#I smell like moths not mothballs

[qvrcll]

a love like this

summary: the love shared between you and ellie blossoms, thuds, weakens and throbs. but never once does it die.

warnings: angst (comfort), nsfw implied in some parts, vomit mentioned, violence / alcohol / blood mentioned

a/n: had my playlist on blast whilst writing this and im 110% i rushed the end but god i love writing like this and for ellie too! enjoy :-)

Imagine Ellie fessing up the courage to confess to you; awkward, toothy and flimsy lipped, she cups her heart in her hands when she treads over the threshold of your home with nothing other than a circuitous smile twitching against her lips when another person greets her.

She preferred to be doing anything other than attending parties; Dina knew it, curtesy of their conversation a few weeks prior that hued just how much Ellie preferred the smell of coffee coloured journal pages, guitar strings, twines threaded without the heat and vigour of sweaty bodies, alcohol and the unbearable thought of returning home (“Really, Ellie, just come. You’ll have fun, I promise!”)(“I really, won’t, I promise. I’ll make it up to you… just… please?”)(“…Fine.”)

But this one was different, it always has been.

You were hosting it.

She offers a tight lipped smile to passing bodies, lets their denim and cargo and rough edged apparel scratch her fingers as she squeezes past them — (“Ellie, good to see you man!”)(“Hey, how you doing?”)

And maybe she’s in for some peace, a moment of respite. A room with windows and furniture as creaky and awkward as her. Her guitar, resting mothballed under her elbows when she rasps a breath.

And it’s different, like it always has been.

She starts to think of you — the reason for her arrival, her prior approval of even being here, in her sombre flannel and coarse converse sneakers. Your breathy laugh, the stint of your smile. It makes her heart jitter, makes her flatline and hit a curb, makes her think and think and think, until she’s not functioning manually and relying on muscle memory to guide her through the wooden walls of your house.

And it’s loud, hot and utterly chaotic — some rooms carry the smell of weed, others sex, some smell of love and others of quiet aptitude. But Ellie doesn’t stop for a greeting or invitation, not even a small gaze. She keeps at her pace, wandering like her feet had carried her a purpose all along.

It’s stupid.

I should’ve stayed home.

Why did I—

“Ellie!”

Her body is putty in seconds, molten and uncaring in their attempt to remain careless. Suddenly, she’s embarrassed, full of the emotion as she swings around and — god, have you ever looked at her with so sweet of a gaze before? It makes her throat bleed with desiccation, her hands clammy when they weren’t meant to be, clamouring for ground. But they’re disappointed and she’s anxious, swallowing harshly as she tries to remain idyllic.

“Hey, cool party,” she pauses, nearly bites her tongue whole for the absurdity of the comment, but continues when you puff a smile so large it makes her melt from the inside, “couldn’t have missed it for the life of me.”

You offer a laugh, tapping a hand against her arm in friendly fashion; it registers as a cautionary tale to the auburn haired girl, who compresses with vigour and eyeballs your palm for where it lay, splayed against her upper arm like it could burn her any moment. Her brain, however, is as quick as her and she shifts her eyes back to your own, overstrung with her ability to blotch your friendliness towards her.

God, Ellie, get it together.

“I’m so glad you came, Ellie, seriously,” she hears your voice break into blocks over the music, waning like crystal over pumice as her ears blur the line between rigour and words — but her heart is breathing, beating, creating new sounds and jitters as you press into her like you’ve known this antsy, scratchy emotion of longing as long as she has, trapped in your chest like leps. A jar of moths, disgusting and upsettingly real.

But Ellie’s brain hums a thought of conviction — get a grip.

She shifts, forcing herself to null her warmth against your touch, forcing the feeling to be as dense as the alcohol you’re nursing in your other hand, the walls that surround her as she flicks her gaze from your face to your nose, to your lips, to her shoes… but you’re light and feathery and the demiurge to all her sufferings — so she quickly begins to hate herself again, for the blush has only worsened.

She hopes you can barely see it.

And so the night progresses. You sway from person to person, but Ellie picks up on your decision to hover close to her — intentional or not, she’s brimming with crusted hope, melted itch and pinning as she tries to cram her crush on you in a box, and mentally sit on it, burn it, compile it in the deepest recesses of her mind.

But your touch, your eyes, the swing of your body and the flit of your air is like the poetry she scribbles on the forefront of her journal, like the endless lines divided into her sketches. And your words are constant, the music she creates and hitches with breaths so shallow, it begins to exhaust her.

And it becomes so real, in the moment almost everyone is filtered out of your house at midnight (except for her, sitting on the couch with a cup of juice, sodden and fresh with ripe feelings) that she’s loved you like she was your heart. And it hurts, worsens, when you take a seat beside her, materialising into the object of all her desires and travails.

“Some party that was,” your lips curl into a deviant smile, back sinking into the pillows like you need a rest. Ellie offers back a scoff, light and airy in tone. Still, she supposes this could be a million times worse — she has you, still. Hers or not, she has you.

“I enjoyed it,” a sip of her juice, “better than most other parties. So, that’s that.”

“Is that a compliment, Miss Williams?” you bite a smile, enjoying the look of faux repulsion that overwhelms her features.

“I don’t know, is it?” She asks, noting the dangerous plummet in her stomach when you rest your head on your hands, allowing your knees to bump against each other. Ellie swallows, and she hopes the action melts into the ebbing lights strewn all over the place, misplaced in the shadows you two are tucked into, bathed in the humming music that makes it way over — Slowdive, she recognises.

You perk up, craning your neck and slotting it atop her shoulder, stifling a giggle as she goes stock like cardboard underneath you — “I’d say a lot of what you do mean a lot of different things, but hey…”

Ellie is gutted. You have her wrapped around your finger.

“Example being?” She asks, her voice reverberating to you like waves against a crested coast — you alleviate your gaze, trying to read her again, trying to pry her eyes for malcontent or maybe a lapse in judgement, and Ellie has never seen you this unsure. This backtracked, this molten, and some part of her aches you feel it too, that numbing pain of loving someone to the point of insanity.

And then, your voice is like a lifeline.

“Like how you look at me.”

Her heart flatlines. Hits a curb.

“L-Like what?” She stutters, trying to find substantiality in your words, your tone, the way your eyes flicker to find hers — have you ever been afraid like this? Have you ever hesitated like this? Have you ever stared at her like this, clamouring against your insides like you’d burst?

But still, you smile, shift your gaze to the corner of the room. When Ellie reaches it, she spots discarded bottles of alcohol, piles of playing cards, a random shoe splayed against the table — it should make her laugh, but the silence is making her sick.

“Like you want to kiss me.”

Before Ellie can stomach the comment, your mouth opens again, and shuts and she noticed the sheen of sweat against your brow — “God, I don’t know why I said that. I just — I don’t know. I wish you would — maybe you don’t even want to and—“

“I do. I wanna kiss you.”

Ellie is short and sweet in all the right places and the meaning never leaves her words. She smiles when she sees you cracked with relief, burst with colour as your pinkie interlocks with hers so delicately, she might even have imagined it. But your skin is so real, so warm, it reminds her, again and again.

“Then kiss me” you murmur and Ellie flows forward, meeting you halfway with a small sigh and a heart so full it could be shared. And it’s so funny, how you sigh and lick back at her, exploring parts she’s afraid for anyone but you to see, flourishing against the curl of your fingers, the scrape of your tongue like she’s soaring.

She’s been yours for so long. She just hadn’t known you’d been hers too.

Thank god she had come to the party.

It’s different after Joel dies — she spits venom, bites her bullets and scratches against maps. Seattle, Santa Barbara. An aquarium, a camp ground, two rifles, a shot gun.

Everything is automatic when she’s dripping in blood.

She doesn’t love you any less — when she’s curled into herself, alone and beaten in a make-shift bed, she thinks of her limits, and yours too. Of pearly white picket fences, a farm so full it came lined out of a book. A home, walls papery light with paint, a ring. Dinner. Laughter, hugs, warm kisses. Swollen nights with air so hot, it suffocated her — but god, it’s you beneath her, swallowing her for what she is. Smiling at her, whispering I love you, and it’s you.

Those nights, with dreams as vivid as those, end with her pacing her room in worry. And then, immediately, a detour for your room.

And she’s red-rimmed, defeated and painted in exhaustion when you open the door — the hunt for Abby had done a number on her and as much as you’d usher her out of it, make her promise to never pick up a gun, the thought it easier said than done. And it makes you dampen with grief, how this girl you’d loved so fully had reverted to a cold body you’d hold to smooth out and clean the bruises and cuts, so she’d slit the neck of another without a thought.

Still, she’s here.

“Ellie?” You rasp, rubbing your eyes as the girl ripens in your vision. She’s ill with grief and it’s apparent in her shoulders, when she thuds into your room hesitantly and envelops you into a tight hug in the darkness. You blink, eyebrows creasing with worry, as you hold her body over the threshold.

“Ellie—“

“I’m sorry.”

The words seem so quiet and cracked around the edges, it makes your throat hurt. Makes your eyes dampen and hurt a little at the creases, and reminds you that she’s struggling against her skin too.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, guiding her back with a little step. She stifles, like she’s keeping a hold on her tears with nimble hands and craggily arms, keeping a tab on them so roughly it messes up the sewing she’s so meticulously crafted. The smell of ardour and the sting of her violence, all washing down with her tears and her fears and your warm, grounding arms.

But still, she bites her lip, professes herself to look up — “no, it’s not okay—I should—“

She’s silenced immediately when your lips take over.

She’s kissed you before, in living rooms and heated parties. At gatherings and staple lookouts. In the corner of horse stables and on that living room table neither of you love. On that couch, under the fluorescent light. And through tears, salt, scratches against her back as she worked her fingers within you, smirking against your numb lips as she had curled within you again with no vouch for relief.

But this had been different — there was no difficulty with kissing you, as it had always been. Her lips were chapped and rough and she felt awful, but you moved against her like she was made of porcelain.

How can you love me like this?

How can you kiss this broken thing?

How can I live knowing you pick up the pieces I break myself?

“Ellie—“ she hadn’t even noticed when she had begun to cry, just had known that her chest constricted with a pain so billowing, it touched, “Ellie, look at me. Look at me, please.”

She lifts her gaze, eyes red and black where they weren’t supposed to be.

“I love you. And I always have. And I will be here when you need me. Whenever you need me. God, Ellie, I just need you to come home to me,” you stifle a cough, aim to gain ground to comfort her. But it just breaks you, as you clamber against her hold and sink into her arms. It’s a funny thing, a broken thing holding something unbearably broken, but Ellie’s throat is jammed dry with nothing but small whimpers, as she holds you like air. Like relief. Like the small thought of ‘at-least I have this—have you.’

And the night washes away with grief, with glory, with your arms caging her so tightly it wanes the thought of his bloody, cracked skull away. The screams null and Ellie lets the two of you have this, this moment of peace when neither of you are aware, tangled into one another where neither of you know of the people she’d kill tomorrow, gutting them inside out for answers unspoken.

Maybe she didn’t have to know.

Loving you was enough.

But of course it wasn’t easy.

Ellie stumbles in the red-lit room when Abby, with her tight lipped anger and muscle, holds a blade to your neck.

Ellie’s head blares with the colour red, of signs screaming no, of memories where you had held her poor, beating heart in the palm of your hand.

Memories of you strewn against her bed, messy and angular with love seeping against your skin. Of your fingers and your hair. Of your eyes and that crook in your neck she’d seat her chin in forever.

Of the night you’d kissed her, 12 A.M., brown leather couch as she drifted away her fears. And the raw, smitten, scary, devotional way she had loved you, lord, the way she loved you.

“No—No, please. Please, leave her—“ she chokes, gambling with fate as she watches Abby press the blade against your skin, a tight red line forming. The image of you lifeless, spat in blood, crosses her mind and she nearly vomits against the cold, hard floor. But when Abby releases you, spitting some word about getting the hell out of here, Ellie crawls on her bones and skin to hold you against her.

She had known fear, again, that night. She had almost known loss for a second time.

After the ordeal, the two of you gather yourselves and settle into a routine on a farm house. Tommy arrives, breaking the cycle, turning Ellie against her convictions again, and it makes you scared of the day she’d leave.

Until you catch her red handed, bag in her hand, almost leaving without a word.

“Ellie? What are you doing?” you’re perplexed, heart aching with an impossibly large feeling, biting you completely. Ellie is cold, gaze vacant as she fights against your hands, your touch, crumbles your advances as you tell her to stop and come back to bed. To forget this. To remember you.

“I have to finish it,” she says, and the words come out with difficulty. You see the picture of vengeance in her but you don’t care — you curse, turn your back against her, cry into your fist as she huffs.

Why can’t you hug me?

Why can’t you come back to bed?

Why can’t we just tend to sheep in the morning?

The words are hitched in your throat, swallowed unknowingly by your tears as the threat of her abandonment becomes all too real — you question her, interrogate her. She answers, spits back. (“You were just going to leave without a word?!”)(“It’s not easy for me.”)

Eventually, the door shuts with a thud and you bite into your hand, knowing she’s left already. You read the clock, the blurry numbers of the early morning making it all worse — it all doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t seem real. Ellie’s gone, reworked your importance in her life, thrown away those memories like augmented fragments into the dirt, crushed it under a boot.

That day, you pack pack your heart away into that place.

And when Ellie treks to find Abby, to finish it, she feels regret. She feels it when she catches Abby, chokes her in the salty membrane of the sea, when she closes her eyes. Struggles against her breathing as she remembers you.

That night on the couch, a vibrant memory. Your kisses against the corner of her mouth, your hand trailing up the expanse of her back just beneath her shirt, the way your legs lingered on hers in the early morning hours. Your laughter and the stretch of your smile and you and you and you.

And she lets go — “just take him.”

The trek back home is bloodier and more bruised. She stumbles against grass and cries into her hand pathetically. She knows you like the back her hand — but she’s gone too far now. There was nothing you could’ve done to make her stay and it made her sick with spit, with vomit. She curses, biting her tongue when familiar buckwheat brushes her skin and she knows she’s home.

She threads carefully, taking that familiar route back. It’s been some time, but the smell of the place is familiar. The chickens, the sheep, the broom, the table, the fence — all sodden with memories and love. As she ambles up the steps, she crumbles against the door, her hand trembling.

Her body buzzed with nerves and a familiar feeling of sickness so deep it drowned her, until the door creaked open and you stood there, eyes wide in horror at her arrival.

You thought you’d gone mad.

She purses her lips, bites them when you near her with out-stretched hands, and then gasps when you slam a hand into her side, fall into her as you fight her to the floor.

“What the fuck, Ellie!” you screech, balancing against one knee as you force yourself to hate her. Your face is wrinkled with grief, with aimless pain, it makes Ellie scramble for something to hold onto, to press into the floor as though it would let her sink into the wooden surface as a whole — but your rage, your anger, bleeds into her as she silently chokes, weeps.

Your words are fuelled by rage, anger, but never hate. You both barely notice, even after you’d quietened to catch your breath. And a few seconds pass, where you quickly thrust your palm to calm the onslaught of tears, the strength of your heaves as you cried from between her lap. Ellie stiffens and then melts with wracking sobs, trying to calm down for your sake, tentatively touching your hands to reveal your grief for what it was, to her.

But when you open your eyes, they’re caught with the excess blood against her. The image of her new self, dragged back from the hell she sought and rejected, becomes too real — the jaunting splice of skin against her hip, the cut on her cheek, the blood against her brow, the missing chunk of fingers. Her pain, her defeat, becomes too mellow for you to swallow, and before either of you know, you gather her up in your arms so swiftly it knocks the air out of her.

And it makes Ellie weep, hard and raw, into that familiar crook of your neck, where you pick her up amongst other things.

“I’m so sorry—you were right I shouldn’t—“

“Ellie.”

She gazes up, as you scrub against her back later in the shower, gaze rubbed raw with forgiveness.

“Do you remember what I said to you on that couch at my party?”

She ponders, scratchy, wracked with tears as she chuckles lightly.

“That I looked like I wanted to kiss you?”

You nod, lathering soap against the suds of dirt. Cleanse her. Let her shine anew.

“I still think that, even after all these years, And that’s enough for me,” you grin softly, kissing the soft skin of her shoulders, holding her as she breaks against you, “You’re enough for me.”

This was enough.

You were enough for her.

But she wasn’t sure if she was enough for you.

“I wish I could give you more,” she bites the words, holding you like you’d disappear. You towel dry her hair, seat her in bed and turn off the lights, glancing into her eyes and rinsing them for vigour as you tucked a stray hair behind her ear, shifted the blanket to gain better access to hold her gingerly around her wounds.

“You want to give me more?” your words are hot on her lips, as her fingers graze your hips, “just give me yourself. I stayed in this god forsaken house because I loved you through the hurt — just let me love you,” you cradle the words, let your heart spew out in the cold open.

And Ellie shadows it with her own calloused palm, shaky, but genuine. Real. Awkward but registered in her conviction as she nods, presses her mouth again yours to reconcile the hurt, knowing she’d have this and you, evermore, even as time ambled on.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie the last of us #tlou fanfic #tlou x reader

[risingsouls]

@athenafire replied: "You smell like moth balls, that means you're old."

" What the fuck are moth balls? I smell great! My cologne smells like-- " he reads the label, " Stucci Guilty Pour Homme? Yeah! That! Definitely not whatever mothballs are. "

He doesn't know WHAT the scent it, but even for his sensitive nose, it's pleasant!

#| nappa ♅ #athenafire #look this man has worked on his image ok #he doesn't smell like a sweaty stinky now #he's sharp dressed and wears cologne

[yokohamapound]

I’m back for part 2! Chuuya deserves it! 👀

Im dying to know what domestic life is like with the king? What’s his home look like? What does he do in his downtime? How’s he with chores? Really whatever comes to mind when living with a man like him. Thank-you kindly, lovely! <3

More short king headcanons!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: gender neutral reader

Nakahara Chuuya

So, Chuuya's memories only start from when he was seven. He essentially woke up to being dragged out of a dark void, before Arahabaki's power exploded and created the crater that eventually became Suribachi City. We don't know much about the intervening eight years between when he was freed and when he met Dazai, but it's easy to assume he was living in the slums, either on the streets or squatting in empty buildings. The point I'm driving at is that Chuuya didn't really have a domestic life until he joined the Sheep, and probably nowhere comfortable until he joined the Port Mafia.

As such, he doesn't take his home for granted.

It took Chuuya a while to cultivate his current taste. His first couple of Port Mafia paychecks were probably spent on clothes, food, games—stuff a fifteen year old street rat would want but couldn't afford. Kouyou stepped in when she realised his room looked like an empty box with a bed and clothes strewn everywhere. She insists she's not his mother, but she took him under her wing and directed him toward interior design and actually buying furniture beyond a bed.

Nowadays, Chuuya doesn't need any help whatsoever. I feel like his taste leans toward 1920s luxury. Think art deco, deep colours, polished woods, lots of light. He's upgraded his living space a few times to go along with his rise in status, and one of his favourite things is working out how he's gonna make this empty white box into a home.

This man has antiques. He ignored all the jokes and bought himself an antique hat stand that sits in his foyer. Dazai can go choke; it makes Chuuya happy. He's careful about what he picks—he doesn't enjoy clutter for the sake of clutter, unless it belongs to his s/o. (Your stuff triggers his simp switch and he likes seeing it around, mixed with his things.)

Now, he's also a 21st-Century guy with a lot of money on his hands, so there'll be copious gadgets mixed in with the tasteful vintage decor. He has every games console going, and one of those ridiculous TVs that comes out from behind a panel in the wall. The coffee machine in the kitchen would put a hipster coffee shop to shame, honestly.

He has a big closet. You can't look at that guy and tell me he doesn't have a walk-in wardrobe. Padded hangers, cedarwood drawers, stands for his hats, a drawer full of gloves—your guy has them all. He insisted on cedarwood because it discourages moths, and smells a lot better than mothballs.

Despite his bad habit of throwing his overcoat and gloves around, Chuuya takes care of his things, including his home. He's not a neat freak, but he's trained himself to take dishes to the kitchen, throw out trash, etc. If his s/o lives with him, he tries to split the chores 50/50 but it's not always feasible if he's out working long hours. If the housework gets too much, he'll hire someone to come in and take care of it.

He doesn't like washing up, but will take care of all the dusting, take out the trash, and he rarely generates much laundry because this expensive mofo gets it dry cleaned. The washing up thing is because he hates rubber gloves, and wet food touching his bare hands gives him the ick. He'll dry the dishes. Honestly, though, he probably invests in a dishwasher and a roomba (nicknamed Dazai, because it sucks.)

Chuuya doesn't get a lot of downtime, so he tries to make it count. Time spent with you is the best, even if it just involves sitting around the apartment catching up on books, movies, or TV shows he's wanted to consume. He likes going shopping, but he especially likes going shopping with you to buy stuff for the apartment. He refuses to go to the hellscape that is Ikea, but most other places are fair game. He likes his own taste, of course, but Chuuya likes seeing things around the apartment that you've chosen. He looks for ways to blend your taste with his, so you create a cosy, harmonious place that reflects the both of you.

#Yokohama Pound #bungou stray dogs #Nakahara Chuuya #Chuuya x Reader #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #glorious fluff

[queenlegacyproductions]

Royally Bitter Tension

Summary: Riley Carter is back again in the Mixed Match Challenge to defend her crown as the first and reigning Mixed Mixed Challenge Champion. Unfortunately for The American Gangsta, her partner Kevin Owens is currently out of action due to a severe knee injury caused by Bobby Lashley, one of her opponents in the first round, Country Dominance with Mickie James. In order for Riley to compete and defend her title as the Mixed Match Challenge Champion, she would have to team up with The Bruiserweight, Pete Dunne to do so. However, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. And it gets even harder when Riley tells him off one too many times about his bad attitude. Is the tension between The Raw Women’s Champion and The United Kingdom Champion really animosity?

Warnings: Smut

~///~

‘I’m gonna kill both Bobby and that little mothball of his when I get my hands on them.’ Riley thought as she fiercely marched to the office of the acting general manager Baron Corbin with the fury only an American Gangsta is capable of having after watching what had happened just a few minutes ago.

Bobby had attacked Kevin viciously after he beat him. But that’s not even the tip of the iceberg that sunk this whole Titanic into the sea of Bullshit. It was the news of Kevin cannot compete in The Mixed Match Challenge due to not one knee injury but two knee injuries.

Yeah, The Raw Women’s Champion is not a happy camper.

Riley finally makes it to Baron’s office when she walks in without knocking, seeing Baron texting.

“Corbin!” Riley yelled at him as she walks into his office. “You want to explain to me what the hell that was out there?!”

Baron rolls his eyes at the irate strawberry red headed woman that now stood in front of him. “Explain what, Riley?”

Riley sputtered in disbelief at his question. “Really? Did you not watch the show? The show that you’re running until Kurt comes back? And you’re helping the show run a lot more smoothly than Kurt.” Riley guffaws sarcastically at the last statement. “Jesus christ.”

“I would watch what you say next, Riley.” Baron threatened her. “I don’t think Stephan-.”

“Corbin, stop. Stephanie doesn’t scare me. I scare her, okay? Pretty sure she wouldn’t want to confront me after the shit I put her through.” Riley laughed. “Besides, she’ll tell you that I’m not the one to try because I can be a pain in someone’s ass, especially ones of authority figures.” Riley warns him. This quiets the once-was lone wolf. “Now, be a good boy and tell me what do you plan on doing about lashley and that little moth of his?”

“Well, I’ll tell he can do.” An annoying voice said behind Baron. Riley rolled her eyes in annoyance as Lio Rush appeared behind Corbin with Bobby and Mickie behind him.

“What my man, the acting general manager of Raw can do is have my man, my man who looks like money and smells like money, the man that came back to dominate, my man Bobby Lashley and his Mixed Match Challenge partner Mickie James proceed in the tournament since you, Ms. Carter, do not have a tag team partner.”

“So you want me to forfeit?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, you must be out of your rabbit ass mind if you think i’m gonna forfeit to those two losers behind you, ya little-.”

“Riley, stop it.” Baron cuts her off. “Lio does have a point. You don’t have a partner for the challenge. But i’m not gonna have you forfeit.” He said quickly before she could protest. “Instead, I'm gonna tell you who your partner will be for the Mixed Match Challenge.”

“Who?” Riley asked before there was a knock at the door. Baron smirks at her.

“I think it’s best if I showed you.” He tells her before he tells whoever’s at the door that it’s open. The door opens up to reveal Pete Dunne, Tyler Bate, and Trent Seven. Riley quirks up an eyebrow in confusion.

“British Strong Style?” She asked.

“One member of the British Strong Style will be your partner for the Mixed Match Challenge since the NXT UK division will be apart of the Raw brand. And since Tyler and Trent are currently busy with the tag team tournament that’s taking place tomorrow, that leaves Pete to be your partner.” Baron explained. Lio laughs at the news.

“Really? You’re gonna have Pete team with Riley?” Lio laughs. “You sure you don’t want to forfeit?” Before Riley could respond to the Man of The Hour, a voice beats her to it.

“That’s a good question, Rush.” Pete spoke as he stood beside Riley, title over his shoulder. “You sure you guys don’t want to forfeit before we break your fingers?” The question made Riley snicker.

“I think you should be careful, Bobby. This one likes to bite.” She playfully warns him with a giggle. Bobby steps closer to Riley threateningly but Pete steps in front of her. The two men stare each other before Bobby and Co. walk away. Riley and the boys leave as well. As the fellas start to walk away from her, she speaks up to Pete.

“Hey, Pete.” She says as she grabs his arm. He turns around, annoyed at the contact. Riley quickly releases her grip on his arm, suddenly intimidated. “I just wanted to say thank you for standing up for me in there. I appreciate it.” Pete then turns to face her head on.

“I wasn’t standing up for you. I didn’t want them getting any ideas that they should take me lightly. I was making a statement, not watching your back.” Pete said with a harsh edge to his words. The gaze he held on her made her nervous which she hated thus pissing her off.

“Hey, no need to get snippy, Sourpuss.” She snapped at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re gonna be teammates which means we have to get along. And in order for this ship to sail in Shit’s Creek properly, I’mma need for you to check yo attitude before ya board because it ain’t allowed on Captain Carter’s Ship Of No Bullshit. Okay, Sweetiekins?” She asked him before she twists her face in a snarl. She didn’t wait for him to answer as she turns around and walks away from him, hips swaying fiercely as she heads over to her locker room. Pete’s upper lip turns up into a similar snarl as he watches her walk away from him as Tyler and Trent laugh at him.

“That’s like the first time I ever heard absolute silence from you in a confrontation.” Tyler says as he laughs harder with Trent.

“Shut up.” Pete mutters lowly in his deep voice and walks away from his best friends who were still laughing like hyenas.

~///~

The next day, Pete arrives at the arena. Since Riley told him off, The two members of Mustache Mountain had noticed that Pete hasn’t been the same since then. The man was more non-approachable than ever before. He’d grunt a response for every question thrown at him more so than usual. The 5’5” Gangsta had rubbed The Bruiserweight the wrong way. Pete had walked into his locker room, shut and locked the door as he shed his street clothes and snapback to get ready for the mixed tag match. His mind then goes back to Riley.

‘Just who the hell she thinks she is? She thinks she can talk to me in any kind of way?’ He thought as he walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He growled as he remembers the confrontation between him and his tag team partner.

‘Fucking woman with her big mouth, her attitude. But she is cute.’ Pete smirks at he remembers her shape. ‘Her lips, her tits, her hips, her ass, her thighs. Everything about her is so plump. I just wanna bite all of it. Just eat her up. Maybe she’d be less attitudinal when I’m head first between them thighs.’ Pete chuckles at the thoughts of her as his early Thanksgiving meal as he strips out the rest of his clothing and gets in the shower. Meanwhile, Riley was in her locker room, changing into her costume ring gear that was inspired by DC Character Zatanna Zatara. As she grabs her top hat, there was a knock on her door.

“It’s open!” She yelled out as she dusts off her hat. She turns around to see Tyler and Trent walk in. “Oh, hey fellas.” She walks over to Tyler to hug him before she goes to hug Trent. “Where’s Pete?” She asked.

Tyler sighs before he answers. “Pete’s here but he’s a little more bitter than usual. I think he really didn’t like being told off like that.” Riley rolls her eyes at the news.

“Well, he better start liking it. I heard of his bad attitude before. I’m not dealing with his attitude nor am I babysitting his goddamn ego. It’s hard enough work to properly stroke and maintain my own damn ego.” This gets a chuckle from another voice. The trio turns towards the door to see Pete standing at the door with a smirk.

“I’m pretty sure that’s true, Carter.” He said as he steps into the room. He stops right in front of her.“But you are aware of pride coming before the fall, aren’t ya sweetheart?” he asked, his tone getting lowly in a threatening yet teasing tone in his voice. He smirks as he notices her shiver at the question but just as quick she shivered, her brown eyes lit up with fury.

“Oh, I know, Petey. That’s why I'm Raw Women’s Champion and I won it in the first tournament that Raw had when it was first vacated. Unlike some people who lost in the first-ever United Kingdom Championship Tournament to his best friend in the finals.” Riley gives him a sickly sweet smile as she speaks her words of venom at the current United Kingdom Champion. Pete squares up his shoulder as his upper lip turns up, that signature snarl of his making its presence be known. Despite that feeling of intimidation coming to rear its ugly head back in her mind, she pushes it down as she smirks at the now fuming Bruiserweight. She tilts her head to the side in a feint innocent motion.

“Aww, what’s the matter, sourpuss?” Riley says the mocking nickname like Daffy Duck this time. “Don’t like me taking the piss out of ya? It gets under your skin, doesn’t it? You want to hit me, do ya?” She asked, taunting him. Pete steps closer to her, their faces now just at least than an inch away from each other. They hold that position for a few moments before a stagehand knocks on the door. Pete ends up growling at the poor soul before he stomps out of the room to head for gorilla. Trent and Tyler looks to Riley with deep concern. Riley playfully rolls her eyes at the two men’s faces.

“If things go right, Petey will be so mad at me to the point that he takes it out on little Bob.” Riley smirks at the two brits before she grabs her title and walks over to gorilla. She wraps her title around her waist before she hears the first few notes of Six Shooter by Coyote Kisses rattles the arena to its core at the crowd’s reaction. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkFZn4oPMqE

“And here comes the first ever Mixed Challenge Champion. The Raw Women’s Champion. The American Gangsta, Riley Carter.” Michael said at the commentary.

“Riley, the champ, here to defend her crown here tonight…” Renee said as Pete’s theme song plays as Riley waits on the stage for him, smirking at Country Dominance. “....but she has new backup in the form of The United Kingdom Champion.”

“That’s right, Renee. It’s not Kevin Owens, her original partner since Kevin suffered severe injuries in both knees at the hands of one Bobby Lashley who Pete will face tonight on Mixed Match Challenge.” Vic said as Pete did his usual bit with his fists to his chin with the title between his teeth as Riley takes off her hat, giving the crowd a bow before she puts it back on.

“The two teams facing off against each other tonight are Country Dominance, the team of Mickie James and Bobby Lashley and The new team of Pete Dunne and Riley Carter who calls themselves The Bruiser Legacy.”  Michael speaks as Riley sits on the ring ropes as Pete poses again in the ring right beside her. They both looked at each other with a smirk as Pete helped her inside the ring, glancing at her ass as she steps inside.

Riley and Pete managed to take control of the match since Peter bend, yanked, snapped, stomped, and even bit Bobby’s fingers in the very beginning of the match. However, Lio had distracted him which allowed Bobby to take control for the rest of the match but Riley turns the tides when she tagged herself in much to Pete’s displeasure. At some point in the match, she manages to tag Pete back in who takes the reins smoothly from where Riley left off, gaining some much needed momentum. Pete was setting up for the bitter end when Lio got on the apron to distract the ref. As Lio was distracting the ref, Riley quickly dispatches of Mickie at ringside as she slides in the ring. Riley then picks up Bobby and sets him up and hits her version of the GTS which causes Bobby to pop up to his feet which allows Pete to hit the Bitter End for the victory for The Bruiser Legacy. While Riley goes to raise Pete’s hand in victory, he snaps away from her.

“What the hell was that, Carter?!” He yelled at her. Riley rolls her eyes at him.

“A victory, Petey. You know winning?” she sarcastically replied.

“I meant that GTS, Carter. I didn’t need that! I had him-”

“-Almost beat us! Yeah, I noticed that. That’s why I got involved. After all, I was just making a statement.” Riley snapped at him using his words. “And my statement is that in this partnership, I am the one wearing the pants, okay? After all, they’re too big for a little boy like you.” Riley walked away from him again, leaving him in the ring as she goes back to her locker room which thankfully was empty.

~///~

About an hour later, Riley arrives at the hotel that everyone was staying and checks in at the front desk before going to her hotel room which was the penthouse suite.

‘Nice…’ Riley thought as she walks to the elevator. ‘Spacious place and a big comfy bed. Yes.’ She waits for the elevator and gets on when it arrives. Right before it closes again, a hand gets in between the door which makes the elevator to open again and reveal the last face Riley wanted to see right now. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe.

“Couldn’t wait for the next elevator, Dunne?” Riley asked him dryly. This gets a smirk out of him.

“No. Not really.” He responded as he boards the elevator. “Besides, I believe this is the perfect place to do this.” Riley’s face turns to one of confusion as he stops the elevator.

“Do wha-?” Before she could ask the question, she squeals as Pete manages to back her up against the wall of the elevator with one hand around her jaw.

“To do this.” He taunted her as he makes her look at him, that same look that had intimidated her in the past. Pete chuckles at her frightened reaction.

“Oh. Is someone scared now if what I gonna do to you, Darlin’?” Pete taunted her, pleased with her reaction. However, Riley’s eyes hardened with defiance but Pete continues.

“No, you’re not scared.” He leans closer to her. “You’re turned on.”  Riley’s eyes widened at the statement.

“What?” She asked breathlessly as Pete moves his hand from her jaw to her neck. He tightens his grip a little which makes the strawberry redheaded women’s champion whimper much to his amusement.

“You heard me, Darlin’.” Pete said as he presses his hard body against her plump one, making her breath quicken. “You’re turned on. You’re turned on for me, aren’t ya?” He chuckles again when he doesn’t get a response from her. “I bet you’re so fucking wet for me, my little luv.”

Riley’s fiery attitude makes its appearance for the first time in the encounter. “Probably not since you’re not anything spec-.” She gasps out suddenly cutting off her sentence due to Pete’s knee rubbing against her pussy through her panties.

“There you go again, trying to give me lip.” Riley whines and bit her lip as Pete simultaneously squeezes her neck and presses his knee harder against her pussy. “I know you want this, Riley. And I’m willing to give it to you.” Pete takes hold of her jaw again this time gently to have her look at him. “But only if you’re willing to be a good little girl and listen to Daddy.” He could see the conflict in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be weakness if you do give in, Darlin’. In fact, you’d be showing strength by letting me take the reins and you know why?”

“No..”

“Because that shows me that you trust me with your pleasure, luv.” Pete runs his thumb across her bottom lip. “And that’s all I want, baby. All I want is to please you. That’s why I was so upset earlier. I wanted to beat Bobby on my own to impress you. To prove that I can be there for you. For anything, my darlin’ gangsta.” Riley sighs at the news, now feeling like an asshole. She goes to apologize but Pete stops her with a soft kiss on her lips. She whimpers into the kiss and she runs her fingers through his hair as she pulls him closer. They pull away once their lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen.

“It’s alright, luv. I’m not mad anymore. Not after I figured you out. But you still..” He pauses to kiss her lips again. “..Haven’t.” Kiss on her jawline. “Answered.” Kiss on her neck. “Daddy.” Kiss behind her ear before he sucks on her earlobe.

“Yes. Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy.”  She begged him, clawing at his shoulders.

“Mmm, good girl.” Pete restarts the elevator as it takes them to the penthouse suite in the hotel. Pete puts her legs around his waist as he kisses her lips again. He takes her off the wall of the elevator and carries her to the bedroom to place her on the bed. Pete moves his kisses down to her neck and collarbone as he undos the buttons on her shirt. Riley moans loudly as Pete bites her neck when he gets her shirt off. This makes him laugh, his voice becoming deeper with lust as he admires the red lace bra that currently housed her huge breasts. He runs his hands gently over them, making the redhead moan and squirm under his touch.

“Red looks really good on you. Makes your skin glow.” Riley whimpered when he cups them, squeezing them. “But then again, knowing you, you could make anything look good.” He leans down to suck her nipples through her bra.

“Pete…” Riley whines as he gives both nipples a pinch before he sits back up. She shrieks as he rips the bra from her, her breasts bouncing at his roughness. “Peter!”

“I would apologize for that but it wouldn’t be sincere.” He laughs before he kissed her lips which were frowning since he just ruined her favorite bra. “It’s ok, luv. I’ll buy you more.” He continues to kiss down her body to her skirt. “Especially since that’s gonna be my new habit of mine.” He smirks at her shy reaction. “Does my pet like that idea?” he smiles.

Riley nods her head, returning his smile. “Yes, I do.” She moans as Pete bites her hips by the waistline of her skirt. “Hey, what am I? A piece of candy?” She asked him as he pulls off her skirt.

“Well, you do look like caramel candy.” Pete complimented her as he kisses up her legs to her inner thighs. “A wet caramel candy at that.”

Riley throws her head back as Pete licks a strip from her opening to her clit. “Ah, fuck!” She screamed as her back arched up in pleasure when Pete sucks on her clit.

Pete growled as she bucked her hips in his face. “That’s it, luv. Ride my fucking face. Feed me that sweetness.” He smacked her ass which made her wetter and pant faster. “Fuck, you’re fucking dripping everywhere, Darlin’.” Pete then licks his fingers and puts them in her pussy. “And it’s fucking tight, too.”

Riley moans wantonly as Pete fingers her pussy faster, making her legs shake as she suddenly cums hard on his fingers. “Oh, shit Daddy! Daddy!”

“Yes, good girl! Good girl.” Pete said as he slowed his pace down to clean up her juices. “Fuck, you taste so good.” he mutters as he takes off his jacket and shirt before he kisses up her body, climbing on top of her as he does. Riley runs her hands up Pete’s chest and shoulders before he takes them in his, intertwining their fingers as he pins them to the bed.

“There will be another time for you to survey the goods but right now, I just want you.” Pete said, kissing her again before he slips inside her. Riley gasps as Pete stretches her out. Pete smirks at her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and she was panting heavily.

“Daddy, move. Please, please fuck me. Fuck me hard. I want it. I want it rough.”  She begged him as she wraps her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back. Pete growled as he pulls out her pussy before he thrusted hard back inside, making her squeal with his rough pace. “Oh, fuck yes Daddy! Yes!”

Pete growls as he moved her legs from around his waist to his shoulders without once losing his pace. “Fuck, luv. You’re squeezing m’ cock so good. Shit! You like it? You like it when I fuck you like this? Huh? When daddy fucks you like a little slut?”

Riley giggles, loving his dirty talk. “You mean your little slut, Daddy?” She asked him which makes him smirk.

“That’s right. My beautiful slut.” he said as he puts one of his hands around her neck, squeezing it and groaning as her pussy squeezes him tighter as he does. “Bloody hell, Riley! You’re squeezing me tighter. You wanna cum for me?” Riley nods her head but it wasn't enough to please Pete. Instead, he smacks her ass and squeezes her neck tighter. “Answer me, Sweetie.”

“Y-Yes! Yes, Pete. I wanna cum! Please let me cum!” Riley whimpered. Pete lets go of her neck and leans closer to her face.

“Look at me as you cum for me. Right now. Cum for me. Right. Now!” He commanded. Riley screamed, fighting the urge to close her eyes as she reaches her peak, drenching his dick and the bed sheets with her juices. Her intense orgasm was enough to trigger Pete’s as he fills her pussy with load after load of his seed. He kissed her as they both come down from their prospective highs. The silence was broken by Riley who speaks in a sleepy tone.

“I love you, Sourpuss.” Pete smiles at her before he kisses her again, rolling off of her.

“I love you too, Darlin’.” He responds as he spoons her from behind.

“I guess we’re together then?” She playfully asks as she looks at him with a smirk.

“Looks like we’re gonna have round two because apparently I didn’t hit that pussy right for you to still be awake.” She shrieks before she giggles as Pete snatches her up on top of him.

A/N: Let me know what you think! This was written before the great Tumblr a few years back and it was just collecting dust in my drafts lol.

#WWE #wwe smut #Pete Dunne #pete dunne x oc #pete dunne x poc #pete dunne smut #pete dunne imagines #wwe x reader #pete dunne x reader #old work

[linksthoughtbrambles]

<adventure log- 000000000010- error: invalid function handle- please update and recompile- contact your system administrator if this problem persists.>

Let's see what's in here.

Holy Hylia, I'm hallucinating!!

...(Who's Hylia?) "Hey voice-lady? Are you Hylia?"

I am not.

"...Oh." Wow, talking hurt! I'm all sandpapery. I need water, and soon.

...Uh. This is what was in the weird magical-or-possibly-insanity-glow-chest? These pants are for someone a foot shorter than I am. They look like fifty moths have taken chunks out of them. Sniffing... I don't smell that mothball smell. Someone screwed up. Someone didn't bother with proper clothing-storage procedure.

Look at you, all judgy, Link. Be honest with yourself. Have you ever put mothballs in a chest for long-term storage before?

...I have absolutely no idea.

Yeesh, sudden itch. Oh. Oh, is that smell me? Oh man, the instant I raised my arm--CRAP. Nothing to be done about it now. Unless I fill that bathtub back up. ... I don't really feel like going back there to figure out how to do that.

Okay, let's put these short-pants on. Or... try to. They're really tight! The belt almost seems silly at this... point... what was that sound? It came from the slate.

Huh?? HUH?! THIS THING KNOWS WHAT I'M WEARING??!!! WHAT THE FRICK? How does it know?! Is it reading my mind? That can't be all, because it's... what? "Well-Worn Trousers..." These old trousers are threadbare in spots--well, yeah, I noticed that already. What, you have nothing to say about all those moth-eaten holes? But they're surprisingly comf--WHAT? Are you kidding me?! How the hell do you think you know that, slate?! I mean, it's true, I thought they'd be super-itchy-and-scratchy, but they're not.

Link?

"Oh. Hi." Wow, that hurts.

I can hear you think, Link. You don't need to speak aloud.

Oh. Great! Wait... you can hear me?

Indeed.

Cool.

Heh. Yes.

...Um. The slate even says the legs of my pants are too short. How does it know that?

...I'm not entirely certain. Would you accept an educated guess?

You're educated?

Well... yes.

Cool.

...I would have to imagine that... certain features of the slate unlock only if you use it, Link.

Features?

Yes. I... was certainly unaware of this inventory feature until now. Perhaps you should see what's in the other chest.

Sure, why not?

It's a really small shirt. The seams are totally just coming apart on this thing. It's just as moth-eaten as the pants, too. It's still probably better than nothing.

And there's that ding-a-ding-a-ding sound again. ...Yep. The slate knows I'm wearing this shirt. It's telling me the shirt's thin... which I already knew. And coming apart... yeah, I knew that, too. And... better... than... nothing... Isn't that exactly what I thought when I looked at it?

Hey, Voice-Lady?

Yes, Link.

Could the slate be hearing me think, too?

I... I'm not sure. It's possible.

...Cool! Hey, are these your clothes?

No.

They seem like girls' clothes. Capris and three-quarter-sleeves.

Perhaps they belonged to a man considerably shorter than you.

Could be. Or a kid, maybe.

Perhaps you are simply tall.

...You sounded smiley.

Did I?

Yep, and do you know how tall I am?

I do.

...Are you going to tell me?

No.

-----

<navigation- adventure log- view previous log- view next log- return to log archive>

#adventure log- #botw #zelda #zelink #loz #legend of zelda #fanfic #fanfic sort of #my screenshots #screenshots as prompts #this is so much fun #humor #the slate can totally read link's mind

[red-meat-my-beloved]

Sometimes Sam thinks Dean and dad are from a different country than he is. They tell him about their shared memories with glazed over eyes and a softness in their voice as if describing a Caribbean beach. They’d talk about it as if it’s a place they can return to and take Sam with them.

Sometimes, Sam only hears about it in passing, in a grumble in Dean’s voice as he tucks him in: In Before Mom Died, dad came home every evening or coated in sad reminiscing in a diner booth: In Before Mom died, they ate a home cooked meal every day and Mom could cook the best Russet potatoes. He hears it invoked right before the door slams: In Before Mom Died, they went to sleep in their own bed in their own room.

He sometimes thinks he’s caught glimpses of it through open windows and in public parks and chases the image like a moth to a flame. He barely contains his glee when Stephanie invites him over for Thanksgiving.

Like an anthropologist, he takes note how the inhabitants here say grace before eating, who cuts the turkey, where everyone goes after dinner, how the bottle of wine doesn’t get finished all the way, the fact the couch doesn’t smell like mothballs and gun oil.

There’s a documentary on in history class, something about feudal England and he’s only half paying attention. The villagers are chased out of their homes. The ones that don’t run fast enough get stabbed by soldiers. They set fire to whatever’s – whoever’s-  left.

Sam knows it wasn’t his fault. How could it have been? He was a baby, he tells himself, even though that simple justification never sat right with him. Dean and dad don’t blame him. Maybe that should be enough.

But watching the flames dance through the low resolution on the TV, the poor villagers running in terror, he can’t help but think,

I did that.

#yes this did cut into my precious questing time #but i had to write it before i left for my cousins wedding #i dont have any complicated feelings about my family why do you ask #red writes #fanfic

[thebeigecurtain]

The apples are in the fridge. Lee was over the other day and I dug through the clasped orange mailer I keep your letters in. We decided neither of us had officially made the filling for the pies, you always did it before we got there. All you'd tell us was that drying on a "piller" case in the sun was the best way. I find loose instructions scrawled at the top of some notebook paper noting dried apples are best. Lots of sugar. Needs to be cold to make pies. Okay, I've dried them. The apples are in the fridge.

The last ones you made tasted of moth balls. I spit a mouthful into the trash, twisting the corners of my lips into a frown. The nurse aide who helped you with your baths and your dishes and things mostly a mystery to me, asked you to show her to make them. Your daughter in law, my momma, placed the mothballs. Presumably, in every corner of your single-wide. You thought they'd keep snakes away; but a quick google search tells me that's not true and the smell hit me like a wall each time I opened the screen door.

Watching you get weaker tasted like the last pies you made.

Once you moved down to momma's house I sat with you a lot. You chuckled remembering my ability to walk barefoot across the gravel to your trailer and told me, ever so truthfully, that you couldn't remember what your house looked like. You said it was there, but "real....faint". We held hands. I dug through the closet in the room where your bed was on two occasions because you'd been staring at the door, wondering what was behind it. Old home videos, VHS tapes, a hat from Halloween, some Dr Seuss books. I told you Mr Brown Can Moo was one of my favorites and you thumbed through it. You showed me the pattern on your pajama pants - "in't that perty?" - talked so highly of my mother - poked, grinning at my smallest niece who insisted you sip water from the straw she placed at your lips - appeased her with nibbles from the Hershey's bars she brought you.

It was 2:16 am when you stopped breathing. Your breastbone rose and fell under the gaze of your son, Momma, and I. Your hand was held and we were there. Momma lit a cigarette at 2:24. My dad wiped the sleep from his eyes. I smoothed your hair.

Four months later I'm still struggling to string together the words I want to use. There's something about an Oldsmobile with small pots of Carmex in the compartments by the door handle. Cats on the porch, pringles and RC cans, and you, squatting on an overturned bucket in the garden. Splitting peas and picking strawberries and the screwdriver you used to hold the gate shut. Westerns and crosswords and your letters in my mailbox. Butter pecan ice cream and pretending to hear what someone had said. Always being able to hear my mom. Mini cokes and grocery lists she'd take to town; an index card, print in all caps. Gallon jugs of cheese balls and the type of candy grannies keep for grandchildren. The way you started saying "I love you" after you turned 95. And apples you'd pulled from the fridge. Fit for making pies with.

#me

[luckdies]

What is left of me? What's left when the things you tangled up your self worth and sense of self into, are no longer possible? Everyone I could ask this will scramble to remind me that I can find new purpose or that I don't need one or that such-and-such thing is also me, so I'm not totally vanishing.

I feel like an expensive cardigan that's been disintegrated by an army of moths. They will remind me that I can still be patched. Some of them will imply that I'm being lazy if I don't do the patching myself. None of them will buy the fabric and thread.

If you still have use for me, care for me yourself. I'm tired of being a broken thing in the back of a closet that of course, doesn't even smell of mothballs. I'm tired of the dark.

#it speaks #I'm tired and it's only more exhausting that I will never end myself. How exhausting it is to be depressed for concrete reasons #While not being suicidal at all. How ANNOYING. IT'S ANNOYING. MAKE IT STOP.

[originaltransusername]

life tip: mothballs and cedar balls are NOT the same thing.

Cedar balls will make your stuff smell a little fusty/attic smelling but it’s not a big deal. And they do genuinely work to some degree against wool moths so it’s worth having them. If you get them in your house by accident, wool moths will eat holes in your first born baby without remorse (assuming your first born is actually just a wool sweater you spent a lot of time knitting or a lot of money on). So battle is absolutely required.

moth balls are fucking rancid and will destroy your entire life if you’re not careful. they do fucking work, but don’t believe any of the nonsense you see about ‘oh, you can put it in a dresser drawer and it’s fine’. Lies. You will be able to smell it, and it’s a terrible chemical smell that makes you wonder how many brain cells it’s killing off in you. Even when I put my woolens in a trash bag with tape over the opening I could still smell the damn things. The only way I found them to be at all bearable is to use them by putting everything in a sealed trash bag and then putting the trash bag on my porch so I wouldn’t have to smell it.

also the second way they get you is that the smell absolutely does not dissipate quickly once you get the wool item into the air for a bit. Nope. You put on a sweater that’s been marinating in Moth Ball Aroma for a week and you will smell like moth balls, even after hours of airing out. Anything you treat with moth balls has to go straight into the bathtub for a gentle wash to get the smell out. (Tip: use a no-rinse wool wash like Soak or Woolite, don’t agitate the water to avoid felting, and lay your items flat to dry). 

#wool moths #adult problems #the real life pro tip is to just not get wool moths

[sailorgear2]

Embracing Green Cleansing Merchandise, Processes

Once back on the soap method for a month or so, my pores and skin once more cleared. Later, I ran out of cleaning soap throughout a stormy weekend and used up the final of the detergent as a substitute. My face is happier and healthier with cleaning soap, and so is the baby’s backside. Instead of bleach, I use about half a cup of borax in a five-gallon bucket of heat water. This strategy doesn’t take away stains fairly in addition to bleaching does, but—again—I’m keen to put up with the stains in change for not having bleach in the home or in the sewage system. The borax eliminates the smell just as successfully, and our children have had no issues with diaper rash. You an additionally try setting moth traps in choose areas for monitoring infestations. The common mothball is made of paradichlorobenzene, which is dangerous to liver and kidneys. Cedar chips in a cheesecloth sq., or cedar oil in an absorbent cloth will repel moths. The cedar should be ‘aromatic cedar’, also referred to as juniper in some areas. Cedar chips are available at many craft provide shops, or make your personal using a airplane and a block of cedar from the lumberyard. To cut back static cling, dampen your hands and shake out your clothes as you remove them from the dryer. There are plenty of NGOs (non-governmental organizations), EPA initiatives, non-U.S. Country guidelines, and so on., that are setting standards and reviewing chemical components and cleaners. We provide non-acidic, pH balanced cleaners with out petroleum, alcohol, ammonia or different chemical compounds however that still comprise antibacterial and antimicrobial qualities. In reality, disinfectants might do extra harm than good to humans. Natan's group examined one in style disinfectant spray and found that it contained a chemical identified to break the reproductive techniques in the offspring of pregnant rats, even in small amounts. 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This promising disinfectant was proven to reduce bacterial levels on surfaces near patients to greater degree than a quaternary ammonium disinfectant in one study . CDC doesn't present recommendations for, or in opposition to, any manufacturer or product. There are numerous technologies being heavily marketed to offer air cleansing in the course of the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. 清潔公司 among these are ionization, gaseous hydrogen peroxide, and chemical fogging disinfection. Some products in the marketplace embody combinations of these applied sciences. Have patients stand behind clearly marked lines to keep their distance from staff at various intervals. All of those actions require communication to physicians and employees about why these measures are being taken and how they will be accomplished with their security as the primary priority. Equally paramount, is to provide the training and instruction essential to appropriately reuse and clean PPE. Since most present UV-C gentle sources are designed to run off AC, a small DC-to-AC adapter can be the expeditious method to go, and is dead-simple project for any 3rd yr EE scholar. Skilled Mount Pleasant Roof Cleansing Keeping up regular maintenance of your home and its environment is very important. Most people give consideration to cleansing only the interiors of their properties, forgetting that the outside siding needs to be maintained also. Moreover, cleaning could be exhausting work particularly when you need to spend hours washing, scrubbing, and mopping. We take nice pride in the evaluations gained from our pleased clients, and would love nothing greater than the prospect to restore your Happiness at Home too. An unclean neighborhood can have a critical impact on property values. It will start to turn into very difficult for residents to promote their homes. Professional and courteous, super responsive, easy to schedule, and quality work product. We have been recommending their Pressure Washing services to our neighbors, and would highly recommend their companies.. Accordingly, the franchise info package nor any other info regarding a Window Genie franchise shall be supplied to any particular person within such states. State and native laws might influence the companies this independently owned and operated franchise location could carry out presently. Please contact the franchise location for extra info. We tremendously recognize the historical past and the future of each town. For finest results and most safety, experts suggest having home washing done once per 12 months. Welcome to Best Around Pressure Washing, the leading pressure washing supplier for property owners in the Nashville area. We offer all the thorough exterior cleaning you want to maintain your own home or enterprise property wanting impeccable, and we're at all times pleased to welcome new purchasers to the Best Around Pressure Washing family. The longer they're allowed to sit on your siding and concrete, the larger of a problem they will become. 15 Ways Youre Cleansing Your Toilet All Mistaken, In Accordance With Specialists The product instructions should make that clear if the label doesn't. Stash these handy, citrus-scented cleaning wipes somewhere in your rest room and use them to quickly wipe down surfaces . Safe to use on non-porous surfaces corresponding to sinks, glazed tiles, counter tops, and bathrooms, these wipes are a fast and easy way to maintain your rest room clear. We researched the most effective toilet cleaners out there online, evaluating effectiveness, scent, formulation, and ease of use. For recent grease spots, sprinkle cornstarch onto spot and wait 15 – half-hour earlier than vacuuming. For a heavy-duty carpet cleaner, mix 1/4 cup every of salt, borax and vinegar. For a squeaky clean bathroom, mix one cup of baking soda with 15 drops of tea tree important oil and 15 drops of lemon or orange essential oil, says James. Let the mixture sit within the bowl for half-hour, then scrub with a bowl brush earlier than flushing. As with all disinfectants, the so-called dwell time is important. The virus could survive and stay infectious on some hard surfaces for up to three days, and disinfecting surfaces stays a cornerstone of the CDC’s tips for shielding yourself. Use a separate cloth to wipe the solution off the seat, lid and handle. The sodium hypochlorite in this solution can kill a number of bacteria and viruses, including the coronavirus, in only one minute. For info on items that disinfectant will damage, check out Is It Safe to Sanitize Your Phone? We've rounded up the products that are best formulated to eliminate cleaning soap scum and mildew, whereas also preserving your bathroom protected. Industry-leading ACTICARE™ services and products that clean, disinfect and sanitize amenities and automobiles to maintain your manufacturing protected and at its peak. Alarm over coronavirus has a lot of people scrubbing and sanitizing their phones and different gadgets. This bleach-based cleaner works in a single minute but will harm materials, and the fumes are harsh. Thank you for sharing such an informative and nice blog about bathroom cleaning. Make the clear feeling last more through the use of natural toilet deodorizers to maintain your toilet smelling contemporary and clean. Because the selfmade cleaner doesn’t have preservatives, Live Simply suggested every week to two-week shelf life for this product. The Means To Clear Curtains And Window Therapies This liquidless sponge absorbs filth, dust and pollens that have settled within the drapes. The drapes are then misted lightly with Drapery Fresh which displaces oily soils and "freshens" drapes. While dusting should be done weekly, steam cleansing may be done on a much less frequent schedule or as wanted. Depending on your budget, buy an inexpensive handheld steam cleaner or rent one. Before beginning the process, seek the advice of the manufacturer's label to make sure you received't harm the curtains with this method. Be sure to follow the manufacturer's instructions relating to the amount of water to add and heating time, because it varies according to unit. If you leave layers of pet hair on material, the oils out of your pet's coat can discolor the fabric over time. Keeping drapery, curtains, and carpets clean and dust-free is necessary for a healthy residing environment. Dirty draperies could be disagreeable and would possibly even unfold foul odor throughout your inside. We will recommend doing the “sniff test,” where you smell your drapes to examine foul odors. When the scent isn’t fresh, name Teasdale Fenton Sarasota for an expert drapery refresh. "Instead, hand-wash or machine-wash these drapes at house." To additional protect your drapes and prevent shrinking, it’s a good idea to line-dry them as an alternative of putting them in the dryer. But keep away from drying delicate fabrics on an out of doors clothesline since strong winds could cause them to snag and tear. Paper towel leaves behind fibers that gunk up the window and business cleaners won't be the most effective alternative. But with a number of modifications to your cleaning routine, you presumably can have your windows trying sparkly and spotless 12 months round. Household pets that use your upholstery to live on improve the quantity of oils and other contaminants your furnishings are subjected to. What's The Difference Between Energy Washing Vs Stress Washing? Window Gang Glass Sealant is a particular technology that provides even higher safety towards fingerprints, paw prints and other streaks than Window Gang Blue. Ideal to be used on glass doorways, sliding glass doorways and home windows in high site visitors areas. When carried out correctly, pressure cleansing of your house can extend the lifetime of your own home exterior. We’ve helped hundreds of house owners avoid costly house improvements over the years. But how do you determine the type of paint if your own home was painted by the previous owner? Most of the time, water-based paint seems thinner when dry and could even present the textures beneath. Oil-based paint is much less transparent and doesn’t simply peel away whenever you flick at it. "Indio Window Cleaning & Pressure Washing Services have also carried out a incredible job of cleansing our home windows and room strain cleansing." By preserving your property clear, you are defending your best funding. A well cared for property has significantly better curb attraction, feels higher to reside in, and can command the next value upon resale. HSG is compliant with all CDC, OSHA, State Guidelines and Applicable Laws of Covid-19. HSG Employees have been skilled, and provided the required PPE tools to make sure the security of all. It is a prime precedence of HSG to hold up a safe work surroundings at all times and all through the present crisis. If rain causes spots in your newly cleaned home windows we'll come back and re-clean them for freed from charge to you. Tips On How To Clean Your Front Room If you even have a plastic bathe curtain liner, wash it in the laundry on cold, and rehang it to dry, or replace it with a new one. The kitchen is the following hardest place to clean in the home and also one of the most necessary. This is the place we often collect as a household, sharing meals and making reminiscences. Because it’s a top precedence for our customers and tends to build up plenty of filth, we often clear the kitchen second. Here, the duties will include giving any dirty dishes a wash, wiping every surface and scrubbing the whole space, from counter tops to kitchen cabinets. How To Clean The Bathroom – The toilet wants extra intense cleaners to disinfect and remove micro organism. Unplug your dryer from the wall, and use your vacuum hose to suck up any lint or particles that’s left inside the trap. Wipe down the perimeters and top of the dryer earlier than plugging it again in. Empty your toaster or toaster oven by gently shaking out the crumbs into the rubbish can. Then, pull out the crumb tray when you have one and wash grease off the detachable trays and racks. Wipe down both the inside and outside with a mix of dish soap and vinegar. Computer screens and flat-screen TVs can get spotty. Part of maintaining the bedroom clear and arranged is to solely hold items that serve a purpose. As you start cleaning out your bed room, filter out the drawers in your dresser, nightstands or bedside tables. Start small, since going by way of your whole personal gadgets can be overwhelming to tackle all at once. ☐ Remove all gadgets from bookcases and shelving units to dust and wipe down the surfaces. ☐ Deep clean the floors, sweep and wash hardwoods and vacuum all carpeting. Spring cleaning and properly organizing your kitchen requires going the additional mile. Use this as an opportunity to gauge what you really want to maintain, and what is simply losing area. Could you image your basement or attic as a extra useful space? If so, it might be time to purge these areas, and create the space you should make that a actuality.

#清潔公司

[matchtile7]

Green Cleaning For Covid

The widespread mothball is made from paradichlorobenzene, which is harmful to liver and kidneys. Cedar chips in a cheesecloth sq., or cedar oil in an absorbent cloth will repel moths. The cedar must be ‘aromatic cedar’, also referred to as juniper in some areas. Cedar chips are available at many craft provide stores, or make your individual using a airplane and a block of cedar from the lumberyard. They substitute disinfectant, laundry detergent and bleach—and in my case, they’ve eradicated the expense of all the medicinal stuff I used to buy to clear up my face. And because 清潔公司 is clean and free of chemical smells, we don’t want air freshener. I tried utilizing both delicate cleaning soap and cleaning soap flakes on our dishes, adding things like vinegar, lemon juice and washing soda to soften the water and make the suds final. For a while, I resigned myself to using my old detergent, solely in smaller-than-recommended amounts. Made entirely from vegetable oils, Murphy’s is biodegradable and cuts grease. It doesn’t create any suds to speak of, no less than not in our hard water, however it does work. Having a number of merchandise that take care of your basic cleansing wants as a substitute of a whole arsenal of poisonous merchandise makes cleansing easier. You can get a number of cleaning jobs with out having to change products. For instance, vinegar can simply remove mildew and mildew, clear home windows bathroom bowls, and more. Slaughterhouse Cleansing And Sanitation Avoid getting moisture in any openings, and do not submerge your iPhone in any cleaning agents. The most important for an efficient chemical disinfection programme is a clean floor. Consequently, to achieve microbial management the cleaning and disinfection programme must be thorough, suitable and totally effective. These fast movies show how electrostatic sanitizing works on surfaces.This course of meets EPA & CDC criteria for safe use in opposition to COVID-19 and a lot of different virus and micro organism strains including E.Coli, influenza, and extra. Right Way’s sanitizing systems kill pathogens and use non-corrosive and non-toxic merchandise. It’s clear that for indoor areas air disinfection is a secure and efficient way to cut back transmission. Contact Sani Professional® to be taught more about our full vary of cleansing, sanitizing, and disinfecting solutions. When choosing a disinfectant, keep in thoughts that these products must be registered with the federal Environmental Protection Agency and with each state’s EPA. Also think about formulations appropriate to the surfaces you want to disinfect. Bleach, Alcohol and Quaternary Ammonium Chloride are common disinfectant components; nonetheless, some might trigger deleterious results on surfaces. Organic and/or inorganic inactivators may react chemically with sanitizers giving rise to non-germicidal merchandise. Some of those inactivators are present in detergent residue. Most frequent chemical disinfection compounds are chlorine dioxide, chlorine, and chloramines on one hand and ozone on the opposite hand. Depending of the water, the chemical disinfection effectivity could be lowered, as an example, at higher pH when utilizing chlorine or with excessive organic matter concentrations. Byproducts originating from oxidative reactions can additionally be generated by chemical disinfection. A evaluation of the literature on the effectiveness of handwashing in opposition to severe acute respiratory syndrome transmission found that nine out of 10 small case-control studies showed that hand washing reduced the risk of social contamination . Vivo evidence of viral inactivity after using hand sanitizers isn't out there by normal strategies. How Pressure Washing Helps Along With Your Spring Cleansing I agree that each one individuals and former employers supplying information about me, for reference purposes, are launched from legal responsibility. If a job opportunity is obtainable, I shall adjust to all of Labor Panes insurance policies and uniform necessities. I understand the selection of employees might be on the basis of occupational qualification, training and character with out regard to age, intercourse, race or nationwide origin. Low Pressure is a Must-Have when washing a home. Pressure washers include quite so much of nozzles to regulate the circulate of water energy. Having a controlled flow will forestall injury to your siding leading to expensive repairs. Cleaned home windows inside and outside and pressure washed. Today to schedule gentle contact home washing on your residence in Charlotte or one of the surrounding areas. Do you have hardscapes like fences, statures, and patios? Get in contact with us right now to schedule your skilled power washing appointment. With home washing, you’re investing in picture-perfect curb attraction. Selfmade Cleaning Products Unscented soap in liquid type is biodegradable and can clear absolutely anything. Castile cleaning soap is one example of a superb, versatile cleaning ingredient. Avoid utilizing soaps that include petroleum distillates. Many ink spots, pencil, crayon, or marker spots can be cleaned from painted surfaces utilizing baking soda utilized to a humid sponge. Combine drops of your favorite important oil with a cup of baking soda and sprinkle liberally on carpet. Another different is natural fiber cloths, which raise off dust, grease, and dirt without the need for cleansing chemical substances as a outcome of they're formulated to penetrate and entice filth. Bleach – Bottles of bleach are great to essentially disinfect your home and make selfmade cleansing solutions. A regular bathroom cleaning might assist stop illness and infection from mould, dust and micro organism that have a tendency to collect in the extra moist areas of your house, like your tub, sink and bathroom. Sodium metasilicate is mixed with water to kind a cleaning answer. It makes a highly effective cleaner that can remove filth and marks from walls in preparation for portray, and can attack cussed soils on siding when cleaning the exterior of a home. They could additionally be corrosive, which means they will eat away at metal surfaces or human tissue. Avoid getting them on other materials because the acids could have bleaching effects, eat through metals, or etch surfaces and porcelain enamel. Completely Different Methods Of Professional Curtain Cleaning By Dr Drape Some of them are so exhausting you could neither use them for the carpets nor the machines. You might notice, some laundry detergents are marked “he” this implies they're of excessive effectivity and are perfect for use in carpet cleansing. These solutions result in less foam and rinse away rapidly. When hiring knowledgeable sofa cleansing service, the method will begin with an evaluation of the fabric. The professional will assess the situation of the couch and the sort of stains which are current. Do you find that your personal home is dusty no matter what you do? Are you desperately on the lookout for a solution to repair this problem? Dust could make your own home look unkempt, even if you clear it often. Even worse, dust can cause plenty of issues for allergy victims. But by following a number of suggestions and methods, you cancreate a dust-free homeand save hours of cleaning. Mites love excessive humidity, so one easy method to help get rid of them is with a dehumidifier. While skilled cleaning companies are a better remedy and will present higher, long-lasting outcomes, you can clean them in your own house. Depending on the material of your curtains, you should have the power to clean them in your family garments washer and dryer. With rapid dry carpet cleaning providers you received't should. Am I In A Position To Wash Windows With My Pressure Washer? When you stress wash your constructing exterior, you release hazardous waste disposal! You may help keep pollution out of our landfills and waterways by hiring us to be your cleansing specialists. Should you have double-hung windows, take away the screens if possible. This will ensure you can simply clean all of the glass. You can wash the eliminated screens separately with the lower stress white nozzle or your backyard hose sprayer by spraying water via one aspect. There are some surfaces we won’t do owing to a high potential for water injury or others for which we're unequipped to do safely. I had 23 home windows installed and wrapped trim in not even two days. Located in Shrewsbury,Pembroke, and Woburn, Window World of Boston specializes within the newest energy-efficient windows and lead-safe, cold-weather installation. The water can easily get into wall cavities, beneath flooring, and soak by way of insulation, leading to mold, rotted wood, and crumbled plaster. Ask Window Gang about our a long time of expertise offering business constructing cleaning providers with environmentally-safe chemical compounds which are accredited by OSHA. We’ll be happy to offer a free estimate for sanitizing your storefront, hospital or clinic entrance, restrooms, playgrounds, patios, balconies, and different areas where individuals gather. Our residential soft washing service applies gentle water strain for a pre-rinse, green chemical therapy, and post rinse that sanitizes and improves the appearance of your home. Your Full Information To Spring Cleaning For deeper cleansing, fastidiously go over the blades with a water-dampened microfiber cloth or terry towel and allow them to dry utterly. How To Mop & Vacuum The Floors – First, put away any sneakers, transfer area rugs and push the furniture to the sides. Then, use a microfiber cloth for your hardwood flooring or a vacuum for carpets to mop up or take away dust, grime and dust. If you’re using a bucket to mop, don’t forget to empty the dirty water and refill it with clear water often. Remove the light bulbs and take off any globes or glass shades across the bulbs by fastidiously turning their mounting screws counterclockwise. Turn off your ceiling fan, and anticipate the blades to come to a complete cease. If you see a lot of mud buildup on the fixture and blades, stretch an old sheet or a drop fabric on the ground beneath the fan . Unsightly kitchen grime is a combine of dust and grease that builds up over time. Run the exhaust hood over your vary every time you prepare dinner to keep grease from settling. Spring is the perfect time to flip your mattress if you don’t accomplish that regularly. Sprinkle baking soda onto the bed upon getting taken off all sheets and bedding. Let the baking soda sit for at least fifteen minutes, then vacuum. Clean out the fridge by throwing away all the expired items first. Then remove everything and clean all of the shelving and drawers.

#清潔公司

[spreadssheets]

just more sambucky things

i wrote this for the swompts that @starcitysirens does in our discord server. I wanted it to be for “enough” but it feels more like a “confession”.

Sorry I didn’t write more.

“You want to go in here?” Sam asks, incredulous. 

They’re standing in front of a thrift store, one of those old looking ones that Sam already knows smells like moth balls and old books on the inside. Simply by looking at it. 

Bucky gives him a weird look, arching one of his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. He just steps forward and pulls open the thrift shop door.

The smell of old books and mothballs mixed with spiced incense wafts out onto the sidewalk. Sam wrinkles his nose, but he follows Bucky inside without another word. 

Bucky’s standing in front of a shelf full of kitschy cat figures. He looks so out of place here with his tight jeans, leather jacket, and leather gloves. His long hair is pulled back into a half bun that’s coming loose, tendrils falling free to obscure his face. 

This is not a man that belongs in a thrift store looking at cat figures. 

Sam’s not really one to judge, but there’s something interesting about the way that Bucky stares so intently at the shelf in front of him. How his hands come up, his fingers flexing like he’s going to grab one of the pieces off the shelf to give it a closer look, but at the last minute he always thinks better of it. Always clenching his left hand into a fist and slowly returning it to his side. 

That is, until he finds a particular statue. It’s a cat that’s turned into a teapot, its front legs combined into a single spout and its tail twisted into the handle. Bucky picks it up and cradles it in his hands before he can think better of it and even from across the room where Sam is pretending to look at records, he can see the edges of Bucky’s lips turn upward. 

Sam smiles in response. 

Of all the things he thought Bucky would be into, thrift store cat teapots wasn’t it. 

#sambucky #winterfalcon #the sam wilson show #bucky barnes #sam wilson #tally's nelly tag #do it for her #swompts

[displacedentities]

Callie's Key

Mod: A quick-fic I made for the Fiascrew! I wanted to write out a potential introduction to how Spooky's (@fedoraspooky) character Callie (plant character via @mak-to-the-future) across Destin's artifact, the Night Key :) Hopefully you like it!

~~~

Old Mr. Prescott had had enough. Fed up with all the junk piling up in his garage, it was time to clean the place out. He wasn't a hoarder, but rather he collected a variety of paraphernalia over the years, as older folk do. Some of the junk might classify as antiques, but as far as he was concerned, that was just a fancy word for junk with a price tag. Maybe he could actually make some coin from all this nonsense in his house, and get some much-needed walking space while he was at it. There was, of course, that damn box to deal with.

Prescott had gotten into the habit of storing everything he wasn't sure how to sort, handle, or throw away into a single box, simply labeled 'WEIRD THINGS' in big capital letters. While the cardboard outside was benign, Prescott was certain at least a couple items that got tossed inside were cursed. He kept the box of 'WEIRD THINGS' shoved far into the corner of the garage under a tool bench for several years, until something he picked up made affairs surrounding the box significantly worse. Tools started to fly off the rack, rearrange themselves into cryptic symbols and messages on the work table. One instance, he even got the word 'STUCK' spelled out from wrenches and a tire iron. It was at that point, Old Mr. Prescott knew he was being haunted. Something else had arrived in his house, it threw things to get his attention or stole food from the fridge, and he had no idea how to drive it out. Professional exorcism did nothing - the wrenches were arranged to spell 'NO' a mere hour later. Setting up protective runes to drive out malevolent demons had no effect at all. The fridge was missing a jar of blackberry jam the next morning, found empty on the tool table. Old Mr. Prescott had moved the box away from the tool table and shoved it into a closet right after. But today was the day. He was going to be done with that cursed box, and whatever random object inside had brought this nuisance upon his house. With any luck, he might be able to sell it off with the rest of the junk. If not, Prescott resigned himself to throwing the entire box in the trash, and hopefully doing away with the poltergeist plague. He was getting too old to deal with this. --- Callie peeked out the window of the car as her mother drove through the residential neighborhood. Big eye blinking in the bright light of midday, she watched the trees full of autumn leaves zip by in a blur of color. It was so pretty! And it looked just like her hair! She was almost 6, soon to be a big girl, and she was quite proud of the vibrant yellow-orange petals starting to puff out from under the leaves on top of her head. Mom said it made her look quite fluffy, which made her think of her T.Rex stuffy, Munchy. Callie hugged Munchy tight, feet wiggling over the edge of the cushion. She was bouncing in her chair, excited. Her mom, a Dryad with hair made from sunflower petals and leaves, hummed to herself as she drove. She glanced over to Callie every now and then, smiling gently. "Thank you for being so patient, sweetheart," Mom says, reaching over with one hand to bump her daughter on the shoulder, before her hand returns to the wheel. "I know we've done a lot of errands today, but just one more, ok? We'll get ice cream afterwards- how does that sound?" "Ice cream!" Callie repeats, brightening at the thought. Ice cream?? Yes! Mom chuckles. "Mr. Prescott is having a garage sale for the first time in fifty years- there's sure to be some interesting finds in all that mess! The man hasn't cleaned house since we moved into the neighborhood before you were born. If you find something small that you like, I'll get it for you, ok?" "Yay!" Callie cheered, holding up Munchy in delight. A present, AND ice cream later? This was the best day out ever! The drive through the neighborhood was brief. The closer they got to the destination, Callie's mother squinted, making a sound similar to clicking her tongue. "Shoot, looks like we weren't the only ones with that idea," Mom mutters under her breath, looking left and right. Callie sits up, craning her neck to look outside at the houses. There were cars all over the place! Mom eventually finds a spot to park, a short distance from a house with wooden shingles and roof tiling. Gravel crunches under Callie's blue rubber sandals as she hops down from the car, turning to stare in wonder at the squat old house. It looked like a pop-up book whose contents had unfolded into the lawn and driveway. Furniture was strewn across the yellowing autumn grass, neatly arranged in a grid with walking space between every piece. Chairs, a

coffee table, a big old couch whose leather had softened from use. A squat Sphinx cat-man in a striped shirt, bowtie and overalls leaned on his cane while he spoke in a gruff voice to a woman. Callie didn't understand everything they were saying, but it was something about money, and the coffee table. Next to the furniture were foldout plastic tables covered in random things, some of which Callie had never seen before in her life. Kitchen utensils that could be from the Great Depression, glass dishware in pristine condition, hand-me-down clothing in less pristine condition. Oh! There was a toy table! Callie immediately scampered over to the toy table, hopping up and down to get a good look at the wares. The selection was charming, and had the warm feeling of well-loved antiques. A wooden pull-along train, a cloth teddy bear with button eyes, a cup with a ball on a string, and... some wooden cage-things with jingle bells in them? Callie shook one of them to see what noise it made, and the wrinkly cat-man looks up with ears perked for a moment, before shaking his head with a huff and returning to his conversation. Callie feels a hand on her shoulder, and smiles up at her Mom as she ruffles Callie's petal hair with the same hand. "I'll be talking to Mr. Prescott about some of the glass dishes," Mom says. "Don't go wandering off, and stay where I can see you. If you can be very careful and promise me you won't break any of Mr. Prescott's things, you can go ahead and explore, ok sweetie?" "Ok mom," Callie says, bouncing on her feet as Mom ruffles her hair one more time. "I'll be right over here," Mom says with a nod, keeping an eye on Callie while she walks over towards the cat-man, who had finished speaking with the other woman by this point. Free to explore, Callie's eye sparkles as she examines this wonderland of new things to investigate. It was like a playground, but small! Callie wastes no time hopping onto the big couch, quite pleased with how soft it felt. There was something just- fun!- about a couch being outside. It felt forbidden, like taking a cookie from the jar before dinner. From her elevated vantage point, Callie could see all the houses across the street, as well as some of Mr. Prescott's neighbors. One of them was mowing the lawn! Callie waved with enthusiasm. They stopped and stared at her, and Callie beamed a smile back. They kept staring, lawnmower stalled. Probably admiring her pretty orange petal hair! She was so proud of it. Callie stayed on the couch for another minute or two before she slid off, eager to look around. Mom said if she was nice and careful, she could have something small from all the things to play with here. She was going to be the best daughter ever. Callie explored through the kitchen things, first- while she was quite a mean chef with an Easy Bake oven, she wasn't quite tall enough to reach the counters yet in Mom's kitchen. A metal ladle was the first to be picked up, as she gently swung it around to feel the weight. Hm. Shiny, but heavy. Probably not fun to carry around for very long. She put it back down. Next was an ironically stained stainless steel pot. That went right over her head. Hmmm. No, it blocked her eye. Not a good helmet. Not much else in the kitchen section was interesting, aside from a few wooden spoons that were smooth to the touch. Callie could see her Mom side-eyeing her from the table where she was talking five feet away. Callie carefully returned the kitchen things to their proper places and moved on to the next table. It was covered in books! Callie got very excited, until she saw how thick they were. These would take forever to read! Maybe she could convince her mom to pick up some of the more colorful books for them to read together, but aside from making a fort or tiny city using the books as bricks, there wasn't much this table had to offer for a five-year-old. At least the books smelled nice. The old clothing didn't smell so nice. Callie poked her head into the hanging rack of old coats and shirts, feeling like a spy - until the scent of

mothballs made her sneeze, and she pulled her head back out with a squint of disgust. Ew. The clothes were all too big, anyway. And some had holes in them! She could have sworn she saw a small poof of moths flutter off one of the old frock coats. She liked bugs, but not in clothing. The thought of a moth crawling around her favorite yellow dress and nibbling at her pretty petal hair made her squirm. At long last, Callie let herself return to the piece de resistance- the toy table. She wanted to play-test everything here! Within reason, of course. Mom said to be careful. Carved wooden train cars, a deck of cards- even the creepy monkey with the pair of cymbals got some attention. Callie poked at it, afraid it would move, and was grateful when it remained inert. The eyes wigged her out. No thanks. The cards were arranged in patterns, and she didn't quite know how to play with them, but they fascinated her regardless- definitely not a first choice, though. Callie compared the old cloth teddy to Munchy, who she sat up next to it with a critical toddler eye. The teddy was a bit smaller than Munchy, and not quite as soft. Cute eyes, though! Callie picked up the wooden train cars, turning them over in thought. They felt sturdy, and were polished with wood lacquer. Soft and smooth, and really cool! It was a bit heavy, but that was fine. She was sorely tempted to pick one as her choice, but she had to know how they rolled. If they couldn't roll like a train, they wouldn't be fun. Putting all of the other toys back where they used to be, Callie set the toy train engine on the floor, and pushed it with her hand. The toy train made a delightful clatter of wooden parts, the wheels carrying it over the bumpy concrete of the driveway. It comes to a stop after a foot of travel. Callie smiles, clapping her free hand against Munchy, before scampering forward and taking the pull chord. It rolled so easily behind her, and she didn't have to worry about breaking it if she was in front. Callie giggles, running in delighted little circles with the train clacking along behind her- -until the train veers from a bump in the concrete, and clatters into the leg of a smaller foldout table. The bump wasn't strong, but it was enough to make the table rattle. Callie froze on the spot as several small trinkets and random objects fly off the table to the ground, fear spiking in her chest as she looks over towards her mom. Mom was still talking to the cat man about the set of chairs, but she did glance over with a raised eyebrow. Callie quickly waved back with a smile, trying to feign that everything was alright. Her mom looked curious for a moment, before the cat man drew her attention back to the conversation at hand. Callie immediately drops the train chord and kneels on the ground next to the small table, checking desperately to make sure everything that fell off was okay. The small table had been holding random trinkets and knickknacks, pieces of old jewelry, and a metal cup that thankfully stayed on the table- Callie was sure she would have been in trouble if Mom heard THAT hit the ground. The objects that fell from the table were all sorts of small things, ranging from expensive-looking jewelry to simple puzzle toys that looked more like key chains for a backpack zipper. Callie quickly picked up a necklace- which, thankfully, hadn't broken or chipped- featuring a large amber-colored stone, and stood up to replace it on the table. Necklaces hung from the weird bird perch-looking thing, right? There were other necklaces on it, so that was where it was going. She had to hop a few times to reach it, but she managed to loop the necklace back on the display. Next was a wooden block puzzle- it was so simple that she solved it in her efforts to put it back together, before setting it on the tabletop. Some rings, sparkly rocks, more key chains- Callie knelt down to continue cleaning the mess, panic still bringing a light sweat to the back of her neck. Among the mess was a small bag of marbles, and she'd accidentally knocked one of them across

the asphalt of the driveway. Scampering over, the youngster picks up the shooter marble- and pauses. Sitting on the sunlit path, sparkling in the light, was a small key. Blue-black of the deepest reaches of space, shaped so strangely, it lay half-under a stray tablecloth from where it had clattered to the ground. Callie couldn't make out a lot of details, but even from here, the light that hit the object was seemingly absorbed by its depths, casting almost no shadow. Yet, the sunlight caused a small scattering of stars to sparkle on the asphalt. ...Callie crawls forward, leaning under the table and lifting the cloth with one hand to pick it up. She slides back out to hold the key in the sunlight, fascinated. The key was very odd in shape. The teeth were thick and blocky, with an angled shape she hadn't seen on her toy keyring. The head of the key was weird, too- three holes arranged in a semicircle, and the top was swirled. Like ice cream, or a cinnamon bun! This key was so pretty! But- what was it a key for? Well, whatever it was for, it sure was pretty! Why would the cat-man be selling a key? Didn't you need keys to lock and unlock stuff? If he was getting rid of it, he must not need it anymore. ...a gentle breeze tugged at Callie's sleeve. She- felt something at her shoulder. Callie turns around, curious and confused- but there's nothing there. Huh. That was strange. But- she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was here. She wasn't scared, though. It was a warm presence. A gentle one. She couldn't explain how, but she knew. Whoever or wherever they were, they were nice! "Callie?" her mother called. Callie jumped to attention, startled out of her small reverie by the crashing reality that she still had a mess to clean up. She scrambles to pick up the remaining items and shove them back onto the table, no longer caring for organization- -but the ground is clean. Huh? Did she pick it all up already? Callie could have sworn there were still scattered items on the driveway. But the ground was clear. Even the wooden train car, which she'd crashed into the table leg, was back in its place on the toy table. How-? "Callie!" Mom says, and Callie spins around with a wide eye. "Honey, are you alright over here? I thought I heard something fall over." "Oh- I'm ok, mom!" Callie says quickly, putting on a smile. Inside, she's still confused. Did she clean up the mess that fast? "Okay," Mom says, looking around with a critical eye. Seeing nothing amiss, she appears satisfied. "Have you settled on something to take home, sweetie?" Callie takes a breath to answer that she wanted the train car- then stops. She squints, thinking. She looks down at the key in her hands, turning it over in the sunlight. It sparkled and was warm to the touch. It felt good to hold, smooth and polished. She couldn't explain why, but it felt like holding Munchy- soft and comforting, somehow. "I like this!" Callie said, making up her mind as she holds up the starry key with a smile. "Oh my," her mom says with a smile, looking at the sparkling key her daughter presented. "It's so lovely! Are you sure you want this, and not one of the toys?" "Mmmm," Callie hums in thought, eye narrowed. She did really like that train car, but... she makes a big smile. "No, I want this! It's pretty! Feels soft, like Munchy!" Mom chuckles, patting Callie on the head as she hefts her stuffed T. Rex and hugs it tight. "If you're sure, pumpkin. Let's take it over to Mr. Prescott, and we'll see if we can buy it." Callie's mom gently takes her hand, and starts to lead the tiny flower puff away from the display tables back towards the lawn. Callie clutches her pretty new key to her front, beaming. It wasn't a toy train, but it was so pretty! She'd definitely add it to her keyring, filled with toy keys and old spares her mother let her play 'house' with. Her shadow warped on the ground behind her skipping steps, forming into a curious silhouette. Flowing almost like water, the shape is thin, and retains a vague semblance of a person. Three eyes, like cutouts

in a piece of paper, followed Callie with a gentle curiosity from the head that flowed like gel in a lava lamp. The warm presence remained at Callie's back, as the child pranced at her mom's side to buy her pretty new trinket. --- Callie's mom finally finished talking to Mr. Prescott. The sphinx cat-man didn't blink an eye at the item of Callie's choosing, asking only for a handful of dollars in exchange. He shook paw with her mother's ebony black hand, and the two turned towards the arrangement of chairs set out for display. Callie watched as her mother passed the cat-man several more large green bills, and he gestured with his cane towards the chairs with a gruff nod. Looking relieved, Callie's mother walked over to her daughter and knelt to eye level. "We're just about done, sweetie," Mom said, smiling as she ruffled Callie's petal hair, earning a giggle. "Mr. Prescott's just going to help me load up the chairs, and we can get going for that ice cream, ok?" "Ok, mommy," Callie agreed, smiling. "Thank you for being so patient, baby girl," her mother sighed, quite tired, but managing. "This is the last errand, I promise. Hang tight, I'll be right over here- and don't go anywhere!" Callie nods, sitting down on the grass with a happy hum as she plays with some clovers popping out of the lawn. Her mother walked back over to where she'd parked the car. With the help of the old cat-man, who was surprisingly limber for his age, Callie's mother got ahold of some straps and began the process of lifting the dining room chairs from the grass one by one. Callie smiled and waved every time they got close, getting smiles from her mom and amused half-chuckles from the cat-man. She busied herself with plucking the little clover blossoms, arranging them into little intertwined bracelets. She even got ambitious and started making a flower crown- it smelled really nice! Struggled to hold its shape, though, with how short and flimsy the clover stems were. Maybe the bees would like it? Callie liked bees, so fuzzy and clumsy. At least Munchy liked it! She put her first tiny flower crown on the T. Rex's head. Callie's mother and Prescott finished moving the chairs to the car, and started lifting them to be secured down on the car roof with the straps. Right then, Callie feels a rough grip latch onto her arm. Startled, Callie yelps as she's pulled up to standing, her eye snapping wide open as she looks up in shock and surprise. The hand on her arm belonged to the neighbor she'd spotted from the couch, the one who was mowing their lawn not long ago. They were holding her arm very tight! It hurt! She squirmed and tried to push the fingers off of her, but she was a small child and this was an adult. They were much stronger. "Hey kiddo," they say, smirking with alcohol on their breath. "Your mom's busy, so she told me to watch you for a bit. It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you." Alarm bells were firing off in Callie's mind, as she stared up at this total stranger in fear. Her mom told her all the time, don't talk to strangers! This stranger was way too close for comfort, and hurting her! "L-let go!" Callie pleads, trying to sound brave like a big girl, but it only came out in a squeak. "You're weird!" "I'm weird? You've got a flower for a head," they say, less amused, and frowning now. "There's a lot weirder things than me in this world, kid. How about we take a break from the sun in my house? It's right across the street, you saw it from your little seat on the couch earlier. We can even pet my dog- how does that sound? Your mom said it was ok." Callie looks desperately over to her mother, trying to confirm in some way if this was true, but her mother was still busy loading the chairs on the truck. She was on the other side, and couldn't see what was going on unless she peered through the car windows. The neighbor yanks on Callie's arm, causing her to yelp again as she's tugged off the grass and away from Munchy. "Come on, kid- let's go, it'll be quick," the neighbor insists. "No!" Callie says, trying to raise her voice as

she tugs back, straining with all her might to pull away. "Let go!" Somebody help! Please! wcrACK The hand releases, and Callie plops down onto the grass in surprise. From her shadow on the ground, a long snakelike limb had sprung into reality, and whipped the neighbor across the face with incredible force. "aUGH- WHAT THE FU-GKKGHK-" Before the neighbor can finish, the tendril swiftly wraps around their neck, tightening. It coils, lifting the stranger a foot off the ground. They struggle and squirm, held aloft and clawing at the cable of night-sky patterned darkness at their throat. Five seconds pass, and the tendril lifts them higher, before slamming their face down into the dirt. The neighbor coughs and groans, protesting the treatment as they're lifted yet again. From behind Callie, her shadow bubbles up, gaining size and definition as it materializes into a figure of its own. Movements fluid like water, the stick-thin limb around the stranger's throat is connected to an equally thin shoulder on a being whose body reflects a sky full of stars. A window to the universe in the vague shape of a person. On the presumed head is a set of golden eyes, narrowed in anger as they focus on the stranger. They tower over Callie, hovering protectively as they step forward, blocking Callie from the neighbor's sight. Callie stares, wide-eyed. This thing was so big, so strange! She didn't feel afraid- why wasn't she afraid? Were they- saving her? "Never touch her again," they warn, voice like a hissing bell. "You will get no mercy." This time, the neighbor doesn't get much chance to choke on their words. The being reels back that limb, and with a snap of elastic tension, whips the unfortunate schmuck across the lawn. They collide with a table, crumpling over one side as the contents are thrown akimbo with a loud crash. That immediately gets the attention of Mr. Prescott and Callie's mother, who stop dead before racing over to the commotion. Prescott leaps with nimble steps to yell at the neighbor, while Callie's mother runs right over to her daughter. She passes the thin void-person without even a glance. "Sweetie!" she frets, kneeling down to look over her daughter in worry. "What happened? Are you ok?" "M-mom," Callie stammers, still spooked and staring at the big starry thing right next to them. "The- they- they helped me. The star-man- saved me." "The who?" Callie's mother repeats, confused, looking around. Her eye slides right over the star-man nearby, not a hint of recognition. "Honey, who saved you? From what?" Callie's rapid heartbeat stars to slow in her chest as the fear is gradually replaced by confusion. She frowns and points over her mother's shoulder. "The star-man! They saved me," she explains, uncertain how else to explain it. She doesn't know how, but... somehow, they saved her. "They stopped the bad man. He hurt my arm..." Callie's mother wastes no time looking at both her arms. As she does so, the star-thing slides closer. Callie watches with owl-eye as the being gets very close, and extends a tendril-arm towards her. Having seen what those snake arms can do, she flinches back, and the arm stops. "Honey, I can't see where it hurts if you don't hold still," her mother says, taking the flinch as a response to her checking. Callie is still staring right at the void creature. She- can't read their face very well, if that is a face. The golden eyes blink, and they speak again. It's oddly comforting. "I will not hurt you. I promise. Will you let me help?" Were they asking her? Callie hesitates. She wasn't supposed to listen to strangers. She just dealt with a scary stranger. But this one carried that same softness, that feeling of safety. She couldn't explain how, but she knew they meant it. She could feel it in her bones. In any case, her mom was here now- if they tried anything, mom would knock them silly. Uncertain, but feeling more confident, Callie nods once. The being extends the arm again, and ever so carefully taps Callie on the arm with the pointy limb. They leave it gently overtop

the area where the bruise was forming from the neighbor's harsh grip. Warmth emanates from the contact, and within moments, the bruise that had begun to bloom faded away, leaving only the healthy charcoal-colored flesh. They remove the starry limb shortly after, Callie staring in amazement. Callie's mother is perplexed, looking at the same arm. "That's... hm. I could have sworn you were bruised... Callie, sweetie, are you alright?" she asks, concerned. Callie flexes the arm, and is amazed to find the arm is totally fine. It didn't hurt at all! That was so cool! She looks up with a smile to thank the starry stranger- -only to see empty sidewalk. Callie looks left and right. Where did they go? They were just here... "Callie?" Oh- right, her mom! "I'm ok," Callie says, meaning it this time. "Arm feels fine, now. Starry man fixed it!" "Alright," Callie's mother says, sighing once with a closed eye. "Well, as long as you're not hurt or anything, sweetheart. You tell me if anything feels wrong, ok?" "Ok, mommy," Callie says, glancing over to where the neighbor was getting reprimanded by the cat-man. The reprimands progressed into the neighbor getting menaced with the cane, cowed away from the cat-man's yowling. "Can- can we go, now?" "Yes, sweetie, of course. Let's go get that ice cream." Callie's mother takes hold of her daughter's hand, scooping up Munchy to tuck into her daughter's arms, and the two start walking out to the car. Callie glances over her shoulder, looking all over for the starry man, but not seeing them anywhere. That was a shame... she really wanted to thank them! As she clambers up onto the car seat, a star-speckled shadow follows at her back, vigilant and close. ~~~

The End

Mod: Thanks for reading!

#quickfic #writing #Fiasco #The Fiascrew #fedoraspooky #mak-to-the-future

[fan-girling-101]

Pogue Halloween

Pogues x Reader x Kooks, Rafe x Reader

Summary: You’re dared to spend the night in a serial killer’s childhood home with your best friends and your worst enemies. But what happens when that serial killer comes back home?

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: references to Halloween franchise (mentions of killing, Michael Myers), typical horror movie suspense stuff, slight language?, lots of fear, Rafe lowkey being a sweetheart.

Thank you @thisismynerdyself​ who let me use her story. It’s going to be a multi chapter story but the first chapter is basically hers with just some small things. Please go check her out and read the original. And thank you for letting me use it. I hope it’s good enough. Also not going to lie about it I never watched Michael Myers Halloween movie thing.

Original here

Her Tumblr

Part two 

“Okay, guys. Who’s going in first?” JJ looked around the group, challenging each one of you to make the first move.

None of you were particularly eager to enter the infamous serial killer’s childhood home, but you couldn’t back down from a challenge. So here you all are, face to face with the nightmarish home of Michael Myers. Windows had been boarded up years ago, the door was barely still attached. The ivy creeping up the walls all but covered the aged brick exterior. Yep, this was a horror house alright.

Pope took one step backward, holding his hands up in defense, refusing to be the first one in. You, Kiara, and Sarah looked at each other in solidarity, agreeing that none of you would be first. That left John B and JJ to fight it out.

Whether it was lucky or unlucky for them, they didn’t have to decide themselves. Just as they began to debate about it, you heard a chuckle from behind you. You all whipped around, already slightly on edge just from being on the property. Your entire group groaned in unity at the sight of Topper, Rafe, and Kelce striding toward you on the sidewalk.

“What are they doing here?” Kie whispered to you. You shrugged your shoulders, unable to answer her question.

“Look what we have here. Six little Pogues trying to act all tough. Too bad none of you can actually handle a night in that house”, Rafe sneered at you as he invaded the personal space of your group.

John B stepped forward to face his foe, “And you think you can?”

Rafe puffed out his chest even more than usual and replied “you bet I can.”

“How about we just put this to the test. We all go in. We see who lasts the longest. Pogues or Kooks. Last one out wins. Losers serve the winners poolside, the indoor pool- with a hot tub, of course, for one whole day,” JJ boldly challenged the three boys.

“Deal.”

*

You let Rafe go in first since he claimed to be so brave. Kelce and Topper followed after him, but neither of them looked comfortable with the arrangement. JJ, Pope, Kie, John B, and Sarah each filed into the main foyer of the dilapidated building. You came in last, closing the creaking door behind you. You made sure to keep it unlocked for whoever would leave first.

You all gathered together, formally declaring the beginning of the night. What had you all gotten yourselves into?

You decided to split into smaller groups to start out, making exploring the house a bit easier. Rafe, Topper, and Kelce decided to start upstairs, looking around the bedrooms. And oh how creepy it was to find that there were still neatly folded robes in the closet after all these years. To find the dusty vanity in Michael Myers’ sister’s room, old fingerprints still smudging the mirror.

Topper decided to venture out on his own, looking in the bathroom where Michael once killed his own mother while drawing his bath. The stains on the counter stood out beneath the dust. It was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl. He wasn’t too keen on being alone, but he knew Rafe enough to know that he would make this slightly scary night even worse with his inevitable shenanigans.

Everyone was moving around slowly, realizing it could be a long night, and not wanting to get bored too quickly.

Downstairs, JJ, Pope, and Kie stayed on the main floor, venturing through the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room. All the furniture had inch-think dust coatings and smelled like mildew and mothballs. Not a pleasant place to be staying for long. The kitchen was the eeriest room on this floor, all three of them finding utensils in the drawer that could easily be used as weapons.

As they made their way back toward the foyer, Pope froze in place as he thought he heard a noise from the stairs. As he looked up, he saw someone jumping down toward him, over the stairway railing. As the person landed with a thump, Pope backpedaled and collapsed against the wall, an involuntary yelp escaping his lips. The maniacal laughter emanating from the new occupant of the room sent Pope into a rage as he punched Rafe in the arm.

“Hey, we’re not messing with you guys, so leave us alone. I doubt Michael likes it when people pretend to be him”, Pope spat out at the boy in front of him. He already didn’t want to be there, so the cruel jokes would only make him more agitated.

Rafe feigned a guilty look and retreated back upstairs, but not before calling back, “it’s every man for himself in this game, Popey.”

You, Sarah, and John B decided to check out the basement. Not your wisest move in the world, but you would argue that none of you were being smart just by being in that house. You were immediately creeped out by the colder air and the musty odor.

You turned on your flashlight, eager to wash away the darkness. As you made your way through the room, you spotted the bottom of the garbage chute and opened the door, jumping back when a dead rodent dropped at your feet. You decided to stick closer to the other two for a bit longer. You all wound your way around boxes and turned corners until you came upon a dead end. 

You took turns opening some of the boxes to find old moth-eaten clothes, file folders and other clutter. But among the stacks and stacks of storage containers, you managed to pull out an old shoebox full of photos. Passing them around, you were able to deduce that the box contained photos of Michael’s family, including some from the night he turned on them. Donning his halloween clown costume, Michael stood outside this very house, holding the very weapon he had used to kill his family. 

From what you knew of the legend of the man, only his sister survived the tragic night, and she was whisked away into protection while he was taken into custody and held in various hospitals for years until his eventual escape.

Brought back to reality from your thoughts about what the murderer had done, you notice that behind a stack of boxes is a large hole in the wall. Against your best judgment, the three of you work together to reveal the hole, discovering a passageway behind it. By shining your flashlights through, it seemed as though there was a tunnel underneath the house. Definitely not something typical houses would have, but very fitting for a serial killer.

You glance between each other, wondering what to do. You aren’t usually one to back down from an adventure, so you take a step through the hole and into the tunnel. None of you dare to say a single word as you realize you’re deep beneath the house now, unsure of what could possibly lie ahead. Using your flashlights to light the way, you traverse the dingy tunnel cautiously. But you stop when the path is blocked by a floor-to-ceiling metal gate. The lock looks old, so John B easily kicks it apart and the gate swings open.

Once through the gate - you wonder why the gate was there in the first place - you find yourselves at the bottom of a sketchy metal ladder. Sarah steps up first, eager to get out of the too-tight tunnel. She reaches the top and you follow after her. John B brings up the rear.

You can see faint moonlight shining through a window in a nearby door. Huddled together as if your lives depended on it, you and Sarah approached the door, looking out into the yard of the house you were just in. Sudden realization dawned as Sarah whispers, “I think we’re in the shed.”

*

So far, none of you felt too overwhelmed by the house other than the overarching sense of creepiness. Were you excited to still be there, no. But so far nothing too terrible had happened.

Topper had wandered his way downstairs and into the living room, hoping to find a safe place to wait out the night. He found an old armchair in the corner of the room, attempted to dust it off as best as possible, and exasperatedly sat down. He didn’t even want to come here, but somehow Rafe had always roped him into things. He was tired and, if he was honest, he was already getting scared. 

JJ, Kie, and Pope were headed into the basement, although none of them were keen on the idea. Pope got to the last step, took one look around, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and hightailed it out of there. He had had enough. When he got upstairs, he spotted Topper in the armchair nearby. Topper, realizing that Pope looked like he was ready to go, stood up and said “if you’re leaving, I’m out too.” The two boys quickly made their way out the front door, not even noticing that the door that was once closed was already hanging wide open for them.

Kie and JJ rolled their eyes at their friend’s hasty exit and walked through the basement. Much worse than the main level, she already felt more uneasy. As they perused the cluttered room, they paused when they thought they heard heavy breathing coming from the back corner. Kie stepped behind JJ, choosing him to be the sacrifice.

As JJ stepped closer to the noise, he heard a low chuckle that erupted into a full blown laugh as John B stepped out of the shadows. “Dude, you should see the look on your face!”

JJ punched him in the arm, complaining “not cool John B. What are you trying to do, make Michael Myers come out here and prove to you that he’s real?”

John B simply rolled his eyes and pushed his way past his friend, heading upstairs to find the others. You came in through the front door right as he made it to the top of the stairs. “John B, I hate to say it, but Sarah decided to bow out. She saw Pope and Topper run out and figured she could make her exit then too. They went to wait in the van.”

“Did I hear you say you lost two already?” You hear Kelce’s voice emerge from behind you.

“Yeah, but from what I understand, you may have lost one of your own, Kelce. I don’t see Top anywhere” Kie replied as she glided into the room from the basement door.

JJ followed soon after, passing right through the room, headed to the stairs to take him to the second floor. “Alright you wusses, let’s break up this party. Nothing scary happens when everyone’s together”, JJ called out on his way through.

You laughed and followed him up the stairs, figuring his tough guy attitude might be your best shot at surviving the night. “Okay, J, where do we explore first?”

*

Meanwhile, Rafe and Kelce confidently strode down the basement steps, ready to take on any frightening scene that might unfold before them. As they crept through the basement, they took turns making creepy noises at each other, resulting in a laughing fit. Partly from their own antics and partly because of the three teens who had already bailed on the night.

And it was all fun and games until the basement door slammed shut, sending them into complete and utter darkness. Figuring it was just the fools upstairs, Kelce yelled up, “ooooh, I’m so scared” with a laugh just to stir them up.

But his laugh died as his eyes grew wide at the dark shadow, too large to be any of the others, slowly descending the stairs. The deep thud of the tantalizingly slow footsteps stopped when the shadow reached the bottom. When it turned toward them, they saw the masked face of the man and practically ran each other over in an attempt to find an escape route.

They tumbled their way to the back corner of the room where you, Sarah, and John B had uncovered the hole in the wall, and they practically threw themselves through the hole and into the passageway, no thought to what could be in store for them. Down the tunnel they took off, only turning around enough to know that the tall, muscular form was still following them.

Rafe was the first to reach the large gate in the tunnel, but it had been wired shut, blocking their way. Taking the time to unwrap the wire meant the mysterious pursuer was approaching closer and closer.

“Dude, hurry the hell up, man!”

“I’m going as fast as I can!” voices shakily yelling out in the darkness.

 And just as the slow-moving man approached and raised his arm in attack, Kelce wrenched the gate open and they launched their way through and up a precarious ladder.

Kelce was first to the top, where he didn’t look back as he took off out the shed door and down the street to find the others. Panting, he knocked on the window of the old van. Topper unlocked the door and let in his friend, confused by the look of pure horror on his face. Kelce was speechless as he climbed in the back and sat frozen in his seat, not even coherent enough to realize Rafe hadn’t emerged behind him.

*

Meanwhile, on the main floor, Kie and John B heard the sudden commotion from the basement, recognizing the frantic noises that reminded them of a scene straight from a horror movie. And when the noises faded, John B realized they must have run back into the tunnel they had found earlier. He knew they would find their way out eventually since he had left the gate open down there. But when he turned to find the basement door had closed, knowing that neither of them had done it, he looked at Kie, who looked back with eyes as wide as they could go.

They cautiously walked into the kitchen to look out the window toward the shed and saw Kelce, alone, running for his life, a look of absolute terror on his face. That was their cue to leave, so they turned and ran out the front door, not even turning around to see the tall, masked man standing in the doorway behind them.

*

As you and JJ slowly made your way through the upstairs bedrooms, just glancing at the old furniture left behind to rot, you thought you heard thumping from below. Everyone was on edge tonight, so you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you. Then you heard a door slam downstairs, causing you and JJ to look at each other and smile. JJ couldn’t help but say “sounds like someone else just made us one step closer to winning this thing.”

While the thought of winning was pretty sweet, you knew that the people left in the house wouldn’t be easy to scare, so anything that caused them to run would have been seriously frightening.

You continued into the very back room, furthest from the main stairwell. The room was empty except for a few scattered boxes. Making your way toward the side wall, you found a door that was a bit different from the rest in the house. JJ was able to wrench the door open and you found yourselves staring up into the narrow attic stairwell.

You looked at each other, silently wondering if this was a good idea. JJ decided for you as he took the first step up and you hesitantly followed him. You were about to comment on the smell as you ascended the stairs, but your breath caught in your throat as you took in your surroundings.

You and JJ found yourselves in a vast attic space. You were surrounded by coffins. The coffins Michael Myers had used for some of his victims. This was his storage space. The ones you could get to were, thankfully, all empty. You even found one for a child, sick to your stomach just thinking of the poor soul it had been for. The acrid stench of death was seeping through your already plugged nose, but you were unable to block it out. Your quickened heartbeat was probably audible to JJ as he stood frozen in place as he connected the dots just as you had.

Without a word communicated between the two of you, JJ had grabbed your hand and pulled you down the stairs and toward the main stairwell. But you both skidded to a stop at the sight in front of you. The stairwell was blocked. By a tall man in a black jumpsuit and a horrifying white mask.

“SHIT!” JJ yelled as he pulled you into the nearby bedroom. After moving a small vanity in front of the door, you ran toward the window on the other side of the room. You both tried to pry open the window but it wouldn’t move. “SHIT!” 

As he got closer you tried to look for something to defend yourself with. Your eyes finally land on a wooden plank that was used to board up windows. You lounge to grab it, swinging it in the direction of the man.

The two of you don’t waste a second sprinting out of the room as fast as you could. JJ made it to the stairs first running down with you in behind. As you make it to the last couples steps you miss one tumbling down the rest of the way.

“Come on Y/N!” JJ yelled at you, but when you got up you didn’t see the way the blond ran so you chose a door running through it. Of course you had the pick the wrong way into the kitchen with a back door that won’t open.

*

JJ makes it out running into Rafe on the way to the van. They get inside after sprinting from the house, not yet realising they were missing a certain Y/H/C headed girl. 

“JJ where is Y/N?” Kie tries to calmly ask before freaking out that one of there best friends is still in the creepy house with a murderer. At this point they all look out the van for the girl.

“She was following me out. I don’t- she tripped… she probably is still in there. Oh God.” He stutters out thinking that the person he was closest with in the world was stuck in a house with a crazing killer.

Before anyone could react or do anything Rafe got out of the van with JJ’s gun in hand. He quickly starts his way back to the house hoping to get there before you're dead.

*

The tall man in front of your small frame grabbed your shoulders slamming you back into the marble counters. You let out a cry of pain, the pain spreading through your body. “Please.” You whimper. “Stop.” He lets out a creepy laugh watching the struggle. He brings up the knife running it down your side drawing blood while cutting the country artist shirt I was wearing. He brings it up going in for the kill before a gunshot rings out. The tight grip he has on you falls making you fall to the ground, as it was the only thing holding you up.

You feel a hand on your arm causing you to flinch before looking up to the blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. His hand slips under your knees effortlessly picking you up from the ground as if you weighed nothing. Your arms wrap around his neck hiding your face in his chest.

He carries you out and in the van. No one says anything before starting up the van. The quiet hum of the engine couldn't be heard over your sobs. A cloth was pressed to the bleeding on your side causing you to let out a loud cry. No one knew what to say as you buried your head closer into Rafe’s chest.

John B starts dropping people off at their houses. Starting at Kelce’s then Kie’s, to Topper’s before pulling up at the Cameron residence. You already all knew Sarah was going to stay at John B’s. Rafe tried to move you off him but you wouldn’t let him. Your arms around his neck tightening. 

“I have to go.” He whispered into your ear. All the pogues left in the van watched the encounter between the two of you. Never had they seen Rafe be so nice to someone, so caring. Not even Sarah.

“Take me with you.” You cry into his shoulder. “Y/N.” He goes to say be cut off by a soft “please” making him give in. He picked you up again listening to the chorus of goodbyes you got.

He lightly set you down on his bed leaving for a second coming back with stuff to clean your wound with. He sits beside the bed on the floor grabbing the hem of your shirt looking up at you. “Can I?” You nod helping him get your favorite shirt off that was covered in blood. He must have seen the look of sadness you had as you watched him place the shirt on the floor.

“I can get the blood out but you can probably sew it or it might look cool with the rip but I don’t know.”  His hand grabs one of yours putting a cloth soaked with something, cleaning the cut. You tried to hold in the sound squeezing his hand. “It’s not too bad we just gotta keep it clean. Anything else hurt.”

“My back.” You flip on the stomach letting him see where you got slammed into a counter. 

“That’s going to be on nasty bruise Pumpkin, I grab some ice. And here change into this.” He sets some of his clothes on the bed for you to wear. You jump out of the bed grabbing his wrist pulling him to face you.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” The look you were giving the older kook boy made him give in quickly. The two of you walk down the kitchen happy that Ward, Rose and Weezie were asleep somewhere in the house. As Rafe grabs the ice you look through the cupboards looking for something to eat. Finally finding some oreos the two of you head back into his room.

You change and lay on the stomach on the bed Rafe getting in beside you resting some ice on your lower back.

“Thank you.” I move my head to face the boy who was already staring at me. “For everything.”

“Of course Pumpkin. Get some sleep okay.”

#kiara carrera #kie carrera imagine #kiara carrera imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron edit #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #john b routledge #john b imagine #pope heyward #pope hayward imagine #pogue style #pogues for life #pogue imagine #obx #obx imagine #halloween #halloween imagine #outerbanks #outer banks #outerbanks imagine #obx halloween

[kateknitsalot]

Lets talk about moths...

So, a few weeks ago I decided to bring out my knits. Earlier this year, I had washed and then stored them in a plastic bin. When I removed the plastic bin from under my bed, I realized the bin had been opened slightly. This was not particularly alarming, as I have kids and a pug who love to roll around under the bed. As I brought out each hat to be inspected, I noticed a small hole in one of the hats. I dismissed it, it couldn't POSSIBLY be moths, I had never seen one in my home, and over the last 9 years of knitting, had never had such a problem. Then the same familiar hole kept appearing, AND one of the larva had the audacity to die in the pompom. Probably toooo gorged to get out ;)

I realized I had been attacked this year and never knew it! Most likely, some moth came in and loved the dark space under the bed. Even better, that dark space had wool items that were left in an OPEN container. A perfect place to lay moth eggs and raise a family.

I rushed to where I store the handknit sweaters, and thankfully found no moth damage. Next was the yarn stash, thankfully no damage was found there. I always store my “for sale” knits in sealed plastic bags, those were of course, very safe.

After I assessed the damage, I realized I had been VERY lucky. Only 4 items had holes. None of my realllly special knits were damaged, and I could sew the holes closed. I washed everything that had been in the bin, and inspected each item. I figured though I might be worth sharing my story to help others save and preserve their knits! I also shared this info with my family, as I knit frequently for them, and I have no control on how they store those items hehe.

Moth info:

Tineola bisselliella is the most common fiber eating moth. It loves to eat natural fibers, since it has the ability to digest keratin proteins that are found in wool and silks. It especially loves dirty fibers. Unlike other moths, it prefers areas that have low light and traffic.

Here are some tips to store your knits and keep them safe:

The best course of action is prevention.

*Look for adult moths in your home. They are small, but can be spotted. The adults don’t eat your knits, but the larva do. If you find adults, they could have laid eggs in your stash or knits. 

*Look for eggs in your items. They are small and white. They can be tough to spot. 

* Look for holes in your items OR frayed weak ends in your yarn. 

*Be careful when accepting yarns from other stashes. If you do, inspect and wash them. Freezing yarn will also kill the little invaders.

*Before storing your knits for the season, inspect them for any damages or pests beforehand. Wash and dry them. Store them in plastic bags that seal or in a bin that has a good tight fitting lid. Make sure that lid doesn't get disturbed and opened...personal note for myself haha.

*Store the items with something strong smelling. Lavender and cedar will deter moths. If using something natural like lavender or cedar, make sure the scent is strong, as over time, they will lose their potency. NOTE on traditional mothballs, some mothballs were created with a chemical called naphthalene and others were created with paradichlorobenzene. These substances are toxic and carcinogenic. They are poisonous to kids and pets!

*As tempting as it is, be careful when displaying yarn out in the open as decor. It can get dusty, and moths could find that appealing.

If you do find evidence of moths, don’t panic!

*Sort the yarn and knits to find what is damaged and what isn't. If the yarn or item is too far gone to be saved, toss it. 

*For stuff that is infested, give everything a good wash. Allfreeknitting.com has a vinegar solution to wash and soak your items in to kill moths: 

                                            -1 cup white vinegar                                             -3 cups lukewarm water 

You can also carefully heat the yarn to 150degrees or freeze it to kill moths.

 *Clean and dust the area to prevent more moths.

Remember moths can be sneaky! I never even saw one. Be vigilant knitters and crocheters! May your stashes and knits be safe! :)

Link to Allfreeknitting.coms Moth info. 

More info on this moth.

#topictuesday #knititng #crochet #yarn

[ask-a-vulture]

Hi, I'm having a big problem with clothes moths eating my all my dried bird wings and feathers (I live in the UK, they are all legal species to own), it is getting really frustrating. I have tried spraying the wings/feathers with stuff like clove and peppermint oil (I read that moths don't like the smell) but it hasn't really worked; I considered mothballs but I then learned they contain a bunch of toxic stuff that can be a health risk. Is there any way I can better protect my specimens?

Hello, so sorry about your problem. The best advice we have is to put them in a freezer for at least a month to kill off any moths or eggs- this could also include any pelts you have as well. A good alternative to mothballs (and for things in long term storage) is Cedar! Cedar balls are cheap, and work as efficiently as moth balls. If you happen to be able to get a cedar box to out very personable pelts in, it wouldn't be a bad idea but it isn't necessary.

Hope this helps you!

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