#scrap battery collection

[aronaut]

Warmth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x gn!reader Summary: You're a former researcher that was working before the blacksite lockdown. Forgotten and abandoned, you have no other choice but to work with a certain shopkeeper. Needless to say, you have your differences. Warnings: Explicit mentions of blo/od and inj/ury in the beginning. Not beta read Word count: 4,191 (This is a drabble I plan to include in a long list of loosely connected ideas. Consider it the middle of an enemies to qp partners plot :] )

...The low, ominous groan and creak of metal is enough to put anyone on edge, you think, as you traverse the seemingly endless halls.

Rifling through the cabinets and drawers, scrounging up scraps left behind by hasty thieves, the unsettling ocean ambience is all you have for company. You wonder, just when did your life derail so horrifically, when the sight of a crumpled body on the ground fills you with elation. The heavy, steel doors slide open with little fanfare. Beyond the mangled corpse, your eyes immediately set on a black light laying just a few feet away. Stepping over the expendable, you collect the item. There is little battery left in the light you note, before stashing it in the worn messenger bag slung over your shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, you eyes scan below. Scarlet scatters across the floor in a chaotic spray, drawing your eyes towards the deep crimson pool steadily crawling towards the toe of your shoe. In the center of it all, lays the head of a late expendable, expression locked in a display of permanent shock. From below their eye, a coat of flaky, dry red webs down from their chin to all the way down their shoulder.

The collar of the expendable’s wet suit is torn completely; black shreds of neoprene fray out from below the sternum. It's hard to tell the rubber from the darkened crimson spilling out from the brutal tear in the prisoners neck.

Z-90– the Wall Dweller, you determine. Recent too, if the wet shine on expendable's neck is anything to go off of. The considerably uneaten state of the body leads you to believe it might still be in the area, biding it's time until it can claim the expendable's companions as well.

Or, well, possibly even you…

With that thought in your mind, you crouch down, your hands roaming over surface of the expendable’s clothes for any other possible hidden goods. Sparing glances every so often behind you, straining your ears all the while, you’re cautious during your search.

Any research the expendable might have had is completely useless now, waterlogged with sticky blood and pasted to the body. Attempting to reach into the pockets only rewards you with a sharp jab in your palm, the tips of your fingers cold and wet with spilled vial fluids.

Withdrawing from the body, you finally stand back up to full height. The sudden rush to your head is enough to make you sway, your stomach starting to pinch from the overwhelming, metallic stench permeating the room. With a shaky exhale, you urge yourself forward.

The persistent stinging in your eyes doesn’t do any favors for you as you try and navigate the dimly lit halls of the facility, an incredibly sore ache pulsating in your feet with every step. You are… so tired.

A distant roar of an entity sounds suddenly, reverberating across multiple rooms and rocking the facility. The floor rumbles faintly below your feet, and you can almost barely make out the disorderly sound of blinking lights. Bracing yourself against a wall, you wait out the tremors.

Though exhaustion tugs at you, you acknowledge that you cannot rest here. The dark corners of the room whisper dangerous promises, and as you traverse the rooms you can’t shake off the ever persistent feeling of being watched.

Any human in this place is simply prey, and as you tuck your hands into the pockets of your tattered, beaten white coat, your mind rings out with a grim thought; if every human here is prey, you are high game.

Approaching the next door, the screen doesn’t label it with a number but instead a red line. Taking the keycard from your lanyard, you unlock the door, and step inside. Instead of being met with lockers and scattered drawers, you find yourself in a familiar office. The small room is crowded with desks, computers that have long since powered off, and fake potted plants that fill you with a bittersweet sense of longing. Tucked under the desks, the rusted office chair beckon you to rest, but you push the thought out.

There is no doubt in your mind that he is getting aggravated over the fact that you’ve taken this long already.

Behind the desks there is another door, bracketed by two item lockers long since rummaged through. It’s marked by another red line, but you already know where it leads.

The door opens with an exhale, the frigid air greeting you as you walk on through. Unlike the rooms before, this room is brightly lit, the florescent lights buzzing loudly. Your eyes burn momentarily from the sudden change, taking a moment to adjust. The hall is short this time, and in your view you see another door marked ‘50.’

Your bag is disappointingly light on your shoulders, only holding a gummy flashlight, a few batteries, and the black light you just found. You’re not looking forward to the condescending comments that awaits you behind that door.

Resigning to your fate with a heavy sigh, you begin to trudge forward, but stop short suddenly when you hear what sounds like a loud flash, followed by a furious shout and the rush of footsteps. You only have a split second to react, hastily throwing yourself into a locker, the clang of the metal door muted by the hissing of an opening door.

Laughter rings out in the room, accompanied by a multitude of heavy footfalls. The light peaking through the vent of the locker momentarily obscures as you count three expendables pass by, completely unaware of your presence. They are loud and boisterous, a harsh rhythmic squeak of their boots resounding as they run through the hall, the dull thuds of drawers being pulled out to their full extent in a fruitless endeavor to find more loot. They don’t stay long, and soon enough you hear the hydraulics of the door once more and the footsteps dissipate.

You wait a minute before exiting the locker, hurriedly making your way to the fiftieth door. There is a low, agitated hiss drawing out low from the ground, echoing through the tunnel next to your calf. Crouching down, you crawl on into the vent, your elbows clanging against the thin metal.

Emerging on the other side, you find yourself once more in the confinement of Sebastian’s shop. It’s possibly the smallest room in the facility, the walls looming over you in a claustrophobic fashion. Or, perhaps, it’s just overcrowded with stacked crates strewn about, the floor littered with various gadgets inoperable by you, and piles of paper files scattered across the floor. Your eyesight leads to probably the most useless thing in the room, roaming over the giant tail fin flicking against the wall and up the elongated tail it was attached to.

Sebastian is rubbing furiously at his eyes, lure blinking not dissimilarly to the way the room lights do when in the presence of Z-283. He’s grumbling low beneath his breath, mumbling incoherently between rushed clicks and growls.

When he’s done, he acknowledges your entrance with very little care,

“About time. Stock’s so low, I’ve had to sell half-charged flashlights to the last gaggle of idiots,” his arms drop, and he glares to you. “What the hell took you so long?”

The messenger bag drops from your shoulder with little care, the metal of the flashlights clinging with the floor through the thin material. You fix him with a similar expression to his, squinting up at him.

“Trying not to get caught, asshole. If you want shit sooner get it yourself next time.”

He chuckles sardonically at you.

“Please, I’ve got better things to do,” he responds. “You keep up your half of the deal, and I keep up mine.”

You roll your eyes pointedly, breaking away from the staring match when the brightness of his lure starts to cause dark spots to swim in your vision. Crouching down, you begin to rifle through the bag. He looks unimpressed at the pitiful amount of batteries you set beside yourself, but you do notice the room getting ever so slightly brighter when you pull out the black light.

“Just keep being a good little errand boy, and your efforts won’t go unpunished,” he purrs. You clench your teeth, face warming in anger.

“Oh yes, your part. Totally. I go out, digging around for junk, risking my neck to monsters and delinquent prisoners, while you get to sit in here and play retail worker,” you ramble, frustrated, rolling the gummy flashlight over to his general direction with a not too gentle shove. “Fairest trade in the world.”

Your heartbeat picks up ever so slightly as you feel a shadow cast over you, the bulb of Sebastian’s lure hanging overhead as he leans down towards you, slow. You urge yourself to keep his gaze and stay there as his smile stretches into a sharp grin, light glinting off the razor sharp fangs. His hand stretches towards you, and your shoulders jolt in a half-flinch as they reach towards your neck. You don’t look down from his eyes as his claws pull at your lanyard, the thin fabric brushing against the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows furrow as he pinches the card between his thumb and index, his claw sweeping over it’s laminated surface.

“Would you like to switch roles, ‘doctor?’”

You reach up, and promptly slap his hand away.

Instead of retaliating, Sebastian merely laughs at you.

“I didn’t think so,” he drawls, before slowly ascending back to full height, away from you.

The bag, now empty, sits lightly on your shoulder as you pull it over your head. It’s weight is nearly nonexistent. You approach one of the stacked storage containers and with a tired groan plop down, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you.

It’s instantaneous relief, you note, your joints popping in rapid succession of one another as you stretch your arms up, crossed at the wrists. Your shoulders are practically buzzing, no doubt having been pinched at some point during your venture in the facility. Your knees creak and ache from crawling through vents and desks, your legs stiff and feet beyond sore. After your stretch, you slump down in your seat with a sigh. Finally, you get to relax.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Ugh.

“Resting, Sebastian.” You respond dryly. “I’m freaking tired, okay? Leave me be.”

Sebastian simply scoffs. You don’t acknowledge him as your eyes draw shut.

“Go somewhere else for that, I have a business to run.”

“And where do you suggest I go? Where is there that doesn’t have a wall dweller lurking or some other hellish atrocity waiting to get at me?” You argue, opening your eyes to challenge him with a glare.

“That isn’t my problem,” he leans down slightly, arms crossed and third arm tucked in awkwardly. “Leave before someone comes in.”

You mirror his pose, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up at him.

“Get out.”

You shuffle in place, legs crossing. Sebastian scowls, growling low in his throat. His arm shoots out, pointing to the vent and shouting.

“Get OUT!”

Your shoulders jump, but you’re stubborn. Drawing your arms around yourself tightly, you shout back.

“Screw you, man! There isn’t anyone coming!”

Sebastian hisses, the only warning you get before he darts down toward you, your arms pushed into your chest as he holds you in a tight grip, claws pinching your skin underneath the thin fabric of your coat.

He is directly in your face, eyes glowering at you as he spits,

“You absolute, goddamn MORON. If you do not LEAVE-”

He cuts himself off suddenly, and in your peripherals you catch the way the fins on the side of his head seem to twitch bizarrely. Soon you hear the pang of metal resounding off the walls of the vent and echoing into the room. With a quick, uttered curse, Sebastian quickly draws back, but he doesn’t let you go, instead pulling you up and with him.

Your arms sting in his hold, your face twisted in a grimace as suddenly your feet are no longer touching the ground. The weight of your body hangs as he effortlessly lifts you up.

“What the hell???” you wheeze. “Let me go!”

A cold hand slaps over your mouth harshly, clasping your face nearly entirely as Sebastian growls.

“Shut the hell Up!”

You get little warning as Sebastian all but stuffs you behind him, crowded by his tail. You try and leverage yourself with his tail, pushing up with your arms as your chest pressing uncomfortably against him. His tail coils and folds in response, pushing over your chest and weighing heavily till you fall back to the floor. The air punched out of your lungs, and you let out a strangled gasp. Panic seized you as you wriggled beneath him, writhing in place to try and breathe. Noticing your struggle, Sebastian lifts his tail ever so slightly, no longer crushing you. You jumped at the opportunity, attempting to sit up before Sebastian’s third arm came down, hand tangling into your hair and shoving you back down.

“Stay down,” he says, low, with a hint of a threat tracing the edges of his voice.

The weight of his hand on your head disappears, and you watch from behind him as his attitude immediately shifts from disgruntled to a calculated calm.

“Welcome, welcome!” he greets, near automatic and practically off a script. You cannot see who he is talking to from your position, but based off the sound of shuffling and whispers, you assume another group has just entered. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna hurt you. Despite what you have seen, heard and/or been told, my name is Sebastian.”

He goes on with his typical spew, and you surrender to the solid weight laying over you. It’s a bit awkward for Sebastian, you realize, as he attempts to move along with his usual transactions now that the upper part of his tail is occupied keeping you hidden. You feel almost smug about it, counting it off as a win in the mentally constructed chart in your mind that keeps loose tabs on the constantly tipping scale between you and Sebastian. It’s not like you want to be seen by the expendables, as it risks the possibility of them reporting back to Urbanshade that one of their esteemed researchers were still alive down here and working against them with the active saboteur. Though, given how long you and Sebastian have spent down here, you highly doubt that is likely to happen anytime soon. The expendable project was a long going mission that has yet to bare any fruit.

As Sebastian drawls on, you can feel his voice reverberating through his tail. As much as you hate to admit it, the rumbling was soothing. The weight of him was less of a burden than it was before, instead it became rather pleasant in grounding you, not unlike a weighted blanket… and a cooled one, at that.

The transaction seemed to be dragging on longer than usual, or maybe that was just you. The events of the day quickly starting to catch up with you, slowing your perception of time as you stared up hazily at the ceiling, with Sebastian’s elbow and back occasionally coming into view. Pressing against the wall, you could feel the way the facility subtly rocked in the waters. Holding your ear to the ground, you could almost hear the ocean, the cold metal soothing against your flushed face.

You could barely make out the voices of the prisoners, and what you could you pieced together that they must be attempting to negotiate. Puffing under your breathe, you smiled, bidding them luck with that endeavor as your eyes drew shut.

When your eyes opened once more, the room was dark. You could no longer hear the prisoners, or even Sebastian for that matter. Lifting your head, you realized also that the weight over you seemed to have disappeared. Sebastian was no longer laying over you.

You couldn’t make out what was in front of you, but you still attempted to look around. Your thoughts were slow and disorientated, but slowly you discerned that you must have fallen asleep. How you managed in such an inconvenient expression, next to Sebastian of all things, you couldn’t fathom. You suppose you were more exhausted than you originally thought.

He must’ve moved you, you think. You could imagine the sneer he must’ve made at realizing you had fallen asleep. Where did he put you, exactly? You jostled awake fully at the thought that perhaps he threw you out in the cold, or simply dumped you in the nearest, darkest room to be preyed on by the experiments.

At this thought, you rushed to push yourself up with your hands, having awoken on your stomach. The floor was… odd in texture. It was rougher, not the smooth, biting cold metal that you were accustomed to. It was, also, ever so slightly warm. As you pushed against it, you noticed that while it was solid it also had a little give to it. Your mind reeled for answers, trying to piece together just exactly where or what you were laying on, when all of the sudden you realized you were moving. Or, more like, the ground was moving.

Your breath quickened as you slid ever so slightly down, and it registered finally that your legs weren’t supported by anything, instead hanging over an edge. Your thighs held together as your arms scrambled to hold on to whatever it was you were on, leaning forward with your face pressed up against something cool.

You could smell an an odd, distinct combination of what you could only describe as leather and fish. Cold air gently brushed down your forehead as you heard someone sigh.

Adjusting to the darkness, you could finally make out what was in front of you– or below you, rather.

Below you was a chest belonging only to Sebastian.

Clad in a white dress shirt and draped in a rough leather jacket, his chest rose steadily under you, raising you in tandem. Looking to his face, all three of his eyes were closed and you couldn’t make out his lure in the darkness. His expression was… peaceful. Relaxed. Despite this, you could see the dark crevices in his forehead and eyes, groves crafted and paved by long-term stress that he refused to let on existed. He was completely unguarded and vulnerable, and considering your position you concluded that he had willingly put himself there.

But why?

You couldn’t comprehend it. Maybe it was a mistake? You had never seen him asleep before… Given all of the traits he was spliced with, you wondered how long he could really go without sleep? Maybe he slept when you were gone? That wouldn’t make sense. He’s a research-fiend by nature, he’d never let a potential customer pass him by.

However, looking more closely, you took in his features. Unlike the rest of his body, his face was smoother; More akin to a human. Between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose, there was a very faint line– barely noticeable even in the light– a paler blue than the surrounding skin. A scar he had when he first came into the facility as a convict. As a human…

You doubt even Sebastian could reject the very notion of sleep. Beneath it all– the razor sharp teeth, the blue scales, and thin web veils on his ears and clawed fingers, you never stopped believing that he was human. You doubt he did, either.

It still didn’t make sense for you to be here, but that didn’t matter, because there was the definite possibility of him screaming at you when he woke up and saw you there in despite of his protests.

You gently tried to creep down, stretching your leg and trying to feel the ground with your toe. You stretched and stretched, flexing your foot before realizing that even at this angle you couldn’t feel the floor. You were up too damn high. Looking down, you could hardly make out the messy floor.

In the midst of your struggling, you felt a rumble pass through you from Sebastian’s chest. His hands, which you hadn’t at first noticed were resting on your hips, slowly caressed over your back before stopping at your shoulders. You laid there, frozen, peaking cautiously up at Sebastian to see he was, thankfully, still asleep.

Your situation got that much more difficult, you realized, as his arms laid heavy over your back and prevented you from moving any further without disturbing the serpent, likely into waking.

Huffing a sigh, you relented.

You still couldn’t see very well in the darkness, and you would no doubt sprain something trying to dismount Sebastian. He’s so cranky awake, you don’t want to imagine what he’d be like shorted a few hours of beauty sleep.

And as much as you loathed to admit it, the position wasn’t… uncomfortable. You felt warm, but not stuffy despite the room. Sebastian was like a pillow with two cold sides, and you discovered that as you sunk back down into him, that his skin seemed to absorb your heat.

You shut your eyes.

There was no point in struggling to leave, or worrying about Sebastian’s reaction right now. Bottom line is, you could go for a couple more minutes of rest. Chances are Sebastian would tell you to hop right back to work first opportunity he got, so you might as well take advantage of the situation.

Your breathing slowed, and as you relaxed you could just barely make out a very soft rumbling crackle coming from Sebastian’s chest, reminiscent of a cat’s purr. His fingers absently curled over your shoulders, the weight of them strong and comforting. You could get used to this, you thought, and didn’t bother to fight against the absurd belief as your thoughts slowed down, sleep creeping in.

A shrill scream roars outside, and the body beneath you jolts violently, jostling you in the process. You hear lights flicker discordantly, before hushing entirely.

You don’t dare to open your eyes as you feel Sebastian move under you, hearing him exhale loudly. From behind the lids of your eyes, you notice the room get slightly brighter. Sebastian is awake.

You brace yourself to be grabbed, or even thrown, as his claws curl that much tighter over your shoulders. But that doesn’t happen.

His hands go lax, and you feel him sink back down, his third arm coming to rest over your lower back. The upper arms gently soothe down your back before brushing back up. Your brows furrow in confusion when a hand rests on your head, combing through your hair.

Warm breath ghosts over you as he leans down with a sigh, arms pulling you further up his body as his chin sets down over your head.

You dare to peek your eyes open, met with the light blue hue of Sebastian’s neck, gaze tracing over the smooth transition between human skin and scales. You feel Sebastian’s clawed hand leave your scalp, once more joining it’s counterpart in soothing up and down your back, the third hand picking at the frayed edges of your shirt.

You can see the bob of Sebastian’s throat as he swallows, coughing lightly in an attempt to clear his throat. His nose presses ever so slightly further into your hair, and you have to suppress the sudden need to jump when the third hand traces up your back, under your shirt.

Your hands brace against him, ready to launch yourself upward and ask just what the hell he is doing, before acknowledging that his hand doesn’t go any further than that. You decide to wait it out, see what he does. Maybe you can catch him doing something embarrassing, and use it as leverage in your next argument. Another point to your metaphorical score.

The other arms continue to stroke over your back, albeit more slowly, as his third hand continues to trail up your spine, leaving a path of goose bumps. The hair of your back raises at the temperature change. His hand is freaking cold. Colder than the rest of his body. Why is that?

As this continues, you feel him slump ever so slightly, all three of his hands slowing to a stop. His chest evens out once more, and you realize, he is asleep.

The hand under your shirt has become significantly warmer, and that is when you realize; Sebastian is cold blooded.

Well, you didn’t just realize, you knew this from the start. It explained his bizarre actions though, and as you took in your position you pieced together you were no different than a weighted blanket you accused his tail of being not long ago. A heated rock for his comfort. Like a snake or lizard basking in a lamplight, you were his source of heat.

Your mouth twitched into a smile. You were totally going to hold this over his head.

[whxtedreams]

When You're Sick

Summary: Drabbles about how they would look after you when you're sick/unwell.

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: Fluff, comfort, they're just soft babies, I am sick while writing these, Javier being a soft jerk - he means well, Din doing his best, Frankie just being a soft bf, Joel is nothing but caring, sick!reader

Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña

Joel Miller

Joel: How’s my baby girl doing? You: Honestly Joel, I have a killer headache and just want to go home. 

Joel frowns at the small screen in his hand before he looks down at the shirt he is ironing. He had planned on surprising you and taking you out to dinner tonight since Sarah was at a friend's house for the night but he quickly scraps that idea.

Joel: Come over after work  You: I just said I wasn’t feeling well… Joel: No funny business. Promise 

Joel spends the afternoon bringing every pillow and blanket he owns into the living room. He drags chairs from the dining room and drapes blankets over them, making a nice dark blanket fort in his living room. He digs around in the Christmas storage boxes in the garage until he finds battery operated warm fairy lights that Sarah begged him for one year. With a few grunts and mumbled swears, he manages to hang them on the chairs within the blanket fort, hoping you liked it and it wasn’t too bright. 

He checks his watch that Sarah fixed for his birthday last year and swears when he notices the time. 4:24pm, you’d be over any minute now. He scrambles around the living room making the last final touches. He rushes up to Sarah’s room and looks through her cupboard for her small candle collection. As he goes to grab a vanilla scented candle, he freezes as he remembers you mentioning that the heavy scents make your headaches worse. 

Okay – so no candles then. 

He’s taking the stairs two at a time when he hears your knock on his door, still not wanting to let yourself in even though he’s told you on multiple occasions that you’re more than welcome in his house. 

Joel opens the door after turning the last light off by the front door and his smile drops as he sees the pain behind your eyes. He takes hold of your hand and you sigh as you enter the dark house. 

He gently guides you into the living room and watches you as you take in the space he made for you, a small smile falling to his lips at your soft expression. Your arms are around him in an instant as his hand wraps around your shoulders, his other hand softly rubbing your head, hoping to ease a little of your pain. 

He lifts your head to look up at him when he feels the subtle shake in your chest as he hears you try to muffle a cry. “What’s wrong?” He quietly asks. 

“Nothing, my head just hurts and this is beautiful.” You reply as you turn your head to look over at the pillow fort, the soft warm glow illuminating the room from inside the blankets. 

“Come.” Joel offers as he detaches your hands from his waist and continues to guide you into the living room. He lifts a corner of a blanket and ushers you inside. He crouches at the entrance as you crawl in, taking in the small bowls of snacks and fruit carefully placed on the edge of the blankets and pillows. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go get you some pain killers, and fresh popcorn, yeah?” He asks and you eagerly nod in agreement. 

On his return, he shoves the bowl inside before crawling in, thankful for the softness of the blankets on his old knees. You take an overly big handful of popcorn and shove it to your mouth, small crumbs falling into your lap. He hands you a bottle of water and the pills and you struggle to swallow the popcorn before you take the pain killers. 

“How’s your head?” Joel asks as he pushes your hair behind your ear. 

“Think it might end up being a migraine.” You sigh as you pull a blanket over your lap, the crumbs falling into the pillow beneath you. The father in him dusts it to the side without thought, years of cleaning up after Sarah subconsciously implanted into his brain. “Might take tomorrow off work.” You mumble as you lay down, nestling into the pillows. 

Joel huffs as he picks up the popcorn bowl and your hand shoots out from the blanket, tugging it back beside you. “Darlin, if it’s that bad, then let's forget about the popcorn, the snacks and the blanket fort and get you to bed.” 

You frown as you pull the blanket up to your chin and hum in protest. “No. This is nice, I don’t want to move.” You grumble. 

“You sure? I know it's comfortable but if it’s turning into a migraine, you should go lay down.” Joel offers as he leans on his elbow, his other hand slowly tracing your body over the blanket. 

You sigh at the touch and close your eyes, smiling. “Really, it’s nice and dark in here. You did a good job, it’s sweet. I just want to stay here with you.” You open your eyes and look up at him and his heart clenches in his chest.  “But I'll let you take me to bed if it gets worse, deal?” 

Joel’s fingers grip onto the blanket before he soothes the blanket on you. “Yeah, okay. But if I even see the slightest hint of it getting worse, I'm taking you straight to bed, no arguments.” He says in a false firm declaration. Knowing full well that you won't do anything you don't want to.

“Deal.” You say on an exhale as you hug the pillow under your head. 

Joel leans over and kisses your temple, soothing a hand over your hair and you sigh at the touch. 

Din Djarin

Din knows something is wrong when the cockpit is silent for more than a few hours. You had muttered that you were going to go lay down a mere six hours ago, and he didn’t think anything of it, thinking you just needed rest. 

When it hits hour eight, he descends the ladder in search of you. He finds you curled in on yourself in his bed. His bed. He stands there blinking at you for a moment before looking around in search of anything that could explain what was going on. Nothing.  

He says your name but you don't move an inch. He sighs before he wraps a gloved hand around your ankle, instantly making you recoil from his touch as your leg curls into your chest. 

Okay, so not asleep then. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Din asks as kindly as he can but he knows it came off harsh, he normally does. 

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” Your voice is distant and weak and he’s taken back by how you sound, not used to anything but your overly positive attitude. 

Din might get frustrated at how lively and energetic you are, but he definitely wouldn't trade it for anything. Your personality is what makes you who you are and he loves – no, tolerates it no matter how hard it is to keep up at times

Your sniffle brings him back to the moment and he tilts his head at the sound. He would have blamed it on his imagination but he hears it again. “You’re crying?” He asks.

“Din, I said leave me alone.” You snap and he raises his eyebrows under his helmet. 

He turns to leave, listening to your demand but he hears you sniffle again and he stops as he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turns the lights off, sending the room into darkness. He takes armour off piece by piece, carefully placing them on the floor before he walks back to you in his flight suit. He takes a strip of cloth and leans over you, pressing the fabric in your hand. “Put this on.” He orders. 

It’s now you finally look over your shoulder and frown at his lack of usual Beskar. “Wha-” 

“I said put it on, cover your eyes.” He points at the cloth and you slowly nod. He watches as you tie it around your head and waits until you lay back down until he takes his helmet off. 

He crawls into the bunk behind you and tugs your back to his chest, a startled gasp coming from your mouth as he moves you. 

“What are-” 

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, worry laced in his unmodulated voice. His bare hand holds onto your stomach as he holds you close to him, your own hand covering his. 

You shake your head as you sniffle again. 

“Then why are you crying cyar'ika?” He pushes as his thumb lazily draws circles on your clothed stomach. 

You shrug in his arms and he slowly nods, his lips landing small kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t like it when you push me away.” He sighs into your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He turns his hand from your stomach and holds your hand, squeezing it. “Talk to me cyar'ika. Please.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel this way.” You almost choke on your words as you sniffle again and he squeezes your hand again. 

“That’s okay. We can lay here for as long as you need mesh’la.”   

And you do just that, until you turn in his arms and wrap your arms around him. Your head resting on his chest and you sigh contently.

“Feeling better?” He asks as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Sort of.” 

“Anything I can do to fix that?”

“Just hold me.” 

Frankie Morales

To say that he’s in a good mood would be an understatement. Why is Frankie in a good mood? Well, that’s easy, he knows you’re at home waiting for him when he gets home from work. As much as he hated that you were gone before he woke in the mornings, coming home to you made your difference in working hours that much better. 

You’ve been living together for an easy month now and that blissful honeymoon stage never seems to end, and frankly, he doesn’t think it will. 

His mood does however falter when he opens the front door and he doesn’t hear you. Normally there would be the smell of dinner or the sound of music but there’s nothing. Which he thinks is completely fine, just out of the ordinary. He calls your name, thinking maybe you’re in the backyard by the pool but he hears your grumble from the living room.

Okay… 

He cautiously enters the living room, his head peeking around the corner before the rest of his body. 

His happy mood completely vanishes at the sight of you gripping your stomach and taking deep breaths as you lay on the lounge. He rushes to the couch and kneels in front of you. He places his hand on your stomach as his other hand wipes the hair fallen on your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, a frown settling on his face. 

“‘M fine.” you grumble and he shakes his head. He’s about to protest but you continue, “Just a bad period, ‘m fine.” You say before your breath falters, your hand gripping onto your own shirt. 

He sighs in relief, his forehead resting on yours as he begins to rub your lower stomach. He pushes himself from you and sits on his heels as he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you text me? I could have brought some stuff home?” He asks as he moves his hand to hold yours. 

“It’s okay.” You sigh as you sit up and his hands rests on your thighs as he looks up at you, his hands slowly running up and down your thighs. 

“Do you have everything you need? I can go to the supermarket, it’s no problem baby.”

You nod as you reach out and run a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and sighs at the touch before snapping his eyes open and swatting your hand away with a playful frown. “Stop it – it’s supposed to be me looking after you.” He laughs as you roll your eyes. 

“Frankie–”

“Nope, you sit right there, Doctor Frankie will look after you.” He grins as he leans in to kiss your forehead before standing from the couch. 

“Babe–” 

“You’re stuck with me now, your fault for moving in.” He teases as he reaches to take your hands in his. “We can order in if you like? Chinese?” He offers and you nod with a smile. “Perfect! I’ll go get you a heat pack and some chocolate from my stash.”

Your head snaps to him as he moves to go into the kitchen. “You have a hidden chocolate stash?” Your words rushed and your jaw hangs open in shock. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers as he enters the kitchen. He reaches for the back of the cupboard and takes out a box of cereal you hate and empty the chocolate onto the kitchen counter. 

“IS THERE CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME ABOUT?” you yell from the living room and it takes everything he has not to burst out laughing at your reaction. The exact reason he began hiding the chocolate when you moved in. 

He walks back in with the warm heat pack and block of chocolate and you snatch the bar from his hand. “I will tear this house apart Frankie.” You mutter as you open it and shove a whole row into your mouth. 

He falls into the couch beside you and smiles down at you as you moan at the taste, your eyes closing in bliss. He reaches around your shoulder and tugs you into his side and you willingly snuggle into him. He rests the heat pack on your stomach and you sigh at the feeling.

He finds it oddly amusing that your entire mood changes at the consumption of chocolate, that all the pain you were feeling vanishes. He knows that’s impossible, but it’s cute. He does however rub your stomach at every strained breath, trying to take your focus away from the cramps you felt. 

“Thank you.” You smile as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Anything for you baby.”

“Will you tell me where you hide the chocolate?”

“Oh, not a chance.”   

Javier Peña

Javier lifts his hand to knock on your apartment door for the fifth time. His foot taps on the carpet below him and he sighs in frustration as he hears no sign of movement inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he digs in his pocket for the space key you gave him; for emergencies only. He really didn’t want to walk into your apartment uninvited but he considers this an emergency.  

It’s been just shy of a week since you last showed up at work, just shy of a week since he last ran into you in the hallways of the apartment complex you shared.

He slowly pushes open the door, half expecting you to start yelling at him – but you don’t. 

He spots the pile of dirty dishes in the sink first and he instantly knows something is wrong since you’re always nagging him for leaving his empty coffee mugs on your desk at work, hating the mess he made just to annoy you. 

He spots the couch next, blankets and pillows left unattended with used tissues covering the floor. Gross. 

He moves to your bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed as he looks at you in your bed. Your eyes are closed and your chest struggles on each inhale, the sound of your blocked nose filling the room. He almost laughs at that, hearing you snore – but then remembers that you’re actually sick. Great. 

Not wanting to disturb your sleep, he moves to leave. 

“Please tell me you’re here to put me out of my misery.” You groan as you sit up, wiping the snot dripping down from your nose. 

He scrunches his nose at the sight, ignoring the way he wants to rush to get you a tissue. 

“Your place is a mess.” He says instead as he looks down at the sea of tissues both in your bed and the floor and instantly feels guilty as you start coughing, your hand clutching at your chest. 

He frowns then, wanting to rush to your aid but he doesn’t. His feet feel as if they’re concreted to the ground, not allowing him to set foot in your bedroom. 

“You’re welcome to clean up if it bothers you, because I ain't doing it.” You mutter as you collapse back into your pillows. “While you’re at it, can you get me a heat pack?” 

Yeah, he can do that. It’s the least he can do, right? 

He pushes off from your doorframe and walks the short distance to your med cabinet above your stove. He takes the purple sack from the cabinet and tosses it into the microwave as he leans against the counter. He taps his foot as he looks down at the countless plates and half empty take away containers. 

He takes the pack when the microwave beeps and strides back to your room, freezing in the doorway before sighing and walking over to your side. He outstretches his hand and offers you the pack. He pulls it back however as he sees sweat trickle down your forehead as you shiver. He places the back of his hand to your forehead and swears. 

“You’re burning up.” He frowns as you grab for the heat pack. “This is the last thing you need.” 

“But I’m cold Javi,” You whine and he shakes his head. 

“When was the last time you took any Tylenol? Or had a damn shower?” He asks and you shrug. 

He sighs again and walks back into the kitchen, tossing the useless heat pack on the counter along with all your other mess and opens the cabinet again, taking out the container you use to store all your medications. He digs through it and takes out the Tylenol packet and groans when it’s empty. He looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. 

Of course it’s empty, why wouldn't it be?

It’s then and there he decides he’s dragging you out of this apartment and into his own. Because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving you here when you’re doing what seems to be a very poor job at looking after yourself. 

He walks back into your room without hesitation this time and grabs onto your hands. You groan as he lifts you to sit up. “What are you doing?” You ask with a frown as he continues to lift you from the bed. 

“Comin’ ‘cross the hall with me.”

“What?”

“You’re going to take a shower, take the Tylenol that I actually have and sleep in a bed that’s not full of snotty tissues.” He softly orders as he drags you across your bedroom. He stops in the middle of your room as he looks down at your snot covered pyjamas. He moves over to your dresser and takes out the first set he sees and continues to march you back to his place. 

You sigh in defeat and follow him, because let’s be honest – you’re in no shape to argue with him right now. 

He hands you the set of clean pyjamas and pushes you into his bathroom. He waits until he hears the shower start before he moves into his bedroom, quickly cleaning up the dirty clothes from his floor and shoving them into the hamper he bought, telling himself that he would actually use it. He hasn’t.  

He pours a cold glass of water and sets two pills on the counter. He stares at the counter and scratches the back of his head, maybe some tea?  

He opens his pantry and kneels as he searches for the box of tea he knows you left here months ago when he had nothing you wanted to drink that last time you were there. He pushes cans around until he finds the box tucked away. 

By the time you exit his bathroom, you look like a different person. Not quite healthy, but no longer looking like you’re on your deathbed. He ushers you into his bedroom and you protest when he motions for you to get into the bed. 

“Get your fuckin’ ass into this bed.” He orders without a hint of anger and you roll your eyes as you do what he says. 

He comes back in with the water, pills and tea. He places the hot tea on his bedside table and hands you the pills and water. You smile as you thank him and he looks around his room, not knowing how to take your thanks. 

“Yeah, well can’t really have you dying across the hall. They’d think it was me.” He jokes instead and you laugh before it sets off another cough and he swears at himself for making you cough.

“Right – well, get some sleep.” He mutters to the floor before he leaves, leaving the door open a crack in case you need something. 

He waits until he hears you snore before he walks over to your apartment and begins cleaning. 

Notes

I am so sick pls tag me in sick!reader fics

My desk is covered in tissues. My bed is covered in tissues. The tissues that make it to my bin, my puppy tips over and starts eating.

[fanaticsnail]

Okay, so I've been slowly working on 'The True Bride' retelling but lately I've been feeling run down and low. Babysitting 3 - THREE! - Duracell batteries (aka kids) leaves me very little brainpower or energy and the days I'm off... I just want to do nothing but rest and be a couch potato. I thought I'd send this little request this way, you know, legal channels and all that.

Could you do something fluffy and sweet (smut can also be added if you'd like!) with either Shanks or Sanji? I'd throw in Law but these two currently are taking all the brain space.

The way I cannot wait for your contribution to the Storyteller Au! It's gonna be so much fun! I feel you on the Duracell babies, my two have been off like a rocket from about 5am (as per the norm). Shanks was not cooperating, so Sanji gets some love this morning. May a little bit of suggestive, sweet domestic fluff ease the burden for you, love.

By Feel

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: You challenge Sanji to demonstrate his impressive knife skills for you by chopping up vegetables while blindfolded. He becomes flustered by the amount of attention you give to him.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, established relationship, domestic fluff, flirting, knife skills, kissing, blindfolded Sanji, flustered Sanji, suggestive ending.

As soon as the shroud covered Sanji’s eyes, all other senses were heightened. His nose pricked up with the fragrance of sweetness and spices, his tongue tasted the steam in the air wafting from the pan, his ears heard the rough pops and crackles rising in the pan from the contents being of an elevated temperature.

Most of all, his hands were hypersensitive to every soft ridge and divot in the chopping board in front of him, and his connection to his blade felt more sturdy and intentional in each motion. 

“Show me then, Chef,” you tease him, the playful tone in your voice propelling him to prove himself to you. He smirked and impressively twirled the blade in his hands before dropping it in the board. The knife stuck out and wobbled slightly beneath the light as Sanji sought out the carrots and his favored peeler with his fingers.

“Oh, I’ll show you alright,” he picked up one of the carrots in his hands and his peeler, “You watching closely?” Even without the blindfold, you could absolutely see the wink he shot your way beneath the material. 

Leaning forward on the bench, but still lingering far enough out of his way to continue, you witnessed him take the peeler with his dominant hand and wave it backwards and forwards along the length of the carrot. Each moment the blade end of the peeler almost reached his palm, he instinctively knew when to draw it away. Rotating the carrot within his fingers, he continued to drag it back and forward until he felt the flesh of the carrot glisten its dewy juices in his hand.

“Still watching?” he teased at you, his fingers hastily collecting all of the lengthy offcuts of the bitter skin and sliding it into the scrap bin beside the sink. You rolled your eyes before giving him a soft, “Uh huh,” in response. He smiled, shaking his head and collected his blade from beside him: still in the place where he left it.

“Alright then,” he scoffed, his light chuckle found in his tone, “Doubting me?” You shook your head at him, more to scold than to doubt him. 

“No doubts, Chef,” you slowly walk behind him, Sanji’s ears picking up and hearing the soft taps of your shoes on the wooden surface behind him. “Never doubted you to begin with.” As you slowly approach behind him, your hands reach out to collect his hips in your hands. He hissed a soft breath through his teeth and threw his head back as your hands caressed his skin. 

“You gonna let me show you what I can do?” he gasped, his breathing heavy as your hands teased at the waistband of his pants, “Or are you going to distract me on purpose?” You hum a soft chuckle through your lips before placing a soft kiss on his spine. He moaned at the softest touch, the deep rasp in his throat coming out with his breath hitching. 

“I won’t distract you. I just wanted to take a closer look,” you admit, looking down his arms from your position over his shoulder. He gulped his nerves, instinctively leaning his head away from your face in the hopes for more brushes of your lips on his skin. You laugh tight-lipped through your nose at him before tapping his hips to draw his attention back to the task. 

“Okay,” he uttered snarkily, twirling the blade and seeking out the carrot once more. Lining it up with the tip, he exhaled a huff of breath before immediately rocking his arm back and forward, slicing the carrot first into a long, rectangular shape. The ‘shinkt,’ sound of the blade colliding with crisp flesh at a hastened pace had you arch your brow, still watching intently as he expertly placed hasty ridges into the carrot. 

Turning the orange object, he began slicing the vegetable at a different angle. The diagonal cuts never tapped the board, holding it a whisker’s length away from the base of the carrot. As soon as he reached the tip once more, he turned in your arms with the rectangular carrot in his hands. Your hands never left his hips, holding him steady as he gave you a cocky smirk. 

“Watching closely?” he whispered to you. You hum in confirmation at him as you look at the orange figure in your hands. Drawing apart his hands, the length of the carrot extended into a lace pattern. The carrot was still intact, but the knife skills demonstrated by the blonde created a webbed net from the vegetable as he held his arms out to the side. 

His grin only broadened when he heard your gasp, your hands gripping his waist tighter in awe caused a rosy blush to rise in his cheeks. With the blindfold still fixed over his eyes, he lowered his hands with the vegetable reforming into a rectangle. 

“Something you wanna say to me?” his brow arched up under the shroud of the mask. You lean up on the tips of your toes and brush your nose with his. He gasps at you, fluttering his eyelashes beneath the woven material. 

“You are the best chef in the world, and can even craft mastery blindfolded,” you dull your tone, mocking his voice with a smile on your lips. He scoffs at you, moving his head away from yours and purses his lips up in a light pout. You giggle, reaching up to cup his cheek and turn his head back to face you. 

“You don’t have to make petulant bets to prove anything to me. I already think you’re amazing, Sanji,” you press your lips to his unoccupied cheek, your sweetness igniting a swell of heat pooling in his face and almost burning your lips with the intensity. Giggling against his cheek, you pulled away to witness him freeze in place with his lips parted. 

No matter how long the two of you had been together, it never ceased to make you smile with the amount of fluster you could bring to your partner. A simple touch, a soft caress, a gentle compliment all had that soft hue rise to his face, and you couldn't get enough of it.

“Th-Thank you,” he stuttered, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back his nerves. You decide to press him further, enjoying his light fluster. 

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you praise up at him, hovering your lips over his and tasting the warmth of his sweet air, “Show me what else you can do just by feel, hm?” He immediately whimpered, placing the carrot down behind him as he hastily reached for you and surged his lips forwards to engulf your own in them. 

His kiss was raw, intense and desperate. Lips mouthing and swirling against your own, hungry to consume all you had to offer him in the kitchen space of the Going Merry. The shroud over his eyes had him feel everything: the taste of your lips, the scent of your perfume, the sound of your soft moan, and the feel of your eager reciprocation. He simply couldn't get enough.

Reaching up, he carded his fingers over the back of your scalp and cradled your neck to deepen the intensity. Each press of his lips, swirl of his tongue, and whimper you collected from his mouth within yours had you smile and balance his expression. The flicker of his tongue brushing against yours had the softest taste of metal lingering from his frenulum piercing. The balled circlet brushed against you as he performed his sensual isolation, consuming you entirely.

Pulling away and panting briefly, he finally removed the blindfold to take you in. His eyes were glazed and glassy, lips bruised and swollen, and cheeks dusted with the frosting of a bright pink. Gently caressing your cheek with his palm and fingertips,he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. 

“Satisfied?” he chirped breathily at you. You chuckled back up at him, nuzzling against his forehead before pulling away to gaze into his eyes. 

“Hardly,” you smiled, “But there’s a remedy for that. Your quarters or mine?” He replaced his forehead with his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin while muttering his suggestion. 

“Yours.” 

“Perfect,” you quipped at him, reaching down and taking him by the hand, “Bring the blindfold, but finish what you're cooking in the pan first before it burns.”

"Yes, boss," he uttered snarkily, quickly turning to finish off searing the vegetables and placing it in a pot to simmer low and slow with a variety of meat. His anticipation only grew when he heard every slow and deliberate step taken towards the door.

Hastily completing his duty, he rushed to your side and eagerly followed you like a needy pup towards your quarters, where he showed you exactly what he could do by feel alone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[heartfullofleeches]

Remy I miss you I love you also. Titus. I love him and miss him. And also Nightlight reader. Babies. Beloved.

[I had am old blurbo with Nightlight and Titus I scrapped. Here's one for him and Remmy too]

Remmy finding Nightlight Reader at a thrift store while looking for more dolls to add to his collection of antiques. They're the most beautiful "doll" he's never seen- (anything that has a humanoid form and is made of plastic, wood, cotton is a doll to Remmy- even androids). He takes the android home - planning to clean them up and give them a comfortable spot in his room. When Remmy touches the heart on their chest-

"Powering on.......backup battery at 12% percent....Accessing memory...No memories found... error...error...err-"

"Ah!.. That was scary. Hm, where did I end up now? Oh! Hello, tiny person - are you my new owner?"

Remmy instantly falls in love seeing this robot pick up on the dolls on his bed and speaking to it as a normal person. "Um, actually..I think that's me."

"Whoa! Where did you come from? My apologies, owner - what should I call you?

Remmy falls more in love with Nightlight by the second. They're so caring, and warm, and they love to play with his dolls as much as he does. They would follow his every command as part of their programming, but Remmy hardly feels the need to order them around because he knows they'll never leave him and for that he'd do anything from them. Stays awake all night until nightlight carries him to bed making new clothes for them. Buys all the books he needs to repair any minor damages they might have - and completely erase any trace of their memories of the past.

All Remmy needs is Nightlight. All Nightlight needs is Remmy.

-

Titus is given Nightlight Reader as a present from his guards after finding the android in a landfill on earth and repairing them to working order- The emperor has been more irritable than usual- if he dislikes this bot, his guards pray that smashing them to bits will be enough to quell his anger at least for a time. The guards present the android to their king and wait-

"What have you brought to bore me with now?'

"We believe it is an earth made machine designed to relieve stress for humans-"

The emperor chuckles. "Is that so?~ I have been rather pent up recently, and it isn't a complete eyesore, but you are aware of our difference in size, yes? Are you certain it won't break on first use?"

"Er, not in that exact way, your highness. You see, they-"

Titus huffs. "Then what good is it?"

"Just....allow me to turn them on. Please place your finger on their heart, your highness."

"This is ridiculous...."

The emperor does as instructed

"Powering on....Battery at 100%...System rebooting."

"Mm....Huh? What a strange place... Are you my new own..er? Oh, owner- your stress levels are dangerously high - they're increasing by the second! Why won't I sing you a lullaby while you relax with your favorite drink? I know lots, but I can always make up new ones - maybe one about your pretty eyes."

"That..... actually sounds wonderful. I haven't had a decent night of rest in ages. It's humorous to me how you were able to figure that out in seconds when these fools have been with me for centuries. I think I'm going to enjoy your company more than I thought."

Titus cannot go or sleep anywhere which his little nightlight. Feeling their heated, smaller form is all thats needed to knock him out like a light. Nightlight Reader is restricted from joining Titus in meetings for that sole reason. This whole ass tyrant sits in his chair pouting like a child until he can reunite with his little love. Decorates them like the doll they are with jewelry and adorable outfits. Whenever Titus is in one of his rages, guards quickly run off to retrieve nightlight from wherever they're exploring in the palace

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

This is my mom's vintage Kermit the Frog watch from the 90s. I cannot for the life of me find a single scrap of information about it anywhere online. The only result that confirms this watch even exists is a long dead listing without a price on an auction house website (apparently you can pay a subscription fee to see the price, but I'm not doing that). This watch isn't listed on the Muppets wiki with the othet pieces of the Kermit Collection, and it doesn't have any manufacturer info on it, just the copyright for the Henson company.

My mom has kept this watch in storage for years, I haven't seen it since the early 2000s, and I misremembered what condition it was in. I knew something was loose inside, and I thought one of the hands had snapped off, but it was actually the border of the mirror Kermit is looking into. I thought it was damaged beyond repair, but that's a super easy fix. Pop the glass off, glue it back into place, pop the back off, put in a new battery, good as new!

I have no clue who made it or when. This is the entire text on the back:

STAINLESS STEEL BACK ↑ JAPAN ⚡377 WATER RESISTANT V-246 HENL6616

KERMIT COLLECTION

TM & © Jim Henson Co.

And the strap just says

©Henson

GENUINE LEATHER

HONG KONG

I assume HENL6616 stands for Henson model 6616, but according to google, bing, and duckduckgo, that code has never been written on the internet before. It's hard to see on the fifth photo, but it's definitely 6616, not 6676.

⚡377 is the battery, an AG4 377

I have no idea what V-236 means. I'll pop it open later tonight and see if there's anything written inside. Hopefully the battery compartment isn't corroded to hell. If not, I could have it up an running in a matter of hours.

Her birthday is in October, and I think this is the perfect gift. Fingers crossed it still works.

[mail-me-a-snail]

I got pacific drive and I have no idea what I am doing. Any tips?

hi there !! welcome to the zones :^) i have. way too many hours on this game so here's my advice!

stock up on repair items before you make a drive! if you're just starting out, i recommend 2 repair putties, an extra scrapper, and a prybar. you will be encountering many, many locked doors so the prybar will come in handy

you'll also need a battery jumper kit, depending on how far you are into the game currently

if you throw flares at the tourists, there's a chance they'll drop resources, some more valuable than others. just be sure to step away because they Do explode

the same goes for the bunnies; use your scrapper on them and they could give you anything from plain scrap to cosmetic items

invest in your garage; there are a Lot of handy upgrades that you can get that'll make your early game less of a headache. you can get crafting recipes for stronger parts for your car, such as ones that will withstand radiation better, for example

and trust me. you're gonna need those

when out on a drive, don't collect just One of the stable energy cores on a map; if you can, collect all of them. you can fill up your stable energy core (the machine on your passenger seat) up to 4 units, which is the currency that the garage upgrade station uses. most upgrades use 1-2 units of that energy, depending on the usefulness and complexity of the upgrade!

this will destabilize the area faster and you will have to leave earlier, however, so you can do this last after you harvest all the resources you can find

every map/drive point has the same exact road layout every time, with just the structures randomly generated each time you visit. it's good to familiarize yourself with the layout so that you won't be lost when the time comes to skidaddle and head back to the garage

always go to the gas stations if you see a marker on a map for one. there is a high chance you will find a vending machine that'll give you a random cosmetic item for your car. plus, they're an endless supply of fuel

scan EVERYTHING. scanning certain things—ESPECIALLY anomalies—lets you unlock recipes

this is less gameplay and more lore specific, but keep flipping thru the radio stations until you reach broadcasts with the name ???. listen to em. that's all :-)

and my most important tip: EXPLORE. if you see something interesting outside your window, park and go check! there is no harm to exploring!

i love this game honestly. it has one of the most satisfying gameplay loops in any game ive ever played; each stop feels so fresh that resource harvesting is barely a slog. anyhoo if you have any questions or want me to elaborate on anything i said here id be more than happy to talk about it :-)

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Ways to practice eco-friendly living in your home

1. Reduce energy consumption:

- Install energy-efficient appliances and LED light bulbs.

- Turn off lights and unplug electronics when not in use.

- Use natural light as much as possible.

- Set your thermostat to a lower temperature in winter and higher in summer.

- Insulate your home properly to reduce heating and cooling needs.

2. Save water:

- Fix any leaks in faucets and toilets promptly.

- Install low-flow showerheads and faucets.

- Collect rainwater for watering plants.

- Only run the dishwasher and washing machine with full loads.

- Use a broom instead of a hose to clean outdoor spaces.

3. Practice waste reduction:

- Recycle paper, plastic, glass, and metal.

- Compost kitchen scraps and yard waste.

- Opt for reusable products instead of disposable ones (e.g., cloth napkins, rechargeable batteries).

- Avoid single-use plastics, such as plastic bags and water bottles.

- Use a reusable shopping bag.

4. Use eco-friendly cleaning products:

- Choose natural, non-toxic cleaning products or make your own using ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice.

- Avoid products containing harmful chemicals that can harm the environment and your health.

5. Grow your own food:

- Plant a garden to grow vegetables, fruits, and herbs.

- Use organic and natural fertilizers instead of synthetic ones.

- Compost food scraps to enrich the soil.

6. Opt for sustainable materials:

- Choose furniture made from sustainable materials like bamboo or reclaimed wood.

- Use eco-friendly flooring options like bamboo, cork, or reclaimed hardwood.

- Select paint and other finishes that have low or no volatile organic compounds (VOCs).

7. Reduce plastic waste in the kitchen:

- Use glass or stainless-steel containers for food storage instead of plastic.

- Replace plastic wrap with beeswax wraps or reusable silicone covers.

- Use refillable water bottles and avoid buying bottled water.

8. Conserve energy in the kitchen:

- Use energy-efficient appliances.

- Cook with lids on pots and pans to retain heat and reduce cooking time.

- Opt for smaller appliances like toaster ovens instead of full-sized ovens when possible.

9. Encourage sustainable transportation:

- Use public transportation, walk, or bike whenever possible.

- Carpool or arrange a car-sharing service with neighbors or colleagues.

- Transition to an electric or hybrid vehicle if feasible.

10. Educate and involve your family:

- Teach your family about the importance of eco-friendly practices and involve them in the decision-making process.

- Encourage everyone to adopt sustainable habits and lead by example.

- Discuss environmental issues and brainstorm new ideas for greener living.

[cheerleaderman]

[SSR] Iris Valor- tropical wear

Voice lines under cut

Summon line: [ I only ever seen beaches in photos! Let’s enjoy our time here , right Stitch?] (Stitch: Hyah!)

Groovy: [Locked]

Home: [ Ready to go Stitch?] (Stitch: Ye!)

Home idle 1: [Don’t worry text to speech doesn’t need any connection to work Auntie and Uncle made sure of it.But I still should save my tablet’s battery]

Home idle 2 : [ Auntie let me go on trip with Elara and her father but it was a snowy place other than that I don’t really leave the island of woe]

Home idle 3 : [Dion has been collecting a bunch of seashells, I should find some to add to my collection ]

Home idle- login : [ There’s a bunch of scrap metal here, look like there’s enough to make what we need,okay!do you want to make something together with the extra Stitch?](stitch: Yeaah!)

Home idle-groovy : [Locked]

Home tap 1 : [Hey, Can you take some pictures with me? I want to see Idia and Ortho reactions, I bet they’ll freak out!]

Home tap 2 : [ Azul offered to help me with swimming, I wasn’t struggling that bad was I?]

Home tap 3: [I never worn beach clothes before, I think it suits me well! Look at my nails aren’t they cute ,better than being all sweaty in my uniform ]

Home tap 4:[ Me and Stitch’s Friendship was destined to be! We all ready came up with secret codes and he allows me to help him with some creations] (Stitch: uh huh!) 

Home tap 5 : [Riddle told me not to cause any trouble, I made him almost turn red smirking at him don’t worry I’m just messing]

Home tap-groovy : [Locked]

[DUO]

[Iris]: [Don’t worry Flori I know not to piss off the healer]

[Flori] : You’re one of the few who do Iris

[docdetective]

In The Woods Somewhere

“What on earth do you normally eat?” she said, realizing she hadn’t seen any kind of meat, or cold items, not even jerky or tuna.

Logan thought quick. The real reason was, he hadn’t really been eating. “I was due for a supply run. Not only out of batteries. The storm is inconvenient as hell.”

It didn’t sound convincing to his ears, but logistically, he didn’t see any reason why she wouldn’t believe him. She wouldn’t know how much protein a human would have to consume to achieve his build, she worked with wild animals, not a personal trainer.

He figured he got away with it as she started collecting items and piling them on the table. He was suddenly ultra conscious of the cabin’s cleanliness. And where would she sleep? Not in the bedroom filled with empty whiskey bottles.

He put the batteries in the radio and set it to a channel he hoped she would like, muttering a quick “I’ll be right back.” As she set a pot of water to boil on the stove.

When he returned ten minutes later, from his frantic cleanup of the bedroom, Andi was humming along to the song blaring, something Logan didn’t recognize, about going to church. It made him think of Nightcrawler, of all of them in the kitchen together at the mansion. Marie and Kitty always wanting him to join in on karaoke. He shook his head. Not the time. Couldn’t scare her away into the storm by being emotional.

Andi was quite proud of herself for actually planning out a decent meal out of the scraps he had. As he reentered the main area of the cabin from the door he had disappeared into, she nodded down towards the pile of potatoes and onions.

“Want to start chopping?” She was knuckles deep in a bowl filled with some kind of sticky dough. She hoped he didn’t mind her telling him what to do, but she'd be damned if she had to do all of the cooking. He quietly moved to find a knife, and Andi watched with relief she hadn’t fucked anything up.

Logan found a knife in the drawer, and set to work on the pile of potatoes and onions in front of him, noting with some amusement how dull the blade seemed compared to his claws. The rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board filled the cabin, accompanied by the crackling of the fire and the soft music emanating from the radio.

They worked in sync, the tension between them still present, but it had mellowed. The sharp edge of it had dulled into something quieter. Andi could sense Logan’s unease, and she felt a little off-kilter herself. He certainly didn’t seem like a threat,if anything, he seemed more intent on avoiding her than anything else. Still, the thought crossed her mind. Was he trying to get something out of this situation?

She dismissed it. Logan didn’t strike her as the type of guy to manipulate her into bed. In fact, he seemed more confused by her presence than opportunistic. She glanced at him now and then, catching him doing the same. He wasn’t grumpy like before, but he was still closed off. Guarded. There was a tension in him, like he was trying to keep something under wraps, but she couldn’t figure out what.

Andi kept herself busy kneading the dough, but her eyes occasionally flicked to Logan as well, trying to read him. He wasn’t grumpy, not like the last time they met, but he was quiet. Guarded. She wondered if that was just his way or if it had something to do with her being here. There was a tension in the air, like he was on edge, but it wasn’t hostile. More like...nervous?

“Are you always this talkative?” Andi asked, her voice light, hoping to break the silence without making it awkward.

Logan didn’t look up from the chopping but smirked slightly, just a twitch of his lips. “Depends. Are you always this bossy?”

She raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the teasing tone. Not what she had expected. “Only when I have to be.” “Fair enough,” he replied, his eyes finally meeting hers briefly. There was a flicker of amusement there, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “I’m not used to having company, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Andi softened, sensing that maybe she’d hit closer to the truth than she realized. She was aware that Logan was something of a recluse, but this felt deeper than that. “Neither am I,” she admitted, focusing on her dough again, shaping it into rough rounds. She wasn’t exactly the type to hang out with neighbors, either. “I usually am up here completely alone all winter. The ones that stick it out don’t have much in common with me.”

Logan nodded, but didn’t respond, regretting not trying to carry the conversation when the silence returned, but it felt a little more comfortable now.

After a few more minutes, Logan set the chopped onions and potatoes aside. Andi glanced at the neat little piles and gave him an appreciative nod. “Thanks. You’re better at this than I expected.”

He snorted softly, leaning against the counter, the irony. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

Andi smiled, but again was hit with the realization he was no typical rough Alaskan hunter.. His movements were too precise, too calculated, even in something as simple as chopping vegetables. And there was the matter of his physique. He clearly wasn’t surviving on canned and dried food. As the soup simmered and the flatbread baked in the small oven, Andi leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Logan as he stoked the fire. He moved with a quiet efficiency, but there was a restlessness about him, like he was constantly keeping himself in check.

“So,” she ventured, her tone deliberately overly casual, “what do you do up here all day? Besides chop wood in your living room, that is.”

Logan paused, his expression tightening for a fraction of a second before he shrugged. “Keep to myself. Hike, fish when the river’s not frozen.” He gestured outside vaguely. “Helps to keep the mind occupied.”

There it was again, that vagueness Andi wished she could find out the reason behind. Something unspoken. Andi wasn’t sure if he was deflecting or if he just didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that kept him out here.

The simplicity of his answer caught her off guard. She’d expected him to dodge the question again, but there was something raw in the way he said it. As if he hadn’t meant to be so honest..

Andi decided it was a good time to check the bread in the oven, pulling it out once the edges turned golden. The evening was settling into a comfortable rhythm, and neither seemed eager to disturb it.

Logan set the table in silence, his hands moving with a certain economy, two bowls, two spoons, and the pile of flatbread placed in the center. It was simple, almost domestic, and the thought stirred something uncomfortable in him. He wasn’t used to this; sharing a space, a meal. It felt... intimate, even though it wasn’t supposed to be.

Andi ladled the soup into the bowls, feeling Logan’s presence behind her, handing him the full bowl. They sat down, across from one another at the small wooden table. The crackle of the fire and the storm outside were the only sounds as they dug into the meal.

Andi blew on her spoon before taking a bite, her eyes lighting up as the rich flavors hit her tongue. Logan watched her expression and realized he was ravenous from the smell, and quickly shoved the hot soup in his mouth, closing his eyes as the warmth traveled to his belly. It wasn’t just the physical warmth, but the wave of emotional warmth it brought him. Sitting at a table, with someone that admittedly, was there of his urging, but seemed to be comfortable and was good company. The months of only existing had not taken a toll on his body, but as he felt his brain relax, this was good for him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had missed the domesticity of the school, of talking with someone that wasn’t scared of him.

Andi glanced up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not bad for canned goods and some old potatoes.”

“Better than anything I’ve eaten in a long time,” Logan said, and Andi caught the genuine expression on his face. He wasn’t lying, she could tell from the instant relaxation into his chair how much he suddenly warmed up to her.

“It was a mutual effort.” Andi grinned at him from over her bowl. “I’m surprised you know how to cook at all, actually, with what was on your shelves.”

Logan snorted, dipping a piece of the bread into the soup. “Yeah, well, when you’re out in the middle of nowhere, you learn to fend for yourself. I’m no chef, but I won’t starve.” She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “I half expected you to just hunt something down and eat it raw.”

Logan’s lips twitched into the hint of a smile. “That’s a last resort. Don’t want to scare off the neighbors.” Andi snorted, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Yeah, all those neighbors around here. The trees would really freak out."

Logan gave her a sideways glance, the corners of his mouth still tugged upward. "You never know. There might be a squirrel or two keeping tabs on me." “Oh, definitely. I can see it now, a squirrel patrol reporting back about the strange guy who lives in the cabin. ‘He’s chopping firewood again, fellas. Same guy, same routine. Real suspicious. Better tell the forest ranger.’”

Logan chuckled, a low rumble that Andi found oddly comforting, and she realized it was the first time he had really laughed. She leaned in a little, her smile playful as she held his gaze. He felt himself melt a little into that gaze, the laugh coming from deep inside his chest, a foreign sensation.

Logan paused, his expression faltering just for a second before he masked it again. “I’m just a guy who likes to keep to himself. Nothing special.”

“‘Nothing special,’” Andi repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, right. You walk around like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can’t sleep, and somehow you manage to chop firewood indoors, making a total mess of the place. Sure, nothing special at all.”

Logan shot her a look. “I didn’t say I was neat about it.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the tension that had been building all night seemed to ease. Logan found himself relaxing, letting the conversation flow in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I’ll admit,” Andi said, swirling her spoon in the bowl, “I didn’t think you’d be this decent to hang out with. You’ve got that whole lone wolf vibe down, and I figured you’d just grunt through dinner and call it a night.”

Logan tilted his head. “And yet, here you are.” “Excuse me, I’m here because you wouldn’t let me leave.” A hint of a challenge in her voice. “You know, I feel like you owe me the story of why you're up here in the dead of winter if I’m going to be trapped here with you all night. You’re not like the other men that stick around.”

Logan raised his eyebrows, clearly deflecting. “You always this nosy?”

Andi grinned, leaning her chin on her hand. “Only when I’m snowed in with a guy who chops wood in the living room.”

He shook his head, a reluctant smile pulling at his lips, as much as he didn’t want to tell her the truth. “Fair enough.” She watched him for a beat, realizing he wasn’t going to elaborate. She couldn’t be too upset, if he had asked her, she wouldn’t be telling him, either. “I don’t know, Logan. You’re kind of growing on me. I never thought I’d say that about a guy who broods for a living.”

“Brooding’s a full-time job, sweetheart.” he replied, deadpan, which made Andi snicker.

“Well,” she said, finishing off her bowl, “next time I need someone to sulk in the corner while I make dinner, I’ll know where to go.” Logan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And I’ll know who to call when I run out of ideas for making soup.”

“Deal,” she said, smiling despite herself. For a brief moment, it felt like the walls between them weren’t so high.

They finished their second helping with companionable silence, and slowly the awkwardness between them lessened. Andi had never been the type to feel uncomfortable in silence, it was something she had grown used to in the wild. But with Logan, it was different. He seemed like a man who carried too much, weighed down by whatever shadows he was trying to escape. And yet, sitting here, eating soup across the table from her, he almost seemed... normal.

He was glad to see she didn’t seem bothered by the quiet. In fact, she looked almost content, sitting there, wrapped in the warmth of the cabin. When he had insisted she stay, he hadn’t thought through this part, the part where he had to be in her presence for hours on end, feeling the pressure to entertain her. When she finished, she stood and carried both bowls to the small sink. Logan followed her with his gaze, then got up to help her clean up. As he moved beside her, the proximity felt charged, but neither of them acknowledged it. They washed the dishes in silence, their movements synchronized, careful not to brush against each other. Andi could feel his presence, though, a solid, grounding force at her side.

Once the dishes were done, they both lingered by the sink, neither knowing exactly what to do next. The fire crackled softly behind them, casting a warm glow across the room. Outside, the storm continued its relentless assault on the world beyond the cabin walls, but in here, it was still.

Logan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You can take the bedroom," he said, nodding toward the door he had disappeared through earlier. "I'll sleep out here."

Andi hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice soft but steady. "I don't mind taking the couch."

Logan just nodded once and sat down on the sofa, staring into the fire. The subtle shift in his posture made it clear: the conversation was over. Andi felt strangely dismissed, like she was being gently pushed out of the moment they had just shared.

The finality in his body language left no room for argument, and Andi didn’t press him further. She nodded, her steps measured as she made her way toward the bedroom. The room was simple, but cleaner then she had expected, the bed piled high with blankets.

Before closing the door, Andi glanced back at him. Logan remained by the fire, his broad back turned to her, his stance rigid as if he were bracing himself against something unseen.

"Goodnight, Logan," she said softly, her voice carrying across the still room.

Previous Part Next Part

[fighter-paladin]

Rules of life I've learned from 2016-2024

-Keith Dwyer

1. Governments are run like reality shows. They create artifical drama to keep the populace interested and distracted from real issues. This doesn't mean your vote doesn't count and your voice isn't heard.

2. Capitalism is the root cause of the modern day's problems. It is run off the expectation that the general populace are both workers and consumers. It is an unstable government that functions only in the short run. In Capitalism there is no planning for the long run, the point is to collect as much money as you can while the rest of the populace burns.

2a. To do this, the ones above set the laws for the ones below. These laws are governed to keep the lower class barely scrapping the poverty line, but just high enough that they can keep being consumers. Effectively keeping us as financial batteries for the higher ups, but keeping the lower classes suffering enough so they can't rise up.

2b. Capitalism hates two things; competition and education. Education causes the lower masses to become intelligent and create competition. The oligarchical structure of Capitalism hates real competition, instead the powers that be create shell corporations to share with the other oligarchs. By keeping the masses uneducated, the powers that be manage to keep rebellion and competition to a bare minimum.

3. Captialistic practices are unsustainable because money is an addictive substance. Once a person gains it they want more of it, never stopping and never being full.

3a. Addiction is an exponential process.

3b. A money addict will never be satisfied with what they have. They will see their other rich colleagues and feel envy and rage that they aren't richer than them. Once a person reaches a certain level of wealth it becomes impossible for them to care about anything else.

3c. Addicts in active addiction do not care about anyone but themselves and how to get their hands on their substance of choice. In a money addict's case this means exploiting workers, causing them to die on the factory floor, burning down rainforests and destroying the world to their own end. To an addict in active addiction none of this matters so long as they pull ahead.

3d. Addicts are manipulative and good at convincing people to join their side. Capitalistic societies applaud psychopaths and those with anti social personality disorders. That's why so many psychopaths and narcissists go into the business field. Because their lack of caring, compassion and empathy means that they will do whatever it takes to gain money, which in turn, causes active addiction to take hold and causes the individual to spiral further down.

4. People have power. For better or worse. The people will always have the power above the powers that be.

4a. People are fools. They will follow whoever uses the buzzwords that make them feel safe and secure. This is how the conservative base has been able to use trigger words like "freedom" or "the American way" or "the good old days" to turn their followers into a cult.

4b. This tactic can be reversed for the sake of good. Learn the enemy's buzzwords and use them to educate the masses in a language they'll understand.

4c. The enemy is corruption. The enemy are those that seek to keep anyone who is not like them in bondage and suffering. They attack these people because it is easier to control a frightened populace.

4d.  Machiavelli was wrong. It is not better to be feared than loved if you can not do both. Fear breeds resentment and rage, these ideas transcend generations. A son will feel his father's rage in addition to his own. Once enough people feel their own rage added with their ancestors rage over being oppressed that's when and why riots start. Riots are the voice of those who have been quiet too long.

4e. Unfortunately, this idea can also be reversed. The enemy can use riots for their own ends, though these riots are born from fear, not rage. Fear of the unknown, and fear of change. But mostly, fear of losing their power (read: the populace is convinced by the powers that be that they are losing their power when in reality it is just the tyrant they are following that is losing their power).

4f. Do not be content to follow another's lead. It is better to stand alone than be surrounded by those who would feed you to the wolves. In this same vein do not look for followers, look for those with the potential to lead in them.

4g. Do not lead from the back, lead from the front. Take charge and take responsibility for your actions.

5. Suffering is part of human nature. However, it is often exasperated by outside forces that are beyond your control. Sickness, politics, wars, everyday inconveniences. When times of suffering come around, remember that all life is temporary. If the goods are temporary, so are the bads.

5a. There is a concept called the Wheel of Fortune which states that every person rotates their fortunes in life. One moment you are at the top of the wheel and life is kind, the next you are at the bottom and life is suffering. This rarely is due to a person's interference, but instead by outside forces.

5b. Prepare. Prepare to be on the bottom of the wheel. Save a portion of whatever value you can whenever you can. Even the smallest amount will help you in the long run.

6. The game we are forced to play isn't fair, because the lower class were never taught the rules for our station in life.

6a. In financial matters, the government will always try to take as much money as they can from you. Do your own research, 9/10 there are programs set up to truly help the lower class but they are not advertised or they are buried beneath advertisements for the same service for a much higher price.

6b. Welfare programs and free programs that benefit the people are always demonized because they do not contribute to the bottom line. Use them anyway.

6c. You pay for the brand. Buy generic, it's better and cheaper because they don't upcharge for the brand name.

7. Human beings are animals, learning to become Gods. You will never be the person you've fantasized about being. Once you accept this, you will become the person you were always meant to be. When we strive for perfection, we will often find ourselves subject to the persuasive arguments of the enemy. Kill your pride. Kill your arrogance. Once you do this, you separate yourself from the animals.

7a. Be kind, but don't feel the need to be nice. Kindness is acting for others, supporting and caring for the people around you. Being nice is being concerned with how you are perceived. Kindness is genuine. Niceness is self serving.

7b. You can only hope to break free from human's animalistic nature but giving up your pride. Giving up your hubris and arrogance. Understand that the world is bigger than your backyard, and that those who think differently from you are not lesser because of it. Artifical concepts such as race, gender, sexuality, political parties, etc are ways to divide the mind. They occupy our thoughts with meaningless chatter so that we can not expand our thinking. The only way to become more than an animal is to open one's mind to the world around them.

7c. Lose your paranoia but be smart. Listen to your instincts and listen to the world around you. Do not assume malice with everyone you meet but be prepared in case malice comes around.

7d. Be in touch with your body. To the best of your ability, try and live healthy and well. Mind you, I say to the best of your ability. There are cases where "living healthy and well" may simply mean getting out of bed for physical, mental or emotional reasons. But make sure to get out of bed then. Do not give into the dark cloud life brings around, it will keep storming if you are laying in bed or not.

7e. Know context. Understand that life is not about you, it is about all of us as a whole. If someone speaks, and it does not concern you, do not speak over them. If you disagree with how a statement is worded but understand what the speaker is trying to say, do not call the speaker out or try and get them to speak with your tongue. Not every voice at the table must be heard. Sometimes you're just there to listen and learn.

8. Religion is optional. Faith is essential.

8a. Religions are made to explain the faith of a culture. They are meant to be guidelines on how to have faith but, like money, power is also an addiction. Power is intoxicating, and often leads to delusion. Any and ALL religious leaders who claim to be God in the flesh are delusional and not to be trusted.

8b. Any and ALL religions that place any group of people over another group of people are not to be trusted.

8c. God, faith, whatever you may call it, does not want your money. Any and ALL religions that claim otherwise or claim to be collecting "for God" are not to be trusted.

8d. Faith is to religion what kindness is to being nice. Faith is the backbone of life, and it is how we survive. In a secular way, it is an acceptable delusion to have. A belief in something greater than ourselves. A way for us to see past our own noses and engage in the wider world. Faith is greater than religion, and religion without faith is how tyrants rise to power.

8e. Faith does not need to be in a God or spirit, but it does have to guide you forward. A spark of hope which can never truly burn out. All people are given the chance to have faith, for many it is taught through the religion they grew up with, however faith also comes from killing one's own pride and arrogance.

8f. Pride and faith can not co-exist with each other. Pride tells you that you are the greatest thing to walk the Earth, while faith tells you that you are part of something greater than yourself. These ideas conflict too much to accept both. Of the two, accept faith. For its the truth. No person is greater than another, but there are people who are lesser than the collective they find themselves in.

8g. Those who claim to be God or to be God's vocal point, those who harm others for their personal gain, those who use one of the Lord's many names to profit off lost souls, those who claim absolutes and absolute dominion over their flock. These are the ones who are lesser than the collective. The ones who twist God's words to their own ends and their own wants and whims. Those who allow their pride to guide their path, those who claim to be superior over their fellow human beings without looking at their own flaws.

8h. These are the corrupted, they have lost themselves to their own vices and pride. Pity them for they have suffered and so resort to becoming this way. But don't feel sorry for them for every person makes their choice, every person has their own decisions to make. Any person who does not take ownership over their own sins, their own flaws and the pain they have caused others, is truly a coward. Learn from their mistakes, so that you can become a better person.

9. The meaning of life is to learn. To grow and mature and to pass those lessons onto the next generation. To live only for oneself is to spit in the face of humanity's evolution. We are social creatures, we function together as units. Those who purposely harm others, and those who are apathic to the suffering of others are little more than beasts.

9a. Every generation believes themselves superior to the generation that came prior. To some small extent this is true, the evolutionary point of humanity is to mature after all.

9b. A generation must be cognizant of their defects and flaws as well as their strengths. Understand that you will make amazing advancements never seen before, but you will also make grave errors that the generations after you must fix. This is the wheel of fortune summed up.

9c. To the generations after mine I say this. Be wise. I pray that you be wise, and learn from the ones before you. I pray that the suffering you must endure is lesser than the suffering my generations are enduring now.

9d. To the generations before me I say this. Thank you. Thank you to the ones who came before me who I've learned from. Thank you to the ones who came before me who fought the same battle I'm talking about now. Thank you to the ones who are no longer here, because they live on through me and the lessons they taught me. Thank you to the ones who are still here, who continue to teach me every day. I pray that the suffering you went through is worth it, and I thank you for your sacrifices.

10. Apathy is how a people die. Do not wait for change to happen. Make change happen. With each crashing wave of; bad news, end of the world predictions, pandemics, pain, war, death, and so on, stand tall. Those waves won't stop coming but the second you lay down you will be toppled over.

Apathy is the weapon of the enemy. They use it so that good people, strong people, feel useless. Feel worthless. Feel hopeless. Hope is always there. Hope is faith. So cling to hope, fight for today and tomorrow and remember the sacrifices of yesterday that have led you here.

Abandon your pride. Abandon your hatred and your malice and embrace change. Embrace what's next to come, embrace the unknown. What we face now are the screams of a dying paradigm. What happens when this is all over? We rebuild, we restructure and we create something better than what we had before. But we can't do that if we buy into the apathy of the enemy. And we can't do that if we give into our own vice, our own pride and wrath. Know when to take a stand and when to stand down but most of all.

Know to be kind. Know to care for those around you, know to love and love deeply. Love the world around you. Shine bright with a burning love for humanity that burns away the shackles of apathy and hatred. It's the most revolutionary thing a person can do in today's world.

[wildcstwinter]

closed starter: @fredelicious24 !!

the apartment felt like a mausoleum ; each step taken upon floorboards resulted in a haunting groan that ricocheted off of wildly ornamented walls and the faces of comic books that seemed to be collecting dust. the only evidence that anyone had ever lived there was the food in the fridge, which mertle had been conscious enough to throw out once she noticed it had started to spoil , and strewn clothes she tip toed around like they were ancient artifacts she didn't want to disturb. from bed, to kitchen, to bathroom ; mertle found a routine. her laptop sat atop his desk, having not been open since the news broke, overdue assignments likely piling on top of one another having received no more than a blank, marble stare when mertle thought , one day , they'd be a good distraction . . . before scrapping the idea entirely.

hanging up the phone call, mertle gripped her sides, that familiar nausea making her stomach feel as if it were being twisted like a wet rag being rung out. waiting for him to come home was a feeling she had grown accustomed to — hours spent on the couch, head dropped atop her knees, waiting for the wood to swing open and reveal fred . . . now, it felt daunting. he had no idea what she was talking about , and now reality felt as if it were starting to blur as she began to doubt herself. maybe she was going crazy. maybe the thread had finally snapped and mertle was officially spiraling.

but she remembered the tears. getting sick from how hard she was crying. the mind-numbing headaches as she called him over and over again until her phone battery completely depleted. hanging posters. going to that support group nani started. she remembered all of that . . . unless that too had been all in her head. unless this was a wildly vivid dream she was too delusional to wake up from.

so, she laid on her side on the couch, hair knotted atop her head, phone forgotten on the counter as swollen eyes trained on the door. she nestled deep into the clothes of his she wore, trying to quell the hiccups that made breathing more of a challenge. waiting, with bated breath, to see if she had been imagining all of it after all.

[asksebs]

Not necessarily, I don't have anything I would need. I should ask if you need anything in specific, though, so I'm not just making a device you won't use or something. I collect scraps from the old laptops, computers, batteries from calculators, and other things laying around; in case that information helps at all.

- "Smiley" anon

I see, I see.

I can’t really say that I need anything specific, at least not that I can think of at the moment.

Though you did catch my interest when you mentioned the fact that you make things outta these scraps, so now I’ve gotta ask; what kinda stuff do you usually end up making with these things?

[cicadadust]

I promise I'll get back to drawing canon characters soon. But woo- took me three days to finish. But my boi Kaiba is complete! This is probably the most cluttered ref I've ever made haha.

Potential Rakuyou arc spoilers ahead so be warned:

Originally he was inspired by a post where someone mentioned the artist phenomenon of a canon character basically turning into their OC after awhile.

And it all started with well, I love Kamui. And I love his first official appearance with the bandages obscuring his face - maybe I could work with that. But then I shoved so many of my AU things and other ideas I enjoy into this character that he's mutated so much that he barely has any trace of Kamui left in his character. Definitely not story wise, nor personally, maybe a few elements design wise still along with the fact of being a Yato. Kaiba actually ended up being much more like Kouka story wise than I intended though (*cough* probably because Kaiba was mainly based on my AU of Kamui being the sole Altana mutant on Kouan instead of Kouka *cough*) but eh, I'll live with that.

Despite being a yato and Altana mutant...I may have taken a few creative liberties design wise. But I have my excuses! One thing is, I absolutely love Yato- but wish they had a few more I guess inhuman traits. Like please give them larger canine teeth and reflective pupils please🙏🥺. I thought the reflective pupils for Yato would be really cool, or funny, if Kagura had em too. So I tossed those traits into there. And I know Yato are supposed to be fair skinned- but I had an idea! Since Yato seem to be able to build up a slight tolerance to sunlight, like with Kagura being able to be out in broad daylight, while Housen who hasn't been exposed in a long time immediately started dying. I figured what if during Yato disopra, one of the groups of survivors who had fled Kouan ended up on this sunny desert dwarf planet... probably not by choice. Though there, the survivors perhaps started to build up a higher tolerance to the sunlight. But yet they're still not immune to it. And could have been the downfall of the few generations that had managed to survive for long enough. Kaiba was from this specific clan of Yato that had settled on the dwarf planet. With a slightly higher tolerance to sunlight than the typical Yato, and with the combo of being an altana mutant. Kaiba was free to enjoy the sunlight for much longer before feeling the effects of it, allowing him to gain more of his tanned complexion. Also just shares the same reptile brain as me, with the desire to just lay out in the sun on warm rocks. Though if he's an altana mutant, how come he has a scar? That should just heal right? ... Well, I have absolutely no excuse for that for now! I just wanted to reuse a scar design from one of my older characters because I thought it'd look nice on Kaiba 👉👈.

Now to get a little more into his story and such. It starts off similarly to Kouka's. As again Kaiba is the last member of his clan surviving alone on his birth planet due to him being a mutant. The forgotten dwarf planet, which I've named Ardoros, is covered in reddish orange sands, stone, and a whole bunch of space junk wich collects on its surface. With so much metal and scrap around, Kaiba developed a skill in metal working. And even managed to find a junked ship one day. This was obviously very exciting as he managed to get it to function- just barely. With many days having spent wandering Ardoros previously, he had already discovered one of its altana crystals. Albeit small, he fashioned it into an earring to serve as a battery in a way before he finally left. But being the absolute hunk of junk it was, Kaiba's ship broke down when he managed to land on another planet. And with no money or anything to fix it, he's began relying on hitchhiking. Traveling all over the universe with the aid of strangers. This got to go on for years, exploring new planets, trying new food etc- he absolutely loved it. But, the crystal he wears is almost depleted along with his own altana energy. He continues to hitchhike, yes. But now determined to find his way back to Ardoros before it's too late. Thing is - he's never been skilled at navigating, always leaving that up to whoever he was traveling with. He has also encountered no one else who's even heard of Adoros, no one else knows it's location either. And currently his latest stop during his attempts to get home, is on earth.

[lonestarbattleship]

"Lead ship of a new class of more compact fast battleships, USS South Dakota (BB-57) had the same speed and gun battery as the North Carolina class, but she had a better armor-protection scheme. She underwent mothballing at Philadelphia in 1946, the fate of nearly all the battleships at war's end. This photo, taken in 1962, shows the mothball period coming to an end as the ship, with less than five years' commissioned service on her record, is towed away to be scrapped."

(Naval Institute Collection)