#Especially if they start chewing on my wires

[doberbutts]

I would feel bad for the mice that get caught in my traps if it were not for the fact that I have now killed 3 in the span of 2 hours to the same trap. I feel like if you keep sending members of your family out to forage for food and they keep going "ooo! Yummy peanut butter :)" to the same very obvious trap in the same location, at some point that's kind of on you.

So now my reaction to walking into the room and seeing the exact same trap with yet another mouse inside is "...idiot" instead of "poor thing".

[artdcnaldson]

hiii it’s 🎀 coming off anon :0 i finally caved and made a challengers fixation blog

n e ways …. puppy art with his needy little puppy teeth has been chewing the wires of my brain bc this mf is not used to getting denied, he’s usually such a good boy and gets everything he wants and more (deserved) !! but i also think he has a brat streak that doesn’t come out until he’s more comfortable, especially when patrick enters your dynamic.

maybe you and patrick start getting closer. the two of you end up taking on a sort of mommy and daddy type dynamic for art when he’s in his puppy headspace, which translates well to the two of you occasionally hooking up when art is busy (cough and talking about him while you’re getting each other off, but he doesn’t know that). he notices that you and patrick get more comfortable with each other, more casually affectionate, and it spikes jealousy in him at the worst time bc all of you are busy and can’t play that week for whatever reason. so, art starts acting out. he’s snappier with you, he’s passive aggressive in general, he’s serving balls to patrick that feel distinctly aimed at his face.

need him to brat out so bad that you and patrick are forced to punish him. he’s been a bad puppy and bad puppies don’t get treats. bad puppies have to watch patrick give you orgasm after orgasm while he’s not allowed to touch. bad puppies have to sit next to the bed, hard and drooling. he starts out so huffy and angry, rolling his eyes and growling at you both, but by your third orgasm, the bratty attitude is long gone. little sobs are catching in his chest. he’s literally watching you like this.

he’s rethinking all his choices :(( he doesn’t wanna be a bad puppy, he doesn’t wanna be in puppy jail :((( he wants to be a good boy again but he’s sunk so deep in his headspace he can’t talk anymore, just whine and cry :(((

aaaauuuuuuughhghghhhhhh

Oh he’s so possessive, so bratty :((( it’s not fair that mommy and daddy get to play when he’s not there :((( he wants to know what you’re talking about, what you’re thinking. What you do to each other.

Patrick kisses you in front of him, before you head off to work on a major project for one of your classes and leave them alone at the courts. It’s a hungry, intense kiss. He sees your tongues licking into each others mouths and he scowls. When you go to tell him bye, you go for a sweet kiss on the cheek and he turns, captures your mouth hungrily, clumsily. His teeth clack against yours, his tongue presses between the seam of your lips and he imagines he’s licking every trace of Patrick from inside of your mouth.

His eyes are a little wet around the lashes when he pulls back, his anger clearly visible. You give Patrick a look over your shoulder, he just shrugs. No use on worrying about it now, not when you all had shit to do.

But then Art starts talking back, getting a bratty little attitude. You text him hey, wanna watch a movie tn? He responds shouldn’t you ask patrick?

It makes things click. Patrick had dealt with his attitude on the court, his icy demeanor. You were dealing with getting ignored and his bitchy, jealous attitude.

You have established plans on Saturday, ones Art wasn’t going to back out of and just give you two the chance to fuck around without him. The second you walk into their dorm, he’s on you— his hot tongue licking at your throat, his strong body pinning you against the door.

You’re quick to strip, to reveal every inch of your body that he’s been dying for all week. He strips obediently, until he’s bare and aching for you to touch him, to let him use his body to please you. “Patrick next,” you coo, and he’s on Patrick immediately, kissing him hungrily as he peels off every article of clothing on the brunette.

“Missed you,” he whines.

“Yeah?” You ask softly. You meet Patrick’s gaze over his shoulder, smirk slightly. “Well, mommy and daddy think you’ve been a bad puppy this week.��

He huffs, jaw clenched as he steps back from you. Patrick grabs onto his shoulders, pushes him down onto his knees beside the bed. His cock twitches where it stands upright between his thighs, all pink and droopy with need.

“You can’t have a treat if you’ve been bad, Art,” you tell him. “We don’t want to reinforce bad behaviors, and you’ve been so territorial lately.”

He gets so pouty when he doesn’t get his way— he’s so good at bringing pretty little crocodile tears to his eyes. “I just don’t want to be left out,” he whines. “I’ll be good, just lemme—“

Patrick silences him with two fingers deep in his mouth. Art’s moan is muffled around them. “Puppies don’t talk. Now sit there and watch so we can rub your nose in it.”

He starts salivating at the sight of your bare pussy— all wet and needy, aching to be filled. Patrick purposefully takes his time, spreads you out with his fingers so Art can really see the needy flutter of your hole. He growls, really growls, feels himself sinking deeper into the headspace as he’s denied what he wants.

“This could’ve been yours to play with if you weren’t such a bad boy, Art,” Patrick says with a grin. Art watches as Patrick sinks one finger into your cunt, then a second. He’s so close he can smell your need, that he can hear the wet pass of Patrick’s fingers fucking in and out. He huffs, goes to turn away, only for you to grab him by his hair and force him to watch. His jaw clenches and he rolls his eyes.

Three thick fingers buried in your pussy, art whines at the sight of your body accommodating them— at the peek of pink inside. You cum easily like that— stretched on Patrick’s fingers with his thumb on your clit. Art’s cock leaks pathetically on his lap, kicking and drooling stringy beads of precum that pool onto his thigh.

Art’s mouth waters when Patrick eats your pussy, sloppy and messy and feral. He feels his mouth filling with drool, has to swallow it down over and over as he itches to lap at your pretty, glistening folds. Patrick moans at your taste, slows down so art can really watch the way his tongue parts you, the creamy arousal that clings to his tongue. The tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, makes your thighs twitch and tremble.

Art’s tongue lolls out of his mouth, he feels himself drooling but can’t help it. He’s so lost in the punishment, in being a good puppy and learning his lesson. Your hands dig into Patrick’s hair, rough and needy as you guide his mouth where you need it. Your hips cant off the bed as you desperately grind against his face, seeking your finish.

A gush of wetness escapes you, soaking Patrick from nose to chin. He grins, licks his lips, and cleans off the mess between your thighs with his mouth. Art’s squirming by then, hips bucking up against the air, drooling down his chin, needing attention, needing to taste.

He wants to just die when Patrick sinks into you, when he watches your pussy stretch to fit his fat cock inside. He wants to lick at the place where you’re joined— taste your slick off the base of Patrick’s cock, clean the ring of creamy white that forms with each rough thrust. Your nails dig into Patrick’s shoulders, leaving angry red scratches as he pounds you.

Frustrated, pathetic tears slip from Art’s eyes, and he whines over and over again, desperate for attention. You finally reach over, scratch your nails through his hair affectionately. He gives a pleased little whine, watches Patrick fuck you as you pet him.

Patrick’s balls press against you with each thrust, make a soft plap against your arousal-slick flesh. He wants Patrick to cum, to empty his balls into your cunt so Art can be good and clean you up. Patrick looks over, moans at the sight of Art so disheveled and fucked.

His face smeared with drool, pupils blown, flushed down to his chest. Pretty pink nipples drawn all tight, cock throbbing an angry red. God, it’s so hot when he gets this way.

Originally, Patrick planned on torturing art a little longer, but how can he when he’s so fucking adorable? He cums, spills hot and thick inside of you. When he pulls out, your twitching cunt expels a gush of his seed, pretty pearly white and slipping down towards the sheets.

“C’mon, puppy, clean up.”

Art’s on you in a second, licking at your cunt with a fervor neither of you have seen before. Long, quick laps of his tongue as he grinds against the mattress. All he feels is the hot pleasure of friction on his cock, the taste of Pat’s cum and your juices. He could’ve been down there forever— he loses time. He’s just being a good boy, doesn’t even notice when he cums and goes oversensitive. He just keeps humping the bed and licking at your cunt.

You cum hard into his mouth, warm and wet, accompanied by another rush of Patrick’s cum slipping out. He cleans it up, keeps licking you until you can’t take it and you have to pull him by his ear to join you at the top of the bed. He licks your neck your cheek, anywhere he can reach.

“You’re such a good puppy, Art. You made mommy and daddy so proud, didn’t you?”

He nods, sucks a bruise onto your throat. You click your tongue, keep your voice soft. “We need to hear you say it, okay? Need you to come back to us now.”

Patrick rubs his back affectionately as you hold his face, make him hold eye contact with you, breathe slowly. You see his gaze return to normal, lose that haze. He kisses you softly on the lips, then turns and kisses Patrick.

“I made you proud,” Art repeats, and the words feel a little foreign on his tongue after not speaking for a while.

“Mhmm,” Patrick says, scratching his hair. “You just needed some training. But you’re our good puppy again, baby.”

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Full of Surprises - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by @galaxy-of-stories's post

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: virgin!bob x fem reader, oral (f receiving), p in v, swearing, hangman actually being a decent friend towards bob.

word count: 3k

minors dni below the cut

Bob chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he watched you from across the beach, his dark blue eyes watching you intensely from behind his wire framed glasses. He rarely took part in off-base activities with the rest of the Dagger squad, but today, he’d been coaxed out by Rooster and Phoenix to join the team for a relaxing beach day. What he didn’t know though, was that you would be there. You were Maverick’s niece, and Bob had pretty much instantly fallen for you. Smart, funny, beautiful and friendly - Bob thought you were the whole package. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about something you were interested in, the way your cheeks blushed whenever Maverick and Rooster started reminiscing about your childhood, having grown up playing with Rooster on occasion when you were little, and he loved the way you were so outgoing, and so unlike him. He always hated his incurable shyness, the fact that he struggled so hard to come out of his shell, he resented it, especially now that it made it next to impossible for him to hold a conversation with you. 

“Hey, Baby-on-Board, you coming?” 

Bob turned his head around to face one of the pilots on his squad, Hangman, calling over to him. Bob rolled his eyes at the nickname Hangman had given him and shook his head quickly, his cheeks turning red again. He prayed that the UV rays were strong enough that day that he could lie and say the reddening of his face was due to too much sun exposure, but he knew that wasn’t likely going to work as an excuse on anyone, much less Hangman. The tall blonde pilot raised an eyebrow at Bob as he folded his arms over his broad chest. 

“Jeez, Bagman, don’t you ever wear a shirt?” Bob laughed dryly as he poked fun at Hangman, who had long ditched his t-shirt to show off his sunkissed skin, trying desperately to attract any female attention he could get on the beach.

“Hey, at least I don’t keep mine on the whole time at the beach.” Hangman shrugged as he sat down on the sand beside Bob. “Why do you anyway? I mean, you do all the same workouts as the rest of us do. It’s because you’re covered in chest hair isn’t it?” Hangman smirked as he playfully shoved Bob, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes.

“No, I just don’t like to,” Bob shrugged his shoulders, “You know me, I’m not one to draw attention to myself.” 

“I hate to break it to you, Bobby, but you’ve definitely drawn someone’s attention,” Hangman grinned at him as he pointed towards you with his thumb as he spoke, “Mav’s niece hasn’t been able to stop herself from giving you the bedroom eyes, it’s hilarious that you haven’t noticed it yet though.”

“Bedroom eyes?” Bob laughed and shook his head, “What the hell are bedroom eyes?” 

“You know,” Hangman put his sunglasses atop his short blonde hair and grinned, imitating the lustful look he was referring to, the one he was so convinced you had for Bob.

“I have never seen anyone make that face in my life, Bagman. Are you bullshitting me?” Bob raised an eyebrow as he leaned back on his palms in the sand and sighed softly as he watched you again. The breeze blew your long hair back and the sunlight hit your tanned skin just right, making you appear to have a sunkissed glow. The sight alone was almost enough to drive Bob crazy. 

“Hah!” Hangman grinned as he pointed at Bob’s facial expression as he watched you, “You’re doing it to her right now!”

“I am not!” Bob protested, shaking his head. “Look, don’t you have something better to do?”

“No, I know I’m a shitty wingman half the time, but this time, I’m making it my personal mission to be yours.” 

Bob sighed again as he rolled his eyes. He knew he wasn’t winning on this one, and Hangman wasn’t going to leave him alone anytime soon. He just wasn’t ready to make a move on you yet. He’d had a handful of girlfriends over the years, but he’d never gone any further than making out for one reason or another, usually due to nerves. As badly as Bob wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to be humiliated in front of you.

“I’m fine,” Bob said through clenched teeth. 

“Dude, you can tell me what your hang up is. I’m not gonna go blab it, I promise,” Hangman said, placing his hand over his heart playfully to show that Bob’s secret would be safe with him.

“Fine…” Bob exhaled and shook his head, “I don’t know what the bedroom eyes are or anything because I’ve never, you know…gone to the bedroom…with anyone,” He said as he gave Hangman a pleading look, his facial expression begging him for some sympathy and compassion instead of the relentless teasing he expected from him.

“You mean, never?”

“Never. Not even close. I think I’ve made out with a girl once. I was like 18 though.” 

“Wow,” was all that Hangman could muster out.

“So now you get it?” Bob asked softly, “It’s not that I don’t want to ask her out. It’s that I’m scared I’ll screw it up because of that.”

Bob sighed and shook his head again as he stood up. He brushed the sand off his shorts and forced a laugh.

“I’m gonna head home, Hangman. See you later.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hangman laughed as he put a hand on Bob’s shoulder, his firm grip stopping Bob from walking away, “You’re at least gonna talk to this poor girl. She’s been interested in you the whole time she’s been here visiting Mav. Christ, even Mav’s noticed it,, and we all know how observant he is.”

“What if you’re wrong though and she’s not interested in me? Maybe she’s just being nice. I bet you’re more her type anyway.” Bob frowned.

“Me? No, she’s uh…she’s made it very clear I am not her type,” He laughed softly, shaking his head, “I tried. She outright told me “the cute guy with glasses” is her type. And how many guys with glasses are on our squad?”

“Just me…unless she meant sunglasses. Then it could be anyone.”

“Robert, I swear, you’re the dumbest guy I’ve ever met sometimes,” Hangman laughed as he rolled his eyes, “She meant you, jackass. She likes you. She told me. Now, what are you going to do with this information?”

“Talk to her…?” Bob tried, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he thought about it.

“Attaboy, Baby-on-Board, you got this,” Hangman grinned as he stood up, “Now, do me a favour? Try to look a little less like you’re about to shit your pants over this ok?” 

Bob rolled his eyes and took a deep breath as he approached you, a friendly smile on his lips as he nodded his head towards you. 

“Hi, I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself,” Bob offered his hand out to shake and smiled, “Lt. Robert Floyd, everyone calls me Bob, sometimes Bobby though.” 

“Hi Bob,” you grinned and shook his hand, “Y/N. Nice to meet you. My uncle’s told me a lot about you. You’re a WSO, right?”

“Yeah, I’m the backseater, it’s kinda fun, I’m a big nerd, so I get to use a lot of math in it to calculate where to aim the lasers and all that.”

You let out a giggle as he explained his role to you and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with you. Hours passed between the two of you conversing together, Hangman proudly watching Bob impress you from the background. After a while, the rest of the squad cleared out from the beach, leaving just you and Bob there by yourselves. It was beginning to get dark outside when you stood up beside Bob and smiled warmly.

“Want to come back to my aunt Penny’s? She’s not gonna care if I bring you over, she and Uncle Mav speak very highly of you. Aunt Penny always says you’re incredibly polite, and Uncle Mav called you a “good kid” so I doubt they’d mind if you came back to hangout for a little while.”

Bob nodded his head and smiled politely at you, the sunset making his eyes shine as he turned to face you. He leaned forward gently and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled away after a moment and shook his head. 

“God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m not usually that forward. I mean, I wanted to, obviously,  I just normally ask first. And now I’m rambling, fuck sake,” He laughed and shook his head again.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, quieting his anxieties and insecurities as your lips met once again. He moved his lips in time with yours as he kissed you, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip, as if he was asking permission for it to enter your mouth. Your tongues swirled together with passion and lust as you made your way across the sand and over to the front steps of your aunt and uncle’s home where you were staying, your lips barely breaking contact as you walked. You felt Bob put a hand gently on your waist as you pulled him inside through the patio door, into the sunroom where you were staying. You breathlessly pulled away from Bob to come up for air, shrugging your cardigan off your shoulders as you did so. Bob, finding a sudden burst of confidence, grabbed you by the waist with one hand and pulled you into his body tightly, pressing his lips to your neck. As his lips found your sensitive spot on your neck, his hands palmed their way over your breasts, gently cupping them and squeezing them as he felt you up. 

“Mhmm, Bob,” you groaned softly as he made contact with your sensitive skin. 

Bob pulled away for a moment and frowned slightly, remembering his earlier confession to Hangman. He let out a deep exhale before turning to face you, his facial expression full of concern as he spoke.

“Listen, I have to tell you something before we go any further, ok?” His voice was quiet and low, almost in a whisper as he spoke.

You nodded in response and waited, listening intently as Bob spoke.

“I’ve never…you know,” He finally said.

“Never?”

“No, never.”

“Do you want to though…?” You asked after a few moments of contemplation.

Bob bit his lip and laughed softly as he nodded his head quickly. 

“Believe me, I really do.”

“Then I’m honoured to be your first,” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek gently.

His cheeks flushed a bright scarlet red as you spoke. Without further hesitation, Bob leaned in and kissed you passionately again, tangling his fingers gently in your hair as he pulled you in closer to him. He pulled away ever so slightly as he spoke and laughed nervously.

“You’re going to have to tell me if I’m doing any of this right, ok? Kissing is about the only thing I know how to do.”

You giggled softly as you nodded your head reassuringly to Bob as he drifted his lips down your neck to your collarbone. He gently ran his hand up your leg, his fingers brushing against the hemline of your sundress as his hand drifted slowly up your thigh. You felt him take a deep breath as he pressed his lips to your collarbone again, his fingertips grazing your underwear gently. He looked up at you without saying a word, his lips still hovering above your collarbone, as if to ask for permission to keep going. You bit your lip, holding back a grin as you nodded your head, giving him the signal to continue.

Bob’s fingertips grazed against the dampening fabric of your underwear again, moaning softly into your collarbone, he looked up at you as he slowly dragged them down off your legs and laughed softly. 

“Wow.” he said, trying to hide his mix of arousal and curiosity, “You’re uh…you’re pretty into this, aren’t you?” He laughed as he tossed your underwear to the floor. 

“Mhmm,” You smirked at him as you guided his hand, his fingers gently brushing against your folds, feeling your arousal as it began to gather on you. 

“Shit,” Bob laughed softly as he shook his head, “This is where I start to not know what I’m doing.” He gave you an apologetic look.

“Everyone has a first time, Bob, I’ll show you what to do,” You smiled reassuringly at him as you continued to guide his hand along your core. He smirked as his wandering hand found your clit, two of his fingers pressing against the sensitive nub as he discovered it. The sound that fell from your lips was almost enough to make Bob lose all self-control on the spot. He arched his eyebrow at you as he continued to gently draw circles on it with his finger. 

“Y-you can use your mouth there too,” you nodded, trying your best to think clearly as he pleasured you.

Bob bit his lip gently as he positioned himself between your legs. He took his glasses off and sat them beside your leg as he ducked his head down in between your legs. He gently pressed soft kisses to your folds, his tongue carefully lapping up your wet arousal as he kissed at you. You let out a loud moan as Bob’s lips made contact, but before he could lift his head up to see if you were ok, your hand was grabbing a handful of his sandy blonde hair, pulling his head into you gently to tell him to keep going.

Taking the hint, Bob continued to leave soft kisses on you, grinning as he heard you moan out. 

“Feels s’good, honey, keep doing that,” You encouraged as he began using his lips to suck at your sensitive clit, your hips bucking upwards against his mouth, your body craving being as close to him as humanly possible.

Your compliment to Bob’s skill turned something on in him, and suddenly, he began moving his lips in the same rhythm but with more passion, like he’d just discovered his God-given talent on this earth was using his mouth to pleasure you into oblivion. As you reached your boiling point, Bob continued to lap his tongue at you, his lips sucking on your clit as you rode it out. He pulled his mouth away from you before pulling his t-shirt over his head. He wiped his mouth on his shirt before discarding it to the floor and working to unbuckle his belt before dropping his shorts to the ground. His boxers were tenting with arousal as he looked down at you, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. 

“Do you…do we need anything?” He asked as he tried build up the confidence to do what he was about to.

“I’m clean and on the pill,” You nodded your head and laughed softly, “So you’re good.”

“Right,” Bob chuckled softly as he nodded his head before peeling his boxer briefs down off his body. 

Bob stroked his length before lining his hips up with yours. He took a deep breath and looked to you for an indication that you were ready, that you were sure you wanted to go through with this. As you flitted your gaze to him, biting your lip as you sized him up, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. Bob looked at you, somewhat mortified as his eyes widened.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing, you’re just…bigger than I’d pictured, if you get me. You might need to take a pause once you get started so I can adjust to you, mkay?”

“Gotcha, don’t worry darlin’,” Bob nodded knowingly and laughed as he ran a hand through his hair. 

You let out a sharp exhale as Bob lined his hips up with yours and gently pushed himself into you. As promised, he paused for you to adjust to his size, waiting for you to tell him you were ready for him to start. Once he heard you give the ok, he began thrusting his hips in and out of you, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he felt your body tighten around him, your arousal dripping from you and onto his cock. 

“Fuck,” Bob groaned as he thrusted deeper into you, finding his rhythm, “You feel so good, darlin’.”

“Keep going, baby,” you purred at him, encouraging him to continue before throwing your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name loudly.

Bob felt your walls clenching against him, gripping his erection tightly as he pumped himself in and out of your body. He felt as you arched your back against the bed, bucking your hips upwards into his thrusts as you came close to your climax again. He groaned loudly in pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier and more frantic.

“Fuck, darlin’, I’m so close,” He hissed as he let out another flurry of sinful sounding moans and grunts as he came.

The two of you sighed in unison as you rode your pleasure out together. Bob panted as he pulled himself out of you, his cheeks red from breathlessness as he tried to compose himself. He hovered over you, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. You pressed your lips to his passionately, moaning softly against them as your overstimulated body struggled between wanting more from him, and wanting to take a break.

“How was I for my first time then?” He grinned at you. 

“I never would have believed you if you told me that was your first time after we’d done it. I also don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before this either.”

Bob smirked as he laid himself down beside you in bed, putting his glasses back on.

“Well, apparently I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?

[watatsumiis]

(A soft, fluffy continuation to this post about Xiao's reading and writing skills (or lack thereof)

Teaching Xiao how to read and write would be a tedious and difficult endeavour for everybody involved. He may not catch on to what you're doing at first, but once he does he'll do everything in his power to try and avoid it. He's super embarrassed at how far behind he is, and he doesn't want to be perceived as weak in any way, shape or form, especially not by you, someone he's sworn to protect.

It may seem like he's pushing you away at first, and eventually an intervention needs to be staged - whether you bring in Zhongli and some of the other adepti to help explain it all, or confront Xiao on your own, he'll respond better once you've been open and direct with him about what you're doing and why.

Though he is genuinely trying his best, Xiao simply isn't accustomed to sitting still and trying to learn. He's hard-wired for vigilance and combat, so it's nigh on impossible to get him to stay in his seat. He's up and about, wandering the area and trying to keep an eye out for any possible danger, no matter how much you assure him that there's none to be found. You can only get him to sit down for five or ten minutes at a time before he needs a break, or else he starts to get destructive.

Once he's settled a bit and started to write, it comes out stiff and awkward - he always holds his brush like a weapon, no matter how much you try to teach him otherwise. You can say it as often as you like, but Xiao simply cannot pull himself out of combat mode. To him, this is a battle like any other, he's just conquering worksheets instead of demons.

He always makes an utter mess of the inks and chews on the writing tools when you take your eyes off of him - he likes the texture of the wood splintering between his teeth.

His embarrassment and shyness also mean that he finds it really difficult to speak up when he's having trouble with something, no matter how much you reassure him that it's okay to ask for help. He also does well when you're working alongside him, even if it's on something else.

Teaching Xiao these skills is an arduous task, but he retains the information well, even after long gaps between lessons. You may find that occasionally rewarding him with little treats may also boost his productivity somewhat. Not necessarily food, but small trinkets, head scritches and hair brushing tend to be great bribes to coax Xiao into working towards a goal.

He'd never tell you, but one of the main reasons he said yes to your teaching proposition is because he wants to be able to read and enjoy your favourite books alongside you. He even ends up spending some extra time around others so that he can ask them for the definition of words he's not sure about as he slowly but surely progresses through the book during quiet restful periods of time.

One day, you'll find that he's speaking in an awkward, stilted sort of way, perhaps saying things that don't exactly fit into the context of the situation. How quickly you realise depends on what your memory for quotes is like, but you come to the conclusion in the end anyways - he's quoting your favourite books to you, trying to tell you that he read them without outright saying it.

He's secretly really proud of himself for being able to make it through an entire book. Though he may not fully understand certain parts of it, and the deeper meanings still elude him, he's just delighted that he was finally able to share something so special and meaningful with you.

You may even start to receive mysterious, unsigned letters on important dates and holidays - rolled up in pretty, loose ribbons and covered in blocky, awkward handwriting. Unsigned, but filled with love nonetheless.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or copy - pasted into bot or AI technology

[teaandmisanthropy]

We had to say goodbye to Snookums a few weeks ago, on August 16, 2024. These are some of the last pictures I have of him.

He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as a result of (probably) lymphoma and had been losing weight for a couple of months and his digestive system was deteriorating.

He got lots of attention and extra treats at the end of his life, and he lived to the age of fifteen and was a happy, goofy, lazy snugglebug who was full of affection for us and friendly to everybody, including multiple dog acquaintances. He was a devoted, biddable sidekick to the BB (Arwen) (2007-2021) and a wonderful adoptive uncle to Tristana (2020, adopted April 2021-). And despite being a mellow fraidy cat who had always been submissive before, he didn't hesitate to become the senior boss cat and tell off Anubis (who is young and unusually strong and was about half again his size) and actually defended Tristana from Anubis's attempted attacks a few times when he managed to breach containment.

Snookums was my baby, and what you might call my familiar animal or one true cat, from the time we brought him home. He spent three days hiding in a blanket cave in the sauna at our old apartment in Turku and wouldn't eat for over 24 hours, until I finally got him to by feeding him from my hand.

He was afraid of crackling noises and especially plastic bags and loved chasing/ collecting hair elastics and chewing on rubber bands and silicone oven mitts and old wired earbud wires, all of which had to be hidden from him. He loved kisses and his method of kissing was to headbutt you in the head, earning him the nickname "butthead".

He was also the most talkative cat we had ever met when we got him, and used to meet me every time I came home and make a long speech that I referred to as the Kittysburg Address. He purred very loudly and was terrible at cleaning his own claws, which was perhaps partly because he was already missing a couple of the tiny teeth when we got him at age 1.5, but mostly because he was lazy. So he had to have toe gunk cleaned from his claw sheaths basically his whole life and he hated it, but was fundamentally non violent, so the most resistance he ever offered was occasionally squirming in a half hearted escape attempt.

When he was young he also used to wake me up in the middle of the night wanting to play, and I woke up many times back then to find his toys (usually hair bands and silicone oven mitts) in or around the bed. But even when young and irrepressible, Snookums was pretty lazy and spent much more time snoozing and snuggling than the BB, who often ran around bouncing off the walls without him, even though he was her constant companion and playmate.

In later years he got more lazy, as well as becoming more like himself in other ways (snuggly, silly, food-motivated), and he also acquired diabetes, which reduced his energy a lot. But he lived for about six years with his diabetes under control after his diagnosis, and was doing very well recently. The final illness was probably not related to his diabetes.

For many years, actually since he was very young, I used to periodically just start crying while I was holding him in my arms, because I loved him so much. The spectre of losing him someday, even when it was far in the future, was already scaring me. (We got him two years after the death of @waxjism's One True Cat, Lily, so this wasn't out of left field.) Maybe I did some of my grieving in advance. I felt like I didn't have time to grieve right after, but even though the sadness is massive, I have had an easier time adjusting my brain to the new reality than after the loss of past pets. Cornish rexes are very snuggly and affectionate cats and most of them spend a lot of time lying on people's laps, giving out hugs, basically, but Snookums is the only pet I've ever felt was comforting and soothing me just as much with his snuggles as I was soothing him.

[youhavehitawall]

Didn’t want to spam your ask box, but I realized I was forgetting what I wanted to ask so here it is, maybe. Some of it might’ve been lost.

You mentioned at one point that Ratchet had mobility issues, but not what they were exactly.

Ratchet and Reg are battling to be my favorite, Austin is too similar to me to be my favorite unfortunately.

I can’t help but what to meddle with stories I really like, for instance I want to be a bit of a stalker and send Firestorm a picture of Ratchet in Backwater Downs, maybe with a clue on the back. I feel like that’s a fun idea to mess around with.

Most of Ratchet's mobility issues are in the parts of him that self-repaired instead of being fixed by a mechanic. His Plymouth Fury heritage gives him advanced self-repair, which is what kept him alive (that, and the roll-cage) during and after his crash. The mechanic that fixed him was hesitant to undo the self-repair's work since Ratchet was so precarious. The mechanic also did a lot of jury-rigging work, as Plymouths are a rarity in Australia. Now, his biggest issue is, his parking brake is useless. He can't do big hill starts anymore. Reg often drives behind him so that, if he gets stuck on a hill, he can roll back into Reg and do a normal hillstart. He also slips near cliffs or on beaches, and will roll if he falls asleep on an uneven surface. He can also be physically pushed around even with his brakes on. His left side axles were crimped in the crash and he can't go full lock to the left anymore. He also struggles with offroading, anything more than a dirt track is very difficult for him. He can't race on dirt at all anymore as it puts too much stress on his chassis. His A, B, and C pillars are all dented and were hammered and self-repaired into shape. His eyesight is much poorer than it used to be, and his muteness comes from the same damage. His brain simply can't connect the words and the sounds anymore. The front of his chassis rails are permanently twisted inwards which can feel uncomfortable for him, especially when he's turning hard - again, no offroading. His tailfins are not quite symmetrical anymore and it throws him off his line at high speeds and makes him stray to the right. His headlights also don't work 100% of the time, and his highbeams flicker terribly. The wiring is fucked.

His jaw clicks when he chews. This isn't a mobility issue but it didn't do that before the crash.

Austin I feel like doesn't get the full rep he deserves on here. It's very difficult for me to pack his entire character into a little comic because he has so SO much character. He is motivated by rage for decades and it twists him up inside. He's angry and bitter and anxious and horny and that's his 'good day'. He loves the dead and used to steal parts from graves and upgrade himself without anaesthetic. There is something deeply deeply wrong with him. He's absolutely my favourite because he is so fucked up but he's also so kind and loyal all the time. He would do anything for his friends and partners at the drop of a hat. But he also 100% is waiting for Reg to drop dead so he can take that delicious V10 for himself. And I do mean delicious. Which is to say just remember the version of him you see here is PG rated.

Realistically, Firestorm would never believe a picture of Ratchet (known to him as Ricochet) if he got one. Firestorm's business is perfectly legitimate, but he's not above running illegal stock behind the scenes. His association with Rundown also makes him a lot of enemies even in the criminal underbelly. Rundown has very few allies. So a picture of Ricochet, he'd just take that as an enemies' baiting attempt, albeit one in poor taste. It doesn't matter that the Fury in the photo has Ricochet's funny little twitch in his smile. Doesn't matter that he has matching warbles in his left fender, just like Ricochet had, from Firestorm's first attempt at panelbeating. Doesn't even matter that there's a red-eyed ragtop Hornet in the background, a model of car nearly impossible to find, who has Austin's missing tooth. Firestorm would never take the bait. He might store the photo away and he might lie awake at night, wondering about it, wishing desperately he was younger and more naive and stupid enough to pursue it. But he won't risk his family or his life. He has to make a decision, between chasing ghosts and raising his kids, and as much as it pains him he lets the photo sit in the dark album and gather dust with all the others.

BUT let's play in this for a second. Assuming there's a way to make Firestorm believe this isn't doctored, well, it doesn't matter that Backwater Downs is not even a town name, isn't even on the map. Doesn't matter that Ricochet has been missing for sixty years. Within a month of getting that photo, Firestorm is landing in Darwin International Airport. He storms out, buys a drum of water and drives south into the great flat lands.

Firestorm finding Ricochet is probably the worst way for them to reunite, because it makes Firestorm so incredibly, extremely angry. Sixty years and Ratchet never tried to reach out. Firestorm is so sick and tired of trying to hold his sibs together and he's sick of being forced to watch them drift away, and DIE, from apathy or petty arguments. Also in this timeline, Ratchet feels obliged to explain that he left because Robyn tried to kill him - shot him and everything. That would turn the whole situation into a disaster. The happier versions are when Ratchet comes back to America and reunites with Firestorm. He never reveals Robyn's crime, and he even allows Robyn to apologise to him, though he doesn't forgive her. She did a lot of damage, even if she hadn't meant it maliciously. And Firestorm is so happy to have Ricochet back home, he chooses to gloss over that yawning gap of "why didnt you call or text or write or fax or come home or-" that plays in his head constantly.

Fun fact, when Ratchet reunites with Firestorm, poor Rico gets a "Jr" tacked onto his name. Firestorm called him Junior on occasion, but thisis the first time Rico has to confront the fact he was named after someone that his dad missed dearly. And he hates being a Jr. He immediately tries to race Ratchet for his honour back and he gets his ass kicked. Ratchet then takes him out for beers and ice-cream and Rico Jr decides he has the best uncle in the whole world.

[bluepeachstudios]

GitS Asks!

Ohhh yeah you KNOW that man is panicking and his boys are trying their best to calm him down and force him to relax.

I cannot answer this because spoilers, but my god I want to. I want to gush about the movie stuff so badly. I can say that Ghost would definitely prefer to be taken instead of Raph. He thinks the boys should stick together.

Oh boy, yeah it do! (:

Oof you're torturing my boy here, I see. I think after very emotional words and feelings turmoil he would stay. He feels like the boys need protecting at this moment. He wants to keep them safe, and... Well. He just doesn't know what's happening with his brothers.

Ghost likes that when Splinter spends time with the kids, the kids are super happy about it. He likes watching them watch Lou Jitsu movies. He likes that Splinter uses nicknames instead of their full names all the time. He likes that Splinter makes them soup when they feel bad. He likes that when the kids talk about their childhood, Splinter is a constant. He likes that the boys love him, and he loves the boys.

Ghost doesn't hate Splinter. He just hates that he's not his dad.

I won't give spoilers if it's something that hasn't already been covered. Sometimes I'll go off about what's going on in Ghost's head, but that's because that's already going on. ;)

Ough Ghost would hate that. He doesn't want them to see that.

Yes to both! Meditating is something that's been ingrained into him since he was little, so he hasn't stopped now. From best to worst, Raph is the best. Mikey is second best, if he's moving while he meditates. Donnie's... Decent. Leo's horrible at it. He can't stay focused.

Ghost did find that directing them through certain katas and letting them do those motions on repeat is a good way to let them meditate. They do a much better job when they're moving.

Ghost does seem to be getting hurt a lot....... Wonder what that's about. (:

It's a little of both! Ghost wasn't mutated on purpose, and the mutagen itself wasn't meant to make soldiers of any kind, so his mutation doesn't make him as sturdy as genetically engineered weapons of war. On the other hand, Ghost also is still working off the physics of his universe, at least somewhat. It means getting hit hurts. there's no "comedic effect" going on with Ghost. He gets hit, he gets hit.

Yup! Ghost can cook! He especially likes baking. Ell and Mike can as well. Spirit... Eugh... Let's just say he survived with a rice cooker, takeout, and a healthy fear of anything that produces heat.

Ghost has already fought these particular Foot, when they first showed up in the Rise series! He asked Splinter about them, and he confirmed they were in fact THE Foot. Ghost has them burned into his mind now.

He also has no idea they run a shoe shop. He will eventually find out, yes, and the story is about Ghost, so also yes!

Yes. It worked very well.

There was a stray cat he fed when he went to the surface to get food. He looked like Klunk. Donnie thought about taking him back to the hideaway, but started thinking about having to clean out the litter box, worrying about the cat knocking things over or chewing on wires, feeding him every day, giving him attention, and he just... Couldn't handle all of that at the time.

Nothing that I can think of off the top of my head? Ghost was building trucks with dozens of missiles in it by the time he was 15. He likes to encourage Donnie's creativity.

Uranium is just a no-go because they don't have a way to safely contain it and use it. And Donnie's 14.

Donnie has theories. This is actually a spoiler, because Donnie's whole theory is a spoiler! Don't worry, we'll see Donnie's theory soon (;

Honestly, Ghost is a little worried about that. He's hoping that the kid won't turn out like the fucked up man that's in his universe. Like, he's still a kid! If Splinter can be how he is, and Leo can be so different from his Leonardo, what's to say that this kid isn't also different?

First round, babey!! It's my headcanon that 03 Donnie was subconsciously more interested in watching than he was in participating. It wasn't a life-threatening event or anything, it was a fun warrior vs warrior, honorable battle. He was in another dimension, of course he was excited and wanted to see things!!

In Big Mama's Battle Nexus, things were to the death. Nothing to poof you away if it would hurt you too much. He had to take every hit and feel it. He won out of necessity. He didn't enjoy a second of it.

Ghost probably would get further than he did in the last one, but I don't think he'd win. For him, fun fighting is sparring with the kids. His heart wouldn't be in it.

[qqueenofhades]

I don’t know if you’re currently taking any sort of ficlet writing prompts, but this popped into my head earlier. Fedyor to Ivan as newly graduated grisha trying to figure out where they stand with each other after having spent all of training hating each other, “you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid and don’t you dare deny it”

It is a sad but common fact of Fedyor Kaminsky's life that Ivan Sakharov absolutely loathes him. This isn't exactly news, because as far as anyone can tell, Ivan Sakharov absolutely loathes everyone. The tall, skinny, angry northern kid from Chernast with a permanent chip on his shoulder and an apparently pathological aversion to making friends, taking it easy, or even smiling at anyone in the dining hall or the dormitories, ever. Even the other junior Heartrenders, including Fedyor, think he's a little much, and they tend to start conversations with any of their fellow trainees by apologizing for whatever Ivan did to them all yesterday. It's an oddly common currency for cross-Order friendships at the Little Palace. Who knew.

The thing is, which Fedyor doesn't get, is that Ivan seems to especially hate him. This doesn't make sense, because Fedyor is about as friendly and outgoing as a Heartrender can possibly be (maybe that's why he's so offensive to Mr. Doom of the World over there?) He can get along with almost anyone, he's the only one who has attempted to stand up for Ivan when the rest of his friends are bagging on him, and it just seems unlikely that of all the fledgling Grisha, Fedyor is somehow the most intolerable. It bothers him, not least because the two of them have had what you might call moments. A few of them. From time to time. It's hard to tell with Ivan and his complete inability to grasp basic human emotion, but still.

Now, however, it's the celebration for the newly minted Grisha cadets, allowed an evening of drink, food, and revelry before they're all packed off to the Fjerdan frontlines tomorrow and get to prove how much that training was actually worth by whether they stay alive. Fedyor has been enjoying it with his friends, raising toasts and convinced, as every young soldier is, that they're in fact immortal. But he's also taken note of Ivan sitting in a corner and glaring at everyone daring to do something so heretical as enjoy a party, and after his third cup of wine, Fedyor sees no need to put up with it. He gets to his feet, brushes off the heavy new black-embroidered red kefta that they all officially get to wear, and marches over. "Sakharov."

Ivan eyes him up and down, chewing his tongue. There is a very long pause. Then he snaps, "Kaminsky."

"Look at us." Fedyor, displaying more bravery than the entire Second Army combined, flops himself down directly in Ivan's lap. He is running a real risk of being the first casualty of the autumn campaign, but while a muscle leaps in Ivan's cheek at this unbearable familiarity, he doesn't actually try to murder Fedyor on the spot, and therefore Fedyor knows in smug vindication that he is, in fact, correct. "We're real soldiers now and everything."

"Get off," Ivan says, after several moments too long, "my lap."

"Actually? No." Fedyor snuggles closer. "Because you want to know what I think, Sakharov? I think you secretly like me. More than that, I think you want to fuck me. So bad that it makes you look stupid."

Ivan stares at him. Fedyor stares at himself (you know, metaphorically). Even with three cups of liquid courage, that is more than he has ever pushed it before, and he winces and braces himself for his heart to abruptly stop. Still, it doesn't. Ivan's muscles are coiled as tightly as steel wire. His gaze flicks over Fedyor's head at the other partying young Grisha -- who, probably for their own welfare, haven't noticed anything. He doesn't move for a final instant. The entire world hangs and waits.

Then, all at once, Ivan gets up with a jerk, dumping Fedyor ignominiously off his lap and onto the floor. Fedyor hits with a thump, too surprised to catch himself, but he doesn't have long to wait. Ivan reaches down, seizes him by the wrist, and yanks him to his feet. "Fine, then," he says, in a growl that should not excite Fedyor nearly as much as it does, but here they are. "Come on and stop talking."

(Fedyor moves all his clothes and belongings into Ivan's room two weeks later. Ivan gets back and discovers it already finished, grumbles helplessly for a few hours, and then gives in. They have been together ever since.)

[annakie]

Fixing The House Part Four - I Really Want to Stay at My House

Part One: I Do Not, In Fact, Have the Power

Part Two: Let’s Spend Lots of Money!

Part Three: All These Things That I've Done

Another week(ish) gone by, another update.

This one is both more and less exciting than the last few.

Let's start with the more exciting thing. It's not exciting in a very good way.

PART ONE: I Don't Have Some of the Power

Thursday morning I had a Doctor's appointment to go to. Before I left, the lights in my Office (which, you may recall, is the room that most people would use as their living room) started flickering and my PC was turning off and on. Well, that's not great.

I just shut everything off and left for my appointment.

I got home a couple of hours later and turned my desk lamp on. It started flickering. My PC did not turn on AT ALL.

Honestly, I was exhausted and had taken the rest of the day off so I just went to bed.

Like a half hour later I started hearing a popping and buzzing coming from my bedroom closet.

The closet which held the fusebox. Errrk.

I quickly located the fuse that was the problem and turned it off. Annnnd of course it was the fuse for both the office and half the living room, the part with all the Internet equipment on it. :v

(Note from later: Also, all of this burnt out my power supply on my computer, which was like, six months old. So I had to replace that, but thank GOD my PC was fine otherwise.)

So I already had Arturo coming that day. I just went to sleep for a couple hours, then when I woke up I pulled out the 'ol hotspot yet again, thanks work.

Right around the exact same time, Arturo arrived as well as Jose, Maria and what I assume was their son.

They got to work staining the fence!! And I showed Arturo what was going on with the fuse. In case you might be thinking that he did something that caused this, he literally had not actually touched the electricity when he'd been there before, we'd just discussed what I wanted done.

After some examination, he told me he wasn't sure he could even find a replacement for the 60-year-old fuse but would go to the speciality shop and try the next day. I sighed and asked him how much it would be to install a whole new fusebox. He said they'd also need to move it outside so it'd be up to code and get inspected. And then I asked how much it would cost to rewire the whole damn house. He gave me a price which sunk my stomach but let me chew on it.

Arturo did tell me that I was damn lucky that I was home when this happened (I hadn't explained that I'd been out for a few hours that morning) because there was a real good chance, especially with the clothes in the closet right by the fuse box, that the house could have caught fire and burned down.

Errrrrrgh. But I believed him, with what I'd been hearing.

He was very cool and rerouted all the power for the office/living room to run on the same circuit as the guest bedroom, which rarely even gets used. So I had internet and power back in the most important parts of my house (after the kitchen.)

So then he got started doing most of the things I'd called him out for originally.

So first of all, I have power on the Patio!! An outlet covered by a little waterproof box! I can plug things in... outside! That runs through the same circuit as the washer/dryer.

He also rewired the outside wall light and ran the wire so my ceiling fan could be installed.

And then...

I have an outlet in my master bathroom! Maybe I'll actually use that bathroom again at some point?

Don't love how the outlet very much doesn't match with the pretty silver plate I got but I'll deal with that later. The important thing is that someone could like, actually blow dry their hair in that bathroom now. :p

And best of all...

Holy CRAP I have LIGHTS in my OFFICE!! Recessed lighting with a DIMMER. It's... so beautiful. I can actually see in this room at night.

(Yes you can see where the "accidental skylight" sas and it's still not painted. We'll get to that.)

The lights are all on the same switch, and like I said, on a dimmer. Honestly, I'm still not used to it.

It's actually I think now TOO bright. I think when Arturo comes back I'm going to ask about getting the front 2 lights on a different switch from the back 2. I just keep them on the dimmest setting. And when I go to bed, I turn them off and turn the desk lamp back on because I like to give the illusion that somone might be awake, and the recessed lights are way too bright shining down the hall into my bedroom.

I've also forgotten they're there and forgotten to turn them on in the morning like, three of the seven days that I've had them, lol. I remember eventually.

But I do really, really love having them. It was a stupid little dream of mine for so long that actually came true. Like the fence.

HEY speaking of the fence...

Part Two: Dark Walnut

In the meantime... staining was happening!!

Took a picture mid-work! Wanted a comparison picture. I absolutely loved the color going on!

And then it dried!

And it's different, but I STILL love it!

Here's some pics I just took tonight, featuring Feral Peter:

So yeah, the neighbors fence got stained, too. We had permission. The older wood does not at all match the new wood. But it's fine. At least it's closer to the same color now. I can live with it.

A little piece of drama that happened after this is that when they sprayed, I know they used some cardboard to try to mitigate the mist coming from it. But when they sprayed the gate in the front next to my corner neighbor (who already had the fence), some of it still drifted to their white SUV in their parking lot.

My neighbor was very cool when she let me know. I offered to pay for her car detailing. The Detail didn't get it out. Erk.

I did some research and let her know that rubbing alcohol or paint thinner should work so sayeth Car Dudes on the Internet. I also had a pair of Clay detailing mitts overnighted for them because that was also supposed to help.

I should text her tomorrow to make sure that it's all good now. I've asked her a couple of times to send me the total they spent and a method to pay them, haven't heard back.

Anyway, hopefully that bit is done. I need to talk to Joel about it still.

And yes, there's still all sorts of stuff back in the yard. I do need to drag that old rusty grill to the cub still, too. TBH that was the last I've seen so far of Jose and Maria. Let's skip ahead to Sunday...

Part Three: Sunday Visitor

I sent Joel a long text of "Here's what needs to be done still" on Friday. I'd noticed a little hole in the facing on my roof, there's some dirt and garbage that need to be moved/thrown away, and most importantly, there were three small leaks in the patio roof that needed to be taken care of before the patio ceiling could go on.

Joel showed up Sunday and fixed the little hole and leaks himself. We talked about the gutters that need to go up and when the ceiling can get done. He said sometime this week, it hasn't happened yet. I just texted him.

I also talked to my insurance about getting a discount now because of all the work. I need to send them receipts/work orders and pictures. Waiting to get the receipts/WOs from Joel. Don't worry -- I haven't paid him in full yet. If he wants to get the rest of the money, the works gotta be done, and I do believe it'll get done soon.

*Update*: Patio should be done tomorrow. Gutters on Saturday.

Part Four: I'm Going to Get the Right Power

I talked to my parents Friday morning, also. Talked through my finances, and the cost of the electrical work. Asked some friends who had theirs done and they agreed that Arturo's price was fair.

Decided to pull some money out of a savings account I really didn't want to touch, but decided that having my house not catch fire and burn down was worth it. Also to just finally have all my electronics grounded.

So I called Arturo back and asked him when he could come rewire the whole damn house.

We're still working on the date. And I keep a real close ear on the closet for any more 60+ year old fuses failing until then.

Savings... who needs savings? :p So that'll be a whole new update.

Part Five: Conquering the Mountain

OK so other news... the Garage and Laundry Mountain.

Wednesday night I had gotten almost all of the clothes out of Laundry Mountain and taken into the Guest Bedroom. I did a couple of loads of laundry along the way, too.

Friday I spent a little more time doing the rest of the major parts of the cleanout. Got all clothes out.

The towels are in their own pile in the garage still, and the sheets/blankets/pillowcases in another. But the clothes are... being dealt with first.

I threw away about three 12 gallon garbage bags of old, ratty, worn out or stained clothes.

I set aside about 2 bags for donate. That pile is going to grow.

Once the Mountain was inside, I then set to sorting it. Underthings and socks were semi-sorted in the garage originally, but I finished that. Pants went into two piles: Ones that fit, and ones that didn't. Then all shirts got sorted the same way. Coverups/jackets went into one pile and dresses into another.

Pants that were too small all got put away into the guest room dresser, as did a big drawer of shirts. Anything new that was too big got bagged up.

There's still a TUB of Too Small shirts sitting in the room. I thought I'd be able to put them in the dresser, but instead I discovered two drawers full of jeans that was given by someone a long time ago that I had completely forgotten about. Score. Those stayed. Gonna be a big money saver later on. :)

I got all the dresses and most of the jackets/coverups hung up. Socks sorted into pairs / singles.

And that's kind of where we are now. Big pile of shirts that fit, and I need to pull all the clothes out of my bedroom dresser for sorting, as well. Then things can start getting put away and I can make bigger decisions about what I want vs. what it's time to get rid of for what still fits.

For now.

That's a whole other post I've been meaning to make for a few months. Maybe when all this house drama is done.

Tuesday Trash Day the trash can was totally full. My recycle bin is totally full. I left about six more bags of trash, plus two old laundry hampers full, and several large boxes out for the bulk trash removal guys to take care of.

Look, the garage is still a disaster, but it's like, only 50% of the disaster it was a week and a half ago.

Once the clothes are dealt with in the next day or three, the towels and then the sheets/pillowcases are next. All of the rest of the STUFF in the garage can wait until it's not 100 degrees outside again. I've made such a huge dent that it shouldn't be too hard to finish... later.

Part Five: Odds and Ends.

I've done a bit of other cleanup. Tonight I grabbed some trashbags and did three (only partially filled but HEAVY!) bags of random garbage, mostly big rocks of cement, from my backyard. It still doesn't look great, but at least there's not chunks of debris scattered around. Aside from the obvious things in those pics above.

There's obviously a lot to be done to make the backyard nice, and I don't know when I'll have the money for it, but i did price out the one other big thing in the BY I've been dying to do since the day I moved in. It'll be about $700.

But I'm finally gonna do it.

Also, life is finding a way. From the ruins of my fallen tree...

Hard to tell but you can see that sprout in the first pic above of my completed fence. The tree that fell over in the storm onto the fence is trying to regrow.

I think I'm going to let it. Let's see what happens.

Probably update again after the house is rewired and I have a porch worth sitting under. :)

[loveofbots]

I was thinkin about Red Alert and tryin to fix my writers block, Red uses She/He pronouns- reader can have any gender

Warnings: 18+, needy reader, soft and fluffy

Red Alert was out surveying hot spots on Luna-1 once again. His backstruts groaning from the strain of being bent over all day. The mech rolled her shoulders and sat down for a moment, simply taking in the quiet of the moon. Her peace was interrupted when a private comm message came through.

Y/N: I miss you

Red smiled, knowing his lover must’ve just woken up without him there. He conjured the mental image of them laying in bed all sleepy and cozy waiting for his return.

Red Alert: Good morning, Love.

The red and white bot’s spark hummed a little harder at the thought of you snuggled up into his chassis. One of these days she’d take the morning off just to stay with you.

What Red Alert didn’t know was how much you longed for him. You felt empty without your sparkmate by your side. Chewing on your derma you debated sending the next message, but your spark yearned for Red, and it couldn’t wait.

Y/N: I need you to come home, I can’t spend another klik without you here right now.

This made the mech stand up right away, sending several messages asking about your well-being and if something happened. Quickly you reassured him.

Y/N: I’m okay sweetspark, sorry for worrying you. I’m just…

Red Alert held his venting in anticipation. Were you hurt? Surely you would tell him if you were.

Y/N: I need to make love to you right now.

Suddenly a blanket of heat drenched his frame. Oh. Red felt a familiar ache in his panels and transformed into his alt mode. This time his work would wait.

Red Alert: I’ll be there in 5.

Not even that long, Red opened the door to your shared hab suite venting a little heavily. You could tell by the gentle tremble in his frame that he was feeling the same as you. Especially when he walked over and captured your derma with his making you moan into his mouth. You pulled him back into the berth with you, arms wrapping around him and tangling your legs together. With a huff you broke the kiss and began attacking his sensitive wiring around his neck and made him groan. Red Alert’s hips canted into your thigh plating to create some friction and it started to drive you wild.

“What… hah, what got into you today?” The mech gasped out when your servos groped his ass. Through bared teeth you whispered your reply.

“Needed you. It’s been much too long since I…” You were cut off by a moan that bubbled up in your throat when Red’s digits caressed the cables in your hips and thighs. “Since I made love with you.” The rest came out in a whine that nearly broke Red Alert’s resolve right then and there. The two of your started to grind against each other.

“Where… how do you want to do it?” Red could barely speak between all the kisses you shared with him. His vents sputtered when he you parted and he saw the absolute love and adoration in your optics.

“I need to be inside of you.”

………………………………………….

Red Alert’s faceplate heated up. It wasn’t like this was your first time together, but it was that hungry, carnal look you gave him with your face so close to his valve that made her shake. Your digits ghosted the base of his spike and around the soft lips of her valve. You were drinking it all in. Finally you wouldn’t wait for what you wanted, and pressed your mouth to her wet cunt. Immediately he threw his head back, bucking his hips when your servo wrapped around his spike and started to pump it up and down in tandem with your soft licks.

Primus, there was a reason he chose you. For your smarts, your reliability, and so many other things. But the best treat of it all was how lovingly you tongue fucked her valve. She never lasted very long with you. Maybe it was for the best, as your spike leaked trans fluid and valve becoming slick as well. Red’s moans became louder and louder as she neared her overload. His servos found your helm and held it gently as you continued to lap and stroke his spike. Breathily Red Alert praised you.

“Feels so good~ I love that you make me feel this way.” Swirling your tongue around her node made Red arch his back, exhaling sharply. “Primus! So close-“ A few more aggressive kisses and curling your fingers around her spike just right, Red overloaded hard. His vents came hard and heavy as he released his transfluid all over his stomach and into your mouth.

Hungrily you licked it all up, cleaning Red Alert as well. He cooed to you softly and held your cheek. You had made him overload so hard and you deserved to overload as well. He kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your derma as he flipped you over and straddled your hips. Your gentle servos guided her hips over your spike and he gently caressed your face to make you look him in the eyes while he sank down on your spike.

Your digits gripped the berth, hanging on as his valve fit your spike just right. He drew moans from you just by sitting on your hips, it was too much.

“Still with me?” He chuckled a bit and kissed your helm, servos resting on your chassis. Her voice brought you out of the mind numbing pleasure and you nodded. Albeit a bit dazed and drunk on love. Your servos grabbed at any part of him you could, trying to ground yourself. When you finally did you looked down where the two of you were connected and grew warm.

“It’s always a pleasure to see us like this.” You muttered lovingly, making Red’s spark melt. He chose the right Conjux for sure. “You can move now.”

So she did, her calipers squeezing your spike and transfluids running over your bio lights. Red enjoyed the show of ecstasy on your face while he rode you. Spike hitting every part of his valve that made him shiver. He picked up the pace and your hands found his hips. Propping yourself up on your elbow you kissed Red Alert sloppily, trying so hard to stay in one place.

“Sweetspark if you keep going like this I won’t be able to hold back much longer.” The way your digits scrapped his paint made him chuckle, teasing you by swirling his hips. “Please.” You begged. Optics screwed shut in concentration. The way your spike jerked inside Red Alert made the two of you moan together. She leaned down and your chassis pressed together, groaning to you softly.

“Show me you love me.” The words made a growl start in your throat. It was thrown out with a deep, whimpering moan. At just the right moment your arms wrapped around his body, holding Red still as you pounded up into her. Transfluid already dribbling down your spike from her valve you began to fuck yourself stupid. Watching Red take you again and again made you whine into your lovers neck. Moans turning into grunts as you fucked both of you into overload. Your transfluid spilling into his valve you couldn’t stop until his calipers milked every last drop out of you.

With one final thrust Red collapsed onto you. Leaving the two of you venting hard holding each other on the berth. While he recovered you peppered Red Alert’s face with kisses and mumbled how much you loved him. After your spike depressurized and panels slid back into place you laid your lover on her side. She smiled at you and pulled you closer again not letting you leave.

“You did great Y/N.” His arms pulled you close and your buried your face into his chest, finding comfort in Red Alert.

“Mmm, couldn’t have done it without you.” Red laughed at your joke and kissed you softly again. Her humming spark lulling you back into recharge.

Whatever you needed him for, he’d be there.

[bunposting]

hi!! new zealand rabbit anon here again! i hope i’m not a bother but i love your posts and love adding my own advice and stories!

but for those wondering about rabbits in the heat, i raise in texas, my rabbits live outside year round, and here’s how i’ve managed!

- for starters, the wire hutch thing is totally true. my rabbits have large wire hutches with lots of air flow, and a roof raised about six inches above the tops of the cages to provide even more air flow. the cages are large enough for them to completely stretch out in (which they should be regardless) and they spend most of the summer days stretched out to get what little breeze they can. the hutches are also placed in the most sheltered and shady part of the yard, so they only have direct sunlight for a few hours a day at most

- electrolytes!! i bought a huge bottle from allthingsbunnies.com for pretty cheap and it’s lasted me multiple years. i try to provide them year round but especially in the summer. they increase water intake and help them to hold onto that hydration. super awesome!

- RABBIT POPSICLES! i love making these haha. i chop up some fruit, throw it in muffin tins, fill them with water and freeze for a few hours. the rabbits love them, and they’re a fun and enriching way to get them a bit of extra water for some tasty treats. i mostly use strawberries because that’s what we have on hand always, plus they have lots of water. i also occasionally, on those 100 degree days, provide ice packs. i tried the frozen water bottles but just like you, mine chewed right though them. now i use the hard plastic ice packs that can resist all kinds of chomping and stretching, and give the rabbits something cold to lick and lean against

i’ve been meaning to try out the granite/ceramic tile thing but never got around to it. thankfully my rabbits are pretty heat resistant, and i’ve never had a heatstroke yet! (anxiously crossing fingers lol)

and sorry, one last ramble for the other ask you answered. rabbit bucks are so sweet! mine would make a fantastic pet, and likely will when he’s ready to retire from the breeding scene. he’s cuddly, friendly, smart, and totally brave and curious about new things. he loves to be held. he won’t let me pour his food in the morning if he doesn’t get adequate head scratches first. if he’s outside in his playpen and not getting enough attention, he’ll jump the fence and come over for cuddles. the only downside is that he’s a sprayer. i’ve gotten it in my mouth before 💀. otherwise the sweetest rabbit you’ll meet.

my does are certainly not the same! even after having them for three years, one still doesn’t like me, and the other has only just started liking me within the last six months. they are much more temperamental, the only exception being when they are pregnant and nursing, likely from the oxytocin going on. i adore them regardless, but honestly if you’re looking for a sweet rabbit, get a buck!

thus ends my miles long ask. apologies for totally rambling in your inbox. have a lovely day!!

No need to apologize for the rambling - you've made such awesome additions here!!! Thanks so much for the ask!

[dungeonmastersconsortium]

Literally EVERY time I critique Harris and her campaign liberals gotta come out of the woodwork to tell me how important it is that she win

You could just ACCEPT THE CRITIQUE AMD SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Harris is a coward and a center-right politician. She would rather pander to the greater evil than commit to stopping genocide.

She has no real moral high ground. That's not disputable if you support Palestine and are adamant about ending the genocide. Like, it would be EASY to just... not do genocide. As soon as she realized leftists are adamant about wanting her to stop doing genocide, she completely abandoned the left, went full mask-off, and started pandering to the evil party that she actively campaigned against. ("We're not going back" has truly been abandoned)

You can say that she's the lesser evil, but every time I vent about my choices being 100% evil and 95% evil, yall will try to remind me that there's a 5% difference rather than actually get angry and demand change.

Harris and Clinton have both said they want a strong republican party, and there's a distinct, strategic reason for that: without a strong conservative party, there's no reason to vote Democrat. The "vote blue no matter who" brainrot is so strong, but it relies on Dems being willing to prop up Repubs when they can get away with it.

I chewed on the barbed wire and voted for Clinton. I chewed on the barbed wire and voted for Biden. But I'm tired of chewing on barbed wire, especially when the barbs get sharper and rustier.

It's Harris' race to lose and by god she's trying as hard as she can

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

…Thoughts on Beck?

Oh, so many.

First of all thank @nctzenkane for getting me into this brainrot because he wouldn't stop dropping Victorious memes into our conversations. I did watch some of it when it was first airing when I was younger, but the main Dan Schneider Nickelodeon show I remember watching was iCarly (which was very beloved to me), and I did watch a lot of Drake and Josh - but oddly enough, I just remember Drake and Josh being on TV, but I don't remember specific moments from it.

Also, even though it was from longer ago, I have so many distinct memories from watching The Amanda Show. I remember their skits about the wizard with a scar shaped like a chicken wing, and at the time, I didn't even get the joke, because I watched that show before I was into Harry Potter. Which is weird.

Anyway - Beck?

Idk if I should keep this PG-13 because the show is technically about high schoolers and the number one way to get drawn and quartered on the internet is to write about high school fictional characters in an inappropriate way. Even though I'm the same age as them (the actors - and I was the same age as the characters when the show was coming out) - and my inappropriate thoughts started when I saw Avan Jogia make a comeback on tiktok purposefully thirstrapping everyone who thought he was hot when he was on Victorious. idk. it's confusing.

All of my thoughts about Beck are really about Beck and Jade as a pair. Like if you follow me, you know my brain is so poly wired, and I have become obsessed with the idea of being in a poly relationship with them because clearly they could use some balance in their relationship - some to mediate for them and balance them out.

One thing that really sticks out to me while rewatching the show is this one moment at the beginning of season 2 - when Tori is being tricked by that guy who dates girls just for good grades, and Jade really snarkily says 'wow, that must have hurt when you found out', and Beck immediately turns to her and says 'okay, time out!' and Jade tries to argue, and Beck is fully serious, and makes her go sit on the stairs for a timeout.

Like - it screams casual dominance in a sub/dom relationship to me. And there are few other times when Beck really seems like the dominant one in their relationship ("two sugars!" "I know what to do" like the subtle CARING UUUUNG I'M CHEWING ON THE FURNITURE) - but when he does, it comes off so naturally. Especially because when Jade breaks up with Beck during her emotional jealousy fit, she bawls and cries and falls apart, and it really seems like she relies on him for so much subtle support that a dom would give.

He is someone who is more reserved and quiet and thoughtful, but like his gentle dom energy is so - interesting.

That's what I'll say for now. Interesting.

(I have many more thoughts but I am afraid to unleash them.)

[tehuti88-art]

10/20/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Drawtober: Ghostly Ballroom/Free Draw Friday." Drawlloween theme, Oct. 20: "Mutant Mart."

...

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Lance Corporal Battleship Gray (BG) Rat. He's a radio operator and not a hugely important character, but maybe I'll find more use for him, as one of the original unit. He's rather unintentionally bigoted though harmless, and constantly wired up; I almost drew him with a cigarette as he's always smoking. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, he's missing an incisor though it's hard to tell here. And usually to be found with a cigarette.

TUMBLR EDIT: This is how Battleship Gray, or BG, is described in the old character list for the circa-2000 reboot:

BATTLESHIP GRAY: LC; along with Doomsday, in charge of repairing things that are broken. While D-Day is more mentally oriented and experimental, "BG" (as everyone calls him) is more hands on and tends to get more done. Tends to smoke or chew on things when no cigarettes are available. Usually to be found with his hands all oily. Develops an attraction toward Hilda, to the consternation of the other Rats. Laid back and casual, rarely to be found raising his voice, but can be nervous sometimes. (Newer Trench Rat.) Current storyline

Firstly, BG is now actually one of the very first Trench Rats, being a member of the original unit that was trapped in Germany before the First Battalion arrived to rescue them. Secondly, eh, hell no is he "laid back and casual"; he's rather a loudmouth, especially when nervous, which is often. He's constantly wired like he's on caffeine, though chain smoking is his thing. He's a rather stereotypical Italian American with lots of Big Opinions and a passionate temper, and it's rather ironic that he's stereotypical, because he frequently stereotypes everyone else. The moment Jewish Trench Rat Drake drops into their ditch to bring them back to HQ, the cliches start. BG is almost never hostile or spiteful with his bigotry--for example, he never engages in the same sort of commentary as the Nazis when he talks to Drake--rather, he's the type to say something like, "I hear all you guys are great with money, yeah?" And he's not picky--he makes such comments about the Irish (Turquoise), mixed race (Copper), Blacks (Amaranth), French (Papillon), British (Bradford), women (Skye), Russians (Boris), Roma (Didrika), basically, if they're from some group he doesn't belong to, they're fair game for casual racism or misogyny.

There's ONE big, and rather odd, exception: BG despises Germany, Germans, and anything related. Can't stand them, and thinks nothing of letting the entire world know. This leads to a running gag regarding his interactions with Doomsday Rat, after D-Day is liberated from Nazi custody. When he first returns, D-Day no longer remembers English, speaking only German; he needs to be "deprogrammed" in a sense to remember how to be American. Even afterward, whenever he gets exceptionally frustrated, he'll lapse into ranting in German. Whenever this happens, despite the two of them being members of the same original unit, BG's frustration goes through the roof as well and he always ends up yelling, "Speak English! Like an American! SPEAK ENGLISH!!"

BG's attitude problem regarding Germans inevitably brings trouble whenever the Trench Rats have to interact with German allies and...sort-of allies. More than once they experience run-ins with Wehrmacht members Ratdog and Klemper; despite Ratdog's personally motivated mission to kill Trench Rats, he also has a sense of honor, and won't shoot anyone who's seriously injured, unarmed, or on a peace mission. Klemper, however, has a temper much similar to BG's, and can't speak English, and is frequently himself wired on meth, so of course he and BG usually end up with firearms aimed at each other, screaming expletives. Considering that both sides are often on the same mission (Ratdog and Klemper decide to start subtly undermining the Nazis' Final Solution efforts whenever they get the chance), this leads to all sorts of complications.

There are two other plot points I mentioned in the old character bio that still stand. BG is the Trench Rats' radio operator, in charge of keeping them in communication with others (especially the British), and as a result is often responsible for fixing broken electronics or at least jury-rigging things until they can be properly maintained. I imagine this could be another source of conflict with D-Day, who as the chief engineer is REALLY the one in charge of fixing things; he probably mutters quite a few Teutonic cuss words under his breath while fixing whatever BG temporarily patched up.

Then there is Hilda. I believe Hilda originally came about as a mere prop of an unfinished adult scene (I know it's weird, but this adult stuff has helped play a big role in character and plot development, including leading directly into this current reboot), but she probably still stands as a character, albeit a minor one who needs some development. I just looked up her character bio and it is COMPLETELY different from what I remember, likely does not still stand, but here it is:

HILDA: Big-boned, "matronly" woman rescued by the Trench Rats before her city is bombed. Ends up residing in the refugee compound, but storms her way into HQ a lot--no one is brave enough to take her on. Short tempered, explosive, and verbally abusive, but also helps care for the Rats after the influenza strikes. Object of Battleship Gray's affection; he seems to have a thing for larger women. Current storyline

Yeah, uh...I honestly don't remember all of that.

As things now stand she's just comic relief, and might remain so, though there's room for change. Hilda is (currently) a maid in someone's household, the stereotypical tall, broad, matronly, harsh-voiced German type; she easily intimidates the Trench Rats who first come in contact with her. Including BG. Yet BG also finds her weirdly appealing, and Hilda finds BG weirdly adorable. She's the one German who doesn't trigger his rage reflex and that's largely because he's terrified of her and that's what he finds attractive. Hilda, meanwhile, talks to him like he's a child and it's just a really weird, fetishy relationship but hey, it works out for them. *shrugs*

This is pretty much all I have about BG at the moment--nothing big or dramatic, no extensive plot importance just yet. This leaves plenty of potential to develop him (and Hilda?) to add more to the story...or maybe they could remain simple comic relief. I have yet to decide.

[Battleship Gray Rat 2023 [‎Friday, ‎October ‎20, ‎2023, ‏‎2:00:30 AM]]

[TUMBLR NOTE, I had to fudge the posting time on this one to 2:01AM due to Tumblr's dumb new entry format change. I have two entries from 2:00AM, I posted them in the proper order, but the one with the earlier entry number posted second...you figure it out, I'm tired of trying to figure out new Tumblr.]

[pearly-sims]

This is my dog Kirby (not named after the video game character, but rather after a cow that my mom’s friend owned and we got to meet).

Don’t let his cute face fool you, he’s an absolute dork.

Kirby is a rambunctious little man that my mom and I got in 2017, several months after the death of my first family dog. He had much more energy than our old dog, and even over 6 years later he hasn’t slowed down much.

At first he followed us around like, well, a lost puppy, never straying too far when we let him outside. As he got older though, he started becoming selectively deaf when we’d try to call him back. He needs to be on a chain now to go outside, but he’s ripped it out of the ground several times. Keep-away is his favorite game. He once escaped like this in 2020 when I was in my pajamas and hadn’t showered for many days. He ran onto my new neighbors’ porch and they kindly helped me catch him, and that was the first time I ever met them. Not the best first impression.

Another time he got out my friend was with me, and Kirby was playing keep-away as usual. My friend had to use his Starbucks drink as bate to lure Kirby nearby, then tackled him in order to catch him.

Despite his rebelliousness, he’s very intelligent when it comes to learning tricks. He can jump, play dead, roll over, crawl, wave, walk on two legs, speak, and probably more that I can’t remember.

Kirby also eats ANYTHING he can get his teeth into. Garbage is a favorite, so my mom got some of that anti-pet spray that they’re supposed to hate. She put some on her hand to test and Kirby licked it right off. We keep bathroom doors closed now.

A scarier moment like that was when he got into a prescription bottle my mom left on the table. We found pills and chewed up plastic all over the floor, but thankfully it was brand new so we knew there were 90 pills in there. When we counted it out there were still 90 on the floor, thank god, but we were a lot more careful about where we put things after that.

He’s also chewed up like 4 pairs of wires less headphones that I carelessly left out. I stopped buying replacements at some point.

He’s also a very territorial only-child. It’s different from my old dog, he was territorial with his toys and food, but Kirby is territorial about my mom and I. If we went to the dog park he’d get along well enough with the other dogs, but if we started giving them attention it was On Sight. A family friend stayed for a week at our house with her dog and Kirby was absolutely not having it and kept picking fights. It’s our fault for not socializing him well enough, but he’s gotten better.

He absolutely loves watching tv. His favorite show is Funniest Home Videos, especially the animal videos. It’s funny, he used to not recognize animals on tv but he did bark at his own reflection, and now it’s the opposite. He even barks at animated animals in Disney movies, which can get kind of annoying but oh well.

I could gush about him all day so I’ll cut it off here. He’s my goofy little guy who sleeps in the bed with me and loves giving me kisses and I miss him a lot while I’m here at school.

Want to help me with an assignment by talking about your pet?

Hi!! I have an assignment to make a piece of art using crowdsourcing. My idea involves collecting a lot of text about people's pets! Anything about them, what you like about them, a description of their personality or appearance, something funny they did--really anything. In the end, I want to use all the text to make something interesting (I haven't decided the specifics yet). I'll upload the finished project here when it's done! (it's due a week from now, March 12th)

How to be a part of this project:

Reply to this post or reblog and put in the tags or in the post itself anything you want about your pet. You can also send me an ask if you want, but I will not post any of these asks.

If you want to speak about a pet that has passed, please indicate somewhere in your reply that it has passed. I intend to use that information in the piece itself.

You can include a picture of your pet ONLY IF YOU WANT! Pictures aren't necessary but I might figure out a way to incorporate them.

Important:

The text you provide is not going to be credited to you/your url, everything will be anonymous.

I'll be reblogging this every now and then to help get a lot of different responses :) Sorry if you get sick of seeing this post! Also, if you don't have a pet or you don't want to talk about your pet, it would help out if you would reblog this anyway! But ofc, you don't have to.

[neon-junkie]

Okay, Tech will never admit to it, but he finds it super sexy when you wear his goggles during the sex.

Especially when they don’t properly fit on your head so every bounce on his cock the goggles are slowly slipping down, which gives him the excuse (as if he needed it) to hold your face.

Take it away! ;3

A little something for you, my love! 1k words, gender-neutral reader, but feminine leaning.

When you first joined the Batch as their mechanic, Tech instantly didn't like you, purely because "why do we need a mechanic? I possess all the skills necessary to keep ourselves, and the Marauder fit for work-" blahblahblah, and in all honesty, you agreed with him, despite his negative way of saying it.

But the GAR has assigned you to this squad, so unless the Sergeant decides to dismiss you, then you're here to stay. (And there's no way that Hunter is going to do that!)

You and Tech have got off on the wrong foot… well, Tech has a grudge against you as he views you as his 'replacement,' but you're simply trying your best to get on with everybody - which you're doing a great job of!

Tech always insists on doing repairs, and it gets to the point that Hunter has to intervene, pull him aside, and chew some sense into him. Tech will sit and sulk, pretending to put his focus into one of his side project, when he's really glaring at you in the corner of his eye like a grumpy child. Wrecker has the nerve to comment that Tech is only jealous, and… let's just say that that argument didn't end well. So, after a few weeks of getting on with your work, you decide to give your friendship with Tech another attempt. To his surprise, you ask for some assistance with soldering the hull of the ship after a crash landing, and Tech jumps at the opportunity. He's only doing it to flex his skills, but hey, maybe this is what you need to bridge the gap!

To Tech's surprise, the only protective gear that you pull on is a pair of thick work gloves (and your overalls, but they're almost always on,) and Tech practically screams at you! He insists that you must wear some form of protective eye gear, despite the fact that you're only soldering tiny wires together on the lowest setting - a job that will take twenty seconds, tops.

Nether the less, Tech rushes off, and soon returns with a spare pair of goggles, a replica of his most beloved ones. You pull them on, despite feeling like a goof ball, and get to work. It doesn't take long for the thought of Tech's goggles to slip from your mind, and you spend most of the day with them on, working as if they're now part of your uniform.

Tech, despite getting on with his work, keeps catching you in the corner of his eye. As smart as he may be, he can't understand why he's feeling the need to loom over you, that is, until you decide to take a break.

After breaking a sweat, you unbutton your overalls, and wrap the sleeves around your waist, leaving your upper half in your tank top, your skin able to breathe at last! Tech's goggles come to rest on your forehead, and you're finally able to give your eyes a good rub after discarding your gloves.

Ah, there it is! The realisation! Tech finally understands why he's been acting so strange towards you, ever since the start. Sure, having his job 'taken away' definitely hurt, but he seemed to be seething purely because you're attractive, and he doesn't know how to proceed with that information. He's spent his entire life around his brothers, Jedi generals, the Kaminoans, and Mandalorian trainers - all of which aren't romanceable, (although that hasn't stopped some of his vode… Commander Cody!)

And then comes along this pretty mechanic, now wearing his goggles, and currently asking him, "what are you staring at, Tech?"

"Oh!" Tech sputters. "I was… well, I noticed that you are having a break, and I was considering doing the same."

"Have a break then, Tech," you shake your head, not understanding why that was such a big decision for Tech.

You two finally have your first, proper, civil conversation on your break, both sharing snacks, and enjoying a mug of caf. The friendship builds from there, and hey-ho, before you know it, you're both in each other's grasp!

It was your idea to keep his goggles on during one of your many intimate moments. They're your goggles now, but you still refer to them as "Tech's spare pair," despite Tech's protests that, "they're a gift, an item to ensure your safety, darling."

You two shouldn't be fooling around whilst attempting to do repairs, but the Batch are out on a supply run, and you two haven't had a moment alone since the other week when you snuck off on Kamino. The Batch totally don't know about your relationship - winkwink!

Overalls are discarded, as well as a certain someone's codpiece, and you can tell that Tech is considering stripping off more armour as you sink down onto his length, seeing as he's burning up at the sight - his darling, still half-dressed in uniform, wearing his goggles, is bouncing on his cock whilst letting out the sweetest sounds that he's ever heard.

"How the kriff do you manage to keep these on?" you laugh as you move your hands up to shift Tech's goggles up onto your forehead, but a sudden hand on your arm stops your movement.

"-Leave them," Tech gasps. His eyes suddenly turn wide after his outburst, and he begins back peddling, "-I mean, that is… if you want to? I find their loose fitting rather attractive… and-"

"-Tech," is all you need to say to shut him up. "I'll leave them on, even if they are slipping down my face."

A firm pair of hands grasp onto your hips, and with caution, Tech rolls you onto your back, his length not slipping from you. "Let me take over then, cyar'ika. Just relax, and enjoy the ride."

>:)