#stabilizer for washing machine

[aultenblogs]

Home Appliance Power Stabilizer – Protects Washing Machines, Microwaves & Treadmills from Voltage Surges

The AULTEN Automatic Digital Voltage Stabilizer for Washing Machine, Microwave Oven, and Treadmill protects your essential appliances from voltage fluctuations. It ensures a stable power supply, helping your washing machine, microwave, and treadmill run efficiently, even in areas with unstable grids or frequent power surges.

With a capacity of 5000VA and 4000W, this stabilizer is designed to safeguard your washing machine from over-voltage and under-voltage conditions, preventing potential damage and extending the appliance’s lifespan. The automatic digital control adjusts the voltage in real-time, providing the ideal power needed for your appliances.

For those looking for a reliable stabilizer for washing machine, this product offers optimal protection. It regulates the voltage to avoid spikes, which are common in areas with poor electrical infrastructure, ensuring your washing machine operates smoothly and avoids costly repairs.

In addition to protecting against voltage fluctuations, the stabilizer also features overload protection, reducing the risk of short circuits and fire hazards. By maintaining a constant power supply, it improves the efficiency of your washing machine and other appliances, ultimately saving you money on repairs and replacements.

[corvidsindia]

Washing machine stand Review

Introducing the ultimate companion for your trusty washing machine – the elegant and versatile washing machine stand! Designed with a perfect blend of style and functionality, this stand is here to revolutionize your laundry experience. Made of durable material, our washing machine stand boasts a sleek and modern design that seamlessly blends into any home decor. Visit the website for more information

[sadbenedict]

common questions about Au

received a lot of questions from @chokehoe /thank you very much :D/ to make it more interesting, I've made it into a topic, and I've made some sketches! hope you enjoy!

So for your au where gojo locks geto in his basement, dose geto hate gojo now? Like I can imagine and understand why because he locked him away in basement, but I need to know.

This is a question I've answered before /You can search the hashtag, I could write more about it there/

He takes offence to it, of course, I don't think anyone would like someone locking you up. He still has love, Satoru is not a stranger to him after all, but there will be resentment. I think by the time Yuji shows up, their relationship will be very strained

Also does suguru use Yuji to get himself out? I feel bad for Yuji if so because then he’s gonna be stuck in the middle of that whole fiasco

I think he might take advantage of Yuji's kindness /oh yeah, manipulative Geto/ I think he'll want to get Yuji to take something from Satoru's room / and Yuji will have doubts about Gojo's mental stability/ If Satoru spots him, it's gonna be really creepy….

Was gojo just going to keep suguru locked in his basement forever, or did he have some other plan like suguru becoming a teacher?

I don't think he has any plan since he did it all on emotion. And I don't think Satoru will let him go anywhere now. Maybe he'll try to re-educate him /or maybe he's just calming himself down with these thoughts of re-educating/

Dose suguru have a plan for what he’s going to do if he does get out. Are nanako and mimiko ok in this one?

I think Suguru is just thinking about escaping right now. But even if he does, Satoru can easily find him by scent, will he have enough time to go somewhere before Satoru realises he's escaped? And if he is caught, will Satoru become even more insane? Suguru could also end his life if he realises that he has no other choice /I don't miss that thought/.

Nanako and Mimiko gone and are doing the same things they do in canon

Does anyone else know he’s down there, either by gojo telling them or by finding out by accident?

So far, only Shoko and Yuji know. I'll mention that the action takes place after the alley when Satoru "ki-lled" Suguru. Shoko knows because she healed Suguru /yeah, glued his arm on, that's just how I want it to be/. I think Shoko accepted since Satoru probably scared her, and she doesn't want to lose Suguru. But she probably wasn't surprised by Satoru's decision. To put it shortly

Maybe Megumi and Nobara will start to suspect something if Yuji !accidentally! says something XD like

Yuji: ...haha, yeah, like that strange guy in sensei's basement. Meg/Nob: what

Yuji: what

Also, I can’t stop imagining if the basement was the laundry and gojo & suguru are having some deep conversation and all you hear is the washing machine going in the background.

omg it's interesting! I pictured this place as where Gojo dragged Yuji to. Because, in theory, it could have held Suguru. But maybe then he moved it to another location, as you suggested, or converted this basement into a more habitable space. That's how I imagine this

/the room is quite small, I drew it like this for easy reference/

Has megumi or tsumuki walked into the basement because they needed something and just found suguru there and just didn’t know what to do so they just walked out, or do they not know? I feel like it would be funny but also creepy if they found suguru there because like the laundry used to be down there or something

Oh, this is gonna be really creepy XD I actually like this idea!

I think they'll get very scared and Megumi will probably encourage Nobaru not to ask Gojo since he heard from him about his ex-friend /understood from Gojo's description/ Since it's very strange and creepy, so better not to trigger Satoru

Why was gojos first thought to lock suguru in a basement in the first place?

I think he just realised that Suguru wouldn't be around him normally. And yeah, and he was determined to kill him.

Again, he did everything on emotion and from a selfish point of view. Also, I think he was just tired and just wanted to be around him all the time

@tug-tries-to-draw @morgraythedark @ediblespider @dreamhusbando @myssteriouss-wanderrerr you had similar questions, so I hope you find the answers here! If there are any more, I'll be happy to answer them! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

[probablyasocialecologist]

One man’s drudgery was another man’s stability. With some justification, Erich Honecker looked with pride at the changes in living standards that had been achieved under his leadership. Despite continuous problems with supplies and being behind technological standards in the West, the GDR felt like a stable country with comparatively high living standards. By design, there was full employment and the subsidized rents, food, cultural offerings and childcare meant that there were few existential concerns. At a time when West Germany was grappling with around 8 per cent unemployment and job security was a worry to many of those who did have work, East German families never really had to fear a sudden loss of income or not being able to pay the rent. By 1987, over half of all households had a car and all had at least one washing machine, fridge and TV.��Products that were difficult to get hold of through regular routes were often obtained with the help of Western relatives who ordered them directly through Genex catalogues or provided the currency for a trip to the Intershop. Friends and family in the right places could also help. All in all, the economic shortcomings of the GDR in the mid-1980s, while reaching crisis level behind the scenes, appeared to many East Germans as nuisances rather than existential threats to their way of life. This lack of existential concerns coupled with a solid life–work balance meant that East Germans had a fair amount of money and time on their hands without having to worry too much about having to make the most of it. As a result, they spent a lot more time socializing and enjoying leisure pursuits. Clubhouses, allotment gardens, restaurants, communal barbecue pits and party rooms in apartment blocks were popular retreats where friends, colleagues and neighbours would meet to relax. Accordingly, alcohol consumption in the GDR skyrocketed. By 1988, the average East German drank 142 litres of beer a year and 16.1 litres of hard liquor, twice as much as their West German neighbours and enough to make VEB Nordbrand the largest Schnapps producer in Europe. The American academic Thomas Kochan has argued that this is not due to a need to escape the dreary realities of the GDR, as has often been claimed, but rather to the ‘existential carefreeness’ experienced by ‘a low-competition collective society’. Most East Germans drank not to forget their worries but rather because they had too little to worry about.

Katja Hoyer, Beyond the Wall: East Germany, 1949-1990

[20dollarlolita]

To everyone getting a new sewing machine, as well as everyone who is working on last-minute holiday presents:

If the decorative stitches on your sewing machine are coming out ugly, there's a few things to try.

Your decorative stitches are basically embroidery, so give the project the same support you'd give a machine hoop embroidery project.

Bobbin: embroidery bobbin thread is much thinner than standard sewing thread. This really cuts down on the bulkiness of the stitch. If you want your decorative stitching to lie flat, you want to reduce bulk. You're having problems in a satin stitch, where the thread piles up on itself, makes a knot, and stops feeding? Embroidery bobbin thread will help prevent that, because it takes a lot more embroidery bobbin to make a knot big enough to stop the feed teeth. It's also thinner, so you can fit more on a bobbin and need to change your bobbin less. Embroidery bobbin is usually only available in two colors, but it's made so that your top thread will wrap onto the back and look prettier.

Stabilizer: For any hoop embroidery project, you need stabilizer. You can also put it behind your fabric in a decorative stitch. This will keep the fabric lying flat, and support your stitches. Some decorative stitch patterns will have the stitches very close together, and many woven fabrics can't support that many stitches. Stabilizer is meant to provide that support. There's versions that tear away (my current favorite is tear-and-wash), or that stay in the fabric permanently. If the back of your project isn't visible, keeping the stabilizer in there will show off your stitches and make it more attractive. You can buy a single promo pack of tear-away stabilizer for like $5, and if you're only using small strips of it to reinforce decorative stitching, it'll last you a really long time.

Thread: If you're doing a project with decorative stitching, you might as well use a decorative thread. Embroidery thread, must like my dear cat Teensy Buttons, is very pretty, but not very strong. While you don't want to use most machine embroidery threads for construction stitching, it does decorative stitching really well. If you're doing satin stitching, the shininess of the thread will really emphasize the stitching. For decorative stitching that's composed of single lines of stitching, switching to a 40wt embroidery thread will make the design stand out more.

Source:

Very pretty. Nothing going on in her head. We love T-Butt.

Anyway, when people call my store and are having decorative stitch problems, that's exactly what I tell them: Switch to embroidery bobbin, add some tear-away stabilizer, get some embroidery thread, look at how cute my cat is.

[lint-beetle4]

Heyo, could you do a Macaque or Red Son x reader with a comfort plushie? Maybe poly if ur comfy with that too

I’m mostly asking cause I’ve had one (orange fox squishmallow, his name is Kyle) for years and like. I’m not insecure abt it and I’ve never gotten shit for it but I’d just like to see smthn like that. I carry him with me basically everywhere and I hold him when I sleep and I just wanna know what they’d think abt that

If u do end up writing this then thank I’m advance, hope you have an incredible day either way!! <33 :))

Plush Love (Macaque & Red Son x Reader) Headcanon

I'm so sorry this took so long!!! I hope you enjoy it!!

Macaque:

When Macaque noticed your plush, he asked about it, mainly out of boredom and slightly curiosity

It seemed to be warn, loved through time and cared for through the ages

When you told him the story of the cute thing, Macaque was impressed

Keeping something like that for years surely wasn't as easy as it seemed, and finding comfort in something so simple wasn't expected by the shadow demon

Yet, it fit you just wonderfully, how you had an eternal friend watching over you that helped you through rough patches in life

He offers to wash the plush carefully, even to replace the stuffing if you'd like (like those stuffed toy hospitals)

He's always gentle around your plush if you let him hold it

He becomes a pseudo-caretaker of it, protecting it like a cub on occasion

Its smell has yours in it, so he likes it a lot, might even snuggle with it in secret

Anyone being mean or rude to you about the plushie is immediately bitten by Macaque, verbally at least

Macaque doesn't take well to those who belittle others for being different, so you'll bet he'll have many words to say to bullies

If you're ever stressed, Macaque is quick to provide you with your plushie and a hug

He understand entirely how important this plush was to you, so it's the first tactic he uses if you're ever upset or need comfort

Red Son:

Red Son didn't understand how you found comfort in such a thing

It was an object that merely had sentimental value that was incomprehensible to him

This wasn't something you made, it wasn't a living things that could smile or even breathe around you

Yet, the more explained it to him, the more he understood

Red Son found comfort in his hobbies, building machines and cooking

You found your comfort in your plushie, a beacon of stability that Red Son would have by busying himself

He was rather intrigued by it, how something so insignificant could be so important to you

Red Son wasn't cruel about his ignorance, if anything, he asked a lot of questions

At the end of the day, he chalked it down to something you just had, something that made you happy

He was glad to see that you some support with you, even if it was a plush that stared at him weird

If anyone treated you strangely because of it, let's just say they wouldn't be seeing you again any time soon

If you didn't want anyone harmed, well, Red Son could just place them on a random island and leave it at that-- no harm no foul, as the mortals would say

In any case, Red Son is always there to provide words of comfort, in his own strange phrasings

[puckpocketed]

ok the stick story is this

according to The Hockey Media, who as we know do not actually follow any teams closely so know NOTHING, ovechkin was finally hit by father time. he's finally slowing down. he's a shell of his old self. he has old man syndrome. blah blah blah

as a caps fan, i know that this is false, because our russian machine never break. he's a freak. who btw had like 13 goals disallowed or something crazy like that in the first half of last season but i digress

gee i wonder why ovechkin's goals went down? is it because his longtime center and future hall of famer nicklas backstrom retired in all but name? is it because our other top 6 center in evgeny kuznetsov had by far the worst season of his career (from point a game to not even half a point a game) and then went into the player's assistance program before being traded to the canes and then bolting for the KHL?

actually, as it turns out: no.

i mean probably those were factors, but there was another factor. a factor that many caps fans are very aware of but almost no one reported on for some reason (probably because they were too busy writing about how SiDneY CrOsBy was having SuCh an AmaZiNg season for a 36 year old despite ovechkin literally having just as a good a season the year prior at the *checks notes* age of 36. also this is a reminder that one of those two actually led their team to a playoff berth and it wasn't crosby)

ovechkin is, among other things, an elite shooter. like many elite shooters, he is EXTREMELY picky about his sticks. he has been using the same CCM model for the last 7 seasons...and prior to this season they discontinued it.

the first half of the season (roughly), ovi was constantly trying out new sticks from CCM, from Bauer, whoever. he tried quite a few different sticks. results: 8 goals in 43 games.

then, ovechkin found an independent supplier. apparently (i can't remember where this info came out, maybe 32 thoughts?), these guys have an "ovi pro curve" model based on his old stick with CCM and he bought it and tried it out. curve was identical, and it felt right to him. started using those. results: 23 goals in 36 games.

am i saying that he is going to continue on that pace this coming season? probably not. do i think that the rumors of his demise as a goal scorer are greatly exaggerated and almost surely mistaken? yes. am i optimistic that with some stability in our center depth and stability in stick choice, ovechkin will have a 40 goal season again and possibly break wayne gretzky's all time goals record? YES.

what this means for PLD our beloved failhorse wife: he's not getting some washed up old man former great on his wing. he's getting the greatest fucking goal scorer in the history of the sport. and i, for one, am excited to see what they can do together.

link i thought about this all morning during baking and while i was out!! thank you for the stick explanation and all the sources i LOVE citations i am eating them up like theyre cakes at teatime....! more under the cut but heres what i was thinking about when i read this:

thinking about how,, particular some players get about their equipment, how superstitious, it's crazy to me that a manufacturer can just do all that. if it were me and MYE special stick got discontinued id be suing for damages

i was super interested in what actually changed in the second half of the season because i saw ovechkin was back to scoring basically at-will again, so really thank you for explaining.. the bond between a hockey and their stick is so beaugtiful <3

cr-sby is my babygirl-in-law and i fear i will always be fond of him because of this, so i shall tread carefully here (pens friends look away) it DOES suck that they're not recognising your old man for his achievements while that old man gets hyped. is it like, weird anti-russian sentiment? or a more general anti-caps bias? every team fan space i dip into feels unfairly maligned one way or another - which, yeah! clenching my fist of rage.......

you spin such a tale and im VERY excited to see how next szn shakes out in light of all this and also . grabbing dubois by the scruff of his neck like i will stan either way but PLEASE dont embarrass me in front of my cool new friends kjlasdklasdkl....

thank you so much for stopping by and for the warmest welcome ever <3

[babey-fruit-bat]

Practical Life Skills for Everyone

Wolverine X Reader FLUFF

Content: The new Home Ec teacher encounters the Shop Class teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

Note: photos come from Pinterest and collage made by me hehe

Tw: SAFE FOR POC/FEM READERS- Author can’t write dialogue, Logan is called short ONCE (written with comic accurate Wolverine in mind-but can be movie Logan too) reader is given pet names/refered to as she/Ms.

I haven’t written a serious fic since high school and I want to get back out here again hooray!

—————————————————————————

A new semester, apple on the desk, pots and pans freshly washed, sewing machines at the ready. Nothing this semester could stop you- starting fresh at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters brought to fruition everything you’d hoped for. Family, a career, children, and most importantly- stability.

A word normally foreign for mutants of all kinds, yourself included. Settling down as a teacher helped to blend your identity. Charles had located you on purpose- something you’d come to terms with over the last few months spent bonding with the staff and fellow X-Men. You’d been offered a position as a teacher and had accompanied several missions, all successful due to your mutation. It wasn’t easy- and took many years to develop and control your abilities the way you could. You’d managed on your own just fine before this but life was lonely at best, suffocating at worst. A life spent using your mutation to survive- Now you could live.

You’d initially been brought on to train a young mutant named Rouge- with a similar ability, training her was rewarding. It was like a reflection of your younger self staring back st you. About a century ago you had no community, family, friends.

That reality seemed so far away compared to the life you lived now. You mused this thought to yourself unlocking the door to your classroom. You set the books on top of your perfectly organized desk- perfect timing as the students began filling in for the day.

You pulled up their bell work to complete on the projector watching one by one as they sorted themselves into groups ready. A slight drone of music started down the hall and the bell announced the start of another day.

Beginning with collecting the bell work, you started the students off with a simple recipe to complete before the end of class. Classic chocolate chip cookies- a family favorite and good way to observe the student’s skill levels.

“More salt Colby, the acidity is necessary”

“Yes Ms. Y/N”

“Scrape the flour off the top of the measuring cup for an even amount, Emma”

“Thanks, professor Y/N!”

It wasn’t long before each student had a decent batch of cookies ready to grade and devour- the edible ones at least..

But before any grading could be done- or eating the music level from the hall rose to an absurd level

“Does anyone know who has their music so loud this morning?” You stated opening the door to the hallway “I hardly think this time of morning is-“

“It’s the shop class down the hall” one of the students stated, also mildly annoyed

“Hmmm, shop class? I didn’t know we offered shop this semester.. Do you think the professor would-“

A chorus of “No way!” “Do not!” and “He’ll kill you!” erupted from the students

“Who? I hardly think anyone would be so ill-tempered about asking to cut the music down so early”

“It’s professor Logan, he’s back this semester”

“Then I guess we’ll have to give him a ring- this volume is a little much, surely he wouldn’t mind?”

The students held their breath as you dialed the shop’s classroom on the school phone

It was a wonder anyone picked up the phone in the shop. Many students gathered around the bike Logan was introducing as the senior class project. A chance to not only test their skills but add personal flare- a teenagers wet dream truly.

Some eager students had been sent to gather the tool on the bench when one notice the phone ringing. They answered and briefly spoke to the teacher on the other end before hanging up the phone. One student simply turned the music down- enough for Logan to notice. He didn’t like the settings messed with unless he did so himself, especially by his students.

“Who touched the radio?” He demanded

The students silently stood there as the music paused completely. One student bravely spoke up

“It was the phone-“

“The phone cut the music down?” He interrupted

“No, a teacher called and asked us to do it”

“Who? I sweat if you answered Scott and listened! What’s the first rule in shop!?” He sighed, already tired from the day and needing a drink.

He wasn’t cut out for this ‘teacher’ shit, Logan thought to himself. He’d tried to argue with Charles claiming he had better things to do and had been promptly reminded of how much time he spends in the garage should be put to good use.

He signed as he sensed his pupils unease and cut the music back on and instructed them to get started. He stalked to the phone clicking a few buttons to figure out what classroom called to complain ready to give Scott a piece of his mind. He ran out to steam seeing it was your classroom that had called. The new teacher who’d started their first semester just down the hall. He’d meant to stop by and welcome you but meeting people without confrontation had never been his strongest quality. What better time than now. He left the students to their assignment and carried himself down the hall ready to introduce himself.

A knock on the door interrupted the classroom buzz and a hush fell over the students. You padded over to the door and peeked out the small window. A short man, clad in a black t shirt and jeans stared back at you with an unreadable expression.

“Good morning! What can I do for you?” You trailed off not recognizing him.

“You called the shop a minute ago” he stated twirling the toothpick in his mouth

“Yes, I’m sorry to bother- You must be professor Logan”

“Mm hm” he answered shortly, stepping out further in the hall while you closed the door behind you.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, it was just a little loud for my students and I this morning-“

He held a hand up “Not a problem, doll. I can’t upset my favorite teacher, right?”

“Favorite teacher? We just met” you said with a light laugh

“I’ve been around a long time- I know a good girl when I see one”

“I hardly think that’s appropriate to say here”

“No? Maybe I can say it another way or another time?” His lips curling up in a smug smile “How about you come down to the shop after classes- Grab a drink later?”

“Oh! Uh sure? I guess so?” From the way the students reacted you’d assumed this teacher was awful, even horrible. Be here is his- polite as ever and asking to grab a drink?

“I like that answer” he laughed leaning closer “Meet me later at garage three- I’ll take you to Abe’s”

Abe’s was one of the nicer bars in the city, a place known for anniversaries, couples flocking there left and right for an evening out. You’d never stopped by until tonight- now you had plans for once with a complete stranger- a handsome one at that.

“I’ll see you later then, garage three”

“Looking forward to it, sweetheart” he said turning to head back to his class

You entered your room once again as the class held their breath. No yelling, no cussing, no words of any kind were heard and the students had feared your first day would be your last- they didn’t know that this was just the beginning

[shiyorin]

Do Dreadnoughts dream of taking a bath?

#Inspired by PowerWash x Warhammer 40K and Roco.

#I love Dreadnought.

"Do Dreadnoughts dream?"

That is a question with no certain answer. On one hand, a Dreadnought is more machine than man, neural implants fuse mind to machine in ways bizarre to comprehend. Their armored carapace shelters only remnants of flesh, sustained through bionic might alone. By all rights, their cerebral cortex should have decayed long ago.

By such logic, one could argue conscious thought ends where flesh yields to steel. Sleep and its dreamscapes are biological realities, are they not? With only trace humanity remaining, why expect mental functions of slumber? But integrated into their armored shells are enough enhanced organs and neural implants to sustain bioniorganic functions far beyond mere biological viability. Isn't the nature of dream itself stems from biological instincts overwritten.

The pain was a dull ache, easily ignored after centuries entombed. But a new irritation assailed him now, crawling itches across flesh long denied sensation. Confusion, this body felt change, though it had lain inert as worlds turned. Deeper still came the oppression, lungs seizing as if drowning once more in bloody. 

What trickery was this? Diagnostics reported stasis, all systems firing true. Yet the discomforts grew, phlegmy coughs racking the half-machine beast. Panic swelled, animal instincts long dormant rising within the eternal tomb. Then light, piercing the darkness behind closing lids. Sweet air rushed into ruined lungs, this labor easing at last. 

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar realm. No armored bulk rose before him but limbs scoured by shrapnel and burned by virus-bombs. His original form, given once more against all reason, a gift or curse, he knew not. Unfettered he stood, wounds healed to bare scars across taut flesh. This was a dream, or something. 

An uncertainty gripped him. What madness was this? To be returned to old flesh but feel no urge to battle, no call to crusade? A different impulse arose, foreign but ingrained, cleansing ritual performed eons past in youth. He walked uncertain, waters calling him to rites unseen by any in aeons untold. 

Ribs still bore flecks of ceramite and plasteel patched within living shell. He paused before the waters, studying form that had known only warfare. Scars told their own tales, each etched upon memories kept alive through aeons in stasis. With care he entered in that, waters lapping old wounds as if in benediction. 

There he lingered, letting cares and pains wash freely away. Muscles long locked in adamantium relaxed, tension fleeing in steam rising. For the first time in memory untold, no demands of duty or flesh assailed him. A feeling swelled within him, emotion locked beyond reach of mortal sensation. Peace, serenity swept over ancient minds as waters sloughed away cares of ages...

Pain pulsed through his battered form as consciousness returned. The fleeting peace of dreams melted away, centuries of enforced half-life onboard the Dreadnought crashing back upon ancient shoulders. Systems booted sluggishly, sensors recalibrating after solaris of monotony disturbed. 

A hum escaped grille as servos whirred back to their duties securing crumpled flesh deeper than mortal sight could pierce. Outside clangs and grinding announced the diligent ministrations of tech-priests ensuring their perpetual charge clung yet to shadow of function. One voice carried clearly through armored carapace:

"Vitals stabilize in sector C-12 Magos. Neural links firing within tolerances." The Tech-priest's voice rang through microphones.

"Understood. Continue maintenance protocols and monitor for anomalies. This relic has served faithfully many centuries. Pray for the Omnissiah." The Magos's bionics buzzed in compliance. They ensured history marched on, whatever hulls preserved that march.

With effort, aged vox-grille creaked open. "Brother, I was dreaming." Static laced speech imparted by cobbled augmetics mere palliates for ravaged throat too ruined for basic sounds. The Techmarine's etheric sensors detected words nonetheless.

A static pause preceded Techmarine's reply. "Dreaming? Impossible, your neural engrams show only baseline activity."

Mirthless chuckle issued from loudspeakers. "Impossible, yes, But I dream... I'm taking a bath." 

Silence answered as Techmarine puzzled over the incomprehensible scene. "The priests scrub your plating clean as monthly rite. Perhaps some synapse misfired."

Silence reigned for moments uncounted as ritual continued outside. Then, a final whisper from within. "Indeed. A... nice dream." 

With that, consciousness fell back into lowest-level rest as painkillers suffused systems. The Techmarine watched monitors return to quiescent patterns, then signaled to close the Dreadnought once more. Its machine spirit's notions were beyond his. The armored tomb closed, and darkness reigned once more.

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: We’re back, and we’ve got a question from Sockerkott! “I work as a forklift driver transporting large domestic appliances like Refrigerators, Microwave ovens, Washing machines and dryers. How would various Sonic characters each handle that job?”

IAN FLYNN: Uh, Sonic doesn’t have the patience for that kind of deliberate maneuverability. Tails is fine. In fact, he’ll figure out a way to automate it, if he hasn’t already. KYLE: Yeah. IAN: Amy… I think she’d get a handle on it. She’d be alright. Knuckles? Do not trust him with that, nothing will be intact by the end of it. He’ll just get frustrated with it and pick it up and put it there himself. And Eggman, we already know he’s certified. KYLE: Yes. [reading chat] Silver thinks the forklift is stupid, because he just… [laughs] all he has to do is just think about lifting a thing up, and it goes up! It’s like, “I don’t need that!” IAN:[chuckles at the thought, then smugly, as Silver] “Oh, you need a machine to lift things! How quaint.” KYLE: [still laughing] Yeah, pretty much! IAN: He’s like, flexing as everything flies into place. [as Silver] “That one goes over there, and that one goes over there… oooh, done in record time!” KYLE: Yes! Yeah, pretty much! [laughing] IAN: Careful, Silver, you’re starting to sound like Randy Savage, there. KYLE: T-Tang�� [laughs] Yeah! Tangle’s trying to use, uh, her tail to stabilize something on the forklift. [losing composure laughing at the thought] It’s not working! Oh no! IAN: [as Silver] “No, guys, guys, guys, she can totally lift it all the way to the top! She just needs to stabilize it a little bit! Trust me! This’ll— she can put stuff even higher! You’ll see, you’ll see, you’ll see! Oop…” KYLE: And there goes. [chuckles] Oh, boy. IAN: But don’t worry, Silver catches it as it falls over. KYLE: Of course. IAN: [smugly, as Silver] “Oops! Did you drop something? Don’t worry… I caught it.” KYLE: [laughing] Pretty much! … Oh, darn, it could’ve dropped on Starline! What the heck?! [both laugh] IAN: [as Starline] “I wasn’t even doing anything evil this time! Come on, now!” KYLE: Starline, you’re always doing something evil! IAN: [as Starline] “True, true.” KYLE: [laughing] After all, a forklift is an efficient way of killing. Forklift simulator… guess I’ll see you later! —– TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It’s just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don’t like an answer, you don’t have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It’s all just for fun!

[youling-the-ghost]

sfth incorrect quotes pt.4 because I'm addicted to making these (the link I used)

*Sam is reading a Clifford The Big Red Dog book* Luke, watching: How did he get to be so big? Do they ever explain that? Sam: Well, Emily’s love for him grew, and so did he. Luke: Well, your dog is pretty small. Guess that says something about you, huh? Sam, angrily shutting his book: YOU’RE SMALL! WHAT DOES THAT SAY ABOUT YOUR PARENTS?!?! AJ: Hey, Tom? Tom: Yeah? AJ: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on? Tom: Tom: Where’s Luke?

Sam: You know what the problem is? Your really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your pie-hole. Luke: You think I’m cute? Sam: SHUT YOUR PIE-HOLE! AJ: I am an expert at identifying birds. Tom: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? AJ: Yeah, they're all birds. Luke: What are you guys playing? AJ: Go Fish. Luke: That’s a nice, safe game. Luke: But don’t you need cards? AJ: Where do you keep the spear gun? Sam: I regret nothing!!! Tom: I regret everything!!! Luke: Live fast, die young, leave behind a pretty corpse! That’s what I always say! AJ: You should say something else. Sam: I failed my safety training course today. Tom: Why, what happened? Sam: Well one of the questions was "In case of a fire, what steps would you take?" Tom: And? Sam: Well apparently "FUCKING LARGE ONES" isn't an acceptable answer. Luke: But what about AJ? Sam: Don't worry about him. Sam: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened. Luke: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Tom periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ Luke: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going. Tom: That sounds like a terrible plan. Sam: Oh, we've had worse. AJ: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. Luke: And you came to me? AJ: So, I've been thinking Tom- Tom: That's dangerous. Sam: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT! Luke: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone. Sam: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch? Luke: Somehow that's worse. *AJ is crying after a breakup* Luke: There there, AJ. AJ, still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room? Luke: Great question— Tom: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens." Tom: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Tom: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me. Tom: *looks at AJ* Tom: Baby boy. Baby. Tom: *looks at Sam* Tom: Evil. (Luke is somehow both at the same time) Sam: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits. AJ: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar? Sam: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it. AJ: One time I went to hand Sam a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.” Tom: I am in charge of this disaster! AJ: I have a name, you know. Tom: Luke, Sam, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing? Sam, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Luke is sitting atop: Oh nothing much. Luke: I love you too :) Tom: Do you know a turtles only weakness? AJ: No...well, their slowness. Tom: Their weaknesss is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Tom: Now I have a plan. Tom: If I duct tape two turtles together, they'll be unstoppable. Sam, talking about Luke: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH HIM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? HE DID. HE KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO. AJ: What are you writing? Sam: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information. Tom, looking over Sam's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy. AJ: I was voted “friendliest classmate” in high school. Sam: I was voted “most likely to become a clown”... Luke: You think that’s bad? HA! I was voted “most likely to get rabies”! AJ: Sam won’t come out of their room! Tom: Just tell them I said something. AJ: Like what? Tom: Anything factually incorrect. AJ, shrugging: If you say so. Sam, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

[aultenblogs]

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[minimoxha]

Kinktober, Day 6

song 6- Vibrator + Public

Ft: Public/ métro, Remote vibrator, Oikawa

As dirty as public transit was, it was enjoyable to take with friends. Maybe not as fun to take with your boyfriend because Oikawa was up to extremely mischievous things while you were on the metro. The two of you stood on the crowded train near the back of the cart. He stood over you with the biggest smirk playing on his lips but you didn’t understand what he was smiling about until he held a pink remote to your face.  

You quickly pushed his hands down, trying to ensure nobody saw your embarrassing container. “Oikawa! We can’t do that here people will hear!” You whisper shout. 

He just smiled and sneakily pressed a button starting your vibrator up. As the immense pleasure washed over you, you felt your legs slightly tremble as Oikawa held your arm to stabilize you. “Nobody will hear if you don’t make noise. We have what, 7 more stops to ride? That gives us just enough time.” His voice and his face were extremely convincing because now he had upped the vibrator speed to two and it was already doing a rager on your sensitive clit. Your legs have yet to fail you due to the pleasure like the other times the two of you had done it. He usually had to hold you up or you had to grab the ledge to something while making a horrible attempt at keeping your composure. Six more stops to go before you could finally let go of the moan you’ve been holding. 

“You look so pale, are you ok?” Oikawa asked with fake remorse, he knew exactly why you looked so faint but the man loved to tease when he was giving pleasure. He had gotten a thrill from it. The thrill turned him on so much that he turned the speed up one more. It hit you like a lightning bolt, you allowed a moan to escape you as you slightly toppled down to the floor. Your clit was practically getting beat up by this machine in front of everyone as Oikawa smiled! Two or three people looked to the back of the train, as much as they could during rush hour to see if you were okay but Oikawa already knew the drill and lifted you back up so you could have your back pressed against him as the vibrator continued its assault. “Look at you, making so much noise you’re gonna get us caught~” He moaned in your ear, sending shivers down your body. 

As the machine sucked on your clit you leaned your head on his shoulder and let out a soft, airy moan into his ear. “I can’t take it, I don’t think-“ A  gasp escaping your lips interrupted you.  “I don’t think I can hold it. 

Oikawa let the train doors close again before he spoke. “Four more stops, okay baby?” His voice was laced with concern yet his intentions were evil. Even though the train moving through the tunnel was loud, his hand turning up the vibrator once again was louder. “Keep quiet baby.” With a hand over your mouth, you shook against him, letting the vibrator eat at you. How were you even supposed to go see your friends after this when you’d be flustered the whole way there and only think about getting Oikawa home to hop on his cock?

Another stop you passed, your orgasm neared. Making you grind the toy more into your sensitive bits which Oikawa noticed. And being the asshole he was, he waited until your body started to shake telling him that your orgasm was near before turning it off completely. It had felt like your heart had stopped as the vibrator was sitting on you still but you still didn’t make a mess of yourself. Looking to Oikawa, you gave him a confused look but all he did was shine you a bright smile with his perfect teeth. “You didn’t. think I’d let you cum on the train, did you?”

[ltash]

Bleeding Love

You saw Ghost breaking infront of everybody for you.

I'm coiled up like a venomous serpant

Tangled in your heart and I'm certain

You've got your hooks in me.

I coughed and opened my eyes, feeling the oxygen tubes attached to my nostrils. "Help!" I croaked painfully, my voice barely above a whisper. The machine beside me beeped loudly as my heartbeat quickened.

The door opened, and a nurse rushed in with a doctor. I went into a panic attack.

"Simon!" I called his name, desperation seeping into my voice.

The doctors injected something into my IV to stabilize me, but tears continued to cascade down my cheeks.

"Simon!" I called again, my voice breaking.

As the sedative took effect, my breathing slowed, and I drifted into a deep sleep.

I don't know how much time had passed when I woke up again. This time, someone was holding my hand.

"Nora," I heard him say, his gloved hand caressing my skin. I looked at him.

"Simon." My voice broke.

It was hard to breathe as I had direct trauma to my chest and belly. I wheezed with each breath.

Simon stood up and took me into an embrace lifting me off the bed slightly.

He squeezed my hand gently. "I am here, luvvie. Don't be afraid. Nothing will happen to you."

I wanted to talk, but he stopped me.

"Ssh! You need rest, love. Don't talk." He nodded reassuringly.

I closed my eyes, feeling a bit more at ease with him there. He stayed with me the whole day, never leaving my side.

Later, Captain Price and Soap visited me. Soap had a bandage over his arm and head, clearly having been through his own ordeal.

"How are you holding up, Nora?" Captain Price asked gently.

I managed a weak smile. "I've been better, Captain."

Soap stepped closer, trying to lighten the mood. "You've got the whole team worried about you, you know. Even Ghost here hasn't left your side."

Ghost squeezed my hand, his silence more comforting than words.

Captain Price nodded. "You just focus on getting better. We'll handle everything else."

I glanced at Simon, his eyes never leaving mine. "Thank you, all of you," I whispered.

"We're a team, Nora," Soap said. "And we'll get through this together."

Captain Price gave a reassuring nod. "Rest now. We'll be right here when you need us."

At night, I was feeling much better but still sore. A nurse came to change the bandage on my thigh.

"We need to change the dressing once a day," she said. "You need to change into a fresh pair of clothes, ma'am."

I looked at Simon. He knew I had no clothes of my own there. He went out and came back with military clothes of my size and an oversized T-shirt of his own.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face. The realization that I lost my pregnancy hit me hard. I changed into the fresh clothes he brought me and sat on the hospital bed. Simon was not in the room.

I went into shock right away, my hands trembling, my eyes watery as I sat there silently gazing into the air. Simon came into the room, dressed in the same blue jeans and hoodie with his tactical vest and the skull mask.

"We caught El Sin Nombre. It's a woman," he said.

I did not reply, instead looking into the air.

"Nora!" he called me.

I didn’t reply.

"Nora! Say something," he insisted.

I blinked, my voice barely a whisper. Simon. Our baby is gone."

Tears streamed down my face. "How can I move on from this?"

"How can I move on from this, Simon?" I asked again, my voice trembling. "When I needed you the most, you weren't there."

I stood up, my legs shaky, and walked towards him, looking up to face him. "You weren't fucking there when I needed you." I put my finger on his chest, my voice filled with pain and anger. "Soap couldn't protect me. He tried his best. You had one job, Simon Riley, and you failed miserably at that."

Simon clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening. "I left Johnny fucking MacTavish to care for you, but he couldn't do that. I will kill him," he snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

"No! You won't touch him," I shouted, following him out of the room and into the corridor.

He didn't listen. He kept walking, his pace quick and determined. My body was so sore and weak, but I still managed to follow him outside.

"Simon, stop!" I called out, my voice hoarse. "You can't blame him for this."

He spun around, his eyes blazing. "Then who should I blame, Nora? Myself? I can't lose you. I can't lose anything more."

Simon turned around again, rage burning inside him. I knew he was going to beat the hell out of Johnny.

I saw Johnny standing with Gaz, talking to him. He saw Ghost approaching and knew something was really wrong and he was going to be answerable.

"Hey, LT!" Johnny greeted, but he was met with a punch to his face. He fell to the ground.

"LT, what the fuck!" Johnny exclaimed, stunned.

Gaz stepped forward, trying to intervene.

"Bloody hell, Johnny!" Ghost spat, his chest heaving with rage.

I approached Ghost, my fists clenched. Putting my hand on his chest, I pushed him. My hand flew into the air as I slapped Ghost hard across his face. My fingers landed on his masked jaw and I regretted because it hurt aftwards.

"Enough!" I yelled, my voice echoing across the base.

All the soldiers, including Alejandro and Rodolfo, glanced at each other, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern.

Ghost looked away before turning back to me. He was shocked, caught off guard by the slap. I didn't want to hit him in front of everyone, but I couldn't stand seeing Johnny being blamed for something that wasn't his fault.

"Simon Riley! You have disappointed me," I spat. "Who the hell are you to blame Johnny for what happened to me? The last thing I wanted to see is you two fighting because of me."

Ghost's eyes widened, pain and regret flickering across his face.

"You are a jealous prick, Lieutenant Riley," I continued, my voice trembling with anger. "You know, you should have let me die there. Why did you even save me when you had already failed to protect me?" I barked, my voice echoing through the tense silence.

Ghost's jaw tightened, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and frustration. "Nora, I—"

"Don't!" I cut him off, tears streaming down my face. "Don't try to justify it. You weren't there when I needed you the most."

The soldiers around us stood frozen, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Johnny, still holding his bruised jaw, looked between us with concern.

Ghost took a step closer, his voice low and strained. "Nora, I didn't know. I thought leaving Johnny was the best way to protect you. I was wrong. I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, unable to hold back my sobs. "Sorry won't fix this, Simon. Sorry won't bring back our baby."

He flinched as if struck, the weight of my words sinking deep into his soul. "I know," he whispered. "I know, and I'll carry that guilt for the rest of my life. But please, let me be there for you now."

"I don't need anyone now," I said, my voice trembling with anger and sorrow. "I fought for myself when my office burned in front of me. When I was dragged by those dogs, I was all alone. When they crushed my spirit, I was all alone."

With that, I took out the Beretta resting in his chest holster, switching off the safety.

I put the barrel to my temple.

"Let me die and get this over with. I don't want to live in this nightmare anymore. At least I will reunite with my father."

"Nora! Please don't. Please, please, my love, don't do this." Ghost pleaded, his voice breaking in front of everyone.

"Don't come close, or I will pull the trigger," I warned, my eyes wild with despair.

"Please, don't do this. Please!" His voice broke with emotion as he fell to his knees in front of me, his hands in surrender. "Please, babe! Please forgive me."

His desperate plea cut through the haze of my pain. I could see the agony in his eyes, the guilt, and the fear. It was a raw, unfiltered emotion that matched my own.

"Simon, you don't understand," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I've lost everything. I can't go on like this."

"Let me die, please," I pleaded through my tears.

"No, love. Please," Ghost's voice cracked, and for the first time, I saw him break. Tears streamed down the skull mask he wore, his shoulders shaking with emotion.

Then he cried, cried like a little kid when he had lost his mother, his whole family.

"I have lost everyone, Nora! I don't want to lose you. I can't do this anymore without you," he confessed between sobs.

Captain Price, Alejandro, Soap, and Gaz looked on in shock. They had never seen Simon break like that before. The stoic soldier they knew was crumbling before their eyes, his vulnerability laid bare for all to see.

My hands trembled as I let the gun fall to the ground. Walking toward him, I fell to my knees and embraced him tightly.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, his sobs muffled against my skin. He whimpered when he cried like a little kid which broke my heart. I had never seen a man crying like this my whole life.

"I love you, Nora. I can't live without you. I'm so tired," he whispered tightening his arms around me.

"I can't either," I sobbed. "Sshh, it's okay," I reassured him, gently stroking his back.

"I'm so sorry, Simon. I wasn't myself."

"Promise me you won't do that again," he said, looking into my eyes.

I touched my forehead to his. "Never. I will never do this again. I promise."

We stayed like that for a while when he stood up keeping me in his embrace and lifting me up in his arms.

I heard Captain Price clear his throat. Simon let me go slowly.

"If you two love birds are done we have some interrogation to proceed with." Captain Price smiled looking at me.

"I will be back. Go and rest Nora." He kissed me on my forehead before picking up his gun from the ground.

"That hurt bad." He pointed towards his cheek and winked before turning to go.

[gvfgal]

6. Everything That Becomes Us.

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ Story, Minors not welcomed.

A/n: Here’s chapter 6! As always, enjoy, and please let me know if you’d like to be added to the Taglist! 🍾

Content Warnings: drinking, smoking, mentions of criminal activity, mention & depiction of serious illness, allusions to violence against reader, weird father relationships… think that’s it!

Word Count: 3.5k

The following morning ushered in an unexpected sense of domesticity that was a stark departure from the chaos that often defined Jake’s past. While you maneuvered in the kitchen concocting breakfast, Jake wrestled with the obstinate washing machine that had rudely interrupted the tranquility of the morning hours earlier.

A formal breakfast was a rare luxury in his tumultuous upbringing, reserved for occasions shadowed by his mother’s fleeting presence and often marred by the underlying tension of impending departure or discord with Rex. Thus, the simple act of someone preparing breakfast for him purely out of kindness struck a chord within Jake, hinting at the semblance of stability and care he had secretly long yearned for.

However, that morning stuck out to Jake for an entirely different reason. He’d be replaying the small series of events over again in his head later, as he’d do with a lot of different instances surrounding you.

He remembered the details vividly:

As he meticulously pieced the washing machine back together, the mundane task was punctuated by the shrill ring of your cell phone echoing through the trailer. Each passing moment seemed to elongate as Jake strained to discern your hesitation before you finally answered.

Jake, unaccustomed to eavesdropping, initially dismissed the snippets of conversation drifting from the kitchen. With the task completed and a bead of sweat wiped from his brow, he eagerly made his way towards the promise of breakfast. However, his steps faltered mid-stride as the tone of your voice shifted to a secretive whisper, one tinged with an urgency that seized his attention. A sense of unease crept over him, an inner conflict warring between respecting your privacy and the compulsion to understand the weight of your words.

Frozen in the hallway, Jake grappled with the dilemma of intrusion versus ignorance. Though he had never been one to eavesdrop, the gravity of the situation left him with no choice but to linger in the shadows to silently bear witness to the conversation unfolding behind closed doors.

“Look mom,” you sounded sincere yet assertive, “I get that you’re sick, but I can’t come back there, you know that. Not after what happened…”

Jake’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern crossed his features as he continued to listen, grappling with a sense of guilt for intruding on the private conversation.

"Mom, you know I don’t have that kind of money… Yes, but… If I give you everything I’ve saved up, I'll be back at square one, and all the progress I've made here would be for nothing..."

A whirlwind of questions stormed through Jake's mind as he lingered in that hallway, overhearing snippets of your cryptic conversation.

What dark chapter from your past barred the doors to your childhood home? Why were you secretly stashing money away?

Caught in the grip of curiosity and discomfort, Jake sought refuge in the kitchen, a feeble attempt to escape the weight of the revelations unfolding before him. You deftly flipped the last pancake on the stove as he entered, your phone still pressed against your ear.

Sensing his presence, you turned, a smile adorning your face. Your voice shifted to a tone of casual innocence as you swiftly wrapped up the call, doing your best to conceal the true gravity of the discussion from Jake's prying ears.

"Yeah, so anyways, mom, I'll, uh, get back to you on that as soon as I can… Mhmm… yeah, love you too… Bye."

Relieved that Jake's attention was elsewhere, you poured a glass of orange juice from the fridge, masking the discomfort that churned within you.

You set your phone down on the counter and focused on the task at hand, plating the pancakes alongside the sizzling bacon, eggs, and an array of fruits. Relieved that Jake’s attention was elsewhere, pouring a glass of orange juice by the fridge, you swallowed down the tumult of emotions stirred by the conversation, and made a conscious effort to maintain a façade of composure until Jake's departure.

"That was your mom?" Jake's casual inquiry floated across the kitchen as he leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on you as you busied yourself with the breakfast preparations.

"Yeah," you chirped, forcing a veneer of cheerfulness into your voice, though your back remained turned to him, "she, uh, just needed help with something."

Sensing the weight of his stare boring into your back, you turned to meet his gaze, mustering your best grin in an attempt to deflect any further probing into the nature of the call.

Clad in a black tank top that accentuated his tattoos and the muscular definition of his arms, Jake leaned against the counter, his hair cascading loosely around his shoulders. As you admired his relaxed appearance, a gentle smile graced his lips, but the subtle furrow of his brow betrayed the wheels turning in his mind. You couldn't help but wonder how much of the conversation he had overheard.

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen until Jake finally broke it, his voice tinged with concern.

"You okay?"

You nodded hastily, perhaps a bit too eager to dismiss any lingering tension, "I'm fine."

You could sense Jake's desire to delve further into the matter, but a silent understanding passed between you, a mutual agreement to let the conversation rest for now. There was a palpable tension in the air, a recognition that some truths were not yet ready to be unearthed.

He pushed himself off the counter and began crossing the kitchen with purpose. Your heart quickened its pace in response, and you flinched, which Jake noted and tucked away in the recesses of his mind before he enveloped you in a gentle embrace. A tender kiss planted on your forehead ignited a surge of protectiveness within him, reinforcing the depth of his affection.

His hold on you was firm, as if he believed he could shield you from the world's troubles simply by holding you close in that moment. Though countless uncertainties loomed regarding the nature of your conversation with your mother, Jake couldn't shake the unwavering conviction that whatever skeletons resided in your closet, they wouldn't deter his feelings for you.

As your eyes locked in a silent exchange, a myriad of emotions passed between you, punctuated by Jake's warm smile.

You felt a deepening attraction towards him, a desire to nurture this burgeoning connection with each passing day. You wanted to cook him breakfast for a million days to come.

“I’m hungry,” he lilted.

With a playful peck on his lips, you turned to retrieve the plate you had prepared, inviting him to partake in the breakfast you had lovingly prepared, “come and get it.”

Jake chuckled at your playful demeanor, his eyes alight with affection. "Don't talk to me like that, woman, you know what it does to me."

After breakfast, Jake was on the move, headed to the Tavern for a crucial meeting with the club members. The objective: devise a complete strategy to infiltrate Bobby's casino and seize control of his finances.

Fortuitously, Jake had already sketched the framework of the plan; now it was up to the gang to flesh out the finer details.

Sequestered in their private room at the back of the bar, the men engaged in a marathon brainstorming session, fueled by copious amounts of alcohol that seemed to defy the limits of Riley's inventory.

The hours proved mentally taxing for Jake, who found himself thrust into a leadership role, given that the plan had sprung from his initial idea. As the group delved deeper into the intricacies of their scheme, Jake navigated the delicate balance between guiding the discussion and fostering collaboration.

The overarching objective of the plan was straightforward: infiltrate and establish a foothold. However, the devil was in the details.

The Barbarians, armed with their financial leverage over Bobby's casino, planned a direct and aggressive takeover. Prior to this, Alejandro's financial experts would conduct an internal audit to scrutinize the casino's financial records. Concurrently, 8-ball, their reliable reconnaissance expert, along with a team of Barbarians, would meticulously examine the security protocols, identifying vulnerabilities and discrepancies. They would also gauge the loyalty of key staff members to anticipate potential challenges or cooperation during the takeover. Once these preliminary assessments were complete, the Barbarians would be briefed on their specific roles and responsibilities for the impending operation.

This part of the plan was a strategic power play, a calculated display of authority designed to assert the Barbarians' dominance over Bobby Thompson. That, and it left little room for resistance. If they didn’t see it coming, they wouldn’t have time to retaliate.

Upon successfully infiltrating the casino, the real work would commence. With assistance from Alejandro's operatives, the Barbarians would assume control of all operational facets. They would take charge of security to neutralize any potential resistance, gain access to the casino's financial systems, including the vault and registers, and begin discreetly redirecting funds through covert channels to avoid detection.

Given Alejandro's insistence on receiving his share in cash, an additional layer of complexity was introduced to the operation. All diverted funds would be funneled into the Barbarians' club account, covertly managed by their trusted accountant and stored securely until the time of transfer.

It was a solid plan, meticulously crafted to minimize the risk of detection. If executed with precision, they could execute the entire operation within the six months window without raising any red flags with law enforcement. After all, the federal authorities were unlikely to be overly concerned with a medium-sized casino tucked away in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada.

With the plan finalized, the meeting came to a close, leaving the Barbarians to await the right moment to set their scheme in motion.

Ace couldn't help but notice Jake's natural leadership qualities as he contributed to the formulation of the plan. Despite all Jake's modesty, there was an undeniable aura of authority that seemed to emanate from him effortlessly.

However, the meeting had taken its toll on Jake, leaving him feeling mentally drained. And with you having left Riley's a few hours earlier, Jake was eager to head home. Yet, as he approached the exit, Ace intercepted him, his grip firm on Jake's arm. Without uttering a word, Ace produced a thick wad of cash, all in hundred-dollar bills, and displayed it before him.

Aware that the Barbarians always had various revenue streams, however minor, Jake surmised that this must be the source of the money. His gaze shifted from the cash to Ace and back again, estimating the sum to be around five thousand dollars, if not more, leaving him puzzled.

"What's this for?" Jake queried, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Leaning in, Ace responded, "consider it payment for your contributions."

Jake scoffed, "but I haven't done anything."

Ace met his gaze knowingly, "your role in shaping that plan was more than enough."

Jake's eyes lingered on the cash, but his thoughts quickly veered in a different direction.

It was curious how you managed to permeate his thoughts at the most unexpected moments. Now, with five thousand dollars in hand, his mind was consumed with only the desire to give it all to you.

Recalling your earlier phone call, Jake felt an overwhelming urge to ease any burdens you might be carrying, even though much about you remained shrouded in mystery.

Almost impulsively, Jake turned to Ace and blurted out, "what do you know about Cherry?"

Ace chuckled, having anticipated this question would eventually surface, but he had always assumed it would be on Jake's terms. While Ace harbored his own questions about you, he suspected his insights might not fully satisfy Jake's curiosity. Nevertheless, he was willing to share what he knew.

As they stood by the bar, Ace gestured to the nearest stool. Sensing the impending conversation, Jake took a seat beside him.

A nod to the bartender was all it took; she immediately began preparing Ace's usual drink without the need for words.

"To be frank, kid," Ace began, turning his full attention to Jake, "I don't know much. None of us do. But I'll share what I do know."

Two Years Ago

A raspy cough echoed from Riley's frail form as he stepped outside his trailer, watering can in hand. The relentless cancer that had taken hold of him intensified the pain of the smoker's cough he had developed over the years. With each passing day, his strength waned, and after undergoing treatments that had proven futile, he had decided to forego further interventions, opting instead to focus on managing his pain and comfort as he neared the end of his life.

At sixty-three , Riley had lived a life marked by resilience and dedication, spending over half of those years as a formidable member of the Barbarians. He had seen and experienced more than most would in two lifetimes, yet it was cancer that proved to be his final adversary.

As he looked at his reflection, the gauntness of his features and the pallor of his skin made him appear as though he was already a shadow of his former self. Despite this, he found himself standing outside the trailer he had called home for the past forty-five years, tending to a flower garden that would more than likely outlive him.

Riley's thoughts drifted to his cherished Tavern, a place that held as much importance to him as his allegiance to the brotherhood. He wondered about its fate once he was no longer around. While he trusted the Barbarians to care for it, the uncertainty of not being there to oversee its well-being troubled him.

Lost in these thoughts, the sound of approaching tires caught his attention. Initially dismissing it, he grew curious as the idling engine came to a halt outside his home, revealing a Nevada cab at the end of the dusty driveway.

Observing a middle-aged cab driver assisting an unfamiliar visitor, Riley's attention was immediately drawn to your face. A rush of emotions surged within him as he recognized you, a sensation he had never felt before. He was stunned; the last he had heard from you was when you were just five years old, and the last time he had seen you in person was when you were merely two, before your mother had taken you away to Texarkana.

Confused and intrigued, he couldn't fathom why, after all these years, you were suddenly standing at his doorstep.

He watched as the man retrieved a couple of duffle bags from the trunk, while you struggled with a crumpled wad of cash in your hand before completing the exchange. He wondered how much you had to pay to get a cab to bring you all the way out there.

As you approached, the details of your appearance became clearer. Riley's gaze immediately landed on the remnants of a black eye on your right side, accompanied by several smaller bruises along your forearm. Though you wore jeans, Riley suspected there were likely more bruises hidden beneath.Despite his concern, he chose to remain silent on the matter, sensing that, like him, you probably didn't want to discuss it.

As you made your way up the driveway, you took in Riley's appearance as well. He looked even more unwell than you had anticipated, a stark contrast to the stories your mother had shared about him. The ravages of cancer were evident.

Setting down his watering can just as you reached him, Riley greeted you with a simple, "Hey, kid."

The reunion between father and daughter, after over fifteen years apart, was surprisingly subdued. Both of you seemed to have too much on your minds to make a fuss about it.

"Hey, Dad," you replied, your voice trembling slightly, offering him a tentative smile given the circumstances.

An awkward silence hung in the air as you both assessed each other's worn appearance, yet also noticed the shared features that confirmed your relationship.

"What are you doin’ here?"

Riley's question made you second-guess your decision to come without even a phone call. The risk of showing up unannounced suddenly seemed more apparent, but you also knew the alternative was far worse.

"My mom told me you were sick, terminal," you stammered, avoiding his eyes as you looked towards the blooming flower garden he had been tending, "I came to help. You know, take care of you."

Riley could see through your words, recognizing that caring for a man battling terminal prostate cancer was likely not high on your priority list. However, he sensed that you had come for a reason, possibly running from something—or someone.

The fear that consumed you was palpable, evident in your posture and demeanor. You had become fear.

Realizing that he had not been the best father during your formative years, Riley felt compelled to offer you refuge from whatever troubles you were facing. As a Barbarian, he was no stranger to trouble, and he believed he could shield you from it.

In addition, your presence would provide him with much-needed companionship in his final days, rather than sporadic visits from club members. With you, he would have the company of genuine family.

And of course, if you were willing, you could take over the operations at the Tavern.

It seemed like a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Finally, a grin spread across Riley's face, and you couldn't help but notice how eerily similar his smile was to yours. "Come on in, we'll get you settled."

You tightened your grip on your bags as Riley gestured for you to enter, feeling a glimmer of hope that being there might offer you the sanctuary you so desperately sought from the looming darkness.

"Watch out for my flowers. Don’t step on ‘em," Riley chided, adding a touch of normalcy to this unexpected reunion.

"That's the only story Riley ever shared with me," Ace admitted, taking a sip of his beer and studying Jake's reaction. "After that, he didn't talk much about her."

Jake nodded, realizing this might be the extent of the information he'd receive, leaving him with conflicting feelings.

"It's not that Riley was secretive or malicious," Ace elaborated, reminiscing about the times when Riley was still with them. "He was just protective, and we respected that. Even after his passing, we still do."

Jake understood the protective sentiment, feeling a similar urge to shield you, albeit not in the same paternal manner as Riley. His feelings for you were complex and puzzling.

"She was incredible for Riley during his final months, by his side when he passed, helped organize his funeral, and has been managing the hell outta this Tavern," Ace recounted with a chuckle. "So, we just leave it at that."

The story left Jake with more questions than answers, yet he found himself strangely content with the information provided.

Ace extended the folded hundred-dollar bills to Jake once again, and this time he accepted them, tucking them into his front pocket before finishing off his beer.

"Thanks, as always, you're appreciated," Jake said to Ace, making a beeline for the exit.

Ace chuckled softly, shaking his head. "That boy is in way deeper than he thinks."

Jake found you just after you’d finished showering, your hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a faded Kentucky Derby t-shirt that he remembered once belonged to Riley. Your face lit up with a smile at his arrival, which only fueled his determination to carry out his plan with the money he had obtained.

"Hey, handsome," you greeted, visibly relieved by his presence.

In response, Jake pulled the money from his pocket and handed it to you, mimicking the gesture Ace had made with him earlier. Your confusion mirrored his own when Ace had done the same to him.

"Jake, what the hell is this?"

"I heard you on the phone earlier," he explained, the words tumbling out as if he couldn't hold them back any longer.

You felt a familiar tension creep back into your muscles at the mention of the phone call, but you remained silent, waiting to see what else he had to share.

"Save your money," Jake said softly, his tone filled with care, “use this to help your mom, and if you need more, just let me know, okay?"

Stunned, you found yourself unable to accept the money. You knew the funds were likely from Barbarian activities, but that was the least of your concerns. You couldn't comprehend why he was so willing to give it to you. His generosity was unfamiliar and overwhelming. First, the truck, and now this.

You were certain Jake wasn't expecting anything in return; his generosity was genuine.

"Take it," he urged gently, “please, Cherry?"

Reluctantly, you reached out and accepted the stash, noting that the bills were mostly, if not all, hundreds.

The money was providing a lifeline for you in ways Jake couldn't possibly understand, making you feel as though he was the catalyst for positive change in your life.

Still holding the money, you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a tender kiss on his lips, savoring the taste of beer and tobacco. "Why are you so good, Jacob?"

Hearing you call him by his full name sent a shiver down his spine. He looked down at you, shaking his head slightly, and admired the way your still-wet lashes clung together. "I'm no good, Cherry. I'm just good for you."

You kissed him again to keep yourself from saying what you wanted to say next.

You’re not good for me, Jake. You’re too good for me.

7. Who Do You Belong To?

Taglist: @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @wetkleenex-gvf @hollyco

[derangedanomaly]

Some incorrect quotes with the boys!!

All quotes are generated by: https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator

1.

Chaos: *visiting the squad* Hello, I just came to-

Chaos: *sees Ace shoving Blade into the washing machine while Ted records and Nightmare watches*

Chaos: *retreating* Something suddenly came up.

2.

Blade, singing: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need—

Nightmare: A family.

Ted: A better love life.

Ace: Mental stability.

Chaos: *clueless* Bagels?

3.

Ace: Are we really going to let Chaos keep Ted?

Nightmare: We kept Blade.

4.

Chaos: Team A will consist of myself, Blade, Ace, and Ted.

Chaos: Team B will consist of Nightmare.

5.

Ace: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Nightmare: 'Prettiest Smile'

Chaos: 'Nicest Personality'

Blade: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Ted: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

6.

Chaos: Alright Ted, Ace. Let's go over this one more time.

Chaos: If something breaks?

Ace: We try to fix it before Nightmare gets home.

Chaos: If it doesn't work?

Ted: We blame Blade.

Blade: Seriously guys, what the hell?!

7.

Chaos: Hey, can we stay in your room tonight?

Nightmare: Why?

Chaos: Blade fiddled with an ouija board and cursed ours.

Ace: Ted doesn't know how to banish spirits, so he just threw salt at them and yelled "DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HOTEL TO YOU?!"

8.

Blade: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like-

Blade, to Ted: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual.

Ace, to Chaos: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. (Admiring him)

Nightmare: There are two types of people.

9.

Blade: What makes you all smile?

Chaos: Friends and Family.

Ted: Snacks.

Nightmare: Victory and success.

Ace: Face muscles.