#Milk scanner

[imarkt001]

EKOMILK ULTRA-MB MILK ANALYSER - i-markt

The EKOMILK ULTRA-MB Milk Analyser is an advanced device designed for precise milk quality analysis. With its user-friendly interface and robust design, the EKOMILK ULTRA-MB is suitable for both on-farm and laboratory settings. Its portability allows for flexible testing environments, making it an essential tool for maintaining milk hygiene and optimizing production processes.

[helpmysoultheeggladsarecoming]

Excuse the fake blood - it was an experiment in giving my sketchbook bleedable skin that got out of hand but i think it finishes it off quite nicely

anyway I went on a cronenberg binge and decided to draw some desaturated men that suffer horrors

[homoerotictext]

my manager isn't submitting tickets to get faulty equipment fixed rrrnnfnfgkgkgkfjfjf bARK BARK BARK BARK!!!!!!!

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ 𝐛𝐨𝐛𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: leon tries bubble tea for the first time, much to his reluctance (he likes it!) content: fluff, established relationship, rebecca chambers & chris redfield mentioned. « 1.4 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

“How far is this place?” Leon lets out a heavy grunt, sight unbearable as the sharp sunrays glaring onto the scorching asphalt. Heat so nauseating it permeates through his clothing to form sweat at areas less desirable.

Leon would rather cuddle next to you at home right now, under the lulling breeze of the air conditioning. But you insisted– no matter the heat nor the distance, you must have your hands on this drink in this thickened fog of heat. It’s perplexing how you find space in your belly after such a hearty lunch today.

You loop both arms around his open elbow – propping up just for you to hold – as you flush your front onto his sides. Partial bribery, partial gratitude for joining you on this conquest despite the harsh weather conditions.

Leon lands his gaze on you – your lashes flutter, body fidget closer. There is no way he can deny you now. That you know and took full advantage of every single time. He groans in defeat, tilting his torso back as if to heave the weight of his well-satiated belly.

“What is this bubble tea? And why do you like it so much?” You call it a bubble tea, but he calls this concoction a monstrosity. Leon will never understand how one can make a drink already perfect imperfect?

“Oh, Leon. I’m about to show you a whole new world.” You spin your heels, skipping a little in the firm grip of his arms.

“I’m surprised you still have an appetite.” Leon’s tone sounds faintly like a jab.

“There’s always room for bubble tea.” He suspects you say this motto often with the way the words uttered so instantly.

Leon grumbles Rebecca’s name underneath his breath. Since you discovered it from Rebecca’s introduction, this supposed ‘habit’ soon evolved closer to an obsession. Replacing your usual coffee order with a tall plastic cup of milk tea. With how Rebecca sweetens her coffee, whatever she recommends can’t be good for you.

“I don’t think I want bubbles in my tea.” Leon tightens his lips.

“It’s not real bubbles, Lee.” You chuckle as you run your hands along his arms. “You’ll love it, trust me!”

Hand in hand with yours, Leon follows your footsteps into a slender laneway, shying away from rows of corporate office on the main street. Red lanterns hang high, adorn by banners of words you can’t read. You find familiar merchants chant a series of today’s sales across the street, hubbub of both young and old, nesting the air in this hidden away part of town. Even during a weekday, Chinatown is busy – endearingly so.

You approach a humble corner shop you often frequent. Walking up the front of the counter with one confident stride, only taking a step back at the realisation of your confused boyfriend.

Nudging at Leon’s elbow, you point at the signage that displays their extensive list of flavours, options and customisations. “Get the winter melon milk tea with extra boba.”

“Get your own.” He scoffs at your audacity.

“I want mango. But I also wanna try the winter melon tea.” You cling onto his arm, flushing your body onto his. Puffed cheeks, downturned eyebrows – you know he can’t say no. Leon can’t ever say no to you when you do that face.

“So I’m your experiment.” He sighs underneath his breath, but his countenance softens when he sees your toothy smile as the line moves forward. “What does winter melon taste like, anyway?”

“I dunno. That’s why you’re trying it for me.”

Before he can protest, it’s your turn to order. You face the register, shuffling out your membership card from your bag to beep it in front of the scanner.

“What would you two like to have?”

“One winter melon boba milk tea and one mango green tea...” Leon glances over the size options. “Medium, please.”

“Mini boba or standard boba?” The cashier fiddles with the system before them.

Leon pauses, contemplating out loud. “What does that mean?”

“What size boba do you want?” They repeat once more, gesturing to the list of toppings which puzzles him even more.

“Standard, thanks. Whatever it means.” A prompt nod, buttons are pressed. “Ice and sugar levels?”

“Standard everything.” Leon tries to sound calm, but the words escaped with a snapping edge.

Leon makes his payment, frustrated by the entire experience, but it all the more teases a giggle out of you to see the usual composed Leon fluster over ordering a simple drink. The barista calls out your number. You two occupy an empty table, drinks in hand.

The drink sits before Leon, black beads declining to the bottom, tall cup sealed with a plastic film – Leon has seen you do this a few times. He should know what to do. Leon lines the straw on top of the film, with a small burst, puncture the film through the pointy end. The other hand grips the cup a tad too firm, the impact splashing the tea from the puncture all over his hand.

Your laughter bursts at the sight – chuckling so hard that Leon is asking for napkins from the front counter, hands still a dripping mess. He hates you for it – just a little though – for not warning him.

“That went well.” He grumbles, wiping off the droplets from his fingers with the white napkin.

“It’s okay – I've been there, done that.” You repeat his motions, thrusting your straw in your drink with practiced ease before taking a generous sip. You rummage your phone out of your pocket, pointing the lens directly at him.

“What?” Leon fiddles with the straw, swirling the substance under his fingertips.

“Go on.” You tilt your head in encouragement. “Take a sip.”

“I can’t drink if you’re recording me like this.” He broods on the words slightly.

“Drink!” You demand out of impatience, waving your hands more exaggeratedly.

Leon gazes inside the straw, the thick pipe designed for easier travel of any toppings within. He is hesitant, especially with you watching intently at his every movement and reaction. He hopes you never send this video to Chris; Leon will never recover from the embarrassment if so.

“Here goes nothing.” With a deep breath, Leon sucks the liquid from the straw.

The liquid makes contact first: a blend of tea and sugary syrups complementing each other; the dew of wintermelon arousing a soft sweetness that is easy to consume and just as addictive. Flavourful, but not overwhelming so. Suddenly, something round and slimy enters his mouth through the pipe.

Leon winces, taken aback. Bites on it to find it chewy. Then swallows. Doesn’t taste like anything in particular.

“What are these made of?”

“Those are tapioca, it’s nice and chewy isn’t it?”

Leon nods, taking another sip, savouring the taste of all the flavours combined. With how invested he is sipping his drink, you can’t help but smile as the levels goes down steadily. He notices you staring.

“Do you… want to try?” He takes the straw out of his mouth, passing it over to you.

You light up, moving in so quickly it almost shove him aside. Sorry Leon, you should have known that your love for bubble tea is above your love for him.

“Is this what wintermelon tastes like? I love it!” You take a sip. Leon tries your drink, nodding in approval before moving your cup back to you. But you don’t, instead, with an almost guilty tone, said: “Do you wanna... swap?”

“Nice try – but no. You made your choice, stick with it.” Leon scoffs, removing his drink off your hands, which leads you to pout miserably.

After Leon's signal, you two leave the shop. Leon takes you to all the shops you want to visit – and you find your gaze trailing to his drink that is going down much faster than yours.

“So… what do you think about the tea?” You ask, hoping to get any kind of admittance on how this drink isn’t so bad after all.

“It’s okay… I don’t mind it.” Leon keeps his praise short, feigning playful stubbornness.

You see through him immediately, lighting up, before stealing another sip from his. “Back here again tomorrow?”

Leon’s lips upturned into a smile, but he lets you take another sip – which he will regret later, with how fast you’re consuming. His hand places gently on your head. Shaking his head in disbelief, fully aware that he is powerless against you – and you are likely to make a return trip together. Anything to make you happy.

“Get your self together, sugar addict.”

i was tempted to make reader chinese poc since i'm chinese myself, but didn't to make reader more relatable haha (missed opportunity tho)i'm sorry for making ur bf order at the counter (ordering bubble tea for the first time is so daunting) also! thank you @sporeghost for beta reading this & literally held my hand through a few sentences, especially 2nd last line, it's not mine!! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @valsthea @sporeghost @daydreamrot (pm me for tags)© roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 3

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

The Vending Machine whirred softly as it produced the 5th candy bar in a row. It’d been a week since the science division had turned into a chocolate factory, but Liz wasn’t that worried. Coco didn’t have a chemical makeup that could be affected by diabetic amounts of sugar. The opposite, in fact, the little Sprygan was doing better than ever, and wasn’t so little anymore. Just like plants on Earth, botanical lifeforms needed glucose to grow, and apparently when given daily supplements of the stuff, their growth rate accelerated at frightening speeds.

Liz walked back to the lab, with a hearty Halloween’s worth of candy bars in her hands and pockets. Some crewmen gave her odd looks as she passed, but she paid them little mind. The door to the lab opened with a quick hiss.

“So we got milk, dark, white with macadamia nuts, and… what are you doing?”

Coco was standing in the center of the room, their new fuller branches seemingly vibrating. Liz thought they looked excited. The same Coco, who at the time when the mission began, was at best maybe 3 feet tall, now stood almost 5 1/2 feet in height and had a significantly thicker trunk. They were about as big as Liz was herself now, with a thicker canopy in the beginnings of bloom. They leaned in Liz’s direction, vines trembling.

“I just got a message from the bridge. There’s a uncharted planetoid in this system with a moon that might have breathable atmosphere, and they want a full ecological report written up.”

“So we’re going down there?”

“Correct! It’ll take 2 cycles to get there, but then it’s all ours!”

Liz was overjoyed! Finally, some actual field work instead of editing someone else’s papers all day. A whole new ecosystem with god knows how many new species… if it had atmosphere, of course.

Can’t get too excited yet girl, Liz thought.

“Does the moon have water?” She asked.

“Indeed.”

That’s a real good sign though, she figured.

“Can I have my chocolate now please?” Coco asked.

“Oh right, yeah, here you go,” Liz said, setting the bars on the table. Coco’s vines reached out and snatched them, taking them back into their canopy to be the plant equivalent of ‘digested’. The usual humming started up as they enjoyed their snacks. Liz wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see bark physically forming on their trunk now, or perhaps it was simply a discoloration.

“You’re sure this much sugar is good for you hon?” Liz asked, concern slowly winning out over scientific curiosity.

“The thing you call cocoa seeds are not plentiful on my planet, so I’m unsure if any Sprygan has ever had this much in such a short period of time, but I’ve never had so much energy before. My growth rate is miraculous, I’m almost completely out of my juvenile sapling stage now.”

“And that’s a… good thing?”

“Very. Saplings on my planet are the easier targets for predators. With a harder outer layer I’ll be much safer now. I’ve been composing a paper on this for days, it’ll be of great significance to Spryga.” Coco continued humming, ‘munching’ away on her candy bars.

“Well alright then, so long as you’re okay,” Liz said. “So tell me more about this moon.”

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

Deep in the Antares System, hidden from scanners by the solar radiation of the tertiary star, was a desolate little rock burnt to a crisp by stellar winds during a flare eons ago. Its moon, however, was protected from the fire while in the shadow of the planet. And so it continued to turn, with barely a few degrees changed, undisturbed.

Until now.

The Noah entered the system from WARP, keeping a safe distance from the tertiary star in case of solar flares, and settled into a comfortable orbit around the planetoid to scout the surface of the nearby moon, now being called MX13.

From the Bridge, Liz and Coco read the initial scans from various probes launched when they’d arrived.

“Gravity reads…damn, big moon,” Liz said, surprised, “9.1, just a little under galactic and Earth standard.”

“Gas spectrometer reads as breathable atmosphere to 70% of known intelligent lifeforms,” Coco read on, “but not humans. You’ll have to wear a mask Human Liz.”

“What’s the chemical makeup like?” Liz asked.

“95% methane… similar to what you call Titan in your Terran home system. Without a mask you’d have a few minutes at best before you suffocated.”

“So yeah, rebreathers are fashionable this time of year,” Liz laughed. Even the idea of suffocating in a potentially hostile ecosystem wasn’t enough to bring her spirits down. It had been ages since she’d set foot on extraterrestrial soil.

“Ahem,” grunted Skitch, as much as a bipedal bug man could go ‘ahem’ with mandibles.

“What does fashionable mean?” Coco asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you later,” Liz whispered.

Captain Skitch had been waiting off to the side for a while now while they geeked out over the moon.

“Now then,” he said, arms behind his thorax stoically, “in six rels[?] [GAIL standard term: 1 rel approximately 1 earth hour(s)] we’re sending a shuttle down to the moon to conduct the requested ecological report. Our main objective is to see if there are any lifeforms, intelligent or otherwise, living there. If it is deemed uninhabited, we’re to declare whether or not it could become a potential colony for GAIL member races.”

Liz was almost painfully excited. Uncharted habitats, potentially establishing a colony, this is what she worked 6 years in the academy for, what she lived for.

“Sir, what are we supposed to do if we do come across any lifeforms down there?” She asked.

“You know the rules. On the off chance you come across anyone intelligent, you do not get involved, you do not get seen. We’re here to record the natural evolution of the universe, nothing more.”

“There’s very little chance of that,” Coco chimed in, “the first scans of the surface are being analyzed, there doesn’t seem to be any structure of any kind on the surface, so it’s unlikely we’ll come across any sentient species.”

“On the off chance you do have an encounter, I’m assigning commander Koatil to the landing party. She’ll be in charge of everything, and has my full authority to make any judgment call she sees fit.”

As if on cue, First officer Koatil made the bridge, her thermal suit fitted with extra armor for the expedition, hiding her powder blue fur. It seemed to Liz she’d freshly sharpened the horns on top of her head as well. She’d always figured they looked like rams horns, and thought how interesting it was that Doun women were the only ones with horns in their species.

“Good to meet you both,” Koatil said. “I’m sure this’ll go smoothly for all of us, just stick with the group and everything will be fine. Permission to depart, Captain?”

“Granted.”

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

The Noah’s shuttle bay was about the size of Liz’s old high school gymnasium, vaulted ceiling and wide open space, plenty of room for the three docked shuttles. Commander Koatil stood nearby, doing her final check as bay staff loaded the shuttle with cases of the scientific instruments they’d use to analyze the moon’s ecosystem.

Liz and Coco, along with the shuttle pilot and 2 other security personnel, stood ready to board at the commander’s say. She inspected the crew going down to the moon with them. The pilot seemed fine, even had two more arms to steer, so that was reassuring, but it was the security personnel that caught her attention. If Liz was seeing it right, the two were not on friendly terms with each other. The first one, an Indoprime, was standing at an awkward distance from the other guard, a Sed man. Neither spoke to the other, the Indoprime even slightly leaning away from the Sed, who stared straight ahead and said nothing. Both had plasma pistols on their belts, as well as upper armor over their uniforms. Liz was going to be severely disheartened if they messed up the ‘roadtrip’ she’d been waiting for.

Commander Koatil handed the pad to one of the crewmen and made her way to them at the shuttle.

“All aboard to MX13,” she said, resting her big paw on the pistol on her hip as she climbed in the door. The rest of them, Liz and Coco, the pilot, and the security personnel followed behind her. The door sealed shut behind them.

Liz took her seat, helping to secure Coco in theirs. The buckles weren’t well suited to thumbless species. She’d made sure the belts didn’t dislodge their own pistols from their holsters. Having a rogue plasma shot in here wouldn’t end well.

Buttons were pressed, dials turned, something that looked like a cup holder was pulled out of the dash, and the shuttle came to life.

“Shuttle Alpha, you are clear for departure.”

“Acknowledged,” replied the pilot.

The hangar doors opened, leaving behind the gas mesh, a thin blue wall of light to keep the air in the room from exploding into the void. Their shuttle passed through it easily, heading into open space.

“Haven’t seen this view for a while,” Liz said. Sure, of course there were windows on the ship, but it felt different in a shuttle. Like the void was just a hair’s width away from her now, waiting for her.

“My sensory receptors can’t make out anything but the shuttle,” Coco said, “could you describe it to me?” Coco’s leaves were shaking slightly, so Liz reached out and put a hand on their branch. The shaking calmed.

“Well first it’s just the sheer amount of stars,” Liz said quietly, “like a million points of light. There’s a nebula about 12,000 light years away off the port side that looks like butterfly wings if you squint… if you look at it right. Coco, I can’t express it right, the moon looks beautiful.”

“Human Liz, I’m jealous of you. Seeing in the visible spectrum must been so interesting.”

“Well what does the world around you look like? What do you perceive?”

“Well as you know, my branches have a sensory function to detect my surroundings, vibrations, light, even sensations in a way. But I don’t know how one would compare our two sensory experiences.”

“Your communicator is built into your brain isn’t it?” Liz asked. “Couldn’t it be adjusted to send sensory signals to your mind as well?”

“It’s possible, but the technology isn’t developed yet,” Coco explained. Liz looked at her a moment.

“Think we could fix that? I’d hate for my best friend to miss this view for their whole life.”

Coco didn’t say anything to that. She just listened as Liz described the universe around them.

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

Boosters fired.

Air brakes deployed.

Shuttle Alpha landed safely on the moon MX13.

The landing party filed out, and except for Coco, everyone decided against the worst case scenario and wore respirators. It wasn’t as bulky as Liz first thought, just a face mask with a line to a small air cleaner on her belt. Coco was the only one who didn’t need to breathe, so they were totally fine.

Stepping off the shuttle onto the moon’s surface, Liz was surprised at the vegetation around them. Muddy purple grass bed the ground, surrounded by rocky patches across the valley where they’d landed. Off in the distance were what appeared to be trees, thick branchless trunks growing straight up, splitting into angular canopies. Liz brought her camera up and snapped a photo.

“Alright, spread out but try to stay in sight of the shuttle,” Koatil said over their radios. “I know we’re setting g sensors pretty far out, so if anyone gets into trouble out there, launch a flare and we’ll come get you. Grite! You’re with the science team, go with them.”

The Sed man, Grite, looked almost pained at the idea of tagging along with Liz and the Sprygan.

“Aye, commander.”

“Think you can help us carry the sensors?” Liz asked, hoping to break the ice. She already had 2 bags strapped to her back and another slung over her shoulder. Coco was too small to carry anything.

“You can carry your own supplies,” growled Grite, keeping his distance from them.

What a dick, Liz thought, shouldering another bag on her other arm. The sensors she was carrying were heavy, but she was still in high spirits. Field work! Hurray!

They must’ve walked for over a mile, planting sensors every few hundred feet in ‘places of interest’, namely places Liz and Coco thought looked cool or had neat vegetation or rock formations. They’d made their way into a swampy area, heading towards a line of hills in the distance.

Coco went off a ways to plant a sensor by a small marshy cove they’d detected. Grite followed behind Liz, glaring every time she looked back. She didn’t know what she’d done to annoy him so much, she’d just met the guy, but maybe she’d done something or said something offensive by alien standards.

Whatever, don’t need him for this, Liz thought. This is a brain mission, not a buff rock guy mission.

“Human Liz,” Coco called over the radio, “there’s a rocky area here, with a subterranean tunnel system.”

“Cool, moon caves,” Liz laughed. “I’ll be right there with the another sensor, just wait for me, okay?”

“There are these round stones here half buried in the soil, at the entrance,” they continued.

That made Liz pause a moment.

“Just one or two, or are they in a kind of a pile?”

Static.

“Coco? Talk to me hon, pile or no pile?”

Static still. A few pips and pops, followed by a squeal of feedback noise. Liz’s blood ran cold.

“-uman Liz-… predator-… help-…”

“Grite launch the flare now!” Liz yelled, dropping the bags to the ground before breaking out in a sprint. She stomped and lunged through a few hundred yards of marsh, quick as she could, hitting solid earth at a dead run. The Sed was either behind her or he wasn’t, Liz couldn’t think about that in the moment. She had a pistol herself, and while she may have been the science geek on the ship, her dad had made sure she knew how to use it.

She cleared the marsh and crested a small ridge line, following the trudging trail of the little Sprygan. There she saw the scene, Coco on their side, massive claw marks raked up their trunk, and what looked like a cross between a mountain lion and a gator, long snout and mouth with jagged teeth and a ‘feline’ body, muscled and lithe with a forked tail. The thing’s back was covered in ridged scales, while its limbs were bare, wrapped in fur and old battle scars.

FUCK, Liz thought. She pulled her pistol and shot energized plasma directly at its head, but it barely even burned it. Whatever this thing was made of, its skin was fire proof. Her translator crackled in her ear.

“-human Liz…-?”

Liz didn’t hesitate any further. She leapt from the ridge, landing on the creature’s back. She took the butt of her pistol and started slamming it on the back of the thing’s head, over and over again, before the creature bucked her off.

Liz fell hard, hitting her head and mask on the ground with a sickening crack. Gas started venting fast, there was an inch long crack in her visor now, a whole chuck of it missing, falling somewhere in the dirt. Somewhere above her hair line she must’ve been cut on the rocks, because blood was dripping down into her left eye.

Dimly she was aware that she was already dead, if her mask was broken then there was no way to get back to the shuttle before she suffocated. But that being said, she was going to fuck up this monster trying to eat her best friend before making her grand exit.

What a way to go, huh Liz? she imagined in her father’s voice. He’d be smiling in a situation like this. Liz grabbed the side of her broken mask and ripped it off, throwing it at the creature as it crouched in front of her. She took in a deep breath of ‘air’, filling her lungs, and screamed. Her legs bent into a crouch, her back tensed, she tasted blood in her mouth. Adrenaline poured into her veins, dulling the pain, giving her strength and funneling rage into the center of her brain. She had one job now.

“COME ON THEN YOU FUCKER, LETS FUCKING GO!”

Liz charged the creature, firing bolts of burning plasma as she went, praying that dick Grite was somewhere nearby ready to get Coco out of there while it was busy mauling her to death.

The creature shrugged off the pistol fire, pouncing on her, pinning her to the rocky ground. Stones and the alien’s claws dug into her sides and back. It opened its jaws wide, and Liz realized it meant to eat her head. Fuck this thing.

“You hungry you big bastard?! EAT THIS!”

Liz worked her arm free, the one still holding a death grip on her plasma pistol, and shoved it down the creature’s throat. Its teeth tore into her arm, screaming pain ripped up her side, and Liz never stopped pulling the trigger. The smell of burning filled the air as the creature squealed and whined, its body going limp as bodily fluid poured out its mouth. She didn’t stop, emptying the clip into its blown out organs. Finally the thing was quiet.

Liz didn’t even bother trying to pull her arm out of the alien’s mouth, the thing was ruined, and she was dying anyway. Between blood loss and asphyxiation, her vision was already fading to little pin pricks. With the last shred of consciousness, she let out one more howl, screaming into the air, before everything went dark.

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

Elizabeth Collins didn’t remember what happened after that. All she knew was she was sore all over and weirdly cold, which would make sense if she was just a corpse, but why did she hear… was that ABBA?

Please not an eternity of pop music, she thought sluggishly. Anything but that.

She struggled, oddly weightless, and tried to open her eyes but found they’d been bandaged shut.

Oh good, I’m alive, people hardly ever bandage dead people.

What about mummies?

Shut up, me.

She reached a hand out and touched something smooth and solid. She tried to tap her knuckles against it, but only got one good rap at it before her hand hurt too much. Thankfully it seemed that’s all she needed.

“Human Liz, are you conscious? How do you feel? Are you in discomfort?”

Oh good, Coco was alive too.

“Wait, no, don’t try to speak right now, you’re in the regeneration pod right now, in nano surgery. I’ll be right here when it’s over, return to being unconscious please.”

Oh, okay, sleep sounded good anyway. Night night, Coco.

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

“It’s gonna be twitchy for a few cycles until it adjusts to your neural pathways, but it should feel just like the old one soon.”

One of the other humans, a woman named Jane Shaw who worked in med bay, had sat down with her earlier that morning to go over her… condition.

“We had to replace the lining of your lungs with a prosthetic mesh to keep them working,” she’d said, “you were out in that methane air for a while. If it hadn’t been for your Sprygan friend feeding you oxygen from their branches, you never would’ve made it.”

“I don’t think even they knew they could do that,” Liz had forced a laugh, coughing a bit. “Now, about my arm?”

“Completely scrapped. Whatever stomach acid that creature had, it melted your arm down to the bone. Can’t repair what isn’t there, I’m afraid.”

“I understand. Thanks, Doc.”

Well ain’t that something? Liz was effectively 15, maybe 20, percent cybernetic now. She told herself she’d trick out her new arm with all sorts of cool gadgets, making every effort to distract herself from the fact that she lost her right fucking arm.

“On the plus side,” she said quietly to herself as she walked toward the lab, “got another new project too.”

The door hissed open. And there was Coco, still as a tree, which she guessed made sense. She could barely see the claw marks on their trunk now, but wished she couldn’t at all. She should’ve been faster.

“Human Liz?”

“What’s up hon, you miss me?”

It’d been three days since the landing party had come back with her bleeding out in the shuttle, three days since she’d gotten to relax in their shared lab. She tapped the new glass enclosure where the eggs they’d gathered were incubating, the sign on the side saying ‘these eggs cost an arm and a leg!’ Apparently Chief Ducane had gone down there to gather what equipment could be salvaged and decided they’d be worth something to the science team. Maybe he thought he was being funny, Liz didn’t know. She did chuckle a little. Just a little.

“Human Liz, you are… okay now, yes? The reconstruction…” Coco’s leaves were shaking.

“Come on Coco, you know me, I’m totally fine! See?” Liz held up her new chrome arm, the new metallic fingers twitching at odd angles.

“That’ll stop in a few cycles, Doctor Shaw said so.”

“Human Liz, why did you do that?” Coco stood stock still in the center of the lab.

“Do what hon?”

“Why did you risk your existence[?] [life] to help me? That is not what we do on Spryga.”

Liz blinked a few times.

“Well that sucks, you all just let people get knocked off there?”

“Yes, in order to maintain the bulk of the colony.”

“Well this isn’t Spryga, Coco, and you’re my friend, of course I was gonna come get you, you asked for my help!”

“I should not have!”

Liz sat down and took a breath. This would be weird and awkward for everyone in the room who wasn’t an egg.

“You asked for my help, and I’m sorry, but I give a shit about you, and yeah, it cost me an arm and some lungs, but I was going to save you. So can you relax about it now? I mean damn, you’re my best friend, I wasn’t gonna leave you out there!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Yeah you do. It means exactly what you think it does. That I’m coming to get you, whether you like it or not. We’ve only known each other three weeks on this boat, but you got yourself a very attached human who’ll make sure you live, got it?”

Coco was quiet a moment. Their branches started shaking again.

“I’m very very sorry you lost a branch[?] [limb] because of me,” they said quietly.

“It’s okay hon, I wasn’t mad at you about that. I’m just glad that Grite guy launched the flare so the shuttle could come get us.”

“Grite did not set off any flares,” Coco said, confused. “After you had killed the predator, I fired one into the sky before giving you oxygen from my leaves.”

Oh I’m gonna kill that guy with my new robo arm, Liz thought.

Back burner that for now.

“So yeah, hugs and kisses, make ups all around, love you too Coco,” Liz said, using her flesh hand to brush away the stale air between them. “You wanna help me trick out my arm? I was thinking a laser pointer and a universal remote control, what do you think?”

“I think you should be focused more on rehabilitation. From my research on lifeforms like humans, you require an extensive amount of time to recover from injuries this severe. It’s actually amazing, any other race would’ve been permanently incapacitated in similar situations.”

“Yeah, humans are weird huh? Perks of evolution on a deathworld like Earth.” She tried laughing again, dissolving into a coughing fit. Coco stood watching her. Liz could feel concern mixed with just a hint of judgment.

“Okay, yeah, I got rehab scheduled every other cycle after the shift is over,” Liz admitted.

“Good,” they said, content. “If my… best friend, is not functioning properly, I would be distressed.”

Liz smiled.

“And yes, I would most enjoy retrofitting your new branch[?] [limb]. We could make it… fashionable is the word, yes?”

[devoti]

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 | He forgot what his order was. Him, pro-footballer, a mysterious icon, sex symbol and all around demigod forgot that he wanted a matcha tea with oat milk instead of regular.

Perhaps that order sounded too stupid now that he thinks of it, and Itoshi Sae just stares at your face, wondering what to say next.

"Two matcha teas please, with oat milk instead of regular."

Sae hears his brother chirp from behind him, and a tidal wave of panic took over his lungs. You smiled pleasantly in response to the younger brother's casual smirk and informed the price, to which Sae sees in slow-motion as Rin waves his card in front of the scanner.

"Walk, dude." He felt a small push, and Sae stumbled to the nearest table, ears burning up as if hot iron was pressed against them.

"That ー was so lukewarm," Rin chuckles richly as he takes a seat right opposite him.

A pink, nearly boiled expression colors Sae's face as he blushes furiously, immediately shielding his eyes from his brother's playful tease.

"Shut up, idiot."

Maybe he'd bury himself alive. Or run across a field for five hours, or jump in a pool and swim until he arms could no longer move. Maybe he'd fly across the edge of the world ー anything to take his mind off you, the little grin you flashed him as you served his drinks, along with the number you scrawled with a tiny heart at the back of his warm, white cup.

[theshadowrealmitself]

Still thinking about “everyone thinks Peter is one bad day away au” and one thing I always like headcanoning Peter getting into whenever I try to think of amazing scientific feats he could do, is nutrition stuff

Cause not only is his diet fucked up because of the spider bite, but there’s probably a ton of mutates and mutants (and possibly aliens) everywhere not getting the nutrition they need because there’s no medical field studying that (because of the bias against mutants)

So Peter invents this machine that scans a person to find out exactly what vitamins and stuff they need, and then he has a ton of separate machines for making whatever they need

And back to the au, I’m imagining someone finding a box of abandoned really adorable kittens, and while everyone’s cooing over them and wondering exactly what the kittens need to eat and if they’ve been fed recently, Peter pulls out a terrifying looking ray gun (nutrition scanner) and points it at the defenseless kittens (he’s gonna science them up some milk <3)

[ralfmaximus]

MONTGOMERY, Ala. — A company has installed computerized vending machines to sell ammunition in grocery stores in Alabama, Oklahoma and Texas, allowing patrons to pick up bullets along with a gallon of milk.

But don't worry! You gotta show the machine your ID & face in order to complete a transaction.

What could possibly go wrong?

[mlm-writer]

Chocolate Milk (GN!Reader)

Pairing: Spock (AOS) x Gender Neutral Ensign Reader (platonic) Rating: General Audience Words: 1320 POV: Second Summary: Your childhood trauma left you near-emotionless. While most find it unsettling, there are some crew members appreciating you just the way you are. Note: Trauma not described, reader's physical traits also not described. I want to say ft. my OC, but he is deadass more present than Spock in this so ft. Spock I guess. Tags: mentioned trauma, platonic/professional appreciation, Ensign Michael Gabe the empath, alcohol mentions but no consumption, red alert and Kirk & Bones have a cameo

One moment the white hallways were too bright for the early hour and the next they were bathed in crimson. ‘Red Alert again?’ You wondered as you broke into a sprint. Red Alert happened at least once a month with captain Kirk looking for trouble left and right, but as far as times of crisis went, you had experienced far more distressing situations in your youth. At least, they felt more distressing as a child still figuring out who you are and why you were put into a world that was described as a utopia and yet so so full of suffering. 

You arrived at your station not a moment too soon. You were gasping for air, just like your colleagues at the stations adjacent to you. Michael’s fingers trembled with every jolt of the ship. “Ensign Gabe, we need a read on their defences. Any weak spot would be appreciated,” the captain urged the man next to you. His blond hair started sticking to his forehead as he calibrated the scanners to adjust for the shields. You focused on your own task, but from the corners of your vision, you could see Michael making mistakes that were uncharacteristic to his intelligence.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Michael, deep breaths. You got this.” You spoke softly to him, trying to make sure he was the only one hearing your reassurance. You felt him inhale deeply, holding the air for a few seconds and then releasing it evenly. You were aware the empath could feel everyone's distress. With the physical contact you hoped your calmness stood out in the ocean of unease. The blond muttered a brief expression of gratitude. You occasionally touched his shoulder again, trying to focus his gifts on you so he could stay level-headed. Sure, you could die today, but you knew your task like the back of your hand and you knew Michael did as well, in spite of his nerves giving the wrong idea and his abilities nearly crippling him. 

Things looked dire for a second, but hardly an hour later, you were at warp 4 en route to a space station for repairs. You stayed at your station monitoring repairs to the systems, while Michael left to get a ‘stiff drink’ as he called it. He could probably use it. You noticed how even lieutenant Chua seemed tense as he checked upon the injured on the bridge, calling over the CMO when he thought they might need a trip to sick bay. You watched how he carried the yeoman with a possible broken leg out to the turbolifts. “Ensign?” You realised you had been daydreaming a little. You whipped your head around, worried the SIC was about to scold you. 

“Yes, commander?” Spock was the ever-intimidating presence on the bridge. Very little scared you, but the idea of disappointing your superiors and commander Spock particularly “All repairs are going as expected. We will make it to Sindku station in three hours at our current velocity.” You added your status report after a short pause, hoping that was what commander Spock wanted to hear. 

He did not seem pleased with the answer. Some people would argue there was not a single expression to read on that half-Vulcan face, but you would disagree. You knew the subtle changes too well, have seen them in the mirror plenty of times to recognise them on another. You watched his thought progress, then breathed out a small sigh of relief when Spock seemed to have calculated his next words. “I am aware you have been called to duty during your leisure time. I will assign an on-duty officer to relieve you shortly.” You gave him a curt nod of comprehension. He then left. 

And just as foretold, on-duty officers arrived to relieve the bridge staff that had their leisure time interrupted by the red alert. You decided to check on Michael. He was in the lounge, as expected. You had expected him to be drinking alcohol, but spotted him with a big glass of chocolate milk. “Is that your stiff drink?” You greeted him with those words when you stood next to him. 

Michael looked up at you, a friendly smile plastered on his face. “What can I say? I prefer calories over alcohol.” He raised his half-empty glass as if he was toasting. “By the way, thanks for getting me through that red alert today. I…” he let out a breathy chuckle, “I really don’t get how you can always keep your cool, but I’m really glad to have someone like you around when all I am feeling from everyone else is the looming dread of death.” You gave him a nod and patted him on the back. 

What you wanted to say was ‘you’re welcome, it’s the trauma’, but those jokes have not been funny since the early 21st century, so you opted for a more modern response. “We all have our virtues.” Michael raised his glass again, as if saying ‘I’ll drink to that’. You decided to join him with a chocolate milk of your own. Michael always knew how to get the small talk going. He started off with the latest gossip, then asked your opinion on a personal or a ship matter and after some time, you always ended up talking mathematics. You seemed like total opposites at the bar, one person emoting like a cartoon character, the other virtually a statue. If Michael was not an empath, he would probably assume you never felt a thing in your life, just like everyone else.

The doors behind you slid open and you noticed the surprise on Michael’s face. He tried to hide it, but was doing a piss poor job at it. You turned to see what got him worked up, only to see commander Spock waltz in. The man was only here when he wished to speak to someone privately and he was heading straight for your chocolate milk hang out. Michael whispered he was worried Spock noticed his small panic today, but then you were the one requested to follow him to a less populated corner of the lounge. 

You had no idea what you did, but you left your chocolate milk at the bar and joined Spock near the windows. “I meant to say this on the bridge, but it seemed inappropriate with the company present,” Spock started. You hummed, eyes locked together like you were having a stare-down. “I would like to commemorate you for your attitude during crisis response, both on the bridge as we have seen today and in the field as we have seen last week on Unico IV. I will put in a request to have you promoted to lieutenant junior grade. Should you remain equally level headed with more responsibilities thrust upon you, I believe you will, in time, make an excellent captain.” 

You were quiet for a moment, trying to take in the unexpected compliments. “Thank you, sir.” It was all you could really say. Spock responded with a polite nod and then made his leave. You blinked as you stood there momentarily. When you were ready, you returned to Michael at the bar. He was chatting up one of the red shirts again, the ever sucker for muscular men. When he saw you though, he slipped off his seat, taking the two glasses with him. 

“What did he say?” Michael asked as soon as he was in front of you, handing you your leftover chocolate milk. You paraphrased Spock’s words, leaving Michael gasping and squealing. “That is so amazing! Slay mama!” He somehow managed to make air come out of your nose at a high velocity. You tapped your glasses together. He seemed happier than you, but you let him celebrate for you. Captain? You? You could hardly imagine it right now. Meanwhile Michael was already planning on being your SIC. 

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

[imarkt001]

Home CCTV Installation Near Me - i-markt

Home CCTV installation near me by i-markt" offers a professional and reliable solution for securing your home with the latest surveillance technology. By choosing i-markt for CCTV installation, clients benefit from local expertise, fast response times, and a professional setup that enhances both the security and peace of mind in their home.

[alita-blue]

Some more thoughts on Pony Express. There's a gun for the captain to use in case of mutiny. The dialogue made me think that the addition of the code scanner is a recent-ish addition to the freighters, and the crew has to constantly ask the captain for codes like a manager at a supermarket, which likely causes malcontent fast given that their deliveries take months to complete. A mutiny is very likely to happen on any of these ships. It made me think of how some excecs and investors will intentionally push a company into a death spiral once they can't milk ever rising profits, and Pony Express is mentioned to be one of the last manned couriers. It was likely intentionally made to fail to be replaced with AI and automation. The Tulpar crew was failed even before Jimmy joined them.

Another thought. In some other post someone said a solution to Jimmy was to put in in a cryo-pod for the remainder of the journey but how feasable is that plan? It requires Anya and Curly getting Swansea and Daisuke alone to explain how Jimmy assaulted Anya (and having the victim explain herself to others is already a big ask), have them believe Anya, and the necessity of pulling out the gun to drag Jimmy into the cryo-pod. And then live the next several months with one essential worker less.

[caffieneaddictt18]

Mate

werewolf x reader who works at Walmart - just meeting. Kind of random but i get bored at work sooo....

"Yo, yo, yo, what's poppin?" I ask as I approach a couple with a baby, probably in their late 20s. My hand is already blindly grabbing for my name badge.

"Hi!" The woman says smiling, "The machine just stopped and said something about a scale. I'm just trying to weigh my zucchini."

The man next to her nods as he plays with the baby, as to back her up. I don't necessarily care.

My shins are starting to hurt... I thought the new ortho shoes would help...

My hands go through the practiced motion of taking whatever was on the scale off, pressing the button for zucchini, and then weighing it. Aka, the only way to weigh your produce that doesn't throw the machine into a hissy-fit.

"Easy-peasy," I slap on my customer service voice like the passed on Queen of England decided to step into Wal-Mart, "Just make sure to press the button beforehand, and then weigh the produce. And it's so funky." I try to make it relatable for the woman, "Some produce needs to be weighed and others need to be counted. It gets confusing." I smile and see her smiling in relief, thankful that someone understands her.

Someone does but it aint me. This is my whole ass job.

I smile and say the unforgettable 'Have a great day!' before leaving and having to walk around the self-check.

New big boss gonna fire me if I stop walking... fucking bullshit. I see a toy that was placed on a chip shelf and mess with it as I go to put it away.

"Hey! Hey! Girl!" Someone snaps their fingers at me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, smiling a smile that would put Alastor to shame.

"Hello! What seems to be the problem today?" My customer service voice is getting strained as I see it's just an old man wanting to buy alcohol.

"The machine will need you to check my age when I buy this alcohol." He gestures to the cart that has it's undercarriage filled with Modelo.

I look at his order on his screen and scroll through it. "Well, sir, it looks like you haven't scanned it yet, so I can't give you the go ahead; But once you do, I can definitely give you the go ahead to buy it." I throw it back in his face, trying to make him feel as stupid as possible. He scoffs and takes the hand scanner off the terminal and it starts beeping loudly at him.

"Stop yelling at me!" He shouts, frustrated that it won't stop beeping and won't scan his beer.

"Well, sir, it is a machine, so it can't yell at you. It doesn't have a mouth. It's just beeping because the batteries are going out, but you can definitely wait until the hand scanner flashes green, and then it should work." I patiently wait for him to put it back on the terminal. And once it flashes green, he scans the beer.

The first notification, asking if the customer looks younger than 40, pops up. I look back at the man and size him up and down before pressing 'No'.

"Have a great day, sir!" I bounce away and continue walking around. I see a group of men who are all standing around quietly, just simply waiting. Their light is flashing red and they are being silent. It's definitely a nice change.

I walk over. "Hey there. Sorry to bother you, but I gotta fix this. Sorry." I look at the screen... and it's a mis-scan. My boss is gonna hate me...

"Sorry about the wait, guys! It's been a busy day." I think back to when someone dropped a whole gallon of whole milk and it leaked into the aisle next to it. We had to use two whole things of spill clean-up... my anxiety has been high ever since. Could also just be the 5 Hour Energy and Redbull I chugged, but meh.

"No problem. I could tell." The obvious leader of their band of friends talks, as if talking for the whole group. One of the guys has a faint blush on his face and the others are laughing, talking about their plans.

I watch the little video the camera produced and determine that it was just an old bag crossing over the scanner without being scanned... cuz it is an old bag.

"Oops. Looks like it's just the bag. The machine must've just gotten confused. Sorry about that." I smile and wave before giving them the go-ahead to keep scanning.

"No worries. Thank you."

"Anytime."

I think back to the one guy who was blushing and leaning on the cart's handle. He's kinda cute... and hot. What the fuck.

Meh whatever. Just focus on work- I did it, I did, I jumped-

"Hey! Girl! I need you to ring up my groceries for me!" I silently sigh and walk over.

"Of course, sir!"

Another day in the life of a person at Wal-Mart.

__________________________________________

Author's Cup of Tea:

Im ngl, i thought about this while I was changing prices in the cigarette cases. It took 4 hours to do all of the price changes😭

[sehtoast]

Like Real People Do (Depowered Homelander x OC)

spidersona oc, depowered homie, silly sweet domestics, bittersweet almost, i love him | Fic Directory

prompt 3 : grocery shopping

@cozycornerevents

The simplicity of human life has been one of the greater hurdles for Homelander.  If not for Benjamin, he doubts he’d do more than stand like a fool, list in hand, hoping for some Vought assistant to show up and do the insurmountably mundane task for him.  But… those days are gone.

It’s taken him a long time to get to this point.  Going out in public after losing his powers seemed a feat greater than flying ever was.  It was petrifying to imagine someone recognizing him as he was now, all scruffy and dark-haired, so pitifully human with his eyeglasses.  He’s never quite sure if it’s a compliment or insult when Benjamin tells him no one will notice.

He settles for it being neither.  This is him now– Homelander is simply who he used to be despite how he still clings to his old identity.  He’s just John now.

Just John.

John, who walks hand in hand with his secretly-super boyfriend through the aisles of the supermarket, doing his best to spot the items they need.

New toothbrush.  Mouthwash– not that weird stuff we got last time.

John, who was learning bit by bit, day by day, what it means to have that normal life he’d always dreamt of.  Picket fence or not, this was it.

Pasta noodles.  Chicken breasts.  Lettuce.  Hot sauce.

The mundane.  The ordinary.  A far shot from the way he’d been raised.  

Mini Spidey-O’s Cereal.  Paper Towels.

Something that little boy in the lab could’ve never imagined. 

Coffee creamer.  Milk.

Something the man he was a mere two years prior could’ve never fathomed.

Chocolate ice cream. Frozen blueberries.

Things the man he is today will never take for granted.

Flowers, because you deserve them, pumpkin ♥

“What?” Ben asks with a playful smile.

And someone who makes each little moment worth more than all the power in the world.

“Nothing,” Homelander mumbles, his cheeks burning a light pink.  Still so odd how something as simple as goddamn grocery store flowers can make him turn red– make him feel appreciated.  Not that simple twenty dollar bouquets were the extent of Benjamin’s gifting to him– certainly not, it was just…

So goddamn simple.

“D’you have your rewards card, sweetie?” The cashier asks him.  An older woman by the name of May who he’d come to appreciate during these trips.  Thursdays were their grocery day specifically so they could chat with her.  She doted on them.  Dubbed the boys ‘her favorites.’

John’s awkward stacking on the conveyor belt ceases and he fumbles for his wallet.  She scans it despite the little nervous shakes in his hands that he won’t quite be able to quell until they’re back in the safety of their home.  May gives him a sweet smile and starts scanning, passing each item down to Benjamin for bagging.

He has to ignore the tabloids and magazines adorning the checkout lane. 

Homelander Vanished. 

Abandoned by Our Hero. 

Years since his ‘retirement,’ yet his old image stares him down wherever he goes. He keeps his focus on May and Ben to spare himself the burn of agony and shame. When his eyes try to wander back, he makes himself stare at a magazine with Ben's mask printed on the front. 

Along Came a Spider. 

How a Bug Brought Balance. 

She strikes up her regular small talk.  The weather, the bustle of the city– and damn that traffic, she always says.  Ben giggles back and forth with her, and Homelander pitches in from time to time.  She talks about her grandchildren for a while– Shaun and Emily, the absolute loves of her life, the stars in her sky– then grins widely as she scans the bouquet. 

“Boys, forgive an old woman for being nosy, but when is the wedding?”  

Both him and Benjamin smile wide and turn a shade or two red.

“Maybe someday,”  they both tell her in unison.

“Good,” she says over the beep of the scanner.  “I want a front row seat, y’all hear me?”

They grin and giggle the whole way home about it, hands joined over the center console of the car.  

Marriage… 

“Well, y’know… Vought did put my last name on your papers.” Ben hums. He never told Homelander the ugly reason why it was done, but John didn’t need to know that.  His elation at the liberation of finally legally existing was all that mattered.  “In a way, aren’t we kinda already sorta married?”

Homelander blinks a few times in rapid succession as the thought nests and roots in his mind.  Are they? 

“I swear, May gives us some weird realization every time we go.” The bug grins.  “Here I thought she couldn’t beat that whole ‘it’s impossible to kiss yourself anywhere but on the lips in the mirror’ bit, but she outdid herself today, huh?”

John squeezes Ben’s hand tighter almost out of instinct.  Despite the cool air blowing from the air vent, he couldn’t fight the sting of tears in his eyes. 

Married… 

“Hey, you okay?”  Ben murmurs as they approach an all too convenient red light.

Is he?  Hell, will he ever be?

He just nods.  It’s not abnormal for him to have his silent little mood shifts.  He’s sure Ben will understand. 

Besides, that was too big of a question.  In truth, he’s mystified by the idea.  Once upon a time, he dreamt of putting a ring on Ben’s finger.  He knew, though, that Vought would never let them be public.  They could never in a million years dream of it without a trillion pounds of consequences being dropped on their heads.  Public backlash, too, given the general views of his former fanbase.  But that never stopped him from imagining another world.   He’d have walked Ben out on stage in front of the masses, dropped to one knee, and popped the question then and there– and damn it he might cry in the moment, but would that be a bad thing?  To hear his little spider agree to spend eternity with him, to slip that little band on his finger and feel his heart bloom in his chest– would it be wrong to feel it in his very soul?

Homelander sniffles himself from his stupor when he feels the soft thud of the car pulling into the driveway.  

Home.

Where he’s safe and loved, always and forever, with that dork who insisted upon carrying every bag in all at once by himself.  The same one who wasted no time at all in pressing a warm kiss to his lips and gazing at him with a cosmos worth of love in his eyes.

Homelander shuts his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against Ben’s.  There’s groceries to put away and dinner to be made, but for now it doesn’t hurt to bask in the presence of the love of his life.  If he lets his mind wander far enough, right now, right then, they’re swaying gently to their first dance as an officially married couple.  They’ll have just tied the knot, and everyone that matters will be there.  He feels Ben’s arms snake up around his neck and he wraps his own around the bug’s waist.

Times like these make him miss his powers more than anything.  Once upon a time, they’d do exactly this above the clouds, spinning slowly in place.  The world was theirs.

Perhaps, though, it still is.  

Perhaps they’d never lost it at all.

link insertion busted, ao3 link here

[fivecharactersinsearchofanexit]

what are your favorite horror movies/movies that you'd rec?

Yayyyyy okay this is a preddy long list all off the top of my head so I might reblog later with more lol. Some of these aren't exactly horror but everything on here is at least a thriller which for my money counts

Screenlife, faux broadcast, & found footage

Host (There's a couple pictures with this title, look for the COVID era film it's about an hour long. I believe it's on Shudder)

The Collingswood Story

The Blair Witch Project

The Last Broadcast

Creep & its sequel

Milk & Serial (recent microbudget horror, full film is on youtube)

This House Has People In It (technically not a Movie but look for the full version on youtube and you can watch it like one)

Lake Mungo (!)

Ghostwatch

The Bay

Give Me Pity!

We're All Going to the World's Fair

Sorry everything else is gonna be by decade instead of genre 😔

50s/60s

Look up anything produced by Roger Corman

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

Seconds

Village of the Damned

Rosemary's Baby although I really prefer the novel and recommend that with a little more enthusiasm

Night of the Hunter

The Bad Seed

Really anything with Vincent Price is going to be a good time

Persona

70s

Obviously Night of the Living Dead is a classic for a reason but Dawn of the Dead is one of my favorite movies of all time. Watch this movie.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

The Brood

Don't Look Now

Carrie

Alien

PLEASE double feature Let's Scare Jessica to Death and Robert Altman's Images

Deliverance

Jaws

Eraserhead

80s

Sole Survivor

Pick a Cronenberg. Any Cronenberg. My favorites are Scanners, the Dead Zone (good option if you're not into body horror), and Dead Ringers!

Poltergeist

The Changeling

Possession (!)

The Vanishing/Spoorloos (!!!!!!!)

Please double feature Blue Velvet and River's Edge in any order for an upsetting night in with Dennis Hopper

Reanimator

The Child's Play franchise gets worse with every installment but is always really, really fun

The Shining

The Thing

Blow Out

The Seventh Continent

90s

Benny's Video

Funny Games

IT (the miniseries)

Misery

Candyman

Jacob's Ladder

In the Mouth of Madness

Wes Craven's New Nightmare (great even if you don't like Nightmare on Elm Street)

Lost Highway

The Silence of the Lambs

Night Breed

Cure

Ring (original Japanese version)

The Sixth Sense

Se7en

Fire in the Sky

Stir of Echoes

2000s

Mulholland Drive

Inland Empire

A Tale of Two Sisters (remade in America as the Uninvited, also pretty good!)

Pulse

May

Ginger Snaps

The Descent

Signs

Dead End

The War of the Worlds

The Others

One Hour Photo

2010s

Get Out

Us

Midsommar

The Witch

The Lighthouse

Suspiria

Mandy

Beyond the Black Rainbow

Climax

The Wailing

Possum

Luz

2020s

Trap

Possessor

Nope

M3GAN

Malignant

Barbarian

The Night House

The Beast

Talk to Me

Watcher

The First Omen

I Saw the TV Glow

I'm Thinking of Ending Things

Cuckoo

Crimes of the Future

Nightmare Alley (the original is also very good!)

[lets-try-some-writing]

I know that you're super busy with class stuff, but (no rush) do you have anything else in that Ratchet snippet where he was stuck in a pocket dimension for many vorns being punished by Primus?

Its not a lot because Ratchet decided to go get milk for a few weeks, but here is what I have managed to write for this fic. I believe I may get a burst of inspiration and finish it soon.

Previous snippet here.

Time Locked: Snippet #2

When Ratchet woke, he was practically shaking. He paced around his garden frantically, his optics on the only real entrance to his prison. He marched around the borders of his garden, checking his crystals and tending to shoots that had grown out of place. He even dug up fresh earth for some of the new sprouts. Anything to keep his servos moving.

Then, by some miracle, Orion Pax returned to the garden just as the nearest star fully began its rise.

“Pax! It’s good to see you!” Ratchet’s servos shook, and despite the fact that he was covered in dirt from his anxiety driven gardening, he hurried forward to greet the archivist. Orion regarded him with a curious helm tilt before nodding. Only then did Ratchet notice that the Archivist had brought something with him.

“Likewise. I assume you have more questions, so I took the liberty of bringing a few items with me.” Orion stepped into the center of the clearing and unfolded a small table, the kind one would use to serve only one or two individuals. He clicked everything into place, locking the table into formation before putting down a box on top of it. Ratchet raised an optical ridge, but he was too excited to question further as he rested on his knees across the table from Orion.

“Based on your previous queries, I have come up with some explanations for you as well as these items of interest.” Orion placed down a datapad beside the box. That alone left Ratchet gawking. The thing was so thin and transportable. The datapads Ratchet used when he was free of his prison were bulky unwieldy things meant to be stored in huge archives just to ensure nothing was lost or broken.

“Here, take this. It is a collection of major historical events and changes across Cybertron.” Orion slid over the datapad and Ratchet was almost too afraid to touch it. Even when he was the CMO, he was forbidden to put a digit on the records the archives kept. He had to have an archivist grant him a copy or access to the documentation. To just be handed such valuable data-

He paused as he held the datapad. Orion didn’t know about Ratchet’s curse. The datapad would be all but useless when left exposed to the elements. Ratchet sighed as he enjoyed the clean and sleek look of the device. Modern technology… If this was a common item, how much had changed?

“I have also brought a selection of other devices to sate your curiosity.” Orion smiled in a cunning manner that had Ratchet instinctively clutching his new datapad against himself. However, the Archivist merely slid the box over, prompting Ratchet to glare at it in suspicion. 

“Open it doctor. I promise you that no harm shall come to you.” Ratchet hesitated before he carefully put the datapad back down and reached for the box. He searched for the series of hooks he was used to when it came to packaging, but his search was short lived as the box opened with a series of clicks. The lid came undone, and within was some sort of scanner and what looked to be a communicator. 

Looking up at Orion, the Archivist maintained his smile as he pulled the items out and laid them on the table.

“This is an identifier. I thought you might appreciate having the ability to know more about the flora which you cultivate.” Ratchet gawked at the device and its many glowing buttons. He never had anything nearly as high tech as this during his time as CMO. And it was a mere gardening tool? By the Allspark, he had missed a lot.

“And this is a communicator that you may use to contact me from now on if you so desire.” Orion held up the communicator as Ratchet placed the scanner with his new datapad. Ratchet glared at the device, feeling the mark on his spark flare in disagreement. He was not permitted outside communication, that much was clear.

“I can’t use that thing. It is forbidden.” Ratchet’s voice came out low as he leaned back, instinctually driven away from the thing before him. Orion’s helm tilted in curiosity, or perhaps confusion. Then, before Ratchet could react, Pax pressed the device into his servos.

“FRAG!” Ratchet screamed as he threw the communicator, watching as it fritzed and then exploded mere moments after he came into contact with it. He whipped around to glare at his companion, anger running hot in his processors.

“I TOLD you that it is forbidden! I can’t use those things!” He all but snarled. Orion for his part merely hummed and closed the box with a thoughtful expression.

“I see. I believe I may have begun to understand this situation.” Then without missing a beat, Orion turned on the datapad and passed it to Ratchet. The smile returned and Pax laid out his own datapad in turn.

“Since I am here, shall we discuss more of Cybertron’s history?” This mech was strange. Very strange. What mech found a random doctor in a garden in the middle of nowhere who acted as out of touch as Ratchet was and then decided to return for a second visit? Why was Orion so accommodating? Why was he here at all? Ratchet of course had no interest in complaining, but he could see an ulterior motive from a mile away. Pax wanted something, and Ratchet was unsure he could give whatever Orion was looking for.

Ratchet held his datapad and nodded distantly as Orion directed him toward a certain set of files. Ratchet obeyed and listened closely as Orion began to describe everything following the Quintessons wars. He nodded along in the beginning, having already learned a good portion of what was being told to him. He noted a few differences, small details and events that the Council had evidently seen fit to censor. In those instances he spoke up and Orion hastily made notes before continuing. But past a certain point, all Ratchet could do was listen with wide optics and look at the various pictures Orion showed him.

So much time had passed, so much had changed. And everything would continue to move on without him-

So long as he was trapped in his prison. 

“After the failure of Project Regen, the High Council diverted their efforts and implemented more restrictions on the castes. Too much freedom resulted in the death of the CMO of the time, a Prime, and quite a few well known scientists.” Ratchet’s optics widened as he listened closely. Everything up until this point had been largely information that he had been distantly aware of during his functioning but had paid little attention to. This was new.

“Castes were made more regimented, but also not quite as obvious. Social procedures took the place of numerical designators to denote castes and function. Medical knowledge also increased by leaps and bounds after the disaster of Project Regen.” Pax spoke with a smooth voice that hinted at vorns of performing this very function for others. Ratchet wasn’t startled much by the supposed leap in medical understanding. That was to be expected. When he was CMO he was already quite well aware of the new studies being conducted.

No, what caught his attention was the change from numerical designation to social procedures regarding caste.

“Once you have finished catching me up on our history, I would like to learn about the castes and the new medical system.” Ratchet made his request as he looked over the pictures of shining cities he hardly recognized. The history was all well and good, but it was the change in culture that mattered to him more. One had to know history to be familiar with culture, and by becoming familiar with culture, he could finally figure out just how out of touch he was.

Once he was the finest doctor on Cybertron. Once, he had sat upon one of the highest pedestals capable of being reached by a mech of his station. Did his knowledge and skill mean anything anymore?

“Of course, although I do believe we will not have enough time this cycle to complete this discussion of history.” Orion looked up, and it was only then that Ratchet noticed the nearest star beginning to set. He scrambled to his pedes, taking his scanner and datapad and hurrying toward the techtite tree in the center of his garden. It wasn’t much, but it would at least partially guard his new gifts from the weather. 

“What are you doing?” Pax questioned as Ratchet slid his gains into a small gap in the trunk of the tree. 

“Keeping these things safe. I can’t take them with me, and I don’t want them destroyed.” Orion made a curious sound and Ratchet shook his dirtied servos covered in grime. He felt the beginnings of exhaustion starting to weigh on his frame as he turned and tried to smile.

“Thank you for coming to my garden again. It has… it has been a very long time since I have seen anyone at all.” Again, Pax looked at him curiously with those cycling optics of his. Ratchet momentarily feared he had scared his newfound conversational partner away, but that fear eased as Orion nodded. That seemed to be his preferred reaction to just about anything.

“Please, come back to my garden on this cycle next vorn. I would like to know more.” Ratchet did not bow, he refused to sink that low. But he did try to make his genuine desire for further interactions clear with his tone. He had to keep this acquaintanceship. He had to. He wasn’t sure he could remain sane after being given a small taste of normal interactions again.

“You are quite fortunate that I am an archivist. My function is to teach and to preserve knowledge. Based on our interactions, it seems aiding you fulfills both those criterias.” Pax turned away, leaving the table he brought with him and only taking his belongings. Ratchet watched on quizzically but did not comment as the Archivist left his garden. 

Settling down against the trunk of his tree, Ratchet vented deeply. He did not think it was fair, but the fate he endured was a little less tormenting now that he had someone to talk to.

His digits brushed over the datapad in its hiding place as the light faded. His optics cycled slowly and his frame relaxed as weariness settled in. For once, it was a peaceful restfulness that overcame him. If Pax returned once, there was a good chance he would return again.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Sweet Pea - Steve Rogers x Reader

Sweet Pea (Lathyrus odoratus) - Meaning: Thank you for a lovely time, farewell

Summary: While on the run, Steve comes to reader for comfort. What starts as a series of one night stands turns into so much more.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 955

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Steve leaving notes and being sweet, domestic fluff, dirty notes and drawings, the Blip, angst, Steve freaking out

Day 14 brings us some fluffy angst with our favorite Nomad!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, comments, and reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You kept the notes squirreled away in a small box in the back of your sock drawer. Steve always left one, using whatever scrap of paper was nearby. After the first few notes you’d taken to keeping post-its and a pen on your nightstand, which he used from then on to leave you his sweet farewells. 

The first few notes were stiff, formal, things like ‘Thank you for a lovely time, Sincerely Yours, Steve’ or ‘I truly appreciate you, Best, Steve’ like he was thanking you for picking up his dry cleaning rather than letting him fuck you into next week. 

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d only come by your safe house after dark and would leave almost right after you passed out. The more times he visited, the more comfortable he got and the longer he would linger. Sometimes you’d wake up in the wee hours with him spooning you, snoring adorably, but he’d always be gone by morning, a note left for you stuck to your coffee maker, a full pot already made. 

He was sweet like that. 

‘Thanks for last night. You’re incredible. <3 Steve’

‘I’ll miss you, but I won’t be gone long. <3 Steve’

‘See you soon, beautiful. <3 Steve’ 

The little doodled heart next to his name made your heart stutter. 

His visits became more frequent, from once every few months to once a month to every other week or so. More often than not, you woke up next to him. The first time that happened you’d shaken him awake, afraid he was late to something or needed to go. He’d smiled his classically handsome smile and simply folded you back into his arms. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a while yet.” 

A while yet turned out to be two full days with Steve. At first, you weren’t sure about his presence in your house, thinking he’d be bored out of his mind, but he found some home projects you’d been neglecting and did as much as he could in the time he had. The domesticity of it all was a new kind of intimacy that neither of you were familiar with, so there were some awkward moments trying to figure out each other's routines and particularities. But once that initial adjustment period was over, everything felt…natural.

You feared this would be the end of his sweet little notes, but instead of the end the notes started popping up everywhere. Sometimes it was a flirtatious note, sometimes a quick drawing of something silly or pornographic or a reference to something he now understood thanks to your pop culture tutelage. 

‘I love your tits in that top ;)’

‘Meet me upstairs when you’re done in the garden’

‘I definitely didn't use the last of the milk, it was a ghost. Who ya gonna call?’ 

The drawing he did of you pegging a suspiciously Steve-shaped Deadpool was probably your favorite. That one got taped to the fridge. 

While he was on the run, you were more than happy to provide him a safe place. His touchstone when he needed a reminder that he was still a human being. A place where he could fully shed the fugitive mantle and act like a normal person. 

He gets the call from Nat while he’s rehanging drywall in your upstairs bathroom. They needed him to get to Edinburgh, some weird readings were coming through whatever scanners she had. You were at the grocery store, so he grabbed the post-its from his side of the bed and wrote a note. 

‘Got a call from Nat, gotta go save the world again <3 Love you, Steve’

He stuck it where he’d be sure you’d find it, on the fridge, next to the naughty drawing that you loved, and made sure to lock the door when he left. 

A few days later, the truck he’d commandeered screeched to a halt in your driveway. His heart pounded in his chest as he thudded up the porch steps and threw his shoulder into your front door, busting it open — he’d fix it later, he had to know. 

He called your name and ran from room to room, searching for you desperately. Half the world was gone, and he couldn’t waste another second without knowing if you were one of them. 

He’d already lost Bucky. He couldn’t lose you too. 

Up in your bedroom he found his answer. On the bed, spread all over his side of it, were all the notes he’d written you. On your side, nothing but a hint of dust. His legs went numb, but they managed to bring him to the end of the bed before he collapsed, gripping the duvet and some of his wayward notes. 

Steve couldn’t hold back anymore, so he let the tears fall pitifully — first Bucky, then Wanda, Sam, T’Challa, so, so many others. And now, you were gone too. The one person who could have possibly helped him hold together what was left, had already done that once before after his schism with Stark. He’d come to you shattered and slowly, carefully, you’d glued him back together. 

“Steve?” your quiet voice asked. At first, he didn’t move, convinced he was hearing things until he felt your small hand on his shoulder. 

He turned, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer before he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his wet face in your stomach. More tears fell, but these were from relief. 

“You’re alive,” he chanted, voice muffled by your tummy. You shushed him gently, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m here, Steve,” you promised, “I’ll always be here.”