#finding solid ground

[navigatorradio]

do you guys think venom fucks with toy-box

[stgroversfire]

mmmm dont have time to dig into it rn but. i imagine lan wangji felt a lot of the same things raising a-yuan as jiang cheng did raising jin ling

and of course there are some very big differences too, but i imagine the love they felt for their kids held a lot of the same baggage.

[mingot-studios]

I don't think Curly handled the situation well at all, but I'm not gonna sit here and say I would do it any better in fact, I'd probably make things worse...😰

[mochasucculent]

POV you're a weird bug

[angeart]

Juni's betrayal really messed both of them up oh my goodness T-T

Also that was the first time Grian had seen Scar's wings??? since the start??? Also also Scar wrapping his wings around Grian, I made noises. And I made more noises at his Scar

How much bribery is necessary for those bonus rambles tho? 👀 I will give literally all the bribes

-🎀

yeah it messes them up 🥺

yes! that has been the first time. scar's really worked hard to keep them hidden this whole time, he himself not wanting to face that damage, but also not knowing how to admit it to grian. this at least helped him come clean and open up about it <3

hehe, you and link both made noises at the my Scar bit :3c loove to see you guys turn so defenceless at a simple phrase (to be fair it's a good one. grian should really use it more often.)

hmmmmm not much bribery. a little bit of bribery. i'm extremely easy to sway. ✨

[linogram]

climbed through a small hole in the ceiling under the mausoleum of king deshret and accidentally went out of bounds

[orcelito]

waaaaaaaaaaaa

im feeling a bit inspired again. and ive continued my reread of trigun Including the compilation documents i decided to make for the things im interested in

"assorted details" being little tidbits i decide to keep. my ITNL compilation doc & my active chapter doc.

"manga locations" is a big one. i want to puzzle out where things actually are in relation to one another, so im taking notes anytime a location is mentioned

"manga times" anytime a definite time is mentioned, it goes in there.

"planning" is for ITNL lol, it's detailing all my gung-ho guns things

"plant powers" is another big one. trying to compile proof for everything plants (and more importantly for my purposes, Vash) can do. here is the current list of sections (as of the end of chapter 9), though it is going to be updated as i go along

AND THEN "vash psyche". me compiling bits of proof for Vash's mind state, mostly in relation to his lack of self-worth & other such problems. i want to eventually do a proper analysis of it throughout the manga, so. compilation doc it is.

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

i really really really really really like how Psychic and Myth's backstories contrast each other. like probably an unnatural amount.

because. Psychic came from nothing. he woke up alone. he had no one to show him what to do, he was forced to survive Hell on his own until Dearest showed up. DD was the reason Psychic made ANYTHING of himself, it was after him that Psi became the insanely skilled and knowledgeable person that he is now.

meanwhile. Myth existed to be everything. her only reason for existing was to be an idol. a goddess. but the moment she tried to be anything less, she was the one who got talked down to. she was the one who became nothing. Myth had to leave her life behind, where she was everything, and start all over again in a world she knows barely anything about.

i really really really really really like this, in case you couldn't tell. it tickles my cranial nerves.

[coconut530]

FRIED EGG 💙😡❌🫣❤️

[tunneldweller]

always wanted to see what riding a hoverboard is like and now I borrowed one. if anything happens, my will is in the usual spot.

[saturnaous]

DRAGGING MY HANDS DOWN MY FACE. LEAVE IT UP TO ME TO HAVE MY TWO FAVORITE WEBCOMICS HAVE BARELY ANYFUCKING THING ANYWHERE AROUND. HEAD IN HANDS

[this-doesnt-endd]

Me the second i feel myself get dizzy and have to stay super still so that way i dont feel horrible and nearly puke cause while i may be still the world had decided to roatate around me like one of those funhouse spinning tunnels

[readwritealldayallnight]

The men working on his crew today are too loud, too boisterous, too young, too content to stand around blabbering, taking the piss instead of doing their actual jobs

Getting into construction work following retirement from the SAS wasn’t exactly the idyllic image of sipping a daiquiri on the beach that his thick stack of discharge papers had painted in his head

But it kept his hands occupied and his mind busy, his daily stressors having shifted from cleaning blood out of his gear and patching broken bones every other day, to instead complaining about the rising price of lumber and pulling splinters out on occasion

Trading in his AR for a nail gun, swapping his tac vest for a tool belt, even turning in his skull mask for a hard hat, was surprisingly an easier adjustment than he’d predicted, the long hours and physical work meant he was too exhausted by the time he got home to spend much time doing anything other than preparing for the next day, a never ending cycle that kept him from being still for too long

It might have been some time since Simon Riley was on a battlefield, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still play the hero every once in a while

He’s stood at the top of a ladder, wiping the sweat off his brow as his other hand pats agains this tool belt, searching for the one tool he’s certain he forgot to bring up with him

“Pass me the claw head hammer will y-” Simon cuts himself off from asking the lad stood below him, when he notices he’s only talking to himself. Squinting through the glare of the afternoon sun shining in his eyes, he glances around the job site until he spots most of his crew gathered near the front gates

He rolls his eyes to himself as he begins making his way back down to solid ground, having spotted what had the men so distracted : a pretty bird stood on the other side of the fence

Simon can admit to himself, even he likes to partake in the occasional bird watching, he is just a man at the end of the day, but not when there’s work to be done, and they’re already more than a week behind on this job

“Alright you tossers, back to it!” He shouts to be heard over the group of men, a chorus of groans and grumbles echoing out before they’re slowly dispersing

“Ach, we were jus’ helpin ‘er out, sir!” A man who sounds like he’s been smoking all his life croaks out as he walks by

“Here, miss. He’s the one that might be able to give you an answer.” One of the younger men on the crew says, pointing a gloved hand in Simon’s direction

He follows the younger man’s gaze, expecting to find another curious bystander peeking at the work, perhaps a nosy neighbour who wants to know why such a mess is being made, hell maybe even one of the hens from the nearby college stopping by for a quick flirt

He’s prepared to offer a professional nod, maybe even a begrudging ‘Alright?’ if it appeases them, before he’ll be excusing himself back to the job, uninterested in getting home any later tonight than he already has to just to entertain some stranger

But of course, he doesn’t end up doing so, does he? Not when his hand comes up to block out the sun, his gaze peering through the chain link fence, and it’s you that his eyes land on

You, with your wide eyes fighting to appear confident, though the controlled panic running through them is clear to see from where Simon stands a few feet away from you

Your body tense as you push a small pram in place back and forth, back and forth, your attention jumping between the men and whoever must be tucked up under a pile of blankets in the stroller, presumably also the reason for your enticingly large cleavage, he allows himself think for a split second before averting his gaze

Simon sends the younger man away with a quick jut of his chin, before he’s taking a careful step towards you

“Wha’ can I help you with?” He tries in vain to mask the usual harshness in his tone, but with such a quick switch in his emotions it doesn’t come out sounding quite how he’d hoped, yet you don’t flinch away from him either

“I know-” you let out a frustrated breath, readjusting your grip on the pram’s handle as you steady yourself, locking eyes with his once again with a new vigour behind them this time around. “I know this is so silly of me, and I’m sure you’ve had lots of people botherin’ you, so uh, sorry for bein’ one of ‘em, but here I am.”

You let out a small chuckle to yourself, more self deprecating than anything else, but Simon finds himself offering the slightest bit of a smile in return, if only to ease your nerves

“Anyways, I can imagine you’re probably not allowed to tell but, uh, people have been saying this might be a daycare you’re building here.”

He knew what your question was going to be long before you’d opened your pretty mouth- everyone and their mother had been asking about the project

Limited childcare in the area meant that as soon as the first whispers of a new daycare being built had started to spread, parents and even parents to be had been poking their noses before shovels had even hit the ground

Opening his mouth to give you the same answer he’d given everyone before you, Simon finds the words dying on his tongue as the unmistakable sound of an upset baby comes from the pram, and a very small baby at that

“Shh, shh darling. It’s okay, baby. You’re alright, shh.” He can’t find it in himself not to step closer until he’s practically got his nose poking through the fence to get nearer to you both, eyes glued to the way your lips formed the sweet soothing words, peering towards the increasingly squirming bundle tucked away in the pram

“Tha’s a tiny one.” Simon practically whispers to himself, though he knows you’ve heard him when your eyes glance up to meet his. “Can’t be very old.” He remembers how small his nephew had been when he’d been born, and recognized that distinct newborn cry instantly.

“Just turned eight weeks.” You answer with a ghost of a proud smile dancing across your lips quickly as you gaze at your bundle of joy, a tidbit of information you would expect a new parent would be all too happy to talk about, though the elation quickly disappears from your face. “Unfortunately my job is uh, I have to go back to work soon, I’ve just really been needing to find a spot for her somewhere.”

“Have you told your boss to sod off?” He asks, biceps bulging as he crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the fence. He doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like the idea of a pretty little bird being all worked up and stressed about finding her new little baby bird somewhere to stay because her job is trying to force her to come back so soon

He also recognizes the fact that he doesn’t know you, that you’ve been a stranger to him up until about 60 seconds ago, and that he shouldn’t go involving himself in things that don’t regard him, but there’s something about this, something about you, that has him asking more questions that he should

Simon hardly realizes the corners of his mouth trying to smile along when you let out a small chuckle at his question, before your answer has him set back into his usual scowl. “No, I wish it were that simple.” you try to laugh again, though the sound doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you push some hair out of your eyes, Simon’s fingers twitching at his side

“No, they’re not forcing me to come back, it’s more of a- I need to work again. Money doesn’t exactly make itself, and it’s just me and her so…” you trail off, offering a meek shrug before you avert your gaze from his and go to fiddle with the baby blankets. “There- there just aren’t any daycare spots anywhere, and the waiting lists are months if not years long. And she and I just don’t pass through this neighbourhood often, so I’m worried that once that sign goes up announcing this is a daycare, that the spots are going to be taken up before I even have a chance to-”

“S’alrigh, s’alright.” Simon interrupts your rambling, a hand raised slightly in the air as though you were a spooked animal he hoped to calm. having heard everything he needed to hear. You look up at him with such sincerity in your eyes, he can tell you would do anything for that baby, that you likely aren’t above begging and pleading at this point, alone with a baby and short on options, he knows what he’ll do. Had pretty much made up his mind soon as he saw you, but now he’s decided.

“Just you and her, you said?” He asks quietly, absentmindedly nodding along with you when you confirm his question. “Well, I mean, I can tell ye that yes, this is meant to be a daycare ‘ere.” He speaks hesitantly, watching as the hope builds in your eyes at his words. He brings a sweaty palm up to rub the back of his neck as he breaks the news to you.

“But I couldn’t tell ye anythin’ about who we’re buildin’ for, love.” He continues, the term of endearment slipping past his lips unconsciously. “They just give us the blueprints and we do our part. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout what or who’s takin ownership.” He watches that same sliver of hope that had started to grow quickly be snuffed out as you take in what he means.

“Oh. Well, I guess it makes sense.” You reply, evidently disappointed but too kind to push, too used to the recent defeats to expect anything else. “Thank you anyways, really. I appreciate you-”

“I’ll find out.” Simon says quickly, preventing you from bidding him whatever goodbye you were about to give him, keeping you here just a little longer.

“W-what?”

“I’ll find out. Who we’re building for. I’ll find you a name.”

“I- I- I don’t even- you really don’t have to do that!”

“Doesn’t matter what I have to do. I want to. So I will.”

He watches your face carefully now, seeing how you glance up at him with a different sort of apprehension in your gaze, almost like you’re truly taking him in for the first time, discovering something you weren’t expecting to find in him.

“Well, thank you. Truly.” You tell him, a smile so genuine gracing your lips that Simon finds himself choosing to smile back at you. The moment doesn’t last long however, when the baby starts to fuss again, your attention being drawn back to her. “I know baby, I know. I’ve got to feed you soon.”

Simon can’t help the deep blush that creeps up his neck and across his cheeks, unsure if it’s the way he enjoyed hearing you say ‘I know baby, I know’ a little too much or the idea of his own lips helping to ease that heavy ache in your swollen breasts that has him momentarily flustered.

“Maybe I could-” he clears his throat, pointedly avoiding looking at your chest and maintaining eye contact instead. ���Maybe I could get your number or email or somethin’, to get back to you that is.”

“Oh! Yes of course! Here,” you say, digging through your pockets until you fish out a wadded up receipt. Simon pulls the pencil that’d been resting over his ear down and gently slips it through the fence over to you, watching with rapt attention as you bring the tip to the paper and write down what might be the most important numbers Simon ever learns. “There’s my number.”

He takes the pencil back from you and carefully accepts the paper you hand him, looking down at the name and smiley face you’ve left as well, whispering your name to himself before meeting your eyes once more. Before he can change his mind, Simon is tearing off the end of the receipt that’s still blank, and begins writing down his own name and number on it.

“If I don’t get back to you by the end of the week, you use tha’ to knock some sense into me, alrigh’?” He asks, slipping you the paper. He knows there isn’t a chance in hell he would forget about reaching out to you, about following through on this, but again, there’s something about you he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Thank you, Simon.” You answer, reading the name off the note he’s just given you, a small chill running down his spine at the sound of his name leaving your lips, the way you say it like it’s a name worth knowing. “Seriously, I can’t even tell you wha-”

The both of you can’t help but chuckle together when the baby’s cries cut you off again, you offering a sheepish smile in apology along with a small shrug of ‘what can you do?’.

“I’ll let you go, someone needs you more.”

“Well, we’re both very grateful to you, Simon.”

He stands there longer than he really should, watching the two of you walk off until you’re out of sight. The note you slipped him though? Well, that he holds onto until he’s clocking out, and maybe on the drive home as well, and maybe it’s the first thing to ever be hung up on his fridge in his flat, that little smiley face reminding him why a little bird watching isn’t so bad after all

I dunno ladies is this something???

Edit : you all decided this was something so here’s part 2

[literallymechanical]

Okay so a guy in my solid state physics class was telling us about this muon scanning startup he worked at, GScan, and I'm going insane. I don't work there and I have no stake in the company, financial or otherwise, I just need to tell you about it.

Muons are short-lived subatomic particles, same charge as an electron but ~200 times more massive. On Earth, they're produced by cosmic rays colliding with the upper atmosphere, and they hit the ground at a rate of about ten thousand per minute per square meter.

They're moving extremely fast at ground level, like 0.99 c. So they careen right through matter, deflecting only very slightly around heavy atomic nuclei – they'll penetrate like a hundred meters into solid rock.

What do you do with this continuous shower of deep-penetrating charged particles, constantly blanketing every square inch of the Earth's surface?

(source)

The classic thing is use them to image the inside of massive structures, like we use x-rays to look inside living tissue – except instead of generating them yourself, you just use atmospheric muons. Muon archeology is a whole thing, they've used it to find hidden chambers in pyramids and stuff. Neat!

But this one Estonian company is doing some crazy bullshit and I love it.

Sandwich anything between a pair of portable muon detectors and get full 3D imaging of the interior, with sub-millimeter accuracy, by tracking the minute deflection of muons between them. Samples that are WAY too thick for x-rays, made of literally anything. Just put some muon detectors on some two by fours in a warehouse and call it a day.

You can just. Image anything??? Anything you want?? Completely passively!! Just detectors! No particle source! Put them anywhere. The detectors themselves are a mature technology, the company's tech is in the algorithms they use to get this level of spatial and elemental resolution.

You can detect failures inside cable-reinforced concrete bridges without cutting open the bridges.

Decommissioned Soviet nuclear submarine filled with concrete, with no drawings or documentation, that may or may not have spent fuel canisters in it? And you need to cut it up for storage? Just look at the muons.

One of the wackiest ideas is to put one detector under your bed and one on the ceiling, so you get a full 3D scan of your body every night, passively. I want one.

[theorphicangel]

lowkey part 2 to this because i can't help myself

'hey...nanami...i need to talk to you about something, it's pretty serious' gojo states, walking into nanami's office without knocking. A sullen expression is on his face as he sits on his desk, ignoring the neat files of paper near him. Satoru swallows, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

'your crush is taken.'

Nanami looks at him with a puzzled expression, implying for him to elaborate.

'i saw her with an engagement ring this morning...i'm sorry man..I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I felt like I should tell you before you fall to your knees and crash and burn and-'

'it's okay.' Nanami interrupts not looking away from his papers.

'really? You're okay with another man just stealing her away?'

'It's not really stealing if she said yes.'

'But the principle! You liked her first!'

'As long as she's happy.'

'Wow.' Gojo's mouth shapes an 'o'. 'You really are the bigger man...I'm really proud Nanami.' he says, delivering a light punch to his shoulder.

then when Gojo goes back to his desk he finds a wedding invite with your name on it and....nanami kento?

you both can hear gojo's scream from each of your offices. Gojo barges in five minutes later, finding you in nanami's office with him, slamming the door open.

'HOW LONG?'

you and nanami struggle to find the words.

'HOW LONG?' Gojo repeats, tufts of white hair falling over his face.

'Three years.' you state.

Gojo falls to the ground on his knees in defeat. 'And...I didn't know about it?...nanami how could you?...we were best friends.'

'hardly' he deadpans.

(gojo ignores him for a solid 3 business days before asking what type of food and cake will be at the wedding)

[gloomwitchwrites]

i saw a tiktok of a heavily pregnant woman saying “maybe i dont give him butterflies anymore but i do give him high blood pressure” then they walk by their S/O with a latter and power tools. and i have been thinking about how the guys would react ever since

Oh, anon. This is so cute! I love this. I know the trend you're talking about, but I feel like I haven't seen it with pregnant women specifically, but I find it even more hilarious if it is. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, dad!141, pregnancy, married life, parenthood, domestic fluff

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Get off the ladder, cabbage.” John exhales, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

You’re standing just high enough on the ladder to rest your pregnant belly on the top rung. John stands directly behind you, both hands firmly planted on either side of you against the rail. It’s not to support the ladder but to catch you if you fall. A potentially likely possibility since you’re carrying extra weight in front of you. You could easily tip back enough to lose your balance.

“I’m fine, John,” you reply, continuing on as if he’s not worrying.

It’s maddening how relaxed you are, like the potential factor of danger is a completely foreign concept.

“Please,” he emphasizes. “Get off the ladder.”

“Why?” you ask. “I’m more than capable.”

“You are,” he agrees. “But you’re also pregnant.”

“So?”

“Cabbage,” warns John.

“Fine,” you exhale.

John keeps his hands on your hips the entire time. When you’re back on solid ground, some of that tension melts away, but his heart still thumps quickly.

You lightly cup his cheek, batting your eyelashes at him. “Were you worried about me, John?”

John places his hand on your belly. “Worried about all three of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle sits at the kitchen table, sorting through the mail. With a heavy sigh, he opens the energy bill, removing the paperwork, reading over the breakdown of energy usage for the month.

From his peripheral, Kyle notices movement. Glancing away from the itemized bill, Kyle’s gaze softens when you walk into the kitchen. You’re pregnant, close to your due date. Even waddling around, Kyle can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

He leans back in his chair, appreciating you for a few languid seconds, then his heart drops into his stomach.

“Damn it all. Put that down, love.”

Kyle shoots out of his chair, trying to calmly but quickly make it over to you.

“I’m fine,” you insist, attempting to walk by. “I can assemble it.”

“No.” Kyle’s tone is firm but gentle. “Give it here.”

His heart is pounding, anxiety spiking from not just the power drill you carry, but the cardboard box full of wood you’re attempting to guide down the hall.

“You sit here.” He points to the chair. “Sort the mail. I’ve got this.”

You slowly ease down into the chair, and Kyle breathes deep, trying to calm his nerves. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

John "Soap" MacTavish

He hears your footsteps first, and then your voice as you curse under your breath.

Johnny lounges on the sofa, reclining against a fluffy pillow. At his feet are his two-year old twin daughters. On the television, a Bluey episode plays. The girls aren’t watching. They’re smashing their dolls together and running them over with the yellow toy excavator.

Sitting up, Johnny glances over the top of the couch

At first, he smiles. Then frowns. Then launches himself off the couch.

“Put it down,” commands Johnny. “Drop it.” He steps on a doll and winces, wobbling slightly.

You turn toward him, pregnant belly coming into view. You’re carrying a ladder, the large one, and you’re not supposed to be lifting anything over a certain weight.

“Down,” he repeats. “Put it down.”

You roll your eyes and turn away. Johnny makes it to you quickly, grabbing the ladder and placing it on the floor.

“What are you thinking?” he asks. “You’re bloody pregnant.”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m—I’m not yelling,” soothes Johnny, cupping your face in his hands. “But you gave me a right scare, yeah?” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll take care of it. Go sit with the girls.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is curled up on the sofa, a precious bundle in his lap. His two-year old daughter rests her head against his chest, gaze focused on the colorful pages.

“He started to look for some food,” reads Simon from The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “On Monday he ate through one apple.” His daughter traces the outline of the apple, and then runs her finger over the caterpillar. “But he was still hungry.”

As Simon turns the page, he hears your soft but determined footsteps. He briefly looks away from the book, his gaze falling on your belly, round and full of his child. Inwardly, he smiles, knowing that the family you’ve created together is about to grow by one.

“On Tuesday he ate through two pears,” continues Simon. “But he was still—”

His voice disappears, and his stomach flips, blood pressure spiking as he watches you turn the corner. You have a step stool tucked under your arm and a drill in your hand.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters, lifting his daughter out of his lap and placing her on the sofa. “Daddy will be back shortly, doll.”

He kisses the top of her head, and then takes off after you. With the added weight, your steps are slow, and it only takes Simon a few strides to walk past you and cut you off before you make it to the nursery.

“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching for the drill.

“Hanging a painting,” you reply like it’s no big deal.

Simon sighs. “Give it here.”

“I can do it,” you insist, turning away from his reaching hands.

Simon plucks the drill out of your hand and holds it out of reach. “Give me the step stool.” With a pout, you surrender it. “Gonna give me a bloody heart attack.”

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