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mountwoodco1 · 1 year

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Outdoor Gym Equipment Manufacturer: Providing Quality and Innovation for Fitness Enthusiasts

Introduction

Welcome to our world of outdoor fitness! As a leading outdoor gym equipment manufacturer, we take immense pride in providing top-notch fitness solutions that not only meet but exceed the expectations of fitness enthusiasts worldwide. Our commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction has made us a force to be reckoned with in the industry.

Unraveling the Journey

Our journey began with a vision to revolutionize outdoor fitness by creating durable, attractive, and user-friendly gym equipment. With a team of passionate and experienced engineers, designers, and fitness experts, we set out on a mission to design and manufacture outdoor fitness equipment that could withstand various weather conditions while delivering an exceptional workout experience.

Unparalleled Quality

When it comes to outdoor gym equipment, quality is non-negotiable. We understand the significance of providing fitness enthusiasts with equipment that not only stands the test of time but also ensures their safety. Our dedication to using premium materials, state-of-the-art manufacturing processes, and stringent quality checks guarantees that our equipment is robust, durable, and reliable.

Embracing Innovation

Innovation is the backbone of our success. We consistently push the boundaries of conventional design and incorporate cutting-edge technologies to create fitness equipment that sets new industry standards. Each product undergoes rigorous testing to ensure it fulfills its intended purpose and brings joy to those who use it.

Product Showcase

1. Outdoor Strength Training Equipment

Our outdoor strength training equipment caters to fitness enthusiasts of all levels. From beginners to seasoned athletes, our range includes various machines such as chest presses, leg presses, pull-up bars, and more. These machines are designed to target specific muscle groups and provide a complete body workout in the great outdoors.

2. Cardiovascular Equipment

For those looking to elevate their heart rate and burn calories, our outdoor cardiovascular equipment is a perfect choice. From ellipticals to stationary bikes, these machines combine the benefits of cardiovascular exercise with the refreshing experience of working out in nature.

3. Functional Fitness Stations

Functional fitness is all about engaging multiple muscle groups in a single exercise. Our functional fitness stations offer a diverse range of exercises, including bodyweight workouts and resistance training, to enhance overall strength, flexibility, and balance.

4. Outdoor Playground Equipment

We also cater to the little fitness enthusiasts! Our outdoor playground equipment is designed to keep children active and entertained while promoting their physical development. Safety, fun, and creativity are at the core of our playground designs.

Customization and Personalization

At our outdoor gym equipment manufacturing company, we understand that each fitness space is unique. That's why we offer customization and personalization options to meet the specific needs of our clients. From choosing colors that complement the surroundings to incorporating logos and branding elements, we ensure that our equipment seamlessly integrates into any outdoor setting.

Green Initiatives

We are not just passionate about fitness; we are equally committed to the environment. Our eco-friendly approach to manufacturing includes using sustainable materials, optimizing energy consumption, and reducing waste. By choosing our equipment, you not only invest in your fitness but also contribute to a greener planet.

Customer-Centric Approach

Our success lies in the satisfaction of our customers. We take pride in building strong, long-lasting relationships with our clients. From pre-purchase consultations to post-installation support, our dedicated team is always ready to assist and ensure a seamless experience.

Advantages of Outdoor Fitness Equipment

1. Fresh Air and Scenic Surroundings

Exercising outdoors provides the added benefit of breathing in fresh air and enjoying the beauty of nature. This can enhance the overall exercise experience, making it more enjoyable and motivating.

2. Improved Physical and Mental Well-being

Studies have shown that outdoor workouts can lead to improved physical and mental well-being. Exercising in natural surroundings can reduce stress, boost mood, and increase energy levels.

3. Community Engagement

Outdoor fitness equipment encourages community engagement and social interactions. People from all walks of life can come together, exercise, and foster a sense of unity and camaraderie.

Conclusion

As a reputable outdoor gym equipment manufacturer, we take pride in our unwavering commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction. Our wide range of premium fitness solutions caters to individuals, communities, and institutions, aiming to create a healthier and happier world, one step at a time.

So, if you're ready to elevate your fitness experience and embrace the joy of exercising outdoors, our top-notch outdoor gym equipment awaits you. Get in touch with us today and embark on an exciting journey towards a fitter and healthier lifestyle.

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rjzimmerman · 5 months

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Excerpt from this story from Science Friday:

Flint Hills rancher Daniel Mushrush estimates that his family has killed maybe 10,000 trees in the past three years.

It’s a start. But many more trees still need to fall for the Mushrushes to save this 15,000 acres of rare tallgrass prairie.

Whenever other work on the property can wait, Daniel and his brother, Chris, don helmets and earplugs, grab their tools and pick up where they left off.

“It’s a lot of old-fashioned chainsaw work,” Daniel Mushrush said. “Walking rocky ridges and cutting down trees.”

The Mushrush family is beating back a juggernaut unleashed by humans — a Green Glacier of trees and shrubs grinding slowly across the Great Plains and burying some of the most threatened habitat on the planet.

This blanket of shrublands and dense juniper woods gobbling up grassland leads to wildfires with towering flames that dwarf those generated in prairie fires.

It also eats into ranchers’ livelihoods. It smothers habitat for grassland birds, prairie fish and other critters that evolved for a world that’s disappearing. It dries up streams and creeks. New research even finds that, across much of the Great Plains, the advent of trees actually makes climate change worse.

Now a federal initiative equips landowners like Mushrush with the latest science and strategies for saving rangeland, and money to help with the work.

Satellite imagery and a better understanding of how trees and shrubs spread could help landowners replace a losing game of whack-a-mole with a more systematic course.

Mushrush calls the approach, promoted by the Natural Resources Conservation Service’s Great Plains Grassland Initiative with guidance from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, a morale builder.

“It works,” the third-generation rancher said. “We’re still overwhelmed with how to do this on 15,000 acres — but we have a plan.”

Each time he thinks about the Manhattan area, which is much more infested with juniper woods and seas of sumac, wild plum and dogwood thickets, he feels the threat creeping toward his home in Chase County.

“If a coral reef is worth saving, if some pristine mountain stream is worth saving, then so are the Flint Hills,” he said. “It’s not easy work, but it’s worthy work.”

#prairies #forests #trees

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nep-neptune-0 · 19 days

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5 AM

Xiangli Yao x Reader

Summary: You always had a habit of staying overnight at Huaxu Academy, tinkering away at your latest project; Xiangli Yao had a habit of visiting you for new ideas at the crack of dawn.

Content: fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: immediately downloaded the game after seeing an edit of him, got him through the Moon-Chasing Festival event and now I'm writing fanfic for him, sorry if I didn't portray him correctly!! I'm new to the game lmao

A few quick knocks pulled you out of your flow. What was the time? You threw a quick glance at your clock, almost 5 a.m.. That marked the 3rd night you had spent in the workshop, tinkering on your new creation. You slid your safety goggles up to your hairline, trying to blink away the blur that had settled over your vision. You really should start using the ceiling lamp along with your workbench lamp, otherwise you’d risk deteriorating your vision.

Another sequence of knocks made you scramble up from the saddle stool, reminding you why you stopped your project in the first place. You were at the other side of the room at lightning speed. Your workshop was small, only enough to fit one relatively big table in the middle with a smaller one rammed up at the corner, decked out with tools and machines from your personal collection. The academy was generous enough to lend you various equipment, one of them being a large robotic arm with different functions that was attached to the bigger table, but you didn’t dare to use it unless it was for “serious work” as you liked to call it.

The door wailed when you pulled it open. You really should oil it like how Xiangli Yao had suggested–

“Hello.”

Oh.

Speak of the devil. It was always around this time he clocked into work. It was also around this time he visited your workshop, never failing to bring you breakfast, knowing you were more often than not neglecting your needs in pursuit of finishing your latest project.

Xiangli Yao had crashed into your life just as violently as your prototype had when it hit an unsuspected Spearback. You didn’t think anyone would catch you in the midst of your experiments, since you made sure to do it in the dead of night far, far away from the city. But he had, and he was kind enough to escort you back to the academy, buying you breakfast before that. He had asked you about your creations, and without really thinking you started talking about your passion for battle focused tools and gushed over previous projects like they were your children. Afterwards, you had thought it was the first and last time you would have any kind of interaction with the Principal Investigator, but before you knew it, he was outside your workshop, asking you if you were down to discuss ideas for the next modification on his prosthetic arm.

If you had thought a bit further, you probably would have questioned why he went to you specifically, a rookie, when there were an abundance of talented engineers and mechanics alike who could bring his ideas to life much more efficiently and with better quality. But you were too wrapped up in the excitement of creating something new you had ushered him inside, grabbing the only available chair that wasn’t on its last legs for him to sit on while you grabbed your notebook, eyes gleaming.

The added mod had been a success after shedding blood, sweat, and tears day and night. You got to witness it with your own eyes when he asked you to head out with him at the first sign of light. The sunlight had painted him golden, and suddenly you weren’t as focused on his prosthetic as much. His movements had you entranced, not even daring to breathe in case it would disturb the vision in front of you. And that damn smile he directed towards you after defeating the enemy fully stole your breath away. Xiangli Yao was an unfair man.

As thanks, he had gifted you a saddle stool made of leather for your posture (though you still hunched over the desk like a shrimp) and for the fact your previous chair was merely a wooden one that would disintegrate at any given moment. You thought that would be it, but of course he defied your expectations and showed up a few weeks later, breakfast in hand with another idea. From then on he seemed to be keen on consulting you about potential modifications, ranging from battle focused ones to the more silly ones, like his ice maker that you had the honor to partake in creating. And before you knew it, he started spending some rare days in your workshop instead of his office, typing away and doing what scholars do while you were working on all different kinds of projects.

You had to admit you had developed a soft spot for the Principal Investigator during the times you spent together. You could never pinpoint when his visits started feeling like a part of your routine, or when you started looking forward to those moments. And somewhere along the way, you stayed behind just to catch him before you headed home, something you’d never admit to anyone or anything.

“I saw your light was on, so I thought to swing by before going to my office. I bought some Huanglong omelets–” he handed you a paper bag “–I also have an idea for a modification we could add to my prosthetic.”

That spurred you to pull out papers and different colors of pens, spreading them out on the bigger table before turning the ceiling lamp on. He had already started sketching before you even got an omelet in your mouth.

You seated yourself on your chair and rolled to the other side of the table, eyes tracking every swipe of his hand to see the idea bloom on paper. His newest idea was battle oriented. Specifically some kind of tool that could give him the opportunity to snare and damage multiple opponents at once. You weren’t sure what went on in his head for such brilliant ideas to form, but you thanked the dragons out there for letting you witness it so intimately.

As he was sketching, he described his thought process, pausing sometimes to glance up at you for feedback, but you were busy stuffing your cheeks with omelet, barely able to sound out coherent sentences.

Before long you had finished your breakfast, energized and ready to give some ideas yourself. You bounced ideas between each other.

“For this,” Xiangli Yao circled one of his scribbles, “we can add a tool akin to a black hole that will detonate on the enemy I defeated, gathering the rest of them in one place while I’m charging up for an attack. I have an idea on what material we can use…”

You were absolutely starstruck.

“Xiangli Yao, the man you are.” You climbed on the table, crawling a short distance to get closer to him before rising to your knees and cupping his face in your hands, slightly shaking his head back and forth. “I’m sure you’ve heard this more than enough– but you are a genius.”

A faint hue of pink dusted over his cheeks, and it was only then you realized how close you were to him.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry I got carried away–”

Your panic was interrupted by the chill of his metal hand settling over yours. He looked up at you with such puppy eyes that were swirling with an indescribable emotion you wondered how you never noticed.

Before you knew it, his other hand settled on the back of your head, and you were pulled down.

His lips were soft.

The sheer gentleness he treated you with sent electricity crackling in your veins. Your eyes fell shut and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. Your free hand slid down to the back of his neck, fingertips lightly brushing against the hair before it found a place on his shoulder, and you didn’t miss the way he quivered under your touch.

Xiangli Yao parted with a sigh, eyes fluttering open to unabashedly stare at your face. He intertwined your hands, cool metal palm against the back of your warm hand, and raised it to his lips. Then he pecked your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, before finally giving you another delicate kiss on your lips.

“Can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner,” he murmured when he pulled away. You exhaled a laugh.

“I can’t believe it either– oh shit!” You quickly clambered off the table with his help. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of the sketches…”

“Even if you did, we can just remake them,” he declared nonchalantly. “Honestly, I would gladly let you ruin my research papers if I get to take you out on a date.”

“You don’t mean that!” you gasped. “You can do that without ruining your work.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t planning on it, don't worry. I’m gonna head to my office now. Just give me a call if you have any other ideas.”

“Will do, will do.”

“I’ll come pick you up at 6 pm today.” He gave you a quick kiss before making his way to the door. “See you then.”

You were left a blushing mess in your workshop, now a new project and a date in your hands.

Xiangli Yao was truly an unfair man.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa x you #wuwa xiangli yao #wuthering waves xiangli yao #xiangli yao #xiangli yao x reader #xiangli yao x you

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strljaem · 5 months

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“i want my wisdom tooth back”

“ah wah ma wizum toof bah”

It was early Saturday morning, and I was sweating buckets in the passenger seat of Jaemin's car. Jaemin glanced at me as we stopped at a red light, his hand finding mine. "It's gonna be fine," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "You're just having your wisdom teeth out, it's not like they're removing your actual wisdom."

I didn't laugh at his joke, which probably scared him a little, but I was too nervous to even smile. I was about to have two wisdom teeth pulled, and the thought of sharp objects in my mouth was not my idea of a fun weekend. Jaemin drove on, his soothing voice trying to calm me down with stories about the latest drama in his gaming guild. I think he even mentioned something about his cat getting stuck in a shoebox, but I was too focused on the upcoming appointment to really pay attention.

The dentist's office was everything you'd expect: sterile, white, and full of equipment that looked like medieval torture devices. Jaemin led me to the front counter, where a cheerful nurse with glasses perched on her nose asked for my name. I squeaked out my name, and she nodded, telling us to take a seat and wait for my name to be called.

I sat down on a hard plastic chair, clutching Jaemin's hand like it was my only lifeline. He caressed my fingers and smiled at me, his grin warm and reassuring. "You're doing great," he said. "Just remember to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

It wasn't long before the doctor called my name. Jaemin and I stood up together, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked into the treatment room. The doctor was a tall man with a big smile. He looked at Jaemin and then at me. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes," I replied, my voice trembling.

The doctor chuckled and gestured for me to sit in the dentist's chair. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," he said, motioning for me to lean back. The nurse came in, and they began to prepare for the procedure. There was some kind of mask, a lot of beeping equipment, and a tray full of shiny, terrifying tools. I was having second thoughts about this whole thing, but Jaemin was standing right beside me, holding my hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb.

The doctor adjusted the mask over my nose and mouth and said, "This is just laughing gas. You'll be asleep for a bit, and when you wake up, it'll all be over." I nodded, trying to stay calm as the gas started to take effect. Jaemin pulled out his phone and started recording, which, looking back, was a little mean, but hey, it's not every day you get to see your significant other on laughing gas.

Everything started to get a little fuzzy, and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep was Jaemin's reassuring smile.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I felt like I was on a cloud made of cotton candy. Jaemin was still there, holding my hand and watching me with a smirk on his face. I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I fell back into the chair.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice all slurred and groggy.

Jaemin chuckled. "You're at the dentist. You just had your wisdom teeth out, remember?"

I blinked at him, my eyes heavy and unfocused. "You're so handsome," I said, my voice dreamy and totally without a filter.

The doctor and nurse laughed, and Jaemin just shook his head, his cheeks turning a little red. "Thanks," he said, helping me to sit up carefully. "Let's get you to the car, sleepyhead."

He walked me out to the parking lot, his arm around my waist to keep me steady. I was still in a daze, but at least I had my handsome boyfriend to guide me. He helped me into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he said as he started the car.

I groaned, my mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton balls. "I need a smoothie," I mumbled.

Jaemin grinned. "Smoothie it is," he said, and off we went, my wisdom teeth somewhere in a biohazard bag, but my heart firmly in the hands of the sweetest boyfriend ever.

Jaemin drove carefully out of the parking lot, glancing over at me every few moments to make sure I wasn't about to topple over. My head was lolling a bit, and my cheeks were swollen like a chipmunk's. The gauze in my mouth felt weird, and my brain was still foggy from the anesthesia.

As we turned onto the main road, I suddenly had a thought. It seemed important, like one of those random ideas that feels like a breakthrough even though it's completely silly. I turned to Jaemin, my words garbled and slow because of the gauze.

"I want my wisdom tooth back," I mumbled, trying to sound serious, but it came out more like, "Ah wah ma wizum toof bah."

Jaemin looked at me, puzzled at first, then he burst out laughing. "What?" he asked, shaking his head. "What are you going to do with your wisdom tooth?"

I tried to explain, but the gauze and the anesthetic made everything difficult. "I... I just want it... you know, like a trophy," I slurred, feeling oddly proud of the idea.

Jaemin was still laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm pretty sure the dentist keeps those," he said, patting my shoulder. "Trust me, you don't want it back."

I groaned, feeling a bit disappointed. "But... but... it's mine," I insisted, though it sounded more like, "Bah... bah... izz mine."

Jaemin just laughed harder, his hand squeezing my shoulder as he drove. "We'll get you a nice smoothie, how about that? It's way better than a bloody tooth."

I grumbled something unintelligible, but even in my dazed state, I could tell his laughter was infectious. The rest of the drive was filled with Jaemin chuckling at my silly, half-conscious remarks about reclaiming my wisdom tooth, while I occasionally moaned in exaggerated despair.

In the end, I might not have gotten my tooth back, but I definitely got the best care and a whole lot of laughter from the sweetest guy I knew. Maybe I'd settle for a smoothie and some ice cream, as long as Jaemin was there to share them with me.

#jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin scenario #na jaemin imagine #jaemin imagine #jaemin ff #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagine #jaemin fluff #nct dream #kpop

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reasonsforhope · 2 months

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"On a blustery day in early March, the who’s who of methane research gathered at Vandenberg Space Force Base in Santa Barbara, California. Dozens of people crammed into a NASA mission control center. Others watched from cars pulled alongside roads just outside the sprawling facility. Many more followed a livestream. They came from across the country to witness the launch of an oven-sized satellite capable of detecting the potent planet-warming gas from space.

The amount of methane, the primary component in natural gas, in the atmosphere has been rising steadily over the last few decades, reaching nearly three times as much as preindustrial times. About a third of methane emissions in the United States occur during the extraction of fossil fuels as the gas seeps from wellheads, pipelines, and other equipment. The rest come from agricultural operations, landfills, coal mining, and other sources. Some of these leaks are large enough to be seen from orbit. Others are miniscule, yet contribute to a growing problem.

Identifying and repairing them is a relatively straightforward climate solution. Methane has a warming potential about 80 times higher than carbon dioxide over a 20-year period, so reducing its levels in the atmosphere can help curb global temperature rise. And unlike other industries where the technology to decarbonize is still relatively new, oil and gas companies have long had the tools and know-how to fix these leaks.

MethaneSAT, the gas-detecting device launched in March, is the latest in a growing armada of satellites designed to detect methane. Led by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund, or EDF, and more than six years in the making, the satellite has the ability to circle the globe 15 times a day and monitor regions where 80 percent of the world’s oil and gas is produced. Along with other satellites in orbit, it is expected to dramatically change how regulators and watchdogs police the oil and gas industry...

A couple hours after the rocket blasted off, Wofsy, Hamburg, and his colleagues watched on a television at a hotel about two miles away as their creation was ejected into orbit. It was a jubilant moment for members of the team, many of whom had traveled to Vandenberg with their partners, parents, and children. “Everybody spontaneously broke into a cheer,” Wofsy said. “You [would’ve] thought that your team scored a touchdown during overtime.”

The data the satellite generates in the coming months will be publicly accessible — available for environmental advocates, oil and gas companies, and regulators alike. Each has an interest in the information MethaneSAT will beam home. Climate advocates hope to use it to push for more stringent regulations governing methane emissions and to hold negligent operators accountable. Fossil fuel companies, many of which do their own monitoring, could use the information to pinpoint and repair leaks, avoiding penalties and recouping a resource they can sell. Regulators could use the data to identify hotspots, develop targeted policies, and catch polluters. For the first time, the Environmental Protection Agency is taking steps to be able to use third-party data to enforce its air quality regulations, developing guidelines for using the intelligence satellites like MethaneSAT will provide. The satellite is so important to the agency’s efforts that EPA Administrator Michael Regan was in Santa Barbara for the launch as was a congressional lawmaker. Activists hailed the satellite as a much-needed tool to address climate change.

“This is going to radically change the amount of empirically observed data that we have and vastly increase our understanding of the amount of methane emissions that are currently happening and what needs to be done to reduce them,” said Dakota Raynes, a research and policy manager at the environmental nonprofit Earthworks. “I’m hopeful that gaining that understanding is going to help continue to shift the narrative towards [the] phase down of fossil fuels.”

With the satellite safely orbiting 370 miles above the Earth’s surface, the mission enters a critical second phase. In the coming months, EDF researchers will calibrate equipment and ensure the satellite works as planned. By next year [2025], it is expected to transmit reams of information from around the world."

-via Grist, April 7, 2024

#satellite #epa #environmental protection agency #environmental activism #methane #emissions #climate change #climate news #climate action #natural gas #fossil fuels #global warming #good news #hope

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goosewriting · 1 year

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Hello! I loved your "baby 🥺" fic and was wondering if we could get a version of it but with Donnie?

Another bebe?🥺 (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

summary: a turtle baby suddenly appears in the lab, and she looks suspiciously a lot like Donnie

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: none, just fluff!, soft Donnie

word count: 2k

A/N: the moment everyone's been waiting for lol this time Donnie gets better lab equipment xD

More “Baby 🥺” versions: Leo | Raph | Donnie (you’re here) | Mikey

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Donnie was in his lab, because where else would he be? He was jamming to some EDM music in the background while tinkering with some project of his. You sat in front of him, starting to get bored. He had invited you over to show you his latest masterpiece, but it hadn’t worked yet, so now he was trying to fix the issue. Which according to him would be a quick fix, but he had been at it for over half an hour now, cursing under his breath.

“You better leave all the tools how you found them,” he said without looking up, as he could hear the light clattering.

“I know your system,” you reassured him. “You've explained it in great detail several times, don’t you worry.”

“Then, can you pass me the screwdriver, please?” he asked, stretching out his hand in your direction.

You reached out to pick it up from the box but it fell from your hand, rolling over the edge of his work table. You flinched slightly, ready for the clatter it would make as it fell onto the floor, since that screwdriver was modified by Donnie and particularly heavy. But the sound never came. Instead you heard more of an electrical zap and a whoosh.

Taking a couple of steps to get around the table, you saw that there was a hole on the floor where the screwdriver would have been. It was circular, formed by several zapping rays of a yellow-ish glow. You couldn't see through it, but it was clear that the tool fell in there. You merely blinked at the sight in front of you, unable to say anything.

Not getting a response from you, Donnie also moved from his spot, leaving his work on the table, and walked over, now standing in front of you on the other side of… whatever that was.

“Huh,” is all that he said.

“What is that?” you asked after a moment. “And why are you not alarmed?”

Donnie scoffed.

“It’s obvious it's some kind of portal,” he explained, turning around to his wall of machinery, tapping something on this brace device.

You raised your hands and eyebrows in a ‘well, sorry I didn’t immediately recognise it as such’ gesture, even though he had his back to you.

“I need to analyse it,” Donnie informed you as he turned around. “Better get a little further back just in case–”

Suddenly the screwdriver appeared again, coming out straight out of the portal, a tiny turtle hand attached to it.

You both stood in silence and shock, watching how a little turtle tot climbed out the portal carrying the heavy tool, finally getting to sit on the floor with a huff. The baby had a little ribbon tied to her head, which hung a little askew because of her efforts. She looked at you with a smile, then at Donnie, and squealed in glee, holding out the screwdriver with both hands towards him, as if offering it to him.

Then the portal zapped loudly, and shut closed. The little turtle seemed unfazed by this, still waiting for Donnie to react.

Donnie opened and closed his mouth several times but no words came out. You approached the baby and crouched down next to her.

“H-hey there, little one,” you greeted her, and she cooed. “Where did you come from, hm?”

You took the screwdriver from the little hands, placing it on the table, and picked up the baby in your arms.

“Huh, look at you, aren't you cute?”, you said as you inspected her chubby cheeks and big eyes. “What’s your name?”

The baby cooed and babbled as you moved the ribbon up her head to where you thought it was meant to sit. You fixed your grasp on the turtle to carry her better against your hip, in the process stroking over her back with your hand, and your brows raised at the sensation.

“Donnie look,” you pointed out to him. “She has a soft shell, just like you!”

You turned back to him and he was still in shock, unmoving. But you had been with him long enough to pick up on the tiny changes in his face to read them. Given the twitch of the corner of his mouth, you knew his mind was not only racing, but he already had a plausible hypothesis for this situation.

“Spit it out, Don,” you said with an amused sigh. “You already know what happened, right?”

“I think I do,” he answered.

Donnie approached you and the baby, guiding you to a different part of the lab, where he instructed you to place her in a little open chamber, which you knew he used to analyse materials. You tilted your head at his request.

“Do you really need to know her molecular composition to tell she's a turtle like you?” you deadpanned.

“I just want to know for sure if she’s who I think she is–”

“Whoa!” came a voice from behind you suddenly. “You two sure work fast!”

You both turned around to see Leo, Mikey and Raph at the entrance of the lab.

“We leave to get food and you already had a baby?” Leo joked.

Heat spread on your face, burning on your cheeks.

“We- Wha-??” you stumbled over your words. The baby in your arms squealed in glee, apparently very on board with Leo’s comment.

“That’s not how it works, Leo,” Mikey said, grabbing his brother by the shoulder. “Babies aren't made in labs, they–”

“Yeah, they grow in a cabbage,” Raph interjected. “Everyone knows that.”

You all went silent.

“I’m obviously joking!” Raph called, Leo and Mikey erupting in laughter.

While you were busy trying to get your heated cheeks under control and everyone was making fun of Raph, Donnie had taken the little turtle from your arms and placed her into the chamber. He left the front panel open so she wouldn't feel trapped.

There was a loading bar on his screen, labelled „retrieving genetic material“. The bar progressed fairly quickly and after a couple of seconds the message appeared: „Analysis successful: Congrats, it‘s a girl!“ accompanied by the sound of a party blower, and followed by some caricatures of you and Donnie's faces surrounded by confetti.

At that, the laughter died down and all eyes fell on you.

“Oh my god, called it!” Leo exclaimed.

“Shut up,” you told him, but the embarrassment in your voice didn’t make it sound particularly stern. “Donnie, clearly that's not possible, right?”

As you asked this, you turned around to see the turtle in question averting his eyes, a bit tensed up with his shoulders slightly raised, and hands curled into fists. Under his mask you could see a furious blush reaching to his neck.

“Eh?” is all you managed to mutter out.

“Clearly she came from a different timeline or dimension, but…” Donnie started, bringing up his hands to his face to try and hide from you. “Yeah, it's true.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, he picked up the little turtle, who had been following the whole exchange with great interest, looking from one person to the other. Donnie then moved to sit where he had been earlier, at the table, with the little turtle on his lap, looking lost in thoughts.

You shooed the other three out of the room, much to their dismay, to get a moment alone with Donnie. He was being a bit uncharacteristically quiet and … non-rambly, science-wise.

Grabbing your chair, you brought it to the other side of the table to sit next to him. Meanwhile, the baby turtle had discovered Donnie’s abandoned project on the table and her focus shifted completely to it. From his lap she could reach properly and started investigating the device. Donnie didn't seem to mind at all, which was sounding yet another alarm in your head. Instead of reprimanding the smaller turtle to leave his things alone, as you would have expected, he watched with soft eyes how she skillfully turned the device in her little hands, babbling to herself as if trying to make sense of his contraption.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked softly, placing your hand on his arm.

“I’m just…” Donnie took a moment to find the right word. “Stunned, I guess.”

“How so?”

“I’ve tried imagining this a couple of times,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, then clicked his tongue. “Scratch that, I think about this all the time.”

“About what?” you questioned, and your heart skipped a beat; does he mean what you think he means?

“You’re really gonna make me say it out loud,” he mumbled, lifting his eyes to meet yours, then heaved a deep sigh. “About us. What life will be like with you by my side.”

He then gestured to the little turtle still tinkering with the device.

“And about having kids, apparently.”

“Y-you think about our future together?” you said almost in disbelief, your chest tightening at his confession.

“Of course I do,” he responded immediately. “I can't really imagine a future without you in it. O-only if you want to stay, that is.”

“Obviously I want to!” you said and held his hand. You were leaning in, about to give him a kiss, when the turtle tot exclaimed in glee. And you could have sworn it sounded like she was trying to say “eureka”.

Before Donnie could stop her, she detached two cables, turned the thing around and connected them on the opposite side. You three looked at it expectantly to do something, but nothing was happening, so she gave it a smack with a grunt, and that's when the lights went on and it started whirring.

“No way! You fixed it?” Donnie exclaimed happily and held the baby under her armpits, lifting her up, to which she cooed and blew a raspberry.

With a smile, you leaned your head on your hand, propped up on your elbow on the table.

“Well, it’s no wonder she’s smart,” you spoke. “She’s got good genes, after all.”

Donnie’s gaze came to meet yours and he smiled as well, one of his rare soft ones, and your heart started racing all over again.

Just as you were about to ask what you should do with her, there was some zapping behind you, the same zapping you had heard from the portal earlier.

“Donnie is gonna kill meee,” came a familiar voice as a figure crossed through the portal into the lab, and you couldn’t believe your eyes: it was an older version of Mikey.

When he spotted the baby in Donnie’s arms, his shoulders slumped visibly in relief.

“You little rascal!” Mikey scolded her. “I look away for three seconds and you go off running!”

The baby stuck out her tongue at him, trying to hide behind Donnie’s arm.

“Heh, looks like brains aren't the only thing she inherited from you,” you tell Donnie with a mischievous grin.

“Whatever could you be implying,” he remarked sarcastically.

Mikey went to pick up the baby but she cried out, her arms doing a grabby motion towards you, and you could feel your heart tightening a bit at the sight.

“Hey now, it’s okay, little one,” you tried comforting her as you held her tiny hands. “We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”

Donnie tensed up his jaw as the baby was taken from him, and you couldn’t help the sad smile on your face. Mikey shot you an apologetic look, and turned back towards the portal.

“This never happened, we were never here,” he said over his shoulder with a wink, and stepped through the whirls.

The portal zapped closed again, and not a second later three heads peeked into the lab through the door.

“Is everything alright?” Raph asked.

“We heard voices just now, was someone here?” Leo questioned as he looked around.

“Where's the baby?!” Mikey said, bringing his hands to his head.

“It’s okay,” you calmed them down. “She's back where she's supposed to be.”

Donnie’s hand came to hold your own under the table.

“We’ll see her again,” he promised, more to you than the others. “Hopefully soon.”

And then you knew the heat that prickled your cheeks probably wasn’t gonna leave any time soon.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] ( i really hope i got everyone! ) @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o, @xnorthstar3x, @yarabutterfly, @isometimeswritestuff, @spacelesbianfanclub, @lieutenantlashfaz, @dybynyght, @snipersiniora, @je-m-appelle-yam, @lunar-lover1, @normal-internet-user

#goose feathers #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #rise donnie x reader #the turtle baby saga

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saoodoffice4 · 1 year

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leavingsunsets · 4 months

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Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

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skywalker1dream · 4 months

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Obsession in Overdrive

Jenson Button x journalist!reader

note: so I was writing part 2 of web of obsession and I accidentally deleted it, I really don't know how I did it (I want to bang my head to something like dobby banged his head with lamp)

Summary:You are a dedicated and ambitious journalist covering the world of Formula 1. Your latest assignment brings you face-to-face with Jenson Button, a charismatic and skilled driver. However, beneath his charming exterior lies a dark and obsessive personality. As Jenson becomes fixated on you, what starts as innocent professional admiration quickly spirals into a dangerous obsession, leading you into a web of passion, control, and peril. (you will find out that in part two)

Warnings: Im not good with warnings T_T sorry....

The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, the unmistakable ambiance of a Grand Prix weekend. You adjusted your press pass, the laminated card dangling from a lanyard around your neck. This assignment was a dream come true covering the world of Formula 1, where speed and glamour intertwined.

The paddock was alive with activity. Engineers tweaked car settings, team members rushed about with tools and equipment, and the drivers, the stars of this high-octane circus, moved with an air of focused determination. You had been following the sport for years, but being here, amidst the chaos and excitement, was a different experience altogether.

You were here for one reason: an exclusive interview with Jenson Button, the seasoned driver known not just for his skill on the track, but for his charm and charisma off it. He was a favorite among fans and media alike, and getting time with him was a coup for any journalist.

You arrived at the McLaren team’s hospitality suite, a sleek and modern area buzzing with activity. The room was filled with a mix of team personnel, sponsors, and a few journalists, all engaged in animated conversation. The decor was elegant but functional, with the team’s colors prominently displayed.

You spotted Jenson almost immediately. He was deep in conversation with a team engineer, but as soon as he saw you, his face lit up with a smile. He excused himself and walked over, his stride confident and relaxed.

“Ah, you must be [your name]” he greeted, extending a hand. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” you replied, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the fluttering in your stomach. He was even more handsome in person, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of intelligence and mischief.

“Anything for a lovely journalist,” he said, his tone smooth as silk. “Shall we?”

He led you to a quieter corner of the suite, where a small table and two chairs had been set up for the interview. As you settled into your seat, you couldn’t help but notice how his presence seemed to command the space around him. He was effortlessly charming, his smile warm and inviting.

The interview began with the usual pleasantries. Jenson answered your questions with ease, his responses peppered with humor and insight. He spoke about his passion for racing, the challenges of the season, and his hopes for the future. His answers were thoughtful and articulate, revealing a depth of character that went beyond his public persona.

Yet, as the conversation progressed, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His eyes would occasionally flicker down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You shifted in your seat, trying to maintain your composure. This was just another interview, you told yourself, albeit with one of the most charming men you’d ever met. But there was something about the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

“So, [your name],” Jenson said, leaning forward slightly, “what got you into journalism? And more specifically, why Formula 1?”

You smiled, appreciating his genuine interest. “I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve been a fan of motorsports since I was a kid. There’s something about the combination of speed, skill, and strategy that fascinates me. Plus, the stories behind the drivers and teams are incredibly compelling.”

Jenson nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s true, there’s a lot more to this sport than just racing. The dedication, the sacrifices... it’s a whole world unto itself.”

You continued talking, sharing stories and laughing together. Despite the professional nature of the interview, it felt more like a conversation between friends. Jenson had a way of making you feel at ease, his genuine interest and warm demeanor drawing you in.

As the interview came to an end, you thanked Jenson and began to gather your things. “This was great, Jenson. Thank you so much for your time.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied, standing up and extending his hand once more. “I hope we get to do this again soon.”

His hand was warm around yours, and as he held your gaze, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something more than professional admiration. You quickly pushed the thought aside, reminding yourself of your role and responsibilities.

“Take care, love,” Jenson said, his smile lingering as he watched you leave.

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your encounter with Jenson Button was just the beginning of something much more complex and intense than a simple interview.

------------------

Later that evening, you returned to your hotel room, still buzzing from the excitement of the day. You had a lot of work to do transcribing the interview, writing up your notes, and preparing your article. But before you could get started, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts.

You opened it to find a hotel staff member holding a small, beautifully wrapped box. “Miss [your name] this was left for you at the front desk.”

Surprised, you took the box and thanked him. As you closed the door, curiosity got the better of you. You carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a delicate silver bracelet with a charm in the shape of a racing car. It was exquisite, and clearly expensive.

There was a card inside, written in elegant script: “A token of appreciation. – Jenson.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was a thoughtful gift, but also oddly personal for someone you’d just met. You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, admiring how it caught the light. It was beautiful, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it meant something more.

Pushing aside your unease, you sat down at your laptop and began to write. Yet, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back toJenson his smile, his charm, and the intensity in his eyes. This was supposed to be just another assignment, but you had a feeling that it was going to be anything but ordinary.

----------------

Over the next few weeks, you found yourself running into Jenson more frequently. At first, it seemed like coincidence, he’d be at the coffee shop you frequented, or passing by the media center just as you were leaving. Each time, he’d greet you warmly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“You again,” you joked one afternoon, unable to hide your smile. “Are you following me, Mr. Button?”

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Just lucky, I guess. Besides, I enjoy our little chats.”

His attention was flattering, and you couldn’t deny the growing attraction. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something unsettling about his constant presence. It was as if he always knew where you’d be.

One evening, as you left the paddock, you found Jenson waiting by your car. “Let me take you to dinner,” he offered, his tone more commanding than requesting.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a lot of work to do,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

His smile faltered, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Another time then,” he said, but his tone suggested it wasn’t really a question.

_______

The next morning, you received a text from an unknown number: Good morning, [your name]. Hope you have a great day. – Jenson. (-sent from my iphoen) (iykyk)

You stared at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You hadn’t given him your number, which meant he must have gone out of his way to get it. Part of you was flattered by his persistence, but another part couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort.

As the days passed, Jenson’s presence in your life grew. He sent you flowers, left small gifts at your hotel, and always seemed to be around. It was becoming harder to focus on your work with him constantly on your mind.

During a press conference, you caught Jenson’s eye from across the room. He was surrounded by reporters, but his gaze was fixed on you. He smiled, a knowing look in his eyes that made your heart race. After the conference, he made his way over to you.

“Can I steal you away for a bit?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

You hesitated, glancing around at your colleagues who were busy typing up their notes. “I really should finish my article.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he promised, his hand gently guiding you towards a more secluded area. “I wanted to give you something.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, wrapped box. “Another gift?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

“Just a little something to remind you of me,” he said with a smile.

You unwrapped the box to find a delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a steering wheel. It was beautiful, but the personal nature of the gift sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jenson, this is lovely, but you really don’t have to keep giving me things,” you said, trying to sound gracious.

“I want to,” he insisted, his eyes intense. “You’re special, love. I feel a connection with you.”

His words made your heart flutter, but also triggered a warning bell in your mind. “Thank you, Jenson. I appreciate it, really. But I.....I have to get back to work now.”

He nodded, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t giving up. As you walked away, you felt his gaze lingering on you, a constant, almost tangible presence.

---------------

Later that week, you were sitting in your hotel room, working on your latest article, when your phone buzzed. It was a call from Jenson. You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

“[your name], I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“Not at all. What’s up?”

“I was thinking we could have dinner tonight. There’s a great restaurant not far from your hotel.”

You bit your lip, considering his offer. Part of you wanted to say yes, to enjoy an evening with this captivating man. But another part of you was wary of how quickly things were progressing.

“I don’t know, Jenson. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Come on, just one dinner,” he coaxed. “You have to eat, right? Consider it a break.”

His persistence was hard to resist, and before you knew it, you found yourself agreeing. “Okay, fine. One dinner.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice.

That evening, Jenson arrived at your hotel right on time. He looked impeccable, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his athletic build. As you walked to the restaurant, he kept the conversation light and engaging, his charm easing some of your apprehension.

The restaurant was elegant and intimate, with soft lighting and a view of the city skyline. Jenson had reserved a private table, away from prying eyes. As you sat down, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Throughout dinner, Jenson was the perfect gentleman. He listened attentively as you talked about your career and passions, sharing stories from his own life that made you laugh and feel at ease. Yet, beneath his charm, there was an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #jenson button x you #jenson button x reader #f1 fic #fanfic #f1 #jenson button

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feetpiclovers · 8 months

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youtube

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collapsedsquid · 8 months

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Being able to manufacture machine tools is often considered an important capability for an industrialized country. Not only does this provide ready access to the latest manufacturing technology, but it ensures production of munitions and other military equipment won’t be bottlenecked by a lack of machine tools. This isn’t a hypothetical concern: American production of artillery shells for Ukraine has been held back by a lack of machine tools. The military has thus historically paid close attention to the machine tool industry and the availability of machinists. For most of the 20th century, the US was unrivaled in its machine tool technology, and as late as the early 1980s it was the largest machine tool producer in the world.. But almost overnight, the industry collapsed: annual machine tool shipments declined by more than 50% in 2 years, hundreds of machine tool companies went out of business, and the US slipped from the largest producer in the world to the 4th or 5th (depending on the year), roughly where it remains today.

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angellurgy2 · 22 days

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Hiveship

hii! this is the 1st and 2nd chapter of my new story, as a little show of whats to come when i make it a full-length book.

cw for bug rape but like, its also just an introduction to deeper non/sexual ways the bugs will destroy this girl's soul. you'll see!

i'd appreciate if people checked this out/gassed it up because i've worked reallyyy hard on this for a bit ^-^

CHAPTER 1

A live wire sparks as loretta reaches a gloved claw inside the open electrical box, her digits blunted by her heavily plated and padded, alabaster white cosmonaut suit. she roots around the active electricity, scraping out chunks of the greenish-brown sludge growing in its crevices- the same mysterious viscous slime that’s been popping up in parts across her starship over and over the past few weeks. her theories ranged from an excremetal expulsion of an unidentified space object, to some disgraceful cosmonaut’s trash finding its way into her ship’s vents.

she clicks the button for the analyzing tool of her protective visor, closely examining the fluid. long thin wires splay across all sections of the large junction, leaving burning hot indents in the thick substances that feel like way too much of a fire risk. looking at the wires, spread out in patterned parallels like gigantic spider-webs, an anxious tinge of fear strikes her. don’t fall in, don’t get caught- robots don’t need any more prey. not that you’re prey. you aren’t.

she flicks her visor back off, worried her sweat might fog up the the visor, and continues swiping the rest of the gunk into a bin.

all clean, she fixes the fuses back into place before immediately making her way back over to the equipment corridor to hang up her suit. on the way she passes vibrant posters of mechanical cross-section diagrams, detailed anatomy drawings of every variety of species she could scavenge, and historical propaganda posters. it was a nice splash of existence inside a clinical minimalist coating.

lounging in the cabin suite on her sofa, she flips her state-provided entertainment console to the galactic news. on-screen a suited, pristine looking woman takes the centre stage behind a stretched out desk. her voice is calm and analytical, with a hint of soft sympathy that can’t be hidden no matter how hard of a professional facade they must put on.

“News from the pandora planets have finally reached the internal core, revealing devastating effects of the latest assault campaign from the exoskeletal hives, multiple colonies’ messengers have reported complete razing of ground and sub-ground infrastructure, with several not appearing for the census at all. the URSS military and all commune bioships have retreated back to pantheon-V for rehabitation before a pandora counter-takeover can be attempted.”

Loretta shudders. the exoskeletals have been advancing deeper into URSS territory much faster than ever before, the fact that the state hasn’t been able to put a stop to it—and that the threat has only gotten more aggressive—makes sweat begin to pour down her head. if she was doing a term with the forces or part of a commune science crew she’d probably be worried for her life right now. thankfully, her ship was currently flying safely in one of the middle systems, relaxing in orbit of an abandoned desert world after recently coming back from a call of excursion to the outer worlds. she always enjoyed the quiet of minimal space travel and the utter lack of civilization when she gazed down upon a world, so this has been her favourite spot to reside for a long while. from the cabin module’s glass wall she can see such stark vistas of sandy mountain ranges, demarcating the most beautiful fields of gigantic outstretching spiny cactus.

with a loud buzz the tv automatically switches to the nightly Sallite news segment, where they broadcast the most important of state propaganda to every television set at 8pm local time. with an exasperated sigh she turns the volume all the way down to 1, takes off her grey tank, and throws herself into her cushioney bed. a switch on the wall next to the alloy headboard turns on the room’s surround sound to a soft pitter of forested rainfall, and she falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Loretta awakes to the foreign sound of a sloppy wriggling near the floor by the end of her bed. jerking upright, she quickly slides into the suit boots she had laid at the side of her bed, strapping them tight, and moves to examine the intruder.

a pulsating green slime slides itself across the floor, leaving a small trail of slightly transparent lime goo behind it. loretta kneels to look at it closer. she could swear it’s looking right back at her- though without any obvious eyes or features of its own. it excretes another loud squelching sound and fires off a copper-smelling mist around it, some of which sprays directly into loretta’s face causing her to wince and tear up at the dense cloud of smell. she reflexively slams her booted heel down into the creature, stomping through its gelatinous body.

she attempts to swiftly scrape the thing off her heel,, but the flattened slime spreads to encase her entire boot before she can even look down at it. when she does, she sees sticky lime green half-translucent goo coating the suit metal like adhesive, excreting a slight burning odour. loretta throws her leg around trying to eject the subject, but only manages to trip over herself, tumbling to the thick panelled floor with a resounding thud.

on her back she watches with wide terrified eyes as the slime continues to slowly expand up her limb. it should be stretching itself out fully by now, but it seems to have an infinite amount of mass to express over her. some kind of anomalous entity from deep space? but how would it have gotten this deep into the middle systems? a new wormhole would’ve been reported immediately, and the nearest systems are all too well-inhabited. the gears turn in her head, clearly rusted over, struggling to think of a potential scientific hypothesis. by the time she breaks out of her clouded monologue and thinks to stop analyzing, the slime has already subsumed her entire left leg, grasping spreading tiny green tendrils grappling for the next part, which is fully uncovered by the comforting protection of the URSS engineer corps. she struggles to force herself away by clawing into the floor, but the slime seems to have extra weight to pin her leg down. such a little creature, overpowering her so easily- it must be alien. she doesn’t stop struggling even if it pins her utterly. if she could just get to the corner and grab her piece she could-

her scrabbling eyes find themselves staring at the cabin’s ceiling vent. a thick bile-like grey sludge seeps down from the cracks, forcing her to hurry. loretta shoves her hand into the green slime against her better judgement, trying to peel it off like one of her mother’s gelatin molds. her hands try to slide underneath it but they find themselves struggling to push against an unmovable solid, far away from the gravyesque consistency it had before. then she feels her legs, or rather, feels the lack of feeling of her legs. when she tries to move them, she cant even muster a shake, lower half pinned to the floor, not even pins or needles remaining. it doesn’t stop her relentless pushing and attempts to pull herself out by her arms, but she might as well be an amputee at this point. like one of those UOA prisoners of war from back in the day, laser neutered to be nothing but working hands for the Authority’s machines.

unable to get away from the oncoming deluge, lorreta realizes it must be relent or die. and so she does, shutting her eyes tight and curling her lips inward together like the anti-parasitites’ studies have taught her. though this wasn’t the typical annalidesque parasite commonly found in the outer cosmos, or a parasite at all for all she knows, it’s the best her dizzy mind can handle. and as she feels the sludge’s drip touch down on her estrogenated skin, it succeeds in helping stop it from flowing inside her eyes. she can feel it coat the skin tight, like a face mask but smelling of wood and suffocating and lively probing at her pores, blocking her vision black with its opaque body.

the sludge now dispensed, loretta senses a chance and attempts to pry the mask off of her. blindly groping for a free spot by her neck and sliding her unkempt nails under it and into the disgusting goo. it feels like a cadaver from anatomy class under her fingers, diving into the fat and peeling away the outer layer. but this corpse has undergone rigor mortis, and loretta’s attempts to peel it off go only slightly better than with the green thing, lifting an inch before it slaps itself back on even tighter. her second attempt goes even worse, her arms starting to feel numb and anaesthetized. she lifts her arms to fight but she cant feel the texture of what she touches anymore, and then the viral limpness travels to the rest of her motor function, and they flop uselessly at her sides. no part of her body responding to her brains frenzied orders to move, the most she can do is flail inside.

she pictures Andromeda-ZE in her mind’s eye, emotionally travelling to the place she spent most her childhood. she’s running through the market, the most well-known place in the capital, excitedly waving at family friends and commune teachers like she’s a kid again, so happy, so free, so ignorant. red and yellow and orange colours shine bright on the market stalls, sand and wood structures stand beautifully tall around her, everything is even more beautiful than it was when she was young. the wind on her cheeks as she runs makes her glow with a safety she doesn’t feel in the atmospheric void in space. not far ahead she spots her unit hut, and ramps up her speed. in a minute of invigorating sprint, she makes it to the large aspen door, knocking 5 times. she hears several light footsteps trot up and bounces with excitement. the door slowly creeps open…

and a hulking nurse bug towers over her. its mandibles chitter, the egg sack on its back wiggles, and its claws rub together in front of its chest. she looks into the creature’s eyes and sees a thousand mirrors staring back at her. she screams muffled into the slime gag, jolting away from the colour behind her eyelids, and back into the void in front of them. instead of trying to push inside like loretta assumed, the sludge begins to creep into the part of her eye socket above her lids, pushing with prying hair-like digits. her heart cramps, and she can feel her heavy perspiration being immediately absorbed by the material the second it drips. she doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to see the bugs that close again- the spindling inner legs, the slimey chitin, vision of swarms of exoskeletals charging her squad flash through her, all she wants to do is scream but all it does is wear out the last muscles she can work. but she can’t stop, she wails banshily, reverberating in her own skulll. and then she can’t manage to hold her eyes open any longer.

the jointed arthropod returns, fully subsuming her soul.

“it’s okay, sweet darling Lore, we are here now” it speaks in her mothers voice. sweet and soothing.

CHAPTER 2

loretta wakes up in a stasis vat, her body floating in air like oil. green biofluid drenches her skin, manufactured nutrients flooding her organs, keeping her fed and stable. she smiles, thinking back to her first spacewalk, bounding into the open cosmos with footless steps. she kicks her foot up, sending herself into an airy backflip. her mouth opens on its own and takes in a load of the fluid. it tastes like the earth pineapples her mothers would trade for on her birthdays. she has to figure out what this is when she’s out of here. and by the looks of her motor functions, she’ll be out of this in no time.

* * *

she awakes groggily inside of another vat. there’s no more fluid, but something similar sticks to every inch of her skin. the walls of steel have turned into a coffinesque cocoon, fleshy and aboreal brown and wriggling with her movements. yet as she attempts to push herself backwards, her hands still find themselves scraping cold metal. she sees how some light manages to seep through the cracks of the chitinous chamber, and prods at the squishy folds where the tiny glowing rays strike, poking through an inch or two of foreign flesh before her fingertips feel air. bio vat? or some sort of.. metamorphosis chamber? she can’t remember how she got here, or when she signed up for such a procedure. she needs to find someone before she gets stuck. she lifts her moist lips to one of the little holes and screams out a plea for help. she manages to fit another finger out, and begins trying to spread open the breach when she’s stopped by someone’s cold fingers pulling hers. one of the scientists, or guards?

the person outside pulls on loretta’s hand hard and she feels her light body raise up to the roof of her confines. despite her reaching the walls, they keep going, tugging forcing painful friction between her bare limbs and the meaty hide. in a few short, supernatural pulls she is burst through the sac entirely, getting to see chunks of what appears to be sinew and slime splattering the surroundings as she flies through antigravital space and crashes hard into a familiar wall.

HISSSSSSSTHH

innumerous spindly brown limbs bringing fading memories of phasmid anatomy charts stretch out across the polished floor and walls now brutally scattered with keepsake and furniture debris, looking like abstract blobs in loretta’s slime coated vision. blobs which are constantly being absorbed upwards into the air by twitchy movements. loretta grasps at the wall behind her, pulling herself away from the enormous creature.

slamming into the far wall, she attempts to reach for where her dresser should be, where her trusty sidearm should be awaiting its imminent retrieval. then she remembers the lack of gravity.

it was a stupid idea to make a grav switch so accessible. she never even uses it, and humans are the only creature out in this abyss who are weak to its pull. stupid stupid stupid. she tries to look for it in the debris but can’t make it out through all the other white and grey blobs.

in the room, a few brown splotches stand out, utterly foreign to the ship’s shade-based palette. she stares closer, and even more seem to appear. the black space where the open door leads to dark corriders begins spewing them out en masse until at least two dozen of them scatter across the floors walls and ceiling of the cabin, staring right back into her with beady pinpricked eyes.

a bug pounces, its thin limbs pinning loretta hard. the hair on its tarsi scrape across her bare arms jolting goosebumps up her entire body. its membranal underside presses up close, making her shake with unease as its squishy segmented body rubs against her and coats her with an inky discharge well familiar to her after multiple campaigns.

click, click, click, click. clinking mandibles together, like a hungry and petulant child. antennae rub against her ears, just then noticing their dulling by a xenotic wax substance. yet the vile hissing of a group of specially angered freaks still deafens.

searing pain transports into her flesh. she screams but a sludgey backup in her windpipe stops everything but the vibration. loretta looks down at the thick brown apical claw stuck inches deep in her side. a gaping void begins a slow seeping of crimson. another of the blobs quickly dashes into her view, bursting into definition as it pops up at the wound’s side. the same black liquid that drapes over her skin begins to leak out of its open mouth-thing, mixing and diluting the blood until the cut is naught but a thick black wall subsuming a portion of her outer thigh.

she looks forward again as a twinge of neck pain insults her for forgetting herself, and sees the first roach reaching its body upwards. a yonic hole in its abdomen begins to slowly invert, while a large black tendril reaches out of the now-extremity and fluidly twirls itself around loretta’s leg, dripping ichor all the way.

she’d never gotten this close to one of the breeders before, to the point she didn’t even recognize their exotype until now. as far as she knew, they stayed deep inside the tunneled grounds of the hive worlds, fucking like lagomorphs to appease their queens and ever-outbreed the URSS’s onslaughts. and yet, here they are.

the appendage flicks into loretta’s belly, proding at and pushing inside her navel cavity. it feels almost like she’s being licked by a pet dog, or it would if it wasn’t by a fucking bug. the creature tries to push forward past the inch-deep space and is swiftly yanked back in turn, reaching the end of its rope. loretta sighs. if they can’t even reach her then the worst they could probably do is-

the tentacle prods at a lower place before a concept can reach her nerves. a deserted, forgotten plateau, a space too human for her to accept. sliding over a smooth ravine, wet shocks drive up her legs. coiling atrocity digs into her malleable dirt like the hills in pandora. she screams like she imagines it must. though the terror speaks in soft, writhing texture, and not pain. pandora and i, sister bodies- desecrated in twain.

she turns her head to the room’s one window. beyond the hexagonal plasteel frame, one of the last things held up through the chaos, halcyon skies stretch out for infinity- vistas of beautiful achromatic calm broken only by dots of terrestrial colour. an anaerobic dead zone, where nothing except calm would subsume her. devour her. she yearns to feel that cold blanket take her now. she dreams of the window bursting open, space gaining pressure the glass wasn’t ready for, and ripping them all out with it. she dreams of mom bursting through the door gun in hand. she dreams of simply disappearing from all being.

from above her head slithers another pair of mandible and trio of forceps, digging into her budding chest. a sparse pink miasma sprays across her vision, and she’s stumbled out of her wonder by a furious coughing fit rising in her trachea, and finally taking off some of the adhesive coating her throat alongside it. she tries to look back outside and the claws digging deeper just force her gaze right back. her eyes glaze over with water and, unable to wipe the sleeves away, it drowns her. it fills her mouth until her muscles strain, spread taught like an epithelial fingertrap. she cant help but cough more, painfully clenching on the foreign object sliding deeper inside using her windpipe as a transistor to her weak points.

beige meat squishes up against her face, phantom sensations of a man’s stomach thrusting. it should never have been able to get more evil than that. how did they put human’s cruelty into animals, was it taught? more inches of squishish meat force the thought from her shrouded head. her tears taste like ink. maybe they like it that way.

Lorettas’s hull stretches with fullness and terror. she cant see it, but she can feel it bulging her front extremitously. it feels like the two tendrils will soon meet in the middle. she shudders in fear and feels them swirl inside her as punishment.

she feels a slight relent, and her thoughts finally losing their haze. the creatures in front of her thrust backwards through the air, and the twisting coiling tentacles whorl their way out like a pullcord. again she has to feel the thing climb her hole, leaving a painful space where there used to be nothing, unable to go back to nothing. it is ashamed and sobbing in it’s own. what a bipolar old lady you are, where is your rage?

his voice forces itself inside of her. look what you’ve done. ruined and irreparable. you must’ve loved it. you and your little bug fascination. maybe if you didn’t spend your time with abominations, you wouldn’t have become one.

she screams back. it’s not too late, i don’t love them. he’ll never control me again, i’ve carved so much into the world, i won’t let myself be belittled. you’re smart, they’re miniscule- a surprise assault shows their utter lack of strength. i’ll kill them all if i have to. i’ll prove it, i will.

she tries to open her eyes again and sees, stained by pink clouds floating in her sclera, a huge mutated insectoid towering behind the others. a large dynastinaen horn displays ignorant ideas of its strength above its excitedly quivering mandibles. or perhaps the exoskeletals have no need for concepts of pride or egotism. perhaps hive mentality’s destroyal of the individual will always grant them an advantage. no thought of the victim- evil little creatures. no different than the evil of the Authority. no different than-

two blunt black mandibles thrust into her chest. the wind is crushed from her body before she can realize what’s happening. she is too dazed to look at the impact. her deflated cadaver is thrusted into the air, and carried,

her vision bobs up and down as swift twig limbs drag her forth without thought. station windows fly past her, blobs vaguely looking like her favourite posters lay scattered and sliced in pieces, slime staining them irreparable as it coats the floor. does their cruelty know no limits? was the destruction of her ship and her spirit not enough? the destruction of her people? will anything sway their pure evil? she wants to cry, but she’s already using all the tears her body can muster.

black begins to gorge itself on the halls, the chunky whirring of automatic doors blares in her ears drowning out the chattering sounds of dozens of limbs. the hydraulics were a deeply familiar sound, one she had always cherished hearing. it felt like a reminder of the spacecraft’s life, always interacting to her existence, responding in kind noise whenever loretta’d root around fixing her insides. it was a comforting relationship, wonderful in its unconditionality.

now, her beautiful partner screamed red with anger. they destroyed her entrance too. the airlocks outer seal is burst open with what could fairly be assumed to be anti-ship cannons, if not for the claw marks and acid tainting it all. she looks through the inner seal, into the void where death surely awaits, her body has been so painfully torn and remade, that she can’t make herself put up a single limb to fight at the end. she imagines a blaster in her hand, and clenches its handle tight. then she opens her eyes, and her fingers havent moved an inch.

then her face meets cold surface, jagged. then the green drapes grab onto her skin again. then her blood mixes with the green and turns the colour to the same rust she smelled in the air at the start. then she feels the perfectly held-at-average air of her beloved spaceship turn into cold freezing anguish of the outside. then she feels her body turn to nothing. then, she feels nothing at all.

#puppy writing #uhm #rbs encouraged #i needddd attention chat #but yeah um id appreciate ppl letting me know what they think too!!

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bohemianblasphemy · 2 months

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Hey, could I please request a Billy x reader, where the reader emotions are all over the place for no reason, and she lashes out at the Boys and she also lashes out at Billy who she never does get angry at, and eventually she calms down and Billy is there to comfort her?? (I feel like my emotions are all over at the moment) Thank you!!

of course! i hope this is okay and i hope you’re okay ✨✨

The Boys have always been… chaotic, unpredictable- to put it lightly. Your presence was a beacon of calmness, more than often steadying conflicts and problems that arose between the groups mixed personalities.

However today was different, that calmness you exuded had vanished and a whirlwind of storm-like disturbance had started to brew inside you; your unknown frustration was surging and crashing inside of your head.

The group was arguing once more, this time with MM and Frenchie arguing about the latest supe that they were going after.

“this supe can make sound waves that could fucking kill us Frenchie, it’s gonna be fucking hard to face her if we don’t have the right tools to handle her.” Frenchie shook his head.”

“nah MM, we don’t need equipment we just gotta move in quietly, get her to trust one of us and then wham! we get intel from her.” MM rolled his eyes. “ how the fuck are we gonna get anything if she screams the fucking life outta us? what are we gonna do then?” MM argues further, the fight getting more and more ridiculous as time goes on.

“Can you both just shut the fuck up for a second?!” you snapped. your head was in your hands, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. Frenchie and MM look at you shocked at your frustrated exclamation- this was the first time that they had witnessed you lash out at them, let alone anyone.

“We’re just trying to figure things out.” Frenchie shrugged, crossing his arms.“there’s no need to bite our heads off.” Mother's Milk added, his voice was gentle but firm, unsure of how to approach this different side of you. You took a deep breath, but it did nothing to quieten the feelings inside you. “I’m- I’m just tired of this. all you guys fucking do is FIGHT - it pisses me off!!”

“Oi! what’s got your knickers in a twist? this ain’t like you.” Butcher had spoken up, having watched the events unfold from his seat. you turned to him, the heat burning deep within you.

“no one can ever come up with a solution without having a fight about it. this shit is not a fucking joke! people are in danger and this-“ you gestured to MM and Frenchie. “is the way that you all deal with it!” your anger had boiled over, but the guilt you felt had come crashing into your minds shoreline and tears had welled up in your eyes.

you didn’t like that you took it out of the group, especially Billy- since you joined to group he was your rock; your shared experiences with the evil of Vought and the so-called heroes that had changed the trajectory of your lives brought you both together, he was someone you could depend on.Billy noticed the sudden change in your demeanour and stood out of his seat, walking over to you.

“what’s goin’ on with ya?” he’s concerned, but all you can feel is the overwhelming emotions that consumed you. “i-i don’t know Butcher! e-everything just feels so wrong right now and i can’t fucking take it!” you sobbed, your hands cover your face to stop the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.

Butcher looks over at the others and gestures them to leave for a moment. “give us some space yeah?” he asks, they nod and moved out of the office space, leaving Butcher and yourself alone. you looked up at Butcher, your vulnerability was on display.

“i’m so sorry…” you apologised, sniffling and wiping your tears away. “ No, no…”he whispered before he pulled you into his arms for a comforting hug which you accepted, melting into his chest.

“shh… it’s alright…” he rubbed your back, holding you tight. “i didn’t mean to Butcher i just couldn’t hold it in anymore-“ “you don’t have ta apologise love, this stuff happens… believe me i know.” he reassured you, continuing to sooth you. you both stood in silence as you embraced.

you spoke up, breaking the silence that filled the room. “i’m just so overwhelmed, Billy. it just feels like the world is crumbling away right under me…” he nodded, understanding your emotions.

“i know that all too well.” there’s a beat of silence before he spoke up once more. “you’re not alone yeah? i’ve got ya, i’m by your side, always…”

you embraced him once more muttering a thank you; his comforting words wrapped around you like a safety blanket, allowing you to relax and come to a more peaceful state of mind- knowing that Billy was there by your side ready to weather the storms that plagued you; that you were not alone.

#billy butcher #the boys #amazon the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher brainrot go brr #the boys tv #billy butcher imagine #answered asks #requests #karl urban

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une-femme-de-lettres · 2 years

Text

Imagine

Sewing and mending your clothes after a mission

This is highly specific and detailed but I love the idea. Also domestic 141 is the best thing!!

Laying low after a mission is definitely not the best part of your job. You often times find yourself stuck in an old safe house with your teammates, sharing a small space with them, while not knowing when you’ll be able to go back on the field.

But there surely is one thing that these days can offer you, is some time to think, process the things you’ve seen and get some rest. And as you are forced to figuratively mend and repair your mind, you often take advantage of the peace and quiet to literally mend and repair your equipment; clothes, gear, tools or weapons… anything that could’ve been damaged during your latest intervention.

The whole habitation is quiet as you make your way to the living area. Your teammates are there. Price is watching some obscure documentary about the fishing industry in South America on the telly, the sound brought to a minimum. Soap is mindlessly doodling in his journal, not looking particularly satisfied with his work. Gaz is taking a nap slouched on the couch beside Price, he’s probably tried watching the documentary, didn’t work out too well…

And Ghost is quietly cleaning his pistol, methodically clearing every little piece of any gunk, grime and leftover powder. The clicking of the metal pieces give a rhythm to the silence. You hate to interrupt such a peaceful picture so you speak quietly.

“Hey,” you start, a few eyes moving over to look at you, “I’m gonna take some time to sew up a few things. Got anything that needs mending?” you ask them.

“I’m good, thanks for the thought, though,” Price responds with a gentle smile that warms your heart a little. You nod and turn to Soap.

“I don’t think so, Lass, but thanks.” He can’t think of anything off the top of his head for now, so you finally look at Ghost. His back is slightly turned to you, you can see him looking back slightly and responding with a shrug.

He’s been way quieter around you lately, you noticed. But Ghost is Ghost, right? So you don’t really pay him any mind and give one last nod before going back into your room. On your way there, you don’t notice Price’s slight head movement directed towards Ghost. And behind the door of your room, you don’t hear the husky sigh Ghost let out as he stands up from his seat.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed as you silently pass your needle through the fabric of your torn tank top. It’s not major tear, nothing a quick stitching can’t fix. You’re focused in your task when a light knock on your door makes you look up.

Ghost is slowly entering your room, his gaze fleeing yours. As it often does lately. He speaks quietly, his voice still very composed, just like every time you’re working out there on the field, precise and efficient.

“Do you have a spare needle?” he asks. You notice the balaclava in his hand before he holds it out slightly in front of you. “I need to repair this,” he finishes. You look at him for a moment, trying to keep your thoughts at bay. He requesting your help with anything outside the field was not unheard of, but it was still pretty new… Why does he look so cute?

“Sure, there you go,” you respond, picking a small needle and some black thread in your tiny sewing kit. You hand the objects to him and he takes them with a grateful nod. He looks about to leave when he stops in his tracks, not sure if he should ask you.

“This is a knit fabric, I’m not sure how to…” he starts hesitantly, showing you the piece of clothing again, “go about it,” he concludes. You fight the small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and pat the empty space on the bed covers beside you.

“I’ll show you, if you want,” you say and he complies surprisingly quickly.

In your line of work, whether it be on skin or cloth, a man needs to learn out to sew. It’s a primordial skill when you’re in a survival situation, to keep your clothes functional. Ghost in an intelligent man, you realize he probably knows how to take care of his stuff beyond just keeping his guns working.

But even you find knit fabrics tricky to work with. One wrong stitch and the next time you use your item, it might very well run enough to render it unusable. And your heart flutters at the idea of him asking you for help, even for such a tiny little thing.

Ghost sits beside you, the mattress dipping ever so slightly, making you lean towards him just a little. He prepares his needle and thread while you put your own work aside. Once this is done, you locate the small hole in the balaclava he’s laid on his thigh to free his hands. You hand it back to him, pointing towards the repair area.

“First, you need to thread all the loops left open to stop it from running,” you indicate. The loops you’re mentioning are tiny, but precision is your job, so they’re all threaded very soon and you can begin the real work.

“Then you can thread through that and darn it just like a woven fabric,” you say, mimicking the technique moving your finger back and forth. He starts mending the piece, using your advice.

The needle looks comically small in his massive hand. The size of things makes his movements quite awkward. And it doesn’t help that he’s holding the needle with the very tip of his fingers, barely touching it, as if he were afraid to do something wrong.

You smile gently at the sight and decide to help him further. Your fingers brush against his as you move his hand so he can work pushing the needle towards himself instead of away. A technique you’d found way more efficient over the years.

“It’ll be easier if you hold it from this side,” you say, your voice quiet and thoughtful. The voice he loves to hear rolling off your tongue and lips when you are close to him. “Guide the needle with your index and thumb and push it with your middle finger,” you explain as he watches your hands working his fingers into position with a curious eye. “Like this.”

He starts using your latest advice, religiously following your movements as you mimic the gesture in the air. He manages to work faster, his hand steadier. You smile. His needle work starts taking shape. “Nice work,” you say, turning your head to look at his face. His eyes are looking straight back at you. For once in quite some time now, his gaze doesn’t dart away from yours. It just gently moves to your slightly parted lips and stays there for a moment. A moment that doesn’t last nearly long enough for him.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #ghost x reader #reader insert #imagine #soft ghost #fluff #task force 141 #domestic fluff

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