm it. While it was boiling, you sat back at the bed, eyes falling on the dreaded candles.

His anger was dripping-

You didn’t have a full mind on what happened next. But the candle was burnt out and many more circular marks covered your wrist.

The pot began boiling over, pulling you from the bed. You ran the tub half way full and then bare handed the hot pot to pour it into the tub. You barley felt the blisters breaking your skin. You undressed and lowered yourself into the tub before the water could cool. It wasn’t as hot as you liked it, but it would work.

You leaned back until your newly shoulder length hair could sit on the surface of the water, the ends hardly meeting. You sat there like that until the water cooled and the second candle burnt out. The fire began to fade behind you as you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling.

The room door opened eventually.

“Y/N?” Legend called out, not seeing you in the bed.

“I’m here.” You answered from the tub, eyes not leaving the ceiling.

He sighed, “I told you not to wait up.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to sleep yet.”

He got to the side of the tub before sitting down next to it, his head at the other end so his eyes could meet yours easily.

“How was the meeting?” You asked, still not looking at him.

“It was fine. Time wanted to go over what little information we have on the black blood for the countless time. Nothing new. Certainly nothing to lose sleep over.” He eyed you at the last comment.

When you didn’t respond, he continued, “I guess it’s not about that though. You’re upset that on the rare occasion we get time together and you’re not rushed off with someone else I have to go. I get it.”

This got a nose laugh out of you.

He looked a bit confused, “I wasn’t kidding.”

“That’s not what’s wrong, though it does suck. I enjoy our time together.” You finally looked away from the very interesting ceiling to meet his eyes.

“Is it because I called you a squirrel?”

You actually laughed, “No, no it’s not because you called me a squirrel. You’ve called me far worse than that before.” The confusion in his eyes wouldn’t fade as he searched yours for answers. His hand came up and sat on yours that was rested on the side of the tub.

“What’s going on? I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand.

“You can’t fix this. That’s the problem.”

If there’s one thing you certainly don’t say to a hero, it’s that they can’t fix a problem.

His eyes closed for a moment as he set his jaw, trying to remain calm. “Try me.”

You sighed, admitting defeat, “Do you remember earlier when you… scared me at the door?”

He thought about it for a second before nodding.

“It… it triggered some bad memories. Memories I was hoping to forget.”

His hand tightened on yours.

“Who?”

“Who what?”

“Who? Who did it to you?” His eyes were fixated on you, stern.

“Uh… someone…”

“Someone?”

“Someone I used to date. It was a long time ago now. But it still… it still haunts me.”

His jaw tightened along with his hand.

“Legend, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you I-“

He cut you off, “You didn’t. They did.”

You sunk further into the water.

The look on his face was vicious. It was one you only saw when they were in the midst of combat or speaking of plans for so.

“Does anyone else know?” His words were quiet.

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way for now.”

He nodded, “Y/N, thank you for telling me. But if we ever end up in your era, things may come out. If I ever see that fucker I swear to you-“ His words trailed off. Probably for the best.

After a few moments of silence, he looked towards your hair. “It’s dry. How long have you been in here like this?”

“I’m- I’m not really sure.” You whispered, reaching up to touch it with your other hand. He exhaled softly as your wrist fell into the light.

“Come on, lets get you out of there and into bed. We’ll look at those too.”

There are things the chain doesn’t say.

They don’t say that it took more than a day to get to Hateno.

They don’t say that they could hear Sky’s snores from down the hall in the inn.

They don’t say that Wind’s flask has seemed lighter.

They don’t say that they notice Legend favoring his ice rod to his fire rod.

They don’t say anything about the fresh circular burn scars on your wrist.

It seems to be better that way.

NEXT

There's gonna be more! Hang tight!

#LU #linked universe #lu legend #lu twilight #lu legend x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu four #lu four x reader #lu hyrule #lu hyrule x reader #lu time #lu time x reader #lu sky x reader #lu sky #lu warriors #lu warriors x reader #lu wind #lu wild #lu wild x reader #lu headcanons #linked universe headcanons #poly!chain #chain x reader #also known as haha depression

[shubblelive]

— INSTRUCTION MANUAL

summary : you and wilbur are having difficulty navigating life together as a couple. that’s nothing a vaguely insulting band-aid can’t solve.

genre : fluff

warnings : probably swearing, too much shakespeare, reader gets a paper cut, mentions of food/eating

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x reader

pronouns : none (you/yours)

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : could i request just some domestic fluff stuff, you can do whatever you want with it honestly i just crave some more wilbur

word count : 1k

note : here you go my lovely anon, i hope you enjoy <3

over the course of your relationship, you and wilbur had gotten to know each other extremely well. he knew what laundry detergent you used, you knew exactly where he’d put his phone, wherever it was. you’d both been splitting your time between each others’ places, but now, coming up on five years together, you figured it was finally time to get somewhere of your own.

which lead to you spending your thursday night with wilbur on the floor of your new living room, swearing heavily. you were on the phone with the nearest takeout place while he tried to assemble the new coffee table you guys had just bought. he’d already hurt himself, a bandaid with william shakespeare’s face on it stuck to his hand, old timey script saying “go thou and fill another room in hell.”

apparently thursday night was extremely busy, and you were on hold. finally, someone at the shop answered, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “hi, would i be able to get-”

“i’m so sorry we’re swamped here, would you be able to order on the website and i can get back to you?” the poor girl on the other side of the phone sounded exhausted, and you felt bad for bothering her.

“oh, the website’s actually broken,” you cringed at the fact that you were being an inconvenience. “is it okay if-”

“i’m so sorry, give me one second,” you could hear yelling in the background and decided it was better to just hang up and give the workers one less order to worry about.

you put your phone down on the bench and went to turn back to wilbur, banging your head immediately after on an open cabinet.

will heard the thud and poked his head around as best as he could. “you alright, darling? need a bandaid?” he’d been desperate to show off his shakespeare bandaids, but you just shook your head, smiling tiredly. “this should be done in like, ten minutes?” he looked back at his project. “yeah, about that.”

the coffee table was still in pieces, but you didn’t say anything, coming to sit behind him on the sofa, him scooching over on the rug to sit right in front of you. your hands delved into his hair and his chin sat on your knee. “dinner’s not coming,” you informed him, sleepiness heavy in your voice. it had been a long week. all you wanted was to crawl into your newly assembled bed with your partner and sleep forever.

“want me to go pick something up?” he asked. “or i can run to the shops and i can make something?”

you looked at him, smile widening. “maybe in a little while. come sit with me?” the texture of his bandaid was rough against your skin as he placed his hand on your jaw. you leaned into him, smiling blissfully as he wrapped his free arm around you.

“you should go shower, relax for a second. i’ll go out, find some dinner. we can leave the table. i think it’s broken,”

“you’re reading the instruction manual for the fridge,” you pointed out. “the coffee table one’s in the kitchen.”

“i didn’t think i needed to connect the coffee table to the plumbing,”

you laughed. “do you want me to come with you?”

wilbur shook his head. “no, i know your order. i’ll be back in fifteen minutes?” you nodded and he kissed your forehead. “love you.”

“love you too,” your eyes fell shut, and you allowed yourself a few moments before you’d force yourself to get up and go shower. wilbur was right, it was exactly what you needed after a hard day, and you revelled in the warm water. another good thing about moving in with wilbur was that your new shower had incredible water pressure. you fell back on the bed and let yourself sit in silence. wilbur would be back soon, and you wouldn’t have to worry about when he’d have to leave to go back to his place or when you’d have to leave him to go to yours.

he returned, as promised, less than fifteen minutes later, and the two of you sat on the kitchen floor, ignoring the mess of wilbur’s attempt of putting together your furniture. he wasn’t wrong, he’d gotten you exactly what you wanted, and your hand ghosted over the cool tile to come rest on his leg. he let you place your head on your shoulder, and murmured gently in your ear as you both ate. “y’wanna know something, honey?” you hummed in agreement. “this thing says you should leave, and fill another room with hell. i disagree, any room without you is already filled with hell.”

“you’re gross,” you couldn’t stop the smile stretching itself out on your features, face pressed into his arm, both of you tangled in each other on the floor of your new kitchen. you reached blindly for your food and yelped as the side of the paper bag sliced into your finger.

wilbur shot up, your arm buckling under the unexpected weight of holding yourself up in his absence, and he brandished the shakespeare box at you proudly. he placed the plaster gently on your pinkie finger, pressing soft kisses to make you feel better. “do thou amend thy face, and i’ll amend my life.”

wilbur gasped, mock offence prevalent on his face. “if i fix my face, your life will be better. is that what you just said to me?”

you gazed affectionately across the small kitchen at him. “not at all. my life can’t get any better.” he softened, smiling warmly at you as you opened your mouth again. “which is good, cause your face can’t get any worse.”

wilbur laughed, throwing his head back to rest against the drawer, and you couldn’t help yourself, leaning forward to kiss him open-mouthed, bandaged finger running roughly along his brows. he kissed you back, lacing your fingers with his. his index finger, adorned with william shakespeare hooked around your matching pinkie as he pulled you closer to him, deathly warm against the cold tile beneath you as you relaxed fully for the first time all week.

#wishing i could write my name on it #wilbuh #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur x you

[xiaoluclair]

20. clumsy attempts at flirting for lestappen pretty please?

okay confession, i have no idea what clumsy flirting even is beyond accidentally knocking over an avalanche of canned jalapeños onto you and your crush in the middle of a bend and snap. so i have a feeling this probably is not quite clumsy flirting but also i did not want to let the flow get away from me so eeeeeeenjoy!(?)

clumsy flirting attempts // lestappen // [ rating: T ] word count: 2.5k . yeah. not beta read either or checked over very well 😁

Max opens his front door and steps on a green bean. It's lying a foot away from a litre Tupperware box of... Max squints. Green beans.

He gives the hallway a cursory glance, then hefts the box into the kitchen and shuts the window his sister must've opened before she left the evening before. Something about needing more fresh air. Whatever, thinks Max, and grabs a pen to tick get green beans off the to do list on the refrigerator. He's not trading pneumonia for a tablespoon of chilled plant piss.

"Hey." Dilara gives him a smile, little Jerry stood between her legs and intently jabbing at a Samsung screen. Some garbled trumpet plays whenever he presses it. "How much were the beans?"

"Beans?" asks Dilara. "Oh, for your shopping? Around nine euros for a pack from Vie Claire."

"And you had, what, nine hundred euros to spend?" laughs Max. "Can you text me your account details for money transfer? My mum would probably shunt my d— um, dining table if I let someone spend that much on me."

At first, Max thinks he is about to get a smack for nearly cursing a three year old's ears. Then Dilara says, "I think. I am not sure what you are talking about."

So Max paints the picture from this morning and little Jerry stops trying to break his mum's phone with his thumbs to listen too. "You were the only one I talked to about it," as the elevator doors open and the three of them spill out into the little lobby.

"Someone might have overheard?" offers Dilara.

"Piano has beans," little Jerry informs Max sagely and Max.

Max snaps his fingers and says, "Of course, thanks mate."

Because piano has beans. Duh.

Max does not so much forget the bean incident as have a million other things piled on top of it. And then it gets lost somewhere. Maybe under a cupboard, or shoved between the radiator and the wall.

"It is broken, I think," says Max. "And the plumber said he is not free until the twenty second, so I guess that is me in socks and coats for the next three days."

Peter makes a delighted sound, a very different reception to Max's earlier lamentings on the lack of cat food in stock. "Did I ever tell you how my wife and I met?"

"Yeah," says Max, "on Gwyneth Paltrow's second cousins's niece's friend's friend's yacht's coach."

"Really?" say Peter. "Wow, that must have been fun. But the other time we met was — can you guess?"

"No."

"When my plumbing broke, of course! She was my neighbor, said I could take the left side of her bed for sleeping because the guest room had a fresh coat of paint. Of course," his jaw makes a quaint leer, "there was not much sleeping at all."

"Lovely," says Max, "I am going to get more gin. Happy birthday again."

Cue the next evening, and the doorbell rings. The peephole shows a slightly stretched suit, slicked back brown hair into a dramatically wide ponytail. Max sets down the last of the bean casserole, opens the lock, loops out the chain.

"Hello," he greets politely.

The woman with, actually, a normal sized ponytail gives him a grin. "Broken radiator?" She picks up the handyman's box of utensils next to her foot. G. MANNI, reads the orange block along the side. "I've got you covered."

"Are you a friend of Peter's?" asks Max.

"Who?" she says.

"Just a— never mind." Max waves her in.

What a bewildering scenario, he thinks later as he tugs off the three pairs of socks from his feet.

The radiator scenario would probably have suffered the same fate as the beans if Max did not, only the next morning, find 7kg of cat food waiting on his doorstep.

"Like angels dancing on my eardrums," Arnaav is saying when Max goes to wish them. "I asked him to record me a song as a present as a joke and he actually said I could listen to a demo."

"Wow," says Gertrude, "you lucky thing, you."

"Arnaav," says Max, "congratulations."

Arnaav beams. "Thank you."

"What was it, three years? Four?"

"Five actually. Masters with industrial placement. A dockyard up in Andora, lots of very ripped Italian men."

Max grins. "That sounds very lovely."

"Of course," continues Arnaav, "it seems like very ripped men are closer to home than I remember."

Gertrude giggles at that. Max feels his eyebrows arch together.

Arnaav gestures them both to follow into the kitchen. "Seriously," they say as they pass Frankie tying up a bright blue sausage balloon into a bright blue sausage dog to little Jerry's delight, "do you think I should shoot a shot? There is no way a guy like that is single though."

They are looking at Max imploringly. Max says, "Go for it." Then, "Who are we talking about?"

Gertrude chokes mid-chew on a bite of grape and gouda. "Gamer boys," she sighs, "always stuck in their computers."

"For once, I agree." Arnaav shakes their head. "I would point him out, but he's at his brother's for the weekend."

Dilara and Mag come laughing in then. "Mag," says Gertrude urgently, "Max does not know about the new tenant."

Which is how Max finds out, in the following five minutes, that the hottest man on the planet (Dilara's words, not his) has apparently been living two floors down from him since early November.

"Always fingering his music into late hours of the night," says Mag with a flushed sigh. "Have you ever wanted to be music so bad."

"Okay," says Max, and he takes the bottle of vodka and chugs for a little while.

The scenarios keep scenarioing. Max finds a wheel of cheese and two pounds of tomatoes in the mail. A couple days later, thirteen rolls of cat-patterned wrapping paper to replenish his dwindling stock. Then a stack of coupons for free petrol refills at any Shell in France.

It comes to an apex when he gets called down to the lobby to pick up an €800 gaming headset. Max takes it back up to his apartment and leaves it by the couch while he unlocks his phone.

Whoever keeps buying me things, it is very kind but please stop.

It is pretty late, so Max does not expect any replies. Does this have anything to do with the beans? says Gertrude barely a minute after he has sent it.

I think so, says Max.

amx is being sent things? asks Peter. *max.

Do not be jealous peter, says Dilara, I am sure we can find you your own courter.

Max blinks. Courter?

Person who courts someone else. Gives them presents to woo them that sort of thing.

I do not have a courter.

Sure you don't ;D

I don't.

HEY, Arnaav comes barrelling in, SHUTU P AND LET ME ENJPY THE MISIC.

its very lovely, agrees Peter.

Hey, has anyone added Charles? asks Mag.

Max, who does not particularly care for any person named Charles at the moment, least of all whether or not they've been added or deleted, whacks up the heating on his way to bed. He is about to turn off the light when a smack sounds from the balcony. Sassy makes a petulant expression when Max turns on the outside light.

"Idiot cat," he tells her, then slides opens the door. Immediately, the lethargic sound of piano floods into his ears. Sassy slinks inside as Max blinks.

His phone buzzes again. Mag: God I want him to play me like that.

So apparently Max's entire apartment complex spends their nights having a massive orgy to the new guy playing the piano. Charles, he gathers, playing the piano.

Charles gets added to the WhatsApp group too, renamed JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING). His profile picture is black and white and contains three people, none of whom Max has seen before. He thinks they must be brothers.

not for thirsting? is the first thing Charles says. is this an inside joke i need to beg to be updated on? 😂. Max sees Mag is typing... pop up then disappear.

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a new WhatsApp group. JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING). Charles is not in this one. I'd make him beg, says Arnaav into it.

Same, says Mag, 💧.

Max thinks the exclusion is probably for the best.

He flies back in from iRacing contract negotiations a day before the Christmas Party. In the time left, he unpacks, laments to Dilara on the lack of green beans in store (“Christmas time,” she sympathizes), streams until two in the morning. Periodically checks his doorstep just in case. 

Everything is fine. Then he returns from another green–beanless escapade and on his mat, is a parcel. Inside the parcel, is a dark blue wooly sweater with an outrageously bright design of red and green animals and a manger on the front, yellow sheen emitting from the neck hole.

There is a note.

Merry Christmas x.

Max takes it in, puts it on. Stares at himself in the mirror. Takes it off, wraps it up, and leaves it on the torn parcel paper to return later. He can give the money to the New Year's party.

When he takes the elevator down to Dilara's apartment, he is immediately accosted by Gertrude and slightly less accosted by little Jerry. "Max!"

Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling. Max takes the kiss she plants on his mouth with his hands on her arms to make sure it does not turn into Human Bowling, then blows out a breath. "Do you know who keeps giving me shit?"

Gertrude's brow furrows. "The beans?"

"The same person, yeah." Max rubs his temple. "It is starting to piss me off. I asked them to stop and they have not."

"Maybe it is someone not in the building?"

"Unless they bugged the place, no." Max sighs. "It was always ridiculous but now it is even more ridiculous. The whole 'courting thing' too is just stupid."

Litter Jerry looks up, Samsung held slightly precariously in his chubby fingers. "What about—"

"Charles!" erupts Gertrude brightly, looking into the distance. Max twists on the spot but there's just empty hallway. The stairwell door swings a little. Gertrude sways on the spot slightly.

"Let's get you inside," says Max and herds her back into the celebrations. At the jerk of his head, little Jerry sighs a great sigh and ducks under his arm, back into the loud apartment.

Nothing. Max opens the door: nothing. Max enters the lobby: nothing. Max gets his mail: nothing.

Max gets on with his life. Nothing.

Max sits on the balcony at night and listens to the silence. He checks the messages on his phone. Maybe he broke his hands, muses Dilara.

both of them at the same time? says Peter.

I just saw him, reports Mag, in the elevator. His hands are fine. Really really fine.

Back in JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING), Charles simply says he has taken a break due to 'lack of inspiration'.

I will gladly inspire him, says Arnaav in JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING).

Not if I inspire him first, replies Mag.

Max keeps out of that one. Max keeps out of most of it, and: Nothing. The little Merry Christmas note stays in his nightstand and Max just. Forgets to take it out every single night. Whatever.

By the time Peter's New Year's party rolls around, life has settled and Max starts the year off drunk, happy, and listening to little Jerry toot Anaconda on the trumpet while next to him, Peter makes out with his new fiancée as of three seconds ago. Max has never seen her in his life.

The next morning is a slow one. For one, it is already eleven when Max cracks open his eyes. He rolls over. A chilled breeze stirs the hair on his arms.

He blames the alcohol for accepting that as he does. Getting out of bed, taking the wrong door to the bathroom and finding a closet instead. Taking the right door to the bathroom and the Palmolive soap has been replaced by a pot of L’Oreal Paris hair mask. 

Then the cold wind comes back again and Max peers past his headache to see the window cracked wide open. He looks back to the mirror. He is naked. 

“Shit,” says Max, with feeling.

A snore comes from the bedroom. Apparently Max bypassed an entire human being too. Stupid, useless alcohol. He’s going to go back to his place, take his stash of gin, chug it to forget this ever happened.

For now, he puts on his clothes. Rumpled, clearly discarded without much care. But on. Then he takes a look around. Lots of red. A centerpiece of fake roses sits atop an electric piano. The front door is the same as his. A shelf of photos over the TV contains the same three recurring men. In the corner of the kitchen, there is a large cardboard box held shut by a loaf of 50/50. Max moves it off and takes a peak. Inside is roughly two hundred bags of green beans.

The mop of brown hair forms a person eventually. Max has found an OralB tube by then and used his finger as a makeshift brush. 

"Morning," says Max when they arise.

Charles takes one look at him before falling back onto his pillow. "Shit."

Max spends the first afternoon of 2024 swallowing Aspirin and slightly burnt Eggos. Suffice to say, Charles is a terrible host. And yet Max is still here. Pretty privilege. Hottest man on the planet, remembers Max. Yeah, okay. 

He swallows, nods to the box in the corner and its counterpart bread loaf. “So were you the one stalking me?” 

Charles chokes on his protein smoothie, glowers. “I was not— stalking, I was just. Courting.”

“Courting,” echoes Max. “Dilara’s going to have a fit.”

Charles stares at him. He was not in the WhatsApp group at that point so he wouldn’t know. Real funny, Max thinks to the universe. Great planning. 

“So you, what,” he says, “bugged the building?”

“I just overheard sometimes,” says Charles. His cheeks are a vibrant, sick red. Fucking fresh air lovers. 

Max thumbs his own temple. “What do I owe you?”

“What?” asks Charles, stupidly handsome and stupidly stupid. His fingers wrapped around the bottle are messing up Max’s already messed up mind. 

“For all the shit you got me. If you say anything less than a thousand, I will know you’re lying so what do I owe you?”

A moment passes in which Charles blinks at him, Max realizes Jimmy and Sassy are probably upending the microwave, and Charles blinks some more. Then: “A date?”

“You are the worst flirter I have ever met in my life,” Max tells him sincerely. He slides off the stool and kisses him on the mouth. Charles drops the protein smoothie. The bottle breaks all over the floor. 

Max buys him sixteen more.

#fic: mv1.cl16 #f1 rpf #xiao: writes #lestappen #this got far too out of hand im sorry #it's just SILLY #ladies and gentleladies . it is just. silly. #i think bc it has general similarities with another fic that my wife let me braindump into whatsapp so i was already feeling the vibes #god bless same sex marriage etc etc

[katareyoudrilling]

Construction Corner (Joel Miller AU) Episode 5: The Peña Family

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: Filming out of town has Joel thinking about the past and the future

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: Mature (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Joel’s POV, Alternate Universe, cameos galore, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction, allusions to sexy times, dry humping (?)

A/N: This episode took so much longer to finish than I had hoped.  Thank you for hanging in there with me while life got busy and then threw me a curveball.  We only have the Epilogue left after this!  Huge thank you to @wheresarizona for the beta and for letting her Learning to Live Javier and Cielito come play in Construction Corner!

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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Want to get dinner?

Joel presses send and sets his phone down on the nightstand.  He has to admit, texting does have its uses.  He’s getting faster at it too, which definitely helps.  He continues putting his clothes for the week into the hotel drawers while he awaits your reply.

Filming weeks spent in hotels were not his favorite, but this project had captured his imagination, and he was eager to get started.  He enjoyed all types of projects – the ones when he was teaching a useful skill, like fixing plumbing, and the kinds that allowed him to design something interesting.

This one had to be his favorite, though.  He spent hours drafting plans, taking into account the homeowner’s ideas but also adding some of his own.  Just thinking about it gave him a bounce in his step as he organized his jeans and t-shirts in the drawer.

Of course, being in a hotel also had advantages as far as you were concerned.

He had kept you in his home and in his bed for as long as he possibly could over the weekend, reluctantly letting you leave yesterday afternoon so you could pack for the week.  In fairness, you seemed reluctant to go.

It just all felt so good.  Eating breakfast with you at the kitchen table.  Watching a movie, snuggled under a blanket on the couch.  The quiet domesticity of the weekend just felt… right.

Then there was the sex – nothing quiet or domestic about that.  Joel adjusts his jeans as memories of the noises you made – how you called his name and begged for more – wash over him, causing his cock to swell against his zipper.

You were so enthusiastic and free.  In those moments with you, looking deep into your eyes while he buried himself in your warm heat… he could see the future.

His phone chimes on the nightstand, pulling him from his reverie.

Sure.  Maybe breakfast too ;-)  Lobby in 5?

He snorts out a laugh but then stares down at his phone screen, puzzled.  He replies in the affirmative and scratches at his scruff absentmindedly as he stuffs his wallet in his jeans pocket and switches off the lights.

You are already in the lobby when the elevator doors open, sitting in an armchair and flipping through a Laredo travel guide.  Warmth rushes over his body at just the sight of you.  Your easy smile when you spot him is like a warm hug.  He can’t help the dopey grin that spreads across his face.

“Ready to go? I heard of a good place downtown.  We can take my car,” you say, gathering your belongings.

“Sounds good, sunshine, but first… what does this mean?” he holds up his phone, pointing to the collection of symbols you had texted him.

“It’s called an emoji, Joel.  It’s a winking face, see?” you turn his phone sideways and wink at him.  “Sarah hasn’t taught you those yet?”

He squints and looks at it again.  Just when he thought he was getting it…  He shakes his head and follows you out the door with a chuckle.

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

It happens sometimes that a homeowner is reluctant to accept help on their project.  Usually, their spouse had been the one to apply to the show.  The ones who were actively hostile to the idea were quickly weeded out, while some who just needed some convincing made it through.

Today is one that needs some convincing.

Joel had been looking forward to this project since he saw the initial photos.  Now, standing in the Peña’s backyard, looking up at their massive oak tree, he can barely contain his excitement.

The homeowner next to him, Javier, is another story.

“I really do know how to do this.  I built the whole sunroom by myself,” Javier grumbles next to him.  His wife ducks under his arm to wrap her arms around his waist.

Joel had met a lot of couples over the course of filming this show, but these two are special.  The way they look at each other… it’s like the other hung the moon.  He glances up and spots you across the lawn.  Might you look at him like that someday?  Could he be so lucky?

“I know you do, but it has been a year, Javi.  The children are getting restless,” Cielito teases her husband gently.  Javier’s face softens at the mention of his children, and he looks up at the unfinished treehouse—a generous description for the collection of boards nailed to the tree—and sighs.

“Look,” Joel turns towards the couple, “I’m just here to help.  I can tell you know your stuff.  Big projects – heck, even small ones – are difficult when you have little ones runnin’ around.”

“That’s the truth,” Javier chuckles, dragging a hand down his face and smoothing his mustache.  The three Peña children had been packed off with their grandfather that morning for the duration of the project but would be back for the reveal in a few days.

“Let’s build a treehouse that will be the envy of the neighborhood this week so you can focus on spendin’ time with your kids and each other.  Deal?” he extends his hand toward Javier.

Javier grabs his hand for a firm handshake, “Deal.”

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

Joel could watch you all day – he kind of has.  It’s a good thing Javier Peña is so handy.  The project may have suffered otherwise.

The two of you barely made it through the hotel room door before he pulled you on top of him, fully clothed, on the bed – like a couple of teenagers.  You’re an angel above him – breathless and moaning.  You feel so good against him.  Your softness against his hardness.  His fingers dig into your hips, urging you to continue rocking against his cock.

It started as making out, you teasing him by grinding into him while he hiked your skirt up your legs, but he watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and your eyes went hazy.  Your teasing became focused as you chased your pleasure on his clothed cock.

He’s just along for the show now, and that is just fine.  Your whimpers as you angle your hips just right and speed up your rocking are driving him wild.  If he was younger, he’d probably have come in his pants by now.  Points to middle-age.

“Does that feel good, sunshine,” he rasps as he digs his fingers into your hips, and you moan in response.  His cock jumps, and a satisfied little smile flits across your face.  You know what you do to him.

Your brow furrows in concentration, a little line forming on your forehead, so you must be getting close.  He loves that he has started to notice these little signs.  He’s not an expert on your body yet, but he wants to be.

Your breath catches as your legs clamp around his hips, and you shudder through your orgasm.  He strokes down your back as you relax onto his chest, then slide off to snuggle into his side.

Right or wrong, Joel had neglected his personal life while Sarah grew up.  He went on a date here or there or met someone in a bar, but he hadn’t even been interested in anything serious.  Lately, though, with Sarah thriving off at college, he’s been thinking more about himself.

And he’s been thinking about you.

Beautiful, smart, kind, capable, remarkable you.

It has only been a few weeks since he found out you were single, and the world tilted on its axis.  It feels like so much longer, though, with all that has happened between you.

“Do you think anyone has noticed that I haven’t been sleeping in my room?” you muse lazily, dragging your fingers down his chest.

“I have a feelin’ they have.  I’ve been gettin’ some looks.”  

“Does it bother you?  The crew knowing?”

“Not one fuckin’ bit, sunshine.  You?” he shifts on his side so he can see your reaction more clearly.

You shake your head and kiss him gently.  Your soft lips molding perfectly with his own.  You snuggle into his side, letting out a satisfied, sleepy sigh.  “I love you, Joel.”

Your eyes pop open, and you clasp a hand over your mouth.  His heartbeat pounds in his ears.

You look at him, panicked, “I didn’t mean t-to say that – it’s too soon… you’re freaked out.  I mean—I mean it, I just…”

“Calm down, sunshine,” he pulls your frantically fluttering hand into his own and presses it to his chest over the rapid thumping of his heart.  He gazes deep into your eyes until you are fully focused on him and have started breathing again.  “I love you, too.”

“You do?” you exhale in relief.

“Absolutely.”  He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into your knuckles.  “I’m kinda glad you said it first, though.  Lord knows I was gonna say it soon,” he chuckles.  “In the back of my mind, I worry that I’m rushin’ you – goin’ too fast – because I just know.  Now I know you know too.”

“I do know,” you whisper, tears sparkling in the corners of your eyes, and his heart feels too big in his chest.  How did he get so lucky?

He bends down to capture your mouth with his own, imbuing the kiss with all the feelings he can’t put into words.  You meet him eagerly.  A little later, when that line forms on your forehead again, he kisses it gently as you both tip over the edge together.

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

“Ok, kids, your dad worked really hard this week.  Are you ready to see what he built for you?”  The three Peña children stand lined up in the backyard, dutifully covering their eyes.  Joel crouches beside them.

“Yes!” they scream in unison.  Javier and Cielito stand on either side of them, beaming.

“Then… open your eyes!”

Three sets of brown eyes are uncovered, followed by three little voices squealing with excitement.

He has to admit, it turned out well.  He wanted to build a place that could grow with the Peña children, from being the crow’s nest of a pirate ship, to the top of a castle tower, to a hangout to read in.

He had the same philosophy when he built Sarah’s playhouse.  She taught her stuffed animals the alphabet there, served him soft drinks through a drive-up window, and even cashed checks with Monopoly money.  

Javier clears his throat, interrupting Joel’s trip down memory lane. “Thanks, Joel.  I don’t know how much longer it would have taken me to do this on my own.”

“It’s been my pleasure helpin’ you out.  I hope y’all enjoy it together.  They grow up so fast,” Joel’s voice catches in his throat as he watches the kids scramble up the ladder and pop their heads out the windows, waving to their parents below.

For just a moment, it’s Sarah’s curly head popping out of the window.

Her playhouse stayed in the backyard long after she was done playing with it, but he couldn’t bear to tear it down.  It made him sad – the idea of her growing up – but as he watched her come into her own as a bright, considerate young adult, he realized he was missing out on the present by holding on so tightly to the past.

Sarah has so many wonderful adventures in front of her, and Joel can’t wait to see what she does with her life.  He still looks at the photo albums of her as a little kid, but not with sadness that those days are gone, but with gladness for the times they spent together.

Joel clears his throat and turns to Javier, “Get up there and make some memories.”  Javier nods and follows his kids up the ladder.

Joel looks across the yard to where you’ve been watching and catches your eye.  Sarah isn’t the only one with adventures ahead of her.  There’s so much time ahead for him too.  Time for making more memories with her and time for new memories with you.  He can’t wait.

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

A/N: This episode’s cameo comes from Narcos via Learning to Live by @wheresarizona

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#construction corner #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[boreal-sea]

Society needs to do a few things to help unhoused people. Firstly, and obviously, those who want to be housed in houses and apartments should be able to get them. Cities should create and enforce rent reduction policies on landlords who let apartments and homes sit vacant - and if they sit vacant too long, the city takes control of the property. Most Airbnbs have to go. Apartments and homes that are foreclosed or owned by banks need to be given to the city to be used for low income or free housing. House selling agencies like Zillow etc who have unsold properties just sitting around should be forced to lower the prices of those homes until someone buys them, and if they are still vacant after a certain amount of time, they too go to the city to manage. You wanna get angry? Google the number of foreclosed homes in your town or city, then Google the estimated homeless population in your area.

But.

I also think society needs to get easier for people who don't have and don't want a permanent house or apartment?? Cities and towns need to ease restrictions on "tiny homes", trailers, campers, mobile homes, live-in-vans, and things like that. They need to provide safe, dry areas for people who want to camp. They need to provide clean places to bathe and shower and clean your clothes. They need to provide water and electricity and plumbing to these places. Because of how job applications work right now, those camps need to have a real address that the people living there can use.

Oh yeah - and of course, hostile architecture needs to be banned WHILE mandating that public spaces must have a minimum mandatory amount of seating.

#homelesness #human rights #unhoused