#Proper Airflow

[arrowheadsuperiorrefrigeration]

In the bustling world of commercial establishments, the efficient operation of beverage systems is paramount. Whether it’s a restaurant, bar, or café, a malfunctioning beverage system can lead to downtime, dissatisfied customers, and potential revenue loss. To ensure the seamless functioning of these systems, understanding common issues and employing quick troubleshooting methods is essential. This article serves as a comprehensive guide to troubleshooting beverage systems.

[sadgrrly02]

this weekends gonna be so cool

[tetranymous]

Really annoyed that PC's aren't really made with optical disc drives anymore, support of old games and DVDs aside, what am I gonna do the next time I don't have a free flash drive?? I used to use a CD-RW as a makeshift USB when in a pinch and knew that every pc could read it even if it was a tad strange.

[soup-mother]

my computer fan is going really fast, this is surely because she (the computer) is in love with me and not because she was sitting on my doona without proper airflow. never stop making moves girls! your laptop IS a girl who can love you back.

[subjectivemortality]

Pros:

- better airflow if there's a window

- rafters are esthetically great

- easier to secure an attic access panel than a basement door IMO

Cons:

- inadequate soundproofing

- more avenues of escape (roof access, windows, etc)

- not as good for cleanup (hosing down the floor will just leak biohazard onto your top floor and who wants that)

torture basement may be one of the features people here have most often in common actually I think

[queer-coffee]

simple words | pt. 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Read on Ao3

Sanji sparks a light, just as the rising sun sends a beam of light through his tiny kitchen porthole.

Really, he wants to ask Franky if he can do something about that. Sanji’s favorite part of the day, and he can’t properly enjoy it through just a tiny porthole what with croissants that need an egg wash before the dough gets too warm, and bacon cooking alongside a maple glaze that will burn the sugar if it gets too hot, and weighing out the proper mix of five different tea leaves that he knows makes Zoro smile into his cup when he thinks no one is looking, and all the other things that must be done in a precise order, perfectly timed, so that breakfast is ready, but with a welcoming sort of ease fit for first thing in the morning, as his crewmates start to stumble in after a late night to enjoy it.

Not to mention, he needs more airflow in here. Sanji pauses as the sunray reflects off the ceramic of his stovetop to open the porthole. He exhales in its direction and ashes his cigarette after, so nothing disrupts the flavor of this meal.

But Franky worked so hard on this ship, and Sanji knows how much thought was put into every other aspect of his kitchen, his wine cellar, his aquarium with the freshest and most delicious fish he can find, that he can’t bring himself to critique something so trivial.

A crisp gust of wind blows the smoke back in his face, and into his kitchen.

Sanji sighs.

It’s so trivial.

But he can’t get it out of his head, what that stupid moss brain said to him last night.

And he knows it wasn’t personal, or intentional, or even really meant as an insult at all.

In fact, it was one of those rare moments that Sanji loves, when they catch each other in just the right mood, both just drunk enough, both alone.

Their crewmates were all laughing and yelling and drinking in the room over, oblivious to what was happening to Sanji just a stone’s throw away.

Sanji was returning with a few favorite picks from the wine cellar. A red blend for Robin, a sweet orange for Nami, whole milk for Luffy he grabbed from the kitchen, and whatever table wine for the rest, except for a small bottle of the finest sake he could get his hands on at that last island.

And the Sunny hit a swell. And Sanji, normally used to these unexpected changes in his center of gravity from being on a ship his whole stinking life, was too distracted polishing a smudge off the sake bottle to react in time, and lost his balance.

Sanji was ready to go down, unable to break his fall with his arms so full of precious cargo. He held on tight and braced for impact, but that impact never came.

Because the next thing he knew, strong arms were wrapped around him, and his nose was buried in someone’s musky shoulder. He caught his breath, inhaling sharply.

It didn’t take him but a second to place that warm scent, and Sanji’s heart pounded hard. He could feel the sweat on Zoro’s neck from the warm, muggy night, and still smell the sweet rum of that cocktail Usopp spilled on him.

“Hey shit cook, watch where you’re going” Zoro barked, pushing Sanji away from his chest, “You can hold your liquor better than that. How drunk are you?”

Sanji gripped his liquor bottles tighter, realizing that, while he was no longer buried in Zoro’s chest, Zoro still hadn’t let go of his shoulders, his grip fierce.

“Not drunk enough to be getting manhandled by you.” Sanji retorted, enjoying that spark a suggestive comment always put into Zoro’s eye.

But that spark was a little different tonight.

Zoro took a step in. Instead of muttering something insulting back, like the swordsman usually would, he pulled Sanji in closer. “It’s a good thing I don’t like women anyway,” he said.

Sanji’s heart fell.

“Lucky me,” Sanji muttered back. He pushed by Zoro, suddenly resenting all touch.

He took a few pounding steps, but stopped.

Sanji turned around. Zoro was frozen where he left him.

“This is for you,” Sanji said, holding out the bottle of sake. Zoro turned and stared at it, for a moment. Then he took it.

Sanji left before Zoro said anything else.

I don’t like women anyway.

The words replay in his head for the thousandth time that morning, like a knife twisting. He takes a small sip of coffee, a new habit he picked up since his brief stay on Whole Cake Island, and opens the oven door to put the croissants in. A gust of hot air blows his hair back, taking him aback.

He cut it short recently, too short to tie back, and he still isn’t used to having it loose rather than up when cooking.

Nami said she loved short hair like that on girls, while she was cutting it, but that it would make him look like a boy. Sanji didn’t tell her that was kind of the whole point.

It’s hard to tell everyone that he is finally coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a woman, like they all think. That he’s never been, and it wasn’t until his time with Iva-sama that he finally realized it. That he learned what all those feelings he had meant, and that there were other people like him who also felt those things.

At the time he rejected it so horribly, terrified that he was also like that. He saw how difficult life was for those people, and he didn’t want his life to be any harder than it had been. He worked so hard to press those negative memories back. His childhood. He never wanted anything to be so hard again.

But then he trained alongside them. He talked to them. He cooked for them. And laughed with them. And he learned more about what being queer really was. It was hard, he was right about that, but it was also free. And all he ever wanted was to be free. Free like them.

It would just be hard first.

And he is just finally accepting that. Ever since he nearly lost everything that ever meant anything to him on Whole Cake Island, he is craving that freedom even more now. He thinks it’s finally time to go get it.

It will just be hard first.

Sanji inhales on his cigarette, allowing the nicotine and caffeine to gently wash over him, as he repeats it to himself, still in awe of how good it feels to not only know, but to accept. I am a transgender man.

Sanji exhales out the porthole, and closes the oven gently, letting that good feeling go.

He thinks of Zoro.

And wonders how on earth he’ll tell his friends.

Part 2

[admin-cock-creations]

Waxing Poetic

Fandom: Gravity Falls Pairing: College! Stanford Pines / Reader Summary: Stanford lets his thoughts wander, and he can't help but indulge himself a little when those thoughts instinctively come to you. Warnings: Recreational Drug Use

There weren’t many moments where Stanford allowed his thoughts to wander. And not just wander to thoughts of his next class or project but really and truly wander to things that itched at his mind in unscratchable ways. Such moments were often elusive to his grasp and took, laughably, a certain amount of concentration to achieve. Luck seemed to be his friend today; that itch came up again, and his roommate decided he needed the delicately balanced library environment to study, leaving Ford alone in their shared dorm.

The twin had absentmindedly waved over his shoulder to the leaving Fiddleford, nose too deep in his studies to truly take in the other’s words until he had been alone in the silence for nearly 15 minutes. As if some energy washed over him, Ford sat up straight at his desk, placing his book on the crowded surface and blinking his widened eyes like he’d been jolted into consciousness. Taking a moment to observe his surroundings, the man twisted side to side in his chair, relieving some of the tension in his back and making sure he was really and truly alone in the room. He’d surely be called a paranoid loon if someone saw him in his current state, but Stanford had fair reason to confirm the absence of his roommate.

Standing up, he quietly strode over to the door and flipped the lock to secure himself from someone barging in, letting out a shaky little breath of mixed emotion once he settled back at his desk.

Reaching over the piles of books, paperwork, and pencils, Ford nudged aside his curtains to tug open his window, giving himself a healthy little crack for air to flow through. His attention then turned to the desktop fan he kept at the corner of his workspace, adjusting it just so before flicking it on. He let the blades turn for a moment, watching in silence how the curtains fluttered with the airflow before nodding to himself and pulling open one of the many drawers in his desk.

College was a time for experimentation of all kinds, so it seemed only natural that Ford would end up trying the delights of recreational drug use at one point or another. Hell, he and Stan had snuck their first cigarettes back in their freshman year of high school, so he was no stranger to smoking. Of course, he hadn’t taken to cigarettes quite like Stanley had, though he had smoked at least a couple more in the years until this point in his life. Still, that didn’t mean Ford had separated himself from all forms of smoking. Fiddleford had shared his first time smoking marijuana, and while Fidds didn’t seem keen on having another go, Ford discovered he quite liked the sensation. It stilled some overworking part of his brain and allowed him a moment to breathe. Oftentimes, it even ended up helping him work better if he found himself in a slump caused by his methodical madness.

Fingers nudged aside some small containers of gummies and a Tupperware with a half-eaten cookie inside, deciding this wasn’t an occasion for edibles. He needed a proper smoke. Ford’s brows furrowed as he pulled out the drawer to its full depth, sorting through pencils and pens until he found what he was searching for: a neatly rolled blunt that had migrated to the back of the drawer. His matchbook was kept on his person as a habit now, having come across so many classmates asking for a light or needing it in his labs. It had become a familiar little weight in his pocket, and he was happy to pull it out and strike up a match as he held his blunt between his lips. The crack in the window and the fan made for a nifty flow of air that quickly swept up the evidence of Ford’s rule-breaking, grateful that the autumn breeze worked in his favor.

Leaning back in his chair, Ford let out a blissful sigh and a lungful of smoke, letting the warmth seep into his mind and body and relax the muscles he hadn’t even realized he was clenching. Thankfully there was an old cup of coffee nearby he could flick his ashes into, because he certainly didn’t feel like getting up again now that his joint was lit.

Slowly and mindlessly, Stanford smoked down his joint, finding himself in a delightful state of bliss when he was left with little more than a quarter of his original joint. He decided he didn’t need to smoke anymore today and was perfectly content with his current state, so he carefully snubbed out the embering end of the joint with full intentions of saving the rest for another time. For now, it rested between his fingers as Ford enjoyed the solace of his freed mind. His gaze was seemingly focused on his hand, but in truth, he was miles away, drifting peacefully until he blinked and came back into the present.

Now he was looking at the mostly spent joint, and his thoughts flowed easily to thoughts of you, his drug dealer. But you were more than just that. You were his classmate, his friend, a fellow intellectual, and someone he respected and admired, perhaps in a less than platonic way.

Ford had met you in an art course, something he had taken out of interest and to fill up a slot in his time. You sat next to one another during lectures, and it was almost instantly clear that you held a brilliance of your own. While Ford saw the world in numbers and equations, you saw it in shapes and colors, and it was so wonderfully enlightening and entertaining to share conversations with you just to get a glimpse of how your mind worked.

But even more than smart you were kind, and pretty. You had been the one who offered your ‘services’ to Ford, able to readily supply any type of marijuana product he could imagine, not to mention you baked an incredible infused cookie, so he didn’t feel so awkward about seeking out supply from a stranger he didn’t know. Sometimes, you even got high together, sharing edibles in the privacy of your own dorm while chatting and laughing to yourselves over a movie or TV show. Could he really be blamed for taking such a liking to you when you were so warm and genuine? The thoughts of you, despite their simplicity, quickly turned into fleeting moments of wondering that had a different and familiar kind of heat rising in Ford’s jeans.

Giving in to himself, Ford undid the button and zipper on his pants, shoving his thumbs under his waistband and lifting his hips just enough to tug his jeans and briefs partly down his thighs, exposing his hardening cock. He couldn’t help but wonder about less than pure things regarding you. He wondered what your lips would feel like against his, what you looked like under your clothes, how you’d look under him, how you’d sound whimpering his name.

“Sh-shit…”

Taking himself in hand, he began to work up a firm pace stroking his cock, the joint now free from his fingers and his opposite hand supporting the weight of his head with an elbow upon the desk. His brows furrowed, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, his intoxicated mind unchained and swarming with the lustful thoughts he normally did his best to keep tucked away.

He thought back to a moment in your dorm, where you’d both gotten high and found yourselves in uncontrollable fits of laughter over something he couldn’t remember now. You were literally falling all over each other, smiling and unworried about how your hands wandered and fought to support yourselves and the other person. You’d been so close, if he had tilted his head right you would have been kissing.

Ford suddenly whimpered, a leg kicking slightly as he found himself working up to a peak rather quickly. He couldn’t pick what thought of you to focus on, what memory to choose, what words to morph your voice into, but it seemed his own hungry mind had decided all that for him. In a vision of his own fantasy, you were sprawled beneath him on his bed, laid bare for his eyes and hands to take in, moaning and gasping in time with his stroking as if he were pounding into you.

“Ford… please…”

He’d heard you say that before, but never in a context like this, nothing so filthy. But now it was so easy to piece those words into the gaps of his mind, gritting his teeth and huffing as he bucked into his fisted hand until Ford finally found himself spilling his release across the floor. Panting and swallowing thickly, it took a few solid moments until he felt strength come back to his legs, forcing himself to stand up and begin cleaning up his mess and the remaining evidence of his smoke break before Fiddleford returned from the library.

Perhaps one day he’d have the nerve to admit his interest in you, but for now, he’d just enjoy your shared moments and the escapism of his mind.

[daddyhausen]

NSFW hc with Chris Motionless please?

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 NSFW HEADCANNONS 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 MUSICIAN/BAND MASTERLIST 」 | 「CHRIS MOTIONLESS MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 SUMMARY 」 — nsfw headcannons w/ chris

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+ [ MINORS DNI ] smut

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 253

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x chris motionless

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @wardlow @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @auburnwriter @alyyaanna @nightmare-viper @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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everyone expects him to be a freak in bed just based on his appearance

he’s tall, domineering in a way

with big fucking hands that could easily wrap around your throat and restrict your airflow

and with all due respect, those people were right

he’s damn kinky and openly admits it

has written a few songs based upon heated nights of passion between the two of you

100% dominant

he loves having you under him, almost dependant on him sexually

size kink

mean dom

vampiric tendencies so blood kink ofc

dosen’t really like cumming inside you, but will do if you ask and if proper precautions are taken

he prefers to cum on your face or your tits

isn’t opposed to a daddy kink either

exhibitionist

will fuck you on the tour bus with the other members present

makes sure you're extra loud too so they know how good he fucks you.

has your name tattooed above his cock

sometimes if he’s really needy and dosent have alot of time before shows he’ll wear a vibrating cock ring while performing and have you control it from side stage

sometimes fucks you/makes you give him head while recording.

he‘s a big fan of collaring, has gifted you a personalised collar, he loves the idea of owning you

he’s big on aftercare

he’ll have you lay on top of him, if you have tattoos he’ll trace them.

he wont say anything, preferring to take care of you with his actions rather than his words.

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[lonesome-greenery]

You know what fuck it.

I don't know enough voice actors to have voice claims for the Aurora Comic, but I do have a pretty well-developed imagined sound to each character's voice so let's go through them.

Part 1: The Floof Squad + Vash

Kendal: I've always imagined him as very soft spoken given the fact that the first person he ever spoke with was Alinua, and he had to be very calm and quiet to be able to interact with her properly. Also, he's always got the people of Vash's voices going in the back of his mind so he keeps his voice quiet to mitigate a bit of sensory overload. His tone is always level, but he's got a bit of a higher voice that cracks at times since he's getting used to being a person and using his voice.

Vash: Confident, loud, brassy. It's deeper than Kendal's, but they both speak with the same assuredness that makes people say Kendal almost sounds just like him. He thinks fast and often times it takes a minute for his words to catch up with those thoughts, so sometimes he slurs his words together to keep up with what's going on in his mind.

Alinua: I don't really know how to explain it, but her voice is sharp to me. Her 'r's are harsh, and she makes a point of pronouncing her 't's and 'd's distinctly. She sometimes pronounces things oddly because she's had to learn on her own. Alinua's voice takes up space and she's tried so hard to make sure that she's real and not just a branch of life without a will of her own. Her voice is the kind that you can't afford to forget because she has been so afraid of forgetting herself for so long.

Falst: His voice could only ever be described as bright. He has such presence when he's speaking that you wonder if he's mimicking someone he knew once to seem bigger than he actually is. His voice isn't slinky like some cat-themed characters are apt to be. It's boyish, gruff, and has a resonance to it. He is what he is, and he isn't trying to mask anything with his voice. Probably hits best as somewhere between Joshua Ilon and Jack de Sena's voices.

Erin: He says just about everything in one to three breaths because he's afraid of being interrupted, but he'll tell you that he's just passionate about the subject. He's loud, and he speaks with such arrogance that you're sure he's looking down on you, but his air runs out at the end of a sentence and he trials off before taking a breath and finishing the rest of it. Every emotion is exaggerated, not in mocking, but trying to get people to see, hear, and understand him. It's an act. This is the voice he uses around the floof squad and almost everyone else, but sometimes his voice will become quieter, slower, softer, and it will deepen a touch because he's getting proper airflow now.

Dainix: He's got some gravel to his voice and it's definitely deeper than most of our guys here. I tend to think that his throat is often raw from the fire energy that he holds and that makes talking hard sometimes and depending on how recently he's ignited, his voice may be raspy to a certain extent. Sometimes he's whispering because it hurts to talk, other times, he's speaking at a normal level, but very rarely does he raise his voice to a shout because he associates volume with his emotional state and why shouldn't he when he knows the fire to be loudest at its most dangerous.

Tess: She's loud and sure of herself and she is doing it on purpose. Her voice has that nice bit of vocal fry on the end that mimics the hiss of energy that comes with the lightning she keeps in her heart. She doesn't stutter like Erin does sometimes, though he remembers a time when she did, and she never wants to go back to a time when she has to. Sometimes she'll forget to tone down her speech and it'll come crashing in like a rumble of thunder. Her voice is deeper than Alinua's and she makes an effort to sound tougher as well. Her tone is usually pretty playful but sometimes it gets quiet and you know that as soon as it gets there, things will get loud very soon.

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

next chapter >>

The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 23 (ENGWNT)

Coughing Fit

“You alright?” Leah asks, shooting you a concerned look as you enter the common room. 

You simply nod, not having the energy to respond. You didn’t feel well and practice had seemed incredibly long, so all you wanted to do was go to sleep. Unfortunately for you and your plans, it was team movie night and attendance was unofficially mandatory. 

You walk over to one of the giant beanbags, wedging yourself in between Leah and Georgia. The two smile down at you and shift to allow you to get comfortable. By now, they had gotten used to their surrogate little sister plopping herself down wherever she pleased. 

You're curled into Georgia’s side, your head resting on her chest. Leah scooted in behind you, pulling a blanket over you and wrapping her arm around you. You were so comfortable, the warm bodies and gentle hands soothing you, that you almost fell asleep before the team could even decide on a movie. 

The team had finally decided, the lights dimmed and the opening credits playing when the two women could feel your body stiffen. Somewhat confused, Georgia looks down just as your eyes open and you sit up, beginning to cough. 

The team doesn’t react at first, having grown used to this sound due to the cold the team had been passing around. Leah remains in her spot but uses one of her hands to pat your back lightly. 

After about 30 seconds, you’re still coughing. Georgia pulls her focus away from the movie, about to jokingly tell you off for interrupting, when she notices the wheezing sound that your cough has taken up. Instantly, she pulls herself up, scooting behind you and pulling you back to rest against her chest. She had clearly noticed that you were getting unsteady. 

Georgia’s movement caused everyone to focus on the two of you. Leah moves to be kneeling in front of you, looking closely at your pale face. She pulls your arm away from your face- less concerned about proper hygiene at this point and more concerned about the fact that your elbow could be blocking some airflow. 

You’re still coughing, the wheezing sound louder now and causing concern to flood the room. You can feel a body behind you- Georgia, you’ll remember later- and you can see Leah in front of you. You see her mouth moving and you know she must be talking, but you can’t hear a word she’s saying. 

“Hemp,” Leah calls sharply, the aforementioned girl quickly standing up and coming over. Leah turns to make eye contact with her, the serious look on her face portraying just how important this task would be. 

“I need you to run to the medical room,” she says, emphasizing the word run, “get Y/N’s inhaler and run back here. If you see a trainer, bring them back with you, but don’t go looking for one, okay? I need that inhaler now.”

Lauren nods before taking off out of the room. Leah turns back to you, noticing how you were slumping in Georgia’s arms. 

“You’ll be alright, mate, just hang on,” she says quietly, more to comfort herself than to comfort you. 

She reaches over, grabbing under your armpits and pulling you straight up, Georgia moving to better support you and keep you fully upright. Your breathing eased slightly, but your lips were still turning blue. 

Leah was looking around the room, terrified and hoping that someone would know what to do. At the lack of answers she sees on the scared faces, she decides that this must be another one of her roles as captain. 

Thankfully, a figure races through the door at that moment and an inhaler is quickly shoved into Leah’s hand. She shakes it quickly, explaining what she’s about to do to you before guiding it to your mouth. On instinct, your hand weakly moves to try and hold the inhaler, Leah having to stop herself from crying at the pitiful action. 

She dispenses a puff of the medication, pulling the inhaler away and coaxing you to hold your breath. It wasn’t pretty, but you somewhat managed before letting out a shuttering exhale. 

The two of you repeat the process a few more times before your breathing sounds clear. At this point, you’re limp against Georgia, your hair sticking to your face and tears rolling down your cheeks. Leah finally manages to take a full breath herself, brushing your hair back. 

The commotion must have gotten attention, as Leah is soon being gently moved out of the way. She doesn’t go far, moving to sit next to Georgia and grabbing your hand. Nobody challenges her to move, her sheer determination showing. 

The team medics quickly slip a mask over your face, oxygen and medicine pouring into your lungs. You’re too tired and oxygen deprived to protest, allowing them to begin assessing you. You didn’t have to worry, you had dozens of eyes watching you closely, nothing bad was going to happen to you. 

[anony-man]

My hand slipped

(Warning for implied cnc and degradation)

“I bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

A soft, keening whine followed the second intruding finger that slid past First Aid’s slick entrance, and though he couldn’t manage a proper response, the tightening fingers around his throat were enough incentive for him to give a frantic, eager nod. Sharp, clawed ends of slender fingers scraped at the thin walls of his valve, dragging out the shuddering sensations of pleasure and pain along with a low, throaty moan.

He shouldn’t be lying here, allowing such a dangerous, filthy mech to violate him like this, but oh, First Aid would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t loving every second.

“Quiet,” his captor warned, fingers reasserting their grip around his throat, briefly cutting off the airflow with a squeeze. “You’ll get us caught by making all that noise. Unless… that’s what you want?”

As the mech’s two fingers curled into the sensitive nodes on the inside of First Aid’s valve, he reached up with his thumb to gently stroke the pulsing node at the top of the slick, pulsing array. The excessive stimulation from both inside and out was almost too much to bear, and First Aid couldn’t help but arch into the touch, a guttural groan slipping past the servo around his throat as he trembled against the berth.

“I bet you’re into that, huh?” The mech teased, forgoing the outer stimulation to continue fucking First Aid’s valve with his fingers alone. His other servo loosened around First Aid’s neck, allowing him to pant and moan his name openly. “I bet you want us to get caught in the act, don’t you? You wanna be caught with your legs spread and my servo up your valve. You want to get caught getting fragged like the pathetic slut you are, is that it?”

“Please,” First Aid whined, jerking his hips up into the mech’s touch. He pulled at the restraints that bound his servos to the bed, but to no avail. “Vortex, please…”

“What?” Vortex said, his mouth splitting into a grin behind the mask he still wore. He’d forced Aid’s mask off long before they’d gotten to this point, having wanted to see the medic fall apart at the seams with every little touch. “Don’t tell me you want to stop. I’ve only just got started!”

It was impossible to see much in the dark room, but the sound of Vortex spike pressurizing was unmistakable. First Aid’s frame trembled with a pitiful sob as Vortex’s fingers slipped free of his valve, but when he straddled First Aid’s lap and prepared himself to slide his spike into the abandoned entrance, First Aid wriggled beneath him with eager anticipation.

“There’s a good slut,” Vortex hissed, thrusting his hips flush against First Aid’s frame and pushing himself in all at once. As expected, there was little to no difficulty, and rather than be met with resistance, Vortex found he slid in rather easily.

Well. That was what the foreplay had been for, after all.

“Primus, you’re tight,” Vortex grunted, giving his hips an experimental roll against First Aid’s exposed panels to test his limits.

Despite their similar sizes and excessive preparation, he still found it difficult to work without much difficulty. However, after some time spent hovering over First Aid’s frame and gently sliding the length of his spike in and out, Vortex managed to work himself up to a good, steady pace. He bent himself low over First Aid’s front, grinding his hips down against First Aid’s frame until he was rutting deep inside the medic. Breathy grunts and sharp gasps met each thrust, and Vortex couldn’t help but tease the Autobot for the pitiful sounds.

“Bet you weren’t expecting this, huh?” He huffed, his words spoken softly against the side of First Aid’s helm. “Bet you didn’t you think I’d come by tonight, did you? Did you think I wouldn’t find you in here, sitting all alone in your room with a false spike shoved halfway up your port? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing trying to pleasure yourself alone, anyway? You should’ve called me, Aid.”

The steady pace they’d begun meant Vortex had more room to work, and as he slowed his movements until he was gently grinding against First Aid’s frame, his spike remaining deep inside the other, he braced himself against the berth and slid his free servo down to fondle the seams of First Aid’s still-closed panels. Within seconds of being touched, they had popped free, and Vortex’s efforts were rewarded with the medic’s erect spike sliding into curled fingers.

“That’s more like it,” Vortex said, his smile audible from his voice alone, and despite his best efforts, First Aid couldn’t help but groan aloud.

Between the sensations of Vortex deep in his valve and the practiced fingers sliding up and down his spike, First Aid was quick to unravel. The binds around his servos kept him from moving much, but a drawn out, agonized breath in followed by the wail of Vortex’s name were enough to signify the intensity of his overload without leaving fresh marks in Vortex’s paint.

Satisfied with his work, Vortex wiped his transfluid-soaked servo off on the front of his plating before reaching up to untie First Aid’s bonds, already expecting the clingy aftercare routine First Aid was often fond of. Careful not to slip out just yet, as he and First Aid were both rather fond of post-coital bliss spent as close to the other as possible, Vortex moved ever closer to the medic, his arms coming over to wrap around First Aid’s front and his chin resting against the top of First Aid’s helm. Only several minutes spent in relative silence (and in a near-suffocating embrace), Vortex decided to speak.

“Good day?” He said, keeping his tone light. “Wasn’t planning on coming by, but something told me I should.”

“Hm,” First Aid hummed against his chest, the sound echoing against the warm metal. “Glad you did. Missed you.”

“Oh yeah?” Vortex chuckled. In a rare show of affection (which, in reality, was likely just his own display of possession), Vortex let his mask click open and planted a gentle kiss on the top of First Aid’s helm. “By missing me, d’you mean you missed me or you missed my—“

“You, Vortex,” First Aid said with a sigh. “I missed you.”

Vortex huffed out a laugh in response and leaned in for a longer, gentler kiss. “Mm… yeah,” he said, keeping his voice low as he felt First Aid began to drift off against him. “I’m sure you did.”

[drdemonprince]

i think people fundamentally misunderstand how masks work to limit transmission. masks are not magic totems that keep diseases away. they reduce the amount of airborne particles by putting a physical barrier between a person and the environment, allowing the air in the enclosed space some time to be exchanged with air from outside. even proper masking isn’t 100% effective. in fact, they are most effective at preventing transmission when an infected person wears one— which is why they are popular in other countries as a politeness for when you feel ill. and masking can be fruitless if, say, your building doesn’t have proper airflow.

but masks aren’t being treated like a health measure like condoms, they’re being used as a way to signal virtue. it’s an acceptance of the world put forth by anti-maskers that masks somehow represent something more than what they are and can show others what “team” you are on.

masking 24/7 is not something people are on board with, and it isn’t even the most useful way to use a mask. wear a mask if you feel sick and simply must be in public, and continue to apply pressure for better ventilation and airflow to make those masks worth a damn…

Yeah the focus on masks is because they are individual behavior that is attainable (and visible, and thus capable of judging in others and viewing as an important symbolic gesture in oneself)... in reality proper ventilation and air filtration is VASTLY more effective. but it requires systemic infrastructure improvements and organizational investment and so it has just been completely willfully ignored by our institutions and we have FALLEN FOR IT by keeping our attention on personal level decision making as usual.

of course ideally masking and air filtration work best together, and masking from both the sick person AND the people around them is necessary to reduce spread should anyone be positive, but people have just.... completely neglected the actual data in lieu of politicizing individual action. because thats what we have long been conditioned to do.

[leafie-draws]

plant care masterpost ⋆˚✿˖°

part 1 Types of Plants: plants come in all shapes and sizes and each plant has specific needs! so here's some quick tips to keep in mind while picking out a little plant friend!

a general rule of thumb when choosing a plant is considering how the plant thrives in it's natural habitat and providing that with your care, whether it's in a sunny spot in your window or in your garden outside. Succulents and Cacti need more sun and dry conditions than tropical plants that enjoy more wet and humid conditions. keep this in mind while growing many different types at once!

if growing plants in a terrarium make sure there is plenty of light and air circulation to prevent moisture buildup and rot. do not seal the plants inside! you'll want to be able to remove them in case they get sick.

all plants have unique grow-times and dormant periods. for example plants native to the northern hemisphere go dormant (hibernate) while plants in the southern hemisphere are growing, and vice-versa. plants in their peak grow-time require more water and care than dormant ones.

some tropical plants have very specific needs; like staghorns, orchids and air plants so I recommend researching those thoughroughly before getting one.

I don't have a lot of experience with trees, fruits and vegetables so I'm skipping those for now.

Watering: the amount of water a plant needs depends mostly on what type of plant it is and which climate it's in. remember that growing plants need more water and dormant plants need less!

plants only drink when they're awake! roots are most active during the daytime so water your plants in the morning, afternoon or evening. watering at night will cause too much water to sit in the pot and will rot the roots.

tropical plants are picky needy guys and enjoy very damp, humid, rainforest-like conditions. humidifiers help keep moisture in the air as well as routine misting with a waterbottle, just make sure there's proper ventilation so the plants aren't too wet for too long.

arid plants like succulents and cacti are pros at storing water and need less watering than other plants. (I water mine every 2 weeks. 3 weeks in the winter.)

no plant likes having wet feet! make sure your pots and containers have drainage holes to allow airflow to the roots and so excess water can escape.

it's always better to under water than to overwater! it's easier to save a dried-up plant than a rotten one. so if your plant seems sick it's better to hold off on watering it for a while.

most plants die from getting too much water! overwatering leads to rot, infections, mold, and even attracts bugs! it's a bad time! so only water your plants when the soil is dry and make sure there's proper drainage.

an overwatered plant will look sickly. it might turn yellow or pale, drop it's leaves, or be squishy to the touch. some plants like succulents or cacti may have swollen, cracked stems from absorbing too much water.

an underwatered plant will look droopy and the leaves will feel dry, crispy or wrinkled. water the plant throughroughly until water drains out of the bottom of the container and give it some time to recover. if your plant is severely dehydrated you might want to completely soak it, spraying the entire plant and putting the pot in a basin or tray of water so it can absorb water as needed.

Soil: the type of soil depends on the type of plant, but all plants require nutrients in order to grow. it's important to use well-draining soil and provide airflow to the roots.

typically you want soil that's a mix of organic matter and grit (like pumice or lava rock.) the organic matter provides nutrients while grit helps keep the soil loose so it doesn't compact and rot the roots while watering. (I've been using Bonsai Jack's gritty mix for years and I swear by the stuff.)

keep in mind that thick, organic soil holds water longer than a loose, gritty mix and takes longer to dry out so you should water your plants less. likewise, gritty mix drains faster and may require more watering, especially in the summer.

seedlings require more nutrients and have less developed roots so highly organic soils or coco coir works best. (more organic matter = more prone to rot though so be careful!)

worms are friends. like seriously. earthworms in your pots are a good thing! not only does it mean your soil is rich in nutrients plants love, but worm tunnels help create air pockets in the soil so your plant's roots can breathe easier and helps prevents rot. they won't hurt your plant at all and only eat decomposing matter. if you don't want them in your house though they'll do wonders for your garden!

[toughtinkcosplay]

let's make fearne horns!

a step-by-step tutorial for making foam horns for cosplay

this was originally posted to twitter last year, but since twitter’s decided to ram itself through a brick wall repeatedly for some reason, i’m reposting here.

materials/supplies:

wire (the hardware store kind, not the flimsy jewelry kind. you want it bendable but sturdy enough to hold whatever size horns you’re making.)

craft foam/eva foam (thickness depends on project needs)

triangular foam dowel

tape or paper for patterning

barge cement (or other brand contact cement)

foam clay

plastidip spray

acrylic paints

gloss spray

heat gun

scissors

paint brushes

something to wrap horns around depending on curl needs

headband or something else to attach the horns to for wearing

the process:

1️⃣ pattern horn curl using tape or paper. mine is going to be a long triangle shape along it’s top face.

2️⃣ cut out of craft foam & trim/taper triangular foam dowel to match. cut wire to match this length plus a couple extra inches for attaching to a headband later on.

3️⃣ carve valley into dowel & glue wire into it using barge cement. tape is helpful for holding the wire down while it dries. be sure to follow glue instructions for use which usually requires good airflow/ventilation in the space! for me, that means opening the window, turning on a fan, and wearing a mask to avoid fumes.

4️⃣ glue foam dowels to craft foam.

5️⃣ spiral horns carefully around a cylinder, heat forming tips where wire can’t reach. the hardest part here is to get both sides even. (i think i used a wooden dowel or a curtain rod for my spirals??)

6️⃣ fill gaps between dowel & craft foam with foam clay, using finger + water to smooth it out. if you want to add any ridges or scars to your horns, do it once this part is dry and before the next step—but i wanted mine to be smooooth.

7️⃣ once dry (give it a couple days just in case), heat seal with a heat gun & spray with plastidip. do multiple coats to get all the angles because spirals are WEIRD!

8️⃣ paint with acrylics.

9️⃣ gloss spray!

🔟 using the bit of wires sticking out, attach to a headband or wig to wear! mine actually poke through my wig and attach to a headband that sits inside the wig which fearne’s ears also attach to.

i hemmed and hawed over how to approach these originally because i know most folks would either 3d print them or do a proper full craft-foam pattern, but i’m crap at cutting craft foam and i hate sculpting digitally and ALSO don’t have a 3d printer. so i did it my way! and it was fun!! plus, the final horns are super lightweight which makes them great for wearing all day! the flexibility of the wire also allows them to have some pose-ability which can be nice for photos to make sure they’re visible.

[hermitlivingspaces]

pearl’s s10 starter house!

PearlescentMoon, Season 10, Episode 4

7/10 - A warm space. The windows in the back are fully open, which could be sold as either a pro (nice airflow) or a con (not properly secure, may let bugs in). The beds are dyed a complimentary color. There is a headboard, footboard, and proper lighting. There is a closet and a potted plant, but the room feels a little understated. Seems like a nice place to sleep.