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reticulating-splines · 1 year ago

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WIP - West 70th

1880s-1910s row of Upper West Side townhomes.

Been working on this row of late 19th c. brownstones on and off for the past year now, so needless to say when I heard about For Rent I was hype.

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This initially started because I was homesick for NYC during the pandemic. Specifically for the area of the upper west side my dorm was in while I was a student. I mainly blame this experience for my obsession with historical architecture - walking along central park west past the Dakota on the way to the subway, smoking on the stoops of the brownstones late at night, going to classes in the wedding cake that is the Ansonia - it was just everywhere, and so, so beautiful to look at.

Except a lot of it is faded glory - buildings subdivided, details chipped or covered in the thickest coats of grime or paint. So I wanted to replicate some of the old New York from around the turn of the century. The one I read about in the Luxe series and saw in the Samantha movie lol.

The basement or garden level of each four-story brownstone will be dedicated to the original purpose as the main workplace of the service staff. Unfortunately no room for the actual garden, so laundry lines and planters are on the roof. There are bedrooms and bathrooms for a cook and a housekeeper/butler, along with the staff dining and the kitchen. The butler's pantry is directly upstairs from the kitchen, and the top floor is almost exclusively made up of staff bedrooms and washrooms.

I usually do the service areas first because they're the most interesting, and there was nothing more interesting than a full edwardian brownstone kitchen. Lots of exposed piping, beadboard, subway tile, and shelves of clutter. Has a separate scullery, pantry, and stairs down to a basement storeroom to keep your best champs-le-sims nectar in. There's also a servant's bellboard in the kitchen and the staff dining room. It along with the "boiler" system are made with tool and CC-free.

The main entrance and parlor are doing their best to continue the gothic revival theme of the exterior. The library and dining room follow in the enfilade starting in the parlor. Since this first house is a corner lot, it has a bit more width and space than a true brownstone. The only actual brownstone I've been inside of is Lady Mendl's, so ofc I had to have an extensive tea setup. Def took a lot of inspo from these two pics alone for these rooms.

The main stairwell and picture gallery lead to three large bedrooms on the second floor, and then up to the children's room and nanny's bedroom on the third floor. I really like skylights. I learned the importance of decent lightwells in staving off depression one semester when my window looked out onto a brick wall

The master bedroom and the children's room above it both have their own private sitting rooms and bathrooms. All rooms have either fireplaces or cast iron radiators.

There's no way this is going to be finished by the time For Rent comes out, so im just going to release it in whatever state it's in when it does come out. The exteriors and interior room layout for all the townhomes will (hopefully) most likely be set by then anyway.

Now available for download!

Also the anniversary of Chez Cromwell is coming up! Ive been gone for the better part of the year due to starting a new job, but I havent been idle. C.Cromwell has been updated for infants and ceilings, which led to me redoing the exterior and almost every room, so a rerelease is coming v soon! Sneak peek below. Happy Thanksgiving!

#sunblind by softerhaze #picture amoebe #drift reshade #heyharrie #lilis-palace #felixandresims #pierisim #reticulating builds #west 70th #the sims 4 for rent #ts4cc #the sims 4 #ts4 build #ts4 wip #sims 4 apartment #ts4 architecture

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steam-beasts · 2 months ago

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This is not my body - short story

- Thomas -

Thomas never asked for this. He never wanted this. The day he got infected by that damn coal, he just wanted it to be a normal illness

Dear Lady above, why did it have to be like this??

As he rested in the Ffarqhuarr sheds, in his humanoid form, he curled up tighter and whimpered. He didn't blame the controller for this, he couldn't ever have known. He didn't blame Lady for this. He didn't really blame anyone for this. But he sometimes just hated it in secret. As he dug his nails into his biceps, still to this day, it felt unfamiliar.

No matter what, he was still a locomotive. A sentient machine, way down inside. But lingering, way down inside, this didn't feel like his body.

- Edward -

Edward was fine with this body.

He didn't mind it, really. When he first got it, he was admittedly quite stressed out about it. The itchy fur, the heavy cumbersome limbs. It was a nightmare. He had seen a lot of things through the years; engines being sent for scrap heap, intense, almost fatal crashes, and having to watch as humans he knew grow old and weak, and he would always outlive them.

It was mostly quite sad. But Edward learned to get over it. He had been humbled through his years, gaining wisdom and passing it down to the younger engines. He was always calm about it, calm and collected.

But the infection did something to him. Not just mentally, but physically.

Instead of sky blue wheels that rolled along the rails, he had thundering, monsterous paws. Claws that can tear through flesh with utter ease, and sharp teeth that can sink into prey. He, like the others, couldn't control himself.

He hurt people. Killed people. Ate people. Was he calm and collected after that? No. Admittedly, the fact he did and can do such things, the bloodlust, it made him a little bit looney. Edward found himself more pulled towards the horror genres. An effect of being a blood-hungry beast, the old engine had to guess. Edward was a machine deep inside. A product of Lady and mankind. Even with these new feelings, that's what he'd always be, no matter how much this damned curse warped his body.

Did he hate it? No.

...he just didn't like it.

- James -

James stared in the small window. He admired himself, with horror, fascination and a bit of sadness. He looked splendid! As splendid as ever! His fur was fluffy and perfect, his claws were lovely, perfectly sharpened and red. He was splendid...he HAD to be. Right?

It took a lot of work to get here: he had to get painfully sick and puke his boiler pipes out nearly every night, then came the horrid, agonising sensation of his chassis peeling off. Beautiful, beautiful red blood smothered the place around him. Yes, he was screaming to the high heavens, screaming his breath away as the rails were painted in many shades of red. But it was of happiness, totally happiness. He was even more amazing than ever.

At first, he absolutely hated it, when he came to his senses after a while, he would rip out the grey fur that covered most his body. He'd whine, he'd hurt himself, he'd cry and sob. He felt like a giant, ugly rat, parading as a steam engine. As he sat there, staring into the window, his eye shadow was running. He didn't even notice he was silently crying. He was splendid. He was a splendid engine.

But deep down inside, he knew he was a freak. He grew more obsessed with his looks, in order to not be seen as a freak, James would pamper himself, make himself as splendid as possible.

James wanted to love it. But way down inside...he hated it.

#thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #monster engines #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte james #james the red engine #edward the blue engine #angst #body dysmorphia

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cokou · 7 months ago

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First of all: I absolutely adore your writing style. Can i request something for my favorite penguin boy? He needs way more love. Something like your reaction, seeing him without his hat for the first time or some enemy to lover trope. I guess we all know that he is just a sweet and caring guy but i cant help but think how he would react in this case. Like being attractive to reader but at the same time disliking reader (maybe due some sort of misunderstanding?)

I hope this makes sense. Have a sweet day and I really hope you would feel comfortable writing for him. <3

Troublesome 面倒な

Penguin × F!Reader ペンギン×エフ！読者

event. 100 followers event! Requests all open till 17th of July 2024. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sum. Accidentally revealing his face in front of you stirred up some misunderstanding. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. SFW! No warnings tbh. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. THANKYOUSOMUCH. Yes, yes, YES! I will definitely write this rn, I love this rq my fave one so far!! AND I KINDA PUT THIS UP MY EVENT ONG LOL <3 SORRY IF THIS WASN'T WHAT YOU EXPECTED D:// Do not translate or transfer my works, this is my only account. Will not be crossposted anywhere. // Masterlist♡

Another day inside the Polar Tang was definitely nothing different nor anything special from the other days spent with the Heart Pirates. The sounds of small bickering and some loud laughter could be heard once again from the room besides the corridor. The Polar Tang was docked on an Island, and now it was ready to venture into the seas again. The days went by so fast.

As you make your way into some random submarine window, you felt the slow motion of the submarine slowly backing up, making you lose your balance and almost falling into the floor. Although before you fell, someone had caught you just about time before you had hit the floor, giving you time to try and grab into the wall to stabilize yourself.

"Caught you! You really should prepare yourself ya'know! You've experienced this lotsa' timesss." Penguin teased you as he slowly placed you down onto the ground after catching you. "You owe me one." He sticks his tongue out.

"What the hell?! I didn't even need your help!" You rise back up immediately and almost losing balance again from the sudden motion of moving, you grabbed the wall pipe for dear life. You finally managed and dusting off your butt from the fall. "Look i don't owe you anything! I didn't even wanna get caught by you." You cross your arms and look at another direction.

Penguin snorts at your stubbornness and rolls his eyes at your comment. (Not that you saw him roll his eyes.)

"A simple thank you would've been enough." He didn't bother letting you say anything and immediately passed by you, scoffing. You mock him behind his back, copying his facial expression as his footsteps fade into the distance.

The submarine submerged into the ocean waters by now, hearing nothing but vibrations of the underwater tides and bubbles popping. You peek into the small rpunded windows that allowed you to see marine life animals once again. After dozing off for half an hour by the sub's window, you had realized that you still had duties to fulfill.

Sighing and dragging yourself onto the engine room, you hastily open up the door that it hit the wall connecting to it You enter the room stomping on the ground heavily. You suddenly shrieked as you see someone wearing a boiler suit but having no memory of them being on the submarine.

"H— Intrude—!" The man rushes his way close to you and covering your mouth way before you alarm everyone. You smell the faint scent of his cologne, being similar to the ones you had smelt from Penguin. You resist him and attacking his hands that were over your mouth. Biting his palm, making him jump and pulling your hair.

"H-Hey! It's me, Penguin!" Having him loosen his hands over your mouth, you stop resisting his movements and became calmer. The tone of his voice and a sound of what annoyed you was the indeed similar to Penguin, with no doubts you push him far enough to be able to give you two a comfortable space. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation.

"Peng?! Wh.. Where's your hat?!" You shrieked at him once again, your tone so loud it could be heard by the corridors. You take a moment to look at his face up and down and up, admiring his face that you've never seen before. You caught his eyes staring back at you with his mouth carving a look of nervousness and a frown.

"Ah...well, i kinda..spilt something on it, it's in the laundry room." He clarified your questions, his tone having a pint of nervousness on them. Fidgeting quietly with his fingers and giving you a slight smile.

"Your fault— but i never thought that I'd see your face this clear like before! I've only seen your mouth all the time."

" Could it be that....You find me handsome?! Awh you're so kind (Name)!" He laughs at his claim for you, making you look stupid and a blushing mess infront of him, making you much much more irritated than before. You felt veins pop on your forehead as you launch a kick on his knees as he drops into the floor laughing.

"No way!" You pinch the bridge of your nose as Penguin stopped laughing and stood up. Brushing his boiler suit dusts away, his playful and happy tone disappearing, being replaced with a much more serious one.

"Whateverrr....you suck (Name).." he claims. Crossing his arms as he felt disappointed with your answer, lowering his head and shooking them in distress.

"...Okay just a tiny bit handsome!" You grit your teeth at the guiltiness that you received with his unusual tone, changing your opinions to a much better one. You cross your arms just like him and stared at each other with furrowed eyebrows and a serious gaze. His eyes squinting, your teeth gritting hardly that you swore they were gonna break.

"Hah, thanks anyway..i never thought you'd actually give in." He lets his arms go and resting them besides his torso again, gaining a smile that always painted his facce on a usual day in Polar Tang. His gaze now softens and had a much more presenting look.

"Fuck off!...." Silence.

"Okay fine, I'm being quite serious!" You sigh at the honesty that you had revealed. Giving him the slightest smile you could ever give.

"You aren't that bad sometimes."

"I've never been bad! You just don't understand me is all!" Trying to clarify your defense, Penguin just laughs at your take for an excuse, causing you to punch him in the face a bit too hard. He drops to the floor hardly, making a loud tud.

Attracting the attention of the captain who passed by the corridors in hopes of room inspections. Instead he was met with you on your knees and saying sorry repeatedly to Penguin as he grabbed his face and curl into the floor in agony, having no work in progress. Law decides to never pair you two up ever again in duties. Making you gasp as you try to calm Penguin down by holding of his shoulders as he kick his feet into the air, covering his face with his hands.

Even the captain was shocked with finding Penguin without his usual hat. Making him wonder what rhe hell was happening in the Engine Room. After that incident, you ahd soften your side with Penguin as you two were never paired ever again for submarine duties. Law said it was for the best for you two. After all you two didn't have a progress that was started with.

©Cokou 2024, all works belong to me.

#one piece #cokou #op #one piece x reader #penguin x reader #one piece penguin #penguin one piece #heart pirates #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #RAAA PENGUIN

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marlynnofmany · 2 years ago

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Mechanical Rhythms

I opened the door to the engine room, ready to declare “Lunch delivery!” but the place was so loud with machinery that I decided to wait. Instead I shut the door behind me and carried the tray of sealed containers past all the viewscreens, gauges, and schematics, and into the labyrinth of passages beyond.

They call it the engine room, but really it’s a whole complex on this spaceship. And it’s not usually this loud. All the thumps, roars, and dings seemed to be at max volume somehow.

When I reached the part that was normally smooth walls and amorphous shapes, I saw why. All the covers were off. Some were retracted into the ceiling, some swung open like window shutters, and more lay cluttering up the walkway along with a chaotic spread of tools.

From somewhere among the exposed wires and pipes, a gruff voice muttered angrily.

“Hey Mimi,” I said over the whooshing noises of the pipes. “I’ve got lunch for you.”

“Thanks,” said the voice, sounding tired. And gravely. I found it amusing that our engineer sounded just like any number of crusty old mechanics back home. Mimi’s voice was balanced out by the fact that his name was Mimi, and he looked like an octopus. “Put it on top of the big toolbox, will you?” he said, sticking a tentacle out from behind something shaped like a pipe organ.

“Sure,” I said. I was pretty sure I knew which one he meant. “It’s heated but sealed, so you can get to it when you’re ready.”

“Think I’ll take a break now,” he said. “This is obnoxious and a half.” More pale green tentacles emerged, followed by his round octopus head, and Mimi clambered expertly over the mess to plop down next to the food tray.

I looked around. “What’s happening? Eggskin said you were working on something that might take a while.”

“It wasn’t supposed to,” Mimi griped as he twisted a lid off. “I was just checking for efficient fuel use, since something wasn’t firing right, and now I’ve been tracking the flipping-flailing problem all day!” He dumped something into his mouth that looked like grapes. “I had other thingzh I wuz gonna do,” he grumbled.

“Sounds annoying,” I said. “Made any progress, at least?”

“Oh sure,” he replied, pointing a tentacle over his head at the set of pipes. “Tracked the problem to that area. One of ‘em isn’t in synch with the rest, and I am not looking forward to disassembling the housing so I can figure out which.”

The pipes were a dull coppery-brown, without any of the translucence of certain other engine parts. “Yeah, I guess you can’t really see from here, huh?”

“Nope,” Mimi said, prying at another container. “If I ever meet the pebble-brain who designed this ship, I will have words for them.”

I moved closer, picking out the sounds of these engine parts over the others. Kind of a whoosh-whirr-wheet. “Can you tell anything by listening?”

Mimi spoke over a mouthful of food. “Like what?”

“You said one was out of synch. Does it make a different noise?”

With a wave of tentacles that I took to mean I doubt it, or maybe You’re welcome to try, Mimi focused on his lunch.

Well. Whyever not.

I stepped over more tools to where I could stick my face up close to the noisy things. At least this part wasn’t the loudest — that honor was reserved for the whump-screech rhythm from the boiler-looking dealie down the way. I didn’t know what any of this stuff did.

When I listened from up close, I found a surprisingly catchy beat to the noises. It reminded me of the dishwasher my parents had when I was a kid. Fond memories of dancing in front of it. I’ve always taken my small joys where I find them, and I’m pretty sure that stemmed from a good upbringing. Any family that encouraged kids to dance to dishwasher noises is one that can find fun anywhere.

I moved along the row of pipes, listening to each in turn, nodding to the beat until I found something that didn’t match.

Whoosh-whirr-wheet.

Whoosh-whirr…whirr…

“It’s this one,” I said, standing back and pointing.

“What? How can you tell?” Mimi demanded.

“It dropped the beat,” I said.

“What?”

“It doesn’t match the rhythm of the others.”

Mimi scrambled over, lunch forgotten. “You can hear that?”

“Well yeah, it’s pretty obvious when you listen for it,” I said, giving him space. I watched as he clambered around, listening intently with the little ear holes in the side of his squishy head, sometimes pressing between the pipes in a way someone with solid bones could never manage. There was a reason Strongarms made good mechanics.

But apparently not all the reasons.

“I have no idea what you’re hearing,” Mimi declared, pulling back out.

“It’s this one,” I repeated. “The other ones are going whoosh-whirr-wheet, but this one gets stuck on the whirr.”

Mimi stared at me for a moment. “Stay right there,” he said, scrambling down to a bank of dials and levers. “Tell me if you hear any change. The third one, right?”

“Yeah.” I listened from close to the pipes while he adjusted things down at the bottom. Gradually, the rhythm shifted. “Oh, it’s getting better!”

“See if you can tell me when it matches,” Mimi said.

“Almost there,” I said. “It’s making the wheet noise now, just at the wrong time.” I nodded along, drumming on the air to the rhythm of the other pipes while Pipe Number Three gradually synched up. “Wait, too far,” I told Mimi. “It’s too early now.”

Muttering something indistinct, Mimi adjusted more dials.

“There! You got it!” I stood back, grinning.

“You’re sure?” Mimi asked from the console.

“Yeah, it’s a perfect match now. Ready to dance to.” I shimmied in place, appreciating the beat and not particularly caring if it wasn’t dignified.

“I’ll run the diagnostic again,” Mimi said as he tentacle-walked over to a different control panel. “If that fixed it, I will be amazed.”

I danced among the tools for the few seconds it took to run the diagnostic.

“Welp,” Mimi said. “It’s official. I’m amazed.”

“Did we fix it?” I asked, standing up with a grin.

“It appears that we did,” he said. Waving his tentacles in a baffled sort of way, he looked from me to the panel. “Thanks. You’re useful to have around.”

“And you’re welcome!” I replied. “Happy to help. Now you can finish your lunch before Eggskin starts griping about organic maintenance.”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Mimi said. “Maybe I’ll eat somewhere quieter, and put the sound baffles back in place afterward.”

“Great idea,” I agreed. “As catchy as this music is, it’s a bit loud for lunch.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character in this book. More to come!

#my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #rhythm #music #of a sort #saving the day in small ways

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year ago

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GOTG Rocket x Reader 🍋 - Heatwaves

Summary: Long from home, the ship's air conditioner breaks, resulting in hallucination-inducing heat. Your obvious crush on Rocket doesn't make things any better.

Warnings: Inspired by a series of TMNT fics I did a while back, sexual innuendo, dirty talk, degradation, praise, illness from excessive heat, daydreaming/hallucinating, suggestive situations, sexual tension, judgment impaired by arousal, fem!reader, non specified species!reader, humanoid/anthro!reader, takes place between vol. 2 and infinity war

You were so dizzy, melting into the sofa, sprawled out with no regard for anyone else's comfort. Your head rested against Mantis's leg, while your legs invaded Drax's bubble, not that he minded. His people didn't really understand the concepts of personal space anyhow. You were all in this boat though, Gamora splayed out on the floor as it was the coolest surface in the ship. With this heat, all there was to do to bear it was strip down to the littlest clothing possible before becoming indecent and napping to make the time pass quicker.

"C'mon, you guys, cheer up," Peter forced a cheerful tone from the cockpit. "Rocket said he should be finished with the repairs on the AC tomorrow."

"Thank God," you groaned, pinching the fabric of your tanktop to unstick it from your chest. "I can't take this shit anymore."

"Yeah, I'm so sweaty, it feels like I showered in my clothes." Mantis agreed from above you, doing the same and wiggling all over to have her shirt sit right.

"But you didn't," Drax gave her a lead-poisoned stare. "I have been watching you for hours and you haven't moved, let alone gone to shower." The empath's head very slowly turned towards him, her glare and pursed lips screaming that she was done with his nonsense.

"Ya know," the captain called again. "If you're hot, just think how Rocket feels. It's probably way hotter down there in the boiler, plus he's covered in fur."

"I am Groot." The sapling said, raising his head off Gamora's chest as she nodded, agreeing with him.

"I don't care that fur is like insulation, if you're hot, he's hot. And I don't see any of you trying to help him, so stop whining." Peter's light reprimand, admittedly had pulled on your heartstrings a bit. It was awfully nice of Rocket to fix the AC all by himself, even if he was the only one with the know-how to do it.

"He's right," you sighed, begrudgingly tearing yourself off the sofa, your exposed skin having stuck to it. Finally separated from the mound of leather and flesh, you stumbled over to the kitchenette and threw open the fridge before grabbing a few bottles of water. "Rocket might need some help, I'll go check on him."

-----

You had never been in this part of the ship before, slinking through halls and around protruding pipes and fixtures. It was much hotter down here, closer to the water heating systems. You had to halt for a moment, pressing your hand to the wall for stability as you hunched a bit. If you were already feeling faint, you couldn't imagine how Rocket was feeling. For all you knew, he could have passed out and nobody would have known.

Suddenly you began to make out a distant, distorted racket that echoed and reverberated against every surface. It sounded almost...melodic? Following as it became louder, it led you to a warm light that streamed out from beyond a closed door. You halted for a moment, now being able to separate the noise, which you now recognized as a voice, singing lazily. Rocket never sang in front of people and you almost felt perverted as you listened to his rendition of Silver's 'Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang'. "Now that it's said and we both understand," he softly crooned, voice carrying to far reaches. "Let's say our goodbyes before it gets out of hand."

Inhaling sharply, you finally found it in you to grip the door handle and let yourself in. Orange light flooded out of the small room and the music became as clear as it was going to get, loud enough to conceal the sound of the door opening. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Everyone had always been able to tell you were sweet on Rocket, and you'd never done much to hide the fact but seeing him now, bathed in marigold neon, laid flat on his back up underneath a large fixture...shirtless- it was too much for you. His fur was slicked against his chest from sweat and his jumpsuit was tied loosely on his hips, revealing much more of him than you ever could have been prepared to see. Adding to that his admittedly lovely, gruff singing voice, the scene was a recipe for an upset tummy.

Deciding you couldn't handle this, you silently tried to back out of the room, eyes trained on him like a deer in headlights. You may have gotten away with it, had one of the water bottles not fallen from the crook of your elbow, alerting him to your presence. Instantly, he rolled out from under the machine, set down his tools, and sat up, staring at you. "(Y/N), what are you doing down here?"

Now that you could see his face, you were in even worse shape. The white stripes on his cheeks were smeared with grease, whiskers crumpled, and fur unkempt. He looked incredibly rugged- more so than usual. "Hello? Knowwhere to (Y/N)?" he croaked again and waved a hand in front of him, voice hoarse from unrestricted use. "You okay?"

At last, you shook out of your trance, flustered to hell and back, and eagerly swooped down to grab the bottle. "Y-Yeah, I'm great! You're just really hot!" Rocket stared at you for a second, waiting for you to correct yourself before owning the compliment and mocking you for it. Obviously, you didn't take the hint, so that was his cue.

"Well thanks, dollface," he smirked, standing up and sauntering over to the doorway, taking the dropped bottle from you before popping off the cap and chugging it. About halfway through, he stopped with a deep, relieved sigh. "I always thought I was pretty hot but it's still nice to hear it from someone else." That's when your stomach dropped, realizing what you'd said. Time to backtrack.

"Oh my God, no!" you gasped, once again dropping what you were holding to slap your hands to your face. "I don't think you're hot!" Rocket looked at you quizzically, hand on hip. "I-I mean I do think you're attractive, b-but not in a weird way! More like a friend way!"

"Uh-huh," he teased, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "Friend attraction's the best kind, ya know? And don't sweat it, Quill says I'm hot all the time."

"Rocket, please..." you finally gave in, physically crumbling. "I meant like- you're probably getting hot down here and I wanted to bring you something to drink."

"I know, dollface, I'm just yankin' your chain." he laughed, pushing off the wall and walking back farther into the room to sit on a bucket. "I needed a break anyway, thanks princess."

"Princess...?"

"What?"

"N-Nothing!" You finally let out a sigh of relief, following a bit closer and sitting on the floor. "So how's it coming?" you asked, uncapping your own bottle after passing him the last one.

"Well, I've identified the problem, but I don't got the right parts to fix it. Good news is, I think I was able to work up a temporary replacement that should at least get us back to Knowwhere. I know if we can just get home, I can get a brand new part for cheap-" You weren't sure when, but at some point, you'd stopped listening, mind and eyes wandering.

" Ah, fuck, (Y/N), easy! Yeah, j-just like that, keep movin' just like that for me princess..."

"Are you even listening?" Rocket's annoyed tone brought you out of your daydream. You must have zoned out without realizing it, how embarrassing. "Jeez, you're hopeless, ya know that?" He chided, standing up and grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on.

"Sorry..." you slumped shamefully before trailing him as he got back into position. "H-Hey, is there anything I can do to help you out?"

"Hmm," he paused, laying back down on the creeper, ready to roll back under the unit. "I guess you can keep me company, hand me tools," he proposed, disappearing under the machine. Suddenly his voice dropped an octave, words echoed against metallic surfaces that made you freeze. "I know my girl is very good with my tools."

You squeaked at his sudden turn in demeanor, falling on your behind and scrambling away from him. "W-What?!"

Rocket rolled back out, propping up on an elbow, eyeing you with concern. "What, what'd I say?" he asked frantically. "What's up with you?"

"Y-You said-" you stammered, not even comfortable with repeating what you heard. "Y-You said...I'm g-good with your tools!"

He looked at you like you were the biggest moron he'd ever met. "Well, yeah?" he chastised. "You help me in my shop all the time, so I know you know which ones are which. You're good at knowing which ones to hand me." Your chest heaved as he once again returned to his position, reaching his hand out. His small fingers curled, a sign for you to hand something over. "Gimme that ratchet." Quickly, you placed it in his hand, before clicking open the socket set.

"What size socket?"

"Twelve millimeter." He answered, settling the tool on his stomach to use both hands for whatever he was doing. Scanning the set, you plucked out the shallow twelve millimeter piece and set it on his chest, waiting for him to grab it. He did and growled in dismay, giving it back.

"No, princess," he corrected, gasping through clenched teeth. "Need it deep."

"You...w-what?" you carefully asked, feeling incredibly dizzy and unable to discern truth from hallucination.

"I need the deep twelve millimeter, not the shallow one." Rocket scolded, giving a frustrated sigh as he listened to you scramble for the correct piece, profusely apologizing all the while. Finally, you found the right one, presenting it to him just in time for him to roll out from under the fixture again. "Okay, dollface," he titled his head, worried. "What's your deal?"

"Deal? There's no deal!" you played dumb, laughing nervously, hoping he'd just drop it. "I'm fine, really!"

You went rigid, watching him silently creep closer to you, unsure if this was real or not. Finally, he placed a paw against your cheek and whispered in close: "You're burnin' up, baby."

"Rocket, I don't feel good." you stated abruptly. "I-I think something's wrong with me."

"I'll say," he cooed, dragging his knuckles down the side of your face. "How about you let me change that, hmm?" The world around you began to blur, and all you could make out were his words. You understood that his hands were on you, but you couldn't say where; you couldn't feel it, you couldn't even see clearly. "Yeah, baby just lay down, lemme do all the work." He soothed seductively. "Let daddy take care of you, 'kay, (Y/N)?"

That last word, it was your name, right? He kept repeating it, like a broken record, and suddenly all the gruffness left his voice. You listened as intently as you could, hearing it morph from lustful to monotone, and then increasingly more worried- desperate even. "(Y/N)!" There it was again.

Slowly, as his voice became more clear, the cloudiness in your vision dissipated and your senses began to return. Your cheek burned against hot metal, and you could feel patting on your face. A figure hovered over you, close enough to breathe on you. "Goddamnit, (Y/N), wake up!"

"R-Rocket...?" you stuttered, recognizing the figure. "What's going on...?"

"Nevermind that," he hushed. "Lay back down," Suddenly, he turned away from you, yelling out the door, presumably to the oncoming footsteps stampeding down the hall. "In here!" Your eyelids began to get heavy as the world began to fall away again. The last thing you remember was being lifted into the air by a second, hulking figure, then nothing.

-----

You awoke in your bunk, arctic air breezing by your face. What had happened, how did you get here? Where was Rocket? Your fingers twitched, sore from lack of use and the tips of them caught the sensation of something foreign. Multiple fibers connected to one source, soft in mass but wirey when you singled one out. Letting your hand travel up the organism, you froze, realizing you'd answered one of your questions. Glancing down, you found Rocket, curled in a ball at your side. That was odd, you did share a room, but Rocket never slept in your bunk.

Your movements must have roused him as he stirred under your touch, slowly unfurling himself and stretching out. "You're up," he noted, smiling a bit. "You'll be happy to know the AC is fixed."

Now that you took notice of it, the room was cooler, cold even. "Wow," you yawned, smiling back sleepily. "How long was I out for?"

"About eight hours," he copied, yawning as a reaction to seeing you do the same. You halted a moment, confused.

"Wait, I thought you said it'd take you another day to fix it?" you rubbed sleep from your eye waiting for his explaination.

"Nothin' an all nighter couldn't fix." He laughed exhaustedly, curling back up into your side. You'd usually question his sudden cuddliness, but it made your bed that much cozier. "Honestly, your little heatstroke..." his voice softened a bit. "It scared me a little. I was worried about ya."

"Heatstroke..." you repeated. "That makes so much sense," At least now you had an explanation for all those hallucinations from earlier. Though you were glad to be well again, Rocket's attention was nice, even if it was all in your head. "That explains me hearing and seeing things that weren't there down in the boiler. Sorry for acting so weird.." you confessed sheepishly.

"Don't be sorry," he chuckled cockily, eyes peacefully resting. "We'll definitely be having a lengthy, private conversation about all that after I catch up on some sleep." Your stomach dropped at that, imagining all the terrible outcomes that could result from said conversation. "And for the record, dollface, I do think you're very good at handling my tools, ya know," he smirked, nuzzling your ear. "When you follow directions."

Your stomach did flips as your head began to feel heavy again. "I-I must still be hallucinating...I swear I just heard you say-"

"Did I fuckin' stutter?"

#rocket raccoon smut #rocket smut #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg rocket #gotg x reader #gotg rocket x reader #rocket raccoon lemons #rocket raccoon x reader smut #rocket raccoon x you #rocket raccoon x y/n #marvel #marvel x reader

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brighteststar707 · 11 months ago

Text

To Disappear Under the Sun

✦ Character: 707

✦ Words: 3062

This is me expanding on this call from day 6 of 707's route! Warning: agent angst ahead.

“Status check, Agent 707?”

“All clear, Agent. Withdrawing now.”

“Time estimate?”

“Ten minutes at most. You have permission to withdraw.”

“Copy.” The little voice crackles then cuts out completely in Seven’s earpiece and he is left in silence. It’s hasty for Seven to send him out, but this mission has been going so smoothly, he sees no reason to have him out there any longer.

He is deep in the basement of a corporate building, a cockroach scurrying under the polished shoes of the oblivious corporate workers upstairs. So far, the mission has been going suspiciously well. He managed to slip into the office of his target unnoticed, steal all the information he needed, and get out again without alerting a single person. Though, none of this has done anything to ease the tension he has felt since entering the basement. With its fluorescent lighting and nearly-unnatural silence, the whole place has a liminal feeling that Seven is keen to be rid of.

And he’s close now. He can feel his heart thrumming in his chest and a strange buzz in his fingers that tells him that his adrenaline rush is wearing off. He is more than ready to get out of here.

One turn. Through another doorway, careful to stay out of view of the cameras he knows are positioned there. Another turn.

As he moves down one of countless dark hallways, he hears the little voice in his earpiece confirm that they have gotten out safely. He’s the last one left. Only a few more minutes and he’ll join them. He has the route memorized. He just needs to go up a staircase, through the door to the basement, and out of the back entrance. Vanderwood should be waiting there with the car to get them out of there.

He is about to start climbing the stairs when the door at the top of the staircase opens and he comes face-to-face with someone who definitely shouldn't have been there. It was supposed to be guarded – was guarded up until a few minutes ago – by another agent. Seven curses under his breath. There is a moment of silence, each of them weighing the options. Then, Seven makes his second mistake: he runs back into the basement, the way he came.

He hears shouts from behind him, the person calling for backup, and the thundering of steps on his heels.

But he is faster. He always is.

He works his way back down the hall, mind working through possible escapes at breakneck speed. There is no way past them. Anyone who could have helped him is gone. He tries anyway to call out the emergency code over his earpiece, but he gets no reply.

Three turns and through two more doors, and he comes across a door with a heavy-looking handle and a big warning sign on the outside.

KEEP OUT

AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY

Based on Seven’s experience, doors like this usually come with heavy-duty locks. And, if anything, the sign might convince his pursuers to look elsewhere. Either way, he’s running out of time. He tugs it open and quickly disappears inside.

The room is noticeably a few degrees hotter than the hallway outside. As his eyes adjust to the light, he can see why: he has found his way into the building’s boiler room. All around him there are pipes leading up into the rest of the building and against the back wall, there are three big boilers.

A piece of good news: the machines are making enough noise to cover up anything he says or does.

He takes this opportunity to test out his radio. He tries reaching Vanderwood, but he doesn’t receive a reply. Whether it’s because he doesn’t have any signal this far down or because they’re all gone, he can’t know.

Well then, he will just have to wait.

His eyes adjust to the darkness and he takes in his surroundings. The room itself is small, with nothing more than the boilers and pipes to take up the space. The pipes run across every wall in the room, hot to the touch, and he does his best to stay away from them.

The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and he is starting to feel the injuries he must have sustained during the chase. His lungs ache from running and somewhere on his leg a cut smarts. But he’s alive.

Already, the heat in the room is starting to weigh on him. He is panting from the chase, but breathing does not bring him relief. There is a stubborn tightness in his chest that doesn’t ease and his heart is still racing, even though enough time should have passed for him to calm down. Despite the room being big enough for him to walk around in, he is feeling claustrophobic. He has to fight the urge to throw the door back open and run out into the hallway. Luckily, he is still rational enough to know that it would be suicide.

Instead, he raises his arms over his head and stretches, trying to force more air into his lungs, holding each breath for a few seconds before releasing. It’s a struggle at first, his mind fighting furiously against his body’s urges, but he eventually manages to slow his breathing down.

He can still hear the footsteps of his pursuers roving up and down the hall. Despite still being too antsy to relax, he forces himself to sit down. It won’t do him any good to exert more energy than he has to in this state. He leans back against the wall, tilts his head back, and shuts his eyes. Sweat beads on his upper lip. The back of his neck is damp. He is already thirsty. But he does not think about it.

He waits.

⋆ * ✩ * ⋆

He idly stares at the wall opposite him and allows his mind to wander. He has paced the room back and forth (and found himself worryingly tired after a few laps). He has counted each of the pipes, even attempted to touch them a few times just out of curiosity (they’re terribly hot). This is far from his first time staking out like this. Every hour or so, he tries to reach the agents outside, but he never receives a reply.

He listens to the voices outside as they come and go. It sounds like the building’s regular security patrol was called in. However, if his target is as paranoid as he seemed to be during Seven’s research, they won’t be the only people on guard.

Time drags by, painfully slowly, and Seven focuses on his breathing. He still feels the urge to run out of the room; he has the odd sense that he’s being cooked from the inside out. Once or twice, he gets up and goes to the door, he finds himself with his hand on the handle before forcing himself to step away. There is no way out of this basement with so many people on guard. Even he isn’t that good.

He has to wait.

⋆ * ✩ * ⋆

Isolation is a strange thing to endure. Seven is no stranger to spending time alone, but this is a different beast all together. He is cut off from the outside world, slowly losing track of the stakes and all things that might have existed outside the door and its bright safety label. While he is very used to his own company (and often prefers it), his is a presence he’d do anything to escape right now.

He is painfully aware of just how dry his mouth is. It takes immense mental strength to not think about his fridge back home, fully stocked with crisp cold Dr. Pepper cans and water bottles. His whole body, by contrast, is uncomfortably damp. His clothes cling to his body in the most frustrating way, his hair is plastered to his forehead, and he has given up on pushing it out of the way. He can feel as sweat rolls down his skin and can do nothing to make it stop.

It is still hard to breathe. Each breath has the opposite effect and reminds him just how humid the room is. He imagines water filling his lungs with every breath, imagines drowning while dying of thirst. It’d be terribly ironic.

He makes a conscious effort to take deep breaths, but he can’t keep it up for more than a few minutes before he forgets. There is a dull throb starting in his head that he knows is just another sign of dehydration.

It has been around 24 hours since he first got into the boiler room, and it is starting to mess with his mind. Whether it’s the darkness, the heat, or both, he is starting to lose his grip on reality. With nothing else to distract him, his mind turns worryingly dark.

Seven’s identity and existence in daily life are tenuous at best. He is wrapped in so many lies and elaborate facades that he’s not there there’s anything left underneath it all. In this basement, cocooned in concrete, he is completely severed from the outside world. It is easy to imagine that he doesn’t exist at all.

Easier still when he can still hear the frustrated voices of the second round of security guards called in to search for him. They’re starting to doubt whether there was anyone ever there to begin with. It’s starting to sound more and more convincing even to him.

He’s too scared to let himself sleep, but as the hours pass, exhaustion starts to creep up on him.

⋆ * ✩ * ⋆

He startles awake. A quick glance at his watch tells him he has only been unconscious for two minutes, but his heart is racing like he’s been dreaming for far longer. His eyes shoot to the door out of pure habit. This has been happening every few minutes. It’s extremely exhausting: he exists in this terrifying delirium where he is constantly on the brink of death with no way of escaping.

Nothing feels real. Not the outside, not the threat of being caught, not the work he finished. All that exists are these four walls and the oppressive heat that is pushing hard on his chest. Each breath is strained. In between dreaming of being caught, he dreams of deserts. Sand that’s hot to the touch, beautiful mirages that slip away before he can touch them. He dreams of slipping out of his skin just to feel the cold air again… his head lolls downwards as he drifts off again.

His eyes snap open. Nobody has burst through the doors yet. He is leaning to the side, neck at a painful angle, face dangerously close to one of the exposed heating pipes. He’s one wrong move away from a nasty burn. He pulls himself back upright and shakes his head, as if to throw off the exhaustion. His mind runs in increasingly frustrating circles.

He must not fall asleep. They will eventually find him if he is not vigilant, and God knows what they’ll do to him if they get their hands on him now. Nobody would ever hear from him again. Worse; he’d be a failure. He’ll never see Saeran again. He must not fall asleep.

Then again, if Saeyoung vanishes off the map today, who would mourn him? Sure, his friends might worry for the caricature he created, but what do they know of the person he is underneath it all? There is no name attached to the work he has done for the agency; nobody will ever know what he did. Nobody will know who he died for.

His head pounds.

He must not fall asleep.

He mutters an incoherent prayer, words slurring together until they’re just a stream of consciousness like water, Saeran, please… eyelids already halfway closed again. His head lolls down again…

His cheek hits the pipe.

He lets out a startled cry and leaps to his feet, still half asleep, narrowly missing bashing his head on another pipe. He immediately presses his palm to his mouth, as if to undo the noise he just made, but it’s too late. His outburst has caused some commotion outside. He can hear feet pounding up and down the hallway, the voices of men shouting to each other to search every corner of the basement.

Luckily, the noise of the boiler room has covered up the exact source of Seven’s voice, but it has put them all back onto high alert.

He wobbles, dizzy and uncertain of what to do. His hand probes his cheek to check if the pipe left any lasting damage. His skin is sore, but he’s hoping it’s nothing more serious than that. The last thing he needs right now is a burn to worry about.

He clumsily lowers himself back to the floor – the sudden exertion of him jumping to his feet has made his headache significantly worse – and plants his head firmly between his knees. Sweat drips off his forehead onto the concrete floor. The shock has sent a wave of nausea through him and his limbs are too shaky to be of any use. He has never felt cool in his life. If the guards ever give up searching for him, he doubts he’d have the energy to get up and leave. Maybe he will just sit here until the dehydration or heatstroke take him. Nobody would ever know what happened to him.

It’s almost a relief. He has tried to be invisible for most of his life. It feels like a final gift that he might just disappear from the earth without anybody having to know.

⋆ * ✩ * ⋆

Sand, as far as the eye can see. Saeyoung, wobbly on his feet, head pounding. A crackly voice in his earpiece, calling his name.

“Status check, Agent Seven?”

His throat is too dry to speak.

“Remember your task. You have ten minutes.”

“Copy.” His voice comes out as a rasp.

The sun overhead, unforgiving and blindingly hot. His hands shaky, a feeling of dread in his gut. He knows he isn’t going to make it out on time.

He isn’t sure where he’s supposed to go, where to find the office that he knows has the information he needs. There isn’t a single building in sight. He stumbles a few steps forward, but moving makes the world spin dangerously under his feet. He is too dizzy to do more than shuffle a few steps forward at a time, the sand only hindering him.

His body aches, and he's sure he can hear footsteps around him somewhere, though there's nobody around to make them. He mutters a prayer under his breath. Whether to escape or to just be put out of this misery, even he isn't sure.

He only manages a few steps before he stumbles and falls. His skin stings where it hit the sand, but he doesn’t have time to recover. He needs shelter, and he needs it fast. He starts to crawl forwards again, desperate for something, anything.

He can't find purchase in the sand. It starts to pull him down deeper, like quicksand. The heat in his body is unbearable. He sinks into the sand, palms then wrists then forearms being swallowed up by the heat.

There is no escape.

He looks up to the sky desperately, when suddenly a shadow is cast over his face. Someone is looking down on him, and he can’t muster up the strength to tell them to get out while they still can. He waits for his eyes to adjust, sun in his eyes, and then gasps.

It’s Saeran staring back at him. A face remarkably similar to his, hair lying just a bit flatter on his head (Seven’s hair has always been more unruly), though just as vibrant as his own. The only thing that surprises Seven is the look of disappointment in Saeran’s face. It's a look he has never seen, and would do anything to never see again. He looks down at Seven like he has already failed him.

“Wake up,” he says. His voice is strangely deep, familiar somehow.

“What?”

“Wake up. Is this what you left me to do? To die all alone? It's pathetic.”

“No- I…”

Saeran leans down so his face is close to Seven’s. He enunciates every word slowly so that Seven’s addled brain can keep up.

“Then. Wake. Up.”

Seven puts all his energy into opening his eyes. It’s the hardest thing he has ever had to do.

“Ah, thank God you’re not dead. C’mon, wake up.”

“Huh?”

Vanderwood stands crouched over him in the boiler room and is shaking his shoulder. Already, there is sweat beading on their forehead.

“I’m getting you out. You want to die here?”

“You found me.” His voice is as hoarse as it was in his dream.

“Obviously. You think I want to deal with the boss yelling at me for losing his best agent?”

Seven can barely keep up. He’s sure he’s hallucinating.

“Huh.” Is all he can say.

“Ugh. Come on.”

Vanderwood heaves Seven off the floor while Seven can do little more than groan at the pounding in his head.

The only thing that somewhat revives him is the first taste of air outside the boiler room. He takes his first full breath in three days. Slowly, Vanderwood half-carries him up the stairs and out of the building and loads him into the car.

Seven is barely conscious (Vanderwood won't let him sleep again) but it hits him: he survived. He exists outside the confines of the concrete and desperate, suffocating heat.

Saeran's dream words come to him again in his delirious state. Is this what you left me to do? To die all alone?

It had never occurred to him before. The agency work had always been vaguely for Saeran's sake. But this was not how it was supposed to end; dying alone and nameless without ever being able to get word back to his brother. He knows this now, suspects that he has always hoped so.

Despite how badly he may wish to disappear back into the earth, it seems that something bigger is awaiting him still.

#my writing #mystic messenger #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger Saeyoung #mystic messenger Saeyoung choi #mystic messenger luciel choi #mystic messenger luciel #mystic messenger seven #mysme seven #mysme 707 #mysme saeyoung #mysme saeyoung choi #if you see any changes appear later no you didn't

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lxh-arts · 1 year ago

Text

Biu Kitchen - Lemon Madeleine

🍋Biu～(｡>◇<｡)🍋

Ingredients:

Madeleines:

1 lemon

2 eggs

White sugar 80 g

salt 1 g

butter 100 g

cake flour 100 g

Baking powder 4 g

Honey 20 g

lemon juice 6 g

*Makes 8 lemon madeleines

Chocolate decorations:

White chocolate 200 g

Yellow oil-based food color, as needed

Chocolate pen/dark chocolate as needed

*If making the chocolate decorations is too much trouble, you can use confectionery chocolate to get results that are just as lustrous and pretty ~

Recipe

Step 1: prepare the ingredients

Take the zest of 1 lemon and mix with the salt and white sugar. Separately, mix together the egg and honey. Mix together the lemon and egg mixtures until no large lumps remain.

Melt the butter in a microwave.

In a separate bowl, mix together the cake flour and baking powder until well combined, then sift well. Add the flour to the egg mixture and stir.

Add the butter a third at a time, mixing in the last addition before pouring in more butter. Mix in the lemon juice.

Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator for at least an hour, preferably overnight.

Step 2: Madeleines

Prepare lemon-shaped molds. Butter and flour the molds, shaking off the excess flour.

Spoon the chilled batter into a pastry bag and fill the molds about 70% full.

Bake with the upper element temperature at 170-180°C and the lower element at 160-170°C, with the fan on, for 10-13 min.

[TN: recipe uses a convection oven with independently controlled heating elements at the top and the bottom.]

After baking, gently remove the cookies from the molds and let cool.

Step 3: Chocolate decorations

Wash and fully dry the madeleine mold. Melt the white chocolate in a microwave for 30 seconds, or temper in a double boiler.

Add the yellow food color and mix well. Place in a pastry bag. Pipe a small amount of yellow chocolate into the bottom of the mold and press the madeleine into the mold.

Chill for 20 min before removing from mold. Use the dark chocolate to draw on a face.

#year: 2023 #biu kitchen #bidiu #food #recipes #羅小黒戦記 #lxh #罗小黑战记 #luo xiao hei zhan ji

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amunyan · 2 months ago

Text

Warnings: smut...

Carefully you look around the changing room. "Good - I'm the last one. Now I just have to be quick."

Against your nature, you took your time after training. You volunteered to help tidy up the gym, asked a few more or less serious questions about some of the techniques, only to be alone now.

"Even though we are all women... I am still too shy..."

Wrapped in a towel, you undress clumsily. Then, armed with shampoo and soap, you enter the communal shower.

Another thing you never thought would happen. But because of the current problems in your block of flats...

Fortunately, the janitor was able to fix the problem with the power cut last week. But even he thought it would be better to call in a professional. Well, the expert arrived yesterday. Just an apprentice, it seems, but he was very confident and soon found the cause: a large leak in the technical room where the washing machines are located. It was not hard to miss it, as it was right next to the machines and everyone knew about it somehow, but shrugged it off anyway. A big mistake, because this leak was just a small part of a bigger one, hidden behind the washing machines. So it was not long before the culprit behind the blackouts was found. One of the washing machines was to blame, as water had leaked into its circuit from a burst pipe. To fix the problem, the water was temporarily turned off that day to replace the broken pipe. But the electricity in the basement was left off for the time being to prevent a short circuit. And as the boiler was also in the basement, there was no hot water for a few days. Until the apprentice's boss accepted everything... So you had to... The other option was an ice-cold shower at home; and you were clearly more of a hot shower type.

"I hope this is the only time I have to do this..." you say to yourself as you turn on the tap. You still feel more than uncomfortable...

The warm water echoes in the tiled room. You quickly wet your hair and body. But you take a moment to enjoy the warm water on your skin. You close your eyes and lean back a little - a big mistake for beginners. Moments later, you jump when you hear the door to the changing room open.

"What the hell? Who else is there? Wait a minute... That's right. I forgot all about her."

"Nice view. Mind if I join you, (Y/N)?"

Mereoleona is standing in the doorway to the open communal shower in the changing room - yes, they really had skimped on the door and privacy here. Probably because no one would ever shower here anyway.

"Huh?!" You don't really have a chance to disagree, because Mereoleona doesn't wait for an answer. She quickly undresses and is now standing next to you in the shower. You don't even dare to look at her, because you are way too busy to cover your breasts and the area between your legs.

"Calm down, (Y/N). You have seen her naked many times before. And so has she...", you try to confince yourself. "So why am I so nervous?"

This is a total lie. Maybe you have seen her, because she doesn't mind. But has she seen you? No...

"Hey, don't be shy, sweetheart. It's just us. But still..." She pauses and looks at you. Slowly from top to bottom and back again. "You never took off your towel in the sauna until now..." Mereo adds with a grin. "So; why are you here? I never expected to see you showering. Especially not here." She says, turning on the tap of the shower next to yours.

"Neither did I," you reply with an awkward smile on your lips. "But the showers here are more comfortable than mine at home, after the hot water ran out yesterday..."

"Problems in your home again?"

You nod, "Yes. But maybe they finally found the problem. It will just take a while to fix it."

"I see... And you really put up with the public shower here? Instead of asking me for help?" She looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you just nod silently with your lips pressed together.

"Next time you need help, you came to me, understood? You can always ask me, you know."

You nod again, this time a little uncertain.

"Well, at least I get the pleasure of showering with you."

Your eyes drift back to the ground. You can't stand her intense gaze. Nor that she was so casual about this. In comparison, your heart is beating so hard in your chest. On the one hand, you want to escape the situation. On the other hand, you want to stay.

"Can I borrow your soap?"

"Huh? Sure... But didn't you bring your own?"

"Hell, no. I usually shower at home. Well, would you be so kind?" She holds out her hand and you hand her your soap while you wash your hair.

"Goodness, if she doesn't have anything with her, why is she showering here? At first I thought she showered here regularly - she's the type. But now? But not really because of me?" You allow yourself the thought and blush even more than you already do. "What's she up to? She was very engaging and possessive on Sunday too. She cuddled me in front of everyone, called me hers and then kissed me on the forehead." You think about it for a moment, but you don't know exactly how to take it. At least you don't want to see the obvious.

In a careless moment, as you turn to rinse every last bit of foam from your hair, you feel hands on your back. Warm fingers sliding gently over your skin. You jump. Your heart starts beating like crazy.

"Mereo? What are you doing?" You notice that your voice is shaking.

"Just taking the chance to help you soap up." She replies with a kind of devilish smile on her lips.

You don't know how to react when her hands touching your skin. It feels soft and gentle as she rubs your back. Even though you wanted something like this, you could not bring yourself to admit it. You are still too busy being shy and ashamed of the situation, your brain has not processed yet.

Instead of feeling, you think about whether this is wrong or not.

"It's okay," you nervously try to convince yourself again. "We're both women... and maybe this is just a normal thing for female friends to do. Or in general. In Japan, people wash each other's backs, if I'm not mistaken. So... I've lost count of how many times we've been in the sauna and so on together..."

Mereoleona's touches become stronger and it's not just your back she's soaping up.

"Where is this going? Is this still normal between friends? She has always been the touchy type. But this?"

Slowly, her fingers have moved down your back to your hips, moving forward over your stomach as she moves closer to you.

Your heart is pounding harder against your chest. Your breathing accelerates. "She'll notice..."

As Mereo strokes your breasts, you have to bite your lower lip to stifle some naughty noises. Your mind goes crazy and you take a small step back, closer to her. You want to touch her too… "Damn it."

You both pause as you hear the door to the changing room swing open, followed by hurried footsteps and cursing. Not only do you catch the voice, but from your point in the shower you can see a little of the changing room. Mina, that's the name of the person, who just entered the room. A sweet but clumsy girl who always forgets something. The young woman ignores the sound of the shower. Still. You and Mereo cannot react quickly enough, alone the fact that Mina is too busy with whatever can save you. At least for the moment.

"What a snot... She always forgets something," you hear Mereoleona mutter.

But you don't even dare to breathe. You just hope that Mina will quickly find what she's looking for and leave. And don't see you two here. Don't see you and your trainer doing dirty things in the shower...

Only now do you realise that Mereoleona still has her hands on your breasts. Even though she's only touching them, it sends shivers down your spine. You can't stand them any longer. She should either fuck you here and now or take her hands off yours. But under these circumstances...

"Mereo..." you whisper, breathing heavily. "Can you please take your hands off my breasts. I...."

"Why? Mina will leave any moment."

"But I can't stand it any longer. Please..."

"Thank God. Here it is." Mina happily takes the scarf she thought she had lost. It is only now that she notices the shower is turned on. "Oh... someone else is here?" She whispers under her breath.

"See? She seems to have her stuff. She will leave any minute. Just a little longer, sweetheart." She gives you a couple of little kisses on your shoulder. "I didn't expect you to react like that. I haven't even started yet..."

"This isn't helping. You should stop moving. Please! I am already so damn wet, and not because of the water."

You can't see Mina, but you can hear her footsteps. You still hope she would be leaving by now. But it doesn't look like it...

She walks around the room, coming closer. Perhaps she has noticed your coach's clothes, which she has taken off in a mess, almost in a hurry, and thrown on the floor outside the shower room. Mina, the eldest of the three sisters and a cleaning fiend, would probably be drawn to these clothes like a moth to a flame... Nevertheless; Mereo doesn't seem to care. Or she hasn't noticed. She is still busy spreading kisses on your shoulders, which slowly turn into tender bites and leave their mark. But as she moves, her hands also do. She now pinches your nipples with her thumb and forefinger, probably unintentionally. "Mereo... You can't do this to me. Not now..."

Almost desperately, you free yourself from her grip, grab her wrists and push her against the wall. But she seems to enjoy it. Her wide grin even reveals her fang. She doesn't know what that smile is doing to you. But maybe she senses it.

"Shhh...!" you look at her and listen through the splashing water.

She still stares at you with a mischievous grin. "I didn't know you could be so wild..."

"Mereoleona..." you sigh and look directly at her now. "You know how much I like you and I would not mind if you continue to make me feel your fingers not only on me but also inside me. But now is not the time! So... would you please stop and wait quietly until Mina is really gone?"

For a moment there is only the sound of the shower. Your friend's gaze had passed you by for a moment, but now she looks back at you with a meaningful grin, suppressing a small laugh. "I think you're the one who's been too loud..."

Your eyes widen and you turn bright red with foreboding. Slowly, Mereo still fixated on the tiled wall of the bathroom, you turn your head towards the door.

Mina, who is actually standing in the doorway with the clothes in her hand, looks at you in complete bewilderment. Her face is as red as yours. Completely shocked, she drops the stuff she had picked up. "Mina! I... I... It's not..." You try to explain yourself, letting go of Mereoleona's wrists as you move towards her.

But you don't know how to explain this. It's not what it looks like? You didn't really know what it is... Or maybe it's exactly what it looks like?

"It's all right, it's all right," the other young woman sounds almost hysterical. "It's my fault. It's my fault. I'll... I'll go back then. I didn't see anything... I'm sorry!"

"Wait!?" You shuffle towards the door, wanting to say something in your defence.

Only to watch Mina stumble hurriedly out of the changing room, when your potential girlfriend hugs you from behind again.

"You get used to the nudity. But..." Mereo's face cames closer to your ear. "Do you really want me to put my fingers inside you? We can continue right now if you want. We've scared off the little intruder." She grins at you cheekily, almost defiantly.

"Please forget what I said..." With a pained look on your face, you push her away and leave the shower in shame.

#black clover #creative wrting #x reader #mereoleona vermillion #x fem!reader #i dont know what i am doing #mereoleona x reader #advent calendar #black clover smut

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sovietpostcards · 1 year ago

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Moscow's Lower Presnya - factory workers' village built in late 1920s

Thank you for making it happen: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

Presnya in Moscow was a district of factories since the 18th century. Some of the factories that were based here are the Prokhorov's textile factory (Tryokhgornaya Manufactura), Smith's boiler factory, Danilovsky sugar factory, Ossovetsky's chemical plants etc. Factory workers usually lived close by (some of the factory owners built housing, but not all) so there were a wide array of houses and buildings (some brick, some wooden). After the 1917 Revolution all of the factories were nationalised and workers' living situation rethinked.

Presnya was the first workers' village in Moscow rebuilt after the Revolution (began in 1926). Emerged a district of 4-floor brick houses in formations that created court yards (something that didn't really exist for apartment buildings before then). Court yards were there purely for comfort of the residents. The new buildings mostly consisted of standard sections of 2 or 4 flats per floor per entrance. The standartisation helped bring the costs down (the buildings themselves were all still different). Buildings stood far enough from each other to allow enough air and sunlight. Most of the flats had windows facing North and South - it helped with air flow and sanitation (tuberculosis and other diseases were on the rise, and having direct sunlight in the flat was detrimental for germs). Many of the flats (though not all) had kitchens and bathrooms. Every building had a built-in boiler room that provided heating in winter. Flats were equipped with their own boilers to cook and heat water. Some other "smart house" solutions in the flats: a pipe system that sent heated water from the kitched to the bathroom, oven-samovar connector (to simplify boiling a samovar), built-in "ice pantry" in the kitchen (served as a fridge in wintertime), air ducts in every room, floor air ducts that also served as water retractors and prevented flooding the neighbours downstairs.

It's important to note that while some families had a whole flat to themselves, most of them were kommunalkas [communal flats] with several families sharing one flat, one room per family. Typically, workers aged 40+ with big families were more likely to get their own flat that younger or unmarried workers.

Let's see some of the residential buildings!

First, some of the 19th century ones - originally built by factory owners as housing for workers.

This new elite residence is built over three 19th cent. buildings. They tried to save as much as possible. The building on the left is mostly as is (only an extra floor was added on top), the building on the far right was kept as part of the facade, and the middle one was in too bad a condition to save, unfortunately.

Corner house with the Kommunar store - designed by Aleksandr Kurovsky.

Another building designed by Kurovsky was initially supposed to have more balconies - see the project on the cover of Building Moscow (#4, 1929). Originally the colors were reversed: the building was made of red brick (befitting the red brick factory surroundings) and the patterns were made of lime brick.

Pair of buildings designed by engineer Osvald Kapran are very simple but have a distinct feature.

And finally the architectural dominant of the Lower Presnya - Mostorg [Moscow Trade] department store designed by Brothers Vesnin and built in 1928. It was their first constructivist building in Moscow. This was the first and only store of this magnitute in the district, a symbol of the new centralised trade as opposed to old style markets.

Part one - Architecture | Part two - Museum

#moscow #architecture #1920s

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plusheat · 2 years ago

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Save Money and Hassle: Invest in Reliable Boiler Cover Today

Investing in reliable boiler cover is a smart move that can help you save money and avoid the hassle of unexpected boiler breakdowns. With comprehensive coverage, you can protect your wallet and enjoy a worry-free heating system.

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copperhead-assorted-crafts · 1 year ago

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Minor spoilers for Who's Lila below!

The way Jacob Geller talks about Who's Lila?, I thought the possession aspect was going to be a bigger reveal to the player, but it's actually told to you within the first ten screens or so in the game almost no matter which way you wander lol. You would have to actively dodge being told you're possessed. Either the boiler guy says 'hey there Lila' or the train guy says 'you thought you could fool me? I know she's with you'.

I'm having a lot of fun with it. The controls are your mouse and spacebar, as it's styled after old point-and-click games. There is a lot of comedy to the premise once you realize this isn't just* some poor guy with a disorder, it's also an Octodad situation where your horrid new friend is trying not to blow her own cover. Lila knows she doesn't know how to smile naturally, and so she gets you to do it... but you only have a mouse and a spacebar, so here you are trying to smile FOR her by moving this poor guy's face like it's putty, and oftentimes just completely fucking it up to the point that the people around you still notice you're not acting right.

Better yet, you have control of the eyes and the cheek muscles! Making a face that you'd believe IRL is really difficult! One of the screens you get in the boiler room tells you to shut your eyes while something is screaming at you and I was so focused on finding the instructions and completing them in time that I didn't actually get to see what that thing looked like. But, the game is so generous with save slots (both auto and manual) that even if you seriously fuck up, it's not really a big deal! Fucking up and making an ugly face accidentally is fun! It also has a built in easy mode switch that gives you a longer timer and doesn't let Lila move the face on her own, to her (and your) benefit.

The sound design is really good too. I'm only about thirty minutes into it and that really stands out. The Wheel, the boiler thing, the music in the pipes, it's all super good, eerie and beautiful. I get why this guy thought Lila was friendly, if these are Lila's friends. The dithering art style is also a delight to look at when other people's faces move as they're talking to you. It's so smooth. It's sooooo nice.

#who's lila #who's lila?#spoilers #spoiler #very minor but if you want to go in zero-knowledge...#who's lila? spoilers #who's lila spoilers #game review

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interdimensionalburnout · 1 month ago

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>It's footage from Berri's camera drone, hovering above a large bread-loaf shaped shaped generator. The thing is full of large puncture holes, and the top appears, well, scored like a loaf, a massive slice gouged along the length. Smoke pours from many of the holes, while steam billows out of others. More steam spills out of the wall behind the generator, through severed ducts that emerged from the hidden boiler the machine powered. Berri appears to have been set on leaving it utterly ruined, but without the urgency of someone committing any kind of wrong.

>In fact, she's just sitting there, reclined between two pipes emerging from the wall across from the boiler room generator; in her hand is a simple revolver, firing shots into the side of the already burning machine with sort of lazy precision. Her aim is noncommittal, but she appears to be shooting a heart into the machine's side paneling.

>She's about four bullets in, when a woman barges in through a side entry, blowing the solid steel doors off their hinges with a heel, wrapped in a massive, plated boot. Powered Armor. The thing whirrs and clanks against itself, the exoskeleton hauling heavily-modified armor, the woman armed with the kind of heavy rifle that would be more at home on the back of a military transport.

>"STOP BLOWING HOLES IN THINGS, YOU CRAZY BITCH," is the woman's grand opening, followed up immediately by burst-fire hail in Berri's direction. Berri lets herself fall slack, slipping between the pipes and onto the floor, seeming to land on her back wrongly. She rolls out of the way of another round of bullets, feigning the kind of aches an old woman would posses, while the armored woman, Devil Redd, lays down more covering fire, slowly stomping the distance between her and this random bitch away.

>"I'm gonna gut you like a pig, girl." Redd's voice is hoarse, with an accent that Berri seems to recognize, delight on her face as she pivots on her heel, now fully on her feet. With a flash of the arm, Berri's sword is suddenly weaving her sword through the air, as if she was stabbing wildly, merely along for the ride as the sword makes wide, thrusting arcs in the blink of an eye. The camera zooms in from its perch on the ceiling, as the firing has stopped. Redd's un-helmeted head looks on, eyes blazing, mouth agape: Berri is attempting to hold her sword forward, horizontally, at JUST the right angle, tilting this way and that, trying to keep six 50. cal bullets balanced on the tip of her gladius, stacked in a perfect column.

>"You're gonna need a faster gun if you're gonna gut me, luv," Replies Berri, mimicking the accent with distasteful exaggeration. She's completely vanished from the line of fire when the next six bullets are sprayed at her, but with a too-quick flick of the wrist, six old bullets were left in the air, in her place, each one catching a new bullet. "Or maybe a sharper one, seein's how you mean to 'Gut Me.'" Berri's too close for Redd to do anything about, now, though that doesn't stop Redd from trying to bring her rifle stock down on the back of Berri's head. The power armor gives her an extra foot and a half over her, but Berri's ready for her, even though her sword's back in its sheath.

>Berri's left arm meets the rifle bash directly, and on impact, a shimmering, deep-green gauntlet, shaped like a metal hand and wrist materializes from her wrist to her fingers. It's shaped like plate armor, but even as a solid-light projection, it's clearly made of scrap metals, blocky and crude. But it absorbs the bash of the gun, and blows Redd's right arm our wide, wrenching it out of her left hand and nearly disarming her outright. Berri follows up by shifting her weight onto the insides of her feet, sliding her heel and bringing an armored right hand close to her body.

>The uppercut that follows is a brutal thing, the solidified energy-barrier easily tearing through the thin deflective field of Redd's power armor, and crushing the lower-left side of the chest piece. Redd gives a gasp, merely a human with advanced machines at her disposal, against whatever the hell Berri has going on at any given moment. Berri drops her body low, knees locked like gears in tension for just a single heartbeat, before releasing, as she rams her shoulder hard into that break in the power armor.

>As her shoulder connects with the stunned Redd, more projected Ghost Armor reveals itself, crude shoulder pauldrons, with hard-edged, blocky plating. Semi opaque, like the gauntlets, with a metalic-green sheen to them, Berri's shoulder drives into Red, knocking her backwards. The mercenary, who just this morning had felt like an underworld king, with her impregnable fortress and extremely profitable chem-smuggling organization, barely held her ground, planting a foot behind her and shakily standing her ground. She's dropped her gun, taking a wild right-hand swing at Berri.

>Berri simply leans away from the swing, dropping into a peak-a-boo defensive stance, from which she laid several more punches into the power armor, battering red's ribs, even through layers of steel, framing, energized plate, and kinetic-energy absorbing fabrics. Each swing is a thunder-crack to the audio, and another deep, sharp-knuckled dent in the two large plates that made up Redd's chest piece. Eventually, the seventh punch, delivering a third blow to the first wound, from the first uppercut, drives her to her hands and knees.

>She attempts to say something, but her teeth are stained red, and it's unclear what she was trying to gurgle. Berri steps back, drawing her sword out of its sheath with the same casual energy as pulling out a wallet, and says, "I get that question a LOT, lady." Berri puts her arms out wide, shrugging. "I don't got any good answers anymore, neither." With a flourish, she flips the sword into the air, catching it after a single twirl and driving it through the center of Redd's chest, just as she had pulled herself from hands and knees, to just knees. The strength drains from her arms, even as she attempts to clutch at Berri, but Berri's already turned away from Redd, leaving the sword in her chest. "To you, though, I'm like a bolt of lightning, burning your house down outta nowhere, right?" She walks a slow arc around Redd, looking off, beyond the walls of the generator room, beyond the prison. "I might as well be just that, hay. The first strike of a one-woman storm. Whatever I'm doing here, whoever I am or oughta be..."

>Berri finishes the arc, calmly grabbing the hilt of the sword, and leaning in close to Redd, who glares in desperate defiance, even as her eyes get cloudy, "I'm sure I'll figure it out if I keep killing dickheads like you, and like them," Berri points her right hand to the door Redd came in through, where the bobbing beams of flashlights can be seen in the gathering haze of steam grow closer and closer. Without taking her left hand from the hilt of her sword, she pivots and faces Redd from the left, smoothly grasping the blade of her sword with Ghost Armor, and bracing her left foot against Redd's limp left arm. But she points out, with her left index finger, northward beyond the basement prison-walls, to the Magisterial Palace. Redd's eyes follow the finger as Berri says, "And like them. But you first, scumbag."

>Berri grips the blade tightly from both ends and heaves a mighty ho, wrenching her new, ancient, mysterious blade in an upward angle, horizontally through Redd and her custom power armor, armor to make her a one-woman army in her own regard, in her own league. It's cleaved, cut smoothly, bloodily, brutally from the center, as a hot knife glides through butter. Berri knocks the woman over with a hard, awkward thud as the sword is wrenched through its victim, and her bracing leg slams to the ground next to the corpse. The video cuts as Berri whips her sword first right, and then left, the blood and mechanical fluid being flung from the blade with superhuman force before she sheathes it, and the video feed cuts.

#IC #Viewable ICly

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udhhyog2 · 4 months ago

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