filth grime

Make it Black

Joyce kept an eye on the clock as she wiped down the main counter. It was already ten minutes past closing time. The grime and filth of a busy Friday clung to her skin uncomfortably and she wanted nothing more than to get home, curl up with David, and take a nice, long bath.

Though luck was never with her as the quiet yet persistent voice of a downpour hummed through the building. All she had to protect her from the rain was an eight year old umbrella that turned inside out when the wind got too rough. David was also working overtime at the docks, meaning she was going to have to wait by the bus stop and pray it would get there on time. She hated working overtime, but they were barely meeting ends—if they didn’t pay soon, their power was going to get cut off.

The clink of the doorbell followed by the squishing noise of wet shoes let her know she had forgotten to lock up. “We’re closed,” she said, frowning at a particularly stubborn stain on the countertop.

“Sorry.” The voice was young, with an odd nasal inflection to it. That got her to look up.

It was a teenager, probably no older than her daughter, completely soaked from the rain. A sopping mop of curly blond hair hung just over his eyebrows, dripping down his cheeks and onto a worn sweatshirt. His nose and the tips of his ears were red and blotchy, and he was holding his lower lip between his teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. But what really got Joyce’s attention was the dark, swollen bruise over his right eye and the bloody corner of his upper lip.

He was turning away, gaze directed towards his shoes. The sight broke her heart. “Stop,” she said, and the boy did, sparing her a guarded glance. Joyce didn’t know who he was or what happened, if it was a abuse or a scrap, but he was just a kid. Marks like that didn’t belong on a teenager, no matter the circumstances. She couldn’t turn him away. “Would you like some coffee?” She asked. He nodded. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He chose a barstool, and sat hunched over the counter. His focus on a lone string poking out of his sleeve. His hands shook, she noticed. But she wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or something else.

“Cream and sugar?” Joyce called from the kitchen window, her hands busy pouring a cup. He nodded again.

It was a soft tanned color, more milk than caffeine, but what was important was that it was warm. She set the mug in front of him, watching as his trembling fingers closed around it. He took a sip and grimaced—a slight pinching of his nose, something most people wouldn’t notice—but otherwise didn’t complain.

“Here’s the menu, let me know if you want anything,” she told him.

He nodded, again. Not much of a talker. His eyes settled on an enhanced photograph of a stack of waffles. He licked his lips and pointed at it, not bothering to look at the rest of the items. “Waffles,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “The belgian waffles.”

It amused Joyce that he would order breakfast so late at night, but who was she to deny him. She gave him a smirk and took his order into the kitchen. The cooks had already left, leaving her to be the only employee in the building. Though not a chef, she was an adept cook and set out to make the kid some waffles.

When she was done, she topped them off with blueberries on top, and brought the steaming plate to the counter. She could see him practically drooling at the sight. “Whipped cream?” Joyce asked, brandishing the can.

“Yeah,” he said.

Rather than do a simple swirl on the top, as was customary, Joyce drew a smiley face. It ran the risk of the teenager frowning and saying something about how he was too old for smiley faces, like Chloe would, but to her surprise she found the boy smiling at it. It was subtle, a slight upturn of the lips that would probably crack painfully due to the lip, but it was a smile nonetheless.

The way he ate was, well, exactly how you’d expect a teenager to eat. It was messy, and loud, and Joyce suspected he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. That brought her attention back to the black eye and swollen lip, and she wondered if he really hadn’t.

Joyce grabbed a rag from her apron and began scrubbing the areas where his shaking had spilled drops of coffee onto the counter. “What’s your name?” She asked, casually, she hoped. It was like she had hit the pause button—he froze suddenly, fork hovering in the air in front of him.

She didn’t push. It was his right whether he wanted to tell her or not, and she wasn’t going to pry into his private life if he didn’t want her to. She kept wiping down the counter, gauging his reactions from the corner of her eye.

He set his fork down slowly. His gaze went from her, to the waffles, to back at her, like he was debating whether to tell her or not. Joyce waited patiently, keeping to herself in silence. In the end, he swallowed, rose his nose up and said, “Nathan Prescott.”

Oh. She knew he was watching for a reaction and she did her best to maintain a poker face. The Prescotts had the kind of reputation that would last generations. Engraved in the name itself. Animosity that was inherited by your parents, which were inherited by their parents, and so on so forth. Joyce would also admit to sharing that prejudice.

But he was just a teenager. A black eye and a bruised lip didn’t belong on a teenager.

“You can call me Joyce,” she answered with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Nathan.”

She could see the relief flood in his eyes. It hit her, then, that he wasn’t used to a warm reception after sharing his name. Talking to him was easy after that. Just smalltalk, nothing important. She talked about her daughter, about David, she even mentioned William for a brief moment, before she caught herself choking up and changed the subject to the busy day she’d had. Nathan wouldn’t say much more than one worded responses, but it kept his mind occupied as he finished his waffles, and Joyce could tell he appreciated it.

By the end of the night, his skin had gotten a healthy blush and his eyes looked brighter. The weather outside cleared up too; the downpour had lightened to a slight drizzle. Nathan’s calm expression quickly changed to one of horror when he felt around his pockets and realized they were empty. “I don’t have my wallet,” he told her. “But I’m good for it, I swear.”

Joyce suspected as much from any teenager caught in the rain in the middle of the night. “Don’t worry about it, hun. It’s on the house.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he insisted. Joyce didn’t argue, only told him to do as he wished.

As he left the diner she silently prayed that he would find a safe way home.


Saturdays were the worst. Joyce wasn’t against hard work, but she could feel the blisters forming in her feet and couldn’t find five minutes to sit down. But, she was used to it. The tips were good, at least.

They were up to their eyeballs in orders, and, to make matters worse, one of the coffee machines gave out, which meant Joyce had to walk to the other side of the kitchen to refill. She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at her watch every five minutes, watching the hand inch ever so slowly to her lunch hour.

She was bringing a customer his order for breakfast when he said, “Whose ass have you been kissing lately, Joyce?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, already used to the coarse language the truckers and sailors would have.

Another customer whistled in appreciation and Joyce was about to tell him off, until she realized that he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking past her, at her tip jar. It was full to the brim with—oh my goodness—twenty dollar bills? Among all the bills was a crumpled up piece of notebook paper.

The truckers whistled and cheered as she worked to unscrew the cap. “Who’s yer secret admirer?” One asked.

She fished out the note and unraveled it. There were only two words written in a messy, jagged script. “Thank you.” She smiled and the truckers cooed.

“None of your damn business,” she answered, slapping one playfully in the arm.

She managed to pay the bills that month.



A/N Merry Christmas! I know this isn’t much or Christmas-themed or anything, but I wanted to write how Nathan and Joyce met in Exposure. I know this won’t make up for the lack of recent updates but I hope you enjoy it all the same! :*

Nightmare [Rick Grimes x Reader]

Ok so i thought of a really detailed smut request lol. Rick finds the reader (young girl like 20) and brings her back to alexandria and shes very scared and standoffish so rick lets her stay at his house. At night she has a bad dream and crawls into bed with rick in just her tshirt and panties and tells him she had a bad dream. He feels guilty and says they shouldnt be in bed together but she seduces him and touches him and he finally gives in. Im like beyond excited ab this lol. Pls and thk u!

I could not WAIT to write this one, OMG. Hope you like it anon! 💝

Warnings: SMUT, Swearing, unprotected sex, dirty talk, seduction, oral sex (female receiving)

Words: 3,023

A/N: Enjoy some grade A Rick Grimes filth. I feel like I should dunk myself in some holy water after writing this. 

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Better Late Than Never // Jason Todd // Christmas Request

Summary: You’ve spent plenty of time fighting crime with bat family, but things are starting to slow down just in time for Christmas and the first snow fall of the year. Jason Todd finds you in the study at Wayne Manor, surveying the wintery scene outside and offers to take you somewhere special…but there’s a little catch. There’s always a catch with him.

Word Count: 2813

Warnings: None. This is pure fluff, guys.

A/N: This is a Christmas themed request I got from @litbatboys for our favorite little bean, Jason Todd. I hope you like it, girl! (Sorry it took me a million years to finish.)

    The first snowfall of the year had begun dusting the streets of Gotham, covering it’s usual filth and grime with fluffy layers of white. To any passerby, it almost looked picturesque, but you knew better. You had spent many nights scouring the underbelly of the city with various members of the Batfam, so you knew all too well the darkness that resided within the city limits. Still, you couldn’t quell your excitement as you stared out the floor to ceiling windows in the study at Wayne Manor.

It was Christmas time, and it seemed as though you and your cohorts would earn yourselves some semblance of normalcy this month - after all, even criminals celebrated the holidays. You cracked a smile as you daydreamed about taking Damian ice skating (even though you had no doubt he would complain the entire way to the rink), forcing the boys to help you bake Christmas cookies while listening to cheesy carols in the Wayne’s massive kitchen, gift wrapping, spiked eggnog, tacky Christmas sweaters-

“The first snowfall is always the prettiest, don’t you think?” You jumped when you heard a voice at your side. Jason Todd had snuck up on you in your reverie, coming to stand beside you at the window to admire the view as well. You turned to him and gave him an earnest smile, nodding your head.

“I love this time of year,” You conceded. “I just wish Bruce was more festive, maybe put up some lights or something, I don’t know.” You hugged your arms around yourself and leaned your shoulder against the cold glass of the window, looking up at Jason who was still staring out across the water at the skyline.

Out of all of the Wayne children you had always found him the most attractive. Dick had tried to woo you when you first started working with Batman, but he was too much of a boyscout for your liking. Jason, on the other hand, was rough around the edges, unrefined and raw, unapologetic, and after all that he’d been through he was still inherently good-especially once he had learned to silence his rage and forgive.

He turned his eyes on you, catching you staring at him, and offered you a lopsided smile that made his eyes sparkle, which, in turn, caused your breath to hitch in your chest. He was so devastatingly handsome that it was hard to focus when he was around-even after all this time. But, like most men, Jason was as obtuse as they come, so you’d given up on trying to flirt with him, settling instead for a deep rooted friendship. In fact, you were willing to wager that you knew Jason better than anyone else in the family. He trusted you with his deepest, darkest secrets and you trusted him with yours. It was one of the many reasons that you loved him. He had bared his soul to you and you still found him as beautiful as you had the first day you met him.

“You wanna get out of here? I have something I want to show you.” You arched a brow at him. Wherever Jason dragged you, mischief usually followed, but how could you say no? Any excuse to spend one-on-one time with him had you practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

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Ringleaders - Chapter Two.

Here is the original ask for this prompt.
Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Three


He’s been called many things in his short years of life- Kuroo is very tempted to start a list of the aliases and accusations that have been leveled at him for the past few years because they’ve definitely piled up along with an extensive bullet-pointed page of all his issues.

‘Vigilante’ made him laugh, ‘thug’ made him shrug, and ‘troublemaker’ made him grin. Tonight’s one of the thug nights, the streets seem to be teeming more and more with misguided youths and corrupt gangs, clashing in the atmospheric district of the water sewage system.

It’s their regular feeding grounds, but the term ‘turf’ caught on faster than intended. They have several in their keeping, thanks to the meticulous efforts of Kenma’s infallible surveillance, and it’s Kuroo’s job to pick them out by hand, plucking them from a spreadsheet like eggs. The area, and the feed. The water sewage is one of the roughest ones- a humid, harsh contrast between antiseptic and an honest stink of fermenting shit, it functions as a satisfactory lair for kids who can take the most from life- an interesting form of the crème de la crème. They’re found without much difficulty, hovering around in their small boy scout-sized campfire meetings, waiting for unsuspecting prey to come by. It frustrates Kuroo significantly to see such faulty planning, but he’s thankful for at least being better at something than the average population- and well, if they were all his caliber, they wouldn’t need him anymore.

He approaches, lies in wait, and pounces at the opportune moment.

“Kids,” he calls out to them in his usual slick, unassuming voice, and it doesn’t surprise him in the least when at least three of them jump to their feet at the insult, “is this really the place to be on a Wednesday night? What would your mothers say?”

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Nobody (Part 2)


Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: mentions of past torture/imprisonment

Words: 1444

A/N: Italics used for Russian translations to English. This part is Bucky and Nat’s encounter with the reader from Bucky’s point of view.


Bucky’s POV

They hadn’t been expecting this Ural Mountains hidden base to be so heavily guarded.  Steve’s intel had indicated that it would’ve been relatively abandoned considering its proximity to the Dyatlov Pass.  Nat had told him about the dead hikers from the 50s and he couldn’t deny that the details had caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

However, the pair had descended upon the heavily armed Hydra base like a biblical plague, smiting anything in their path.  The Black Widow was a force to be reckoned with as she seemingly flew through the stone corridors leaving dead and sentries in her wake.  Bucky was glad not to be the one on the receiving end of one of her signature thigh choke holds.  Natasha Romanov was appropriately named “Black Widow”; beautiful but deadly.

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@outside-the-government - Welcome to the fandom! I absolutely ADORE your fic about Leonard rescuing the reader from a crippled starbase. Your writing is incredible! I’m so excited to get to see more from you. I hope I’m one of the lucky ones in your contest, too! I’d love to see a fic featuring Bones and the reader inspired by the quote “only the wounded healer can heal.” :)

Word Count: 3361 (WTF?!)
Author’s Note: This totally got away from me. I hope you can see the connection to your requested quote - it feels a little tenuous, but it really is there…


You drew in a deep breath before stepping into Medbay. You’d just transferred over from Yorktown, and you were nervous. Doctor McCoy, the CMO, was the most frightening son of a bitch you’d ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. Everything about him terrified you, from his intense stare to the way he quirked his eyebrow, like everyone in the room was an idiot. You’d only encountered him the one time before, but you weren’t likely to forget it. At least you’d won that battle…


One year prior…

“What the hell kind of sad excuse of a Med Clinic is this?” You heard him muttering under his breath as he looked around, holding a makeshift dressing against his friend’s head. The tall man was easily identifiable as a doctor, even without the telltale Science Blue top. His attitude alone was enough to make you want to choke. The truth of the matter was, it was an exceptional Med Clinic. The best on Yorktown, and second in stats only to the MedBay on the Enterprise. So the condemnation made your hackles rise.

“What seems to be the issue, gentlemen?” You asked as you approached the pair. The doctor was scowling. His friend, a definite hotty in Command Gold, was squinting through a sizeable lump forming around his eye. He had blood seeping from under the compress, and his nose was bleeding. As a quick assessment, you’d guess bar fight.

“The man’s bleeding!” The doctor barked. “Can’t you see that?”

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The saga of John wilde part 3

The rides were crude by design. Judy’s wrist was beginning to ache by the amount of pages she was writing down. There was a merry-go round, that was converted into a running station for predators, who would run on four legs, picking up speed as the wheel turn until one of them falls off. Judy had to write a full page as to why that wasn’t safe. The sanitation was also laughable, there was trash on the floor that consisted of popcorn bags and used candy wrappers. When she saw the restrooms, which were porta-potties, that were left with grime and filth-she almost threw up because of the smell.
There was even a roller coaster! When she and Nick went down the slide they entered into a large warehouse. They realized that the warehouse was perfectly hidden behind clinic and since the windows were covered with black spray paint, the colorful lights from the rides wouldn’t be seen at night. Judy noticed by the amount of grime and rust she was seeing from the indoor roller coaster, she concluded it was in production for over fifteen years. When Nick was eighteen.
Her ears went down and glanced back at Nick, who was silent the whole time they have been walking around and inspecting. His brow was lowered, as if he is thinking, and held a tight frown. Judy turned away, not sure as what to say, she never had her father walk out of her family. She had never even seen them fight! How can she feel what he’s feeling?
Her paw reached out to his and gently brushed up against his fingers. He jumped in surprise and turned to her, breaking out of his trance. She gave him a small frown, her eyes low. He felt his fingers wrap around her paw, giving them a squeeze when he smiled at her.

“I’m fine, Carrots.” He said as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. She could tell he was lying by the smile he was giving her, it wasn’t the same as his normal attitude. The smile he was giving her, was a fake one.

She pulled away and lifted up her notepad. “It’s time to talk to Mr.Wilde.”

——————————————————————

As promised, they were brought to Mr. Wilde’s office by request. The cheetah from before was waiting for them by the slide and brought them to an office that was suspended above the carnival. They climbed up the metal staircase and the employee opened the door, making them step inside. The office was dark and the only source of light was a desk lamp. The office was also filled with newspapers, documents, and files. Judy could only assume what was in them.
John Wilde was sitting behind the large desk, holding a smirk as they walked up to him. Judy couldn’t help but think she was looking straight at Nick. He sat in an old green reclining chair, that had years of wear and tear on them. She was surprised to find him not wearing his costume by a black and grey suit instead.

“Where’s your coat, Doc?” Judy asked with a serious tone. John chuckled and leaned foreword.

“It’s getting clean.” He replied smoothly. Nick’s fingers twitched from hearing his voice. He crossed his arms, holding himself together. John turned to Nick and back at Judy, he put out his index to her. “Who’s this cutie?”

Judy placed her paws on her hips. “Excuse me?”

The old fox ignored her when he turned back to Nick. “You know when I was your age, I had a thing for rabbits too.” Judy nose wrinkled and Nick moved his ears back, a slow anger rising.
His father, turned away and waved a dismissive paw towards Judy.

“But I got over it and married your mom…how is she by the way?” He asked with a smug smirk, gliding down into his chair and propping his feet up. “She missed me?”

Nick growled lowly. “No. She doesn’t.”

John Wilde never wavered from his smile. “Yeah right.”

Judy eyed Nick who saw his chest rise. His nostrils flaring from his father’s nonchalant attitude after not seeing him in over 20 years.
John put his paws behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What can I do for you two?” He asked prompting Judy to pull out the yellow eviction papers.

“Some of your rides are dangerous. It’s going to get some animals hurt!” She slammed the paper down on his desk. John didn’t even bother looking at it, keeping his eyes locked on Judy’s. “ The roller coaster is in need of repairs, some of the bolts and beginning to rust and break apart, that’s just one of the rides. Either shut down Wild Times to repair them, or if you choose to continue I will be force to arrest you for endangerment.”

John moved his feet down and instead placed his paws on the desk, holding a sleepy gaze. Judy was surprised by how much of a similarly she saw from him, as if she was staring at Nick.

“Officer Hopkins…”

“Hopps.” Judy corrected swiftly. He drummed his fingers against the wood.

“Officer Hopps. I have done nothing wrong.” Nick snorted at his comment. “The rides are perfectly manageable, so what if there is a few rust and loose screws. Animals enjoy themselves here.” He reached over to the first drawer and pulled out a stack of forms. “They even signed waivers.” He dropped them in front of her making Judy’s ear lowered as she read it over. Animals knowingly riding the carnival rides and accepting any risk that befalls them. John chuckled softly.
“As you can see uh…” He snapped his fingers trying to remember her name. “Madam-” Judy’s eyes widened from hearing Nick’s voice escape from John’s lips. “You can’t touch me, hmm? Everything is legal. And the last time I checked, you are an officer, not a mechanic…how do you know there is something wrong with the rides?”

Judy slowly set the document down. As much as she would like to argue, she really wasn’t a certified mechanic. John Wilde, propped his feet up again, already knowing he has won. “Now, normally I have the right to kick you out of my establishment but since I met my son again, how about instead I give you two, some free tickets! No hard feelings eh? Carrots.”

Nick suddenly slammed his paws on the desk, making it rattle. John’s eyes widened at Nick, who was leaning dangerously close to him. His muzzle was contracted as he bared his canines at him and growled.

“Don’t call her that.” He snarled. John stared at him and his eyes lowered, giving him a grin.

“So you are into bunnies…like father like son, I suppose.” Nick pushed away from his desk and back at Judy was held the back of his shirt, just in case he tried to do something like that again. He was so fast, she was surprised she didn’t manage to stop him. John leaned towards them again. “Now I guess you don’t want the free tickets.”
Judy stared at him in disgust when he chuckled and shrugged. “Oh well, say Hello for your mom for me.”

“Never.” Nick hissed. He and Judy turned their backs against him and walked out of the office. Nick slammed the door, in hopes his pile of papers might fall over.
——————————————————————-

“This is all you have, Miss Hopps?” Bogo said softly after he looked over the notes she had written. Judy nodded as she stood on the chair in front of him. Bogo took off his reading glasses and sighed. “And your partner? Nick. How is he doing?”
Judy’s ears went down. Nick made an excuse to not meet with Bogo but Judy knew he wanted to be alone.

“I don’t know.” She replied honestly. “He won’t talk to me.”

Bogo frowned and nodded gently. “Give it time, Hopps. I’m sure he will open up to you, when given the time. He must be hurting, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Judy left his office silently and found Nick waiting outside. He was sitting on a bench, holding a cup of black coffee.

“I thought you went home.” Judy said as she sat next to him.

“You’re my ride.”

“Oh.” Her ears went down in embarrassment. She looked down at her paws as a strong silence warped around them. After a while, Nick tossed his full cup into the garbage.

“Judy.”

Her head whirled at him. “Yes?”

He was staring at the garbage can when he asked her. “Can you stay at my place tonight?”

She blushed lightly from the question. “Okay.”

——————————————————————

Oh my gosh it’s been so long!
Well this is it! I hope you like it!

“Dean! Your left!” You shouted at your comrade just in the nick of time before his neck got torn away by two vampires. You yourself were busy with one as you punched him square in the jaw making him stumble back, giving you the chance to chop his head off with more delight than you should’ve felt.

Hearing an angry battle cry and a growl, you looked towards your back to see a woman with hair as black as tar and blue eyes filled with fury glaring at you and baring her sharp fangs threateningly at you.

Judging by the rage contorted on her features, she was surely the mate of the vampire you had just decapitated. “Come at me you bitch” you challengingly smirked making her vein pop with anger as she wasted no time in coming towards you at full speed.

Taking advantage of her emotional state which prevented her from thinking straight, you easily got the upper hand and soon enough, her head was rolling on the floor with crimson staining your body in more visible spots including grime and filth which made you feel disgusted.

Looking over at Dean you saw him panting lightly leaning against the wall, holding fast to his machete, with his gorgeous emerald eyes being closed.

“Come on Dean, let’s go back” you pulled him as his tired eyes steadily gazed at you.

“you’re not hurt are you?” said his rough protective voice as his eyes silently looked over your body searching for injuries.

“No, I’m not are you?” you chuckled at how he always managed to put you above himself, asking if you felt alright after a hunt or not. He shook his head and straightened up. “Well then, let’s get out of this hellhole” he grumbled, completely exhausted.

Shower encounters of a second kind

It was late at night that Law made his way to the shared dormitory bathroom for a shower. He had finished with a job, and was looking forward to ridding himself of all the filth and grime that had built up over the course of the day. Mostly, he wanted to stand under the hot water, as it blistered over his skin in an oddly comforting manner—often he was cold, and the warmth could be soothing and calming in a way. Indeed, he was very much looking forward to a peaceful shower alone. After all, there couldn’t have been many students showering at that hour, could there?

He was right, and he was wrong. Stepping into the bathroom, Law heard the sounds of running water from one of the cubicles. Thinking nothing of it, he slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked down the aisle to the corner shower stall—the only one he would use. However, as he passed by the occupied shower, he caught a glimpse of a naked figure out of the corner of his eye. A shower and a naked figure—there was nothing strange about that, of course. But it wasn’t just a naked figure. It had curves in all the places that men typically weren’t supposed to have. Moreover, that cubicle’s door was broken, and the naked figure was using it all the same.

Law lowered his brows in confusion. It was none of his business; he ought to get his shower done and return to his room. However, what if, in his state of fatigue, he had entered the wrong bathroom? The last thing he wanted that night, after a long, endless day, was to be accused of being a fucking peeping tom. Thus, Law backtracked and paused by the doorway of the occupied shower. He stole another glance at the naked figure through the open door. Yup, no doubt about it. Female as female can be. Law grimaced, and hurried to exit the bathroom to check the signs. Yup, no doubt about it—it was the gents’, not the ladies’, unless some prick had switched the signs as a prank. But the walls were painted blue, and Law doubted the asshole behind the tomfoolery would go as far as to paint the walls over. That meant, that the naked figure of the female gender in the middle cubicle was the one at fault there.

Now, Law desperately wanted the fucking shower. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to use the bathroom on other floors, just to avoid being accused of sexual harrassment. Fuck that. The woman was in the wrong. Having made up his mind, Law walked back into the bathroom, and nearly slipped on the wet, soapy floor—again, it was the female’s fault, because she was showering with the goddamn door ajar and asking for trouble. Thankfully, Law had the reaction of a ninja—or so he would like to believe—and he caught himself just in time by supporting his hands on the sink. Acting all nonchalant-like, as if he hadn’t nearly lost his balance and cracked his head on the floor, Law headed towards the stall at the end and entered to take his shower. The lock to his shower cubicle was also broken, due to the lack of funds for the school, but nevertheless, he, at least, had the decency to shut it tight as tight can be.

@post-mortem-lullaby

Sol 6

Chris Beck x Reader

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Summary: You’re part of the Ares III crew, on sol 6 you’re left behind on Mars with Mark. How will the both of you survive and will Beck ever realise your feelings for him.

Tagged: @thedark-sideofthedark,  @blueblobb, @breathingstops, @all-fandom-feels, @timelordsandgalaxydefenders, @kriscassothegalaxyking, @aj-callaghan, @marzipan-romanoff, @sebbysweaters, @wydari

Originally posted by heartsandwheels

You and Mark spent another day just in the rover, you had some rations in there already to tide you over until you were able to move properly on your own. When you could you put your space suit back on, half of it was covered in duct tape so it was a little difficult to see but it was enough, you were still weak so you couldn’t help out much but you helped hold the tarp in place over the breach whilst Mark taped it all down.

From now on you had to use airlock 2, when you go inside you went over to the farm and crouched down. They had all been frozen, when you touched them they cracked and crumbled in your fingers. “So much for a good harvest,” you sighed and stood back up.

Thankfully, the potatoes in what was left of rover 1 had been protected  from the breach. With the food you had you would only have enough to last another 300 sols, not enough to make it till the next mission. You were now down to half rations every few day, so you were constantly hungry.

You were wrapped up in blankets on your bed. Mark was doing some inventory and you were meant to be sleeping but you couldn’t focus. Now that there had been a breach you were paranoid that it would happen again, the gap had only been sealed with tarp after all. The wind was strong that night and the tarp was flapping in the wind, you couldn’t stand the noise. You grabbed a pillow and pressed it to your ears hoping to muffle the sound though you could still hear it, it grated on your skin and churned your stomach. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut to stop the tears.

Just breathe, you thought, it’s just the wind.

NASA had finally set up communication between you and the crew on the Hermes. You and Mark were in the rover and this was the happiest you had felt in months, you eagerly waited for the message to come through.

Dear Mark and Y/N, apparently NASA is letting us talk to you now and I drew the short straw. Sorry we left you behind on Mars, but we just don’t like you. Also, it’s a lot roomier on the Hermes without the two of you. We have to take turns doing your tasks, I mean it’s only botany and geology, they’re not real sciences.

How’s Mars?

You couldn’t stop yourself from crying and laughing as the message came through, happy tears fell down your face as you watched Mark type out a reply.

Dear Martinez, Mars is fine. I accidently blew up the HAB and almost killed Y/N (who did survive fyi), but unfortunately so did all of Commander Lewis’ disco music. Every day we go out and look at the vast horizons and watch the sunset, just because we can. Tell the others we said hello.

Will do buddy.

The crew was scattered about the common area as Martinez read out the messages between him and you and Mark. Beck smiled as he listened, when Martinez read out that you had almost been killed he shot up. “What?” he exclaimed and the rest shushed him.

He bit his lip as he listened to the rest, he smiled when he heard that you and Mark would go out and watch the sunsets just because you could but he was still worried about you almost dying. He walked over to the screen, “Let me speak to Y/N,” he half asked, half demanded.

Martinez looked at Lewis for permission who shrugged a little showing her consent, everyone aboard the ship was aware of how important you were to Beck and she wasn’t going to stop him speaking to you.

Martinez out, Beck wants to talk to Y/N

Martinez out, Beck wants to talk to Y/N

You leaned forward in front of Mark to get to the controls, “Gimme,” you said as you wiggled into the small space in front of Mark.

“Or you could ask,” Mark said sarcastically with a small smile.

You shushed him and began typing.

Hey Beckster, hope you’re not being too bossy up there.

I told you not to call me that. What do you mean you almost died?

The airlock blew and I passed out and got severe hypothermia but I’m basically all better now.

Are you sure?

Yes, doctor.

Did you get injured anywhere else?

When we first got here I got impaled in the leg but that’s healed up nicely, I think.

How bad was it?

It was fine, are you just gonna doctor me?

No, sorry.

It’s fine, how are you doing? How’s everyone?

It’s quieter.

AKA boring?

You wish, I can get work done without you bothering me to go get dinner.

Shut your face you love me.

Debatable.

Rude, aren’t doctors meant to be nice?

Not to whiny patients.

All I hear is you being bossy.

You grinned as you messaged back and forth just like it used to be when you were all together.

Beth watched as Beck messaged you, the crew didn’t expect him to read it aloud but she watched to the side. She hadn’t seen him smile so wide in months, since before they left you. Things were looking up.

A week later Vogel got a file he couldn’t open, when Beth tried to open it she saw it wasn’t a JPEG, “Does this make sense to you?”

“It’s a flight plan for the Hermes,” Vogel said confused.

They went to Lewis and they did the calculations, they realised it was a course change for the Hermes to go back to Mars to save you and Mark. Lewis called an instant meeting and everyone gathered around the table to listen to what she had to say.

“So what’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Beck asked.

“My guess is this goes directly against NASA orders. It would be mutiny, they can only do the course we’re on or do this one, we have a chance to force their hand. If we follow through with this it would be another 533 days worth of unplanned space travel. 533 days before you see your families again, 533 days and if anything goes wrong we die. That’s over 900 days of space travel.”

“Sign me up,” Martinez said instantly.

“Hold on cowboy, we’re military. We get back they’ll court martial us and I guarantee the rest of you will never fly in space again.”

“Good,” Beck said without missing a beat and leant forward. If there was a chance to save you then he was all in. “So are we doing this?”

Everyone looked to Lewis, “Don’t look at me, this goes against direct orders. If it were up to me we’d already be going but the vote has to be unanimous.”

So, obviously, everyone was all in. “Let’s go get our guys.” Everyone cheered, they could finally do something to help you. Do something to make up for leaving you stranded. They could save you.

You had been here for about over a year now and you could see changes in yourself when you looked in the mirror. Your skin was pale, yellowed and dirty, you had lost a lot of weight due to only eating half portions and you were sure you smelled. Mark was in the same state as you which was probably why neither of you had noticed just how bad your health was. Before, you and Mark had brushed your teeth once a week to conserve toothpaste but even that had run out a while back, now you had to wipe your teeth as clean as possible. You couldn’t take looking at yourself in the mirror. You wanted to conserve water but you decided you deserved a much needed shower, whilst in there you rubbed your skin red raw to get the grime and filth off you and rinsed your mouth as much as you could with the water.

When you got out you used the electric shaver to trim at your hair which had grown several inches since you had been here, cutting off all the split ends and back up to a more manageable length. You stared at your face in the mirror, you could hardly recognise yourself, your face was thin. Your cheeks sucked in and your eyes were almost sunken with a permanent shadow around them, your skin was dry and your lips were cracked.

Your near death incident had really taken a hit on your health, while you had told the crew you were fine you knew you weren’t. Your hands were always shaking, sometimes you struggled to breathe and you had a horrendous cough that you tried to hide from Mark. He still blamed himself for what happened so you didn’t want to give him another reason to worry or feel guilty. So you took a vicodin every day and hoped for the best, it helped with the pain but not much else. Rations were being cut smaller under NASA’s instructions and were only every few days, the small amount of nutrients made your bones weak and the old injury on your leg still ached. You knew it hadn’t healed properly but now you could really feel it.

All you could do was lay on your bed and wait for time to pass until you and Mark would begin a journey to the Ares IIII landing site. You had been back in contact with the Hermes for seven months, and while that had improved morale for you and the crew dramatically it wasn’t enough to stop you from slowly wasting away.

***

A/N- Coming up to the end now, thanks to everyone who has been following so far. Requests are open <3

storming the castle - kastle

Bless you, @devilbunnyking, for your ridiculous and wonderful prompts. This is rated R for mature content, as apparently fanfic authors demonstrate their love for each other by writing kastle smut. You have been warned.

Ao3 link is here. the length is 4.8k. you should listen to this while you read it.

Frank turns up on her fire escape at two o’clock in the morning in the middle of the worst storm that’s hit the city since Karen moved to New York. She lets him in.

Frank tastes of rain water and coffee.

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Colours of your relationship with Sam

Yellow.

Lazy days, when there’s no hunt. The colour of the sun streaming through the window as you cuddle on the couch. The colour of the throw pillows on the couch, which you sit on all day. The colour of the flowers he buys you, when he goes food shopping. The colour of your ‘cosy day’ sweater. The colour of your banana scented shampoo, that fills the bunker as you stroll around. The colour of your favorite mugs, which are refilled with coffee throughout the day.

Brown.

Hunting together, both tired and afraid. The colour of your worn leather jacket, and your pistols. The colour of the rusty warehouse you venture inside of. The colour of the whisky bottle Sam drinks from while you stitch up his arm. The colour of the water after washing off the filth and grime in your bath. The colour of the fluffy blanket you cuddle up together in, safe in each others arms.

Pink.

Significant cute couple moments. The colour of the teddy bear Sam buys for you on Valentines. The colour of the sundress you wore when he proposed. The colour of the hair ties you share. The colour of the fairy floss you bought at the carnival together. The colour of your geeky hello kitty pajamas, worn only around him. The colour of the sunsets as you drive together all around town. The colour of the baby blanket you are gifted when you announce your pregnancy.

Lovers Under the Stars

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Kili x OC (Skaia)

Request:

Word Count: 3350

Warning: Smuuuut.

Notes: I just realized that this is my first Kili smut, so yay Skaia! ;) I really do hope you enjoy this someanglinbitch. I can’t help but imagine innocent cute puppy dog things whenever I think so Kili so I’m sorry if that came through during this, haha. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you have just as much, if not more, fun reading it. <3

Onto my next request, seeing as I just drank a full cup of coffee. ^-^

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the outwardly kind are the inwardly cruel.
we are garbage and waste and no one can tell us otherwise.

i am in the city dump digging through rusted cans and cardboard.
you know what they say about one man’s trash.

i am singing your praises in the fog of your bathroom mirror.
you are sun-soaked diamond, lullaby soft.

i am spelling out my love in your alphabet soup.
you are beautiful even to the blind.

look at yourself, long and hard. what do you see?
filth and grime? rub your eyes and try again.

open your trash compactor heart
and learn the definition of biodegradable.

—  recyclables // d.p.