#stand up pouch machine

[guangdongyuesen]

Doy Pack Machine: Streamlining Packaging Processes with Efficiency

Explore the innovation and efficiency of doy pack machines in the packaging industry. Learn how these advanced packaging machines enhance productivity, ensure product freshness, and provide versatile packaging solutions for various industries. Discover the key features and benefits that make doy pack machines a preferred choice for modern packaging needs.

[fenbopackaging1]

Boost Packaging Efficiency with Stand Up Pouch Filling Machines

Stand up pouch filling machines are essential for filling and sealing flexible pouches, often used for products like dried foods, powders, and beverages. These machines not only enhance the shelf life of products but also make them stand out on shelves due to their unique shape. Bookmark this page to find out how stand-up pouch filling machines are revolutionizing the packaging industry with automation and enhanced functionality for a variety of products.

[yscpackagingmachine]

Top 5 Reasons To Choose A  Premade Pouch Machine

In the state-of-the-art competitive packaging landscape, agencies are constantly looking for innovative answers that beautify product presentation, enhance performance, and ultimately, pressure sales. Premade pouch machines have emerged as a recreation-changer, supplying a large number of benefits that conventional packaging techniques absolutely can not match.

[suntermachinery]

Stand-up pouch liquid filling machine is composed of automatic bag feeding system, quantitative filling system, cleaning and capping system, etc. It can accurately measure and fill, and is easy to operate. It is suitable for the packaging of various vegetable protein beverages, fruit juices, soy sauce, vinegar and other liquid foods. Web: https://www.suntermachinery.com/ E-mail: info@suntermachinery.com Tel / Whatsapp: +86-13806163230

[buyingthepoutpouchfillingmachine]

Is It Worth Buying The Machines For Your Industry In Online Relation?

In this modern earth, the business person uses a lot of machines, equipment, tools and some other needed items in their factor. It is to make the work finish easily and reduce the human resources. If you like buying different kinds of machines for your interchange, you should hire us. 

We are the leading and top-notch industry to manufacture the best machines that will be useful for your interaction. You can always visit our company whenever you need to buy the high-quality spout pouch filling machine for filling the items you manufacture in your company. This machine works effectively, and you must know how to use and work in it before purchasing it from us. 

Buy the machine by considering the brand and cost:

Whenever you are in shopping time, you have to look for the cost, model, and brand first. It can make you choose an excellent machine for your interchange to complete the entire task easily and effectively. We also offer our customers many options and various brands to choose the right one for your use. We are the best experts to provide you with a well-working machine at a feasible cost where you can save a large amount by choosing our company. So, it is better to choose our agency whenever you need the machines and the service for the machines you buy from us. 

Can you get top-notch machines for filling the pouch?

Purchasing the standup pouch filling machine and other machines on the web is worth it. Yes, picking the best machines in the net agencies is worthwhile and useful. It is because they are manufactured using different methods and techniques, using many items. The quality will be good, and the cost is less as well as you can get satisfaction by your shopping, so it is good to invest a huge amount online to buy the needed machines for your company.

mesin standing pouch

doypack machine

stand up pouch machine

[luveline]

i'm missing coworker!james so much... is he doing okay?

James is poorly :( fem

James is a cruel kind of ill. Desperate to escape the dreaded ‘man flu’, he tries hard to portray the common cold. Doesn’t whine, groan or moan, simply suffers the near constant sneezing and his twinging neck without comment. 

Luckily, he has two —two! because you like him enough to be concerned! barely!— nice deskmates who ply him with tea and worry alike. 

“Did you take that antihistamine?” Remus asks. 

“I did, yeah. You watched me take it an hour ago and try as I might, I haven’t regurgitated it yet.” 

“Don’t be disgusting, he’s just worried,” you say. 

A month ago, you might’ve said it with deep, genuine ire. James annoys you and his choice of imagery is hardly workplace appropriate, but for some reason you’re good to him lately. You’re softening, and why shouldn’t you be? James is a boy worth softening for. 

He sneezes hard into a tissue in his palm and knocks the desk, sending his small crowd of figurines skittering, their light green bodies scuffed with scratches. They fall over each day. You like rearranging them. 

You also like feeding James biscuits, and pretending you don’t like him. Or maybe pretending you do. It’s hard to tell what’s real. 

“Jesus,” he says, forgetting to be demure as he drops his forehead against his closed fist. “I can’t take it much longer.” 

“You need to calm down, is all. Every time you sneeze you trigger the inflammation in your nose, which makes you more likely to sneeze again,” Remus says. He doesn’t sound particularly pitying, but he does then stand to grab James’ mug as he heads to the kitchen. 

In an office made up of mostly Brits, it’s extremely common for everyone to make one another a tea or coffee when they get one for themselves, but it’s a sweet gesture for Remus to keep James topped up nonetheless. It also provides for moments like this: you and him alone. Not awkward anymore. 

“Do you have painkillers?” he asks.

You open the drawer of your desk and offer him your pouch. “Here.” 

Inside are many things. A box of lil-lets, plasters in sterile wrappings, throat soothers, ibuprofen, a treasure trove of cures for little ailments. 

“Just, help yourself to anything you want.” 

“You’re an angel.” James unveils a shiny purple chocolate bar. “I can have Freddie?”

“Freddo,” you correct. “Come on, James, it’s on the packet.” 

He doesn’t truly want it. He doubts he could taste it, and he drops it back in. 

“Oh, no, you can have it!” you say, softer. “I’m just being pedantic.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can do chocolate right now.” 

“Right, um… well, I have a sandwich?” 

“What kind of sandwich?” he asks. 

“One of those impossible BLT’s. But I can get you a proper sandwich, James. They have those sesame seed rolls in the vending machine.” 

James doesn’t understand why you’re being so nice to him. “I must look awful,” he murmurs, letting his aching, pulsing head drop onto the desk. He sniffs uselessly. Fuck, he hates work. Why can’t he go home?

“You never look awful,” you say. 

James turns his face to see you’ve lowered your own, resting your cheek in your hand, your knuckles grazing the table. 

“You’re being too nice to me. I’m dying.” 

“You’re the one who’s mean to me, James. I’m your unwilling victim.”

“As opposed to being my willing victim.” James hates being ill, his lips are dry and his throat feels sharp and he’s changed his mind, he does want the Freddo. “Please be nice to me again.” 

“You know what’s good for this? Nasal spray. That’ll fix you.” 

“You could fix me,” James says. You don’t answer. He presses his nose to the table. “My days are always good ones when you can't be bothered to pretend you don’t like me.” 

“Who says I’m pretending?” 

James whines. “That’s worse.” 

You tease a bit of his hair behind his ear. James is content to let you, content to never move again, balmed by the softness of your touch as you draw along the outline of his ear to his jaw. “Don’t press your glasses into your nose, you’ll start sneezing again,” you whisper. 

James refuses to move. “Stroke my hair,” he demands.

“No way.”

“You’re no fun.”

“But I’m having a much better day than you are.” 

He sulks. This is exactly why James hides your stuff and leaves you off of email chains you should probably be in. You’re horrible, awful, evil, with no sympathy for him and no friendliness, either. James was far better off when he was solely annoyed at you, and not whatever useless state of being this is where his mood depends on your willingness to make friends. If James could, he would—

“Are you okay?” you say, your voice as soft as your fingertip where it traces slowly through his curly hair. “Maybe you should go home and rest. I’m worried about you…” 

James might fall in love with you if you keep whispering sweet stuff like that. You hesitate at the nape of his neck before dragging your hand up through a tuft of curls. 

“If you don’t get better soon, your voice will go and I’ll have to talk to Lang and Co. on the phone again. You know I hate their finance team leader,” you finish. 

You sound so pretty that James almost misses your slight. Then decides he’ll allow it as long as you keep stroking his hair.  —

coworker james au

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 2

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Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter features mostly soft, domestic fluff as I work out the plot! Next update in ~3 days. Enjoy!

[Ao3 link]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hehehehe!” Is what you awoke to, followed by the heart-stopping blare of cars passing by way too close for comfort.

You jolt, held in place by Mr. Crawling’s firm arms. He laughs again, giving your face a poke. “Not ∎∎∎∎!” He coos rather loudly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, good morning, Mr. Crawling,” you say, despite the sun hardly being up. It’s actually still pretty dark, and as you survey your brand new area, you notice that you’re on a rather steep part of the mountains, adjacent to some dirt roads and the scarce road lights illuminating the area.

“∎∎∎ stops!” Mr. Crawling says, rocking the both of you gently in a soothing back-and-forth motion. Huh, for being dead and rather thin-looking, his lap was actually pretty comfortable. 

You eye the area, trying your best to repeat “∎∎∎?”

Mr. Crawling nods quickly with a smile. “∎∎∎!” He says, pointing at the road.

Oh, road?

But��� wait, the road is very obviously continuing off towards somewhere, you muse quietly. Perhaps something more like… the path? If you look from his perspective, the monotonous dirt mounds, roots, and rockers were most definitely cut off by the road.

So, path will probably fit somewhat better.

You nodded, “Mhm, path stops. Go with me.” As you stand up, you groan a bit, stretching stiff limbs held tightly together for an extended period of time. Judging by the sky, he must’ve been dragging the two of you for a good amount of time.

You look right and left, and upon seeing no cars, you hurriedly cross the road, watching with relief as he does the same– in fact, he moves much quicker here, traversing the flat land with glee.

Upon crossing the road, you see the lights and tall buildings of your city, numerous of which you recognize based on the shape, ads, or colors. 

“Oh thank god,” you smiled, looking back once more to check on your ever loyal ghost. Though he most definitely didn’t understand your relief, he seemed to mirror your relaxed and happy demeanor, swaying ever so slightly as he waited patiently for you to continue.

You grinned, then began to carefully trek through the remaining hills and bushes, mostly following the road from a safe distance. After all, you weren’t quite sure whether or not other people could see your new companion, and you’d much rather get back to your tiny apartment without any extra screams or the need to act like Mr. Crawling wasn’t 2 feet behind you. 

Fortunately, Japan is much quieter at dawn than at midnight with most office workers having already gone home after a night of drinking or overtime. The few that remain were early risers much too tired to give their surroundings a second thought or still half drunk and passed out near the station or a random nook in an alley. 

Lucky, lucky, lucky you think to yourself as you made steady progress to your apartment building. Feeling slightly more rested and in a better mood, you allowed Mr. Crawling explore the new setting for a few minutes, laughing at his reaction to window displays or any vending machines you passed by.

You felt far more secure walking around an area you know compared to the mountains.

“∎∎∎∎!” Mr. Crawling says, stopping to inspect a small collection of Gachapon outside a large convenience store.

You let out a small snort, his amusement infectious. You can't remember the last time you were that excited over a capsule machine. Maybe it was elementary school? 

“Want one?” You ask, giving your bag a small shake to confirm that it still had coins in it.

Mr. Crawling brightened even more, “Me can?”

You fish out your coin pouch, digging around for some 100 yen coins. You pull out 2, handing them over to his hand and placing them in his palm.

You grab 2 more coins and demonstrate, picking out one depicting cute foods. You inserted the coins and twisted the lever, watching as a yellow ball rolled out. You picked it up, popping it open, and unfurling the wrap covering your brand new keychain, revealing a piece of cartoony buttered toast.

Mr. Crawling scooted closer, giggling out “cute cute cute!” as he poked and prodded at the small plastic thing.

Without a moment of hesitation, he inserts his coins into the same machine you had picked out, his hand turning the lever making a suspicious creak and clicking that, in your heart, signified something breaking. 

Ah, shit… you thought half-heartedly as he took his yellow capsule, popping it open and tearing off the plastic covering. He let out giggles, staring at his tiny new keychain.

A cute fried piece of mackerel with little x marks over its eyes.

You let out your own laugh, absentmindedly patting his head as he poked and moved his keychain. His head jerks up, grin radiant, as he says “Me like ∎∎∎! Thank you!” 

You felt your heart melt as you gave his head a rougher pat. “Of course. Me happy…uh– me happy you happy.”

Mr. Crawling gushed, lunging up to give you a tight hug that nearly brought you to the ground again. Your far more controlled yelp was cut off by your own laughs paired with his giggles as you combed your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as neat as before, slightly ruffled up and tangled around small pieces of dirt, leaves, and rocks.

Yikes, he needed a bath. Do ghosts need baths? Well, regardless, you probably weren’t that far off, and the remains of dried blood would probably stop looking like the dried mud you knew other people assumed it was when the sun fully rises. 

And so, the moment was rather brief, interrupted by some cars passing by, but it was more warmth than you’ve ever really experienced since childhood, and you truly cherished it.

“Alright, c’mon,” You grinned, taking a half a step back to indicate you wanted to move. “We go.”

Mr. Crawling, as sweet as can be, followed after, keeping his new keychain as… safe as can be tucked between his razor sharp teeth, the little mackerel swaying against his chin and jaw.

You tried your best not to laugh at the sight.

The journey to your apartment afterwards was as tedious as you recalled, the same streets looking hardly any different despite the fact that you were basically kidnapped into a new world and nearly died quite a few times. And, while the rush of laughter was nice, you could feel the remaining exhaustion built up from the past 24 hours weighing heavier on your shoulders with every few steps, your hour-or-so long nap hardly the rest you actually needed.

But, you can’t deny, having Mr. Crawling by your side was the motivation you needed as you hiked up roads and through narrow roads as you began to walk away from the most busting parts of the city, entering a residential area that was fairly secluded from the main streets. 

Your building was more run down than most, cheap with some decent space for one person and some nice, elderly neighbors (that you really don’t want to traumatize). So, you opened the creaky entrance as quietly as you could, feeling confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t make much of a peep of noise until you reached your room.

You were 3 floors up, and you stopped yourself from letting out another huff of laughter at how at-home Mr. Crawling appeared to be on familiar concrete floors and stairs. That was too bad, honestly, as your house had wooden floors and some tatami mats, but a part of your mind, despite knowing how sturdy his limbs were, felt better that he wouldn’t be constantly kneeling and crawling on cold concrete floors like before.

And, really, it would be best for the both of you to leave that place as far behind as possible. In fact, you’d like to convince yourself that everything was a dream, and you simply found a ghost in the mountains like all the ghost stories had warned you about. No blood, no torture room, and no man in red.

All normal. Regular life. No deaths or blood or a creepy face peering at you from every dark crevice. 

You pull out your keys, giving your doorknob a soft rattle as it opens, and you breathe in a lungful of air you didn’t realize you could miss so much.

The air was slightly stale, but it was nothing an hour or so of airing out could fix. 

You walk in, kicking off ruined shoes by the doorway and hesitating for a moment when you see Mr. Crawling’s… attire.

It wasn’t bad. For crawling in a damp mountain, it was actually very clean, but you were still on the edge of letting dirt and grime inside.

But when Mr. Crawling tilts his head, mackerel clicking against his cheek, you felt yourself give in with a small sigh, and nod with a smile that you simply couldn’t help.

You walked in, waving him in, and once settled upon the hardwood floor, you shut the door tight, ensuring everything was locked.

“∎∎∎?” Mr. Crawling asked, mouth free of a charm. It was now back in his hands.

You hummed, giving him a blank look that you knew he knew meant you didn’t understand.

Mr. Crawling, hardly deterred, points at your home. “∎∎∎? You ∎∎∎?”

Hmm… You contemplate, looking at your room. Was he trying to say home?

“Home,” you say patiently in your language, watching as Mr. Crawling had a turn of looking confused. “...H..” He mumbles, and you nod.

“Home,” you pointed all around your home. “Home. Me home.”

Mr. Crawling followed where your finger was pointing rather comedically, head craning backwards and torso twisting around to see everything you were showing him. “You ∎∎∎. You… home?”

Your smile was instantly matched by his as you nodded quickly in affirmation. “Yes! Me home! Me language. Home.”

Mr. Crawling giggles, then crawls further into the house, exploring. You take the time to get settled, placing your bag on the hanger and plugging your nearly dead phone into the nearest outlet. Stretching your tensed, spent muscles, you finally took the time to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight.

Firstly, your hair was an utter mess, grime and browned blood crusting up in it, on your face, and on a good amount of the rest of your body. Your clothes were frankly ruined, and you’ll have to burn them or something. There’s no way you’ll be able to explain why that much blood from a presumably missing person is all over you.

You give a glance at Mr. Crawling who paused his cabinet-inspection to, in turn, look at you. 

… surely… you contemplate, not even registering the way he’s shuffling a bit under your gaze. Surely I can leave him alone for… 20 minutes? I need to shower at least… scratch the bath. I’ll probably fall asleep if I stay there. 

Mr. Crawling hurriedly began shoving stuff back in, the clacking and banging drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You question, eloquently, as Mr. Crawling asks, holding a dustpan, “You mad?”

… Oh? “No, no.” You quickly reassure, crossing the room to bend down a bit and pet his head. “Me happy you happy. You… uh..” You pause, eyes scrunching shut as you begin digging in your mind for a word.

“You… can.” You eventually settle with, feeling assured that he understood when he smiled. You watched for another few seconds as he re-emptied the now-messy floor cabinet, digging out items that you’ve frankly forgotten about, before turning away with a small laugh and walking off to the bathroom.

You pulled out a spare set of clothes, dumping your current ones into a pile, and watched as grime and crust poured into the drain.

________________________________

When you step out, feeling refreshed and relaxed, you spotted a mini pile of mess surrounding your brand new roommate who seemed eager, mackerel keychain in mouth, to explore.

You hummed, observing his dirty appearance, before making a decision.

After all, you can’t have someone that dirty resting on a clean, white futon– or even the tatami mats he thankfully hasn’t walked over yet. He needed a bath earnestly. 

“Mr. Crawling,” You say, watching him turn in excitement.

“Hello!” He greeted, crawling towards you.

A brief half-second thought ensures that you truly had no word associated with water, wash, or anything along those lines, so you simply pointed into the bathroom, motioning towards yourself and your clean body.

“Uhm, wash. Bath,” You said, heading inside the still steamy room as you rinsed the tub and began filling it with water.

Mr. Crawling inspected it, peering at the warm water. “You,” you said, pointing inside the filling bathtub, followed by the motion of you washing your hair.

He tilts his head, jaw gently chewing at the keychain in his mouth. Then, when he sunk his arm in, you nodded fervently. “Yes yes,” You encouraged, motioning for him to get in.

When he sinks in, clothes bubbling to the surface, you contemplate asking him to take it off, but…

Yeahh, maybe not. You weren’t ready to see… whatever male ghosts had down there.

You pushed the fabric into the water, letting it soak up water until it sunk on its own and grimaced at the small wave of dirt that rose to the surface.

Yikes.

_____________________

Giggles erupted from the bathroom followed by small shouts of laughter periodically for the next 30 minutes as Mr. Crawling enjoyed the bath, splashing water out the tub and nearly melting when you firmly scrubbed his scalp and feet-long locks of hair.

You had drained and refilled the tub about 3 times now, the water finally a consistent clear color, that allowed you to wash and rinse the poor guy with some peace of mind.

“Good good! Happy!” Mr. Crawling cheered as he pushed his head up against your palms and fingers pressed against his head. “Thank you! Thank you!”

You laughed yourself, rinsing out the shampoo by scooping up buckets of water and pouring it over his head. “You really needed this,” you mused, gently layering a thin amount of conditioner onto his hair and letting it sit out on the side of the tub.

You can already see your bank account taking a foreseeable hit once your hair products run out.

Mr. Crawling giggled, taking out his now-warm arms to pet your (thankfully still wet) hair as you briefly scrubbed his legs and arms and attempted to wash his torso through his clothes. They seemed to be thin enough, after all, and it doubles as washing the fabric.

You snorted as hair fell into your face, large damp fingers clumsily pushing them away before you could really react. “You safe!” Mr. Crawling chirped, using his warm hands to cup your face and keep anything else from falling onto your eyes.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks began to warm themselves up, a soft smile firmly planted on your face. “And you’re very sweet,” you hum good naturedly, finishing up with a last rinse, drain of the tub, and wash down with the nearby showerhead.

You squeezed out as much water as you possibly could from your brand new sentient, crawling mop before helping him out of the tub and onto a towel. You gave him a small warning, motioning him to cover his ears as you plugged in the hairdryer, doing your best to dry him off.

He giggled, pulling his hands off his ears after a few moments and observing the hairdryer, reaching out to touch it a few times. “Cool! Noise ∎∎∎.” He said, watching his hair fly all around the room.

By the end, your arms were sore and your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep, but he was dry and clean– very, very clean, skin no longer various shades of gray and clothes a step lighter than they used to be.

Before you could stand up and begin your voyage to your bed, he gently tugged you down, pulling you to sit on the towel.

“Huh?” You ask, watching as he fiddled with your hairdryer. He giggled when it roared to life, pointing the heated air at your head and clothes.

Oh… You relaxed, smiling as he tried his best to dry off whatever remaining moisture was in it. It was only slightly damp anyways, the air having done its job, but the tenderness of his fingers trying to run through your scalp and the warmth of not only the hairdryer but also the comfort of returning to some sort of semblance of a normal, soft, and loving life was enough to give rise to brand emotions that surged up from your chest and into your eyes. 

You did your best to choke out anything threatening to escape your throat, but there was no hiding the tears burning in your eyes or the way your body tensed up against the knees pressed against your back. 

Suddenly, the hairdryer shuts off, and a head smelling like your favorite shampoo pops in your vision, followed by “You sad? Hurt? Sad, you sad, me ∎∎∎.”

You sniffled, giving yourself that at least, and shook your head, quickly wiping off any tears. “No. No, me happy. You… nice. You nice… much. Me happy. Thank you.” 

Still, Mr. Crawling looked concerned, giving your body a quick check over and closely inspecting your head to ensure he really didn’t hurt you. When he finds nothing, he leans back, crawling to your side.

“You rest?” He says, and you give a jerky nod.

“Yeah, me… rest. Need rest.” You mutter, standing up and kicking the towels off to the side as well. You could clean that up later.

You lead Mr. Crawling out the room and into the small alcove covered in a tatami mat, opening a cabinet and pulling out 2 futons, unrolling them onto the floor. You then grabbed your pillows, blanket, and hurried to make yourself as comfortable as possible, handing him his set so that he could do the same.

But, instead of setting up his bed like you, he just sat right beside you intently, merely laying down the futon and pressing his pillow against your side.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, voice slightly nasally and eyes a bit puffy. You simply laid down, too tired and half-embarrassed to remain sitting up, but let out a small noise as his body laid on top of yours.

“What are you–”

“You rest,” Mr. Crawling says with a smile, face pressed against your abdomen and his blanket resting against his legs. “You rest. Me ∎∎∎∎ you safe.”

And, honestly, you don’t bother with trying to refute anything anymore. You sighed, letting your overworked muscles relax and gently resting your hand on his head. You were home, you were safe, and you… you weren’t alone. You had someone there with you now. Someone who protected you and could keep you safe in your sleep.

You blink open your eyes briefly when you felt something cold and foreign press into the other hand resting at your side, but upon seeing the small mackerel and toast keychains resting in your palm, you let out a small snort and let your eyes fall shut once again, mumbling a small “goodnight..” as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

.

.

.

.

“...g…goood…niight…”

That's all! Gave you guys a bit of a longer chapter (~3.2k words) as an extra thanks! Hope you enjoyed ^^

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[Ao3 link]

[aetherdoesthings]

a new job

forethoughts: i'm currently on a train going to my next location and my head is light and i feel like puking as i'm typing this because someone has terrible motion sickness :D. anyways apologies if the quality of work isn't of the same as my previous ones; i am running on a glass of sparkling water. also apparently i'm only a few followers away from 300, so you know what that means...

notes: fem!reader, botanist!reader, arlecchino being a good father

Arlecchino trekked through the bustling streets of Fontaine, her crimson eyes gleaming at anyone who dared to stare for too long. She tuned out the sounds of random Fontainians whispering and saying her name to one another, instead focusing on her task at hand. In her hands was a bouquet of romaritime flowers and rainbow roses, all fresh and handpicked by herself. One more bouquet, and her collection would be complete. After that, she’d be off to the Opera Epiclese to watch her children graduate. The thought alone of Lyney, Lynette and Freminet graduating was enough to bring a smile to the Knave’s face, but she kept her poker face on, keeping her excitement and happiness to herself.

The Harbinger stepped into the flower shop, admiring the bouquets set out on the stands as she stepped into the building, ignoring the bees that fluttered around. 

“Hi! How may I help you?” Arlecchino’s muscles tightened at the sudden sound, before relaxing when her eyes landed upon the source of the sound. You were standing in front of the Harbinger, wearing a simple white dress. It didn’t help the Harbinger relax when she saw your jade eyes and a white headband on your head. 

“And you are..?” The Harbinger mustered the question out of her mouth, a wave of deja vu washing over her.

“I’m Y/N, the owner of this flower shop!” You smiled at the Knave, not a single drop of fear in your heart as you faced the woman that could end your life just by looking at you. “Is there anything you’re looking for? Or picking up an order?”

“Well… I would like to purchase a bouquet of lumidouce bells.” Arlecchino cleared her throat.

“Alright!” You walk towards your collection of lumidouce bells, picking up a bouquet for Arlecchino. “Here you go!”

“Right. Thank you.” Arlecchino took the bouquet of lumidouce bells, juggling it with her other two bouquets. She reached into her pocket, fetching out her wallet.

“T-That’s alright. I couldn’t possibly charge the Knave for some little Mora.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I insist. How much, clerk?” Arlecchino waited for your response.

“U-Um, sixteen Mora.” 

Sixteen? For a bouquet this size? Arlecchino thought to herself.

“Take it all.” Arlecchino handed you a pouch of Mora, leaving it in your hand. “There are at least six thousand Mora in there.”

The Knave’s thin lips curled upwards at the sight of your jaw ajar, staring at the Harbinger’s pouch of Mora as if you had the whole world in your hand.

“I-I couldn’t possibly-”

“Take it. These lumidouce bells look to be in excellent condition compared to other shops who bargained for a higher price. You are quite the modest person, are you?”

You look at the Harbinger with a sheepish look, as you made your way to the counter, the Harbinger’s money still in your hands as your shaking fingers click on a few buttons on the machine, printing the receipt for the Harbinger. “I… just like to make people happy, really. I like my lifestyle. It can be better, yeah, but I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“I see.” Arlecchino made her way towards you, standing on the other end of the counter.

While the two of you were waiting for the receipt to print, you chirped. “May I ask why you have three bouquets of flowers?” Arlecchino looked at the bouquets of flowers she had, adjusting how she held them to assure the best quality of all three of them. “My children are graduating tonight.”

Arlecchino’s heart churned at the sight of your smile and glimmer in your eyes. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for them!”

“Thank you.” Arlecchino replied, looking at each bouquet, the recipient’s faces flashing in her head, which only fuels her pride and joy.

“Say, I noticed you have romaritime flowers on you. As an advice, romaritime flowers are found underwater, meaning they thrive being submerged in water. It is advised you drench them in water to keep them healthy and alive. Here.” You grab a spray bottle of water, pressing down on the trigger ever so slightly, letting a sprinkle of water hit the romaritime flowers. In an instant, the colors brighten, as if it was brought back to life. Arlecchino’s eyebrow raised at the sight, fascinated by the newfound knowledge in botany. 

“Did you study botany while you were at school, clerk?” Arlecchino asks, as you set the spray bottle down.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Arlecchino couldn’t stop herself grinning at the sound of you calling her ‘ma’am.’ “Arlecchino. Call me Arlecchino.”

“Okay. Yes, Arlecchino. I did study botany!” You smiled, proud of your hard work and achievement.

“Interesting.” An idea formulates in Arlecchino’s head, as she studied your figure once more. The receipt was printed, as you handed it over to Arlecchino.

“Well, have a fun time at the graduation ceremony! I wish the best for your children!” You exclaimed, the corners of your mouth shooting up to your lips as your eyes met Arlecchino’s crimson ones.

“Hmn.” Arlecchino walked out of your store, the faint rustle of the bell filling up the empty space. The Harbinger made her way to the Opera Epiclese, a thin smile on her face as her mind pondered about you and your profession, then about the children at the House of the Hearth.

You were about to close your store and head home, when spiders crawled up your spine, the hair on your body rising and your muscles tensing up. Alarm and panic raced through your mind as you whipped your head around, scanning the dark streets of Fontaine for any sign of your source of fear. 

“I have a proposition for you.”

A scream was ripped from your throat as you jumped, stumbling a few feet back as your eyes zoned in onto the voice. The Fourth Harbinger stood at where you once were, half of her body cloaked by the shadow, only a fraction of her body exposed in the light. 

“A-Arlecchino.” You stammered, your mind still in flight or fight mode.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not here to harm you. Rather, help you.” The Knave took a step towards you, her eyes telling you no secrets or revealing anything whatsoever about her plan. You took a deep breath, nodding your head as you composed yourself.

“I want you to be a teacher in the House of the Hearth. To teach the students about botany. I believe it will be useful for the children to know about nature and the world around them, help them survive and grow used to being in nature’s terrain.” Arlecchino announced. “Naturally, I will pay you a sum of Mora monthly, and provide you with the basic amenities you require.”

Your jaw dropped to the ground, your soul headed for the other direction. “You want me to teach kids about plants?”

“Yes. Starting next week. I will provide for your travel necessities to arrive at the House safely.”

“I’m not sure if I’m really qualified to teach-”

“Did I stutter?” A crimson glow emanated from those dark pools. You gulped, nodding your head, accepting the Harbinger’s offer. The darkness in her face disappeared, replaced by a thin smile as she dipped her head at you.

“I shall see you then. Have a good night.”

“Have… a good night.” You mumbled out, watching the Harbinger disappear into the streets of Fontaine. With Arlecchino out of your sight, your shoulders slumped, as you turned the key, allowing yourself to step away from your store and be one with the dark as well.

Maybe getting that degree wasn’t so useless after all.

[giddlygoat]

i wanted to experiment with dave and buck fits and how they might dress if they didn’t have a dress code. some thoughts on the design process below :’D

i want to keep dave’s rose motif going strong in my art bc i feel like the rose at the end of his cutscene is really important to his character. the music note pin on his lapel is based off my chum @megalophobic-astronomer’s headcanons :]

he also has a big, bold zoot suit because i feel like it represents him very well. the butterfly collar is always a must and a staple of my design for him lol. golden box chains around his neck and hanging from his waist are mostly me projecting my taste upon him but i think he would wear chains and jewelry pretty regularly!

buck is all over the place bc i wanted to incorporate a bunch of different styles into one mess of a fit. my main inspirations boil down to Punk Butch at Poker Night lol. i think buck’s taste extends far past this look, and we know he wears a suit well, but i think he would be very adventuresome in his style. at the end of the day, i want him to look rambunctious, jagged and fun.

along with the built in chip dispensers in his arms, he also wears a vintage coin dispenser on his belt, card pouches organized by suit on his thigh, and fuzzy dice for luck on his key ring. this guy jangles! oh, and i’ve had lots of hcs about buck’s body for a while but haven’t drawn them too much yet. here’s a kind of outdated ref that still stands

he has a [convoluted and under-referenced] card shuffler in his chest and a roulette wheel in his belly because i said so <3 the gold trim and detailing is inspired by vintage slot machines and i wanted to give him a kind of cheap tin look.

i don’t have all my hcs for dave’s body drawn out yet, but i’m thinking of giving him accordion bellows in his lower torso and i know for sure he has radio dials on his forearms along with more speakers on the top side. i want to cram as many musical motifs as possible into his design and hopefully i will come up with more ideas for buck too!

[guangdongyuesen]

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[whalesforhands]

even trivial moments are fine (satosugu x reader)

warnings: fluff?, somewhat different from my usual formats, i’ll let you decide where this fits in, gojo-centric haha

i’m somewhat late on my upload streak i’m SORRY

Grabby hands that find comfort in reaching for Suguru’s, feeling the rough callouses on the other boy’s hand and threading his long fingers through his, the comfort of having Geto with him, beside him, he can finally feel the joy of summer.

When he’s childishly tugging off the hairtie that held the entirety of Suguru’s bun up, letting the wind whisk those black locks up against the azure blue sky. Before his very own glasses are suddenly grabbed and pulled off from his eyes, joined by a melodious sounding of laughs paired with upturned eyes that shone with the glow of a blue spring.

“Payback is really something, huh Satoru?” Geto is laughing despite his hair that continued to billow in the summer breeze, grinning as he held onto the pair of dark sunglasses that hid the affection that adorned the crystal blue.

By the windy grass and clear skies that ran endlessly in this summer of his youth, he knows that that someone will always be waiting, reflected by midnight black and deep, hypnotizing purple.

Gojo Satoru is irrevocably in love with Geto Suguru.

Even when he sees you brushing through Geto’s hair, the mentioned boy with his eyes closed and leaning back onto the back rails of the loungeroom chairs, ears keened as Suguru hears your quiet humming, leaning into your touch as you continue your administrations in quiet, serene delight.

“Satoru?” Suguru calls out, sensing the familiar sorcerer first. “Were you not able to sleep? I’ll join you in a bit.” You’d look over your shoulder and flash him an apologetic smile as you keep brushing.

“I’m sorry for keeping him.” You fully turn your body to meet his.

“Would you like to get your hair brushed too?”

Your footfalls that slow and turn on your heel to look back at him and wave, waiting patiently as Suguru goes after an excited Haibara and rushing Nanami, Shoko’s laughter be serving as the background’s noise whilst you stood in the foreground, smiling as he approaches you with pockets tucked away deep into his pockets, grin on his face as he meets your gaze.

“Waiting for me, huh?”

“Always.”

The way you’d always keep spare change for the whole group in your little pouch, saving them the disappointment of not having the funds to enjoy their weekly vending machine sessions.

“Haibara-kun, you’re doing great! Keep it up.” Shoko’s grinning as the diligent first-year stands before the setting rays of the sun as both you and the aforementioned girl squatted down and hid within the tall first-year’s shadow, her drink in your hand as she took a sip from your chocolate milk.

“Yes ma’am! I will do anything to help keep our benefactor safe from the dangerous UV rays!”

“Yu, your cola’s turning lukewarm.” Nanami’s deadpan call to him would cause the boy to panic, not wanting to leave his duty, and yet, the call of his drink yearned for him.

Satoru likes how you care for all of them. But, he thinks he likes it better when it’s reserved just for him and Suguru.

Finally, notices that he finds solace in the silence with you. The quiet musings of your voice as you slowly sip from the cup of chilled barley tea, the comfortable hush about the both of you zoning him out as his eyes trailed over the way happiness and alleviation manifested on your face, the way you’d turn your attention towards him when you finally notice his gaze.

“Satoru?” You’re bringing him back from his spaced out state, soft giggles that beget his undivided attention to you as you tilt your head slightly, awaiting his reply to your question that went unheard in his indulgence of you.

…Is it pathetic, shallow, selfish of him to wish for you to hold his hand and walk together with him too? Perhaps it is.

For he still wants, hopes, wishes for you to see him as more than just the Satoru that belonged to Suguru, for you to finally see that his love is more than just this.

His body that jumps up at the cue of your heartbeat, his heart that finally loosens up when you’re both finally in his presence, a simple desire to know, to learn every intricate thing about the both of you until the end of his time and beyond.

Because, there’s no denying it.

Gojo Satoru is irrevocably in love with you too.

[breadcheekstete]

Nothing can quite compare to the feeling of arriving home after a long week of nonstop work. Taehyung kicks his shoes off as he sighs in relief. He missed his house, his bed, but most importantly, he missed his boyfriend.

Said boyfriend who is currently laying on the couch, watching TV and drinking what seems to be his third beer. In his defense, he got injured a few weeks ago and he already has a month or two to go, so he relied on stress drinking. He can’t work out and it shows on his rounding body.

“And here we are again for my favourite game, ‘is that a t-shirt or a crop top?’ promoted by your one and only; Park. Ji. Min,” Taehyung announces as he walks in the living room.

Jimin looks up from the TV and pulls a face at him. “Haha, very funny, Taehyung.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.”

Jimin gulps the last of the beer and burps under his breath. “For your information, this is a t-shirt I cropped myself when we started dating.”

“You know what wasn’t here when we started dating? That beer belly.”

“Can’t you leave my tummy alone?”

“What tummy? That round gut?” Taehyung bends to poke it and it doesn’t give in to his touch from how bloated it is. “Hm… I feel like someone is gonna be a gas machine tonight.”

Jimin groans, cradling his midsection protectively while he gestures at his sprained ankle with his head. “If I could go to the gym, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. You already know how easily I gain weight.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Jimin sits straight up and Taehyung sits right beside him. His once sculpted body rounds out in a thin layer of fat and over-bloat, all from his stress drinking, and he pitifully stifles a burp. “Want some dinner?”

“I refuse to let you cook again,” Jimin says, trying to stand up. “I’ll do it.”

Taehyung takes his hand before Jimin can hop his way to the kitchen and hugs him by his waist. He leaves a heartfelt kiss over his navel and looks up at him with puppy eyes. “What is it?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Come on, Taehyung. I look like a settled dad.”

“I love you no matter your body type, Jimin,” he assures. “I love you and our beer baby.” That makes both of them laugh.

“You are such an idiot.” Jimin carefully bends to leave a kiss on Taehyung’s crown and as soon as he pulls back, he pushes Taehyun by his shoulders and climbs on top of him.

“Well, hello,” Taehyung says nervously.

Jimin covers his mouth and belches before he steals Taehyung’s lips in a filthy kiss. Taehyung can’t even focus when his boyfriend’s belly keeps pushing against him, so warm and tout and gurgly.

His hand curiously dives lower, caressing the pouch and squeezing it. It makes Jimin blush further as a string of burps interrupts their make out. “Ugh –bWOOooUurP Taehyungie, this is so embarrassing,” he laments, covering his mouth once again.

“I missed you so much, Jiminnie,” Taehyung says out of the blue, ‘cause he means it. He’s been so busy with work now that Jimin is injured, that they haven’t spent some quality time together for a long while. “So so much.”

Jimin smiles at him, kissing every inch of his face before diving into his mouth once again. He notices Taehyung’s growing boner and redirects his attention to undoing his belt when a late night delivery calls at their apartment. 

They stop abruptly, wondering who the fuck they are about to blame for interrupting their little moment. Jimin groans, hiding in Taehyung’s neck. “I’ll go see who’s it,” Taehyung says, patting his hips.

Jimin faintly hears the conversation with the delivery guy. But once Taehyung is back, he groans again when he sees Taehyung reading the back of a little box. “Fuck. I forgot I promised Hoseok hyung that I would beta test his pills.”

“I don’t think you should ingest any pill or such with your current intake of alcohol,” Taehyung points out. “Perhaps, you already have enough with your poor ankle.”

“What should I do then?”

There’s a moment of silence where none of them know what to say, when an idea sparks in Taehyung’s head. “I could test them for you.”

“What?”

“Come on, I can work from home for the time being.”

“Are you sure?”

Taehyung reads the effects again, just daydreaming about those four weeks he’s gonna be able to spend fully with his lover. “Absolutely.”

AO3 Link for more (4.1k words)

mpreg / chub k¡nk / feeding / burping / gas /smut / breastfeeding

[cozzzynook]

Autobots kidnap Ratbat. Hot Rod takes care of him. Soundwave attacks the base.

The autobots who kidnap fresh sparkling Ratbat are found so quick its not even funny.

Soundwave infiltrates their base and doesn’t even trip a single wire nor trap.

He finds the leftover energy field of the two mechs who took his sparkling and he painfully offlines them before going off to find a clue on where he could be.

He’s thankful for his outlier abilities on reading bots processors.

Many talk of a mech named Hot rod caring for a new bitty that was found by the two bots he murdered was spreading like wild fire amongst the autobots on base.

Every mech and femme alike wanted to get a good up close look at the mech he remembers from the fall of Nyon named Hot rod who held a tiny, weak bitty in his arms at all times.

Talks of the mech being stalked and ambushed while trying to care for his small, defenseless sparkling enraged him and he found himself rushing to get to this Hot rod and his bitty.

Ratbat wasn’t like his other cassettes, they were emerged during a time sparkling energon was in supply. Now all that was left of the sparkling energon was poisoned and being worked on as the only territory between con and autobot as a neutral ground on Cybertron. Their scientists worked on their respective sides to find ways to purify the poisoned fuel but no such luck as of yet.

Meaning his sparkling was extremely hungry most days because he didn’t have the proper fuel to give a sparkling and the syphoning machines they did have to try making it safe for Ratbat was still very low quality.

So Soundwave was extremely pissed that his youngest and most vulnerable cassette was taken when he was away on a mission. Those autobot scum snuck onto base and infiltrated rooms taking whatever information of value they had and when they could find none because Soundwave made sure their tracks were covered, they took his sparkling as a hostage.

What a foolish mistake to have made.

Soundwave followed the direction of the mechs going to Hot rods home.

Such disgusting and filthy mechs running amok the autobot ranks.

Sneaking like peeping pervs to watch a mech try and care for a sparkling thats vulnerable makes him sick. And knowing that sparkling was his own and in danger at the servos of mechs like these and possibly in danger by Hot rods servo, made him snap.

The first mech he disposes of gets their helm crushed. The second gets their windpipe ripped out and the third he throws a knife through before yanking his processor out.

He stalks towards Hot rods front door and smashes it open with his pede, barging inside the home with energon on his servo and with bits splattered on his chassis and across mask.

He hears the heavy gasp and feels the panicked em fields coming from the back where he storms to.

He manages to force the door open to reveal a berth room thats filled with the scent and energy fields of his Ratbat and the autobot Hot rod.

In a blind rage he reaches his servo out to grab his sparkling when his arm is almost cut off completely if it weren’t for him moving back in time.

He’s snapped from his sires protective rage to see the mech called Hot rod with his chassis removed, pouches laid bare with one of his nozzles fueling his sparkling that grips onto him with a fearful expression and upset at being startled, scrunching his tiny face as little optics shut tight. While Hot rod holds his sparkling to his nozzle and spark, with his flaws drawn out and a vicious hiss ripping through his windpipe as he bares his fangs preparing to maul and protect the vulnerable sparkling his spark has claimed as his own.

He stands there, deep gashes on his arm, leaking energon, shocked out of his processor that the autobot wasn’t hurting his sparkling or in on the plan.

In fact, Soundwave is now wondering just what happened for the mech to end up with his sparkling and how a carrier survived, “the great search,” that supposedly wiped them out.

He felt his spark tighten.

He was in a very, very, very, tight spot.

He needed to get himself and his sparkling out of here and now the autobot as well.

His sparkling and the autobot are attached now. He can’t separate them without serious consequences and he can’t just leave his sparkling here or just fight his way through.

This is a carrier in a semi-feral state.

No one won against them. Not even Overlord was crazy enough to try attacking them.

So what could Soundwave do?

The only real option that made him vulnerable but would grant safety.

He squatted down and exposed his spark chamber and sent out a wave of his em field and activated the creator coding so his sparkling’s chassis would open as well.

The tiny chamber was immediately covered by the carrier was sniffing the air and coming down from their semi-feral state.

The mech had recognition in his optics and held the sparkling closer but made no moves to keep Soundwave from them. In fact, he understood immediately why the mech did it and he understood why the mech had an expression of turmoil as he stepped closer but gave Soundwave time to close his chassis and stand.

“Hot rod: understands?”

There was hurt on his face but the tender optics looking over his suckling sparkling that held onto him was answer enough.

The mech looked around and stood directly in front of him. Searching.

He found whatever it was he needed and pointed towards a bag that Soundwave retrieved.

The mech grabbed a blanket and covered his front so none could see his sparkling or chest and headed towards the door where he looked at the carnage then back at him.

But Soundwave had no time to explain.

Setting a servo on the mechs lower back, he urged him forward and they both took off under the cover of woods heading to a decepticon base where he could explain things to Megatron and Megatron only.

Hot rod may not join but he surely would stick beside their sparkling and him if thats what would keep their bitty safe.