#Angle Stop Corks

[zhendi1031]

Importance of Angle Stop Corks

An angle stop cork, also known as an angle stop valve or angle shut-off valve, is a type of valve used in plumbing systems to control the flow of water to a specific fixture or appliance.

Installing an angle stop cork is a straightforward process that can be done by a professional plumber or a DIY enthusiast with some basic plumbing knowledge. The following steps outline the general procedure for installing an angle stop cork:

Turn Off the Water Supply: Before starting any installation, ensure that the water supply to the area is turned off to prevent any accidents.

Locate the Pipe: Identify the pipe that supplies water to the fixture or appliance where the angle stop cork will be installed.

Cut the Pipe: Using a pipe cutter or a hacksaw, cut the pipe at the desired location for the angle stop cork.

Debur the Pipe: Smooth the cut edges of the pipe to remove any burrs or sharp edges that could damage the seal of the angle stop cork.

Apply Thread Sealant: Apply a layer of thread sealant, such as Teflon tape or pipe joint compound, to the threads of the angle stop cork.

Attach the Angle Stop Cork: Screw the angle stop cork onto the pipe, ensuring that it is tightened securely but not overtightened, which could damage the threads.

Connect the Fixture: Attach the water supply line from the fixture or appliance to the outlet of the angle stop cork.

Test for Leaks: Turn the water supply back on and check for any leaks around the angle stop cork. If leaks are present, tighten the connections further or apply more thread sealant as needed.

[solbaby7]

Rhysand x shy!reader

warnings: nothing really, maybe some swearing

summary: just you giving a massage to a tired Rhys and the usual sexual tension that comes with two best friends who definitely wanna fuck

—

Poor Illiryian baby, Rhys.

Sinking into the couch with a deep sigh, he beckons you over with two fingers. His exhaustion is evident, shoulders slumped and head thrown back into the thick couch pillows, fingers subconsciously toying with the soft fabric of one of the throw blankets you’d insisted on during a shopping trip a few weeks back. “Do me a favor, yeah?”

The way your head nods immediately in response is a little pathetic, borderline embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that Rhys had barely looked up. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you go grab those little oil jars of yours and rub my back for me?” It’s not really a question judging by how he says it, voice low and breathy but still commanding—cocky almost like he was certain you’d do it either way.

You leave for a moment, rushing to your room to collect a few oils from the growing rack in your bathroom and head back before you can psyche yourself out of it. Your hands on his body—Rhysand’s shirt was off by time you’d set the bottles on the table and he’d laid out on the large couch, his stomach down and face stuffed in a pillow. “Long day?” You murmur, the casual conversation doing little to stave off the nerves, your hands shaking at the thought of being so close to him.

“Long week.”

You hum in sympathy, glass bottle clinking against one another as you popped their lids open, corks perched to the side and poured a few drops of the oil on his back, across broad shoulders and down his spine. “Poor thing,” His body responds to your words—or maybe it’s just the oil when he shifted slightly, muscles flexing slightly when you finally touch him.

You start at his shoulders, slick hands smoothing the scent of lavender and mint over tanned skin. The angle is a little awkward, your back aching from the strain and as if the High Lord had sensed the same thing, one of his hands lift from under the pillow, reaching behind to tap at your calf, fingers grazing the bare skin there. “Sit on me.”

“But what if—“

“Please,” It comes out gravely, voice muffled by the pillow and filled with exhaustion. “I really need you to do this for me.” A little smirk quirks on the side of his face that’s still visible, eyes still shut as he followed up with, “Your High Lord commands it.”

A blush burns at your cheeks, movements hesitant before complying. One bare leg wrapped around his waist, thighs caging him in on either side and you prayed he couldn’t smell the affect this was having on you. How casual he was being about such proximity. How compromising this looked if anyone walked in.

Relax.

Just breathe.

You’re just friends and if anyone walked in you’d tell them exactly what was happening. You were helping—just like friends did.

“You’d think for a High Lord who can command such things, you’d have already had a masseuse on your payroll.” The joke earns you a laugh, his body shaking under you slightly but you ignore it as you get back to work. Fingers kneading at the knots in his shoulders, forcing yourself to stop thinking so hard about the whimpers that sounded from him when you ran a firm thumb down the slope of his shoulder, squeezing and rubbing over and over until that area was completely relaxed.

Rhysand’s back was all hard muscles, his groans going more guttural when your touch grows firmer, working out knots and stretching sore muscles until all the oil had dried. “Don’t stop.” His hand clamps around your calf when you try to slide off and while the grip isn’t painful the way half-lidded violet eyes peer at you, lips a little pouty when he continues. “I haven’t felt that kind of relief in months—just please don’t stop.”

His hand doesn’t leave your calf when you continue and the little sigh of contentment he lets out when you continue is enough to have you clenching around nothing, praying that he couldn’t feel it.

You keep going until his breathing has evened out and his body has gone lax, soft huffs fanning out on his forearm as sleep finally took over, hand falling limp at his side.

That’s how they find you, still gently rubbing at Rhys’ back and Cassian immediately groans next to Azriel. It takes no more than a second before his shirt is tugged off and thrown to the side. “Me next.”

[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Sometimes I see some excellent discussion around s1e5, which is just such a meaty episode, and a fun little game to play on rewatches is trying to spot the moment Ed's "fans" at the party stop laughing with him and start laughing at him.

And honestly? I kinda think it adds to the episode if you understand it as them laughing at him all along, with him just being too caught up in thinking it's possible for him to "win this interaction" to notice.

There's definitely a shift, there's a turning point at the dinner table when the angles go all unsettling as Ed realizes what's been happening, when Antoinette reaches for the bows in his beard in a very on-the-nose mirror of the experience pretty much every poc has ever had of someone feeling entitled to touch our hair, when a cork pops in the background and Ed flinches and they just keep laughing at him, but Ed is so unused to the passive-aggressive style of racism he experienced that I truly think they've been laughing at him all along and he just wasn't forced to acknowledge it until that moment.

From the start, they exoticize Ed, playing up his outlandish stories and making him the center of attention, and rewatching is so unsettling because you know they don't see Ed as a person, they see him as a novelty. Stede, unused to both the apparently positive attention Ed is getting and not equipped to notice the racist undertones, can't expect what's going to happen, and Ed's certainly more used to the kind of racism where people just call him a donkey to his face, so he tries so fucking hard to win these people over, to get them to laugh with him, unaware that they're already sharing a joke at his expense.

And I think it's honestly hard to get the whole point of the episode if you don't approach it with this reading! From the minute Ed walks in there, the only brown guest in the room, he's "lost" the game he wanted to play. It's a confirmation for him of his mother's warning that some people aren't meant for that life and never will be, and it's the reason why, when Stede tells him he thought Ed was actually quite sophisticated, letting him know that he'd done nothing fucking wrong, Ed falls for that man like a pile of bricks.

[t-tomuras]

Honestly a little gift for the sweetest person I’ve ever met @pastelle-rabbit

photographer Keigo Takami x Artist!reader. Fluff tbh, first meeting. 1.1k

It was easy for Keigo to find the beauty in everything, to capture it in stills nearly wherever he went. Oftentimes pausing mid stride while glancing about regardless of bodies around him on a bustling street just to capture the exact angle of whatever had caught his eye in the moment.

Sometimes it’s life in the strangest of places, like a bird's nest quaintly made in the sign of a fast food restaurant. Other times it was just the way the light of something had struck him or an object in his view. Camera roll, SD card, a full terabyte drive at his dorm on campus brimming with new locations or familiar areas shot differently.

Even strings of twine now extend from one side of his dorm wall to the other and cork boards begin to fill with Polaroid photos to capture feelings of nostalgia for the city he’s grown up in.

He favors that new camera now, uses it for his more personal photos rather than for class submissions.

But everything was beautiful to Keigo, taking life slowly and demonstrating it with life’s little joys.

Capturing his hardly nutritious breakfast of a canned black coffee and a cinnamon streusel muffin on a rainy day. Shaking the freshly printed photo from his Fujifilm Instax Mini out of habit alone while he sips at his drink.

Later, for lunch, a warm panini in his hand while it lounges next to the fountain in the middle of the quarry because he’d hoped the afternoon sun would glisten off the rippling water enchantingly.

Instead he gets a new sort of beauty, one unrivaled by anything he’d ever seen before.

A beauty like you, that sits in the shade of the biggest tree on the common ground, decorated in scattering sun beams that slip through the leaves. It paints you better than any of the art majors that practice with live models could ever dream of. It leaves him overtly awestruck and you’re merely enthralled with your sketchpad, bringing your knees higher to give yourself a bit more leverage to draw with ease.

Keigo assumes so, anyway, after watching your elbow move as your hand swipes across the page before you curl a bit closer to yourself. Involuntarily swallowing thickly, amber hues darting down to the purse of your lips as you blow away the eraser shavings followed by expertly flipping your pencil around to try again.

He has to manually shake his head to pull him from his stupor, gaze flitting about to see if anyone else had noticed what he had but of course they hadn’t.

Nobody ever notices as much as Keigo or the things he found captivating, but this time he’s a little grateful for it. Pulling up his camera and holding it up to his right eye while he closes the other. Pausing long enough for the lens to focus before it shutters as he clicks the button to capture your moment permanently.

The camera whirs then spits out the picture a moment later, colors slowly bleeding to the appropriate ones as the photo develops itself.

It pales in comparison, something Keigo rarely thinks whenever he’s chosen to capture a moment but he doubted anything could truly do your beauty justice.

He debates for a moment after, looking for the photo to you and back again before deciding he should give it to you instead of keeping it. Folding the paper wrapping back over his panini and tucking it into his cross shoulder bag before making his way to you. Crossing the distance easily and comping to a stop just a few feet in front of you so as not to be opposing.

“Hey,” he greets breezily, combing his fingers through sandy blond locks to pin them backwards, away from his face as he leans a bit forward. Bringing his hand from behind his back with the polaroid to hold out in front of him now, offering it to you as the other rubs sheepishly at the nape of his neck, “hope you don’t mind but, the light caught you perfectly so I took a picture.”

Even on a campus full of art majors of all different sorts, that statement still sounded creepy from a complete stranger. He coughs into his closed fist, crouching down to your level so maybe it feels a little less awkward but still he holds the photo out to you.

You look from the photo to his eyes and back again, setting your pencil down and carefully pinching the white segment of the picture to take it.

“It’s the only one,” Keigo adds for your comfort, lifting his instant printer camera with the strap slung around his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you finally speak and Keigo’s shoulders slacken. Thick brows furrowing appreciatively as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of his lips. Of course you sounded as lovely as you looked. “Are you sure I can keep it? This isn’t for an assignment?”

He chuckles at that, leans back on his haunches as he scratches gingerly at his stubbled chin, “no it’s not for an assignment. Wouldn’t be fair to turn in a masterpiece like that, I’ve gotta give everyone else a fighting chance.”

The sound of your giggle bids his heart to race, lips parting a bit and his eyes widen. He really doesn’t think he’s heard anything quite so whimsical in his life and Keigo loved to sit in town squares to listen to street performers.

A silence falls for a bit, nothing but the partially inaudible conversations of passersby or others that linger in the square and the sounds of you turning pages in your sketchbook before you close it. It looks like you’re getting ready to leave, packing away your supplies and gently tucking the picture he’d gifted into a fold safely before you stand.

Keigo follows with ease, hand reaching to grab your bag for you like a gentleman and you thank him again.

“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee with me? When you’re free.” He doesn’t think he’s ever sounded awkward in his life, an extrovert since his early years but maybe now he actually worries about fumbling something truly special.

But you give him a dazzling smile, one larger than the first that accompanied your gratitude. Your fingers wrap around the strap of your bag just above his and Keigo feels the warmth of it seep into his own skin.

You lift the weight from his hand, rummaging through it quickly before procuring a pen. Uncapping it as you reach out for him, delicate digits wrapping around his to pull Keigo's hand forward.

“I’d love to,” a hum of a response as your scrawl digits against the back of Keigo’s hand. Stepping away when you’re finished and giving him a wave, telling him you’ve got to get to your next class. Holding your thumb and pinky up to your face with a mouthed ‘call me’ before turning completely.

Maybe soon the cork boards, hanging twine, camera rolls and external hard drives will be filled with beautiful moments of you together before long.

If all goes well, and god did Keigo hope it did as he turns in the opposite direction of you; fishing his phone from his pocket to punch in the number you’d temporarily inked into his skin.

[catscidr]

Can you make a scenario with obedient reader who is getting experimented on by Dottore please ☺️

nonnie i started writing this at 1 in the morning yesterday because i couldn't stop thinking about it and i may or may not have gone over my self imposed word limit. however....... hot doctor. so. hope u enjoy because ik i sure as hell did ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: dottore being just a biiit creepy, slightly suggestive (?), normal tension + sexual tension asgnfns includes: fem!reader, dottore wc: 1,9k

“Stick your tongue out.” 

Dottore places his gloved thumb on your tongue, knocking you out of your daze.  

As per your routine, the doctor performs a quick, partial check-up to assess your physical state before diving right into his scheduled experiments. What he had planned you never knew; such was the joy of being one of the second Harbinger’s playthings. 

He gazes into your mouth with an almost bored expression as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. Being so close to his face, you could feel the warmth of his breath tickling your cheeks and the sharp point of his mask just barely grazing your jaw. When finally satisfied, Dottore mumbles something about nothing that’ll skew the test results and pulls his hand back, wiping your saliva off on his coat. You shut your jaw and look at him expectantly, waiting. 

He turns his back to you and rummages through a drawer, taking out an assortment of what appears to be wires coming out of a small rectangular box with even more wires sticking out of that. You glance at the machine and then back up at Dottore, a question burning on your tongue that he answers before you get the chance to voice it out loud. 

“This right here,” he sets the machine down on the table and plugs some cables into his laptop, “is a polygraph. Do you know what it is?” he asks with the ghost of a smile, hands buried in his pristine lab coat. You nod silently. 

“A lie detector,” the doctor says, disregarding your answer. He takes out a vial from his pockets and brings it up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, observing how the liquid shone at the right angle. Letting his arm fall to his side, he takes a few steps around the table and towards the chair you’re sitting in, bending down to your height. 

“Do you know what this is?” 

He brings his hand up to show you the vial in question. A purple, slightly translucent solution that came halfway up the thin glass, shut tightly with the help of a small cork seal. You already knew what you had to do with it, but not what the liquid itself did. Slowly, you shake your head and tear your gaze away from the liquid, looking back up at the man in front of you. His expression doesn’t change for a second, observing your own carefully. 

“Simply put, it’s a truth serum. Anyone that drinks this will find that they will be rendered unable to lie. Of course, the serum itself is still being tested, which is precisely why you’re here,” he says, his smile growing just slightly. You part your lips, hesitant to speak. 

“So, you... want me to drink the potion and then take a lie detector test to verify whether it worked or not?” you ask with a small glimmer of hope in your eyes. The doctor nods curtly, his expression unwavering. You internalize a sigh; looks like you lucked out today and won’t have to endure any physical torture this time around. 

“Now drink,” he says, emphasizing the order by taking out the cork top with a quiet pop, bringing the vial up to your lips. Your hand reaches up to grab the glass but right as you reach it, Dottore uses his free hand to swat your hand away. You tear your gaze away from the serum and look up at the doctor- his expression flat, lips devoid of the small smile that was previously on his face. He pushes the vial closer to you, the edge of the tube pressing against the plush of your lips, forcing you to tilt your head back ever so slightly. 

“Drink,” he repeats, his deep voice rumbling your nerves. 

You part your lips and tilt your head back even more, allowing the Harbinger the space to push the vial past your lips. Your throat bobbed as soon as the serum made its way down, Dottore’s stare unwavering from your face. The purple serum slid down smoothly; the lack of any discernable taste only being slightly unnerving, all things considered. 

Dottore stares at you long enough for you to start becoming nervous by his presence. However, as soon as your pulse quickens, he leans back and puts an acceptable distance between the two of you as he puts away the, now empty, vial back in his coat pocket. 

“How do you feel?” 

That makes you pause. How did you feel? Nervous, anxious? Awkward, even? The answer was an obvious all of the above. However, this was in response to Dottore’s unusual closeness, not in result of the serum changing your body in any way, shape or form. In fact, you didn’t really feel anything other than your heart racing in your ribcage. You felt strangely normal, which only fueled the slight agitation boiling in the pit of your stomach; feeling anything less than discomfort when subjected to Dottore’s experiments was nothing short of unusual. But, knowing he couldn’t care less for an answer that doesn't regard the effects of the serum, you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

“I feel fine,” you say as normally as you could. Dottore narrows his eyes, observing your behavior with interest, but doesn’t push further. 

He directs his attention back to the polygraph on the table, wires hanging loosely off the side of the surface. Grabbing the four cables, he peels off the protective film off from the sticky sides and sticks two cables on your temples and one on your wrist. Holding the last cable, he looks down at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Tilt your head back for me,” he says quietly, voice unassuming. 

You do as he says and, as soon as your throat is revealed, Dottore plunges his hand into your shirt. He sticks the last cable to the top of your left breast, fingers grazing the plush skin for a moment before he retracts his hand and rounds the corner of the table. Your heart pounds in your ribcage, your poor, weak mind reeling at how physical he seemed to be getting despite the psychological nature of the experiment. He makes no further comment as he opens his laptop and does whatever it is he needs to do in order to start the test. 

“Keep staring at the wall. I’m going to be asking you a series of questions. You are to answer with the first thing that comes to your mind, in the most natural way possible. Understood?” Dottore says rigidly. You nod quickly, replying with a quiet yes, sir. 

“Then let’s begin. What is your name?” he asks, leaning his chin into his palm. 

You tell him your name which, obviously, doesn’t make the lie detector go off. He nods and continues, asking questions that range from “where are you from”, “when is your birthday” and “how tall are you”. 

However, the more he speaks, the more his questions become increasingly... risky to answer. 

“What do you think of my experiments?” 

Holding your tongue, you mull it over for a moment. Even though you knew that no matter what you intended to say wouldn’t matter, that you’d just tell the truth no matter what, you wanted to think carefully either way. After a moment you part your lips, still staring at the wall like he instructed at the start, and speak. 

“Sometimes they can be painful, but I know you’re doing what’s best for me and... everyone else.” You felt the way your hands clammed up from sweat, the plastic chair becoming increasingly uncomfortable for you to sit in without shifting your weight. Dottore looks at the screen of his laptop and grins, his gaze finding your tense figure once again. 

“What do you think of me?” he asks, and even though you can’t see his expression, you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

You respond without allowing yourself to stress over what your truth is. 

“I think you have a strong work ethic, and I... admire you for it.” 

His lips stretch into a wide, uncharacteristic smile. Dottore stays quiet, stalling for the next question to let you simmer with what you just said. He shifts his position on the table, leaning forward over the computer with both hands clasped in front of him. 

“And what do you think of me, not as a Harbinger but as a simple, regular man?” he asks coyly, his mask hiding the way his crimson eyes pierced a path into your side profile. 

“That you’re attractive,” you blurt out, head tilting to the side away from him to hide the way your cheeks immediately warmed up. The doctor scoffs, amused by the sheepish display merely a few feet in front of him. 

“Hm. Good,” he hums to himself, straightening his back to lean into the chair he sat on. “Look at me,” he orders firmly. 

Not even giving yourself the time to process his words, you automatically turn your head to look at your captor. The sight of his pleased, seemingly innocent smile made your heart flutter. He grabs the side of his laptop and turns it around so you can look at the... blank screen?  

Before you can question what exactly it is you were looking at, Dottore speaks up. 

“I wasn’t tracking your answers. I lied to you. What did you say you felt after drinking the serum?” he asks with a tilt of his head, amusement clear on his face. You freeze, brows raising ever so slightly as the cogs turn in your head. 

“Nothing...?” you murmur quietly, slowly understanding what he meant. 

“Nothing, because you just drank water. With a dash of food coloring, sure, but water nonetheless.” 

“Ah.” 

Looking at his intricate mask then back down at the blank laptop screen, you felt yourself become increasingly embarrassed the longer the silence between you two stretched out. Dottore chuckles heartily, the sound revibrating in the small room as he stood up to loom over your figure. 

“Technically, you could still call this an experiment. What if you did lie? There’s a possibility you did since nothing forced you to tell the truth. However, I know you wouldn’t.” 

He leans down to your height, a gloved hand coming up to tilt your head back, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re always so good to me, you know. So obedient, compliant and malleable,” he sighs, a soft and eerie smile on his face. “My favorite test subject,” he whispers. 

Glued in place, you do nothing aside from staring up at him with wide doe eyes, your cheeks flushed as a result from the attention he gave you. 

“What a good girl you are,” he mumbles to himself, but still loud enough that you can hear. The doctor was so close that you could just barely feel the warmth of his body against you aside from his hand holding you still, his lips ghosting over your own. 

With a chuckle, Dottore straightens his back and looks down at you with a knowing smirk, acutely aware of the effect he had on you. He hums, faking being lost in his thoughts, conscious that you sat there, waiting, silently begging for more. 

“How about a reward, then?” he suggests in a low voice. “Prove yourself to me, prove that you spoke nothing but the truth, and I’ll reward you handsomely.” Dottore tilts his head in a way that can only be described as condescending, smiling at your bashfulness. Slowly, he takes off the wire stuck to your body, his hand lingering beneath your shirt, over the cable stuck to your chest. 

“I’m sure you’d enjoy that, my pretty test subject.” 

[comatosebunny09]

fun-sized | leon k.

summary: somehow, musing about being short lead to an obsession with leon’s boobs.

genres: romance, humor

cw: suggestive themes, reader is short, leon is a cheeky little sh!t, stream of consciousness, not proofread

music inspo: if - r5

Being short isn’t all bad. Sometimes, it has its perks.

Strangers pity you in the supermarket, for example. Watch with fond smiles and swelling hearts while you struggle to fetch a box of Froot Loops from the topmost shelf—it would be the last box with marshmallows, too. 

As your poor little calves sting and your fingers strain and you whimper pitifully for added effect, a leggy gentleman often swoops in to save the day.

You don’t have to duck beneath low tree branches when jogging through the park, either. Not at all fazed when your taller coworkers play limbo to avoid a splinter to the face.

Being fun-sized also comes in handy when dodging chainsaws and blades on a mission. Helps that you’re an agile little spider monkey, but you don’t have to do some fancy footwork to avoid having your head lopped off. You can simply duck.

Sure, you have to climb onto your countertops to reach the spice rack. Need a step ladder to retrieve plates from the cupboard. And maybe you have to put a little more oomph into your jumps to reach the pullup bar at the precinct. But the best part of being petite is, well...

Having the best view in the house.

That view being Leon S. Kennedy’s bodacious tits.

They flex invitingly in your peripheral whilst he reaches overhead to fetch a coffee mug. Doesn’t help that his shoulder rigs cup his bosom just right. And, of course, his dress shirt is tapered, accentuating the shape of his Adonis-like pecs.

Yeah, you could be a little more subtle with your ogling. Nearly scorch yourself with piping coffee, too preoccupied with Leon’s nipples that pebble in the cool air conditioning. But, he’s warm-bodied and virile beside you. Exudes the heady aroma of gun oil and cashmere. Stubble dapples his chin, and the golden slither of collarbone playing peek-a-boo with your vision beneath his button-up, well…

It takes every bit of you not to bite your lip, grateful the break-room’s free of any other occupants. It’s embarrassing enough eying your superior like a piece of prime rib.

Leon’s Adam’s apple bobs, causing you to instinctively swallow. Don’t even know when you stopped breathing, static filling the space between your ears. The definitive click of the cupboard being shut brings you back to the present. And you would nearly leap out of your skin, caught like the proverbial child rifling through the cookie jar.

His chuckle tinges the air, warm milk and honey to your ears. Tingles in the tips of your toes. Sparkles in the crown of your head whilst your cheeks flood with heat.

“Think you dropped something,” Leon drawls on the edge of your ear. Incredibly close, the heat radiating off his torso, branding your arm as he reaches around to pluck the coffee pot from your shaky fingers.

“W-what’d I drop?” you sputter, scanning the floor like a fool. Your gaze settles on Leon’s chest when another chuckle cascades from his lips. When a battle-worn finger creeps beneath your chin, angling your head back. His eyes swim with mischief, glittering like sea glass.

“Your jaw, sweetheart,” he croons as if taking part in a naughty secret.

You glimpse Leon’s crow’s feet before he draws away. Miss the warmth he emits, your voice corked in your throat. You watch pathetically, rooted to the floor whilst he ambles towards the break-room’s entrance, a hand stuffed in his pocket.

Before he crosses the threshold, Leon jests over his shoulder, “Gonna watch me like that; you should buy me dinner first.”

It’s out before you can think, hopefulness prickling your limbs. “W-what do you like to eat?”

It serves its purpose, stopping him in his tracks. The smirk he dons when he faces you again siphons your breath.

He stalks towards you before you can process things, soundless as a feline. Places his mug on the counter, spilling over you like liquid fire. Your back collides with the wall; didn’t even notice how close you were to it. Shiver as he sweeps an errant lock of hair behind your ear, suddenly caging you in with brawny arms on either side of your head.

You shrink beneath his power whilst he leans in. Jerk when he gathers your cheek into his palm, leaning down to whisper obscenities against the pulse point behind your ear.

Your knees buckle, and your lashes shutter from the absurdity of it all. From the sodden promises murmured against your skin, causing your tongue to loll about in your mouth.

Leon departs after whittling you down. Leaves you boneless, every egotistical ounce of him filtering from the room alongside him.

“So, dinner at seven?” you quip to his retreating back in the hallway, battling the thundering of your heart in your rib cage.

[night-lie]

so while i was making this gif for my deathnotetober entry for "chess" i noticed something... weird. i mentioned it in the tags but i can't not elaborate.

do you see it too? the side closest to us has TWELVE squares. that's not a standard grid size. there are EIGHT squares going in the other direction, which IS standard.

"surely that can't be right," i said.

well. buckle up.

here’s a quick edit with a neon green outline for the edge of the board and the vertical row that's easiest to count. it really is that size. can this be anything but an error?

EDIT: just for clarity, here's another sc with brightened colors so you can see that the surface in the gap between his face and shoulders is the floor, not the board.

what if the animators were just copying what obata drew? i went to find the corresponding scene in the manga. volume 11, chapter 90.

6x6. not a chessboard size, but heaps more normal than the anime one, even without half of the squares colored in. (they are colored in the color version of the manga.)

the board has some... noneuclidean properties, though.

these are from the same page. on the right it still looks like 6x6 at least from the horizontal row i can see, but the left seems much bigger to me. or maybe i'm starting to lose it?

the board makes another appearance in chapter 93 with this being the best angle of it. unfortunately it's impossible to say how far behind the speech bubble the grid extends.

it's also difficult to count how many squares the rows we do see are. the third row from the left with misa looks like it 7 squares? because why the hell not.

it shows up one last time in chapter 94, after which near stops using it. probably got tired of it changing sizes.

let's check for more apperances in the anime, since we've looked at episode 33 already.

episode 34 and it's. it's freaking 6x6 like in the manga!

the noneuclidean properties strike again. peep the blue arrow pointing to another white square. the row is at least 7 squares.

LUCKILY the board makes no futher appeances after this. the 12x8 scene has not been fixed in ReLight 2.

*deep breath*

so. we've established it's not a chess board, or if it is, there's an error with it. (i'm not gonna blame animators who probably had someone breathing down their neck to work faster. errors happen. obata drew it wrong originally, too, if it's supposed to be a chess board).

but i'm still not fully satisfied. is there anything this could be, diagetically?

my best guess, a checkers board (though i suppose the wammy's kids would call it a draughts board). i have a reason for that, other than the 8x8 boards being interchangeable between the two games.

this quick moment of near knocking down the kira legos with a cork gun.

both in the in the manga and anime he fires two shots BUT it looks like the cork bounces from kira to x-kira, knocking them over. with one move, near knocks over two figurines.

this is called jumping. you've probably seen a cartoon where someone comically jumps over all of someone else's pieces and cinches the win. i would have put a gif of that here but i couldn't remember any.

checkers is often seen as a more juvenile version of chess, like how near is younger than L. L plays chess, near plays checkers. checkers is the "easier" game. it's not a fair comparison, though. they use the same base concept, they have pawns and a king (/queen, depending on language), but the differences are too big to really claim they're the same.

just like L and near.

checkers is, in fact, older than chess. they played a variation of checkers in ur. freaking UR. ancient mesopotamia. 3000 BC. a variation of chess can be tracked back to only the seventh century. that's AD. did you know that?? i wouldn't have if i didn't look it up.

so, now i just need to find a variation of checkers with a 12x8 grid on the board from the wikipedia list. be right back. shouldn't take long.

*genuenly, a two hour long rabbit hole later*

so. bad news.

there's no 12x8 board. there's ARE 12x12 boards which is great, but not what i was after. there's only ONE variant with an uneven grid, a 6x4, in a game called tobit. it looks like this.

...i give up.

post cancelled. thanks for reading.

i'm gonna go mahjong.

[lyrabythelake]

LU-tober Prompt Day 3: Ring

“Stop!”

Sky froze, one foot hovering over the ground mid-step. If there was one thing he knew it was that if one of the other heroes shouted a command, you followed it, as swiftly and proficiently as possible. It could save you from an arrow to the head or the otherwise inescapable blast of a hidden bomb.

This time, though, Sky could see no discernable threat in their vicinity, just peaceful, rolling fields and the smoke from their campfire on the crest of the hill trailing a lazy, arrow-straight line towards the sky. He looked at Hyrule curiously.

“What is it?”

Hyrule had turned beet red.

“Ah–sorry Sky, it’s just that you’re about to step on a fairy circle.”

Sky’s gaze drifted to the ground below his looming foot and, sure enough, there was a ring of tufted grass there interspersed with the occasional burgeoning grey mushroom.

He stepped back, lowering his foot to the ground a safe distance from the circle.

He was confused. Not about the fairy circle itself–he had heard the stories when he was young, about how fairies gathered in these little mushroom circles and how they contained magic unknown to mere Hylians–it was a common fairytale told to children in Skyloft. 

No, he was confused because Hyrule was perhaps the least superstitious person he knew (no doubt a result of the severe lack of companionship growing up. Sky supposed he had little in the way of stories and superstitions passed to him like he did).

“It’s funny how some myths transcend even the borders of our separate dimensions,” Sky muttered absentmindedly. “I was told those stories too when I was young.”

“They’re not just stories.” Hyrule no longer looked embarrassed; his brows arched in surprise. 

“So fairies really do gather in them?” Sky asked with a small smile. He was only half humouring him; who knew how things worked in Hyrule’s world, it was infinitely different to Skyloft.

Hyrule squinted and angled his head to the side.

“Not so much anymore. There aren’t enough fairies left in the world for them to be used as meeting points like they used to, but there is a tradition among the fae that you leave an offering in every fairy circle you pass.”

“Truly?” Sky asked, not entirely sure what to think.

Hyrule nodded and began searching through his leather satchel, digging deep until he found what he was looking for. He smiled and opened his fist for Sky to see. In his palm lay a miniscule bottle of blood-red potion, glass and stoppered with the smallest cork Sky had ever seen.

Sky shoots him an amused look.

“Do you always keep fairy-sized gear with you?”

“You never know when you might need it,” Hyrule smiled.

“The Veteran must be rubbing off on you.”

But as Hyrule continued to clamber up the hill, Sky looked back at the ring of mushrooms. He couldn’t help but imagine Hyrule travelling alone in his world leaving small pieces of his depressingly meagre worldly possessions in each fairy circle he passed.

When he turned to follow his friend, it was with a growing fondness in his heart.

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

The legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, the start of everything.

Prologue.

Today would be boring, just as boring as yesterday was, and just as boring as tomorrow would be.

Lately, all your days seemed to be on repeat, the same boring routine which was now bordering on maddening. Nothing ever changed and the reality of things seemed to be catching up to you now as you grew up.

Currently, you were a teenager, worrying about grades and getting upset over silly things, like forgetting to bring your headphones along wherever you went. However, your age was reaching a worrying number, and you didn't feel prepared at all for it.

You didn't even know how to do taxes! How were you supposed to be a working adult?

Ha, “working”, you didn't even have a job.

Before your thoughts could spiral any further, you reached the door to your home, your foot lightly hitting something that, in order, made a muffled sound of glass rustling.

Looking down with a curious frown in your eyebrow, your eyes widened with even more curiosity when you noticed the small wooden chest on the floor next to your feet.

Bending down to pick up the small yet heavy box, you quietly thanked whoever had your back out there, for not letting you accidentally kick the hard object that was now in your hands.

The sound of rustling glass didn't stop as you moved around, and you could swear you heard something akin to liquid sloshing as well.

Your parents had left to go grocery shopping earlier and therefore the house was quite empty. At least that meant you had time to analyze the chest and satisfy your curiosity, especially since despite checking it from all angles, you still didn't find any kind of hint towards the owner of it, or whoever was supposed to be the owner, that was.

The chest didn't have a lock, so thankfully there wasn't any kind of struggle on your part to get it to open. What was inside wasn't exactly what you were expecting, but it didn't seem too crazy either.

It was a potion, based on your very much nonexistent knowledge on the subject.

Sure, the glass wasn't round like most potion glasses, rather, it resembled a crystal with it's square shape. Four long sides which kept funneling until they reached the very tip of the tall, elegant glass. The neck of the bottle was short before opening up into the mouth of it, which was currently closed off by a light brown cork, doing it's work to keep the contents of the glass inside, no matter how much the enclosed liquid sloshed around with every movement.

When light hit the glass, lighting up the mysterious clear light blue liquid, you could almost believe the liquid itself was alive, a living creature attempting to free itself from its confines.

As you moved the glass bottle around, examining it, you noticed something written in the bottom of it, carved in the glass.

“Iter ad alium mundum"

Obviously, you had no fucking idea what that meant. But, judging from the last word, “mundum”, which was slightly familiar to you, you had the feeling this could be written in a language that wasn't actually made up. So you went to Google translate.

“A journey to another world”

Oh, okay, that was something.

Definitely an euphemism for getting high.

Of course, it's not like you'd just place your life in danger just for the sake of satisfying your curiosity!

It's what you'd say, if you hadn't just placed your life in danger just for the sake of satisfying your curiosity.

You started out with a small, tentative sip, testing the waters. When you noticed you weren't high, or poisoned, you started drinking the whole thing like it was water. It was tasty, sweet, kind of weird, you couldn't really place your finger on what the taste of the liquid was exactly, it wasn't like anything you'd tasted before, so you assumed it wasn't really natural, but quite artificial.

One hour or something later, you fell asleep.

When you came to wake up, it was already dark out. Your phone was on the floor, making you believe you had fallen asleep while using it, since the last thing you remembered was scrolling on TikTok right before you fell asleep, probably having the thing fall off the bed at some point after that.

It was all out of battery, making you have to plug it in the charger to at least have an idea of what time it was. Some long seconds later, it turned on again, showing you the time.

1:03 AM.

Very late, it seemed.

Your parents probably thought you were too tired after school and decided to skip dinner, or at least, that's what you wanted to believe, since you didn't remember anyone coming to check on you after falling asleep.

Currently, you were feeling quite strange, groggy, but not in a sleepy way, rather in a dream way. Like that strange vibe dreams have to them.

You didn't think too much about your actions as you went to the kitchen, not at all questioning the reason why you were going there, despite not being all that hungry. Maybe you just wanted to check if your parents left you food?

Why would they leave you food though?

Slowly, your memories were fading away from your mind, one by one. Said mind which was also becoming cloudy, it was getting difficult to hold onto any type of thought process you had going on, as if rationalizing had been thrown out of the window, your body working on autopilot.

Your eyelids were heavy and your eyes burned, when was the last time you blinked?

The second you blinked, though, you were outside.

Looking around, the night felt bleak, lifeless and oddly foggy, or maybe it was your eyes that were foggy, either way you couldn't quite see past the first row of houses in your neighborhood.

The most odd thing, though? Was the fact that the bright, oval-shaped beacon of light right in front of you wasn't really phasing you as much as it should. The way you just began walking straight towards it as if it was a mere routine thing for you would be comical, if it wasn't concerning and extremely dangerous at the same time.

As you mindlessly walked straight into the white flames, your body was welcomed by them without second thought, disappearing into the night along with the flames.

When the sun rose the very next morning, your phone's screen lit up, now fully recharged, as it began ringing with the alarm clock you left programmed in it, supposed to wake you up every morning for school.

No one was there to turn it off.

Notes: Heyy!! So, new series am I right? Look I know what some of you guys might be thinking so I'll address it first.

First - I know I've been gone for a very long time again, and I'm sorry, my inspiration and motivation were both gone for a long time and I had to pretty much force myself to get back to writing, but now I swear I'll try harder to be a little more regular in my posts. (keyword: try)

Second - “A new series? But my request didn't even get done yet!” I know! I'm sorry, I plan on posting a oneshot of a request after I post this, so like, my plan is to alternate between request and series. One day my post will be a request, then the next will be a new chapter, then the next a request– Of course, for that to happen, I'll need more requests, so just to emphasize, I love getting requests! It honestly makes my day, no matter if it's very long and specific or very short and simple, I love reading and writing out the things you guys think about! (Even if I take a long ass time to do it)

So yeah, there's another series I'm thinking of posting, which I already left a hint of what it will be in my last LU post, but I'm still thinking and planning, once again, let me know if you'd like to see that, I love reading your comments!!

These notes were basically just me explaining that even if I don't interact much, or post regularly, I still love you guys, I'm just terrible at interacting with people, even if I'm just texting on the internet.

By the way this is not Linked Universe related, but since I'm almost finished playing Skyward Sword I just figured "isekai Reader? Why not?" so yeah. (haven't decided if it's going to be yandere yet)

Sorry for the rambling!!

[myalgicencephalomyelitiscfstom]

I got my travel permit for my mobility scooter today. 😀 "To travel on Dublin Bus with your mobility scooter you must have a permit. This is because some mobility scooters are too big to fit on Dublin Bus buses. To find out if your scooter is the correct size and to arrange a permit, contact Dublin Bus’ Travel Assistance."

Travel Assistance Scheme in Dublin https://www.dublinbus.ie/accessibility/travel-assistance-scheme

I had another lesson today in getting on and off with my mobility scooter. This is a lot harder than my electric wheelchair which has a much tighter turning circle. There are loads of hand rails that can get in the way of turning (people on foot probably wouldn’t notice them). If you know the angles and spots to go to it is much easier. Though you still will need sometimes to ask people to temporarily move particularly if they have a buggy on the opposite side to the wheelchair spot. Also there are different types of buses on my routes with different internal layouts.

I'm going to have one more lesson but he is confident I could do it myself now.

As it says above, you need to get approved to use a mobility scooter on Dublin Bus. But even for powered wheelchair users, it's a great free scheme to build up confidence and realise for example that you may need to ask people to get up temporarily even if they're not in the wheelchair spot itself. It's like getting free driving lessons.

A lesson just to clarify is where they accompany you on the bus. So they meet you at the stop or in your home and you get on one live bus and get off it at the next stop and then get on another live bus, etc. Alternatively, as we did when I first started with my electric wheelchair: we got on a live bus (I was totally confused what to do as I didn't even know the spot or that you have to face backwards but the travel assistance helper sorted me out). Then we went to a bus terminus and practised getting on and off when a bus driver was on their break tilt I built up more confidence.

There is also a Travel Assistance Scheme in Cork https://www.buseireann.ie/inner.php?id=757 .

I heard before they hoped to start them in other parts of the country such as Galway and Limerick.

[zhendi1031]

Significance of Angle Stop Corks

In the intricate world of plumbing, every component plays a crucial role in ensuring the smooth flow of water and the prevention of leaks. Among these components, the angle stop cork stands out as a versatile and essential piece of hardware.

An angle stop cork, commonly referred to as an angle stop valve, is a small, angled valve that controls the flow of water to a specific fixture or appliance. Unlike traditional straight valves, angle stop corks are installed at a 90-degree angle, making them ideal for tight spaces and areas where a straight valve would not fit.

Angle stop corks are typically made from brass or plastic, with brass being the more durable and long-lasting option. They consist of a valve body, a handle or knob, and a stem that connects to the water supply line. The handle can be turned to open or close the valve, allowing for precise control over the water flow.

Advantages of Using Angle Stop Corks:

1. Space Efficiency: Due to their angled design, angle stop corks are good for areas with limited space, such as under sinks or behind toilets.

2. Ease of Use: The handle or knob on an angle stop cork is easy to operate, allowing users to quickly turn the water on or off.

3. Leak Prevention: By providing an easily accessible point to shut off the water supply, angle stop corks help prevent leaks and water damage.

4. Durability: High-quality angle stop corks are built to last, with brass models being particularly resistant to corrosion and wear.

5. Versatility: They can be used in a variety of applications, including residential, commercial, and industrial settings.

[dark-elf-writes]

You ever run on the edge of exhaustion for days and are more than a little convinced you’ll never write again when a scene hits you so hard you have to write it out right that moment or explode?

Anyway, Leaf House Cloud snippet anyone?

“Where did you get that?” Tseng asked when Cloud produced a bottle from seemingly nowhere once they had found an empty stretch of roof to sit, the night still too young to retire but neither of them wanting to deal with the press of the crowds below.

(A professional hazard, the paranoia. Still the view of Midgar at night was hardly the worst in the world.)

One day Cloud would stop surprising him, but tonight, with a stolen bottle of wine in his hands and a darkly amused smile on his lips, would not be that night. It was fortunate that mischief was such a good look on him. More fortunate still that Tseng was no shining beacon of morality himself.

“The table next to ours had… opinions on the nature of our relationship and on what, exactly, a ‘slum rat’ like me is useful for to a man like you.” While his time in Midgar had gentled the Nibel drawl to Cloud’s words to anyone who didn’t know to listen for it, there was no mistaking the underplate accent. One intentionally learned.

(“The kids are more comfortable with someone that sounds like them,” Cloud had explained once, nodding to where a little girl was hanging off of Reno’s arm while she chattered at him. “It feels like home.”)

The smile Cloud sent him was all Nibel, however. Wild and full of far too many teeth to be polite. A wolf in the skin of a man. All too bright eyes and deceptive strength hidden in his slight form.

Tseng had never seen someone more beautiful.

“Figured if they were going to treat me like a rat, I might as well get something out of it. Payment for being their dinner entertainment.” The ice in those softly glowing blue eyes said enough about exactly the kind of conversation their fellow restaurant goers had been having.

(Perhaps it was fortunate that they had only spoken loud enough for Cloud’s enhanced senses to catch. Tseng was not nearly so forgiving.)

“Some might think that proving them wrong is the greater revenge.”

Cloud turned to him, pointing the top of the bottle at him in accusation. “Are you going honorable on me, Turk?”

Tseng wondered if Cloud saw the irony of the most honorable man Tseng knew, albeit in his own way, throwing the word at him like a curse. Still, it wasn’t worth ruining their night by pointing it out.

“With a vintage that fine as your prize? Hardly. Though it is a crime to drink it straight from the bottle.”

Cloud’s laugh was little more of a huff of air as he pulled out a knife, Reno’s old knife by the looks of it, cruelly serrated and certainly overkill for the poor cork, and carefully worked it in at an angle. When the cork popped free Cloud looked back up at him with that wild smile. “I can drink it all myself, if you want.”

Tseng took the bottle and tipped his head back for a long drink. As fine as the wine was, Cloud’s laughter was far more intoxicating.

Midgar didn’t have parks. Was far too well lit to see the stars. But seeing Cloud with his jacket open and legs dangling over the side of the roof, Tseng wondered if this was the feeling romantics chased with grand gestures and over the top spectacles. There would be no epic poem for their story, no record of their love forever immortalized in words to be repeated night after night in an opulent theater full of the exact type of person Cliud would steal from as compensation. There was only this moment. Only the two of them suspended above the city with Mako smoke burning their lungs and alcohol burning in their veins.

It was enough for him. Enough for Cloud too it seemed, when the man leaned into Tseng’s side as he regaled him with a tale of one of the many times he had send the Don’s thugs running from his little safe haven in the slums.

No epic tales, no eternal love story. Only Cloud and Tseng and and the blood that stained both of their hands.

It was far better than LOVELESS any day.

[fellowshipofthenoodles]

So I don't really know what to do, one of my cresties has decided to not use his hides or the plants he usually uses (he squishes himself behind them while he's sticking to the wall) and he's instead opted to just stick to a small empty piece of glass wall and at first I didn't worry because he would stick his tail to the glass but today his tail was hanging like he had FTS, I've been trying to cluter his tank more ever since he started sleeping there but he doesn't seem to care, he'll just squeeze himself back into the same spot, I've been wanted to get one of those 3d printed hides but I don't really know what size I should get, I'll attach two pictures

I just don't know why he specifically likes that spot (also sorry they're blurry, I have really shakey hands) he also frequently uses the plants in the back to hide but he's stopped for some reason. (Also his tail is no longer down because I used a branch above him to pin his tail to the wall, not like it's pined pined but it's just laying against the glass now) also I know the bottom is a bit open, I just re-organized it and I've been second guessing it but if you have any ideas please let me know, thank you.

Sorry for the second ask but I actually got a creative urge and I put in an extra vine, along withe the light vine, and then I put in another big plant, I just tried to clutter it as much as I could in hopes he sleeps somewhere else, and i know its not the best, I have the worst time trying to find stuff, im probably going to put some real sticks in there at some point, I just have a hard time figuring out the type of tree

-

Sorry for a 4th ask but I had gotten a picture of his pelvic region and I was wondering if it was normal, I had panicked because it was so rare for his tail to fall like that, especially at a 90° angle when it usually fell at a 48° angle. Again sorry for so many asks

Hello! So sorry for how long this has taken @crestiegeckos - lots of irl stuff going on for us as well as asks being weird sometimes.

So it’s possible that it’s FTS if he doesn’t often go on horizontal surfaces or doesn’t have enough horizontal surfaces to be on where he feels safe/comfortable - this is why things like branches and bridges are so important for cresties (and other arboreal geckos). For branches you just need something like cork bark or you can use I think Java wood, bog wood or mopani - any wood that isn’t toxic and can withstand high humidity.

However some geckos don’t enjoy horizontal surfaces even with access to them. Some just end up with FTS because they prefer to be on the glass like that - we’ve seen it occasionally in groups on Facebook.

Saying all this though, sometimes gecko tails can and do go at a weird angle with without FTS. We can regularly see various geckos we own with their tails at weird angles, it doesn’t mean FTS it just means they can move their tails and they aren’t always straight out or curled around them.

But I do also have to say that it could be any number of things and we aren’t qualified to say whether or not it is FTS, something else or nothing. If you see it repeatedly or are worried then I recommend a vet visit. Also try not to disturb your gecko too often with enclosure changes, that can cause a lot of stress to keep adding or moving things around and will make it very hard to settle - try to leave it at least a few weeks between each change so he can adjust to what you’ve done already and try not to make changes while they’re in the enclosure.

I hope this helps.

[transientwordsmith]

rage

You know the expression "seeing red?"

Yeah, that never really resonated with me. To me, it feels more like a pot that's overflowing. Or a thermometer that's gotten too hot. A bottle popping its cork. Something like that.

I'm filled with the most violent thoughts and urges. It feels good to dwell on them sometimes. It feels cathartic in a way.

But not enough.

Just dwelling on those thoughts feels, in a way, akin to pleasuring yourself. It feels good, like scratching an itch. When you realize that it's only a fantasy, though, it's like stopping right before you push yourself past the edge.

So when he said those words to me, of course I took the opportunity. My hand was on the door handle but in a flash it was on his arm. Like it was second nature, I twisted it back and brought my knee up with a satisfying crack. He screamed, but I couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in my ears.

This.

This is what euphoria feels like.

I twisted his arm even farther and watched as his bones turned at an unnatural angle. There was a nice pop as I jerked his arm forward.

"Why?" He moaned. I payed his words no mind. Instead I leaned forward and grabbed ahold of his lower lip, and pulled it clean off with one forceful downward pull.

His knees buckled and he hit the floor hard. The flesh of his lip still in hand, I shoved his head back into the corner of the dresser behind him. It pierced his skin with a dull cracking noise. He gave a wail of pain. I threw his head back again. and again. and again. and again.

Finally, he passed out. I took a moment to inspect the back of his head. There was a bloody hole, akin to the kind you dig in your backyard. Wet at the bottom, and full of flecks of white. I shoved my finger in it, and was disappointed when he didn't writhe in pain.

I slapped his cheeks and he came to with a start. He groaned and tried to bring his hand up to his head to inspect the nexus of pain but I didn't give him a chance before I dug my finger deep into the hole. He gave a horrible howl while my face broke out in a grin. I kept trying to dig my finger farther and farther in until finally it woudln't go any more. He went limp once more in my hands.

Letting go of him, I allowed his face to hit the floor. I pushed his body with my shoe, turning him so his ear was to the ground. I raised my foot, and then I

crushed and

stomped and

pulverized

his face until it was unrecognizable. His skull had caved in and the ear facing skyward had been lost somewhere in the mess of blood and flesh.

I took my foot off and wiped it on his shirt, as you would on a doormat. I took a moment to fix my hair and to compose myself.

"You really shouldn't say things like that," I said calmly, one foot out the door. "They hurt my feelings."

[mrs-johansson]

Chapter 4: Captain America: The Winter Soldier - Partners in crime

Part 7:

We made our way to Triskelion immediately. Sitting at the back with Sitwell behind the driver’s seat and Natasha on the other side with me in the middle and of course Sam and Steve at the front.

“HYDRA doesn't like leaks.,” spoke Sitwell. “So why don't you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam bit back. “Insight's launching in sixteen hours, we're cutting it a little bit close here.” “I know.” Steve sighed. “We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the Helicarriers directly,” I said. “What?! Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible idea-“

And the next second something heavy landed on the roof of the car and someone grabbed Sitwell and pulled him out of the window, throwing him in front of a truck.

That certain someone crawled back on the roof and then a bullet came straight through it. Pushing Natasha to the front, I slid to the other end of the backseat where Sitwell sat. Steve pulled the handbrake and then we saw who was on the roof because he flew straight ahead, but landed just fine. “Oh, my god…” I spoke under my breath, chill running down my body.

James. More like The Winter Soldier.

As another car smashed into ours it pushed us along, then he jumped back onto the car, smashing through the windscreen, and pulled out the steering wheel. “Shit!”

Natasha started shooting at him but the Winter Soldier jumped onto the vehicle behind us, as our car was being pulled off the road Steve held on to the car door. The three of them fell out of the car and I held onto the front seats, trying to stay as still as possible while the car was spinning.

As soon as the car stopped, I crawled out before it would explode. And then I saw him, looking straight at me but then turned to one of the HYDRA agents and took a gun.

Looking for Natasha, I quickly spotted her hair behind a car. “Sam?! Are you okay?” I spoke into the comms since he was the only one I couldn’t see, but before he could answer James fired at Steve which threw him off the bridge. “Yeah, I’m good,” Sam answered.

James was clearly aiming at Natasha and I needed to step in. Throwing a fireball at their car the agents turned around, getting distracted. I ran at them from behind a car and hit one in the face then kicked the gun out of his hand and quickly picked it up before shooting all three of them. “Sam, you need to get here. Take care of the agents, I’ll get Natasha and the guy. Steve, how you doing?” I asked and waited for anyone to answer. “Copy that, on my way,” Sam said. “I’ll have agents down here, holding up good. Who’s this guy anyway?” Steve stepped in. “The Winter Soldier.”

Sam quickly took my place and held up the agents, and I started shooting at Barnes. “Nat? You okay?” I asked as I couldn’t see her. “Yup.” And with that James fired at a car and it blew, and I saw Natasha jumping off the bridge. The Winter Soldier was quick to change to a machine gun and look for Nat over the bridge. I shot at him from a great angle and he was in a rush to pull back and take cover. His eye shield broke which he ripped off, then like a madman started shooting down the bridge. I was sure Natasha was sending bullets his way, so I started sneaking closer avoiding the other agents. “I’ll try to get him away from the bridge,” Natasha spoke over comms, clearly she was running.

Barnes jumped off the bridge and made his way toward Natasha. “Steve, the agents are after you, Sam, help him out from the bridge.”

“I’m coming down,” I said and ran up to the side before jumping, and just as I was about to land I hovered above ground then stepped on it. “I’m in pursuit,” I started running after him and then when he came into the right distance, I shot at his leg. He stumbled then turned around.

We made eye contact, something I never thought would happen again. I dropped my gun and we started walking toward each other. That empty look in his eyes was making this all too different. He was not James or Bucky, he was a murderer, The Winter Soldier.

His gun fell to the ground, he was ready to throw hands. “YA dumal, ty umer.” (I thought you were dead.) I said out loud even though he wouldn’t remember me. Throwing a fireball at him, Barnes fell to his knees and then looked up quickly. “U menya yest' devushka Stark.” (I have the Stark girl.) “Great, so now you don’t speak to me? Ignore me, huh? Okay… Then how about I knock you back to reality?” I marched at him after pulling a knife out of my boots.

We met halfway and I jumped on him, wrapping my legs around his neck and flipping him over. “Out of practice?” I tilted my head but he was on his feet in no time and his punch got in, hitting me right across the face. “Well, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.” It did. Swinging the knife toward his leg, he was fast to kick it out of my hand, but as he was only on one foot I kicked that out, making him fall to the ground.

The next second he swiped me off of my feet, by kicking both my legs out. “Gosh, my back, you bitch,” I groaned but then he got up looking for his gun.

And then he walked off, probably looking for Natasha. “Nat, he’s off to you. His right leg, it’s injured, shoot that,” I spoke into the comms while trying to get up. “You okay?” Her softened voice came through. “Yeah, I’m on my way there.” “Me too,” Steve stepped in and I let out a relieved sigh. “Great, you could help me get up from the ground,” I stayed on my back and tried to take heavy breaths.

Heard Natasha about over comms, trying to clear out the civilians. Then I heard running. “Y/n, hey!” Rogers kneeled beside me. “Oh great, I just need help to stand up,” I said and he was ready to pull me up. Thank god it worked, because I was in the middle of the road, and I didn’t want to be a pancake made by a car.

“We need to find them,” Steve said and we ran off towards the bomb sounds.

Barnes came into view and he was aiming at a running Natasha, then fired.

The painful scream that left her throat made my stomach clench and my heart dropped.

Steve ran at him, while I got to Natasha as quickly as possible. Sliding to the other side of the car, I saw the scared look on her face. Hand holding onto her shoulder, but blood came straight through her tight fingers.

“It’s okay, I’m here. Look at me,” I crawled over to her, cupping her face with my hands. “You’re gonna be okay,” I took her hands away from the wound and pressed tightly on it. A whine left her throat and she threw her head back. “I’m sorry, I know,” I peeped through the car window to see Steve and Barnes still fighting.

But then his mask fell. Steve stood like he saw a ghost. James looked at him with that same cold expression. The blonde straightened and was clearly in shock. “Bucky?” He breathed out. Steve knows him? “Who the hell is Bucky?” And with that, Barnes took off towards Rogers.

The next moment Sam flew in and kicked James down. Knowing Steve wasn’t alone I looked back at Nat.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, taking my jacket off while also pressing her wound. “It hurts,” she mumbled. Trying to wrap my jacket around the wound I glanced at her.

Eyes fixated on my face, but no words. “What?” I asked and opened the car door, hoping to find something that could help her. “I’m sorry,” the weak words were a slap in the face. “What for?” “For treating you like shit,” she frowned as I pressed tightly onto her. “Yeah, well… we’re in some crazy shit right now and I’m gonna let this slide but next time talk Romanoff, yeah?” I asked and she nodded.

Looking over, Bucky was ready to shoot Steve but then I noticed the grenade launcher by Nat. Grabbing that and aiming at the car next to Bucky I shot. Throwing him away.

Soon, we heard sirens after which we were surrounded by HYDRA agents led by Rumlow.

“Drop the shield, Cap! On your knees! Get on your knees! Now! Get down! Get down!” Rumlow aims at Steve and then multiple agents come to us too, guns pointed at us.

“She needs medication attention,” I said, looking at one of the agents who I’ve definitely seen before at SHIELD. “Don't move.” Rumlow looked at the helicopter flying above us and warned the agent who was holding Steve at gunpoint. “Put the gun down. Not here. Not here!” Everyone lowers their guns. The HYDRA agents then took Steve, Sam, Natasha, and me into custody.