#How to Turn Off an Electric Lamp

[thatsbelievable]

[brutal-nemesis]

Do you happen to know any ways to torture a shapeshifter effectively?

I'm assuming said shapeshifter is gonna shift bigger/smaller to get out of any restraints? In that case...

The good ol' pitfall with spikes at the bottom, and then you gotta put like a lid on it that also has spikes. Like an iron maiden type thing. Basically just make it spikes on all sides! They might be able to make themselves real small to avoid being hurt tho 😔

But hey, while they're trapped, light a fire under that shit because even if they aren't getting poked they sure as fuck can't get away from the heat <33 or cold you could also freeze it whatever suits your fancy

Trap them completely underwater. They can turn into a fish? What if that water is acid instead, or molten metal :) And you can let that metal cool and then wow you have a fun mold!!!

I am now remembering that maybe they shouldn't die, but you can still do less intense variations of some of this stuff, trapping them in a metal box and getting it hot or spraying acid on them where they can't avoid it

They might be able to shift out of restraints, but what if I impale them on the ground with a piece of rebar, huh. what then

Give them a nice brand or marking that's visible no matter how they shift, so you'll always know it's them

Good old starvation and dehydration (and if they turn into a camel then that's just cool you got a camel hell yeah)

In conclusion, as long as you can figure out a way to keep them from getting away, you can do whatever you want, baby

[rowarn]

bizarre thought.....shadow entity!ghost..... @sgtgarricks is responsible for this!!!

i already want to write another part to this LMAOOOOOOO

part : two

when you first moved into your new house, you knew it was old and had been vacant for a looooong time. it had a bizarre history of people living there and moving out months, even weeks later. most people declined offering a reason for their quick move but others would just vaguely supply that the 'energy was dark in that house', you weren't bothered.

it was a nice, big, house and for damn cheap too. you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

your first nights in the house, you understood what they meant. there was something off about the house for sure. at random times, you would feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, as if alerting you to danger. when you would turn around, there was nothing there. but it would leave you with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

it wasn't until a week into your new life that the first weird thing happened. it was like something from a stereotypical horror movie. you heard a strange sound and got out of bed to investigate. when you got to your kitchen, all the cabinets and drawers were open and your kitchen chairs were placed on top of your table -- which had also been moved across the kitchen.

you tried to take some deep breaths to calm yourself as you returned everything back to normal. you went over and over in your head for some kind of explanation for the event before finally landing on the fact that this house was fucking haunted.

strange events kept happening after that. lights would turn on, your kitchen cabinets would be open, sinks and showers would turn on, doors would slam from across the house. you were losing sleep over it. every single night you'd be woken up by some strange event and you were beginning to understand why the past tenants had moved out so fast.

this was a rotten way to live.

the final straw for you was the night the activity really seemed to ramp up. whatever spirit was haunting you wanted you out now. multiple doors slammed, jolting you from your sleep -- your heart racing from how hard you had been startled from your dreams. you got to your feet and turned on your lamp only to find it wasn't working.

next, you tried the overhead light. same thing.

fuck. it had caused the power to bust.

now you were really scared.

you grabbed your phone, using the flashlight to navigate your way out of the bedroom. the floorboards creaked beneath you, considerably louder without the hum of electricity.

you were halfway down the hall when you heard it. quiet at first, but definitely there. footsteps. mimicking your own, as if echoing after you took your own steps, making sure you knew it was there.

you spun around, shining the light upon nothing. you let out a heavy breath, noticing the way the flashlight shook from how hard you were trembling.

"a-alright, ghost," you called into the empty house, too scared to feel stupid that you were talking to nothing, "i-i'll admit i'm pretty scared right now. i-i know you probably want me out of your house. this is your house, i get it. bu-but i already sunk all my damn savings into moving in here s-so i can't leave!" you swallow, a loud gulping sound that would be funny if you weren't about to piss yourself, "s-so if we could just live together for a little while longer. i-i promise i'll get out the second i have the money!"

there was nothing but tense silence. you felt like an idiot the more seconds that passed. were you trying to make a deal with a fucking ghost? a spirit of someone who probably died in this house? what kind of shit had your life become?

you peered into the inky blackness of the hallway, blinking as you try to futilely see. it takes you a moment to realize you're not just staring into the darkness of your hallway. it's something else.

pure darkness. a dark entity taking form in the blackness of the night. you want to step back, primal fear coursing through you like you never felt before. whatever fear you were feeling was primordial in nature -- as if this entity was something you were born to fear.

the darkness began to swallow up the hallway, eating away at the light your flashlight had created. the air felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to take in oxygen.

you swear you could feel hands on you, grabbing you and pulling at you. the longer you stared into the darkness, the more you thought you could see things. eyes. hundreds of eyes. but when you blinked, the images vanished.

then, all at once, the entity was gone and your light was shining down the hallway again unimpeded. after another second, the sound of the electricity slamming back on filled the house and you collapsed to your knees.

whatever that was, it was dangerous. you knew that now.

but it didn't hurt you. perhaps it agreed to your terms and would leave you be now?

oh how wrong you were. sure, it wasn't nearly as scary as that night but now you saw it.

around every turn.

you could see the shadow take shape from the corner of your eye but when you looked, it would be gone. you would be brushing your teeth and when you looked in the mirror, it stood behind you, making your heart leap out of your chest. when you would turn, it wasn't there.

you were no longer woken up in the night, at least. but you weren't sure if you preferred the regular haunting stuff to seeing the ghost or not. you were on the fence about which was worse.

after another scare from the ghost, you jumped so hard that you almost fell over, "alright you -- ghost! will you quit scaring me like that!?" you found yourself shrieking.

to your abject horror, you heard laughter in return.

the shadow shit was fucking laughing at you. like it was enjoying this.

it wasn't evil laughter either. it sounded like pure enjoyment.

you suppose it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for a ghost to make sounds but it didn't make it any less horrifying.

you started talking to it more after that. once you heard its voice - sort of- it became easier. the fear also dissipated in time. sure it would jump scare you from time to time to get a laugh but other than that, it became like living with a really annoying roommate.

"will you get out of my mirror!" you snapped, mouth full of toothpaste with you facemask on. its disappearance was marked with its mirthful laughter.

you also noticed as the days and weeks passed, it stopped looking like a shapeless shadow and more like a person -- a big one at least. well over 7 feet tall. if you looked for long enough, you could almost make out what you think is a skull where the face would be on a human.

one night, you're laying in bed, comfortable. there's rain pelting outside on your window and distant thunder, too nice of weather to sleep away. so you just choose to relax and listen to it.

"ghost?" you find yourself calling into the darkness, "are you there?"

its silent but you feel the air grow heavy and you know that it's arrived. it seems to have...consciousness, you realized. it reacts to you and listens to you. there's one thing that's been plaguing you that you want to ask, though you're not sure if it will answer -- if it can answer.

"you're not really a ghost are you?" you ask.

you're greeted by silence for several, long seconds before you hear it. it's deep and masculine, a whisper of an echo following its voice when it speaks as if multiple things were speaking but only one voice was amplified, "no."

it's the answer you were expecting but that didn't mean you liked it. you swallow harshly around the lump of anxiety in your throat.

"are you going to hurt me?" you ask it, dreading the answer to this one. just because it's been toying with you doesn't mean it's not still dangerous.

"no," it responds again. you can hear footsteps, the entity walking closer and closer to your bed.

you let out a relieved breath at that. though, you're not sure if you should actually believe the dark entity that lives in your house. but at this point, you've really got no choice except to take it's word for it.

"what's your name?" you find yourself asking it.

"ghost," it responds quickly.

you laugh at that, "no, you're real name."

"ghost," it insist, "you gave me a name."

a lightbulb goes off over your head.

"is that why you're being so nice to me?" you ask, not sure if 'nice' is the appropriate word to use.

"i wanted a name," it answers, "you gave me one."

"a name in exchange for living in this house," you muse, deciding to roll over in bed, "alright then. goodnight, ghost."

"rest well," it responds before vanishing, freeing the room from that oppressive feeling.

you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep, briefly wondering where ghost even came from and what exactly it was.

this is unedited i wrote it in a fury of inspiration i hope u enjoyed it regardless of how WEIRD this was LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

[megamindsecretlair]

So um I’m kinda obsessed with Aaron and that fic you just wrote kinda makes me feel like I’m going through withdrawals😂😂….. so um are we gonna get the part where he eats her like a full meal cause um yea (Love your writing btw❤️)

A/N: Not with that dynamic, anon, but how about this one??

Let Me Take Control

Pairing: Toxic!Neighbor!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), oral (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink sprinkled in, rough sex, persuasion, reader is able to be picked up, use of n-word, all consensual.

Summary: Your fine as hell neighbor, Terry, hits you up late at night with a text. Already knowing what’s ‘bout to go down, you invite him over and get yourself ready for an unforgettable night.

Word Count: 3,807k

AO3 Link

A/N: MISS HIMMMM. I watched Rebel Ridge for the (mindyabidness) time and I neeeeeeed him! WHEW! Ya'll blew my first fic up, and YALL. Don't make me cry with all your sweet words! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

That Munch: You up?

Your phone chimed and you flipped over in bed, reaching for your phone on your nightstand. You opened the message to see a text from your fine ass neighbor, Terry. You popped up in bed, bouncing with the effort as you turned on the lamp.

Cool light flooded the room, taking mercy on your sleep deprived eyes. You pulled the bonnet off of your head and assessed your hair. It was currently coiled into a bun to keep it neat, but your braids were recent and still fresh. Good, you were gonna need that extra strength. 

You bit your lip as you texted back.

You: What’s up?

That Munch: Can’t sleep.

Your heart skipped a beat. Terry said the two magic words that got your blood thumping. Your core heating up to dangerous levels. You hopped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to freshen your breath and relieve yourself. 

You washed your hands and looked at yourself in the mirror. Terry’s brain needed to be studied. It was like he knew what you were missing without even having to ask. Or think about it. You were just tossing and turning in bed, sleep eluding you for the hundredth time. You were running through possible solutions when that little chime and those two words fell from the sky like a divine intervention. 

You texted back, feeling a little giddy that he was up and willing. You’d been like two ships passing in the fog lately. Always arriving or leaving a touch out of sync with each other. He would just be getting in the elevator when you left your apartment. He was just closing his door when you were emerging from yours.

And once inside, you usually kept contact to a minimum. Tried to put Terry into a box. Firmly in the neighbors with benefits column. He was too fine. Too hot. Too intense to ever be a regular thing. You couldn’t stand it. Looking at that man night and day? Please, you’d die. 

You paced the room in your oversized T-shirt and panties, biting your lip as you waited for the short trek through his apartment, out of his door, and the knock on yours. When it came, you skipped to the front door on a bed of nerves. Each footfall felt like lead and each heart beat felt like a stab in your chest.

You opened the door and leaned your head against it. “Hey stranger,” you said, keeping your cool around this man.

You were terrible at it, actually. Terry blinked those pretty electric eyes at you and entered your apartment. You closed the door behind him and locked the door, taking the time to admire his back side. He didn’t wear anything but some long joggers that cupped around his ankles. His ass was well rounded, looking good enough to bite. One side was slightly higher on his calf and for no reason at all, it was the hottest thing ever. 

He turned around and his eyes softened. “Were you sleep?” He asked. 

His voice alone sent shivers down your spine. On the inside, you were screaming. He was too damn hot to be real. He was like a marble statue made real. He moved with care. Purposeful. You shook your head and with it your thoughts. “You know that ain’t true,” you said.

“Why didn’t you text me?” He asked. He stepped closer, crowding into your space. The door was the only thing holding you up at the moment. He approached, stepping into your personal space. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his smooth skin. 

You shrugged. “‘Case you were busy. I came home late tonight,” you said.

Terry smirked and tilted his head. “Has that ever stopped us before?” He asked.

You shook your head. Terry bent his head down and kissed your cheek. You gasped, lips parting as he left behind tingles. Your breathing began to hurt your lungs, breathing too fast and too hard. He hadn’t even done anything yet. 

“You been tossing and turning when you know I’m right next door? Willing? Eager?” He asked. 

You shivered even though he was hot enough to fill the room. You kept your hands down at your sides. If you started touching him now, this would be over before it started. His shoulders were broad, honed, sculpted. His full lips glowed in the low ambient light in your living room. 

“Terry,” you said, more of a warning than a plea. This was why you didn’t call him. This was why your brain didn’t even give you that option. It always felt like you were taking advantage, knowing he wanted more and you continued to toy with his feelings.

It wasn’t on purpose. You truly couldn’t decide to take that ride with him or not. If you were ready to be with someone so grown. So in control. You were used to little fuckboys who played in your face. Who were bigger drama queens than you were and that shit didn’t fly.

But Terry? Terry was a different breed. Falling into his lap was almost an accident. You were smart enough to know your limits but dumb enough to toss them right out of the window. 

Terry took your hand and led you away from the door. You smiled at him as he moved without light to your bedroom. You supposed each layout of the apartments were about the same, with some variations. Did that mean his room shared a wall with your bathroom? The thought alone had you biting your lip picturing him all glistening wet. 

Inside your bedroom, Terry spun you around and pulled you against the nearest wall. He smirked at you and then he leaned down, bringing his lips to yours but not kissing you. You pouted when you caught up and looked at him.

“I missed you too,” he said. 

You took a deep breath and laughed. “I didn’t say that,” you said. 

“You were thinking it,” he said. He blinked slowly, lips touching but not completely. You couldn’t feel the full weight of them and you leaned forward, trying to close that distance. Terry leaned out of the way at the last minute, making you grunt.

“You want to fall asleep or not?” You asked, sucking your teeth. Trying to hide how turned on you were. How needy. You could feel your slick leaking out of you and you just needed some damn friction.  

Terry’s eyes narrowed. His hand slipped around your throat with such ease, you didn’t even feel him moving. “Who you think you talkin’ to like that?” He asked. 

You moaned, eyes crossing at the slight pressure. “You got an attitude with me?” He asked.

You tried to shake your head. Ah, shit. It was one of those nights. You moaned even though you shook your head again. You didn’t mean to get him riled up so quickly. 

“You sure? You talkin’ real reckless for someone who want they pussy licked, huh?” He asked. He squeezed your neck and you threw your head back, placing a hand on his chest. You couldn’t take it. You were on fire. Licks of flame made its way through your veins. 

“I’m sorry!” You moaned. 

Terry chuckled and finally kissed you, bringing you forward by his grip on your throat. “You lucky I’m just hungry tonight.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned.

Terry released your neck and dropped to his knees. He was still tall as hell, so it didn’t really look like he knelt. The look in his eyes at this angle had you sighing. He didn’t have a merciful bone in his body. Even on his knees, looking up to you, he looked defiant.  Challenging. Like he wanted you to fight him because he knew that he’d win. 

Terry’s big, strong hands came around to cup your ass. He separated your ass cheeks, giving it a full squeeze, before releasing. Your ass jiggled and Terry hummed and kissed your belly. 

“When you gon’ stop playing with me?” He asked. 

You cupped his cheek and scratched at his beard. He closed his eyes and hummed, a deep rumbling in his chest. Almost like he was purring. 

“Not now, Terry,” you said. You were too lost in the sauce. Too lost in the depth of those eyes. Swirls of brown and blue and green, like he contained the world in them. You’d agree to anything right now and he didn’t need to know that.

Terry lifted your shirt, kissing all over your stomach. He left fat, wet kisses on your skin. You ran your nails across his fade, filling the slight ripples. His hair was coarse, feeling like heaven against the palm of your hand. Terry moved lower and pulled your leg over his shoulder. 

He pushed your panties to the side, taking a deep breath and moaned. “Smell so fuckin’ good,” he said. His tongue darted out and licked you from entrance to clit. You yelped and collapsed against him, leaning all of your weight on him.

Terry hummed, purred, and placed a hand on your belly and pushed. You fell back against the cold wall, yelping from the shock of it. Terry kept one arm under your leg, supporting your hip from the back. His other flattened across your belly, pushing you against the wall and stabilizing you.

“I was laying in my bed, trynna think of what would make me go to sleep. And then, I started thinking about this pretty pussy,” he said. He began to eat you out and talk through it, dragging his lips. He spoke these words into your pussy like he was writing affirmations into your skin with his tongue. 

“About how you get so wet, so quick. My favorite is when you start leaking down your leg,” he said. At the end of the sentence, he sucked on your clit and you cried out, gripping his shoulders and trying to push. He held you down, held you open, while he purred.

“I like knowing you get so needy, you can’t help it. You’d fuck anything nearby, wouldn’t you?” He cooed into your pussy. 

Your teeth chattered as he licked and prodded at your entrance, gathering up your essence, and suckling it all down. He moved back up to your clit, playing with the swollen nub with the tip of his tongue. You shivered against him and he moved with you, dodging your attempts to turn to mush in his arms. 

“And then I started thinking, hmmm, I need that. I need to bust down that throat. Or maybe save this load for this pussy. She look hungry,” he said, moving his lips between your folds. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned. The fire he started went straight to your lower belly, clenching painfully as you neared an orgasm. Why was it so difficult to maintain a cool exterior with this man? In no time at all, he already had you screaming to the heavens. Screaming for any neighbors to hear that he was hand delivering pleasure.

His hand squeezed your ass and you moaned, biting your lip painfully. His lips began smacking, suckling on your clit and releasing it with a loud smack. Your clit throbbed, uselessly clenching around nothing. 

“Please, Terry, oh god, please, please,” you begged. 

“Keep begging, baby, shit turns me on,” he said, repeatedly suckling your clit. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, finally letting the climax take over. You shook and shivered, flopping against the wall and turning boneless. Terry kept up with your flopping, chuckling evilly as he continued to eat you out while you spasmed on him. 

“That’s it. That’s it, beautiful. Let all that shit go,” he whispered into your pussy. You didn’t know how you heard him. Perhaps he was just that good. Just that in control. That deep voice was lower than sin as he whispered against your clit, rolling his tongue. 

You looked down at him and his eyes snapped to yours. Eyes soft. Pretty ass eyelashes. He was perfect. Too perfect. Your body stopped flopping and you panted, huffed, as you came down. Terry slowed his tongue against your clit, flattening his tongue against and making you jerk. 

His heavy breaths fanned across your pussy and you moaned, writhing against him. “Fuck, Terry,” you said. 

Terry kissed your thighs, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He continued up to your belly, lifting your shirt with his head and he came up further. Your leg slid from his shoulder down to his  side, and wrapped around his leg as he stood up. 

He gripped your chin and pulled you into a kiss. You smelled and tasted yourself on him, your slick on his beard. You moaned, turning the kiss nasty as you played with each other’s tongues. 

Terry broke the kiss and smirked at you as he hooked his thumbs into your panties and tore them from your legs. 

“Hey!” You yelled, slapping his shoulder. Terry smirked, licked his lips, and stuffed the panties into your mouth. You smelled your arousal, your essence, and you moaned. 

“You like it,” he said with a shrug. 

You rolled your eyes, lifting your hand to pull your panties out. Terry snatched your wrist, pulling it above your head. Before you could lift the other, he snatched that one too. He kept both in one hand, and then stuffed your panties further into your mouth. 

“When you gon’ say yes and let me play in these guts whenever I want?” He asked.

You groaned and closed your eyes to the onslaught of pleasure. His voice found your off switch, making your brain fritz out over hearing his words. “Not now, Terry,” you said, voice muffled by the panties. 

You breathed harshly through your nose, rubbing yourself against him. He was so tall, so big, so thick. 

“Why not now?” Terry asked, nudging his nose against yours. He kissed the corners of your mouth, kissing your jaw below your ear, and then nibbling on your earlobe. 

He used his free hand to lift you on top of him and you wrapped your legs around his waist. His impressive bulge slotted between your legs and you moaned, rubbing yourself against him. Fuck, he made you needy. Wanton. Like you truly grew dumb, replaced with nothing but your baser instincts. To fuck. To grind. To toot your ass in the air and let him do whatever he wanted. Whatever he asked for. 

“What’s holding you back from me? From this? From fucking you in the morning, fucking you at night, in between meals when I need to get inside you. I know you feel this too,” he said. He moved his joggers down, exposing his huge dick. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, rubbing against him. Your pussy smacked as he tapped his tip against your pussy. 

“She nice and loud tonight,” he said. 

Your legs shook as Terry moved his dick through your folds, getting the tip of him wet before pushing in.

“Oh shit, shit, shit,” you moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. He was so big. “Fuck, fill me up, fill me up.” 

Terry groaned as he pushed inside, rolling his hips to sink inside. To bury his shaft deep and touch a that part inside. The part only he could touch. You tried going on dates with other guys. You tried convincing Terry and yourself that you were for the streets. Wasn’t no nigga gon’ play ‘round you no more. 

But they all fell short. They all were measured against Terry and were found lacking. Incomplete. With a look, Terry could have you whining and fucking yourself on him like a horny dog. 

“You could have this whenever you want,” he said. He began to stroke, proving that what came before were merely foreplay. He snapped his hips, pumped his arms and slammed you on his dick. 

You moaned and grunted on his dick, crying, shaking, gripping onto him for dear life. He was the only one capable of delivering this type of pleasure. He leaned down and buried his nose into your neck, absently kissing you. Licking the rapid pulse in your neck. 

“Terry, please, not-now,” you moaned. You didn’t know if he knew what you were saying considering the gag. Every inhale brought a fresh wave of your scent to your nostrils and you moaned. His moans mingled with yours, sliding more easily inside of you as your essence flooded his dick. 

“Say yes, baby, say yes. Say yes for me. Say yes for Daddy,” he said, snapping his hips faster.

He fucked you furiously against the wall, slamming inside of you while placing tender kisses against your neck. Under your ear. Moving along your jaw. He clamped his teeth down on your panties and pulled it from your mouth. He leaned down and kissed you. Kissing those sweet lips. Playing with his rough tongue. His mouth was a gift from God himself. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He moved his hands to your ass and smacked it, causing the sound to echo in your bedroom. “Oh fuck, Terry!” 

Terry smacked your ass again. “What you s’posed to call me?” He asked.

He dropped you against his dick, pouding against that deep spot inside of you. The pitch of your moans changed, turning higher and faster. Coming quicker than you can breathe. 

“There it is. But you gon’ have to earn this second nut,” he said.

You pushed feebly against his shoulders. Not to get rid of him but you needed some kind of release. Something to make the pressure pop. You forced yourself to breathe, to gulp in air. 

“Please, Daddy,” you moaned, turning wet, glistening eyes to him. 

A tear escaped your eye and Terry licked it off of your cheek. He purred, dick throbbing inside of you. 

“Be good for me and say yes. Say yes to getting dicked down every night. On demand,” he said.

“I can’t,” you moaned, shaking your head back and forth. 

He found a good rhythm, hitting your spot and making you moan every time he did it. Sweet, musical moans that sounded good even to your own ears. He was fucking you too well, had you clutching onto his neck. His thighs were like steel, effortlessly holding you and slapping against your ass. 

“Sure you can, you wanna cum, right? That’s why you opened the door for me? That’s why you’ll always open the door for me? ‘Cause you know I dig this shit out right. You know you can’t find another nigga ready to treat you like this. Give you what you need. What you crave. Like a good little fuckin’ slut,” he said.

He abruptly pulled out of you. “No!” You screamed. 

Terry chuckled as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down, pushing your shirt up enough for him to see your titties. 

He spread your legs wide and slid back inside you like he never left. He rutted inside you, increasing his pace now that he didn’t have to support your weight. He was relentless, moving his hand up to rub your clit.

Your thighs snapped shut, trapping his hand. “Open that shit back up. Now!” He barked.

You whimpered and whined as you fought against your body, opening your legs even though you wanted to stall him. Hold him off. “Move that hand before I move it for you,” he said.

You sniffled, hot all over and sweaty all over. You moved your hand, lowering it to the covers and grabbing a handful. “Fuck! Please, Daddy!” You moaned. 

Terry pushed your legs until they were practically at your chest. He slapped your ass a few times. Each slap was worse than the last, lighting your ass up like a Christmas tree. 

You yelled out, cried out, pleaded with him while he continued to smack your ass and dig in your guts. You felt him deep inside, throbbing, pulsing. 

“Please, give meeee,” you moaned. 

Terry chuckled. He flicked his thumb against your pussy, your slick making your pussy sound louder. Wetter. 

“Hear how she sings? You gon’ take this dick and still lie to my face?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not-lie,” you huffed. Fuck, you were close. You were so close. You clutched at the covers, at the sheets, clawed at anything close by. 

“You want that shit, then you say the magic words. I’m tired of waitin’,” he said. 

You sniffled. Aw hell. There was no use fighting anymore. It was clear that Terry was the only one for you. He was the only one who knew exactly what to do, what to say. He was a man. All over. 

You leaned on your elbows and stared in his face. “Fuck me, Daddy, like I’m yours. ‘Cause I am,” you said. 

“You mine?” He asked, grinning wide and stealing your breath away. Fuck, he was so pretty. So beautiful. 

You nodded. “I’m yours,” you said.

“This pussy mine, too?” He asked. He pressed on your clit and you moaned loudly. You lifted your hips, needing him to do that shit again. He obliged, pressing on your throbbing clit. 

“Yes, Daddy, all yours,” you agreed. You’d agree to steal the moon for him if he would just let you cum. If he would grant his permission. 

“Good, then cum on this dick like a good slut,” he said. He kissed you, changing the angle of his hips and snapping against your sweet spot. You came instantly, legs shaking, pussy gripping him tightly.

“That’s it. Squeeze that fuckin’ dick,” he moaned against your lips. He palmed your tits, kneading, pinching your nipples and making you grip him even tighter. 

“Make me feel that,” he cooed as he thrust one more time and exploded inside you. His pulsing cum painted your walls white. 

Terry moaned, face falling into bliss as he came. He was even more beautiful like this. Undone. Unleashed. Untethered to that iron clad control of his. He scrunched his face up, like it felt too good. Too amazing.

“Ohh, good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” he moaned, kissing your forehead. You huffed, panting, sweating. Your skin turned clammy, the pressure gone from earlier. 

Your pussy squelched as Terry softened, pulling out of you. His cum gushed out, leaking down your ass and onto the bed. Terry kept your legs spread, watching as he leaked out of you. 

“Tomorrow night. Me and you. Date night. Then back here so I can fuck your brains out,” he huffed. He kissed your forehead and then pulled you into a sitting position. 

He caressed your chin and you fell forward, placing your forehead against his sculpted chest. “Yes, Daddy,” you said and kissed his belly.

“There’s my girl,” he said. 

There's more Terry! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[librababe99]

Raw Temptation

CW: Fem!Reader, Oral (fem! receiving), body worship 

Word Count: 1841

A/N: This is my first time writing anything smut related (please bare with me lol) and depending on how this does I may slowly ease into it more... And don't worry "Moments Between Time: Part One" will still drop later this evening! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

The night was heavy with the scent of rain, the soft patter of droplets against the window filling the dimly lit room. You leaned against the cool glass, your breath fogging up the pane as you stared out into the storm. The flickering light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows, dancing across the walls and highlighting the rough textures of the room's wooden furniture.

You heard the door creak open behind you, the familiar scent of whiskey and leather mixing with the rain-soaked air. Logan stepped inside, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His gaze was dark, lingering on you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're up late," he murmured, his voice gravelly and low, as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. His muscles rippled beneath the tight fabric of his shirt, every movement deliberate, almost predatory.

You turned to face him, your back pressing against the cool glass. "Couldn't sleep," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his. The tension between you was palpable, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

Logan's eyes darkened as they roamed over your figure, taking in the way the soft light illuminated your skin, the curve of your lips, the rise and fall of your chest. He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the wooden floor.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I can think of a few things to tire you out." His hand brushed against your arm, the touch sending a spark of electricity through your body.

You swallowed, your breath hitching as you felt the warmth of his body radiating against yours. "Is that so?" you managed to whisper back, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Logan's lips curled into a half-smile, one that was both dangerous and inviting. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Why don't I show you?"

Before you could respond, his hand slid around your waist, pulling you against him. The roughness of his touch was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. His other hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your head back as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, filled with the promise of everything that was to come.

The kiss was fierce, a clash of want and need that left you breathless. Logan’s lips moved against yours with a possessive hunger, as if he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the hard planes of his chest and the roughness of his calloused hands a stark contrast to your softness.

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in the thick strands of his hair as you tried to keep up with the intensity of his kiss. Logan growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your entire body and sending a thrill straight to your core. He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over yours as his eyes, now dark with desire, searched your face.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his breath warm against your swollen lips. The rough edge to his voice was laced with restraint, as if he was barely holding himself back.

You shook your head, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, as if afraid he might actually pull away. “Don’t you dare,” you whispered, the words spilling out in a desperate rush. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want the distance, the restraint. You wanted all of him.

Logan’s eyes flashed with something primal, a fire that burned hotter than before. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, darlin’,” he rumbled, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth told you he was more than willing to give it.

His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he pushed you back against the window. The cold glass pressed against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat blazing between you and Logan. He held you there, his grip firm and unyielding, his body pinning you in place. You wrapped your legs around his waist, the friction of your bodies igniting a spark that sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

Logan’s mouth trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he nipped and kissed his way to your collarbone. The roughness of his stubble against your skin only heightened the sensation, each touch a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. You arched into him, your body begging for more, and he obliged, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers brushing over your heated skin.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned against your throat, his voice rough and breathless. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your own hands were just as eager, slipping under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips. He was all strength and power, but there was a gentleness to the way he touched you, a reverence that made your heart race even faster.

Logan pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that made your breath catch. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, but there was an edge of vulnerability there, a hint of hesitation that surprised you.

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you whispered, the honesty in your voice clear.

He stared at you for a moment, as if committing this moment to memory, before his lips crashed against yours again, this time with even more fervor. He kissed you like a man starved, his hands everywhere, touching, caressing, claiming you as his. And you let him, surrendering completely to the sensation, to the heat that was building between you, until nothing else existed but the two of you, lost in each other.

Logan's kiss deepened, his mouth moving with a raw intensity that left you dizzy. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding your body against his in a way that had you gasping for air. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the heat between you building to a fever pitch. His touch was rough, but there was something achingly tender in the way his fingers brushed against your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved lower. The feel of his teeth grazing your collarbone sent a shiver through you, and you arched against him, craving more. Logan growled softly, a sound that sent a rush of heat straight to your core. His hands slid beneath your shirt, pushing it up slowly, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before he finally pulled it over your head.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before his mouth was on you again, his lips and tongue working a path down your chest, making you moan. He took his time, savoring the taste of your skin, his hands caressing your sides as he explored you inch by inch. When he finally reached the swell of your breast, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a dark, hungry look in them that made your pulse race.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. The way he looked at you, like you were something precious, made your heart flutter in your chest.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you tugged at it, wanting—no, needing—more. He got the message, shrugging out of the shirt in one fluid motion and tossing it aside. The sight of him, bare-chested and utterly feral in the low light, made your breath catch. Every muscle in his body was taut, his skin marked with scars that told stories you could only imagine. But right now, all you could think about was how badly you wanted him, all of him.

Logan’s hands were on you again, sliding down your sides to the waistband of your shorts.. He paused, looking up at you with a question in his eyes, seeking your permission even now. You nodded, breathless and eager, and with a swift, practiced motion, he peeled them off you, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

His eyes darkened as they roamed over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid bare before him. “God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, but the words sent a rush of heat through you all the same.

He moved closer, his hands finding your thighs, spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, every nerve in your body on fire as he leaned in, his mouth hovering over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. When his lips finally made contact, you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way up, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Logan’s touch was relentless, his mouth exploring you with a fervor that bordered on worship. He took his time, tasting, teasing, driving you to the brink of madness with every slow, deliberate movement. You could feel the tension building inside you, every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge.

“Logan,” you breathed, the sound of his name on your lips urging him on. He growled in response, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through you. You were close, so close, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Logan’s mouth found that perfect spot, his tongue flicking against your clit with just the right pressure. The world around you shattered as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back arching off the window as you cried out his name, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He didn’t stop, your body quivering from the orgasm that ripped through you.  Only then did he pull back, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, his expression one of pure, unbridled lust.

You were still catching your breath when he leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that tasted of you, of the pleasure he’d just given you. It was slow, sensual, a promise of everything still to come.

When he pulled back, his voice was rough, his breath warm against your lips. “We’re just getting started, darlin’.” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

[hurtspideyparker]

When Steve and Tony move in together they discover a lot of differences.

Tony leaves the light on in every room. He's always had either hired help or an AI to turn it off for him, and he's never sweat an electricity bill.

Steve turns off every light when he leaves a room, even if he's only gone for two seconds. It's an old habit from not having reliable electricity growing up or in the military. Tony will catch him squinting at his book in the dim light until the sun fully sets and he's bathed in darkness, or turning off a lamp Tony's using because "you already have two more on!"

Steve always makes the bed first thing in the morning. If Tony's still sleeping in it, then he gets tucked in...tight. Sometimes he struggles to get out.

Tony rolls out of bed with his eyes still closed. The sheets follow him to the floor, his pajamas are strewn on the ground until he's caffeinated and showered.

Steve's showers usually last 5 minutes. 10, if it's post-mission and the dirt still clings. A slightly warm temperature that leaves no steam on the mirror.

Tony's last 25 at minimum. When Steve asks what he's even doing in there he says "enjoying the moment". Steve has listened through the door and has found that to mean enjoying scalding hot water while talking math through with Jarvis, singing, or...yeah. Steve usually follows him in for that one.

Steve is a "do the dishes right after a meal" kind of guy. A meal that should be eaten at a kitchen table. He also refuses to use the dishwasher.

Tony is a "let them soak" man. Which he usually forgets about and Steve ends up doing. He'll also leave the dishes wherever he pleases. Coffee table, work bench, dresser. "Tony why is there a coffee mug in the bathtub. Again."

Steve runs hot. Tony runs cold. Steve has long since given up trying to mess with the thermostat ever since it started yelling at him when he touched it—he thought about protesting the heat by wearing less clothing, but Tony would just enjoy that too much.

Instead he started refusing cuddles. He wasn't even lying about how hot and uncomfortable it got when Tony lies on top of him like a weighted blanket. A week into the boycott the temperature got lowered a whole 5 degrees, and has been ever since. (Steve still sweats a little in the night when Tony clings under the duvet, but he never really minded it; the benefits outweigh the drawbacks).

[deepfrost-citadel]

"You know," Xisuma said, peering cautiously over Cub's shoulder at the museum's latest addition, "When you said you wanted to show me a new exhibit, I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off.

Evil Xisuma glowered at him from inside their enclosure.

"…This."

To say Evil X looked a little miffed about the situation would be an understatement. At least Cub had done a nice job decorating, Xisuma thought, between the blackstone and crimson wood, Evil X looked right at home - if they weren't sitting grumpily in their 2-by-1 lava pool, surrounded by the mangled remains of whatever Cub had put in there for enrichment.

"Surprise!" Cub grinned, doing jazz hands at the enclosure, "I know what you might be thinking-"

Xisuma doubted that somehow.

"- 'Cub, Evil Xisuma hasn't done anything this season! They aren't a historic artefact! They shouldn't be in a museum!' But!" Cub wagged a finger triumphantly, "They are important to the history of Hermitcraft as a whole. So really, if you think about it, they definitely belong in a museum."

"… Okay?"

"Glad we're on the same page."

Xisuma wasn't sure if anyone was ever on the same page as Cub. Except maybe Scar.

"Now! As you can see, I've been decorating their enclosure, trying to add some interactive elements for guests and such." Cub pointed towards a line of redstone lamps at the top of Evil Xisuma's enclosure, "These show you how much electricity they're generating when they do their lightning hands thing. I'll be honest with you, it's broken a few times already so it's still a work in progress-"

"… Is that what all the lightning rods are for?" Xisuma frowned, eyeing the entirely lightning rod-ed ceiling.

"It is indeed!" Cub said, ignoring the twinge of concern in Xisuma's voice, "Well, a little. Mostly it's a safety thing, it wouldn't be good to have guests being electrocuted, now would it?"

"I suppose not… And it definitely works?"

"Oh yeah, it's been very thoroughly tested. Hey, Evil Xisuma," Cub walked up to the glass and tapped on it a few times, much to Xisuma's silent horror, "Wanna show X how the lightning rods work?"

In response, Evil Xisuma stuck their middle finger up at him and yelled something muffled to almost inaudibility that sounded a little like: "When I get out of here, I'm going to rip your head off and use it as a coffee mug, you stupid e-boy twink."

The pair on the other side of the glass blinked.

"… That's a no then." Cub turned back to Xisuma, "They do this a lot."

"They certainly do," Xisuma nodded faintly.

"You can probably tell the glass is uh... Mostly noise-cancelling, had to install that because Helsknight is in the next enclosure over and he's still hibernating. You know how Wels gets when you wake him up early, don't wanna find out how that guy is."

"… Of course," Xisuma sighed, pinching the nose bridge of his helmet, "Do I want to know how you got hold of those two?"

Cub laughed in the slightly unhinged way that gave Xisuma visions of Cub spending several weeks toying with the evil hermits as he hunted them for sport, "Nah man, it's not an interesting story."

Somehow, Xisuma doubted that.

"Anyway," Cub said, changing the topic before Xisuma could ask if he knew there was still someone's blood on his left sleeve, "What I really called you for is that I need an Evil Xisuma expert, and you're the man to ask about all things Evil Xisuma."

"Except for Evil Xisuma."

"Except for Evil Xisuma, yes." Cub nodded sagely, "So. Obviously I wanna make sure everything is nice for our new residents, give them plenty of enrichment and all that, but it hasn't been working out so far."

"I can see that."

"Soo… Any suggestions? What kind of thing does Evil X like? Food? Blocks? I dunno, fake derpcoin or something?"

Xisuma hummed, tilting his head in thought as he gazed at Evil Xisuma, who had clambered out of the lava pool to press their hands against the glass and give Xisuma the saddest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes their LED screen could muster (which, admittedly, were very sad and pathetic) in a silent plea to not leave them here with that madman, they'll be good for realsies this time they promise-

"Well," Xisuma said, turning to Cub, "They like to knit, so maybe they'd like some wool… Oh! And if you can find any old Wormman merch, they'll love that too."

Evil Xisuma's head hit the glass with a despairing thunk.

[steddieas-shegoes]

headcanon- steve secretly being insanely good at something, maybe chess or something similarly associated with intelligence. when everyone finds out they are surprised and doubtful leading steve to have the realization "oh. you guys genuinely think I'm stupid."

Steve loved seeing how things worked, he had since he was too young to actually figure things out by himself.

He got caught pulling apart his dad’s office calculator when he was nine, insisted he could put it back together, and did.

It took him a week, but he did it.

Then it was the house phone.

Then his desk lamp.

The toaster.

He always got them back together and working, but his parents weren’t very pleased if they caught him in the process.

Still, he loved the feeling of understanding how certain wires connecting meant something would light up or how one color wire would make something produce a number and another would produce power.

He continued doing it with random objects for years.

The concussions made it harder, his vision going blurry if he focused a little too long on a small part of the technology, his frustration making it even worse.

When Eddie found out, he gave him an old amp that wasn’t working anymore, said it probably would never work again but he could take a look inside.

Steve got it working in two days.

Wayne gave him their VHS player when it stopped rewinding, didn’t want to have to buy a new one even if they did have the money for it now. He had it fixed in four hours.

The oven in the new Munson home randomly stopped working, so of course Steve was called.

He came during Hellfire, ignoring the strange looks as he waved and made his way straight to kitchen.

He got to work, humming to himself as he made sure electricity was cut off from it, that there was no gas hookup anywhere, and pulled it from the wall.

The wiring inside was relatively straightforward, and he saw the problem almost immediately.

A loose wire connecting from the heat source to the controls. Easy fusing. Done.

He tested to make sure it was fixed, and ten minutes later, he was calling Wayne at work on the house phone to let him know it was fixed.

When he turned around, Dustin and Lucas were standing in the doorway, mouths open.

“You’ll catch flies like that. You know Eddie leaves the windows open all the time.”

“You fixed the oven?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

“By yourself? Like the inside of it?”

“Yeah?”

“How? That’s so many wires and stuff.”

“It’s not that hard.”

“That’s like, electrical engineering shit.”

Steve realized what was happening just as everyone else walked into the kitchen.

“Oh. You guys don’t think I’m smart enough.”

He felt like he hit a brick wall.

“What’s going on?” Eddie came to stand next to Steve, arm wrapping around his waist.

“We didn’t know Steve was smart.”

The words were unintentionally harsh, but Steve and Eddie flinched anyway.

“Steve’s incredibly smart. He fixes all kinds of things.”

“Eds, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. They know better than to make assumptions about someone based on grades in school or how they understand certain things.”

Steve shrunk into Eddie’s side, doing his best to hide his face while he held back tears.

“You can all apologize or you can leave.”

There was silence for a moment and Steve was almost convinced that they’d all left.

He turned his head to see everyone staring at him.

“We’re sorry, Steve. Really. Eddie’s right. We shouldn’t have assumed you weren’t super smart just because you didn’t do well in school or don’t understand us when we ramble.”

Will was always a good kid, maybe his favorite at the moment.

“‘S okay guys.”

Eddie’s fingers tightened on his waist for a moment.

“So do you fix all kinds of stuff or just appliances?”

“I like to take stuff apart and put it back together. Sometimes I just end up fixing something along the way.”

“So you could look at my walkie?” Max piped up. “It keeps going to static in the middle of me talking.”

“Sure. Probably just a disconnected wire between the speaker and the button.”

Max beamed back at him, not just happy he would try to fix it, but proud.

Everyone started asking if he could fix things they had, surprised when he agreed to it all.

They filtered back out to the dining room area where they played, except for Dustin.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that you’re stupid or anything. I know you’re not stupid. I was just surprised. I shouldn’t have been; you’re always finding the crossed wires with us and fixing those.”

Steve pulled him into a hug.

“People aren’t nearly as easy as electronics, dude.”

“Yeah, but you make it look that way.”

Steve quickly became the group’s engineer, always fixing what was broken, whether it was a flashlight or a bad day. He was pretty good at putting things and people back together.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hiking Trip (1) | Yandere Diasomnia

Imagine you’ve finally gotten to the next step in your relationship

“Hey me and the boys were going hiking up to the cottage, wanna come?”

“I’d love to!”

Yes you were dating an older man

So many times had you looked at others and thought you’d never find yourself with someone so well into their life

But Lilia was different

He was cool

A handsome-let’s be real cute face, fashionable style, and he played riveting ballads on his electric guitar

Not to mention he was oh so flexible

You loved your boyfriend even though people would keel when they heard his age

Or that he had kids just as old as you

But you didn’t mind

It didn’t matter what they thought

Because you loved him

And he loved you

Apparently enough to bring you along to the annual hiking trip he took with his kids

You’d done your research before then, scrolled through forums, read through step-kid threads

You’re prepared to have a purely amicable relationship with your boyfriend’s kids

Or prepare to be cussed out for simply dating him

“(Y/n) this is Silver, Malleus, and Sebek’s coming up with us too.”

“Hi”

“Hello.” “Nice to meet you, I’m excited to get to know you on this trip.” 

“Thanks me too!”

“So you’re the young leech that’s attached themselves to Master Lilia?”

When you expected to be chewed out and insulted you were certain the ones he directly raised would be the culprit

You were wrong 

Terribly wrong 

Turns out the boy who was a close-friend and self-proclaimed student of his was the one to do it

Left at the back of the group to be stuck with Sebek’s loud lecturing 

Going strong for 3 miles until he decides he’s been neglecting helping Malleus 

“Sorry we all left you to him like that. Lilia said it’s practically a right of passage for whoever's behind to have to deal with him.”

“Oh…well if it’s a right of passage it’s okay.”

You appreciate Silver 

And he seems to enjoy your company

Besides nearly falling asleep while walking he’s nice to talk to 

And he has no problem giggling with you about Sebek’s many laughable quirks

When you guys set up for camp you take right up on his offer to go search for wood

Even though Lilia could use your help starting the fire

You assure yourself that your just bonding with his kids

Which you’ll continue to tell yourself when Silver get’s unusually close to teach you how to activate the fire-safe torch 

Silver’s beside himself

He could no longer question if he was in love with his father’s partner

It was a definite positive now that he’d met you and spoke with you and could pick out your breathing pattern from the tent over

He was sure after hearing his father gush that he’d like you but in a way he was supposed to 

meeting you in person made him realize just how wrong he was

He refrained from doing a background check—especially since Sebek already did that

But he certainly paid attention to what his father had to say

Watching as he listed off your flaws and qualities that he so adored

Perhaps it was his fault that Silver was already so interested

Hearing the jokes you’d make, the excitement you had, the gifts you gave all to his father

It all too easily made it feel acceptable that he imagined it was he you were dating

Only to be pained by the way his father led you to his tent when the night came to a close

Maybe he was a bad son for deciding to sleep even though he saw Sebek wildly using the oil lamp to swat off fireflies 

Somehow dreaming about the future where you’d need his incredibly large sleeping bag to stay warm enough in the night

[sweetiecutie]

Part nine: fingering~ 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, fingering, kinda mirror sex(?), dirty talk, one (1) pussyslap

Getting a huge wall mirror was definitely a good decision, otherwise you wouldn’t end up like this - sprawled out on Simon’s lap, legs wide open with on of his meaty arms delved in between your trembling thighs, nimble fingers working wonders to your pussy and, most importantly, you could see everything. Every smallest flick of man’s wrist, every swipe of his calloused thumb against your needy clit - fuck, that was sexy.

Filthy squelching sounds your pussy was making was one of the causes of bright pink dusting your cheeks; your lips were puffy from constant nibbling, eyes sparking with need and excitement as you watched two thick digits slip easily inside of you, greedy cunt swallowing every centimetre, clenching hard around Simon’s digits, wanting to keep him buried inside. But he pulled out, thumb pressing onto swollen bud of your clit, making you wriggle slightly, his hard-on prominent and obvious against the softness of your ass.

Ghost’s free from your pussy hand was stroking up and down your sides, pinching and twirling your nipples sending electric shocks straight to your clit, making you whine and mewl in his arms; your own hands holding onto Simon’s forearms for some kind of grounding, your grip so tights it left white marks on his scarred skin, but it was the last thing on both your minds.

His thick fingers ran up and down your slit, index and middle spreading your folds open, exposing your fluttering hole. Your breath got caught in your throat, cunt clenching without you even intending to, causing Simon’s thin lips to curl in shit-eating grin - he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

- Look at this pretty pussy, all wet and dripping. All this f’me? - Simon inquired, his eyes darting from fascinating view of your cunny up to your bleary eyes, meeting your gaze through the mirror. You swallowed hard, noticing how dilated Ghost’s pupils were, turning his eyes black.

Loud yelp tore through your chest, scratching your throat, whole body jolting violently as Simon placed a rough slap across your spread out pussy, your arousal dripping down the cleft of your ass and soaking Ghost’s sweatpants, forming a noticeable dark stain on grey fabric.

- I asked you a fucking question, doll.

You nodded your head vigorously, your chest heaving with intensity of your increased breathing - you were so horny it was hard to form coherent sentences.

- Yes, all for you Master, - you slurred, voice small and breathy, but enough for Simon to hear.

Ghost hummed in approval, shoving his index and middle back into your seeping hole, stuffing you full. He fucked them in and out of your slippery warmth a few times before pulling slicked digits back out; bringing them up to your face, Simon spread them into a V - silver strings connected his phalanges, shining in soft light of bedside lamp.

- My my, look how messy you are, - man tutted, his chest rumbling with low chuckle. He rubbed slicked fingers together, wet sounds of your arousal squelch tore through thick white noise filling your ears. Even before Simon spoke up again you knew exactly what he wanted, letting your mouth fall open. - That’s a good girl, gonna clean ‘em f’me, yeah?

You gladly accepted him inside of your mouth, tongue swilling and licking his fingers, tasting your own juices off his skin. Pulling his hand away Simon brought it back to your pussy, unapologetically forcing three fingers into your fluttering hole, making you squeal out at sudden but pleasurable addition.

- Now be a good girl and get ‘em all dirty again.

[ckret2]

Ages ago I made a post about what Ford thinks about Bill (in a billford context), and I've had an infodump on what Bill thinks about Ford floating on discord for months, and an ask finally prompted me to post it, so here ya go:

If asked why he likes Ford, Bill himself claims that Ford overthinks everything, but in such fun, interesting ways, and Bill likes the way Ford thinks about things.

But really, Bill overthinks everything too; it's just he overthinks social things. He's always calculating how to persuade, control, manipulate people. He never has a conversation that isn't a chess game, it's exhausting and he won't even admit it's exhausting. When's the last time his top priorities weren't either "how do I convince some sucker to make a portal" or "ugggh I'm so SICK of the PORTAL I'm gonna THROW A PARTY and NOT THINK AT ALL"

Whereas Ford is guy who'd hear someone say something incorrect and bluntly go "no you're wrong" and accidentally offend the hell out of them because he's SO excited to share this fantastic information they don't know. The social world DOES NOT EXIST for him until he's reminded of it.

And so he's free to turn all his brainpower instead to. Like. The environmental impact of barf fairies on fern fertilizer or whatever.

Bill knows Everything™ but he's gotten tired of doing anything with that knowledge. They're all discrete points of information to him. He doesn't have time to muse over things, he's got an inventor to manipulate at 11pm and then a party to get to at midnight. He's never once in his life thought about the impact of barf fairies on the local flora. But he does happen to know the plants in that part of the woods are more acid-resistant and wow is that why???? He's never even thought to think about that before. Thousand year mystery that Bill didn't even notice has been solved.

(On the other hand "Ford doesn't think to think about the intricacies of social interaction" is also part of what makes him so easy to manipulate, he's so much more inclined to just accept at face value a friendly offer of assistance on a big academic project. Sure Bill's helping for the sake of scientific advancement in and of itself, why wouldn't he?)

Bill wants to just, fling random facts at Ford and see if he can think up connections between them. Go nerd boy go nerd boy go

"... So there you have it Ford, that's the problem you'll have to overcome with adapting alien machinery to human fuel sources, now I wanna hear YOUR thoughts on how to overcome that problem." "Well—" talks in an uninterrupted stream that by thirty minutes in has drifted over to the history of kerosene production, which he read an interesting book about between semesters in college— "... I've gotten off topic, haven't I?" "No no, I think you're on to something. This is how brainstorming works, free association of concepts. Keep going."

Ford in the morning: "... oh no I didn't let my muse get a word in edgewise for the rest of the dream, i didn't bore him did I?" Bill: "damn, I never noticed the patent process for hurricane lamps was so contentious. There's little dramas everywhere"

When things are going well, their relationship is,

Ford: "I just wanna hear Bill teach me things about the multiverse forever."

Bill: "I just wanna hear Ford think deeply on any topic that crosses his mind forever."

Both of them when they're in peak harmony: excitedly jabbering at each other at 200 words per minute about the stupidest topic you've ever heard, but you'd need a phd in at least two fields to comprehend it

That's love!!!

Ford, having historically been socially shamed: "... am I being weird?"

Bill: "💕❤️💓yeah❣️💖❤️‍🔥"

Sometimes I think about Bill watching Ford in his sleep and being in awe at this human-shaped genius: you with your beautiful electric mind, packed into this soft flawed uneven body. one would never know it from the outside—but you're in there. This genius with a mind like a galaxy. ... and he's like, growing hair and stuff. wild.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still can’t get this stupid arm to work right,” Liz groaned. She’d managed to get to the lab on time today, and she’d been able to get dressed herself, but only barely. Her lab coat and uniform were both disheveled, the new bionic hand unable to get every button resulting in half of them being left undone. She’d ended up having to tie her shoe laces in knots to keep them on her feet because her fingers couldn’t bend the way she wanted or grip the thin laces. The only reason Liz was wearing the lab coat these days was to hide the cross section where her arm ended and the cybernetics began. Looking at it was… upsetting, to say the least.

“It’s only been a few cycles, Human Liz,” Coco said. “It’s my understanding that losing limbs is fatal to most other species of non-botanicals. Having the ability to complain right now is a gift.”

“It’s been over a week,” Liz said. “And I know, everyone keeps reminding me I’m lucky to be alive, you, the captain, Jane, I know how lucky I am, but this,” she waved the hunk of metal she called a hand, “is starting to piss me off.”

“You are upset,” Coco said. They were standing beside the center lab table. Liz couldn’t even see the claw marks the predator creature had left on their trunk anymore. “This is to be expected.”

Coco walked over to their wall computer, avoiding the small automated cleaner Liz had made to tidy up the dirt they tracked everywhere.

“Remind me again, this device you have made to remove the dirt, why have you attached a weapon to it?” Coco asked.

“Thought it’d be funny,” Liz said, “which it was.”

“And you have designated it…?”

“Stabby, ‘cause of the steak knife.”

“Why?”

“Old Earth legend. Makes us humans laugh,” Liz said, smiling as she leaned her chin on her good arm.

“You will have to explain that story to me again some time.” Coco clicked a button on their screen and a wall panel slid up between them, revealing the clutch of 5 eggs they’d taken from MX13 sitting in their tank. They were about the size of baseballs, or stone fruits. Liz had stuck a strip of electrical tape on the front and written ‘arm eating bastard eggs’.

“You know I’m half tempted to eat them,” Liz said.

“Please do not engage in predator behavior around me,” Coco asked. “It still makes me nervous sometimes watching you try to swat at insects.”

“Really? Why?” Liz chuckled.

“I know you are more evolved than a simple animal, but when I observe you stalk and hunt down the… mosquitoes? It reminds me of the predators we have on Spryga. It is unsettling.”

Liz stopped and thought for a moment. She hadn’t considered that before. It was probably a normal complaint among former prey species working alongside humans. Whoops.

“Well, sorry. Humans are weird like that, but I’ll try to be more conscious about it,” Liz said.

“Thank you. I do not mean to… step on your hands, but I appreciate it.”

“Step on your toes, hon.”

“Right.”

Liz pulled the tank out of the wall while Coco set the lab up, turning on heat lamps and setting the environmental controls in the room to MX13 standard, except for the air. Upon further analysis of the predator creature from the moon, it didn’t need the methane in the air to breathe. From what was left of its ‘lungs’, they breathed more like frogs, through their skin, stripping oxygen from out of the water they swam in. Apparently they were more reptilian than Liz had expected. There were underground rivers and lakes all across the subsurface of the moon, hunting grounds for the creatures. Liz guessed they came above ground to lay their eggs, away from the competition.

Furry reptiles, Liz thought. Why the hair though? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe to keep warm? The underground water has to be freezing.

“What do you think the GAIL will want to do with them after… if they hatch?” Liz asked.

“Standard procedure would be to return them to their natural habitat after a nano scrub to remove any and all unnatural scent from their bodies, so they can be reaccepted back into their species later,” Coco explained. “But hatchlings would be another question entirely. Perhaps they would be sent to an outpost for further study, or released into a controlled habitat somewhere.”

“What, like a zoo?” Liz asked. “You have zoos in the GAIL?”

“Possibly, I’m not sure what this zoo is.”

“We had them on Earth a long ways back. It was pitched as a way to study animals up close, but it was really just cheap entertainment for the masses. Eventually it kinda grew into a way to help endangered species, but it was still pretty on the line.”

“Then no, we don’t have zoos. What I’m speaking of are rehabilitated planets or moons with an ecosystem created to cater to the needs of the species we simply can’t put back where they are from.”

“That still kinda sounds like a zoo, but I guess if nobody is throwing peanuts at the elephants it’s still an improvement.”

The lab was set up for observation, the eggs were supposedly viable, so while they waited to see what would happen, the two got back to their other work. Reasonably they could’ve just left the eggs in the temperature controlled wall slot, but Liz had said that’d be boring, considering it was ‘the most she’d ever paid for less than a full carton of eggs.’

Coco stepped into their pot and watched the eggs, Liz in her desk chair tinkering with her new arm. She was sure if she could just get the pathways right, she’d be able to get the thing working properly. The cable running from her arm to her computer was annoyingly equated to a leash in her mind.

If I could just open a can of soda by myself, that’d be a huge win.

As they sat there doing important scientific work, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Coco said, unmoving in their corner. The door opened and, oddly enough, another human walked in. He stood just inside the doorway looking around sheepishly. Liz glanced at him and was surprised to see a maintenance droid sitting on his shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you guys, uhh, I’m Thomas, from engineering,” said the man.

“Well, hi, I guess,” Liz said, a little confused. “What are you doing all the way up here Thomas? We didn’t make any maintenance requests.”

“No, you didn’t, but I think you need one anyway,” Thomas said. “See, I was just in the med bay for the last couple cycles, and I overheard the nurses talking about the human who needed a cybernetic arm. I’m assuming that was you and not one of the other two, right?”

“What gave it away?” Liz said dryly, waving her metal hand. “And what are you doing, asking about me anyway? You want to see the robot arm or something, get an upgrade for your little buddy there?”

“Oh, no no no, I’m sorry, I just figured you’d need the fix for it,” Thomas said. He walked further into the room, albeit cautiously. “I asked about the model arm they gave you, the MK6, and there’s a small chance the one you have has a problem.”

“… huh?” Liz said, actually confused now.

“Yeah, the MK6 is a great design, but the company putting out the arms had a faulty inspection system, a couple hundred came off the line with a bug in the wiring.”

“I’ve ran a dozen tests on this thing, I would’ve found any code defect.”

“No, I mean, an actual insect, little crawly thing, in the arm. The factory where they were made had a pest problem so they were fumigating for a while. The whole plant is totally automated, so they didn’t stop production while they did it. Bugs went everywhere trying to escape, and some went into the product to avoid the pesticides. Prosthetics got sealed up, and so did the bugs. It’s probably gunked up the wiring in your arm, that’s why you can’t… you know,” Thomas explained, gesturing to her uniform.

“There… there’s a bug in my fucking arm?” Liz said, disgusted.

“I’m just saying there might be,” Thomas said, hands up like he was going to defend himself.

“Beep.”

“Yeah, I know buddy, but we gotta get permission first.”

“Did the small drone speak?” Coco asked.

“Oh my god you’re a Sprygan!” Thomas said, surprised. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were just a houseplant.”

“It’s no problem, I am not offended,” Coco said.

“Uhh, yeah, his name is Roomba, he asked why we don’t just fix the arm and go. We’re still learning patience and manners, apparently.”

“Beep.”

“Apology accepted. Thank you Roomba.”

“Can somebody just check my arm for bugs now please, before I throw up?” Liz half squealed, panicking. She could charge a hostile alien creature no problem, but the thought of insects touching her was enough to make her stomach churn.

“Yup, right, okay, gimme a sec,” Thomas said, coming into the room fully now. “Roll your sleeve up, I gotta remove the casing for this.”

Liz rolled the sleeve of her lab coat up past her elbow, grimacing as she caught sight of the connection plate set into the bone. The skin around it was still red and scarring.

Thomas pulled a small set of tools out of his back pocket and got to work. With a thin pick, he popped the forearm plate up, exposing the circuits running the length of the device, what Liz had in place of muscle tissue now. He took a small pair of needle nose pliers and started poking around, gently moving aside some wires here, around a bolt there. Liz turned her head away. As fascinating as the mechanism was, the idea of seeing an insect inside her body was going to make her sick.

“Okay, talk, bot boy, how come you knew about the defects?” Liz demanded. “I need stimuli to keep from thinking about this revolting situation, so talk.”

“I, uhh, wrote a paper at the academy, about how designers only see solutions to what they think could be the problem,” Thomas said, moving up her forearm. “A lot of people don’t realize they’re smarter than they give themselves credit for, especially actually smart people. Knowing what could go wrong, they start to doubt themselves, and when things do break, they wrack their brains over all the little things they think they did wrong. So I wrote a paper about all the other things that could go bad… like this little guy right here.”

Thomas clamped onto something and slowly fished it out of the device. Liz turned her head even further away, but it didn’t matter. Coco, ever present, and blunt as always, described it to her.

“It appears quite dead. Human Liz, you seem to have had a beetle of some kind in your prosthetic limb,” they said.

“Hon, I love you, but please don’t tell me the details,” Liz said, covering her mouth with her good hand.

“The lady who designed the MK6 is a certified genius, so I used her factory in my thesis paper. After they started getting complaints about some of their prosthetics, they ran every test they could think of, even rewrote the software a few times. It wasn’t until a no name engineer opened one up that they found the problem. Wasn’t anyone’s fault, it’s just a difference between working software and working hardware.”

“And you wrote an engineering thesis paper on that?” Liz asked, dry heaving ever so slightly.

“No, I wrote my psychology paper on that. I wrote my engineering paper on a new WARP drive design I made up.” Thomas threw the dead insect in the trash. “Bigger brains just see bigger problems. Takes a… well, not dumber person, just maybe a different kind of person to see the small problems.”

“Clearly. Anyone with two degrees isn’t what I’d call dumb either,” Liz said, turning her head back.

Thomas used a little brush to clean up the arm a little, squeezing a small tube of sanitizing gel into the empty space between wires.

“Roomba, sterilize this for me, would you?”

The little drone carefully climbed down from his shoulder and dropped onto the table. It held its little hand up as one of its finger tips ignited, making a small controlled torch. Liz held her arm out, looking concerned. The little droid ran its finger over the affected area and after a moment, the little flame went out.

“Beep.”

“Good job buddy. He said it’s totally clean now, 100% sterilized,” Thomas said.

“Oh thank god,” Liz breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks little guy, I owe you one.”

“Beep.”

“He said you’re welcome,” Thomas translated, handing the small droid a data pad. The pad wirred and trilled, and Liz realized the droid was playing a video game.

Odd little fella, huh, she thought.

“You should be able to get the arm working by the end of the day now. It’s had plenty of time to adjust to your neural pathways, it just couldn’t execute any functions till the block was removed. It’ll work just like your old one now,” Thomas said, putting the little tool kit back in his pocket.

“Guess I should say thanks for that,” Liz said, rolling her sleeve back down. “So… thanks. I owe you one too. Any of you guys down in maintenance need a hand, I’ve got a shiny new one to offer.”

“Human Thomas,” Coco chimed in, “thank you for fixing my friend. Your service has been greatly appreciated.”

“You’re very welcome,” Thomas smiled at them, “both of you. I better get back down to the maintenance deck though, we’re still repairing the core room from that flare the other cycle.” Thomas turned to leave, and was almost at the door when Liz called after him.

“Hey, hardware!”

He stopped in the doorway.

“Weird thing to call me, but I can dig it. Yeah?”

“How many degrees do you have?” Liz asked.

“Four, why?” He said.

“Know anything about eggs?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas left after a while, saying he’d be back to help build a better inclosure for the hatchlings. Apparently he’d kept bearded dragons as pets when he was a kid, so he knew at least a little about ‘lizards’.

Liz opened a desk drawer and dug out a stress ball, something Doctor Shaw had given her for rehab, and tried to squeeze it. Amazingly, her metal fingers actually curled and the ball morphed out of shape.

“Finally!” She said. “Coco, look! I can squeeze the ball!”

“That is wonderful, Human Liz,” Coco said, the lit photo bar in their branches feeding them synthetic star light. “The human capacity to overcome body altering trauma is fascinating. In my research of non-botanical life, this is very clearly an exception. Other lifeforms would simply perish from such catastrophic damage.”

“Wait until you hear our bones grow back stronger after they break,” Liz said, laughing.

“They do what?” Coco asked, a note of alarm making its way into their voice synthesizer. Liz cackled, throwing her head back and everything. She felt better than she’d had in days, like whatever funk she’d been in was starting to disappear. She suggested they discuss human bone structure while they go get something to eat, saying Coco could gorge themselves on chocolate while she got a sandwich or something.

The mess hall was lively, and various species meant various different cultures and cuisine, so it always smelt different every few minutes or so. They sat and discussed cellular structures, bone density, and the like, how calcium deposits support bone regeneration for a while, making the broken area stronger than ever, for a time at least. Coco was simultaneously fascinated and terrified. They had no idea non-botanical lifeforms were so resilient in the Terran System.

After some time, and a second sandwich, they made their way back to the lab. They’d just stepped off the lift and were a few feet from the door when Liz heard it.

…scchhtt scchtt sschht…

Something was scratching at the door, low to the floor. Something small.

“Coco wait a minute,” Liz said softly, holding out her good arm in front of the Sprygan.

The door opened… and there was a baby arm eating bastard sitting there, looking up at her. The thing looked almost like a big kitten, except for the gator snout and reptilian limbs. Its body was covered in patchy fur, almost like a baby seal. It looked up at the two of them and chirped like a cat before waddling over, sat on Liz’s foot, and began gnawing on her laces.

“Holy shit,” Liz said. “It’s so ugly I love it.”

“I will go call Human Thomas,” Coco said, “we will need the new enclosure now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Thomas arrived, the scientists had found two more Armeaters. “Yeah, one word, that’s what I’m calling them,” Liz had said when asked. One had been crawling around in Coco’s plant pot, and the other was sniffling around under the desks. As for the other two eggs, it seemed the three had…

“You mean they ate the other eggs?” Thomas asked, mildly horrified.

“Yeah, we checked the recordings. They sat looking at the eggs for a bit before they, uhh, kinda just crushed the eggs and ate them scrambled,” Liz explained. She was sitting in her desk chair, covered in Armeaters. Coco didn’t put out any body heat, so the little buggers had decided Liz’s lab coat and uniform were the optimal place to get warmth. It was actually pretty cute, in a weird sort of way, as they were all three purring in a guttural manner.

Thomas rigged the big tank the eggs had been in with a little 3D printed ‘rock’ cave, with some spare dirt the Sprygans had on board. The engineer worked hard to make the enclosure as close to the environment on MX13 as possible. By the time he was finished, they even had a little ‘pool’ made out of a file tub they weren’t using.

The problems started when the humans tried to put the creatures in the tank. They didn’t go for it. The moment Liz tried to set them down, they started whining, making this pew sound, much like baby alligators.

“I do not understand,” Coco said. “Why are they doing this? There is food and water in the enclosure, as well as a heating rock to keep them at the optimal temperature.”

“They probably imprinted on Liz when you walked in,” Thomas said. “Lots of creatures think the first thing they see after they’re born is their parent.”

“That sounds… confusing,” Coco said. “On Spryga, we either sprout from the ground near our progenitor, or we are sometimes an offshoot of them when branches or limbs break off and take root on their own.”

“This is just great,” Liz said sarcastically. “Gonna have to get a blow up bed or something, sleep in the lab now. We’re having a slumber party Coco, sorry, but apparently the kids need me.”

“Beep.”

“Because they’re newborns Roomba, they don’t know any better- OW SHIT!”

Thomas looked around, then started laughing uncontrollably. The auto-cleaning device had started its rounds, cleaning up eggshell and dirt. It had nicked his ankle with its knife.

“THERES A ROOMBA WITH A KNIFE!” He howled. “This is amazing! Why didn’t I think of that?”

He looked directly at Liz, more serious than either of the two scientists had seen so far.

“Do you think Roomba can ride the roomba? Can one of the little guys ride with them too?” He asked, so seriously.

“You humans are starting to concern me,” Coco said. “I’m getting more chocolate.”

“Can you grab me a drink too hon? These little guys are sleeping and I don’t want to wake them.” Liz was petting the little creatures when she noticed she was using her prosthetic arm. She hadn’t even noticed, it felt so seamless. She curled the fingers and scratched gently behind one of their ears.

About time, she thought. The funk was over. The new normal wouldn’t be that bad it seemed. She looked at the engineer.

“Thomas, if it’s the last thing I do on this ship, they’re riding the roomba.”

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write for alessia where the reader gets badly injured during a match and alessia completely over reacts during trying to protect and look after reader

Hovering

Alessia Russo x reader Drabble & Request

-> Reader gets injured, Alessia loses it, and turns into a nurse

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Derby’s were always different matches than the usual – feistier, more brutal. There was a real passion behind it. And this game was no different. Arsenal against Tottenham, the north London derby. The training sessions were even more intense than usual, and the speech Leah gave in the changing room was terrifying. While the blonde couldn’t play, still out with her ACL, she was still a Gunner through and through – so she sat at the sidelines, shouting words of encouragement.

Standing in the tunnel you could feel the tension, it made you nervous. While most loved derby days, you didn’t – they were scary. Your lovely girlfriend knew it, trying to get you to sleep until three in the morning, whispering calming words into your ears as she rubbed your back in a soothing motion. Now, standing behind you, she rested her bigger hands on your shoulders – weighing your nervous body down.

The crowd was electric while walking in and through the entire first half where Less had scored a gorgeous goal – the halftime speech mainly consisted of encouraging words to further the lead by a goal or two. Everything was going fine until Arsenal was given a corner kick.

Steph was the one to take it – and now the only thing you remember was hearing Katie shout out a ‘you bitch!’ as you went down. Your entire face hurt as a metallic taste filled your mouth. Dazed you sat on the ground as everything escalated around you.

The medics were talking at you, pressing a towel against your nose, and lighting a lamp in your eyes as your conciseness started to fade.

It felt like a dream when you woke up in the medical room, surrounded by your teammates, who were quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Amore! You’re awake!” Your girlfriend sat up next to you, taking your hands into hers. Your eyes were hazy, the brightness of the room needing you to hold a hand in front of them. It was Kim who turned the light off, sitting directly in front of the switch for it.

“What happened?” Alessia nearly cooed at your croaky voice, feeling sorry for you. After looking at her a bit closer, you noticed tear streaks on her cheeks. With shaky hands, you reached out to wipe the new tears away, as she gave you a tight smile. “You jumped for the header, but got pushed into the goalpost by a Tottenham player.”

And just like that, the pain in your nose returned – as you went to touch it, Less caught your hands, taking them into hers once again. “Still made the goal though. And Russo got a red.” Kyra laughed as she remembered how your goal went in, going to hug you, just to see you lying on the ground, with a bloody nose and absent eyes.

With shocked eyes, you looked at your girlfriend, who looked way sheepishly. “W- What? Alessia?” Other than expected, the girls started cheering  - quickly stopping when their striker's angry gaze met theirs. Katie patted her on the back like a proud older sister, who had gotten her sibling into trouble. “Russo here can get feisty. Some nice yelling at the Ref, pushing players – Slapping a bitch…”

You nearly thought that you had misheard the Irishwoman. “You slapped someone?” The blonde knew that she really was in trouble now – so did everybody else as they quietly laughed. “Amore – she pushed you! You were bleeding a-and I couldn’t help myself so I- I…” She gave up, seeing your raised brow.

The team girls stayed for a while as a doctor came and explained your bruised nose, chipped tooth, and very annoying concussion.

Seeing your pain and Alessia’s longing eyes Kim decided to gather the team and go home, leaving the blonde on your bed at your side before she took you to your joined home again. “I was so scared, Amore.” Now it was your turn to coo, kissing her puffy cheeks, tasting the saltiness of her tears on your lips. “I know baby. But you didn’t need to get a red. I appreciate your protecting me very much, but it wasn’t needed.”

Alessia spent the rest of the evening hovering. Helping you in the bath, helping wash your hair, helping you get out, making dinner, helping you change, and helping you get ready for bed. And as much as you tried not to say anything, it felt suffocating.

“Alessia?” You were lying in bed by now, while Alessia ran through the room, trying to think of things to make your night better. “Hmm?”

“If you wake me up in the night – I’ll kill you.” Your girlfriend gulped nervously, hoping that you were joking.

After two hours of restless sleep, Alessia was still awake, she woke you up again. “I’m sorry Amore, but I need to check, you know that.” You did know that. But you were still annoyed.

Throughout the night she was met with various harsh responses to being woken up – but she handled them like a champ, knowing that you loved her – you were just tired and in pain.

Alessia couldn’t help but hover for the next days, having taken off from training as well.

While it was annoying, you wouldn’t change it for the world, enjoying your time together even if you weren’t feeling so well. the striker would never regret that red card, content to have you by her side, nursing you back to full health.

[eustasskidagenda]

Eustass Kid x Reader - S/O reacting to his phantom pain crisis

Resume : Eustass Kid is having a phantom pain crisis in front of his s/o for the first time. It's just a headcanon of mine, I honestly think Kid is facing that kind of symptoms since the loss of his arm and only Killer knows about it.

CW : a lot of cursing (from Kid, duh), mention of sex, hurt & comfort.

WC : 1787

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It’s your first time sleeping together. Kid is already snoring loudly on his side of the bed, your legs entwined beneath the bedsheets. You’re holding him from behind, in a lovely spooning position. You never thought Kid would actually, like to be the little spoon, but here he’s, sleeping heavily with your arms wrapped around his large and toned bare chest. Despite the peacefulness of the night, the intense and rough sex session you just had and the fresh air of the night, slowly caressing your face through the open window and the sweet moonlight shining on your skin, you’re unable to fall asleep. The whole situation is just new to you and it makes you so nervous. You’re afraid of doing something embarrassing if you dare to close your eyes. What if Kid is disgusted by your face when you sleep? You know your questionings are idiots, but yet, it’s haunting you.

With a low sigh, you nuzzle your head again Kid’s strong back, tracing his scars with your fingers. You love how warm and toned his body feels against yours. And you love even more how Kid’s hair are all sprawl out like a fire halo on the pillow. He looks so beautiful with his hair down, anytime he takes off his goggle, you fall again for him. You gently run your fingers through the red hair. It’s soft, it even surprised you the first time. You never thought someone as tough as Kid could actually care that much about his hairstyle and skin. "Being a punk is a whole lifestyle" as he loves to remind you all the damn time he takes an eternity in the bathroom. 

You smile against Kid's back. It seems like he's a heavy sleeper, not even perturbed by your hand running through his hair. You fondle his face, retrace the scars crossing his eyes, slowly but surely starting to feel sleepy. Just when you can't keep your eyes open anymore, Kid starts to move harshly, almost convulsing. In his sleep, he's cursing and groaning. But not with that usual tough and husky voice. He sounds more… desperate. 

Vulnerable. 

"Hey, Kid, what's wrong?" You ask, but he doesn't answer, still trapped in his own dreams. You turn on the candle lamp, only to see Kid sweating, his face twisted in a painful expression. Your heart twisted painfully. You never thought Kid could look that miserable and helpless. "Hey, please, wake up, it's alright, I'm here," You whisper next to his ear. Still breathing hardly and sweating, your boyfriend groan louder, cursing again and again. A litany of "shit" and "fuck" coming out of his lips. "Killer," he whispers pathetically. 

You hesitate to indeed call his best friend, because you're totally clueless. But when you decide to stand up and look for help, Kid sit up straight in the bed, eyes wide open and his hand wrapped around… nothing. You can't help but notice how red and wet his eyes are. Again and gain, his hand look for something it can't find. "Kid… please talk to me, what's going on?" You try to hide how stressed and afraid you feel. "My arm, it fucking burns," He yelps, short of breath.

His hand continue to look for his missing arm. With a moan of nothing but pain, he grabs his stump, holding back another whine. "Please, talk to me, I don't understand," You hate how you sound: almost begging. In your chest, your heart is racing really fast, almost painfully. What's going on? Seeing your boyfriend in such a suffering is really breaking you in pieces. His burden looks so heavy to carry for a single person. "My arm… it fucking burns… it feels like goddamn electric shock…"

And then, you finally understand. You already heard about it before: phantom pain. Common for amputated victims. Still breathing heavily, Kid try to wrap his hand around his missing arm, but the only thing he can reach for is the emptiness. Even if he hides it with his hair, you can notice some tears running down his cheeks as he lies back on the bed, his body almost convulsing with the pain. "Fuck!" Kid growls. "Fucking arm. Fucking body!" And this is why Kid was always avoiding you sleeping with him. Not because he wasn't feeling comfortable with you. But, because he was scared to have a crisis in front of you. To look fragile, human. But you're together in this mess, and in everything. "I've got you. Just tell me how to help," You whisper soothingly, entwined your fingers with his. 

Kid avoids your gaze, writhing in pain, making a mess with the bedsheets. The sweat drips from his forehead and he bites his lips, trying to shut down his snorting. "Massage the stump. Or wrap it in a warm towel," Your body immediately starts to move, and you gently start to massage Kid's stump. The skin is warm, soft, except along the scars where the touch is more rough and coarse. It's the first time he allows you to touch this part of his body. This man has no shame nor reserve when it comes to nudity, and yet, he never allowed you to touch his stump, always snarling every time your hands reach for his left shoulder. He must really feel bad to let you touch him in such an intimate way. He sits again, his back leaning against the wall and his breathe heavy with the pain. "Fuck," He continues to growl and a drop of sweat slide along his neck. With each shaky breathe, he curses. "I know it's disgusting," He growls as your fingers continue to fondle the stump, trying to soothe the pain. "Why?" He shrugs. "It's ugly," You smile. "Nothing about you is ugly. Just let me help you. Do you feel better?" He shakes his head. "Sometimes, my crisis can last a whole day. Usually, Killer just massage the stump or help me to take a hot bath. Warmth can help. When the crisis is light, he uses a mirror," You raise an eyebrow. "A mirror?" Kid curses again. "Shit! Yeah, a goddamn mirror, it's just some shitty trick to fool my brain," 

He's not doing well, even with your help. Fighting against another spams crisis, Kid growls, eyes wet and body covered of sweat. His hand hit the mattress, his movement full of pain, anger and powerlessness. "Let me help you to take a bath." You whisper, still fondling the stump. It doesn't feel swollen under your fingers, that the tricky stuff with phantom pain. "No way. I hate water, I feel weak in it."

Well, actually, right now, he's already weak and vulnerable. "Stop being a child and let me help you. If a bath can help, then, we need to try."He snarls angrily. "I don't want to look like a shit in front of you!" You gently stroke his cheek. "It's okay, Kid, you're still the same for me: annoying and goddamn loud. Seeing you in such a state would never change how I feel about you." He tries to fight back, but the pain is too much to bear and he just let out a slow moan of pain, more sweating dripping from his forehead. He can't resist anymore, almost breaking down because of the unbearable pain. So when you help him to get up, he just shut up, avoiding your gaze, trying to not fall apart as you lead him to the bathroom. "Ugh," he complains as you lock the door behind the two of you and let the hot water running down the bathtub. He knows what's going to happen and already feels so damn ashamed. He mumbles while taking off his underwear. The bathroom is slowly turning steamy with all that warm water. "Here it is." You help Kid to sit in the tub, and his body immediately starts to soften. You know he will not talk in such a situation, ain't no way for the sake of his pride, he lets you hear how ridiculous his voice sound when the cursed water affects him. 

Nicely, lovingly, you fondle his stump covered of warm water. Kid closes his eyes, his breathe still messy and shaky from pain. He doesn't want to look at you. He feels ashamed by his current state. No one, except Killer, never took care of him like this. Since his childhood, he's used to fight for almost everything. Life makes him tough, pitiless, violent. He had to fight the whole time, only to have the right to stay alive. And yet, you're here, not even disgusted while touching his stump. What has he done to deserve someone as passionate, strong and yet tender like you? Your gentle massage combined to the warm water slowly ease the pain. His breath is less harsh, eyes shut less tightly too. "Want me to wash your hair?" He doesn't answer, just nod as you grab some shampoo to wash his precious red hair. You slowly bend to kiss his temple. Maybe it's bad to have that kind of thoughts now, but Kid looks so beautiful, his naked body all wet, muscles glistening of water, hair down, hair pulled back. Without the eyeliner and red lipstick, Kid looks a bit younger, less tough, but always that damn handsome. You fondle his head, then his tensed shoulders, and finally the stump. "Does it happen often?" You ask curiously and he just nods. "It's calm when you're quiet." He snarls angrily, but keeps his mouth shut. You chuckle and grab his chin, bending for a sweet kiss.

The solace of the minute embraces his chest. He remains quiet, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Later, when you lead him back to the bedroom, he lies back on the bed and finally speaks. "Sorry about this," He groans, hiding his face with his forearm. "Don't be sorry. I love you, even through the suffering. I'm with you, always." 

He just rolls on his side, showing you his back. Yeah, your dear Kid will never be good with talk. Even more than kind of deep conversation. The ones acknowledging he's just a normal human, with failures. You sigh and lie next to him, kissing his stump, just to let him know how much you love him, despite his missing arm and all the phantom pain crisis he'll have to face in the future. "You can sleep with me every night, now." He just mumbles before falling right back asleep.

You can't help but smile against his back, as sleep finally takes you. Through the small open windows, the moon, up in the sky, looks like she's watching the two of you.

End talk : English is not my first language, I apologize for the potential mistakes or weird sentences. My requests are open.

[daydreamwritting]

Hey, how are you? Did you drink water today? Go drink water! Alright not taking up too much time I hope! Can you do either Jasper Hale or Spencer Reid coming home to the reader having a nightmare and comforting them? Thank you for writing and posting!

This made me drink water so mission accomplished! This one took me a second but I’m really proud with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy!

“Pain.”

Those were the last words I heard before I felt like electricity was shooting through my entire body over and over again. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have whatever Bella has to make her immune to some vampires gifts.

I looked over at Jasper, he was shouting something but I couldn’t hear anything as I tried to focus on anything but the pain. It felt so strong like something had ahold of me, as if it could pick me up off the ground like Darth Vader or something. Honestly, I’d take over this any day. Just as it felt like a string was wrapping around my heart and trying to squeeze till it bursts, I hit the hard tiled ground.

I wake with a gasp, my heart was racing so fast I’m not totally sure that I wasn’t having a heart attack. The room was dark, I couldn’t see anything. Was I dead? Is death just a dark empty space?

Before I could think about it any longer, light peeked into the room as the bedroom door opened. I felt a wave of calm overtake me as Jasper was at my side in an instant, pulling me close to him.

“Shhh. You’re alright, Darling.” He holds me as I slowly start to even out my breathing. “I’ll be right back okay?” Jasper said, looking at me concerned.

I don’t blame him, when the nightmares first started I refused to let him out of my sight for hours afterwards. I nodded my head and he was out of the room in a second. I turn on the bedside lamp and kicked the covers off of me. Jasper seemed to flash back into the room, only being gone for about 20 seconds or so. He had a glass of water and a wet wash cloth. I took the glass with a shaky hand and slowly sipped on it while Jasper wiped the sweat off my forehead and neck. The cold cloth felt good on my skin, like a fire being put out. He set the rag aside and walked across the room to open one of the windows, letting in the cool fresh air. I shivered slightly but welcomed the cold. Even during the summer, nights in Forks were overly chilly.

Jasper grabbed the now empty glass from my hand, putting it to the side as he joined me on the queen sized bed. “You know, I wouldn’t have gone through all the effort of putting a bed in here if I knew it was gonna cause you this much trouble.” He teased. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He always asks even though he knows the answer. “It’s the same as always, with the Volturi.” That day was nothing short of a disaster. It’s a miracle that we all walked out of that room.

“They should have never touched you.”

“Technically they didn’t.” I deadpanned. Jasper lightly pushed my face away from his.

“Don’t play smart with me missy. I should have taken out every single one of them the second they hurt you.” Jasper stared at me, with this look he gets every time he’s being serious.

“You would have lost.” I noted quietly, knowing he could hear me. There’s no way Edward, Alice, and Jasper could single handedly take down the most powerful vampires in the world and their guards.

Jasper chuckled and brought his cold hand up to caress my check, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “Not when it comes to you.”